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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Old Helmet, Volume II, by Susan Warner
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Old Helmet, Volume II
+
+Author: Susan Warner
+
+Release Date: October 7, 2008 [EBook #26830]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OLD HELMET, VOLUME II ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Daniel Fromont
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Transcriber's note: Susan Warner (1819-1885), _The Old Helmet_ (1864),
+Tauchnitz edition 1864, volume 2]
+
+
+
+
+
+THE OLD HELMET.
+
+BY
+
+THE AUTHOR OF "WIDE, WIDE WORLD."
+
+
+
+AUTHORIZED EDITION.
+
+IN TWO VOLUMES
+
+VOL. II.
+
+
+
+LEIPZIG
+
+BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ
+
+1864.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE OLD HELMET.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+IN THE SPRING.
+
+
+  "Let no one ask me how it came to pass;
+  It seems that I am happy, that to me
+  A livelier emerald twinkles in the grass,
+  A purer sapphire melts into the sea."
+
+
+Eleanor could not stay away from the Wednesday meetings at Mrs.
+Powlis's house. In vain she had thought she would; she determined she
+would; when the day came round she found herself drawn with a kind of
+fascination towards the place. She went; and after that second time
+never questioned at all about it. She went every week.
+
+It was with no relief to her mental troubles however. She was sometimes
+touched and moved; often. At other times she felt dull and hopeless.
+Yet it soothed her to go; and she came away generally feeling
+inspirited with hope by something she had heard, or feeling at least
+the comfort that she had taken a step in the right direction. It did
+not seem to bring her much more comfort. Eleanor did not see how she
+could be a Christian while her heart was so hard and so full of its own
+will. She found it perverse, even now, when she was wishing so much to
+be different. What hope for her?
+
+It was a great help, that during all this time Mrs. Caxton left her
+unquestioned and uncounselled. She made no remarks about Eleanor's
+going to class-meeting; she took it as a perfectly natural thing; never
+asked her anything about it or about her liking it. A contrary course
+would have greatly embarrassed Eleanor's action; as it was she felt
+perfectly free; unwatched, and at ease.
+
+The spring was flushing into mature beauty and waking up all the
+flowers on the hills and in the dales, when Eleanor one afternoon came
+out to her aunt in the garden. A notable change had come over the
+garden by this time; its comparatively barren-looking beds were all
+rejoicing in gay bloom and sending up a gush of sweetness to the house
+with every stir of the air that way. From the house to the river,
+terrace below terrace sloped down, brimfull already of blossoms and
+fragrance. The roses were making great preparations for their coming
+season of festival; the mats which had covered some tender plants were
+long gone. Tulips and hyacinths and polyanthuses and primroses were in
+a flush of spring glory now; violets breathed everywhere; the
+snowy-flowered gooseberry and the red-flowered currant, and berberry
+with its luxuriant yellow bloom, and the almond, and a magnificent
+magnolia blossoming out in the arms of its evergreen sister, with many
+another flower less known to Eleanor, made the garden terraces a little
+wilderness of loveliness and sweetness. Near the house some very fine
+auriculas in pots were displaying themselves. In the midst of all this
+Mrs. Caxton was busy, with one or two people to help her and work under
+direction. Planting and training and seed-sowing were going on; and the
+mistress of the place moved about among her floral subjects a very
+pleasant representation of a rural queen, her niece thought. Few queens
+have a more queenly presence than Mrs. Caxton had; and with a trowel in
+hand just as much as if it were a sceptre. And few queens indeed carry
+such a calm mind under such a calm brow. Eleanor sighed and smiled.
+
+"Among your auriculas, aunty, as usual!"
+
+"Among everything," said Mrs. Caxton. "There is a great deal to do.
+Don't you want to help, Eleanor? You may plant gladiolus bulbs--or you
+may make cuttings--or you may sow seeds. I can find you work."
+
+"Aunty, I am going down to the village."
+
+"O it is Wednesday afternoon!" said Mrs. Caxton. And she came close up
+to her niece and kissed her, while one hand was full of bulbs and the
+other held a trowel. "Well go, my dear. Not at peace yet, Eleanor?"--
+
+There was so tender a tone in these last words that Eleanor could not
+reply. She dashed away without making any answer; and all along the way
+to Plassy she was every now and then repeating them to herself. "Not at
+peace yet, Eleanor?"
+
+She was in a tender mood this afternoon; the questions and remarks
+addressed to the other persons in the meeting frequently moved her to
+tears, so that she sat with her hand to her brow to hide the watering
+eyes. She did not dread the appeal to herself, for Mr. Rhys never asked
+her any troublesome questions; never anything to which she had to make
+a troublesome answer; though there might be perhaps matter for thought
+in it. He had avoided anything, whether in his asking or replying, that
+would give her any difficulty _there_, in the presence of
+others,--whatever it might do in her own mind and in secret. To-day he
+asked her, "Have you found peace yet?"
+
+"No," said Eleanor.
+
+"What is the state of your mind--if you could give it in one word?"
+
+"Confusion."
+
+"What is it confused about? Do you understand--clearly--the fact that
+you are a sinner? without excuse?"
+
+"Fully!"
+
+"Do you understand--clearly--that Christ has suffered for sins, the
+just for the unjust, that he might bring us to God?"
+
+"Yes. I understand it."
+
+"Is there any confusion in your mind as to the terms on which the Lord
+will receive you?--forsaking your sins, and trusting in him to pardon
+and save you?"
+
+"No--I see that."
+
+"Do you think there is any other condition besides those two?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Why do you not accept them?"
+
+Eleanor raised her eyes with a feeling almost of injustice. "I
+cannot!"--she said.
+
+"That makes no difference. God never gives a command that cannot with
+his help be fulfilled. There was a man once brought to Jesus--carried
+by foul men; he was palsied, and lay on a litter or bed, unable to move
+himself at all. To this man the Lord said, 'Arise, take up thy bed, and
+walk.' Suppose he had looked up and said, 'I cannot?'"
+
+Eleanor struggled with herself. Was this fair? Was it a parallel case?
+She could not tell. She kept silence. Mr. Rhys went on, with tones
+subdued to great gentleness.
+
+"My friend, Jesus invites to no empty board--to no cold reception. On
+his part all is ready; the unreadiness lies somewhere with you, or the
+invitation would be accepted. In your case it is not the bodily frame
+that is palsied; it is the heart; and the command comes to you, sweet
+as the invitation,--'_Give it to me_.' If you are entirely willing, the
+thing is done. If it be not done, it is because, somewhere, you are not
+willing--or do not believe. If you can trust Jesus, as that poor man
+did, you may rise up and stand upon your feet this very hour. 'Believe
+ye that I am able to do this?' he asked of the blind man whom he cured."
+
+There was silence for an instant. And again, as he turned away from
+her, Mr. Rhys broke out with the song, that Eleanor thought would break
+her heart in twain this time,--
+
+
+  "How lost was my condition
+  Till Jesus made me whole;
+  There is but one physician
+  Can cure a sin-sick soul.
+  There's balm in Gilead--
+  To make the wounded whole.
+  There's power enough in Jesus
+  To save a sin-sick soul."
+
+
+Eleanor had been the last one spoken to; the meeting soon was ended,
+and she was on her way home. But so broken-spirited and humiliated that
+she did not know what to do with herself. Could it be possible that she
+was not _willing_--or that she wanted _faith_--or that there was some
+secret corner of rebellion in her heart? It humbled her wonderfully to
+think it. And yet she could not disprove the reasoning. God could not
+be unfaithful; and if there were not somewhere on her part a failure to
+meet the conditions, surely peace would have been made before now. And
+she had thought herself all this while a subject for pity, not for
+blame; nay, for blame indeed, but not in this regard. Her mouth was
+stopped now. She rode home broken-hearted; would not see Mrs. Caxton at
+supper; and spent the evening and much of the night in weeping and
+self-searching. They were very downcast days that followed this day.
+Mrs. Caxton looked at her anxiously sometimes; never interfered with
+her.
+
+Towards the end of the week there was preaching at Glanog, and the
+family went as usual. Eleanor rode by herself, going and coming, and
+held no communication with her aunt by the way. But late at night, some
+time after Mrs. Caxton had gone to bed, a white-robed figure came into
+her room and knelt down by the bedside.
+
+"Is that you, Eleanor?"
+
+"Aunt Caxton--it's all gone!"
+
+"What?"
+
+"My trouble. I came to tell you. It's all gone. I am so happy!"
+
+"How is it, my dear child?"
+
+"When Mr. Rhys was preaching to-night, it all came to me; I saw
+everything clearly. I saw how Jesus loves sinners. I saw I had nothing
+to do but to give myself to him, and he would do everything. I see how
+sins are forgiven through his blood; and I trust in it, and I am sure
+mine are; and I feel as if I had begun a new life, aunt Caxton!"
+
+Eleanor's tears flowed like summer rain. Mrs. Caxton rose up and put
+her arms round her.
+
+"The Lord be praised!" she said. "I was waiting for this, Eleanor."
+
+"Aunt Caxton, I had been trying and thinking to make myself good first.
+I thought I was unworthy and unfit to be Christ's servant; but now I
+see that I can be nothing but unworthy, and only he can make me fit for
+anything; so I give up all, and I feel that he will do all for me. I am
+so happy! I was so blind before!"
+
+Mrs. Caxton said little; she only rejoiced with Eleanor so tenderly as
+if she had been her own mother. Though that is speaking very coolly on
+the present occasion. Mrs. Powle had never shewed her daughter so much
+of that quality in her life, as Eleanor's aunt shewed now.
+
+The breakfast next morning was unusually quiet. Happiness does not
+always make people talkative.
+
+"How do you do, my love?" said Mrs. Caxton when they were left alone.
+"After being up half the night?"
+
+"More fresh than I have felt for a year, aunt Caxton. Did you hear that
+nightingale last night?"
+
+"I heard him. I listened to him and thought of you."
+
+"He sang--I cannot tell you what his song sounded like to me, aunt
+Caxton. I could almost have fancied there was an angel out there."
+
+"There were a great many rejoicing somewhere else. What glory to think
+of it!" They were silent again till near the end of breakfast; then
+Mrs. Caxton said,--"Eleanor, I shall be engaged the whole of this
+morning. This afternoon, if you will, I will go with you into the
+garden."
+
+"This afternoon--is Wednesday, aunt Caxton."
+
+"So it is. Well, before or after you go to the village, I want you to
+dress some dishes of flowers for me--will you?"
+
+"With great pleasure, ma'am. And I can get some hawthorn blossoms, I
+know. I will do it before I go, ma'am."
+
+Was it pleasant, that morning's work? Eleanor went out early to get her
+sprays of May blossoms; and in the tender beauty of the day and season
+was lured on and on, and tempted to gather other wild bits of
+loveliness, till she at last found her hands full, and came home laden
+with tokens of where she had been. "O'er the muir, amang the heather,"
+Eleanor's walk had gone; and her basket was gay with gorse and broom
+just opening; but from grassy banks on her way she had brought the
+bright blue speedwell; and clematis and bryony from the hedges, and
+from under them wild hyacinth and white campion and crane's-bill and
+primroses; and a meadow she had passed over gave her one or two pretty
+kinds of orchis, with daisies and cowslips, and grasses of various
+kinds. Eleanor was dressing these in flower baskets and dishes, in the
+open gallery that overlooked the meadows, when Mrs. Caxton passing
+through on her own business stopped a moment to look at her.
+
+"All those from your walk, my dear! Do you not mean to apply to the
+garden?"
+
+"Aunty, I could have got a great many more, if I could have gone into
+the woods--but my walk did not lie that way. Yes, ma'am, I am going
+into the garden presently, when I have ordered these dishes well. Where
+are they to go, aunt Caxton?"
+
+"Some in one place and some in another. You may leave them here,
+Eleanor, when they are done, and I will take care of them. Shall I have
+the garden flowers cut for you?"
+
+"O no, ma'am, if you please!"
+
+Mrs. Caxton stood a moment longer watching Eleanor; the pretty work and
+the pretty worker; the confusion of fair and sweet things around her
+and under her fingers, with the very fine and fair human creature busy
+about them. Eleanor's face was gravely happy; more bright than Mrs.
+Caxton had ever seen it; very much of kin to the flowers. She watched
+her a moment, and then went nearer to kiss Eleanor's forehead. The
+flowers fell from the fingers, while the two exchanged a look of mute
+sympathy; then on one part and on the other, business went forward.
+
+Eleanor's work held her all the morning. For after the wild beauties
+had been disposed to her mind, there was another turn with their more
+pretentious sisters of the garden. Azaleas and honeysuckles, lilies of
+the valley, hyacinths and pomponium lilies, with Scotch roses and white
+broom, and others, made superb floral assemblages, out of doors or in;
+and Eleanor looked at her work lovingly when it was done.
+
+So went the morning of that day, and Eleanor's ride in the afternoon
+was a fit continuation. May was abroad in the bursting leaves as well
+as in opening flowers; the breath of Eden seemed to sweep down the
+valley of Plassy. Ay, there is a partial return to the lost paradise,
+for those whom Christ leads thither, even before we get to the
+everlasting hills.
+
+Eleanor this day was the first person addressed in the meeting. It had
+never happened so before. But now Mr. Rhys asked her first of all, "How
+do you do to-day?"
+
+Eleanor looked up and answered, "Well. And all changed."
+
+"Will you tell us how you mean?"
+
+"It was when you were preaching last night. It all I came to me. I saw
+my mistake, when you told about I the love of Christ to sinners. I saw
+I had been trying to make myself good."
+
+"And how is it now?"
+
+"Now,"--said Eleanor looking up again with full eyes,--"I will know
+nothing but Christ."
+
+The murmur of thanksgiving heard from one or two voices brought her
+head down. It had nearly overcome her. But she controlled herself, and
+presently went on; though not daring to look again into Mr. Rhys's
+face, the expression of whose eyes of gladness was harder to meet than
+the spoken thanksgivings.
+
+"I see I have nothing, and am nothing," she said. "I see that Christ is
+all, and will do all for me. I wish to be his servant. All is changed.
+The very hills are changed. I never saw such colours or such sunlight,
+as I have seen as I rode along this afternoon."
+
+"A true judgment," said Mr. Rhys. "It has been often said, that the eye
+sees what the eye brings the means of seeing; and the love of Christ
+puts a glory upon all nature that far surpasses the glory of the sun.
+It is a changed world, for those who know that love for the first time!
+Friends, most of us profess to have that knowledge. Do we have it so
+that it puts a glory on all the outer world, in the midst of which we
+live and walk and attend to our business?"
+
+"It does to me, sir," said the venerable old man whom Eleanor had
+noticed;--"it does to me. Praise the Lord!" Instead of any other answer
+they broke out singing,--
+
+
+  "O how happy are they
+  Who the Saviour obey,
+  And have laid up their treasure above.
+  Tongue can never express
+  The sweet comfort and peace
+  Of a soul in its earliest love."
+
+
+"The way to keep that joy," said Mr. Rhys returning to Eleanor, "and to
+know more of it, is to take every succeeding step in the Christian life
+exactly as you took the first one;--in self-renunciation, in entire
+dependence. As ye have received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk ye in
+him. It is a simple and humble way, the way along which the heavenly
+light shines. Do everything for Christ--do everything in his
+strength;--and you will soon know that the secret of the Lord is with
+them that fear him. Blessed be his name! He giveth power to the faint,
+and to them that have no might he increaseth strength."
+
+It was easy to see that the speaker made a personal application here,
+with reference to himself; but after that there was no more said
+directly to Eleanor. The subject went round the circle, receiving the
+various testimony of the persons there. Eleanor's heart gave quick
+sympathy to many utterances, and took home with intent interest the
+answering counsels and remarks, which in some instances were framed to
+put a guard against self-deception or mistake. One or two of her
+neighbours when the exercises were over, came and took her hand, with a
+warm simple expression of feeling which made Eleanor's heart hot; and
+then she rode home.
+
+"Did you have a pleasant time?" said her aunt.
+
+"Aunt Caxton, I think that room where we meet is the pleasantest place
+in the world!"
+
+"What do you think of the chapel at Glanog?"
+
+"I don't know. I believe that is as good or better."
+
+"Are you too tired to go out again?"
+
+"Not at all. Who wants me?"
+
+"Nanny Croghan is very sick. I have been with her all the afternoon;
+and Jane is going to sit up with her to-night; but Jane cannot go yet."
+
+"She need not. I will stay there myself. I like it, aunt Caxton."
+
+"Then I will send for you early in the morning."
+
+Nanny Croghan lived a mile or two from the farmhouse. Eleanor walked
+there, attended by John with a basket. The place was a narrow dell
+between two uprising hills covered with heather; as wild and secluded
+as it is possible to imagine. The poor woman who lived there alone was
+dying of lingering disease. John delivered the basket, and left Eleanor
+alone with her charge and the mountains.
+
+It was not a night like that she had spent by the bedside of her old
+nurse's daughter. Nanny was dying fast; and she needed something done
+for her constantly. Through all the hours of the darkness Eleanor was
+kept on the watch or actively employed, in administering medicine, or
+food, or comfort. For when Nanny wanted nothing else, she wanted that.
+
+"Tell me something I can fix my mind onto," she would say. "It seems
+slipping away from me, like. And then I gets cold with fear."
+
+Eleanor was new at the business; she had forgotten to bring her Bible
+with her, and she could find none in the house; "her sister had been
+there," Nanny said, "and had carried it away." Eleanor was obliged to
+draw on the slender stores of her memory; and to make the most of
+those, she was obliged to explain them to Nanny, and go them over and
+over, and pick them to pieces, and make her rest upon each clause and
+almost each word of a verse. There were some words that surely Eleanor
+became well acquainted with that night. For Nanny could sleep very
+little, and when she could not sleep she wanted talking incessantly.
+Eleanor urged her to accept the promises and she would have the peace.
+"The secret of the Lord is with them that fear him."
+
+"Ay, but I never did fear him, you see,--till a bit agone; and now it's
+all fear. I fear furder'n I can see."
+
+"Nanny, Nanny, the blood of Christ will take all that fear away--if
+only you will trust in it. He shed it for you--to pay your debts to
+justice. There is no condemnation to them which are in him."
+
+Nanny did not know exactly what so big a word as condemnation meant;
+Eleanor was obliged to explain it; then what was meant by being "in
+Christ." Towards morning Nanny seemed somewhat soothed and fell into a
+doze. Eleanor went to the cottage door and softly opened it, to see how
+the night went.
+
+The dawn was breaking fair over the hills, the tops of which shewed the
+unearthly brightness of coming day. It took Eleanor's eyes and thoughts
+right up. O for the night of darkness to pass away from this weary
+earth! Down in the valley the shadows lay thicker; how thick they lay
+about the poor head just now resting in sleep. How thick they lay but a
+day or two ago upon Eleanor herself! Now she looked up. The light was
+flushing upon the mountain tops every moment stronger. The dewy scents
+of the May morning were filling the air with their nameless and
+numberless tokens of rich nature's bounty. The voice of a cataract,
+close at hand, made merry down the rocks along with the song of the
+blackbird, woodpecker and titmouse. And still, as Eleanor stood there
+and looked and listened, the rush and the stir of sweet life grew more
+and more; the spring breeze wakened up and floated past her face
+bringing the breath of the flowers fresher and nearer; and the hill
+tops ever kindled into more and more glow. "It is Spring! and it is
+Day!" thought Eleanor,--"and so it is in my heart. The darkness is
+gone; the light is like that light,--promising more; my life is full of
+sweetness I never knew. Surely this month shall be the month of months
+to me for ever. O for this day--O for this morning--to waken over all
+the world!"
+
+She stood there, for Nanny still slept, till the sunbeams struck the
+hills and crept down the sides of them; and till John and Jane came in
+sight round the angle of the road. John had brought the pony to take
+Eleanor home; and a few minutes' ride brought her there. Morning
+prayers were however done, before Eleanor could refresh herself with
+cold water and a change of dress. When she came down to the
+sitting-room Mrs. Caxton had stepped out on some business; and in her
+place, sitting alone with a book, Eleanor was greatly surprised to see
+Mr. Rhys.
+
+He was not at all surprised to see her; rose up and gave her a very
+cordial grasp of the hand, and stirred up the wood fire; which, May
+morning though it was, the thick walls of the old stone house and the
+neighbourhood of the mountains made useful and agreeable. In silence
+and with a good deal of skill Mr. Rhys laid the logs together so that a
+fresh blaze sprang up; then after a remark upon the morning he went
+back to his book. Eleanor sat down, also silent, feeling very much
+delighted to see him there, and to think that they would have his
+company at breakfast; but not at all inclined, nor indeed competent, to
+open a conversation. She looked into the fire and wondered at the turns
+that had brought about this meeting; wondered over the past year of her
+life; remembered her longing for the "helmet of salvation" which her
+acquaintance with Mr. Rhys had begun; and sang for joy in her heart
+that now she had it. Yes, it was hers, she believed; a deep rest and
+peace had taken place of craving and anxiety, such as even now
+disturbed poor dying Nanny. Eleanor felt very happy, in the midst of
+all her care for her. The fire burned beautifully.
+
+"I was not aware," said Mr. Rhys looking up from his book, "I was not
+aware till last night that you lived with Mrs. Caxton."
+
+Very odd, Eleanor thought; most people would have found out; however
+she took it simply.
+
+"I am her niece."
+
+"So I find,--so I am glad to find. I can wish nothing better for any
+one, in that kind, than to be connected with Mrs. Caxton."
+
+He sat with his finger between the leaves of his book, and Eleanor
+again wondered at the silence; till Mrs. Caxton came in. It was not
+very flattering; but Eleanor was not troubled with vanity; she
+dismissed it with a thought compounded of good-humour and humility. At
+breakfast the talk went on pretty briskly; it was all between the other
+two and left her on one side; yet it was good enough to listen to it.
+Eleanor was well satisfied. Mr. Rhys was the principal talker; he was
+telling Mrs. Caxton of different people and things in the course of his
+labours; which constantly gave a reflex gleam of light upon those
+labours themselves and upon the labourer. Unconsciously of course, and
+merely from the necessity of the case; but it was very interesting to
+Eleanor, and probably to Mrs. Caxton; she looked so. At last she turned
+to her niece.
+
+"How did you leave Nanny?"
+
+"A little easier towards morning, I think; at least she went to sleep,
+which all the night she could not do."
+
+"Nor you neither."
+
+"O that's nothing. I don't mind that at all. It was worth watching, to
+see the dawn."
+
+"Was the woman in so much pain?" Mr. Rhys asked.
+
+"No; not bodily; she was uneasy in mind."
+
+"In what way."
+
+"Afraid of what lies before her; seeing dimly, if at all."
+
+"Was she comforted by what you told her?"
+
+"I had very little to tell her," said Eleanor; "I had no Bible; I had
+forgotten to take it; and hers was gone. I had to get what I could from
+memory, for I did not like to give her anything but the words of the
+Bible itself to ground hope upon."
+
+"Yes, but a good warm testimony of personal experience, coming from the
+heart, often goes to the heart. I hope you tried that."
+
+Eleanor had not; she was silent. The testimony she had given in the
+class-meeting somehow she had been shy of uttering unasked in the ear
+of the dying woman. Was that humility--or something else? Again Mr.
+Rhys had done for her what he so often did for her and for
+others--probed her thoughts.
+
+"It is a good plan," said Mrs. Caxton, "to have a storehouse in one's
+memory of such things as may be needed upon occasion; passages of
+Scripture and hymns; to be brought out when books are not at hand. I
+was made to learn a great deal out of the Bible when I was a girl; and
+I have often made a practice of it since; and it always comes into
+play."
+
+"I never set myself lessons to get by heart," said Mr. Rhys. "I never
+could learn anything in that way. Or perhaps I should say, I never
+_liked_ to do it. I never did it."
+
+"What is your art, then?" said Mrs. Caxton, looking curious.
+
+"No art. It is only that when anything impresses itself strongly on my
+feelings, the words seem to engrave themselves in my memory. It is an
+unconscious and purely natural operation."
+
+Eleanor remembered the multitudinous quoting of the Bible she had at
+different times heard from Mr. Rhys; and again wondered mentally. All
+that, all those parts of the Bible, he had not set himself to study,
+but had _felt_ them into his memory! They had been put in like gold
+letters, with a hot iron.
+
+"Where is this woman?" Mr. Rhys went on.
+
+"She lives alone, in the narrow dell that stretches behind Bengarten
+Castle--and nearly in a straight line with it, from here. Do not go
+there this morning--you want rest, and it is too far for you to walk. I
+am going to take you into my garden, to see how my flowers go."
+
+"Won't you take me into your dairy?"
+
+"If you like it," said Mrs. Caxton smiling.
+
+"I like it exceedingly. It is something like a musical box to me, Miss
+Powle, to see Mrs. Caxton's cheese-making. It soothes my nerves, the
+noiseless order of everything. Do you know that wonderful cheese-house,
+where they stand in ranks like yellow millstones? I never can get over
+my surprise at going in there. Certainly we, as a nation, are fond of
+cheese!"
+
+"You think so because you are not," said Mrs. Caxton. "It is too late
+for the dairy to-day. You shall give me help in my garden, where I want
+it."
+
+"I understand," says Mr. Rhys. "But it is my business to make flowers
+grow in the Lord's garden--wherever I can. I wish I could do more of
+_that_ gardening work!"
+
+Eleanor gave a quick glance up at the speaker. His brow rested on his
+hand for the moment; she noticed the sharply drawn lines of the face,
+the thin cheeks, the complexion, which all witnessed to _over_-work
+already attempted and done. The brow and eyes were marked with lines of
+watching and fatigue. It was but a glance, and Eleanor's eyes went down
+again; with an additional lesson of unconscious testimony carried deep
+home. This man lived as he talked. The good of existence was not one
+thing in his lips and another in his practice. Eleanor looked at her
+plate with her heart burning. In her old fancy for studying, or at
+least reading, hands, she had noticed too in her glance the hand on
+which the head rested; and with surprise. It was almost a feminine hand
+in make, with long slim fingers; white withal, and beautifully cared
+for. Certain refinements were clearly necessary to this man, who was
+ready to plunge himself into a country of savages nevertheless, where
+all the refinement would be his own. To some natures it would be easier
+to part with a hand altogether, than to forego the necessity of having
+it clean. This was one. And he was going to give himself up to
+Polynesia and its practices. Eleanor eat with the rest of her breakfast
+and swallowed with her tea, the remembered words of the apostle--"But
+what things were gain to me, those I counted loss for
+Christ."--"Neither count I my life dear unto myself, so that I may
+finish my course with joy, and the ministry, which I have received of
+the Lord Jesus, to be faithful."--Eleanor's heart swelled. Tears were
+very near.
+
+After breakfast, a large part of the morning was spent by her aunt and
+Mr. Rhys in the garden; as Mrs. Caxton had said; and very busy they
+were. Eleanor was not asked to join them, and she did not choose to
+volunteer; she watched them from the house. They were very honestly
+busy; planting and removing and consulting; in real garden work; yet it
+was manifest their minds had also much more in common, in matters of
+greater interest; they stood and talked for long intervals when the
+flowers were forgotten. They were very near each other, those two,
+evidently, in regard and mutual confidence and probably mutual
+admiration also. It was very strange Eleanor should never have come to
+the knowledge of it till to-day. And yet, why should she? She had never
+mentioned the name of Mr. Rhys to her aunt in any of her stories of
+Wiglands.
+
+He was away all the afternoon and the evening, and came back again
+late; a tired and exhausted man. He said nothing, except to officiate
+at family prayers; but Eleanor was delighted that he was to spend the
+night at the farm and they would have him at breakfast. Only to see him
+and hear him talk to others, only the tones of his voice, brought up to
+her everything that was good and strong and pure and happy. He did not
+seem inclined to advance at all upon their Wiglands acquaintance. He
+made no allusion to it. As far as she was concerned, Eleanor thought
+that there was more reserve in his manner towards her than he had
+shewed there. No matter. With Mrs. Caxton he was very much at home; and
+she could study him at her ease all the better for not talking to him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+WITH THE BASKET.
+
+
+  "The flush of life may well be seen
+  Thrilling back over hills and valleys;
+  The cowslip startles in meadows green,
+  The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice,
+  And there's never a leaf or a blade too mean
+  To be some happy creature's palace."
+
+
+"Mrs. Caxton," said Mr. Rhys the next morning, when half the breakfast
+had been passed in silence, "have you such a thing as a microscope in
+the house?"
+
+"I am afraid not. Why do you ask?"
+
+"Only, that I have suddenly discovered myself to be very ignorant, in a
+department of knowledge where it would be very pleasant as well as
+proper to be otherwise. I have been reading a book on some of the forms
+of life which are only to be known through the help of glasses; and I
+find there is a world there I know nothing about. That book has made a
+boy of me."
+
+"How?" said Mrs. Caxton smiling.
+
+"You think I always retain more or less of that character! Well--it has
+made me doubly a boy then; in my eagerness to put myself to school, on
+the one hand, and my desire to see something new on the other. Miss
+Powle, have you ever studied the invisible inhabitants of pools, and
+ponds, and sea-weeds?"
+
+"Not at all," said Eleanor.
+
+"You do not know much more than the names, then, of Infusoria,
+Rotifera, and Pedunculata, and such things?"
+
+"Not so much as the names--except Infusoria. I hope they are better
+than they sound."
+
+"If the accounts are true--Mrs. Caxton, the world that we do not see,
+because of the imperfection of our organs, is even far more wonderful
+than the world that we do see. Perhaps it seems so, because of the
+finiteness of our own powers. But I never had a single thing give me
+such a view of the infinite glory of God, as one of the things detailed
+in that book--one of the discoveries of the microscope."
+
+"His glory in creation," said Mrs. Caxton.
+
+"More than that--There is to be sure the infiniteness of wisdom and of
+power, that makes your brain dizzy when you think of it; but there is
+an infinite moral glory also."
+
+"What was the thing that struck you so much?" Eleanor inquired.
+
+"It was a little fellow that lives in the water. He is not bigger than
+the diameter of the slenderest needle--and that is saying as much as I
+can for his size. This fellow builds himself a house of bricks, which
+he makes himself; and under his head he carries a little cup mould in
+which the bricks are made."
+
+"Mr. Rhys," said Eleanor, "I am wondering what is the slenderest needle
+of your acquaintance!"
+
+"No," said he laughing, "you are mistaken. I have seen my mother hem
+thin ruffles of muslin; and you know with what sort of a needle that
+should be done."
+
+"Aunt Caxton," said Eleanor, "it is inconceivable!"
+
+Mrs. Caxton did not make much answer, and the conversation turned.
+After breakfast, and after, as Eleanor judged, they had been a good
+while in the dairy, the two went out together in the car. Eleanor
+supposed it was to visit Nanny; and so she found when her aunt came
+home.
+
+"I knew he would go," said Mrs. Caxton; "and then we made another call.
+Nanny is hopeful, and comfortable; but the other---- Mr. Rhys came away
+very much agitated. He is not fit for it. I wish I could keep him from
+work for a few weeks. It's the best economy. But I will keep him here
+as long as I can, at least."
+
+"Is he going to stay here?"
+
+"Yes; he was not comfortably situated in the village; and now I will
+have him at the farm, I hope, till he goes. I shall trust you to keep
+the flowers fresh in his room, Eleanor.--No, my dear; Jane will stay
+with Nanny to-night."
+
+So Mr. Rhys stayed at the farm, and certainly wanted for no comfort
+that the mistress of it could secure to him. Neither did Eleanor
+neglect the flowers. Mr. Rhys made his home there, and went out to his
+preaching and visiting and teaching as vigorously as ever; and was
+often a tired man when he came home. Nevertheless he gained ground, to
+Mrs. Caxton's great satisfaction. He grew stronger; and was less often
+a silent, prostrated, done-over member of their little circle. At first
+he was very often that. But when he felt well he was exceedingly social
+and conversational; and the Plassy farmhouse had never been so
+pleasant, nor the evenings and mornings and meal times so full of
+interest. In all which however Mrs. Caxton thought Eleanor took a very
+quiet part.
+
+"You do not do your share, Eleanor," she said one day; "you are become
+nothing of a talker; and I can bear witness you had a tongue once. Has
+religion made you silent, my dear?"
+
+"No, aunty," said Eleanor laughing; "but you forget--you have somebody
+else to talk to now."
+
+"I am sure, and so have you."
+
+"No ma'am--Mr. Rhys does not talk to me generally."
+
+"I would return good for evil, then; and not silence for silence."
+
+"I can't, aunty. Don't you know, there are some people that have a sort
+of quieting effect upon one?"
+
+"I don't think anybody ever did upon me," said Mrs. Caxton; "and I am
+sure Mr. Rhys would be shocked if he knew the effect of his presence."
+
+One morning Mrs. Caxton asked Mr. Rhys at breakfast if he had leisure
+to unpack a box for her. He said yes, with great alacrity; and Mrs.
+Caxton had the box brought in.
+
+"What is it?" said Mr. Rhys as he began his work. "Am I to take care of
+china and glass--or to find gardener's plants nicely done up--or best
+of all, books?"
+
+"I hope, something better yet," said Mrs. Caxton.
+
+"There is a good deal of it, whatever it is," said Mr. Rhys, taking out
+one and another and another carefully wrapped up bit of something.
+"Curiosity can go no further!"
+
+He stopped unpacking, and took the wrapping papers off one or two
+odd-looking little pieces of brass; paused,--then suddenly exclaimed,
+"Mrs. Caxton!--"
+
+"Well?" said that lady smiling.
+
+"It is just like you! I might have known the other morning what all
+that talk would end in."
+
+Mrs. Caxton smiled in silence, and the gentleman went on with his
+unpacking; with added zeal and tenderness now, it was evident. It stood
+full in view at last, an exquisitely made and mounted microscope of one
+of the best London makers. Now was Mr. Rhys in his element; and proved
+how justly he had declared himself a _boy_. He got the microscope all
+into place and arranged, and then set himself to find out its powers
+and method of management.. There were some prepared objects sent with
+the instrument, which gave him enough to work with; and over them he
+was in an absorbed state for hours; not selfishly, however, for he
+allowed Eleanor to take her full share of the pleasure of looking, when
+once he had brought objects into view. At last he broke off and hurried
+away to an engagement.
+
+The next day at breakfast, Eleanor was a good deal surprised to be
+asked if she would take a walk?
+
+"Now?" said Eleanor. "You mean immediately after breakfast?"
+
+"It is the only time I have to-day. All the time before dinner, I have;
+but I supposed we should want the whole of it. I am going after objects
+for the microscope--and I thought it would be selfish to go alone.
+Besides, we may help one another."
+
+"I shall be very glad to go," said Eleanor laughing; "but don't expect
+any _help_ of me; unless it be in the way of finding out such places as
+you want."
+
+"I fancy I know those better than you do. Miss Powle, a small basket
+would be desirable to hold phials of water."
+
+"And phials."
+
+"I will take care of those."
+
+Much amused, and a little excited, Eleanor made ready for the walk, and
+in the matter of the basket at least proved helpful. It was bright and
+early when they set out. Among those mountains and valleys, the dew was
+not off the fields yet, while the air was freshly sweet from roses and
+wild thyme, and primroses lingering, and numberless other sweet things;
+for hedgerow and meadow and mountain side were gay and rich with a
+multitude of flowers. There was a mingling of shadow and sunshine too,
+at that early time in the morning; and as the two walkers passed along
+they were sometimes in one, sometimes in the other. There was little
+conversation at first. Mr. Rhys went not with a lingering step, but as
+if with some purpose to reach a definite locality. Eleanor was musing
+to herself over the old walks taken with Julia by her present
+companion; never but once Eleanor's walking companion till now. How
+often Julia had gone with him; what a new and strange pleasure it was
+for herself; and how oddly life changes about things; that the
+impossible thing at Wiglands should be possible at Plassy.
+
+"What sort of places are you looking for, Mr. Rhys?" Eleanor inquired
+at last.
+
+"All sorts of places," he said smiling. "All sorts at least of wet
+places. But I know nothing about it, you know, except what I have read.
+They say, wherever water is found, some or other species of these
+minute wonders may be met with; standing pools, and rivers, and ditches
+all have them; and some particularly beautiful are to be found in bog
+water; so with, I am afraid you will think, a not very commendable
+impatience, I am pointing my steps towards a bog that I know--in the
+wish to get some of the best first."
+
+"That is being very impatient," said Eleanor laughing. "I should be
+satisfied with almost anything, for the first."
+
+"So you will very probably have to be. I am by no means sure of
+accomplishing my design. Am I walking too fast for you, in the
+meanwhile?"
+
+"Not at all. I am thinking, Mr. Rhys, how we are to bring home the bog
+water when we have found it."
+
+In answer to which, he put his hand in his pocket and brought out
+thence and deposited in his basket one after another of half a dozen or
+more little phials, all duly corked. Eleanor was very much amused.
+
+"And what is this stick to do, that you wanted me to bring?"
+
+"You will see."
+
+The bog was reached in due time, after a walk over a most delicious
+country, for the most part new to Eleanor. Water was found, though not
+exactly with the conditions Mr. Rhys desired; however a phial of it was
+dipped up, corked and marked. Then they retraced their steps partially,
+diverging right and left. Just the right sort of pool was found at
+last; covered with duck-weed. Here Mr. Rhys stopped and tied one of the
+phials to the end of the stick. With this he dipped water from the
+surface, then he dipped from the bottom; he took from one side and from
+another side, where there was sunshine and where there was shade;
+pouring each dipping into a fresh phial, while Eleanor in a great state
+of amusement corked and labelled each as it was filled. At last it was
+done. Mr. Rhys filled his last phial, looked at Eleanor's face, and
+smiled.
+
+"You do not think much is going to come of all this?" he said.
+
+"Yes I do," said Eleanor. "At least I hope so."
+
+"I know it. Look through that."
+
+He put a pocket lens into her hand and bade her survey one of the
+phials with it. Eleanor's scepticism fled. That _something_ was there,
+in pretty active life, was evident. Somethings. The kinds were plural.
+
+"It was like Mrs. Caxton, to order this lens with the microscope," Mr.
+Rhys went on. "I suppose she made her order general--to include
+everything that would be necessary for a naturalist in making his
+observations. I not being a naturalist. Did you ever see the 'Bundle'
+of Helig?"
+
+"I do not know what it is."
+
+"'Bundle' or 'Bandel'--I do not know how it got the name, I am sure;
+but I suppose it is a corruption of something. Would you like to go a
+little out of your way to see it?"
+
+"You can judge better than I, Mr. Rhys!" Eleanor said with her full,
+rich smile, which that gentleman had not often seen before. He answered
+it with his own very peculiar one, sober and sweet.
+
+"I will take so much responsibility. You ought not to come so near and
+miss it."
+
+Turning from the course of their return way, they followed a wild woody
+dell for a little distance; then making a sudden angle with that, a few
+steps brought them in sight of a waterfall. It poured over a rocky
+barrier of considerable height, the face of which was corrugated, as it
+were, with great projecting ridges of rock. Separated of necessity by
+these, the waters left the top of the precipice in four or five
+distinct bands or ribbands of bright wave and foam, soon dashed into
+whiteness; and towards the bottom of the fall at last found their way
+all together; which they celebrated with a rush and a dance and a
+sparkle and a roar that filled all the rocky abyss into which they
+plunged. The life, the brightness, the peculiar form, the wild
+surroundings, of this cataract made it a noted beauty. In front of it
+the rocks closed in so nearly that spectators could only look at it
+through a wild narrow gap. Above, beyond the top of the fall, the
+waving branches could be seen of the trees and bushes that stood on the
+borders of the water; to reach which was a mere impossibility, unless
+by taking a very long way round. At the foot, the waters turned off
+suddenly and sought their course where the eye could not follow them.
+
+It was out of the question to talk in the presence of the shout of
+those glad waters. Mr. Rhys leaned against the rock, and looked at
+them, so motionless that more than once the eye of Eleanor went from
+them to him with a little note-taking. When at last he turned away and
+they got back into the stillness of the glen, he asked her, "how
+looking at such a thing made her feel?"
+
+"Nothing but surprise and pleasure, I think," said Eleanor; "but a
+great deal of both those." Then as he still remained silent, she went
+on,--"To tell the truth, Mr. Rhys, I think my mental eye is only
+beginning to get educated. I used always to enjoy natural beauty, but I
+think it was in a superficial kind of way. Since I have been at
+Plassy--and especially since a few weeks back,--all nature is much more
+to me than it was."
+
+"It is sure to be so," he said. "Nature without and nature within are
+made for each other; and till the two are set to the same key, you
+cannot have a good tune.--There is a fellow who is in pretty good
+order! Do you hear that blackbird?"
+
+"Sweet!" said Eleanor. "And what is that other note--'chee chee, chee,'
+so many times?"
+
+"That is a green wren."
+
+"You are _something_ of a naturalist, Mr. Rhys," said Eleanor.
+
+"Not at all! no more than my acquaintance with you and Mrs. Caxton
+makes me a philosopher."
+
+Eleanor wanted to ask what looking at the cataract made _him_ think of;
+but as she had told her aunt, Mr. Rhys exercised a sort of quieting
+influence over her. No natural audacity, of which she had an innocent
+share, remained to her in his company. She walked along in demure
+silence. And to say the truth, the sun was now growing warm, and the
+two had walked not a few good miles that morning; which also has a
+quieting influence. Eleanor queried with herself whether all the bright
+part of the walk were over.
+
+"I think it is time we varied our attention," said Mr. Rhys breaking
+silence. "We have been upon one class of subjects a good
+while;--suppose we try another. Don't you want to rest?"
+
+"I am not tired,--but I have no objection."
+
+"You are not easily tired?"
+
+"Not about anything I like."
+
+"You have struck a great secret of power and usefulness," he said
+gravely. "What do you think of this bank?--it is dry, and it is
+pleasant."
+
+It would have been hardly possible to find a spot in all their way that
+would not have been pleasant; and from this bank they looked over a
+wide rich valley bordered with hills. It was not the valley where the
+farmhouse of Plassy stood, with its meadows and river; this was
+different in its features, and moreover some miles distant. Eleanor and
+Mr. Rhys sat down on the moss at the foot of the trees, which gave both
+shade and rest. It was the edge of a piece of woods, and a blackbird
+was again heard saluting them.
+
+"Now if you want refreshment," said Mr. Rhys, "I can give it to you;
+but only of one kind."
+
+"I don't know--I should say of several kinds," said Eleanor looking
+into the basket--"but the quality doubtful."
+
+"Did you think I meant _that?_"
+
+Eleanor laughed at the earnest gravity of this speech. "Mr. Rhys, I saw
+no other refreshment you had to offer me; but indeed I do not want
+any--more than I am taking."
+
+"I was going to offer it to you of another kind, but there is no kind
+like it. What is your way of reading the Bible?"
+
+"I have no particular 'way,'" said Eleanor in some surprise. "I read
+several chapters a day--or at least always a chapter at morning and
+another at evening. What 'way' do you mean?"
+
+"There are a great many ways; and it is good to use them all at
+different times. But what way would be good for a half hour's
+refreshment, at such a time as this?"
+
+"I am sure, I don't know," said Eleanor. "I have no way but the one."
+
+"Yes, but we should not have seen the 'Bandel' of Helig, if we had not
+turned aside to look at it; and you would not have heard the blackbird
+and the wren perhaps, unless you had stopped to listen to them. I
+suppose we have missed a million of other things, for want of looking."
+
+"Yes, but we could not look at everything all along these miles of our
+way," said Eleanor, her smile breaking forth again.
+
+"Very true. On the other hand, if we go but a very little way, we can
+examine all around us. Have you a Bible with you?"
+
+"No. I never carry one."
+
+"I am better off than you. Let us try a little of this--the first
+chapter of Romans. Will you read the first verse, and consider it."
+
+He handed her his Bible and Eleanor read.
+
+"'Paul, a servant of Jesus Christ, called to be an apostle, separated
+unto the gospel of God'--"
+
+"What do you find there?" said her companion.
+
+"Not much. This verse seems to be a sort of opening, or introduction to
+the rest. Paul tells who he is, or what he is."
+
+"And what does he say he is?"
+
+"A servant of Jesus Christ."
+
+"You think that is 'not much?'"
+
+"Certainly it is much, in itself; but here I took it for a mere
+statement of fact."
+
+"But what a fact. _A servant of Jesus Christ_. Only that! Do you know
+what a fact that is? What is it, to be a servant of Jesus Christ?"
+
+Without waiting for the answer, which was not ready, Mr. Rhys rose up
+from his seat and began an abstracted exploration of the bit of
+woodland at the edge of which they had been sitting; wandering in and
+out among the trees, and stooping now and then to pluck a flower or a
+fern or to examine one; apparently too full of his thoughts to be
+quiet. Eleanor heard him sometimes and watched him when she could; he
+was very busy; she wished he I would give some of his thoughts to her.
+
+"I thought you wanted rest, Mr. Rhys," she said boldly, when she got a
+chance. "Please sit down here and take it, along with your other
+refreshment."
+
+He smiled and came immediately with a bunch of Myosotis in his hand,
+which he threw into Eleanor's lap; and turning to her he repeated very
+seriously his question.
+
+"What is it, to be a servant of Jesus Christ?"
+
+"I know very little," said Eleanor timidly. "I am only just beginning
+to learn."
+
+"You know the words bring for our refreshment only the meaning that we
+attach to them--except so far as the Holy Spirit answering our prayers
+and endeavours shews us new meaning and depth that we had not known
+before."
+
+"Of course--but I suppose I know very little. These words convey only
+the mere fact to me."
+
+"Let us weight the words. A servant is a follower. Christ said, 'If a
+man serve me, let him _follow me_.'"
+
+"Yes,--I know."
+
+"A follower must know where his Master goes. How did Christ walk?"
+
+"He went about doing good."
+
+"He did; but mark, there are different ways of doing that. Get to the
+root of the matter. The young man who kept all the commandments from
+his youth, was not following Christ; and when it came to the pinch he
+turned his back upon him."
+
+"How then, Mr. Rhys? You mean heart-following?"
+
+"That is what the Lord means. Look here--Paul says in the ninth
+verse,--'Whom I serve _with my spirit_ in the gospel'--Following cannot
+have a different end in view from that of the person followed. And what
+was Christ's?--'My meat is to do the will of him that sent me, and to
+finish his work.' Are we servants of Christ after that rule, Miss
+Powle?"
+
+The question had a singular intonation, as if the questioner were
+charging it home upon himself. Yet Eleanor knew he could answer it in
+the affirmative and that she could not; she sat silent without looking
+up. The old contrast of character recurred to her, in spite of the fact
+that her own had changed so much. She hung over the book, while her
+companion half abstractedly repeated,
+
+"'My meat is to do the will of him that sent me.'--That makes a way of
+life of great simplicity."
+
+"Is it always easy to find?" ventured Eleanor.
+
+"Very!--if his will is all that we desire."
+
+"But that is a very searching, deep question."
+
+"Let it search, then. 'My meat is to do the will of him--' No matter
+what that may be, Miss Powle; our choice lies in this--that it is his
+will. And as soon as we set our hearts upon one or the other particular
+sort of work, or labour in any particular place, or even upon any given
+measure of success attending our efforts, so that we are not willing to
+have him reverse our arrangements,--we are getting to have too much
+will about it."
+
+Eleanor looked up with some effort.
+
+"You are making it a great matter, to be a true servant of Christ, Mr.
+Rhys."
+
+"Would you have it a little matter?" he said with a smile of great
+sweetness and brightness. "Let the Lord have all! He was among us 'as
+one that serveth'--amid discouragements and disappointments, and abuse;
+and he has warned us that the servant is not greater than his Lord. It
+is not a little thing, to be the minister of Jesus Christ!"
+
+"Now you are getting out of the general into the particular."
+
+"No--I am not; a 'minister' is but a servant; what we call a minister,
+is but in a more emphatic degree the servant of all. The rules of
+service are the same for him and for others. Let us look at another
+one. Here it is--in John--"
+
+And the fingers that Eleanor had watched the other morning, and with
+which she had a curious association, came turning over the leaves.
+
+"'Ye call me Master, and Lord: and ye say well; for so I am. If I then,
+your Lord and Master, have washed your feet; ye also ought to wash one
+another's feet. For I have given you an example, that ye should do as I
+have done to you.'--One thing is plain from that, Miss Eleanor--we are
+not to consider ourselves too good for anything."
+
+"No--" said Eleanor;--"but I suppose that does not forbid a just
+judgment of ourselves or of others, in respect of their adaptations and
+qualifications."
+
+"Yes it does," he said quickly. "The only question is, Has the Lord put
+that work in your hands? If he has, never ask whether your hands are
+the right ones. He knows. What our Lord stooped to do, well may we!"
+
+Eleanor dared not say any more; she knew of what he was thinking;
+whether he had a like intuition with respect to her thoughts she did
+not know, and would not risk them any nearer discovery.
+
+"There is another thing about being a servant of Christ," he presently
+went on;--"it ensures some kind and degree of persecution."
+
+"Do you think so?" said Eleanor; "in these days? Why, it is thought
+praiseworthy and honourable, is it not, through all the land, to be
+good? to be a member of the Church, and to fulfil the requirements of
+religion? Does anybody lose respect or liking from such a cause?"
+
+"No. But he suffers persecution. My dear friend, what are the
+'requirements of religion?' We are just considering them. Can you
+remember a servant of Christ, such as we have seen the name means, in
+your knowledge, whom the world allowed to live in peace?"
+
+
+Eleanor was silent.
+
+"'Remember the word that I said unto you, the servant is not greater
+than his Lord. If they have persecuted me, they will also persecute
+you; if they have kept my saying, they will keep yours also.'"
+
+"But in _these_ days, Mr. Rhys?" said Eleanor doubtfully.
+
+"I can only say, that if you are of the world, the world will love his
+own. I know no other way of securing that result. 'Because ye are not
+of the world,' Jesus said, 'but I have chosen you out of the world,
+therefore the world hateth you.' And it is declared, elsewhere, that
+all that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution. Can
+you remember any instance to the contrary?"
+
+Eleanor looked up and gave Mr. Rhys a good view of her honest eyes;
+they looked very intent now and somewhat sorrowful.
+
+"Mr. Rhys, except in Plassy, I do not know such a person as you ask me
+about."
+
+"Is it possible!" he said.
+
+"Mr. Rhys, I was thinking the servants of Christ have good need of that
+'helmet of salvation' I used to wish for."
+
+"Well, they have it!" he said brightly. "'If any man serve me, let him
+follow me; _and where I am, there shall also my servant be_.' That is
+the end of all. But there is another point of service that occurs to
+me. We have seen that we must not lease ourselves; I recollect that in
+another place Paul says that if he pleased men, he would not be the
+servant of Christ. There is a point where he and the world would come
+in contact of opposition."
+
+"But I thought we ought to please everybody as much as we could?"
+
+He smiled, put his hand over and turned two or three leaves of the
+Bible which she kept open at the first of Romans, and pointed to a word
+in the fifteenth chapter. "Let every one of us please his neighbour for
+his good, to edification."
+
+"There is your limit," said he. "So far thou mayest go, but no further.
+And to do that you will find requires quite sufficiently that you
+should not please yourself. And now how shall we do all this?--how
+shall we be all this?"
+
+"You are asking the very question!" said Eleanor gravely.
+
+"We must come to the root and spring of all this service and
+following--it is our love of the Lord himself. That will do it, and
+nothing else will. 'What things were gain to me, those I counted loss
+for Christ.'"
+
+"But suppose," said Eleanor, with some difficulty commanding her
+voice,--"suppose one is deficient in that very thing? suppose one wants
+that love?"
+
+"Ay!" he said, looking into her face with his eyes of light,--"suppose
+one does; what then?"
+
+Eleanor could not bear them; her own eyes fell. "What is one to
+do?"--Mr. Rhys had risen up before he answered, in his deliberate
+accents,
+
+"'Seek him, that maketh the seven stars and Orion, and turneth the
+shadow of night into morning.'"
+
+He paced slowly up and down before Eleanor; then went off upon a
+rambling search through the wood again; seeming to be busy with little
+things in his way. Eleanor sat still. After a little he came and stood
+before her with a bunch of ferns and Melic grass and lilies of the
+valley, which he was ordering in his hands as he spoke.
+
+"The effect of our following Christ in this way, Miss Powle, will be,
+that we shall bear testimony to the world that He is our King, and what
+sort of a king he is. We shall proclaim that Jesus Christ is Lord, to
+the glory of God the Father. We shall have the invisible army of angels
+for our fellow-servants and co-workers; and we shall be passing on with
+the whole redeemed world to the day of full triumph and final
+restoration; when Christ will come to be glorified in his saints and to
+be admired in them that believe--because our testimony among you was
+believed. But now our business is to give the testimony."
+
+He walked up and down, up and down, before Eleanor for some minutes, in
+a thoughtful, abstracted way. Eleanor felt his manner as much as his
+words; the subject had clearly gone home to himself. She felt both so
+much that she did not like to interrupt the silence, nor to look up. At
+last he stopped again before her and said in quite a different tone,
+"What are the next words, Miss Powle?"
+
+"'Called to be an apostle.'"
+
+"We shall not get home to dinner, if we go into that," he said smiling.
+
+"You have preached a sermon to me, Mr. Rhys."
+
+"I do that very often to myself," he answered.
+
+"To yourself?" said Eleanor.
+
+"Yes. Nobody needs it more."
+
+"But when you have so much real preaching to do--I should think it
+would be the last thing you would wish to do in private,--at other
+times."
+
+"For that very reason. I need to have a sermon always ready, and to be
+always ready myself. Now, let us get home and look at our
+'rotifera'--if we have any."
+
+However, there was to be no microscopical examination that morning.
+
+
+"The best laid schemes o' mice and men Gang aft agley."
+
+
+They had gone but half a mile further homeward when their course was
+again stopped. They came up with a man and a horse; the horse standing
+still, the man lying on the ground beside him. At first sight they
+thought it was a case of drunkenness, for the face of the man was very
+red and he was unable to give any account of himself; but they were
+soon convinced it was sudden illness, not intoxication, which was the
+matter. He had fallen from his horse evidently, and now was not
+unconscious but in great pain; the red in his face alternating with
+sudden changes of colour. Apparently his condition was that of a small
+farmer or upper farm servant, who had been overtaken on some business
+errand by this attack of severe sickness. His horse stood quietly
+beside him.
+
+
+"This is no case for a lancet," said Mr. Rhys after making a slight
+examination. "It calls for greater skill than mine. How will you do? I
+must take the horse and ride for it. But the first thing is to find
+where I ought to go--if I can--"
+
+For this information he sought in the man's pockets; and found
+presently a pocket-book with one or two bills, which gave the name he
+wanted. It was a name not unknown to Mr. Rhys; and let him know also
+the direction in which he must ride; not towards the valley of Plassy.
+
+"What will you do, Miss Powle?--will you be afraid to find your way
+home alone?"
+
+"I will stay here till you come back."
+
+"Will you? But I may be gone some time--and I must tell you," he said
+gravely, "the man is very ill."
+
+"There is the more reason then, I am sure. I will stay and do anything
+for him I can, Mr. Rhys. You go--I will stay here."
+
+Mr. Rhys said nothing more, though Eleanor felt sure from his face that
+he did not disapprove of her conclusion. He mounted the horse
+immediately.
+
+"I will send help from the way if I can, though I doubt it. The way is
+lonely, till I get almost there."
+
+He rode off at a sharp pace, and Eleanor was left quite alone. Her
+attention came back to the sick person at her feet. So near the
+light-hearted pleasure of ten minutes ago had been to pain and death!
+And Mr. Rhys's sermon was nearer still. The first thing to consider,
+was what she could do for the man.
+
+He had fallen and lay on the grass in the broad sunshine. The sun had
+mounted high now; its beams fell hot and full on the sufferer's face.
+At a little distance was a grove of oaks and beeches, and good shelter;
+but Eleanor's strength could not move the man thither; he was a great,
+thickset, burly fellow. Yet it was miserable to see the sun beating
+upon his face where the sweat of pain already stood. Eleanor went to
+the wood, and with much trouble and searching managed to find or break
+off two or three sticks of a few feet in length. She planted these for
+a frame near the sick man's head and spread her light summer shawl over
+them to make a screen. It was a light screen; nevertheless much better
+than nothing. Then Eleanor kneeled down by the man to see what more she
+could do. Red and pale changed fast and fearfully upon his face; big
+drops stood on the brow and cheeks. Eleanor doubted whether he were
+conscious, he lay so still. She took her pocket-handkerchief to wipe
+the wet brow. A groan answered her at that. It startled her, for it was
+the first sound she had heard the sick person utter. Putting down her
+face to receive if possible some intimation of a wish, she thought he
+said or tried to say something about "drink." Eleanor rose up and
+sought to recollect where last and nearest she had seen water. It was
+some distance behind; a little spring that had crossed their foot-way
+with its own bright track. Then what could she bring some in? The
+phials! Quick the precious pond water and bog water was poured out,
+with one thought of the nameless treasures for Mr. Rhys's microscope
+that she was spilling upon the ground; and Eleanor took the basket
+again and set off on the backward way. She was in a hurry, the sun was
+warm, the distance was a good quarter of a mile; by the time she had
+found the stream and filled her phial and retraced again her steps to
+where the sick man lay, she was heated and weary; for every step was
+hurried with the thought of that suffering which the water might
+alleviate. This was pure, sparkling, good water with which the phials
+were now filled. But when Eleanor got back to him, the man could not
+open his lips to take it. She feared he would die, and suddenly.
+
+It was a wild uncultivated place they were in. No signs of human
+habitation were to be seen, except far up away on a hillside in the
+distance, where smoke went up from a farmhouse or some sort of a house;
+towards which Eleanor looked with earnest longings that the human help
+which was there could be brought within available distance. It was
+greatly too far for that. How soon would Mr. Rhys be back? Impossible
+to say; she could not tell what length of road he might have to travel.
+And the man seemed dying. Eleanor knelt down again, and with the
+precious contents of one of the phial bathed the brow and the lips that
+she thought would never return to their natural colour again. She did
+it perseveringly; it was all she could do. Perhaps it gave comfort. But
+Eleanor grew tired, and felt increasingly lonely and desirous that some
+one should come. No one did come by that way, nor was likely to come,
+until the return of Mr. Rhys; the place was not near a highway; only on
+a wild mountain track. It struck Eleanor then that the sufferer's head
+lay too low, upon the ground. She could not move him to a better
+position; and finally placing herself on the grass beside him, she
+contrived with great exertion to lift his head upon her lap. He could
+not thank her; she did not know if he were aware of what she did; but
+then Eleanor had done all. She schooled herself to sit patiently and
+wipe the brow that lay upon her knee, and wait; knowing that death
+might come to take her charge before any other arrival relieved her of
+it. Eleanor had a great many thoughts meanwhile; and as she sat there
+revolved Mr. Rhys's 'sermon' in her mind over and over, and from one
+end to the other and back again.
+
+So at last Mr. Rhys found her. He came as he had gone, full speed;
+jumped off his horse, and took a very grave survey of the group on the
+ground. It was not early. Mr. Rhys had been a long time away; it seemed
+half a day's length to Eleanor.
+
+"Have you been there all this time?" was his question.
+
+"O no."
+
+"I will take your place," said he kneeling down and lifting the
+unconscious head from Eleanor's lap. "There is a waggon coming. It will
+be here directly."
+
+Eleanor got up, trembling and stiff from her long constrained position.
+The waggon presently came in sight; a huge covered wain which had need
+to move slowly. Mr. Rhys had stayed by it to guide it, and only spurred
+forward when near enough to the place. Into it they now lifted the sick
+man, and the horses' heads were turned again. Mr. Rhys had not been
+able to bring a doctor.
+
+"Why here is Powis!" exclaimed Eleanor, as on the waggon coming round
+she discovered her pony hitched to the back of it. Mr. Rhys unhitched
+him. Powis was saddled.
+
+"I thought you would have done enough for to-day," said he; "and I went
+round by the farm to bring him. Now you will ride home as fast as you
+please."
+
+"But I thought the farm was out of your way?"
+
+"I had time to gallop over there and meet the waggon again; it went so
+slowly."
+
+"O thank you! But I do not need Powis--I can walk perfectly well. I am
+sure you need him more than I do, Mr. Rhys. I do not need him at all."
+
+"Come, mount!" said he. "I cannot ride on a side saddle, child."
+
+Eleanor mounted in silence, a little surprised to find that Mr. Rhys
+helped her not awkwardly; and not knowing exactly whence came a curious
+warm glow that filled her heart like a golden reflection. But it kept
+her silent too; and it did not go away even when Mr. Rhys said in his
+usual manner,
+
+"I beg your pardon, Miss Powle--I live among the hills till I grow
+unceremonious."
+
+Eleanor did not make any answer, and if she rode home as fast as she
+pleased, it was her pleasure to ride slowly; for Mr. Rhys walked beside
+her all the way. But she was too tired perhaps to talk much; and he was
+in one of his silent moods.
+
+"What have you done with the phials?" said he looking into the basket
+as they neared home.
+
+"I am very sorry, Mr. Rhys! I had to empty them to get water for that
+poor man. I wasn't quite sure, but I thought he asked for it."
+
+"Oh!--And where did you go to find water?"
+
+"Back--don't you remember?--some distance back of where we found him,
+we had passed a little brook of running clear water. I had to go there."
+
+"Yes--I know. Well, we shall have to make another expedition."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+AT HOME.
+
+
+  "I will have hopes that cannot fade,
+  For flowers the valley yields!
+  I will have humble thoughts instead
+  Of silent, dewy fields!
+  My spirit and my God shall be
+  My sea-ward hill, my boundless sea."
+
+
+The promised expedition came off; and a number of others; not too
+frequently however, for Mr. Rhys continued to be one of the world's
+busy people, and was often engaged and often weary. The walks after
+natural history came between times; when he was not under the immediate
+pressure of duty, and felt that he needed recreation to fit him for it.
+Eleanor was his companion generally, and grew to be as much interested
+in his objects as he was himself. Perhaps that is saying too much. In
+the house certainly Mr. Rhys bestowed an amount of patient time and
+investigation upon his microscopical studies which Eleanor did not
+emulate; time and pains which made him presently a capital manipulator,
+and probably stowed away quantities of knowledge under that quiet brow
+of his. Many an hour Mr. Rhys and his microscope were silent
+companions, during which he was rapt and absorbed in his contemplations
+or his efforts--whichever it might be; but then at other times, and
+before and after these times, Eleanor and Mrs. Caxton were constantly
+invited to a share in some of the results at least of what was going on.
+
+Perhaps three people rarely enjoy more comfort together in themselves
+and in each other, than these three did for some weeks following the
+date of the last chapter. Mr. Rhys was a wonderful pleasant addition to
+the family. He was entirely at home, and not a person be trammelled by
+any ordinary considerations. He was silent when he felt like it; he
+kept alone when he was busy; he put no unnatural force upon himself
+when he was fatigued; but silent, or weary, or busy, there was always
+and at all times where he was, the feeling of the presence of one who
+was never absent from God. It was in the atmosphere about him; it was
+in the look that he wore, free and simple as that always was, in its
+gravity; it was in the straightforward doing of duty, all little things
+as much as in great things; the little things never forgotten, the
+great things never waived. It was an unconscious testimony that Mr.
+Rhys carried about with him; and which his companions seeing, they
+moved about with softened steps and strengthened hearts all the while.
+But he was not always tired and silent; and when he was not, he was a
+most delightful companion, as free to talk as a child and as full of
+matter as a wise man; and entirely social and sympathetic too in his
+whole temper and behaviour. He would not enjoy his natural historical
+discoveries alone; Mrs. Caxton and Eleanor were made to take their full
+share. The family circle was, quietly, a very lively one; there was no
+stagnating anywhere. He and Mrs. Caxton had many subjects and interests
+in common of which they talked freely, and Eleanor was only too glad to
+listen. There were books and reviews read aloud sometimes, with very
+pithy discussion of the same; in fact, there was conversation, truly
+deserving the name; such as Eleanor never listened to before she came
+to Plassy, and which she enjoyed hugely. Then the walks after natural
+objects were on the whole frequent; and Mr. Rhys was sure to ask her to
+go along; and they were full of delightful pleasure and of nice talk
+too, though it never happened that they sat down under a tree again to
+sermonize and Mr. Rhys never forgot himself again to speak to her by
+the undignified appellation he once had given her. But Eleanor had got
+over her shyness of him pretty well, and was inclined to think it quite
+honour and pleasure enough to be allowed to share his walks; waited
+very contentedly when he was wrapped up in his own thoughts; wrapped
+herself up in hers; and was all ready for the talk when it came. With
+all this she observed that he never distinguished her by any more
+familiarity than Mrs. Caxton's niece and his daily neighbour at the
+table and in the family, might demand from a gentleman and Mrs.
+Caxton's friend and guest. The hills and the valleys around Plassy were
+very beautiful that summer.
+
+So was Mrs. Caxton's garden. The roses flushed out into bloom, with all
+their contemporaries; the terraces down to the river were aglow with
+richness and profusion of blossoms, and sweet with many fragrances. The
+old farmhouse itself had become an object of admiration to Eleanor.
+Long and low, built of dark red stone and roofed with slate, it was now
+in different parts wreathed and draped in climbing roses and
+honeysuckle as well as in the ivy which did duty all winter. To stand
+under these roses at the back of the house, and look down over the
+gorgeous terraces, to the river and the bridge and the outspread
+meadows on the other side, stretching away down and up the valley and
+reaching to the foot of the hills which rose beyond them; to see all
+this, was to see a combination of natural features rare even in
+England, though words may not make it seem so.
+
+Mrs. Caxton and Eleanor were there one evening. It was towards the end
+of the season of "June roses," though indeed it was later than the
+month of June. Mr. Rhys had been called away to some distance by
+business, and been detained a week; and this evening he might be
+expected home. They had missed him very much, Mrs. Caxton and Eleanor.
+They had missed him exceedingly at prayer-time; they had missed him
+desolately at meals. To-night the tea-table was spread where he loved
+to have it; on the tiled floor under the projecting roof before
+mentioned. A dish was crowned with red and white strawberries in the
+middle of the table, and Eleanor stood decorating it slowly with ivy
+leaves and blossoms of white heath.
+
+"It is not certain, my dear, he will come home to-night," Mrs. Caxton
+said as she watched her.
+
+"No, aunty,"--said Eleanor with a slight start, but then going on with
+her occupation. "What about it?"
+
+"Nothing. We will enjoy the flowers ourselves."
+
+"But he thought he would be at home to-night, aunt Caxton?"
+
+"He could not be sure. He might easily be detained. You have got over
+your fear of Mr. Rhys, Eleanor?"
+
+"Aunt Caxton, I don't think I ever feared him!"
+
+"He used to have a 'quieting influence' upon you," Mrs. Caxton said
+smiling.
+
+"Well,--he does now, ma'am. At least I am sure Mr. Rhys is one of the
+persons I should never care to contradict."
+
+"I should think not," said Mrs. Caxton quietly. Eleanor had coloured a
+little.
+
+"But that is not because, merely, I do not think myself wise; because
+there are other persons before whom I think myself no wiser, whom I
+_would_ contradict--I mean, in a polite way--if it came into my head."
+
+"We shall miss him when he goes," said Mrs. Caxton with a little bit of
+a sigh. Eleanor wanted to ask a question, but the words did not come.
+The ornamenting of the strawberry dish was finished. She turned from
+it, and looked down where the long train of cows came winding through
+the meadows and over the bridge. Pretty, peaceful, lovely, was this
+gentle rural scene; what was the connection that made but a step in
+Eleanor's thoughts between the meadows of Plassy and some far-off
+islands in distant Polynesia? Eleanor had changed since some time ago.
+She could understand now why Mr. Rhys wanted to go there; she could
+comprehend it; she could understand how it was that he was not afraid
+to go and did not shrink from leaving all this loveliness at her feet.
+All that was no mystery now; but her thoughts fastened on her aunt's
+words--how they would "miss him." She was very still, and so was Mrs.
+Caxton; till a step brought both heads round to the door.
+
+It was only a servant that came out, bringing letters; one for Eleanor,
+one for Mrs. Caxton. Standing where she was, Eleanor broke hers open.
+It was from her mother, and it contained something both new and
+unexpected; an urgent injunction on her to return immediately home. The
+family were going at once to Brighton, the letter said; Mrs. Powle
+wished Eleanor to lose no time, in order that her wardrobe might be
+properly cared for. Thomas was sent with the letter, and her mother
+desired that Eleanor would immediately on the receipt of it, "without
+an hour's delay," set off to come home with him. Reasons for this
+sudden proceeding there were none given; and it came with the
+suddenness of a hurricane upon Eleanor. Up to this time there had been
+no intimation of her mother's wish to have her at home again ever; an
+interval of several weeks had elapsed since any letters; now Mrs. Powle
+said "she had been gone long enough," and they all wanted her, and must
+have her at once to go to Brighton. So suddenly affectionate?
+
+Eleanor stood looking at her letter some time after she had ceased to
+read it, with a face that shewed turmoil. Mrs. Caxton came up to her.
+Eleanor dropped the letter in her hand, but her eye avoided her aunt's.
+
+"What is all this haste, Eleanor?" Mrs. Caxton said gravely.
+
+"I don't know, ma'am."
+
+"At any rate, my child, you cannot leave me to-night. It is too late."
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"Does your mother assign no reason for this sudden demand of you? She
+gives me none."
+
+"She gives me none, ma'am."
+
+"Eleanor--"
+
+It brought Eleanor's eye up, and that brought her head down on Mrs.
+Caxton's shoulder. Her aunt clasped her tenderly for a moment, and then
+said,
+
+"Had you not better see your mother's servant, my dear, and give your
+orders?--and then we will have tea."
+
+Eleanor steadied herself immediately; went out and had an interview
+with old Thomas, which however brought her no enlightenment; made her
+arrangements with him, and returned to her aunt. Mrs. Caxton ordered
+tea; they would not wait for Mr. Rhys any longer. The aunt and niece
+sat down to the table behind the honeysuckle drapery of the pillars;
+the sunlight had left the landscape; the breath of the flowers floated
+up cool and sweet from the terraced garden and waved about them with
+every stir of the long rose and honeysuckle sprays. Eleanor sat by the
+table and looked out. Mrs. Caxton poured out the tea and looked at her.
+
+"Aren't you going to take some strawberries, my love?"
+
+"Shall I give you some, aunt Caxton?"
+
+"And yourself, my dear."
+
+She watched while Eleanor slowly broke up the heath and ivy adornment
+of the strawberry dish, and carefully afterwards replaced the sprays
+and leaves she had dislodged. It is no harm for a lady's hand to be
+white; but travelling from the hand to the face, Mrs. Caxton's eye
+found too little colour there. Eleanor's cheeks were not generally
+wanting in a fine healthy tinge. The tinge was fainter than usual
+to-night. Nevertheless she was eating strawberries with apparent
+regularity.
+
+"Eleanor, I do not understand this sudden recall. Have you any clue?"
+
+"No ma'am, not the least."
+
+"What arrangements have you made, my dear?"
+
+"For to-morrow morning, ma'am. I had no choice."
+
+"No, my dear, you had not; and I have not a word to say. I hope Mr.
+Rhys will come back before you go."
+
+Absolute silence on Eleanor's part.
+
+"You would like to bid him good bye before you leave Plassy."
+
+There was a cessation of any attention to the strawberries, and
+Eleanor's hand took a position which rather hindered observations of
+her face. You might have heard a slight little sigh come from behind
+Mrs. Caxton's tea-pot.
+
+"Eleanor, have you learned that the steps of a good man are ordered by
+the Lord? My love, they are not left to our own disposal, and we should
+not know how to manage it. You are going to do the Lord's work, are you
+not, wherever you may be?"
+
+"I hope so."
+
+"Then trust him to place you where he wants the work to be done. Can
+you, Eleanor?"
+
+Eleanor left her seat, came round and knelt down by Mrs. Caxton's side,
+putting her face in her lap.
+
+"It is not like a good soldier, dear, to wish to play general. You have
+something now to do at home--perhaps not more for others than for
+yourself. Are you willing to do it?"
+
+"Don't ask me if I am willing, aunt Caxton! I have been too happy--But
+I shall be willing."
+
+"That is all we live for, my dear--to do the Lord's work; and I am sure
+that in service as in everything else, God loves a cheerful giver. Let
+us give him that now, Eleanor; and trust him for the rest. My child,
+you are not the only one who has to give up something."
+
+And though Mrs. Caxton said little more than that word on the subject
+of what Eleanor's departure cost herself, she manifested it in a
+different way by the kind incessant solicitude and care with which she
+watched over Eleanor and helped her and kept with her that night and
+the next morning. Eleanor made her preparations and indulged in very
+few words. There was too much to think of, in the last evening's
+society, the last night in her happy room, the last morning hours. And
+yet Eleanor did very little thinking. She was to go immediately after
+breakfast. The early prayers were over, and the aunt and niece were
+left by themselves a moment before the meal was served.
+
+"And what shall I say to Mr. Rhys?" enquired Mrs. Caxton, as they stood
+silent together. Eleanor hesitated, and hesitated; and finally said,
+
+"I believe, nothing, ma'am."
+
+"You have given me messages for so many other people, you know," said
+Mrs. Caxton quietly.
+
+"Yes, ma'am. I don't know how to make a message for him."
+
+"I think he will feel it," said Mrs. Caxton in the same manner.
+
+Then she saw, for her eyes were good, the lightning flash of emotion
+which worked in Eleanor's face. Proud self-control kept it down, and
+she stood motionless, though it did not prevent the perceptible paling
+of her cheek which Mrs. Caxton had noticed last night. She stood
+silent, then she said slowly,--
+
+"If I thought _that_--You may give him any message for me that you
+think good, aunt Caxton."
+
+The breakfast arrived, and few more words passed on any topic. Another
+hour, and Eleanor was on her journey.
+
+She felt in a confusion of spirits and would not let herself think,
+till they reached her stopping place for the night. And then, instead
+of thinking, Eleanor to say the truth could do nothing but weep. It was
+her time for tears; to-morrow would end such an indulgence. At an early
+hour the next day she met her father's carriage which had been sent so
+far for her; and the remaining hours of her way Eleanor did think. Her
+thoughts are her own. But at the bottom of some that were sorrowful lay
+one deep subject of joy. That she was not going helmet-less into the
+fight which she felt might be before her. Of that she had an inward
+presentiment, though what form it would take she was entirely uncertain.
+
+Julia was the first person that met her, and that meeting was rapturous.
+
+"O Nell! it has been so dreadful and dull since you have been gone! I'm
+so glad to have you home! I'm so glad to have you home!"--she repeated,
+with her arms round Eleanor's neck.
+
+"But what are you going to Brighton for?" said Eleanor after the first
+salutations had satisfied the first eagerness of the sisters.
+
+"O I don't know. Papa isn't just well, I believe; and mamma thought it
+would do him good. Mamma's in here."
+
+It was to Eleanor's relief that her reception in this quarter also was
+perfectly cordial. Mrs. Powle seemed to have forgotten, or to be
+disposed to forget, old causes of trouble; and to begin again as if
+nothing had happened.
+
+"You look well, Eleanor. Bless me, I never saw your complexion better!
+but how your hair is dressed! That isn't the way now; but you'll get to
+rights soon. I've got a purple muslin for you that will be beautiful.
+Your whole wardrobe will want attention, but I have everything
+ready--dress-maker and all--only waiting for you. Think of your being
+gone seven months and more! But never mind--we'll let bygones be
+bygones. I am not going to rake up anything. We'll go to Brighton and
+have everything pleasant."
+
+
+"How soon, mamma?"
+
+"Just as soon as I can get you dressed. And Eleanor! I wish you would
+immediately take a review of all your wardrobe and all I have got for
+you, and see if I have omitted anything."
+
+"What has put you into the notion of Brighton, mamma?"
+
+"Everybody is there now--and we want a change. I think it will do your
+father good."
+
+To see her father was the next thing; and here there was some comfort.
+The squire was undoubtedly rejoiced to see his daughter and welcomed
+her back right heartily. Made much of her in his way. He was the only
+one too who cared much to hear of Mrs. Caxton and her way of life and
+her farm. The squire did care. Eleanor was kept a long time answering
+questions and giving details. It cost her some hard work.
+
+"She is a good woman, is my sister Caxton," said the Squire; "and she
+has pluck enough for half a dozen. The only thing I have against her is
+her being a Methodist. She hasn't made a Methodist of you, hey,
+Eleanor?"
+
+"I don't think she has, papa," Eleanor answered slowly.
+
+"That's the only fault _I_ have to find with her," the Squire went on;
+"but I suppose women must have an empty corner of their heads, where
+they will stick fancies if they don't stick flowers. I think flowers
+are the most becoming of the two. Wears a brown gown always, don't she?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"I thought they did," said the Squire; "but she's a clever woman, for
+all that, or she wouldn't carry on that business of the farm as she
+does. Your mother don't like the farm; but I think my sister is right.
+Better be independent and ask leave of nobody. Well, you must get
+dressed, must you. I am glad to have you home, child!"
+
+"Why are we going to leave home, papa?"
+
+"St. George and the Dragon! Ask your mother."
+
+So Eleanor did not get much wiser on the subject till dinner-time; nor
+then either, though it was nearly the only thing talked about, both
+directly and indirectly. A great weariness came over her, as the
+contrast rose up of Mrs. Caxton's dinner-table and the three faces
+round it; with the sweet play of talk, on things natural or
+philosophical, religious or civil, but always sensible, fresh, and
+original and strong. Always that; the party might lapse into silence;
+if one of them was tired it often did; but when the words came again,
+they came with a ready life and purpose--with a sort of perfume of love
+and purity--that it made Eleanor's heart ache now to think of. Her
+mother was descanting on lodgings, on the people already at Brighton,
+or coming there; on dresses ready and unready; and to vary this topic
+the Squire complained that his wine was not cooled properly. Eleanor
+sank into silence and then into extreme depression of spirits; which
+grew more and more, until she caught her little sister's eye looking at
+her wistfully. Julia had hardly said a word all dinner-time. The look
+smote Eleanor's conscience. "Is this the way I am doing the work given
+me?" she thought; "this selfish forgetting of all others in myself? Am
+I standing in my post like a good soldier? Is _this_ 'pleasing all men
+for their good?'" Conscience thumped like a hammer; and Eleanor roused
+up, entered into what was going, talked and made herself pleasant to
+both father and mother, who grew sunshiny under the influence. Mrs.
+Powle eat the remainder of her dinner with more appetite; and the
+Squire declared Eleanor had grown handsome and Plassy had done her no
+harm. But Julia looked and listened and said never a word. It was very
+hard work to Eleanor, though it brought its reward as she went along,
+not only in comments but in the sense of duty performed. She would not
+run away from her post; she kept at it; when her father had gone away
+to smoke she stayed by her mother; till Mrs. Powle dropped off into her
+usual after dinner nap in her chair. Eleanor sat still a minute or two
+longer, then made an escape. She sought her old garden, by the way of
+her old summer parlour. Things were not changed there, except that the
+garden was a little neglected. It brought painful things back, though
+the flowers were sweet and the summer sunset glow was over them all. So
+it used to be in old times. So it used to be in nearer times, last
+summer. And now was another change. Eleanor paced slowly down one walk
+and up another, looking sorrowfully at her old friends, the roses,
+carnations and petunias, which looked at her as cheerfully as ever;
+when a hand touched hers and she found Julia at her side.
+
+"Eleanor," she said wistfully, "are you _sorry_ to be at home again?"
+
+"I am glad to see you, darling; and papa, and mamma."
+
+"But you don't look glad. Was it so much pleasanter where you have
+been?"
+
+Eleanor struggled with herself.
+
+"It was very different, Julia--and there were things that you and I
+both love, that there are not here."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Here all is for the world, Julia; there, at Plassy, nothing is for the
+world. I feel the difference just at first--I suppose I shall get a
+little used to it presently."
+
+"I have not thought so much about all that," said Julia soberly, "since
+Mr. Rhys went away. But you must have loved aunt Caxton very much,
+Eleanor, to make you sorry to come home."
+
+Julia spoke almost sadly. Eleanor felt bitterly reproached. Was there
+not work at home here for her to do! Yet she could hardly speak at
+first. Putting her arm round Julia she drew her down beside her on a
+green bank and took her little sister in her arms.
+
+"You and I will help each other, Julia, will we not?"
+
+"In what?"
+
+"To love Christ, and please him."
+
+"Why, do you love him?" said Julia. "Are you like Mr. Rhys?"
+
+"Not much. But I do love the same Master he loves, Julia; and I have
+come home to serve him. You will help me?"
+
+"Mamma don't like all that," remarked Julia.
+
+Eleanor sighed. The burden on her heart seemed growing heavy. Julia
+half rose up and putting both arms round her neck covered her lips with
+kisses.
+
+"You don't seem like yourself!" she said; "and you look as grave as if
+you had found us all dead. Eleanor--are you afraid?" she said with an
+earnest look.
+
+"Afraid of what, dear?"
+
+"Of that man--afraid of Mr. Carlisle?"
+
+"No, I am not afraid of him, or of anything. Besides, he is hundreds of
+miles away, in Switzerland or somewhere."
+
+"No he isn't; he is here."
+
+"What do you mean by 'here?'"
+
+"In England, I mean. He isn't at the Priory; but he was here at the
+Lodge the other day."
+
+Eleanor's heart made two or three springs one way and another.
+
+"No dear, I am not afraid of him," she repeated, with a quietness that
+was convincing; and Julia passed to other subjects. Eleanor did not
+forget that one; and as Julia ran on with her talk, she pondered it,
+and made a secret thanksgiving that she was so escaped both from danger
+and from fear. Nevertheless she could not help thinking about the
+subject. It seemed that Mr. Carlisle's wound had healed very rapidly.
+And moreover she had not given him credit for finding any attraction in
+that house, beyond her own personal presence in it. However, she
+reflected that Mr. Carlisle was busy in politics, and perhaps
+cultivated her father. They went in again, to take up the subject of
+Brighton.
+
+And what followed? Muslins, flowers, laces, bonnets and ribbands. They
+were very irksome days to Eleanor, that were spent in getting ready for
+Brighton; and the thought of the calm purity of Plassy with its
+different occupations sometimes came over her and for the moment
+unnerved her hands for the finery they had to handle. Once Eleanor took
+a long rambling ride alone on her old pony; she did not try it again.
+Business and bustle was better, at least was less painful, than such a
+time for thinking and feeling. So the dresses were made, and they went
+to Brighton.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+AT A WATERING-PLACE.
+
+
+  "In the world's broad field of battle,
+  In the bivouac of Life,
+  Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
+  Be a hero in the strife!"
+
+
+Eleanor was at once plunged into a whirl of engagements, with
+acquaintances new and old. And the former class multiplied very
+rapidly. Mrs. Powle's fair curls hung on either side of her face with
+almost their full measure of complacency, as she saw and beheld her
+daughter's successful attractions. It was true. Eleanor was found to
+have something unique about her; some said it was her beauty, some said
+it was her manners; some insisted it was neither, but had a deeper
+origin; at any rate she was fresh. Something out of the common line and
+that piqued curiosity, was delightful; and in despite of her very
+moderate worldly advantages, compared with many others who were there,
+Eleanor Powle seemed likely to become in a little while the belle of
+Brighton. Certain rumours which were afloat no doubt facilitated and
+expedited this progress of things. Happily Eleanor did not hear them.
+
+The rush of engagements and whirl of society at first was very wearying
+and painful to her. No heart had Eleanor to give to it. Only by putting
+a force upon herself, to please her father and mother, she managed to
+enter with some spirit into the amusements going forward, in which she
+was expected to take an active part. Perhaps this very fact had
+something to do with the noble and sweet disengagedness of manner which
+marked her unlike those about her, in a world where self-interest of
+some sort is the ruling motive. It was not Eleanor's world; it had
+nothing to do with the interests that were dear in her regard; and
+something of that carelessness which she brought to it conferred a
+grace that the world imitates in vain. Eleanor found however after a
+little, that the rush and hurry of her life and of all the people about
+her had a contagion in it; her own thoughts were beginning to be
+absorbed in what absorbed everybody; her own cherished interests were
+getting pushed into a corner. Eleanor resolved to make a stand then,
+and secure time enough to herself to let her own inner life have play
+and breathing room. But it was very difficult to make such a stand.
+Mrs. Powle ever stood like a watchman at the door to drive Eleanor out
+when she wanted to be in. Time! there seemed to be no time.
+
+Eleanor had heard that Mr. Carlisle was expected at Brighton; so she
+was not greatly surprised one evening to find herself in the same room
+with him. It was at a public assembly. The glances that her curiosity
+cast, found him moving about among people very like, and in very
+exactly the manner of his old self. No difference that she could see.
+She wondered whether he would have the audacity to come and speak to
+her. Audacity was not a point in which Mr. Carlisle was failing. He
+came; and as he came others scattered away; melted off, and left her
+alone.
+
+He came with the best air in the world; a little conscious, a little
+apologetic, wholly respectful, not altogether devoid of the old
+familiarity. He offered his hand; did not to be sure detain hers, which
+would have been inconvenient in a public assembly; but he detained
+_her_, falling into talk with an ease or an effrontery which it was
+impossible not to admire. And Eleanor admired him involuntarily.
+Certainly this man had capacities. He did not detain her too long;
+passed away as easily as he had come up; but returned again in the
+course of the evening to offer her some civility; and it was Mr.
+Carlisle who put her mother and herself into their carriage. Eleanor
+looked for a remark from her mother on the subject during their drive
+home; but Mrs. Powle made none.
+
+The next evening he was at Mrs. Powle's rooms, where a small company
+was gathered every Tuesday. He might be excused if he watched, more
+than he wished to be seen watching, the sweet unconscious grace and
+ease with which Eleanor moved and spoke. Others noticed it, but Mr.
+Carlisle drew comparisons; and found to his mystification that her six
+months on a cheese-farm had returned Eleanor with an added charm of eye
+and manner, for which he could not account; which he could not
+immediately define. She was not expecting to see him this time, for she
+started a little when he presented himself. He came with the same
+pleasant expression that he had worn last night.
+
+"Will you excuse me for remarking, that your winter has done you good?"
+he said.
+
+"Yes. I know it has," Eleanor answered.
+
+"With your old frankness, you acknowledge it?"
+
+"Willingly."
+
+Her accent was so simple and sweet, the attraction was irresistible. He
+sat down by her.
+
+"I hope you are as willing as I am to acknowledge that all our last
+winter's work was not good. We exchanged letters."
+
+"Hardly, Mr. Carlisle."
+
+"Will you allow me to say, that I am ashamed of my part in that
+transaction. Eleanor, I want you to forget it, and to receive me as if
+it had not happened."
+
+Eleanor was in a mixture of astonishment and doubt, as to how far his
+words might be taken. In the doubt, she hesitated one instant. Another
+person, a lady, drew near, and Mr. Carlisle yielded to her the place he
+had been occupying. The opportunity for an answer was gone. And though
+he was often near her during the evening, he did not recur again to the
+subject, and Eleanor could not. But the little bit of dialogue left her
+something to think of.
+
+She had occasion often to think of it. Mr. Carlisle was everywhere, of
+course, in Brighton; at least he was in Eleanor's everywhere; she saw
+him a great deal and was a little struck and puzzled by his manner. He
+was very often in her immediate company; often attending upon her; it
+constantly happened, she could not tell how, that his arm was the one
+to which she was consigned, in walks and evening escorts. In a measure,
+he assumed his old place beside her; his attentions were constant,
+gracefully and freely paid; they just lacked the expression which would
+have obliged and enabled her to throw them off. It was rather the
+manner of a brother than of a lover; but it was familiar and
+confidential beyond what those assume that are not brothers. Whatever
+it meant, it dissatisfied Eleanor. The world, perhaps the gentleman
+himself, might justly think if she permitted this state of things that
+she allowed the conclusions naturally to be drawn from it. She
+determined to withdraw herself. It was curiously and inexplicably
+difficult. Too easily, too gracefully, too much as a matter of course,
+things fell into train, for Eleanor often to do anything to alter the
+train. But she was determined.
+
+"Eleanor, do you know everybody is waiting?" Mrs. Powle exclaimed one
+morning bursting into Eleanor's room. "There's the whole riding
+party--and you are not ready!"
+
+"No, mamma. I am not going."
+
+"Not going! Just put on your riding-habit as quick as you can--Julia,
+get her hat!--you said you would go, and I have no notion of
+disappointing people like that. Get yourself ready immediately--do you
+hear me?"
+
+"But, mamma--"
+
+"Put on your habit!--then talk if you like. It's all nonsense. What are
+you doing? studying? Nonsense! there's time enough for studying when
+you are at home. Now be quick!"
+
+"But, mamma--"
+
+"Well? Put your hair lower, Eleanor; that will not do."
+
+"Mamma, isn't Mr. Carlisle there?"
+
+"Mr. Carlisle? What if he is? I hope he is. You are well in that hat,
+Eleanor."
+
+"Mamma, if Mr. Carlisle is there,--"
+
+"Hold your tongue, Eleanor!--take your whip and go. They are all
+waiting. You may talk to me when you come back, but now you must go. I
+should think Mr. Carlisle would like to be of the party, for there
+isn't such another figure on the ride. Now kiss me and go. You are a
+good girl."
+
+Mrs. Powle said it with some feeling. She had never found Eleanor so
+obediently tractable as since her return; she had never got from her
+such ready and willing cooperation, even in matters that her mother
+knew were not after Eleanor's heart, as now when her heart was less in
+them than ever. And at this moment she was gratified by the quiet grave
+obedience rendered her, in doing what she saw plainly enough Eleanor
+did not like to do. She followed her daughter down stairs with a proud
+heart.
+
+It happened again, as it was always happening, that Mr. Carlisle was
+Eleanor's special attendant. Eleanor meditated possible ways of
+hindering this in future; but for the present there was no remedy. Mr.
+Carlisle put her on her horse; it was not till she was taking the reins
+in her left hand that something struck her with a sense of familiarity.
+
+"What horse is this?" she asked.
+
+"No other than your old friend and servant--I hope you have not
+forgotten her. She has not forgotten you."
+
+Eleanor perceived that. As surely as it was Black Maggie, Maggie knew
+her; and displeased though Eleanor was with the master, she could not
+forbear a little caress of recognition to the beautiful creature he had
+once given her. Maggie was faultless; she and Eleanor were accustomed
+to each other; it was an undeniable pleasure to be so mounted again, as
+Eleanor could not but acknowledge to herself during the first few
+dainty dancing steps that Maggie made with her wonted burden.
+Nevertheless it was a great deal too much like old times that were
+destroyed; and glancing at Mr. Carlisle Eleanor saw that he was on
+Tippoo, and furthermore that there was a sparkle in his eye which meant
+hope, or triumph. Something put Eleanor on her mettle; she rode well
+that day. She rode with a careless grace and ease that even drew a
+compliment from Mr. Carlisle; but beyond that, his companion at first
+gave him little satisfaction. She was grave and cold to all his
+conversational efforts. However, there she was on his black mare; and
+Mr. Carlisle probably found an antidote to whatever discouragement she
+threw in his way. Chance threw something else in his way.
+
+They had turned into one of the less frequented streets of the town, in
+their way to get out of it, when Eleanor's eye was seized by a figure
+on the sidewalk. It startled her inexpressibly; and before she could be
+sure her eyes did not deceive her the figure had almost passed, or they
+had almost passed the person. But in passing he had raised his bat; she
+knew then he had recognized her, as she had known him; and he had
+recognized her in such company. And he was in Brighton. Without a
+moment for thought or delay, Eleanor wheeled her horse's head sharply
+round and in one or two smart steps brought herself alongside of Mr.
+Rhys. He stopped, came up to her stirrup and shook hands. He looked
+grave, Eleanor thought. She hastened to speak.
+
+"I could not pass you, Mr. Rhys. I had to leave Plassy without bidding
+you good bye."
+
+"I am glad to meet you now," he said,--"before I go."
+
+"Do you leave Brighton very soon?"
+
+"To-morrow. I go up to London, and in a few days I expect to sail from
+there."
+
+"For--?"
+
+"Yes,--for my post in the Southern Ocean. I have an unexpected
+opportunity."
+
+Eleanor was silent. She could not find anything to say. She knew also
+that Mr. Carlisle had wheeled his horse after her, and that Tippoo was
+taking steps somewhere in her close neighbourhood. But she sat
+motionless, unable to move as well as to speak.
+
+"I must not detain you," said Mr. Rhys. "Do you find it as easy to live
+well at Brighton as at Plassy?"
+
+Eleanor answered a low and grave "no;" bending down over her saddlebow.
+
+"Keep that which is committed to thy charge," he said gently.
+"Farewell--and the Lord bless you!"
+
+Eleanor had bared her gauntleted hand; he gave it the old earnest
+grasp, lifted his hat, and went on his way. Eleanor turned her horse's
+head again and found herself alongside of Mr. Carlisle. She rode on
+briskly, pointing out to him how far ahead were the rest of the party.
+
+"Was not your friend somebody that I know?" he enquired as soon as
+there was a convenient pause.
+
+"I am sure I do not know," said Eleanor. "I do not know how good your
+memory may be. He is the gentleman that was my brother's tutor at
+home--some time ago."
+
+"I thought I remembered. Is he tutoring some one else now?"
+
+"I should think not. He just tells me he is about to sail for the South
+Seas. Mr. Carlisle, Maggie has a very nice mouth."
+
+"Her mistress has a very nice hand," he answered, bending forward to
+Maggie's bridle so that he could look up in Eleanor's face. "Only you
+let her rein be too slack, as of old. You like her better than Tippoo?"
+
+"Tippoo is beyond my management."
+
+"I am not going to let you say that. You shall mount Tippoo next time,
+and become acquainted with your own powers. You are not afraid of
+anything?"
+
+"Yes, I am."
+
+"You did not use it."
+
+"Well I have not grown cowardly," said Eleanor; "but I am afraid of
+mounting Tippoo; and what I am afraid of, Mr. Carlisle, I will not do."
+
+"Just the reverse maxim from that which I should have expected from
+you. Do you say your friend there is going to the South Seas?"
+
+"Mr. Rhys?" said Eleanor, turning her face full upon him.
+
+"If that is his name--yes. Why does he not stick to tutoring?"
+
+"Does anybody stick to tutoring that can help it?"
+
+"I should think not; but then as a tutor he would be in the way of
+better things; he could mount to something higher."
+
+"I believe he has some expectation of that sort in going to the
+Pacific," said Eleanor. She spoke it with a most commonplace coolness.
+
+"Seems a very roundabout road to promotion," said Mr. Carlisle,
+watching Eleanor's hand and stealthily her face; "but I suppose he
+knows best. Your friend is not a Churchman, is he?"
+
+"No."
+
+"I remember him as a popular orator of great powers. What is he leaving
+England for?"
+
+"You assume somewhat too much knowledge on my part of people's
+designs," said Eleanor carelessly. "I must suppose that he likes work
+on the other side of the world better than to work here;--for some
+reason or other."
+
+"How the reason should be promotion, puzzles me," said her companion;
+"but that may be owing to prejudice on my part. I do not know how to
+conceive of promotion out of the regular line. In England and in the
+Church. To be sent to India to take a bishopric seems to me a descent
+in the scale. Have you this feeling?"
+
+"About bishoprics?" said Eleanor smiling. "They are not in my line, you
+know."
+
+"Don't be wicked! Have you this feeling about England?"
+
+"If a bishopric in India were offered me?--"
+
+"Well, yes! Would you accept it?"
+
+"I really never had occasion to consider the subject before. It is such
+a very new thought, you see. But I will tell you, I should think the
+humblest curacy in England to be chosen rather,--unless for the sake of
+a wider sphere of doing good."
+
+"Do you know," said Mr. Carlisle, looking very contented, and coming up
+closer, "your bridle hand has improved? It is very nearly faultless.
+What have you been riding this winter?"
+
+"A wiry little pony."
+
+"Honour, Eleanor!" said Mr. Carlisle laughing and bringing his hand
+again near enough to throw over a lock of Maggie's mane which had
+fallen on the wrong side. "I am really curious."
+
+"Well I tell you the truth. But Mr. Carlisle, I wonder you people in
+parliament do not stir yourselves up to right some wrongs. People ought
+to live, if they are curates; and there was one where I was last
+winter--an excellent one--living, or starving, I don't know which you
+would call it, on thirty pounds a year."
+
+Mr. Carlisle entered into the subject; and questions moral,
+legislative, and ecclesiastical, were discussed by him and Eleanor with
+great earnestness and diligence; by him at least with singular delight.
+Eleanor kept up the conversation with unflagging interest; it was
+broken by a proposal on Mr. Carlisle's part for a gallop, to which she
+willingly agreed; held her part in the ensuing scamper with perfect
+grace and steadiness, and as soon as it was over, plunged Mr. Carlisle
+deep again into reform.
+
+"Nobody has had such honour, as I to-day," he assured her as he took
+her down from her horse. "I shall see you to-night, of course?"
+
+"Of course. I suppose," said Eleanor.
+
+It cannot be said that Eleanor made any effort to change the "of
+course," though the rest of the day as usual was swallowed up in a
+round of engagements. There was no breathing time, and the evening
+occasion was a public one. Mrs. Powle was in a great state of
+satisfaction with her daughter to-day; Eleanor had shunned no company
+nor exertion, had carried an unusual spirit into all; and a minute with
+Mr. Carlisle after the ride had shewed him in a sort of exultant mood.
+She looked over Eleanor's dress critically when they were about leaving
+home for the evening's entertainment. It was very simple indeed; yet
+Mrs. Powle in the depth of her heart could not find that anything was
+wanting to the effect.
+
+Nor could a yet more captious critic, Mr. Carlisle; who was on the
+ground before them and watched and observed a little while from a
+distance. Admiration and passion were roused within him, as he watched
+anew what he had already seen in Eleanor's manner since she came to
+Brighton; that grace of absolute ease and unconsciousness, which only
+the very highest breeding can successfully imitate. No Lady Rythdale,
+he was obliged to confess, that ever lived, had better advanced the
+honours of her house, than would this one; could she be persuaded to
+accept the position. This manner did not use to be Eleanor's; how had
+she got it on the borders of Wales? Neither was the sweetness of that
+smile to be seen on her lip in the times gone by; and a little gravity
+was wanting then, which gave a charm of dignity to the exquisite poise
+which whether of character or manner was so at home with her now. Was
+she too grave? The question rose; but he answered it with a negative.
+Her smile came readily, and it was the sweeter for not being always
+seen. His meditations were interrupted by a whisper at his elbow.
+
+"She will not dance!"
+
+"Who will not?" said he, finding himself face to face with Mrs. Powle.
+
+"Eleanor. She will not. I am afraid it is one of her new notions."
+
+Mr. Carlisle smiled a peculiar smile. "Hardly a fault, I think, Mrs.
+Powle. I am not inclined to quarrel with it."
+
+"You do not see any faults at all, I believe," said the lady. "Now I am
+more discerning."
+
+Mr. Carlisle did not speak his thoughts, which were complimentary only
+in one direction, to say truth. He went off to Eleanor, and prevented
+any more propositions of dancing for the rest of the evening. He could
+not monopolize her, though. He was obliged to see her attention divided
+in part among other people, and to take a share which though perfectly
+free and sufficiently gracious, gave him no advantage in that respect
+over several others. The only advantage he could make sure of was that
+of attending Eleanor home. The evening left him an excited man, not
+happy in his mind.
+
+Eleanor, having quitted her escort, went slowly up the stairs; bade her
+mother good night; went into her own room and locked the door. Then
+methodically she took off the several parts of her evening attire and
+laid them away; put on a dressing-gown, threw her window open, and
+knelt down by it.
+
+The stars kept watch over the night. A pleasant fresh breeze blew in
+from the sea. They were Eleanor's only companions, and they never
+missed her from the window the whole night long. I am bound to say,
+that the morning found her there.
+
+But nights so spent make a heavy draft on the following day. In spite
+of all that cold water could do in the way of refreshment, in spite of
+all that the morning cup of tea could do, Eleanor was obliged to
+confess to a headache.
+
+"Why Eleanor, child, you look dreadfully!" said Mrs. Powle, who came
+into her room and found her lying down. "You are as white!--and black
+rings under your eyes. You will never be able to go with the riding
+party this morning."
+
+"I am afraid not, mamma. I am sorry. I would go if I could; but I
+believe I must lie still. Then I shall be fit for this evening,
+perhaps."
+
+She was not; but that one day of solitude and silence was all that
+Eleanor took for herself. The next day she joined the riders again; and
+from that time held herself back from no engagement to which her mother
+or Mr. Carlisle urged her.
+
+Mr. Carlisle felt it with a little of his old feeling of pride. It was
+the only thing in which Eleanor could be said to give the feeling much
+chance; for while she did not reject his attendance, which she could
+not easily do, nor do at all without first vanquishing her mother; and
+while she allowed a certain remains of the old wonted familiarity, she
+at the same never gave Mr. Carlisle any reason to think that he had
+regained the least power over her. She received him well, but as she
+received a hundred others. He was her continual attendant, but he never
+felt that it was by Eleanor's choice; and he knew sometimes that it was
+by her choice that he was thrown out of his office. She bewildered him
+with her sweet dignity, which was more utterly unmanageable than any
+form of pride or passion. The pride and passion were left to be Mr.
+Carlisle's own. Pride was roused, that he was stopped by so gentle a
+barrier in his advances; and passion was stimulated, by uncertainty not
+merely, but by the calm grace and indefinable sweetness which he did
+not remember in Eleanor, well as he had loved her before. He loved her
+better now. That charm of manner was the very thing to captivate Mr.
+Carlisle; he valued it highly; and did not appreciate it the less
+because it baffled him.
+
+"He's ten times worse than ever," Mrs. Powle said exultingly to her
+husband. "I believe he'd go through fire and water to make sure of her."
+
+"And how's she?" growled the Squire.
+
+"She's playing with him, girl-fashion," said Mrs. Powle chuckling. "She
+is using her power."
+
+"What is she using it for?" said the Squire threateningly.
+
+"O to enjoy herself, and make him value her properly. She will come
+round by and by."
+
+How was Eleanor? The world had opportunities of judging most of the
+time, as far as the outside went; yet there were still a few times of
+the day which the world did not intrude upon; and of those there was an
+hour before breakfast, when Eleanor was pretty secure against
+interruption even from her mother. Mrs. Powle was a late riser. Julia,
+who was very much cast away at Brighton and went wandering about like a
+rudderless vessel, found out that Eleanor was dressed and using the
+sunshine long before anybody else in the house knew the day was begun.
+It was a golden discovery. Eleanor was alone, and Julia could have her
+to herself a little while at least. Even if Eleanor was bent on reading
+or writing, still it was a joy to be near her, to watch her, to smooth
+her soft hair, and now and then break her off from other occupations to
+have a talk.
+
+"Eleanor," said Julia one day, a little while after these oases in time
+had been discovered by her, "what has become of Mr. Rhys? do you know?"
+
+"He has gone," said Eleanor. She was sitting by her open window, a book
+open on her lap. She looked out of the window as she spoke.
+
+"Gone? Do you mean he has gone away from England? You don't mean that?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"To that dreadful place?"
+
+"What dreadful place?"
+
+"Where he was going, you know,--somewhere. Are you sure he has gone,
+Eleanor?"
+
+"Yes. I saw it in the paper--the mention of his going--He and two
+others."
+
+"And has he gone to that horrible place?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose so. That is where he wished to go."
+
+"I don't see how he could!" said Julia. "How could he! where the people
+are so bad!--and leave England?"
+
+"Why Julia, have you forgotten? Don't you know whose servant Mr. Rhys
+is?"
+
+"Yes," said Julia mutteringly,--"but I should think he would be afraid.
+Why the people there are as wicked as they can be."
+
+"That is no reason why he should be afraid. What harm could they do to
+him?"
+
+"Why!--they could kill him, easily," said Julia.
+
+"And would that be great harm to Mr. Rhys?" said Eleanor looking round
+at her. "What if they did, and he were called quick home to the court
+of his King,--do you think his reception there would be a sorrowful
+thing?"
+
+"Why Nell," said Julia, "do you mean heaven?"
+
+"Do you not think that is Mr. Rhys's home?"
+
+"I haven't thought much about it at all," said Julia laying her head
+down on Eleanor's shoulder. "You see, nobody talked to me ever since he
+went away; and mamma talks everything else."
+
+"Come here in the mornings, and we'll talk about it," said Eleanor. Her
+voice was a little husky.
+
+"Shall we?" said Julia rousing up again. "But Eleanor, what are your
+eyes full for? Did you love Mr. Rhys too?"
+
+It was an innocent question; but instead of answering, Eleanor turned
+again to the window. She sat with her hand pressed upon her mouth,
+while the full eyes brimmed and ran over, and filled again; and drop
+after drop plashed upon the window-sill. It was impossible to help it,
+for that minute; and Julia looked on wonderingly.
+
+"O Nell," she repeated almost awe-struck, "what is it? What has made
+you sorry too?--" But she had to wait a little while for her answer.
+
+"He was a good friend to me," said Eleanor at last, wiping her eyes;
+"and I suppose it is not very absurd to cry for a friend that is gone,
+that one will never see again."
+
+"Maybe he will come back some time," said Julia sorrowfully.
+
+"Not while there is work there for him to do," said Eleanor. She waited
+a little while. There was some difficulty in going on. When she did
+speak her tone was clear and firm.
+
+"Julia, shall we follow the Lord as Mr. Rhys does?"
+
+"How?"
+
+"By doing whatever Jesus gives us to do."
+
+"What has he given us to do?" said Julia.
+
+"If you come to my room in the mornings, we will read and find out. And
+we will pray, and ask to be taught."
+
+Julia's countenance lightened and clouded with alternate changes.
+
+"Will you, Eleanor! But what have we got to do?"
+
+"Love Jesus."
+
+"Well I--O I did use to, Eleanor! and I think I do now; only I have
+forgotten to think about anything, this ever so long."
+
+"Then if we love him, we shall find plenty of things to do for him."
+
+"What, Eleanor? I would like to do something."
+
+"Just whatever he gives us, Julia. Come, darling,--have you not duties?"
+
+"Duties?"
+
+"Have you not things that it is your duty to do?--or not to do?"
+
+"Studies!" said Julia. "But I don't like them."
+
+"For Jesus' sake?"
+
+Julia burst into tears. Eleanor's tone was so loving and gentle, it
+reached the memories that had been slumbering.
+
+"How can I do them for him, Eleanor?" she asked, half perversely still.
+
+"'Whatsoever ye do, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus.' So he has
+told us."
+
+"But my studies, Eleanor? how can I?"
+
+"Who gave you the opportunity, Julia?"
+
+"Well--I know."
+
+"Well, if God has given you the opportunity, do you think he means it
+for nothing? He has work for you to do, Julia, some time, for which you
+will want all these things that you have a chance of learning now; if
+you miss the chance, you will certainly not be ready for the work."
+
+"Why, Eleanor!--that's funny."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Why I never thought of such a thing."
+
+"What did you think?"
+
+"I thought I had French and German to study, for instance, because
+everybody else learned French and German. I did not think there was any
+use in it."
+
+"You forgot who had given you them to learn."
+
+"No, mamma would have it. Just her notion. Papa didn't care."
+
+"But dear Julia, you forget who has made it your duty to please mamma's
+notions. And you forget who it is that has given you your place in the
+world. You might have been born in poverty, with quite other lessons to
+learn, and quite other work in the world."
+
+"You talk just as queer as if you were Mr. Rhys himself," said Julia.
+"I never heard of such things. Do you suppose all the girls who are
+learning French and German at school--all the girls in England--have
+the same sort of work to do? that they will want it for?"
+
+"No, not all the same. But God never gives the preparation without the
+occasion."
+
+"Then suppose they do not make the preparation?"
+
+"Then when the occasion comes, they will not be ready for it. When
+their work is given them to do, they will be found wanting."
+
+"It's so queer!" said Julia.
+
+"What?"
+
+"To think such things about lessons."
+
+"You may think such things about everything. Whatever God gives you, he
+gives you to use in some way for him."
+
+"But how can I possibly know _how_, Eleanor?"
+
+"Come to me in the mornings, and you and I will try to find out."
+
+"Did you say, I must please all mamma's notions?"
+
+"Certainly--all you can."
+
+"But I like papa's notions a great deal better than mamma's."
+
+"You must try to meet both," said Eleanor smiling.
+
+"I do not like a great many of mamma's notions. I don't think there is
+any sense in them."
+
+"But God likes obedience, Julia. He has bid you honour mamma and papa.
+Do it for him."
+
+"Do you mean to please all mamma's notions?" said Julia sharply.
+
+"All that I can, certainly."
+
+"Well it is one of her notions that Mr. Carlisle should get you to the
+Priory after all. Are you going to let her? Are you going to let him, I
+mean?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then if it is your duty to please mamma's notions, why mustn't you
+please this one?"
+
+"Because here I have my duty to others to think of."
+
+"To whom?" said Julia as quick as lightning.
+
+"To myself--and to Mr. Carlisle."
+
+"Mr. Carlisle!" said Julia. "I'll be bound he thinks your duty to him
+would make you do whatever he likes."
+
+"It happens that I take a different view of the subject."
+
+"But Eleanor, what work do you suppose I have to do in the world, that
+I shall want French and German for? real work, I mean?"
+
+"I can't tell. But I know _now_ you have a beautiful example to set?"
+
+"Of what? learning my lessons well?"
+
+"Of whatever is lovely and of good report. Of whatever will please
+Jesus."
+
+Julia put her arms round her sister's neck and hid her face there.
+
+"I am going to give you a word to remember to-day; keep it with you,
+dear. 'Whatsoever ye do, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus.' Just
+think of that, whether you are busy or not busy. And we will ask the
+Lord to make us so full of his love, that we cannot help it."
+
+They knelt and prayed together; after which Julia gave her sister a
+great many earnest caresses; and they went down to breakfast a much
+comforted pair.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+IN LONDON.
+
+
+  "London makes mirth! but I know God hears
+  The sobs i' the dark, and the dropping of tears."
+
+
+The morning meetings were kept up. Julia had always been very fond of
+her sister; now she almost worshipped her. She would get as close as
+possible, put her arm round Eleanor's waist, and sometimes lay her head
+on her shoulder; and so listen to the reading and join in the talking.
+The talks were always finished with prayer; and at first it not seldom
+happened that Eleanor's prayer became choked with tears. It happened so
+often that Julia remarked upon it; and after that it never happened
+again.
+
+"Eleanor, can you see much use in my learning to dance?" was a question
+which Julia propounded one morning.
+
+"Not much."
+
+"Mamma says I shall go to dancing school next winter."
+
+"Next winter! What, at Brompton?"
+
+"O we are going to London after we go from here. So mamma says. Why
+didn't you know it?"
+
+Eleanor remained silent.
+
+"Now what good is that going to do?" Julia went on. "What work is that
+to fit me for, Eleanor?--dancing parties?"
+
+"I hope it will not fit you for those," the elder sister replied
+gravely.
+
+"Why not? don't you go to them?"
+
+"I am obliged to go sometimes--I never take part."
+
+"Why not Eleanor? Why don't you? you can dance."
+
+"Read," said Eleanor, pointing to the words. Julia read.
+
+"'Whatsoever ye do, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus; giving thanks
+to God and the Father by him.'--Well Eleanor?"
+
+"I cannot find anything I can do in the Lord's service at such places,
+except to stand by and say by my manner that I do not enjoy them nor
+approve of them."
+
+"That won't hinder other people enjoying them, though."
+
+"I do not think people enjoy them much. You and I have a hundred times
+as much fun in one good scamper over the moor. Dear old moor! I wish we
+were back again. But other people's doing is not my business."
+
+"Then what makes you go, Eleanor?"
+
+"Mamma would be so exceedingly vexed if I did not. I mean to get out of
+it soon--as soon as I can."
+
+"Do you think you will, in London?"
+
+Eleanor was silent, and thoughtful.
+
+"Well, I know one thing," said Julia,--"I am not going to dancing
+school. Mamma says it will make me graceful; and I think I am as
+graceful as other people now--as most other people. I don't think I am
+as graceful as you are. Don't you think so, Eleanor?"
+
+Eleanor smiled, soberly enough.
+
+"Eleanor, must I go to dancing school?"
+
+"Why do you wish not to go?"
+
+"Because you think it is wrong."
+
+"Darling, you cannot displease mamma for such a reason. You must always
+honour every wish of hers, except you thought that honouring her would
+be to dishonour or displease the Lord."
+
+The words were spoken and listened to with intense feeling and
+earnestness on both sides; and the tears came back in Eleanor's prayer
+that morning.
+
+With the world at large, things maintained a very unaltered position
+during the rest of the stay at Brighton. Mr. Carlisle kept his
+position, advancing a little where it seemed possible. Eleanor kept
+hers; neither advancing nor retreating. She was very good to Mr.
+Carlisle; she did not throw him off; she gave him no occasion to
+complain of an unready talker or an unwilling companion. A little
+particular kindness indeed she had for him, left from the old times.
+Julia would have been much mystified by the brightness and life and
+spirit Eleanor shewed in company, and in his company especially; which
+her little sister did not see in their private intercourse alone.
+Nevertheless, Mr. Carlisle's passion was rather stimulated by
+difficulty than fed by hope; though hope lived high sometimes. All that
+Eleanor gave him she gave shim readily, and as readily gave to others;
+she gave coolly too, as coolly as she gave to others. Mr. Carlisle took
+in many things the place of an accepted suitor; but never in Eleanor's
+manner, he knew. It chafed him, it piqued him; it made him far more
+than ever bent on obtaining her hand; her heart he could manage then.
+Just now it was beyond his management; and when Mrs. Powle smiled
+congratulation, Mr. Carlisle bit his lip. However, he had strong aids;
+he did not despair. He hoped something from London.
+
+So they all went to London. Eleanor could gain no satisfactory
+explanation why. Only her mother asserted that her father's health must
+have the advice of London physicians. The Squire himself was not much
+more explicit. That his health was not good, however, was true; the
+Squire was very unlike his hearty, boisterous, independent self. He
+moped, and he suffered too. Eleanor could not help thinking he would
+have suffered less, as he certainly would have moped less, at home; and
+an unintelligible grunt and grumble now and then seemed to confirm her
+view of the case; but there they were, fixed in London, and Eleanor was
+called upon to enter into all sorts of London gaieties, of which always
+Mr. Carlisle made part and parcel.
+
+Eleanor made a stand, and declined to go to places where she could not
+enjoy nor sympathize with what was done. She could not think it duty to
+go to the opera, or the theatre, or to great routs, even to please her
+mother. Mrs. Powle made a stand too, and insisted, and was very angry;
+but Eleanor stood firm; and the end was, she gained her point. Mr.
+Carlisle was disappointed, but counselled acquiescence; and Mrs. Powle
+with no very good grace acquiesced; for though a woman, she did not
+like to be foiled. Eleanor gained one point only; she was not obliged
+to go where she could not go with a good conscience. She did not
+thereby get her time to herself. London has many ways of spending time;
+nice ways too; and in one and another of these Eleanor found hers all
+gone. Day by day it was so. Nothing was left but those hours before
+breakfast. And what was worse, Mr. Carlisle was at her elbow in every
+place; and Eleanor became conscious that she was in spite of herself
+appearing before the world as his particular property, and that the
+conclusion was endorsed by her mother. She walked as straight as she
+could; but the days grew to be heavy days.
+
+She devoted herself to her father as much as possible; and in that
+found a refuge. The Squire was discontented and unwell; a good deal
+depressed in spirits as a consequence; he delighted to have Eleanor
+come and sit with him and read to him after dinner. She escaped many an
+engagement by that means. In vain Mrs. Powle came in with her appeal,
+about Eleanor's good requiring him to do without her; the Squire
+listened, struggled, and selfishness got the better.
+
+"St. George and the Dragon!" he exclaimed,--"she shall do as she likes,
+and as I like, for one hour in the twenty-four. You may haul her about
+the rest of the time--but from dinner for a while or so you may spare
+her. I choose she shall be with me."
+
+The "while" was often three hours. Eleanor enjoyed repose then, and
+enjoyed ministering to her father; who speedily became exceedingly
+wedded to her services, and learned to delight in her presence after a
+new manner. He would have her read to him; she might read everything
+she pleased except what had a religious bearing. That he disposed of at
+once, and bade her seek another book. He loved to have her brush his
+hair, when his head ached, by the half hour together; at other times he
+engaged her in a game of chess and a talk about Plassy. The poor Squire
+was getting a good deal tamed down, to take satisfaction in such quiet
+pleasures; but the truth was that he found himself unable for what he
+liked better. Strength and health were both failing; he was often
+suffering; drives in the park wearied him almost as much as sitting
+alone in his room; he swore at them for the stupidest entertainment man
+ever pleased himself with. What he did with the lonely hours he spent
+entirely by himself, nobody knew; Eleanor knew that he was rejoiced
+every time to see her come in. His eye brightened when she opened the
+door, and he settled himself in his easy chair to have a good time; and
+then even the long columns of the newspaper, read from one end to the
+other, up and down, were pleasant to Eleanor too. It was soothing
+repose, in contrast with the whirl of all the rest of her life. Until
+the time came when Mr. Carlisle began to join the party. How he did it
+Eleanor hardly knew; but he did it. He actually contrived to make one
+at those evening entertainments, which admitted but two others; and
+with his usual adroitness and skill he made his presence so acceptable
+that Eleanor felt it would be quite in vain to attempt to hinder him.
+And so her rest was gone, and her opportunity; for she had cherished
+fond hopes of winning not only her own way into her father's heart, but
+with that, in time, a hearing for truths the Squire had always pushed
+out of his path.
+
+Mr. Carlisle was very pleasant; there was no question. He did not at
+all usurp her office, nor interfere with it. But when he saw her
+getting weary of a parliamentary discussion, or a long discourse on
+politics or parties, his hand would gently draw away the paper from
+hers and his voice carry on the reading. And his voice was agreeable to
+her father; Eleanor saw it; the Squire would turn his head a little
+towards the new reader, and an expression of anything but
+dissatisfaction steal over his features. Eleanor sat by, half
+mortified, half feeling real good-will towards Mr. Carlisle for his
+grace and kindness. Or if a game of chess were on foot, Mr. Carlisle
+would sit by, he generally declined playing himself, and make the play
+very lively with his talk; teaching Eleanor, whose part he invariably
+took, and keeping a very general's watch over her as if she had been a
+subordinate officer. Mr. Powle liked that too; it made his fighting
+better fun; he chuckled a good deal over Mr. Carlisle's play by proxy.
+Eleanor could not help it, nor withdraw herself. She knew what brought
+Mr. Carlisle there, and she could not avoid him, nor the very easy
+familiar terms on which they all sat round the chess table. She was
+admirably quiet and cool; but then it is true she felt no unkindness
+towards Mr. Carlisle, and sometimes she feared she shewed kindness too
+frankly. It was very difficult to help that too. Nevertheless it was
+plain the gentleman did not dare trust anything to his present power
+over her, for he never tried it. He evidently relied on somewhat else
+in his advances. And Eleanor felt that the odds were rather hard
+against her. Father and mother, and such a suitor!
+
+She was cut off from her evening refreshment; and the next step was,
+that her morning pleasure with Julia was also denied her. Mrs. Powle
+had been in a state of gratulation with reference to Julia's
+improvement; Julia had become latterly so docile, so decorous, and so
+diligent. One unlucky day it came to Mrs. Powle's knowledge that Julia
+objected to going to dancing school; objected to spending money on the
+accomplishment, and time on the acquisition; and furthermore, when
+pressed, avowed that she did not believe in the use of it when
+attained. It seemed to Mrs. Powle little less than a judgment upon her,
+to have the second of her daughters holding such language; it was
+traced to Eleanor's influence of course; and further and diligent
+questioning brought out the fact of the sisters' daily studies in
+company. They should happen no more, Mrs. Powle immediately decided.
+Julia was forbidden to go to her sister's room for such purposes; and
+to make matters sure she was provided with other and abundant
+occupation to keep her engaged at the dangerous hour. With Eleanor
+herself Mrs. Powle held no communication on the subject; having for
+certain reasons an unwillingness to come into unnecessary collision
+with her; but Eleanor found her little sister's society was no more to
+be had. Mrs. Powle would assuredly have sent Julia quite out of the
+house to get her away from mischievous influences, but that she could
+not prevail on her husband. No daughter of his, he declared, should be
+made a fool of in a boarding-school, while he had a foot above ground
+to prevent it.
+
+"Why Mrs. Powle," he said, "don't you know yourself that Eleanor is the
+only sensible girl in London? That's growing up at home, just as you
+didn't want."
+
+"If she only had not some notions--" said Mrs. Powle dubiously. For
+between her husband and Mr. Carlisle she was very much _held in_ on
+Eleanor's subject; both insisting that she should let her alone. It was
+difficult for Eleanor to be displeased with Mr. Carlisle in these
+times; his whole behaviour was so kind and gentlemanly. The only fault
+to be found with him was his pursuit of her. That was steady and
+incessant; yet at the same time so brotherly and well-bred in manner
+that Eleanor sometimes feared she gave him unconsciously too much
+encouragement. Feeling really grateful to him, it was a little hard not
+to shew it. For although Mr. Carlisle was the cause of her trouble, he
+was also a shield between her and its more active manifestations. He
+favoured her not dancing; _that_ was like a jealous man, Mrs. Powle
+said. He smiled at Eleanor's charities, and would have helped them if
+he could. He would not have her scolded on the score of religious
+duties; he preferred administering the antidote to them as quietly as
+possible.
+
+"Eleanor!" said Mrs. Powle, putting her head out of the drawing-room
+door one Sunday evening as she heard somebody come in--"Eleanor! is
+that you? come here. Where have you been? Here is Mr. Carlisle waiting
+this hour to go with you to hear the Bishop of London preach."
+
+Eleanor came into the room. She was dressed with extreme plainness, and
+looking so calm and sweet that it was no wonder Mr. Carlisle's eyes
+rested on her as on a new object of admiration. Few of his acquaintance
+looked so; and Eleanor did not use it, in times past.
+
+"Now here you are, child, almost too late. Make haste and get yourself
+ready. Where have you been?"
+
+"She cannot be more ready than she is," remarked the other member of
+the party.
+
+"I think, mamma, I will not go to-night. I am a little tired."
+
+"That's nonsense, Eleanor! When were you ever too unwell to go to
+church, this winter? Go and get ready. What Mr. Carlisle says is all
+very well, but he does not see you with my eyes."
+
+"I shall not take her if she is tired," said Mr. Carlisle gently. And
+Eleanor sat still.
+
+"Where have you been then, child, to tire yourself? You do try me,
+Eleanor. What can you have found to do?"
+
+"All London, mamma," said Eleanor pleasantly.
+
+"All London! I should like to know what that means. All wrong, I
+suppose, according to you. Well, what part of London have you been
+attacking to-day? I should think the best thing for London would be to
+hear its Bishop. What have you been about, Eleanor?"
+
+
+"Only to school, mamma--Sunday school."
+
+"But you went there this morning?"
+
+"That was another."
+
+Mrs. Powle looked appealingly to Mr. Carlisle, as saying, How long
+would you let this go on? Turned her dissatisfied face again to Eleanor,
+
+"What school is this, mistress? and where?"
+
+"Mamma, if I tell you where it is, I am afraid you will be frightened.
+It is a Ragged school."
+
+"A Ragged school! What does that mean, Eleanor? What is a Ragged
+school?"
+
+"A school to teach ragged children, mamma. Or rather, for ragged
+people--they are not most of them children; and perhaps I should not
+say they are ragged; for though some of them are, others of them are
+not. They are some of the wretchedest of the ragged class, at any rate."
+
+"And Eleanor Powle can find nothing more suitable to do, than to go and
+teach such a set! Why you ought to have a policeman there to take care
+of you."
+
+"We have several."
+
+"Policemen!"
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"And it is not safe without them!"
+
+"It is safe with them, mamma."
+
+"Mr. Carlisle, what do you think of such doings?" said Mrs. Powle,
+appealing in despair.
+
+"They move my curiosity," he said quietly. "I hope Eleanor will go on
+to gratify it."
+
+"And can you really find nothing better than that to do, of a Sunday?"
+her mother went on.
+
+"No, mamma, I do not think I can."
+
+"What do they learn?" Mr. Carlisle inquired.
+
+"A little reading, some of them; but the main thing to teach them is
+the truths of the Bible. They never heard them before, anywhere,--nor
+can hear them anywhere else."
+
+"Do you think they will hear them there?"
+
+"I am sure they do."
+
+"And remember?"
+
+The tears filled Eleanor's eyes, as she answered, "I am sure some of
+them will."
+
+"And suppose you lose your life in this Ragged teaching?" said Mrs.
+Powle. "You might catch your death of some horrid disease, Eleanor. Do
+you think that right?"
+
+"Mamma, there was One who did lay down his life for you and for me. I
+am not going to offer mine needlessly. But I do not think it is in any
+danger here. Many go besides me."
+
+"She is a confirmed Methodist!" said Mrs. Powle, turning to Mr.
+Carlisle. He smiled.
+
+"Where does your school meet, Eleanor?"
+
+"I am afraid of terrifying mamma, if I tell you."
+
+"We will take care of her in case she faints. I am in no danger."
+
+"It is the Field-Lane school, Mr. Carlisle."
+
+"The Field-Lane? Won't you enlighten me?"
+
+"Carter's Field-Lane; but it is only called Field-Lane. Did you never
+hear of it? It was in a wretched place in Saffron Hill at first--now it
+is removed to an excellent room in a better street."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"You know where Clerkenwell is?"
+
+This name gave no intelligence whatever to Mrs. Powle, but Mr. Carlisle
+looked enlightened. His face changed and grew dark with something very
+like horror and alarm.
+
+"Do you know that is one of the worst parts of London?" he said.
+
+"Pretty bad," said Eleanor, "and the school used to be. It is
+wonderfully improved now."
+
+"There, you see, Eleanor, Mr. Carlisle thinks it is a very improper
+place for you to be; and I hope you will go there no more. I do not
+mean you shall."
+
+Eleanor was silent, looking a little anxious, though not cast down. Mr.
+Carlisle marked her.
+
+"It is not safe for you, Eleanor," he said.
+
+"It is perfectly safe," she answered with a smile that had a curious
+brightness in it. "I run no risk whatever."
+
+"You are a bold creature," said her mother, "and always were; but that
+is no reason why you should be allowed to go your own crazy ways. I
+will have no more of this, Eleanor."
+
+"Mamma, I am perfectly safe. I have nothing at all to fear. I would not
+fail of going for anything in the world." She spoke with an earnest and
+shadowed face now. She felt it.
+
+"Who goes with you? or do you go alone?"
+
+"No, ma'am--Thomas is with me always."
+
+"How came you to get into such a strange place?"
+
+"I heard of it--and there is sure to be more to do in such a work than
+there are hands for. I know one or two of the gentlemen that teach
+there also."
+
+"Methodists, I suppose?" said Mrs. Powle sneeringly.
+
+"One of them is, mamma; the other is a Churchman."
+
+"And do you _teach_ there?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am--a large class of boys." Eleanor's smile came again--and
+went.
+
+"I'll have no more of it, Eleanor. I will not. It is just absurdity and
+fanaticism, the whole thing. Why shouldn't those boys go to the regular
+schools, instead of your giving your time and risking your life to
+teach them Sundays? _You_ indeed!"
+
+"You do not know what sort of boys they are, mamma; or you would not
+ask that."
+
+"I suppose they have learned some things too well already?" said Mr.
+Carlisle.
+
+"Well, I'll have no more of it!" said Mrs. Powle. "I am disgusted with
+the whole thing. If they are not good boys, the House of Correction is
+the best place for them. Mr. Carlisle, do you not say so?"
+
+Mr. Carlisle's knowledge of the limits of Houses of Correction and the
+number of boys in London who were not good boys, forbade him to give an
+affirmative answer; his character as a reformer also came up before
+him. More than all, Eleanor's face, which was somewhat sad.
+
+"Mrs. Powle, I am going to petition you to suspend judgment, and
+reconsider the case of the Ragged schools. I confess to a selfish
+motive in my request--I have a desire to go there myself and see this
+lady with her scholars around her. The picturesque effect, I should
+say, must be striking."
+
+Mrs. Powle looked at him as a very unwise and obstinate man, who was
+bewitched into false action.
+
+"If you have a fancy for such effects," she said; "I suppose you must
+do as you please. To me the effect is striking and not picturesque.
+Just look at her!"
+
+Mr. Carlisle did so, and the expression on his face was so
+unsatisfactory that Mrs. Powle gave up the matter; laughed, and went
+out of the room.
+
+"I will be less striking," said Eleanor, "if you will excuse me." And
+she left the room to change her dress. But when she came back an hour
+after, Mr. Carlisle was still there.
+
+"Eleanor," said he, coming and standing before her, "may I go with you
+the next time you go to Field Lane?"
+
+"No, I think not. You would not know what to do in such a place, Mr.
+Carlisle."
+
+"Do you think so?"
+
+"They are a set of people whom you do not like; people who you think
+ought to be fined--and imprisoned--and transported; and all that sort
+of thing."
+
+"And what do you think ought to be done with them?"
+
+"I would try a different regimen."
+
+"Pray what would it be?"
+
+"I would tell them of the love of One who died for them. And I would
+shew them that the servants of that One love them too."
+
+She spoke quietly, but there was a light in her eye.
+
+"How, for heaven's sake, Eleanor?"
+
+"Mr. Carlisle, I would never condemn a man or boy very severely for
+stealing, when I had left him no other way to live."
+
+"So you would make the rest of the world responsible?"
+
+"Are they not? These fellows never heard a word of right or of
+truth--never had a word of kindness--never were brought under a good
+influence,--until they found it in the Ragged school. What could you
+expect? May I illustrate?"
+
+"Pray do."
+
+"There is a boy in a class neighbouring to mine in the room, whose
+teacher I know. The boy is thirteen or fourteen years old now; he came
+to the school first some four or five years ago, when he was a little
+bit of a fellow. Then he had already one brother transported for
+stealing, and another in prison for stealing--both only a little older
+than he. They had often no other way of getting food but stealing it.
+The father and mother were both of them drunkards and swallowed up
+everything in liquor. This little fellow used to come to the morning
+school, which was held every day, without any breakfast; many a time.
+Barefooted, over the cold streets, and no breakfast to warm him. But
+after what he heard at the school he promised he would never do as his
+brothers had done; and he had some very hard times in keeping his
+promise. At last he came to his teacher and asked him for a loan of
+threepence; if he had a loan of threepence he thought he could make a
+living."
+
+Mr. Carlisle half turned on his heel, but instantly resumed his look
+and attitude of fixed attention.
+
+"Mr. Morrison lent him threepence. And Jemmy has supported himself
+respectably ever since, and is now in honest employment as an errand
+boy."
+
+"I hope you can tell me how he managed it? I do not understand doing
+business on such a capital."
+
+"The threepence bought twelve boxes of matches. Those were sold for a
+halfpenny each--doubling his capital at once. So he carried on that
+business for two years. All day he went to school. In the end of the
+day he went out with twelve boxes of matches and hawked them about
+until they were disposed of. That gave him threepence for the next
+day's trade, and threepence to live upon. He spent one penny for
+breakfast, he said; another for dinner, and another for supper. So he
+did for two years; now he does better."
+
+"He deserves it, if anybody in London does. Is not this a strange
+instance, Eleanor?--on honour?"
+
+"If you like--but not solitary."
+
+"What has been done for the mass of these boys in these schools? what
+has been accomplished, I mean?"
+
+"I have given you but one instance out of many, many individual
+instances."
+
+"Then you can afford to be generous and give me another."
+
+Perhaps he said this only because he wanted to have her go on talking;
+perhaps Eleanor divined that; however she hesitated a moment and went
+on.
+
+"Lord Cushley, with some other friends, has just provided for the
+emigration to Australia of near a dozen promising cases of these boys."
+
+"Was Eleanor Powle another of the friends?"
+
+"No; I had not that honour. These are reclaimed boys, mind; reclaimed
+from the very lowest and most miserable condition; and they are going
+out with every prospect of respectability and every promise of doing
+well. Do you want to know the antecedents of one among them?"
+
+"By all means!"
+
+"Notice them. First, slavery under two drunken people, one of them his
+mother, who sent him out to steal for them; and refused him even the
+shelter of their wretched home if he came to it with empty hands. At
+such times, thrust out houseless and hungry, to wander where he could,
+he led a life of such utter wretchedness, that at length he determined
+to steal for himself, and to go home no more. Then came years of
+struggling vagrancy--during which, Mr. Carlisle, the prison was his
+pleasantest home and only comfortable shelter; and whenever he was
+turned out of it he stood in London streets helpless and hopeless but
+to renew his old ways of thieving and starvation. Nobody had told him
+better; no one had shewed the child kindness; was he to blame?"
+
+"Somebody shewed him kindness at last," said Mr. Carlisle, looking into
+the lustrous eyes which were so full of their subject.
+
+"Who, do you think?"
+
+"Impossible for me to guess--since you were not here."
+
+"One of the most noted thieves in London went to one of the city
+missionaries and told him of the boy and recommended him to his
+kindness."
+
+"Impelled by what earthly motive?"
+
+"The misery of the case."
+
+"Why did he not teach him his own trade?"
+
+"The question the missionary put to him. The thief answered that he
+knew a thief's life too well."
+
+"I should like to see you before a committee of the House of Commons,"
+said Mr. Carlisle, taking two or three steps away and then returning.
+"Well?"
+
+"Well--the missionary put the child with some decent people, where he
+was washed and clothed. But it is impossible for met to tell, as it was
+too bad to be told to me, the state to which squalor, starvation, and
+all that goes with it, had brought the child. He went to school; and
+two years after was well, healthy, flourishing, intelligent, one of the
+best and most useful lads at the establishment where he was employed.
+Now Lord Cushley has sent him to Australia."
+
+"Eleanor, I will never say anything against Ragged schools again."
+
+"Then I have not spoken in vain," said Eleanor rising.
+
+He took her hand, held it, bowed his lips to it, held it still, too
+firmly for Eleanor to disengage it without violence.
+
+"Will you grant me one little favour?"
+
+"You take without asking, Mr. Carlisle!"
+
+He smiled and kissed her hand again, not releasing it, however.
+
+"Let me go with you to Field-Lane in future."
+
+"What would you do there?"
+
+"Take care of you."
+
+"As I do not need it, you would be exceedingly bored; finding yourself
+without either business or pleasure."
+
+"Do you think that what interests you will not interest me?"
+
+A change came over her face--a high grave light, as she answered,--"Not
+till you love the Master I do. Not till his service is your delight, as
+it is mine.--Mr. Carlisle, if you will allow me, I will ring the bell
+for tea."
+
+He rang the bell for her instantly, and then came to her side again,
+and waited till the servant was withdrawn.
+
+"Eleanor, seriously, I am not satisfied to have you go to that place
+alone."
+
+"I do not. I am always attended."
+
+"By a servant. Have you never been frightened?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"Do you not meet a very ugly sort of crowd sometimes, on your way?"
+
+"Yes--sometimes."
+
+"And never feel afraid?"
+
+"No. Mr. Carlisle, would you like a cup of tea, if you could get it?"
+
+She had met his questions with a full clear look of her eyes, in which
+certainly there lay no lurking shadow. He read them, and drank his tea
+rather moodily.
+
+"So, Eleanor," said Mrs. Powle the next day, "you have enlisted Mr.
+Carlisle on your side as usual, and he will have you go to your absurd
+school as you want to do. How did people get along before Ragged
+schools were invented, I should like to know?"
+
+"You would not like to know, mamma. It was in misery and ignorance and
+crime, such as you would be made sick to hear of."
+
+"Well, they live in it yet, I suppose; or are they all reclaimed
+already?"
+
+"They live in it yet--many a one."
+
+"And it is among such people you go! Well, I wash my hands of it. Mr.
+Carlisle will not have you molested. He must have his own way."
+
+"What has he to do with it, mamma?" Eleanor asked, a little indignantly.
+
+"A good deal, I should say. You are not such a fool as not to know what
+he is with you all the time for, Eleanor."
+
+A hot colour came up in Eleanor's cheeks.
+
+"It is not by my wish, mamma."
+
+"It is rather late to say so. Don't you like him, Eleanor?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am--very much--if only he would be content with that."
+
+"Answer me only one thing. Do you like any one else better? He is as
+jealous as a bear, and afraid you do."
+
+"Mamma," said Eleanor, a burning colour again rising to her brow,--"you
+know yourself that I see no one that I favour more than I do Mr.
+Carlisle. I do not hold him just in the regard he wishes, nevertheless."
+
+"But do you like any one else better? tell me that. I just want that
+question answered."
+
+"Mamma, why? Answering it will not help the matter. In all England
+there is not a person out of my own family whom I like so well;--but
+that does not put Mr. Carlisle in the place where he wishes to be."
+
+"I just wanted that question answered," said Mrs. Powle.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+AT FIELD-LANE.
+
+  "Still all the day the iron wheels go onward,
+  Grinding life down from its mark;
+  And the children's souls, which God is calling sunward,
+  Spin on blindly in the dark."
+
+
+"She declares there is not anybody in the world she likes better than
+she does you--nor so well."
+
+Mrs. Powle's fair curls hung on either side of a perplexed face. Mr.
+Carlisle stood opposite to her. His eye brightened and fired, but he
+made no answer.
+
+"It is only her absurd fanaticism that makes all the trouble."
+
+"There will be no trouble to fear, my dear madam, if that is true."
+
+"Well I asked her the question, and she told me in so many words; and
+you know Eleanor. What she says she means."
+
+Mr. Carlisle was silent, and Mrs. Powle went on. He was seldom
+loquacious in his consultations with her.
+
+"For all that, she is just as fixed in her ways as a mountain; and I
+don't know how to manage her. Eleanor always was a hard child to
+manage; and now she has got these fanatical notions in her head she is
+worse than ever."
+
+There was a slight perceptible closing in of the fingers of Mr.
+Carlisle's hand, but his words were quiet.
+
+"Do not oppose them. Fanaticism opposed grows rigid, and dies a martyr.
+Let her alone; these things will all pass away by and by. I am not
+afraid of them."
+
+"Then you would let her go on with her absurd Ragged schools and such
+flummery? I am positively afraid she will bring something dreadful into
+the house, or be insulted herself some day. I do think charity begins
+at home. I wish Lord Cushley, or whoever it is, had been in better
+business. Such an example of course sets other people wild."
+
+"I will be there myself, and see that no harm comes to Eleanor. I think
+I can manage that."
+
+"Eleanor of all girls!" said Mrs. Powle. "That she should be infected
+with religious fanaticism! She was just the girl most unlike it that
+could possibly be; none of these meek tame spirits, that seem to have
+nothing better to do."
+
+"No, you are wrong," said Mr. Carlisle. "It is the enthusiastic
+character, that takes everything strongly, that is strong in this as in
+all the rest. Her fanaticism will give me no trouble--if it will once
+let her be mine!"
+
+"Then you would let her alone?" said Mrs. Powle.
+
+"Let her alone."
+
+"She is spoiling Julia as fast as she can; but I stopped that. Would
+you believe it? the minx objected to taking lessons in dancing, because
+her sister had taught her that dancing assemblies were not good places
+to go to! But I take care that they are not together now. Julia is
+completely under her influence."
+
+"So am I," said Mr. Carlisle laughing; "so much that I believe I cannot
+bear to hear any more against her than is necessary. I will be with her
+at Field-Lane next Sunday."
+
+He did not however this time insist on going with her. He went by
+himself. It is certain that the misery of London disclosed to him by
+this drive to Field-Lane, the course of which gave him a good sample of
+it, did almost shake him in his opinion that Eleanor ought to be let
+alone. Mr. Carlisle had not seen such a view of London in his life
+before; he had not been in such a district of crime and wretchedness;
+or if by chance he had touched upon it, he had made a principle of not
+seeing what was before him. Now he looked; for he was going where
+Eleanor was accustomed to go, and what he saw she was obliged to meet
+also. He reached the building where the Field-Lane school was held, in
+a somewhat excited state of mind.
+
+He found at the door several policemen, who warned him to guard well
+and in a safe place anything of value he might have about his person.
+Then he was ushered up stairs to the place where the school was held.
+He entered a very large room, looking like a factory room, with bare
+beams and rough sides, but spacious and convenient for the purpose it
+was used for. Down the length of this room ran rows of square forms,
+with alleys left between the rows; and the forms were in good measure
+filled with the rough scholars. There must have been hundreds collected
+there; three-fourths of them perhaps were girls, the rest boys and
+young men, from seven years old and upwards. But the roughness of the
+scholars bore no proportion to the roughness of the room. _That_ had
+order, shape, and some decency of preparation. The poor young human
+creatures that clustered within it were in every stage of squalor,
+rags, and mental distortion. With a kind of wonder Mr. Carlisle's eye
+went from one to another to note the individual varieties of the
+general character; and as it took in the details, wandered
+horror-stricken, from the nameless dirt and shapeless rags which
+covered the person, to the wild or stupid or cunning or devilish
+expression of vice in the face. Beyond description, both. There were
+many there who had never slept in a bed in their lives; many who never
+had their clothes off from one month's end to another; the very large
+proportion lived day and night by a course of wickedness. There they
+were gathered now, these wretches, eight or ten in a form, listening
+with more or less of interest to the instructions of their teachers who
+sat before them; and many, Mr. Carlisle saw, were shewing deep interest
+in face and manner. Others were full of mischief, and shewed that too.
+And others, who were interested, were yet also restless; and would
+manifest it by the occasional irregularity of jumping up and turning a
+somerset in the midst of the lesson. That frequently happened.
+Suddenly, without note or warning, in the midst of the most earnest
+deliverances of the teacher, a boy would leap up and throw himself
+over; come up all right; and sit down again and listen, as if he had
+only been making himself comfortable; which was very likely the real
+state of the case in some instances. When however a general prevalence
+of somersets throughout the room indicated that too large a proportion
+of the assemblage were growing uneasy in their minds, or their seats,
+the director of the school stood up and gave the signal for singing.
+Instantly the whole were on their feet, and some verse or two of a hymn
+were shouted heartily by the united lungs of the company. That seemed
+to be a great safety valve; they were quite brought into order, and
+somersets not called for, till some time had passed again.
+
+In the midst of this great assemblage of strange figures, small and
+large, Mr. Carlisle's eye sought for Eleanor. He could not immediately
+find her, standing at the back of the room as he was; and he did not
+choose the recognition to be first on her side, so would not go
+forward. No bonnet or cloak there recalled the image of Eleanor; he had
+seen her once in her school trim, it is true, but that signified
+nothing. He had seen her only, not her dress. It was only by a careful
+scrutiny that he was able to satisfy himself which bonnet and which
+outline of a cloak was Eleanor's. But once his attention had alighted
+on the right figure, and he was sure, by a kind of instinct. The turns
+of the head, the fine proportions of the shoulders, could be none but
+her's; and Mr. Carlisle moved somewhat nearer and took up a position a
+little in the rear of that form, so that he could watch all that went
+on there.
+
+He scanned with infinite disgust one after another of the miserable
+figures ranged upon it. They were well-grown boys, young thieves some
+of them, to judge by their looks; and dirty and ragged so as to be
+objects of abhorrence much more than of anything else to his eye. Yet
+to these squalid, filthy, hardened looking little wretches, scarcely
+decent in their rags, Eleanor was most earnestly talking; there was no
+avoidance in her air. Her face he could not see; he could guess at its
+expression, from the turns of her head to one and another, and the
+motions of her hands, with which she was evidently helping out the
+meaning of her words; and also from the earnest gaze that her
+unpromising hearers bent upon her. He could hear the soft varying play
+of her voice as she addressed them. Mr. Carlisle grew restless. There
+was a more evident and tremendous gap between himself and her than he
+had counted upon. Was she doing this like a Catholic, for penance, or
+to work out good deeds to earn heaven like a philanthropist? While he
+pondered the matter, in increasing restlessness, mind and body helping
+each other; for the atmosphere of the room was heavy and stifling from
+the foul human beings congregated there, and it must require a very
+strong motive in anybody to be there at all; he could hardly bear it
+himself; an incident occurred which gave a little variety to his
+thoughts. As he stood in the alley, leaning on the end of a form where
+no one sat, a boy came in and passed him; brushing so near that Mr.
+Carlisle involuntarily shrank back. Such a looking fellow-creature he
+had never seen until that day. Mr. Carlisle had lived in the other half
+of the world. This was a half-grown boy, inexpressibly forlorn in his
+rags and wretchedness. An old coat hung about him, much too large and
+long, that yet did not hide a great rent in his trowsers which shewed
+that there was no shirt beneath. But the face! The indescribable
+brutalized, stolid, dirty, dumb look of badness and hardness! Mr.
+Carlisle thought he had never seen such a face. One round portion of it
+had been washed, leaving the dark ring of dirt all circling it like a
+border, where the blessed touch of water had not come. The boy moved
+on, with a shambling kind of gait, and to Mr. Carlisle's horror, paused
+at the form of Eleanor's class. Yes,--he was going in there, he
+belonged there; for she looked up and spoke to him; Mr. Carlisle could
+hear her soft voice saying something about his being late. Then came a
+transformation such as Mr. Carlisle would never have believed possible.
+A light broke upon that brutalized face; actually a light; a smile that
+was like a heavenly sunbeam in the midst of those rags and dirt
+irradiated; as a rough thick voice spoke out in answer to her--"Yes--if
+I didn't come, I knowed you would be disappointed."
+
+Evidently they were friends, Eleanor and that boy; young thief, young
+rascal, though Mr. Carlisle's eye pronounced him. They were on good
+terms, even of affection; for only love begets love. The lesson went
+on, but the gentleman stood in a maze till it was finished. The notes
+of Eleanor's voice in the closing hymn, which he was sure he could
+distinguish, brought him quite back to himself. Now he might speak to
+her again. He had felt as if there were a barrier between them. Now he
+would test it.
+
+He had to wait yet a little while, for Eleanor was talking to one or
+two elderly gentlemen. Nobody to move his jealousy however; so Mr.
+Carlisle bore the delay with what patience he could; which in that
+stifling atmosphere was not much. How could Eleanor endure it? As at
+last she came down the room, he met her and offered his arm. Eleanor
+took it, and they went out together.
+
+"I did not know you were in the school," she said.
+
+"I would not disturb you. Thomas is not here--Mrs. Powle wanted him at
+home."
+
+Which was Mr. Carlisle's apology for taking his place. Or somewhat more
+than Thomas's place; for he not only put Eleanor in a carriage, but
+took a seat beside her. The drive began with a few moments of silence.
+
+"How do you do?" was his first question.
+
+"Very well."
+
+"Must I take it on trust? or do you not mean I shall see for myself?"
+said he. For there had been a hidden music in Eleanor's voice, and she
+had not turned her face from the window of the carriage. At this
+request however she gave him a view of it. The hidden sweetness was
+there too; he could not conceive what made her look so happy. Yet the
+look was at once too frank and too deep for his personal vanity to get
+any food from it; no surface work, but a lovely light on brow and lip
+that came from within. It had nothing to do with him. It was something
+though, that she was not displeased at his being there; his own face
+lightened.
+
+"What effect does Field-Lane generally have upon you?" said he.
+
+"It tires me a little--generally. Not to-day."
+
+"No, I see it has not; and how you come out of that den, looking as you
+do, I confess is an incomprehensible thing to me. What has pleased you
+there?"
+
+A smile came upon Eleanor's face, so bright as shewed it was but the
+outbreaking of the light he had seen there before. His question she met
+with another.
+
+"Did nothing there please you?"
+
+"Do you mean to evade my inquiry?"
+
+"I will tell you what pleased me," said Eleanor. "Perhaps you
+remarked--whereabouts were you?"
+
+"A few feet behind you and your scholars."
+
+"Then perhaps you remarked a boy who came in when the lesson was partly
+done--midway in the time--a boy who came in and took his seat in my
+class."
+
+"I remarked him--and you will excuse me for saying, I do not understand
+how pleasure can be connected in anybody's mind with the sight of him."
+
+"Of course you do not. That boy has been a most notorious pickpocket
+and thief."
+
+"Exactly what I should have supposed."
+
+"Did you observe that he had washed his face?"
+
+"I think I observed how imperfectly it was done."
+
+"Ah, but it is the first time probably in years that it has touched
+water, except when his lips touched it to drink. Do you know, that is a
+sign of reformation?"
+
+"Water?"
+
+"Washing. It is the hardest thing in the world to get them to forego
+the seal and the bond of dirt. It is a badge of the community of guilt.
+If they will be brought to wash, it is a sign that the bond is
+broken--that they are willing to be out of the community; which will I
+suppose regard them as suspected persons from that time. Now you can
+understand why I was glad."
+
+Hardly; for the fire and water sparkling together in Eleanor's eyes
+expressed so much gladness that it quite went beyond Mr. Carlisle's
+power of sympathy. He remained silent a few moments.
+
+"Eleanor, I wish you would answer one question, which puzzles me. Why
+do you go to that place?"
+
+"You do not like it?"
+
+"No, nor do you. What takes you there?"
+
+"There are more to be taught than there are teachers for," said Eleanor
+looking at her questioner. "They want help. You must have seen, there
+are none too many to take care of the crowds that come; and many of
+those teachers are fatigued with attendance in the week."
+
+"Do you go in the week?"
+
+"No, not hitherto."
+
+"You must not think of it! It is as much as your life is worth to go
+Sundays. I met several companies of most disorderly people on my
+way--do you not meet such?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What takes you there, Eleanor, through such horrors?"
+
+"I have no fear."
+
+"No, I suppose not; but will you answer my question?"
+
+"You will hardly be able to understand me," said Eleanor hesitating. "I
+like to go to these poor wretches, because I love them. And if you ask
+me why I love them,--I know that the Lord Jesus loves them; and he is
+not willing they should be in this forlorn condition; and so I go to
+try to help get them out of it."
+
+"If the Supreme Ruler is not willing there should be this class of
+people, Eleanor, how come they to exist?"
+
+"You are too good a philosopher, Mr. Carlisle, not to know that men are
+free agents, and that God leaves them the exercise of their free
+agency, even though others as well as themselves suffer by it. I
+suppose, if those a little above them in the social scale had lived
+according to the gospel rule, this class of people never would have
+existed."
+
+"What a reformer you would make, Eleanor!"
+
+"I should not suit you? Yes--I do not believe in any radical way of
+reform but one."
+
+"And that is, what?--counsellor."
+
+"Do unto others as you would that others should do unto you."
+
+"Radical enough! You must reform the reformers first, I suppose you
+know."
+
+"I know it."
+
+"Then, hard as it is for me to believe it, you do not go to Field-Lane
+by way of penance?"
+
+"The penance would be, to make me stay away."
+
+"Mrs. Powle will do that, unless I contrive to disturb the action of
+her free agency; but I think I shall plunge into the question of
+reform, Eleanor. Speaking of that, how much reformation has been
+effected by these Ragged institutions?"
+
+"Very much; and they are only as it were beginning, you must remember."
+
+"Room for amendment still," said Mr. Carlisle. "I never saw such a
+disorderly set of scholars in my life before. How do you find an
+occasional somersault helps a boy's understanding of his lesson?"
+
+"Those things were constant at first; not occasional," said Eleanor
+smiling; "somersaults, and leaping over the forms, and shouts and
+catcalls, and all manner of uproarious behaviour. That was before I
+ever knew them. But now, think of that boy's washed face!"
+
+"That was the most partial reformation I ever saw rejoiced in," said
+Mr. Carlisle.
+
+"It gives hope of everything else, though. You have no idea what a bond
+that community of dirt is. But there are plenty of statistics, if you
+want those, Mr. Carlisle. I can give you enough of them; shewing what
+has been done."
+
+"Will you shew them to me to-night?"
+
+"To-night? it is Sunday. No, but to-morrow night, Mr. Carlisle; or any
+other time."
+
+"Eleanor, you are very strict!"
+
+"Not at all. That is not strictness; but Sunday is too good to waste
+upon statistics."
+
+She said it somewhat playfully, with a shilling of her old arch smile,
+which did not at all reassure her companion.
+
+"Besides, Mr. Carlisle, you like strictness a great deal better than I
+do. There is not a law made in our Queen's reign or administered under
+her sceptre, that you would not have fulfilled to the letter--even down
+to the regulations that keep little boys off the grass. It is only the
+laws of the Great King which you do not think should be strictly kept."
+
+She was grave enough now, and Mr. Carlisle swallowed the reproof as
+best he might.
+
+"Eleanor, you are going to turn preacher too, as well as reformer?
+Well, I will come to you, dear, and put myself under your influences.
+You shall do what you please with me."
+
+Too much of a promise, and more of a responsibility than Eleanor chose
+to take. She went into the house with a sober sense that she had a
+difficult part to play; that between Mr. Carlisle and her mother, she
+must walk very warily or she would yet find herself entangled before
+she was aware. And Mr. Carlisle too had a sober sense that Eleanor's
+religious character was not of a kind to exhale, like a volatile oil,
+under the sun of prosperity or the breezes of flattery. Nevertheless,
+the more hard to reach the prize, the more of a treasure when reached.
+He never wanted her more than now; and Mr. Carlisle had always, by
+skill and power, obtained what he wanted. He made no doubt he would
+find this instance like the others.
+
+For the present, the thing was to bring a bill into parliament "for the
+reformation of juvenile offenders"--and upon its various provisions Mr.
+Carlisle came daily to consult Eleanor, and take advice and receive
+information. Doubtless there was a great deal to be considered about
+the bill, to make it just what it should be; to secure enough and not
+insist upon too much; its bearings would be very important, and every
+point merited well the deepest care and most circumspect management. It
+enlisted Eleanor's heart and mind thoroughly; how should it not? She
+spent hours and hours with Mr. Carlisle over it; wrote for him, read
+for him, or rather for those the bill wrought for; talked and discussed
+and argued, for and against various points which she felt would make
+for or against its best success. Capital for M. Carlisle. All this
+brought him into constant close intercourse with her, and gave him
+opportunities of recommending himself. And not in vain. Eleanor saw and
+appreciated the cool, clear business head; the calm executive talent,
+which seeing its ends in the distance, made no hurry but took the steps
+and the measures surest to attain them, with patient foresight. She
+admired it, and sometimes also could almost have trembled when she
+thought of its being turned towards herself. And was it not, all the
+while? Was not Eleanor tacitly, by little and little, yielding the
+ground she fought so hard to keep? Was she not quietly giving her
+affirmative to the world's question,--and to Mr. Carlisle's too? To the
+former, yes; for the latter, she knew and Mr. Carlisle knew that she
+shewed him no more than the regard that would not satisfy him. But
+then, if this went on indefinitely, would not he, and the world, and
+her mother, all say that she had given him a sort of prescriptive right
+to her? Ay, and Eleanor must count her father too now as among her
+adversaries' ranks. She saw it and felt it somewhat bitterly. She had
+begun to gain his ear and his heart; by and by he might have listened
+to her on what subject she pleased, and she might have won him to the
+knowledge of the truth that she held dearest. Now, she had gained his
+love certainly, in a measure, but so had Mr. Carlisle. Gently,
+skilfully, almost unconsciously it seemed, he was as much domiciled in
+her father's room as she was; and even more acceptable. The Squire had
+come to depend on him, to look for him, to delight in him; and with
+very evident admission that he was only anticipating by a little the
+rights and privileges of sonship. Eleanor could not absent herself
+neither; she tried that; her father would have her there; and there was
+Mr. Carlisle, as much at home, and sharing with her in filial offices
+as a matter of rule, and associating with her as already one of the
+family. It is true, in his manner to Eleanor herself he did not so step
+beyond bounds as to give her opportunity to check him; yet even over
+this there stole insensibly a change; and Eleanor felt herself getting
+deeper and deeper in the toils. Her own manner meanwhile was nearly
+perfect in its simple dignity. Except in the interest of third party
+measures, which led her sometimes further than she wanted to go,
+Eleanor kept a very steady way, as graceful as it was steady. So
+friendly and frank as to give no cause of umbrage; while it was so cool
+and self-poised as to make Mr. Carlisle very uneasy and very desperate.
+It was just the manner he admired in a woman; just what he would like
+to see in his wife, towards all the rest of the world. Eleanor charmed
+him more by her high-bred distance, than ever she had done by the
+affection or submissiveness of former days. But he was pretty sure of
+his game. Let this state of things go on long enough, and she would
+have no power to withdraw; and once his own, let him have once again
+the right to take her to his breast and whisper love or authority, and
+he knew he could win that fine sweet nature to give him back love as
+well as obedience,--in time. And so the bill went on in its progress
+towards maturity. It did not go very fast.
+
+All this while the sisters saw very little of each other. One morning
+Eleanor waylaid Julia as she was passing her door, drew her in, and
+turned the key in the lock. The first impulse of the two was to spring
+to each other's arms for a warm embrace.
+
+"I never have a chance to speak to you, darling," said the elder
+sister. "What has become of you?"
+
+"O I am so busy, you see--all the times except when you are gone out,
+or talking in the drawing-room to people, or in papa's room. Then I am
+out, and you are out too; somewhere else."
+
+"Out of what?"
+
+"Out of my studies, and teachers, and governesses. I must go now in two
+minutes."
+
+"No you must not. Sit down; I want to see you. Are you remembering what
+we have learnt together?"
+
+"Sometimes--and sometimes it is hard, you see. Everything is so
+scratchy. O Eleanor, are you going to marry Mr. Carlisle?"
+
+"No. I told you I was not."
+
+"Everybody says you are, though. Are you _sure_ you are not?"
+
+"Quite sure."
+
+"I almost wish you were; and then things would go smooth again."
+
+"What do you mean by their being 'scratchy'? that is a new word."
+
+"Well, everything goes cross. I am in ever so many dictionaries besides
+English--and shut up to learn 'em--and mamma don't care what becomes of
+me if she can only keep me from you; and I don't know what you are
+doing; and I wish we were all home again!"
+
+Eleanor sighed.
+
+"I call it _scratchy_," said Julia. "Everybody is trying to do what
+somebody else don't like."
+
+"I hope you are not going on that principle,"--said her sister, with a
+smile which made Julia spring to her neck again and load her lips with
+kisses over and over.
+
+"I'll try to do what you like, Eleanor--only tell me what. Tell me
+something, and I will remember it."
+
+"Julia, are you going to be a servant of Christ? have you forgotten
+that you said you loved him?"
+
+"No, and I do, Eleanor! and I want to do right; but I am so busy, and
+then I get so vexed!"
+
+"That is not like a servant of Jesus, darling."
+
+"No. If I could only see you, Eleanor! Tell me something to remember,
+and I will keep it in my head, in spite of all the dictionaries."
+
+"Keep it in your life, Julia. Remember what Jesus said his servants
+must be and how they must do--just in this one little word--'And ye
+yourselves like them that wait for their Lord.'"
+
+"How, Eleanor?"
+
+"That is what we are, dear. We are the Lord's servants, put here to
+work for him, put just in the post where he wishes us to be, till he
+comes. Now let us stand in our post and do our work, 'like them that
+wait for their Lord.' You know how that would be."
+
+Julia again kissed and caressed her, not without some tears.
+
+"I know," she said; "it is like Mr. Rhys, and it is like you; and I
+don't believe it is like anybody else."
+
+"Shall it be like you, Julia?"
+
+"Yes, Eleanor, yes! I will never forget it. O Eleanor, are you sure you
+are not going to Rythdale?"
+
+"What makes you ask me?"
+
+"Why everybody thinks so, and everybody says so; and you--you are with
+Mr. Carlisle all the time, talking to him."
+
+"I have so many thoughts to put into his head," said Eleanor gravely.
+
+"What are you so busy with him about?"
+
+"Parliament business. It is for the poor of London, Julia. Mr. Carlisle
+is preparing a bill to bring into the House of Commons, and I know more
+about the matter than he does; and so he comes to me."
+
+"Don't you think he is glad of his ignorance?" said Julia shrewdly.
+Eleanor leaned her head on her hand and looked thoughtfully down.
+
+"What do you give him thoughts about?"
+
+"My poor boys would say, 'lots of things.' I have to convince Mr.
+Carlisle that it would cost the country less to reform than to punish
+these poor children, and that reforming them is impossible unless we
+can give them enough to keep them from starvation; and that the common
+prison is no place for them; and then a great many questions besides
+these and that spring out of these have to be considered and talked
+over. And it is important beyond measure; and if I should let it
+alone,--the whole might fall to the ground. There are two objections
+now in Mr. Carlisle's mind--or in other people's minds--to one thing
+that ought to be done, and must be done; and I must shew Mr. Carlisle
+how false the objections are. I have begun; I must go through with it.
+The whole might fall to the ground if I took away my hand; and it would
+be such an incalculable blessing to thousands and thousands in this
+dreadful place--"
+
+"Do you think London is a dreadful place?" said Julia doubtfully.
+
+"There are very few here who stand 'like them that wait for their
+Lord,'"--said Eleanor, her face taking a yearning look of
+thoughtfulness.
+
+"There aren't anywhere, _I_ don't believe. Eleanor--aren't you happy?"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"You don't always look--just--so."
+
+"Perhaps not. But to live for Jesus makes happy days--be sure of that,
+Julia; however the face looks."
+
+"Are you bothered about Mr. Carlisle?"
+
+"What words you use!" said Eleanor smiling. "'Bother,' and 'scratchy.'
+No, I am not bothered about him--I am a little troubled sometimes."
+
+"What's the difference?"
+
+"The difference between seeing one's way clear, and not seeing it; and
+the difference between having a hand to take care of one, and not
+having it."
+
+"Well why do you talk to him so much, if he troubles you?" said Julia,
+reassured by her sister's smile.
+
+"I must," said Eleanor. "I must see through this business of the
+bill--at all hazards. I cannot let that go. Mr. Carlisle knows I do not
+compromise myself."
+
+"Well, I'll tell you what," said Julia getting up to go,--"mamma means
+you shall go to Rythdale; and she thinks you are going."
+
+With a very earnest kiss to Eleanor, repeated with an emphasis which
+set the seal upon all the advices and promises of the morning, Julia
+went off. Eleanor sat a little while thinking; not long; and met Mr.
+Carlisle the next time he came, with precisely the same sweet
+self-possession, the unchanged calm cool distance, which drove that
+gentleman to the last verge of passion and patience. But he was master
+of himself and bided his time, and talked over the bill as usual.
+
+It was not Eleanor alone who had occasion for the exercise of
+admiration in these business consultations. Somewhat to his surprise,
+Mr. Carlisle found that his quondam fair mistress was good for much
+more than a plaything. With the quick wit of a woman she joined a
+patience of investigation, an independent strength of judgment, a
+clearness of rational vision, that fairly met him and obliged him to be
+the best man he could in the business. He could not get her into a
+sophistical maze; she found her way through immediately; he could not
+puzzle her, for what she did not understand one day she had studied out
+by the next. It is possible that Mr. Carlisle would not have fallen in
+love with this clear intelligence, if he had known it in the front of
+Eleanor's qualities; for he was one of those men who do not care for an
+equal in a wife; but his case was by this time beyond cure. Nay, what
+might have alienated him once, bound him now; he found himself matched
+with Eleanor in a game of human life. The more she proved herself his
+equal, the nobler the conquest, and the more the instinct of victory
+stirred within him; for pride, a poor sort of pride, began to be
+stirred as well as love.
+
+So the bill went on; and prisons and laws and reformatory measures and
+penal enactments and industrial schools, and the question of
+interfering with the course of labour, and the question of offering a
+premium upon crime, and a host of questions, were discussed and
+rediscussed. And partly no doubt from policy, partly from an
+intelligent view of the subject, but wholly moved thereto by Eleanor,
+Mr. Carlisle gradually gave back the ground and took just the position
+(on paper) that she wished to see him take.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+IN APRIL.
+
+
+  "Why, how one weeps
+  When one's too weary! Were a witness by,
+  He'd say some folly--"
+
+
+So the bill went on. And the season too. Winter merged into spring; the
+change of temperature reminded Eleanor of the changing face of the
+earth out of London; and even in London the parks gave testimony of it.
+She longed for Wiglands and the Lodge; but there was no token of the
+family's going home at present. Parliament was in session; Mr. Carlisle
+was busy there every night almost; which did not in the least hinder
+his being busied with Eleanor as well. Where she and her mother went,
+for the most part he went; and at home he was very much at home indeed.
+Eleanor began to feel that the motions of the family depended on him;
+for she could find no sufficient explanation in her father's health or
+her mother's pleasure for their continued remaining in town. The Squire
+was much as he had been all winter; attended now and then by a
+physician, and out of health and spirits certainly; yet Eleanor could
+not help thinking he would be better at home, and somewhat suspected
+her father thought so. Mrs. Powle enjoyed London, no doubt; still, she
+was not a woman to run mad after pleasure, or after anything else; not
+so much but that the pleasure of her husband would have outweighed
+hers. Nevertheless, both the Squire and she were as quietly fixed in
+London, to judge by all appearance, as if they had no other place to go
+to; and the rising of parliament was sometimes hinted at as giving the
+only clue to the probable time of their departure.
+
+Did you ever lay brands together on a hearth, brands with little life
+in them too, seemingly; when with no breath blown or stirring of air to
+fan them, gradually, by mere action and reaction upon each other, the
+cold grey ends began to sparkle and glow, till by and by the fire burst
+forth and flame sprang up? Circumstances may be laid together so, and
+with like effect.
+
+Everything went on in a train at the house in Cadogan Square; nobody
+changed his attitude or behaviour with respect to the others, except as
+by that most insensible, unnoticeable, quiet action of elements at
+work; yet the time came when Eleanor began to feel that things were
+drawing towards a crisis. Her place was becoming uncomfortable. She
+could not tell how, she did not know when it began, but a change in the
+home atmosphere became sensible to her. It was growing to be
+oppressive. Mother, father, and friends seemed by concert to say that
+she was Mr. Carlisle's; and the gentleman himself began to look it,
+Eleanor thought, though he did not say it. A little tacit allowance of
+this mute language of assignment, and either her truth would be
+forfeited or her freedom. She must make a decided protest. Yet also
+Eleanor felt that quality in the moral atmosphere which threatened that
+if any clouds came up they would be stormy clouds; and she dreaded to
+make any move. Julia's society would have been a great solace now; when
+she never could have it. Julia comforted her, whenever they were
+together in company or met for a moment alone, by her energetic
+whisper--"I remember, Eleanor!--" but that was all. Eleanor could get
+no further speech of her. At the Ragged school Mr. Carlisle was pretty
+sure to be, and generally attended her home. Eleanor remonstrated with
+her mother, and got a sharp answer, that it was only thanks to Mr.
+Carlisle she went there at all; if it were not for him Mrs. Powle
+certainly would put a stop to it. Eleanor pondered very earnestly the
+question of putting a stop to it herself; but it was at Mr. Carlisle's
+own risk; the poor boys in the school wanted her ministrations; and the
+"bill" was in process of preparation. Eleanor's heart was set on that
+bill, and her help she knew was greatly needed in its construction; she
+could not bear to give it up. So she let matters take their course; and
+talked reform diligently to Mr. Carlisle all the time they were driving
+from West-Smithfield home.
+
+At last to Eleanor's joy, the important paper was drawn up according to
+her mind. It satisfied her. And it was brought to a reading in the
+House and ordered to be printed. So much was gained. The very next day
+Mr. Carlisle came to ask Eleanor to drive out with him to Richmond,
+which she had never seen. Eleanor coolly declined. He pressed the
+charms of the place, and of the country at that season. Eleanor with
+the same coolness of manner replied that she hoped soon to enjoy the
+country at home; and that she could not go to Richmond. Mr. Carlisle
+withdrew his plea, sat and talked some time, making himself very
+agreeable, though Eleanor could not quite enjoy his agreeableness that
+morning; and went away. He had given no sign of understanding her or of
+being rebuffed; and she was not satisfied. The next morning early her
+mother came to her.
+
+"Eleanor, what do you say to a visit to Hampton Court to-day?"
+
+"Who is going, mamma?"
+
+"Half the world, I suppose--there or somewhere else--such a day; but
+with you, your friend in parliament."
+
+"I have several friends in parliament."
+
+"Pshaw, Eleanor! you know I mean Mr. Carlisle. You had better dress
+immediately, for he will be here for you early. He wants to have the
+whole day. Put on that green silk which becomes you so well. How it
+does, I don't know; for you are not blonde; but you look as handsome as
+a fairy queen in it. Come, Eleanor!"
+
+"I do not care about going, mamma."
+
+"Nonsense, child; you do care. You have no idea what Bushy Park is,
+Eleanor. It is not like Rythdale--though Rythdale will do in its way.
+Come, child, get ready. You will enjoy it delightfully."
+
+"I do not think I should, mamma. I do not think I ought to go with Mr.
+Carlisle."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"You know, mamma," Eleanor said calmly, though her heart beat; "you
+know what conclusions people draw about me and Mr. Carlisle. If I went
+to Hampton Court or to Richmond with him, I should give them, and him
+too, a right to those conclusions."
+
+"What have you been doing for months past, Eleanor? I should like to
+know."
+
+"Giving him no right to any conclusions whatever, mamma, that would be
+favourable to him. He knows that."
+
+"He knows no such thing. You are a fool, Eleanor. Have you not said to
+all the world all this winter, by your actions, that you belonged to
+him? All the world knows it was an engagement, and you have been
+telling all the world that it is. Mr. Carlisle knows what to expect."
+
+Eleanor coloured.
+
+"I cannot fulfil his expectations, mamma. He has no right to them."
+
+"I tell you, you have given him a right to them, by your behaviour
+these months past. Ever since we were at Brighton. Why how you
+encouraged him there!"
+
+A great flush rose to Eleanor's cheeks.
+
+"Mamma,--no more than I encouraged others. Grace given to all is favour
+to none."
+
+"Ay, but there was the particular favour in his case of a promise to
+marry him."
+
+"Broken off, mamma."
+
+"The world did not know that, and you did not tell them. You rode, you
+walked, you talked, you went hither and thither with Mr. Carlisle, and
+suffered him to attend you."
+
+"Not alone, mamma; rarely alone."
+
+"Often alone, child; often of evenings. You are alone with a gentleman
+in the street, if there is a crowd before and behind you."
+
+"Mamma, all those things that I did, and that I was sorry to do, I
+could hardly get out of or get rid of; they were Mr. Carlisle's doing
+and yours."
+
+"Granted; and you made them yours by acceptance. Now Eleanor, you are a
+good girl; be a sensible girl. You have promised yourself to Mr.
+Carlisle in the eye of all the world; now be honest, and don't be shy,
+and fulfil your engagements."
+
+"I have made none," said Eleanor getting up and beginning to walk
+backwards and forwards in the room. "Mr. Carlisle has been told
+distinctly that I do not love him. I will never marry any man whom I
+have not a right affection for."
+
+"You did love him once, Eleanor."
+
+"Never! not the least; not one bit of real--Mamma, I _liked_ him, and I
+do that now; and then I did not know any better; but I will never, for
+I ought never, to marry any man upon mere liking."
+
+"How come you to know any better now?"
+
+Eleanor's blush was beautiful again for a minute; then it faded. She
+did not immediately speak.
+
+"Is Mr. Carlisle right after all, and has he a rival?"
+
+"Mamma, you must say what you please. Surely it does not follow that a
+woman must love all the world because she does not love one."
+
+"And you may say what you please; I know you like Mr. Carlisle quite
+well enough, for you as good as told me so. This is only girl's talk;
+but you have got to come to the point, Eleanor. I shall not suffer you
+to make a fool of him in my house; not to speak of making a fool of
+yourself and me, and ruining--forever ruining--all your prospects. You
+can't do it, Eleanor. You have said yea, and you can't draw back. Put
+on your green gown and go to Hampton Court, and come back with the day
+fixed--for that I know is what Mr. Carlisle wants."
+
+"I cannot go, mamma."
+
+"Eleanor, you would not forfeit your word?"
+
+"I have not given it."
+
+"Do not contradict me! You have given it all these months. Everybody
+has understood it so. Your father looks upon Mr. Carlisle as his son
+already. You would be everlastingly disgraced if you play false."
+
+"I will play true, mamma. I will not say I give my heart where I do not
+give it."
+
+"Give your hand then. All one," said Mrs. Powle laughing. "Come! I
+order you to obey me, Eleanor!"
+
+"I must not, mamma. I will not go to Hampton Court with Mr. Carlisle."
+
+"What is the reason?"
+
+"I have told you."
+
+"Do you mean, absolutely, that you will not fulfil your engagement, nor
+obey me, nor save us all from dishonour, nor make your friend happy?"
+
+Eleanor grew paler than she had been, but answered, "I mean not to
+marry Mr. Carlisle, mamma."
+
+"I understand it then," said Mrs. Powle rising. "It is not your heart
+but your head. It is your religious fanaticism I will put that out of
+the way!"
+
+And without another word she departed.
+
+Eleanor was much at a loss what would be the next move. Nevertheless
+she was greatly surprised when it came. The atmosphere of the house was
+heavy that day; they did not see Mr. Carlisle in the evening. The next
+day, when Eleanor went to her father's room after dinner she found, not
+Mr. Carlisle, but her mother with him. "Waiting for me"--thought
+Eleanor. The air of Mrs. Powle said so. The squire was gathered up into
+a kind of hard knot, hanging his head over his knees. When he spoke,
+and was answered by his daughter, the contrast of the two voices was
+striking, and in character; one gruff, the other sweet but steady.
+
+"What's all this, Eleanor? what's all this?" he said abruptly.
+
+"What, papa?"
+
+"Have you refused Mr. Carlisle?"
+
+"Long ago, sir."
+
+"Yes, that's all past; and now this winter you have been accepting him
+again; are you going to throw him over now?"
+
+"Papa--"
+
+"Only one thing!" roared the Squire,--"are you going to say no to him?
+tell me that."
+
+"I must, papa."
+
+"I command you to say yes to him! What do you say now?"
+
+"I must say the same, sir. If you command me, I must disobey you."
+
+"You will disobey me, hey?"
+
+"I must, papa."
+
+"Why won't you marry him? what's the reason?" said the Squire, looking
+angry and perplexed at her, but very glum.
+
+"Papa--"
+
+"I have seen you here myself, all winter, in this very room; you have
+as good as said to him every day that you would be his wife, and he has
+as good as said to you that he expected it. Has he not, now?"
+
+"Yes, sir,--but--"
+
+"Now why won't you have him, hey?"
+
+"Papa, I do not like him well enough to marry him. That is reason
+enough."
+
+"Why did you tell him all the winter that you _did?_"
+
+"Sir, Mr. Carlisle knows I did not. He has never been deceived."
+
+"Why don't you like him well enough, then? that's the question; what
+fool's nonsense! Eleanor, I am going to have you at the Priory and
+mistress of it before the world is three months older. Tell me that you
+will be a good girl, and do as I say."
+
+"I cannot, papa. That is all past. I shall never be at the Priory."
+
+"What's the reason?" roared her father.
+
+"I have told you, sir."
+
+"It's a lie! You do like him. I have seen it. It's some fool's
+nonsense."
+
+"Let me ask one question," said Mrs. Powle, looking up and down from
+her work. "If it had not been for your religious notions, Eleanor,
+would you not have married Mr. Carlisle more than a year ago? before
+you went to Wales?"
+
+"I suppose I should, mamma."
+
+"And if you had no religious notions, would you have any difficulty
+about marrying him now? You will speak the truth, I know."
+
+"Mamma--"
+
+"Speak!" the Squire burst out violently--"speak! truth or falsehood,
+whichever you like. Speak out, and don't go round about. Answer your
+mother's question."
+
+"Will you please to repeat it, mamma?" Eleanor said, a little
+faintheartedly.
+
+"If you had never been in a Methodist Chapel, or had anything to do
+with Methodists,--would you have any difficulty now about being the
+wife of Mr. Carlisle, and lady of Rythdale?"
+
+Eleanor's colour rose gradually and grew deep before she ceased
+speaking.
+
+"If I had never had anything to do with Methodists, mamma, I should be
+so very different from what I am now, that perhaps, it would be as you
+say."
+
+"That's enough!" said the Squire, in a great state of rage and
+determination. "Now, Eleanor Powle, take notice. I am as good as the
+Methodists any day, and as well worth your minding. You'll mind me, or
+I'll have nothing to do with you. Do you go to their chapels?"
+
+"Sometimes."
+
+"You don't go any more! St. George and the Dragon fly away with all the
+Methodist Chapels that ever were built! they shall hold no daughter of
+mine. And hark ye,--you shall give up this foolery altogether and tell
+me you will marry Mr. Carlisle, or I won't have you in my family. You
+may go where you like, but you shall not stay with me as long as I
+live. I give you a month to think of it, Eleanor;--a month? what's
+to-day?--the tenth? Then I give you till the first of next month. You
+can think of it and make up your mind to give yourself to Mr. Carlisle
+by that time; or you shall be no daughter of mine. St. George and the
+Dragon! I have said it, and you will find I mean it. Now go away."
+
+Eleanor went, wondering whether her ears had served her right; so
+unnaturally strange seemed this turn of affairs. She had had no time to
+think of it yet, when passing the drawing-room door a certain impulse
+prompted her to go in. Mr. Carlisle was there, as something had told
+her he might be. Eleanor came in, looking white, and advanced towards
+him with a free steady step eyeing him fully. She was in a mood to meet
+anything.
+
+"Mr. Carlisle," she said, "you are the cause of all the trouble that
+has come upon me."
+
+He did not ask her what trouble. He only gently and gravely disclaimed
+the truth of her assertion.
+
+"Mr. Carlisle," said Eleanor facing him, "do you want the hand without
+the heart?" There was brave beauty in her face and air.
+
+"Yes!" he said. "You do not know yourself, Eleanor--you do not see
+yourself at this moment--or you would know better how impossible it is
+to give other than one answer to such a question."
+
+His look had faced hers as frankly; there was no evil expression in it.
+Eleanor's head and her gaze sank a little. She hesitated, and then
+turned away. But Mr. Carlisle with a quick motion intercepted her.
+
+"Eleanor, have you nothing kind to say to me?" he asked, taking her
+hand. And he said it well.
+
+"Not just now," said Eleanor slowly; "but I will try not to think
+unkindly of you, Mr. Carlisle."
+
+Perhaps he understood that differently from her meaning; perhaps he
+chose to misinterpret it; at all events he stooped forward and kissed
+her. It brought a flash of colour into Eleanor's face, and she went up
+stairs much more angry with her suitor than her last words had spoke
+her. The angry mood faded fast when she reached her own room and could
+be alone and be still. She sat down and thought how, while he stood
+there and held her hand, there had been a swift presentation to her
+mind, swift and clear, of all she would be giving up when she turned
+away from him. In one instant the whole view had come; the rank, the
+ease, the worldly luxury, the affection; and the question came too,
+waywardly, as impertinent questions will come, whether she was after
+all giving it up for sufficient cause? She was relinquishing if she
+quitted him, all that the world values. Not quite that, perhaps; if
+turned out from her father's family even, she was in no danger of
+wanting food or shelter or protection; for she would be sure of those
+and more in Mrs. Caxton's house. But looking forward into the course of
+future years that might lie before her, the one alternative offered for
+her choice presented all that is pleasant in worldly estimation; and on
+the other side there was a lonely life, and duty, and the affection of
+one old woman. But though the two views came with startling clearness
+before Eleanor just at this moment, the more attractive one brought no
+shadow of temptation with it. She saw it, that was all, and turned away
+from it to consider present circumstances.
+
+Would her father keep to his word? It seemed impossible; yet coolly
+reflecting, Eleanor thought from what she knew of him that he would; so
+far at least as to send her into immediate banishment. That such
+banishment would be more than temporary she did not believe. Mr.
+Carlisle would get over his disappointment, would marry somebody else;
+and in course of time her mother and father, the latter of whom
+certainly loved her, would find out that they wanted her at home again.
+But how long first? That no one could tell, nor what might happen in
+the interval; and when she had got so far in her thoughts, Eleanor's
+tears began to flow. She let them flow; it relieved her; and somehow
+there was a good fountain head of them. And again those two pictures of
+future life rose up before her; not as matters of choice, to take one
+and leave the other--but as matters of contrast, in somewhat that
+entered the spring of tears and made them bitter. Was something gone
+from her life, that could never be got back again? had she lost
+something that could never be found again? Was there a "bloom and
+fragrance" waving before her on the one hand, though unattainable,
+which the other path of life with all its beauty did not offer? To
+judge by Eleanor's tears she had some such thoughts. But after a time
+the tears cleared away, and her bowed face looked up as fair as a blue
+sky after a storm. And Eleanor never had another time of weeping during
+the month.
+
+It was a dull month to other people. It would have been a dreary one to
+her, only that there is a private sunshine in some hearts that defies
+cloudy weather. There is an anchor of the soul, sure and steadfast, by
+which one rides contentedly in rough water; there is a hope of glory,
+in the presence of which no darkness can abide; and there is a word
+with which Eleanor dried her tears that day and upon which she steadied
+her heart all the days after. It was written by one who knew trouble.
+"The Lord is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in him."
+It is hard to take that portion away from a man, or to make him poor
+while he has it.
+
+Eleanor had little else the remaining twenty-one days of that month.
+What troubled her much, she could by no means see Julia; and she found
+that her sister had been sent home, to the Lodge at Wiglands, under
+charge of a governess; Mrs. Powle averring that it was time she should
+be in the country. London was not good for Julia. Was it good for any
+of them, Eleanor thought? But parliament was still sitting; Mr.
+Carlisle was in attendance; it was manifest they must be so too.
+Everything went on much as usual. Eleanor attended her father after his
+early dinner, for Mr. Powle would not come into London hours; and Mr.
+Carlisle as usual shared her office with her, except when he was
+obliged to be in the House. When he was, Mrs. Powle now took his place.
+The Squire was surly and gloomy; only brought out of those moods by Mr.
+Carlisle himself. That gentleman held his ground, with excellent grace
+and self-control, and made Eleanor more than ever feel his power. But
+she kept her ground too; not without an effort and a good deal of that
+old arm of defence which is called "all-prayer;" yet she kept it; was
+gentle and humble and kind to them all, to Mr. Carlisle himself, while
+he was sensible her grave gentleness had no yielding in it. How he
+admired her, those days! how he loved her; with a little fierce desire
+of triumph mingling, it must be confessed, with his love and
+admiration, and heightened by them; for now pride was touched, and some
+other feeling which he did not analyse. He had nobody to be jealous of,
+that he knew; unless it were Eleanor herself; yet her indifference
+piqued him. He could not brook to be baffled. He shewed not a symptom
+of all this; but every line of her fine figure, every fold of her rich,
+beautiful hair, every self-possessed movement, at times was torment to
+him. Her very dress was a subject of irritation. It was so plain, so
+evidently unworldly in its simplicity, that unreasonably enough, for
+Eleanor looked well in it, it put Mr. Carlisle in a fume every day. She
+should not dress so when he had control of her; and to get the control
+seemed not easy; and the dress kept reminding him that he had it not.
+On the whole probably all parties were glad when the sweet month of May
+for that season came to an end. Even Eleanor was glad; for though she
+had made up her mind what June would bring her, it is easier to grasp a
+fear in one's hand, like a nettle, than to touch it constantly by
+anticipation. So the first of June came.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+IN MAY.
+
+
+  "Come spur away!
+  I have no patience for a longer stay,
+  But must go down,
+  And leave the changeable noise of this great town;
+  I will the country see,
+  Where old simplicity,
+  Though hid in grey,
+  Doth look more gay
+  Than foppery in plush and scarlet clad."
+
+
+Although Eleanor's judgment had said what the issue would be of that
+day's conference, she had made no preparation to leave home. That she
+could not do. She could not make certain before it came the weary
+foreboding that pressed upon her. She went to her father's room after
+dinner as usual, leaning her heart on that word which had been her
+walking-staff for three weeks past. "The Lord is my portion, saith my
+soul; therefore will I hope in him!"
+
+Mrs. Powle was there, quietly knitting. The Squire had gathered himself
+up into a heap in his easy chair, denoting a contracted state of mind;
+after that curious fashion which bodily attitudes have, of repeating
+the mental. Eleanor took the newspaper and sat down.
+
+"Is there anything there particular?" growled the Squire.
+
+"I do not see anything very particular, sir. Here is the continuation
+of the debate on--"
+
+"How about that bill of yours and Mr. Carlisle's?" broke in Mrs. Powle.
+
+"It was ordered to be printed, mamma--it has not reached the second
+reading yet. It will not for some time."
+
+"What do you suppose will become of it then?"
+
+"What the Lord pleases. I do not know," said Eleanor with a pang at her
+heart. "I have done my part--all I could--so far."
+
+"I suppose you expect Mr. Carlisle will take it up as his own cause,
+after it has ceased to be yours?"
+
+Eleanor understood this, and was silent. She took up the paper again to
+find where to read.
+
+"Put that down, Eleanor Powle," said her father who was evidently in a
+very bad humour, as he had cause, poor old gentleman; there is nobody
+so bad to be out of humour with as yourself;--"put that down! until we
+know whether you are going to read to me any more or no. I should like
+to know your decision."
+
+Eleanor hesitated, for it was difficult to speak.
+
+"Come!--out with it. Time's up. Now for your answer. Are you going to
+be an obedient child, and give Mr. Carlisle a good wife? Hey? Speak!"
+
+"An obedient child, sir, in everything but this. I can give Mr.
+Carlisle nothing, any more than he has."
+
+"Any more than he has? What is that?"
+
+"A certain degree of esteem and regard, sir--and perhaps, forgiveness."
+
+"Then you will not marry him, as I command you?"
+
+"No--I cannot."
+
+"And you won't give up being a Methodist?"
+
+"I cannot help being what I am. I will not go to church, papa, anywhere
+that you forbid me."
+
+She spoke low, endeavouring to keep calm. The Squire got up out of his
+chair. He had no calmness to keep, and he spoke loud.
+
+"Have you taught your sister to think there is any harm in dancing?"
+
+"In dancing parties, I suppose I have."
+
+"And you think they are wicked, and won't go to them?"
+
+"I do not like them. I cannot go to them, papa; for I am a servant of
+Christ; and I can do no work for my Master there at all; but if I go, I
+bear witness that they are good."
+
+"Now hear me, Eleanor Powle--" the Squire spoke with suppressed
+rage--"No such foolery will I have in my house, and no such disrespect
+to people that are better than you. I told you what would come of all
+this if you did not give it up--and I stand to my word. You come here
+to-morrow morning, prepared to put your hand in Mr. Carlisle's and let
+him know that you will be his obedient servant--or, you quit my house.
+To-morrow morning you do one thing or the other. And when you go, you
+will stay. I will never have you back, except as Mr. Carlisle's wife.
+Now go! I don't want your paper any more."
+
+Eleanor went slowly away. She paused in the drawing-room; there was no
+one there this time; rang the bell and ordered Thomas to be sent to
+her. Thomas came, and received orders to be in readiness and have
+everything in readiness to attend her on a journey the next day. The
+orders were given clearly and distinctly as usual; but Thomas shook his
+head as he went down from her presence at the white face his young
+mistress had worn. "She don't use to look that way," he said to
+himself, "for she is one of them ladies that carry a hearty brave
+colour in their cheeks; and now there wasn't a bit of it." But the old
+servant kept his own counsel and obeyed directions.
+
+Eleanor went through the evening and much of the night without giving
+herself a moment to think. Packing occupied all that time and the early
+hours of the next day; she was afraid to be idle, and even dreaded the
+times of prayer; because whenever she stopped to think, the tears would
+come. But she grew quiet; and was only pale still, when at an early
+hour in the morning she left the house. She could not bear to go
+through a parting scene with her father; she knew him better than to
+try it; and she shrank from one with her mother. She bid nobody
+good-bye, for she could not tell anybody that she was going. London
+streets looked very gloomy to Eleanor that morning as she drove through
+them to the railway station.
+
+She had still another reason for slipping away, in the fear that else
+she would be detained to meet Mr. Carlisle again. The evening before
+she had had a note from him, promising her all freedom for all her
+religious predilections and opinions--leave to do what she would, if
+she would only be his wife. She guessed he would endeavour to see her,
+if she staid long enough in London after the receipt of that note.
+Eleanor made her escape.
+
+Thomas was sorry at heart to see her cheeks so white yet when they set
+off; and he noticed that his young mistress hid her face during the
+first part of the journey. He watched to see it raised up again; and
+then saw with content that Eleanor's gaze was earnestly fixed on the
+things without the window. Yes, there was something there. She felt she
+was out of London; and that whatever might be before her, one sorrowful
+and disagreeable page of life's book was turned over. London was gone,
+and she was in the midst of the country again, and the country was at
+the beginning of June. Green fields and roses and flowery hedge-rows,
+and sweet air, all wooed her back to hopefulness. Hopefulness for the
+moment stole in. Eleanor thought things could hardly continue so bad as
+they seemed. It was not natural. It could not be. And yet--Mr. Carlisle
+was in the business, and mother and father were set on her making a
+splendid match and being a great lady. It might be indeed, that there
+would be no return for Eleanor, that she must remain in banishment,
+until Mr. Carlisle should take a new fancy or forget her. How long
+would that be? A field for calculation over which Eleanor's thoughts
+roamed for some time.
+
+One comfort she had promised herself, in seeing Julia on the way; so
+she turned out of her direct course to go to Wiglands. She was
+disappointed. Julia and her governess had left the Lodge only the day
+before to pay a visit of a week at some distance. By order, Eleanor
+could not help suspecting it had been; of set purpose, to prevent the
+sisters meeting. This disappointment was bitter. It was hard to keep
+from angry thoughts. Eleanor fought them resolutely, but she felt more
+desolate than she had ever known in her life before. The old place of
+her home, empty and still, had so many reminders of childish and happy
+times; careless times; days when nobody thought of great marriages or
+settlements, or when such thoughts lay all hidden in Mrs. Powle's mind.
+Every tree and room and book was so full of good and homely
+associations of the past, that it half broke Eleanor's heart. Home
+associations now so broken up; the family divided, literally and
+otherwise; and worst of all, and over which Eleanor's tears flowed
+bitterest, her own ministrations and influence were cut off from those
+who most needed them and whom she most wished to benefit. Eleanor's day
+at home was a day of tears; it was impossible to help it. The roses
+with their sweet faces looked remonstrance at her; the roads and walks
+and fields where she had been so happy invited her back to them; the
+very grey tower of the Priory rising above the trees held out worldly
+temptation and worldly reproof, with a mocking embodiment of her causes
+of trouble. Eleanor could not bear it; she spent one night at home;
+wrote a letter to Julia which she entrusted to a servant's hands for
+her; and the next morning set her face towards Plassy. Julia lay on her
+heart. That conversation they had held together the morning when
+Eleanor waylaid her--it was the last that had been allowed. They had
+never had a good talk since then. Was that the last chance indeed, for
+ever? It was impossible to know.
+
+In spite of June beauty, it was a dreary journey to her from home to
+her aunt's; and the beautiful hilly outlines beyond Plassy rose upon
+her view with a new expression. Sterner, and graver; they seemed to
+say, "It is life work, now, my child; you must be firm, and if
+necessary rugged, like us; but truth of action has its own beauty too,
+and the sunlight of Divine favour rests there always." A shadowless
+sunlight lay on the crowns and shoulders of the mountains as Eleanor
+drew near. She got out of the carriage to walk the last few steps and
+look at the place. Plassy never was more lovely. An aromatic breath,
+pure and strong, came from the hills and gathered the sweetness of the
+valleys. Roses and honeysuckles and jessamines and primroses, with a
+thousand others, loaded the air with their gifts to it, from Mrs.
+Caxton's garden and from all the fields and hedge-rows around. And one
+after another bit of hilly outline reminded Eleanor that off _there_
+went the narrow valley that led to the little church at Glanog; _there_
+went the road to the village, where she and Powis had gone so often of
+Wednesday afternoons; and in _that_ direction lay the little cot where
+she had watched all night by the dying woman. Not much time for such
+remembrances was just now; for the farmhouse stood just before her. The
+dear old farmhouse! looking as pretty as everything else in its dark
+red stone walls and slate roof; stretching along the ground at that
+rambling, picturesque, and also opulent style. Eleanor would not knock
+now, and the door was not fastened to make her need it. Softly she
+opened it, went in, and stood upon the tiled floor.
+
+No sound of anything in particular; only certain tokens of life in the
+house. Eleanor went on, opened the door of the sitting parlour and
+looked in. Nobody there; the room in its summer state of neatness and
+coolness as she had left it. Eleanor's heart began to grow warm. She
+would not yet summon a servant; she left that part of the house and
+wound about among the passages till she came to the back door that led
+out into the long tiled porch where supper was wont to be spread. And
+there was the table set this evening; and the wonted glow from the
+sunny west greeted her there, and a vision of the gorgeous
+flower-garden. But Eleanor hardly saw the one thing or the other; for
+Mrs. Caxton was there also, standing by the tea-table, alone, putting
+something on it. Eleanor moved forward without a word. Her voice would
+not come out of her throat very well.
+
+"Eleanor!" exclaimed Mrs. Caxton. "My dear love! what has given me this
+happiness?"
+
+Very strong language for Mrs. Caxton to use. Eleanor felt it, every
+word of it, as well as the embrace of those kind arms and her aunt's
+kisses upon her lips; but she was silent.
+
+"How come you here, my darling?"
+
+"They have sent me away from home."
+
+Mrs. Caxton saw that there was some difficulty of speech, and she would
+not press matters. She put Eleanor into a seat, and looked at her, and
+took off her bonnet with her own hands; stooped down and kissed her
+brow. Eleanor steadied herself and looked up.
+
+"It is true, aunt Caxton. I come to you because I have nowhere else to
+be."
+
+"My love, it is a great happiness to have you, for any cause. Wait, and
+tell me what the matter is by and by."
+
+She left Eleanor for a moment, only a moment; gave some orders, and
+returned to her side. She sat down and took Eleanor's hand.
+
+"What is it, my dear?"
+
+And then Eleanor's composure, which she had thought sure, gave way all
+of a sudden; and she cried heartily for a minute, laying her head in
+its old resting-place. But that did her good; and then she kissed Mrs.
+Caxton over and over before she began to speak.
+
+"They want me to make a great match, aunty; and will not be satisfied
+with anything else."
+
+"What, Mr. Carlisle?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And is that all broken off?" said Mrs. Caxton, a little tone of
+eagerness discernible under her calm manner.
+
+"It was broken off a year ago," said Eleanor--"more than a year ago. It
+has always been broken since."
+
+"I heard that it was all going on again. I expected to hear of your
+marriage."
+
+"It was not true. But it is true, that the world had a great deal of
+reason to think so; and I could not help that."
+
+"How so, Eleanor?"
+
+"Mamma, and papa, and Mr. Carlisle. They managed it."
+
+"But in such a case, my dear, a woman owes it to herself and to her
+suitor and to her parents too, to be explicit."
+
+"I do not think I compromised the truth, aunt Caxton," said Eleanor,
+passing her hand somewhat after a troubled fashion over her brow. "Mr.
+Carlisle knew I never encouraged him with more favour than I gave
+others. I could not help being with him, for mamma and he had it so;
+and they were too much for me. I could not help it. So the report grew.
+I had a difficult part to play," said Eleanor, repeating her troubled
+gesture and seeming ready to burst into tears.
+
+"In what way, my love?"
+
+Eleanor did not immediately answer; sat looking off over the meadow as
+if some danger existed to self-control; then, still silent, turned and
+met with an eloquent soft eye the sympathizing yet questioning glance
+that was fixed on her. It was curious how Eleanor's eye met it; how her
+eye roved over Mrs. Caxton's face and looked into her quiet grey eyes,
+with a kind of glinting of some spirit fire within, which could almost
+be seen to play and flicker as thought and feeling swayed to and fro.
+Her eye said that much was to be said, looked into Mrs. Caxton's face
+with an intensity of half-speech,--and the lips remained silent. There
+was consciousness of sympathy, consciousness of something that required
+sympathy; and the seal of silence. Perhaps Mrs. Caxton's response to
+this strange look came half unconsciously; it came wholly naturally.
+
+"Poor child!"--
+
+The colour rose on Eleanor's cheek at that; she turned her eyes away.
+
+"I think Mr. Carlisle's plan--and mamma's--was to make circumstances
+too strong for me; and to draw me by degrees. And they would, perhaps,
+but for all I learned here."
+
+"For what you learned here, my dear?"
+
+"Yes, aunty; if they could have got me into a whirl society--if they
+could have made me love dancing parties and theatres and the opera, and
+I had got bewildered and forgotten that a great worldly establishment
+not the best thing--perhaps temptation would have been too much for
+me.--Perhaps it would. I don't know."
+
+There was a little more colour in Eleanor's cheeks than her words
+accounted for, as Mrs. Caxton noticed.
+
+"Did you ever feel in danger from the temptation, Eleanor?"
+
+"Never, aunty. I think it never so much as touched me."
+
+"Then Mr. Carlisle has been at his own risk," said Mrs. Caxton. "Let us
+dismiss him, my love."
+
+"Aunt Caxton, I have a strange homeless, forlorn feeling."
+
+For answer to that, Mrs. Caxton put her arms round Eleanor and gave her
+one or two good strong kisses. There was reproof as well as affection
+in them; Eleanor felt both, even without her aunt's words.
+
+"Trust the Lord. You know who has been the dwelling-place of his
+people, from all generations. They cannot be homeless. And for the
+rest, remember that whatever brings you here brings a great boon to me.
+My love, do you wish to go to your room before you have tea?"
+
+Eleanor was glad to get away and be alone for a moment. How homelike
+her old room seemed!--with the rose and honeysuckle breath of the air
+coming in at the casements. How peaceful and undisturbed the old
+furniture looked. The influence of the place began to settle down upon
+Eleanor. She got rid of the dust of travel, and came down presently to
+the porch with a face as quiet as a lamb.
+
+Tea went on with the same soothing influence. There was much to tell
+Eleanor, of doings in and about Plassy the year past; for the fact was,
+that letters had not been frequent. Who was sick and who was well; who
+had married, and who was dead; who had set out on a Christian walk, and
+who were keeping up such a walk to the happiness of themselves and of
+all about them. Then how Mrs. Caxton's own household had prospered; how
+the dairy went on; and there were some favourite cows that Eleanor
+desired to hear of. From the cows they got to the garden. And all the
+while the lovely meadow valley lay spread out in its greenness before
+Eleanor; the beautiful old hills drew the same loved outline across the
+sunset sky; the lights and shadows were of June; and the garden at hand
+was a rich mass of beauty sloping its terraced sweetness down to the
+river. Just as it was a year ago, when the summons came for Eleanor to
+leave it; only the garden seemed even more gorgeously rich than then.
+Just the same; even to the dish of strawberries on the table. But that
+was not wreathed with ivy and myrtle now.
+
+"Aunt Caxton, this is like the very same evening that I was here last."
+
+"It is almost a year," said Mrs. Caxton.
+
+Neither added anything to these two very unremarkable remarks; and
+silence fell with the evening light, as the servants were clearing away
+the table. Perhaps the mountains with the clear paling sky beyond them,
+were suggestive. Both the ladies looked so.
+
+
+"My dear," said Mrs. Caxton then, "let me understand a little better
+about this affair that gives you to me. Do you come, or are you sent?"
+
+"It is formal banishment, aunt Caxton. I am sent from them at home; but
+sent to go whither I will. So I come, to you."
+
+"What is the term assigned to this banishment?"
+
+"None. It is absolute--unless or until I will grant Mr. Carlisle's
+wishes, or giving up being, as papa says, a Methodist. But that makes
+it final--as far as I am concerned."
+
+"They will think better of it by and by."
+
+"I hope so," said Eleanor faintly. "It seems a strange thing to me,
+aunt Caxton, that this should have happened to me--just now when I am
+so needed at home. Papa is unwell--and I was beginning to get his
+ear,--and I have great influence over Julia, who only wants leading to
+go in the right way. And I am taken away from all that. I cannot help
+wondering why."
+
+"Let it be to the glory of God, Eleanor; that is all your concern. The
+rest you will understand by and by."
+
+"But that is the very thing. It is hard to see how it can be to his
+glory."
+
+"Do not try," said Mrs. Caxton smiling. "The Lord never puts his
+children anywhere where they cannot glorify him; and he never sends
+them where they have not work to do or a lesson to learn. Perhaps this
+is your lesson, Eleanor--to learn to have no home but in him."
+
+Eleanor's eyes filled very full; she made no answer.
+
+But one thing is certain; peace settled down upon her heart. It would
+be difficult to help that at Plassy. We all know the effect of going
+home to the place of our childhood after a time spent in other
+atmosphere; and there is a native air of the spirit, in which it feels
+the like renovating influence. Eleanor breathed it while they sat at
+the table; she felt she had got back into her element. She felt it more
+and more when at family prayer the whole household were met together,
+and she heard her aunt's sweet and high petitions again. And the
+blessing of peace fully settled down upon Eleanor when she was gone up
+to her room and had recalled and prayed over her aunt's words. She went
+to sleep with that glorious saying running through her thoughts--"Lord,
+thou hast been our dwelling-place in all generations."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+IN CORRESPONDENCE.
+
+
+  "But there be million hearts accurst, where no sweet sunbursts shine,
+  And there be million hearts athirst for Love's immortal wine;
+  This world is full of beauty, as other worlds above,
+  And if we did our duty, it might be full of love."
+
+
+Peace had unbroken reign at Plassy from that time. Eleanor threw
+herself again eagerly into all her aunt's labours and schemes for the
+good and comfort of those around her. There was plenty to do; and she
+was Mrs. Caxton's excellent helper. Powis came into requisition anew;
+and as before, Eleanor traversed the dales and the hills on her various
+errands, swift and busy. That was not the only business going. Her aunt
+and she returned to their old literary habits, and read books and
+talked; and it was hard if Eleanor in her rides over the hills and over
+the meadows and along the streams did not bring back one hand full of
+wild flowers. She dressed the house with them, getting help from the
+garden when necessary; botanized a good deal; and began to grow as
+knowing in plants almost as Mrs. Caxton herself. She would come home
+loaded with wild thyme and gorse and black bryony and saxifrage and
+orchis flowers, having scoured hill and meadow and robbed the
+hedge-rows for them, which also gave her great tribute of wild roses.
+Then later came crimson campion and eyebright, dog roses and
+honeysuckles, columbine and centaury, grasses of all kinds, and
+harebell, and a multitude impossible to name; though the very naming is
+pleasant. Eleanor lived very much out of doors, and was likened by her
+aunt to a rural Flora or Proserpine that summer; though when in the
+house she was just the most sonsy, sensible, companionable little
+earthly maiden that could be fancied. Eleanor was not under size
+indeed; but so much like her own wild flowers in pure simpleness and
+sweet natural good qualities that Mrs. Caxton was sometimes inclined to
+bestow the endearing diminutive upon her; so sound and sweet she was.
+
+"And what are all these?" said Mrs. Caxton one day stopping before an
+elegant basket.
+
+"Don't you like them?"
+
+"Very much. Why you have got a good many kinds here."
+
+"That is Hart's Tongue, you know--that is wall spleenwort, and that is
+the other kind; handsome things are they not?"
+
+"And this?"
+
+"That is the forked spleenwort. You don't know it? I rode away, away up
+the mountain for it yesterday That is where I got those Woodsia's
+too--aren't they beautiful? I was gay to find those; they are not
+common."
+
+"No. And this is not common, to me."
+
+"Don't you know it, aunt Caxton? It grows just it the spray of a
+waterfall--this and this; they are polypodies. That is another--that
+came from the old round tower."
+
+"And where did you get these?--these waterfall ferns?"
+
+"I got them at the Bandel of Helig."
+
+"There? My dear child! how could you, without risk?"
+
+"Without much risk, aunty."
+
+"How did you ever know the Bandel?"
+
+"I have been there before, aunt Caxton."
+
+"I think I never shewed it to you?"
+
+"No ma'am;--but Mr. Rhys did."
+
+His name had scarcely been mentioned before since Eleanor had come to
+the farm. It was mentioned now with a cognizance of that fact. Mrs.
+Caxton was silent a little.
+
+"Why have you put these green things here without a rose or two? they
+are all alone in their greenness."
+
+"I like them better so, aunty. They are beautiful enough by themselves;
+but if you put a rose there, you cannot help looking at it."
+
+Mrs. Caxton smiled and turned away.
+
+One thing in the midst of all these natural explorations, remained
+unused; and that a thing most likely, one would have thought, to be
+applied to for help. The microscope stood on one side apparently
+forgotten. It always stood there, in the sitting parlour, in full view;
+but nobody seemed to be conscious of its existence. Eleanor never
+touched it; Mrs. Caxton never spoke of it.
+
+From home meantime, Eleanor heard little that was satisfactory. Julia
+was the only one that wrote, and her letters gave painful subjects for
+thought. Her father was very unlike himself, Julia said, and growing
+more feeble and more ill every day; though by slow degrees. She wished
+Eleanor would write her letters without any religion in them; for she
+supposed _that_ was what her mother would not let her read; so she
+never had the comfort of seeing Eleanor's letters for herself, but Mrs.
+Powle read aloud bits from them. "Very little bits, too," added Julia,
+"I guess your letters have more religion in them than anything else.
+But you see it is no use." Eleanor read this passage aloud to Mrs.
+Caxton.
+
+"Is that true, Eleanor?"
+
+"No, ma'am. I write to Julia of everything that I do, all day long, and
+of everything and everybody that interests me. What mamma does not like
+comes in, of course, with it all; but I do very little preaching, aunt
+Caxton."
+
+"I would go on just so, my dear. I would not alter the style of my
+letters."
+
+So the flowers of June were replaced by the flowers of July; and the
+beauties of July gave place to the purple "ling" of August, with
+gentian and centaury and St. John's wort; and then came the Autumn
+changes, with the less delicate blossoms of that later time, amidst
+which the eclipsed meadow-sweet came quite into favour again. Still
+Eleanor brought wild things from the hills and the streams, though she
+applied more now to Mrs. Caxton's home store in the garden; wild mints
+and Artemisias and the Michaelmas daisy still came home with her from
+her rides and walks; the rides and walks in which Eleanor was a
+ministering angel to many a poor house, many an ignorant soul and many
+a failing or ailing body.
+
+Then came October; and with the first days of October the news that her
+father was dead.
+
+It added much bitterness to Eleanor's grief, that Mrs. Powle entirely
+declined to have her come home, even for a brief stay. If she chose to
+submit to conditions, her mother wrote, she would be welcome; it was
+not too late; but if she held to her perversity, she must bear the
+consequences. She did not own her nor want her. She gave her up to her
+aunt Caxton. Her remaining daughter was in her hands, and she meant to
+keep her there. Eleanor, she knew, if she came home would come to sow
+rebellion. She should not come to do that, either then or at all.
+
+Mildly quiet and decided Mrs. Powle's letter was; very decided, and so
+cool as to give every assurance the decision would be persisted in.
+Eleanor felt this very much. She kept on her usual way of life without
+any variation; but the radiant bright look of her face was permanently
+saddened. She was just as sweet and companionable an assistant to her
+aunt as ever; but from month to month Mrs. Caxton saw that a shadow lay
+deep upon her heart. No shadow could have less of anything like hard
+edges.
+
+They had been sitting at work one night late in the winter, those two,
+the aunt and the niece; and having at last put up her work Eleanor sat
+gravely poring into the red coals on the hearth; those
+thought-provoking, life-stirring, strange things, glowing and sparkling
+between life and death like ourselves. Eleanor's face was very sober.
+
+"Aunt Caxton," she said at length,--"my life seems such a confusion to
+me!"
+
+"So everything seems that we do not understand," Mrs. Caxton said.
+
+"But is it not, aunty? I seem taken from everything that I ought most
+naturally to do--papa, Julia, mamma. I feel like a banished person, I
+suppose; only I have the strange feeling of being banished from my
+place in the world."
+
+"What do you think of such a life as Mr. Rhys is leading?"
+
+"I think it is straight, and beautiful,"--Eleanor answered, looking
+still into the fire. "Nothing can be further from confusion. He is in
+_his_ place."
+
+"He is in a sort of banishment, however."
+
+"Not from that! And it is voluntary banishment--for his Master's sake.
+_That_ is not sorrowful, aunt Caxton."
+
+"Not when the Lord's banished ones make their home in him. And I do not
+doubt but Mr. Rhys does that."
+
+"Have you ever heard from him, aunt Caxton."
+
+"Not yet. It is almost time, I think."
+
+"It is almost a year and a half since he went."
+
+"The communication is slow and uncertain," said Mrs. Caxton. "They do
+not get letters there, often, till they are a year old."
+
+"How impossible it used to be to me," said Eleanor, "to comprehend such
+a life; how impossible to understand, that anybody should leave home
+and friends and comfort, and take his place voluntarily in distance and
+danger and heathendom. It was an utter enigma to me."
+
+"And you understand it now?"
+
+"O yes, aunty," Eleanor went on in the same tone; and she had not
+ceased gazing into the coals;--"I see that Christ is all; and with him
+one is never alone, and under his hand one can never be in danger. I
+know now how his love keeps one even from fear."
+
+"You are no coward naturally."
+
+"No, aunt Caxton--not about ordinary things, except when conscience
+made me so, some time ago."
+
+"That is over now?"
+
+Eleanor took her eyes from the fire, to give Mrs. Caxton a smile with
+the words--"Thank the Lord!"
+
+"Mr. Rhys is among scenes that might try any natural courage," said
+Mrs. Caxton. "They are a desperate set of savages to whom he is
+ministering."
+
+"What a glory, to carry the name of Christ to them!"
+
+"They are hearing it, too," said Mrs. Caxton. "But there is enough of
+the devil's worst work going on there to try any tender heart; and
+horrors enough to shock stout nerves. So it has been. I hope Mr. Rhys
+finds it better."
+
+"I don't know much about them," said Eleanor. "Are they much worse than
+savages in general, aunt Caxton?"
+
+"I think they are,--and better too, in being more intellectually
+developed. Morally, I think I never read of a lower fallen set of human
+beings. Human life is of no account; such a thing as respect to
+humanity is unknown, for the eating of human bodies has gone on to a
+most wonderful extent, and the destroying them for that purpose. With
+all that, there is a very careful respect paid to descent and rank; but
+it is the observance of fear. That one fact gives you the key to the
+whole. Where a man is thought of no more worth than to be killed and
+eaten, a woman is not thought worth anything at all; and society
+becomes a lively representation of the infernal regions, without the
+knowledge and without the remorse."
+
+"Poor creatures!" said Eleanor.
+
+"You comprehend that there must be a great deal of trial to a person of
+fine sensibilities, in making a home amongst such a people, for an
+indefinite length of time."
+
+"Yes, aunty,--but the Lord will make it all up to him."
+
+"Blessed be the name of the Lord!" it was Mrs. Caxton's turn to answer;
+and she said it with deep feeling and emphasis.
+
+"It seems the most glorious thing to me, aunt Caxton, to tell the love
+of Christ to those that don't know it. I wish I could do it."
+
+"My love, you do."
+
+"I do very little, ma'am. I wish I could do a thousand times more!"
+
+The conversation stopped there. Both ladies remained very gravely
+thoughtful a little while longer and then separated for the night. But
+the next evening when they were seated at tea alone, Mrs. Caxton
+recurred to the subject.
+
+"You said last night, Eleanor, that you wished you could do a great
+deal more work of a certain kind than you do."
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"Did your words mean, my love, that you are discontented with your own
+sphere of duty, or find it too narrow?"
+
+Eleanor's eyes opened a little at that. "Aunt Caxton, I never thought
+of such a thing. I do not remember that I was considering my own sphere
+of duty at all. I was thinking of the pleasure of preaching
+Christ--yes, and the glory and honour--to such poor wretches as those
+we were talking of, who have never had a glimpse of the truth before."
+
+"Then for your part you are satisfied with England?"
+
+"Why yes, ma'am. I am satisfied, I think,--I mean to be,--with any
+place that is given me. I should be sorry to choose for myself."
+
+"But if you had a clear call, you would like it, to go to the Cape of
+Good Hope and teach the Hottentots?"
+
+"I do not mean that, aunty," said Eleanor laughing a little. "Surely
+you do not suspect me of any wandering romantic notion about doing the
+Lord's work in one place rather than in another. I would rather teach
+English people than Hottentots. But if I saw that my place was at the
+Cape of Good Hope, I would go there. If my place were there, some way
+would be possible for me to get there, I suppose."
+
+"You would have no fear?" said Mrs. Caxton.
+
+"No aunty; I think not. Ever since I can say 'The Lord is my
+Shepherd--' I have done with fear."
+
+"My love, I should be very sorry to have you go to the Cape of Good
+Hope. I am glad there is no prospect of it. But you are right about not
+choosing. As soon as we go where we are not sent, we are at our own
+charges."
+
+The door here opened, and the party and the tea-table received an
+accession of one to their number. It was an elderly, homely gentleman,
+to whom Mrs. Caxton gave a very cordial reception and whom she
+introduced to Eleanor as the Rev. Mr. Morrison. He had a pleasant face,
+Eleanor saw, and as soon as he spoke, a pleasant manner.
+
+"I ought to be welcome, ma'am," he said, rubbing his hands with the
+cold as he sat down. "I bring you letters from Brother Rhys."
+
+"You are welcome without that, brother, as you know," Mrs. Caxton
+answered. "But the letters are welcome. Of how late date are they?"
+
+"Some pretty old--some not more than nine or ten months ago; when he
+had been stationed a good while."
+
+"How is he?"
+
+"Well, he says; never better."
+
+"And happy?"
+
+"I wish I was as happy!" said Mr. Morrison.--"He had got fast hold of
+his work already."
+
+"He would do that immediately."
+
+"He studied the language on shipboard, all the way out; and he was able
+to hold a service in it for the natives only a few weeks after he had
+landed. Don't you call that energy?"
+
+"There is energy wherever he is," said Mrs. Caxton.
+
+"Yes, you know him pretty well. I suppose they never have it so cold
+out there as we have it to-night," Mr. Morrison said rubbing his hands.
+"It's stinging! That fire is the pleasantest thing I have seen to-day."
+
+"Where is Mr. Rhys stationed?"
+
+"I forget--one of the islands down there, with an unintelligible name.
+Horrid places!"
+
+"Is the place itself disagreeable?" Eleanor asked.
+
+"The place itself, ma'am," said Mr. Morrison, his face stiffening from
+its genial unbent look into formality as he turned to her,--"the place
+itself I do not understand to be very disagreeable; it is the character
+of the population which must make it a hard place to live in. They are
+exceedingly debased. Vile people!"
+
+"Mr. Rhys is not alone on his station?" said Mrs Caxton.
+
+"No, he is with Mr. and Mrs. Lefferts. His letters will tell you."
+
+For the letters Mrs. Caxton was evidently impatient; but Mr. Morrison's
+refreshment had first to be attended to. Only fair; for he had come out
+of his way on purpose to bring them to her; and being one of a certain
+Committee he had it in his power to bring for her perusal and pleasure
+more than her own letters from Mr. Rhys, and more than Mr. Rhys's own
+letters to the Committee. It was a relief to two of the party when Mr.
+Morrison's cups of tea were at last disposed of, and the far-come
+despatches were brought out on the green table-cloth under the light of
+the lamp.
+
+With her hand on her own particular packet of letters, as if so much
+communication with them could not be put off, Mrs. Caxton sat and
+listened to Mr. Morrison's reading. Eleanor had got her work. As the
+particular interest which made the reading so absorbing to them may
+possibly be shared in a slight degree by others, it is fair to give a
+slight notion of the character of the news contained in those closely
+written pages. The letters Mr. Morrison read were voluminous; from
+different persons on different stations of the far-off mission field.
+They told of difficulties great, and encouragements greater; of their
+work and its results; and of their most pressing wants; especially the
+want of more men to help. The work they said was spreading faster than
+they could keep up with it. Thousands of heathen had given up
+heathenism, who in miserable ignorance cried for Christian instruction;
+children as wild as the wild birds, wanted teaching and were willing to
+have it; native teachers needed training, who had the will without the
+knowledge to aid in the service. Thirty of them, Mr. Lefferts said, he
+had under his care. With all this, they told of the wonderful beauty of
+the regions where their field of labour was. Mr. Lefferts wrote of a
+little journey lately taken to another part of his island, which had
+led him through almost every variety of natural luxuriance. Mountains
+and hills and valleys, rivers and little streams, rich woods and
+mangrove swamps. Mr. Lefferts' journey had been, like Paul's of old, to
+establish the native churches formed at different small places by the
+way. There he married couples and baptized children and met classes and
+told the truth. At one place where he had preached, married several
+couples, baptized over thirty, young and old, and met as many in
+classes, Mr. Lefferts told of a walk he took. It led him to the top of
+a little hill, from which a rich view was to be had, while a multitude
+of exquisite shrubs in flower gave another refreshment in their
+delicious fragrance. A little stream running down the side of the hill
+was used by the natives to water their plantations of taro, for which
+the side hill was formed into terraced beds. Paroquets and humming
+birds flew about, and the sun was sinking brilliantly in the western
+ocean line as he looked. So far, everything was fair, sweet, lovely; a
+contrast to what he met when he reached the lower grounds again. There
+the swarms of mosquitos compelled Mr. Lefferts to retreat for the night
+within a curtain canopy for protection; and thither he was followed by
+a fat savage who shared the protection with him all night long. Another
+sort of experience! and another sort of neighbourhood from that of the
+starry white _Gardenia_ flowers on the top of the hill.
+
+Nevertheless, of a neighbouring station Mr. Rhys wrote that the people
+were at war, and the most horrible heathen practices were going on. At
+the principal town, he said, more people were eaten perhaps than
+anywhere else in the islands. The cruelties and the horrors were
+impossible to be told. A few days before he wrote, twenty-eight persons
+had been killed and eaten in one day. They had been caught
+fishing--taken prisoners and brought home--half killed, and in that
+state thrown into the ovens; still having life enough left to try to
+get away from the fire.
+
+"The first time I saw anything of this kind," wrote Mr. Rhys, "was one
+evening when we had just finished a class-meeting. The evening was most
+fair and peaceful as we came out of the house; a fresh air from the sea
+had relieved the heat of the day; the leaves of the trees were
+glittering in the sunlight; the ocean all sparkling under the breeze;
+when word came that some bodies of slain people were bringing from
+Lauthala. I could hardly understand the report, or credit it; but
+presently the horrible procession came in sight, and eleven dead bodies
+were laid on the ground immediately before us. Eleven only were brought
+to this village; but great numbers are said to have been killed. Their
+crime was the killing of one man; and when they would have submitted
+themselves and made amends, all this recompense of death was demanded
+by the offended chief. The manner in which these wretched creatures
+were treated is not a thing to be described; they were not handled with
+the respect which we give to brute animals. The natives have looked
+dark upon us since that time, and give us reason to know that as far as
+they are concerned our lives are not safe. But we know in whose hands
+our lives are; they are the Lord's; and he will do with them what he
+pleases--not what the heathen please. So we are under no concern about
+it."
+
+That storm appeared to have passed away; for in later letters Mr. Rhys
+and Mr. Lefferts spoke of acceptable services among the people and an
+evidently manifested feeling of trust and good will on their part
+towards the missionaries. Indeed these were often able to turn the
+natives from their devilish purposes and save life. Not always. The old
+king of that part of the country had died, and all the influence and
+all the offers of compensation made by the missionaries, could not
+prevent the slaughter of half a dozen women, his wives, to do him
+honour in his burial. The scene as Mr. Lefferts described it was
+heart-sickening.
+
+As he drew near the door of the king's house, with the intent to
+prevail for the right or to protest against the wrong, he saw the biers
+standing ready; and so knew that all the efforts previously made to
+hinder the barbarous rites had been unavailing. The house as he entered
+was in the hush of death. One woman lay strangled. Another sitting on
+the floor, covered with a large veil, was in the hands of her
+murderers. A cord was passed twice round her neck, and the ends were
+held on each side of her by a group of eight or ten strong men, the two
+groups pulling opposite ways. She was dead, the poor victim underneath
+the veil, in a minute or two after the missionaries entered; and the
+veil being taken off they saw that it was a woman who had professed
+Christianity. Her sons were among those who had strangled her. Another
+woman came forward with great shew of bravery when her name was called;
+offered her hand to the missionaries as she passed them; and with great
+pride of bearing submitted herself to the death which probably she knew
+she could not avoid. Everybody was quiet and cheerful, and the whole
+thing went on with the undisturbed order of a recognized and accustomed
+necessity; only the old king's son, the reigning chief for a long time
+back, was very uneasy at the part he was playing before the
+missionaries; he was the only trembling or doubtful one there. Yet he
+would not yield the point. Pride before all; his father must not be
+buried without the due honours of his position. Mr. Rhys and Mr.
+Lefferts had staid to make their protest and offer their entreaties and
+warnings, to the very last; and then heart-sick and almost faint with
+the disgusting scene, had returned home.
+
+Yet the influence of the truth was increasing and the good work was
+spreading and growing around them, steadily and in every direction. A
+great many had renounced heathenism; not a small number were earnest
+Christians and shewed the truth of their religion in their changed
+lives. A great number of reports proved this.
+
+"It is work that tries what stuff men's hearts are of, however,"
+remarked Mr. Morrison as he folded up one packet of letters. Neither of
+his hearers made him any answer. Mrs. Caxton sat opposite to him,
+deeply attentive but silent, with her hand always lying upon her own
+particular packet. Eleanor had turned a little away and sat with her
+side face towards Mr. Morrison, looking into the fire. Her work was
+dropped; she sat motionless.
+
+"I have a letter to read you now of a later date," Mr. Morrison went
+on,--"from Mr. Rhys, which shews how well he has got hold of the people
+and how much he is regarded by them already. It shews the influence
+gained by the truth, too, which is working there fast."
+
+After giving some details of business and of his labours, Mr. Rhys
+wrote--"My last notable piece of work, has been in the character of an
+ambassador of peace--not heavenly but earthly. News was brought four or
+five days ago that the heathen inhabitants of two neighbouring
+districts had engaged in open hostilities. Home business claimed me one
+day; the next morning I set out on my mission, with one or two
+Christian natives. The desolations of war soon met our eyes, in
+destroyed crops and a deserted village. Nobody was to be seen. I and
+those who were with me sat down in the shade of some trees, while a
+native went to find the inhabitants who had hid themselves in a thicket
+of mangroves. As soon as the chief heard that I was there, and what I
+had come for, he declared he would be a Christian forthwith; and four
+or five of his principal men followed his example. They came to me, and
+entered fully into my object; and it was decided that we should go on
+immediately to the fortress where those who wished to carry on war had
+intrenched themselves. We got there just as the sun was setting; and
+from that time till midnight I was engaged in what I saw now for the
+first time; a savage council of war. Grim black warriors covered with
+black powder sat or stood about, on a little clear spot of ground where
+the moon shone down; muskets and clubs and spears lay on the glass and
+were scattered about among the boles of the trees; a heathen-looking
+scene. Till midnight we talked, and hard talking too; then it was ended
+as I had prayed it might. The party with whom I was had suffered
+already in battle and had not had their revenge; it was difficult to
+give that up; but at last the chief got up and put his hand in mine. 'I
+should like to be a heathen a little longer,' he said, 'but I will
+_lotu_ as you so earnestly entreat me.' _Lotu_ is their name for
+embracing Christianity. Another young warrior joined him; and there
+under the midnight moon, we worshipped God; those two and those who
+were with me. In another part of the village a dozen women for the
+first time bowed the knee in the same worship.
+
+"So far was well; but it yet remained to induce the opposite hostile
+party to agree to peace; you understand only one side was yet
+persuaded. Early the next morning I set about it. Here a difficulty met
+me. The Christian chiefs made no objection to going with me to parley
+with their enemies; but I wanted the company also of another, the chief
+of this district; knowing it very important. And he was afraid to go.
+He told me so plainly. 'If I do as you ask me,' said he, 'I am a dead
+man this day.' I did my best to make him think differently; a hundred
+men declared that they would die in defence of him; and at last I
+gained my point. Tui Mbua agreed to go to the neighbourhood of the
+hostile town, if I would bring its principal men to meet him at an
+appointed place. So we went. This chosen place was a fine plot of
+ground enclosed by magnificent chestnut trees. I went on to the town,
+with a few unarmed men. The people received us well; but it was
+difficult to make the old heathen, brought up on treachery and
+falsehood, believe that I was to be trusted. But in the end the chief
+and twenty of his men consented to go with us, and left their arms at
+home. They did it with forebodings, for I overheard an old man say, as
+we set out from the place,--'We shall see death to-day.' I lifted my
+voice and cried, 'To-day we live!' They took up the words, and heart at
+the same time, and repeated, 'To-day we live'--to encourage themselves,
+I suppose, as we went towards the chestnut-tree meeting ground.
+
+"I felt that the peace of the whole region depended on what was to be
+done there, and for my part went praying that all might go well. It was
+an anxious moment when we entered the open place; any ill-looks in
+either party would chase away trust front the other. As we went in I
+watched the chief who accompanied me. He gently bowed to Tui Mbua and
+approached him with due and evidently honest respect. My heart leaped
+at that moment. Tui Mbua looked at him keenly, sprang to his feet, and
+casting his arms about his enemy's neck gave him a warm embrace. The
+people around shouted for joy; I was still, I believe, for the very
+depth of mine. One of the Christian chiefs spoke out and cried, 'We
+thank thee, O Lord, for thus bringing thy creatures into the way of
+life;' and he wept aloud for very gladness.
+
+"After that we had speechifying; and I returned home very full of
+thankful joy."
+
+This was the last letter read. Mr. Morrison folded up his packet amid a
+great silence. Mrs. Caxton seemed thoughtful; Eleanor was motionless.
+
+"He is doing good work," remarked Mr. Morrison; "but it is hard work.
+He is the right sort of man to go there--fears nothing, shirks nothing.
+So are they all, I believe; but almost all the rest of them have their
+wives with them. How came Rhys to go alone?"
+
+"He does not write as if he felt lonely," said Mrs. Caxton.
+
+"It is better for a man to take a wife, though," said Mr. Morrison. "He
+wants so much of comfort and home as that. They get tired, and they get
+sick, and to have no woman's hand about is something to be missed at
+such times. O we are all dependent. Mr. Rhys is domesticated now with
+Brother Lefferts and his family. I suppose he feels it less, because he
+has not had a home of his own in a good while; that makes a difference."
+
+"He knows he has a home of his own too," said Mrs. Caxton; "though he
+has not reached it yet. I suppose the thought of that makes him
+content."
+
+"Of course. But in a heathen land, with heathen desolation and dark
+faces all around one, you have no idea how at times one's soul longs
+for a taste of England. Brother Rhys too is a man to feel all such
+things. He has a good deal of taste, and what you might call
+sensitiveness to externals."
+
+"A good deal," said Mrs. Caxton quietly. "Then he has some beautiful
+externals around him."
+
+"So they say. But the humanity is deplorable. Well, they will get their
+reward when the Master comes. A man leaves everything indeed when he
+goes to the South Seas as Rhys has done. He would have been very
+popular in England."
+
+"So he will in the islands."
+
+"Well so it seems," said Mr. Morrison. "He has got the ear of those
+wild creatures evidently. That's the man."
+
+It was time for evening prayers; and afterwards the party separated;
+Mrs. Caxton carrying off with her her packet of letters unbroken. The
+morning brought its own business; the breakfast was somewhat hurried;
+Mr. Morrison took his departure; and nothing more was said on the
+subject of South Sea missionaries till the evening. Then the two ladies
+were again alone together.
+
+"Are you well to-day, Eleanor?" was Mrs. Caxton's first question at the
+tea-table.
+
+"Some headache, aunt Caxton."
+
+"How is that? And I have noticed that your eyes were heavy all day."
+
+"There is no harm, ma'am. I did not sleep very well."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I think the reading of those letters excited me, aunt Caxton."
+
+Mrs. Caxton looked at a line of faint crimson which was stealing up
+into Eleanor's cheeks, and for a moment stayed her words.
+
+"My dear, there is as good work to be done here, as ever in Polynesia."
+
+"I do not know, aunt Caxton," said Eleanor leaning her head on her hand
+in thoughtful wise. "England has had the light a great while; it must
+be grand to be the first torch-bearers into the darkness."
+
+"So Mr. Rhys feels. But then, my dear, I think we are to do the work
+given us--one here and one there;--and let the Lord place his servants,
+and our service, as he will."
+
+"I do not think otherwise, aunt Caxton."
+
+"Would you like, to hear some of what Mr. Rhys has written to me? there
+is a little difference between what is sent to a Committee and what is
+for the private eye of a friend."
+
+"Yes ma'am, I would like it," Eleanor said; but she did not say so at
+all eagerly; and Mrs. Caxton looked at her once or twice before she
+changed the subject and spoke of something else. She held to her offer,
+however; and when the green cloth and the lamp were again in readiness,
+she brought out the letters. Eleanor took some work and bent her head
+over it.
+
+"This is one of the latest dates," Mrs. Caxton said as she opened the
+paper; "written after he had been there a good many months and had got
+fairly acquainted with the language and with the people. It seems to me
+he has been very quick about it."
+
+"Yes, I think so," Eleanor answered; "but that is his way."
+
+Mrs. Caxton read.
+
+
+"My dear friend,
+
+"In spite of the world of ocean rolling between us, I yet have a
+strange and sweet feeling of taking your hand, when I set myself to
+write to you. Spirit and matter seem at odds; and far away as I am,
+with the vegetation and the air of the tropics around me, as soon as I
+begin upon this sheet of paper I seem to stand in Plassy again. The
+dear old hills rear their wild outlines before me; the green wealth of
+vegetation is at my feet, but cool and fresh as nothing looks to me
+under the northerly wind which is blowing now; and your image is so
+distinct, that I almost can grasp your hand, and almost hear you speak;
+_see_ you speak, I do. Blessed be the Lord for imagination, as well as
+for memory! Without it, how slowly we should mount to the conception of
+heavenly things and the understanding of himself; and the distance
+between friends would be a sundering of them indeed. But I must not
+waste time or paper in telling you what you know already.
+
+"By which you will conclude that I am busy. I am as busy as I can
+possibly be. That is as I wish it. It is what I am here for. I would
+not have a moment unused. On Sunday I have four or five services, of
+different sorts. Week days I have an English school, a writing school,
+one before and the other after mid-day; and later still, a school for
+regular native instruction. Every moment of time that is free, or would
+be, is needed for visiting the sick, whose demands upon us are
+constant. But this gives great opportunity to preach the gospel and win
+the hearts of the people.
+
+"Some account of a little preaching and teaching journey in which I
+took part some few months ago, I have a mind to give you. Our object
+was specially an island between one and two hundred miles away, where
+many have become Christians, and not in name only; but where up to this
+time no missionary has been stationed. We visit them when we can. This
+time we had the advantage of a brig to make the voyage in; the mission
+ship was here with the Superintendent and he desired to visit the
+place. We arrived at evening in the neighbourhood; at a little island
+close by, where all the people are now Christian. Mr. Lefferts went
+ashore in a canoe to make arrangements; and the next day we followed.
+It was a beautiful day and as beautiful a sight as eyes could see. We
+visited the houses of the native teachers, who were subjects of
+admiration in every respect; met candidates for baptism and examined
+them; married a couple; and Bro. Griffiths preached. There is a new
+chapel, of very neat native workmanship; with a pulpit carved out of a
+solid piece of wood, oiled to give it colour and gloss. In the chapel
+the whole population of the island was assembled, dressed in new
+dresses, attentive, and interested. So were we, you may believe, when
+we remembered that only two years ago all these people were heathens. O
+these islands are a glorious place now and then, in spots where the
+devil's reign is broken. I wish you could have seen us afterwards, my
+dear friend, at our native feast spread on the ground under the trees;
+you who never saw a table set but with exact and elegant propriety. We
+had no table; believe me, we were too happy and hungry to mind that. I
+do not think you would have quarrelled with our dishes; they were no
+other and no worse than the thick broad glossy leaves of the banana. No
+fault could be found with their elegance; and our napkins were of the
+green rind of the same tree. Cocoanut shells were our substitute for
+flint glass, and I like it very well; especially when cocoanut milk is
+the refreshment to be served in them. Knives and forks we had none!
+What would you have said to that? Our meat was boiled fowls and baked
+yams and fish dressed in various ways; and the fingers of the natives,
+or our own, were our only dividers. But I have seen less pleasant
+entertainments; and I only could wish you had been there,--so you might
+have whisked back to England the next minute after it was over, on some
+convenient fairy carpet such as I used to read of in Eastern tales when
+I was a boy. For us, we had to make our way in haste back to the ship,
+which lay in the offing, and could not come near on account of the reef
+barrier. We got on board safely, passing the reefs where once an
+American ship was wrecked and her crew killed and eaten by the people
+of these parts.
+
+"The next day we made the land we sought; and got ashore through a
+tremendous surf. Here we found the island had lately been the seat of
+war--some of the heathen having resolved to put an end by violence to
+the Christian religion there, or as they call it, the _lotu_. The
+Christians had gained the victory, and then had treated their enemies
+with the utmost kindness; which had produced a great effect upon them.
+The rest of the day after our landing was spent in making thorough
+inquiry into this matter; and in a somewhat extended preaching service.
+At night we slept on a mat laid for us, or tried to sleep; but my
+thoughts were too busy; and the clear night sky was witness to a great
+many restless movements, I am afraid, before I lost them in
+forgetfulness. The occasion of which, I suppose, was the near prospect
+of sending letters home to England by the ship. At any rate, England
+and the South Seas were very near together that night; and I was fain
+to remember that heaven is nearer yet. But the remembrance carne, and
+with it sleep. The next day was a day of business. Marrying couples
+(over forty of them) baptizing converts, preaching; then meeting the
+teachers and class-leaders and examining them as to their Christian
+experience, etc. From dawn till long past mid-day we were busy so; and
+then were ready for another feast in the open air like that one I
+described to you--for we had had no breakfast. We had done all the work
+we could do at that time at One, and sought our ship immediately after
+dinner; passing through a surf too heavy for the canoes to weather.
+
+"Let me tell you some of the testimony given by these converts from
+heathenism; given simply and heartily, by men who have not learned
+their religion by book nor copied it out of other men's mouths. It was
+a very thrilling thing to hear them, these poor enterers into the
+light, who have but just passed the line of darkness. One said, 'I love
+the Lord, and I know he loves me; not for anything in me, or for
+anything I have done; but for Christ's sake alone. I trust in Christ
+and am happy. I listen to God, that he may do with me as he pleases. I
+am thankful to have lived until the Lord's work has begun. I feel it in
+my heart! I hold Jesus! I am happy! My heart is full of love to God!'
+
+"Another said, 'One good thing I know,--the sacred blood of Jesus. I
+desire nothing else.'
+
+"Another,--'I know that God has justified me through the sacred blood
+of Jesus. I know assuredly that I am reconciled to God. I know of the
+work of God in my soul. The sacred Spirit makes it clear to me. I wish
+to preach the gospel, that others also may know Jesus.'
+
+"All these have been engaged the past year in teaching or proclaiming
+the truth in various ways. Another of their number who was dying, one
+or two of us went to see. One of us asked him if he was afraid to die?
+'No,' he said, 'I am sheltered. The great Saviour died for me. The
+Lord's wrath is removed. I am his.' And another time he remarked,
+'Death is a fearfully great thing, but I fear it not. There is a
+_Saviour_ below the skies.'
+
+"So there is a helmet of salvation for the poor Fijian as well as for
+the favoured people at home. Praise be to the Lord! Did I tell you, my
+dear friend, I was restless at the thought of sending letters home? Let
+me tell you now, I am happy; as happy as I could be in any place in the
+world; and I would not be in any other place, by my own choice, for all
+the things in the world. I need only to be made more holy. Just in
+proportion as I am that, I am happy and I am useful. I want to be
+perfectly holy. But there is the same way of trusting for the poor
+Fijian and for me; and I believe in that same precious blood I shall be
+made clean, even as they. I want to preach Christ a thousand times more
+than I do. I long to make his love known to these poor people. I
+rejoice in being here, where every minute may tell actively for him. My
+dear friend, when we get home, do what we will, we shall not think we
+have done enough.
+
+"Our life here is full of curious contrasts. Within doors, what our old
+habits have stereotyped as propriety, is sadly trenched upon. Before
+the ship came, Mrs. Lefferts' stock of comfort in one line was reduced
+to a single tea-cup; and in other stores, the demands of the natives
+had caused us to run very short. You know it is only by payment of
+various useful articles that we secure any service done or purchase any
+native produce. Money is unknown. Fruit and vegetables, figs, fish,
+crabs, fowls, we buy with iron tools, pieces of calico, and the like;
+and if our supply of these gives out, we have to draw upon the store of
+things needed by ourselves; and blankets and hardware come to be minus.
+Then, forgetting this, which it is easy to do, all the world without is
+a world of glorious beauty. How I wish I could shew it to you! These
+islands are of very various character, and many of them like the garden
+of Eden for natural loveliness; shewing almost every kind of scenery
+within a small area. Most of them are girdled more or less entirely by
+what is called a _barrier reef_--an outside and independent coral
+formation, sometimes narrow, sometimes miles in width, on the outer
+edge of which the sea breaks in an endless line of white foam. Within
+the reef the lagoon, as it is called, is perfectly still and clear; and
+such glories of the animal and vegetable world as lie beneath its
+surface I have no time to describe to you now. I have had little time
+to examine them; but once or twice I have taken a canoe and a piece of
+rest, gliding over this submarine garden, and rejoicing in the Lord who
+has made everything so beautiful in its time. My writing hour is over
+for to-day. I am going five or six miles to see a man who is said to be
+very ill.
+
+"Feb. 16. The man had very little the matter with him. I had my walk
+for nothing, so far as my character of doctor or nurse was concerned.
+
+"I will give you a little notion of the beauty of these islands, in the
+description of one that I visited a short time ago. It is one of our
+out-stations--too small to have a teacher given it; so it is visited
+from time to time by Mr. Lefferts and myself. With a fair wind the
+distance is hardly a day's journey; but sometimes as in this case it
+consumes two days. The voyage was made in a native canoe, manned by
+native sailors, some Christian, some heathen. They are good navigators,
+for savages; and need to be, for the character of the seas here,
+threaded with a network of coral reefs, makes navigation a delicate
+matter. Our voyage proceeded very well, until we got to the entrance of
+the island. That seems a strange sentence; but the island itself is a
+circle, nearly; a band of volcanic rock, not very wide, enclosing a
+lake or lagoon within its compass. There is only a rather narrow
+channel of entrance. Here we were met by difficulty. The surf breaking
+shorewards was tremendously high; and meeting and struggling with it
+came a rush of the current from within. Between the two opposing waters
+the canoe was tossed and swayed like a reed. It was, for a few moments,
+a scene to be remembered, and not a little terrific. The shoutings and
+exertions of the men, who felt the danger of their position, added to
+the roar and the power of the waters, which tossed us hither and
+thither as a thing of no consequence, made it a strange wild
+minute,--till we emerged from all that struggle and roar into the still
+beautiful quiet of the lagoon inside. Imagine it, surrounded with its
+border of rocky land covered with noble trees, and spotted with islets
+covered in like manner. The whole island is of volcanic formation, and
+its rocks are of black scoria. The theory is, I believe, that a volcano
+once occupied the whole centre of such islands; which sinking
+afterwards away left its place to the occupancy of a lake instead.
+However produced, the effect is singular in its wild beauty. The soil
+of this island is poor for any purpose but growing timber; the
+inhabitants consequently are not many, and they live on roots and fish
+and what we should think still poorer food--a great wood maggot, which
+is found in plenty. There are but four villages, two of them Christian.
+I staid there one night and the next day, giving them all I could; and
+it was a good time to me. The day after I returned home. O sweet gospel
+of Christ! which is lighting up these dark places; and O my blessed
+Master, who stands by his servants and gives them his own presence and
+love, when they are about his work and the world is far from them, and
+men would call them lonely. There is no loneliness where Christ is. I
+must finish this long letter with giving you the dying testimony of a
+Tongan preacher who has just gone to his home. He came here as a
+missionary from his own land, and has worked hard and successfully. He
+said to Mr. Calvert the day before his death, 'I have long _enjoyed_
+religion and felt its _power_. In my former illness I was happy; but
+now I am greatly blessed. The Lord has come down with mighty power into
+my soul, and I feel the blessedness of _full rest of soul_ in God. I
+feel religion to be peculiarly sweet, and my rejoicing is great. I see
+more fully and clearly the truth of the word and Spirit of God, and the
+suitableness of the Saviour. The whole of Christianity I see as
+exceedingly excellent.'
+
+"With this testimony I close, my dear friend. It is mine; I can ask no
+better for you than that it may be yours."
+
+
+Mrs. Caxton ended her reading and looked at Eleanor. She had done that
+several times in the course of the reading. Eleanor was always bent
+over her work, and busily attentive to it; but on each cheek a spot of
+colour had been fixed and deepening, till now it had reached a broad
+flush. Silence fell as the reading ceased; Eleanor did not look up;
+Mrs. Caxton did not take her eyes from her niece's face. It was with a
+kind of subdued sigh that at last she turned from the table and put her
+papers away.
+
+"Mr. Morrison is not altogether in the wrong," she remarked at length.
+"It is better for a man in those far-off regions, and amidst so many
+labours and trials, to have the comfort of his own home."
+
+"Do you think Mr. Rhys writes as if he felt the want?"
+
+"It is hard to tell what a man wants, by his writing. I am not quite at
+rest on that point."
+
+"How happened it that he did not marry, like everybody else, before
+going there?"
+
+"He is a fastidious man," said Mrs. Caxton; "one of those men that are
+rather difficult to please, I fancy; and that are apt enough to meet
+with hindrances because of the very nice points of their own nature."
+
+"I don't think you need wish any better for him, aunt Caxton, than to
+judge by his letters he has and enjoys as he is. He seems to me, and
+always did, a very enviable person."
+
+"Can you tell why?"
+
+"Good--happy--and useful," said Eleanor. But her voice was a little
+choked.
+
+"You know grace is free," said Mrs. Caxton. "He would tell you so. Ring
+the bell, my dear. And a sinner saved in England is as precious as one
+saved in Fiji. Let us work where our place is, and thank the Lord!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+IN NEWS.
+
+
+  "Speak, is't so?
+  If it be so, you have wound a goodly clue;
+  If it be not, forswear't: howe'er, I charge thee,
+  As heaven shall work in me for thine avail,
+  To tell me truly."
+
+
+Mr. Morrison's visit had drifted off into the distance of time; and the
+subject of South Sea missions had passed out of sight, for all that
+appeared. Mrs. Caxton did not bring it up again after that evening, and
+Eleanor did not. The household went on with its quiet ways. Perhaps
+Mrs. Caxton was a trifle more silent and ruminative, and Eleanor more
+persistently busy. She had been used to be busy; in these weeks she
+seemed to have forgotten how to rest. She looked tired accordingly
+sometimes; and Mrs. Caxton noticed it.
+
+"What became of your bill, Eleanor?" she said suddenly one evening.
+They had both been sitting at work some time without a word.
+
+"My bill, ma'am? What do you mean, aunt Caxton?"
+
+"Your Ragged school bill."
+
+"It reached its second reading, ma'am; and there it met with
+opposition."
+
+"And fell through?"
+
+"I suppose so--for the present. Its time will come, I hope; the time
+for its essential provisions, I mean."
+
+"Do you think Mr. Carlisle could have secured its passage?"
+
+"From what I know and have heard of him, I have no doubt he could."
+
+"His love is not very generous," remarked Mrs. Caxton.
+
+"It never was, aunt Caxton. After I left London I had little hope of my
+bill. I am not disappointed."
+
+"My dear, are you weary to-night?"
+
+"No ma'am! not particularly."
+
+"I shall have to find some play-work for you to do. Your voice speaks
+something like weariness."
+
+"I do not feel it, aunt Caxton."
+
+"Eleanor, have you any regret for any part of your decision and action
+with respect to Mr. Carlisle?"
+
+"Never, aunt Caxton. How can you ask me?"
+
+"I did not know but you might feel weariness now at your long stay in
+Plassy and the prospect of a continued life here."
+
+Eleanor put down her work, came to Mrs. Caxton, kneeled down and put
+her arms about her; kissing her with kisses that certainly carried
+conviction with them.
+
+"It is the most wicked word I ever heard you say, aunt Caxton. I love
+Plassy beyond all places in the world, that I have ever been in. No
+part of my life has been so pleasant as the part spent here. If I am
+weary, I sometimes feel as if my life were singularly cut off from its
+natural duties and stranded somehow, all alone; but that is an
+unbelieving thought, and I do not give it harbour at all. I am very
+content--very happy."
+
+Mrs. Caxton brought her hand tenderly down the side of the smooth cheek
+before her, and her eyes grew somewhat misty. But that was a rare
+occurrence, and the exhibition of it immediately dismissed. She kissed
+Eleanor and returned to her ordinary manner.
+
+"Talking about stranded lives," she said; "to take another subject, you
+must forgive me for that one, dear--I think of Mr. Rhys very often."
+
+"His life is not stranded," said Eleanor; "it is under full sail."
+
+"He is alone, though."
+
+"I do not believe he feels alone, aunt Caxton."
+
+"I do not know," said Mrs. Caxton. "A man of a sensitive nature must
+feel, I should think, in his circumstances, that he has put an immense
+distance between himself and all whom he loves."
+
+"But I thought he had almost no family relations left?"
+
+"Did it never occur to you," said Mrs. Caxton, "when you used to see
+him here, that there was somebody, somewhere, who had a piece of his
+heart?"
+
+"No, ma'am,--never!" Eleanor said with some energy. "I never thought he
+seemed like it."
+
+"I did not know anything about it," Mrs. Caxton went on slowly, "until
+a little while before he went away--some time after you were here. Then
+I learned that it was the truth."
+
+Eleanor worked away very diligently and made no answer. Mrs. Caxton
+furtively watched her; Eleanor's head was bent down over her sewing;
+but when she raised it to change the position of her work, Mrs. Caxton
+saw a set of her lips that was not natural.
+
+"You never suspected anything of the kind?" she repeated.
+
+"No, ma'am--and it would take strong testimony to make me believe it."
+
+"Why so, pray?"
+
+"I should have thought--but it is no matter what I thought about it!"
+
+"Nay, if I ask you, it is matter. Why should it be hard to believe, of
+Mr. Rhys especially?"
+
+"Nothing; only--I should have thought, if he liked any one, a
+woman,--that she would have gone with him."
+
+"You forget where he was bound to go. Do you think many women would
+have chosen to go with him to such a home--perhaps for the remainder of
+their lives? I think many would have hesitated."
+
+"But _you_ forget for what he was going; and any woman whom he would
+have liked, would have liked his object too."
+
+"You think so," said Mrs. Caxton; "but I cannot wonder at his having
+doubted. There are a great many questions about going such a journey,
+my dear."
+
+"And did the lady refuse to go?" said Eleanor bending over her work and
+speaking huskily.
+
+"I do not think he ever asked her. I almost wish he had."
+
+"_Almost_, aunt Caxton? Why he may have done her the greatest wrong.
+She might like him without his knowing it; it was not fair to go
+without giving her the chance of saying what she would do."
+
+"Well, he is gone," said Mrs. Caxton; "and he went alone. I think men
+make mistakes sometimes."
+
+Eleanor sewed on nervously, with a more desperate haste than she knew,
+or than was in the least called for by the work in hand. Mrs. Caxton
+watched her, and turned away to the contemplation of the fire.
+
+"Did the thought ever occur to you, Eleanor," she went on very gravely,
+"that he fancied _you?_"
+
+Eleanor's glance up was even pitiful in its startled appeal.
+
+"No, ma'am, of course not!" she said hastily. "Except--O aunt Caxton,
+why do you ask me such a thing!"
+
+"_Except_,--my dear?"
+
+"Except a foolish fancy of an hour," said Eleanor in overwhelmed
+confusion. "One day, for a little time--aunt Caxton, how can you ask me
+such a thing?"
+
+"I had a little story to tell you, my dear; and I wanted to make sure
+that I should do no harm in telling it. What is there so dreadful in
+such a question?"
+
+But Eleanor only brushed away a hot tear from her flushed face and went
+on with her sewing. Or essayed to do it, for Mrs. Caxton thought her
+vision seemed to be not very clear.
+
+"What made you think so that time, Eleanor? and what is the matter, my
+dear?"
+
+"It hurts me, aunt Caxton, the question. You know we were friends, and
+I liked him very much, as I had reason; but I _never_ had cause to
+fancy that he thought anything of me--only once I fancied it without
+cause."
+
+"On what occasion, my love?"
+
+"It was only a little thing--a nothing--a chance word. I saw
+immediately that I was mistaken."
+
+"Did the thought displease you?"
+
+"Aunt Caxton, why should you bring up such a thing now?" said Eleanor
+in very great distress.
+
+"Did it displease you, Eleanor?"
+
+"No aunty"--said the girl; and her head dropped in her hands then.
+
+"My love," Mrs. Caxton said very tenderly, "I knew this before; I
+thought I did; but it was best to bring it out openly, for I could not
+else have executed my commission. I lave a message from Mr. Rhys to
+you, Eleanor."
+
+"A message to me?" said Eleanor without raising her head.
+
+"Yes. You were not mistaken."
+
+"In what?"
+
+Eleanor looked up; and amidst sorrow and shame and confusion, there was
+a light of fire, like the touch the summer sun gives to the mountain
+tops before he gets up. Mrs. Caxton looked at her flushed tearful face,
+and the hidden light in her eye; and her next words were as gentle as
+the very fall of the sunbeams themselves.
+
+"My love, it is true."
+
+"What, aunt Caxton?"
+
+"You were not mistaken."
+
+"In what, ma'am?"
+
+"In thinking what you thought that day, when something--a mere
+nothing--made you think that Mr. Rhys liked you."
+
+"But, aunty," said Eleanor, a scarlet flood refilling the cheeks which
+had partially faded,--"I had never the least reason to think so again."
+
+"That is Mr. Rhys's affair. But you may believe it now, for he told me;
+and I give it to you on his own testimony."
+
+It was curious to Mrs. Caxton to see Eleanor's face. She did not hide
+it; she turned it a little away from her aunt's fill view and sat very
+still, while the intense flush passed away and left only a nameless
+rosy glow, that almost reminded Mrs. Caxton of the perfume as well as
+of the colour of the flower it was likened to. There was a certain
+unfolding sweetness in Eleanor's face, that was most like the opening
+of a rosebud just getting into full blossom; but the lips, unbent into
+happy lines, were a little shame-faced, and would not open to speak a
+word or ask another question. So they both sat still; the younger and
+elder lady.
+
+"Do you want me to tell you any more, Eleanor?"
+
+"Why do you tell me this at all now, aunt Caxton?" Eleanor said very
+slowly and without stirring.
+
+"Mr. Rhys desired I should."
+
+"Why, aunt Caxton?"
+
+"Why do gentlemen generally desire such things to be made known to
+young ladies?"
+
+"But ma'am"--said Eleanor, the crimson starting again.
+
+"Well, my dear?"
+
+"There is the whole breadth of the earth between us."
+
+"Ships traverse it," said Mrs. Caxton coolly.
+
+"Do you mean that he is coming home?" said Eleanor. Her face was a
+study, for its changing lights; too quick, too mingled, too subtle in
+their expression, to be described. So it was at this instant. Half
+eager, and half shame-faced; an unmistakeable glow of delight, and yet
+something that was very like shrinking.
+
+"No, my love," Mrs. Caxton made answer--"I do not mean that. He would
+not leave his place and his work, even for you."
+
+"But then, ma'am--"
+
+"What all this signifies? you would ask. Are you sorry--do you feel any
+regret--that it should be made known to you?"
+
+"No, ma'am," said Eleanor low, and hanging her head.
+
+"What it signifies, I do not know. That depends upon the answer to a
+very practical question which I must now put to you. If Mr. Rhys were
+stationed in England and could tell you all this himself, what would
+you say to him in answer?"
+
+"I could give him but one, aunt Caxton," said Eleanor in the same
+manner.
+
+"And that would be a grant of his demand?"
+
+"You know it would, ma'am, without asking me."
+
+"Now we come to the question. He cannot leave his work to come to you.
+Is your regard for him enough to make you go to Fiji?"
+
+"Not without asking, aunt Caxton," Eleanor said, turning away.
+
+"Suppose he has asked you."
+
+"But dear aunt Caxton," Eleanor said in a troubled voice, "he never
+said one word to me of his liking for me, nor to draw out my feeling
+towards him."
+
+"Suppose he has said it."
+
+"How, ma'am? By word, or in writing?"
+
+"In writing."
+
+Eleanor was silent a little, with her head turned away; then she said
+in a subdued way, "May I have it, aunt Caxton?"
+
+"My dear, I was not to give them to you except I found that you were
+favourably disposed towards the object of them. If you ask me for them
+again, it must be upon that understanding."
+
+"Will you please to give them to me, aunt Caxton," Eleanor said in the
+same subdued tone.
+
+Mrs. Caxton rose and went to a secretary in the room for one or two
+papers, which she brought and put in Eleanor's hand. Then folding her
+arms round her, stooped down and kissed the turned-away face. Eleanor
+rose up to meet the embrace, and they held each other fast for a little
+while, neither in any condition to speak.
+
+"The Lord bless you, my child!" said Mrs. Caxton as she released her.
+"You must make these letters a matter of prayer. And take care that you
+do the Lord's will in this business--not your own."
+
+"Aunt Caxton," said Eleanor presently, "why was this not told me long
+ago--before Mr. Rhys went away?" She spoke the words with difficulty.
+
+"It is too long a story to tell to-night," Mrs. Caxton said after
+hesitating. "He was entirely ignorant of what your feeling might be
+towards him--ignorant too how far you might be willing to do and dare
+for Christ's sake--and doubtful how far the world and Mr. Carlisle
+might be able to prevail with you if they had a fair chance. He could
+not risk taking a wife to Fiji who had not fairly counted the cost."
+
+"He was so doubtful of me, and yet liked me?" said Eleanor.
+
+"My love, there is no accounting for these things," Mrs. Caxton said
+with a smile.
+
+"And he left these with you to give to me?"
+
+"One was left--the other was sent. One comes from Fiji. I will tell you
+about them to-morrow. It is too long a story for to-night; and you have
+quite enough to think about already. My dear Eleanor!"
+
+They parted without more words, only with another speaking embrace,
+more expressive than words; and without looking at the other each went
+to her own room. Eleanor's was cosy and bright in winter as well as in
+summer; a fire of the peculiar fuel used in the region of the
+neighbourhood, made of cakes of coal and sand, glowed in the grate, and
+the whole colouring of the drapery and the furniture was of that warm
+rich cast which comforts the eye and not a little disposes the mind to
+be comfortable in conformity. The only wood fire used in the house was
+the one in the sitting parlour. Before her grate-full of glowing coals
+Eleanor sat down; and looked at the two letters she held in her hand.
+Looked at the handwriting too, with curious scrutiny, before she
+ventured to open and read either paper. Wondered too, with an odd side
+thought, why her fingers should tremble so in handling these, when no
+letter of Mr. Carlisle's writing had ever reminded her that her fingers
+had nerves belonging to them. One was a little letter, which Mrs.
+Caxton had told her was the first to be read; it was addressed, "In the
+hand of Mrs. Caxton, for Miss Eleanor Powle." That note Eleanor's
+little fingers opened with as slight tearing of the paper as might be.
+It was in few words indeed.
+
+
+"Although I know that these lines will never meet the eye of her for
+whom they are written, unless she be favourably inclined both to them
+and to me; yet in the extreme doubt which possesses me whether that
+condition will be ever fulfilled, and consequently whether I am not
+writing what no one will ever read, I find it very difficult to say
+anything. Something charges me with foolhardiness, and something with
+presumption; but there is a something else, which is stronger, that
+overthrows the charges and bids me go on.
+
+"If you ever see these lines, dear Eleanor, you will know already what
+they have to tell you; but it is fit you should have it in my own
+words; that--not the first place in my heart--but the second--is yours;
+and yours without any rivalry. There is one thing dearer to me than
+you--it is my King and his service; after that, you have all the rest.
+
+"What is it worth to you? anything? and what will you say to me in
+reply?
+
+"When you read this I shall be at a distance--before I can read your
+answer I shall be at the other side of the globe. I am not writing to
+gratify a vague sentiment, but with a definite purpose--and even,
+though it mocks me, a definite hope. It is much to ask--I hardly dare
+put it in words--it is hardly possible--that you should come to me. But
+if you are ready to do and venture anything in the service of
+Christ--and if you are willing to share a life that is wholly given to
+God to be spent where and how he pleases, and that is to take up its
+portion for the present, and probably for long, in the depths of South
+Sea barbarism--let your own heart tell you what welcome you will
+receive.
+
+"I can say no more. May my Lord bless and keep you. May you know the
+fulness of joy that Jesus can give his beloved. May you want nothing
+that is good for you.
+
+"R. Rhys."
+
+
+The other letter was longer. It was dated "Island Vulanga, in the South
+Seas, March, 18--,
+
+
+"My dear Eleanor--
+
+"I do not know what presumption moves me to address you again, and from
+this far-away place. I say to myself that it is presumption; and yet I
+yield to the impulse. Perhaps it is partly the wish to enjoy once at
+least even this fancied communion with you, before some news comes
+which may shut me off from it for ever. But I yield to the temptation.
+I feel very far from you to-day; the tops of the bread-fruit trees that
+I see from my window, the banana tree with its bunches of fruit and
+broad bright leaves just before my door--this very hot north wind that
+is blowing and making it so difficult to do anything and almost to
+breathe--all remind me that I am in another land, and by the very force
+of contrast, the fresh Welsh mountains, the green meadows, the cool
+sweet air of Plassy--and your face--come before me. Your face, most of
+all. My mind can think of nothing it would be so refreshing to see. I
+will write what I please; for you will never read it if the reading
+would be impertinent; and something tells me you _will_ read it.
+
+"This is one of the hot months, when exertion is at times very
+difficult. The heat is oppressive and takes away strength and
+endurance. But it is for my Master. That thought cures all. To be weary
+for Christ, is not to be weary; it is better than any delights without
+him. So each day is a boon; and each day that I have been able to fill
+up well with work for God, I rejoice and give thanks. There is no limit
+here to the work to be done; it presses upon us at all points. We
+cannot teach all that ask for teaching; we can hardly attend to the
+calls of the sick; hundreds and hundreds stand stretching out their
+hands to us with the prayer that we would come and tell them about
+religion, and we cannot go! Our hands are already full; our hearts
+break for the multitudes who want the truth, to whom we cannot give it.
+We wish that every talent we have were multiplied. We wish that we
+could work all night as well as all day. Above all _I_ want to be more
+like my Lord. When I am all Christ's, _then_ I shall be to the praise
+of his glory, who called me out of darkness into his marvellous light.
+I want to be altogether holy; then I shall be quite happy and useful,
+and there is no other way. Are you satisfied with less, Eleanor? If you
+are, you are satisfied with less than satisfies Christ. Find out where
+you stand. Remember, it is as true for you as it was for Paul to say,
+'Through Christ I can do all things.'
+
+"There are a few native Christians here who are earnestly striving to
+be holy. But around them all is darkness--blacker than you can even
+conceive. Where the Sun of righteousness has shined, there the golden
+beams of Fiji's morning lie; it is a bright spot here and there; but
+our eyes long for the day. We know and believe it is coming. But when?
+I understand out here the meaning of that recommendation--'Pray ye
+therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he would send forth labourers
+into the harvest.' You can hardly understand it in England. Do you pray
+that prayer, Eleanor?
+
+"Before I left England I wrote you a note. Amid the exquisite pleasure
+and pain of which lurked a hope--without which it would not have been
+written, but which I now see to have been very visionary. It is
+possible that circumstances may be so that the note may have been read
+by you; in that case Mrs. Caxton will give you this; but at the
+distance of space and time that intervenes now, and with cooler
+thoughts and better knowledge, I feel it to be scarcely possible that
+you should comply with the request I was daring enough to make to you.
+I do not expect it. I have ceased to allow myself to hope for it. I
+think I was unreasonable to ask--and I will never think you
+unreasonable for refusing--so extravagant a demand. Even if you were
+willing, your friends would not allow it. And I would not disguise from
+you that the difficulties and dangers to be met in coming here, are
+more and greater than can possibly have been represented to you.
+Humanly speaking, that is; I have myself no fear, and never have felt
+any. But the evils that surround us--that come to our knowledge and
+under our very eyes--are real and tangible and dreadful. So much the
+more reason for our being here;--but so much the less likely that you,
+gently reared and delicately cared for, will be allowed to risk your
+delicate nurture in this land of savages. There is cannibalism here,
+and to the most dreadful extent; there is all the defilement of life
+and manners that must be where human beings have no respect for
+humanity; and all this must come more or less under the immediate
+knowledge and notice of those that live here. The Lord God is a sun and
+shield; we dwell in him and not in the darkness; nevertheless our eyes
+see what our hearts grieve over. I could not shield you from it
+entirely were you here; you would have to endure what in England you
+could not endure. There are minor trials many and often to be
+encountered; some of which you will have learned from other letters of
+the mission.
+
+"The heathen around us are not to be trusted, and will occasionally lay
+their hands upon something we need very much, and carry it off. Not
+long ago the house of Mr. Thomas, on a neighbouring station, was
+entered at night and robbed of almost all the wearing apparel it
+contained. The entrance was effected silently, by cutting into the thin
+reed and grass wall of the house; and nobody knew anything of the
+matter till next morning. Then the signs shewed that the depredators
+had been prepared to commit violence if resisted. I do not know--but I
+am inclined to think such a thing would not happen in my house. I have
+been enabled to gain the good will of the people very generally, by
+kindness to the sick, &c.; and two or three of the most powerful chiefs
+in this vicinity have declared themselves each formally my 'friend'--a
+title of honour which I scrupulously give and take with them.
+Nevertheless they are not to be relied upon. What of that? The eternal
+God is our refuge! After all I come back into feeling how safe we are,
+rather than how exposed.
+
+"Yet all I have told you is true, and much more. Let no one come here
+who does not love Christ well enough to suffer the loss of all things
+for his sake, if necessary; for it may be demanded of him. He wants the
+helmet of salvation on his head; but with that, it does not matter
+where we are--glory to the Captain of our salvation! Fiji is very near
+heaven, Eleanor; nearer than England; and if I dared, I would say, I
+wish you were here;--but I do not dare. I do not know what is best. I
+leave you to your own judgment of what you ought to do, and to that
+better direction which will tell you. For me, I know that I shall not
+want; not so but that I can find my supply; and soon I shall be where I
+shall not want at all. Meanwhile every day is a glad day to me, for it
+is given to my Lord; and Jesus is with me. The people hear the word
+gladly, and with some fruit of it continually our hearts are cheered. I
+would not be anywhere else than I am. My choice would be, if I had my
+choice, to live and die in Fiji.
+
+"I dare not trust myself to say the thoughts that come surging up for
+utterance; it is wiser not. If my first note to you was presumptuous,
+this at least is the writing of a calmer and wiser man. I have resigned
+the expectations of a moment. But it is no harm for me to say I love
+you as well as ever; _that_ I shall do, I think, till I die; although I
+shall never see you again, and dare not promise myself I shall ever
+again write to you. It may be it will be best not, even as a friend, to
+do that. Perhaps as a friend I could not. It is not as a friend, that I
+sign myself now,
+
+"Rowland Rhys."
+
+
+Poor Eleanor! She was of all people in the world the least given to be
+sentimental or soft-hearted in a foolish way; but strong as she was,
+there was something in these letters--or some mixture of things--that
+entered her heart like an arrow through the joints of an armour, and
+found her as defenceless. Tears came with that resistless, ceaseless,
+measureless flow, as when the secret nerve of tenderness has been
+reached, and every barrier of pride or self-consideration is broken
+down or passed over. So keen the touch was to Eleanor, that weeping
+could not quiet it. After all it was only a heavy summer shower--not a
+winter storm. Eleanor hushed her sobs at last to begin her prayers; and
+there the rest of the night left her. The morning was dawning grey in
+the east, when she threw herself upon her bed for an hour's sleep.
+Sleep came then without waiting.
+
+Perhaps Mrs. Caxton had not been much more reposeful than her niece;
+for she was not the first one down stairs. Eleanor was there before
+her; Mrs. Caxton watched her as she came in; she was ceremoniously
+putting the fire in best burning condition, and brushing up the ashes
+from the hearth. As Mrs. Caxton came near, Eleanor looked up and a
+silent greeting passed between them; very affectionate, but silent
+evidently of purpose. Neither of them was ready to speak. The bell was
+rung, the servants were gathered; and immediately after prayers
+breakfast was brought in. It was a silent meal for the first half of
+it. Mrs. Caxton still watched Eleanor, whose eyes did not readily meet
+hers. What about her? Her manner was as usual, one would have said, yet
+it was not; nor was she. A little delicate undefined difference made
+itself felt; and that Mrs. Caxton was studying. A little added grace; a
+little added deftness and alacrity; Mrs. Caxton had seen it in that
+order taken of the fire before breakfast; she saw it and read it then.
+And in Eleanor's face correspondingly there was the same difference;
+impossible to tell where it lay, it was equally impossible not to
+perceive it. Though her face was grave enough, there was a beauty in
+the lines of it that yesterday had not seen; a nameless witness in the
+corners of her mouth, that told tales the tongue would not. Mrs. Caxton
+looked on and saw it and read it, for half the breakfast time, before
+she spoke. Maybe she had a secret sigh or two to cover; but at any rate
+there was nothing like that in her look or her voice when she spoke.
+
+"So you will go, Eleanor!"
+
+Eleanor started, and coloured; then looked down at her plate, the blush
+growing universal.
+
+"Have you decided, my love?"
+
+Eleanor leaned her head upon her hand, as if with the question came the
+remembrance of last night's burden of thoughts; but her answer was a
+quiet low "yes."
+
+"May I know--for I feel myself responsible to a degree in this
+matter,--may I know, on what ground?"
+
+Eleanor's look was worth five hundred pounds. The little glance of
+surprise and consciousness--the flash of hidden light, there was no
+need to ask from what magazine, answered so completely, so
+involuntarily. She cast down her eyes immediately and answered in words
+sedate enough--
+
+"Because I am unable to come to any other decision, ma'am."
+
+"But Eleanor, my dear," said Mrs. Caxton,--"do you know, Mr. Rhys
+himself would be unwilling you should come to him for his own sake
+alone--in Fiji."
+
+Eleanor turned away from the table at that and covered her face with
+her hands; a perfect rush of confusion bringing over face and neck and
+almost even over the little white fingers, a suffusing crimson glow.
+She spoke presently.
+
+"I cannot say anything to that, aunt Caxton. I have tried myself as
+well as I can. I think I would go anywhere and do anything where I saw
+clearly my work and my place were put for me. I do not know anything
+more about it."
+
+"My love, that is enough. I believe you. I entirely approve your
+decision. I spoke, because I needed to ask the question _he_ would have
+asked if he had been here. Mr. Rhys has written to me very stringently
+on the subject."
+
+"So he has to me, ma'am."
+
+"If you have settled that question with your conscience, my dear, there
+is no more necessary to be said about it. Conscience should be clear on
+that point, and the question settled securely. If it is not, you had
+better take time for thought and self-searching."
+
+"I do not need it, aunt Caxton."
+
+Mrs. Caxton left her place and came round to Eleanor, for the sole
+purpose of taking her in her arms and kissing her. Grave, earnest
+kisses, on brow and cheek, speaking a heart full of sympathy, full of
+tenderness, full of appreciation of all that this decision of Eleanor's
+involved, full of satisfaction with it too. A very unusual sort of
+demonstration from Mrs. Caxton, as was the occasion that called for it.
+Eleanor received it as the seal of the whole business between them. Her
+aunt's arms detained her lovingly while she pressed her lips to every
+part of Eleanor's face; then Mrs. Caxton went back to her place and
+poured herself out another cup of coffee. Sentiment she had plenty; she
+was not in the least bit sentimental. She creamed her coffee
+thoughtfully and broke bread and eat it, before she came out with
+another question.
+
+"When will you go, Eleanor?"
+
+Eleanor looked up doubtfully. "Where, aunt Caxton?"
+
+"To Fiji."
+
+There seemed to be some irresolution or uncertainty in the girl's mind;
+for she hesitated.
+
+"Aunt Caxton, I doubt much--my mother will oppose my going."
+
+"I think she will. But I think also that her opposition can be
+overcome. When will you write to her?"
+
+"I will write to-day, ma'am."
+
+"We must have an answer before we send any other letters. Supposing she
+does not oppose, or that her opposition is set aside, I come back to my
+question. When will you go?"
+
+Eleanor looked up doubtfully again. "I don't know, ma'am--I suppose
+opportunities of going only occur now and then."
+
+"That is all--with long intervals sometimes. Opportunities for _your_
+going would come only rarely. You must think about it, Eleanor; for we
+must know what we are to tell Mr. Rhys."
+
+Eleanor was silent; her colour went and came.
+
+"You must think about it, my dear. If you write to Mr. Rhys to-day and
+send it, we may get an answer from him possibly in twenty
+months--possibly in twenty-four months. Then if you wait four or five
+months for an opportunity to make the voyage, and have a reasonably
+good passage, you may see your friend in three years from now. But it
+might well happen that letters might be delayed, and that you might
+wait much longer than four or five months for a ship and company in
+which you could sail; so that the three years might be nearer four."
+
+"I have thought of all that, aunt Caxton," Eleanor said, while the
+colour which had been varying in her cheeks fixed itself in two deep
+crimson spots.
+
+Mrs. Caxton was now silent on her part, slowly finishing her coffee and
+putting the cups together on the tray. She left it for her niece to
+speak next.
+
+"I have thought of all that, aunt Caxton," Eleanor repeated after a
+little while,--"and--"
+
+"Well my love?"
+
+"Aunt Caxton," said the girl, looking up now while her cheeks and brow
+were all one crimson flush--"is it unmaidenly in me--would it be--to go
+so, without being asked?"
+
+"Has he not asked you?"
+
+"Yes ma'am. But--"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Not since he got there."
+
+"Have you reason to think his mind is altered on the subject?"
+
+"No, ma'am," said Eleanor, drooping her head.
+
+"What does your own feeling bid you do, my love?"
+
+"I have thought it all over, aunt Caxton," said the girl slowly,--"I
+did that last night; I have thought of everything about it; and my
+feeling was--"
+
+"Well, my love?"
+
+"My feeling, as far as I am concerned--was to take the first good
+opportunity that offered."
+
+"My love, that is just what I thought you would do. And what I would
+have you do, if you go at all. It is not unmaidenly. Simple honest
+frankness, is the most maidenly thing in the world, when it is a
+woman's time to speak. The fact that your speaking must be action does
+not alter the matter. When it takes two years for people to hear from
+each other, life would very soon be spent in the asking of a few
+questions and getting the answers to them. I am a disinterested
+witness, Eleanor; for when you are gone, all I care for in this world
+is gone. You are my own child to me now."
+
+Eleanor's head bent lower.
+
+"But I am glad to have you go, nevertheless, my child. I think Mr. Rhys
+wants you even more than I do; and I have known for some time that you
+wanted something. And besides--I shall only be separated from you in
+body."
+
+Eleanor made no response.
+
+"What are you going to do now?" was Mrs. Caxton's question in her usual
+calm tone.
+
+"Write to mamma."
+
+"Very well. Do not send your letter to her without letting mine go with
+it."
+
+"But aunt Caxton," said Eleanor lifting up her head,--"my only fear
+is--I am quite satisfied in my own mind, and I do not care for
+people--my only fear is, lest Mr. Rhys himself should think I come too
+easily. You know, he is fastidious in his notions." She spoke with
+great difficulty and with her face a flame.
+
+"Your fear will go away when you have heard my story," said Mrs. Caxton
+tranquilly. "I will give you that to-night. He is fastidious; but he is
+a sensible man."
+
+Quieted with which suggestion, Eleanor went off to her desk.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+IN CHANGES.
+
+
+  "But never light and shade
+  Coursed one another more on open ground,
+  Beneath a troubled heaven, than red and pale
+  Across the face of Enid hearing her."
+
+
+Various letters were written that day. In the evening the two ladies
+came together again cheerfully. The time between had not all been spent
+in letter-writing, for the world does not stand still for love matters.
+Eleanor had been out the whole afternoon on visits of kindness and help
+to sick and poor people. Mrs. Caxton had been obliged to attend to the
+less interesting company of one or two cheese-factors. At the tea-table
+the subject of the morning came back.
+
+"You posted your letter and mine, Eleanor?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am. But I cannot think mamma's answer will be favourable. I
+cannot fancy it."
+
+"Well, we shall see. The world is a curious world; and the wind does
+not always blow from the quarter whence we expect it. We must wait and
+pray."
+
+"I am puzzled to imagine, aunt Caxton," Eleanor said after some pause,
+"how you came to know all about this matter in the first place. How
+came you to know what I never knew?"
+
+"That is my story," said Mrs. Caxton. "We will let the table be cleared
+first, my dear."
+
+So it was done. But Eleanor left her work by her side to-night, and
+looked into her aunt's face to listen.
+
+"I never should have known about it, child, till you had, if you had
+been here. You remember how you went away in a hurry. Who knows?
+Perhaps, but for that, none of us would have been any wiser to-day on
+the subject than we were then. It is very possible."
+
+"How, ma'am?"
+
+"You disappeared, you know, in one night, and were gone. When Mr. Rhys
+came home, the next day or the same day, I saw that he was very much
+disappointed. That roused my suspicions of him; they had been only
+doubtful before. He is not a person to shew what he thinks, unless he
+chooses."
+
+"So I knew; that made me surprised."
+
+"I saw that he was very much disappointed, and looked very sober; but
+he said hardly anything about it, and I was forced to be silent. Then
+in a little while--a few weeks, I think--he received his appointment,
+with the news that he must sail very soon. He had to leave Plassy then
+in a very few days; for he wanted some time in London and elsewhere. I
+saw there was something more than leaving Plassy, upon his mind; he was
+graver than that could make him, I knew; and he was giving up something
+more than England, I knew by is prayers.
+
+"One night we were sitting here by the fire--it was a remarkably chill
+evening and we had kindled a blaze in he chimney and shut the windows.
+Mr. Rhys sat silent, watching the fire and keeping up the blaze; too
+busy with his own thoughts to talk to me. I was taken with a spirit of
+meddling which does not very often possess me; and asked him how much
+longer he had to stay. He said how long, in so many words; they were
+short, as pain makes words.
+
+"'How comes it,' I asked, plunging into the matter, 'that you do not
+take a wife with you? like everybody else.'
+
+"He answered, in dry phrases, 'that it would be presumption in him to
+suppose that anybody would go with him, if he were to ask.'
+
+"I said quietly, I thought he was mistaken; that anybody who was worthy
+of him would go; and it could not be _presumption_ to ask anybody else.
+
+"'You do not realize, Mrs. Caxton, how much it would be asking of any
+one,' he said; 'you do not know what sacrifices it would call for.'
+
+"'Love does not care for sacrifices,' I reminded him.
+
+"'I have no right to suppose that anybody has such a degree of regard
+for me,' he said.
+
+"I can't tell what in his manner and words told me there was more
+behind. They were a little short and dry; and his ordinary way of
+speaking is short sometimes, but never with a sort of edge like this--a
+hard edge. You know it is as frank and simple when he speaks short as
+when his words come out in the gentlest way. It hurt me, for I saw that
+something hurt him.
+
+"I asked if there was not anybody in England good enough for him? He
+said there were a great many too good.
+
+"'Mr. Rhys,' said I,--I don't know what possessed me to be so bold,--'I
+hope you are not going to leave your heart behind with somebody, when
+you go to Fiji?'
+
+"He got up and walked once or twice through the room, went out and
+presently came back again. I was afraid I had offended him, and I was a
+good deal troubled; but I did not know what to say. He sat down again
+and spoke first.
+
+"'Mrs. Caxton,' said he, 'since you have probed the truth, I may as
+well confess it. I am going to do the unwise thing you have mentioned.'
+
+"'Who are you going to leave your heart with, Mr. Rhys?' I asked.
+
+"'With the lady who has just left you.'
+
+"'Eleanor?'
+
+"'Yes,' he said.
+
+"'Have you told her, Mr. Rhys?' I asked.
+
+"He said no.
+
+"'You are not going to do her the injustice to go and _not_ speak to
+her?'
+
+"'Why should I tell her?' he said.
+
+"'There might be several answers given to that,' I said; 'but the best
+one at present seems to be, why should you _not?_'
+
+"'For several reasons,' he said. 'In the first place I do not know at
+all whether Miss Powle has that degree of love to Christ that she would
+be willing to forsake all her earthly prospects--home and friends--for
+hard work in his service. In the second place, even if she have that, I
+have not the slightest reason to believe that she--that she cares
+enough for me to go with me at my asking.'
+
+"'And do you mean to go in ignorance?' I said.
+
+"'Yes--I must.'
+
+"I waited a little, and then I told him I thought he was wrong.
+
+"'Why?' he asked quickly.
+
+"'People cannot see each other's hearts,' I said. 'Suppose that she
+have the same secret feeling towards you that you have towards her. She
+cannot speak; you will not; and so both would be unhappy for nothing.
+
+"'I never saw the least thing like it,' he said.
+
+"'I suppose she might say the same of you--might she not?'
+
+"'Yes and with truth; for knowing the uncertainties--or rather the
+certainties--of my position, I have not given her the least cause.'
+
+"'You could hardly expect demonstrations from her in that case,' I said.
+
+"'There is no chance, Mrs. Caxton, even if it were according to your
+supposition. Her friends would never permit her to marry a man with my
+lot in life;--and I do not know that I ought to ask her, even if they
+would. She has a very fair prospect for this world's happiness.'
+
+"'What do you think of your own lot in life?' I asked him.
+
+"'I would not exchange it, you know,' he said, 'for any other the world
+could offer me. It is brighter and better.'
+
+"'It strikes me you are selfish,--' I told him.
+
+"He laughed a little, for the first time; but he grew as grave as
+possible immediately after.
+
+"'I have not meant to be selfish,' he said; 'But I could not take a
+woman to Fiji, who had not thoroughly considered the matter and counted
+the cost. That could not be done in a little while. The world has a
+fair chance now to see if it can weaken Miss Powle's principles or
+overcome her faithfulness to them. It is better that she should try
+herself perhaps, before having such a question asked of her.'
+
+"'And suppose she comes clear out of the trial?' I said.
+
+"'Then I shall be in Fiji.'
+
+"We were both silent a while. He began then.
+
+"'Mrs. Caxton, without invading any confidences or seeking to know
+anything that should not be known,--may I ask you a question?'
+
+"'Certainly,' I said. 'I reserve the discretion of answering.'
+
+"'Of course. Your words look like a rebuke of the attitude I have taken
+towards this subject. Is it proper for me to ask, whether you have any
+foundation for them beyond your general knowledge of human nature and
+your good will towards me? I mean--whether you, as a friend, see any
+ground of hope for me?'
+
+"'If you were going to stay in England,' I said, 'I would answer no
+such question. Every man must make his own observations and run his own
+risk. But these circumstances are different. And appealed to as a
+friend--and answering on my own observations simply--I should say, that
+I think your case not hopeless.'
+
+"I could see the colour rise in his cheek; but he sat quite still and
+did not speak, till it faded again.
+
+"'I have never heard a word on the subject,' I told him. 'I do not say
+I am certain of anything. I may mistake. Only, seeing you are going to
+the other end of the world, without the chance of finding out anything
+for yourself, I think it fair to tell you what, as a woman, I should
+judge of the case.'
+
+"'Why do you tell me?' he said quickly.
+
+"'I am but answering your question. You must judge whether the answer
+is worth anything.'
+
+"He half laughed again, at himself; at least I could see the beginning
+of a smile; but he was too terribly in earnest to be anything but
+serious. He sat silent; got up and fidgetted round the room; then came
+and stood by the chimney piece looking down at me.
+
+"'Mrs. Caxton,' he said, 'I am going to venture to ask something from
+you--to fulfil a contingent commission. When I am gone, if Miss Powle
+returns to you, or when you have otherwise opportunity,--will you, if
+you can, find out the truth of her feeling on these subjects, which I
+have failed to find out? You tempt me beyond my power of
+self-abnegation.'
+
+"'What shall I do with the truth, if I find it, Mr. Rhys?'
+
+"'In that case,' he said,--'if it is as you suppose it possible it may
+be, though I dare not and do not hope it;--if it be so, then you may
+tell her all I have confessed to you to-night.'
+
+"'Why?'
+
+"'You are uncommonly practical to-night,' he said. 'I could have but
+one motive in discovering it to her.'
+
+"'To ask her to follow you to Fiji?'
+
+"'I dare not put it in words. I do not believe the chance will ever
+come. But I am unable to go and leave the chance changed into an
+impossibility.'
+
+"'We are talking of what _may_ be,' I said. 'But you do not suppose
+that she could follow you on my report of your words alone?'
+
+"'I shall be too far off to speak them myself.'
+
+"'You can write then,' I said.
+
+"'Do you remember what the distances are, and the intervals of time
+that must pass between letter and letter? When should I write?'
+
+"'Now--this evening. I am not thinking of such courtship as took place
+in the antediluvian days.'
+
+"'I cannot write on such an utter uncertainty. I have not hope enough;
+although I cannot bear to leave the country without enlisting you to
+act for me.'
+
+"'I shall reconsider the question of acting,' I said, 'if I have no
+credentials to produce. I cannot undertake to tell anything to Eleanor
+merely to give her pleasure--or merely to give her pain.'
+
+"'Would you have me write to her here--now?' he asked.
+
+"'Yes, I would,' I told him.
+
+"He sat pondering the matter a little while, making up the fire as you
+did this morning--only with a very different face; and then with a half
+laugh he said I was making a fool of him, and he went off. I sat
+still--and in a few minutes he came down and handed me that note for
+you."
+
+Eleanor's cheeks would have rivalled the scarlet Lobelia or Indian
+Mallow, or anything else that is brilliant. She kept profound silence.
+It was plain enough what Mr. Rhys expected her to do--that is,
+supposing he had any expectations. Now her question was, what would her
+mother say? And Eleanor in her secret heart looked at the probability
+of obstinate opposition in that quarter; and then of long, long waiting
+and delay; perhaps never to be ended but with the time and the power of
+doing what now her heart longed to do. The more she thought of it, the
+less she could imagine that her mother would yield her consent; or that
+her opposition would be anything but determined and unqualified. Then
+what could she do? Eleanor sighed.
+
+"No," said Mrs. Caxton. "Have patience, my dear, and believe that all
+will go right--_however it goes_, Eleanor. We will do our part; but we
+must be content with our part. There is another part, which is the
+Lord's; let him do that, and let us say it is well, Eleanor. Till we
+have learnt that, we have not learnt our lesson."
+
+"I do say it, and will, aunt Caxton," said the girl. But she said
+nothing more that night.
+
+To tell the truth, they were rather silent days that followed. Mrs.
+Powle's letters of answer did not come speedily; indeed no one knew at
+Plassy just where she might be at this time, nor how far the Plassy
+letters might have to travel in order to reach her; for communication
+was not frequent between the two families. And till her answer came,
+Eleanor could not forget that the question of her life was undecided;
+nor Mrs. Caxton, that the decision might take away from her, probably
+for ever, the only living thing that was very dear to her. That was
+Eleanor now. They were very affectionate to each other those days, very
+tender and thoughtful for each other; not given to much talking.
+Eleanor was a good deal out of the house; partly busy with her errands
+of kindness, partly stilling her troublesome and impatient thoughts
+with long roamings on foot or on horseback over the mountains and moors.
+
+"The spring has come, aunt Caxton," she said, coming in herself one
+day, fresh enough to be spring's impersonation. "I heard a blackbird
+and a wheat-ear; and I have found a violet for you."
+
+"You must have heard blackbirds before. And you have got more than
+violets there."
+
+"Yes, ma'am--not much. I found the Nepeta and the ivy-leaved Veronica
+under the hedge; and whitlow grass near the old tower. That's the
+willow catkin you know of course--and sloe. That's all--but it's
+spring."
+
+A shade came over the faces of both. Where might another spring find
+her.
+
+"I have got something more for you," said Mrs. Caxton.
+
+"My letter, ma'am!--Had you one, aunt Caxton?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Eleanor could not tell from her aunt's answer what the letter might be.
+She went off with her own, having parted suddenly with all the colour
+she had brought in with her. It returned again however soon.
+
+Mrs. Powle declared that according to all _her_ experience and power of
+judging of the world, her daughter and her sister Mrs. Caxton were both
+entirely crazy. She had never, in her life, heard of anything so
+utterly absurd and ridiculous as the proposition upon which they had
+required her to give an opinion. Her opinion found no words in the
+English language strong enough in which to give it. That Eleanor should
+be willing to forego every earthly prospect of good or pleasure, was
+like Eleanor; that is, it was like the present Eleanor; an entirely
+infatuated, blind, fanatical, unreasonable thing. Mrs. Powle had given
+up the expectation of anything wiser or better from her, until years
+and the consequences of her folly should have taught her when it would
+be too late. Why Eleanor, if she wished to throw herself away, should
+pitch upon the South Seas for the place of her retirement, was a piece
+of the same mysterious fatuity which marked the whole proceeding. Why
+she could think of no pleasanter wedding journey than a voyage of
+twelve thousand miles in search of a husband, was but another
+incomprehensible point. Mrs. Powle had a curiosity to know what Eleanor
+expected to live upon out there, where she presumed the natives
+practised no agriculture and wheaten flour was a luxury unknown? And
+what she expected to _do?_ However, having thus given her opinion, Mrs.
+Powle went on to say, that she must quite decline to give it. She
+regarded Eleanor as entirely the child of her aunt Caxton, as she
+understood was also Mrs. Caxton's own view; most justly, in Mrs.
+Powle's opinion, since conversion and adoption to Mrs. Caxton's own
+family and mind must be amply sufficient to supersede the accident of
+birth. At any rate, Mrs. Powle claimed no jurisdiction in the matter;
+did not choose to exercise any. She felt herself incompetent. One
+daughter she had still remaining, whom she hoped to keep her own,
+guarding her against the influences which had made so wide a separation
+between her eldest and the family and sphere to which she belonged.
+Julia, she hoped, would one day do her honour. As for the islands of
+the South Seas, or the peculiar views and habits of life entertained by
+those white people who chose them for their residence, Mrs. Powle
+declared she was incapable from very ignorance of understanding or
+giving judgment about them. She made the whole question, together with
+her daughter, over to her sister Mrs. Caxton, who she did not doubt
+would do wisely according to her notions. But as they were not the
+notions of the world generally, they were quite incomprehensible to the
+writer, and in a sphere entirely beyond and without her cognizance. She
+hoped Eleanor would be happy--if it were not absurd to hope an
+impossibility.
+
+But on one point the letter was clear, if on no other. Eleanor should
+not come home. She had ruined her own prospects; Mrs. Powle could not
+help that; she should not ruin Julia's. Whether she stayed in England
+or whether she went on her fool's voyage, _this_ was a certain thing.
+She should not see Julia, to infect her. Mrs. Powle desired to be
+informed of Eleanor's movements; that if she went she herself might
+meet her in London before she sailed. But she would not let her see
+Julia either then or at any time.
+
+This cruel letter broke Eleanor down completely. It settled the
+question of her life indeed; and settled it according to her wish and
+against her fears; but for all that, it was a letter of banishment and
+renunciation. With something of the feeling which makes a wounded
+creature run to shelter, Eleanor gathered up her papers and went down
+to Mrs. Caxton; threw them into her lap, and kneeling beside her put
+herself in her arms.
+
+"What is it, my child?" said Mrs. Caxton. "What does your mother say to
+you?"
+
+"She gives her consent--but she gives me up to you, aunt Caxton. She
+counts me your child and not hers."
+
+"My love, I asked her to do so. You have been mine, in my own mind, for
+a long time past. My Eleanor!"--And Mrs. Caxton's kiss and her warm
+clasping arms spoke more than her words.
+
+"But she renounces me--and she will not let me see Julia."--Eleanor was
+in very great distress.
+
+"She will by and by. She will not hold to that."
+
+"She says she will not at all. O aunt Caxton, I want to see Julia
+again!"--
+
+"Were you faithful to Julia while you were with her?"
+
+"Yes--I think so--while I could. I had hardly any chance the last
+winter I was at home; we were never together; but I seized what I
+could."
+
+"Your mother kept you apart?"
+
+"I believe so."
+
+"My child, remember, as one day is with the Lord as a thousand years,
+so one word is as a thousand words; he can make it do his work. All we
+have to do is to be faithful, and then trust. You recollect the words
+of that grand hymn on the Will of God--
+
+  "'I do the little I can do,
+  And leave the rest to thee.'
+
+
+"I don't think I know it."
+
+Mrs. Caxton went on.
+
+
+  "'When obstacles and trials seem
+  Like prison walls to be,
+  I do the little I can do,
+  And leave the rest to thee.
+
+  "'I know not what it is to doubt;
+  My heart is ever gay;
+  I run no risk, for, come what will,
+  Thou always hast thy way.
+
+  "'I have no cares, O blessed will!
+  For all my cares are thine.
+  I live in triumph, Lord, for thou
+  Hast made thy triumphs mine.'"
+
+
+Eleanor lifted up her face and pressed a long kiss on her aunt's lips.
+"But I want to see Julia!"
+
+"My love, I think you will. It will be some time yet before you can
+possibly leave England. I think your mother will withdraw her
+prohibition before that time. Meanwhile--"
+
+Eleanor lay with her head on Mrs. Caxton's bosom, her brown eyes
+looking out with a sweet and sorrowful wistfulness towards the light.
+Mrs. Caxton read them.
+
+"This gift would be very precious to me, my child," she said,
+tightening the pressure of the arms which still were wrapped round
+Eleanor,--"if I were not obliged so soon to make it over to somebody
+else. But I will not be selfish. It is unspeakably precious to me now.
+It gives me the right to take care of you. I asked your mother for it.
+I am greatly obliged to her. Now what are you going to do to-day?"
+
+"Write--to Fiji," said Eleanor slowly and without moving.
+
+"Right; and so will I. And do not you be overmuch concerned about
+Julia. There is another verse of that hymn, which I often think of--
+
+  "'I love to see thee bring to nought,
+  The plans of wily men;
+  When simple hearts outwit the wise,
+  O thou art loveliest then!'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+IN WAITING.
+
+
+  "If Proteus like your journey, when you come,
+  No matter who's displeas'd when you are gone;
+  I fear me he will scarce be pleas'd withal."
+
+
+The way was clear, and Eleanor wrote to Fiji as she had said. She could
+not however get rid of her surprise that her mother had permitted the
+tenor of these letters to be what it was. What had moved Mrs. Powle, so
+to act against all her likings and habits of action? How came she to
+allow her daughter to go to the South Seas and be a missionary?
+
+Several things which Eleanor knew nothing of, and which so affected the
+drift of Mrs. Powle's current of life that she was only, according to
+custom, sailing with it and not struggling against it. When people seem
+to act unlike themselves, it is either that you do not know themselves,
+or do not know some other things which they know. So in this case. For
+one thing, to name the greatest first, Mr. Carlisle was unmistakeably
+turning his attention to another lady, a new star in the world of
+society; an earl's daughter and an heiress. Whether heart-whole or not,
+which was best known to himself, Mr. Carlisle was prosecuting his
+addresses in this new quarter with undoubted zeal and determination. It
+was not the time for Eleanor now to come home! Let her do anything
+else,--was the dictate of pride. _Now_ to come home, or even not to
+come home, remaining Eleanor Powle, was to confess in the world's eye a
+lamentably lost game; to take place as a rejected or vainly ambitious
+girl; the _would-have-been_ lady of Rythdale. Anything but that!
+Eleanor might almost better die at once. She would not only have ruined
+her own prospects, but would greatly injure those of Julia, on whom her
+mother's hopes and pride were now all staked. Alfred was taken from her
+and put under guardians; Mrs. Powle did not build anything on him; he
+was a boy, and when he was a man he would be only Alfred Powle. Julia
+promised to be a beauty; on her making a fine match rested all Mrs.
+Powle's expectations from this world; and she was determined to spare
+no pains, expense, nor precautions. Therefore she resolved that the
+sisters should not be together, cost what it might. Good bye to all her
+cares or hopes on Julia's behalf, looking to a great establishment, if
+Julia became a Methodist! She might go on a farm like her aunt and sell
+cheeses. The thought of those cheeses froze the blood in Mrs. Powle's
+veins; that was a characteristic of good blood, she firmly believed.
+Therefore on every account, for every reason, nothing better could
+happen than that Eleanor should go to the South Seas. She would escape
+the shame of coming home; Julia would be out of danger of religious
+contamination; and she herself would be saved from the necessary odium
+of keeping one daughter in banishment and the other in seclusion; which
+odium she must incur if both of them remained in England and neither of
+them ever saw the other. All this would be cleverly saved. Then also,
+if Eleanor married a missionary and went to the other end of the world,
+her case could be very well dismissed as one of a religious
+enthusiasm--a visionary, fanatical excitement. Nay, there could be made
+even a little _éclat_ about it. There would be no mortification, at any
+rate, comparable to that which must attend supposed overthrown schemes
+and disappointed ambition. Eleanor had chosen her own course, backed by
+her wealthy relation, Mrs. Caxton, who had adopted her; and whose views
+were entirely not of this world. Mrs. Powle deplored it, of course, but
+was unable to help it. Besides, Mrs. Caxton had answered, on her own
+knowledge, for the excellent character and superior qualities of the
+gentleman Eleanor was to marry; there was no fault to be found with him
+at all, except that he was a fanatic; and as Eleanor was a fanatic
+herself, that was only a one-sided objection.
+
+Yes, Mrs. Caxton had answered for all that, on her own knowledge, of
+many years' standing; and she had said something more, which also
+weighed with Mrs. Powle and which Mrs. Powle could also mention among
+the good features of the case, without stating that it had had the
+force of an inducement with herself. Mrs. Caxton had asked indeed to be
+permitted to consider Eleanor her own, and had promised in that case to
+make Eleanor entirely her own care, both during Mrs. Caxton's life and
+afterwards; leaving Mrs. Powle free to devote all her fortune to Julia
+that would have been shared with Julia's sister. Mrs. Powle's means
+were not in her estimation large; she wanted every penny of them for
+the perfecting and carrying out of her plans which regarded her
+youngest daughter; she consented that the elder should own another
+mother and guardian. Mrs. Powle agreed to it all. But not satisfied
+with any step of the whole affair nevertheless, which all displeased
+her, from beginning to end, her own action included, she expressed her
+determination to Eleanor in terms which half broke Eleanor's heart; and
+left a long, lingering, sore spot there. To Mrs. Caxton Mrs. Powle's
+writing was much better worded; civil if not kind, and well mannered if
+not motherly.
+
+The thing was done, at all events; Eleanor was formally made over to
+another mother and left free to do whatever her new guardian pleased.
+Letters of a different sort of temper were sent off upon their long
+journey to the South Seas; and there began a busy time at Plassy, in
+anticipation of Eleanor's following them. It was still very uncertain
+when that might be; opportunities must be waited for; such an
+opportunity as would satisfy Mrs. Caxton. In the mean while a great
+deal of business was on hand. Mrs. Caxton even made a journey up to
+London and took Eleanor with her; for the sake of inquiries and
+arrangements which could not be attended to from a distance. For the
+sake of purchases too, which could be made nowhere but in London. For
+Mrs. Caxton was bent, not only on supplying Eleanor with all that could
+be thought of in the way of outfit; but also on getting together to
+accompany or precede her everything that could be sent that might be
+useful or helpful to Mr. Rhys or comfortable in the household; in
+short, to transfer England as nearly as possible to Fiji. As freights
+of course were expensive, all these matters must be found and
+compressed in the smallest compass they could possibly know as their
+limits; and Mrs. Caxton was very busy. London did not hold them but a
+fortnight; the rest of the time work was done at Plassy.
+
+And the months rolled on. Cheeses were turned off as usual, and Mrs.
+Caxton's business was as brisk as ever. Eleanor's outfit gradually got
+ready; and before and after that was true, Eleanor's visits among her
+neighbours and poor people were the same as ever. She had strength and
+spirit enough for all calls upon either; and her sweet diligence seemed
+to be even more than ever, now that work at Plassy was drawing towards
+a close. Still Eleanor gathered the spoils of the moors and the
+hedge-rows, as she went and came on her errands; climbed the mountain
+on Powis and explored the rocks and the waterfalls on her way. As usual
+her hands came home full. The house was gay with broom again in its
+season; before that the violets and wood anemone had made the tea-table
+and the breakfast table sweet with their presence. Blue-bells and
+butter-cups and primroses had their time, and lovely they looked,
+helped out by the yellow furze blossoms which Eleanor was very fond of.
+Then the scorpion grass, of both kinds, proclaimed that it was summer;
+and borage was bright in the sitting-room. Eleanor could hardly look at
+it without an inward smile and sigh, remembering the cheering little
+couplet which attached to it by old usage; and Julia from whose lips
+she had first heard it; and the other lips that had given it to Julia.
+Corn-marigold was gay again in July, and the white blackberry blossoms
+came with crane's bill and flax, campion and willow-herb, speedwell and
+vetchling. Any one well acquainted with the wild things that grow and
+blossom in the land, might have known any day what time of the year it
+was by going into Mrs. Caxton's sitting parlour and using his eyes.
+Until the purple ling and loosestrife, gave place to mint and maiden
+pink and late meadow-sweet; and then the hop vine and meadow saffron
+proclaimed that summer was over. But ferns had their representatives at
+all times.
+
+Summer was over; and no chance for Eleanor's sailing had yet presented
+itself. Preparations were all made; and the two ladies lived on in
+waiting and in the enjoyment of each other, and doubtless with a
+mixture of thoughts that were not enjoyment. But a very sweet even glow
+of love and peace and patience filled the house. Letters were written;
+and once and again letters had arrived, even from Mr. Rhys. They told
+of everything going on at his station; of his work and pleasures; of
+the progress the truth was making; and the changes coming even while he
+looked, upon the population of the islands, their manners and
+character. There never were letters, I suppose, more thoroughly read
+and studied and searched out in every detail, than all those letters
+were by Eleanor; for every fact was of importance to her; and the
+manner of every word told her something. They told her what made her
+eyes fill and her pulse beat quick. But among them there was not a word
+to herself. No, and not even a word about herself. In vain Eleanor
+hoped for it and searched for it. There was not even an allusion that
+looked her way.
+
+"Do you want to know what I am doing?" Mr. Rhys wrote in one of these
+letters. "You see by my date that I am not in the place I last wrote
+from. I am alone on this island, which has never had a resident
+missionary and which has people enough that need the care of one; so it
+has been decided that I should pitch my tent here for some months.
+There is not a large population--not quite five hundred people in the
+whole island; but almost all of them that are grown up are professing
+Christian--members of the church, and not disgracing their profession.
+The history of the church in this place is wonderful and even of
+romantic interest. One of their chiefs, being in another part of Fiji,
+fell in with a chief who was a Christian. From him he learned something
+of the new religion, and carried back to Ono thus much of truth--that
+Jehovah is the only God and that all worship and praise is his due.
+Further than this, and the understanding that the seventh day should be
+especially spent in his service, the Ono chief knew nothing. Was not
+that a little seed for a great tree to grow from? But his island had
+just been ravaged by disease and by war; in their distress the people
+had applied in vain to their old gods to save them; they were convinced
+now from what they heard that help is in the Lord alone, and they
+resolved to seek him. But they knew not the Lord, nor his ways, and
+there was no one to teach them. Fancy that company of heathens
+renouncing heathenism--setting apart the seventh day for worship,
+preparing food beforehand so that the day might be hallowed, putting on
+their best dresses and fresh oil, and meeting to seek the unknown God!
+Oh kingdom of Christ, come, come!--
+
+"When they were met, they did not know how to begin their service.
+However, as old custom referred them to their priests for intercourse
+with heaven, they bethought them to apply to one now, and told him what
+I they wanted. I do not understand what influenced the man; but
+however, heathen priest of a heathen god as he was, he consented to
+officiate for this Christian service. The priest came; the assembly sat
+down; and the priest made a prayer, after this fashion as it has been
+reported to me. _He_ did not then renounce heathenism, you understand.
+
+"'Lord, Jehovah! here are thy people; they worship thee. I turn my back
+on thee for the present, and am on another tack, worshipping another
+god. But do thou bless these thy people; keep them from harm, and do
+them good.'
+
+"That was the beginning; and doubtless the Lord hearkened and heard it.
+For awhile they went on as they had begun; then wanting something more,
+they sent messengers to Tonga to beg for teachers. Now, as I said, the
+people are nearly all Christians, and not in name only; and all the
+children are brought to be taught. Here am I; don't you think I am in a
+good place? But I am here only for a little while; more cannot be
+spared to so small a population at this time.
+
+"To get here, one has to shoot something such a gulf as I described to
+you at Vulanga. The barrier reef has a small opening. At particular
+times of tide a boat can go through; but with the rush of waves from
+without, meeting the tremendous current from within, it is an exciting
+business; somewhat dangerous as well as fearful. The ships cannot get
+inside the barrier. The night I came, canoes came out to meet me,
+bringing a present of yams as their contribution to our fund; they
+brought as many as the vessel could find room for. In the canoe with
+the Ono people I felt myself with friends; I had visited the place
+before, and they knew me. The current made fearfully hard work for
+them; but it was love's labour; they felt about me, I suppose,
+something as the Galatians did towards Paul. The next day was Sunday. I
+preached to an attentive congregation, and had a happy time. Now I will
+give you a notion of my run of employments at the present time.
+
+"First. Playing bookbinder. Fact. One has to play all sorts of things
+here--and the more the better. My work was to stitch, fold, (fold
+first) and cover, so many copies of the New Testament as I had brought
+with me--printed, but in sheets. I did them strong! more than that I
+will not answer for; but I wish I could send you a copy. It would be
+only a curiosity in art, though; you could not read it. It is an
+admirable translation in Fijian. As I have had but very slight previous
+practice in bookbinding, my rate of progress was at first somewhat
+slow; and after a few days of solitary labour I was glad to accept the
+offer of help from four or five native apprentices--some of our local
+preachers. They took to the work kindly; and in five weeks we finished
+the edition--sixty copies. I could do the next sixty quicker. These are
+the first Fijian testaments in Ono, and you can understand--or you
+cannot--what a treasure. The natives who came to purchase them found no
+fault with the binding, I assure you. So you see I have been bookseller
+as well as the other thing; and I received pay for my testaments in
+_sinnet_--you know what that is. It is as good as money for the mission
+use here in Fiji. During these bookbinding weeks I was making
+excursions hither and thither, to preach and baptize. Twice a week I
+took a time to see the local preachers and teachers and examine them
+and hear them read and talk to them and be talked to by them. Every
+Tuesday and Friday I did this. The whole course of the week's work is
+now something like the following:
+
+"Sunday begins with a prayer-meeting. Afterwards old and young have a
+catechism exercise together. Morning and afternoon, preaching.
+
+"Monday, the morning there is a children's school, and the afternoon a
+school for grown people. I question both classes on the sermons of the
+preceding day; and I hope English people have as good memories. The
+afternoon school is followed by a prayer-meeting. Tuesdays and Fridays
+I have the teachers' meeting in addition.
+
+"Wednesday I preach, have leaders' meeting, and give out work for the
+week to come.
+
+"Thursday, preaching at one of the neighbouring towns, and a sort of
+young class-meeting.
+
+"Friday, I have said what I do.
+
+"Saturday has a prayer-meeting.
+
+"So much for the regular work. Then there are the sick to look after,
+and my own private studies; and there is not a minute to spare. A few
+that cannot be spared are claimed by the mosquitos, which hold their
+high court and revel here at Ono; of all places on the earth that I
+know, their headquarters. When I was here before with Brother Lefferts
+and others, two of them could not sit still to read something that
+wanted to be read; they walked the floor, one holding the candle, the
+other the paper; both fighting mosquitos with both hands. I am of a
+less excitable temperament--for I contrive to live a little more
+quietly.
+
+"Shall I tell you some of these native testimonies of Christians who a
+little while ago worshipped idols? At our love-feast lately some thirty
+or forty spoke. They did my heart good. So may they yours. These people
+said but few words, full of feeling; my report cannot all give the
+effect. I wish it could.
+
+"One old chief, who could hardly speak for feeling, said, 'These are
+new things to me in these days;' (he meant the love-feasts) 'I did not
+know them formerly. My soul is humbled. I rejoice greatly in the Lord.
+I rejoice greatly for sending his servants.'
+
+"A Tongan teacher--'I desire that God may rule over me,' (i. e., direct
+me) 'I desire not to govern myself. I know that I am a child of God: I
+know that God is my father. My friends wrote for me to go to Tonga; but
+I wondered at it. I wish to obey the Father of my soul.'
+
+"A local preacher--'I know that God is near, and helps me sometimes in
+my work. I love all men. I do not fear death; one thing I fear, the
+Lord."
+
+"Leva Soko, a female class-leader, a very holy woman, said,--this is
+but a part of what she said,--'My child died, but I loved God the more.
+My body has been much afflicted, but I love him the more. I know that
+death would only unite me to God.'
+
+"A teacher, a native of Ono, who had gone to a much less pleasant place
+to preach the gospel, and was home on a visit, spoke exceedingly well.
+'I did not leave Ono that I might have more food. I desired to go that
+I might preach Christ. I was struck with stones twice while in my own
+house; but I could bear it. When the canoes came, they pillaged my
+garden; but my mind was not pained at it: I bore it only.'
+
+"A local preacher--'I am a very bad man; there is no good thing in me;
+but I know the love of God There are not two great things in my mind;
+there is one only,--the love of God for the sake of Christ. I know that
+I am a child of God. I wish to repent and believe every day till I die.'
+
+"These are but a specimen, my dear friend. The other day, in our
+teachers' meeting we were reading the nineteenth chapter of John. An
+old teacher read the eighteenth verse in his turn--the words, 'Where
+they crucified him, and two other with him, on either side one, and
+Jesus in the midst.' He could hardly get through it, and then burst
+into tears and wept aloud. This man was a cannibal once. And now his
+life speaks for the truth of his tears.
+
+"Good night. The mosquitos are not favourable to epistle writing. I am
+well. Remember me, as I remember you.
+
+"R. R."
+
+
+"Aunt Caxton," said Eleanor after reading this letter for the second or
+third time,--"have we a supply of mosquito netting among my boxes? I
+could get the better of the mosquitos, I think."
+
+"How would you like to help bind books?" said Mrs. Caxton. "Or
+translate? Mr. Rhys seems to be about that business, by what he says in
+the other letter."
+
+"He would not want help in that," said Eleanor, musing and flushing.
+"Aunt Caxton--is it foolish in me to wish I could hear once more from
+Mr. Rhys before I go?"
+
+"Only a little foolish, my love; and very natural."
+
+"Then why is it foolish?"
+
+"Because reason would tell you that it is simply impossible your
+letters could receive an answer by this time. They have perhaps but
+barely got to Mr. Rhys this minute. And reason would tell you further
+that there is no ground for supposing he is in any different mind from
+that expressed when he wrote to you."
+
+"But--you know--since then he does not say one word about it, nor about
+me," said Eleanor flushing pretty deep.
+
+"There is reason for that, too. He would not allow himself to indulge
+hope; and therefore he would not act as if he had any. That sight of
+you at Brighton threw him off a good deal, I judge."
+
+"He told you he saw me?"
+
+"He wrote to me about it."
+
+"Did he tell you how he saw me?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What more?"
+
+"He said he thought there was little chance I would have any use for
+his letters; he saw the world was closing its nets around you fast; how
+far they were already successful he could not know; but he was glad he
+had seen what forbade him in time to indulge vain anticipations."
+
+"Oh aunt Caxton!" said Eleanor--"Oh aunt Caxton! what a strange world
+this is, for the way people's lives cross each other, and the work that
+is done without people's knowing it! If you knew--what that meeting
+cost me!--"
+
+"My dear child! I can well believe it."
+
+"And it aroused Mr. Carlisle's suspicions instantly, I knew. If I made
+any mistake--if I erred at all, in my behaviour with regard to him, it
+was then and in consequence of that. If I had faltered a bit
+then--looked grave or hung back from what was going on, I should have
+exposed myself to most cruel interpretation. I could not risk it. I
+threw myself right into whatever presented itself--went into the
+whirl--welcomed everybody and everything--only, I hoped, with so
+general and impartial a welcome as should prove I preferred none
+exclusively."
+
+Eleanor stopped and the tears came into her eyes.
+
+"My child! if I had known what danger you were in, I should have spent
+even more time than I did in praying for you."
+
+"I suppose I was in danger," said Eleanor thoughtfully. "It was a
+difficult winter. Then do you think--Mr. Rhys gave me up?"
+
+"No," said Mrs. Caxton smiling. "You remember he wrote to you after
+that, from Fiji; but I suppose he tried to make himself give you up, as
+far as hope went."
+
+"For all that appears, I may be here long enough yet to have letters
+before I go. We have heard of no opportunity that is likely to present
+itself soon. Aunt Caxton, if my feeling is foolish, why is it natural?"
+
+"Because you are a woman, my dear."
+
+"And foolish?"
+
+"Not at all; but feeling takes little counsel of reason in some cases.
+I am afraid you will find that out again before you get to Mr.
+Rhys--_after_ that, I do not think you will."
+
+The conversation made Eleanor rather more anxious than she had been
+before to hear of a ship; but October and November passed, and the
+prospect of her voyage was as misty as ever.
+
+Again and again, all summer, both she and Mrs. Caxton had written
+begging that Mrs. Powle would make a visit to Plassy and bring or send
+Julia. In vain. Mrs. Powle would not come. Julia could not.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+IN MEETINGS.
+
+
+  "A wild dedication of yourselves
+  To unpath'd waters, undream'd shores; most certain,
+  To miseries enough."
+
+
+In a neat plain drawing-room in a plain part of London, sat Mrs. Caxton
+and Eleanor. Eleanor however soon left her seat and took post at the
+window; and silence reigned in the room unbroken for some length time
+except by the soft rustle of Mrs. Caxton's work. Her fingers were
+rarely idle. Nor were Eleanor's hands often empty; but to-day she stood
+still as a statue before the window, while now and then a tear softly
+roll down and dropped on her folded hands. There were no signs of the
+tears however, when the girl turned round with the short announcement,
+
+"She's here."
+
+Mrs. Caxton looked up a little bit anxiously at her adopted child; but
+Eleanor's face was only still and pale. The next moment the door
+opened, and for all the world as in old times the fair face and fair
+curls of Mrs. Powle appeared. Just the same; unless just now she
+appeared a trifle frightened. The good lady felt so. Two fanatics. She
+hardly knew how to encounter them. And then, her own action, though she
+could not certainly have called it fanatical, had been peculiar, and
+might be judged divers ways. Moreover, Mrs. Powle was Eleanor's mother.
+
+There was one in the company who remembered that, witness the still
+close embrace which Eleanor threw around her, and the still hiding of
+the girl's face on her mother's bosom. Mrs. Powle returned the embrace
+heartily enough; but when Eleanor's motionless clasp had lasted as long
+as she knew how to do anything with it and longer than she felt to be
+graceful, Mrs. Powle whispered,
+
+"Won't you introduce me to your aunt, my dear,--if this is she."
+
+Eleanor released her mother, but sobbed helplessly for a few minutes;
+then she raised her head and threw off her tears; and there was to one
+of the two ladies an exquisite grace in the way she performed the
+required office of making them known to each other. The gentleness of a
+chastened heart, the strength of a loving one, the dignity of an humble
+one, made her face and manner so lovely that Mrs. Caxton involuntarily
+wished Mr. Rhys could have seen it. "But he will have chance enough,"
+she thought, somewhat incongruously, as she met and returned her
+sister-in-law's greetings. Mrs. Powle made them with ceremonious
+respect, not make believe, and with a certain eagerness which welcomed
+a diversion from Eleanor's somewhat troublesome agitation. Eleanor's
+agitation troubled no one any more, however; she sat down calm and
+quiet; and Mrs. Powle had leisure, glancing at her from time to time,
+to get into smooth sailing intercourse with Mrs. Caxton. She took off
+her bonnet, and talked about indifferent things, and sipped chocolate;
+for it was just luncheon time. Ever and anon her eyes came back to
+Eleanor; evidently as to something which troubled her and which puzzled
+her; and Mrs. Caxton saw, which had also the effect of irritation too.
+Very likely, Mrs. Caxton thought! Conscience on one hand not satisfied,
+and ambition on the other hand disappointed, and Eleanor the point of
+meeting for both uneasy feelings to concentrate their forces. It would
+come out in words soon, Mrs. Caxton knew. But how lovely Eleanor seemed
+to her. There was not even a cloud upon her brow now; fair as it was
+pure and strong.
+
+"And so you are going?" Mrs. Powle began at last, in a somewhat
+constrained voice. Eleanor smiled.
+
+"And _when_ are you going?"
+
+"My letter said, Next Tuesday the ship sails."
+
+"And pray, Eleanor, you are not going alone?"
+
+"No, mamma. A gentleman and his wife are going the whole voyage with
+me."
+
+"Who are they?"
+
+"A Mr. Amos and his wife."
+
+"_What_ are they then? missionaries?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"Going to that same place?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am--very nicely for me."
+
+"Pray how long do you expect the voyage will take you?"
+
+"I am not certain--it is made, or can be made, in four or five months;
+but then we may have to stop awhile at Sydney."
+
+"Sydney? what Sydney? Where is that?"
+
+"Australia, mamma," said Eleanor smiling. "New South Wales. Don't you
+know?"
+
+"_Australia!_ Are you going there? To Botany Bay?"
+
+"No, mamma; not to Botany Bay. And I only take Australia by the way. I
+go further."
+
+"_Further_ than Botany Bay?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"Well certainly," said Mrs. Powle with an accent of restrained despair,
+"the present age is enterprising beyond what was ever known in my young
+days. What do you think, sister Caxton, of a young lady taking voyage
+five months long after her husband, instead of her husband taking it
+for her? He ought to be a grateful man, I think!"
+
+"Certainly; but not too grateful," Mrs. Caxton answered composedly;
+"for in this case necessity alters the rule."
+
+"I do not understand such necessities," said Mrs. Powle; "at least if a
+thing cannot be done properly, I should say it was better not to do it
+at all. However, I suppose it is too late to speak now. I would not
+have my daughter hold herself so lightly as to confer such an honour on
+any man; but I gave her to you to dispose of, so no doubt it is all
+right. I hope Mr. What's-his-name is worthy of it."
+
+"Mamma, let me give you another cup of chocolate," said Eleanor. And
+she served her with the chocolate and the toast and the hung beef, in a
+way that gave Mrs. Caxton's heart a feast. There was the beautiful calm
+and high grace with which Eleanor used to meet her social difficulties
+two years ago, and baffle both her trials and her tempters. Mrs. Caxton
+had never seen it called for. Her face shewed not the slightest
+embarrassment at her mother's words; not a shade of rising colour did
+dishonour to Mr. Rhys by proving that she so much as even felt the
+slurs against him or the jealousy professed on her own behalf.
+Eleanor's calm sweet face was an assertion both of his dignity and her
+own. Perhaps Mrs. Powle felt herself in a hopeless case.
+
+"What do you expect to live on out there?" she said, changing her
+ground, as she dipped her toast into chocolate. "You won't have this
+sort of thing."
+
+"I have never thought much about it," said Eleanor smiling. "Where
+other people live and grow strong, I suppose I can."
+
+"No, it does not follow at all," replied her mother. "You are
+accustomed to certain things, and you would feel the want of them. For
+instance, will you have bread like this out there? wheat bread?"
+
+"I shall not want chocolate," said Eleanor. "The climate is too hot."
+
+"But bread?"
+
+"Wheat flour is shipped for the use of the mission families," said Mrs.
+Caxton. "It is known that many persons would suffer without it; and we
+do not wish unnecessary suffering should be undergone."
+
+"Have they cows there?"
+
+"Mamma!" said Eleanor laughing.
+
+"Well, have they? Because Miss Broadus or somebody was saying the other
+day, that in New Zealand they never had them till we sent them out. So
+I wondered directly whether they had in this place."
+
+"I fancy not, mamma. You will have to think of me as drinking my tea
+without cream."
+
+"So you will take tea there with you?"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I have got the impression," said Mrs. Powle, "somehow, that you would
+do nothing as other people do. You will drink tea, will you? I'll give
+you a box."
+
+"Thank you, mamma," said Eleanor, but the colour flushed now to the
+roots of her hair,--"aunt Caxton has given me a great stock already."
+
+"And coffee?"
+
+"Yes, mamma--for great occasions--and concentrated milk for that."
+
+"Do tell me what sort of a place it is, Eleanor."
+
+"It is a great many places, mamma. It is a great many islands, large
+and small, scattered over some hundreds of miles of ocean; but they are
+so many and near each other often, and so surrounded with interlacing
+coral reefs, that navigation there is in a kind of network of channels.
+The islands are of many varieties, and of fairy-land beauty; rich in
+vegetation and in all sorts of natural stores."
+
+"Not cows."
+
+"No, ma'am. I meant, the things that grow out of the ground," said
+Eleanor smiling again. "Cows and sheep and horses are not among them."
+
+"Nor horses either? How do you go when you travel?"
+
+"In a canoe, I suppose."
+
+"With savages?" exclaimed Mrs. Powle.
+
+"Not necessarily. Many of them are Christians."
+
+"The natives?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"Then I don't see what you are going for. Those that are Christians
+already might teach those that are not. But Eleanor, who will marry
+you?"
+
+A bright rose-colour came upon the girl's cheeks. "Mamma, there are
+clergymen enough there."
+
+"_Clergymen?_ of the Church?"
+
+"I beg your pardon, mamma; no. That is not essential?"
+
+"Well, that is as you look at things. I know you and my sister Caxton
+have wandered away,--but for me, I should feel lost out of the Church.
+It would be very essential to me. Are there no Church people in the
+islands at all?"
+
+"I believe not, mamma."
+
+"And what on earth do you expect to do there, Eleanor?"
+
+"I cannot tell you yet, mamma; but I understand everybody finds more
+than enough."
+
+"What, pray?"
+
+"The general great business, you know, is to carry light to those that
+sit in darkness."
+
+"Yes, but you do not expect to preach, do you?"
+
+Eleanor smiled, she could not help it, at the bewildered air with which
+this question was put. "I don't know, mamma. Do not you think I could
+preach to a class of children?"
+
+"But Eleanor! such horrid work. Such work for _you!_"
+
+"Why, mamma?"
+
+"Why? With your advantages and talents and education. Mr.--no matter
+who, but who used to be a good judge, said that your talents would give
+anybody else's talents enough to do;--and that you should throw them
+away upon a class of half-naked children at the antipodes!"----
+
+"There will be somebody else to take the benefit of them first," Mrs.
+Caxton said very composedly. "I rather think Mr. Rhys will see to it
+that they are not wasted."
+
+"Mamma, I think you do not understand this matter," Eleanor said
+gently. "Whoever made that speech flattered me; but I wish my talents
+were ten times so much as they are, that I might give them to this
+work."
+
+"To this gentleman, you mean!" Mrs. Powle said tartly.
+
+A light came into Eleanor's eyes; she was silent a minute and then with
+the colour rising all over her face she said, "He is abundantly worthy
+of all and much more than I am."
+
+"Well I do not understand this matter, as you said," Mrs. Powle
+answered in some discomfiture. "Tell me of something I do understand.
+What society will you have where you are going, Eleanor?"
+
+"I shall be too busy to have much time for society, mamma," Eleanor
+answered, good-humouredly.
+
+"No such thing--you will want it all the more. Sister Caxton, is it not
+so?"
+
+"People do not go out there without consenting to forego many things,"
+Mrs. Caxton answered; "but there is One who has promised to be with his
+servants when they are about his work; and I never heard that any one
+who had that society, pined greatly for want of other."
+
+Mrs. Powle opened her eyes at Mrs. Caxton's quiet face; she set this
+speech down in her mind as uncontaminated fanaticism. She turned to
+Eleanor.
+
+"Do the people there wear clothes?"
+
+"The Christians clothe themselves, mamma; the heathen portion of the
+people hardly do, I believe. The climate requires nothing. They have a
+fashion of dress of their own, but it is not much."
+
+"And can you help seeing these heathen?"
+
+"No, of course not."
+
+"Well you _are_ changed!" said Mrs. Powle. "I would never have thought
+you would have consented to such degradation."
+
+"I go that I may help mend it, mamma."
+
+"Yes, you must stoop yourself first."
+
+"Think how Jesus stooped--to what degradation--for us all."
+
+Mrs. Powle paused, at the view of Eleanor's glistening eyes. It was not
+easy to answer, moreover.
+
+"I cannot help it," she said. "You and I take different views on the
+subject. Do let us talk of something else; I am always getting on
+something where we cannot agree. Tell me about the place, Eleanor."
+
+"What, mamma? I have not been there."
+
+"No, but of course you know. What do you live in? houses or tents?"
+
+"I do not know which you would call them; they are not stone or wood.
+There is a skeleton frame of posts to uphold the building; but the
+walls are made of different thicknesses of reeds, laid different ways
+and laced together with sinnet."
+
+"What's _sinnet?_"
+
+"A strong braid made of the fibre of the cocoa-nut--of the husk of the
+cocoanut. It is made of more and less size and strength, and is used
+instead of iron to fasten a great many sorts of things; carpentry and
+boat building among them."
+
+"Goodness! what a place. Well go on with your house."
+
+"That is all," said Eleanor smiling; "except that it is thatched with
+palm leaves, or grass, or cane leaves. Sometimes the walls are covered
+with grass; and the braid work done in patterns, so as to have a very
+artistic effect."
+
+"And what is inside?"
+
+"Not much beside the people."
+
+"Well, tell me what, for instance. There is something, I suppose. The
+walls are not bare?"
+
+"Not quite. There are apt to be mats, to sit and lie on;--and pots for
+cooking, and baskets and a chest perhaps, and a great mosquito curtain."
+
+"Are you going to live in a house like that, Eleanor?"
+
+Mrs. Powle's face expressed distress. Eleanor laughed and declared she
+did not know.
+
+"It will have some chairs for her to sit upon," said Mrs. Caxton; "and
+I shall send some china cups, that she may not have to drink out of a
+cocoa-nut shell."
+
+"But I should like that very well," said Eleanor; "and I certainly
+think a Fijian wooden dish, spread with green leaves, is as nice a
+vessel for food as can be."
+
+Mrs. Powle rose up and began to arrange her shawl, with an air which
+said, "I do not understand it!"
+
+"Mamma, what are you about?"
+
+"Eleanor, you make me very uncomfortable."
+
+"Do I? Why should I, mamma?"
+
+"It is no use talking." Then suddenly facing round on Eleanor she said,
+"What are you going to do for servants in that dreadful place?"
+
+"Mr. Rhys says he has a most faithful servant--who is much attached to
+him, and does as well as he can desire."
+
+"One of those native savages?"
+
+"He was; he is a Christian now, and a good one."
+
+Mrs. Powle looked as if she did not know how to believe her daughter.
+
+"Aren't you afraid of what you are about, Eleanor--to venture among
+those creatures? and to take all that voyage first, alone? Are you not
+afraid?"
+
+There was that in the very simpleness and quietness of Eleanor's answer
+that put her negative beyond a question. Mrs. Powle sat down again for
+very bewilderment.
+
+"Why are you not afraid?" she said. "You never were afraid of little
+things, I know; but those houses--Are there no thieves among those
+heathen?"
+
+"A good many."
+
+"What is to keep them out of your house? Anybody could cut through a
+reed wall with a knife--and make no noise about it. Where is your
+security?"
+
+Alas, in the one face there was such ignorance, in the other such
+sorrowful consciousness of that ignorance, that the two faces at first
+looked mutely into each other across the gulf between them.
+
+"Mamma," said Eleanor, "why will you not understand me? Do you not
+know,--the Eternal God is our refuge!"
+
+The still, grand expression of faith Mrs. Powle could not receive; but
+the speaking of Eleanor's eyes she did. She turned from them.
+
+"Good morning, sister Caxton," she said. "I will go. I cannot bear it
+any longer to-day."
+
+"You will come to-morrow, sister Powle?"
+
+"Yes. O yes. I'll be here to-morrow. I will get my feelings quieted by
+that time. Good bye, Eleanor."
+
+"Mamma," said the girl trembling, "when will you bring Julia?"
+
+"Now Eleanor, don't let us talk about anything more that is
+disagreeable. I do not want to say anything about Julia. You have taken
+your way--and I do not mean to unsettle you in it; but Julia is in
+another line, and I cannot have you interfere with her. I am very sorry
+it is so,--but it is not my doing. I cannot help it. I do not want to
+give you pain."
+
+Mrs. Powle departed. Eleanor came back from attending her to the door,
+stopped in the middle of the room, and her cheeks grew white as she
+spoke.
+
+"I shall never see her again!"
+
+"My love," said Mrs. Caxton pityingly,--"I hardly know how to believe
+it possible."
+
+"I knew it all along," said Eleanor. She sat down and covered her face.
+Mrs. Caxton sighed.
+
+"It is as true now as it was in the old time," she said,--"'He that
+will live godly in Christ Jesus, shall suffer persecution.' So surely
+as we walk like Christ, so surely the world will call us odd and
+strange and fanatical, and treat us accordingly."
+
+
+Eleanor's head was bent low.
+
+"And Jesus is our only refuge--and our sufficient consolation."
+
+"O yes!--but--"
+
+"And he can make our silent witness-bearing bring fruits for his glory,
+and for our dear ones' good, as much as years of talking to them,
+Eleanor."
+
+"You are good comfort, aunt Caxton," said the girl putting her arms
+around her and straining her close;--"but--this is something I cannot
+help just now--"
+
+It was a natural sorrow not to be struggled with successfully; and
+Eleanor took it to her own room. So did Mrs. Caxton take it to hers.
+But the struggle was ended then and there. No trace of it remained the
+next day. Eleanor met her mother most cheerfully, and contrived
+admirably to keep her from the gulf of discussion into which she had
+been continually plunging at her first visit. With so much of grace and
+skill, and of that poise of her own mind which left her free to extend
+help to another's vacillations and uncertainties, Eleanor guided the
+conversation and bore herself generally that day, that Mrs. Powle's
+sighing commentary as she went away, was, "Ah, Eleanor!--you might have
+been a duchess!"
+
+But the paleness of sorrow came over her duchess's face again so soon
+as she was gone. Mrs. Caxton saw that if the struggle was ended, the
+pain was not; and her heart bled for Eleanor. These were days not to be
+prolonged. It was good for everybody that Tuesday, the day of sailing,
+was so near.
+
+They were heavy, the hours that intervened. In spite of keeping herself
+close and making no needless advertisement of her proceedings, Eleanor
+could not escape many an encounter with old friends or acquaintances.
+They heard of her from her mother; learned her address; and then
+curiosity was enough, without affection, to bring several; and
+affection mingled with curiosity to bring a few. Among others, the two
+Miss Broadus's, Eleanor's friends and associates at Wiglands ever since
+she had been a child, could not keep away from her and could not be
+denied when they came; though they took precious time, and though they
+tried Eleanor sorely. They wanted to know everything; if their wishes
+had sufficed, they would have learned the whole history of Mr. Rhys's
+courtship. Failing that, their inquiries went to everything else, past
+and future, to which Eleanor's own knowledge could be supposed to
+extend. What she had been doing through the year which was gone, and
+what she expected the coming year would find her to do; when she would
+get to her place of destination, and what sort of a life she would have
+of it when once there. Houses, and horses, and cows and sheep, were as
+interesting to these good ladies as they were to Mrs. Powle; and
+feeling less concern in the matter they were free to take more
+amusement, and so no side feeling or hidden feeling disturbed their
+satisfaction in the flow of information they were receiving. For
+Eleanor gratified them patiently, in all which did not touch
+immediately herself; but when they were gone she sighed. Even Mrs.
+Powle was less trying; for her annoyances were at least of a more
+dignified kind. Eleanor could meet them better.
+
+"And this is the end of you!" she exclaimed the evening before Eleanor
+was to sail. "This is the end of your life and expectations! To look at
+you and think of it!" Despondency could no further go.
+
+"Not the end of either, mamma, I hope," Eleanor responded cheerfully.
+
+"The expectation of the righteous shall be for ever, you forget," said
+Mrs. Caxton smiling. "There is no fall nor failure to that."
+
+"O yes, I know!" said Mrs. Powle impatiently; "but just look at that
+girl and see what she is. She might be presented at Court now, and
+reigning like a princess in her own house; yes, she might; and
+to-morrow she is going off as if she were a convict, to Botany Bay!"
+
+"No, mamma," said Eleanor smiling. "I never can persuade you of
+Australian geography."
+
+"Well it's New South Wales, isn't it?" said Mrs. Powle.
+
+Eleanor assented.
+
+"Very well. The girl that brings you your luncheon when you get there,
+may be the very one that stole my spoons three years ago. It's all the
+same thing. And you, Eleanor, you are so handsome, and you have the
+manners of a queen--Sister Caxton, you have no notion what admiration
+this girl excited, and what admiration she could command!"
+
+Mrs. Caxton looked from the calm face of the girl, certainly handsome
+enough, to the vexed countenance of the mother; whose fair curls failed
+to look complacent for once.
+
+"I suppose Eleanor thinks of another day," she said; "when the Lord
+will come to be admired in his saints and to be glorified in all them
+that believe. _That_ will be admiration worth having--if Eleanor thinks
+so, I confess I think so too."
+
+"Dear sister Caxton," said Mrs. Powle restraining herself, "what has
+the one thing to do with the other?"
+
+"Nothing," said Mrs. Caxton. "To seek both is impossible."
+
+"_Do_ you think it is wicked to receive admiration? I did not think you
+went so far."
+
+"No," said Mrs. Caxton, with her genial smile. "We were talking of
+seeking it."
+
+Mrs. Powle was silent, and went away in a very ill humour.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+IN PARTINGS.
+
+
+  "The sun came up upon the left,
+  Out of the sea came he!
+  And he shone bright, and on the right
+  Went down into the sea."
+
+
+And the Tuesday came, and was fair; and under a bright sky the steamer
+ran down to Gravesend with Eleanor and her friends on board. Not Julia;
+Eleanor had given up all hopes of that; but Mrs. Caxton was beside her,
+and on the other side of her was Mrs. Powle. It was a terribly
+disagreeable journey to the latter; every feeling in her somewhat
+passionless nature was in a state of fretful rebellion. The other
+stronger and deeper characters were ready for the time and met it
+bravely. Met it cheerfully too. The crisping breeze that curled the
+waters of the river, the blue sky and fair sunlight, the bright and
+beautiful of the scene around them, those two saw and tasted; with
+hopeful though very grave hearts. The other poor lady saw nothing but a
+dirty steamboat and a very unpropitious company. Among these however
+were Eleanor's fellow-voyagers, Mr. Amos and his wife; and she was
+introduced to them now for the first time. Various circumstances had
+prevented their meeting in London.
+
+"A very common-looking man,"--whispered Mrs. Powle to Eleanor.
+
+"I don't know, mamma,--but very good," Eleanor returned.
+
+"You are mad on goodness!" said Mrs. Powle. "Don't you see anything
+else in a man, or the want of anything else? I do; a thousand things;
+and if a man is ever so good, I want him to be a gentleman too."
+
+"So do I," said Eleanor smiling. "But much more, mamma, if a man is
+ever so much a gentleman, I want him to be good. Isn't that the more
+important of the two?"
+
+"No!" said Mrs. Powle. "I don't think it is; not for society."
+
+Eleanor thought of Paul's words--"Henceforth know I no man after the
+flesh"--What was the use of talking? she and her mother must have the
+same vision before they could see the same things. And she presently
+forgot Mr. Amos and all about him; for in the distance she discerned
+signs that the steamer was approaching Gravesend; and knew that the
+time of parting drew near.
+
+It came and was gone, and Eleanor was alone on the deck of the "Diana;"
+and in that last moment of trial Mrs. Powle had been the most overcome
+of the three. Eleanor's sweet face bore itself strongly as well; and
+Mrs. Caxton was strong both by life-habit and nature; and the view of
+each of them was far above that little ship-deck. Mrs. Powle saw
+nothing else. Her distress was very deep.
+
+"I wish I had taken Julia to her!" was the outburst of her penitent
+relentings; and Mrs. Caxton was only thankful, since they had come too
+late, that they were uttered too late for Eleanor to hear. _She_ went
+home like a person whose earthly treasure is all lodged away from her;
+not lost at all, indeed, but yet only to be enjoyed and watched over
+from a distance. Even then she reckoned herself rich beyond what she
+had been before Eleanor ever came to her.
+
+For Eleanor, left on the ship's deck, at first it was hard to realize
+that she had any earthly treasure at all. One part of it quitted,
+perhaps for ever, with the home and the country of her childhood; the
+other, so far, so vague, so uncertainly grasped in this moment of
+distraction, that she felt utterly broken-hearted and alone. She had
+not counted upon this; she had not expected her self-command would so
+completely fail her; but it was so; and although without one shadow of
+a wish to turn back or in any wise alter her course, the first
+beginning of her journey was made amidst mental storms. Julia was the
+particular bitter thought over which her tears poured; but they flooded
+every image that rose of home things, and childish things and things at
+Plassy. Mr. Amos came to her help.
+
+"It is nothing," Eleanor said as well as she could speak,--"it is
+nothing but the natural feeling which will have its way. Thank
+you--don't be concerned. I don't want anything--if I only could have
+seen my sister!"
+
+"Mrs. Amos is about as bad," said her comforter with a sigh. "Ah well!
+feeling must have its way, and better it should. You will both be
+better by and by, I hope."
+
+They were worse before they were better. For in a few hours sickness
+took its place among present grievances; and perhaps on the whole it
+acted as a relief by effecting a diversion from mental to bodily
+concerns. It seemed to Eleanor that she felt them both together;
+nevertheless, when at the end of a few days the sea-sickness left her
+and she was able to get up again, it was with the sweet fresh quietness
+of convalescence in mind as well as in body. She was herself again.
+Things took their place. England was behind indeed--but Fiji was
+forward--and Heaven was over all.
+
+As soon as she was able to be up she went upon deck. Strength came
+immediately with the fresh breeze. It was a cool cloudy day; the ship
+speeding along under a good spread of canvas; the sea in a beautiful
+state of life, but not boisterous. Nobody was on deck but some of the
+sailors. Eleanor took a seat by the guards, and began to drink in
+refreshment. It stole in fast, on mind as well as body, she hardly knew
+how; only both were braced up together. She felt now a curious gladness
+that the parting was over, the journey begun, and England fairly out of
+sight. The going away had been like death; a new life was rising upon
+her now; and Eleanor turned herself towards it with the same sweet
+readiness as the good ship whose head is laid upon a new course.
+
+There is a state of mind in which the soul may be aptly called the
+garden of the Lord; when answering to his culture it brings forth
+flowers and fruits for his pleasure. In such a state, the paradise
+which Adam lost is half re-entered again; the moral victory is won over
+"the works of the devil" which Christ came to destroy. The body is
+dead, no doubt, because of sin; but the spirit is life, because of
+righteousness. The air of that garden is peace; no hurricanes blow
+there; the sunshine dwells therein; the odours of sweet things come
+forth, and make known all abroad whose garden it is.
+
+Eleanor had sat awhile very still, very busy looking over into the sea,
+when she heard a step near her on the deck. She looked up, and saw a
+man whom she recognized as the master of the vessel. A rather
+hard-featured man, tall and strong set, with a pair of small eyes that
+did not give forth their expression readily. What there was struck her
+as not pleasant.
+
+"So you've got up!" said he, in a voice which was less harsh than his
+looks. "Do you feel better?"
+
+"Much better, thank you."
+
+"Hearty, eh?"
+
+"Pretty well," said Eleanor smiling, "since I have got this salt air
+into my lungs."
+
+"Ah! you'll have enough of that. 'Tother lady is down yet, eh? She has
+not got up."
+
+"No."
+
+"Are you all going to the same place?"
+
+"I believe so."
+
+"Missionaries, eh?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Think you'll get those dark fellows to listen to you?"
+
+"Why not?" said Eleanor brightly.
+
+"It's all make-believe. They only want to get your axes and hatchets,
+and such things."
+
+"Well, we want their yams and potatoes and fish and labour," said
+Eleanor; "so it is a fair bargain; and no make-believe on either side."
+
+"Why don't you stay in the Colonies? there is work enough to be done;
+people enough that need it; and a fine country. Everything in the world
+that you need; and not so far from home either."
+
+Eleanor made no answer.
+
+"Why don't you stay in the Colonies?"
+
+"One can only be in one place," said Eleanor lightly.
+
+"And that must always be the place where somebody else is," said the
+captain maliciously. "That's the way people will congregate together,
+instead of scattering where they are wanted."
+
+"Do you know the Colonies well?" said Eleanor coolly, in answer to this
+rude speech.
+
+"I ought. I have spent about a third of my life in them. I have a
+brother at Melbourne too, as rich in flocks and herds almost as Job
+was. That's the place! That's a country! But you are going to Sydney?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Friends there?"
+
+"I have one friend there who expects me."
+
+"Who's he? Maybe I know him."
+
+"Egbert Esthwaite is his name."
+
+"Don't know him, though. And so you have left England to find yourself
+a new home in the wilderness?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Pretty tough change you'll find it. Don't you find it already?"
+
+"No. Don't you know," said Eleanor giving him a good look, "when one's
+real home is in heaven, it does not make so much difference?"
+
+The captain would have answered the words fast enough; but in the
+strong sweet eye that had looked into his so full, there was something
+that silenced him. He turned off abruptly, with the internal
+conviction--"_That_ girl thinks what she says, anyhow!"
+
+Eleanor's eyes left contemplating the waters, and were busy for some
+time with the book which had lain in her lap until her colloquy with
+the captain. Somebody came and sat down beside her.
+
+"Mr. Amos! I am glad to see you," said Eleanor.
+
+"I am glad to see you, sister," he replied; "and glad to see you able
+to be here. You look well again."
+
+"O I am."
+
+"Mrs. Amos cannot raise her head. What are you doing?--if I may ask so
+blunt a question upon so short an acquaintance."
+
+"This is the first time I have been on deck. I was studying the sea, in
+the first place;--and then something drove me to study the Bible."
+
+"Ah, we are driven to that on every hand," he answered. "Now go on, and
+tell me the point of your studies, will you?"
+
+There was something in the utmost genial and kind in his look and way;
+he was not a person from whom one would keep back anything he wanted to
+know; as also evidently he was not one to ask anything he should not.
+The request did not even startle Eleanor. She looked thoughtfully over
+the heaving sea while she answered.
+
+"I had been taking a great new view of the glory of creation--over the
+ship's side here. Then I had the sorrow to find--or fear--that we have
+an unbeliever in our captain. From that, I suppose, I took hold of
+Paul's reasoning--how without excuse people are in unbelief; how the
+invisible things of God from the creation of the world are clearly
+seen, being understood by the things that are made; even his eternal
+power and Godhead. And those glorious last words were what my heart
+fixed upon."
+
+"'His eternal power and Godhead.'"
+
+Eleanor looked round without speaking; a look full of the human echo to
+those words; the joy of weakness, the strength of ignorance, the
+triumph of humility.
+
+"What a grand characterizing Paul gives in those other words," said Mr.
+Amos--"'the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only wise God.' Unto
+him be honour and glory forever!"
+
+"And then those other words," said Eleanor low,--"'The eternal God is
+thy refuge.'"
+
+"That is a good text for us to keep," said Mr. Amos. "But really, with
+that refuge, I don't see what we should be afraid of."
+
+"Not even of want of success," said Eleanor.
+
+"No. If faith didn't fail. Paul could give thanks that he was made
+always to triumph in Christ,--and by the power that wrought with him,
+so may we." He spoke very gravely, as if looking into himself and
+pondering his own responsibilities and privileges and short-comings.
+Eleanor kept silence.
+
+"How do you like this way of life?" Mr. Amos said presently.
+
+"The sea is beautiful. I have hardly tried the ship."
+
+"Haven't you?" said Mr. Amos smiling. "That speaks a candid good
+traveller. Another would have made the first few days the type of the
+whole."
+
+And he also took to his book, and the silence lasted this time.
+
+Mrs. Amos continued prostrated by sea-sickness; unable to raise her
+head from her pillow. Eleanor could do little for her. The evil was
+remediless, and admitted of very small amelioration. But the weather
+was very fine and the ship's progress excellent; and Eleanor spent
+great part of her time on deck. All day, except when she was at the
+side of Mrs. Amos, she was there. The sailors watched the figure in the
+dark neat sea-dress and cloak and the little close straw bonnet with
+chocolate ribbands; and every now and then made pretences to get near
+and see how the face looked that was hidden under it. The report of the
+first venturers was so favourable that Eleanor had an unconscious sort
+of levee the next day or two; and then, the fresh sweet face that was
+so like a flower was found to have more attractions when known than it
+had before when unknown. There was not a hand on board but seized or
+made opportunities every day and as often as he could to get near her;
+if a chance offered and he could edge in a word and have a smile and
+word in answer, that man went away esteemed both by himself and his
+comrades a lucky fellow. Eleanor awoke presently to the sense of her
+opportunities, though too genuinely humble to guess at the cause of
+them; and she began to make every one tell for her work. Every sailor
+on board soon knew what Eleanor valued more than all other things;
+every one knew, "sure as guns," as he would have expressed it, that if
+she had a chance of speaking to him, she would one way or another
+contrive before it was ended to make him think of his duty and to
+remember to whom it was owed; and yet--strange to say--there was not
+one of them that for any such reason was willing to lose or to shun one
+of those chances. "If all were like she"--was the comment of one Jack
+tar; and the rest were precisely of his opinion. The captain himself
+was no exception. He could not help frequently coming to Eleanor's
+side, to break off her studies or her musings with some information or
+some suggestion of his own and have a bit of a talk. His manners
+mended. He grew thoroughly civil to her.
+
+Meanwhile the vessel was speeding southwards. Fast, fast, every day
+they lowered their latitude. Higher and higher rose the sun; the stars
+that had been Eleanor's familiars ever since she had eyes to see them,
+sank one by one below the northern horizon; and the beauty of the new,
+strange, brilliant constellations of the southern sky began to tell her
+in curious language of her approach to her new home. They had a most
+magical charm for Eleanor. She studied and watched them unweariedly;
+they had for her that curious interest which we give to any things that
+are to be our life-companions. Here Mr. Amos could render her some
+help; but with or without help, Eleanor nightly studied the southern
+stars, watched and pondered them till she knew them well; and then she
+watched them because she knew them, as well as because she was to know
+them all the rest of her life.
+
+By day she studied other things; and the days were not weary. The ocean
+was a storehouse of pleasure for her; and Captain Fox declared his ship
+had never carried such a clever passenger; "a girl who had plenty of
+stuff, and knew what to do with herself." Certainly the last piece of
+praise was true; for Eleanor had no weary moments. She had interests on
+board, as well as outside the ship. She picked up the sailors' legends
+and superstitions; ay, and many a little bit of life history came in
+too, by favour of the sympathy and friendliness they saw in those fine
+brown eyes. Never a voyage went better; and the sailors if not the
+captain were very much of the mind that they had a good angel on board.
+
+"Well how do you like _this?_" said Mr. Amos coming up one day. N.B. It
+was the seventh day of a calm in the tropics.
+
+"I would like a wind better," Eleanor said smiling.
+
+"Can you possess your soul in patience?"
+
+"Yes," she said, but gently and with a slight intonation that spoke of
+several latent things.
+
+"We are well on our way now,--if a wind would come!"
+
+"It will come."
+
+"I have never asked you," said Mr. Amos. "How do you expect to find
+life in the islands?"
+
+"In what respect? In general, I should say, as unlike this as possible."
+
+"Of course. I understand there is no stagnation there. But as to
+hardships--as to the people?"
+
+"The people are part Christianized and part unchristianized; that gives
+every variety of experience among them, I suppose. The unchristianized
+are as bad as they can be, very nearly; the good, very good. As to
+hardships, I have no expectation."
+
+"You have not data to form one?"
+
+"I cannot say that; but things are so different according to
+circumstances; and there is so great a change going on continually in
+the character of the people."
+
+"How do you feel about leaving behind you all the arts and refinements
+and delights of taste in the old world?"
+
+"Will you look over the side of the ship, Mr. Amos?--down below
+there--do you see anything?"
+
+"Dolphin--," said Mr. Amos.
+
+"What do you think of them?"
+
+"Beautiful!" said Mr. Amos. "Beautiful, undoubtedly! as brilliant as if
+they had just come out of the jeweller's shop, polished silver. How
+clear the water is! I can see them perfectly--far below."
+
+"Isn't the sea better than a jeweller's shop?"
+
+"I never thought of it before," said Mr. Amos laughing; "but it
+certainly is; though I think it is the first time the comparison has
+been made."
+
+"Did you ever go to Tenby?"
+
+"I never did."
+
+"Nor I; but I have heard the sea-caves in its neighbourhood described
+as more splendid in their natural treasures of vegetable and animal
+growth, than any jeweller's shop could be--were he the richest in
+London."
+
+"_Splendid?_" said Mr. Amos.
+
+"Yes--for brilliance and variety of colour."
+
+"Is it possible? These are things that I do not know."
+
+"You will be likely to know them. The lagoons around the Polynesian
+islands--the still waters within the barrier-reefs, you understand--are
+lined with most gorgeous and wonderful displays of this kind. One seems
+to be sailing over a mine of gems--only not in the rough, but already
+cut and set as no workman of earth could do them."
+
+"Ah," said Mr. Amos, "I fancy you have had advantages of hearing about
+these islands, that I have not enjoyed."
+
+Eleanor was checked, and coloured a little; then rallied herself.
+
+"Look now over yonder, Mr. Amos--at those clouds."
+
+"I have looked at them every evening," he said.
+
+Their eyes were turned towards the western heavens, where the setting
+sun was gathering his mantle of purple and gold around him before
+saying good night to the world. Every glory of light and colouring was
+there, among the thick folds of his vapourous drapery; and changing and
+blending and shifting softly from one hue of richness to another.
+
+"I suppose you will tell me now," said Mr. Amos with a smile of some
+humour, "that no upholsterer's hangings can rival that. I give up--as
+the schoolboys say. Yet we do lose some things. What do you say to a
+land without churches?"
+
+"O it is not," said Eleanor. "Chapels are rising everywhere--in every
+village, on some islands; and very neat ones."
+
+"I am afraid," said Mr. Amos with his former look of quiet humour, "you
+would not be of the mind of a lady I heard rejoicing once over the
+celebration of the church service at Oxford. She remarked, that it was
+a subject of joyful thought and remembrance, to know that praise so
+near perfection was offered somewhere on the earth. There was the
+music, you know, and the beautiful building in which we heard it, and
+all the accessories. You will have nothing like that in Fiji."
+
+"She must have forgotten those words," said Eleanor--"'Where is the
+house that ye build unto me, and where is the place of my rest? ... _to
+this man_ will I look, even to him that is poor and of a contrite
+spirit, and trembleth at my word.' You will find _that_ in Fiji."
+
+"Ah," said Mr. Amos,--"I see. My friend will have a safe wife in you.
+Do you know, when I first saw you I stood in doubt. I thought you
+looked like--Well, never mind! It's all right."
+
+"Right!" said Captain Fox coming up behind them. "I am glad somebody
+thinks so. Right!--lying broiling here all day, and sleeping all night
+as if we were in port and had nothing to do--when we're a long way from
+that. Drove you down to-day, didn't it?" said he turning to Eleanor.
+
+"It was so hot; I could not get a bit of permanent shade anywhere. I
+went below for a little while."
+
+"And yet it's all right!" said the captain. "I am afraid you are not in
+a hurry to get to the end of the voyage."
+
+Mr. Amos smiled and Eleanor blushed. The truth was, she never let
+herself think of the end of the voyage. The thought would come--the
+image standing there would start up--but she always put it aside and
+kept to the present; and that was one reason certainly why Eleanor's
+mind was so quiet and free and why the enjoyable and useful things of
+the hour were not let slip and wasted. So her spirits maintained their
+healthy tone; no doubt spurred to livelier action by the abiding
+consciousness of that spot of brightness in the future towards which
+she would not allow herself to look in bewildering imaginations.
+
+Meanwhile the calm came to an end, as all things will; the beneficent
+trade wind took charge of the vessel again, and they sped on, south,
+south; till the sky over Eleanor's head was a new one from that all her
+life had known, and the bright stars at night looked at her as
+strangers. For study them as she would, she could not but feel theirs
+were new faces. The captain one day shewed her St. Helena in the
+distance; then the Cape of Good Hope was neared--and rounded--and in
+the Indian Ocean the travellers ploughed their way eastward. The island
+of St. Paul was passed; and still the ship sailed on and on to the east.
+
+Eleanor had observed for a day or two that there was an unusual degree
+of activity among the sailors. They seemed to be getting things into
+new trim; clearing up and cleaning; and the chain cable one day made
+its appearance on deck, where room had been made for it. Eleanor looked
+on at the proceedings, with a half guess at their meaning that made her
+heart beat.
+
+"What is it?" she asked Captain Fox.
+
+"What's all this rigging up? Why, we expect to see land soon. You like
+the sea so well, you'll be sorry."
+
+"How soon?"
+
+"I shouldn't wonder, in a day or two. You will stop in Sydney till you
+get a chance to go on?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I wish I could take you the whole way, I declare! but I would not take
+an angel into those awful islands. Why if you get shipwrecked there,
+they will kill and eat you."
+
+"There would be little danger of that now, Captain Fox; none at all in
+most of the islands. Instead of killing and eating, they relieve and
+comfort their shipwrecked countrymen."
+
+"Believe that?" said the captain.
+
+"I know it. I know instances."
+
+"Whereabouts are you going among them?" said he looking at her. "If I
+get driven out of my reckoning ever and find myself in those latitudes,
+I'd like to know which way to steer. Where's your place?"
+
+He was not uncivil; but he liked to see, when he could manage to bring
+it, that beautiful tinge of rose in Eleanor's cheeks which answered
+such an appeal as this.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+IN PORT.
+
+
+  "And the magic charm of foreign lands,
+  With shadows of palm, and shining sands,
+  Where the tumbling surf
+  O'er the coral reefs of Madagascar,
+  Washes the feet of the swarthy 'Lascar.'--"
+
+
+It was but the next day, and Eleanor was sitting as usual on deck
+looking over the waters in a lovely bright morning, when a sound was
+heard which almost stopped her heart's beating for a moment. It was the
+cry, rung out from the mast-head, "Land, ho!"
+
+"Where is it?" she said to the captain, who was behind her. "I do not
+see it anywhere."
+
+"You will see it in a little while. Wait a bit. If you could go aloft I
+could shew it you now."
+
+"What land? do you know?"
+
+"Australia--the finest land the sun shines upon!"
+
+"I suppose you mean, besides England."
+
+"No, I don't, begging your pardon. England is very well for those who
+can take the ripe side of the cherry; poorer folks had better come
+here, if they want any chance at all."
+
+The lucky sailor was coming down from the mast-head, and the captain
+went off to join those who were giving him sundry rewarding tokens of
+their joy for his news. Eleanor looked over the waste of waters
+eastward, feeling as if her breath had been taken away.
+
+So much of her journey done! The rest seemed, and was, but little.
+Australia was almost--_home_. And what sort of a home? And could Mr.
+Rhys possibly be at Sydney to meet her? Eleanor knew he could not; yet
+the physical possibility would assert itself in spite of all the
+well-allowed moral impossibility. But at any rate at Sydney she would
+find letters; at Sydney she would find, perhaps very soon, the means of
+making the remainder of her voyage; at Sydney she could no longer
+prevent herself from _thinking_. Eleanor had staved off thought all the
+way by wisely saying and insisting to herself "Time enough when I get
+to Sydney." Yes; she was nearing home now. So deep, so engrossing, were
+her meditations and sensations, that Mr. Amos who had come up to
+congratulate her on the approaching termination of the voyage, spoke to
+her once and again without being heard. He could not see her face, but
+the little straw bonnet was as motionless as if its wearer had been in
+a dream. He smiled and went away.
+
+Then appeared on the distant horizon somewhat like a low blue cloud,
+which gathered distinctness and strength of outline by degrees. It was
+the land, beyond doubt; the coast of New Holland itself, as the captain
+informed Eleanor; and going on and passing through Bass's Strait the
+vessel soon directed her course northward. Little remained then before
+reaching port.
+
+It was under a fair and beautiful sunlight morning that they were at
+last approaching Sydney. Mr. Amos was on deck as well as Eleanor, the
+captain standing with them; for a pilot had come on board; the captain
+had given up his charge, and was in command no longer. Before the
+watching three stretched a low unpromising shore of sandstone cliffs
+and sand.
+
+"It is good to see it," said Mr. Amos; "but in this first view it don't
+shew for much."
+
+"Don't shew for anything," said Captain Fox. "Wait till we get inside
+the Heads. It don't shew for anything; but it's the most glorious land
+the sun shines on!"
+
+"In what particular respects?" said Mr. Amos.
+
+"In every respect of making a living and enjoying it," said the
+captain. "That makes a good land, don't it?"
+
+Mr. Amos allowed that it did.
+
+"It's the most beautiful country, if you come to that," Captain Fox
+went on;--"that's what Miss Powle thinks of. I wish this was Melbourne
+we were coming to, instead of Sydney. I'd like to have her look at it."
+
+"Better than this?" said Mr. Amos, for Eleanor was silent.
+
+"A better colony, for beauty and riches," said the captain. "It's the
+most glorious country, sir, you ever saw! hundreds of square miles of
+it are as handsome as a duke's park; and good for something, which a
+duke's park ain't. There's a great tract of country up round Mt.
+Macedon--thirty or forty miles back into the land--its softly rolling
+ground without a stone on it, as nice as ever you saw; and spotted with
+the trees they call she-oaks--beautiful trees; and they don't grow in a
+wood, but just stand round in clumps and ones or twos here and there,
+like a picture; and then through the openings in the ground you can see
+miles off more of just the same, till it gets blue in the distance; and
+mountains beyond all. And when you put here and there a flock of
+thousands of sheep spotting the country with their white backs--I ain't
+poetical, sir, but I tell you! when I saw that country first, I thought
+maybe I was; but it's likely I was mistaken," said the captain
+laughing, "for the fit has never come back since. Miss Powle thinks
+there's as much poetry in the water as on the land."
+
+Still Eleanor did not move to answer; and Mr. Amos, perhaps for her
+sake, went on.
+
+"What is it that country is so good for? gold? or sheep?"
+
+"Sheep, sir, sheep! the gold grows in another part. There's enough of
+that too; but I'd as lieve make my money some other way. Victoria is
+the country for wool-growing, sir. I've a brother there--Stephen
+Fox--he went with little more than nothing; and now he has a flock of
+sheep--well, I'm afraid to say how many; but I know he needs and uses a
+tract of twelve thousand acres of land for them."
+
+"That is being a pretty large land-owner, as well as sheep-owner," Mr.
+Amos said with a smile.
+
+"O he don't own it. That wouldn't do, you know. The interest of the
+money would buy all the wool on his sheep's backs."
+
+"How then?"
+
+"He has the use of it,--that's all. Don't you know how they work it? He
+pays a license fee to Government for the privilege of using the land
+for a year--wherever he pitches upon a place; then he stocks it, and
+goes on occupying by an annual license fee, until he has got too many
+neighbours and the land is getting all taken up in his neighbourhood.
+Then some one comes along who has money and don't want the plague of a
+new settlement; and he sells off his stock and claim to him, packs up
+his traps, pokes off through the bush with his compass till he has
+found a new location somewhere; then he comes back, pays a new license
+fee, and stocks the new place with flocks and shepherds and begins
+again. And I never saw in my life anything so fine as one of those
+Victoria sheep or cattle farms."
+
+"Why don't you go into it?"
+
+"Well--it's best to divide the business just now. I can be of use to
+Stephen and he can be of use to me. And I'm a little of this lady's
+opinion."
+
+"How is it in this colony we are coming to?"
+
+"Well, they are very prosperous; it's a good place to get rich. They
+have contrived to get along with their gold mines without ruining every
+other interest, as the other colonies have done for a time. But I think
+Victoria is the queen of them all; Victoria sends home more wool than
+either of the others; and she has gold, and she has other mines;
+different. She has copper equal to Burla-Burra--and she has coal,
+within a few miles of Melbourne, and other things; but the coal is a
+great matter here, you see."
+
+The ship all the while was rapidly approaching the Heads, which mark,
+and make, the entrance to the harbour of Port Jackson. They assumed
+more dignity of elevation and feature as they were nearer seen; the
+rocks rising some two or three hundred feet high, with the sea foaming
+at their foot. Passing swiftly onward, the vessel by and by doubled
+Bradley's Head, and the magnificent sheet of water that forms the
+harbour was suddenly revealed to the strangers' gaze. Full of islands,
+full of sailing craft, bordered with varying shores of "promontory,
+creek, and bay," pleasantly wooded, and spotted along its woody shores
+with spots of white that marked where people had pretty country homes,
+the quiet water glittering in the light; the view to the sea-tossed
+travellers was nothing short of enchanting. Mrs. Amos had come on deck,
+though scarce able to stand; a quiet, gentle, sweet-looking person; her
+eyes were full of tears now. Her husband's arm was round her,
+supporting her strength that she might keep up; his face was moved and
+grave. Eleanor was afraid to shew anybody her face; yet it was
+outwardly in good order enough; she felt as if her heart would never
+get back to its accustomed beat. She sat still, breathlessly drinking
+in the scene, rejoicing and trembling at once. She heard Mrs. Amos's
+softly whispered, "Praise the Lord!--" and her husband's firm "Amen!"
+It had like to have overset her. She pressed her hands tight together
+to keep her heart still.
+
+"They know we are coming," said the captain.
+
+"Who?" said Eleanor quickly.
+
+Mr. Amos pressed his wife's arm; the captain's eyes twinkled.
+
+"Is there anybody there on the look-out for you?" he asked.
+
+"I suppose there may be," said Eleanor calmly.
+
+"Well, he bas got notice then, some hours ago," said the captain. "The
+pilot telegraphed to the South Head, and from the South Head the news
+has gone all over Sydney and Paramatta. Pretty good-looking city, is
+Sydney."
+
+It was far more than that. It had been the point of the travellers'
+attention for some time. From the water up, one height above another,
+the white buildings of the town rose and spread; a white city; with
+forts and windmills, and fair looking country seats in its
+neighbourhood.
+
+"Where is Paramatta?" said Eleanor, "and what is it?"
+
+"It's a nice little pleasure place, up the Paramatta river; fifteen
+miles above Sydney. Fine scenery; it's as good as going to Richmond,"
+added the captain.
+
+"What is that splendid large white building?" Mrs. Amos asked, "on the
+hill?"
+
+"No great things of a hill," said the captain. "That's the
+Government-house. Nice gardens and pleasure grounds there too."
+
+"How beautiful it is!" said Mrs. Amos almost with a sigh.
+
+"It is almost like a Scottish lake!" said her husband. "I remember one
+that this scene reminds me of at this moment."
+
+"A little of this is worth all Scotland," said the captain. "There's
+pretty much everything here that a man wants--and not hard to come by,
+either. O you'll stay in Sydney! why shouldn't you? There's people
+enough here that want teaching, worse than the savages. I declare, I
+think they do."
+
+"Somebody else will have to teach them," said Mr. Amos. "What an array
+of ships and sails of all sorts! This gives one an idea of the business
+of the place."
+
+"Business, and growing business," said the captain. "Sydney is getting
+ahead as fast as it can."
+
+"How sweet the air is!" said Eleanor.
+
+"Ay!" said the captain. "Now you smell green things again. I'll wager
+you won't want to put to sea any more, after you once get a firm foot
+on land. Why this is the very place for you. Enough to do, and every
+luxury a man need want, at hand when your work is done."
+
+"When is one's work done?" said Eleanor.
+
+"I should say, when one has worked enough and got what one is after,"
+said the captain. "That's my idea. I never was for working till I
+couldn't enjoy."
+
+"What are we after? do you think--" said Eleanor looking round at him.
+
+"What everybody else is!" the captain answered somewhat shortly.
+
+"Luxury, namely?"
+
+"Yes! it comes to that. Everybody is seeking happiness in his own way;
+and when he has got it, then it is luxury."
+
+Eleanor only looked at him; she did not say anything further, and
+turned again to the contemplation of the scene they had in view. The
+captain bustled off and was gone a few minutes.
+
+"I wish you'd sing, sister Powle," said Mr. Amos in that interval.
+
+"Do!" said his wife. "Please do!"
+
+Whether Eleanor was precisely in a singing mood or no, she began as
+desired. Mr. Amos joined her, in somewhat subdued tones, and Mrs. Amos
+gave a still gentler seconding; while the rich notes of her own voice
+filled the air; so mellow that their full power was scarcely
+recognized; so powerful that the mellow sound seemed to fill the ship's
+rigging. The sailors moved softly. They were accustomed to that music.
+All the way out, on every Sunday service or any other that was held,
+Eleanor had served for choir to the whole company, joined by here and
+there a rough voice that broke in as it could, and just backed by Mr.
+Amos's steady support. There was more than one in that ship's company
+to whom memory would never cease to bring a reminder that 'there is
+balm in Gilead;' for some reason or other that was one of Eleanor's
+favourite songs. Now she gave another--sweet, clear, and wild;--the
+furthest-off sailors stood still to hearken. They had heard it often
+enough to know what the words were.
+
+
+"O who's like Jesus! From sins and fears he frees us. He died for you,
+He died for me, He died to set poor sinners free. O who's like Jesus!"
+
+
+The chorus floated all over after each verse of the hymn was ended; it
+went clear to the ship's bows; but Eleanor sat quite still in her old
+position, clasping her hands fast on the rail and not moving her head.
+During the singing the captain came back and stood behind them
+listening; while people on the vessels that they passed, suspended
+their work and looked up to hear. Just as the singing was finished, a
+little boat was seen swiftly coming alongside; and in another minute
+they were boarded by the gentleman who had been its solitary passenger.
+The captain turned to meet him. He was a man rather under middle size,
+black hair curling all round his head, eyes quick and bright, and whole
+appearance handsome at once and business-like. He came forward briskly,
+and so he spoke.
+
+"Have you got anybody here that belongs to me?" he said. "Captain, is
+there a Miss Powle on board of your ship?"
+
+Captain Fox silently stepped on one side and made a motion of his hand
+towards Eleanor. Eleanor hearing herself called, slowly rose and faced
+the new-comer. There was a second's pause, as the two confronted each
+other; then the gentleman bowed very low and advanced to touch the
+lady's hand, which however when he touched he held.
+
+"Is this Miss Powle? Miss _Eleanor_ Powle?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I am honoured in having such a cousin! I hope you have heard somebody
+speak of a Mr. Esthwaite in these parts?"
+
+"I have heard Mrs. Caxton speak of Mr. Esthwaite--very often."
+
+"All right!" said the gentleman letting go Eleanor's hand. "Identity
+proved. Captain, I am going to take charge of this lady. Will you see
+that her luggage, personal effects and so on, are brought on
+deck?"--then turning to Eleanor with real deference and cordiality in
+his manner, he went on,--"Mrs. Esthwaite is longing to see you. It is
+such a pleasure to have a cousin come from England, as you can but
+feebly appreciate; she hopes to learn the new fashions from you, and
+all that sort of thing; and she has been dressing your room with
+flowers, I believe, for these three months past. If you please, we will
+not wait for the ship's slow motions, but I will carry you straight to
+land in my boat; and glad you will be! Will you signify your assent to
+this arrangement?--as I perceive the captain is a servant of yours and
+will do nothing without you bid him."
+
+"Thank you," said-Eleanor,--"I will go with you;--but what will be done
+with all my boxes in the hold?" This enquiry was addressed to the
+captain.
+
+"Don't you fear anything," said Mr. Esthwaite, "now you have overcome
+so many troubles and got to this haven of rest. We will take care of
+your boxes. I suppose you have brought enough to stock the whole
+Navigator's group--or Fiji, is it, you are going to? I would go to any
+other one rather--but never mind; the boxes shall be stored; and maybe
+you'll unpack them here after all. Captain, what about that luggage?--"
+
+Eleanor went down to give directions, and presently came on deck again,
+all ready to go ashore. There was a little delay on account of the
+baggage; and meanwhile Mr. Esthwaite was introduced to Mr. and Mrs.
+Amos.
+
+"I am very much obliged to you for taking care of this cousin of mine,"
+he said to them. "I am sure she is worth taking care of. And now I
+should like to take care of you in turn. Will you go to my house, and
+make us happy?"
+
+They explained that they were going elsewhere.
+
+"Well, come and see her then; for she will be wanting to see somebody.
+We will do the best for her we can; but still--you know--absent friends
+have the best claim. By the way! didn't I hear some sweet Methodist
+singing as I came up? was it on this ship? You haven't got any
+Methodists on board, captain; have you?"
+
+"I've been one myself, this voyage!" said the captain.
+
+"I wouldn't," said Mr. Esthwaite. "The Church service is the only one
+to be used at sea. Every other sounds--I don't know how--incompatible.
+There is something in the gentle swell of the rolling waves, and in the
+grandeur of the horizon, that calls for the finest form of words
+mortals could put together; and when you have got such a form, why not
+use it?"
+
+"You did not like the form of the singing then?" said Mr. Amos smiling.
+
+"No," said Mr. Esthwaite drily,--"it struck me that if there had been a
+cathedral roof over it, one of those voices would have lifted the
+rafters and gone on; and that would not have been reverential, you
+know. Now, my young cousin!--"
+
+"Mr. Amos," said Eleanor aside to him and colouring deeply, "if there
+are any letters for me at the house where you are going, or at the
+post-office, will you send them to me?"
+
+"I will certainly make it my care, and bring them to you myself."
+
+"I'll send for anything you want," said Mr. Esthwaite. "What's that?
+letters? We'll get all there is in Sydney, and there is a good deal,
+waiting for this young lady. I've had one floor of my warehouse half
+full for some months back already. No use of it for myself."
+
+At last they got off; and it was not quickly, for Eleanor had to give a
+good bye to everybody on board. Mr. Esthwaite looked on smiling, until
+he was permitted to hand her down the vessel's side, and lodged her in
+the wherry.
+
+"Now you are out of the ship," said he looking keenly at her. "Aren't
+you glad?"
+
+"I have some good friends in her," said Eleanor.
+
+"Friends! I should think so. Those were salt tears that were shed for
+your coming away. Positively, I don't think a man of them could see
+clear to take his last look at you."
+
+Neither were Eleanor's feelings quite unmixed at this moment. She
+expected to see Mr. and Mrs. Amos again; with the rest her intercourse
+was finished; and it had been of that character which leaves longing
+and tender memories behind. She felt all that now. And she felt much
+more. With the end of her voyage in the "Diana" came, at least for the
+present, an end to her inward tranquillity. Now there were letters
+awaiting her; letters for which she had wished nervously so long; now
+she was near Fiji and her new life; now she dared to realize, she could
+not help it, what all the voyage she had refused to think of, as still
+in a hazy distance of the future. Here it was, nigh at hand, looming up
+through the haze, taking distinctness and proportions; and Eleanor's
+heart was in a state of agitation to which that sound little member was
+very little accustomed. However, the outward effect of all this was to
+give her manner even an unwonted degree of cool quietness; and Mr.
+Esthwaite was in a state between daunted and admiring. Both of them
+kept silence for a little while after leaving the ship, while the
+wherry pulled along in the beautiful bay, passing among a crowd of
+vessels of all sorts and descriptions, moving and still. The scene was
+lively, picturesque, pleasant, in the highest degree.
+
+"How does my cousin like us on a first view?"
+
+"It is a beautiful scene!" said Eleanor. "What a great variety of
+vessels are here!"
+
+"And isn't this just the finest harbour in the world?"
+
+"I have heard a great deal of Port Philip," said Eleanor smiling. "I
+understand there is a second Bay of Naples there."
+
+"I don't care for the Bay of Naples! We have sunk all that. We are in a
+new world. Wait till you see what I will shew you to-morrow. Now look
+at that wooded point, with the white houses spotting it; those are fine
+seats; beautiful view and all that; and at Sydney you can have
+everything you want, almost at command."
+
+"You know," said Eleanor, "that is not absolutely a new experience to
+me. In England, we have not far to seek."
+
+"O you say so! Much you know about it. You have been in such a nest of
+a place as my cousin Caxton spreads her wings over. I never was in a
+nest, till I made one for myself. How is my good cousin?"
+
+The talk ran upon home things now until they reached the town and
+landed at a fine stone quay. Then to the Custom House, where business
+was easily despatched; then Mr. Esthwaite put Eleanor into a cab and
+they drove away through the streets for his house in the higher part of
+the city. Eleanor's eyes were full of business. How strange it was! So
+far away from home, and so long living on the sea, now on landing to be
+greeted by such a multitude of familiar sounds and sights. The very cab
+she was driving in; the omnibuses and carts they passed; the
+English-cut faces; the same street cries; the same trades revealing
+themselves, as she had been accustomed to in London. But now and then
+there came a difference of Australasia. There would be a dray drawn by
+three or four pair of bullocks; London streets never saw that turn-out;
+and then Eleanor would start at seeing a little group of the natives of
+the country, dressed in English leavings of costume. Those made her
+feel where she was; otherwise the streets and houses and shops had very
+much of a home air. Except indeed when a curious old edifice built of
+logs peeped in among white stone fronts and handsome shop windows; the
+relics, Mr. Esthwaite told her, of that not so very far distant time
+when the town first began to grow up, and the "bush" covered almost all
+the ground now occupied by it. Eleanor was well pleased to be so busied
+in looking out that she had little leisure for talking; and Mr.
+Esthwaite sat by and smiled in satisfaction. But this blessed immunity
+could not last. The cab stopped before a house in George street.
+
+"Has she come?" exclaimed a voice as the door opened; and a head full
+of curls put itself out into the hall;--"have you brought her? Oh how
+delightful! How glad I am!--" and the owner of the curls came near to
+be introduced, hardly waiting for the introduction, and to give Eleanor
+the most gleeful sort of a welcome.
+
+"And she was on that ship, the 'Diana,' Egbert? how nice! Just as you
+thought; and I was so afraid it was nothing but another disappointment.
+I was afraid to look out when the cab came. Now come up stairs, cousin
+Eleanor, and I will take you to your room. You must be tired to death,
+are you not?"
+
+"Why should I?" said Eleanor as she tripped up stairs after her
+hostess. "I have done nothing for four months."
+
+"Look here!" shouted Mr. Esthwaite from the hall--"Louisa, don't stop
+to talk over the fashions now--it is dinner-time. How soon will you be
+down?"--
+
+"Don't mind him," said pretty Mrs. Esthwaite, leading the way into a
+light pleasant room overlooking the bay;--"sit down and rest yourself.
+Would you like anything before you dress? Now just think you are at
+home, will you? It's too delightful to have you here!"
+
+Eleanor went to the window, which overlooked a magnificent view of the
+harbour. Very oddly, the thought in her mind at that moment was, how
+soon an opportunity could be found for her to make the rest of her
+voyage. Scarce landed, she wanted to see the means of getting away
+again. Her way she saw, over the harbour; where was her conveyance?
+While she stood looking, her new-found cousin was considering her; the
+erect beautiful figure, in all the simplicity of its dress; the close
+little bonnet with chocolate ribbands, the fine grave face under it,
+lastly the little hand which rested on the back of the chair, for
+Eleanor's sea-glove was off. And a certain awe grew up in Mrs.
+Esthwaite's mind.
+
+"Cousin Eleanor," said she, "shall I leave you to dress? Dinner will be
+ready presently, and Egbert will be impatient, I know, till you come
+down stairs again."
+
+"Thank you. I will be but a few minutes. How beautiful this is! O how
+beautiful,--to my eyes that have seen no beauty but sea beauty for so
+long. And the air is so good."
+
+"I am glad you like it. Is it prettier than England?"
+
+"Prettier than England!" Eleanor looked round smiling. "Nothing could
+be that."
+
+"Well I didn't know. Mr. Esthwaite is always running down England, you
+see, and I don't know how much of it he means. I came away when I was
+so little, I don't remember anything of course--"
+
+Here came such a shout of "Louisa!--Louisa!"--from below, that Mrs.
+Esthwaite laughing was obliged to obey it and go, and Eleanor was left.
+There was not much time then for anything; yet a minute Eleanor was
+held at the window by the bay with its wooded shores and islands
+glittering in the evening light; then she turned from it to pray, for
+her heart needed strength, and a great sense of loneliness had suddenly
+come over her. Fighting this feeling, and dressing, both eagerly, in a
+little time she was ready to descend and encounter Mr. Esthwaite and
+dinner.
+
+An encounter it was to Mr. Esthwaite. He had put himself in very
+careful order; though that, to do him justice, was an habitual weakness
+of his; and he met his guest when she appeared with a bow of profound
+recognition and appreciation. Yet Eleanor was only in the simplest of
+all white dresses; without lace or embroidery. No matter. The rich hair
+was in perfect arrangement; the fine figure and fine carriage in their
+unconscious ease were more imposing than anything pretentious can ever
+be, even to such persons as Mr. Esthwaite. He measured his young guest
+correctly and at once. His wife took the measure of Eleanor's gown
+meanwhile, and privately studied what it was that made it so graceful;
+a problem she had not solved when they sat down to dinner.
+
+The dinner was sumptuous, and well served. Mr. Esthwaite took delight
+evidently in playing his part of host, and some pride both housekeeping
+and patriotic in shewing to Eleanor all the means he had to play it
+with. The turtle soup he declared was good, though she might have seen
+better; the fish from Botany Bay, the wild fowl from the interior, the
+game of other kinds from the Hunter river, he declared she could not
+have known surpassed anywhere. Then the vegetables were excellent; the
+potatoes from Van Dieman's Land, were just better than all others in
+the world; and the dessert certainly in its abundance of treasures
+justified his boasting that Australia was a grand country for anybody
+that liked fruit. The growth of the tropics and of the cooler latitudes
+of England met together in confusion of beauty and sweetness on Mr.
+Esthwaite's table. There were oranges and pineapples on one hand,
+peaches, plums, melons, from the neighbouring country; with all sorts
+of English-grown fruits from Van Dieman's Land; gooseberries, pears and
+grapes. Native wines also he pressed on his guest, assuring her that
+some of them were as good as Sauterne, and others very fair claret and
+champagne. Eleanor took the wines on credit; for the rest, her eyes
+enabled her to give admiration where her taste fell short. And
+admiration was expected of her. Mr. Esthwaite was in a great state of
+satisfaction, having very much to do in the admiring way himself.
+
+"Did Louisa keep you up stairs to begin upon the fashions?" said he, as
+he pulled a pineapple to pieces.
+
+"I see you have very little appreciation of that subject," said Eleanor.
+
+"Yes!" said Mrs. Esthwaite,--"just ask him whether he thinks it
+important that _his_ clothes should be cut in the newest pattern, and
+how many good hats he has thrown away because he got hold of something
+new that he liked better. Just ask him! He never will hear me."
+
+"I am going to ask her something," said Mr. Esthwaite. "See here;--you
+are not going to those savage and inhospitable islands, are you?"
+
+Eleanor's smile and answer were as cool as if her whole nature had not
+been in a stir of excitement.
+
+"What in the world do _you_ expect to do there?" said her host with a
+strong tone of disapprobation. "'Wasting sweetness on the desert air'
+is nothing to it; this is positive desecration!"
+
+Eleanor let the opinion pass, and eat the pineapple which he gave her
+with an apparently unimpaired relish.
+
+"You don't know what sort of a place it is!" he insisted.
+
+"I cannot know, I suppose, without going."
+
+"Suppose you stay here," said Mr. Esthwaite; "and we'll send for
+anybody in the world you please! to make you comfortable. Seriously, we
+want good people in this colony; we have got a supply of all other
+sorts, but those are in a deficient minority."
+
+"In that case, I think everybody that stays here is bound to supply
+one."
+
+"See here--who is that gentleman that is so fortunate as to be
+expecting you? what is his name?"
+
+"Mr. Esthwaite! for shame!" said his wife. "I think you are a very
+presuming cousin."
+
+Mr. Esthwaite knew quite well that he was, but he smiled to himself
+with satisfaction to see the answer his question had called up into
+Eleanor's cheeks. The rich dye of crimson was pretty to behold; her
+words were delayed long enough to mark either difficulty of speaking or
+displeasure at the necessity for it. Mr. Esthwaite did not care which
+it was. At last Eleanor answered, with calm distinctness though without
+facing him.
+
+"Do you not know the name?"
+
+"I--I believe Mrs. Caxton must have mentioned it in one of her letters.
+She ought, and I think she did."
+
+An impatient throb of displeasure passed through Eleanor's veins. It
+did not appear. She said composedly, "The name is Rhys--it is a Welsh
+name--spelled R, h, y, s."
+
+"Hm! I remember. What sort of a man is he?"
+
+Eleanor looked up, fairly startled with the audacity of her host; and
+only replied gravely, "I am unable to say."
+
+Mr. Esthwaite at least had a sense of humour in him; for he smiled, and
+his lips kept pertinaciously unsteady for some time, even while he went
+on talking.
+
+"I mean--is he a man calculated for savage, or for civilized life?"
+
+"I hope so," said Eleanor wilfully.
+
+"Mr. Esthwaite! you astonish me!" said his wife.
+
+Mr. Esthwaite seemed however highly amused. "Do you know what savage
+life is?" he said to Eleanor. "It is not what you think. It is not a
+garden of roses, with a pineapple tucked away behind every bush. Now if
+you would come here--here is a grand opening. Here is every sort of
+work wanting you--and Mr. Rhys--whatever the line of his talents may
+be. We'll build him a church, and we'll go and hear him, and we'll make
+much of you. Seriously, if my good cousin had known what she was
+sending you to, she would have wished the 'Diana' should sink with you
+on board, rather than get to the end of her voyage. It is quite
+self-denial enough to come here--when one does not expect to gain
+anything by it."
+
+"Mr. Esthwaite! Egbert!" cried his wife. "Now you are caught!
+Self-denial to come here! That is what you mean by all your talk about
+the Colonies and England!"
+
+"Don't be--silly,--my dear," said her husband. "These people would
+think it so. I don't; but I am addressing myself to their prejudices.
+Self-denial is what they are after."
+
+"It is not what I am after," said Eleanor laughing. "I must break up
+your prejudices."
+
+"What are you after, then. Seriously, what are you going to those
+barbarous islands for--putting friendship and all such regards out of
+the question? Wheat takes you there,--without humbug? You must excuse
+me--but you are a very extraordinary person to look at,--as a
+missionary."
+
+Eleanor could hardly help laughing. She doubted whether or no this was
+a question to be answered; discerning a look of seriousness, as she
+thought, beneath the gleam in her host's eyes, she chose to run the
+risk of answering. She faced him, and them, as she spoke.
+
+"I love Jesus. And I love to do his work, wherever he gives it to me;
+or, as I am a woman and cannot do much, I am glad to help those who
+can."
+
+Mr. Esthwaite was put out a little. He had words on his lips that he
+did not speak; and piled Eleanor's plate with various fruit dainties,
+and drank one or two glasses of his Australian claret before he said
+anything more; an interval occupied by Eleanor in cooling down after
+her last speech, which had flushed her cheeks prodigiously.
+
+"That's a sort of work to be done anywhere," he said finally, as if
+Eleanor had but just spoken. "I am sure it can be done here, and much
+better for you. Now see here--I like you. Don't you suppose, if you
+were to try, you could persuade this Mr. Rhys to quit those regions of
+darkness and come and take the same sort of work at Sydney that he is
+doing there?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Seems decided!--" said Mr. Esthwaite humourously, looking towards his
+wife. "I am afraid this gentleman is a positive sort of character.
+Well!--there is no use in struggling against fate. My dear, take your
+cousin off and give her some coffee. I will be there directly."
+
+The ladies left him accordingly; and in the pretty drawing-room Mrs.
+Esthwaite plied Eleanor with questions relating to her voyage, her
+destination, and above all, the England of which she had heard so much
+and knew so little. Her curiosity was huge, and extended to the
+smallest of imaginable details; and one thing followed another with
+very little of congruous nature between them. And Eleanor answered, and
+related, and described, and the while thought--where her letters were?
+Nevertheless she gave herself kindly to her hostess's gratification,
+and patiently put her own by; and the evening ended with Mrs. Esthwaite
+being in a state of ecstatic delight with her new-found relation. Mr.
+Esthwaite had kept silence and played the part of listener for the
+larger portion of the evening, using his eyes and probably his judgment
+freely during that time. As they were separating, he asked Eleanor
+whether she could get up at six o'clock?
+
+Eleanor asked what for?
+
+"Do, for once; and I will take you a drive in the Domain."
+
+"What Domain? yours, do you mean?"
+
+"Not exactly. I have not got so far as that. No; it's the Government
+Domain--everybody rides and drives there, and almost everybody goes at
+six o'clock. It's worth going; botanical gardens, and all that sort of
+thing."
+
+Eleanor swiftly thought, that it was scarce likely Mr. Amos would have
+her letters for her, or at least bring them, so early as that; and she
+might as well indulge her host's fancy if not her own. She agreed to
+the proposal, and Mrs. Esthwaite went rejoicing with her to her room.
+
+"You'll like it," she said. "The botanical gardens are beautiful, and I
+dare say you will know a great deal more about them than I do. O it's
+delightful to have you here! I only cannot bear to think you must go
+away again."
+
+"You are very kind to me," said Eleanor gratefully. "My dear aunt
+Caxton will be made glad to know what friends I have found among
+strangers."
+
+"Don't speak about it!" said Mrs. Esthwaite, her eyes fairly glistening
+with earnestness. "I am sure if Egbert can do anything he will be too
+glad. Now won't you do just as if you were at home? I want you to be
+completely at home with us--now and always. You must feel very much the
+want of your old home in England! being so far from it, too."
+
+"Heaven is my home," said Eleanor cheerfully; "I do not feel the loss
+of England so much as you think. That other home always seems near."
+
+"Does it?" said Mrs. Esthwaite. "It seems such an immense way off, to
+me!"
+
+"I used to think so; but it is near to me now. So it does not so much
+matter whereabouts on the earth I am."
+
+"It must be nice to feel so!" said Mrs. Esthwaite with an unconscious
+sigh.
+
+"Do you not feel so?" Eleanor asked.
+
+"O no. I do not know anything about it. I am not good--like you."
+
+"It is not goodness--not my goodness--that makes heaven my home," said
+Eleanor smiling at her and taking her hands.
+
+"But I am sure you are good?" said Mrs. Esthwaite earnestly.
+
+"Just as you are,--except for the grace of God, which is free to all."
+
+"But," said Mrs. Esthwaite looking at her as if she were something
+hardly of earth like ordinary mortals,--"I have not given up the world
+as you have. I cannot. I like it too well."
+
+"I have not given it up either," said Eleanor smiling again; "not in
+the sense you mean. I have not given up anything but sin. I enjoy
+everything else in the world as much as you do."
+
+"What do you mean?" said Mrs. Esthwaite, much bewildered.
+
+"Only this," said Eleanor, with very sweet gravity now. "I do not love
+anything that my King hates. All that I have given up, and all that
+leads to it; but I am all the more free to enjoy everything that is
+really worth enjoying, quite as well as you can, or any body else."
+
+"But--you do not go to parties and dances, and you do not drink wine,
+and the theatre, and all that sort of thing; do you?"
+
+"I do not love anything that my King hates," said Eleanor shaking her
+head gently.
+
+"But dancing, and wine,--what harm is in them?"
+
+"Think what they lead to!--"
+
+"Well wine--excuse me, I know so little about these things! and I want
+to know what you think;--wine, I know, if people will drink too
+much,--but what harm is in dancing?"
+
+"None that I know of," said Eleanor,--"if it were always suited to
+womanly delicacy, and if it took one into the society of those that
+love Christ--or helped one to witness for him before those who do not."
+
+"Well, I will tell you the truth," said Mrs. Esthwaite with a sort of
+penitent laugh,--"I love dancing."
+
+"Ay, but I love Christ," said Eleanor; "and whatever is not for his
+honour I am glad to give up. It is no cross to me. I used to like some
+things too; but now I love Him; and his will is my will."
+
+"Ah, that is what I said! you are good, that is the reason. I can't
+help doing wrong things, even if I want to do it ever so much, and when
+I know they are wrong; and I shouldn't like to give up anything."
+
+"Listen," said Eleanor, holding her hands fast. "It is not that I am
+good. It is that I love Jesus and he helps me. I cannot do anything of
+myself--I cannot give up anything--but I trust in my Lord and he does
+it for me. It is he that does all in me that you would call good."
+
+"Ah, but you love him."
+
+"Should I not?" said Eleanor, "when he loved me, and gave himself for
+me, that he might bring me from myself and sin to know him and be
+happy."
+
+"And you are happy, are you not?" said Mrs. Esthwaite, looking at her
+as if it were something that she had come to believe against evidence.
+There was good evidence for it now, in Eleanor's smile; which would
+bear studying.
+
+"There is nothing but happiness where Christ is."
+
+"But I couldn't understand it--those places where you are going are so
+dreadful;--and why you should go there at all--"
+
+"No, you do not understand, and cannot till you try it. I have such joy
+in the love of Christ sometimes, that I wish for nothing so much in the
+world, as to bring others to know what I know!"
+
+There was power in the lighting face, which Mrs. Esthwaite gazed at and
+wondered.
+
+"I think I am willing to go anywhere and do anything, which my King may
+give me, in that service."
+
+"To be sure," said Mrs. Esthwaite, as if adding a convincing corollary
+from her own mind,--"you have some other reason to wish to get
+there--to the Islands, I mean."
+
+That brought a flood of crimson over Eleanor's face; she let go her
+hostess's hands and turned away.
+
+"But there was something else I wanted to ask," said Mrs. Esthwaite
+hastily. "Egbert said--Are you very tired, my dear?"
+
+"Not at all, I assure you."
+
+"Egbert said there was some most beautiful singing as he came up
+alongside the ship to-day--was it you?"
+
+"In part it was I."
+
+"He said it was hymns. Won't you sing me one?"
+
+Eleanor liked it very well; it suited her better than talking. They sat
+down together, and Eleanor sang:
+
+
+  "'There's balm in Gilead,
+  To make the wounded whole.
+  There's power enough in Jesus
+  To save a sin-sick soul.'"
+
+
+And somewhat to her surprise, before the hymn had gone far, her
+companion was weeping; and kept her face hidden in her handkerchief
+till the last words were sung.
+
+
+  "'Come then to this physician;
+  His help he'll freely give.
+  He asks no hard condition,--
+  'Tis only, look, and live.
+  For there's balm in Gilead,
+  To make the wounded whole.
+  There's power enough in Jesus
+  To save a sin-sick soul.'"
+
+
+"I never heard anything so sweet in all my life!" said Mrs. Esthwaite
+as she got up and wiped her eyes. "I've been keeping you up. But do
+tell me," said she looking at her innocently,--"are all Methodists like
+you?"
+
+"No," said Eleanor laughing; and then she was vexed at herself that the
+laugh changed to a sob and the tears came. Was _she_ hysterical? It was
+very unlike her, but this seemed something like it. Neither could she
+immediately conquer the strangling sensation, between laughter and
+crying, which threatened her.
+
+"My dear! I'm very sorry," said Mrs. Esthwaite. "You are too
+tired!--and it is my fault. Egbert will be properly angry with me."
+
+But Eleanor conquered the momentary oppression, threw off her tears,
+and gave her hostess a peaceful kiss for good night; with which the
+little lady went off comforted. Then Eleanor sat down by her window,
+and with tears wet on her eyelashes yet, looked off to the beautiful
+moonlit harbour in the distance--and thought. Her thoughts were her
+own. Only some of them had a reference to certain words that speak of
+"sowing beside all waters," and a tender earnest remembrance of the
+seed she had just been scattering. "Beside all waters"--yes; and as
+Eleanor looked over towards the fair, peace-speaking view of Port
+Jackson, in New South Wales, she recollected the prayer that labourers
+might be sent forth into the vineyard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+IN VIEWS.
+
+
+  "Know well, my soul, God's hand controls
+  Whate'er thou fearest;
+  Round Him in calmest music rolls
+  Whate'er thou hearest."
+
+
+"That girl is the most lovely creature!" said Mrs. Esthwaite when she
+rejoined her husband.
+
+"What have you been talking to her about? Now she will not be up in
+time to take a drive in the Domain."
+
+"Yes, she will. She has got plenty of spirit. But oh, Egbert! to think
+of that girl going to put herself in those savage islands, where she
+won't see anybody!"
+
+"It is absurd?" said her husband, but somewhat faintly.
+
+"I couldn't but think to-night as I looked at her--you should have seen
+her.--Something upset her and set her to crying; then she wouldn't cry;
+and the little white hand she brushed across her eyes and then rested
+on the chair-back to keep herself steady--I looked at it, and I
+couldn't bear to think of her going to teach those barbarians. And her
+eyes were all such a glitter with tears and her feelings--I've fallen
+in love with her, Egbert."
+
+"She's a magnificent creature," said Mr. Esthwaite. "Wouldn't she set
+Sydney a fire, if she was to be here a little while! But somebody has
+been beforehand with Sydney--so it's no use talking."
+
+Eleanor was ready in good time for the drive, and with spirits entirely
+refreshed by the night's sleep and the morning's renewing power. Things
+looked like new things, unlike those which yesterday saw. All feeling
+of strangeness and loneliness was gone; her spirits were primed for
+enjoyment. Mr. and Mrs. Esthwaite both watched eagerly to see the
+effect of the drive and the scene upon her; one was satisfied, the
+other was not. The intent delight in Eleanor's eyes escaped Mrs.
+Esthwaite; she looked for more expression in words; her husband was
+content that Eleanor's mind was full of what he gave it to act upon.
+The Domain was an exquisite place for a morning drive; and the more
+stylish inhabitants of Sydney found it so; there was a good display of
+equipages, varying in shew and pretension. To Mrs. Esthwaite's
+disappointment neither these nor their owners drew Eleanor's attention;
+she did not even seem to see them; while the flowers in the woods
+through which part of the drive was cut, the innumerable, gorgeous,
+novel and sweet flowers of a new land, were a very great delight to
+her. All of them were new, or nearly so; how Eleanor contrasted them
+with the wild things of Plassy which she knew so well. And instead of
+the blackbird and green wren, there were birds of brilliant hues,
+almost as gay as the flowers over which their bright wings went, and
+yet stranger than they. It was a sort of drive of enchantment to
+Eleanor; the air was delightful, though warm; with no feeling of
+lassitude or oppression resulting from the heat.
+
+There were other pleasures. From point to point, as they drove through
+the "bush," views opened upon them of the harbour and its islands,
+glittering in the morning sun. Changes of beauty; for every view was a
+little unlike the others and revealed the loveliness with a difference.
+Eleanor felt herself in a new world. She was quite ready for the
+gardens, when they got through the "bush."
+
+The gardens were fine. Here she had a feast which neither of her
+companions could enjoy with her in anything like fellowship. Eleanor
+had not lived so long with Mrs. Caxton, entering into all her pursuits,
+without becoming somewhat well acquainted with plants; and now she was
+almost equally charmed at seeing her dear old home friends, and at
+making acquaintance with the glorious beauties that outshone them but
+could never look so kindly. Slowly Eleanor went through the gardens,
+followed by her host and hostess who took their enjoyment in observing
+her. In the Botanical Gardens Mr. Esthwaite came up alongside again, to
+tell her names and discuss specimens; he found Eleanor knew more about
+them than he did.
+
+"All this was a wild 'bush'--nothing but rocks and trees, a few years
+ago," he remarked.
+
+"_This?_ this garden?"
+
+"Yes, only so long ago as 1825."
+
+"Somebody has deserved well of the community, then," said Eleanor. "It
+is a delicious place."
+
+"General Sir Ralph Darling had that good desert. It is a fine thing to
+be in high place and able to execute great plans; isn't it?"
+
+Eleanor rose up from a flower and gave Mr. Esthwaite one of her
+thoughtful glances.
+
+"I don't know," she said. "His gardeners did the work, after all."
+
+"They don't get the thanks."
+
+"_That_ is not what one works for," said Eleanor smiling. "So the thing
+is done--what matter?"
+
+"If it _isn't_ done,--what matter? No, no! I want to get the good of
+what I do,--in praise or in something else."
+
+"What is Sir Ralph Darling the better of my thanks now?"
+
+"Well, he's dead!" said Mr. Esthwaite.
+
+"So I was thinking."
+
+"Well, what do you mean? Do you mean that you would do nothing while
+you are alive, for fear you would not hear of it after you have left
+the world?"
+
+"Not exactly."
+
+"What then? I don't know what you are after."
+
+"You say this was all a wilderness a few years ago--why should you
+despair of what you call the 'black islands?'"
+
+"O ho!" said Mr. Esthwaite,--"we are there, are we? By a hop, skip, and
+jump--leaving the argument. That's like a woman."
+
+"Are you sure?" said Eleanor.
+
+"Like all the women I ever saw. Not one of them can stick to the point."
+
+"Then I will return to mine," said Eleanor laughing--"or rather bring
+you up to it. I referred--and meant to refer you--to another sort of
+gardening, in which the labourer receives wages and gathers fruit; but
+the beauty of it is, that his wages go with him--he does not leave them
+behind--and the fruit is unto life eternal."
+
+"That's fair," said Mr. Esthwaite. "See here--you don't preach, do you?"
+
+"I will not, to you," said Eleanor. "Mr. Esthwaite, I will look at no
+more flowers I believe, this morning, since you leave the time of our
+stay to me."
+
+Mr. Esthwaite behaved himself, and though a speech was on his tongue he
+was silent, and attended Eleanor home in an unexceptionable manner.
+Mrs. Esthwaite was in a dissatisfied mood of mind.
+
+"I hope it will be a great while before you find a good chance to go to
+Fiji!" she said.
+
+"Do not wish that," said Eleanor: "for in that case I may have to take
+a chance that is not good."
+
+"Ah but, you are not the sort of person to go there."
+
+"I should be very sorry to think that," said Eleanor smiling.
+
+"Well it is clear you are not. Just to look at you! I am sure you are
+exactly a person to look always as nice as you do now."
+
+"I hope never to look less nice than I do now," said Eleanor, rather
+opening her eyes.
+
+"What, in that place?"
+
+"Why yes, certainly. Why not?"
+
+"But you will not wear that flat there?"
+
+Eleanor and Mr. Esthwaite here both gave way in a fit of laughter.
+
+"Why yes I will; if I find it, as I suppose I shall, the most
+comfortable thing."
+
+"But you cannot wear white dresses there?"
+
+"If I cannot, I will submit to it, but, my dear cousin, I have brought
+little else but white dresses with me. For such a climate, what else is
+so good?"
+
+"Not like that you wore yesterday?"
+
+"They are all very much alike, I believe. What was the matter with
+that?"
+
+"Why, it was so--" Mrs. Esthwaite paused. "But how can you get them
+washed? do you expect to have servants there?"
+
+"There are plenty of servants, I believe; not very well trained,
+indeed, or it would not be necessary to have so many. At any rate, they
+can wash, whatever else they can do."
+
+"I don't believe they would know how to wash your dresses."
+
+"Then I can teach them," said Eleanor merrily.
+
+"_You!_ To wash a cambrick dress!"
+
+"That, or any other."
+
+"Eleanor, do not talk so!"
+
+"Certainly not, if you do not wish it. I was only putting you to rest
+on the score of my laundry work."
+
+"With those hands!" said Mrs. Esthwaite expressively.
+
+Eleanor looked down at her hands, for a moment a higher and graver
+expression flitted over her face, then she smiled again.
+
+"I should be ashamed of my hands if they were good for nothing."
+
+"Capital!" said Mr. Esthwaite. "That's what I like. That is what I call
+having spirit. I like to see a woman have some character of her own;
+something besides hands, in fact."
+
+"But Eleanor, I do not understand. I am serious. You never washed; how
+can you know how?"
+
+"That was precisely my reasoning; so I learned."
+
+"Learned to _wash?_ _You?"_
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You did it with your own hands?"
+
+"The dress you were so good as to approve," said Eleanor smiling, "it
+was washed and done up by myself."
+
+"Do you expect to have to do it for yourself?" said Mrs. Esthwaite
+looking intensely horrified.
+
+"No, not generally; but to teach somebody, or upon occasion, you know.
+You see," she said smiling again her full rich smile, "I am bent upon
+having my white dresses."
+
+Mrs. Esthwaite was too full for speech, and her husband looked at his
+new cousin with an eye of more absolute admiration than he had yet
+bestowed on her. Eleanor's thoughts were already on something else;
+springing forward to meet Mr. Amos and his letters.
+
+Breakfast was over however before he arrived. Much to her chagrin, she
+was obliged to receive him in the company of Mr. and Mrs. Esthwaite; no
+private talk was possible. Mr. Esthwaite engaged him immediately in an
+earnest but desultory conversation, about Sydney, Eleanor, and the
+mission, and the prospect of their getting to their destination; which
+Mr. Esthwaite prophesied would not be within any moderate limits of
+time. Mr. Amos owned that he had heard of no opportunity, near or far.
+The talk lasted a good while and it was not till he was taking leave
+that Eleanor contrived to follow him out and gain a word to herself.
+
+"There are no letters for you," said Mr. Amos, speaking under his
+breath, and turning a cheerful but concerned face towards Eleanor. "I
+have made every enquiry--at the post-office, and of everybody likely to
+know about such things. There are none, and they know of none."
+
+Eleanor said nothing; her face grew perceptibly white.
+
+"There is nothing the matter with brother Rhys," said Mr. Amos hastily;
+"we have plenty of news from him--all right--he is quite well, and for
+a year past has been on another station; different from the one he was
+on when you last heard from him. There is nothing the matter--only
+there are no letters for you; and there must be some explanation of
+that."
+
+He paused, but Eleanor was silent, only her colour returned a little.
+
+"We want to get away from here as soon as possible, I suppose," Mr.
+Amos went on half under breath; "but as yet I see no opening. It will
+come."
+
+"Yes," said Eleanor somewhat mechanically. "You will let me know--"
+
+"Certainly--as soon as I know anything myself; and I will continue to
+make enquiry for those letters. Mr. Armitage is away in the country--he
+might know something about them, but nobody else does; and he ought to
+have left them with somebody else if he had them. But there can be
+nothing wrong about it; there is only some mistake, or mischance; the
+letters from Vuliva where brother Rhys is, are quite recent and
+everything is going on most prosperously; himself included. And we are
+to proceed to the same station. I am very glad for ourselves and for
+you."
+
+"Thank you--" Eleanor said; but she was not equal to saying much. She
+listened quietly, and with her usual air, and Mr. Amos never discovered
+the work his tidings wrought; he told his wife, sister Powle looked a
+little blank, he thought, at missing her expected despatches, and no
+wonder. It was an awkward thing.
+
+Eleanor slowly made her way up to her room and sat down, feeling as if
+the foundations of the earth, to _her_ standing, had given way. She was
+more overwhelmed with dismay than she would have herself anticipated in
+England, if she could have looked forward to such a catastrophe. Reason
+said there was not sufficient cause; but poor Eleanor was to feel the
+truth of Mrs. Caxton's prediction, that she would find out again that
+certain feelings might be natural that were not reasonable. Nay, reason
+said on this occasion that the failure of letters proved too much to
+justify the distress she felt; it proved a combination of things, that
+no carelessness nor indifference nor unwillingness to write, on the
+part of Mr. Rhys, could possibly have produced. Let him feel how he
+would, he would have written, he _must_ have written to meet her there;
+all his own delicacy and his knowledge of hers affirmed and reaffirmed
+that letters were in existence somewhere, though it might be at the
+bottom of the ocean. Reason fought well; to what use, when nature
+trembled, and shivered, and shrank. Poor Eleanor! she felt alone now,
+without a mother and without shelter; and the fair shores of Port
+Jackson looked very strange and desolate to her; a very foreign land,
+far from home. What if Mr. Rhys, with his fastidious notions of
+delicacy, did not fancy so bold a proceeding as her coming out to him?
+what if he disapproved? What if, on further knowledge of the place and
+the work, he had judged both unfit for her; and did not, for his own
+sake only in a selfish point of view, choose to encourage her coming?
+in that case her being _come_ would make no difference; he would not
+shelter himself from a judgment displeasing to him, because the escape
+from its decisions was rendered easy. What if _for his own sake_ his
+feeling had changed, and he wanted her no longer? years had gone by
+since he had seen her; it must have been a wayward fancy that could
+ever have made him think of her at first; and now, about his grave work
+in a distant land, and with leisure to correct blunders of fancy,
+perhaps he had settled into the opinion that it was just as well that
+his coming away had separated them; and did not feel able to welcome
+her appearance in Australia, and was too sincere to write what he did
+not feel; so wrote nothing? Not very like Mr. Rhys, reason whispered;
+but reason's whisper, though heard, could not quiet the sensitive
+delicacy which trembled at doubt. So miserable, so chilled, so forlorn,
+Eleanor had never felt in her life; not when the 'Diana' first carried
+her away from the shores of her native land.
+
+What was she to do? that question throbbed at her heart; but it
+answered itself soon. Stay in Australia she could not; go home to
+England she could not; no, not upon this mere deficiency of testimony.
+There was only one alternative left; she must go on whenever Mr. and
+Mrs. Amos should move. Nature might tremble and quiver, and all
+Eleanor's nerves did; but there was no other course to pursue. "I can
+tell," she thought,--"I shall know--the first word, the first look,
+will tell me the whole; I cannot be deceived. I must go on and meet
+that word and look, whatever it costs me--I must; and then, if it
+is--if it is not satisfying to me, then aunt Caxton shall have me! I
+can go back, as well as I have come. Shame and misery would not hinder
+me--they would not be so bad as my staying here then."
+
+So the question of action was settled; but the question of feeling not
+so soon. Eleanor's enjoyment was gone, of all the things she had
+enjoyed those first twenty-four hours, and of all others which her
+entertainers brought forward for her pleasure. Yet Eleanor kept her own
+counsel, and as they did not know the cause she had for trouble, so
+neither did they discover any tokens of it. She did not withdraw
+herself from their kind efforts to please her, and they spared no
+pains. They took her in boat excursions round the beautiful harbour.
+They shewed her the pretty environs of the Parramatta river. Nay,
+though it was not very easy for him to leave his business, Mr.
+Esthwaite went with her and his wife to the beautiful Illawarra
+district; put the whole party on horses, and shewed Eleanor a land of
+tropical beauty under the clear, bracing, delicious warm weather of
+Australia. Fern trees springing up to the dimensions of trees indeed,
+with the very fern foliage she was accustomed to in low herbaceous
+growth at home; only magnified superbly. There were elegant palms, too,
+with other evergreens, and magnificent creepers; and floating out and
+in among them in great numbers were gay red-crested cockatoos and other
+tropical birds. The character of the scenery was exquisite. Eleanor saw
+one or two of the fair lake-like lagoons of that district, eat of the
+fish from them; for they made a kind of gypsey expedition, camping out
+and providing for themselves fascinatingly; and finally returned in the
+steamer from Wollongong to Sydney. Her friends would have taken her to
+see the gold diggings if it had been possible. But Eleanor saw it all,
+all they could shew her, with half a heart. She had learned long ago to
+conceal what she felt.
+
+"I think she wants to get away," said Mrs. Esthwaite one night, half
+vexed, wholly sorry.
+
+"That's what it is to be in love!" said her husband. "You won't keep
+her in Sydney. Do you notice she has given up smiling?"
+
+"No!" said his wife indignantly; "I notice no such thing. She is as
+ready to smile as anybody I ever saw."--And I wish I had as good
+reason! was the mental conclusion; for Eleanor and she had had many an
+evening talk by that time, and many a hymn had been listened to.
+
+"All very well," said Mr. Esthwaite; "but she don't smile as she did at
+first. Don't you remember?--that full smile she used to give once in a
+while, with a little world of mischief in the corners? I would like to
+see it the next time!--"
+
+"I declare," said Mrs. Esthwaite, "I think you take quite an
+impertinent interest in people's concerns. She wouldn't let you see it,
+besides."
+
+At which Mr. Esthwaite laughed.
+
+So near people came to it; and Eleanor covered up her troublesome
+thoughts within her own heart, and gave Mr. Esthwaite the benefit of
+that impenetrable coolness and sweetness of manner which a good while
+ago had used to bewitch London circles. In the effort to hide her real
+thoughts and feelings she did not quite accommodate it to the different
+latitude of New South Wales; and Mr. Esthwaite was a good deal struck
+and somewhat bewildered.
+
+"You have mistaken your calling," he said one evening, standing before
+Eleanor and considering her.
+
+"Do you think so?"
+
+"There! Yes, I do. I think you were born to govern."
+
+"I am sadly out of my line then," said Eleanor laughing.
+
+"Yes. You are. That is what I say. You ought to be this minute a
+duchess--or a governor's lady--or something else in the imperial line."
+
+"You mistake my tastes, if you think so."
+
+"I do not mistake something else," muttered Mr. Esthwaite; and then Mr.
+Amos entered the room.
+
+"Here, Amos," said he, "you have made an error in judging of this
+lady--she is no more fit to go a missionary than I am. She--she goes
+about with the air of a princess!"
+
+Mrs. Esthwaite exclaimed, and Mr. Amos took a look at the supposed
+princess's face, as if to reassure or inform his judgment. Apparently
+he saw nothing to alarm him.
+
+"I am come to prove the question," he said composedly; then turning to
+Eleanor,--"I have heard at last of a schooner that is going to Fiji, or
+will go, if we desire it."
+
+This simple announcement shot through Eleanor's head and heart with the
+force of a hundred pounder. An extreme and painful flush of colour
+answered it; nobody guessed at the pain.
+
+"What's that?" exclaimed Mr. Esthwaite getting up again and standing
+before Mr. Amos,--"you have found a vessel, you say?"
+
+"Yes. A small schooner, to sail in a day or two."
+
+"What schooner? whom does she belong to? Lawsons, or Hildreth?"
+
+"To nobody, I think, but her master. I believe he sails the vessel for
+his own ends and profits."
+
+"What schooner is it? what name?"
+
+"The 'Queen Esther,' I think."
+
+"You cannot go in that!" said Mr. Esthwaite turning off. "The 'Queen
+Esther'!--I know her. She's not fit for you; she's a leaky old thing,
+that that man Hawkins sails on all sorts of petty business; she'll go
+to pieces some day. She ain't sea-worthy, I don't believe."
+
+"It is not as good a chance as might be, but it is the first that has
+offered, and the first that is likely to offer for an unknown time,"
+Mr. Amos said, looking again to Eleanor.
+
+"When does she sail?"
+
+"In two days. She is small, and not in first-rate order; but the voyage
+is not for very long. I think we had better go in her."
+
+"Certainly. How long is the voyage, regularly?"
+
+"A fortnight in a good ship, and a month in a bad one," struck in Mr.
+Esthwaite. "You'll never get there, if you depend on the 'Queen Esther'
+to bring you."
+
+"We go to Tonga first," said Mr. Amos. "The 'Queen Esther' sails with
+stores for the stations at Tonga and the neighbourhood; and will carry
+us further only by special agreement; but the master is willing, and I
+came to know your mind about it."
+
+"I will go," said Eleanor. "Tell Mrs. Amos I will meet her on
+board--when?"
+
+"Day after to-morrow morning."
+
+"Very well. I will be there. Will she take the additional lading of my
+boxes?"
+
+"O yes; no difficulty about that. It's all right."
+
+"How can I do with the things you have stored for me?" Eleanor said to
+Mr. Esthwaite. "Can the schooner take them too?"
+
+"What things?"
+
+"Excuse me--perhaps I misunderstood you. I thought you said you had
+half your warehouse, one loft of it, taken up with things for me?"
+
+"Those things are gone, long ago," said Mr. Esthwaite, in a dogged kind
+of mood which did not approve of the proposed journey or conveyance.
+
+"Gone?"
+
+"Yes. According to order. Mrs. Caxton wrote, Forward as soon as
+possible; so I did."
+
+Again Eleanor's brow and cheeks and her very throat were covered with a
+rush of crimson; but when Mr. Amos took her hand on going away its
+touch made him ask involuntarily if she were well?
+
+"Perfectly well," Eleanor answered, with something in her manner that
+reminded Mr. Amos, though he could not tell why, of the charge Mr.
+Esthwaite had brought. Another look into Eleanor's eyes quieted the
+thought.
+
+"Your hand is very cold!" he said.
+
+"It's a sign of"--Mr. Esthwaite would have said "fever," but Eleanor
+had composedly faced him and he was silent; only busied himself in
+shewing Mr. Amos out, without a word that he ought not to have spoken.
+Mr. Amos went home and told his wife.
+
+"I think she is all right," he said; "but she does not look to me just
+as she did before we landed. I dare say she has had a great deal of
+admiration here--"
+
+"I dare say she feels bad," said good Mrs. Amos.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"If you were not a man, you would know," Mrs. Amos said laughing. "She
+is in a very trying situation."
+
+"Is she? O, those letters! It is unfortunate, to be sure. But there
+must be some explanation."
+
+"The explanation will be good when she gets it," Mrs. Amos remarked. "I
+hope somebody who is expecting her is worthy of her. Poor thing! I
+couldn't have done it, I believe, even for you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+IN SMOOTH WATER.
+
+
+  "But soon I heard the dash of oars,
+  I heard the pilot's cheer;
+  My head was turned perforce away,
+  And I saw a boat appear."
+
+
+The morning came for the "Queen Esther" to sail. Mr. and Mrs. Amos were
+on board first, and watched with eyes both kind and anxious to see
+Eleanor when she should come. The little bonnet with chocolate ribbands
+did not keep them waiting and the first smile and kiss to Mrs. Amos
+made _her_ sure that all was right. She had been able to see scarce
+anything of Eleanor during the weeks on shore; it was a refreshment to
+have her near again. But Eleanor had turned immediately to attend to
+Mr. Esthwaite.
+
+"This is the meanest, most abominable thing of a vessel," he said,
+"that ever Christians travelled in! It is an absurd proceeding
+altogether. Why if the boards don't part company and go to pieces
+before you get to Tonga--which I think they will--they don't give room
+for all three of you to sit down in the cabin at once."
+
+"The deck is of better capacity," Eleanor told him briskly.
+
+"Such a deck! I wonder _you_, cousin Eleanor, can make up your mind to
+endure it. There is not a man living who is worth such a sacrifice.
+Horrid!"
+
+"We hope it won't last a great while," Mr. Amos told him.
+
+"It won't! That's what I say. You will all be deposited in the bottom
+of the ocean, to pay you for not having been contented on shore. I
+would not send a dog to sea in such a ship!"
+
+"Cousin Esthwaite, you had better not stay in a situation so
+disagreeable to you. You harass yourself for nothing. Shake hands. You
+see the skipper is going to make sail directly."
+
+Eleanor with a little play in the manner of this dismissal, was enough
+in earnest to secure her point. Mr. Esthwaite felt in a manner
+constrained to take his departure. He presumed however in the
+circumstances to make interest for a cousinly kiss for good bye; which
+was refused him with a cooler demonstration of dignity than he had yet
+met with. It nettled him.
+
+"There was the princess," whispered Mr. Amos to his wife.
+
+"Good!" said Mrs. Amos.
+
+"Good bye!" cried Mr. Esthwaite, disappearing over the schooner's side.
+"_You_ are not fit for a missionary! I told you so before."
+
+Eleanor turned to Mrs. Amos, ignoring entirely this little transaction,
+and smiled at her. "I hope he has not made you nervous," she said.
+
+"No," said Mrs. Amos; "I am not nervous. If I did not get sick I should
+enjoy it; but I suppose I shall be sick as soon as we get out of the
+harbour."
+
+"Let us take the good of it then, until we are out of the harbour,"
+said Eleanor. "If the real 'Queen Esther' was at all like her namesake,
+Ahasuerus must have had a disorderly household."
+
+They sat down together on the little vessel's deck, and watched the
+beautiful shores from which they were gliding away. Eleanor was glad to
+be off. The stay at Sydney had become oppressive to her; she wanted to
+be at the end of her journey and know her fate; and hope and reason
+whispered that she had reason to be glad. For all that, the poor child
+had a great many shrinkings of heart. A vision of Mr. Rhys never came
+up in one of its aspects,--that of stern and fastidious
+delicacy,--without her heart seeming to die away within her. She could
+not talk now. She watched the sunny islands and promontories of the
+bay, changing and passing as the vessel slowly moved on; watched the
+white houses of Sydney, grateful for the home she had found there,
+longing exceedingly for a home once again that should be hers by right;
+hope and tremulousness holding her heart together. This was a conflict
+that prayer and faith did not quell; she could only come to a state of
+humble submissiveness; and she never thought of reaching Vuliva without
+a painful thrill that almost took away her breath. But she was glad to
+be on the way.
+
+The vessel was very small, not of so much as eighty tons burthen; its
+accommodations were of course a good deal as Mr. Esthwaite had said;
+and more than that, the condition of the vessel and of its appointments
+was such that Mrs. Amos felt as if she could hardly endure to shut
+herself up in the cabin. Eleanor resolved immediately that _she_ would
+not; the deck was a better plate; and she prevailed to have a mattress
+brought there for Mrs. Amos, where the good lady, though miserably ill
+as soon as they were upon the ocean roll, yet could be spared the close
+air and other horrors of the place below deck. Eleanor wrapped herself
+in her sea cloak, and lived as she could on deck with her; having a
+fine opportunity to read the stars at night, and using it. The weather
+was very fine; the wind favouring and steady; and in the Southern
+Ocean, under such conditions, there were some good things to be had,
+even on board the "Queen Esther." There were glorious hymn-singings in
+the early night-time; and Eleanor had never sung with more power on the
+"Diana." There were beautiful Bible discussions between her and Mr.
+Amos--Bible contemplations, rather; in which they brought Scripture to
+Scripture to illustrate their point; until Mr. Amos declared he thought
+it would be a grand way of holding a Bible-class; and poor Mrs. Amos
+listened, delighted, though too sick to put in more than a word now and
+then. And Eleanor's heart gave a throb every time she recollected that
+another day had gone,--so many more miles were travelled over,--they
+were so much nearer the journey's end. Her companions found no fault in
+her. There was nothing of the princess now, but a gentle, thoughtful,
+excellent nurse, and capital cook. On board the "Diana" there had been
+little need of her services for Mrs. Amos; little indeed that could be
+done. Now, in the fresh air on the open deck of the little schooner,
+Mrs. Amos suffered less in one way; but all the party were sharers in
+the discomforts of close accommodations and utter want of nicety in
+anything done or furnished on board. The condition of everything was
+such that it was scarcely possible to eat at all for well people. Poor
+Mrs. Amos would have had no chance except for Eleanor's helpfulness and
+clever management. As on board the "Diana," there was nobody in the
+schooner that would refuse her anything; and Mr. Amos smiled to himself
+to see where she would go and what she would do to secure some little
+comfort for her sick friend, and how placidly she herself munched sea
+biscuit and bad bread, after their little stock of fruit from Sydney
+had given out. She would bring a cup of tea and a bit of toast to Mrs.
+Amos, and herself take a crust with the equanimity of a philosopher.
+Eleanor did not care much what she eat, those days. Her own good times
+were when everybody else was asleep except the man at the wheel; and
+she would kneel by the guards and watch the strange constellations, and
+pray, and sometimes weep a flood of tears. Julia, her mother and
+Alfred, Mrs. Caxton, her own intense loneliness and shrinking delicacy
+in the uncertainty of her position, they were all well watered in tears
+at some of those watching hours when nobody saw.
+
+The "Queen Esther" made the Friendly Islands in something less than a
+month, notwithstanding Mr. Esthwaite's unfavourable predictions. At
+Tonga she was detained a week and more; unlading and taking in stores.
+The party improved the time in a survey of the island and mission
+premises and in pleasant intercourse with their friends stationed
+there. Or what would have been pleasant intercourse; it was impossible
+for Eleanor to enjoy it. So near her destination now, she was impatient
+to be off; and drew short breaths until the days of delay were ended,
+and the little schooner once more made sail and turned her head towards
+Vuliva. She had seen Tonga with but half an eye.
+
+Two or three days would finish their journey now. The weather and wind
+continued fair; they dipped Tonga in the salt wave, and stood on and on
+towards the unseen haven of their hopes and duties. A new change came
+over Eleanor. It could not be reason, for reason had striven in vain.
+Perhaps it was nature, which turning a corner took a new view of the
+subject. But from the time of their leaving Tonga, she was unable to
+entertain such troublesome apprehensions of what the end of the voyage
+might have in store for her. Something whispered it could be nothing
+very bad; and that point that she had so dreaded began to gather a glow
+of widely different promise. A little nervousness and trepidation
+remained about the thought of it; the determination abode fast to see
+the very first word and look and know what they portended; but in place
+of the rest of Eleanor's downhearted fear, there came now an
+overwhelming sense of shamefacedness. This was something quite new and
+unexpected; she had never known in her life more than a slight touch of
+it before; and now it consumed her. Even before Mr. and Mrs. Amos she
+felt it; and her eyes shunned theirs the last day or two as if she had
+been a shy child. Why was it? She could not help it. This seemed to be
+as natural and as unreasonable as the other; and in her lonely night
+watches, instead of trembling and sinking of heart, Eleanor was
+conscious that her cheeks dyed themselves with that unconquerable
+feeling of shame. Very inconsistent indeed with her former state of
+feeling; and that was according to Mrs. Caxton's words; not being
+reasonable, reason could not be expected from them in anything. Her
+friends had not penetrated her former mood; this they saw and smiled
+at; and indeed it made Eleanor very lovely. There was a shy, blushing
+grace about her the last day or two of the voyage which touched all she
+did; indeed Mrs. Amos declared she could see it through the little
+close straw bonnet, and it made her want to take Eleanor in her arms
+and keep her there. Mr. Amos responded in his way of subdued fun, that
+it was lucky she could not; as it would be likely to be a disputed
+possession, and he did not want to get into a quarrel with his brethren
+the first minute of his getting to land.
+
+Up came Eleanor with some trifle for Mrs. Amos which she had been
+preparing.
+
+"We are almost in, sister Eleanor!" said Mr. Amos. "The captain says he
+sees the land."
+
+Eleanor's start was somewhat prompt, to look in the direction of 'Queen
+Esther's' figure-head.
+
+"The light is failing--I don't believe you can see it," said Mr. Amos;
+"not to know it from the clouds. The captain says he shall stand off
+and on through the night, so as to have daylight to go in. The entrance
+is narrow. I suppose, if all is well, we shall have a wedding
+to-morrow?"
+
+Eleanor asked Mrs. Amos somewhat hastily, if what she had brought her
+was good?
+
+"Delicious!" Mrs. Amos said; and pulling Eleanor's face down to her she
+gave it a kiss which spoke more things than her mere thanks. She was
+rewarded with the sight of that crimson veil which spread itself over
+Eleanor's cheeks, which most people thought it was a pleasure to see.
+
+Eleanor thought she should get little sleep that night; but she was
+disappointed. She slept long and sweetly on her mattress; and awoke to
+find it quite day, with fair wind, and the schooner setting her head
+full on the land which rose up before her fresh and green, yes, and
+exceeding lovely. Eleanor got up and shook herself out; her companions
+were still sleeping. She rolled her mattress together and sat down upon
+it, to watch the approaches to the land. Fresher and fairer and greener
+every moment it lifted itself to her view; she could hardly bear to
+look steadily; her head went down for a minute often under the pressure
+of the thoughts that crowded together. And when she raised it up, the
+lovely hills of the island, with their novel outline and green
+luxuriance, were nearer and clearer and higher than they had been a
+minute before. Now she could discern here and there, she thought,
+something that must be a dwelling-house; then trees began to detach
+themselves from the universal mass; she saw smoke rising; and she
+became aware too, that along the face of the island, fronting the
+approach of the schooner, was a wall of surf; and a line of breakers
+that seemed to stretch right and left and to be without an interval in
+their white continuity. Eleanor did not see how the schooner was going
+to get in; for the surf did not break evidently on the shore of the
+island, but on a reef extending around the shore and at some little
+distance from it. Yet the vessel stood straight on; and the sweet smell
+of the land began to come with the freshness of the morning air.
+
+"Is this Vuliva before us?" she asked of the skipper whom she found
+standing near.
+
+"Ay, ay!"
+
+"Where are you going to get in? I see no opening."
+
+"Ay, ay! There _is_ an opening, though."
+
+And soon, looking keenly, Eleanor thought she could discern it. Not
+until they were almost upon it however; and then it was a place of
+rough water enough, though the regular fall of the surf was interrupted
+and there was only a general upheaving and commotion of the waves among
+themselves. It was nothing very terrific; the tide was in a good state;
+and presently Eleanor saw that they had passed the barrier, they were
+in smooth water, and making for an opening in the land immediately
+opposite which might be either the mouth of a river or an inlet of the
+sea. They neared it fast, sailed up into it; and there to Eleanor's
+mortification the skipper dropped anchor and swung to. She saw no
+settlement. Some few scattered houses were plain enough now to be seen;
+but nothing even like a village. Tufts of trees waved gracefully; rock
+and hill and rich-coloured lowland spread out a variety of beauty;
+where was Vuliva, the station? This might be the island. Where were the
+people? Could they come no nearer than this?
+
+Mr. Amos made enquiry. The village, the skipper said, was "round the
+pint;" in other words, behind a woody headland which just before them
+bent the course of the river into a sharp angle. The schooner would go
+no further; passengers and effects were to be transported the rest of
+the way in boats. People they would see soon enough; so the master of
+the "Queen Esther" advised them.
+
+"I suppose the natives will carry the news of the schooner being here,
+and our friends will come and look after us," Mr. Amos said.
+
+Eleanor changed colour, and sat with a beating heart looking at the
+fair fresh landscape which was to be--perhaps--the scene of her future
+home. The scene was peace itself. Still water after the upheavings of
+the ocean; the smell and almost the fluttering sound of the green
+leaves in the delicious wind; the ripple on the surface of the little
+river; the soft stillness of land sounds, with the heavy beat of the
+surf left behind on the reef outside. Eleanor drew a long breath.
+People would find them out soon, the skipper had said. She was
+exceedingly disposed to get rid of her sea dress and put on something
+that looked like the summer morning; for without recollecting what the
+seasons were in the Southern Ocean, that was what the time seemed like
+to her. She looked round at Mrs. Amos, who was sitting up and beginning
+to realize that she had done with the sea for the present.
+
+"How do you do?" said Eleanor.
+
+"I should feel better if I could get on something clean."
+
+"Come, then!"
+
+The two ladies disappeared down the companion way, into one of the most
+sorry tiring rooms, surely, that ever nicety used for that purpose. But
+it served two purposes with Eleanor just now; and the second was a
+hiding place. She did not want to be taken unawares, nor to be seen
+before she could see. So under the circumstances she made both Mrs.
+Amos and herself comfortable, and was as helpful as usual in a new
+line. Then she went to look out; but nobody was in sight yet, gentle or
+savage; all was safe; she went back to Mrs. Amos and fastened the door.
+
+"Let us kneel down and pray together, will you?" she said. "I cannot
+get my breath freely till we have done that."
+
+Mrs. Amos's lips trembled as she knelt. And Eleanor and she joined in
+many petitions there, while the very stillness of their little cabin
+floor reminded them they were come to their desired haven, and the long
+sea journey was over. They rose up and kissed each other.
+
+"I am so glad I have known you!" said Mrs. Amos. "What a blessing you
+have been to us! I wish we might be stationed somewhere together."
+
+"I suppose that would be too good to hope for," said Eleanor. "I am
+going to reconnoitre again."
+
+Mrs. Amos half guessed why, and smiled to herself at Eleanor's blushing
+shyness. "Poor child, her hands were all trembling too," she said in
+her thoughts. They were broken off by a low summons to the cabin door,
+which Eleanor held slightly ajar. Through the crack of the door they
+had a vision.
+
+On the deck of the "Queen Esther" stood a specimen of the native
+inhabitants of the land. A man of tall stature, nobly developed in
+limbs and muscles, he looked in his native undress almost of giant
+proportions. His clothing was only a long piece of figured native cloth
+wound about his loins, one end falling like a train to the very sloop's
+deck. A thorough black skin was the only covering of the rest of his
+person, and shewed his breadth of shoulder and strength of muscle to
+good advantage; as if carved in black marble; only there was sufficient
+graceful mobility and dignified ease of carriage and attitude; no
+marble rigidity. Black he was, this savage, but not negro. The features
+were well cut and good. What the hair might be naturally could only be
+guessed at; the work of a skilful hair-dresser had left it something
+for the uninitiated to marvel at. A band of three or four inches in
+breadth, completely white, bordered the face; the rest, a very
+luxuriant head, was jet black and dressed into a perfectly regular and
+smooth roundish form, projecting everywhere beyond the white inner
+border. He had an uncouth necklace, made of what it was impossible to
+say, except that part of it looked like shells and part like some
+animal's teeth; rings of one or two colours were on his fingers; he
+carried no weapon. But in his huge, powerful black frame, uncouth
+hair-dressing, and strange uncoveredness, he was a sufficiently
+terrible object to unused eyes. In Tonga the ladies had seen no such
+sight.
+
+"Do shut the door!" said Mrs. Amos. "He may come this way, and there is
+nobody that knows how to speak to him."
+
+Eleanor shut the door, and looked round at her friend with a smile.
+
+"I am foolish!" said Mrs. Amos laughing; "but I don't want to see him
+just yet--till there is somebody to talk to him."
+
+The door being fast, Eleanor applied herself to a somewhat large
+knot-hole she had long ago discovered in it; one which she strongly
+suspected the skipper had fostered, if not originated, for his own
+convenience of spying what was going on. Through this knot-hole Eleanor
+had a fair view of a good part of the deck, savage and all. He was
+gesticulating now and talking, evidently to the captain and Mr. Amos,
+the former of whom either did not understand or did not agree with him.
+Mr. Amos, of course, was in the former condition. Eleanor watched them
+with absorbed interest; when suddenly this vision was crossed by
+another, that looked to her eyes much as a white angel might, coming
+across a cloud of both moral and physical blackness. Mr. Rhys himself;
+his very self, and looking very much like it; only in a white dress
+literally, which in England she had never seen him wear. But the white
+dress alone did not make the impression to her eyes; there was that air
+of freshness and purity which some people always carry about with them,
+and which has to do with the clear look of temperance as well as with
+great particularity of personal care, and in part also grows out of the
+moral condition. In three breathless seconds Eleanor took note of it
+all, characteristics well known, but seen now with the novelty of long
+disuse and with the background of that huge black savage, to whom Mr.
+Rhys was addressing some words, of explanation or exhortation--Eleanor
+could not tell which. She noticed the quiet pleasant manner of his
+speech, which certainly looked not as if Mrs. Amos had any reason for
+her fears; but he was speaking earnestly, and she observed too the
+unbending look of the savage in answer and a certain pleasant deference
+with which he appeared to be listening. Mr. Rhys had taken off his hat
+for a moment--it hung in his hand while the other brushed the hair from
+his forehead. Eleanor's eye even in that moment fell to the hand which
+carried the hat; it was the same,--she recognized it with a curious
+sense of bringing great and little things together,--it was the same
+white and carefully looked-after hand that she remembered it in
+England. Mr. Rhys's own personal civilization went about with him.
+
+Eleanor did not hear any of Mrs. Amos's words to her, which were
+several; and though Mrs. Amos, half alarmed by her deafness, did not
+know but she might be witnessing something dreadful on deck, and spoke
+with some importunity. Eleanor was thinking she had not a minute to
+lose. Beyond the time of Mr. Rhys's talking to the other visitor on the
+schooner's deck, there could be but small interval before he would
+learn all about her being on board; two words to the skipper or Mr.
+Amos would bring it out; and if she wished to gain that first minute's
+testimony of look and word, she must be beforehand with them. She
+thought of all that with a beating heart in one instant's flash of
+thought, hastily caught up her ship cloak without daring to stop to put
+it on, slipped back the bolt of the door, and noiselessly passed out
+upon the deck. She neither heard nor saw anybody else; she was
+conscious of an intense and pitiful shame at being there and at thus
+presenting herself; but everything else was second to that necessity,
+to know from Mr. Rhys's look, with an absolute certainty, where _he_
+stood. She was not at that moment much afraid; yet the look she must
+see. She went forward while he was yet speaking to his black neighbour,
+she stood still a little behind him, and waited. She longed to hide her
+eyes, yet she looked steadfastly. _How_ she looked, neither she nor
+perhaps anybody else knew. There was short opportunity for observation.
+
+Mr. Rhys had no sooner finished his business with his sable friend,
+when he turned the other way; and of course the motionless figure
+standing so near his elbow, the woman's bonnet and drapery, caught his
+first glance. Eleanor was watching, with eyes that were strained
+already with the effort; they got leave to go down now. The flash of
+joy in those she had been looking at, the deep tone of the low uttered,
+"Oh, Eleanor!" which burst from him, made her feel on the instant as if
+she were paid to the full, not only for all she had done, but for all
+that life might have of disagreeable in store for her. Her eyes fell;
+she stood still in a sudden trance of contentment which made her as
+blind and deaf as another feeling had made her just before. Those two
+words--there had been such a depth in them, of tenderness and gladness;
+and somehow she felt in them too an appreciation of all she had done
+and gone through. Eleanor was satisfied. She felt it as well in the
+hold of her hand, which was taken and kept in a clasp as who should
+say, 'This is mine.'
+
+Perhaps it was out of consideration for her state, that without any
+further reference to her he turned to Mr. Amos and claimed acquaintance
+and brotherhood with him; and for a little while talked, informing
+himself of various particulars of their journey and welfare; never all
+the while loosing his hold of that hand, though not bringing her into
+the conversation, and indeed standing so as somewhat to shield her. The
+question of landing came up and was discussed. The skipper objected to
+send the schooner's boat, on the score that it would leave too few men
+on board to take care of the vessel. Mr. Rhys had only a small canoe
+with him, manned by a single native. So he decided forthwith to return
+to the village and despatch boats large enough to bring the
+missionaries and their effects to land; but about that there might be
+some delay. Then for the first time he bent down and spoke to Eleanor;
+again that subdued, tender tone.
+
+"Are you ready to go ashore?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I will take you with me. Do you want anything out of this big ship?
+The canoes may not be immediately obtained, for anything but the live
+freight."
+
+He took the grey ship cloak from Eleanor's arm and put it round her
+shoulders. She felt that she was alone and forlorn no more; she had got
+home. She was a different creature that went into the cabin to kiss
+Mrs. Amos, from the Eleanor that had come out.
+
+
+"I've seen him!" whispered Mrs. Amos. "Eleanor! you will not be married
+till we come, will you?"
+
+"I hope not--I don't know," said Eleanor hurriedly seizing her bag and
+passing out again. Another minute, and it and she were taken down the
+side of the schooner and lodged in the canoe; and their dark oarsman
+paddled off.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+AT DINNER.
+
+
+  "Nor did she lift an eye nor speak a word,
+  Rapt in the fear and in the wonder of it."
+
+
+Eleanor's shamefacedness was upon her in full force when she found
+herself in the canoe pushing off from the schooner and her friends
+there. She felt exceeding shy and strange, and with that a feeling very
+like awe of her companion. A feeling not quite unknown to her in former
+days with the same person, and in tenfold force now. There was no doubt
+to be sure of the secret mind of them both towards each other;
+nevertheless, he had never spoken to her of his affection, nor given
+her the least sign of it, except on paper, up to that day; and now he
+sat for all she could see as cool and grave as ever by her side. The
+old and the new state of things it was hard to reconcile all at once.
+To do Eleanor justice, she saw as one sees without looking; she was too
+shame-faced to look; she bent her outward attention upon their boatman.
+He was another native, of course, but attired in somewhat more
+civilized style, though in no costume of civilized lands. What he wore
+was more like a carman's frock at home than anything else it could be
+likened to. He was of pleasant countenance, and paddled along with
+great activity and skill.
+
+They had been silent for the first few minutes since leaving the
+schooner, till at length Mr. Rhys asked her, with a little of the sweet
+arch smile she remembered so well, "how she had liked the first sight
+of a Fijian?" It brought such a rush upon Eleanor of past things and
+present, old times and changes, that it was with the utmost difficulty
+she could make any answer at all.
+
+"I was too much interested to think of liking or disliking."
+
+"You were not startled?"
+
+"No."
+
+"That was a heathen chief, of the opposite village."
+
+"He wanted something, did he not?"
+
+"Yes; that the captain of the schooner should accommodate him in
+something he thought would be for his advantage. It was impossible, and
+so I told him."
+
+Eleanor looked again towards the oarsman.
+
+"This is one of our Christian brethren."
+
+"Are there many?" she asked, though feeling as if she had no breath to
+ask.
+
+"Yes. And we have cause to be thankful every day at hearing of more. We
+want ten times as many hands as we, have got. How has the long voyage
+been to you?"
+
+Eleanor answered briefly; but then she was obliged to go on and tell of
+Mrs. Caxton, and of Mr. and Mrs. Amos, and of various other matters; to
+all which still she answered in as few words as possible. She could not
+be fluent, with that sense of strangeness upon her; conscious not only
+that one of her hands was again in Mr. Rhys's hold, but that his eyes
+were never off her face. He desisted at last from questions, and they
+both sat silent; until the headland was rounded, and "There is Vuliva!"
+came from Mr. Rhys's lips.
+
+In a little bay curve of the river, behind the promontory, lay the
+village; looking pretty and foreign enough. But very pretty it was. The
+odd, or rather the strange-looking houses, sitting apart from each
+other, some large and some small, intermingled gracefully with trees
+whose shape and leafage were as new, made a sweet picture. One house in
+particular as they neared the shore struck Eleanor; it had a neat
+colonnade of slender pillars in front, and a high roof, almost like a
+Mansard in form, but thatched with native thatch. A very neat paling
+fence stretched along in front of this. Very near it, a little further
+off, rose another building that made Eleanor almost give a start of
+joy; so homelike and pleasant it looked, as well as surprising. This
+was an exceeding pretty chapel; again with a high thatched roof, and
+also with a neat slight bell-tower rising from one end. In front two
+doors at each side were separated by a large and not inelegant window;
+other windows and doors down the side of the building promised light
+and airiness; and the walls were wrought into a curious pattern;
+reminding Eleanor of the fanciful brick work of a past style of
+architecture. Near the shore and back behind the chapel and houses,
+reared themselves here and there the slender stems of palm and
+cocoa-nut trees, with their graceful tufts of feathery foliage waving
+at top; other trees of various kinds were mingled among them. Figures
+were seen moving about, in the medium attire worn by their oarsman. It
+was a pretty scene; cheerful and home-like, though so unlike home.
+Further back from the river, on the opposite shore, other houses could
+be seen; the houses of the heathen village; but Eleanor's eyes were
+fastened on this one. Mr. Rhys said not one word; only he held her hand
+in a still closer grasp which was not meaningless.
+
+"How pretty it is!" Eleanor forced herself to say. He only answered,
+"Do you like it?" but it was in such a satisfied tone of preoccupation
+that Eleanor blushed and thought she might as well leave his
+meditations alone.
+
+Yet though full of content in her heart, Mr. Rhys and his affection
+seemed both at a distance. It was so exactly the Mr. Rhys of Plassy,
+that Eleanor could not in a moment realize their changed relations and
+find her own place. A little thing administered a slight corrective to
+this reckoning.
+
+The little canoe had come to land. Eleanor was taken out of it safely,
+and then for a moment left to herself; for Mr. Rhys was engaged in a
+colloquy with his boatman and another native who had come up. Not being
+able to understand a word of what was going on, though from the tones
+and gestures she guessed it had reference to the disembarkation of the
+schooner's party, and a little ready to turn her face from view,
+Eleanor stood looking landward; in a maze of strangeness that was not
+at all unhappy. The cocoa-nut tops waved gently a welcome to her; she
+took it so; the houses looked neat and inviting; glimpses of other
+unknown foliage helped to assure her she had got home; the country
+outlines, so far as she could see them, looked fair and bright. Eleanor
+was taking note of details in a dreamy way, when she was surprised by
+the sudden frank contact of lips with hers; lips that had no
+strangeness of their own to contend with. Turning hastily, she saw that
+the natives with whom Mr. Rhys had been talking had run off different
+ways, and they two were alone. Eleanor trembled as much as she had done
+when she first read Mr. Rhys's note at Plassy. And his words when he
+spoke did not help her, they were spoken so exactly like the Mr. Rhys
+she had known there. Not exactly, neither, though he only said,
+
+"Do you want this cloak on any longer?"
+
+"Yes, thank you," said Eleanor stammering,--"I do not feel it."
+
+Which was most literally true, for at that moment she did not feel
+anything external. He looked at her, and exercising his own judgment
+proceeded to unclasp the cloak from her shoulders and hang it on his
+arm, while he put her hand on the other.
+
+"There is no need for you to be troubled with this now," said he. "I
+only put it round you to protect your dress." And with her bag in his
+hand, they went up from the river-side and past the large house with
+the colonnade. "Whither now?" thought Eleanor, but she asked nothing.
+One or two more houses were passed; then a little space without houses;
+then came a paling enclosure, of considerable size, apparently, filled
+with trees and vines. A gate opened in this and let them through, and
+Mr. Rhys led Eleanor up a walk in the garden-like plantation, to a
+house which stood encompassed by it. "Not at home yet!" he remarked to
+her as they stood at the door; with a slight smile which again brought
+the blood to her cheeks. He opened the door and they went in.
+
+"The good news is true, sister Balliol!" he said to somebody that met
+them. "I have brought you one of our friends, and there are more to
+come, that I must go and look after. Is brother Balliol at home?"
+
+"No, he is not; he has gone over the river."
+
+"Then I will leave this lady in your care, and I will go and see if I
+can find canoes. I meant to have pressed him into my service. This is
+Miss Powle, sister Balliol."
+
+The lady so called had come forward to meet them, and now took Eleanor
+by the hand and kissed her cordially. Mr. Rhys took her hand then, when
+she was released, and explained.
+
+"I am going back to the schooner after our friends--if I can find a
+canoe."
+
+And without more words, off he went. Eleanor and Mrs. Balliol were left
+to look at each other.
+
+This latter was a lady of middle height, and kindly if not fine
+features. A pair of good black eyes too. But what struck Eleanor most
+about her was her air; the general style of her figure and dress, which
+to Miss Powle's eyes was peculiar. She wore her hair in a crop; and
+that seemed to Eleanor a characteristic of the whole make up. Her dress
+was not otherwise than neat, and yet that epithet would never have
+occurred to one in describing it; all graces of style or attire were so
+ignored. Her gown sat without any; so did her collar; both were rather
+uncivilized, without partaking of the picturesqueness of savage
+costume. The face was by no means disagreeable; lacking neither in
+sense, nor in spirit nor in kindliness; but Eleanor perceived at once
+that the mind must have a serious want somewhere, in refinement or
+discernment: the exterior was so ruthlessly abandoned to ungainliness.
+
+Mrs. Balliol took her to an inner room, where the cloak and the bonnet
+were left; and returned then to her occupations in the other apartment,
+while Eleanor set herself down at the window to make observations. The
+room was large and high, cheerful and airy, with windows at two sides.
+The one where she sat commanded a view of little beside the garden,
+with its luxuriant growth of fruit trees and shrubs and flowers. A
+tropical looking garden; for the broad leaves of the banana waved there
+around its great bunches of fruit; the canopy of a cocoa-nut palm
+fluttered slightly overhead; and various fruits that Eleanor did not
+know displayed themselves along with the pine-apples that she did know.
+This garden view seemed very interesting to Eleanor, to judge by her
+intentness; and so it was for its own qualities, besides that a bit of
+the walk could be seen by which she had come and the wicket which had
+let her in and by which Mr. Rhys had gone out; but in good truth, as
+often as she turned her eyes to the scene within, she had such a sense
+of being herself an object of observation and perhaps of speculation,
+that she was fain to seek the garden again. And it was true, that while
+Mrs. Balliol plied her needle she used her eyes as well, and her
+thoughts with her needle flew in and out, as she surveyed Eleanor's
+figure in her neat fresh print dress. And the lady's eyebrows grew
+prophetical, not to say ominous.
+
+"She's too handsome!"--that was the first conclusion. "She is quite too
+handsome; she cannot have those looks without knowing it. Better have
+brought a plain face to Fiji, than a spirit of vanity. Hair done as if
+she was just come out of a hair-dresser's!--hum--ruffle all down the
+neck of her dress--flowing sleeves too, and ruffles round _them_. And a
+buckle in her belt--a gold buckle, I do believe. And shoes?"
+
+The shoes were unexceptionable, but they fitted well on a nice foot;
+and the hands--were too small and white and delicate ever to have done
+anything, or ever to be willing to do anything. That was the point. No
+harm in small hands, Mrs. Balliol allowed, if they did not betray their
+owner into daintiness of living. She pursued her lucubrations for some
+time without interrupting those of Eleanor.
+
+"Are you from England, sister?"
+
+"From England--yes; but we made some stay in Australia by the way,"
+said Eleanor turning from the window to take a more sociable position
+nearer her hostess.
+
+"A long voyage?"
+
+"Not remarkably long. I had good companions."
+
+"From what part of England?"
+
+"The borders of Wales, last."
+
+"Brother Rhys is from Wales--isn't he?"
+
+"I do not know," said Eleanor, vexed to feel the flush of blood to her
+cheeks.
+
+"Ah? You have known brother Rhys before?" with a searching look.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And how do you think you shall like it in Fiji?"
+
+"You can hardly expect me to tell under such short trial," said Eleanor
+smiling.
+
+"There are trials enough. I suppose you expect those, do you not?"
+
+"I do not mean to expect them till they come," said Eleanor, still
+smiling.
+
+"Do you think that is wise?" said the other gravely. "They will come, I
+assure you, fast enough; do you not think it is well to prepare the
+mind for what it has to go through, by looking at it beforehand?"
+
+"You never know beforehand what is to be gone through," said Eleanor.
+
+"But you know some things; and it is well, I think, to harden oneself
+against what is coming. I have found that sort of discipline very
+useful. Sister, may I ask you a searching questions?"
+
+"Certainly! If you please," said Eleanor.
+
+"You know, we should be ready to give every one a reason of the hope
+that is in us. I want to ask you, sister, what moved you to go on a
+mission?"
+
+Astonishment almost kept Eleanor silent; then noticing the quick eyes
+of Mrs. Balliol repeating the enquiry at her face, the difficulty of
+answering met and joined with a small tide of indignation at its being
+demanded of her. She did not want to be angry, and she was very near
+being ready to cry. Her mind was in that state of overwrought fulness
+when a little stir is more than the feelings can bear. Among
+conflicting tides, the sense of the ludicrous at last got the
+uppermost; and she laughed, as one laughs whose nerves are not just
+under control; heartily and merrily. Mrs. Balliol was confounded.
+
+"I should not have thought it was a laughing matter,"--she remarked at
+length. But the gravity of that threw Eleanor off again; and the little
+hands and ruffled sleeves were reviewed under new circumstances. And
+when Eleanor got command of herself, she still kept her hand over her
+eyes, for she found that she was just trembling into tears. She held it
+close pressed upon them.
+
+"Perhaps you are fatigued, sister?" said Mrs. Balliol, in utter
+incapacity to account for this demonstration.
+
+"Not much. I beg your pardon!" said Eleanor. "I believe I am a little
+unsettled at first getting here. If you please, I will try being quite
+quiet for awhile--if you will let me be so discourteous?"
+
+"Do so!" said Mrs. Balliol. "Anything to rest you." And Eleanor went
+back to her window, and turning her face to the garden again rested her
+head on her hand; and there was a hush. Mrs. Balliol worked and mused,
+probably. Eleanor did as she had said; kept quiet. The quiet lasted a
+long time, and the tropical day grew up into its meridian heats; yet it
+was not oppressive; a fine breeze relieved it and made it no other than
+pleasant. Home at last! This great stillness and quiet, after the ocean
+tossings, and months of voyaging, and change, and heart-uncertainty.
+The peace of heart now was as profound; but so profound, and so
+thankfully recognized, that Eleanor's mood was a little unsteady. She
+needed to be still and recollect herself, as she could looking out into
+the leaves of a great banana tree there in the garden, and forgetting
+the house and Mrs. Balliol.
+
+The quiet lasted a long time, and was broken then by the entrance of
+Mr. Balliol. His wife introduced him; and after learning that he could
+now render no aid to Mr. Rhys, he immediately entered into a brisk
+conversation with the new comer Mr. Rhys had brought. That went well,
+and was also strengthening. Eleanor was greatly pleased with him. He
+was evidently a man of learning and sense and spirit; a man of
+excellent parts, in good cultivation, and filled with a most benign and
+gentle temper of goodness. It was a pleasure to talk to him; and while
+they were talking the party from the schooner arrived.
+
+Eleanor felt her "shamefacedness" return upon her, while all the rest
+were making acquaintance, welcoming and receiving welcome. She stood
+aside. Did they know her position? While she was thinking, Mr. Rhys
+came to her and put her again in her chair by the window. Mrs. Amos had
+been carried off by Mrs. Balliol. The two other gentlemen were in
+earnest converse. Mr. Rhys took a seat in front of Eleanor and asked in
+a low voice if she wished for any delay?
+
+"In what?" said Eleanor, though she knew the answer.
+
+"Coming home."
+
+He was almost sorry for her, to see the quick blood flash into her
+face. But she caught her breath and said "No."
+
+"You know," he said; how exactly like the Mr. Rhys of Plassy!--"I would
+not hurry you beyond your pleasure. If you would like to remain here a
+day or two, domiciled with Mrs. Balliol, and rest, and see the
+land--you have only to say what you wish."
+
+"I do not wish it," said Eleanor, finding it very difficult to answer
+at all--"I wish it to be just as you please."
+
+"You must know what my pleasure is. Does your heart not fail you, now
+you are here?" he asked still lower and in a very gentle way.
+
+"No."
+
+"Eleanor, have you had any doubts or failings of heart at any time,
+since you left England?"
+
+"No. Yes!--I did, once--at Sydney."
+
+"At Sydney?"--repeated Mr. Rhys in a perceptibly graver tone.
+
+"Yes--at Sydney--when I did not get any letters from you."
+
+"You got no letters from me?"
+
+"No."
+
+"At Sydney?"
+
+"No," said Eleanor venturing to look up.
+
+"Did you not see Mr. Armitage?"
+
+"Mr. Armitage! O he was in the back country--I remember now Mr. Amos
+said that; and he never returned to Sydney while we were there."
+
+An inarticulate sound came from Mr. Rhys's lips, between indignation
+and impatience; the strongest expression of either that Eleanor had
+ever heard from him.
+
+"Then Mr. Armitage had the letters?"
+
+"Certainly! and I am in the utmost surprise at his carelessness. He
+ought to have left them in somebody else's charge, if he was quitting
+the place himself. When did you hear from me?"
+
+The flush rose again, not so vividly, to Eleanor's face.
+
+"I heard in England--those letters--you know."
+
+"Those letters I trusted to Mrs. Caxton?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And not since! Well, you are excused for your heart failing that once.
+Who is to do it, Eleanor?--Mr. Amos?"
+
+"If you please--I should like--"
+
+He left her for a moment to make his arrangements; and for that moment
+Eleanor's thoughts leaped to those who should have been by her side at
+such a time, with a little of a woman's heart-longing. Mrs. Caxton, or
+her mother! If one of them might have stood by her then! Eleanor's head
+bent with the moment's poor wish. But with the touch of Mr. Rhys's hand
+when he returned to her, with the sound of his voice, there came as it
+always did to Eleanor, healing and strength. The one little word
+"Come," from his lips, drove away all mental hobgoblins. He said
+nothing more, but there was a great tenderness in the manner of his
+taking her upon his arm. His look Eleanor dared not meet. She felt very
+strange yet; she could not get accustomed to the reality of things.
+This man had never spoken one word of love to her, and now she was
+standing up to be married to him.
+
+The whole little party stood together, while the marriage service of
+the English church was read. It was preceded however by a prayer that
+was never read nor written. After the service was over, and after
+Eleanor had been saluted by the two ladies who were all the
+representatives of mother and sister and friends for her on the
+occasion, Mr. Rhys whispered to her to get her bonnet. Eleanor gladly
+obeyed. But as soon as it appeared, there was a general outcry and
+protest. What were they going to do?"
+
+"Take her to see how her house looks," said Mr. Rhys. "You forget I
+have something to shew."
+
+"But you will bring her back to dinner? do, brother Rhys. We shall have
+dinner presently. You'll be back?"
+
+"If the survey is over in time--but I do not think it will," he
+answered gravely.
+
+"Then tea--you will come then? Let us all be together at tea. Will you?"
+
+"It is a happiness we have had no visitors before dinner! I will see
+about it, sister Balliol, thank you; and take advice."
+
+And glad was Eleanor when they got away; which was immediately, for Mr.
+Rhys's motions were prompt. He led her now not to the wicket by which
+she had come, but another way, through the garden wilderness still,
+till another slight paling with a wicket in it was passed and the
+wilderness took a somewhat different character. The same plants and
+trees were to be seen, but order and pleasantness of arrangement were
+in place of vegetable confusion; neat walks ran between the luxuriant
+growing bananas, and led gradually nearer to the river; till another
+house came in view; and passing round the gable end of it, Eleanor
+could cast her eye along the building and take the effect. It was long
+and low, with a high picturesque thatched roof, and the walls
+fancifully wrought in a pattern, making a not unpretty appearance. The
+door was in the middle; she had no time to see more, for Mr. Rhys
+unlocked it and led her in.
+
+The interior was high, wide, and cool and pleasant after the hot sun
+without; but again she had no time to make observations. Mr. Rhys led
+her immediately on to an inner room. Eleanor's eyes were dazed and her
+heart was beating; she could hardly see anything, except, as one takes
+impressions without seeing, that this answered to the inner room at
+Mrs. Balliol's, and had far more the air of being furnished and
+pleasantly habitable. What gave it the air she could not tell; for Mr.
+Rhys was unfastening her bonnet and throwing it off, and then taking
+her sea-cloak from his arm and casting that somewhat carelessly away;
+and then his arms enfolded her. It was the first time they had been
+really alone since her coming; and now he was silent, so silent that
+Eleanor could scarcely bear it. She was aware his eyes were studying
+her fixedly, and she felt as if they could see nothing beside the
+conscious mounting of the blood from cheek to brow, which reached what
+to her was a painful flush. Probably he saw it, for the answer came in
+a little closer pressure of the arms that were about her. She ventured
+to look up at last; she was unable to endure this silent inspection;
+and then she saw that his face was full of emotion that wrought too
+deep for words, too deep even for caresses, beyond the one or two grave
+kisses with which he had welcomed her. It overcame Eleanor completely.
+She could not meet the look. It was much more than mere joy or
+affection; there was an expression of the sort of tenderness with which
+a mother would clasp a lost child; a full keen sympathy for all she had
+done and gone through and ventured for him, for all her loneliness and
+forlornness that had been, and that was still with respect to all the
+guardians of her childhood or womanhood up to that hour. Eleanor's head
+sank down. She felt none of that now for which his looks expressed such
+keen regard; she had got to her resting-place, not the less for all the
+awe and strangeness of it, which were upon her yet. She could have
+cried for a very different feeling; but she would not; it did not suit
+her. Mr. Rhys let her be still for a few minutes. When he did speak,
+his voice was gravely tender indeed, as it had been to her all day, but
+there was no sentimentality about it. He spoke clear and abrupt, as he
+often did.
+
+"Do you want to go back to the other house to dinner?"
+
+"Do you wish it?" said Eleanor looking up to find out.
+
+"I wish to see nothing earthly, this afternoon, but your face."
+
+"Then do let it be so!" said Eleanor.
+
+He laughed and kissed her, more gaily this time, without seeming able
+to let her out of his arms; and left her at last with the injunction to
+keep still a minute till he should return, and on no account to begin
+an examination of the house by herself. Very little danger there was!
+Eleanor had not the free use of her eyes yet for anything. Presently he
+came back, put her hand on his arm, and led her out into the middle
+apartment.
+
+"Do you know," he said as he passed through this, keeping her hand in
+his own, and looking down at her face,--"what is the first lesson you
+have to learn?"
+
+"No," said Eleanor, most unaffectedly frightened; she did not know why.
+
+"The first thing we have to do, on taking possession here to-day is, to
+give our thanks and offer our prayers in company. Do not you think so?"
+
+"Yes--" said Eleanor breathlessly. "But what then?"
+
+"I mean together,--not that it should be all on one side. You with me,
+as well as I with you."
+
+"Oh no, Mr. Rhys!"
+
+"Why not?--Mrs. Rhys?"
+
+"Do not ask me! That would be dreadful!"
+
+"I do not think you will find it so."
+
+Eleanor stopped short, near the other end of the great apartment. "I
+cannot do it!" she exclaimed with tears in her eyes, but spoke gravely.
+
+"One can always do what is right."
+
+"Not to-day--" whispered Eleanor.
+
+"One can always do right to-day," he answered smiling. "And it is best
+to begin as we are going on. Come!"
+
+He took her hand and led her forward into the room at the other end of
+the house; his study, Eleanor saw with half a glance by the books and
+papers and tables that were there. Still keeping her hand fast in his,
+they knelt together; and certainly the prayer that followed was good
+for nervousness, and like the sunshine to dispel all manner of clouds.
+Eleanor was quieted and subdued; she could not help it; all sorts of
+memories and associations of Plassy and Wiglands gathered in her mind,
+back of the thoughts that immediately filled it. Hallowed, precious,
+soothing and joyful, those minutes of prayer were while Mr. Rhys spoke;
+in spite of the minutes to follow that Eleanor dreaded. And though her
+own words were few, and stammering, they were different from what she
+would have thought possible a quarter of an hour before; and not
+unhappy to look back upon.
+
+Detaining her when they arose, Mr. Rhys asked with something of his old
+comical look, whether she thought she could eat a dinner of his
+ordering? Eleanor had no doubt of it.
+
+"You think you could eat anything by this time!" said he. "Poor child!
+But my credit is at stake--suppose you wait here a few minutes, until I
+see whether all is right."
+
+He went off, and Eleanor sat still, feeling too happy to want to look
+about her. He came again presently, to lead Eleanor to the dining-room.
+
+In the lofty, spacious, and by no means inelegant middle apartment of
+the house, a little table stood spread, looking exceeding diminutive in
+contrast with the wide area and high ceiling of the room. Here Mr. Rhys
+with a very bright look established Eleanor, and proceeded to make
+amends for keeping her so long from Mrs. Balliol's table. Much to her
+astonishment there was a piece of broiled chicken and a dish of eggs
+nicely cooked, and Mr. Rhys was pouring out for her some tea in
+delicate little cups of china.
+
+"You see aunt Caxton, do you not?" he said.
+
+"O aunt Caxton! in these cups. I thought so. But I had no idea you had
+such cooks in Fiji?"
+
+"They will learn--in time," said he shortly. "You perceive this is an
+unorganized establishment. I have not indulged in tablecloths yet; but
+you will put things to rights."
+
+"Tablecloths?" said Eleanor.
+
+"Yes--you have such things lying in wait for you. You have a great deal
+to do. And in the first place, you are to find out the good qualities
+of these fruits of the land," he said, giving her portions of several
+vegetable preparations with which and with fruits the table was filled.
+
+"What is this?" said Eleanor.
+
+"Taro; one of the valuable things with which nature has blessed Fiji.
+The natives cultivate it well and carefully. That is yam; and came from
+a root five and a half feet long. Eleanor--I do not at all comprehend
+how you come to be sitting there!"
+
+It was so strange and new to Eleanor, and Mr. Rhys was such a compound
+of things new and things old to her, that a little chance word like
+this was enough to make her flutter and change colour. He perceived it,
+and bent his attention to amuse her with the matters of the table; and
+told her wonders of the natural productions of Fiji. But in the midst
+of this Mr. Rhys's hand would come abstracting her tea-cup to fill it
+again; and then Eleanor watched while he did it; and he made himself a
+little private amusement about getting it sugared right and finding how
+she liked it; and Eleanor wondered at him and her tea-cup together, and
+stirred her tea in a subdued state of mind.
+
+"One hardly expects to see such a nice little teaspoon in Fiji," she
+remarked.
+
+"Aunt Caxton, again," said Mr. Rhys.
+
+"But Mr. Rhys, your Fijians must be remarkable cooks! Or have you
+taught them?"
+
+"I have taught nobody in that line."
+
+"Then are they not remarkable for their skill in cookery?"
+
+"As a nation, I think they are; and it is one evidence of their mental
+development. They have a great variety of native dishes, some of which,
+I believe, are not despicable."
+
+"But these are English dishes."
+
+"Do justice to them, then, like a good Englishwoman."
+
+Eleanor's praise was not undeserved; for the chicken and yam were
+excellent, and the sweet potatoe which Mr. Rhys put upon her plate was
+roasted very like one that had been in some hot ashes at home. But
+everything except the dishes was strange, Mr. Rhys's hand included.
+Through the whole length of the house, and of course through the middle
+apartment, ran a double row of columns, upholding the roof. If
+Eleanor's eye followed them up, there was no ceiling, but the lofty
+roof of thatch over her head. Under her foot was a mat, of native
+workmanship; substantial and neat, and very foreign looking. And here
+were aunt Caxton's cups; and if she lifted her eyes--Eleanor felt most
+strange then, although most at home.
+
+The taro and yam and sweet potatoe were only an introduction to the
+fruit, which was beautiful as a shew. A native servant came in and
+removed the dishes, and then set on the table a large basket, in which
+the whole dessert was very simply served. Cocoanuts and bananas,
+oranges and wild plums, bread-fruit and Malay apples, came piled
+together in beautiful mingling. Mr. Rhys went himself to a sort of
+beaufet in the room and brought plates.
+
+"Servants cannot be said to be in complete training," he said with a
+humourous look as he seated himself. "It would be strange if they were,
+when there has been no one to train them. And in Fiji."
+
+"I do not understand," said Eleanor. "Have you been keeping house he
+all by yourself? I thought not, from what Mrs. Balliol said."
+
+"You may trust sister Balliol for being always correct. No, for the
+last few months, until lately, I have been building this house. Since
+it was finished I have lived in it, partly; but I have taken my
+principal meals at the other house."
+
+"_You_ have been building it?"
+
+"Or else you would not be in it at this moment. There is no carpenter
+to be depended on in Fiji but yourself. You have got to go over the
+house presently and see how you like it. Are you ready for a banana? or
+an orange? I think you must try one of these cocoanuts."
+
+"But you had people to help you?"
+
+"Yes. At the rate of two boards a day."
+
+"But, Mr. Rhys, if you cannot get carpenters, where can you get
+cooks?--or do the people have _this_ by nature?"
+
+"When you ask me properly, I will tell you," he said, with a little
+pucker in the corners of his mouth that made Eleanor take warning and
+draw off. She gave her attention to the cocoanut, which she found she
+must learn how to eat. Mr. Rhys played with an orange in the mean time,
+but she knew was really busy with nothing but her and her cocoanut.
+When she would be tempted by no more fruit, he went off and brought a
+little wooden bowl of water and a napkin, which he presented for her
+fingers, standing before her to hold it. Eleanor dipped in her fingers,
+and then looked up.
+
+"You should not do this for me, Mr. Rhys!" she said half earnestly.
+
+But he stooped down and took his own payment; and on the whole Eleanor
+did not feel that she had greatly the advantage of him. Indeed Mr. Rhys
+had payment of more sorts than one; for cheeks were rosy as the fingers
+were white which she was drying, as she had risen and stood before him.
+She looked on then with great edification, to see his fingers
+deliberately dipped in the same bowl and dried on the same napkin; for
+very well Eleanor knew they would have done it for no mortal beside
+her. And then she was carried off to look at the walls of her house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+IN THE HOUSE.
+
+
+  "Thou hast found ....
+  Thy cocoas and bananas, palms and yams,
+  And homestall thatched with leaves."
+
+
+The walls of the house were, to an Englishwoman, a curiosity. They were
+made of reeds; three layers or thicknesses of them being placed
+different ways, and bound and laced together with sinnet; the strong
+braid made of the fibre of the cocoanut-husk. It was this braid, woven
+in and out, which produced the pretty mosaic effect Eleanor had
+observed upon the outside. Mr. Rhys took her to a doorway, where she
+could examine from within and from without this novel construction; and
+explained minutely how it was managed.
+
+"This looks like a foreign land," said Eleanor. "You had described it,
+and I thought I had imagined it; but sight and feeling are quite a
+different matter."
+
+"I did not describe it to you?"
+
+"No--O no; you described it to aunt Caxton."
+
+He drew her back a step or two and laid her hand upon the post of the
+door.
+
+"What is this?" said Eleanor.
+
+"That is a piece of the stem of the palm-fern."
+
+"And these are its natural mouldings and markings! It is like elegant
+carved work! It is natural, is it not?" she said suddenly.
+
+"Certainly. The natives do execute very marvellous carving in wood,
+with tools that would drive a workman at home to despair; but I have
+not learned the art. Come here--the pillars that hold up the roof of
+your house are of the same wood."
+
+A double row of pillars through the whole length of the house gave it
+stability; they were stems of the same palm fern, and as they had been
+chosen and placed with a careful eye to size and position, the effect
+of them was not at all inelegant. The building itself was of generous
+length and width; and with a room cut off at each end, as the fashion
+was, the centre apartment was left of really noble proportions; broad,
+roomy, and lofty; with its palm columns springing up to its high roof
+of thatch. Standing beside one of them, Eleanor looked up and declared
+it a beautiful room.
+
+"Do not look at the doors and windows," said Mr. Rhys. "I did not make
+those--they were sent out framed. I had only the pleasure of putting
+them in."
+
+"And how did that agree with all your other work?"
+
+"Well," he said decidedly. "That was my recreation."
+
+"There is the prettiest mixture of wild and tame in this house," said
+Eleanor, speaking a little timidly; for she was conscious all the while
+how little Mr. Rhys was thinking of anything but herself. "Are these
+mats made here?"
+
+"Pure Fijian!"
+
+The one at which Eleanor was looking, her eyes having fallen to the
+floor, was both large and elegant. It was very substantially and neatly
+made, and had a border fancifully wrought all round it, a few inches in
+width. The pattern of the border was made with bits of worsted and
+little white feathers. This mat covered all the centre of the room;
+under it the whole floor was spread with other and coarser ones; and
+others of a still different manufacture lined the walls of the room.
+
+"One need not want a prettier carpet," said Eleanor, keeping her eyes
+on the mat. Mr. Rhys put his arm round her and drew her off to one side
+of the room, where he made her pause before a large square space which
+was sunk a foot deep in the earth and bordered massively with a frame
+of logs of hard wood.
+
+"What do you think of that?"
+
+"Mr. Rhys, what is it?"
+
+"You would not take it for a fireplace?" he said with a comical look.
+
+"But is it a fireplace?"
+
+"That is what it is intended for. The Fijians make their fireplaces in
+this manner."
+
+"And you are a Fijian, I suppose."
+
+"So are you."
+
+"But Mr. Rhys, can a fireplace of this sort be useful in an English
+house?"
+
+"No. But in a Fijian house it may--as I have proved. The natives would
+have a wooden frame here, at one side, to hold cooking vessels. You do
+not need that, for you have a kitchen."
+
+"With a fireplace like this?"
+
+"Yes," he said, with a smile that had some raillery in it, which
+Eleanor would not provoke.
+
+"Suppose you come and look at something that is not Fijian," he went
+on. "You must vary your attention."
+
+He drew her before a little unostentatious piece of furniture, that
+looked certainly as if it was made out of a good bit of English oak.
+What it was, did not appear; it was very plain and rather massively
+made. Now Mr. Rhys produced keys, and opened first doors; then a
+drawer, which displayed all the characteristic contents and
+arrangements of a lady's work-box on an extended scale. Love's work;
+Eleanor could see her adopted mother in every carefully disposed supply
+of needles and silks and braids and glittering Sheffield ware, and the
+thousand and one appliances and provisions for one who was to be at a
+very large distance from Sheffield and every home source of needle
+furniture. Love recognized love's work, as Eleanor looked into the
+drawer.
+
+"Now you are ready to say this is a small thread and needle shop," said
+Mr. Rhys; "but you will be mistaken if you do. Look further."
+
+And that she might, he unlocked a pair of smaller inner doors; the
+little piece of furniture developed itself immediately into a capital
+secretary. As thoroughgoing as the work-box, but still more
+comprehensive, here were more than mere materials and conveniences for
+writing; it was a depository for several small but very precious
+treasures of a scientific and other kinds; and even a few books lay
+nestling among them, and there was room for more.
+
+"What is this!" Eleanor exclaimed when she had got her breath.
+
+"This is--Mrs. Caxton! I do not know whether she expected you to turn
+sempstress immediately for the colony--or whether she intended you for
+another vocation, as I do."
+
+"She sent this from England!"
+
+"It was made by nobody worse than a London cabinet-maker. I did not
+know whether you would choose to have it stand in this place, or in the
+only room that can properly be called your own. Come in here;--the
+other part of the house is, you will find, pretty much public."
+
+"Even your study?"
+
+"That is no exception, sometimes. I am a public man, myself."
+
+The partition wall of this room was nicely lined with mats; the door
+was like a piece of the wall, swinging to noiselessly, but Mr. Rhys
+shewed Eleanor how she could fasten it securely on the inside. Eleanor
+had been taken into this room on her first arrival; but had then been
+unable to see anything. Now her eyes were in requisition. Here there
+was even more attention paid to comfort and appearances than in the
+dining-room. In the simplest possible manner; but somebody had been at
+work there who knew that elegance is attainable without the help of
+opulence; and that eye and hand can do what money cannot. Eye and hand
+had been busy everywhere. Very pretty and soft native mats were on the
+floor; the windows were shaded with East Indian _jalousies;_ and not
+only personal convenience but tastes were regarded in the various
+articles of furniture and the arrangement of them. Good sense was
+regarded too. Camp chairs and tables were useful for packing and
+moving, as well as neat to the eye; white draperies relieved their
+simplicity; shelves were hung against the wall in one place for books,
+and filled; and in the floor stood an easy chair of excellent
+workmanship, into which Mr. Rhys immediately put Eleanor. But she
+started up to look at it.
+
+"Did aunt Caxton send all these things?" she said with a tear in her
+eye.
+
+"She has sent almost too many. These are but the beginning, Look here,
+Eleanor."
+
+He opened a door at one end of the room, hidden under mat hangings like
+the other, which disclosed a large space lined with shelves; several
+articles reposing on them, and on the floor below sundry chests and
+boxes.
+
+"This is your storeroom. Here you may revel in the riches you do not
+immediately wish to display. This is yours; I have a storeroom on my
+own part."
+
+"And what is in those chests and boxes, Mr. Rhys?"
+
+"I don't know! except that it is aunt Caxton again. You will find
+tablecloths and napkins--I can certify that--for I stumbled upon them;
+but I thought they had best not see the light till their owner came. So
+I locked them up--and here are the keys."
+
+"And who put up all these nice shelves?"
+
+"Your head carpenter."
+
+"And have you been doing all this for me?" said Eleanor.
+
+He laughed and took her in his arms again, looking at her with that
+mixture of expressions.
+
+"I wish I could give you some of my content!" he said.
+
+"I do not want it!" said Eleanor laughing.
+
+"Is that declaration entirely generous?"
+
+Eleanor had no mind, like a wise woman, to answer this question; but
+she was held under the inspection of an eye that she knew of old clear
+and keen beyond all others to untie the knot of anybody's meaning. She
+flushed up very much and tried to turn it off, for she saw he had a
+mind to have the answer.
+
+"You do not want me to give account of every idle word after that
+fashion?" she said lightly.
+
+"Hush--hush," he said, with a gravity that had much sweetness in it. "I
+cannot have you speak in that way."
+
+"I will not--" said Eleanor, suddenly much more sober than he was.
+
+"There are too many that have the habit of using their Master's words
+to point their own sentences. Do not let us use it. Come to my
+study--you did not see it before dinner, I think."
+
+Eleanor was glad he could smile again, for at that minute she could
+not. She felt whirled back to Plassy, and to Wiglands, to the time of
+their old and very different relations. She could not realize the new,
+nor quietly understand her own happiness; and a very fresh vivid sense
+of his character made her feel almost as much awe of him as affection.
+That was according to old habit too. But if she felt shy and strange,
+she was the only one; for Mr. Rhys was in a very gay mood. As they went
+through the dining-room he stopped to shew and display to her numerous
+odd little contrivances and arrangements; here a cupboard of rustic,
+and very pretty too, native work; or at least native materials. There a
+more sophisticated beaufet, which had come from Sydney by Mrs. Caxton's
+order. "Dear Mrs. Caxton!" said Mr. Rhys,--"she has forgotten nothing.
+I am only in astonishment what she can have found to fill your new
+invoice of boxes."
+
+"Why there are not many," said Eleanor.
+
+He looked at her and laughed. "You will be doing nothing but unpacking
+for days to come," he said. "I have done what I never thought I should
+do--married a rich wife."
+
+"Why aunt Caxton sends the things quite as much to you as to me."
+
+"Does she?"
+
+"I am sure, if anybody is poor, I am."
+
+"If that speech means _me_," said Mr. Rhys with a little bit of
+provokingness in the corners of his mouth,--"I don't take it. I do not
+feel poor; and never did. Not to-day certainly, with whole shiploads
+coming in."
+
+"I do not know of a single unnecessary thing but your microscope."
+
+"Have you brought that?" he said with a change of tone. "It would be
+just like Mrs. Caxton to come out and make us a visit some day! I
+cannot think of anything else she could give us, that she has not
+given. Look at my book-cases."
+
+Eleanor did, thinking of their owner. They were of plainest
+construction, but so made that they would take to pieces in five
+minutes and become packing cases with the books packed, all ready for
+travel; or at pleasure, as now, stand up in their place in the study in
+the form of very neat bookcases. They were not large; a Fijian
+missionary's library had need be not too extensive; but Eleanor looked
+over their contents with hurried delight.
+
+The rest of the room also spoke of Mrs. Caxton; in light neat tables
+and chairs and other things. Here too, though not a hand's turn had
+apparently been wasted, everything, simple as it was, had a sort of
+pleasantness of order and fitness which left the eye gratified. Eleanor
+read that and the meaning of it. Here were contrivances again that Mr.
+Rhys had done; shelves, and brackets, and pins to hang things; nothing
+out of use, but all so contrived as to give a certain elegant effect to
+this plain work-room. Even the book and paper disorder was not that of
+a careless man. Still it was not like the room at the other end of the
+house. The mats that floored and lined it were coarser; there were no
+_jalousies_ at the windows; and no easy chair anywhere. One thing it
+had like the other; a storeroom cut off from it. This was a large one,
+like Eleanor's, and filled. His money-drawer, Mr. Rhys called it. All
+sorts of articles valued by the natives were there; Mrs. Caxton had
+taken care to send a large supply. These were to serve the purposes of
+barter. Mr. Rhys displayed to Eleanor the stores of iron tools, cotton
+prints, blankets, and articles of clothing, that were stowed away
+there; stowed away with an absolute order and method which again she
+looked at as significant of one side at least of Mr. Rhys's character.
+He amused himself with displaying everything; shewed her the whole of
+the new and strangely appointed establishment over which she had come
+to preside, so far at least as the house contained it; and when he had
+brought her to something like an apparent share in his own gay mood, at
+last placed her in a camp chair in the dining-room, which he had set in
+the middle of the floor, and opened the door of the house. It gave
+Eleanor a lovely view. The plantations had been left open, so that the
+eye had a fair range down to the river and to the opposite shore, where
+another village stood. It was seen under bright sunshine now. Mr. Rhys
+let her look a moment, then shut the door, and came and sat down before
+her, taking both her hands in his own; and Eleanor knew from a glance
+at his face that the same thoughts were working within him that had
+wrought that moved look before dinner--when she first came. She felt
+her colour mounting; it tried her to be silent under his eye in that
+way.
+
+"Mr. Rhys, do you remember preaching to me one day at Plassy--when we
+were out walking?"
+
+"Yes," he said with a half laugh.
+
+"I wish you would do it again."
+
+"I will preach you a sermon every morning if you like."
+
+"No, but now. I wish you would, so as to make me realize that you are
+the same person."
+
+"I am not the same person at all!" he said.
+
+"Why are you not?" said Eleanor opening her eyes at him.
+
+"In those days I was your pastor and friend simply. The difference is,
+that I have acquired the right to love you--take care of you--and scold
+you."
+
+"It seems to me that last was a privilege you exercised occasionally in
+those times," said Eleanor archly.
+
+"Not at all! In those days I was a poor fellow that did not dare say a
+word to you."
+
+Eleanor's recollections were of sundry exceptions to this rule, so
+marked and prominent in her memory that she could not help laughing.
+
+"O Mr. Rhys, don't you remember--"
+
+"What?" said he with the utmost gravity.
+
+But Eleanor had stopped, and coloured now brilliantly.
+
+"It seems that your recollections are of a questionable character," he
+said. Eleanor did not deny it.
+
+"What is it you wish me _not_ to remember?"
+
+"It was a time when you said I was very wrong," said Eleanor meekly,
+"so do not call it back."
+
+He bent forward to kiss her, which did not steady Eleanor's thoughts at
+all.
+
+"Do you want preaching?" he said.
+
+"Yes indeed! It will do me good."
+
+"I will give you some words to think of, that I lived in all yesterday.
+'Beloved of God.' They are wonderful words, that Paul says belong to
+all the saints; and they were about me yesterday like a halo of glory,
+from morning to night."
+
+Now Eleanor was all right; now she recognized Mr. Rhys and herself, and
+listened to every word with her old delight in them. Now she could use
+her eyes and look at him, though she well saw that he was considering
+her with that full, moved tenderness that she had felt in him all day;
+even when he was talking and thinking of other things he did not cease
+to remember _her_.
+
+"Eleanor, what do you know about the meaning of those words?"
+
+"Little!" she said. "And yet, a little."
+
+"You know that _we_ were Gentiles, carried away unto these dumb
+idols--or after others in our own hearts--as helplessly as the poor
+heathen around us. But we have got the benefit of that word,--'I will
+call them my people, which were not my people; and her beloved, which
+was not beloved.'"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"Then look at our privileges--'The beloved of the Lord shall dwell in
+safety by him; and the Lord shall cover him all the day long, and he
+shall dwell between is shoulders.'--Heavenly security; unearthly joy; a
+hiding-place where the troubles of earth cannot reach us."
+
+Mr. Rhys left his position before Eleanor at this, and with a brow all
+alight with its thoughts began to pace up and down in front of her;
+just as he had done at Plassy, she remembered. She ventured not a word.
+Her heart was very full.
+
+"Then look how we are bidden to increase our rejoicing and to delight
+ourselves in the store laid up for us; we are not only safe and happy,
+but fed with dainties. All things are ready; Christ says he will sup
+with us; and we are bidden--'Eat, O friends; drink, yea, drink
+abundantly, O beloved.' 'He that cometh to me shall never hunger, and
+he that believeth on me shall never thirst.'
+
+"And then, Eleanor, if we are the elect of God, holy and beloved, what
+bowels of mercies should be in us; how precious all other beloved of
+him should be to us; how we should be constrained by his love. Are you?
+I am. I am willing to spend and be spent for these people among whom we
+are. I am sure there are many, many children of God among them, come
+and coming. I seek no better than to labour for them. It is the delight
+of my soul! Eleanor, how is it with you?"
+
+He had stood still before her during these last words, and now sat down
+again, taking her hands and looking with his undeceivable gaze into her
+face.
+
+"I desire the same thing. I dare not say, I desire it as strongly as
+you do,--but it is my very wish."
+
+"Is it for the love of Christ--or for love of these poor creatures? or
+for any other reason?"
+
+"I can hardly separate the first two," said Eleanor, looking a little
+wistfully. "The love of Christ is at the bottom of it all."
+
+"There is no other motive," he said; "no other that will do the work;
+nothing else that will work true love to them. But when I think of my
+Master--I am willing to do or be anything, I think, in his service!"
+
+He quitted her hands and began slowly walking up and down again.
+
+"Mr. Rhys," said Eleanor, "what can I do?"
+
+"Are you ready to encounter disagreeablenesses, and hardships, and
+privations, in the work?"
+
+"Yes; and discouragements."
+
+"There are no such things. There ought to be no such things. I never
+feel nor have felt discouraged. That is want of faith. Do you remember,
+Eleanor, 'The clouds are the dust of his feet?' Think--our eyes are
+blinded by the dust, we look at nothing else, and we do not see the
+glory of the steps that are taken."
+
+"That is true. O Mr. Rhys, that is glorious!"
+
+"Then you are not afraid? I forewarn you, little annoyances are
+sometimes harder to bear than great ones. It is one of the most trying
+things that I have to meet," said Mr. Rhys standing still with a funny
+face,--"to have Ra Mbombo's beard sweep my plate when I am at dinner."
+
+"What does he do that for?"
+
+"He is so fond of me."
+
+"That is being too fond, certainly."
+
+"It is an excess of affectionate attention,--he gets so close to me
+that we have a community of things. And you will have, Eleanor, some
+days, a perpetual levee of visitors. But what is all that, for Christ?"
+
+"I am not afraid," said Eleanor with a most unruffled smile.
+
+"I wrote to frighten you."
+
+"But I was not frightened. Are things no better in the islands than
+when you wrote?"
+
+"Changing--changing every day; from darkness to light, and from the
+power of Satan to God. Literally. There are heathen temples here, in
+which a few years ago if a woman or a child had dared cross the
+threshold they would have been done to death immediately. Now those
+very temples are used as our schools. On our way to the chapel we shall
+pass almost over a place where there used to be one of the ovens for
+cooking human bodies; now the grass and wild tomatoes are growing over
+it. I can take you to house after house, where men and women used to be
+eaten, where now if you stand to listen you may hear hymns of praise to
+Jesus and prayer going up in his name. Praise the Lord! It is grand to
+be permitted to live in Fiji now!"--
+
+Eleanor was hushed and silent a few minutes, while Mr. Rhys walked
+slowly up and down. Then she spoke with her eyes full of sympathetic
+tears.
+
+"Mr. Rhys, what can I do?"
+
+"What you have to do at present," he said with a change of tone, "is to
+take care of me and learn the language,--both languages, I should say!
+And in the mean while you had better take care of your pins,"--he
+stooped as he spoke, to pick up one at her feet and presented it with
+comical gravity. "You must remember you are not in England. Here you
+could not spend pin-money even if you had it."
+
+"If I were inclined to be extravagant," said Eleanor laughing at him,
+"your admonition would be thrown away; I have brought such quantities
+with me."
+
+"Of pins?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I hope you will not ever use them!"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I do not see what a properly made dress has to do with pins."
+
+But at this confession of masculine ignorance Eleanor first looked and
+then laughed and covered her face, till he came and sat down again and
+by forcible possession took her hands away.
+
+"You have no particular present occasion to laugh at me," he said.
+"Eleanor, what made you first willing to quit England and go anywhere?"
+
+The answer to this was first an innocent look, and then an extreme
+scarlet flush. She could not hide it, with her hands prisoners; she sat
+in a pretty state of abashment. A slight giving way of the mouth bore
+witness that he read and understood it, though his immediate words were
+reassuringly grave and unchanged in tone.
+
+"I remember, you did not comprehend such a thing as possible, at one
+time. When was that changed? You used to have a great fear."
+
+"I lost part of that at Plassy."
+
+"Where did you lose the rest of it, Eleanor?"
+
+"It was in London."
+
+He saw by the light in Eleanor's eyes, which looked at him now, that
+there was something behind. Yet she hesitated.
+
+"Sealed lips?" said he bending forward again to her face. "You must
+unseal them, Eleanor."
+
+"Do you want me to tell you all that?" she asked questioningly.
+
+"I want you to tell me everything."
+
+"It is only a long story."
+
+"Do not make it short."
+
+An easy matter! to go on and tell it with her two hands prisoners, and
+those particularly clear eyes looking into her face. It served to shew
+the grace that belonged to Eleanor, the way that in these circumstances
+she began what she had to say. Where another woman would have been
+awkward, she spoke with the simple sweet poise of manner that had been
+the admiration of many a company, and that made Mr. Rhys now press the
+little hands closer in his own. A little evident shy reluctance only
+added to the grace.
+
+"It is a good while ago--I felt, Mr. Rhys, that I wanted,--just that
+which makes one willing to go anywhere and do anything; though not for
+that reason. I expected to live in England always. I wanted to know
+more of Christ. I wanted it, not for work's sake but for happiness'
+sake. I was a Christian, I suppose; but I knew--I had seen and
+felt--that there were things,--there was a height of Christian life and
+attainment, that I had not reached; but where I had seen other people,
+with a light upon their brows that I knew never shined upon mine. I
+knew whence it came--I knew what I wanted--more knowledge of Christ,
+more love of him."
+
+"When was this?"
+
+"It is a good while ago. It is--it was,--time seems so confused to
+me!--I know it was the winter after you went away. I think it was near
+the spring. We were in London."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I was cold at the heart of religion. I was not happy. I knew what I
+wanted--more love to Christ."
+
+"You did love him."
+
+"Yes; but you know what it is just to love him a little. I went as duty
+bade me; but the love of him did not make all duty happy. I had seen
+you live differently--I saw others--and I could not be content as I was.
+
+"We were in town then. One night I sat up all night, and gave the whole
+night to it."
+
+"To seeking Jesus?"
+
+"I wanted to get out of my coldness and find him!"
+
+"And you found him?"
+
+"Not soon. I spent the night in it. I prayed--and I walked the floor
+and prayed--and I shed a great many tears over the Bible. I felt as if
+I must have what I wanted--but I could not seem to get any nearer to
+it. The whole night passed away--and I had wearied myself--and I had
+got nothing.
+
+"The dawn was just breaking, when I got up from my knees the last time.
+I was almost giving up in despair. I had done all I could--what could I
+do more? I went to the window and opened it. The light was just
+creeping up in the sky--there was a little streak of brightness along
+the horizon, or of light rather, but it was the herald of brightness. I
+felt desolate and tired, and like giving up hope and quest together.
+The dull grey canopy overhead seemed just like my heart. I cannot tell
+you how enviously I looked at the eastern dawn, wishing the light would
+break upon my own horizon. I shall never forget it. It was dusky yet
+down in the streets and over the housetops; the city had not waked up
+in our quarter; it was still yet, and the breath of the morning's
+freshness came to me and revived me and mocked me both at once. I could
+have cried for sadness, if I had not been too down-hearted and weary.
+
+"While I stood there, hearing the morning's promise, I suppose, without
+knowing it--there came up from the streets somewhere below me, and
+near, the song of a chimney-sweep. I can never tell you how it came! It
+came--but not yet; at first I only knew what he was singing by the
+notes of the air; but the next verse he began came up clear and strong
+to me at the window. He was singing those words--
+
+  "'Twas a heaven below
+  My Redeemer to know;
+  And the angels could do nothing more,
+  Than to fall at his feet,
+  And the story repeat,
+  And the Lover of sinners adore.'
+
+
+"I thought, it seemed that a band of angels came and carried those
+words up past my window! And the dawn came in my heart. I cannot tell
+you how,--I seemed to see everything at once. I saw what a heaven below
+it is, to know the love of Christ. I think my heart was something like
+the Ganges when the tide is coming in. I thought, if the angels could
+do nothing more than praise him, neither could I! I fell at his feet
+then--I do not think I have ever really left them since--not for long
+at a time; and since then my great wish has been to be allowed to
+glorify him. I have had no fears of anything in the way."
+
+Eleanor had not been able to get through her "long story" without
+tears; but they came very much against her will. She could not see, yet
+somehow she felt the strong sympathetic emotion with which she was
+listened to. She could hear it, in the subdued intonation of Mr. Rhys's
+words.
+
+"'Keep yourselves in the love of God.' How shall we do it, Eleanor?"
+
+She answered without raising her eyes--"'The Lord is good unto them
+that wait for him.'"
+
+"And, 'if ye keep my commandments, ye shall abide in my love.'"
+
+There was silence a moment.
+
+"That commandment must take me away for a while, Eleanor." She looked
+up.
+
+"I thought," he said, with his sweet arch smile, "I might take so much
+of a honeymoon as one broken day--but there is a poor sick man a mile
+off who wants me; and brother Balliol has had the schooner affairs to
+attend to. I shall be gone an hour. Will you stay here? or shall I take
+you to the other house?"
+
+"May I stay here?"
+
+"Certainly. You can fasten the door, and then if any visiters come they
+will think I am not at home. I will give Solomon directions."
+
+"Who is Solomon?"
+
+"Solomon is--I will introduce him to you!" and with a very bright face
+Mr. Rhys went off into his study, coming back again in a moment and
+with his hat. He went to a door opposite that by which Eleanor had
+entered the house, and blew a shrill whistle.
+
+"Solomon is my fast friend and very faithful servant," he said
+returning to Eleanor. "You saw him at dinner--but it is time he should
+know you."
+
+In came Solomon; a very black specimen of the islanders, in a dress
+something like that which Eleanor had noticed on the man in the canoe.
+Solomon's features were undeniably good, if somewhat heavy; they had
+sense and manliness; and his eye was mildly quiet and genial in its
+expression. It brightened, Eleanor saw, as he listened to Mr. Rhys's
+words; to which she also listened without being able to understand
+them, and wondering at the warm feeling of her cheeks. Solomon's
+gratulations were mainly given with his face, for all the English words
+he could get out were, "glad--see--Misi Risi"--Mr. Rhys laughed and
+dismissed him, and went off himself.
+
+Eleanor was half glad to be left alone for a time. She fastened the
+door, not for fear, but that her solitude might not be intruded upon;
+then walked up and down over the soft mats of the centre room and tried
+to bring her spirits to some quiet of realization. But she could not.
+The change had been so sudden, from her wandering state of uncertainty
+and expectation to absolute content and rest, of body and mind at once,
+that her mental like her actual footing seemed to sway and heave yet
+with the upheavings that were past. She could not settle down to
+anything like a composed state of mind. She could not get accustomed
+yet to Mr. Rhys in his new character. As the children say, it was "too
+good to be true."
+
+A little unready to be still, she went off again into the room
+specially prepared for her, where the green jalousies shaded the
+windows. One window here was at the end; a direction in which Eleanor
+had not looked. She softly raised the jalousies a little, expecting to
+see just the waving bananas and other plants of the tropical garden
+that surrounded the house; or perhaps servants' offices, about which
+she had a good deal of curiosity.
+
+Instead of that, the window revealed a landscape of such beauty that
+Eleanor involuntarily pulled up the blind and sat entranced before it.
+No such thing as servants or servants' offices. A wide receding stretch
+of broken country, rising in the distance to the dignity of blue
+precipitous hills; a gorge of which opened far away, to delight and
+draw the eye into its misty depth; a middle distance of lordly forest,
+with patches of clearing; bits of tropical vegetation at hand, and over
+them and over it all a tropical sky. In one direction the view was very
+open. Eleanor could discern a bit of a pathway winding through it, and
+once or twice a dark figure moving along its course. This was Vuliva!
+this was her foreign home! the region where darkness and light were
+struggling foot by foot for the mastery; where heathen temples were
+falling and heathen misery giving place to the joy of the gospel, but
+where the gospel had to fight them yet. Eleanor looked till her heart
+was too full to look any longer; and then turned aside to get the only
+possible relief in prayer.
+
+The hour was near gone when she went to her window again. The day was
+cooling towards the evening. Well she guessed that this window had been
+specially arranged for her. In everything that had been done in the
+house she had seen that same watchful care for her pleasure and
+comfort. There never was a house that seemed to be so love's work; Mr.
+Rhys's own hand had most manifestly been everywhere; and the furniture
+that Mrs. Caxton had sent he had placed. But Mrs. Caxton had not sent
+all. Eleanor's eye rested on a dressing-table that certainly never came
+from England. It was pretty enough; it was very pretty, even to her
+notions; yet it had cost nothing, and was as nearly as possible made of
+nothing. Yes, for she looked; the frame was only some native reeds or
+canes and a bit of board; the rest was white muslin drapery, which
+would pack away in a very few square inches of room, but now hung in
+pretty folds around the glass and covered the frame. Eleanor just
+looked and wondered; no more; for the hour was up, and she went to her
+window and raised the jalousies again. She was more quiet now, she
+thought; but her heart throbbed with the thought of Mr. Rhys and his
+return.
+
+She looked over the beautiful wild country, watching for him. The light
+was fair on the blue hills; the sea-breeze fluttered the leaves of the
+cocoanut trees and waved the long thick leaves of the banana. She heard
+no other sound near or far, till the quick swift tread she was
+listening for came to her ear. Nobody was to be seen; but the step was
+not to be mistaken. Eleanor got to the front door and had it open just
+in time to see him come.
+
+They stood then together in the doorway, for the view was fair on the
+river side too. The opposite shore was beautiful, and the houses of the
+heathen village had a great interest for Eleanor, aside from their
+effect as part of the landscape; but her shyness was upon her again,
+and she had a thorough consciousness that Mr. Rhys did not see how the
+light fell on either shore. At last he put his arm round her and drew
+her up to his side, saying,
+
+"And so you did not get my letters in Sydney.--Poor little dove!"
+
+It struck Eleanor with a curious pleasure, these words. They would have
+been true, she knew, in the lips of no other mortal, as also certainly
+to no other mortal would it have occurred to use them. She was not the
+sort of person by any means to whom such an appellation would generally
+be given. To be sure her temper was of the finest, but then also it had
+a body to it. Yet here she knew it was true; and he knew; it was spoken
+not by any arrogance, but by a purely frank and natural understanding
+of their mutual natures and relations. She answered by a smile,
+exceeding sweet and sparkling, as well as conscious, to the face that
+was looking down at her with a little bit of provoking archness upon
+its gravity; and their lips met in a long sealing kiss. Husband and
+wife understood each other.
+
+Perhaps Mr. Rhys knew it, for it seemed as if his lips could hardly
+leave hers; and Eleanor's face was all manner of lights.
+
+"What has become of Alfred?" he asked, in an irrelevant kind of manner,
+by way of parenthesis.
+
+"I have not seen him--hardly--since you left England. He is not under
+mamma's care now."
+
+"And my friend Julia? You have told me but a mite yet about everybody."
+
+"Julia is your friend still. But Julia--I have not seen her in a long,
+long time."
+
+"How is that?"
+
+"Mamma would not let me. O Mr. Rhys!--we have been kept apart. I could
+not even see her when I came away."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Mamma--she was afraid of my influence over her."
+
+"Is it possible!"
+
+"Julia was going on well--setting her face to do right. Now--I do not
+know how it will be. Even our letters are overlooked."
+
+"I need not ask how your mother is. I suppose she is trying to save one
+of her daughters for the world."
+
+Eleanor's thoughts swept a wide course in a few minutes; remembered
+whose hand instrumentality had saved her from such a fate and had
+striven for Julia. With a sigh that was part sorrow and part gratitude,
+Eleanor laid her head softly on Mr. Rhys's shoulder. With such
+tenderness as one gives to a child, and yet rarer, because deeper and
+graver, she was made at home there.
+
+"Don't you want to take a walk to the chapel?"
+
+"O yes!"--But she was held fast still.
+
+"And shall we give sister Balliol the pleasure of our company to tea,
+as we come back?"
+
+"If you please--if you like."
+
+"I do not like it at all," said Mr. Rhys frankly--"but I suppose we
+must."
+
+"Think of finding the restraints of society even in Fiji!" said Eleanor
+trying to laugh, as she brought her bonnet and they set out.
+
+"You must find them everywhere--unless you live to please yourself;"
+said Mr. Rhys, with his sweet grave look; and Eleanor was consoled.
+
+The walk to the church was not very long, and she could have desired it
+longer. The river shore, and the view on the other side, and the
+village by which they passed, the trees and the vegetable gardens and
+the odd thatched roofs--everything was pretty and new to Eleanor's
+eyes. They passed all they had seen in coming from the landing that
+morning, taking this time a path outside the mission premises. Past the
+house with the row of pillars in front, which Eleanor learned was a
+building for the use of the various schools. A little further on stood
+the chapel. It was neat and tasteful enough to please even an English
+eye; and indeed looked more English than foreign on a distant view; and
+standing there in the wilderness, with its little bell-tower rising
+like a witness for all that was good in the midst of a heathen land,
+the feelings of those who looked upon it had need be very tender and
+very deep.
+
+"This chapel is dear to our eyes," said Mr. Rhys. "Everything is, that
+costs such pains. This poor people have made it; and it is one of the
+best pieces of work in Fiji. It was all done by the labour of their
+hearts and hands."
+
+"That seems to be the style of carpentry in this country," said Eleanor.
+
+"The chief made up his mind on a good principle--that for a house of
+the true God, neither time nor material could be too precious. On that
+principle they went to work. The timber used in the building is what we
+call green-heart--the best there is in Fiji. To find it, they had to
+travel over many a mile of the country; and remember, there are no oxen
+here, no horses; they had no teams to help them. All must be done by
+the labour of the hands. I think there were about eighty beams of
+green-heart timber needed for the house--some of them twelve and some
+of them fifty feet long. In about three months these were collected;
+found and brought in from the woods and hills, sometimes from ten miles
+away. While the young men were doing this, the old men at home were all
+day beating cocoanut husk, to separate the fibre for making sinnet. All
+day long I used to hear their beaters going; it was good music; and
+when at the end of every few days the woodcutters came home with their
+timber--so soon as they were heard shouting the news of their
+coming--there was a general burst and cry and every creature in the
+village set off to meet them and help drag the logs home. Women and
+children and all went; and you never saw people so happy.
+
+"Then the building was done in the same spirit. Many a time when I was
+busy with them, overlooking their work, I have heard them chanting to
+each other words from the Bible--band against band. One side would
+sing--'But will God indeed dwell on the earth? Behold, the heaven of
+heavens cannot contain thee; how much less this house that I have
+builded.'--Then the other side would answer, 'The Lord hath chosen
+Zion; he hath desired it for his habitation.' I cannot tell you how
+sweet it was. There was another chant they were very fond of. A few
+would begin with Solomon's petition--'Have thou respect unto the prayer
+of thy servant, and to his supplication, O Lord my God, to hearken unto
+the cry and to the prayer, which thy servant prayeth before thee
+to-day: that thine eyes may be open toward this house night and day,
+even toward the place of which thou hast said, My name shall be there:
+that thou mayest hearken unto the prayer which thy servant shall make
+toward this place,'--and here a number of the other builders would join
+in with their cry--'Hearken unto the prayer which thy servant shall
+make!' And so in the next verse, when it came near the end the others
+would join in--'And when thou hearest, forgive!'--"
+
+"I should think you would love it!" said Eleanor, with her eyes full of
+tears. "And I should think the Lord would love it."
+
+"Come in, and see how it looks on the inside."
+
+The inside was both simple and elegant, after a quaint fashion; for it
+was Fijian elegance and Fijian simplicity. A double row of columns led
+down the centre of the building; they looked like mahogany, but it was
+only native wood; and the ornamental work at top which served for their
+capitals, was done in sinnet. Over the doors and windows triangular
+pediments were elaborately wrought in black with the same sinnet. The
+roof was both quaint and elegant. It was done in alternate open and
+close reed-work, with broad black lines dividing it; and ornamental
+lashings and bandings of sinnet were used about the fastenings and
+groinings of spars and beams. Then the wings of the communion rail were
+made of reed-work, ornamented; the rail was a beautiful piece of nut
+timber, and the balusters of sweet sandal wood. The whole effect
+exceeding pretty and graceful, though produced with such simple means.
+
+"Mr. Ruskin ought to have had this as an illustration of his 'Lamp of
+Sacrifice,'" said Eleanor. "How beautiful!--"
+
+"The 'Lamp of Truth,' too," said Mr. Rhys. "It is all honest work. That
+side was done by our heathen neighbours. The heathen chief sent us his
+compliments, said he heard we were engaged in a great work, and if we
+pleased he would come and help us. So he did. They built that side of
+the wall and the roof."
+
+"Did they do it well?"
+
+"Heartily."
+
+"Do they come to attend worship in it?"
+
+"The chapel is a great attraction. Strangers come to see--if not to
+worship,--and then we get a chance to tell the truth to them."
+
+"And Mr. Rhys, how is the truth prospering generally?"
+
+"Eleanor, we want men!--and that seems to be all we want. My heart
+feels ready to break sometimes, for the want of helpers. I am glad of
+brother Amos coming--very glad!--but we want a hundred where we have
+one. It is but a few weeks since a young man came over from one of the
+islands, a large and important island, bringing tidings that a number
+of towns there had given up heathenism--all wanting teachers--and there
+were no teachers for them. In one place the people had built a chapel;
+they had gone so far as that; it was at Koroivonu--and they gathered
+together the next Sunday after it was finished, great numbers of the
+people, filled the chapel and stood under some bread-fruit trees in
+front of it, and stood there waiting to have some one come and tell
+them the truth--and there was no one. My heart is ready to weep blood
+when I think of these things! The Tongan who came with the news came
+with his eyes full of tears. And this is no strange nor solitary case
+of Koroivonu."
+
+Mr. Rhys walked the floor of the little chapel, his features working,
+his breast heaving. Eleanor sat thinking how little she could do--how
+much she would!
+
+"You have native helpers--?" she said gently.
+
+"Praise the Lord for what they are! but we want missionaries. We want
+help from England. We cannot get it from the Colonies--not fast enough.
+Eleanor,"--and he stopped short and faced her--"a few months ago, to
+give you another instance, I was beholder of such a scene as this. I
+was to preach to a community that were for the first time publicly
+renouncing heathenism. It was Sunday."--Mr. Rhys spoke slowly,
+evidently exercising some control over himself; how often Eleanor had
+seen him do that in the pulpit!--
+
+"I stood on the shores of a bay, reefed in from the ocean. I wish I
+could put the scene before you! On the land side, one of the most
+magnificent landscapes stretched back into the country, with almost
+every sort of natural beauty. Before me the bay, with ten large canoes
+moored in it. An island in the bay, I remember, caught the light
+beautifully; and beyond that there was the white fence of breakers on
+the reef barrier. The smallest of the canoes would hold a hundred men;
+they were the fleet of Thakomban, one of Fiji's fiercest kings
+formerly, with himself and his warriors on board.
+
+"My preaching place was on what had been the dancing grounds of a
+village. I had a mat stretched on three poles for an awning--such a mat
+as they make for sails;--and around me were nine others prepared in
+like manner. This was my chapel. Just at my left hand was a spot of
+ground where were ten boiling springs; and until that Sunday, one of
+them had been the due appointed place for cooking human bodies. That
+was the place and the preparation I looked at in the still Sunday
+morning, before service time.
+
+"At that time, the time appointed for service, a drum was beat and the
+conch shell blown; the same shell which had been used to give the war
+call. Directly all those canoes were covered with men, and they were
+plunging into the water and wading to shore. These were Thakomban and
+his warriors. Not blacked and stripped and armed for fighting, but
+washed and clothed. They were stopping in that place on their way
+somewhere else, and now coming and gathering to hear the preaching. On
+the other side came a procession from the village; and down every
+hillside and along every path, I could see scattering groups and lines
+of comers from the neighbouring country. _These_ were the heathen
+inhabitants, coming up now to hear the truth and profess by a public
+act of worship that they were heathens no longer. They all gathered
+round me there under the mat awnings, and sat on the grass looking up
+to hear, while I told them of Jesus."
+
+Mr. Rhys's voice was choked and he broke off abruptly. Eleanor guessed
+how he had talked to that audience; she could see it in his flushing
+face and quivering lip. She could not find a word to say, and let him
+lead her in silence and slowly away from the chapel and towards the
+mission house. Before entering the plantation again, Eleanor stopped
+and said in a low voice,
+
+"What can I do?"
+
+He gave her a look of that moved sweetness she had seen in him all day,
+and answered with his usual abruptness,
+
+"You can pray."
+
+"I do that."
+
+"Pray as Paul prayed--for your mother, and for Julia, and for Fiji, and
+for me. Do you know how that was?"
+
+"I know what some of his prayers were."
+
+"Yes, but I never thought how Paul prayed, until the other day. You
+must put the scattered hints together. Wait until we are at home--I
+will shew you."
+
+He pushed open the wicket and they went in; and the rest of the evening
+Eleanor talked to Mrs. Amos or to Mr. Balliol; she sheered off a little
+from his wife. There was plenty of interesting conversation going on
+with one and another; but Eleanor had a little the sense of being to
+that lady an object of observation, and drew into a corner or into the
+shade as much as she could.
+
+"Your wife is very handsome, brother Rhys," Mrs. Balliol remarked in an
+aside, towards the end of the evening.
+
+"That is hardly much praise from you, sister Balliol," he answered
+gravely. "I know you do not set much store by appearances."
+
+"She is very young!"
+
+Both looked over to the opposite corner where Eleanor was talking to
+Mrs. Amos, sitting on a low seat and looking up; a little drawn back
+into the shade, yet not so shaded but that the womanly modest sweetness
+of her face could be seen well enough. Mr. Rhys made no answer.
+
+"I judge, brother Rhys, that she has been brought up in the great
+world,"--Mrs. Balliol went on, looking across to the ruffled sleeve.
+
+"She is not in it now," Mr. Rhys observed quietly.
+
+"No;--she is in good hands. But, brother Rhys, do you think our sister
+understands exactly what sort of work she has come to do here?"
+
+"She is teachable," he answered with great imperturbability.
+
+"Well, you will be able to train her, if she wants it. I am glad to
+know she is in such good hands. I think she has hardly yet a just
+notion of what lies before her, brother Rhys."
+
+"When did you make your observations?"
+
+"She was with me, you know--you left her with me this morning. We were
+alone, and we had a little conversation."
+
+"Mrs. Balliol, do you think a just notion of _anything_ call be formed
+in half an hour?"
+
+His question was rather grave, and the lady's eyes wavered from meeting
+his. She fidgeted a little.
+
+"O you know best, of course," she said; "I have had very little
+opportunity--I only judged from the want of seriousness; but that might
+have been from some other cause. You must excuse me, if I spoke too
+frankly."
+
+"You can never do that to me," he said. "Thank you, sister Balliol. I
+will take care of her."
+
+Mrs. Balliol was reassured. But neither during their walk home nor ever
+after, did Mr. Rhys tell Eleanor of this little bit of talk that had
+concerned her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+AT WORK.
+
+  "My Lady comes; my Lady goes; he can see her day by day,
+  And bless his eyes with her beauty, and with blessings strew her way."
+
+The breakfast-table was as much of a mystery to Eleanor as the dinner
+had been. Not because it looked so homelike; though in the early
+morning the doors and windows were all open and the sunlight streaming
+through on Mrs. Caxton's china cups and silver spoons. It all looked
+foreign enough yet, among those palm-fern pillars, and on the Fijian
+mat with its border made of red worsted ends and little white feathers.
+The basket of fruit, too, on the table, did not look like England. But
+the tea was unexceptionable, and there was a piece of fresh fish as
+perfectly broiled as if it had been brought over by some genius or
+fairy, smoking hot, from an English gridiron. And in the order and
+arrangements of the table, there had been something more than native
+skill and taste, Eleanor was sure.
+
+"It seems to me, Mr. Rhys," she said, "that the Fijians are remarkably
+good cooks!"
+
+"Uncommon, for savages," said Mr. Rhys with perfect gravity.
+
+"This fish is excellent."
+
+"There is no better fish-market in the world, for variety and
+abundance, than we have here."
+
+"But I mean, it is broiled just like an English fish. Isaac Walton
+himself would be satisfied with it."
+
+"Isaac Walton never saw such fishing as is carried on here. The natives
+are at home in the water from their childhood--men and women both;--and
+the women do a good deal of the fishing. But the serious business is
+the turtle fishing. It is a hand to hand conflict. The men plunge into
+the water and grapple bodily with the turtle, after they have brought
+them into an enclosure with their nets. Four or five men lay hold of
+one, if it is a large fellow, and they struggle together under water
+till the turtle thinks he has the worst of the bargain, and concludes
+to come to the surface."
+
+"Does not the turtle sometimes get the better?"
+
+"Sometimes."
+
+"Mr. Rhys, have you any particular duty to-day?"
+
+"I don't see how you can keep up that form of expression!" said he,
+with a comic gravity of dislike.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"It is not treating me with proper confidence."
+
+Her look in reply was so very pretty, both blushing and winsome, that
+the corners of his mouth were obliged to give way.
+
+"You know what my first name is, do not you?"
+
+"Yes," said Eleanor.
+
+"The people about call me 'Misi Risi'--I am not going to have my wife a
+Fijian to me."
+
+The lights on Eleanor's face were very pretty. With the same contained
+smile he went on.
+
+"I gave you my name yesterday. It is yours to do what you like with;
+but the greatest dishonour you can shew to a gift, is not to use it at
+all."
+
+"That is the most comical putting of the case that ever I heard," said
+Eleanor, quite unable to retain her own gravity.
+
+"Very good sense," said Mr. Rhys, with a dry preservation of his.
+
+"But after all," said Eleanor, "you gave me your second name, if you
+please--I do not know what I have to do with the first."
+
+"You do not? Is it possible you think your name is Henry or James, or
+something else? You are Rowland Rhys as truly as I am--only you are the
+mistress, and I am the master."
+
+Eleanor's look went over the table with something besides laughter in
+the brown eyes, which made them a gentle thing to see.
+
+"Mr. Rhys, I am thinking, what you will do to this part of you to make
+it like the other?"
+
+He gave her a glance, at which her eyes went down instantly.
+
+"I do not know," he said with infinite gravity. "I will think about it.
+Preaching does not seem to do you any good."
+
+Eleanor bent her attention upon her bread and fruit. He spoke next with
+a change of tone, giving up his gravity.
+
+"Do you know _your_ particular duty to-day?"
+
+"I thought," said Eleanor,--"that as yesterday you shewed me the
+head-carpenter, perhaps this morning you would let me see the chief
+cook."
+
+"That is not the first thing. You must have a lesson in Fijian; now
+that I hope you are instructed in English."
+
+He carried her off to his study to get it. The lesson was a matter of
+amusement to Mr. Rhys, but Eleanor set herself earnestly to learn. Then
+he said he supposed she might as well see her establishment at once,
+and took her out to the side of the house where she had not been.
+
+It was a plantation wilderness here too, though particularly devoted to
+all that in Fiji could belong to a kitchen garden. English beans and
+peas had been sown, and were flourishing; most of the luxuriance that
+met the eye had a foreign character. Beautiful order was noticeable
+everywhere. Mr. Rhys seemed to have forgotten all about the servants;
+he pleased himself with leading Eleanor through the walks and shewing
+her which were the plants of the yam and the kumera and other native
+fruits and vegetables. Bananas were here too, and the graceful stems of
+the sugar cane; and overhead the cocoa-nut trees waved their feathery
+plumes in the air.
+
+"Who did all this?" Eleanor asked admiringly.
+
+"Solomon--with a head gardener over him."
+
+"Solomon is--I saw him yesterday?"
+
+"Yes. He came with me from Vulanga. He is a nice fellow. He is a
+Christian, as I told you; and a true labourer in the great vineyard. I
+believe he never misses an opportunity to speak to his countrymen in a
+quiet way and tell them the truth. He has brought a great many to know
+it. In my service he is very faithful."
+
+"No wonder this garden looks nice," said Eleanor.
+
+"I asked Solomon one day about his religious experience. He said he was
+very happy; he had enjoyed religion all the day. He said he rose early
+in the morning and prayed that the Lord would greatly bless him and
+keep him; and that it had been so, and generally was so when he
+attended to religious duties early in the morning. 'But if I neglect
+and rush into the world,' he said, 'without properly attending to my
+religious duties, nothing goes right. I am wrong in my own heart, and
+no one round me is right.'"
+
+"Good testimony," said Eleanor. "Is he your cook as well as your
+gardener?"
+
+"I had forgotten all about the cook," said Mr. Rhys. "Come and see the
+kitchen."
+
+Near the main dwelling house, in this planted enclosure, were several
+smaller houses. Mr. Rhys at last took Eleanor that way, and permitted
+her to inspect them. The one nearest the main building was fitted for a
+laundry. The furthest was a sleeping house for the servants. The middle
+one was the kitchen. It was a Fijian kitchen. Here was a large
+fireplace, of the original fashion which had moved Eleanor's wonder in
+the dining-room; with a Fijian framework of wood at one side of it,
+holding native vessels of pottery, larger and smaller, and variously
+shaped, for cooking purposes. Some more homelike iron utensils were to
+be seen also; with other kitchen appurtenances, water jars and so
+forth. A fire had been in the fireplace, and the signs of cookery were
+remaining; but in all the houses, nobody was anywhere visible.
+
+"Solomon is gone to collect your servants," said Mr. Rhys. "That
+explains the present solitude."
+
+"Did he cook that fish?"
+
+"I have not tried him in cooking," said Mr. Rhys with a gravity that
+was perfect. "I do not know what he could do if he was tried."
+
+"Who did it then?"
+
+His smile was wonderfully pleasant--now that it could be no longer kept
+back--as he answered, "Your servant."
+
+"_You_, Rowland! And the dinner yesterday?"
+
+"Do not praise me," he said with the same look, "lest I should spoil
+the dinner to-day. I do not expect there will be anybody here till
+afternoon."
+
+"Then you shall see what I can do!"
+
+"I do not believe you know how. I have been long enough in the
+wilderness to learn all trades. You never learned how to cook at
+Wiglands."
+
+"But at Plassy I did."
+
+"Did aunt Caxton let you into her kitchen?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I shall not let you into mine."
+
+"She went with me there. I have not come out here to be useless. I will
+take care of the dinner to-day."
+
+"No, you shall not," said Mr. Rhys, drawing her away from the kitchen.
+"You have got enough to do to-day in unpacking boxes. There will be
+servants this evening to attend to all you want; and for the present
+you are my care."
+
+"Rowland, I should like it."
+
+Which view of the case did not seem to be material. At least it was
+answered in a silencing kind of way, as with his arm about her he led
+her in through the bananas to the house. It silenced Eleanor
+effectually, in spite of being very serious in her wish. She put it
+away to bide another opportunity.
+
+Mr. Rhys gave her something else to do, as he had said. The boxes had
+in part been brought from the schooner, and there was employment for
+both of them. He drew out nails, and took off covers, and did the rough
+unpacking; while the arranging and bestowing of the goods thus put
+under her disposal kept Eleanor very busy. His part of the work was
+finished long before hers, and Mr. Rhys withdrew to his study for some
+other work. Eleanor, happy and busy, with touched thoughts of Mrs.
+Caxton, put away blankets and clothes and linen and calicos, and
+unpacked glass, and stowed on her shelves a whole store of home
+comforts and necessaries; marvelling between whiles at Mr. Rhys's
+varieties of power in making himself useful and wishing she could do
+what she thought was better her work than his--the work to be done in
+the kitchen before the servants came home. By and by, Mr. Rhys came out
+of the study again, and found Eleanor sitting on the mat before a huge
+round hamper, uncovered, filled with Australian fruit. This was a late
+arrival, brought while he had been shut up at his work. Grapes and
+peaches and pears and apricots were crowded side by side in rich and
+beautiful abundance and confusion. Eleanor sat looking at it. She was
+in a working dress, of the brown stuff her aunt's maids wore at home;
+short sleeves left her arms bare to the elbow; and the full jacket and
+hoopless skirt did no wrong to a figure the soft outlines of which they
+only disclosed. Mr. Rhys stopped and stood still. Eleanor looked up.
+
+"Mr. Esthwaite has sent these on in the schooner unknown to me! What
+shall I do with them all?"
+
+"I don't know," said Mr. Rhys. "It is the penalty that attaches to
+wealth."
+
+"But you said you never were poor?" said Eleanor, laughing at his look.
+
+"I never was, in feeling. I never was in an embarrassment of riches,
+either. I can't help you!"
+
+"But these are yours, Rowland. What are you talking of?"
+
+"Are you going to make me a present of the whole?" said Mr. Rhys,
+stooping down for a grape.
+
+"No, Mr. Esthwaite has done that. The embarrassment is yours."
+
+"I am in no embarrassment; you are mistaken. By what right do you say
+that Mr. Esthwaite has sent these to me?"
+
+"Because he sent them to me," said Eleanor. "It is the same thing."
+
+"That is dutiful, and loyal, and all that sort of thing," said Mr.
+Rhys, helping himself to another grape, and looking with his keen eyes
+and imperturbable gravity at Eleanor. Perhaps _he_ liked to see the
+scarlet bloom he could so easily call up in her cheeks, which was now
+accompanied with a little impatient glance at him. "Nevertheless, I do
+not consider myself to be within the scope of the gift. The disposition
+of it remains with you. I do not like the responsibilities of other
+people's wealth to rest on my shoulders."
+
+"But this fruit is different from what we have on the island; is there
+not something you would like to have done with it?"
+
+"I should like you to give me one bunch of grapes--to be chosen by
+yourself."
+
+He looked on, with a satisfied expression of face, while Eleanor's
+fingers separated and overhauled the fruit till she had got a bunch to
+her mind; and stood still in his place to let her bring it to him. Then
+took possession of her and the grapes at once, neglecting the latter
+however entirely, to consider her.
+
+"What would you like to have done with the rest, Rowland?" said
+Eleanor, while her face glowed under his caresses and examination.
+
+"This is a very becoming dress you have on!"
+
+"I did not know you noticed ladies' dresses."
+
+"I always notice my own."
+
+Eleanor's head drooped a little, to hide the rush of pleasure and shame.
+
+"But, Rowland," she said with gentle persistence, "what _would_ you
+like to have done with that basket? Isn't there some meaning behind
+your words about it?"
+
+"What makes you think so?" said he, curling the corners of his mouth in
+an amused way.
+
+"I thought so. Please tell it me! You have something to tell me."
+
+"The fruit is yours, Eleanor."
+
+"And what am I?"
+
+The tears came into her eyes with a little vexed earnestness, for she
+fancied that Mr. Rhys would not speak _because_ the fruit was hers. His
+manner changed again, to the deep tenderness which he had shewn so
+frequently; holding her close and looking down into her face; not
+answering at once; half enjoying, half soothing, the feeling he had
+raised.
+
+"Eleanor," he said, "I do not want that fruit."
+
+"Tell me what to do with it."
+
+"If you like to send some of those grapes to sister Balliol, at the
+other house, I think they would do a great deal of good."
+
+"I will just take out a few for you, and I will send the whole basket
+over there just as it is. Is there anybody to take it?"
+
+"Do not save any for me."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because I do not want anything more than I have got."
+
+"I suppose I may do about that as I please?" said Eleanor, laughing a
+little.
+
+"No--you may not. I only want this bunch that I have in my hand, for a
+poor sick fellow whom I think they will comfort. If you feel as I do,
+and like to send the rest over to the mission house, I think they will
+be well and gratefully used."
+
+"But Rowland, why did you not tell me that just at first?" she said a
+little wistfully.
+
+"Do you feel as I do? Tell me that first."
+
+But as Eleanor was not ready with her answer to this question, of
+course her own got the go-by. Mr. Rhys laughed at her a little, and
+then told her she might get the house ready for dinner. Very much
+Eleanor wished she could rather get the dinner ready for the house; yet
+somehow she had an instinctive knowledge that it would be no use to ask
+him; and she had a curious unwillingness to make the request.
+
+"Do you know," she said, looking up in his face, "I do not know how it
+is, but you are the only person I ever was afraid of, where my natural
+courage had full play?"
+
+"Does that sentiment possess you at present?"
+
+"Yes--a little."
+
+He laughed again, and said it was wholesome; and went off without
+seeming in the least dismayed by the intelligence. If Eleanor had
+ventured that remark as a feeler, she was utterly discomfited. She went
+about her pretty work of getting the little table ready and acquainting
+herself with the details of her cupboard arrangements, feeling a little
+amused at herself, and with many deeper thoughts about Mr. Rhys and the
+basket of fruit.
+
+They were sitting in the study after dinner, alternately talking and
+studying Fijian, when Mr. Rhys suddenly asked,
+
+"Of whom have you ever been afraid, Eleanor, where your natural courage
+did not have full play?"
+
+"Mr. Carlisle."
+
+"How was that?"
+
+"I was in a false position."
+
+"I feared that, at one time," said Mr. Rhys thoughtfully.
+
+"I was a bond woman--under engagements that tied me--I did not dare do
+as I felt. I understand it all now."
+
+"Do you like to tell me how it happened?"
+
+"I like it very much. I want that you should know just how it was. I
+was pressed into those engagements without my heart being in them, and
+indeed very much against my will; but I was dazzled by a vision of
+worldly glory that made me too weak to resist. Then thoughts of another
+kind began to rise within me; I saw that worldly glory was not the
+sufficient thing I had thought it; and as my eyes got clear, I found I
+had given no love where I had given my promise. Then that consciousness
+hampered me in every action."
+
+"But you did not break with him--with Mr. Carlisle?"
+
+"Because I was such a bondwoman, as I told you. I did not know what I
+might do--what was right,--and I wanted to do right then; till I went
+to Plassy. Aunt Caxton set me free."
+
+Mr. Rhys was silent a little.
+
+"Do you remember coming to visit the old window in the ruins, just
+before you went to Plassy that time?" he said, looking round at her
+with a smile.
+
+His wife though she was, Eleanor could not help a warm flush of
+consciousness coming over her at the recollection.
+
+"I remember," she said demurely. "It was in December."
+
+"What were you afraid of at that time?"
+
+"Mr. Carlisle."
+
+"Did you think it was _he_ whom you heard?'
+
+"No. I thought it was you."
+
+"Then why were you afraid?"
+
+"I had reason enough," said Eleanor, in a low voice. "Mr. Carlisle had
+taken it into his head to become jealous of you."
+
+She answered with a certain straightforward dignity, but Mr. Rhys had a
+view of dyed cheeks and a face which shrank from his eye. He beheld it,
+no doubt, for a little while; at least he was silent; and ended with
+one or two kisses which to Eleanor's feeling, for she dared not look,
+spoke him very full of satisfaction. But he never brought up the
+subject again.
+
+The thoughts raised by the talk about the basket of fruit recurred
+again a few days later. Eleanor had got into full train of her island
+life by this time. She was studying hard to learn the language, and
+beginning to speak words of it with her strange muster of servants.
+Housekeeping duties were fairly in hand. She had begun to find out,
+too, what Mr. Rhys had foretold her respecting visitors. They came in
+groups and singly, at all hours nearly on some days, to see the new
+house and the new furniture and the new wife of "Misi Risi." Eleanor
+could not talk to them; she could only be looked at, and answer through
+an interpreter their questions and requests, and watch with unspeakable
+interest these strange poor people, and admire with unceasing
+admiration Mr. Rhys's untiring kindness, patience, and skill, in
+receiving and entertaining them. They wanted to see and understand
+every new thing and every new custom. They were polite in their
+curiosity, but insatiable; and Mr. Rhys would shew and explain and
+talk, and never seem annoyed or weary; and then, whenever he got a
+chance, put in his own claim for attention, and tell them of the
+Gospel. Eleanor always knew from his face and manner, and from theirs,
+when this sort of talk was going on; and she listened strangely to the
+unknown words in which her heart went along so blindly. When he thought
+her not needed, or when he thought her tired, Mr. Rhys would dismiss
+her to her own room, which he would not have invaded; and Eleanor's
+reverence for her husband grew with every day, although she would not
+at the beginning have thought that possible.
+
+At the end of these first few days, Eleanor went one afternoon into Mr.
+Rhys's study. He was in full tide of work now. The softly swinging door
+let her in without much noise, and she stood still in the middle of the
+room, in doubt whether to disturb him or no. He was busy at his
+writing-table. But Mr. Rhys had good ears, even when he was busy. While
+she stood there, he looked up at her. She was a pretty vision for a man
+to see and call wife. She was in one of the white dresses that had
+stirred Mrs. Esthwaite's admiration; its spotless draperies were in as
+elegant order as ever they had been for Mrs. Powle's drawing room; the
+rich banded brown hair was in as graceful order. She stood there very
+bright, very still, looking at him.
+
+"You have been working a long time, Rowland. You want to stop and rest."
+
+"Come here, and rest me," he answered stretching out his hand.
+
+"Rowland," said Eleanor when she had been standing a minute beside him.
+"Mrs. Balliol wants me to cut off my hair."
+
+Mr. Rhys looked up at her, for with one arm round her he was still
+bending attention upon his work. He glanced up as if in doubt or wonder.
+
+"I have been over to see her," Eleanor repeated, "and she counsels me
+to cut off my hair; cut it short."
+
+"See you don't!" he said sententiously.
+
+"Why?" said Eleanor.
+
+"It would be the cause of our first and last quarrel."
+
+"Our first," said Eleanor stifling some hidden amusement; "but how
+could you tell that it would be the last?"
+
+"It would be so very disagreeable!" Mr. Rhys said, with a gravity so
+dryly comic that Eleanor's gravity was destroyed.
+
+"Mrs. Balliol says I shall find it, my hair, I mean, very much in my
+way."
+
+"It would be in _my way_, if it was cut off."
+
+"She says it will take a great deal of precious time. She thinks that
+your razor would be better applied to my head."
+
+"Than to what other object?"
+
+"Than to its legitimate use and application. She wants me to get you to
+let your beard grow, and to cut off my hair. 'It's unekal'--as Sam
+Weller says."
+
+Eleanor was laughing; she could not see Mr. Rhys's face very well; it
+was somewhat bent over his papers; but the side view was of
+unprovokable gravity. A gravity however which she had learned to know
+covered a wealth of amusement or of mischief, as the case might be. She
+knelt down to bring herself within better speaking and seeing distance.
+
+"Rowland, what sort of people are your coadjutors?"
+
+"They are the Lord's people," he answered.
+
+Eleanor felt somewhat checked; the gravity of this answer was of a
+different character; but she could not refrain from carrying the matter
+further; she could not let it rest there.
+
+"Do you mean," she said a little timidly, but persistently, "that you
+are not willing to speak of them as they are, _to me?_"
+
+He was quite silent half a minute, and Eleanor grew increasingly sober.
+He said then, gently but decidedly,
+
+"There are two persons in the field, of whose faults I am willing to
+talk to you; yours and my own."
+
+"And of others you think it is wrong, then, to speak even so privately
+and kindly as we are speaking?" Eleanor was very much chagrined. Mr.
+Rhys waited a moment, and then said, in the same manner,
+
+"I cannot do it, Eleanor."
+
+He got up a moment after and went out of the room. Eleanor felt almost
+stunned with surprise and discomfort. This was the second time, in the
+few days that she had been with him, that he had found her wrong in
+something. It troubled her strangely; and the sense of how much he was
+better than she--how much higher his sphere of living than the one she
+moved in--pressed her heart down almost to the ground. She stood by the
+writing-table where she had risen to her feet, with her eyes brimful of
+tears, but so still even to her eyelids that the tears had not
+overflowed. She supposed Mr. Rhys had gone out. In another moment
+however she heard his step returning and he entered the study. Eleanor
+moved instantly to leave it, but he met and stayed her with a look
+infinitely sweet; turned her about, and made her kneel down with him.
+And then he poured out a prayer for charity; not merely the kindness
+that throws a covering over the failings of others, or that holds back
+the report of what they have been; but the overabounding heavenly love
+that will send its brightness into the dark places of human society and
+with its own richness fill the barren spots; and above all, for that
+love of Jesus the King, that makes all his servants dear, for that
+spirit of Christ that looks with his own love and forbearance on all
+that need it. And so, as the speaker prayed, he shewed his own
+possession of that which he asked for; so revealed the tender and high
+walk of his own mind and its near familiarity with heavenly things,
+that Eleanor thought her heart would break. The feeling, how far he
+stood above her in knowledge and in goodness, while it was a secret and
+deep joy, yet gave her acute pain such as she never had felt before.
+She would not weep; it was a dry aching pain, that took part of its
+strength from the thought of having done or shewn something that he did
+not like. But Mr. Rhys went on to pray for her alone; and Eleanor was
+conquered then. Tears came and she cried like a little child, and all
+the hard pain of pride or of fear was washed away; like the dust from
+the leaves in a summer shower.
+
+She was so far healed, but she would have run way when they rose from
+their knees if he had permitted her. He had no such intention. Keeping
+fast hold of her hand he brought her to a seat by the window, opened
+it, for the day was now cooling off and the sea-breeze was fresh; and
+taking the book of their studies he put her into a lesson of Fijian
+practice; till Eleanor's spirits were thoroughly restored. Then
+throwing away the book and taking her in his arms he almost kissed the
+tears back again.
+
+"Eleanor----" he said, when he saw that her eyes were wet, and her
+colour and her voice were fluttering together.
+
+"What?"
+
+"You must bear the inconvenience of your hair for my sake. Tell sister
+Balliol you wear it by my express orders."
+
+Eleanor's look was lovely. She saw that the gentleness of this speech
+was intended to give her back just that liberty she might think was
+forbidden. Humbleness and affection danced in her face together.
+
+"And you do not object to white dresses, Rowland?"
+
+"Never--when they are white--" he said with one of his peculiar smiles.
+
+"Rowland," said Eleanor, now completely happy again, "you ought to have
+those jalousie blinds at these windows. You want them here much more
+than I do."
+
+"How will you prove that?"
+
+"By putting them here; and then you will confess it."
+
+"Don't you do it!" said he smiling, seeing that Eleanor's eye was in
+earnest.
+
+"Please let me! Do let me! You want them much more than I do, Rowland."
+
+"Then you will have to let them stand; for they are just where I want
+them."
+
+"But the shade of them is much more needed here."
+
+"I could have had it. You need not disturb yourself. There is a whole
+stack of them lying under the shelves in your store-room."
+
+"Why are they lying there?" said Eleanor in great surprise.
+
+"I did not want them. I left them for you to dispose of."
+
+"For me! Then I shall dispose some of them here."
+
+"Not with my leave."
+
+"May I not know why?" said Eleanor putting her hand in his to plead for
+it.
+
+"I do not want to fare too much better than my brethren," he answered
+with a smile of infinite pleasantness at her. Eleanor's face shewed a
+sudden accession of intelligence.
+
+"Then, Rowland, let us send the other jalousies to Mr. Balliol to shade
+his study--with all my heart; and you put up mine here. I did not think
+about that before. Will you do it?"
+
+"There are plenty of them without taking yours, child."
+
+"Then, O Rowland, why did you not do it before?"
+
+"I have an objection to using other people's property--even for the
+benefit of my neighbours"--he said, with the provoking smile in the
+corners of his mouth.
+
+"But it is yours now."
+
+"Well, I make it over to you, to be offered and presented as it seems
+good to you, to brother Balliol, or to sister Balliol, for his use and
+behoof."
+
+"Do you mean that I must do it?"
+
+"If it is your pleasure."
+
+"Then I will speak of it immediately."
+
+"You can have an opportunity to-night. But Eleanor,--you must call her,
+sister Balliol."
+
+"I can't, Rowland!"
+
+Silence fell between the parties. Mr. Rhys's face was impenetrable.
+Eleanor glanced at it and again glanced at it; got no help. Finally she
+laid her hand on his shoulder and spoke a little apprehensively.
+
+"Rowland--are you serious?"
+
+"Perfectly." So he was, outwardly.
+
+"Do you think it matters really whether I call her one thing or
+another? If it were Mrs. Amos, I should not have the least difficulty.
+I could call her sister Amos. What does it matter?"
+
+"Why can't you use a Christian form of address with her as well as with
+me?"
+
+"Do you consider it a matter of _principle?_"
+
+"Only as it regards the feelings of the individual, in either case."
+Mr. Rhys's mouth was looking very comical.
+
+"Would she care, Rowland?"
+
+"I should like to have you try," he said, getting up and arranging his
+papers to leave. And Eleanor saw he was not going to tell her any more.
+
+"What is the opportunity you spoke of, Rowland?"
+
+"This is our evening for being together--it has hardly been a Class
+before this, we were so few; but we met to talk and think together, and
+usually considered some given subject. To-night it is, the 'glory to be
+revealed.'"
+
+"That is what Mr. Amos and I used to do on board the schooner; and we
+had that subject too, just after we left Tonga. So we shall be ready."
+
+"We ought to go there to tea; but I have to go over first to Nawaile;
+it will keep me till after tea-time. Do not wait for me, unless you
+choose."
+
+Eleanor chose, and told him so. While he was gone she sat at the door
+of the house watching and thinking; thinking of him especially, and of
+things that his talk that afternoon had brought up. It was a pleasant
+hour or two. The sea-breeze fresh from the sea; the waving broad banana
+leaves; the sweet perfume of flowers, which were rarely profuse and
+beautiful in their garden; the beautiful southern sky of night, with
+the stars which Eleanor had learned to know as strangers coming over in
+the ship, and now loved as the companions of her new home. Stillness,
+and flapping of leaves, and sweet thoughts; until it was time to be
+expecting Mr. Rhys back again, and Eleanor made the tea, that he might
+at least not miss so much refreshment. She knew his step rods off, and
+long before she could see him; his cup was all ready for him when he
+stepped in. He drank it, looking at Eleanor over it; would stop for
+nothing else, and carried her off.
+
+"I had a happy time," he said as they went through the plantations. "I
+have been to see an old man who lies there dying, or very near it. He
+has been a Christian two years. He is very glad to see me when I come,
+and ready to talk; but he will not talk with his neighbours. He says he
+wants to keep his thoughts fixed on God; and if he listened to these
+people they would talk to him of village affairs, and turn his mind
+off."
+
+"Then, if you had a happy time, I suppose _he_ is happy?"
+
+"He is happy. How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that
+bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace! Think of old Caesar,
+going to glory from the darkness of Fiji. He said to me to-night--'I am
+weak, and I am old; my time is come, but I am not afraid to die;
+through Jesus I feel courageous for death. Jesus is my Chief, and I
+wish to obey him: if he says I am yet to lie here, I will praise him;
+and if he says I am to go above to him, I will praise him. I do not
+wish to eat; his word is my food; I think on it, and lean entirely on
+Jesus.'--Do you know how good it is to be a missionary, Eleanor?"
+
+They exchanged looks; that was all; they were at the door, and went in.
+The party there were expecting and waiting for them, and it was more
+than a common welcome, Eleanor saw, that was given to them. She did not
+wonder at it. After exchanging warm greetings all round, she sat down;
+but Mr. Rhys began walking the floor. The rest were silent. There was a
+somewhat dim light from a lamp in the room; the windows and doors were
+open; the air, sweet with flowers and fresh from the sea, came in
+gently; the soft sounds of leaves and insects could be heard through
+the fall of Mr. Rhys's steps upon the matted floor. The hour had a
+strange charm to Eleanor.
+
+Silence lasted, until Mr. Rhys interrupted it with kneeling down for
+prayer. Then followed one of those prayers, in which it always seemed
+to Eleanor as if somebody had taken her hand, who was leading her where
+she could almost look in at the gates of that city which Bunyan called
+the Celestial. Somewhere above earth it took her, and rapt her up as
+Milton's angel is said to have descended, upon a sunbeam. One came to
+earth again at the end of the prayer; but not without a remembrance of
+where one had been.
+
+"Sister Balliol," said Mr. Rhys, "will you put us in mind concerning
+our subject this evening?"
+
+"It is the glory to be revealed; and I find that it is a glory to be
+revealed in us," Mrs. Balliol made answer. "Sufferings come first. It
+is a glory that goes along with sufferings in the present life; but it
+is so much greater than the sufferings, that no comparison can be made
+of them. For my part, I do not think the glory would be half so much
+glory, if it were not for the sufferings going before."
+
+"To suffer with Christ, and for him, that is glory now," said Mr. Rhys;
+"to have been so honoured will always be part of our joy. If any man
+suffer as a Christian, let him not be ashamed, but rather let him
+glorify God on this behalf. Those be tears that Christ's own hand will
+wipe off; and what glory will that be!"
+
+"The word of God fails to express it," said Mr. Amos, "and calls it
+'riches of glory.' Riches of glory, to be poured into vessels prepared
+to receive it. Surely, being such heirs, none of us has a right to call
+himself poor? we are heirs of an inheritance incorruptible, and
+undefiled, and not subject to decadence or failure. We may well be
+content with our penny earnest in this life, who have such an estate
+coming in."
+
+"I feel poor very often," said gentle Mrs. Amos; "and I suppose that
+must be my own fault; for the word says, 'Riches and honour are with
+me; yea, durable riches, and righteousness.'"
+
+"Those are riches that none but the poor come into possession of," said
+Mr. Rhys. "The poor in spirit inherit the kingdom, and nobody else. It
+is our very emptiness, that fits us for receiving those unsearchable
+riches. But having those, sister Amos, it is no deprivation of this
+world's good things that would make you feel poor?"
+
+"O no, indeed!" said Mrs. Amos. "I did not mean that sort of poor."
+
+"The rich he will send empty away"--Mr. Rhys went on.
+
+"So in the matter of suffering," said Mr. Balliol taking up the word.
+"If we are partakers of Christ's sufferings now, we are told to
+rejoice. For when his glory is revealed, the word is, that we shall be
+glad also, and with exceeding joy. When his glory is revealed here, a
+little, now, we are glad; our joy seems to be exceeding, now, brother
+Rhys. I wonder what it will be when God calls it exceeding joy!"
+
+There was a pause; and then Mrs. Amos, for the sake simply of starting
+Eleanor, whose voice she knew in it, began softly the song, "Burst, ye
+emerald gates!" She had her success, for Eleanor with the others took
+up the words, and carried it--Mrs. Amos thought--where Mr. Rhys's
+prayer had been. When the song ceased, there was silence; till Mr. Rhys
+said, "Eleanor!"--It was her turn to speak.
+
+"I do not believe," she said speaking low and slowly,--"that either
+sufferings, or premises, or duties, will bring the hope of glory into
+the heart; until Jesus himself brings it there. And if he brings it, it
+hardly seems to me that sufferings will enhance it--except in so far as
+they lead to greater knowledge of him or are the immediate fruit of
+love to him; and then, as Mr. Rhys says, they are honour themselves
+already. The riches of the glory of this mystery, is _Christ in you,
+the hope of glory_."
+
+Mr. Rhys was standing at the back of Eleanor's chair, leaning upon it.
+He bent his head and whispered to her to tell her story that she had
+told him. At that whisper, Eleanor would have steadily gone through the
+fire if necessary; this was not quite as hard; and though not for her
+own sake caring to do it, she told the story and told it freely and
+well. She told it so that every head there was bowed. And then there
+was silence again; till Mr. Rhys began, or rather went on with what she
+had been saying; in a voice that seemed to come from every heart.
+
+"'Whom having not seen, ye love; in whom, though now ye see him not,
+yet believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory.'
+
+"Friends, we have the present honour, of being Christ's ambassadors. Do
+we know what honour that is? 'Whosoever shall receive this child in my
+name, receiveth me; and whosoever shall receive me, receiveth him that
+sent me.' That is honour under which we may tremble!"--And standing
+there at the back of Eleanor's chair, Mr. Rhys began to talk; on the
+joy of carrying Christ's message, the honour of being his servants and
+co-workers, and the gladness of bringing the water of life to lips dry
+and failing in death. He told the instance of that evening which he had
+told to Eleanor; and leaving his station behind her, he walked up and
+down again, speaking as she had sometimes heard him speak, till every
+head was raised and turned, and every eye followed him. With fire and
+tears, speaking of the work to be done and the joy of doing it, and the
+need of more to do it; and of the carelessness people have of that
+glory which will make men shine as the stars for ever and ever.
+
+"Ay, we shall know then, brother Balliol, when the great supper is
+served, and Christ shall gird himself, and make his faithful servants
+sit down to meat, and he shall come forth and serve them--we shall know
+then, if we are there, what glory means! And we shall know what it
+means to have no want unsatisfied and no joy left out!--when the Lamb
+that is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them
+to living fountains of waters."
+
+Mr. Balliol answered--
+
+"If any man serve me, let him follow me; and where I am, there shall
+also my servants be: if any man serve me, him will my Father honour."
+
+Mr. Rhys went on--"Feed the flock of God which is among you, taking the
+oversight thereof, not by constraint, but willingly; not for filthy
+lucre, but of a ready mind; neither as being lords over God's heritage,
+but being ensamples to the flock. And when the chief Shepherd shall
+appear, ye shall receive a crown of glory that fadeth not away."
+
+They knelt together again, and then separated; and the tropical moon
+lighted home the two who did not belong to Mrs. Balliol's household.
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+PRINTING OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHER.
+
+
+
+
+
+Typographical errors silently corrected:
+
+volume 1
+
+
+Chapter 1: =is no information?= silently corrected as =is no
+information?"=
+
+Chapter 1: the following sentence is lacking in the Tauchnitz edition:
+"Who is that Mr. Rhys?" said Eleanor.
+
+Chapter 2: =that is what I think,= silently corrected as =that is what
+I think,"=
+
+Chapter 2: =colored verbenas= silently corrected as =coloured verbenas=
+
+Chapter 5: =nothing to signify= silently corrected as ="nothing to
+signify=
+
+Chapter 5: ="Much' is comparative= silently corrected as ="'Much' is
+comparative=
+
+Chapter 7: =pushed her hair= silently corrected as =pushed her chair=
+
+Chapter 10: =And I am glad Autumn= silently corrected as ="And I am
+glad Autumn=
+
+Chapter 10: ='Let not your heart be troubled.'"= silently corrected as
+="Let not your heart be troubled."=
+
+Chapter 11: =he said gravely.= silently corrected as =he said gravely,=
+
+Chapter 11: =couteque coute= silently corrected as =coûte que coûte=
+
+Chapter 13: =You must do it= silently corrected as ="You must do it=
+
+Chapter 17: =to keep her,--= silently corrected as =to keep her.=
+
+
+volume 2
+
+Chapter 2: ='drink.'= silently corrected as ="drink."=
+
+Chapter 3: =cotemporaries= silently corrected as =contemporaries=
+
+Chapter 4: =Do you find it= silently corrected as ="Do you find it=
+
+Chapter 6: =said her sister:= silently corrected as =said her sister,=
+
+Chapter 9: =They are a desperate= silently corrected as ="They are a
+desperate=
+
+Chapter 10: =no doubt he could.= silently corrected as =no doubt he
+could."=
+
+Chapter 10: =My dear Eleanor: --= silently corrected as ="My dear
+Eleanor --=
+
+Chapter 10: =do all things.'"= silently corrected as =do all things.'=
+
+Chapter 10: =prayer, Eleanor?"= silently corrected as =prayer, Eleanor?=
+
+Chapter 11: =each other's hearts,"= silently corrected as =each other's
+hearts,'=
+
+Chapter 11: ="Suppose that she have= silently corrected as ='Suppose
+that she have=
+
+Chapter 11: =unhappy for nothing.= silently corrected as =unhappy for
+nothing.'=
+
+Chapter 11: ="for any other= silently corrected as ='for any other=
+
+Chapter 12: ="Lord, Jehovah= silently corrected as ="'Lord, Jehovah=
+
+Chapter 12: =do them good."= silently corrected as =do them good.'=
+
+Chapter 12: =That was the beginning= silently corrected as ="That was
+the beginning=
+
+Chapter 12: =R. R.= silently corrected as ="R. R."=
+
+Chapter 13: =letter said. Next= silently corrected as =letter said,
+Next=
+
+Chapter 15: ='Praise the lord! --'= silently corrected as ="Praise the
+lord! --"=
+
+Chapter 15: ='Amen!'= silently corrected as ="Amen!"=
+
+Chapter 16: =should have seen her= silently corrected as =should have
+seen her.=
+
+Chapter 16: =like a woman?= silently corrected as =like a woman.=
+
+Chapter 19: =never thirst.'"= silently corrected as =never thirst.'=
+
+Chapter 19: =quantities with me?= silently corrected as =quantities
+with me.=
+
+Chapter 19: =sinners adore.'"= silently corrected as =sinners adore.'=
+
+Chapter 19: =These, were the heathen= silently corrected as =These were
+the heathen=
+
+Chapter 20: =in the same manner.= silently corrected as =in the same
+manner,=
+
+Chapter 20: ="Whom having= silently corrected as ="'Whom having=
+
+Chapter 20: =full of glory."= silently corrected as =full of glory.'=
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Old Helmet, Volume II, by Susan Warner
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Old Helmet, Volume II, by Susan Warner
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Old Helmet, Volume II
+
+Author: Susan Warner
+
+Release Date: October 7, 2008 [EBook #26830]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OLD HELMET, VOLUME II ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Daniel Fromont
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Transcriber's note: Susan Warner (1819-1885), _The Old Helmet_ (1864),
+Tauchnitz edition 1864, volume 2]
+
+
+
+
+
+THE OLD HELMET.
+
+BY
+
+THE AUTHOR OF "WIDE, WIDE WORLD."
+
+
+
+AUTHORIZED EDITION.
+
+IN TWO VOLUMES
+
+VOL. II.
+
+
+
+LEIPZIG
+
+BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ
+
+1864.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE OLD HELMET.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+IN THE SPRING.
+
+
+  "Let no one ask me how it came to pass;
+  It seems that I am happy, that to me
+  A livelier emerald twinkles in the grass,
+  A purer sapphire melts into the sea."
+
+
+Eleanor could not stay away from the Wednesday meetings at Mrs.
+Powlis's house. In vain she had thought she would; she determined she
+would; when the day came round she found herself drawn with a kind of
+fascination towards the place. She went; and after that second time
+never questioned at all about it. She went every week.
+
+It was with no relief to her mental troubles however. She was sometimes
+touched and moved; often. At other times she felt dull and hopeless.
+Yet it soothed her to go; and she came away generally feeling
+inspirited with hope by something she had heard, or feeling at least
+the comfort that she had taken a step in the right direction. It did
+not seem to bring her much more comfort. Eleanor did not see how she
+could be a Christian while her heart was so hard and so full of its own
+will. She found it perverse, even now, when she was wishing so much to
+be different. What hope for her?
+
+It was a great help, that during all this time Mrs. Caxton left her
+unquestioned and uncounselled. She made no remarks about Eleanor's
+going to class-meeting; she took it as a perfectly natural thing; never
+asked her anything about it or about her liking it. A contrary course
+would have greatly embarrassed Eleanor's action; as it was she felt
+perfectly free; unwatched, and at ease.
+
+The spring was flushing into mature beauty and waking up all the
+flowers on the hills and in the dales, when Eleanor one afternoon came
+out to her aunt in the garden. A notable change had come over the
+garden by this time; its comparatively barren-looking beds were all
+rejoicing in gay bloom and sending up a gush of sweetness to the house
+with every stir of the air that way. From the house to the river,
+terrace below terrace sloped down, brimfull already of blossoms and
+fragrance. The roses were making great preparations for their coming
+season of festival; the mats which had covered some tender plants were
+long gone. Tulips and hyacinths and polyanthuses and primroses were in
+a flush of spring glory now; violets breathed everywhere; the
+snowy-flowered gooseberry and the red-flowered currant, and berberry
+with its luxuriant yellow bloom, and the almond, and a magnificent
+magnolia blossoming out in the arms of its evergreen sister, with many
+another flower less known to Eleanor, made the garden terraces a little
+wilderness of loveliness and sweetness. Near the house some very fine
+auriculas in pots were displaying themselves. In the midst of all this
+Mrs. Caxton was busy, with one or two people to help her and work under
+direction. Planting and training and seed-sowing were going on; and the
+mistress of the place moved about among her floral subjects a very
+pleasant representation of a rural queen, her niece thought. Few queens
+have a more queenly presence than Mrs. Caxton had; and with a trowel in
+hand just as much as if it were a sceptre. And few queens indeed carry
+such a calm mind under such a calm brow. Eleanor sighed and smiled.
+
+"Among your auriculas, aunty, as usual!"
+
+"Among everything," said Mrs. Caxton. "There is a great deal to do.
+Don't you want to help, Eleanor? You may plant gladiolus bulbs--or you
+may make cuttings--or you may sow seeds. I can find you work."
+
+"Aunty, I am going down to the village."
+
+"O it is Wednesday afternoon!" said Mrs. Caxton. And she came close up
+to her niece and kissed her, while one hand was full of bulbs and the
+other held a trowel. "Well go, my dear. Not at peace yet, Eleanor?"--
+
+There was so tender a tone in these last words that Eleanor could not
+reply. She dashed away without making any answer; and all along the way
+to Plassy she was every now and then repeating them to herself. "Not at
+peace yet, Eleanor?"
+
+She was in a tender mood this afternoon; the questions and remarks
+addressed to the other persons in the meeting frequently moved her to
+tears, so that she sat with her hand to her brow to hide the watering
+eyes. She did not dread the appeal to herself, for Mr. Rhys never asked
+her any troublesome questions; never anything to which she had to make
+a troublesome answer; though there might be perhaps matter for thought
+in it. He had avoided anything, whether in his asking or replying, that
+would give her any difficulty _there_, in the presence of
+others,--whatever it might do in her own mind and in secret. To-day he
+asked her, "Have you found peace yet?"
+
+"No," said Eleanor.
+
+"What is the state of your mind--if you could give it in one word?"
+
+"Confusion."
+
+"What is it confused about? Do you understand--clearly--the fact that
+you are a sinner? without excuse?"
+
+"Fully!"
+
+"Do you understand--clearly--that Christ has suffered for sins, the
+just for the unjust, that he might bring us to God?"
+
+"Yes. I understand it."
+
+"Is there any confusion in your mind as to the terms on which the Lord
+will receive you?--forsaking your sins, and trusting in him to pardon
+and save you?"
+
+"No--I see that."
+
+"Do you think there is any other condition besides those two?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Why do you not accept them?"
+
+Eleanor raised her eyes with a feeling almost of injustice. "I
+cannot!"--she said.
+
+"That makes no difference. God never gives a command that cannot with
+his help be fulfilled. There was a man once brought to Jesus--carried
+by foul men; he was palsied, and lay on a litter or bed, unable to move
+himself at all. To this man the Lord said, 'Arise, take up thy bed, and
+walk.' Suppose he had looked up and said, 'I cannot?'"
+
+Eleanor struggled with herself. Was this fair? Was it a parallel case?
+She could not tell. She kept silence. Mr. Rhys went on, with tones
+subdued to great gentleness.
+
+"My friend, Jesus invites to no empty board--to no cold reception. On
+his part all is ready; the unreadiness lies somewhere with you, or the
+invitation would be accepted. In your case it is not the bodily frame
+that is palsied; it is the heart; and the command comes to you, sweet
+as the invitation,--'_Give it to me_.' If you are entirely willing, the
+thing is done. If it be not done, it is because, somewhere, you are not
+willing--or do not believe. If you can trust Jesus, as that poor man
+did, you may rise up and stand upon your feet this very hour. 'Believe
+ye that I am able to do this?' he asked of the blind man whom he cured."
+
+There was silence for an instant. And again, as he turned away from
+her, Mr. Rhys broke out with the song, that Eleanor thought would break
+her heart in twain this time,--
+
+
+  "How lost was my condition
+  Till Jesus made me whole;
+  There is but one physician
+  Can cure a sin-sick soul.
+  There's balm in Gilead--
+  To make the wounded whole.
+  There's power enough in Jesus
+  To save a sin-sick soul."
+
+
+Eleanor had been the last one spoken to; the meeting soon was ended,
+and she was on her way home. But so broken-spirited and humiliated that
+she did not know what to do with herself. Could it be possible that she
+was not _willing_--or that she wanted _faith_--or that there was some
+secret corner of rebellion in her heart? It humbled her wonderfully to
+think it. And yet she could not disprove the reasoning. God could not
+be unfaithful; and if there were not somewhere on her part a failure to
+meet the conditions, surely peace would have been made before now. And
+she had thought herself all this while a subject for pity, not for
+blame; nay, for blame indeed, but not in this regard. Her mouth was
+stopped now. She rode home broken-hearted; would not see Mrs. Caxton at
+supper; and spent the evening and much of the night in weeping and
+self-searching. They were very downcast days that followed this day.
+Mrs. Caxton looked at her anxiously sometimes; never interfered with
+her.
+
+Towards the end of the week there was preaching at Glanog, and the
+family went as usual. Eleanor rode by herself, going and coming, and
+held no communication with her aunt by the way. But late at night, some
+time after Mrs. Caxton had gone to bed, a white-robed figure came into
+her room and knelt down by the bedside.
+
+"Is that you, Eleanor?"
+
+"Aunt Caxton--it's all gone!"
+
+"What?"
+
+"My trouble. I came to tell you. It's all gone. I am so happy!"
+
+"How is it, my dear child?"
+
+"When Mr. Rhys was preaching to-night, it all came to me; I saw
+everything clearly. I saw how Jesus loves sinners. I saw I had nothing
+to do but to give myself to him, and he would do everything. I see how
+sins are forgiven through his blood; and I trust in it, and I am sure
+mine are; and I feel as if I had begun a new life, aunt Caxton!"
+
+Eleanor's tears flowed like summer rain. Mrs. Caxton rose up and put
+her arms round her.
+
+"The Lord be praised!" she said. "I was waiting for this, Eleanor."
+
+"Aunt Caxton, I had been trying and thinking to make myself good first.
+I thought I was unworthy and unfit to be Christ's servant; but now I
+see that I can be nothing but unworthy, and only he can make me fit for
+anything; so I give up all, and I feel that he will do all for me. I am
+so happy! I was so blind before!"
+
+Mrs. Caxton said little; she only rejoiced with Eleanor so tenderly as
+if she had been her own mother. Though that is speaking very coolly on
+the present occasion. Mrs. Powle had never shewed her daughter so much
+of that quality in her life, as Eleanor's aunt shewed now.
+
+The breakfast next morning was unusually quiet. Happiness does not
+always make people talkative.
+
+"How do you do, my love?" said Mrs. Caxton when they were left alone.
+"After being up half the night?"
+
+"More fresh than I have felt for a year, aunt Caxton. Did you hear that
+nightingale last night?"
+
+"I heard him. I listened to him and thought of you."
+
+"He sang--I cannot tell you what his song sounded like to me, aunt
+Caxton. I could almost have fancied there was an angel out there."
+
+"There were a great many rejoicing somewhere else. What glory to think
+of it!" They were silent again till near the end of breakfast; then
+Mrs. Caxton said,--"Eleanor, I shall be engaged the whole of this
+morning. This afternoon, if you will, I will go with you into the
+garden."
+
+"This afternoon--is Wednesday, aunt Caxton."
+
+"So it is. Well, before or after you go to the village, I want you to
+dress some dishes of flowers for me--will you?"
+
+"With great pleasure, ma'am. And I can get some hawthorn blossoms, I
+know. I will do it before I go, ma'am."
+
+Was it pleasant, that morning's work? Eleanor went out early to get her
+sprays of May blossoms; and in the tender beauty of the day and season
+was lured on and on, and tempted to gather other wild bits of
+loveliness, till she at last found her hands full, and came home laden
+with tokens of where she had been. "O'er the muir, amang the heather,"
+Eleanor's walk had gone; and her basket was gay with gorse and broom
+just opening; but from grassy banks on her way she had brought the
+bright blue speedwell; and clematis and bryony from the hedges, and
+from under them wild hyacinth and white campion and crane's-bill and
+primroses; and a meadow she had passed over gave her one or two pretty
+kinds of orchis, with daisies and cowslips, and grasses of various
+kinds. Eleanor was dressing these in flower baskets and dishes, in the
+open gallery that overlooked the meadows, when Mrs. Caxton passing
+through on her own business stopped a moment to look at her.
+
+"All those from your walk, my dear! Do you not mean to apply to the
+garden?"
+
+"Aunty, I could have got a great many more, if I could have gone into
+the woods--but my walk did not lie that way. Yes, ma'am, I am going
+into the garden presently, when I have ordered these dishes well. Where
+are they to go, aunt Caxton?"
+
+"Some in one place and some in another. You may leave them here,
+Eleanor, when they are done, and I will take care of them. Shall I have
+the garden flowers cut for you?"
+
+"O no, ma'am, if you please!"
+
+Mrs. Caxton stood a moment longer watching Eleanor; the pretty work and
+the pretty worker; the confusion of fair and sweet things around her
+and under her fingers, with the very fine and fair human creature busy
+about them. Eleanor's face was gravely happy; more bright than Mrs.
+Caxton had ever seen it; very much of kin to the flowers. She watched
+her a moment, and then went nearer to kiss Eleanor's forehead. The
+flowers fell from the fingers, while the two exchanged a look of mute
+sympathy; then on one part and on the other, business went forward.
+
+Eleanor's work held her all the morning. For after the wild beauties
+had been disposed to her mind, there was another turn with their more
+pretentious sisters of the garden. Azaleas and honeysuckles, lilies of
+the valley, hyacinths and pomponium lilies, with Scotch roses and white
+broom, and others, made superb floral assemblages, out of doors or in;
+and Eleanor looked at her work lovingly when it was done.
+
+So went the morning of that day, and Eleanor's ride in the afternoon
+was a fit continuation. May was abroad in the bursting leaves as well
+as in opening flowers; the breath of Eden seemed to sweep down the
+valley of Plassy. Ay, there is a partial return to the lost paradise,
+for those whom Christ leads thither, even before we get to the
+everlasting hills.
+
+Eleanor this day was the first person addressed in the meeting. It had
+never happened so before. But now Mr. Rhys asked her first of all, "How
+do you do to-day?"
+
+Eleanor looked up and answered, "Well. And all changed."
+
+"Will you tell us how you mean?"
+
+"It was when you were preaching last night. It all I came to me. I saw
+my mistake, when you told about I the love of Christ to sinners. I saw
+I had been trying to make myself good."
+
+"And how is it now?"
+
+"Now,"--said Eleanor looking up again with full eyes,--"I will know
+nothing but Christ."
+
+The murmur of thanksgiving heard from one or two voices brought her
+head down. It had nearly overcome her. But she controlled herself, and
+presently went on; though not daring to look again into Mr. Rhys's
+face, the expression of whose eyes of gladness was harder to meet than
+the spoken thanksgivings.
+
+"I see I have nothing, and am nothing," she said. "I see that Christ is
+all, and will do all for me. I wish to be his servant. All is changed.
+The very hills are changed. I never saw such colours or such sunlight,
+as I have seen as I rode along this afternoon."
+
+"A true judgment," said Mr. Rhys. "It has been often said, that the eye
+sees what the eye brings the means of seeing; and the love of Christ
+puts a glory upon all nature that far surpasses the glory of the sun.
+It is a changed world, for those who know that love for the first time!
+Friends, most of us profess to have that knowledge. Do we have it so
+that it puts a glory on all the outer world, in the midst of which we
+live and walk and attend to our business?"
+
+"It does to me, sir," said the venerable old man whom Eleanor had
+noticed;--"it does to me. Praise the Lord!" Instead of any other answer
+they broke out singing,--
+
+
+  "O how happy are they
+  Who the Saviour obey,
+  And have laid up their treasure above.
+  Tongue can never express
+  The sweet comfort and peace
+  Of a soul in its earliest love."
+
+
+"The way to keep that joy," said Mr. Rhys returning to Eleanor, "and to
+know more of it, is to take every succeeding step in the Christian life
+exactly as you took the first one;--in self-renunciation, in entire
+dependence. As ye have received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk ye in
+him. It is a simple and humble way, the way along which the heavenly
+light shines. Do everything for Christ--do everything in his
+strength;--and you will soon know that the secret of the Lord is with
+them that fear him. Blessed be his name! He giveth power to the faint,
+and to them that have no might he increaseth strength."
+
+It was easy to see that the speaker made a personal application here,
+with reference to himself; but after that there was no more said
+directly to Eleanor. The subject went round the circle, receiving the
+various testimony of the persons there. Eleanor's heart gave quick
+sympathy to many utterances, and took home with intent interest the
+answering counsels and remarks, which in some instances were framed to
+put a guard against self-deception or mistake. One or two of her
+neighbours when the exercises were over, came and took her hand, with a
+warm simple expression of feeling which made Eleanor's heart hot; and
+then she rode home.
+
+"Did you have a pleasant time?" said her aunt.
+
+"Aunt Caxton, I think that room where we meet is the pleasantest place
+in the world!"
+
+"What do you think of the chapel at Glanog?"
+
+"I don't know. I believe that is as good or better."
+
+"Are you too tired to go out again?"
+
+"Not at all. Who wants me?"
+
+"Nanny Croghan is very sick. I have been with her all the afternoon;
+and Jane is going to sit up with her to-night; but Jane cannot go yet."
+
+"She need not. I will stay there myself. I like it, aunt Caxton."
+
+"Then I will send for you early in the morning."
+
+Nanny Croghan lived a mile or two from the farmhouse. Eleanor walked
+there, attended by John with a basket. The place was a narrow dell
+between two uprising hills covered with heather; as wild and secluded
+as it is possible to imagine. The poor woman who lived there alone was
+dying of lingering disease. John delivered the basket, and left Eleanor
+alone with her charge and the mountains.
+
+It was not a night like that she had spent by the bedside of her old
+nurse's daughter. Nanny was dying fast; and she needed something done
+for her constantly. Through all the hours of the darkness Eleanor was
+kept on the watch or actively employed, in administering medicine, or
+food, or comfort. For when Nanny wanted nothing else, she wanted that.
+
+"Tell me something I can fix my mind onto," she would say. "It seems
+slipping away from me, like. And then I gets cold with fear."
+
+Eleanor was new at the business; she had forgotten to bring her Bible
+with her, and she could find none in the house; "her sister had been
+there," Nanny said, "and had carried it away." Eleanor was obliged to
+draw on the slender stores of her memory; and to make the most of
+those, she was obliged to explain them to Nanny, and go them over and
+over, and pick them to pieces, and make her rest upon each clause and
+almost each word of a verse. There were some words that surely Eleanor
+became well acquainted with that night. For Nanny could sleep very
+little, and when she could not sleep she wanted talking incessantly.
+Eleanor urged her to accept the promises and she would have the peace.
+"The secret of the Lord is with them that fear him."
+
+"Ay, but I never did fear him, you see,--till a bit agone; and now it's
+all fear. I fear furder'n I can see."
+
+"Nanny, Nanny, the blood of Christ will take all that fear away--if
+only you will trust in it. He shed it for you--to pay your debts to
+justice. There is no condemnation to them which are in him."
+
+Nanny did not know exactly what so big a word as condemnation meant;
+Eleanor was obliged to explain it; then what was meant by being "in
+Christ." Towards morning Nanny seemed somewhat soothed and fell into a
+doze. Eleanor went to the cottage door and softly opened it, to see how
+the night went.
+
+The dawn was breaking fair over the hills, the tops of which shewed the
+unearthly brightness of coming day. It took Eleanor's eyes and thoughts
+right up. O for the night of darkness to pass away from this weary
+earth! Down in the valley the shadows lay thicker; how thick they lay
+about the poor head just now resting in sleep. How thick they lay but a
+day or two ago upon Eleanor herself! Now she looked up. The light was
+flushing upon the mountain tops every moment stronger. The dewy scents
+of the May morning were filling the air with their nameless and
+numberless tokens of rich nature's bounty. The voice of a cataract,
+close at hand, made merry down the rocks along with the song of the
+blackbird, woodpecker and titmouse. And still, as Eleanor stood there
+and looked and listened, the rush and the stir of sweet life grew more
+and more; the spring breeze wakened up and floated past her face
+bringing the breath of the flowers fresher and nearer; and the hill
+tops ever kindled into more and more glow. "It is Spring! and it is
+Day!" thought Eleanor,--"and so it is in my heart. The darkness is
+gone; the light is like that light,--promising more; my life is full of
+sweetness I never knew. Surely this month shall be the month of months
+to me for ever. O for this day--O for this morning--to waken over all
+the world!"
+
+She stood there, for Nanny still slept, till the sunbeams struck the
+hills and crept down the sides of them; and till John and Jane came in
+sight round the angle of the road. John had brought the pony to take
+Eleanor home; and a few minutes' ride brought her there. Morning
+prayers were however done, before Eleanor could refresh herself with
+cold water and a change of dress. When she came down to the
+sitting-room Mrs. Caxton had stepped out on some business; and in her
+place, sitting alone with a book, Eleanor was greatly surprised to see
+Mr. Rhys.
+
+He was not at all surprised to see her; rose up and gave her a very
+cordial grasp of the hand, and stirred up the wood fire; which, May
+morning though it was, the thick walls of the old stone house and the
+neighbourhood of the mountains made useful and agreeable. In silence
+and with a good deal of skill Mr. Rhys laid the logs together so that a
+fresh blaze sprang up; then after a remark upon the morning he went
+back to his book. Eleanor sat down, also silent, feeling very much
+delighted to see him there, and to think that they would have his
+company at breakfast; but not at all inclined, nor indeed competent, to
+open a conversation. She looked into the fire and wondered at the turns
+that had brought about this meeting; wondered over the past year of her
+life; remembered her longing for the "helmet of salvation" which her
+acquaintance with Mr. Rhys had begun; and sang for joy in her heart
+that now she had it. Yes, it was hers, she believed; a deep rest and
+peace had taken place of craving and anxiety, such as even now
+disturbed poor dying Nanny. Eleanor felt very happy, in the midst of
+all her care for her. The fire burned beautifully.
+
+"I was not aware," said Mr. Rhys looking up from his book, "I was not
+aware till last night that you lived with Mrs. Caxton."
+
+Very odd, Eleanor thought; most people would have found out; however
+she took it simply.
+
+"I am her niece."
+
+"So I find,--so I am glad to find. I can wish nothing better for any
+one, in that kind, than to be connected with Mrs. Caxton."
+
+He sat with his finger between the leaves of his book, and Eleanor
+again wondered at the silence; till Mrs. Caxton came in. It was not
+very flattering; but Eleanor was not troubled with vanity; she
+dismissed it with a thought compounded of good-humour and humility. At
+breakfast the talk went on pretty briskly; it was all between the other
+two and left her on one side; yet it was good enough to listen to it.
+Eleanor was well satisfied. Mr. Rhys was the principal talker; he was
+telling Mrs. Caxton of different people and things in the course of his
+labours; which constantly gave a reflex gleam of light upon those
+labours themselves and upon the labourer. Unconsciously of course, and
+merely from the necessity of the case; but it was very interesting to
+Eleanor, and probably to Mrs. Caxton; she looked so. At last she turned
+to her niece.
+
+"How did you leave Nanny?"
+
+"A little easier towards morning, I think; at least she went to sleep,
+which all the night she could not do."
+
+"Nor you neither."
+
+"O that's nothing. I don't mind that at all. It was worth watching, to
+see the dawn."
+
+"Was the woman in so much pain?" Mr. Rhys asked.
+
+"No; not bodily; she was uneasy in mind."
+
+"In what way."
+
+"Afraid of what lies before her; seeing dimly, if at all."
+
+"Was she comforted by what you told her?"
+
+"I had very little to tell her," said Eleanor; "I had no Bible; I had
+forgotten to take it; and hers was gone. I had to get what I could from
+memory, for I did not like to give her anything but the words of the
+Bible itself to ground hope upon."
+
+"Yes, but a good warm testimony of personal experience, coming from the
+heart, often goes to the heart. I hope you tried that."
+
+Eleanor had not; she was silent. The testimony she had given in the
+class-meeting somehow she had been shy of uttering unasked in the ear
+of the dying woman. Was that humility--or something else? Again Mr.
+Rhys had done for her what he so often did for her and for
+others--probed her thoughts.
+
+"It is a good plan," said Mrs. Caxton, "to have a storehouse in one's
+memory of such things as may be needed upon occasion; passages of
+Scripture and hymns; to be brought out when books are not at hand. I
+was made to learn a great deal out of the Bible when I was a girl; and
+I have often made a practice of it since; and it always comes into
+play."
+
+"I never set myself lessons to get by heart," said Mr. Rhys. "I never
+could learn anything in that way. Or perhaps I should say, I never
+_liked_ to do it. I never did it."
+
+"What is your art, then?" said Mrs. Caxton, looking curious.
+
+"No art. It is only that when anything impresses itself strongly on my
+feelings, the words seem to engrave themselves in my memory. It is an
+unconscious and purely natural operation."
+
+Eleanor remembered the multitudinous quoting of the Bible she had at
+different times heard from Mr. Rhys; and again wondered mentally. All
+that, all those parts of the Bible, he had not set himself to study,
+but had _felt_ them into his memory! They had been put in like gold
+letters, with a hot iron.
+
+"Where is this woman?" Mr. Rhys went on.
+
+"She lives alone, in the narrow dell that stretches behind Bengarten
+Castle--and nearly in a straight line with it, from here. Do not go
+there this morning--you want rest, and it is too far for you to walk. I
+am going to take you into my garden, to see how my flowers go."
+
+"Won't you take me into your dairy?"
+
+"If you like it," said Mrs. Caxton smiling.
+
+"I like it exceedingly. It is something like a musical box to me, Miss
+Powle, to see Mrs. Caxton's cheese-making. It soothes my nerves, the
+noiseless order of everything. Do you know that wonderful cheese-house,
+where they stand in ranks like yellow millstones? I never can get over
+my surprise at going in there. Certainly we, as a nation, are fond of
+cheese!"
+
+"You think so because you are not," said Mrs. Caxton. "It is too late
+for the dairy to-day. You shall give me help in my garden, where I want
+it."
+
+"I understand," says Mr. Rhys. "But it is my business to make flowers
+grow in the Lord's garden--wherever I can. I wish I could do more of
+_that_ gardening work!"
+
+Eleanor gave a quick glance up at the speaker. His brow rested on his
+hand for the moment; she noticed the sharply drawn lines of the face,
+the thin cheeks, the complexion, which all witnessed to _over_-work
+already attempted and done. The brow and eyes were marked with lines of
+watching and fatigue. It was but a glance, and Eleanor's eyes went down
+again; with an additional lesson of unconscious testimony carried deep
+home. This man lived as he talked. The good of existence was not one
+thing in his lips and another in his practice. Eleanor looked at her
+plate with her heart burning. In her old fancy for studying, or at
+least reading, hands, she had noticed too in her glance the hand on
+which the head rested; and with surprise. It was almost a feminine hand
+in make, with long slim fingers; white withal, and beautifully cared
+for. Certain refinements were clearly necessary to this man, who was
+ready to plunge himself into a country of savages nevertheless, where
+all the refinement would be his own. To some natures it would be easier
+to part with a hand altogether, than to forego the necessity of having
+it clean. This was one. And he was going to give himself up to
+Polynesia and its practices. Eleanor eat with the rest of her breakfast
+and swallowed with her tea, the remembered words of the apostle--"But
+what things were gain to me, those I counted loss for
+Christ."--"Neither count I my life dear unto myself, so that I may
+finish my course with joy, and the ministry, which I have received of
+the Lord Jesus, to be faithful."--Eleanor's heart swelled. Tears were
+very near.
+
+After breakfast, a large part of the morning was spent by her aunt and
+Mr. Rhys in the garden; as Mrs. Caxton had said; and very busy they
+were. Eleanor was not asked to join them, and she did not choose to
+volunteer; she watched them from the house. They were very honestly
+busy; planting and removing and consulting; in real garden work; yet it
+was manifest their minds had also much more in common, in matters of
+greater interest; they stood and talked for long intervals when the
+flowers were forgotten. They were very near each other, those two,
+evidently, in regard and mutual confidence and probably mutual
+admiration also. It was very strange Eleanor should never have come to
+the knowledge of it till to-day. And yet, why should she? She had never
+mentioned the name of Mr. Rhys to her aunt in any of her stories of
+Wiglands.
+
+He was away all the afternoon and the evening, and came back again
+late; a tired and exhausted man. He said nothing, except to officiate
+at family prayers; but Eleanor was delighted that he was to spend the
+night at the farm and they would have him at breakfast. Only to see him
+and hear him talk to others, only the tones of his voice, brought up to
+her everything that was good and strong and pure and happy. He did not
+seem inclined to advance at all upon their Wiglands acquaintance. He
+made no allusion to it. As far as she was concerned, Eleanor thought
+that there was more reserve in his manner towards her than he had
+shewed there. No matter. With Mrs. Caxton he was very much at home; and
+she could study him at her ease all the better for not talking to him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+WITH THE BASKET.
+
+
+  "The flush of life may well be seen
+  Thrilling back over hills and valleys;
+  The cowslip startles in meadows green,
+  The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice,
+  And there's never a leaf or a blade too mean
+  To be some happy creature's palace."
+
+
+"Mrs. Caxton," said Mr. Rhys the next morning, when half the breakfast
+had been passed in silence, "have you such a thing as a microscope in
+the house?"
+
+"I am afraid not. Why do you ask?"
+
+"Only, that I have suddenly discovered myself to be very ignorant, in a
+department of knowledge where it would be very pleasant as well as
+proper to be otherwise. I have been reading a book on some of the forms
+of life which are only to be known through the help of glasses; and I
+find there is a world there I know nothing about. That book has made a
+boy of me."
+
+"How?" said Mrs. Caxton smiling.
+
+"You think I always retain more or less of that character! Well--it has
+made me doubly a boy then; in my eagerness to put myself to school, on
+the one hand, and my desire to see something new on the other. Miss
+Powle, have you ever studied the invisible inhabitants of pools, and
+ponds, and sea-weeds?"
+
+"Not at all," said Eleanor.
+
+"You do not know much more than the names, then, of Infusoria,
+Rotifera, and Pedunculata, and such things?"
+
+"Not so much as the names--except Infusoria. I hope they are better
+than they sound."
+
+"If the accounts are true--Mrs. Caxton, the world that we do not see,
+because of the imperfection of our organs, is even far more wonderful
+than the world that we do see. Perhaps it seems so, because of the
+finiteness of our own powers. But I never had a single thing give me
+such a view of the infinite glory of God, as one of the things detailed
+in that book--one of the discoveries of the microscope."
+
+"His glory in creation," said Mrs. Caxton.
+
+"More than that--There is to be sure the infiniteness of wisdom and of
+power, that makes your brain dizzy when you think of it; but there is
+an infinite moral glory also."
+
+"What was the thing that struck you so much?" Eleanor inquired.
+
+"It was a little fellow that lives in the water. He is not bigger than
+the diameter of the slenderest needle--and that is saying as much as I
+can for his size. This fellow builds himself a house of bricks, which
+he makes himself; and under his head he carries a little cup mould in
+which the bricks are made."
+
+"Mr. Rhys," said Eleanor, "I am wondering what is the slenderest needle
+of your acquaintance!"
+
+"No," said he laughing, "you are mistaken. I have seen my mother hem
+thin ruffles of muslin; and you know with what sort of a needle that
+should be done."
+
+"Aunt Caxton," said Eleanor, "it is inconceivable!"
+
+Mrs. Caxton did not make much answer, and the conversation turned.
+After breakfast, and after, as Eleanor judged, they had been a good
+while in the dairy, the two went out together in the car. Eleanor
+supposed it was to visit Nanny; and so she found when her aunt came
+home.
+
+"I knew he would go," said Mrs. Caxton; "and then we made another call.
+Nanny is hopeful, and comfortable; but the other---- Mr. Rhys came away
+very much agitated. He is not fit for it. I wish I could keep him from
+work for a few weeks. It's the best economy. But I will keep him here
+as long as I can, at least."
+
+"Is he going to stay here?"
+
+"Yes; he was not comfortably situated in the village; and now I will
+have him at the farm, I hope, till he goes. I shall trust you to keep
+the flowers fresh in his room, Eleanor.--No, my dear; Jane will stay
+with Nanny to-night."
+
+So Mr. Rhys stayed at the farm, and certainly wanted for no comfort
+that the mistress of it could secure to him. Neither did Eleanor
+neglect the flowers. Mr. Rhys made his home there, and went out to his
+preaching and visiting and teaching as vigorously as ever; and was
+often a tired man when he came home. Nevertheless he gained ground, to
+Mrs. Caxton's great satisfaction. He grew stronger; and was less often
+a silent, prostrated, done-over member of their little circle. At first
+he was very often that. But when he felt well he was exceedingly social
+and conversational; and the Plassy farmhouse had never been so
+pleasant, nor the evenings and mornings and meal times so full of
+interest. In all which however Mrs. Caxton thought Eleanor took a very
+quiet part.
+
+"You do not do your share, Eleanor," she said one day; "you are become
+nothing of a talker; and I can bear witness you had a tongue once. Has
+religion made you silent, my dear?"
+
+"No, aunty," said Eleanor laughing; "but you forget--you have somebody
+else to talk to now."
+
+"I am sure, and so have you."
+
+"No ma'am--Mr. Rhys does not talk to me generally."
+
+"I would return good for evil, then; and not silence for silence."
+
+"I can't, aunty. Don't you know, there are some people that have a sort
+of quieting effect upon one?"
+
+"I don't think anybody ever did upon me," said Mrs. Caxton; "and I am
+sure Mr. Rhys would be shocked if he knew the effect of his presence."
+
+One morning Mrs. Caxton asked Mr. Rhys at breakfast if he had leisure
+to unpack a box for her. He said yes, with great alacrity; and Mrs.
+Caxton had the box brought in.
+
+"What is it?" said Mr. Rhys as he began his work. "Am I to take care of
+china and glass--or to find gardener's plants nicely done up--or best
+of all, books?"
+
+"I hope, something better yet," said Mrs. Caxton.
+
+"There is a good deal of it, whatever it is," said Mr. Rhys, taking out
+one and another and another carefully wrapped up bit of something.
+"Curiosity can go no further!"
+
+He stopped unpacking, and took the wrapping papers off one or two
+odd-looking little pieces of brass; paused,--then suddenly exclaimed,
+"Mrs. Caxton!--"
+
+"Well?" said that lady smiling.
+
+"It is just like you! I might have known the other morning what all
+that talk would end in."
+
+Mrs. Caxton smiled in silence, and the gentleman went on with his
+unpacking; with added zeal and tenderness now, it was evident. It stood
+full in view at last, an exquisitely made and mounted microscope of one
+of the best London makers. Now was Mr. Rhys in his element; and proved
+how justly he had declared himself a _boy_. He got the microscope all
+into place and arranged, and then set himself to find out its powers
+and method of management.. There were some prepared objects sent with
+the instrument, which gave him enough to work with; and over them he
+was in an absorbed state for hours; not selfishly, however, for he
+allowed Eleanor to take her full share of the pleasure of looking, when
+once he had brought objects into view. At last he broke off and hurried
+away to an engagement.
+
+The next day at breakfast, Eleanor was a good deal surprised to be
+asked if she would take a walk?
+
+"Now?" said Eleanor. "You mean immediately after breakfast?"
+
+"It is the only time I have to-day. All the time before dinner, I have;
+but I supposed we should want the whole of it. I am going after objects
+for the microscope--and I thought it would be selfish to go alone.
+Besides, we may help one another."
+
+"I shall be very glad to go," said Eleanor laughing; "but don't expect
+any _help_ of me; unless it be in the way of finding out such places as
+you want."
+
+"I fancy I know those better than you do. Miss Powle, a small basket
+would be desirable to hold phials of water."
+
+"And phials."
+
+"I will take care of those."
+
+Much amused, and a little excited, Eleanor made ready for the walk, and
+in the matter of the basket at least proved helpful. It was bright and
+early when they set out. Among those mountains and valleys, the dew was
+not off the fields yet, while the air was freshly sweet from roses and
+wild thyme, and primroses lingering, and numberless other sweet things;
+for hedgerow and meadow and mountain side were gay and rich with a
+multitude of flowers. There was a mingling of shadow and sunshine too,
+at that early time in the morning; and as the two walkers passed along
+they were sometimes in one, sometimes in the other. There was little
+conversation at first. Mr. Rhys went not with a lingering step, but as
+if with some purpose to reach a definite locality. Eleanor was musing
+to herself over the old walks taken with Julia by her present
+companion; never but once Eleanor's walking companion till now. How
+often Julia had gone with him; what a new and strange pleasure it was
+for herself; and how oddly life changes about things; that the
+impossible thing at Wiglands should be possible at Plassy.
+
+"What sort of places are you looking for, Mr. Rhys?" Eleanor inquired
+at last.
+
+"All sorts of places," he said smiling. "All sorts at least of wet
+places. But I know nothing about it, you know, except what I have read.
+They say, wherever water is found, some or other species of these
+minute wonders may be met with; standing pools, and rivers, and ditches
+all have them; and some particularly beautiful are to be found in bog
+water; so with, I am afraid you will think, a not very commendable
+impatience, I am pointing my steps towards a bog that I know--in the
+wish to get some of the best first."
+
+"That is being very impatient," said Eleanor laughing. "I should be
+satisfied with almost anything, for the first."
+
+"So you will very probably have to be. I am by no means sure of
+accomplishing my design. Am I walking too fast for you, in the
+meanwhile?"
+
+"Not at all. I am thinking, Mr. Rhys, how we are to bring home the bog
+water when we have found it."
+
+In answer to which, he put his hand in his pocket and brought out
+thence and deposited in his basket one after another of half a dozen or
+more little phials, all duly corked. Eleanor was very much amused.
+
+"And what is this stick to do, that you wanted me to bring?"
+
+"You will see."
+
+The bog was reached in due time, after a walk over a most delicious
+country, for the most part new to Eleanor. Water was found, though not
+exactly with the conditions Mr. Rhys desired; however a phial of it was
+dipped up, corked and marked. Then they retraced their steps partially,
+diverging right and left. Just the right sort of pool was found at
+last; covered with duck-weed. Here Mr. Rhys stopped and tied one of the
+phials to the end of the stick. With this he dipped water from the
+surface, then he dipped from the bottom; he took from one side and from
+another side, where there was sunshine and where there was shade;
+pouring each dipping into a fresh phial, while Eleanor in a great state
+of amusement corked and labelled each as it was filled. At last it was
+done. Mr. Rhys filled his last phial, looked at Eleanor's face, and
+smiled.
+
+"You do not think much is going to come of all this?" he said.
+
+"Yes I do," said Eleanor. "At least I hope so."
+
+"I know it. Look through that."
+
+He put a pocket lens into her hand and bade her survey one of the
+phials with it. Eleanor's scepticism fled. That _something_ was there,
+in pretty active life, was evident. Somethings. The kinds were plural.
+
+"It was like Mrs. Caxton, to order this lens with the microscope," Mr.
+Rhys went on. "I suppose she made her order general--to include
+everything that would be necessary for a naturalist in making his
+observations. I not being a naturalist. Did you ever see the 'Bundle'
+of Helig?"
+
+"I do not know what it is."
+
+"'Bundle' or 'Bandel'--I do not know how it got the name, I am sure;
+but I suppose it is a corruption of something. Would you like to go a
+little out of your way to see it?"
+
+"You can judge better than I, Mr. Rhys!" Eleanor said with her full,
+rich smile, which that gentleman had not often seen before. He answered
+it with his own very peculiar one, sober and sweet.
+
+"I will take so much responsibility. You ought not to come so near and
+miss it."
+
+Turning from the course of their return way, they followed a wild woody
+dell for a little distance; then making a sudden angle with that, a few
+steps brought them in sight of a waterfall. It poured over a rocky
+barrier of considerable height, the face of which was corrugated, as it
+were, with great projecting ridges of rock. Separated of necessity by
+these, the waters left the top of the precipice in four or five
+distinct bands or ribbands of bright wave and foam, soon dashed into
+whiteness; and towards the bottom of the fall at last found their way
+all together; which they celebrated with a rush and a dance and a
+sparkle and a roar that filled all the rocky abyss into which they
+plunged. The life, the brightness, the peculiar form, the wild
+surroundings, of this cataract made it a noted beauty. In front of it
+the rocks closed in so nearly that spectators could only look at it
+through a wild narrow gap. Above, beyond the top of the fall, the
+waving branches could be seen of the trees and bushes that stood on the
+borders of the water; to reach which was a mere impossibility, unless
+by taking a very long way round. At the foot, the waters turned off
+suddenly and sought their course where the eye could not follow them.
+
+It was out of the question to talk in the presence of the shout of
+those glad waters. Mr. Rhys leaned against the rock, and looked at
+them, so motionless that more than once the eye of Eleanor went from
+them to him with a little note-taking. When at last he turned away and
+they got back into the stillness of the glen, he asked her, "how
+looking at such a thing made her feel?"
+
+"Nothing but surprise and pleasure, I think," said Eleanor; "but a
+great deal of both those." Then as he still remained silent, she went
+on,--"To tell the truth, Mr. Rhys, I think my mental eye is only
+beginning to get educated. I used always to enjoy natural beauty, but I
+think it was in a superficial kind of way. Since I have been at
+Plassy--and especially since a few weeks back,--all nature is much more
+to me than it was."
+
+"It is sure to be so," he said. "Nature without and nature within are
+made for each other; and till the two are set to the same key, you
+cannot have a good tune.--There is a fellow who is in pretty good
+order! Do you hear that blackbird?"
+
+"Sweet!" said Eleanor. "And what is that other note--'chee chee, chee,'
+so many times?"
+
+"That is a green wren."
+
+"You are _something_ of a naturalist, Mr. Rhys," said Eleanor.
+
+"Not at all! no more than my acquaintance with you and Mrs. Caxton
+makes me a philosopher."
+
+Eleanor wanted to ask what looking at the cataract made _him_ think of;
+but as she had told her aunt, Mr. Rhys exercised a sort of quieting
+influence over her. No natural audacity, of which she had an innocent
+share, remained to her in his company. She walked along in demure
+silence. And to say the truth, the sun was now growing warm, and the
+two had walked not a few good miles that morning; which also has a
+quieting influence. Eleanor queried with herself whether all the bright
+part of the walk were over.
+
+"I think it is time we varied our attention," said Mr. Rhys breaking
+silence. "We have been upon one class of subjects a good
+while;--suppose we try another. Don't you want to rest?"
+
+"I am not tired,--but I have no objection."
+
+"You are not easily tired?"
+
+"Not about anything I like."
+
+"You have struck a great secret of power and usefulness," he said
+gravely. "What do you think of this bank?--it is dry, and it is
+pleasant."
+
+It would have been hardly possible to find a spot in all their way that
+would not have been pleasant; and from this bank they looked over a
+wide rich valley bordered with hills. It was not the valley where the
+farmhouse of Plassy stood, with its meadows and river; this was
+different in its features, and moreover some miles distant. Eleanor and
+Mr. Rhys sat down on the moss at the foot of the trees, which gave both
+shade and rest. It was the edge of a piece of woods, and a blackbird
+was again heard saluting them.
+
+"Now if you want refreshment," said Mr. Rhys, "I can give it to you;
+but only of one kind."
+
+"I don't know--I should say of several kinds," said Eleanor looking
+into the basket--"but the quality doubtful."
+
+"Did you think I meant _that?_"
+
+Eleanor laughed at the earnest gravity of this speech. "Mr. Rhys, I saw
+no other refreshment you had to offer me; but indeed I do not want
+any--more than I am taking."
+
+"I was going to offer it to you of another kind, but there is no kind
+like it. What is your way of reading the Bible?"
+
+"I have no particular 'way,'" said Eleanor in some surprise. "I read
+several chapters a day--or at least always a chapter at morning and
+another at evening. What 'way' do you mean?"
+
+"There are a great many ways; and it is good to use them all at
+different times. But what way would be good for a half hour's
+refreshment, at such a time as this?"
+
+"I am sure, I don't know," said Eleanor. "I have no way but the one."
+
+"Yes, but we should not have seen the 'Bandel' of Helig, if we had not
+turned aside to look at it; and you would not have heard the blackbird
+and the wren perhaps, unless you had stopped to listen to them. I
+suppose we have missed a million of other things, for want of looking."
+
+"Yes, but we could not look at everything all along these miles of our
+way," said Eleanor, her smile breaking forth again.
+
+"Very true. On the other hand, if we go but a very little way, we can
+examine all around us. Have you a Bible with you?"
+
+"No. I never carry one."
+
+"I am better off than you. Let us try a little of this--the first
+chapter of Romans. Will you read the first verse, and consider it."
+
+He handed her his Bible and Eleanor read.
+
+"'Paul, a servant of Jesus Christ, called to be an apostle, separated
+unto the gospel of God'--"
+
+"What do you find there?" said her companion.
+
+"Not much. This verse seems to be a sort of opening, or introduction to
+the rest. Paul tells who he is, or what he is."
+
+"And what does he say he is?"
+
+"A servant of Jesus Christ."
+
+"You think that is 'not much?'"
+
+"Certainly it is much, in itself; but here I took it for a mere
+statement of fact."
+
+"But what a fact. _A servant of Jesus Christ_. Only that! Do you know
+what a fact that is? What is it, to be a servant of Jesus Christ?"
+
+Without waiting for the answer, which was not ready, Mr. Rhys rose up
+from his seat and began an abstracted exploration of the bit of
+woodland at the edge of which they had been sitting; wandering in and
+out among the trees, and stooping now and then to pluck a flower or a
+fern or to examine one; apparently too full of his thoughts to be
+quiet. Eleanor heard him sometimes and watched him when she could; he
+was very busy; she wished he I would give some of his thoughts to her.
+
+"I thought you wanted rest, Mr. Rhys," she said boldly, when she got a
+chance. "Please sit down here and take it, along with your other
+refreshment."
+
+He smiled and came immediately with a bunch of Myosotis in his hand,
+which he threw into Eleanor's lap; and turning to her he repeated very
+seriously his question.
+
+"What is it, to be a servant of Jesus Christ?"
+
+"I know very little," said Eleanor timidly. "I am only just beginning
+to learn."
+
+"You know the words bring for our refreshment only the meaning that we
+attach to them--except so far as the Holy Spirit answering our prayers
+and endeavours shews us new meaning and depth that we had not known
+before."
+
+"Of course--but I suppose I know very little. These words convey only
+the mere fact to me."
+
+"Let us weight the words. A servant is a follower. Christ said, 'If a
+man serve me, let him _follow me_.'"
+
+"Yes,--I know."
+
+"A follower must know where his Master goes. How did Christ walk?"
+
+"He went about doing good."
+
+"He did; but mark, there are different ways of doing that. Get to the
+root of the matter. The young man who kept all the commandments from
+his youth, was not following Christ; and when it came to the pinch he
+turned his back upon him."
+
+"How then, Mr. Rhys? You mean heart-following?"
+
+"That is what the Lord means. Look here--Paul says in the ninth
+verse,--'Whom I serve _with my spirit_ in the gospel'--Following cannot
+have a different end in view from that of the person followed. And what
+was Christ's?--'My meat is to do the will of him that sent me, and to
+finish his work.' Are we servants of Christ after that rule, Miss
+Powle?"
+
+The question had a singular intonation, as if the questioner were
+charging it home upon himself. Yet Eleanor knew he could answer it in
+the affirmative and that she could not; she sat silent without looking
+up. The old contrast of character recurred to her, in spite of the fact
+that her own had changed so much. She hung over the book, while her
+companion half abstractedly repeated,
+
+"'My meat is to do the will of him that sent me.'--That makes a way of
+life of great simplicity."
+
+"Is it always easy to find?" ventured Eleanor.
+
+"Very!--if his will is all that we desire."
+
+"But that is a very searching, deep question."
+
+"Let it search, then. 'My meat is to do the will of him--' No matter
+what that may be, Miss Powle; our choice lies in this--that it is his
+will. And as soon as we set our hearts upon one or the other particular
+sort of work, or labour in any particular place, or even upon any given
+measure of success attending our efforts, so that we are not willing to
+have him reverse our arrangements,--we are getting to have too much
+will about it."
+
+Eleanor looked up with some effort.
+
+"You are making it a great matter, to be a true servant of Christ, Mr.
+Rhys."
+
+"Would you have it a little matter?" he said with a smile of great
+sweetness and brightness. "Let the Lord have all! He was among us 'as
+one that serveth'--amid discouragements and disappointments, and abuse;
+and he has warned us that the servant is not greater than his Lord. It
+is not a little thing, to be the minister of Jesus Christ!"
+
+"Now you are getting out of the general into the particular."
+
+"No--I am not; a 'minister' is but a servant; what we call a minister,
+is but in a more emphatic degree the servant of all. The rules of
+service are the same for him and for others. Let us look at another
+one. Here it is--in John--"
+
+And the fingers that Eleanor had watched the other morning, and with
+which she had a curious association, came turning over the leaves.
+
+"'Ye call me Master, and Lord: and ye say well; for so I am. If I then,
+your Lord and Master, have washed your feet; ye also ought to wash one
+another's feet. For I have given you an example, that ye should do as I
+have done to you.'--One thing is plain from that, Miss Eleanor--we are
+not to consider ourselves too good for anything."
+
+"No--" said Eleanor;--"but I suppose that does not forbid a just
+judgment of ourselves or of others, in respect of their adaptations and
+qualifications."
+
+"Yes it does," he said quickly. "The only question is, Has the Lord put
+that work in your hands? If he has, never ask whether your hands are
+the right ones. He knows. What our Lord stooped to do, well may we!"
+
+Eleanor dared not say any more; she knew of what he was thinking;
+whether he had a like intuition with respect to her thoughts she did
+not know, and would not risk them any nearer discovery.
+
+"There is another thing about being a servant of Christ," he presently
+went on;--"it ensures some kind and degree of persecution."
+
+"Do you think so?" said Eleanor; "in these days? Why, it is thought
+praiseworthy and honourable, is it not, through all the land, to be
+good? to be a member of the Church, and to fulfil the requirements of
+religion? Does anybody lose respect or liking from such a cause?"
+
+"No. But he suffers persecution. My dear friend, what are the
+'requirements of religion?' We are just considering them. Can you
+remember a servant of Christ, such as we have seen the name means, in
+your knowledge, whom the world allowed to live in peace?"
+
+
+Eleanor was silent.
+
+"'Remember the word that I said unto you, the servant is not greater
+than his Lord. If they have persecuted me, they will also persecute
+you; if they have kept my saying, they will keep yours also.'"
+
+"But in _these_ days, Mr. Rhys?" said Eleanor doubtfully.
+
+"I can only say, that if you are of the world, the world will love his
+own. I know no other way of securing that result. 'Because ye are not
+of the world,' Jesus said, 'but I have chosen you out of the world,
+therefore the world hateth you.' And it is declared, elsewhere, that
+all that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution. Can
+you remember any instance to the contrary?"
+
+Eleanor looked up and gave Mr. Rhys a good view of her honest eyes;
+they looked very intent now and somewhat sorrowful.
+
+"Mr. Rhys, except in Plassy, I do not know such a person as you ask me
+about."
+
+"Is it possible!" he said.
+
+"Mr. Rhys, I was thinking the servants of Christ have good need of that
+'helmet of salvation' I used to wish for."
+
+"Well, they have it!" he said brightly. "'If any man serve me, let him
+follow me; _and where I am, there shall also my servant be_.' That is
+the end of all. But there is another point of service that occurs to
+me. We have seen that we must not lease ourselves; I recollect that in
+another place Paul says that if he pleased men, he would not be the
+servant of Christ. There is a point where he and the world would come
+in contact of opposition."
+
+"But I thought we ought to please everybody as much as we could?"
+
+He smiled, put his hand over and turned two or three leaves of the
+Bible which she kept open at the first of Romans, and pointed to a word
+in the fifteenth chapter. "Let every one of us please his neighbour for
+his good, to edification."
+
+"There is your limit," said he. "So far thou mayest go, but no further.
+And to do that you will find requires quite sufficiently that you
+should not please yourself. And now how shall we do all this?--how
+shall we be all this?"
+
+"You are asking the very question!" said Eleanor gravely.
+
+"We must come to the root and spring of all this service and
+following--it is our love of the Lord himself. That will do it, and
+nothing else will. 'What things were gain to me, those I counted loss
+for Christ.'"
+
+"But suppose," said Eleanor, with some difficulty commanding her
+voice,--"suppose one is deficient in that very thing? suppose one wants
+that love?"
+
+"Ay!" he said, looking into her face with his eyes of light,--"suppose
+one does; what then?"
+
+Eleanor could not bear them; her own eyes fell. "What is one to
+do?"--Mr. Rhys had risen up before he answered, in his deliberate
+accents,
+
+"'Seek him, that maketh the seven stars and Orion, and turneth the
+shadow of night into morning.'"
+
+He paced slowly up and down before Eleanor; then went off upon a
+rambling search through the wood again; seeming to be busy with little
+things in his way. Eleanor sat still. After a little he came and stood
+before her with a bunch of ferns and Melic grass and lilies of the
+valley, which he was ordering in his hands as he spoke.
+
+"The effect of our following Christ in this way, Miss Powle, will be,
+that we shall bear testimony to the world that He is our King, and what
+sort of a king he is. We shall proclaim that Jesus Christ is Lord, to
+the glory of God the Father. We shall have the invisible army of angels
+for our fellow-servants and co-workers; and we shall be passing on with
+the whole redeemed world to the day of full triumph and final
+restoration; when Christ will come to be glorified in his saints and to
+be admired in them that believe--because our testimony among you was
+believed. But now our business is to give the testimony."
+
+He walked up and down, up and down, before Eleanor for some minutes, in
+a thoughtful, abstracted way. Eleanor felt his manner as much as his
+words; the subject had clearly gone home to himself. She felt both so
+much that she did not like to interrupt the silence, nor to look up. At
+last he stopped again before her and said in quite a different tone,
+"What are the next words, Miss Powle?"
+
+"'Called to be an apostle.'"
+
+"We shall not get home to dinner, if we go into that," he said smiling.
+
+"You have preached a sermon to me, Mr. Rhys."
+
+"I do that very often to myself," he answered.
+
+"To yourself?" said Eleanor.
+
+"Yes. Nobody needs it more."
+
+"But when you have so much real preaching to do--I should think it
+would be the last thing you would wish to do in private,--at other
+times."
+
+"For that very reason. I need to have a sermon always ready, and to be
+always ready myself. Now, let us get home and look at our
+'rotifera'--if we have any."
+
+However, there was to be no microscopical examination that morning.
+
+
+"The best laid schemes o' mice and men Gang aft agley."
+
+
+They had gone but half a mile further homeward when their course was
+again stopped. They came up with a man and a horse; the horse standing
+still, the man lying on the ground beside him. At first sight they
+thought it was a case of drunkenness, for the face of the man was very
+red and he was unable to give any account of himself; but they were
+soon convinced it was sudden illness, not intoxication, which was the
+matter. He had fallen from his horse evidently, and now was not
+unconscious but in great pain; the red in his face alternating with
+sudden changes of colour. Apparently his condition was that of a small
+farmer or upper farm servant, who had been overtaken on some business
+errand by this attack of severe sickness. His horse stood quietly
+beside him.
+
+
+"This is no case for a lancet," said Mr. Rhys after making a slight
+examination. "It calls for greater skill than mine. How will you do? I
+must take the horse and ride for it. But the first thing is to find
+where I ought to go--if I can--"
+
+For this information he sought in the man's pockets; and found
+presently a pocket-book with one or two bills, which gave the name he
+wanted. It was a name not unknown to Mr. Rhys; and let him know also
+the direction in which he must ride; not towards the valley of Plassy.
+
+"What will you do, Miss Powle?--will you be afraid to find your way
+home alone?"
+
+"I will stay here till you come back."
+
+"Will you? But I may be gone some time--and I must tell you," he said
+gravely, "the man is very ill."
+
+"There is the more reason then, I am sure. I will stay and do anything
+for him I can, Mr. Rhys. You go--I will stay here."
+
+Mr. Rhys said nothing more, though Eleanor felt sure from his face that
+he did not disapprove of her conclusion. He mounted the horse
+immediately.
+
+"I will send help from the way if I can, though I doubt it. The way is
+lonely, till I get almost there."
+
+He rode off at a sharp pace, and Eleanor was left quite alone. Her
+attention came back to the sick person at her feet. So near the
+light-hearted pleasure of ten minutes ago had been to pain and death!
+And Mr. Rhys's sermon was nearer still. The first thing to consider,
+was what she could do for the man.
+
+He had fallen and lay on the grass in the broad sunshine. The sun had
+mounted high now; its beams fell hot and full on the sufferer's face.
+At a little distance was a grove of oaks and beeches, and good shelter;
+but Eleanor's strength could not move the man thither; he was a great,
+thickset, burly fellow. Yet it was miserable to see the sun beating
+upon his face where the sweat of pain already stood. Eleanor went to
+the wood, and with much trouble and searching managed to find or break
+off two or three sticks of a few feet in length. She planted these for
+a frame near the sick man's head and spread her light summer shawl over
+them to make a screen. It was a light screen; nevertheless much better
+than nothing. Then Eleanor kneeled down by the man to see what more she
+could do. Red and pale changed fast and fearfully upon his face; big
+drops stood on the brow and cheeks. Eleanor doubted whether he were
+conscious, he lay so still. She took her pocket-handkerchief to wipe
+the wet brow. A groan answered her at that. It startled her, for it was
+the first sound she had heard the sick person utter. Putting down her
+face to receive if possible some intimation of a wish, she thought he
+said or tried to say something about "drink." Eleanor rose up and
+sought to recollect where last and nearest she had seen water. It was
+some distance behind; a little spring that had crossed their foot-way
+with its own bright track. Then what could she bring some in? The
+phials! Quick the precious pond water and bog water was poured out,
+with one thought of the nameless treasures for Mr. Rhys's microscope
+that she was spilling upon the ground; and Eleanor took the basket
+again and set off on the backward way. She was in a hurry, the sun was
+warm, the distance was a good quarter of a mile; by the time she had
+found the stream and filled her phial and retraced again her steps to
+where the sick man lay, she was heated and weary; for every step was
+hurried with the thought of that suffering which the water might
+alleviate. This was pure, sparkling, good water with which the phials
+were now filled. But when Eleanor got back to him, the man could not
+open his lips to take it. She feared he would die, and suddenly.
+
+It was a wild uncultivated place they were in. No signs of human
+habitation were to be seen, except far up away on a hillside in the
+distance, where smoke went up from a farmhouse or some sort of a house;
+towards which Eleanor looked with earnest longings that the human help
+which was there could be brought within available distance. It was
+greatly too far for that. How soon would Mr. Rhys be back? Impossible
+to say; she could not tell what length of road he might have to travel.
+And the man seemed dying. Eleanor knelt down again, and with the
+precious contents of one of the phial bathed the brow and the lips that
+she thought would never return to their natural colour again. She did
+it perseveringly; it was all she could do. Perhaps it gave comfort. But
+Eleanor grew tired, and felt increasingly lonely and desirous that some
+one should come. No one did come by that way, nor was likely to come,
+until the return of Mr. Rhys; the place was not near a highway; only on
+a wild mountain track. It struck Eleanor then that the sufferer's head
+lay too low, upon the ground. She could not move him to a better
+position; and finally placing herself on the grass beside him, she
+contrived with great exertion to lift his head upon her lap. He could
+not thank her; she did not know if he were aware of what she did; but
+then Eleanor had done all. She schooled herself to sit patiently and
+wipe the brow that lay upon her knee, and wait; knowing that death
+might come to take her charge before any other arrival relieved her of
+it. Eleanor had a great many thoughts meanwhile; and as she sat there
+revolved Mr. Rhys's 'sermon' in her mind over and over, and from one
+end to the other and back again.
+
+So at last Mr. Rhys found her. He came as he had gone, full speed;
+jumped off his horse, and took a very grave survey of the group on the
+ground. It was not early. Mr. Rhys had been a long time away; it seemed
+half a day's length to Eleanor.
+
+"Have you been there all this time?" was his question.
+
+"O no."
+
+"I will take your place," said he kneeling down and lifting the
+unconscious head from Eleanor's lap. "There is a waggon coming. It will
+be here directly."
+
+Eleanor got up, trembling and stiff from her long constrained position.
+The waggon presently came in sight; a huge covered wain which had need
+to move slowly. Mr. Rhys had stayed by it to guide it, and only spurred
+forward when near enough to the place. Into it they now lifted the sick
+man, and the horses' heads were turned again. Mr. Rhys had not been
+able to bring a doctor.
+
+"Why here is Powis!" exclaimed Eleanor, as on the waggon coming round
+she discovered her pony hitched to the back of it. Mr. Rhys unhitched
+him. Powis was saddled.
+
+"I thought you would have done enough for to-day," said he; "and I went
+round by the farm to bring him. Now you will ride home as fast as you
+please."
+
+"But I thought the farm was out of your way?"
+
+"I had time to gallop over there and meet the waggon again; it went so
+slowly."
+
+"O thank you! But I do not need Powis--I can walk perfectly well. I am
+sure you need him more than I do, Mr. Rhys. I do not need him at all."
+
+"Come, mount!" said he. "I cannot ride on a side saddle, child."
+
+Eleanor mounted in silence, a little surprised to find that Mr. Rhys
+helped her not awkwardly; and not knowing exactly whence came a curious
+warm glow that filled her heart like a golden reflection. But it kept
+her silent too; and it did not go away even when Mr. Rhys said in his
+usual manner,
+
+"I beg your pardon, Miss Powle--I live among the hills till I grow
+unceremonious."
+
+Eleanor did not make any answer, and if she rode home as fast as she
+pleased, it was her pleasure to ride slowly; for Mr. Rhys walked beside
+her all the way. But she was too tired perhaps to talk much; and he was
+in one of his silent moods.
+
+"What have you done with the phials?" said he looking into the basket
+as they neared home.
+
+"I am very sorry, Mr. Rhys! I had to empty them to get water for that
+poor man. I wasn't quite sure, but I thought he asked for it."
+
+"Oh!--And where did you go to find water?"
+
+"Back--don't you remember?--some distance back of where we found him,
+we had passed a little brook of running clear water. I had to go there."
+
+"Yes--I know. Well, we shall have to make another expedition."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+AT HOME.
+
+
+  "I will have hopes that cannot fade,
+  For flowers the valley yields!
+  I will have humble thoughts instead
+  Of silent, dewy fields!
+  My spirit and my God shall be
+  My sea-ward hill, my boundless sea."
+
+
+The promised expedition came off; and a number of others; not too
+frequently however, for Mr. Rhys continued to be one of the world's
+busy people, and was often engaged and often weary. The walks after
+natural history came between times; when he was not under the immediate
+pressure of duty, and felt that he needed recreation to fit him for it.
+Eleanor was his companion generally, and grew to be as much interested
+in his objects as he was himself. Perhaps that is saying too much. In
+the house certainly Mr. Rhys bestowed an amount of patient time and
+investigation upon his microscopical studies which Eleanor did not
+emulate; time and pains which made him presently a capital manipulator,
+and probably stowed away quantities of knowledge under that quiet brow
+of his. Many an hour Mr. Rhys and his microscope were silent
+companions, during which he was rapt and absorbed in his contemplations
+or his efforts--whichever it might be; but then at other times, and
+before and after these times, Eleanor and Mrs. Caxton were constantly
+invited to a share in some of the results at least of what was going on.
+
+Perhaps three people rarely enjoy more comfort together in themselves
+and in each other, than these three did for some weeks following the
+date of the last chapter. Mr. Rhys was a wonderful pleasant addition to
+the family. He was entirely at home, and not a person be trammelled by
+any ordinary considerations. He was silent when he felt like it; he
+kept alone when he was busy; he put no unnatural force upon himself
+when he was fatigued; but silent, or weary, or busy, there was always
+and at all times where he was, the feeling of the presence of one who
+was never absent from God. It was in the atmosphere about him; it was
+in the look that he wore, free and simple as that always was, in its
+gravity; it was in the straightforward doing of duty, all little things
+as much as in great things; the little things never forgotten, the
+great things never waived. It was an unconscious testimony that Mr.
+Rhys carried about with him; and which his companions seeing, they
+moved about with softened steps and strengthened hearts all the while.
+But he was not always tired and silent; and when he was not, he was a
+most delightful companion, as free to talk as a child and as full of
+matter as a wise man; and entirely social and sympathetic too in his
+whole temper and behaviour. He would not enjoy his natural historical
+discoveries alone; Mrs. Caxton and Eleanor were made to take their full
+share. The family circle was, quietly, a very lively one; there was no
+stagnating anywhere. He and Mrs. Caxton had many subjects and interests
+in common of which they talked freely, and Eleanor was only too glad to
+listen. There were books and reviews read aloud sometimes, with very
+pithy discussion of the same; in fact, there was conversation, truly
+deserving the name; such as Eleanor never listened to before she came
+to Plassy, and which she enjoyed hugely. Then the walks after natural
+objects were on the whole frequent; and Mr. Rhys was sure to ask her to
+go along; and they were full of delightful pleasure and of nice talk
+too, though it never happened that they sat down under a tree again to
+sermonize and Mr. Rhys never forgot himself again to speak to her by
+the undignified appellation he once had given her. But Eleanor had got
+over her shyness of him pretty well, and was inclined to think it quite
+honour and pleasure enough to be allowed to share his walks; waited
+very contentedly when he was wrapped up in his own thoughts; wrapped
+herself up in hers; and was all ready for the talk when it came. With
+all this she observed that he never distinguished her by any more
+familiarity than Mrs. Caxton's niece and his daily neighbour at the
+table and in the family, might demand from a gentleman and Mrs.
+Caxton's friend and guest. The hills and the valleys around Plassy were
+very beautiful that summer.
+
+So was Mrs. Caxton's garden. The roses flushed out into bloom, with all
+their contemporaries; the terraces down to the river were aglow with
+richness and profusion of blossoms, and sweet with many fragrances. The
+old farmhouse itself had become an object of admiration to Eleanor.
+Long and low, built of dark red stone and roofed with slate, it was now
+in different parts wreathed and draped in climbing roses and
+honeysuckle as well as in the ivy which did duty all winter. To stand
+under these roses at the back of the house, and look down over the
+gorgeous terraces, to the river and the bridge and the outspread
+meadows on the other side, stretching away down and up the valley and
+reaching to the foot of the hills which rose beyond them; to see all
+this, was to see a combination of natural features rare even in
+England, though words may not make it seem so.
+
+Mrs. Caxton and Eleanor were there one evening. It was towards the end
+of the season of "June roses," though indeed it was later than the
+month of June. Mr. Rhys had been called away to some distance by
+business, and been detained a week; and this evening he might be
+expected home. They had missed him very much, Mrs. Caxton and Eleanor.
+They had missed him exceedingly at prayer-time; they had missed him
+desolately at meals. To-night the tea-table was spread where he loved
+to have it; on the tiled floor under the projecting roof before
+mentioned. A dish was crowned with red and white strawberries in the
+middle of the table, and Eleanor stood decorating it slowly with ivy
+leaves and blossoms of white heath.
+
+"It is not certain, my dear, he will come home to-night," Mrs. Caxton
+said as she watched her.
+
+"No, aunty,"--said Eleanor with a slight start, but then going on with
+her occupation. "What about it?"
+
+"Nothing. We will enjoy the flowers ourselves."
+
+"But he thought he would be at home to-night, aunt Caxton?"
+
+"He could not be sure. He might easily be detained. You have got over
+your fear of Mr. Rhys, Eleanor?"
+
+"Aunt Caxton, I don't think I ever feared him!"
+
+"He used to have a 'quieting influence' upon you," Mrs. Caxton said
+smiling.
+
+"Well,--he does now, ma'am. At least I am sure Mr. Rhys is one of the
+persons I should never care to contradict."
+
+"I should think not," said Mrs. Caxton quietly. Eleanor had coloured a
+little.
+
+"But that is not because, merely, I do not think myself wise; because
+there are other persons before whom I think myself no wiser, whom I
+_would_ contradict--I mean, in a polite way--if it came into my head."
+
+"We shall miss him when he goes," said Mrs. Caxton with a little bit of
+a sigh. Eleanor wanted to ask a question, but the words did not come.
+The ornamenting of the strawberry dish was finished. She turned from
+it, and looked down where the long train of cows came winding through
+the meadows and over the bridge. Pretty, peaceful, lovely, was this
+gentle rural scene; what was the connection that made but a step in
+Eleanor's thoughts between the meadows of Plassy and some far-off
+islands in distant Polynesia? Eleanor had changed since some time ago.
+She could understand now why Mr. Rhys wanted to go there; she could
+comprehend it; she could understand how it was that he was not afraid
+to go and did not shrink from leaving all this loveliness at her feet.
+All that was no mystery now; but her thoughts fastened on her aunt's
+words--how they would "miss him." She was very still, and so was Mrs.
+Caxton; till a step brought both heads round to the door.
+
+It was only a servant that came out, bringing letters; one for Eleanor,
+one for Mrs. Caxton. Standing where she was, Eleanor broke hers open.
+It was from her mother, and it contained something both new and
+unexpected; an urgent injunction on her to return immediately home. The
+family were going at once to Brighton, the letter said; Mrs. Powle
+wished Eleanor to lose no time, in order that her wardrobe might be
+properly cared for. Thomas was sent with the letter, and her mother
+desired that Eleanor would immediately on the receipt of it, "without
+an hour's delay," set off to come home with him. Reasons for this
+sudden proceeding there were none given; and it came with the
+suddenness of a hurricane upon Eleanor. Up to this time there had been
+no intimation of her mother's wish to have her at home again ever; an
+interval of several weeks had elapsed since any letters; now Mrs. Powle
+said "she had been gone long enough," and they all wanted her, and must
+have her at once to go to Brighton. So suddenly affectionate?
+
+Eleanor stood looking at her letter some time after she had ceased to
+read it, with a face that shewed turmoil. Mrs. Caxton came up to her.
+Eleanor dropped the letter in her hand, but her eye avoided her aunt's.
+
+"What is all this haste, Eleanor?" Mrs. Caxton said gravely.
+
+"I don't know, ma'am."
+
+"At any rate, my child, you cannot leave me to-night. It is too late."
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"Does your mother assign no reason for this sudden demand of you? She
+gives me none."
+
+"She gives me none, ma'am."
+
+"Eleanor--"
+
+It brought Eleanor's eye up, and that brought her head down on Mrs.
+Caxton's shoulder. Her aunt clasped her tenderly for a moment, and then
+said,
+
+"Had you not better see your mother's servant, my dear, and give your
+orders?--and then we will have tea."
+
+Eleanor steadied herself immediately; went out and had an interview
+with old Thomas, which however brought her no enlightenment; made her
+arrangements with him, and returned to her aunt. Mrs. Caxton ordered
+tea; they would not wait for Mr. Rhys any longer. The aunt and niece
+sat down to the table behind the honeysuckle drapery of the pillars;
+the sunlight had left the landscape; the breath of the flowers floated
+up cool and sweet from the terraced garden and waved about them with
+every stir of the long rose and honeysuckle sprays. Eleanor sat by the
+table and looked out. Mrs. Caxton poured out the tea and looked at her.
+
+"Aren't you going to take some strawberries, my love?"
+
+"Shall I give you some, aunt Caxton?"
+
+"And yourself, my dear."
+
+She watched while Eleanor slowly broke up the heath and ivy adornment
+of the strawberry dish, and carefully afterwards replaced the sprays
+and leaves she had dislodged. It is no harm for a lady's hand to be
+white; but travelling from the hand to the face, Mrs. Caxton's eye
+found too little colour there. Eleanor's cheeks were not generally
+wanting in a fine healthy tinge. The tinge was fainter than usual
+to-night. Nevertheless she was eating strawberries with apparent
+regularity.
+
+"Eleanor, I do not understand this sudden recall. Have you any clue?"
+
+"No ma'am, not the least."
+
+"What arrangements have you made, my dear?"
+
+"For to-morrow morning, ma'am. I had no choice."
+
+"No, my dear, you had not; and I have not a word to say. I hope Mr.
+Rhys will come back before you go."
+
+Absolute silence on Eleanor's part.
+
+"You would like to bid him good bye before you leave Plassy."
+
+There was a cessation of any attention to the strawberries, and
+Eleanor's hand took a position which rather hindered observations of
+her face. You might have heard a slight little sigh come from behind
+Mrs. Caxton's tea-pot.
+
+"Eleanor, have you learned that the steps of a good man are ordered by
+the Lord? My love, they are not left to our own disposal, and we should
+not know how to manage it. You are going to do the Lord's work, are you
+not, wherever you may be?"
+
+"I hope so."
+
+"Then trust him to place you where he wants the work to be done. Can
+you, Eleanor?"
+
+Eleanor left her seat, came round and knelt down by Mrs. Caxton's side,
+putting her face in her lap.
+
+"It is not like a good soldier, dear, to wish to play general. You have
+something now to do at home--perhaps not more for others than for
+yourself. Are you willing to do it?"
+
+"Don't ask me if I am willing, aunt Caxton! I have been too happy--But
+I shall be willing."
+
+"That is all we live for, my dear--to do the Lord's work; and I am sure
+that in service as in everything else, God loves a cheerful giver. Let
+us give him that now, Eleanor; and trust him for the rest. My child,
+you are not the only one who has to give up something."
+
+And though Mrs. Caxton said little more than that word on the subject
+of what Eleanor's departure cost herself, she manifested it in a
+different way by the kind incessant solicitude and care with which she
+watched over Eleanor and helped her and kept with her that night and
+the next morning. Eleanor made her preparations and indulged in very
+few words. There was too much to think of, in the last evening's
+society, the last night in her happy room, the last morning hours. And
+yet Eleanor did very little thinking. She was to go immediately after
+breakfast. The early prayers were over, and the aunt and niece were
+left by themselves a moment before the meal was served.
+
+"And what shall I say to Mr. Rhys?" enquired Mrs. Caxton, as they stood
+silent together. Eleanor hesitated, and hesitated; and finally said,
+
+"I believe, nothing, ma'am."
+
+"You have given me messages for so many other people, you know," said
+Mrs. Caxton quietly.
+
+"Yes, ma'am. I don't know how to make a message for him."
+
+"I think he will feel it," said Mrs. Caxton in the same manner.
+
+Then she saw, for her eyes were good, the lightning flash of emotion
+which worked in Eleanor's face. Proud self-control kept it down, and
+she stood motionless, though it did not prevent the perceptible paling
+of her cheek which Mrs. Caxton had noticed last night. She stood
+silent, then she said slowly,--
+
+"If I thought _that_--You may give him any message for me that you
+think good, aunt Caxton."
+
+The breakfast arrived, and few more words passed on any topic. Another
+hour, and Eleanor was on her journey.
+
+She felt in a confusion of spirits and would not let herself think,
+till they reached her stopping place for the night. And then, instead
+of thinking, Eleanor to say the truth could do nothing but weep. It was
+her time for tears; to-morrow would end such an indulgence. At an early
+hour the next day she met her father's carriage which had been sent so
+far for her; and the remaining hours of her way Eleanor did think. Her
+thoughts are her own. But at the bottom of some that were sorrowful lay
+one deep subject of joy. That she was not going helmet-less into the
+fight which she felt might be before her. Of that she had an inward
+presentiment, though what form it would take she was entirely uncertain.
+
+Julia was the first person that met her, and that meeting was rapturous.
+
+"O Nell! it has been so dreadful and dull since you have been gone! I'm
+so glad to have you home! I'm so glad to have you home!"--she repeated,
+with her arms round Eleanor's neck.
+
+"But what are you going to Brighton for?" said Eleanor after the first
+salutations had satisfied the first eagerness of the sisters.
+
+"O I don't know. Papa isn't just well, I believe; and mamma thought it
+would do him good. Mamma's in here."
+
+It was to Eleanor's relief that her reception in this quarter also was
+perfectly cordial. Mrs. Powle seemed to have forgotten, or to be
+disposed to forget, old causes of trouble; and to begin again as if
+nothing had happened.
+
+"You look well, Eleanor. Bless me, I never saw your complexion better!
+but how your hair is dressed! That isn't the way now; but you'll get to
+rights soon. I've got a purple muslin for you that will be beautiful.
+Your whole wardrobe will want attention, but I have everything
+ready--dress-maker and all--only waiting for you. Think of your being
+gone seven months and more! But never mind--we'll let bygones be
+bygones. I am not going to rake up anything. We'll go to Brighton and
+have everything pleasant."
+
+
+"How soon, mamma?"
+
+"Just as soon as I can get you dressed. And Eleanor! I wish you would
+immediately take a review of all your wardrobe and all I have got for
+you, and see if I have omitted anything."
+
+"What has put you into the notion of Brighton, mamma?"
+
+"Everybody is there now--and we want a change. I think it will do your
+father good."
+
+To see her father was the next thing; and here there was some comfort.
+The squire was undoubtedly rejoiced to see his daughter and welcomed
+her back right heartily. Made much of her in his way. He was the only
+one too who cared much to hear of Mrs. Caxton and her way of life and
+her farm. The squire did care. Eleanor was kept a long time answering
+questions and giving details. It cost her some hard work.
+
+"She is a good woman, is my sister Caxton," said the Squire; "and she
+has pluck enough for half a dozen. The only thing I have against her is
+her being a Methodist. She hasn't made a Methodist of you, hey,
+Eleanor?"
+
+"I don't think she has, papa," Eleanor answered slowly.
+
+"That's the only fault _I_ have to find with her," the Squire went on;
+"but I suppose women must have an empty corner of their heads, where
+they will stick fancies if they don't stick flowers. I think flowers
+are the most becoming of the two. Wears a brown gown always, don't she?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"I thought they did," said the Squire; "but she's a clever woman, for
+all that, or she wouldn't carry on that business of the farm as she
+does. Your mother don't like the farm; but I think my sister is right.
+Better be independent and ask leave of nobody. Well, you must get
+dressed, must you. I am glad to have you home, child!"
+
+"Why are we going to leave home, papa?"
+
+"St. George and the Dragon! Ask your mother."
+
+So Eleanor did not get much wiser on the subject till dinner-time; nor
+then either, though it was nearly the only thing talked about, both
+directly and indirectly. A great weariness came over her, as the
+contrast rose up of Mrs. Caxton's dinner-table and the three faces
+round it; with the sweet play of talk, on things natural or
+philosophical, religious or civil, but always sensible, fresh, and
+original and strong. Always that; the party might lapse into silence;
+if one of them was tired it often did; but when the words came again,
+they came with a ready life and purpose--with a sort of perfume of love
+and purity--that it made Eleanor's heart ache now to think of. Her
+mother was descanting on lodgings, on the people already at Brighton,
+or coming there; on dresses ready and unready; and to vary this topic
+the Squire complained that his wine was not cooled properly. Eleanor
+sank into silence and then into extreme depression of spirits; which
+grew more and more, until she caught her little sister's eye looking at
+her wistfully. Julia had hardly said a word all dinner-time. The look
+smote Eleanor's conscience. "Is this the way I am doing the work given
+me?" she thought; "this selfish forgetting of all others in myself? Am
+I standing in my post like a good soldier? Is _this_ 'pleasing all men
+for their good?'" Conscience thumped like a hammer; and Eleanor roused
+up, entered into what was going, talked and made herself pleasant to
+both father and mother, who grew sunshiny under the influence. Mrs.
+Powle eat the remainder of her dinner with more appetite; and the
+Squire declared Eleanor had grown handsome and Plassy had done her no
+harm. But Julia looked and listened and said never a word. It was very
+hard work to Eleanor, though it brought its reward as she went along,
+not only in comments but in the sense of duty performed. She would not
+run away from her post; she kept at it; when her father had gone away
+to smoke she stayed by her mother; till Mrs. Powle dropped off into her
+usual after dinner nap in her chair. Eleanor sat still a minute or two
+longer, then made an escape. She sought her old garden, by the way of
+her old summer parlour. Things were not changed there, except that the
+garden was a little neglected. It brought painful things back, though
+the flowers were sweet and the summer sunset glow was over them all. So
+it used to be in old times. So it used to be in nearer times, last
+summer. And now was another change. Eleanor paced slowly down one walk
+and up another, looking sorrowfully at her old friends, the roses,
+carnations and petunias, which looked at her as cheerfully as ever;
+when a hand touched hers and she found Julia at her side.
+
+"Eleanor," she said wistfully, "are you _sorry_ to be at home again?"
+
+"I am glad to see you, darling; and papa, and mamma."
+
+"But you don't look glad. Was it so much pleasanter where you have
+been?"
+
+Eleanor struggled with herself.
+
+"It was very different, Julia--and there were things that you and I
+both love, that there are not here."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Here all is for the world, Julia; there, at Plassy, nothing is for the
+world. I feel the difference just at first--I suppose I shall get a
+little used to it presently."
+
+"I have not thought so much about all that," said Julia soberly, "since
+Mr. Rhys went away. But you must have loved aunt Caxton very much,
+Eleanor, to make you sorry to come home."
+
+Julia spoke almost sadly. Eleanor felt bitterly reproached. Was there
+not work at home here for her to do! Yet she could hardly speak at
+first. Putting her arm round Julia she drew her down beside her on a
+green bank and took her little sister in her arms.
+
+"You and I will help each other, Julia, will we not?"
+
+"In what?"
+
+"To love Christ, and please him."
+
+"Why, do you love him?" said Julia. "Are you like Mr. Rhys?"
+
+"Not much. But I do love the same Master he loves, Julia; and I have
+come home to serve him. You will help me?"
+
+"Mamma don't like all that," remarked Julia.
+
+Eleanor sighed. The burden on her heart seemed growing heavy. Julia
+half rose up and putting both arms round her neck covered her lips with
+kisses.
+
+"You don't seem like yourself!" she said; "and you look as grave as if
+you had found us all dead. Eleanor--are you afraid?" she said with an
+earnest look.
+
+"Afraid of what, dear?"
+
+"Of that man--afraid of Mr. Carlisle?"
+
+"No, I am not afraid of him, or of anything. Besides, he is hundreds of
+miles away, in Switzerland or somewhere."
+
+"No he isn't; he is here."
+
+"What do you mean by 'here?'"
+
+"In England, I mean. He isn't at the Priory; but he was here at the
+Lodge the other day."
+
+Eleanor's heart made two or three springs one way and another.
+
+"No dear, I am not afraid of him," she repeated, with a quietness that
+was convincing; and Julia passed to other subjects. Eleanor did not
+forget that one; and as Julia ran on with her talk, she pondered it,
+and made a secret thanksgiving that she was so escaped both from danger
+and from fear. Nevertheless she could not help thinking about the
+subject. It seemed that Mr. Carlisle's wound had healed very rapidly.
+And moreover she had not given him credit for finding any attraction in
+that house, beyond her own personal presence in it. However, she
+reflected that Mr. Carlisle was busy in politics, and perhaps
+cultivated her father. They went in again, to take up the subject of
+Brighton.
+
+And what followed? Muslins, flowers, laces, bonnets and ribbands. They
+were very irksome days to Eleanor, that were spent in getting ready for
+Brighton; and the thought of the calm purity of Plassy with its
+different occupations sometimes came over her and for the moment
+unnerved her hands for the finery they had to handle. Once Eleanor took
+a long rambling ride alone on her old pony; she did not try it again.
+Business and bustle was better, at least was less painful, than such a
+time for thinking and feeling. So the dresses were made, and they went
+to Brighton.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+AT A WATERING-PLACE.
+
+
+  "In the world's broad field of battle,
+  In the bivouac of Life,
+  Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
+  Be a hero in the strife!"
+
+
+Eleanor was at once plunged into a whirl of engagements, with
+acquaintances new and old. And the former class multiplied very
+rapidly. Mrs. Powle's fair curls hung on either side of her face with
+almost their full measure of complacency, as she saw and beheld her
+daughter's successful attractions. It was true. Eleanor was found to
+have something unique about her; some said it was her beauty, some said
+it was her manners; some insisted it was neither, but had a deeper
+origin; at any rate she was fresh. Something out of the common line and
+that piqued curiosity, was delightful; and in despite of her very
+moderate worldly advantages, compared with many others who were there,
+Eleanor Powle seemed likely to become in a little while the belle of
+Brighton. Certain rumours which were afloat no doubt facilitated and
+expedited this progress of things. Happily Eleanor did not hear them.
+
+The rush of engagements and whirl of society at first was very wearying
+and painful to her. No heart had Eleanor to give to it. Only by putting
+a force upon herself, to please her father and mother, she managed to
+enter with some spirit into the amusements going forward, in which she
+was expected to take an active part. Perhaps this very fact had
+something to do with the noble and sweet disengagedness of manner which
+marked her unlike those about her, in a world where self-interest of
+some sort is the ruling motive. It was not Eleanor's world; it had
+nothing to do with the interests that were dear in her regard; and
+something of that carelessness which she brought to it conferred a
+grace that the world imitates in vain. Eleanor found however after a
+little, that the rush and hurry of her life and of all the people about
+her had a contagion in it; her own thoughts were beginning to be
+absorbed in what absorbed everybody; her own cherished interests were
+getting pushed into a corner. Eleanor resolved to make a stand then,
+and secure time enough to herself to let her own inner life have play
+and breathing room. But it was very difficult to make such a stand.
+Mrs. Powle ever stood like a watchman at the door to drive Eleanor out
+when she wanted to be in. Time! there seemed to be no time.
+
+Eleanor had heard that Mr. Carlisle was expected at Brighton; so she
+was not greatly surprised one evening to find herself in the same room
+with him. It was at a public assembly. The glances that her curiosity
+cast, found him moving about among people very like, and in very
+exactly the manner of his old self. No difference that she could see.
+She wondered whether he would have the audacity to come and speak to
+her. Audacity was not a point in which Mr. Carlisle was failing. He
+came; and as he came others scattered away; melted off, and left her
+alone.
+
+He came with the best air in the world; a little conscious, a little
+apologetic, wholly respectful, not altogether devoid of the old
+familiarity. He offered his hand; did not to be sure detain hers, which
+would have been inconvenient in a public assembly; but he detained
+_her_, falling into talk with an ease or an effrontery which it was
+impossible not to admire. And Eleanor admired him involuntarily.
+Certainly this man had capacities. He did not detain her too long;
+passed away as easily as he had come up; but returned again in the
+course of the evening to offer her some civility; and it was Mr.
+Carlisle who put her mother and herself into their carriage. Eleanor
+looked for a remark from her mother on the subject during their drive
+home; but Mrs. Powle made none.
+
+The next evening he was at Mrs. Powle's rooms, where a small company
+was gathered every Tuesday. He might be excused if he watched, more
+than he wished to be seen watching, the sweet unconscious grace and
+ease with which Eleanor moved and spoke. Others noticed it, but Mr.
+Carlisle drew comparisons; and found to his mystification that her six
+months on a cheese-farm had returned Eleanor with an added charm of eye
+and manner, for which he could not account; which he could not
+immediately define. She was not expecting to see him this time, for she
+started a little when he presented himself. He came with the same
+pleasant expression that he had worn last night.
+
+"Will you excuse me for remarking, that your winter has done you good?"
+he said.
+
+"Yes. I know it has," Eleanor answered.
+
+"With your old frankness, you acknowledge it?"
+
+"Willingly."
+
+Her accent was so simple and sweet, the attraction was irresistible. He
+sat down by her.
+
+"I hope you are as willing as I am to acknowledge that all our last
+winter's work was not good. We exchanged letters."
+
+"Hardly, Mr. Carlisle."
+
+"Will you allow me to say, that I am ashamed of my part in that
+transaction. Eleanor, I want you to forget it, and to receive me as if
+it had not happened."
+
+Eleanor was in a mixture of astonishment and doubt, as to how far his
+words might be taken. In the doubt, she hesitated one instant. Another
+person, a lady, drew near, and Mr. Carlisle yielded to her the place he
+had been occupying. The opportunity for an answer was gone. And though
+he was often near her during the evening, he did not recur again to the
+subject, and Eleanor could not. But the little bit of dialogue left her
+something to think of.
+
+She had occasion often to think of it. Mr. Carlisle was everywhere, of
+course, in Brighton; at least he was in Eleanor's everywhere; she saw
+him a great deal and was a little struck and puzzled by his manner. He
+was very often in her immediate company; often attending upon her; it
+constantly happened, she could not tell how, that his arm was the one
+to which she was consigned, in walks and evening escorts. In a measure,
+he assumed his old place beside her; his attentions were constant,
+gracefully and freely paid; they just lacked the expression which would
+have obliged and enabled her to throw them off. It was rather the
+manner of a brother than of a lover; but it was familiar and
+confidential beyond what those assume that are not brothers. Whatever
+it meant, it dissatisfied Eleanor. The world, perhaps the gentleman
+himself, might justly think if she permitted this state of things that
+she allowed the conclusions naturally to be drawn from it. She
+determined to withdraw herself. It was curiously and inexplicably
+difficult. Too easily, too gracefully, too much as a matter of course,
+things fell into train, for Eleanor often to do anything to alter the
+train. But she was determined.
+
+"Eleanor, do you know everybody is waiting?" Mrs. Powle exclaimed one
+morning bursting into Eleanor's room. "There's the whole riding
+party--and you are not ready!"
+
+"No, mamma. I am not going."
+
+"Not going! Just put on your riding-habit as quick as you can--Julia,
+get her hat!--you said you would go, and I have no notion of
+disappointing people like that. Get yourself ready immediately--do you
+hear me?"
+
+"But, mamma--"
+
+"Put on your habit!--then talk if you like. It's all nonsense. What are
+you doing? studying? Nonsense! there's time enough for studying when
+you are at home. Now be quick!"
+
+"But, mamma--"
+
+"Well? Put your hair lower, Eleanor; that will not do."
+
+"Mamma, isn't Mr. Carlisle there?"
+
+"Mr. Carlisle? What if he is? I hope he is. You are well in that hat,
+Eleanor."
+
+"Mamma, if Mr. Carlisle is there,--"
+
+"Hold your tongue, Eleanor!--take your whip and go. They are all
+waiting. You may talk to me when you come back, but now you must go. I
+should think Mr. Carlisle would like to be of the party, for there
+isn't such another figure on the ride. Now kiss me and go. You are a
+good girl."
+
+Mrs. Powle said it with some feeling. She had never found Eleanor so
+obediently tractable as since her return; she had never got from her
+such ready and willing cooperation, even in matters that her mother
+knew were not after Eleanor's heart, as now when her heart was less in
+them than ever. And at this moment she was gratified by the quiet grave
+obedience rendered her, in doing what she saw plainly enough Eleanor
+did not like to do. She followed her daughter down stairs with a proud
+heart.
+
+It happened again, as it was always happening, that Mr. Carlisle was
+Eleanor's special attendant. Eleanor meditated possible ways of
+hindering this in future; but for the present there was no remedy. Mr.
+Carlisle put her on her horse; it was not till she was taking the reins
+in her left hand that something struck her with a sense of familiarity.
+
+"What horse is this?" she asked.
+
+"No other than your old friend and servant--I hope you have not
+forgotten her. She has not forgotten you."
+
+Eleanor perceived that. As surely as it was Black Maggie, Maggie knew
+her; and displeased though Eleanor was with the master, she could not
+forbear a little caress of recognition to the beautiful creature he had
+once given her. Maggie was faultless; she and Eleanor were accustomed
+to each other; it was an undeniable pleasure to be so mounted again, as
+Eleanor could not but acknowledge to herself during the first few
+dainty dancing steps that Maggie made with her wonted burden.
+Nevertheless it was a great deal too much like old times that were
+destroyed; and glancing at Mr. Carlisle Eleanor saw that he was on
+Tippoo, and furthermore that there was a sparkle in his eye which meant
+hope, or triumph. Something put Eleanor on her mettle; she rode well
+that day. She rode with a careless grace and ease that even drew a
+compliment from Mr. Carlisle; but beyond that, his companion at first
+gave him little satisfaction. She was grave and cold to all his
+conversational efforts. However, there she was on his black mare; and
+Mr. Carlisle probably found an antidote to whatever discouragement she
+threw in his way. Chance threw something else in his way.
+
+They had turned into one of the less frequented streets of the town, in
+their way to get out of it, when Eleanor's eye was seized by a figure
+on the sidewalk. It startled her inexpressibly; and before she could be
+sure her eyes did not deceive her the figure had almost passed, or they
+had almost passed the person. But in passing he had raised his bat; she
+knew then he had recognized her, as she had known him; and he had
+recognized her in such company. And he was in Brighton. Without a
+moment for thought or delay, Eleanor wheeled her horse's head sharply
+round and in one or two smart steps brought herself alongside of Mr.
+Rhys. He stopped, came up to her stirrup and shook hands. He looked
+grave, Eleanor thought. She hastened to speak.
+
+"I could not pass you, Mr. Rhys. I had to leave Plassy without bidding
+you good bye."
+
+"I am glad to meet you now," he said,--"before I go."
+
+"Do you leave Brighton very soon?"
+
+"To-morrow. I go up to London, and in a few days I expect to sail from
+there."
+
+"For--?"
+
+"Yes,--for my post in the Southern Ocean. I have an unexpected
+opportunity."
+
+Eleanor was silent. She could not find anything to say. She knew also
+that Mr. Carlisle had wheeled his horse after her, and that Tippoo was
+taking steps somewhere in her close neighbourhood. But she sat
+motionless, unable to move as well as to speak.
+
+"I must not detain you," said Mr. Rhys. "Do you find it as easy to live
+well at Brighton as at Plassy?"
+
+Eleanor answered a low and grave "no;" bending down over her saddlebow.
+
+"Keep that which is committed to thy charge," he said gently.
+"Farewell--and the Lord bless you!"
+
+Eleanor had bared her gauntleted hand; he gave it the old earnest
+grasp, lifted his hat, and went on his way. Eleanor turned her horse's
+head again and found herself alongside of Mr. Carlisle. She rode on
+briskly, pointing out to him how far ahead were the rest of the party.
+
+"Was not your friend somebody that I know?" he enquired as soon as
+there was a convenient pause.
+
+"I am sure I do not know," said Eleanor. "I do not know how good your
+memory may be. He is the gentleman that was my brother's tutor at
+home--some time ago."
+
+"I thought I remembered. Is he tutoring some one else now?"
+
+"I should think not. He just tells me he is about to sail for the South
+Seas. Mr. Carlisle, Maggie has a very nice mouth."
+
+"Her mistress has a very nice hand," he answered, bending forward to
+Maggie's bridle so that he could look up in Eleanor's face. "Only you
+let her rein be too slack, as of old. You like her better than Tippoo?"
+
+"Tippoo is beyond my management."
+
+"I am not going to let you say that. You shall mount Tippoo next time,
+and become acquainted with your own powers. You are not afraid of
+anything?"
+
+"Yes, I am."
+
+"You did not use it."
+
+"Well I have not grown cowardly," said Eleanor; "but I am afraid of
+mounting Tippoo; and what I am afraid of, Mr. Carlisle, I will not do."
+
+"Just the reverse maxim from that which I should have expected from
+you. Do you say your friend there is going to the South Seas?"
+
+"Mr. Rhys?" said Eleanor, turning her face full upon him.
+
+"If that is his name--yes. Why does he not stick to tutoring?"
+
+"Does anybody stick to tutoring that can help it?"
+
+"I should think not; but then as a tutor he would be in the way of
+better things; he could mount to something higher."
+
+"I believe he has some expectation of that sort in going to the
+Pacific," said Eleanor. She spoke it with a most commonplace coolness.
+
+"Seems a very roundabout road to promotion," said Mr. Carlisle,
+watching Eleanor's hand and stealthily her face; "but I suppose he
+knows best. Your friend is not a Churchman, is he?"
+
+"No."
+
+"I remember him as a popular orator of great powers. What is he leaving
+England for?"
+
+"You assume somewhat too much knowledge on my part of people's
+designs," said Eleanor carelessly. "I must suppose that he likes work
+on the other side of the world better than to work here;--for some
+reason or other."
+
+"How the reason should be promotion, puzzles me," said her companion;
+"but that may be owing to prejudice on my part. I do not know how to
+conceive of promotion out of the regular line. In England and in the
+Church. To be sent to India to take a bishopric seems to me a descent
+in the scale. Have you this feeling?"
+
+"About bishoprics?" said Eleanor smiling. "They are not in my line, you
+know."
+
+"Don't be wicked! Have you this feeling about England?"
+
+"If a bishopric in India were offered me?--"
+
+"Well, yes! Would you accept it?"
+
+"I really never had occasion to consider the subject before. It is such
+a very new thought, you see. But I will tell you, I should think the
+humblest curacy in England to be chosen rather,--unless for the sake of
+a wider sphere of doing good."
+
+"Do you know," said Mr. Carlisle, looking very contented, and coming up
+closer, "your bridle hand has improved? It is very nearly faultless.
+What have you been riding this winter?"
+
+"A wiry little pony."
+
+"Honour, Eleanor!" said Mr. Carlisle laughing and bringing his hand
+again near enough to throw over a lock of Maggie's mane which had
+fallen on the wrong side. "I am really curious."
+
+"Well I tell you the truth. But Mr. Carlisle, I wonder you people in
+parliament do not stir yourselves up to right some wrongs. People ought
+to live, if they are curates; and there was one where I was last
+winter--an excellent one--living, or starving, I don't know which you
+would call it, on thirty pounds a year."
+
+Mr. Carlisle entered into the subject; and questions moral,
+legislative, and ecclesiastical, were discussed by him and Eleanor with
+great earnestness and diligence; by him at least with singular delight.
+Eleanor kept up the conversation with unflagging interest; it was
+broken by a proposal on Mr. Carlisle's part for a gallop, to which she
+willingly agreed; held her part in the ensuing scamper with perfect
+grace and steadiness, and as soon as it was over, plunged Mr. Carlisle
+deep again into reform.
+
+"Nobody has had such honour, as I to-day," he assured her as he took
+her down from her horse. "I shall see you to-night, of course?"
+
+"Of course. I suppose," said Eleanor.
+
+It cannot be said that Eleanor made any effort to change the "of
+course," though the rest of the day as usual was swallowed up in a
+round of engagements. There was no breathing time, and the evening
+occasion was a public one. Mrs. Powle was in a great state of
+satisfaction with her daughter to-day; Eleanor had shunned no company
+nor exertion, had carried an unusual spirit into all; and a minute with
+Mr. Carlisle after the ride had shewed him in a sort of exultant mood.
+She looked over Eleanor's dress critically when they were about leaving
+home for the evening's entertainment. It was very simple indeed; yet
+Mrs. Powle in the depth of her heart could not find that anything was
+wanting to the effect.
+
+Nor could a yet more captious critic, Mr. Carlisle; who was on the
+ground before them and watched and observed a little while from a
+distance. Admiration and passion were roused within him, as he watched
+anew what he had already seen in Eleanor's manner since she came to
+Brighton; that grace of absolute ease and unconsciousness, which only
+the very highest breeding can successfully imitate. No Lady Rythdale,
+he was obliged to confess, that ever lived, had better advanced the
+honours of her house, than would this one; could she be persuaded to
+accept the position. This manner did not use to be Eleanor's; how had
+she got it on the borders of Wales? Neither was the sweetness of that
+smile to be seen on her lip in the times gone by; and a little gravity
+was wanting then, which gave a charm of dignity to the exquisite poise
+which whether of character or manner was so at home with her now. Was
+she too grave? The question rose; but he answered it with a negative.
+Her smile came readily, and it was the sweeter for not being always
+seen. His meditations were interrupted by a whisper at his elbow.
+
+"She will not dance!"
+
+"Who will not?" said he, finding himself face to face with Mrs. Powle.
+
+"Eleanor. She will not. I am afraid it is one of her new notions."
+
+Mr. Carlisle smiled a peculiar smile. "Hardly a fault, I think, Mrs.
+Powle. I am not inclined to quarrel with it."
+
+"You do not see any faults at all, I believe," said the lady. "Now I am
+more discerning."
+
+Mr. Carlisle did not speak his thoughts, which were complimentary only
+in one direction, to say truth. He went off to Eleanor, and prevented
+any more propositions of dancing for the rest of the evening. He could
+not monopolize her, though. He was obliged to see her attention divided
+in part among other people, and to take a share which though perfectly
+free and sufficiently gracious, gave him no advantage in that respect
+over several others. The only advantage he could make sure of was that
+of attending Eleanor home. The evening left him an excited man, not
+happy in his mind.
+
+Eleanor, having quitted her escort, went slowly up the stairs; bade her
+mother good night; went into her own room and locked the door. Then
+methodically she took off the several parts of her evening attire and
+laid them away; put on a dressing-gown, threw her window open, and
+knelt down by it.
+
+The stars kept watch over the night. A pleasant fresh breeze blew in
+from the sea. They were Eleanor's only companions, and they never
+missed her from the window the whole night long. I am bound to say,
+that the morning found her there.
+
+But nights so spent make a heavy draft on the following day. In spite
+of all that cold water could do in the way of refreshment, in spite of
+all that the morning cup of tea could do, Eleanor was obliged to
+confess to a headache.
+
+"Why Eleanor, child, you look dreadfully!" said Mrs. Powle, who came
+into her room and found her lying down. "You are as white!--and black
+rings under your eyes. You will never be able to go with the riding
+party this morning."
+
+"I am afraid not, mamma. I am sorry. I would go if I could; but I
+believe I must lie still. Then I shall be fit for this evening,
+perhaps."
+
+She was not; but that one day of solitude and silence was all that
+Eleanor took for herself. The next day she joined the riders again; and
+from that time held herself back from no engagement to which her mother
+or Mr. Carlisle urged her.
+
+Mr. Carlisle felt it with a little of his old feeling of pride. It was
+the only thing in which Eleanor could be said to give the feeling much
+chance; for while she did not reject his attendance, which she could
+not easily do, nor do at all without first vanquishing her mother; and
+while she allowed a certain remains of the old wonted familiarity, she
+at the same never gave Mr. Carlisle any reason to think that he had
+regained the least power over her. She received him well, but as she
+received a hundred others. He was her continual attendant, but he never
+felt that it was by Eleanor's choice; and he knew sometimes that it was
+by her choice that he was thrown out of his office. She bewildered him
+with her sweet dignity, which was more utterly unmanageable than any
+form of pride or passion. The pride and passion were left to be Mr.
+Carlisle's own. Pride was roused, that he was stopped by so gentle a
+barrier in his advances; and passion was stimulated, by uncertainty not
+merely, but by the calm grace and indefinable sweetness which he did
+not remember in Eleanor, well as he had loved her before. He loved her
+better now. That charm of manner was the very thing to captivate Mr.
+Carlisle; he valued it highly; and did not appreciate it the less
+because it baffled him.
+
+"He's ten times worse than ever," Mrs. Powle said exultingly to her
+husband. "I believe he'd go through fire and water to make sure of her."
+
+"And how's she?" growled the Squire.
+
+"She's playing with him, girl-fashion," said Mrs. Powle chuckling. "She
+is using her power."
+
+"What is she using it for?" said the Squire threateningly.
+
+"O to enjoy herself, and make him value her properly. She will come
+round by and by."
+
+How was Eleanor? The world had opportunities of judging most of the
+time, as far as the outside went; yet there were still a few times of
+the day which the world did not intrude upon; and of those there was an
+hour before breakfast, when Eleanor was pretty secure against
+interruption even from her mother. Mrs. Powle was a late riser. Julia,
+who was very much cast away at Brighton and went wandering about like a
+rudderless vessel, found out that Eleanor was dressed and using the
+sunshine long before anybody else in the house knew the day was begun.
+It was a golden discovery. Eleanor was alone, and Julia could have her
+to herself a little while at least. Even if Eleanor was bent on reading
+or writing, still it was a joy to be near her, to watch her, to smooth
+her soft hair, and now and then break her off from other occupations to
+have a talk.
+
+"Eleanor," said Julia one day, a little while after these oases in time
+had been discovered by her, "what has become of Mr. Rhys? do you know?"
+
+"He has gone," said Eleanor. She was sitting by her open window, a book
+open on her lap. She looked out of the window as she spoke.
+
+"Gone? Do you mean he has gone away from England? You don't mean that?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"To that dreadful place?"
+
+"What dreadful place?"
+
+"Where he was going, you know,--somewhere. Are you sure he has gone,
+Eleanor?"
+
+"Yes. I saw it in the paper--the mention of his going--He and two
+others."
+
+"And has he gone to that horrible place?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose so. That is where he wished to go."
+
+"I don't see how he could!" said Julia. "How could he! where the people
+are so bad!--and leave England?"
+
+"Why Julia, have you forgotten? Don't you know whose servant Mr. Rhys
+is?"
+
+"Yes," said Julia mutteringly,--"but I should think he would be afraid.
+Why the people there are as wicked as they can be."
+
+"That is no reason why he should be afraid. What harm could they do to
+him?"
+
+"Why!--they could kill him, easily," said Julia.
+
+"And would that be great harm to Mr. Rhys?" said Eleanor looking round
+at her. "What if they did, and he were called quick home to the court
+of his King,--do you think his reception there would be a sorrowful
+thing?"
+
+"Why Nell," said Julia, "do you mean heaven?"
+
+"Do you not think that is Mr. Rhys's home?"
+
+"I haven't thought much about it at all," said Julia laying her head
+down on Eleanor's shoulder. "You see, nobody talked to me ever since he
+went away; and mamma talks everything else."
+
+"Come here in the mornings, and we'll talk about it," said Eleanor. Her
+voice was a little husky.
+
+"Shall we?" said Julia rousing up again. "But Eleanor, what are your
+eyes full for? Did you love Mr. Rhys too?"
+
+It was an innocent question; but instead of answering, Eleanor turned
+again to the window. She sat with her hand pressed upon her mouth,
+while the full eyes brimmed and ran over, and filled again; and drop
+after drop plashed upon the window-sill. It was impossible to help it,
+for that minute; and Julia looked on wonderingly.
+
+"O Nell," she repeated almost awe-struck, "what is it? What has made
+you sorry too?--" But she had to wait a little while for her answer.
+
+"He was a good friend to me," said Eleanor at last, wiping her eyes;
+"and I suppose it is not very absurd to cry for a friend that is gone,
+that one will never see again."
+
+"Maybe he will come back some time," said Julia sorrowfully.
+
+"Not while there is work there for him to do," said Eleanor. She waited
+a little while. There was some difficulty in going on. When she did
+speak her tone was clear and firm.
+
+"Julia, shall we follow the Lord as Mr. Rhys does?"
+
+"How?"
+
+"By doing whatever Jesus gives us to do."
+
+"What has he given us to do?" said Julia.
+
+"If you come to my room in the mornings, we will read and find out. And
+we will pray, and ask to be taught."
+
+Julia's countenance lightened and clouded with alternate changes.
+
+"Will you, Eleanor! But what have we got to do?"
+
+"Love Jesus."
+
+"Well I--O I did use to, Eleanor! and I think I do now; only I have
+forgotten to think about anything, this ever so long."
+
+"Then if we love him, we shall find plenty of things to do for him."
+
+"What, Eleanor? I would like to do something."
+
+"Just whatever he gives us, Julia. Come, darling,--have you not duties?"
+
+"Duties?"
+
+"Have you not things that it is your duty to do?--or not to do?"
+
+"Studies!" said Julia. "But I don't like them."
+
+"For Jesus' sake?"
+
+Julia burst into tears. Eleanor's tone was so loving and gentle, it
+reached the memories that had been slumbering.
+
+"How can I do them for him, Eleanor?" she asked, half perversely still.
+
+"'Whatsoever ye do, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus.' So he has
+told us."
+
+"But my studies, Eleanor? how can I?"
+
+"Who gave you the opportunity, Julia?"
+
+"Well--I know."
+
+"Well, if God has given you the opportunity, do you think he means it
+for nothing? He has work for you to do, Julia, some time, for which you
+will want all these things that you have a chance of learning now; if
+you miss the chance, you will certainly not be ready for the work."
+
+"Why, Eleanor!--that's funny."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Why I never thought of such a thing."
+
+"What did you think?"
+
+"I thought I had French and German to study, for instance, because
+everybody else learned French and German. I did not think there was any
+use in it."
+
+"You forgot who had given you them to learn."
+
+"No, mamma would have it. Just her notion. Papa didn't care."
+
+"But dear Julia, you forget who has made it your duty to please mamma's
+notions. And you forget who it is that has given you your place in the
+world. You might have been born in poverty, with quite other lessons to
+learn, and quite other work in the world."
+
+"You talk just as queer as if you were Mr. Rhys himself," said Julia.
+"I never heard of such things. Do you suppose all the girls who are
+learning French and German at school--all the girls in England--have
+the same sort of work to do? that they will want it for?"
+
+"No, not all the same. But God never gives the preparation without the
+occasion."
+
+"Then suppose they do not make the preparation?"
+
+"Then when the occasion comes, they will not be ready for it. When
+their work is given them to do, they will be found wanting."
+
+"It's so queer!" said Julia.
+
+"What?"
+
+"To think such things about lessons."
+
+"You may think such things about everything. Whatever God gives you, he
+gives you to use in some way for him."
+
+"But how can I possibly know _how_, Eleanor?"
+
+"Come to me in the mornings, and you and I will try to find out."
+
+"Did you say, I must please all mamma's notions?"
+
+"Certainly--all you can."
+
+"But I like papa's notions a great deal better than mamma's."
+
+"You must try to meet both," said Eleanor smiling.
+
+"I do not like a great many of mamma's notions. I don't think there is
+any sense in them."
+
+"But God likes obedience, Julia. He has bid you honour mamma and papa.
+Do it for him."
+
+"Do you mean to please all mamma's notions?" said Julia sharply.
+
+"All that I can, certainly."
+
+"Well it is one of her notions that Mr. Carlisle should get you to the
+Priory after all. Are you going to let her? Are you going to let him, I
+mean?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then if it is your duty to please mamma's notions, why mustn't you
+please this one?"
+
+"Because here I have my duty to others to think of."
+
+"To whom?" said Julia as quick as lightning.
+
+"To myself--and to Mr. Carlisle."
+
+"Mr. Carlisle!" said Julia. "I'll be bound he thinks your duty to him
+would make you do whatever he likes."
+
+"It happens that I take a different view of the subject."
+
+"But Eleanor, what work do you suppose I have to do in the world, that
+I shall want French and German for? real work, I mean?"
+
+"I can't tell. But I know _now_ you have a beautiful example to set?"
+
+"Of what? learning my lessons well?"
+
+"Of whatever is lovely and of good report. Of whatever will please
+Jesus."
+
+Julia put her arms round her sister's neck and hid her face there.
+
+"I am going to give you a word to remember to-day; keep it with you,
+dear. 'Whatsoever ye do, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus.' Just
+think of that, whether you are busy or not busy. And we will ask the
+Lord to make us so full of his love, that we cannot help it."
+
+They knelt and prayed together; after which Julia gave her sister a
+great many earnest caresses; and they went down to breakfast a much
+comforted pair.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+IN LONDON.
+
+
+  "London makes mirth! but I know God hears
+  The sobs i' the dark, and the dropping of tears."
+
+
+The morning meetings were kept up. Julia had always been very fond of
+her sister; now she almost worshipped her. She would get as close as
+possible, put her arm round Eleanor's waist, and sometimes lay her head
+on her shoulder; and so listen to the reading and join in the talking.
+The talks were always finished with prayer; and at first it not seldom
+happened that Eleanor's prayer became choked with tears. It happened so
+often that Julia remarked upon it; and after that it never happened
+again.
+
+"Eleanor, can you see much use in my learning to dance?" was a question
+which Julia propounded one morning.
+
+"Not much."
+
+"Mamma says I shall go to dancing school next winter."
+
+"Next winter! What, at Brompton?"
+
+"O we are going to London after we go from here. So mamma says. Why
+didn't you know it?"
+
+Eleanor remained silent.
+
+"Now what good is that going to do?" Julia went on. "What work is that
+to fit me for, Eleanor?--dancing parties?"
+
+"I hope it will not fit you for those," the elder sister replied
+gravely.
+
+"Why not? don't you go to them?"
+
+"I am obliged to go sometimes--I never take part."
+
+"Why not Eleanor? Why don't you? you can dance."
+
+"Read," said Eleanor, pointing to the words. Julia read.
+
+"'Whatsoever ye do, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus; giving thanks
+to God and the Father by him.'--Well Eleanor?"
+
+"I cannot find anything I can do in the Lord's service at such places,
+except to stand by and say by my manner that I do not enjoy them nor
+approve of them."
+
+"That won't hinder other people enjoying them, though."
+
+"I do not think people enjoy them much. You and I have a hundred times
+as much fun in one good scamper over the moor. Dear old moor! I wish we
+were back again. But other people's doing is not my business."
+
+"Then what makes you go, Eleanor?"
+
+"Mamma would be so exceedingly vexed if I did not. I mean to get out of
+it soon--as soon as I can."
+
+"Do you think you will, in London?"
+
+Eleanor was silent, and thoughtful.
+
+"Well, I know one thing," said Julia,--"I am not going to dancing
+school. Mamma says it will make me graceful; and I think I am as
+graceful as other people now--as most other people. I don't think I am
+as graceful as you are. Don't you think so, Eleanor?"
+
+Eleanor smiled, soberly enough.
+
+"Eleanor, must I go to dancing school?"
+
+"Why do you wish not to go?"
+
+"Because you think it is wrong."
+
+"Darling, you cannot displease mamma for such a reason. You must always
+honour every wish of hers, except you thought that honouring her would
+be to dishonour or displease the Lord."
+
+The words were spoken and listened to with intense feeling and
+earnestness on both sides; and the tears came back in Eleanor's prayer
+that morning.
+
+With the world at large, things maintained a very unaltered position
+during the rest of the stay at Brighton. Mr. Carlisle kept his
+position, advancing a little where it seemed possible. Eleanor kept
+hers; neither advancing nor retreating. She was very good to Mr.
+Carlisle; she did not throw him off; she gave him no occasion to
+complain of an unready talker or an unwilling companion. A little
+particular kindness indeed she had for him, left from the old times.
+Julia would have been much mystified by the brightness and life and
+spirit Eleanor shewed in company, and in his company especially; which
+her little sister did not see in their private intercourse alone.
+Nevertheless, Mr. Carlisle's passion was rather stimulated by
+difficulty than fed by hope; though hope lived high sometimes. All that
+Eleanor gave him she gave shim readily, and as readily gave to others;
+she gave coolly too, as coolly as she gave to others. Mr. Carlisle took
+in many things the place of an accepted suitor; but never in Eleanor's
+manner, he knew. It chafed him, it piqued him; it made him far more
+than ever bent on obtaining her hand; her heart he could manage then.
+Just now it was beyond his management; and when Mrs. Powle smiled
+congratulation, Mr. Carlisle bit his lip. However, he had strong aids;
+he did not despair. He hoped something from London.
+
+So they all went to London. Eleanor could gain no satisfactory
+explanation why. Only her mother asserted that her father's health must
+have the advice of London physicians. The Squire himself was not much
+more explicit. That his health was not good, however, was true; the
+Squire was very unlike his hearty, boisterous, independent self. He
+moped, and he suffered too. Eleanor could not help thinking he would
+have suffered less, as he certainly would have moped less, at home; and
+an unintelligible grunt and grumble now and then seemed to confirm her
+view of the case; but there they were, fixed in London, and Eleanor was
+called upon to enter into all sorts of London gaieties, of which always
+Mr. Carlisle made part and parcel.
+
+Eleanor made a stand, and declined to go to places where she could not
+enjoy nor sympathize with what was done. She could not think it duty to
+go to the opera, or the theatre, or to great routs, even to please her
+mother. Mrs. Powle made a stand too, and insisted, and was very angry;
+but Eleanor stood firm; and the end was, she gained her point. Mr.
+Carlisle was disappointed, but counselled acquiescence; and Mrs. Powle
+with no very good grace acquiesced; for though a woman, she did not
+like to be foiled. Eleanor gained one point only; she was not obliged
+to go where she could not go with a good conscience. She did not
+thereby get her time to herself. London has many ways of spending time;
+nice ways too; and in one and another of these Eleanor found hers all
+gone. Day by day it was so. Nothing was left but those hours before
+breakfast. And what was worse, Mr. Carlisle was at her elbow in every
+place; and Eleanor became conscious that she was in spite of herself
+appearing before the world as his particular property, and that the
+conclusion was endorsed by her mother. She walked as straight as she
+could; but the days grew to be heavy days.
+
+She devoted herself to her father as much as possible; and in that
+found a refuge. The Squire was discontented and unwell; a good deal
+depressed in spirits as a consequence; he delighted to have Eleanor
+come and sit with him and read to him after dinner. She escaped many an
+engagement by that means. In vain Mrs. Powle came in with her appeal,
+about Eleanor's good requiring him to do without her; the Squire
+listened, struggled, and selfishness got the better.
+
+"St. George and the Dragon!" he exclaimed,--"she shall do as she likes,
+and as I like, for one hour in the twenty-four. You may haul her about
+the rest of the time--but from dinner for a while or so you may spare
+her. I choose she shall be with me."
+
+The "while" was often three hours. Eleanor enjoyed repose then, and
+enjoyed ministering to her father; who speedily became exceedingly
+wedded to her services, and learned to delight in her presence after a
+new manner. He would have her read to him; she might read everything
+she pleased except what had a religious bearing. That he disposed of at
+once, and bade her seek another book. He loved to have her brush his
+hair, when his head ached, by the half hour together; at other times he
+engaged her in a game of chess and a talk about Plassy. The poor Squire
+was getting a good deal tamed down, to take satisfaction in such quiet
+pleasures; but the truth was that he found himself unable for what he
+liked better. Strength and health were both failing; he was often
+suffering; drives in the park wearied him almost as much as sitting
+alone in his room; he swore at them for the stupidest entertainment man
+ever pleased himself with. What he did with the lonely hours he spent
+entirely by himself, nobody knew; Eleanor knew that he was rejoiced
+every time to see her come in. His eye brightened when she opened the
+door, and he settled himself in his easy chair to have a good time; and
+then even the long columns of the newspaper, read from one end to the
+other, up and down, were pleasant to Eleanor too. It was soothing
+repose, in contrast with the whirl of all the rest of her life. Until
+the time came when Mr. Carlisle began to join the party. How he did it
+Eleanor hardly knew; but he did it. He actually contrived to make one
+at those evening entertainments, which admitted but two others; and
+with his usual adroitness and skill he made his presence so acceptable
+that Eleanor felt it would be quite in vain to attempt to hinder him.
+And so her rest was gone, and her opportunity; for she had cherished
+fond hopes of winning not only her own way into her father's heart, but
+with that, in time, a hearing for truths the Squire had always pushed
+out of his path.
+
+Mr. Carlisle was very pleasant; there was no question. He did not at
+all usurp her office, nor interfere with it. But when he saw her
+getting weary of a parliamentary discussion, or a long discourse on
+politics or parties, his hand would gently draw away the paper from
+hers and his voice carry on the reading. And his voice was agreeable to
+her father; Eleanor saw it; the Squire would turn his head a little
+towards the new reader, and an expression of anything but
+dissatisfaction steal over his features. Eleanor sat by, half
+mortified, half feeling real good-will towards Mr. Carlisle for his
+grace and kindness. Or if a game of chess were on foot, Mr. Carlisle
+would sit by, he generally declined playing himself, and make the play
+very lively with his talk; teaching Eleanor, whose part he invariably
+took, and keeping a very general's watch over her as if she had been a
+subordinate officer. Mr. Powle liked that too; it made his fighting
+better fun; he chuckled a good deal over Mr. Carlisle's play by proxy.
+Eleanor could not help it, nor withdraw herself. She knew what brought
+Mr. Carlisle there, and she could not avoid him, nor the very easy
+familiar terms on which they all sat round the chess table. She was
+admirably quiet and cool; but then it is true she felt no unkindness
+towards Mr. Carlisle, and sometimes she feared she shewed kindness too
+frankly. It was very difficult to help that too. Nevertheless it was
+plain the gentleman did not dare trust anything to his present power
+over her, for he never tried it. He evidently relied on somewhat else
+in his advances. And Eleanor felt that the odds were rather hard
+against her. Father and mother, and such a suitor!
+
+She was cut off from her evening refreshment; and the next step was,
+that her morning pleasure with Julia was also denied her. Mrs. Powle
+had been in a state of gratulation with reference to Julia's
+improvement; Julia had become latterly so docile, so decorous, and so
+diligent. One unlucky day it came to Mrs. Powle's knowledge that Julia
+objected to going to dancing school; objected to spending money on the
+accomplishment, and time on the acquisition; and furthermore, when
+pressed, avowed that she did not believe in the use of it when
+attained. It seemed to Mrs. Powle little less than a judgment upon her,
+to have the second of her daughters holding such language; it was
+traced to Eleanor's influence of course; and further and diligent
+questioning brought out the fact of the sisters' daily studies in
+company. They should happen no more, Mrs. Powle immediately decided.
+Julia was forbidden to go to her sister's room for such purposes; and
+to make matters sure she was provided with other and abundant
+occupation to keep her engaged at the dangerous hour. With Eleanor
+herself Mrs. Powle held no communication on the subject; having for
+certain reasons an unwillingness to come into unnecessary collision
+with her; but Eleanor found her little sister's society was no more to
+be had. Mrs. Powle would assuredly have sent Julia quite out of the
+house to get her away from mischievous influences, but that she could
+not prevail on her husband. No daughter of his, he declared, should be
+made a fool of in a boarding-school, while he had a foot above ground
+to prevent it.
+
+"Why Mrs. Powle," he said, "don't you know yourself that Eleanor is the
+only sensible girl in London? That's growing up at home, just as you
+didn't want."
+
+"If she only had not some notions--" said Mrs. Powle dubiously. For
+between her husband and Mr. Carlisle she was very much _held in_ on
+Eleanor's subject; both insisting that she should let her alone. It was
+difficult for Eleanor to be displeased with Mr. Carlisle in these
+times; his whole behaviour was so kind and gentlemanly. The only fault
+to be found with him was his pursuit of her. That was steady and
+incessant; yet at the same time so brotherly and well-bred in manner
+that Eleanor sometimes feared she gave him unconsciously too much
+encouragement. Feeling really grateful to him, it was a little hard not
+to shew it. For although Mr. Carlisle was the cause of her trouble, he
+was also a shield between her and its more active manifestations. He
+favoured her not dancing; _that_ was like a jealous man, Mrs. Powle
+said. He smiled at Eleanor's charities, and would have helped them if
+he could. He would not have her scolded on the score of religious
+duties; he preferred administering the antidote to them as quietly as
+possible.
+
+"Eleanor!" said Mrs. Powle, putting her head out of the drawing-room
+door one Sunday evening as she heard somebody come in--"Eleanor! is
+that you? come here. Where have you been? Here is Mr. Carlisle waiting
+this hour to go with you to hear the Bishop of London preach."
+
+Eleanor came into the room. She was dressed with extreme plainness, and
+looking so calm and sweet that it was no wonder Mr. Carlisle's eyes
+rested on her as on a new object of admiration. Few of his acquaintance
+looked so; and Eleanor did not use it, in times past.
+
+"Now here you are, child, almost too late. Make haste and get yourself
+ready. Where have you been?"
+
+"She cannot be more ready than she is," remarked the other member of
+the party.
+
+"I think, mamma, I will not go to-night. I am a little tired."
+
+"That's nonsense, Eleanor! When were you ever too unwell to go to
+church, this winter? Go and get ready. What Mr. Carlisle says is all
+very well, but he does not see you with my eyes."
+
+"I shall not take her if she is tired," said Mr. Carlisle gently. And
+Eleanor sat still.
+
+"Where have you been then, child, to tire yourself? You do try me,
+Eleanor. What can you have found to do?"
+
+"All London, mamma," said Eleanor pleasantly.
+
+"All London! I should like to know what that means. All wrong, I
+suppose, according to you. Well, what part of London have you been
+attacking to-day? I should think the best thing for London would be to
+hear its Bishop. What have you been about, Eleanor?"
+
+
+"Only to school, mamma--Sunday school."
+
+"But you went there this morning?"
+
+"That was another."
+
+Mrs. Powle looked appealingly to Mr. Carlisle, as saying, How long
+would you let this go on? Turned her dissatisfied face again to Eleanor,
+
+"What school is this, mistress? and where?"
+
+"Mamma, if I tell you where it is, I am afraid you will be frightened.
+It is a Ragged school."
+
+"A Ragged school! What does that mean, Eleanor? What is a Ragged
+school?"
+
+"A school to teach ragged children, mamma. Or rather, for ragged
+people--they are not most of them children; and perhaps I should not
+say they are ragged; for though some of them are, others of them are
+not. They are some of the wretchedest of the ragged class, at any rate."
+
+"And Eleanor Powle can find nothing more suitable to do, than to go and
+teach such a set! Why you ought to have a policeman there to take care
+of you."
+
+"We have several."
+
+"Policemen!"
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"And it is not safe without them!"
+
+"It is safe with them, mamma."
+
+"Mr. Carlisle, what do you think of such doings?" said Mrs. Powle,
+appealing in despair.
+
+"They move my curiosity," he said quietly. "I hope Eleanor will go on
+to gratify it."
+
+"And can you really find nothing better than that to do, of a Sunday?"
+her mother went on.
+
+"No, mamma, I do not think I can."
+
+"What do they learn?" Mr. Carlisle inquired.
+
+"A little reading, some of them; but the main thing to teach them is
+the truths of the Bible. They never heard them before, anywhere,--nor
+can hear them anywhere else."
+
+"Do you think they will hear them there?"
+
+"I am sure they do."
+
+"And remember?"
+
+The tears filled Eleanor's eyes, as she answered, "I am sure some of
+them will."
+
+"And suppose you lose your life in this Ragged teaching?" said Mrs.
+Powle. "You might catch your death of some horrid disease, Eleanor. Do
+you think that right?"
+
+"Mamma, there was One who did lay down his life for you and for me. I
+am not going to offer mine needlessly. But I do not think it is in any
+danger here. Many go besides me."
+
+"She is a confirmed Methodist!" said Mrs. Powle, turning to Mr.
+Carlisle. He smiled.
+
+"Where does your school meet, Eleanor?"
+
+"I am afraid of terrifying mamma, if I tell you."
+
+"We will take care of her in case she faints. I am in no danger."
+
+"It is the Field-Lane school, Mr. Carlisle."
+
+"The Field-Lane? Won't you enlighten me?"
+
+"Carter's Field-Lane; but it is only called Field-Lane. Did you never
+hear of it? It was in a wretched place in Saffron Hill at first--now it
+is removed to an excellent room in a better street."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"You know where Clerkenwell is?"
+
+This name gave no intelligence whatever to Mrs. Powle, but Mr. Carlisle
+looked enlightened. His face changed and grew dark with something very
+like horror and alarm.
+
+"Do you know that is one of the worst parts of London?" he said.
+
+"Pretty bad," said Eleanor, "and the school used to be. It is
+wonderfully improved now."
+
+"There, you see, Eleanor, Mr. Carlisle thinks it is a very improper
+place for you to be; and I hope you will go there no more. I do not
+mean you shall."
+
+Eleanor was silent, looking a little anxious, though not cast down. Mr.
+Carlisle marked her.
+
+"It is not safe for you, Eleanor," he said.
+
+"It is perfectly safe," she answered with a smile that had a curious
+brightness in it. "I run no risk whatever."
+
+"You are a bold creature," said her mother, "and always were; but that
+is no reason why you should be allowed to go your own crazy ways. I
+will have no more of this, Eleanor."
+
+"Mamma, I am perfectly safe. I have nothing at all to fear. I would not
+fail of going for anything in the world." She spoke with an earnest and
+shadowed face now. She felt it.
+
+"Who goes with you? or do you go alone?"
+
+"No, ma'am--Thomas is with me always."
+
+"How came you to get into such a strange place?"
+
+"I heard of it--and there is sure to be more to do in such a work than
+there are hands for. I know one or two of the gentlemen that teach
+there also."
+
+"Methodists, I suppose?" said Mrs. Powle sneeringly.
+
+"One of them is, mamma; the other is a Churchman."
+
+"And do you _teach_ there?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am--a large class of boys." Eleanor's smile came again--and
+went.
+
+"I'll have no more of it, Eleanor. I will not. It is just absurdity and
+fanaticism, the whole thing. Why shouldn't those boys go to the regular
+schools, instead of your giving your time and risking your life to
+teach them Sundays? _You_ indeed!"
+
+"You do not know what sort of boys they are, mamma; or you would not
+ask that."
+
+"I suppose they have learned some things too well already?" said Mr.
+Carlisle.
+
+"Well, I'll have no more of it!" said Mrs. Powle. "I am disgusted with
+the whole thing. If they are not good boys, the House of Correction is
+the best place for them. Mr. Carlisle, do you not say so?"
+
+Mr. Carlisle's knowledge of the limits of Houses of Correction and the
+number of boys in London who were not good boys, forbade him to give an
+affirmative answer; his character as a reformer also came up before
+him. More than all, Eleanor's face, which was somewhat sad.
+
+"Mrs. Powle, I am going to petition you to suspend judgment, and
+reconsider the case of the Ragged schools. I confess to a selfish
+motive in my request--I have a desire to go there myself and see this
+lady with her scholars around her. The picturesque effect, I should
+say, must be striking."
+
+Mrs. Powle looked at him as a very unwise and obstinate man, who was
+bewitched into false action.
+
+"If you have a fancy for such effects," she said; "I suppose you must
+do as you please. To me the effect is striking and not picturesque.
+Just look at her!"
+
+Mr. Carlisle did so, and the expression on his face was so
+unsatisfactory that Mrs. Powle gave up the matter; laughed, and went
+out of the room.
+
+"I will be less striking," said Eleanor, "if you will excuse me." And
+she left the room to change her dress. But when she came back an hour
+after, Mr. Carlisle was still there.
+
+"Eleanor," said he, coming and standing before her, "may I go with you
+the next time you go to Field Lane?"
+
+"No, I think not. You would not know what to do in such a place, Mr.
+Carlisle."
+
+"Do you think so?"
+
+"They are a set of people whom you do not like; people who you think
+ought to be fined--and imprisoned--and transported; and all that sort
+of thing."
+
+"And what do you think ought to be done with them?"
+
+"I would try a different regimen."
+
+"Pray what would it be?"
+
+"I would tell them of the love of One who died for them. And I would
+shew them that the servants of that One love them too."
+
+She spoke quietly, but there was a light in her eye.
+
+"How, for heaven's sake, Eleanor?"
+
+"Mr. Carlisle, I would never condemn a man or boy very severely for
+stealing, when I had left him no other way to live."
+
+"So you would make the rest of the world responsible?"
+
+"Are they not? These fellows never heard a word of right or of
+truth--never had a word of kindness--never were brought under a good
+influence,--until they found it in the Ragged school. What could you
+expect? May I illustrate?"
+
+"Pray do."
+
+"There is a boy in a class neighbouring to mine in the room, whose
+teacher I know. The boy is thirteen or fourteen years old now; he came
+to the school first some four or five years ago, when he was a little
+bit of a fellow. Then he had already one brother transported for
+stealing, and another in prison for stealing--both only a little older
+than he. They had often no other way of getting food but stealing it.
+The father and mother were both of them drunkards and swallowed up
+everything in liquor. This little fellow used to come to the morning
+school, which was held every day, without any breakfast; many a time.
+Barefooted, over the cold streets, and no breakfast to warm him. But
+after what he heard at the school he promised he would never do as his
+brothers had done; and he had some very hard times in keeping his
+promise. At last he came to his teacher and asked him for a loan of
+threepence; if he had a loan of threepence he thought he could make a
+living."
+
+Mr. Carlisle half turned on his heel, but instantly resumed his look
+and attitude of fixed attention.
+
+"Mr. Morrison lent him threepence. And Jemmy has supported himself
+respectably ever since, and is now in honest employment as an errand
+boy."
+
+"I hope you can tell me how he managed it? I do not understand doing
+business on such a capital."
+
+"The threepence bought twelve boxes of matches. Those were sold for a
+halfpenny each--doubling his capital at once. So he carried on that
+business for two years. All day he went to school. In the end of the
+day he went out with twelve boxes of matches and hawked them about
+until they were disposed of. That gave him threepence for the next
+day's trade, and threepence to live upon. He spent one penny for
+breakfast, he said; another for dinner, and another for supper. So he
+did for two years; now he does better."
+
+"He deserves it, if anybody in London does. Is not this a strange
+instance, Eleanor?--on honour?"
+
+"If you like--but not solitary."
+
+"What has been done for the mass of these boys in these schools? what
+has been accomplished, I mean?"
+
+"I have given you but one instance out of many, many individual
+instances."
+
+"Then you can afford to be generous and give me another."
+
+Perhaps he said this only because he wanted to have her go on talking;
+perhaps Eleanor divined that; however she hesitated a moment and went
+on.
+
+"Lord Cushley, with some other friends, has just provided for the
+emigration to Australia of near a dozen promising cases of these boys."
+
+"Was Eleanor Powle another of the friends?"
+
+"No; I had not that honour. These are reclaimed boys, mind; reclaimed
+from the very lowest and most miserable condition; and they are going
+out with every prospect of respectability and every promise of doing
+well. Do you want to know the antecedents of one among them?"
+
+"By all means!"
+
+"Notice them. First, slavery under two drunken people, one of them his
+mother, who sent him out to steal for them; and refused him even the
+shelter of their wretched home if he came to it with empty hands. At
+such times, thrust out houseless and hungry, to wander where he could,
+he led a life of such utter wretchedness, that at length he determined
+to steal for himself, and to go home no more. Then came years of
+struggling vagrancy--during which, Mr. Carlisle, the prison was his
+pleasantest home and only comfortable shelter; and whenever he was
+turned out of it he stood in London streets helpless and hopeless but
+to renew his old ways of thieving and starvation. Nobody had told him
+better; no one had shewed the child kindness; was he to blame?"
+
+"Somebody shewed him kindness at last," said Mr. Carlisle, looking into
+the lustrous eyes which were so full of their subject.
+
+"Who, do you think?"
+
+"Impossible for me to guess--since you were not here."
+
+"One of the most noted thieves in London went to one of the city
+missionaries and told him of the boy and recommended him to his
+kindness."
+
+"Impelled by what earthly motive?"
+
+"The misery of the case."
+
+"Why did he not teach him his own trade?"
+
+"The question the missionary put to him. The thief answered that he
+knew a thief's life too well."
+
+"I should like to see you before a committee of the House of Commons,"
+said Mr. Carlisle, taking two or three steps away and then returning.
+"Well?"
+
+"Well--the missionary put the child with some decent people, where he
+was washed and clothed. But it is impossible for met to tell, as it was
+too bad to be told to me, the state to which squalor, starvation, and
+all that goes with it, had brought the child. He went to school; and
+two years after was well, healthy, flourishing, intelligent, one of the
+best and most useful lads at the establishment where he was employed.
+Now Lord Cushley has sent him to Australia."
+
+"Eleanor, I will never say anything against Ragged schools again."
+
+"Then I have not spoken in vain," said Eleanor rising.
+
+He took her hand, held it, bowed his lips to it, held it still, too
+firmly for Eleanor to disengage it without violence.
+
+"Will you grant me one little favour?"
+
+"You take without asking, Mr. Carlisle!"
+
+He smiled and kissed her hand again, not releasing it, however.
+
+"Let me go with you to Field-Lane in future."
+
+"What would you do there?"
+
+"Take care of you."
+
+"As I do not need it, you would be exceedingly bored; finding yourself
+without either business or pleasure."
+
+"Do you think that what interests you will not interest me?"
+
+A change came over her face--a high grave light, as she answered,--"Not
+till you love the Master I do. Not till his service is your delight, as
+it is mine.--Mr. Carlisle, if you will allow me, I will ring the bell
+for tea."
+
+He rang the bell for her instantly, and then came to her side again,
+and waited till the servant was withdrawn.
+
+"Eleanor, seriously, I am not satisfied to have you go to that place
+alone."
+
+"I do not. I am always attended."
+
+"By a servant. Have you never been frightened?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"Do you not meet a very ugly sort of crowd sometimes, on your way?"
+
+"Yes--sometimes."
+
+"And never feel afraid?"
+
+"No. Mr. Carlisle, would you like a cup of tea, if you could get it?"
+
+She had met his questions with a full clear look of her eyes, in which
+certainly there lay no lurking shadow. He read them, and drank his tea
+rather moodily.
+
+"So, Eleanor," said Mrs. Powle the next day, "you have enlisted Mr.
+Carlisle on your side as usual, and he will have you go to your absurd
+school as you want to do. How did people get along before Ragged
+schools were invented, I should like to know?"
+
+"You would not like to know, mamma. It was in misery and ignorance and
+crime, such as you would be made sick to hear of."
+
+"Well, they live in it yet, I suppose; or are they all reclaimed
+already?"
+
+"They live in it yet--many a one."
+
+"And it is among such people you go! Well, I wash my hands of it. Mr.
+Carlisle will not have you molested. He must have his own way."
+
+"What has he to do with it, mamma?" Eleanor asked, a little indignantly.
+
+"A good deal, I should say. You are not such a fool as not to know what
+he is with you all the time for, Eleanor."
+
+A hot colour came up in Eleanor's cheeks.
+
+"It is not by my wish, mamma."
+
+"It is rather late to say so. Don't you like him, Eleanor?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am--very much--if only he would be content with that."
+
+"Answer me only one thing. Do you like any one else better? He is as
+jealous as a bear, and afraid you do."
+
+"Mamma," said Eleanor, a burning colour again rising to her brow,--"you
+know yourself that I see no one that I favour more than I do Mr.
+Carlisle. I do not hold him just in the regard he wishes, nevertheless."
+
+"But do you like any one else better? tell me that. I just want that
+question answered."
+
+"Mamma, why? Answering it will not help the matter. In all England
+there is not a person out of my own family whom I like so well;--but
+that does not put Mr. Carlisle in the place where he wishes to be."
+
+"I just wanted that question answered," said Mrs. Powle.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+AT FIELD-LANE.
+
+  "Still all the day the iron wheels go onward,
+  Grinding life down from its mark;
+  And the children's souls, which God is calling sunward,
+  Spin on blindly in the dark."
+
+
+"She declares there is not anybody in the world she likes better than
+she does you--nor so well."
+
+Mrs. Powle's fair curls hung on either side of a perplexed face. Mr.
+Carlisle stood opposite to her. His eye brightened and fired, but he
+made no answer.
+
+"It is only her absurd fanaticism that makes all the trouble."
+
+"There will be no trouble to fear, my dear madam, if that is true."
+
+"Well I asked her the question, and she told me in so many words; and
+you know Eleanor. What she says she means."
+
+Mr. Carlisle was silent, and Mrs. Powle went on. He was seldom
+loquacious in his consultations with her.
+
+"For all that, she is just as fixed in her ways as a mountain; and I
+don't know how to manage her. Eleanor always was a hard child to
+manage; and now she has got these fanatical notions in her head she is
+worse than ever."
+
+There was a slight perceptible closing in of the fingers of Mr.
+Carlisle's hand, but his words were quiet.
+
+"Do not oppose them. Fanaticism opposed grows rigid, and dies a martyr.
+Let her alone; these things will all pass away by and by. I am not
+afraid of them."
+
+"Then you would let her go on with her absurd Ragged schools and such
+flummery? I am positively afraid she will bring something dreadful into
+the house, or be insulted herself some day. I do think charity begins
+at home. I wish Lord Cushley, or whoever it is, had been in better
+business. Such an example of course sets other people wild."
+
+"I will be there myself, and see that no harm comes to Eleanor. I think
+I can manage that."
+
+"Eleanor of all girls!" said Mrs. Powle. "That she should be infected
+with religious fanaticism! She was just the girl most unlike it that
+could possibly be; none of these meek tame spirits, that seem to have
+nothing better to do."
+
+"No, you are wrong," said Mr. Carlisle. "It is the enthusiastic
+character, that takes everything strongly, that is strong in this as in
+all the rest. Her fanaticism will give me no trouble--if it will once
+let her be mine!"
+
+"Then you would let her alone?" said Mrs. Powle.
+
+"Let her alone."
+
+"She is spoiling Julia as fast as she can; but I stopped that. Would
+you believe it? the minx objected to taking lessons in dancing, because
+her sister had taught her that dancing assemblies were not good places
+to go to! But I take care that they are not together now. Julia is
+completely under her influence."
+
+"So am I," said Mr. Carlisle laughing; "so much that I believe I cannot
+bear to hear any more against her than is necessary. I will be with her
+at Field-Lane next Sunday."
+
+He did not however this time insist on going with her. He went by
+himself. It is certain that the misery of London disclosed to him by
+this drive to Field-Lane, the course of which gave him a good sample of
+it, did almost shake him in his opinion that Eleanor ought to be let
+alone. Mr. Carlisle had not seen such a view of London in his life
+before; he had not been in such a district of crime and wretchedness;
+or if by chance he had touched upon it, he had made a principle of not
+seeing what was before him. Now he looked; for he was going where
+Eleanor was accustomed to go, and what he saw she was obliged to meet
+also. He reached the building where the Field-Lane school was held, in
+a somewhat excited state of mind.
+
+He found at the door several policemen, who warned him to guard well
+and in a safe place anything of value he might have about his person.
+Then he was ushered up stairs to the place where the school was held.
+He entered a very large room, looking like a factory room, with bare
+beams and rough sides, but spacious and convenient for the purpose it
+was used for. Down the length of this room ran rows of square forms,
+with alleys left between the rows; and the forms were in good measure
+filled with the rough scholars. There must have been hundreds collected
+there; three-fourths of them perhaps were girls, the rest boys and
+young men, from seven years old and upwards. But the roughness of the
+scholars bore no proportion to the roughness of the room. _That_ had
+order, shape, and some decency of preparation. The poor young human
+creatures that clustered within it were in every stage of squalor,
+rags, and mental distortion. With a kind of wonder Mr. Carlisle's eye
+went from one to another to note the individual varieties of the
+general character; and as it took in the details, wandered
+horror-stricken, from the nameless dirt and shapeless rags which
+covered the person, to the wild or stupid or cunning or devilish
+expression of vice in the face. Beyond description, both. There were
+many there who had never slept in a bed in their lives; many who never
+had their clothes off from one month's end to another; the very large
+proportion lived day and night by a course of wickedness. There they
+were gathered now, these wretches, eight or ten in a form, listening
+with more or less of interest to the instructions of their teachers who
+sat before them; and many, Mr. Carlisle saw, were shewing deep interest
+in face and manner. Others were full of mischief, and shewed that too.
+And others, who were interested, were yet also restless; and would
+manifest it by the occasional irregularity of jumping up and turning a
+somerset in the midst of the lesson. That frequently happened.
+Suddenly, without note or warning, in the midst of the most earnest
+deliverances of the teacher, a boy would leap up and throw himself
+over; come up all right; and sit down again and listen, as if he had
+only been making himself comfortable; which was very likely the real
+state of the case in some instances. When however a general prevalence
+of somersets throughout the room indicated that too large a proportion
+of the assemblage were growing uneasy in their minds, or their seats,
+the director of the school stood up and gave the signal for singing.
+Instantly the whole were on their feet, and some verse or two of a hymn
+were shouted heartily by the united lungs of the company. That seemed
+to be a great safety valve; they were quite brought into order, and
+somersets not called for, till some time had passed again.
+
+In the midst of this great assemblage of strange figures, small and
+large, Mr. Carlisle's eye sought for Eleanor. He could not immediately
+find her, standing at the back of the room as he was; and he did not
+choose the recognition to be first on her side, so would not go
+forward. No bonnet or cloak there recalled the image of Eleanor; he had
+seen her once in her school trim, it is true, but that signified
+nothing. He had seen her only, not her dress. It was only by a careful
+scrutiny that he was able to satisfy himself which bonnet and which
+outline of a cloak was Eleanor's. But once his attention had alighted
+on the right figure, and he was sure, by a kind of instinct. The turns
+of the head, the fine proportions of the shoulders, could be none but
+her's; and Mr. Carlisle moved somewhat nearer and took up a position a
+little in the rear of that form, so that he could watch all that went
+on there.
+
+He scanned with infinite disgust one after another of the miserable
+figures ranged upon it. They were well-grown boys, young thieves some
+of them, to judge by their looks; and dirty and ragged so as to be
+objects of abhorrence much more than of anything else to his eye. Yet
+to these squalid, filthy, hardened looking little wretches, scarcely
+decent in their rags, Eleanor was most earnestly talking; there was no
+avoidance in her air. Her face he could not see; he could guess at its
+expression, from the turns of her head to one and another, and the
+motions of her hands, with which she was evidently helping out the
+meaning of her words; and also from the earnest gaze that her
+unpromising hearers bent upon her. He could hear the soft varying play
+of her voice as she addressed them. Mr. Carlisle grew restless. There
+was a more evident and tremendous gap between himself and her than he
+had counted upon. Was she doing this like a Catholic, for penance, or
+to work out good deeds to earn heaven like a philanthropist? While he
+pondered the matter, in increasing restlessness, mind and body helping
+each other; for the atmosphere of the room was heavy and stifling from
+the foul human beings congregated there, and it must require a very
+strong motive in anybody to be there at all; he could hardly bear it
+himself; an incident occurred which gave a little variety to his
+thoughts. As he stood in the alley, leaning on the end of a form where
+no one sat, a boy came in and passed him; brushing so near that Mr.
+Carlisle involuntarily shrank back. Such a looking fellow-creature he
+had never seen until that day. Mr. Carlisle had lived in the other half
+of the world. This was a half-grown boy, inexpressibly forlorn in his
+rags and wretchedness. An old coat hung about him, much too large and
+long, that yet did not hide a great rent in his trowsers which shewed
+that there was no shirt beneath. But the face! The indescribable
+brutalized, stolid, dirty, dumb look of badness and hardness! Mr.
+Carlisle thought he had never seen such a face. One round portion of it
+had been washed, leaving the dark ring of dirt all circling it like a
+border, where the blessed touch of water had not come. The boy moved
+on, with a shambling kind of gait, and to Mr. Carlisle's horror, paused
+at the form of Eleanor's class. Yes,--he was going in there, he
+belonged there; for she looked up and spoke to him; Mr. Carlisle could
+hear her soft voice saying something about his being late. Then came a
+transformation such as Mr. Carlisle would never have believed possible.
+A light broke upon that brutalized face; actually a light; a smile that
+was like a heavenly sunbeam in the midst of those rags and dirt
+irradiated; as a rough thick voice spoke out in answer to her--"Yes--if
+I didn't come, I knowed you would be disappointed."
+
+Evidently they were friends, Eleanor and that boy; young thief, young
+rascal, though Mr. Carlisle's eye pronounced him. They were on good
+terms, even of affection; for only love begets love. The lesson went
+on, but the gentleman stood in a maze till it was finished. The notes
+of Eleanor's voice in the closing hymn, which he was sure he could
+distinguish, brought him quite back to himself. Now he might speak to
+her again. He had felt as if there were a barrier between them. Now he
+would test it.
+
+He had to wait yet a little while, for Eleanor was talking to one or
+two elderly gentlemen. Nobody to move his jealousy however; so Mr.
+Carlisle bore the delay with what patience he could; which in that
+stifling atmosphere was not much. How could Eleanor endure it? As at
+last she came down the room, he met her and offered his arm. Eleanor
+took it, and they went out together.
+
+"I did not know you were in the school," she said.
+
+"I would not disturb you. Thomas is not here--Mrs. Powle wanted him at
+home."
+
+Which was Mr. Carlisle's apology for taking his place. Or somewhat more
+than Thomas's place; for he not only put Eleanor in a carriage, but
+took a seat beside her. The drive began with a few moments of silence.
+
+"How do you do?" was his first question.
+
+"Very well."
+
+"Must I take it on trust? or do you not mean I shall see for myself?"
+said he. For there had been a hidden music in Eleanor's voice, and she
+had not turned her face from the window of the carriage. At this
+request however she gave him a view of it. The hidden sweetness was
+there too; he could not conceive what made her look so happy. Yet the
+look was at once too frank and too deep for his personal vanity to get
+any food from it; no surface work, but a lovely light on brow and lip
+that came from within. It had nothing to do with him. It was something
+though, that she was not displeased at his being there; his own face
+lightened.
+
+"What effect does Field-Lane generally have upon you?" said he.
+
+"It tires me a little--generally. Not to-day."
+
+"No, I see it has not; and how you come out of that den, looking as you
+do, I confess is an incomprehensible thing to me. What has pleased you
+there?"
+
+A smile came upon Eleanor's face, so bright as shewed it was but the
+outbreaking of the light he had seen there before. His question she met
+with another.
+
+"Did nothing there please you?"
+
+"Do you mean to evade my inquiry?"
+
+"I will tell you what pleased me," said Eleanor. "Perhaps you
+remarked--whereabouts were you?"
+
+"A few feet behind you and your scholars."
+
+"Then perhaps you remarked a boy who came in when the lesson was partly
+done--midway in the time--a boy who came in and took his seat in my
+class."
+
+"I remarked him--and you will excuse me for saying, I do not understand
+how pleasure can be connected in anybody's mind with the sight of him."
+
+"Of course you do not. That boy has been a most notorious pickpocket
+and thief."
+
+"Exactly what I should have supposed."
+
+"Did you observe that he had washed his face?"
+
+"I think I observed how imperfectly it was done."
+
+"Ah, but it is the first time probably in years that it has touched
+water, except when his lips touched it to drink. Do you know, that is a
+sign of reformation?"
+
+"Water?"
+
+"Washing. It is the hardest thing in the world to get them to forego
+the seal and the bond of dirt. It is a badge of the community of guilt.
+If they will be brought to wash, it is a sign that the bond is
+broken--that they are willing to be out of the community; which will I
+suppose regard them as suspected persons from that time. Now you can
+understand why I was glad."
+
+Hardly; for the fire and water sparkling together in Eleanor's eyes
+expressed so much gladness that it quite went beyond Mr. Carlisle's
+power of sympathy. He remained silent a few moments.
+
+"Eleanor, I wish you would answer one question, which puzzles me. Why
+do you go to that place?"
+
+"You do not like it?"
+
+"No, nor do you. What takes you there?"
+
+"There are more to be taught than there are teachers for," said Eleanor
+looking at her questioner. "They want help. You must have seen, there
+are none too many to take care of the crowds that come; and many of
+those teachers are fatigued with attendance in the week."
+
+"Do you go in the week?"
+
+"No, not hitherto."
+
+"You must not think of it! It is as much as your life is worth to go
+Sundays. I met several companies of most disorderly people on my
+way--do you not meet such?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What takes you there, Eleanor, through such horrors?"
+
+"I have no fear."
+
+"No, I suppose not; but will you answer my question?"
+
+"You will hardly be able to understand me," said Eleanor hesitating. "I
+like to go to these poor wretches, because I love them. And if you ask
+me why I love them,--I know that the Lord Jesus loves them; and he is
+not willing they should be in this forlorn condition; and so I go to
+try to help get them out of it."
+
+"If the Supreme Ruler is not willing there should be this class of
+people, Eleanor, how come they to exist?"
+
+"You are too good a philosopher, Mr. Carlisle, not to know that men are
+free agents, and that God leaves them the exercise of their free
+agency, even though others as well as themselves suffer by it. I
+suppose, if those a little above them in the social scale had lived
+according to the gospel rule, this class of people never would have
+existed."
+
+"What a reformer you would make, Eleanor!"
+
+"I should not suit you? Yes--I do not believe in any radical way of
+reform but one."
+
+"And that is, what?--counsellor."
+
+"Do unto others as you would that others should do unto you."
+
+"Radical enough! You must reform the reformers first, I suppose you
+know."
+
+"I know it."
+
+"Then, hard as it is for me to believe it, you do not go to Field-Lane
+by way of penance?"
+
+"The penance would be, to make me stay away."
+
+"Mrs. Powle will do that, unless I contrive to disturb the action of
+her free agency; but I think I shall plunge into the question of
+reform, Eleanor. Speaking of that, how much reformation has been
+effected by these Ragged institutions?"
+
+"Very much; and they are only as it were beginning, you must remember."
+
+"Room for amendment still," said Mr. Carlisle. "I never saw such a
+disorderly set of scholars in my life before. How do you find an
+occasional somersault helps a boy's understanding of his lesson?"
+
+"Those things were constant at first; not occasional," said Eleanor
+smiling; "somersaults, and leaping over the forms, and shouts and
+catcalls, and all manner of uproarious behaviour. That was before I
+ever knew them. But now, think of that boy's washed face!"
+
+"That was the most partial reformation I ever saw rejoiced in," said
+Mr. Carlisle.
+
+"It gives hope of everything else, though. You have no idea what a bond
+that community of dirt is. But there are plenty of statistics, if you
+want those, Mr. Carlisle. I can give you enough of them; shewing what
+has been done."
+
+"Will you shew them to me to-night?"
+
+"To-night? it is Sunday. No, but to-morrow night, Mr. Carlisle; or any
+other time."
+
+"Eleanor, you are very strict!"
+
+"Not at all. That is not strictness; but Sunday is too good to waste
+upon statistics."
+
+She said it somewhat playfully, with a shilling of her old arch smile,
+which did not at all reassure her companion.
+
+"Besides, Mr. Carlisle, you like strictness a great deal better than I
+do. There is not a law made in our Queen's reign or administered under
+her sceptre, that you would not have fulfilled to the letter--even down
+to the regulations that keep little boys off the grass. It is only the
+laws of the Great King which you do not think should be strictly kept."
+
+She was grave enough now, and Mr. Carlisle swallowed the reproof as
+best he might.
+
+"Eleanor, you are going to turn preacher too, as well as reformer?
+Well, I will come to you, dear, and put myself under your influences.
+You shall do what you please with me."
+
+Too much of a promise, and more of a responsibility than Eleanor chose
+to take. She went into the house with a sober sense that she had a
+difficult part to play; that between Mr. Carlisle and her mother, she
+must walk very warily or she would yet find herself entangled before
+she was aware. And Mr. Carlisle too had a sober sense that Eleanor's
+religious character was not of a kind to exhale, like a volatile oil,
+under the sun of prosperity or the breezes of flattery. Nevertheless,
+the more hard to reach the prize, the more of a treasure when reached.
+He never wanted her more than now; and Mr. Carlisle had always, by
+skill and power, obtained what he wanted. He made no doubt he would
+find this instance like the others.
+
+For the present, the thing was to bring a bill into parliament "for the
+reformation of juvenile offenders"--and upon its various provisions Mr.
+Carlisle came daily to consult Eleanor, and take advice and receive
+information. Doubtless there was a great deal to be considered about
+the bill, to make it just what it should be; to secure enough and not
+insist upon too much; its bearings would be very important, and every
+point merited well the deepest care and most circumspect management. It
+enlisted Eleanor's heart and mind thoroughly; how should it not? She
+spent hours and hours with Mr. Carlisle over it; wrote for him, read
+for him, or rather for those the bill wrought for; talked and discussed
+and argued, for and against various points which she felt would make
+for or against its best success. Capital for M. Carlisle. All this
+brought him into constant close intercourse with her, and gave him
+opportunities of recommending himself. And not in vain. Eleanor saw and
+appreciated the cool, clear business head; the calm executive talent,
+which seeing its ends in the distance, made no hurry but took the steps
+and the measures surest to attain them, with patient foresight. She
+admired it, and sometimes also could almost have trembled when she
+thought of its being turned towards herself. And was it not, all the
+while? Was not Eleanor tacitly, by little and little, yielding the
+ground she fought so hard to keep? Was she not quietly giving her
+affirmative to the world's question,--and to Mr. Carlisle's too? To the
+former, yes; for the latter, she knew and Mr. Carlisle knew that she
+shewed him no more than the regard that would not satisfy him. But
+then, if this went on indefinitely, would not he, and the world, and
+her mother, all say that she had given him a sort of prescriptive right
+to her? Ay, and Eleanor must count her father too now as among her
+adversaries' ranks. She saw it and felt it somewhat bitterly. She had
+begun to gain his ear and his heart; by and by he might have listened
+to her on what subject she pleased, and she might have won him to the
+knowledge of the truth that she held dearest. Now, she had gained his
+love certainly, in a measure, but so had Mr. Carlisle. Gently,
+skilfully, almost unconsciously it seemed, he was as much domiciled in
+her father's room as she was; and even more acceptable. The Squire had
+come to depend on him, to look for him, to delight in him; and with
+very evident admission that he was only anticipating by a little the
+rights and privileges of sonship. Eleanor could not absent herself
+neither; she tried that; her father would have her there; and there was
+Mr. Carlisle, as much at home, and sharing with her in filial offices
+as a matter of rule, and associating with her as already one of the
+family. It is true, in his manner to Eleanor herself he did not so step
+beyond bounds as to give her opportunity to check him; yet even over
+this there stole insensibly a change; and Eleanor felt herself getting
+deeper and deeper in the toils. Her own manner meanwhile was nearly
+perfect in its simple dignity. Except in the interest of third party
+measures, which led her sometimes further than she wanted to go,
+Eleanor kept a very steady way, as graceful as it was steady. So
+friendly and frank as to give no cause of umbrage; while it was so cool
+and self-poised as to make Mr. Carlisle very uneasy and very desperate.
+It was just the manner he admired in a woman; just what he would like
+to see in his wife, towards all the rest of the world. Eleanor charmed
+him more by her high-bred distance, than ever she had done by the
+affection or submissiveness of former days. But he was pretty sure of
+his game. Let this state of things go on long enough, and she would
+have no power to withdraw; and once his own, let him have once again
+the right to take her to his breast and whisper love or authority, and
+he knew he could win that fine sweet nature to give him back love as
+well as obedience,--in time. And so the bill went on in its progress
+towards maturity. It did not go very fast.
+
+All this while the sisters saw very little of each other. One morning
+Eleanor waylaid Julia as she was passing her door, drew her in, and
+turned the key in the lock. The first impulse of the two was to spring
+to each other's arms for a warm embrace.
+
+"I never have a chance to speak to you, darling," said the elder
+sister. "What has become of you?"
+
+"O I am so busy, you see--all the times except when you are gone out,
+or talking in the drawing-room to people, or in papa's room. Then I am
+out, and you are out too; somewhere else."
+
+"Out of what?"
+
+"Out of my studies, and teachers, and governesses. I must go now in two
+minutes."
+
+"No you must not. Sit down; I want to see you. Are you remembering what
+we have learnt together?"
+
+"Sometimes--and sometimes it is hard, you see. Everything is so
+scratchy. O Eleanor, are you going to marry Mr. Carlisle?"
+
+"No. I told you I was not."
+
+"Everybody says you are, though. Are you _sure_ you are not?"
+
+"Quite sure."
+
+"I almost wish you were; and then things would go smooth again."
+
+"What do you mean by their being 'scratchy'? that is a new word."
+
+"Well, everything goes cross. I am in ever so many dictionaries besides
+English--and shut up to learn 'em--and mamma don't care what becomes of
+me if she can only keep me from you; and I don't know what you are
+doing; and I wish we were all home again!"
+
+Eleanor sighed.
+
+"I call it _scratchy_," said Julia. "Everybody is trying to do what
+somebody else don't like."
+
+"I hope you are not going on that principle,"--said her sister, with a
+smile which made Julia spring to her neck again and load her lips with
+kisses over and over.
+
+"I'll try to do what you like, Eleanor--only tell me what. Tell me
+something, and I will remember it."
+
+"Julia, are you going to be a servant of Christ? have you forgotten
+that you said you loved him?"
+
+"No, and I do, Eleanor! and I want to do right; but I am so busy, and
+then I get so vexed!"
+
+"That is not like a servant of Jesus, darling."
+
+"No. If I could only see you, Eleanor! Tell me something to remember,
+and I will keep it in my head, in spite of all the dictionaries."
+
+"Keep it in your life, Julia. Remember what Jesus said his servants
+must be and how they must do--just in this one little word--'And ye
+yourselves like them that wait for their Lord.'"
+
+"How, Eleanor?"
+
+"That is what we are, dear. We are the Lord's servants, put here to
+work for him, put just in the post where he wishes us to be, till he
+comes. Now let us stand in our post and do our work, 'like them that
+wait for their Lord.' You know how that would be."
+
+Julia again kissed and caressed her, not without some tears.
+
+"I know," she said; "it is like Mr. Rhys, and it is like you; and I
+don't believe it is like anybody else."
+
+"Shall it be like you, Julia?"
+
+"Yes, Eleanor, yes! I will never forget it. O Eleanor, are you sure you
+are not going to Rythdale?"
+
+"What makes you ask me?"
+
+"Why everybody thinks so, and everybody says so; and you--you are with
+Mr. Carlisle all the time, talking to him."
+
+"I have so many thoughts to put into his head," said Eleanor gravely.
+
+"What are you so busy with him about?"
+
+"Parliament business. It is for the poor of London, Julia. Mr. Carlisle
+is preparing a bill to bring into the House of Commons, and I know more
+about the matter than he does; and so he comes to me."
+
+"Don't you think he is glad of his ignorance?" said Julia shrewdly.
+Eleanor leaned her head on her hand and looked thoughtfully down.
+
+"What do you give him thoughts about?"
+
+"My poor boys would say, 'lots of things.' I have to convince Mr.
+Carlisle that it would cost the country less to reform than to punish
+these poor children, and that reforming them is impossible unless we
+can give them enough to keep them from starvation; and that the common
+prison is no place for them; and then a great many questions besides
+these and that spring out of these have to be considered and talked
+over. And it is important beyond measure; and if I should let it
+alone,--the whole might fall to the ground. There are two objections
+now in Mr. Carlisle's mind--or in other people's minds--to one thing
+that ought to be done, and must be done; and I must shew Mr. Carlisle
+how false the objections are. I have begun; I must go through with it.
+The whole might fall to the ground if I took away my hand; and it would
+be such an incalculable blessing to thousands and thousands in this
+dreadful place--"
+
+"Do you think London is a dreadful place?" said Julia doubtfully.
+
+"There are very few here who stand 'like them that wait for their
+Lord,'"--said Eleanor, her face taking a yearning look of
+thoughtfulness.
+
+"There aren't anywhere, _I_ don't believe. Eleanor--aren't you happy?"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"You don't always look--just--so."
+
+"Perhaps not. But to live for Jesus makes happy days--be sure of that,
+Julia; however the face looks."
+
+"Are you bothered about Mr. Carlisle?"
+
+"What words you use!" said Eleanor smiling. "'Bother,' and 'scratchy.'
+No, I am not bothered about him--I am a little troubled sometimes."
+
+"What's the difference?"
+
+"The difference between seeing one's way clear, and not seeing it; and
+the difference between having a hand to take care of one, and not
+having it."
+
+"Well why do you talk to him so much, if he troubles you?" said Julia,
+reassured by her sister's smile.
+
+"I must," said Eleanor. "I must see through this business of the
+bill--at all hazards. I cannot let that go. Mr. Carlisle knows I do not
+compromise myself."
+
+"Well, I'll tell you what," said Julia getting up to go,--"mamma means
+you shall go to Rythdale; and she thinks you are going."
+
+With a very earnest kiss to Eleanor, repeated with an emphasis which
+set the seal upon all the advices and promises of the morning, Julia
+went off. Eleanor sat a little while thinking; not long; and met Mr.
+Carlisle the next time he came, with precisely the same sweet
+self-possession, the unchanged calm cool distance, which drove that
+gentleman to the last verge of passion and patience. But he was master
+of himself and bided his time, and talked over the bill as usual.
+
+It was not Eleanor alone who had occasion for the exercise of
+admiration in these business consultations. Somewhat to his surprise,
+Mr. Carlisle found that his quondam fair mistress was good for much
+more than a plaything. With the quick wit of a woman she joined a
+patience of investigation, an independent strength of judgment, a
+clearness of rational vision, that fairly met him and obliged him to be
+the best man he could in the business. He could not get her into a
+sophistical maze; she found her way through immediately; he could not
+puzzle her, for what she did not understand one day she had studied out
+by the next. It is possible that Mr. Carlisle would not have fallen in
+love with this clear intelligence, if he had known it in the front of
+Eleanor's qualities; for he was one of those men who do not care for an
+equal in a wife; but his case was by this time beyond cure. Nay, what
+might have alienated him once, bound him now; he found himself matched
+with Eleanor in a game of human life. The more she proved herself his
+equal, the nobler the conquest, and the more the instinct of victory
+stirred within him; for pride, a poor sort of pride, began to be
+stirred as well as love.
+
+So the bill went on; and prisons and laws and reformatory measures and
+penal enactments and industrial schools, and the question of
+interfering with the course of labour, and the question of offering a
+premium upon crime, and a host of questions, were discussed and
+rediscussed. And partly no doubt from policy, partly from an
+intelligent view of the subject, but wholly moved thereto by Eleanor,
+Mr. Carlisle gradually gave back the ground and took just the position
+(on paper) that she wished to see him take.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+IN APRIL.
+
+
+  "Why, how one weeps
+  When one's too weary! Were a witness by,
+  He'd say some folly--"
+
+
+So the bill went on. And the season too. Winter merged into spring; the
+change of temperature reminded Eleanor of the changing face of the
+earth out of London; and even in London the parks gave testimony of it.
+She longed for Wiglands and the Lodge; but there was no token of the
+family's going home at present. Parliament was in session; Mr. Carlisle
+was busy there every night almost; which did not in the least hinder
+his being busied with Eleanor as well. Where she and her mother went,
+for the most part he went; and at home he was very much at home indeed.
+Eleanor began to feel that the motions of the family depended on him;
+for she could find no sufficient explanation in her father's health or
+her mother's pleasure for their continued remaining in town. The Squire
+was much as he had been all winter; attended now and then by a
+physician, and out of health and spirits certainly; yet Eleanor could
+not help thinking he would be better at home, and somewhat suspected
+her father thought so. Mrs. Powle enjoyed London, no doubt; still, she
+was not a woman to run mad after pleasure, or after anything else; not
+so much but that the pleasure of her husband would have outweighed
+hers. Nevertheless, both the Squire and she were as quietly fixed in
+London, to judge by all appearance, as if they had no other place to go
+to; and the rising of parliament was sometimes hinted at as giving the
+only clue to the probable time of their departure.
+
+Did you ever lay brands together on a hearth, brands with little life
+in them too, seemingly; when with no breath blown or stirring of air to
+fan them, gradually, by mere action and reaction upon each other, the
+cold grey ends began to sparkle and glow, till by and by the fire burst
+forth and flame sprang up? Circumstances may be laid together so, and
+with like effect.
+
+Everything went on in a train at the house in Cadogan Square; nobody
+changed his attitude or behaviour with respect to the others, except as
+by that most insensible, unnoticeable, quiet action of elements at
+work; yet the time came when Eleanor began to feel that things were
+drawing towards a crisis. Her place was becoming uncomfortable. She
+could not tell how, she did not know when it began, but a change in the
+home atmosphere became sensible to her. It was growing to be
+oppressive. Mother, father, and friends seemed by concert to say that
+she was Mr. Carlisle's; and the gentleman himself began to look it,
+Eleanor thought, though he did not say it. A little tacit allowance of
+this mute language of assignment, and either her truth would be
+forfeited or her freedom. She must make a decided protest. Yet also
+Eleanor felt that quality in the moral atmosphere which threatened that
+if any clouds came up they would be stormy clouds; and she dreaded to
+make any move. Julia's society would have been a great solace now; when
+she never could have it. Julia comforted her, whenever they were
+together in company or met for a moment alone, by her energetic
+whisper--"I remember, Eleanor!--" but that was all. Eleanor could get
+no further speech of her. At the Ragged school Mr. Carlisle was pretty
+sure to be, and generally attended her home. Eleanor remonstrated with
+her mother, and got a sharp answer, that it was only thanks to Mr.
+Carlisle she went there at all; if it were not for him Mrs. Powle
+certainly would put a stop to it. Eleanor pondered very earnestly the
+question of putting a stop to it herself; but it was at Mr. Carlisle's
+own risk; the poor boys in the school wanted her ministrations; and the
+"bill" was in process of preparation. Eleanor's heart was set on that
+bill, and her help she knew was greatly needed in its construction; she
+could not bear to give it up. So she let matters take their course; and
+talked reform diligently to Mr. Carlisle all the time they were driving
+from West-Smithfield home.
+
+At last to Eleanor's joy, the important paper was drawn up according to
+her mind. It satisfied her. And it was brought to a reading in the
+House and ordered to be printed. So much was gained. The very next day
+Mr. Carlisle came to ask Eleanor to drive out with him to Richmond,
+which she had never seen. Eleanor coolly declined. He pressed the
+charms of the place, and of the country at that season. Eleanor with
+the same coolness of manner replied that she hoped soon to enjoy the
+country at home; and that she could not go to Richmond. Mr. Carlisle
+withdrew his plea, sat and talked some time, making himself very
+agreeable, though Eleanor could not quite enjoy his agreeableness that
+morning; and went away. He had given no sign of understanding her or of
+being rebuffed; and she was not satisfied. The next morning early her
+mother came to her.
+
+"Eleanor, what do you say to a visit to Hampton Court to-day?"
+
+"Who is going, mamma?"
+
+"Half the world, I suppose--there or somewhere else--such a day; but
+with you, your friend in parliament."
+
+"I have several friends in parliament."
+
+"Pshaw, Eleanor! you know I mean Mr. Carlisle. You had better dress
+immediately, for he will be here for you early. He wants to have the
+whole day. Put on that green silk which becomes you so well. How it
+does, I don't know; for you are not blonde; but you look as handsome as
+a fairy queen in it. Come, Eleanor!"
+
+"I do not care about going, mamma."
+
+"Nonsense, child; you do care. You have no idea what Bushy Park is,
+Eleanor. It is not like Rythdale--though Rythdale will do in its way.
+Come, child, get ready. You will enjoy it delightfully."
+
+"I do not think I should, mamma. I do not think I ought to go with Mr.
+Carlisle."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"You know, mamma," Eleanor said calmly, though her heart beat; "you
+know what conclusions people draw about me and Mr. Carlisle. If I went
+to Hampton Court or to Richmond with him, I should give them, and him
+too, a right to those conclusions."
+
+"What have you been doing for months past, Eleanor? I should like to
+know."
+
+"Giving him no right to any conclusions whatever, mamma, that would be
+favourable to him. He knows that."
+
+"He knows no such thing. You are a fool, Eleanor. Have you not said to
+all the world all this winter, by your actions, that you belonged to
+him? All the world knows it was an engagement, and you have been
+telling all the world that it is. Mr. Carlisle knows what to expect."
+
+Eleanor coloured.
+
+"I cannot fulfil his expectations, mamma. He has no right to them."
+
+"I tell you, you have given him a right to them, by your behaviour
+these months past. Ever since we were at Brighton. Why how you
+encouraged him there!"
+
+A great flush rose to Eleanor's cheeks.
+
+"Mamma,--no more than I encouraged others. Grace given to all is favour
+to none."
+
+"Ay, but there was the particular favour in his case of a promise to
+marry him."
+
+"Broken off, mamma."
+
+"The world did not know that, and you did not tell them. You rode, you
+walked, you talked, you went hither and thither with Mr. Carlisle, and
+suffered him to attend you."
+
+"Not alone, mamma; rarely alone."
+
+"Often alone, child; often of evenings. You are alone with a gentleman
+in the street, if there is a crowd before and behind you."
+
+"Mamma, all those things that I did, and that I was sorry to do, I
+could hardly get out of or get rid of; they were Mr. Carlisle's doing
+and yours."
+
+"Granted; and you made them yours by acceptance. Now Eleanor, you are a
+good girl; be a sensible girl. You have promised yourself to Mr.
+Carlisle in the eye of all the world; now be honest, and don't be shy,
+and fulfil your engagements."
+
+"I have made none," said Eleanor getting up and beginning to walk
+backwards and forwards in the room. "Mr. Carlisle has been told
+distinctly that I do not love him. I will never marry any man whom I
+have not a right affection for."
+
+"You did love him once, Eleanor."
+
+"Never! not the least; not one bit of real--Mamma, I _liked_ him, and I
+do that now; and then I did not know any better; but I will never, for
+I ought never, to marry any man upon mere liking."
+
+"How come you to know any better now?"
+
+Eleanor's blush was beautiful again for a minute; then it faded. She
+did not immediately speak.
+
+"Is Mr. Carlisle right after all, and has he a rival?"
+
+"Mamma, you must say what you please. Surely it does not follow that a
+woman must love all the world because she does not love one."
+
+"And you may say what you please; I know you like Mr. Carlisle quite
+well enough, for you as good as told me so. This is only girl's talk;
+but you have got to come to the point, Eleanor. I shall not suffer you
+to make a fool of him in my house; not to speak of making a fool of
+yourself and me, and ruining--forever ruining--all your prospects. You
+can't do it, Eleanor. You have said yea, and you can't draw back. Put
+on your green gown and go to Hampton Court, and come back with the day
+fixed--for that I know is what Mr. Carlisle wants."
+
+"I cannot go, mamma."
+
+"Eleanor, you would not forfeit your word?"
+
+"I have not given it."
+
+"Do not contradict me! You have given it all these months. Everybody
+has understood it so. Your father looks upon Mr. Carlisle as his son
+already. You would be everlastingly disgraced if you play false."
+
+"I will play true, mamma. I will not say I give my heart where I do not
+give it."
+
+"Give your hand then. All one," said Mrs. Powle laughing. "Come! I
+order you to obey me, Eleanor!"
+
+"I must not, mamma. I will not go to Hampton Court with Mr. Carlisle."
+
+"What is the reason?"
+
+"I have told you."
+
+"Do you mean, absolutely, that you will not fulfil your engagement, nor
+obey me, nor save us all from dishonour, nor make your friend happy?"
+
+Eleanor grew paler than she had been, but answered, "I mean not to
+marry Mr. Carlisle, mamma."
+
+"I understand it then," said Mrs. Powle rising. "It is not your heart
+but your head. It is your religious fanaticism I will put that out of
+the way!"
+
+And without another word she departed.
+
+Eleanor was much at a loss what would be the next move. Nevertheless
+she was greatly surprised when it came. The atmosphere of the house was
+heavy that day; they did not see Mr. Carlisle in the evening. The next
+day, when Eleanor went to her father's room after dinner she found, not
+Mr. Carlisle, but her mother with him. "Waiting for me"--thought
+Eleanor. The air of Mrs. Powle said so. The squire was gathered up into
+a kind of hard knot, hanging his head over his knees. When he spoke,
+and was answered by his daughter, the contrast of the two voices was
+striking, and in character; one gruff, the other sweet but steady.
+
+"What's all this, Eleanor? what's all this?" he said abruptly.
+
+"What, papa?"
+
+"Have you refused Mr. Carlisle?"
+
+"Long ago, sir."
+
+"Yes, that's all past; and now this winter you have been accepting him
+again; are you going to throw him over now?"
+
+"Papa--"
+
+"Only one thing!" roared the Squire,--"are you going to say no to him?
+tell me that."
+
+"I must, papa."
+
+"I command you to say yes to him! What do you say now?"
+
+"I must say the same, sir. If you command me, I must disobey you."
+
+"You will disobey me, hey?"
+
+"I must, papa."
+
+"Why won't you marry him? what's the reason?" said the Squire, looking
+angry and perplexed at her, but very glum.
+
+"Papa--"
+
+"I have seen you here myself, all winter, in this very room; you have
+as good as said to him every day that you would be his wife, and he has
+as good as said to you that he expected it. Has he not, now?"
+
+"Yes, sir,--but--"
+
+"Now why won't you have him, hey?"
+
+"Papa, I do not like him well enough to marry him. That is reason
+enough."
+
+"Why did you tell him all the winter that you _did?_"
+
+"Sir, Mr. Carlisle knows I did not. He has never been deceived."
+
+"Why don't you like him well enough, then? that's the question; what
+fool's nonsense! Eleanor, I am going to have you at the Priory and
+mistress of it before the world is three months older. Tell me that you
+will be a good girl, and do as I say."
+
+"I cannot, papa. That is all past. I shall never be at the Priory."
+
+"What's the reason?" roared her father.
+
+"I have told you, sir."
+
+"It's a lie! You do like him. I have seen it. It's some fool's
+nonsense."
+
+"Let me ask one question," said Mrs. Powle, looking up and down from
+her work. "If it had not been for your religious notions, Eleanor,
+would you not have married Mr. Carlisle more than a year ago? before
+you went to Wales?"
+
+"I suppose I should, mamma."
+
+"And if you had no religious notions, would you have any difficulty
+about marrying him now? You will speak the truth, I know."
+
+"Mamma--"
+
+"Speak!" the Squire burst out violently--"speak! truth or falsehood,
+whichever you like. Speak out, and don't go round about. Answer your
+mother's question."
+
+"Will you please to repeat it, mamma?" Eleanor said, a little
+faintheartedly.
+
+"If you had never been in a Methodist Chapel, or had anything to do
+with Methodists,--would you have any difficulty now about being the
+wife of Mr. Carlisle, and lady of Rythdale?"
+
+Eleanor's colour rose gradually and grew deep before she ceased
+speaking.
+
+"If I had never had anything to do with Methodists, mamma, I should be
+so very different from what I am now, that perhaps, it would be as you
+say."
+
+"That's enough!" said the Squire, in a great state of rage and
+determination. "Now, Eleanor Powle, take notice. I am as good as the
+Methodists any day, and as well worth your minding. You'll mind me, or
+I'll have nothing to do with you. Do you go to their chapels?"
+
+"Sometimes."
+
+"You don't go any more! St. George and the Dragon fly away with all the
+Methodist Chapels that ever were built! they shall hold no daughter of
+mine. And hark ye,--you shall give up this foolery altogether and tell
+me you will marry Mr. Carlisle, or I won't have you in my family. You
+may go where you like, but you shall not stay with me as long as I
+live. I give you a month to think of it, Eleanor;--a month? what's
+to-day?--the tenth? Then I give you till the first of next month. You
+can think of it and make up your mind to give yourself to Mr. Carlisle
+by that time; or you shall be no daughter of mine. St. George and the
+Dragon! I have said it, and you will find I mean it. Now go away."
+
+Eleanor went, wondering whether her ears had served her right; so
+unnaturally strange seemed this turn of affairs. She had had no time to
+think of it yet, when passing the drawing-room door a certain impulse
+prompted her to go in. Mr. Carlisle was there, as something had told
+her he might be. Eleanor came in, looking white, and advanced towards
+him with a free steady step eyeing him fully. She was in a mood to meet
+anything.
+
+"Mr. Carlisle," she said, "you are the cause of all the trouble that
+has come upon me."
+
+He did not ask her what trouble. He only gently and gravely disclaimed
+the truth of her assertion.
+
+"Mr. Carlisle," said Eleanor facing him, "do you want the hand without
+the heart?" There was brave beauty in her face and air.
+
+"Yes!" he said. "You do not know yourself, Eleanor--you do not see
+yourself at this moment--or you would know better how impossible it is
+to give other than one answer to such a question."
+
+His look had faced hers as frankly; there was no evil expression in it.
+Eleanor's head and her gaze sank a little. She hesitated, and then
+turned away. But Mr. Carlisle with a quick motion intercepted her.
+
+"Eleanor, have you nothing kind to say to me?" he asked, taking her
+hand. And he said it well.
+
+"Not just now," said Eleanor slowly; "but I will try not to think
+unkindly of you, Mr. Carlisle."
+
+Perhaps he understood that differently from her meaning; perhaps he
+chose to misinterpret it; at all events he stooped forward and kissed
+her. It brought a flash of colour into Eleanor's face, and she went up
+stairs much more angry with her suitor than her last words had spoke
+her. The angry mood faded fast when she reached her own room and could
+be alone and be still. She sat down and thought how, while he stood
+there and held her hand, there had been a swift presentation to her
+mind, swift and clear, of all she would be giving up when she turned
+away from him. In one instant the whole view had come; the rank, the
+ease, the worldly luxury, the affection; and the question came too,
+waywardly, as impertinent questions will come, whether she was after
+all giving it up for sufficient cause? She was relinquishing if she
+quitted him, all that the world values. Not quite that, perhaps; if
+turned out from her father's family even, she was in no danger of
+wanting food or shelter or protection; for she would be sure of those
+and more in Mrs. Caxton's house. But looking forward into the course of
+future years that might lie before her, the one alternative offered for
+her choice presented all that is pleasant in worldly estimation; and on
+the other side there was a lonely life, and duty, and the affection of
+one old woman. But though the two views came with startling clearness
+before Eleanor just at this moment, the more attractive one brought no
+shadow of temptation with it. She saw it, that was all, and turned away
+from it to consider present circumstances.
+
+Would her father keep to his word? It seemed impossible; yet coolly
+reflecting, Eleanor thought from what she knew of him that he would; so
+far at least as to send her into immediate banishment. That such
+banishment would be more than temporary she did not believe. Mr.
+Carlisle would get over his disappointment, would marry somebody else;
+and in course of time her mother and father, the latter of whom
+certainly loved her, would find out that they wanted her at home again.
+But how long first? That no one could tell, nor what might happen in
+the interval; and when she had got so far in her thoughts, Eleanor's
+tears began to flow. She let them flow; it relieved her; and somehow
+there was a good fountain head of them. And again those two pictures of
+future life rose up before her; not as matters of choice, to take one
+and leave the other--but as matters of contrast, in somewhat that
+entered the spring of tears and made them bitter. Was something gone
+from her life, that could never be got back again? had she lost
+something that could never be found again? Was there a "bloom and
+fragrance" waving before her on the one hand, though unattainable,
+which the other path of life with all its beauty did not offer? To
+judge by Eleanor's tears she had some such thoughts. But after a time
+the tears cleared away, and her bowed face looked up as fair as a blue
+sky after a storm. And Eleanor never had another time of weeping during
+the month.
+
+It was a dull month to other people. It would have been a dreary one to
+her, only that there is a private sunshine in some hearts that defies
+cloudy weather. There is an anchor of the soul, sure and steadfast, by
+which one rides contentedly in rough water; there is a hope of glory,
+in the presence of which no darkness can abide; and there is a word
+with which Eleanor dried her tears that day and upon which she steadied
+her heart all the days after. It was written by one who knew trouble.
+"The Lord is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in him."
+It is hard to take that portion away from a man, or to make him poor
+while he has it.
+
+Eleanor had little else the remaining twenty-one days of that month.
+What troubled her much, she could by no means see Julia; and she found
+that her sister had been sent home, to the Lodge at Wiglands, under
+charge of a governess; Mrs. Powle averring that it was time she should
+be in the country. London was not good for Julia. Was it good for any
+of them, Eleanor thought? But parliament was still sitting; Mr.
+Carlisle was in attendance; it was manifest they must be so too.
+Everything went on much as usual. Eleanor attended her father after his
+early dinner, for Mr. Powle would not come into London hours; and Mr.
+Carlisle as usual shared her office with her, except when he was
+obliged to be in the House. When he was, Mrs. Powle now took his place.
+The Squire was surly and gloomy; only brought out of those moods by Mr.
+Carlisle himself. That gentleman held his ground, with excellent grace
+and self-control, and made Eleanor more than ever feel his power. But
+she kept her ground too; not without an effort and a good deal of that
+old arm of defence which is called "all-prayer;" yet she kept it; was
+gentle and humble and kind to them all, to Mr. Carlisle himself, while
+he was sensible her grave gentleness had no yielding in it. How he
+admired her, those days! how he loved her; with a little fierce desire
+of triumph mingling, it must be confessed, with his love and
+admiration, and heightened by them; for now pride was touched, and some
+other feeling which he did not analyse. He had nobody to be jealous of,
+that he knew; unless it were Eleanor herself; yet her indifference
+piqued him. He could not brook to be baffled. He shewed not a symptom
+of all this; but every line of her fine figure, every fold of her rich,
+beautiful hair, every self-possessed movement, at times was torment to
+him. Her very dress was a subject of irritation. It was so plain, so
+evidently unworldly in its simplicity, that unreasonably enough, for
+Eleanor looked well in it, it put Mr. Carlisle in a fume every day. She
+should not dress so when he had control of her; and to get the control
+seemed not easy; and the dress kept reminding him that he had it not.
+On the whole probably all parties were glad when the sweet month of May
+for that season came to an end. Even Eleanor was glad; for though she
+had made up her mind what June would bring her, it is easier to grasp a
+fear in one's hand, like a nettle, than to touch it constantly by
+anticipation. So the first of June came.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+IN MAY.
+
+
+  "Come spur away!
+  I have no patience for a longer stay,
+  But must go down,
+  And leave the changeable noise of this great town;
+  I will the country see,
+  Where old simplicity,
+  Though hid in grey,
+  Doth look more gay
+  Than foppery in plush and scarlet clad."
+
+
+Although Eleanor's judgment had said what the issue would be of that
+day's conference, she had made no preparation to leave home. That she
+could not do. She could not make certain before it came the weary
+foreboding that pressed upon her. She went to her father's room after
+dinner as usual, leaning her heart on that word which had been her
+walking-staff for three weeks past. "The Lord is my portion, saith my
+soul; therefore will I hope in him!"
+
+Mrs. Powle was there, quietly knitting. The Squire had gathered himself
+up into a heap in his easy chair, denoting a contracted state of mind;
+after that curious fashion which bodily attitudes have, of repeating
+the mental. Eleanor took the newspaper and sat down.
+
+"Is there anything there particular?" growled the Squire.
+
+"I do not see anything very particular, sir. Here is the continuation
+of the debate on--"
+
+"How about that bill of yours and Mr. Carlisle's?" broke in Mrs. Powle.
+
+"It was ordered to be printed, mamma--it has not reached the second
+reading yet. It will not for some time."
+
+"What do you suppose will become of it then?"
+
+"What the Lord pleases. I do not know," said Eleanor with a pang at her
+heart. "I have done my part--all I could--so far."
+
+"I suppose you expect Mr. Carlisle will take it up as his own cause,
+after it has ceased to be yours?"
+
+Eleanor understood this, and was silent. She took up the paper again to
+find where to read.
+
+"Put that down, Eleanor Powle," said her father who was evidently in a
+very bad humour, as he had cause, poor old gentleman; there is nobody
+so bad to be out of humour with as yourself;--"put that down! until we
+know whether you are going to read to me any more or no. I should like
+to know your decision."
+
+Eleanor hesitated, for it was difficult to speak.
+
+"Come!--out with it. Time's up. Now for your answer. Are you going to
+be an obedient child, and give Mr. Carlisle a good wife? Hey? Speak!"
+
+"An obedient child, sir, in everything but this. I can give Mr.
+Carlisle nothing, any more than he has."
+
+"Any more than he has? What is that?"
+
+"A certain degree of esteem and regard, sir--and perhaps, forgiveness."
+
+"Then you will not marry him, as I command you?"
+
+"No--I cannot."
+
+"And you won't give up being a Methodist?"
+
+"I cannot help being what I am. I will not go to church, papa, anywhere
+that you forbid me."
+
+She spoke low, endeavouring to keep calm. The Squire got up out of his
+chair. He had no calmness to keep, and he spoke loud.
+
+"Have you taught your sister to think there is any harm in dancing?"
+
+"In dancing parties, I suppose I have."
+
+"And you think they are wicked, and won't go to them?"
+
+"I do not like them. I cannot go to them, papa; for I am a servant of
+Christ; and I can do no work for my Master there at all; but if I go, I
+bear witness that they are good."
+
+"Now hear me, Eleanor Powle--" the Squire spoke with suppressed
+rage--"No such foolery will I have in my house, and no such disrespect
+to people that are better than you. I told you what would come of all
+this if you did not give it up--and I stand to my word. You come here
+to-morrow morning, prepared to put your hand in Mr. Carlisle's and let
+him know that you will be his obedient servant--or, you quit my house.
+To-morrow morning you do one thing or the other. And when you go, you
+will stay. I will never have you back, except as Mr. Carlisle's wife.
+Now go! I don't want your paper any more."
+
+Eleanor went slowly away. She paused in the drawing-room; there was no
+one there this time; rang the bell and ordered Thomas to be sent to
+her. Thomas came, and received orders to be in readiness and have
+everything in readiness to attend her on a journey the next day. The
+orders were given clearly and distinctly as usual; but Thomas shook his
+head as he went down from her presence at the white face his young
+mistress had worn. "She don't use to look that way," he said to
+himself, "for she is one of them ladies that carry a hearty brave
+colour in their cheeks; and now there wasn't a bit of it." But the old
+servant kept his own counsel and obeyed directions.
+
+Eleanor went through the evening and much of the night without giving
+herself a moment to think. Packing occupied all that time and the early
+hours of the next day; she was afraid to be idle, and even dreaded the
+times of prayer; because whenever she stopped to think, the tears would
+come. But she grew quiet; and was only pale still, when at an early
+hour in the morning she left the house. She could not bear to go
+through a parting scene with her father; she knew him better than to
+try it; and she shrank from one with her mother. She bid nobody
+good-bye, for she could not tell anybody that she was going. London
+streets looked very gloomy to Eleanor that morning as she drove through
+them to the railway station.
+
+She had still another reason for slipping away, in the fear that else
+she would be detained to meet Mr. Carlisle again. The evening before
+she had had a note from him, promising her all freedom for all her
+religious predilections and opinions--leave to do what she would, if
+she would only be his wife. She guessed he would endeavour to see her,
+if she staid long enough in London after the receipt of that note.
+Eleanor made her escape.
+
+Thomas was sorry at heart to see her cheeks so white yet when they set
+off; and he noticed that his young mistress hid her face during the
+first part of the journey. He watched to see it raised up again; and
+then saw with content that Eleanor's gaze was earnestly fixed on the
+things without the window. Yes, there was something there. She felt she
+was out of London; and that whatever might be before her, one sorrowful
+and disagreeable page of life's book was turned over. London was gone,
+and she was in the midst of the country again, and the country was at
+the beginning of June. Green fields and roses and flowery hedge-rows,
+and sweet air, all wooed her back to hopefulness. Hopefulness for the
+moment stole in. Eleanor thought things could hardly continue so bad as
+they seemed. It was not natural. It could not be. And yet--Mr. Carlisle
+was in the business, and mother and father were set on her making a
+splendid match and being a great lady. It might be indeed, that there
+would be no return for Eleanor, that she must remain in banishment,
+until Mr. Carlisle should take a new fancy or forget her. How long
+would that be? A field for calculation over which Eleanor's thoughts
+roamed for some time.
+
+One comfort she had promised herself, in seeing Julia on the way; so
+she turned out of her direct course to go to Wiglands. She was
+disappointed. Julia and her governess had left the Lodge only the day
+before to pay a visit of a week at some distance. By order, Eleanor
+could not help suspecting it had been; of set purpose, to prevent the
+sisters meeting. This disappointment was bitter. It was hard to keep
+from angry thoughts. Eleanor fought them resolutely, but she felt more
+desolate than she had ever known in her life before. The old place of
+her home, empty and still, had so many reminders of childish and happy
+times; careless times; days when nobody thought of great marriages or
+settlements, or when such thoughts lay all hidden in Mrs. Powle's mind.
+Every tree and room and book was so full of good and homely
+associations of the past, that it half broke Eleanor's heart. Home
+associations now so broken up; the family divided, literally and
+otherwise; and worst of all, and over which Eleanor's tears flowed
+bitterest, her own ministrations and influence were cut off from those
+who most needed them and whom she most wished to benefit. Eleanor's day
+at home was a day of tears; it was impossible to help it. The roses
+with their sweet faces looked remonstrance at her; the roads and walks
+and fields where she had been so happy invited her back to them; the
+very grey tower of the Priory rising above the trees held out worldly
+temptation and worldly reproof, with a mocking embodiment of her causes
+of trouble. Eleanor could not bear it; she spent one night at home;
+wrote a letter to Julia which she entrusted to a servant's hands for
+her; and the next morning set her face towards Plassy. Julia lay on her
+heart. That conversation they had held together the morning when
+Eleanor waylaid her--it was the last that had been allowed. They had
+never had a good talk since then. Was that the last chance indeed, for
+ever? It was impossible to know.
+
+In spite of June beauty, it was a dreary journey to her from home to
+her aunt's; and the beautiful hilly outlines beyond Plassy rose upon
+her view with a new expression. Sterner, and graver; they seemed to
+say, "It is life work, now, my child; you must be firm, and if
+necessary rugged, like us; but truth of action has its own beauty too,
+and the sunlight of Divine favour rests there always." A shadowless
+sunlight lay on the crowns and shoulders of the mountains as Eleanor
+drew near. She got out of the carriage to walk the last few steps and
+look at the place. Plassy never was more lovely. An aromatic breath,
+pure and strong, came from the hills and gathered the sweetness of the
+valleys. Roses and honeysuckles and jessamines and primroses, with a
+thousand others, loaded the air with their gifts to it, from Mrs.
+Caxton's garden and from all the fields and hedge-rows around. And one
+after another bit of hilly outline reminded Eleanor that off _there_
+went the narrow valley that led to the little church at Glanog; _there_
+went the road to the village, where she and Powis had gone so often of
+Wednesday afternoons; and in _that_ direction lay the little cot where
+she had watched all night by the dying woman. Not much time for such
+remembrances was just now; for the farmhouse stood just before her. The
+dear old farmhouse! looking as pretty as everything else in its dark
+red stone walls and slate roof; stretching along the ground at that
+rambling, picturesque, and also opulent style. Eleanor would not knock
+now, and the door was not fastened to make her need it. Softly she
+opened it, went in, and stood upon the tiled floor.
+
+No sound of anything in particular; only certain tokens of life in the
+house. Eleanor went on, opened the door of the sitting parlour and
+looked in. Nobody there; the room in its summer state of neatness and
+coolness as she had left it. Eleanor's heart began to grow warm. She
+would not yet summon a servant; she left that part of the house and
+wound about among the passages till she came to the back door that led
+out into the long tiled porch where supper was wont to be spread. And
+there was the table set this evening; and the wonted glow from the
+sunny west greeted her there, and a vision of the gorgeous
+flower-garden. But Eleanor hardly saw the one thing or the other; for
+Mrs. Caxton was there also, standing by the tea-table, alone, putting
+something on it. Eleanor moved forward without a word. Her voice would
+not come out of her throat very well.
+
+"Eleanor!" exclaimed Mrs. Caxton. "My dear love! what has given me this
+happiness?"
+
+Very strong language for Mrs. Caxton to use. Eleanor felt it, every
+word of it, as well as the embrace of those kind arms and her aunt's
+kisses upon her lips; but she was silent.
+
+"How come you here, my darling?"
+
+"They have sent me away from home."
+
+Mrs. Caxton saw that there was some difficulty of speech, and she would
+not press matters. She put Eleanor into a seat, and looked at her, and
+took off her bonnet with her own hands; stooped down and kissed her
+brow. Eleanor steadied herself and looked up.
+
+"It is true, aunt Caxton. I come to you because I have nowhere else to
+be."
+
+"My love, it is a great happiness to have you, for any cause. Wait, and
+tell me what the matter is by and by."
+
+She left Eleanor for a moment, only a moment; gave some orders, and
+returned to her side. She sat down and took Eleanor's hand.
+
+"What is it, my dear?"
+
+And then Eleanor's composure, which she had thought sure, gave way all
+of a sudden; and she cried heartily for a minute, laying her head in
+its old resting-place. But that did her good; and then she kissed Mrs.
+Caxton over and over before she began to speak.
+
+"They want me to make a great match, aunty; and will not be satisfied
+with anything else."
+
+"What, Mr. Carlisle?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And is that all broken off?" said Mrs. Caxton, a little tone of
+eagerness discernible under her calm manner.
+
+"It was broken off a year ago," said Eleanor--"more than a year ago. It
+has always been broken since."
+
+"I heard that it was all going on again. I expected to hear of your
+marriage."
+
+"It was not true. But it is true, that the world had a great deal of
+reason to think so; and I could not help that."
+
+"How so, Eleanor?"
+
+"Mamma, and papa, and Mr. Carlisle. They managed it."
+
+"But in such a case, my dear, a woman owes it to herself and to her
+suitor and to her parents too, to be explicit."
+
+"I do not think I compromised the truth, aunt Caxton," said Eleanor,
+passing her hand somewhat after a troubled fashion over her brow. "Mr.
+Carlisle knew I never encouraged him with more favour than I gave
+others. I could not help being with him, for mamma and he had it so;
+and they were too much for me. I could not help it. So the report grew.
+I had a difficult part to play," said Eleanor, repeating her troubled
+gesture and seeming ready to burst into tears.
+
+"In what way, my love?"
+
+Eleanor did not immediately answer; sat looking off over the meadow as
+if some danger existed to self-control; then, still silent, turned and
+met with an eloquent soft eye the sympathizing yet questioning glance
+that was fixed on her. It was curious how Eleanor's eye met it; how her
+eye roved over Mrs. Caxton's face and looked into her quiet grey eyes,
+with a kind of glinting of some spirit fire within, which could almost
+be seen to play and flicker as thought and feeling swayed to and fro.
+Her eye said that much was to be said, looked into Mrs. Caxton's face
+with an intensity of half-speech,--and the lips remained silent. There
+was consciousness of sympathy, consciousness of something that required
+sympathy; and the seal of silence. Perhaps Mrs. Caxton's response to
+this strange look came half unconsciously; it came wholly naturally.
+
+"Poor child!"--
+
+The colour rose on Eleanor's cheek at that; she turned her eyes away.
+
+"I think Mr. Carlisle's plan--and mamma's--was to make circumstances
+too strong for me; and to draw me by degrees. And they would, perhaps,
+but for all I learned here."
+
+"For what you learned here, my dear?"
+
+"Yes, aunty; if they could have got me into a whirl society--if they
+could have made me love dancing parties and theatres and the opera, and
+I had got bewildered and forgotten that a great worldly establishment
+not the best thing--perhaps temptation would have been too much for
+me.--Perhaps it would. I don't know."
+
+There was a little more colour in Eleanor's cheeks than her words
+accounted for, as Mrs. Caxton noticed.
+
+"Did you ever feel in danger from the temptation, Eleanor?"
+
+"Never, aunty. I think it never so much as touched me."
+
+"Then Mr. Carlisle has been at his own risk," said Mrs. Caxton. "Let us
+dismiss him, my love."
+
+"Aunt Caxton, I have a strange homeless, forlorn feeling."
+
+For answer to that, Mrs. Caxton put her arms round Eleanor and gave her
+one or two good strong kisses. There was reproof as well as affection
+in them; Eleanor felt both, even without her aunt's words.
+
+"Trust the Lord. You know who has been the dwelling-place of his
+people, from all generations. They cannot be homeless. And for the
+rest, remember that whatever brings you here brings a great boon to me.
+My love, do you wish to go to your room before you have tea?"
+
+Eleanor was glad to get away and be alone for a moment. How homelike
+her old room seemed!--with the rose and honeysuckle breath of the air
+coming in at the casements. How peaceful and undisturbed the old
+furniture looked. The influence of the place began to settle down upon
+Eleanor. She got rid of the dust of travel, and came down presently to
+the porch with a face as quiet as a lamb.
+
+Tea went on with the same soothing influence. There was much to tell
+Eleanor, of doings in and about Plassy the year past; for the fact was,
+that letters had not been frequent. Who was sick and who was well; who
+had married, and who was dead; who had set out on a Christian walk, and
+who were keeping up such a walk to the happiness of themselves and of
+all about them. Then how Mrs. Caxton's own household had prospered; how
+the dairy went on; and there were some favourite cows that Eleanor
+desired to hear of. From the cows they got to the garden. And all the
+while the lovely meadow valley lay spread out in its greenness before
+Eleanor; the beautiful old hills drew the same loved outline across the
+sunset sky; the lights and shadows were of June; and the garden at hand
+was a rich mass of beauty sloping its terraced sweetness down to the
+river. Just as it was a year ago, when the summons came for Eleanor to
+leave it; only the garden seemed even more gorgeously rich than then.
+Just the same; even to the dish of strawberries on the table. But that
+was not wreathed with ivy and myrtle now.
+
+"Aunt Caxton, this is like the very same evening that I was here last."
+
+"It is almost a year," said Mrs. Caxton.
+
+Neither added anything to these two very unremarkable remarks; and
+silence fell with the evening light, as the servants were clearing away
+the table. Perhaps the mountains with the clear paling sky beyond them,
+were suggestive. Both the ladies looked so.
+
+
+"My dear," said Mrs. Caxton then, "let me understand a little better
+about this affair that gives you to me. Do you come, or are you sent?"
+
+"It is formal banishment, aunt Caxton. I am sent from them at home; but
+sent to go whither I will. So I come, to you."
+
+"What is the term assigned to this banishment?"
+
+"None. It is absolute--unless or until I will grant Mr. Carlisle's
+wishes, or giving up being, as papa says, a Methodist. But that makes
+it final--as far as I am concerned."
+
+"They will think better of it by and by."
+
+"I hope so," said Eleanor faintly. "It seems a strange thing to me,
+aunt Caxton, that this should have happened to me--just now when I am
+so needed at home. Papa is unwell--and I was beginning to get his
+ear,--and I have great influence over Julia, who only wants leading to
+go in the right way. And I am taken away from all that. I cannot help
+wondering why."
+
+"Let it be to the glory of God, Eleanor; that is all your concern. The
+rest you will understand by and by."
+
+"But that is the very thing. It is hard to see how it can be to his
+glory."
+
+"Do not try," said Mrs. Caxton smiling. "The Lord never puts his
+children anywhere where they cannot glorify him; and he never sends
+them where they have not work to do or a lesson to learn. Perhaps this
+is your lesson, Eleanor--to learn to have no home but in him."
+
+Eleanor's eyes filled very full; she made no answer.
+
+But one thing is certain; peace settled down upon her heart. It would
+be difficult to help that at Plassy. We all know the effect of going
+home to the place of our childhood after a time spent in other
+atmosphere; and there is a native air of the spirit, in which it feels
+the like renovating influence. Eleanor breathed it while they sat at
+the table; she felt she had got back into her element. She felt it more
+and more when at family prayer the whole household were met together,
+and she heard her aunt's sweet and high petitions again. And the
+blessing of peace fully settled down upon Eleanor when she was gone up
+to her room and had recalled and prayed over her aunt's words. She went
+to sleep with that glorious saying running through her thoughts--"Lord,
+thou hast been our dwelling-place in all generations."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+IN CORRESPONDENCE.
+
+
+  "But there be million hearts accurst, where no sweet sunbursts shine,
+  And there be million hearts athirst for Love's immortal wine;
+  This world is full of beauty, as other worlds above,
+  And if we did our duty, it might be full of love."
+
+
+Peace had unbroken reign at Plassy from that time. Eleanor threw
+herself again eagerly into all her aunt's labours and schemes for the
+good and comfort of those around her. There was plenty to do; and she
+was Mrs. Caxton's excellent helper. Powis came into requisition anew;
+and as before, Eleanor traversed the dales and the hills on her various
+errands, swift and busy. That was not the only business going. Her aunt
+and she returned to their old literary habits, and read books and
+talked; and it was hard if Eleanor in her rides over the hills and over
+the meadows and along the streams did not bring back one hand full of
+wild flowers. She dressed the house with them, getting help from the
+garden when necessary; botanized a good deal; and began to grow as
+knowing in plants almost as Mrs. Caxton herself. She would come home
+loaded with wild thyme and gorse and black bryony and saxifrage and
+orchis flowers, having scoured hill and meadow and robbed the
+hedge-rows for them, which also gave her great tribute of wild roses.
+Then later came crimson campion and eyebright, dog roses and
+honeysuckles, columbine and centaury, grasses of all kinds, and
+harebell, and a multitude impossible to name; though the very naming is
+pleasant. Eleanor lived very much out of doors, and was likened by her
+aunt to a rural Flora or Proserpine that summer; though when in the
+house she was just the most sonsy, sensible, companionable little
+earthly maiden that could be fancied. Eleanor was not under size
+indeed; but so much like her own wild flowers in pure simpleness and
+sweet natural good qualities that Mrs. Caxton was sometimes inclined to
+bestow the endearing diminutive upon her; so sound and sweet she was.
+
+"And what are all these?" said Mrs. Caxton one day stopping before an
+elegant basket.
+
+"Don't you like them?"
+
+"Very much. Why you have got a good many kinds here."
+
+"That is Hart's Tongue, you know--that is wall spleenwort, and that is
+the other kind; handsome things are they not?"
+
+"And this?"
+
+"That is the forked spleenwort. You don't know it? I rode away, away up
+the mountain for it yesterday That is where I got those Woodsia's
+too--aren't they beautiful? I was gay to find those; they are not
+common."
+
+"No. And this is not common, to me."
+
+"Don't you know it, aunt Caxton? It grows just it the spray of a
+waterfall--this and this; they are polypodies. That is another--that
+came from the old round tower."
+
+"And where did you get these?--these waterfall ferns?"
+
+"I got them at the Bandel of Helig."
+
+"There? My dear child! how could you, without risk?"
+
+"Without much risk, aunty."
+
+"How did you ever know the Bandel?"
+
+"I have been there before, aunt Caxton."
+
+"I think I never shewed it to you?"
+
+"No ma'am;--but Mr. Rhys did."
+
+His name had scarcely been mentioned before since Eleanor had come to
+the farm. It was mentioned now with a cognizance of that fact. Mrs.
+Caxton was silent a little.
+
+"Why have you put these green things here without a rose or two? they
+are all alone in their greenness."
+
+"I like them better so, aunty. They are beautiful enough by themselves;
+but if you put a rose there, you cannot help looking at it."
+
+Mrs. Caxton smiled and turned away.
+
+One thing in the midst of all these natural explorations, remained
+unused; and that a thing most likely, one would have thought, to be
+applied to for help. The microscope stood on one side apparently
+forgotten. It always stood there, in the sitting parlour, in full view;
+but nobody seemed to be conscious of its existence. Eleanor never
+touched it; Mrs. Caxton never spoke of it.
+
+From home meantime, Eleanor heard little that was satisfactory. Julia
+was the only one that wrote, and her letters gave painful subjects for
+thought. Her father was very unlike himself, Julia said, and growing
+more feeble and more ill every day; though by slow degrees. She wished
+Eleanor would write her letters without any religion in them; for she
+supposed _that_ was what her mother would not let her read; so she
+never had the comfort of seeing Eleanor's letters for herself, but Mrs.
+Powle read aloud bits from them. "Very little bits, too," added Julia,
+"I guess your letters have more religion in them than anything else.
+But you see it is no use." Eleanor read this passage aloud to Mrs.
+Caxton.
+
+"Is that true, Eleanor?"
+
+"No, ma'am. I write to Julia of everything that I do, all day long, and
+of everything and everybody that interests me. What mamma does not like
+comes in, of course, with it all; but I do very little preaching, aunt
+Caxton."
+
+"I would go on just so, my dear. I would not alter the style of my
+letters."
+
+So the flowers of June were replaced by the flowers of July; and the
+beauties of July gave place to the purple "ling" of August, with
+gentian and centaury and St. John's wort; and then came the Autumn
+changes, with the less delicate blossoms of that later time, amidst
+which the eclipsed meadow-sweet came quite into favour again. Still
+Eleanor brought wild things from the hills and the streams, though she
+applied more now to Mrs. Caxton's home store in the garden; wild mints
+and Artemisias and the Michaelmas daisy still came home with her from
+her rides and walks; the rides and walks in which Eleanor was a
+ministering angel to many a poor house, many an ignorant soul and many
+a failing or ailing body.
+
+Then came October; and with the first days of October the news that her
+father was dead.
+
+It added much bitterness to Eleanor's grief, that Mrs. Powle entirely
+declined to have her come home, even for a brief stay. If she chose to
+submit to conditions, her mother wrote, she would be welcome; it was
+not too late; but if she held to her perversity, she must bear the
+consequences. She did not own her nor want her. She gave her up to her
+aunt Caxton. Her remaining daughter was in her hands, and she meant to
+keep her there. Eleanor, she knew, if she came home would come to sow
+rebellion. She should not come to do that, either then or at all.
+
+Mildly quiet and decided Mrs. Powle's letter was; very decided, and so
+cool as to give every assurance the decision would be persisted in.
+Eleanor felt this very much. She kept on her usual way of life without
+any variation; but the radiant bright look of her face was permanently
+saddened. She was just as sweet and companionable an assistant to her
+aunt as ever; but from month to month Mrs. Caxton saw that a shadow lay
+deep upon her heart. No shadow could have less of anything like hard
+edges.
+
+They had been sitting at work one night late in the winter, those two,
+the aunt and the niece; and having at last put up her work Eleanor sat
+gravely poring into the red coals on the hearth; those
+thought-provoking, life-stirring, strange things, glowing and sparkling
+between life and death like ourselves. Eleanor's face was very sober.
+
+"Aunt Caxton," she said at length,--"my life seems such a confusion to
+me!"
+
+"So everything seems that we do not understand," Mrs. Caxton said.
+
+"But is it not, aunty? I seem taken from everything that I ought most
+naturally to do--papa, Julia, mamma. I feel like a banished person, I
+suppose; only I have the strange feeling of being banished from my
+place in the world."
+
+"What do you think of such a life as Mr. Rhys is leading?"
+
+"I think it is straight, and beautiful,"--Eleanor answered, looking
+still into the fire. "Nothing can be further from confusion. He is in
+_his_ place."
+
+"He is in a sort of banishment, however."
+
+"Not from that! And it is voluntary banishment--for his Master's sake.
+_That_ is not sorrowful, aunt Caxton."
+
+"Not when the Lord's banished ones make their home in him. And I do not
+doubt but Mr. Rhys does that."
+
+"Have you ever heard from him, aunt Caxton."
+
+"Not yet. It is almost time, I think."
+
+"It is almost a year and a half since he went."
+
+"The communication is slow and uncertain," said Mrs. Caxton. "They do
+not get letters there, often, till they are a year old."
+
+"How impossible it used to be to me," said Eleanor, "to comprehend such
+a life; how impossible to understand, that anybody should leave home
+and friends and comfort, and take his place voluntarily in distance and
+danger and heathendom. It was an utter enigma to me."
+
+"And you understand it now?"
+
+"O yes, aunty," Eleanor went on in the same tone; and she had not
+ceased gazing into the coals;--"I see that Christ is all; and with him
+one is never alone, and under his hand one can never be in danger. I
+know now how his love keeps one even from fear."
+
+"You are no coward naturally."
+
+"No, aunt Caxton--not about ordinary things, except when conscience
+made me so, some time ago."
+
+"That is over now?"
+
+Eleanor took her eyes from the fire, to give Mrs. Caxton a smile with
+the words--"Thank the Lord!"
+
+"Mr. Rhys is among scenes that might try any natural courage," said
+Mrs. Caxton. "They are a desperate set of savages to whom he is
+ministering."
+
+"What a glory, to carry the name of Christ to them!"
+
+"They are hearing it, too," said Mrs. Caxton. "But there is enough of
+the devil's worst work going on there to try any tender heart; and
+horrors enough to shock stout nerves. So it has been. I hope Mr. Rhys
+finds it better."
+
+"I don't know much about them," said Eleanor. "Are they much worse than
+savages in general, aunt Caxton?"
+
+"I think they are,--and better too, in being more intellectually
+developed. Morally, I think I never read of a lower fallen set of human
+beings. Human life is of no account; such a thing as respect to
+humanity is unknown, for the eating of human bodies has gone on to a
+most wonderful extent, and the destroying them for that purpose. With
+all that, there is a very careful respect paid to descent and rank; but
+it is the observance of fear. That one fact gives you the key to the
+whole. Where a man is thought of no more worth than to be killed and
+eaten, a woman is not thought worth anything at all; and society
+becomes a lively representation of the infernal regions, without the
+knowledge and without the remorse."
+
+"Poor creatures!" said Eleanor.
+
+"You comprehend that there must be a great deal of trial to a person of
+fine sensibilities, in making a home amongst such a people, for an
+indefinite length of time."
+
+"Yes, aunty,--but the Lord will make it all up to him."
+
+"Blessed be the name of the Lord!" it was Mrs. Caxton's turn to answer;
+and she said it with deep feeling and emphasis.
+
+"It seems the most glorious thing to me, aunt Caxton, to tell the love
+of Christ to those that don't know it. I wish I could do it."
+
+"My love, you do."
+
+"I do very little, ma'am. I wish I could do a thousand times more!"
+
+The conversation stopped there. Both ladies remained very gravely
+thoughtful a little while longer and then separated for the night. But
+the next evening when they were seated at tea alone, Mrs. Caxton
+recurred to the subject.
+
+"You said last night, Eleanor, that you wished you could do a great
+deal more work of a certain kind than you do."
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"Did your words mean, my love, that you are discontented with your own
+sphere of duty, or find it too narrow?"
+
+Eleanor's eyes opened a little at that. "Aunt Caxton, I never thought
+of such a thing. I do not remember that I was considering my own sphere
+of duty at all. I was thinking of the pleasure of preaching
+Christ--yes, and the glory and honour--to such poor wretches as those
+we were talking of, who have never had a glimpse of the truth before."
+
+"Then for your part you are satisfied with England?"
+
+"Why yes, ma'am. I am satisfied, I think,--I mean to be,--with any
+place that is given me. I should be sorry to choose for myself."
+
+"But if you had a clear call, you would like it, to go to the Cape of
+Good Hope and teach the Hottentots?"
+
+"I do not mean that, aunty," said Eleanor laughing a little. "Surely
+you do not suspect me of any wandering romantic notion about doing the
+Lord's work in one place rather than in another. I would rather teach
+English people than Hottentots. But if I saw that my place was at the
+Cape of Good Hope, I would go there. If my place were there, some way
+would be possible for me to get there, I suppose."
+
+"You would have no fear?" said Mrs. Caxton.
+
+"No aunty; I think not. Ever since I can say 'The Lord is my
+Shepherd--' I have done with fear."
+
+"My love, I should be very sorry to have you go to the Cape of Good
+Hope. I am glad there is no prospect of it. But you are right about not
+choosing. As soon as we go where we are not sent, we are at our own
+charges."
+
+The door here opened, and the party and the tea-table received an
+accession of one to their number. It was an elderly, homely gentleman,
+to whom Mrs. Caxton gave a very cordial reception and whom she
+introduced to Eleanor as the Rev. Mr. Morrison. He had a pleasant face,
+Eleanor saw, and as soon as he spoke, a pleasant manner.
+
+"I ought to be welcome, ma'am," he said, rubbing his hands with the
+cold as he sat down. "I bring you letters from Brother Rhys."
+
+"You are welcome without that, brother, as you know," Mrs. Caxton
+answered. "But the letters are welcome. Of how late date are they?"
+
+"Some pretty old--some not more than nine or ten months ago; when he
+had been stationed a good while."
+
+"How is he?"
+
+"Well, he says; never better."
+
+"And happy?"
+
+"I wish I was as happy!" said Mr. Morrison.--"He had got fast hold of
+his work already."
+
+"He would do that immediately."
+
+"He studied the language on shipboard, all the way out; and he was able
+to hold a service in it for the natives only a few weeks after he had
+landed. Don't you call that energy?"
+
+"There is energy wherever he is," said Mrs. Caxton.
+
+"Yes, you know him pretty well. I suppose they never have it so cold
+out there as we have it to-night," Mr. Morrison said rubbing his hands.
+"It's stinging! That fire is the pleasantest thing I have seen to-day."
+
+"Where is Mr. Rhys stationed?"
+
+"I forget--one of the islands down there, with an unintelligible name.
+Horrid places!"
+
+"Is the place itself disagreeable?" Eleanor asked.
+
+"The place itself, ma'am," said Mr. Morrison, his face stiffening from
+its genial unbent look into formality as he turned to her,--"the place
+itself I do not understand to be very disagreeable; it is the character
+of the population which must make it a hard place to live in. They are
+exceedingly debased. Vile people!"
+
+"Mr. Rhys is not alone on his station?" said Mrs Caxton.
+
+"No, he is with Mr. and Mrs. Lefferts. His letters will tell you."
+
+For the letters Mrs. Caxton was evidently impatient; but Mr. Morrison's
+refreshment had first to be attended to. Only fair; for he had come out
+of his way on purpose to bring them to her; and being one of a certain
+Committee he had it in his power to bring for her perusal and pleasure
+more than her own letters from Mr. Rhys, and more than Mr. Rhys's own
+letters to the Committee. It was a relief to two of the party when Mr.
+Morrison's cups of tea were at last disposed of, and the far-come
+despatches were brought out on the green table-cloth under the light of
+the lamp.
+
+With her hand on her own particular packet of letters, as if so much
+communication with them could not be put off, Mrs. Caxton sat and
+listened to Mr. Morrison's reading. Eleanor had got her work. As the
+particular interest which made the reading so absorbing to them may
+possibly be shared in a slight degree by others, it is fair to give a
+slight notion of the character of the news contained in those closely
+written pages. The letters Mr. Morrison read were voluminous; from
+different persons on different stations of the far-off mission field.
+They told of difficulties great, and encouragements greater; of their
+work and its results; and of their most pressing wants; especially the
+want of more men to help. The work they said was spreading faster than
+they could keep up with it. Thousands of heathen had given up
+heathenism, who in miserable ignorance cried for Christian instruction;
+children as wild as the wild birds, wanted teaching and were willing to
+have it; native teachers needed training, who had the will without the
+knowledge to aid in the service. Thirty of them, Mr. Lefferts said, he
+had under his care. With all this, they told of the wonderful beauty of
+the regions where their field of labour was. Mr. Lefferts wrote of a
+little journey lately taken to another part of his island, which had
+led him through almost every variety of natural luxuriance. Mountains
+and hills and valleys, rivers and little streams, rich woods and
+mangrove swamps. Mr. Lefferts' journey had been, like Paul's of old, to
+establish the native churches formed at different small places by the
+way. There he married couples and baptized children and met classes and
+told the truth. At one place where he had preached, married several
+couples, baptized over thirty, young and old, and met as many in
+classes, Mr. Lefferts told of a walk he took. It led him to the top of
+a little hill, from which a rich view was to be had, while a multitude
+of exquisite shrubs in flower gave another refreshment in their
+delicious fragrance. A little stream running down the side of the hill
+was used by the natives to water their plantations of taro, for which
+the side hill was formed into terraced beds. Paroquets and humming
+birds flew about, and the sun was sinking brilliantly in the western
+ocean line as he looked. So far, everything was fair, sweet, lovely; a
+contrast to what he met when he reached the lower grounds again. There
+the swarms of mosquitos compelled Mr. Lefferts to retreat for the night
+within a curtain canopy for protection; and thither he was followed by
+a fat savage who shared the protection with him all night long. Another
+sort of experience! and another sort of neighbourhood from that of the
+starry white _Gardenia_ flowers on the top of the hill.
+
+Nevertheless, of a neighbouring station Mr. Rhys wrote that the people
+were at war, and the most horrible heathen practices were going on. At
+the principal town, he said, more people were eaten perhaps than
+anywhere else in the islands. The cruelties and the horrors were
+impossible to be told. A few days before he wrote, twenty-eight persons
+had been killed and eaten in one day. They had been caught
+fishing--taken prisoners and brought home--half killed, and in that
+state thrown into the ovens; still having life enough left to try to
+get away from the fire.
+
+"The first time I saw anything of this kind," wrote Mr. Rhys, "was one
+evening when we had just finished a class-meeting. The evening was most
+fair and peaceful as we came out of the house; a fresh air from the sea
+had relieved the heat of the day; the leaves of the trees were
+glittering in the sunlight; the ocean all sparkling under the breeze;
+when word came that some bodies of slain people were bringing from
+Lauthala. I could hardly understand the report, or credit it; but
+presently the horrible procession came in sight, and eleven dead bodies
+were laid on the ground immediately before us. Eleven only were brought
+to this village; but great numbers are said to have been killed. Their
+crime was the killing of one man; and when they would have submitted
+themselves and made amends, all this recompense of death was demanded
+by the offended chief. The manner in which these wretched creatures
+were treated is not a thing to be described; they were not handled with
+the respect which we give to brute animals. The natives have looked
+dark upon us since that time, and give us reason to know that as far as
+they are concerned our lives are not safe. But we know in whose hands
+our lives are; they are the Lord's; and he will do with them what he
+pleases--not what the heathen please. So we are under no concern about
+it."
+
+That storm appeared to have passed away; for in later letters Mr. Rhys
+and Mr. Lefferts spoke of acceptable services among the people and an
+evidently manifested feeling of trust and good will on their part
+towards the missionaries. Indeed these were often able to turn the
+natives from their devilish purposes and save life. Not always. The old
+king of that part of the country had died, and all the influence and
+all the offers of compensation made by the missionaries, could not
+prevent the slaughter of half a dozen women, his wives, to do him
+honour in his burial. The scene as Mr. Lefferts described it was
+heart-sickening.
+
+As he drew near the door of the king's house, with the intent to
+prevail for the right or to protest against the wrong, he saw the biers
+standing ready; and so knew that all the efforts previously made to
+hinder the barbarous rites had been unavailing. The house as he entered
+was in the hush of death. One woman lay strangled. Another sitting on
+the floor, covered with a large veil, was in the hands of her
+murderers. A cord was passed twice round her neck, and the ends were
+held on each side of her by a group of eight or ten strong men, the two
+groups pulling opposite ways. She was dead, the poor victim underneath
+the veil, in a minute or two after the missionaries entered; and the
+veil being taken off they saw that it was a woman who had professed
+Christianity. Her sons were among those who had strangled her. Another
+woman came forward with great shew of bravery when her name was called;
+offered her hand to the missionaries as she passed them; and with great
+pride of bearing submitted herself to the death which probably she knew
+she could not avoid. Everybody was quiet and cheerful, and the whole
+thing went on with the undisturbed order of a recognized and accustomed
+necessity; only the old king's son, the reigning chief for a long time
+back, was very uneasy at the part he was playing before the
+missionaries; he was the only trembling or doubtful one there. Yet he
+would not yield the point. Pride before all; his father must not be
+buried without the due honours of his position. Mr. Rhys and Mr.
+Lefferts had staid to make their protest and offer their entreaties and
+warnings, to the very last; and then heart-sick and almost faint with
+the disgusting scene, had returned home.
+
+Yet the influence of the truth was increasing and the good work was
+spreading and growing around them, steadily and in every direction. A
+great many had renounced heathenism; not a small number were earnest
+Christians and shewed the truth of their religion in their changed
+lives. A great number of reports proved this.
+
+"It is work that tries what stuff men's hearts are of, however,"
+remarked Mr. Morrison as he folded up one packet of letters. Neither of
+his hearers made him any answer. Mrs. Caxton sat opposite to him,
+deeply attentive but silent, with her hand always lying upon her own
+particular packet. Eleanor had turned a little away and sat with her
+side face towards Mr. Morrison, looking into the fire. Her work was
+dropped; she sat motionless.
+
+"I have a letter to read you now of a later date," Mr. Morrison went
+on,--"from Mr. Rhys, which shews how well he has got hold of the people
+and how much he is regarded by them already. It shews the influence
+gained by the truth, too, which is working there fast."
+
+After giving some details of business and of his labours, Mr. Rhys
+wrote--"My last notable piece of work, has been in the character of an
+ambassador of peace--not heavenly but earthly. News was brought four or
+five days ago that the heathen inhabitants of two neighbouring
+districts had engaged in open hostilities. Home business claimed me one
+day; the next morning I set out on my mission, with one or two
+Christian natives. The desolations of war soon met our eyes, in
+destroyed crops and a deserted village. Nobody was to be seen. I and
+those who were with me sat down in the shade of some trees, while a
+native went to find the inhabitants who had hid themselves in a thicket
+of mangroves. As soon as the chief heard that I was there, and what I
+had come for, he declared he would be a Christian forthwith; and four
+or five of his principal men followed his example. They came to me, and
+entered fully into my object; and it was decided that we should go on
+immediately to the fortress where those who wished to carry on war had
+intrenched themselves. We got there just as the sun was setting; and
+from that time till midnight I was engaged in what I saw now for the
+first time; a savage council of war. Grim black warriors covered with
+black powder sat or stood about, on a little clear spot of ground where
+the moon shone down; muskets and clubs and spears lay on the glass and
+were scattered about among the boles of the trees; a heathen-looking
+scene. Till midnight we talked, and hard talking too; then it was ended
+as I had prayed it might. The party with whom I was had suffered
+already in battle and had not had their revenge; it was difficult to
+give that up; but at last the chief got up and put his hand in mine. 'I
+should like to be a heathen a little longer,' he said, 'but I will
+_lotu_ as you so earnestly entreat me.' _Lotu_ is their name for
+embracing Christianity. Another young warrior joined him; and there
+under the midnight moon, we worshipped God; those two and those who
+were with me. In another part of the village a dozen women for the
+first time bowed the knee in the same worship.
+
+"So far was well; but it yet remained to induce the opposite hostile
+party to agree to peace; you understand only one side was yet
+persuaded. Early the next morning I set about it. Here a difficulty met
+me. The Christian chiefs made no objection to going with me to parley
+with their enemies; but I wanted the company also of another, the chief
+of this district; knowing it very important. And he was afraid to go.
+He told me so plainly. 'If I do as you ask me,' said he, 'I am a dead
+man this day.' I did my best to make him think differently; a hundred
+men declared that they would die in defence of him; and at last I
+gained my point. Tui Mbua agreed to go to the neighbourhood of the
+hostile town, if I would bring its principal men to meet him at an
+appointed place. So we went. This chosen place was a fine plot of
+ground enclosed by magnificent chestnut trees. I went on to the town,
+with a few unarmed men. The people received us well; but it was
+difficult to make the old heathen, brought up on treachery and
+falsehood, believe that I was to be trusted. But in the end the chief
+and twenty of his men consented to go with us, and left their arms at
+home. They did it with forebodings, for I overheard an old man say, as
+we set out from the place,--'We shall see death to-day.' I lifted my
+voice and cried, 'To-day we live!' They took up the words, and heart at
+the same time, and repeated, 'To-day we live'--to encourage themselves,
+I suppose, as we went towards the chestnut-tree meeting ground.
+
+"I felt that the peace of the whole region depended on what was to be
+done there, and for my part went praying that all might go well. It was
+an anxious moment when we entered the open place; any ill-looks in
+either party would chase away trust front the other. As we went in I
+watched the chief who accompanied me. He gently bowed to Tui Mbua and
+approached him with due and evidently honest respect. My heart leaped
+at that moment. Tui Mbua looked at him keenly, sprang to his feet, and
+casting his arms about his enemy's neck gave him a warm embrace. The
+people around shouted for joy; I was still, I believe, for the very
+depth of mine. One of the Christian chiefs spoke out and cried, 'We
+thank thee, O Lord, for thus bringing thy creatures into the way of
+life;' and he wept aloud for very gladness.
+
+"After that we had speechifying; and I returned home very full of
+thankful joy."
+
+This was the last letter read. Mr. Morrison folded up his packet amid a
+great silence. Mrs. Caxton seemed thoughtful; Eleanor was motionless.
+
+"He is doing good work," remarked Mr. Morrison; "but it is hard work.
+He is the right sort of man to go there--fears nothing, shirks nothing.
+So are they all, I believe; but almost all the rest of them have their
+wives with them. How came Rhys to go alone?"
+
+"He does not write as if he felt lonely," said Mrs. Caxton.
+
+"It is better for a man to take a wife, though," said Mr. Morrison. "He
+wants so much of comfort and home as that. They get tired, and they get
+sick, and to have no woman's hand about is something to be missed at
+such times. O we are all dependent. Mr. Rhys is domesticated now with
+Brother Lefferts and his family. I suppose he feels it less, because he
+has not had a home of his own in a good while; that makes a difference."
+
+"He knows he has a home of his own too," said Mrs. Caxton; "though he
+has not reached it yet. I suppose the thought of that makes him
+content."
+
+"Of course. But in a heathen land, with heathen desolation and dark
+faces all around one, you have no idea how at times one's soul longs
+for a taste of England. Brother Rhys too is a man to feel all such
+things. He has a good deal of taste, and what you might call
+sensitiveness to externals."
+
+"A good deal," said Mrs. Caxton quietly. "Then he has some beautiful
+externals around him."
+
+"So they say. But the humanity is deplorable. Well, they will get their
+reward when the Master comes. A man leaves everything indeed when he
+goes to the South Seas as Rhys has done. He would have been very
+popular in England."
+
+"So he will in the islands."
+
+"Well so it seems," said Mr. Morrison. "He has got the ear of those
+wild creatures evidently. That's the man."
+
+It was time for evening prayers; and afterwards the party separated;
+Mrs. Caxton carrying off with her her packet of letters unbroken. The
+morning brought its own business; the breakfast was somewhat hurried;
+Mr. Morrison took his departure; and nothing more was said on the
+subject of South Sea missionaries till the evening. Then the two ladies
+were again alone together.
+
+"Are you well to-day, Eleanor?" was Mrs. Caxton's first question at the
+tea-table.
+
+"Some headache, aunt Caxton."
+
+"How is that? And I have noticed that your eyes were heavy all day."
+
+"There is no harm, ma'am. I did not sleep very well."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I think the reading of those letters excited me, aunt Caxton."
+
+Mrs. Caxton looked at a line of faint crimson which was stealing up
+into Eleanor's cheeks, and for a moment stayed her words.
+
+"My dear, there is as good work to be done here, as ever in Polynesia."
+
+"I do not know, aunt Caxton," said Eleanor leaning her head on her hand
+in thoughtful wise. "England has had the light a great while; it must
+be grand to be the first torch-bearers into the darkness."
+
+"So Mr. Rhys feels. But then, my dear, I think we are to do the work
+given us--one here and one there;--and let the Lord place his servants,
+and our service, as he will."
+
+"I do not think otherwise, aunt Caxton."
+
+"Would you like, to hear some of what Mr. Rhys has written to me? there
+is a little difference between what is sent to a Committee and what is
+for the private eye of a friend."
+
+"Yes ma'am, I would like it," Eleanor said; but she did not say so at
+all eagerly; and Mrs. Caxton looked at her once or twice before she
+changed the subject and spoke of something else. She held to her offer,
+however; and when the green cloth and the lamp were again in readiness,
+she brought out the letters. Eleanor took some work and bent her head
+over it.
+
+"This is one of the latest dates," Mrs. Caxton said as she opened the
+paper; "written after he had been there a good many months and had got
+fairly acquainted with the language and with the people. It seems to me
+he has been very quick about it."
+
+"Yes, I think so," Eleanor answered; "but that is his way."
+
+Mrs. Caxton read.
+
+
+"My dear friend,
+
+"In spite of the world of ocean rolling between us, I yet have a
+strange and sweet feeling of taking your hand, when I set myself to
+write to you. Spirit and matter seem at odds; and far away as I am,
+with the vegetation and the air of the tropics around me, as soon as I
+begin upon this sheet of paper I seem to stand in Plassy again. The
+dear old hills rear their wild outlines before me; the green wealth of
+vegetation is at my feet, but cool and fresh as nothing looks to me
+under the northerly wind which is blowing now; and your image is so
+distinct, that I almost can grasp your hand, and almost hear you speak;
+_see_ you speak, I do. Blessed be the Lord for imagination, as well as
+for memory! Without it, how slowly we should mount to the conception of
+heavenly things and the understanding of himself; and the distance
+between friends would be a sundering of them indeed. But I must not
+waste time or paper in telling you what you know already.
+
+"By which you will conclude that I am busy. I am as busy as I can
+possibly be. That is as I wish it. It is what I am here for. I would
+not have a moment unused. On Sunday I have four or five services, of
+different sorts. Week days I have an English school, a writing school,
+one before and the other after mid-day; and later still, a school for
+regular native instruction. Every moment of time that is free, or would
+be, is needed for visiting the sick, whose demands upon us are
+constant. But this gives great opportunity to preach the gospel and win
+the hearts of the people.
+
+"Some account of a little preaching and teaching journey in which I
+took part some few months ago, I have a mind to give you. Our object
+was specially an island between one and two hundred miles away, where
+many have become Christians, and not in name only; but where up to this
+time no missionary has been stationed. We visit them when we can. This
+time we had the advantage of a brig to make the voyage in; the mission
+ship was here with the Superintendent and he desired to visit the
+place. We arrived at evening in the neighbourhood; at a little island
+close by, where all the people are now Christian. Mr. Lefferts went
+ashore in a canoe to make arrangements; and the next day we followed.
+It was a beautiful day and as beautiful a sight as eyes could see. We
+visited the houses of the native teachers, who were subjects of
+admiration in every respect; met candidates for baptism and examined
+them; married a couple; and Bro. Griffiths preached. There is a new
+chapel, of very neat native workmanship; with a pulpit carved out of a
+solid piece of wood, oiled to give it colour and gloss. In the chapel
+the whole population of the island was assembled, dressed in new
+dresses, attentive, and interested. So were we, you may believe, when
+we remembered that only two years ago all these people were heathens. O
+these islands are a glorious place now and then, in spots where the
+devil's reign is broken. I wish you could have seen us afterwards, my
+dear friend, at our native feast spread on the ground under the trees;
+you who never saw a table set but with exact and elegant propriety. We
+had no table; believe me, we were too happy and hungry to mind that. I
+do not think you would have quarrelled with our dishes; they were no
+other and no worse than the thick broad glossy leaves of the banana. No
+fault could be found with their elegance; and our napkins were of the
+green rind of the same tree. Cocoanut shells were our substitute for
+flint glass, and I like it very well; especially when cocoanut milk is
+the refreshment to be served in them. Knives and forks we had none!
+What would you have said to that? Our meat was boiled fowls and baked
+yams and fish dressed in various ways; and the fingers of the natives,
+or our own, were our only dividers. But I have seen less pleasant
+entertainments; and I only could wish you had been there,--so you might
+have whisked back to England the next minute after it was over, on some
+convenient fairy carpet such as I used to read of in Eastern tales when
+I was a boy. For us, we had to make our way in haste back to the ship,
+which lay in the offing, and could not come near on account of the reef
+barrier. We got on board safely, passing the reefs where once an
+American ship was wrecked and her crew killed and eaten by the people
+of these parts.
+
+"The next day we made the land we sought; and got ashore through a
+tremendous surf. Here we found the island had lately been the seat of
+war--some of the heathen having resolved to put an end by violence to
+the Christian religion there, or as they call it, the _lotu_. The
+Christians had gained the victory, and then had treated their enemies
+with the utmost kindness; which had produced a great effect upon them.
+The rest of the day after our landing was spent in making thorough
+inquiry into this matter; and in a somewhat extended preaching service.
+At night we slept on a mat laid for us, or tried to sleep; but my
+thoughts were too busy; and the clear night sky was witness to a great
+many restless movements, I am afraid, before I lost them in
+forgetfulness. The occasion of which, I suppose, was the near prospect
+of sending letters home to England by the ship. At any rate, England
+and the South Seas were very near together that night; and I was fain
+to remember that heaven is nearer yet. But the remembrance carne, and
+with it sleep. The next day was a day of business. Marrying couples
+(over forty of them) baptizing converts, preaching; then meeting the
+teachers and class-leaders and examining them as to their Christian
+experience, etc. From dawn till long past mid-day we were busy so; and
+then were ready for another feast in the open air like that one I
+described to you--for we had had no breakfast. We had done all the work
+we could do at that time at One, and sought our ship immediately after
+dinner; passing through a surf too heavy for the canoes to weather.
+
+"Let me tell you some of the testimony given by these converts from
+heathenism; given simply and heartily, by men who have not learned
+their religion by book nor copied it out of other men's mouths. It was
+a very thrilling thing to hear them, these poor enterers into the
+light, who have but just passed the line of darkness. One said, 'I love
+the Lord, and I know he loves me; not for anything in me, or for
+anything I have done; but for Christ's sake alone. I trust in Christ
+and am happy. I listen to God, that he may do with me as he pleases. I
+am thankful to have lived until the Lord's work has begun. I feel it in
+my heart! I hold Jesus! I am happy! My heart is full of love to God!'
+
+"Another said, 'One good thing I know,--the sacred blood of Jesus. I
+desire nothing else.'
+
+"Another,--'I know that God has justified me through the sacred blood
+of Jesus. I know assuredly that I am reconciled to God. I know of the
+work of God in my soul. The sacred Spirit makes it clear to me. I wish
+to preach the gospel, that others also may know Jesus.'
+
+"All these have been engaged the past year in teaching or proclaiming
+the truth in various ways. Another of their number who was dying, one
+or two of us went to see. One of us asked him if he was afraid to die?
+'No,' he said, 'I am sheltered. The great Saviour died for me. The
+Lord's wrath is removed. I am his.' And another time he remarked,
+'Death is a fearfully great thing, but I fear it not. There is a
+_Saviour_ below the skies.'
+
+"So there is a helmet of salvation for the poor Fijian as well as for
+the favoured people at home. Praise be to the Lord! Did I tell you, my
+dear friend, I was restless at the thought of sending letters home? Let
+me tell you now, I am happy; as happy as I could be in any place in the
+world; and I would not be in any other place, by my own choice, for all
+the things in the world. I need only to be made more holy. Just in
+proportion as I am that, I am happy and I am useful. I want to be
+perfectly holy. But there is the same way of trusting for the poor
+Fijian and for me; and I believe in that same precious blood I shall be
+made clean, even as they. I want to preach Christ a thousand times more
+than I do. I long to make his love known to these poor people. I
+rejoice in being here, where every minute may tell actively for him. My
+dear friend, when we get home, do what we will, we shall not think we
+have done enough.
+
+"Our life here is full of curious contrasts. Within doors, what our old
+habits have stereotyped as propriety, is sadly trenched upon. Before
+the ship came, Mrs. Lefferts' stock of comfort in one line was reduced
+to a single tea-cup; and in other stores, the demands of the natives
+had caused us to run very short. You know it is only by payment of
+various useful articles that we secure any service done or purchase any
+native produce. Money is unknown. Fruit and vegetables, figs, fish,
+crabs, fowls, we buy with iron tools, pieces of calico, and the like;
+and if our supply of these gives out, we have to draw upon the store of
+things needed by ourselves; and blankets and hardware come to be minus.
+Then, forgetting this, which it is easy to do, all the world without is
+a world of glorious beauty. How I wish I could shew it to you! These
+islands are of very various character, and many of them like the garden
+of Eden for natural loveliness; shewing almost every kind of scenery
+within a small area. Most of them are girdled more or less entirely by
+what is called a _barrier reef_--an outside and independent coral
+formation, sometimes narrow, sometimes miles in width, on the outer
+edge of which the sea breaks in an endless line of white foam. Within
+the reef the lagoon, as it is called, is perfectly still and clear; and
+such glories of the animal and vegetable world as lie beneath its
+surface I have no time to describe to you now. I have had little time
+to examine them; but once or twice I have taken a canoe and a piece of
+rest, gliding over this submarine garden, and rejoicing in the Lord who
+has made everything so beautiful in its time. My writing hour is over
+for to-day. I am going five or six miles to see a man who is said to be
+very ill.
+
+"Feb. 16. The man had very little the matter with him. I had my walk
+for nothing, so far as my character of doctor or nurse was concerned.
+
+"I will give you a little notion of the beauty of these islands, in the
+description of one that I visited a short time ago. It is one of our
+out-stations--too small to have a teacher given it; so it is visited
+from time to time by Mr. Lefferts and myself. With a fair wind the
+distance is hardly a day's journey; but sometimes as in this case it
+consumes two days. The voyage was made in a native canoe, manned by
+native sailors, some Christian, some heathen. They are good navigators,
+for savages; and need to be, for the character of the seas here,
+threaded with a network of coral reefs, makes navigation a delicate
+matter. Our voyage proceeded very well, until we got to the entrance of
+the island. That seems a strange sentence; but the island itself is a
+circle, nearly; a band of volcanic rock, not very wide, enclosing a
+lake or lagoon within its compass. There is only a rather narrow
+channel of entrance. Here we were met by difficulty. The surf breaking
+shorewards was tremendously high; and meeting and struggling with it
+came a rush of the current from within. Between the two opposing waters
+the canoe was tossed and swayed like a reed. It was, for a few moments,
+a scene to be remembered, and not a little terrific. The shoutings and
+exertions of the men, who felt the danger of their position, added to
+the roar and the power of the waters, which tossed us hither and
+thither as a thing of no consequence, made it a strange wild
+minute,--till we emerged from all that struggle and roar into the still
+beautiful quiet of the lagoon inside. Imagine it, surrounded with its
+border of rocky land covered with noble trees, and spotted with islets
+covered in like manner. The whole island is of volcanic formation, and
+its rocks are of black scoria. The theory is, I believe, that a volcano
+once occupied the whole centre of such islands; which sinking
+afterwards away left its place to the occupancy of a lake instead.
+However produced, the effect is singular in its wild beauty. The soil
+of this island is poor for any purpose but growing timber; the
+inhabitants consequently are not many, and they live on roots and fish
+and what we should think still poorer food--a great wood maggot, which
+is found in plenty. There are but four villages, two of them Christian.
+I staid there one night and the next day, giving them all I could; and
+it was a good time to me. The day after I returned home. O sweet gospel
+of Christ! which is lighting up these dark places; and O my blessed
+Master, who stands by his servants and gives them his own presence and
+love, when they are about his work and the world is far from them, and
+men would call them lonely. There is no loneliness where Christ is. I
+must finish this long letter with giving you the dying testimony of a
+Tongan preacher who has just gone to his home. He came here as a
+missionary from his own land, and has worked hard and successfully. He
+said to Mr. Calvert the day before his death, 'I have long _enjoyed_
+religion and felt its _power_. In my former illness I was happy; but
+now I am greatly blessed. The Lord has come down with mighty power into
+my soul, and I feel the blessedness of _full rest of soul_ in God. I
+feel religion to be peculiarly sweet, and my rejoicing is great. I see
+more fully and clearly the truth of the word and Spirit of God, and the
+suitableness of the Saviour. The whole of Christianity I see as
+exceedingly excellent.'
+
+"With this testimony I close, my dear friend. It is mine; I can ask no
+better for you than that it may be yours."
+
+
+Mrs. Caxton ended her reading and looked at Eleanor. She had done that
+several times in the course of the reading. Eleanor was always bent
+over her work, and busily attentive to it; but on each cheek a spot of
+colour had been fixed and deepening, till now it had reached a broad
+flush. Silence fell as the reading ceased; Eleanor did not look up;
+Mrs. Caxton did not take her eyes from her niece's face. It was with a
+kind of subdued sigh that at last she turned from the table and put her
+papers away.
+
+"Mr. Morrison is not altogether in the wrong," she remarked at length.
+"It is better for a man in those far-off regions, and amidst so many
+labours and trials, to have the comfort of his own home."
+
+"Do you think Mr. Rhys writes as if he felt the want?"
+
+"It is hard to tell what a man wants, by his writing. I am not quite at
+rest on that point."
+
+"How happened it that he did not marry, like everybody else, before
+going there?"
+
+"He is a fastidious man," said Mrs. Caxton; "one of those men that are
+rather difficult to please, I fancy; and that are apt enough to meet
+with hindrances because of the very nice points of their own nature."
+
+"I don't think you need wish any better for him, aunt Caxton, than to
+judge by his letters he has and enjoys as he is. He seems to me, and
+always did, a very enviable person."
+
+"Can you tell why?"
+
+"Good--happy--and useful," said Eleanor. But her voice was a little
+choked.
+
+"You know grace is free," said Mrs. Caxton. "He would tell you so. Ring
+the bell, my dear. And a sinner saved in England is as precious as one
+saved in Fiji. Let us work where our place is, and thank the Lord!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+IN NEWS.
+
+
+  "Speak, is't so?
+  If it be so, you have wound a goodly clue;
+  If it be not, forswear't: howe'er, I charge thee,
+  As heaven shall work in me for thine avail,
+  To tell me truly."
+
+
+Mr. Morrison's visit had drifted off into the distance of time; and the
+subject of South Sea missions had passed out of sight, for all that
+appeared. Mrs. Caxton did not bring it up again after that evening, and
+Eleanor did not. The household went on with its quiet ways. Perhaps
+Mrs. Caxton was a trifle more silent and ruminative, and Eleanor more
+persistently busy. She had been used to be busy; in these weeks she
+seemed to have forgotten how to rest. She looked tired accordingly
+sometimes; and Mrs. Caxton noticed it.
+
+"What became of your bill, Eleanor?" she said suddenly one evening.
+They had both been sitting at work some time without a word.
+
+"My bill, ma'am? What do you mean, aunt Caxton?"
+
+"Your Ragged school bill."
+
+"It reached its second reading, ma'am; and there it met with
+opposition."
+
+"And fell through?"
+
+"I suppose so--for the present. Its time will come, I hope; the time
+for its essential provisions, I mean."
+
+"Do you think Mr. Carlisle could have secured its passage?"
+
+"From what I know and have heard of him, I have no doubt he could."
+
+"His love is not very generous," remarked Mrs. Caxton.
+
+"It never was, aunt Caxton. After I left London I had little hope of my
+bill. I am not disappointed."
+
+"My dear, are you weary to-night?"
+
+"No ma'am! not particularly."
+
+"I shall have to find some play-work for you to do. Your voice speaks
+something like weariness."
+
+"I do not feel it, aunt Caxton."
+
+"Eleanor, have you any regret for any part of your decision and action
+with respect to Mr. Carlisle?"
+
+"Never, aunt Caxton. How can you ask me?"
+
+"I did not know but you might feel weariness now at your long stay in
+Plassy and the prospect of a continued life here."
+
+Eleanor put down her work, came to Mrs. Caxton, kneeled down and put
+her arms about her; kissing her with kisses that certainly carried
+conviction with them.
+
+"It is the most wicked word I ever heard you say, aunt Caxton. I love
+Plassy beyond all places in the world, that I have ever been in. No
+part of my life has been so pleasant as the part spent here. If I am
+weary, I sometimes feel as if my life were singularly cut off from its
+natural duties and stranded somehow, all alone; but that is an
+unbelieving thought, and I do not give it harbour at all. I am very
+content--very happy."
+
+Mrs. Caxton brought her hand tenderly down the side of the smooth cheek
+before her, and her eyes grew somewhat misty. But that was a rare
+occurrence, and the exhibition of it immediately dismissed. She kissed
+Eleanor and returned to her ordinary manner.
+
+"Talking about stranded lives," she said; "to take another subject, you
+must forgive me for that one, dear--I think of Mr. Rhys very often."
+
+"His life is not stranded," said Eleanor; "it is under full sail."
+
+"He is alone, though."
+
+"I do not believe he feels alone, aunt Caxton."
+
+"I do not know," said Mrs. Caxton. "A man of a sensitive nature must
+feel, I should think, in his circumstances, that he has put an immense
+distance between himself and all whom he loves."
+
+"But I thought he had almost no family relations left?"
+
+"Did it never occur to you," said Mrs. Caxton, "when you used to see
+him here, that there was somebody, somewhere, who had a piece of his
+heart?"
+
+"No, ma'am,--never!" Eleanor said with some energy. "I never thought he
+seemed like it."
+
+"I did not know anything about it," Mrs. Caxton went on slowly, "until
+a little while before he went away--some time after you were here. Then
+I learned that it was the truth."
+
+Eleanor worked away very diligently and made no answer. Mrs. Caxton
+furtively watched her; Eleanor's head was bent down over her sewing;
+but when she raised it to change the position of her work, Mrs. Caxton
+saw a set of her lips that was not natural.
+
+"You never suspected anything of the kind?" she repeated.
+
+"No, ma'am--and it would take strong testimony to make me believe it."
+
+"Why so, pray?"
+
+"I should have thought--but it is no matter what I thought about it!"
+
+"Nay, if I ask you, it is matter. Why should it be hard to believe, of
+Mr. Rhys especially?"
+
+"Nothing; only--I should have thought, if he liked any one, a
+woman,--that she would have gone with him."
+
+"You forget where he was bound to go. Do you think many women would
+have chosen to go with him to such a home--perhaps for the remainder of
+their lives? I think many would have hesitated."
+
+"But _you_ forget for what he was going; and any woman whom he would
+have liked, would have liked his object too."
+
+"You think so," said Mrs. Caxton; "but I cannot wonder at his having
+doubted. There are a great many questions about going such a journey,
+my dear."
+
+"And did the lady refuse to go?" said Eleanor bending over her work and
+speaking huskily.
+
+"I do not think he ever asked her. I almost wish he had."
+
+"_Almost_, aunt Caxton? Why he may have done her the greatest wrong.
+She might like him without his knowing it; it was not fair to go
+without giving her the chance of saying what she would do."
+
+"Well, he is gone," said Mrs. Caxton; "and he went alone. I think men
+make mistakes sometimes."
+
+Eleanor sewed on nervously, with a more desperate haste than she knew,
+or than was in the least called for by the work in hand. Mrs. Caxton
+watched her, and turned away to the contemplation of the fire.
+
+"Did the thought ever occur to you, Eleanor," she went on very gravely,
+"that he fancied _you?_"
+
+Eleanor's glance up was even pitiful in its startled appeal.
+
+"No, ma'am, of course not!" she said hastily. "Except--O aunt Caxton,
+why do you ask me such a thing!"
+
+"_Except_,--my dear?"
+
+"Except a foolish fancy of an hour," said Eleanor in overwhelmed
+confusion. "One day, for a little time--aunt Caxton, how can you ask me
+such a thing?"
+
+"I had a little story to tell you, my dear; and I wanted to make sure
+that I should do no harm in telling it. What is there so dreadful in
+such a question?"
+
+But Eleanor only brushed away a hot tear from her flushed face and went
+on with her sewing. Or essayed to do it, for Mrs. Caxton thought her
+vision seemed to be not very clear.
+
+"What made you think so that time, Eleanor? and what is the matter, my
+dear?"
+
+"It hurts me, aunt Caxton, the question. You know we were friends, and
+I liked him very much, as I had reason; but I _never_ had cause to
+fancy that he thought anything of me--only once I fancied it without
+cause."
+
+"On what occasion, my love?"
+
+"It was only a little thing--a nothing--a chance word. I saw
+immediately that I was mistaken."
+
+"Did the thought displease you?"
+
+"Aunt Caxton, why should you bring up such a thing now?" said Eleanor
+in very great distress.
+
+"Did it displease you, Eleanor?"
+
+"No aunty"--said the girl; and her head dropped in her hands then.
+
+"My love," Mrs. Caxton said very tenderly, "I knew this before; I
+thought I did; but it was best to bring it out openly, for I could not
+else have executed my commission. I lave a message from Mr. Rhys to
+you, Eleanor."
+
+"A message to me?" said Eleanor without raising her head.
+
+"Yes. You were not mistaken."
+
+"In what?"
+
+Eleanor looked up; and amidst sorrow and shame and confusion, there was
+a light of fire, like the touch the summer sun gives to the mountain
+tops before he gets up. Mrs. Caxton looked at her flushed tearful face,
+and the hidden light in her eye; and her next words were as gentle as
+the very fall of the sunbeams themselves.
+
+"My love, it is true."
+
+"What, aunt Caxton?"
+
+"You were not mistaken."
+
+"In what, ma'am?"
+
+"In thinking what you thought that day, when something--a mere
+nothing--made you think that Mr. Rhys liked you."
+
+"But, aunty," said Eleanor, a scarlet flood refilling the cheeks which
+had partially faded,--"I had never the least reason to think so again."
+
+"That is Mr. Rhys's affair. But you may believe it now, for he told me;
+and I give it to you on his own testimony."
+
+It was curious to Mrs. Caxton to see Eleanor's face. She did not hide
+it; she turned it a little away from her aunt's fill view and sat very
+still, while the intense flush passed away and left only a nameless
+rosy glow, that almost reminded Mrs. Caxton of the perfume as well as
+of the colour of the flower it was likened to. There was a certain
+unfolding sweetness in Eleanor's face, that was most like the opening
+of a rosebud just getting into full blossom; but the lips, unbent into
+happy lines, were a little shame-faced, and would not open to speak a
+word or ask another question. So they both sat still; the younger and
+elder lady.
+
+"Do you want me to tell you any more, Eleanor?"
+
+"Why do you tell me this at all now, aunt Caxton?" Eleanor said very
+slowly and without stirring.
+
+"Mr. Rhys desired I should."
+
+"Why, aunt Caxton?"
+
+"Why do gentlemen generally desire such things to be made known to
+young ladies?"
+
+"But ma'am"--said Eleanor, the crimson starting again.
+
+"Well, my dear?"
+
+"There is the whole breadth of the earth between us."
+
+"Ships traverse it," said Mrs. Caxton coolly.
+
+"Do you mean that he is coming home?" said Eleanor. Her face was a
+study, for its changing lights; too quick, too mingled, too subtle in
+their expression, to be described. So it was at this instant. Half
+eager, and half shame-faced; an unmistakeable glow of delight, and yet
+something that was very like shrinking.
+
+"No, my love," Mrs. Caxton made answer--"I do not mean that. He would
+not leave his place and his work, even for you."
+
+"But then, ma'am--"
+
+"What all this signifies? you would ask. Are you sorry--do you feel any
+regret--that it should be made known to you?"
+
+"No, ma'am," said Eleanor low, and hanging her head.
+
+"What it signifies, I do not know. That depends upon the answer to a
+very practical question which I must now put to you. If Mr. Rhys were
+stationed in England and could tell you all this himself, what would
+you say to him in answer?"
+
+"I could give him but one, aunt Caxton," said Eleanor in the same
+manner.
+
+"And that would be a grant of his demand?"
+
+"You know it would, ma'am, without asking me."
+
+"Now we come to the question. He cannot leave his work to come to you.
+Is your regard for him enough to make you go to Fiji?"
+
+"Not without asking, aunt Caxton," Eleanor said, turning away.
+
+"Suppose he has asked you."
+
+"But dear aunt Caxton," Eleanor said in a troubled voice, "he never
+said one word to me of his liking for me, nor to draw out my feeling
+towards him."
+
+"Suppose he has said it."
+
+"How, ma'am? By word, or in writing?"
+
+"In writing."
+
+Eleanor was silent a little, with her head turned away; then she said
+in a subdued way, "May I have it, aunt Caxton?"
+
+"My dear, I was not to give them to you except I found that you were
+favourably disposed towards the object of them. If you ask me for them
+again, it must be upon that understanding."
+
+"Will you please to give them to me, aunt Caxton," Eleanor said in the
+same subdued tone.
+
+Mrs. Caxton rose and went to a secretary in the room for one or two
+papers, which she brought and put in Eleanor's hand. Then folding her
+arms round her, stooped down and kissed the turned-away face. Eleanor
+rose up to meet the embrace, and they held each other fast for a little
+while, neither in any condition to speak.
+
+"The Lord bless you, my child!" said Mrs. Caxton as she released her.
+"You must make these letters a matter of prayer. And take care that you
+do the Lord's will in this business--not your own."
+
+"Aunt Caxton," said Eleanor presently, "why was this not told me long
+ago--before Mr. Rhys went away?" She spoke the words with difficulty.
+
+"It is too long a story to tell to-night," Mrs. Caxton said after
+hesitating. "He was entirely ignorant of what your feeling might be
+towards him--ignorant too how far you might be willing to do and dare
+for Christ's sake--and doubtful how far the world and Mr. Carlisle
+might be able to prevail with you if they had a fair chance. He could
+not risk taking a wife to Fiji who had not fairly counted the cost."
+
+"He was so doubtful of me, and yet liked me?" said Eleanor.
+
+"My love, there is no accounting for these things," Mrs. Caxton said
+with a smile.
+
+"And he left these with you to give to me?"
+
+"One was left--the other was sent. One comes from Fiji. I will tell you
+about them to-morrow. It is too long a story for to-night; and you have
+quite enough to think about already. My dear Eleanor!"
+
+They parted without more words, only with another speaking embrace,
+more expressive than words; and without looking at the other each went
+to her own room. Eleanor's was cosy and bright in winter as well as in
+summer; a fire of the peculiar fuel used in the region of the
+neighbourhood, made of cakes of coal and sand, glowed in the grate, and
+the whole colouring of the drapery and the furniture was of that warm
+rich cast which comforts the eye and not a little disposes the mind to
+be comfortable in conformity. The only wood fire used in the house was
+the one in the sitting parlour. Before her grate-full of glowing coals
+Eleanor sat down; and looked at the two letters she held in her hand.
+Looked at the handwriting too, with curious scrutiny, before she
+ventured to open and read either paper. Wondered too, with an odd side
+thought, why her fingers should tremble so in handling these, when no
+letter of Mr. Carlisle's writing had ever reminded her that her fingers
+had nerves belonging to them. One was a little letter, which Mrs.
+Caxton had told her was the first to be read; it was addressed, "In the
+hand of Mrs. Caxton, for Miss Eleanor Powle." That note Eleanor's
+little fingers opened with as slight tearing of the paper as might be.
+It was in few words indeed.
+
+
+"Although I know that these lines will never meet the eye of her for
+whom they are written, unless she be favourably inclined both to them
+and to me; yet in the extreme doubt which possesses me whether that
+condition will be ever fulfilled, and consequently whether I am not
+writing what no one will ever read, I find it very difficult to say
+anything. Something charges me with foolhardiness, and something with
+presumption; but there is a something else, which is stronger, that
+overthrows the charges and bids me go on.
+
+"If you ever see these lines, dear Eleanor, you will know already what
+they have to tell you; but it is fit you should have it in my own
+words; that--not the first place in my heart--but the second--is yours;
+and yours without any rivalry. There is one thing dearer to me than
+you--it is my King and his service; after that, you have all the rest.
+
+"What is it worth to you? anything? and what will you say to me in
+reply?
+
+"When you read this I shall be at a distance--before I can read your
+answer I shall be at the other side of the globe. I am not writing to
+gratify a vague sentiment, but with a definite purpose--and even,
+though it mocks me, a definite hope. It is much to ask--I hardly dare
+put it in words--it is hardly possible--that you should come to me. But
+if you are ready to do and venture anything in the service of
+Christ--and if you are willing to share a life that is wholly given to
+God to be spent where and how he pleases, and that is to take up its
+portion for the present, and probably for long, in the depths of South
+Sea barbarism--let your own heart tell you what welcome you will
+receive.
+
+"I can say no more. May my Lord bless and keep you. May you know the
+fulness of joy that Jesus can give his beloved. May you want nothing
+that is good for you.
+
+"R. Rhys."
+
+
+The other letter was longer. It was dated "Island Vulanga, in the South
+Seas, March, 18--,
+
+
+"My dear Eleanor--
+
+"I do not know what presumption moves me to address you again, and from
+this far-away place. I say to myself that it is presumption; and yet I
+yield to the impulse. Perhaps it is partly the wish to enjoy once at
+least even this fancied communion with you, before some news comes
+which may shut me off from it for ever. But I yield to the temptation.
+I feel very far from you to-day; the tops of the bread-fruit trees that
+I see from my window, the banana tree with its bunches of fruit and
+broad bright leaves just before my door--this very hot north wind that
+is blowing and making it so difficult to do anything and almost to
+breathe--all remind me that I am in another land, and by the very force
+of contrast, the fresh Welsh mountains, the green meadows, the cool
+sweet air of Plassy--and your face--come before me. Your face, most of
+all. My mind can think of nothing it would be so refreshing to see. I
+will write what I please; for you will never read it if the reading
+would be impertinent; and something tells me you _will_ read it.
+
+"This is one of the hot months, when exertion is at times very
+difficult. The heat is oppressive and takes away strength and
+endurance. But it is for my Master. That thought cures all. To be weary
+for Christ, is not to be weary; it is better than any delights without
+him. So each day is a boon; and each day that I have been able to fill
+up well with work for God, I rejoice and give thanks. There is no limit
+here to the work to be done; it presses upon us at all points. We
+cannot teach all that ask for teaching; we can hardly attend to the
+calls of the sick; hundreds and hundreds stand stretching out their
+hands to us with the prayer that we would come and tell them about
+religion, and we cannot go! Our hands are already full; our hearts
+break for the multitudes who want the truth, to whom we cannot give it.
+We wish that every talent we have were multiplied. We wish that we
+could work all night as well as all day. Above all _I_ want to be more
+like my Lord. When I am all Christ's, _then_ I shall be to the praise
+of his glory, who called me out of darkness into his marvellous light.
+I want to be altogether holy; then I shall be quite happy and useful,
+and there is no other way. Are you satisfied with less, Eleanor? If you
+are, you are satisfied with less than satisfies Christ. Find out where
+you stand. Remember, it is as true for you as it was for Paul to say,
+'Through Christ I can do all things.'
+
+"There are a few native Christians here who are earnestly striving to
+be holy. But around them all is darkness--blacker than you can even
+conceive. Where the Sun of righteousness has shined, there the golden
+beams of Fiji's morning lie; it is a bright spot here and there; but
+our eyes long for the day. We know and believe it is coming. But when?
+I understand out here the meaning of that recommendation--'Pray ye
+therefore the Lord of the harvest, that he would send forth labourers
+into the harvest.' You can hardly understand it in England. Do you pray
+that prayer, Eleanor?
+
+"Before I left England I wrote you a note. Amid the exquisite pleasure
+and pain of which lurked a hope--without which it would not have been
+written, but which I now see to have been very visionary. It is
+possible that circumstances may be so that the note may have been read
+by you; in that case Mrs. Caxton will give you this; but at the
+distance of space and time that intervenes now, and with cooler
+thoughts and better knowledge, I feel it to be scarcely possible that
+you should comply with the request I was daring enough to make to you.
+I do not expect it. I have ceased to allow myself to hope for it. I
+think I was unreasonable to ask--and I will never think you
+unreasonable for refusing--so extravagant a demand. Even if you were
+willing, your friends would not allow it. And I would not disguise from
+you that the difficulties and dangers to be met in coming here, are
+more and greater than can possibly have been represented to you.
+Humanly speaking, that is; I have myself no fear, and never have felt
+any. But the evils that surround us--that come to our knowledge and
+under our very eyes--are real and tangible and dreadful. So much the
+more reason for our being here;--but so much the less likely that you,
+gently reared and delicately cared for, will be allowed to risk your
+delicate nurture in this land of savages. There is cannibalism here,
+and to the most dreadful extent; there is all the defilement of life
+and manners that must be where human beings have no respect for
+humanity; and all this must come more or less under the immediate
+knowledge and notice of those that live here. The Lord God is a sun and
+shield; we dwell in him and not in the darkness; nevertheless our eyes
+see what our hearts grieve over. I could not shield you from it
+entirely were you here; you would have to endure what in England you
+could not endure. There are minor trials many and often to be
+encountered; some of which you will have learned from other letters of
+the mission.
+
+"The heathen around us are not to be trusted, and will occasionally lay
+their hands upon something we need very much, and carry it off. Not
+long ago the house of Mr. Thomas, on a neighbouring station, was
+entered at night and robbed of almost all the wearing apparel it
+contained. The entrance was effected silently, by cutting into the thin
+reed and grass wall of the house; and nobody knew anything of the
+matter till next morning. Then the signs shewed that the depredators
+had been prepared to commit violence if resisted. I do not know--but I
+am inclined to think such a thing would not happen in my house. I have
+been enabled to gain the good will of the people very generally, by
+kindness to the sick, &c.; and two or three of the most powerful chiefs
+in this vicinity have declared themselves each formally my 'friend'--a
+title of honour which I scrupulously give and take with them.
+Nevertheless they are not to be relied upon. What of that? The eternal
+God is our refuge! After all I come back into feeling how safe we are,
+rather than how exposed.
+
+"Yet all I have told you is true, and much more. Let no one come here
+who does not love Christ well enough to suffer the loss of all things
+for his sake, if necessary; for it may be demanded of him. He wants the
+helmet of salvation on his head; but with that, it does not matter
+where we are--glory to the Captain of our salvation! Fiji is very near
+heaven, Eleanor; nearer than England; and if I dared, I would say, I
+wish you were here;--but I do not dare. I do not know what is best. I
+leave you to your own judgment of what you ought to do, and to that
+better direction which will tell you. For me, I know that I shall not
+want; not so but that I can find my supply; and soon I shall be where I
+shall not want at all. Meanwhile every day is a glad day to me, for it
+is given to my Lord; and Jesus is with me. The people hear the word
+gladly, and with some fruit of it continually our hearts are cheered. I
+would not be anywhere else than I am. My choice would be, if I had my
+choice, to live and die in Fiji.
+
+"I dare not trust myself to say the thoughts that come surging up for
+utterance; it is wiser not. If my first note to you was presumptuous,
+this at least is the writing of a calmer and wiser man. I have resigned
+the expectations of a moment. But it is no harm for me to say I love
+you as well as ever; _that_ I shall do, I think, till I die; although I
+shall never see you again, and dare not promise myself I shall ever
+again write to you. It may be it will be best not, even as a friend, to
+do that. Perhaps as a friend I could not. It is not as a friend, that I
+sign myself now,
+
+"Rowland Rhys."
+
+
+Poor Eleanor! She was of all people in the world the least given to be
+sentimental or soft-hearted in a foolish way; but strong as she was,
+there was something in these letters--or some mixture of things--that
+entered her heart like an arrow through the joints of an armour, and
+found her as defenceless. Tears came with that resistless, ceaseless,
+measureless flow, as when the secret nerve of tenderness has been
+reached, and every barrier of pride or self-consideration is broken
+down or passed over. So keen the touch was to Eleanor, that weeping
+could not quiet it. After all it was only a heavy summer shower--not a
+winter storm. Eleanor hushed her sobs at last to begin her prayers; and
+there the rest of the night left her. The morning was dawning grey in
+the east, when she threw herself upon her bed for an hour's sleep.
+Sleep came then without waiting.
+
+Perhaps Mrs. Caxton had not been much more reposeful than her niece;
+for she was not the first one down stairs. Eleanor was there before
+her; Mrs. Caxton watched her as she came in; she was ceremoniously
+putting the fire in best burning condition, and brushing up the ashes
+from the hearth. As Mrs. Caxton came near, Eleanor looked up and a
+silent greeting passed between them; very affectionate, but silent
+evidently of purpose. Neither of them was ready to speak. The bell was
+rung, the servants were gathered; and immediately after prayers
+breakfast was brought in. It was a silent meal for the first half of
+it. Mrs. Caxton still watched Eleanor, whose eyes did not readily meet
+hers. What about her? Her manner was as usual, one would have said, yet
+it was not; nor was she. A little delicate undefined difference made
+itself felt; and that Mrs. Caxton was studying. A little added grace; a
+little added deftness and alacrity; Mrs. Caxton had seen it in that
+order taken of the fire before breakfast; she saw it and read it then.
+And in Eleanor's face correspondingly there was the same difference;
+impossible to tell where it lay, it was equally impossible not to
+perceive it. Though her face was grave enough, there was a beauty in
+the lines of it that yesterday had not seen; a nameless witness in the
+corners of her mouth, that told tales the tongue would not. Mrs. Caxton
+looked on and saw it and read it, for half the breakfast time, before
+she spoke. Maybe she had a secret sigh or two to cover; but at any rate
+there was nothing like that in her look or her voice when she spoke.
+
+"So you will go, Eleanor!"
+
+Eleanor started, and coloured; then looked down at her plate, the blush
+growing universal.
+
+"Have you decided, my love?"
+
+Eleanor leaned her head upon her hand, as if with the question came the
+remembrance of last night's burden of thoughts; but her answer was a
+quiet low "yes."
+
+"May I know--for I feel myself responsible to a degree in this
+matter,--may I know, on what ground?"
+
+Eleanor's look was worth five hundred pounds. The little glance of
+surprise and consciousness--the flash of hidden light, there was no
+need to ask from what magazine, answered so completely, so
+involuntarily. She cast down her eyes immediately and answered in words
+sedate enough--
+
+"Because I am unable to come to any other decision, ma'am."
+
+"But Eleanor, my dear," said Mrs. Caxton,--"do you know, Mr. Rhys
+himself would be unwilling you should come to him for his own sake
+alone--in Fiji."
+
+Eleanor turned away from the table at that and covered her face with
+her hands; a perfect rush of confusion bringing over face and neck and
+almost even over the little white fingers, a suffusing crimson glow.
+She spoke presently.
+
+"I cannot say anything to that, aunt Caxton. I have tried myself as
+well as I can. I think I would go anywhere and do anything where I saw
+clearly my work and my place were put for me. I do not know anything
+more about it."
+
+"My love, that is enough. I believe you. I entirely approve your
+decision. I spoke, because I needed to ask the question _he_ would have
+asked if he had been here. Mr. Rhys has written to me very stringently
+on the subject."
+
+"So he has to me, ma'am."
+
+"If you have settled that question with your conscience, my dear, there
+is no more necessary to be said about it. Conscience should be clear on
+that point, and the question settled securely. If it is not, you had
+better take time for thought and self-searching."
+
+"I do not need it, aunt Caxton."
+
+Mrs. Caxton left her place and came round to Eleanor, for the sole
+purpose of taking her in her arms and kissing her. Grave, earnest
+kisses, on brow and cheek, speaking a heart full of sympathy, full of
+tenderness, full of appreciation of all that this decision of Eleanor's
+involved, full of satisfaction with it too. A very unusual sort of
+demonstration from Mrs. Caxton, as was the occasion that called for it.
+Eleanor received it as the seal of the whole business between them. Her
+aunt's arms detained her lovingly while she pressed her lips to every
+part of Eleanor's face; then Mrs. Caxton went back to her place and
+poured herself out another cup of coffee. Sentiment she had plenty; she
+was not in the least bit sentimental. She creamed her coffee
+thoughtfully and broke bread and eat it, before she came out with
+another question.
+
+"When will you go, Eleanor?"
+
+Eleanor looked up doubtfully. "Where, aunt Caxton?"
+
+"To Fiji."
+
+There seemed to be some irresolution or uncertainty in the girl's mind;
+for she hesitated.
+
+"Aunt Caxton, I doubt much--my mother will oppose my going."
+
+"I think she will. But I think also that her opposition can be
+overcome. When will you write to her?"
+
+"I will write to-day, ma'am."
+
+"We must have an answer before we send any other letters. Supposing she
+does not oppose, or that her opposition is set aside, I come back to my
+question. When will you go?"
+
+Eleanor looked up doubtfully again. "I don't know, ma'am--I suppose
+opportunities of going only occur now and then."
+
+"That is all--with long intervals sometimes. Opportunities for _your_
+going would come only rarely. You must think about it, Eleanor; for we
+must know what we are to tell Mr. Rhys."
+
+Eleanor was silent; her colour went and came.
+
+"You must think about it, my dear. If you write to Mr. Rhys to-day and
+send it, we may get an answer from him possibly in twenty
+months--possibly in twenty-four months. Then if you wait four or five
+months for an opportunity to make the voyage, and have a reasonably
+good passage, you may see your friend in three years from now. But it
+might well happen that letters might be delayed, and that you might
+wait much longer than four or five months for a ship and company in
+which you could sail; so that the three years might be nearer four."
+
+"I have thought of all that, aunt Caxton," Eleanor said, while the
+colour which had been varying in her cheeks fixed itself in two deep
+crimson spots.
+
+Mrs. Caxton was now silent on her part, slowly finishing her coffee and
+putting the cups together on the tray. She left it for her niece to
+speak next.
+
+"I have thought of all that, aunt Caxton," Eleanor repeated after a
+little while,--"and--"
+
+"Well my love?"
+
+"Aunt Caxton," said the girl, looking up now while her cheeks and brow
+were all one crimson flush--"is it unmaidenly in me--would it be--to go
+so, without being asked?"
+
+"Has he not asked you?"
+
+"Yes ma'am. But--"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Not since he got there."
+
+"Have you reason to think his mind is altered on the subject?"
+
+"No, ma'am," said Eleanor, drooping her head.
+
+"What does your own feeling bid you do, my love?"
+
+"I have thought it all over, aunt Caxton," said the girl slowly,--"I
+did that last night; I have thought of everything about it; and my
+feeling was--"
+
+"Well, my love?"
+
+"My feeling, as far as I am concerned--was to take the first good
+opportunity that offered."
+
+"My love, that is just what I thought you would do. And what I would
+have you do, if you go at all. It is not unmaidenly. Simple honest
+frankness, is the most maidenly thing in the world, when it is a
+woman's time to speak. The fact that your speaking must be action does
+not alter the matter. When it takes two years for people to hear from
+each other, life would very soon be spent in the asking of a few
+questions and getting the answers to them. I am a disinterested
+witness, Eleanor; for when you are gone, all I care for in this world
+is gone. You are my own child to me now."
+
+Eleanor's head bent lower.
+
+"But I am glad to have you go, nevertheless, my child. I think Mr. Rhys
+wants you even more than I do; and I have known for some time that you
+wanted something. And besides--I shall only be separated from you in
+body."
+
+Eleanor made no response.
+
+"What are you going to do now?" was Mrs. Caxton's question in her usual
+calm tone.
+
+"Write to mamma."
+
+"Very well. Do not send your letter to her without letting mine go with
+it."
+
+"But aunt Caxton," said Eleanor lifting up her head,--"my only fear
+is--I am quite satisfied in my own mind, and I do not care for
+people--my only fear is, lest Mr. Rhys himself should think I come too
+easily. You know, he is fastidious in his notions." She spoke with
+great difficulty and with her face a flame.
+
+"Your fear will go away when you have heard my story," said Mrs. Caxton
+tranquilly. "I will give you that to-night. He is fastidious; but he is
+a sensible man."
+
+Quieted with which suggestion, Eleanor went off to her desk.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+IN CHANGES.
+
+
+  "But never light and shade
+  Coursed one another more on open ground,
+  Beneath a troubled heaven, than red and pale
+  Across the face of Enid hearing her."
+
+
+Various letters were written that day. In the evening the two ladies
+came together again cheerfully. The time between had not all been spent
+in letter-writing, for the world does not stand still for love matters.
+Eleanor had been out the whole afternoon on visits of kindness and help
+to sick and poor people. Mrs. Caxton had been obliged to attend to the
+less interesting company of one or two cheese-factors. At the tea-table
+the subject of the morning came back.
+
+"You posted your letter and mine, Eleanor?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am. But I cannot think mamma's answer will be favourable. I
+cannot fancy it."
+
+"Well, we shall see. The world is a curious world; and the wind does
+not always blow from the quarter whence we expect it. We must wait and
+pray."
+
+"I am puzzled to imagine, aunt Caxton," Eleanor said after some pause,
+"how you came to know all about this matter in the first place. How
+came you to know what I never knew?"
+
+"That is my story," said Mrs. Caxton. "We will let the table be cleared
+first, my dear."
+
+So it was done. But Eleanor left her work by her side to-night, and
+looked into her aunt's face to listen.
+
+"I never should have known about it, child, till you had, if you had
+been here. You remember how you went away in a hurry. Who knows?
+Perhaps, but for that, none of us would have been any wiser to-day on
+the subject than we were then. It is very possible."
+
+"How, ma'am?"
+
+"You disappeared, you know, in one night, and were gone. When Mr. Rhys
+came home, the next day or the same day, I saw that he was very much
+disappointed. That roused my suspicions of him; they had been only
+doubtful before. He is not a person to shew what he thinks, unless he
+chooses."
+
+"So I knew; that made me surprised."
+
+"I saw that he was very much disappointed, and looked very sober; but
+he said hardly anything about it, and I was forced to be silent. Then
+in a little while--a few weeks, I think--he received his appointment,
+with the news that he must sail very soon. He had to leave Plassy then
+in a very few days; for he wanted some time in London and elsewhere. I
+saw there was something more than leaving Plassy, upon his mind; he was
+graver than that could make him, I knew; and he was giving up something
+more than England, I knew by is prayers.
+
+"One night we were sitting here by the fire--it was a remarkably chill
+evening and we had kindled a blaze in he chimney and shut the windows.
+Mr. Rhys sat silent, watching the fire and keeping up the blaze; too
+busy with his own thoughts to talk to me. I was taken with a spirit of
+meddling which does not very often possess me; and asked him how much
+longer he had to stay. He said how long, in so many words; they were
+short, as pain makes words.
+
+"'How comes it,' I asked, plunging into the matter, 'that you do not
+take a wife with you? like everybody else.'
+
+"He answered, in dry phrases, 'that it would be presumption in him to
+suppose that anybody would go with him, if he were to ask.'
+
+"I said quietly, I thought he was mistaken; that anybody who was worthy
+of him would go; and it could not be _presumption_ to ask anybody else.
+
+"'You do not realize, Mrs. Caxton, how much it would be asking of any
+one,' he said; 'you do not know what sacrifices it would call for.'
+
+"'Love does not care for sacrifices,' I reminded him.
+
+"'I have no right to suppose that anybody has such a degree of regard
+for me,' he said.
+
+"I can't tell what in his manner and words told me there was more
+behind. They were a little short and dry; and his ordinary way of
+speaking is short sometimes, but never with a sort of edge like this--a
+hard edge. You know it is as frank and simple when he speaks short as
+when his words come out in the gentlest way. It hurt me, for I saw that
+something hurt him.
+
+"I asked if there was not anybody in England good enough for him? He
+said there were a great many too good.
+
+"'Mr. Rhys,' said I,--I don't know what possessed me to be so bold,--'I
+hope you are not going to leave your heart behind with somebody, when
+you go to Fiji?'
+
+"He got up and walked once or twice through the room, went out and
+presently came back again. I was afraid I had offended him, and I was a
+good deal troubled; but I did not know what to say. He sat down again
+and spoke first.
+
+"'Mrs. Caxton,' said he, 'since you have probed the truth, I may as
+well confess it. I am going to do the unwise thing you have mentioned.'
+
+"'Who are you going to leave your heart with, Mr. Rhys?' I asked.
+
+"'With the lady who has just left you.'
+
+"'Eleanor?'
+
+"'Yes,' he said.
+
+"'Have you told her, Mr. Rhys?' I asked.
+
+"He said no.
+
+"'You are not going to do her the injustice to go and _not_ speak to
+her?'
+
+"'Why should I tell her?' he said.
+
+"'There might be several answers given to that,' I said; 'but the best
+one at present seems to be, why should you _not?_'
+
+"'For several reasons,' he said. 'In the first place I do not know at
+all whether Miss Powle has that degree of love to Christ that she would
+be willing to forsake all her earthly prospects--home and friends--for
+hard work in his service. In the second place, even if she have that, I
+have not the slightest reason to believe that she--that she cares
+enough for me to go with me at my asking.'
+
+"'And do you mean to go in ignorance?' I said.
+
+"'Yes--I must.'
+
+"I waited a little, and then I told him I thought he was wrong.
+
+"'Why?' he asked quickly.
+
+"'People cannot see each other's hearts,' I said. 'Suppose that she
+have the same secret feeling towards you that you have towards her. She
+cannot speak; you will not; and so both would be unhappy for nothing.
+
+"'I never saw the least thing like it,' he said.
+
+"'I suppose she might say the same of you--might she not?'
+
+"'Yes and with truth; for knowing the uncertainties--or rather the
+certainties--of my position, I have not given her the least cause.'
+
+"'You could hardly expect demonstrations from her in that case,' I said.
+
+"'There is no chance, Mrs. Caxton, even if it were according to your
+supposition. Her friends would never permit her to marry a man with my
+lot in life;--and I do not know that I ought to ask her, even if they
+would. She has a very fair prospect for this world's happiness.'
+
+"'What do you think of your own lot in life?' I asked him.
+
+"'I would not exchange it, you know,' he said, 'for any other the world
+could offer me. It is brighter and better.'
+
+"'It strikes me you are selfish,--' I told him.
+
+"He laughed a little, for the first time; but he grew as grave as
+possible immediately after.
+
+"'I have not meant to be selfish,' he said; 'But I could not take a
+woman to Fiji, who had not thoroughly considered the matter and counted
+the cost. That could not be done in a little while. The world has a
+fair chance now to see if it can weaken Miss Powle's principles or
+overcome her faithfulness to them. It is better that she should try
+herself perhaps, before having such a question asked of her.'
+
+"'And suppose she comes clear out of the trial?' I said.
+
+"'Then I shall be in Fiji.'
+
+"We were both silent a while. He began then.
+
+"'Mrs. Caxton, without invading any confidences or seeking to know
+anything that should not be known,--may I ask you a question?'
+
+"'Certainly,' I said. 'I reserve the discretion of answering.'
+
+"'Of course. Your words look like a rebuke of the attitude I have taken
+towards this subject. Is it proper for me to ask, whether you have any
+foundation for them beyond your general knowledge of human nature and
+your good will towards me? I mean--whether you, as a friend, see any
+ground of hope for me?'
+
+"'If you were going to stay in England,' I said, 'I would answer no
+such question. Every man must make his own observations and run his own
+risk. But these circumstances are different. And appealed to as a
+friend--and answering on my own observations simply--I should say, that
+I think your case not hopeless.'
+
+"I could see the colour rise in his cheek; but he sat quite still and
+did not speak, till it faded again.
+
+"'I have never heard a word on the subject,' I told him. 'I do not say
+I am certain of anything. I may mistake. Only, seeing you are going to
+the other end of the world, without the chance of finding out anything
+for yourself, I think it fair to tell you what, as a woman, I should
+judge of the case.'
+
+"'Why do you tell me?' he said quickly.
+
+"'I am but answering your question. You must judge whether the answer
+is worth anything.'
+
+"He half laughed again, at himself; at least I could see the beginning
+of a smile; but he was too terribly in earnest to be anything but
+serious. He sat silent; got up and fidgetted round the room; then came
+and stood by the chimney piece looking down at me.
+
+"'Mrs. Caxton,' he said, 'I am going to venture to ask something from
+you--to fulfil a contingent commission. When I am gone, if Miss Powle
+returns to you, or when you have otherwise opportunity,--will you, if
+you can, find out the truth of her feeling on these subjects, which I
+have failed to find out? You tempt me beyond my power of
+self-abnegation.'
+
+"'What shall I do with the truth, if I find it, Mr. Rhys?'
+
+"'In that case,' he said,--'if it is as you suppose it possible it may
+be, though I dare not and do not hope it;--if it be so, then you may
+tell her all I have confessed to you to-night.'
+
+"'Why?'
+
+"'You are uncommonly practical to-night,' he said. 'I could have but
+one motive in discovering it to her.'
+
+"'To ask her to follow you to Fiji?'
+
+"'I dare not put it in words. I do not believe the chance will ever
+come. But I am unable to go and leave the chance changed into an
+impossibility.'
+
+"'We are talking of what _may_ be,' I said. 'But you do not suppose
+that she could follow you on my report of your words alone?'
+
+"'I shall be too far off to speak them myself.'
+
+"'You can write then,' I said.
+
+"'Do you remember what the distances are, and the intervals of time
+that must pass between letter and letter? When should I write?'
+
+"'Now--this evening. I am not thinking of such courtship as took place
+in the antediluvian days.'
+
+"'I cannot write on such an utter uncertainty. I have not hope enough;
+although I cannot bear to leave the country without enlisting you to
+act for me.'
+
+"'I shall reconsider the question of acting,' I said, 'if I have no
+credentials to produce. I cannot undertake to tell anything to Eleanor
+merely to give her pleasure--or merely to give her pain.'
+
+"'Would you have me write to her here--now?' he asked.
+
+"'Yes, I would,' I told him.
+
+"He sat pondering the matter a little while, making up the fire as you
+did this morning--only with a very different face; and then with a half
+laugh he said I was making a fool of him, and he went off. I sat
+still--and in a few minutes he came down and handed me that note for
+you."
+
+Eleanor's cheeks would have rivalled the scarlet Lobelia or Indian
+Mallow, or anything else that is brilliant. She kept profound silence.
+It was plain enough what Mr. Rhys expected her to do--that is,
+supposing he had any expectations. Now her question was, what would her
+mother say? And Eleanor in her secret heart looked at the probability
+of obstinate opposition in that quarter; and then of long, long waiting
+and delay; perhaps never to be ended but with the time and the power of
+doing what now her heart longed to do. The more she thought of it, the
+less she could imagine that her mother would yield her consent; or that
+her opposition would be anything but determined and unqualified. Then
+what could she do? Eleanor sighed.
+
+"No," said Mrs. Caxton. "Have patience, my dear, and believe that all
+will go right--_however it goes_, Eleanor. We will do our part; but we
+must be content with our part. There is another part, which is the
+Lord's; let him do that, and let us say it is well, Eleanor. Till we
+have learnt that, we have not learnt our lesson."
+
+"I do say it, and will, aunt Caxton," said the girl. But she said
+nothing more that night.
+
+To tell the truth, they were rather silent days that followed. Mrs.
+Powle's letters of answer did not come speedily; indeed no one knew at
+Plassy just where she might be at this time, nor how far the Plassy
+letters might have to travel in order to reach her; for communication
+was not frequent between the two families. And till her answer came,
+Eleanor could not forget that the question of her life was undecided;
+nor Mrs. Caxton, that the decision might take away from her, probably
+for ever, the only living thing that was very dear to her. That was
+Eleanor now. They were very affectionate to each other those days, very
+tender and thoughtful for each other; not given to much talking.
+Eleanor was a good deal out of the house; partly busy with her errands
+of kindness, partly stilling her troublesome and impatient thoughts
+with long roamings on foot or on horseback over the mountains and moors.
+
+"The spring has come, aunt Caxton," she said, coming in herself one
+day, fresh enough to be spring's impersonation. "I heard a blackbird
+and a wheat-ear; and I have found a violet for you."
+
+"You must have heard blackbirds before. And you have got more than
+violets there."
+
+"Yes, ma'am--not much. I found the Nepeta and the ivy-leaved Veronica
+under the hedge; and whitlow grass near the old tower. That's the
+willow catkin you know of course--and sloe. That's all--but it's
+spring."
+
+A shade came over the faces of both. Where might another spring find
+her.
+
+"I have got something more for you," said Mrs. Caxton.
+
+"My letter, ma'am!--Had you one, aunt Caxton?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+Eleanor could not tell from her aunt's answer what the letter might be.
+She went off with her own, having parted suddenly with all the colour
+she had brought in with her. It returned again however soon.
+
+Mrs. Powle declared that according to all _her_ experience and power of
+judging of the world, her daughter and her sister Mrs. Caxton were both
+entirely crazy. She had never, in her life, heard of anything so
+utterly absurd and ridiculous as the proposition upon which they had
+required her to give an opinion. Her opinion found no words in the
+English language strong enough in which to give it. That Eleanor should
+be willing to forego every earthly prospect of good or pleasure, was
+like Eleanor; that is, it was like the present Eleanor; an entirely
+infatuated, blind, fanatical, unreasonable thing. Mrs. Powle had given
+up the expectation of anything wiser or better from her, until years
+and the consequences of her folly should have taught her when it would
+be too late. Why Eleanor, if she wished to throw herself away, should
+pitch upon the South Seas for the place of her retirement, was a piece
+of the same mysterious fatuity which marked the whole proceeding. Why
+she could think of no pleasanter wedding journey than a voyage of
+twelve thousand miles in search of a husband, was but another
+incomprehensible point. Mrs. Powle had a curiosity to know what Eleanor
+expected to live upon out there, where she presumed the natives
+practised no agriculture and wheaten flour was a luxury unknown? And
+what she expected to _do?_ However, having thus given her opinion, Mrs.
+Powle went on to say, that she must quite decline to give it. She
+regarded Eleanor as entirely the child of her aunt Caxton, as she
+understood was also Mrs. Caxton's own view; most justly, in Mrs.
+Powle's opinion, since conversion and adoption to Mrs. Caxton's own
+family and mind must be amply sufficient to supersede the accident of
+birth. At any rate, Mrs. Powle claimed no jurisdiction in the matter;
+did not choose to exercise any. She felt herself incompetent. One
+daughter she had still remaining, whom she hoped to keep her own,
+guarding her against the influences which had made so wide a separation
+between her eldest and the family and sphere to which she belonged.
+Julia, she hoped, would one day do her honour. As for the islands of
+the South Seas, or the peculiar views and habits of life entertained by
+those white people who chose them for their residence, Mrs. Powle
+declared she was incapable from very ignorance of understanding or
+giving judgment about them. She made the whole question, together with
+her daughter, over to her sister Mrs. Caxton, who she did not doubt
+would do wisely according to her notions. But as they were not the
+notions of the world generally, they were quite incomprehensible to the
+writer, and in a sphere entirely beyond and without her cognizance. She
+hoped Eleanor would be happy--if it were not absurd to hope an
+impossibility.
+
+But on one point the letter was clear, if on no other. Eleanor should
+not come home. She had ruined her own prospects; Mrs. Powle could not
+help that; she should not ruin Julia's. Whether she stayed in England
+or whether she went on her fool's voyage, _this_ was a certain thing.
+She should not see Julia, to infect her. Mrs. Powle desired to be
+informed of Eleanor's movements; that if she went she herself might
+meet her in London before she sailed. But she would not let her see
+Julia either then or at any time.
+
+This cruel letter broke Eleanor down completely. It settled the
+question of her life indeed; and settled it according to her wish and
+against her fears; but for all that, it was a letter of banishment and
+renunciation. With something of the feeling which makes a wounded
+creature run to shelter, Eleanor gathered up her papers and went down
+to Mrs. Caxton; threw them into her lap, and kneeling beside her put
+herself in her arms.
+
+"What is it, my child?" said Mrs. Caxton. "What does your mother say to
+you?"
+
+"She gives her consent--but she gives me up to you, aunt Caxton. She
+counts me your child and not hers."
+
+"My love, I asked her to do so. You have been mine, in my own mind, for
+a long time past. My Eleanor!"--And Mrs. Caxton's kiss and her warm
+clasping arms spoke more than her words.
+
+"But she renounces me--and she will not let me see Julia."--Eleanor was
+in very great distress.
+
+"She will by and by. She will not hold to that."
+
+"She says she will not at all. O aunt Caxton, I want to see Julia
+again!"--
+
+"Were you faithful to Julia while you were with her?"
+
+"Yes--I think so--while I could. I had hardly any chance the last
+winter I was at home; we were never together; but I seized what I
+could."
+
+"Your mother kept you apart?"
+
+"I believe so."
+
+"My child, remember, as one day is with the Lord as a thousand years,
+so one word is as a thousand words; he can make it do his work. All we
+have to do is to be faithful, and then trust. You recollect the words
+of that grand hymn on the Will of God--
+
+  "'I do the little I can do,
+  And leave the rest to thee.'
+
+
+"I don't think I know it."
+
+Mrs. Caxton went on.
+
+
+  "'When obstacles and trials seem
+  Like prison walls to be,
+  I do the little I can do,
+  And leave the rest to thee.
+
+  "'I know not what it is to doubt;
+  My heart is ever gay;
+  I run no risk, for, come what will,
+  Thou always hast thy way.
+
+  "'I have no cares, O blessed will!
+  For all my cares are thine.
+  I live in triumph, Lord, for thou
+  Hast made thy triumphs mine.'"
+
+
+Eleanor lifted up her face and pressed a long kiss on her aunt's lips.
+"But I want to see Julia!"
+
+"My love, I think you will. It will be some time yet before you can
+possibly leave England. I think your mother will withdraw her
+prohibition before that time. Meanwhile--"
+
+Eleanor lay with her head on Mrs. Caxton's bosom, her brown eyes
+looking out with a sweet and sorrowful wistfulness towards the light.
+Mrs. Caxton read them.
+
+"This gift would be very precious to me, my child," she said,
+tightening the pressure of the arms which still were wrapped round
+Eleanor,--"if I were not obliged so soon to make it over to somebody
+else. But I will not be selfish. It is unspeakably precious to me now.
+It gives me the right to take care of you. I asked your mother for it.
+I am greatly obliged to her. Now what are you going to do to-day?"
+
+"Write--to Fiji," said Eleanor slowly and without moving.
+
+"Right; and so will I. And do not you be overmuch concerned about
+Julia. There is another verse of that hymn, which I often think of--
+
+  "'I love to see thee bring to nought,
+  The plans of wily men;
+  When simple hearts outwit the wise,
+  O thou art loveliest then!'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+IN WAITING.
+
+
+  "If Proteus like your journey, when you come,
+  No matter who's displeas'd when you are gone;
+  I fear me he will scarce be pleas'd withal."
+
+
+The way was clear, and Eleanor wrote to Fiji as she had said. She could
+not however get rid of her surprise that her mother had permitted the
+tenor of these letters to be what it was. What had moved Mrs. Powle, so
+to act against all her likings and habits of action? How came she to
+allow her daughter to go to the South Seas and be a missionary?
+
+Several things which Eleanor knew nothing of, and which so affected the
+drift of Mrs. Powle's current of life that she was only, according to
+custom, sailing with it and not struggling against it. When people seem
+to act unlike themselves, it is either that you do not know themselves,
+or do not know some other things which they know. So in this case. For
+one thing, to name the greatest first, Mr. Carlisle was unmistakeably
+turning his attention to another lady, a new star in the world of
+society; an earl's daughter and an heiress. Whether heart-whole or not,
+which was best known to himself, Mr. Carlisle was prosecuting his
+addresses in this new quarter with undoubted zeal and determination. It
+was not the time for Eleanor now to come home! Let her do anything
+else,--was the dictate of pride. _Now_ to come home, or even not to
+come home, remaining Eleanor Powle, was to confess in the world's eye a
+lamentably lost game; to take place as a rejected or vainly ambitious
+girl; the _would-have-been_ lady of Rythdale. Anything but that!
+Eleanor might almost better die at once. She would not only have ruined
+her own prospects, but would greatly injure those of Julia, on whom her
+mother's hopes and pride were now all staked. Alfred was taken from her
+and put under guardians; Mrs. Powle did not build anything on him; he
+was a boy, and when he was a man he would be only Alfred Powle. Julia
+promised to be a beauty; on her making a fine match rested all Mrs.
+Powle's expectations from this world; and she was determined to spare
+no pains, expense, nor precautions. Therefore she resolved that the
+sisters should not be together, cost what it might. Good bye to all her
+cares or hopes on Julia's behalf, looking to a great establishment, if
+Julia became a Methodist! She might go on a farm like her aunt and sell
+cheeses. The thought of those cheeses froze the blood in Mrs. Powle's
+veins; that was a characteristic of good blood, she firmly believed.
+Therefore on every account, for every reason, nothing better could
+happen than that Eleanor should go to the South Seas. She would escape
+the shame of coming home; Julia would be out of danger of religious
+contamination; and she herself would be saved from the necessary odium
+of keeping one daughter in banishment and the other in seclusion; which
+odium she must incur if both of them remained in England and neither of
+them ever saw the other. All this would be cleverly saved. Then also,
+if Eleanor married a missionary and went to the other end of the world,
+her case could be very well dismissed as one of a religious
+enthusiasm--a visionary, fanatical excitement. Nay, there could be made
+even a little _eclat_ about it. There would be no mortification, at any
+rate, comparable to that which must attend supposed overthrown schemes
+and disappointed ambition. Eleanor had chosen her own course, backed by
+her wealthy relation, Mrs. Caxton, who had adopted her; and whose views
+were entirely not of this world. Mrs. Powle deplored it, of course, but
+was unable to help it. Besides, Mrs. Caxton had answered, on her own
+knowledge, for the excellent character and superior qualities of the
+gentleman Eleanor was to marry; there was no fault to be found with him
+at all, except that he was a fanatic; and as Eleanor was a fanatic
+herself, that was only a one-sided objection.
+
+Yes, Mrs. Caxton had answered for all that, on her own knowledge, of
+many years' standing; and she had said something more, which also
+weighed with Mrs. Powle and which Mrs. Powle could also mention among
+the good features of the case, without stating that it had had the
+force of an inducement with herself. Mrs. Caxton had asked indeed to be
+permitted to consider Eleanor her own, and had promised in that case to
+make Eleanor entirely her own care, both during Mrs. Caxton's life and
+afterwards; leaving Mrs. Powle free to devote all her fortune to Julia
+that would have been shared with Julia's sister. Mrs. Powle's means
+were not in her estimation large; she wanted every penny of them for
+the perfecting and carrying out of her plans which regarded her
+youngest daughter; she consented that the elder should own another
+mother and guardian. Mrs. Powle agreed to it all. But not satisfied
+with any step of the whole affair nevertheless, which all displeased
+her, from beginning to end, her own action included, she expressed her
+determination to Eleanor in terms which half broke Eleanor's heart; and
+left a long, lingering, sore spot there. To Mrs. Caxton Mrs. Powle's
+writing was much better worded; civil if not kind, and well mannered if
+not motherly.
+
+The thing was done, at all events; Eleanor was formally made over to
+another mother and left free to do whatever her new guardian pleased.
+Letters of a different sort of temper were sent off upon their long
+journey to the South Seas; and there began a busy time at Plassy, in
+anticipation of Eleanor's following them. It was still very uncertain
+when that might be; opportunities must be waited for; such an
+opportunity as would satisfy Mrs. Caxton. In the mean while a great
+deal of business was on hand. Mrs. Caxton even made a journey up to
+London and took Eleanor with her; for the sake of inquiries and
+arrangements which could not be attended to from a distance. For the
+sake of purchases too, which could be made nowhere but in London. For
+Mrs. Caxton was bent, not only on supplying Eleanor with all that could
+be thought of in the way of outfit; but also on getting together to
+accompany or precede her everything that could be sent that might be
+useful or helpful to Mr. Rhys or comfortable in the household; in
+short, to transfer England as nearly as possible to Fiji. As freights
+of course were expensive, all these matters must be found and
+compressed in the smallest compass they could possibly know as their
+limits; and Mrs. Caxton was very busy. London did not hold them but a
+fortnight; the rest of the time work was done at Plassy.
+
+And the months rolled on. Cheeses were turned off as usual, and Mrs.
+Caxton's business was as brisk as ever. Eleanor's outfit gradually got
+ready; and before and after that was true, Eleanor's visits among her
+neighbours and poor people were the same as ever. She had strength and
+spirit enough for all calls upon either; and her sweet diligence seemed
+to be even more than ever, now that work at Plassy was drawing towards
+a close. Still Eleanor gathered the spoils of the moors and the
+hedge-rows, as she went and came on her errands; climbed the mountain
+on Powis and explored the rocks and the waterfalls on her way. As usual
+her hands came home full. The house was gay with broom again in its
+season; before that the violets and wood anemone had made the tea-table
+and the breakfast table sweet with their presence. Blue-bells and
+butter-cups and primroses had their time, and lovely they looked,
+helped out by the yellow furze blossoms which Eleanor was very fond of.
+Then the scorpion grass, of both kinds, proclaimed that it was summer;
+and borage was bright in the sitting-room. Eleanor could hardly look at
+it without an inward smile and sigh, remembering the cheering little
+couplet which attached to it by old usage; and Julia from whose lips
+she had first heard it; and the other lips that had given it to Julia.
+Corn-marigold was gay again in July, and the white blackberry blossoms
+came with crane's bill and flax, campion and willow-herb, speedwell and
+vetchling. Any one well acquainted with the wild things that grow and
+blossom in the land, might have known any day what time of the year it
+was by going into Mrs. Caxton's sitting parlour and using his eyes.
+Until the purple ling and loosestrife, gave place to mint and maiden
+pink and late meadow-sweet; and then the hop vine and meadow saffron
+proclaimed that summer was over. But ferns had their representatives at
+all times.
+
+Summer was over; and no chance for Eleanor's sailing had yet presented
+itself. Preparations were all made; and the two ladies lived on in
+waiting and in the enjoyment of each other, and doubtless with a
+mixture of thoughts that were not enjoyment. But a very sweet even glow
+of love and peace and patience filled the house. Letters were written;
+and once and again letters had arrived, even from Mr. Rhys. They told
+of everything going on at his station; of his work and pleasures; of
+the progress the truth was making; and the changes coming even while he
+looked, upon the population of the islands, their manners and
+character. There never were letters, I suppose, more thoroughly read
+and studied and searched out in every detail, than all those letters
+were by Eleanor; for every fact was of importance to her; and the
+manner of every word told her something. They told her what made her
+eyes fill and her pulse beat quick. But among them there was not a word
+to herself. No, and not even a word about herself. In vain Eleanor
+hoped for it and searched for it. There was not even an allusion that
+looked her way.
+
+"Do you want to know what I am doing?" Mr. Rhys wrote in one of these
+letters. "You see by my date that I am not in the place I last wrote
+from. I am alone on this island, which has never had a resident
+missionary and which has people enough that need the care of one; so it
+has been decided that I should pitch my tent here for some months.
+There is not a large population--not quite five hundred people in the
+whole island; but almost all of them that are grown up are professing
+Christian--members of the church, and not disgracing their profession.
+The history of the church in this place is wonderful and even of
+romantic interest. One of their chiefs, being in another part of Fiji,
+fell in with a chief who was a Christian. From him he learned something
+of the new religion, and carried back to Ono thus much of truth--that
+Jehovah is the only God and that all worship and praise is his due.
+Further than this, and the understanding that the seventh day should be
+especially spent in his service, the Ono chief knew nothing. Was not
+that a little seed for a great tree to grow from? But his island had
+just been ravaged by disease and by war; in their distress the people
+had applied in vain to their old gods to save them; they were convinced
+now from what they heard that help is in the Lord alone, and they
+resolved to seek him. But they knew not the Lord, nor his ways, and
+there was no one to teach them. Fancy that company of heathens
+renouncing heathenism--setting apart the seventh day for worship,
+preparing food beforehand so that the day might be hallowed, putting on
+their best dresses and fresh oil, and meeting to seek the unknown God!
+Oh kingdom of Christ, come, come!--
+
+"When they were met, they did not know how to begin their service.
+However, as old custom referred them to their priests for intercourse
+with heaven, they bethought them to apply to one now, and told him what
+I they wanted. I do not understand what influenced the man; but
+however, heathen priest of a heathen god as he was, he consented to
+officiate for this Christian service. The priest came; the assembly sat
+down; and the priest made a prayer, after this fashion as it has been
+reported to me. _He_ did not then renounce heathenism, you understand.
+
+"'Lord, Jehovah! here are thy people; they worship thee. I turn my back
+on thee for the present, and am on another tack, worshipping another
+god. But do thou bless these thy people; keep them from harm, and do
+them good.'
+
+"That was the beginning; and doubtless the Lord hearkened and heard it.
+For awhile they went on as they had begun; then wanting something more,
+they sent messengers to Tonga to beg for teachers. Now, as I said, the
+people are nearly all Christians, and not in name only; and all the
+children are brought to be taught. Here am I; don't you think I am in a
+good place? But I am here only for a little while; more cannot be
+spared to so small a population at this time.
+
+"To get here, one has to shoot something such a gulf as I described to
+you at Vulanga. The barrier reef has a small opening. At particular
+times of tide a boat can go through; but with the rush of waves from
+without, meeting the tremendous current from within, it is an exciting
+business; somewhat dangerous as well as fearful. The ships cannot get
+inside the barrier. The night I came, canoes came out to meet me,
+bringing a present of yams as their contribution to our fund; they
+brought as many as the vessel could find room for. In the canoe with
+the Ono people I felt myself with friends; I had visited the place
+before, and they knew me. The current made fearfully hard work for
+them; but it was love's labour; they felt about me, I suppose,
+something as the Galatians did towards Paul. The next day was Sunday. I
+preached to an attentive congregation, and had a happy time. Now I will
+give you a notion of my run of employments at the present time.
+
+"First. Playing bookbinder. Fact. One has to play all sorts of things
+here--and the more the better. My work was to stitch, fold, (fold
+first) and cover, so many copies of the New Testament as I had brought
+with me--printed, but in sheets. I did them strong! more than that I
+will not answer for; but I wish I could send you a copy. It would be
+only a curiosity in art, though; you could not read it. It is an
+admirable translation in Fijian. As I have had but very slight previous
+practice in bookbinding, my rate of progress was at first somewhat
+slow; and after a few days of solitary labour I was glad to accept the
+offer of help from four or five native apprentices--some of our local
+preachers. They took to the work kindly; and in five weeks we finished
+the edition--sixty copies. I could do the next sixty quicker. These are
+the first Fijian testaments in Ono, and you can understand--or you
+cannot--what a treasure. The natives who came to purchase them found no
+fault with the binding, I assure you. So you see I have been bookseller
+as well as the other thing; and I received pay for my testaments in
+_sinnet_--you know what that is. It is as good as money for the mission
+use here in Fiji. During these bookbinding weeks I was making
+excursions hither and thither, to preach and baptize. Twice a week I
+took a time to see the local preachers and teachers and examine them
+and hear them read and talk to them and be talked to by them. Every
+Tuesday and Friday I did this. The whole course of the week's work is
+now something like the following:
+
+"Sunday begins with a prayer-meeting. Afterwards old and young have a
+catechism exercise together. Morning and afternoon, preaching.
+
+"Monday, the morning there is a children's school, and the afternoon a
+school for grown people. I question both classes on the sermons of the
+preceding day; and I hope English people have as good memories. The
+afternoon school is followed by a prayer-meeting. Tuesdays and Fridays
+I have the teachers' meeting in addition.
+
+"Wednesday I preach, have leaders' meeting, and give out work for the
+week to come.
+
+"Thursday, preaching at one of the neighbouring towns, and a sort of
+young class-meeting.
+
+"Friday, I have said what I do.
+
+"Saturday has a prayer-meeting.
+
+"So much for the regular work. Then there are the sick to look after,
+and my own private studies; and there is not a minute to spare. A few
+that cannot be spared are claimed by the mosquitos, which hold their
+high court and revel here at Ono; of all places on the earth that I
+know, their headquarters. When I was here before with Brother Lefferts
+and others, two of them could not sit still to read something that
+wanted to be read; they walked the floor, one holding the candle, the
+other the paper; both fighting mosquitos with both hands. I am of a
+less excitable temperament--for I contrive to live a little more
+quietly.
+
+"Shall I tell you some of these native testimonies of Christians who a
+little while ago worshipped idols? At our love-feast lately some thirty
+or forty spoke. They did my heart good. So may they yours. These people
+said but few words, full of feeling; my report cannot all give the
+effect. I wish it could.
+
+"One old chief, who could hardly speak for feeling, said, 'These are
+new things to me in these days;' (he meant the love-feasts) 'I did not
+know them formerly. My soul is humbled. I rejoice greatly in the Lord.
+I rejoice greatly for sending his servants.'
+
+"A Tongan teacher--'I desire that God may rule over me,' (i. e., direct
+me) 'I desire not to govern myself. I know that I am a child of God: I
+know that God is my father. My friends wrote for me to go to Tonga; but
+I wondered at it. I wish to obey the Father of my soul.'
+
+"A local preacher--'I know that God is near, and helps me sometimes in
+my work. I love all men. I do not fear death; one thing I fear, the
+Lord."
+
+"Leva Soko, a female class-leader, a very holy woman, said,--this is
+but a part of what she said,--'My child died, but I loved God the more.
+My body has been much afflicted, but I love him the more. I know that
+death would only unite me to God.'
+
+"A teacher, a native of Ono, who had gone to a much less pleasant place
+to preach the gospel, and was home on a visit, spoke exceedingly well.
+'I did not leave Ono that I might have more food. I desired to go that
+I might preach Christ. I was struck with stones twice while in my own
+house; but I could bear it. When the canoes came, they pillaged my
+garden; but my mind was not pained at it: I bore it only.'
+
+"A local preacher--'I am a very bad man; there is no good thing in me;
+but I know the love of God There are not two great things in my mind;
+there is one only,--the love of God for the sake of Christ. I know that
+I am a child of God. I wish to repent and believe every day till I die.'
+
+"These are but a specimen, my dear friend. The other day, in our
+teachers' meeting we were reading the nineteenth chapter of John. An
+old teacher read the eighteenth verse in his turn--the words, 'Where
+they crucified him, and two other with him, on either side one, and
+Jesus in the midst.' He could hardly get through it, and then burst
+into tears and wept aloud. This man was a cannibal once. And now his
+life speaks for the truth of his tears.
+
+"Good night. The mosquitos are not favourable to epistle writing. I am
+well. Remember me, as I remember you.
+
+"R. R."
+
+
+"Aunt Caxton," said Eleanor after reading this letter for the second or
+third time,--"have we a supply of mosquito netting among my boxes? I
+could get the better of the mosquitos, I think."
+
+"How would you like to help bind books?" said Mrs. Caxton. "Or
+translate? Mr. Rhys seems to be about that business, by what he says in
+the other letter."
+
+"He would not want help in that," said Eleanor, musing and flushing.
+"Aunt Caxton--is it foolish in me to wish I could hear once more from
+Mr. Rhys before I go?"
+
+"Only a little foolish, my love; and very natural."
+
+"Then why is it foolish?"
+
+"Because reason would tell you that it is simply impossible your
+letters could receive an answer by this time. They have perhaps but
+barely got to Mr. Rhys this minute. And reason would tell you further
+that there is no ground for supposing he is in any different mind from
+that expressed when he wrote to you."
+
+"But--you know--since then he does not say one word about it, nor about
+me," said Eleanor flushing pretty deep.
+
+"There is reason for that, too. He would not allow himself to indulge
+hope; and therefore he would not act as if he had any. That sight of
+you at Brighton threw him off a good deal, I judge."
+
+"He told you he saw me?"
+
+"He wrote to me about it."
+
+"Did he tell you how he saw me?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What more?"
+
+"He said he thought there was little chance I would have any use for
+his letters; he saw the world was closing its nets around you fast; how
+far they were already successful he could not know; but he was glad he
+had seen what forbade him in time to indulge vain anticipations."
+
+"Oh aunt Caxton!" said Eleanor--"Oh aunt Caxton! what a strange world
+this is, for the way people's lives cross each other, and the work that
+is done without people's knowing it! If you knew--what that meeting
+cost me!--"
+
+"My dear child! I can well believe it."
+
+"And it aroused Mr. Carlisle's suspicions instantly, I knew. If I made
+any mistake--if I erred at all, in my behaviour with regard to him, it
+was then and in consequence of that. If I had faltered a bit
+then--looked grave or hung back from what was going on, I should have
+exposed myself to most cruel interpretation. I could not risk it. I
+threw myself right into whatever presented itself--went into the
+whirl--welcomed everybody and everything--only, I hoped, with so
+general and impartial a welcome as should prove I preferred none
+exclusively."
+
+Eleanor stopped and the tears came into her eyes.
+
+"My child! if I had known what danger you were in, I should have spent
+even more time than I did in praying for you."
+
+"I suppose I was in danger," said Eleanor thoughtfully. "It was a
+difficult winter. Then do you think--Mr. Rhys gave me up?"
+
+"No," said Mrs. Caxton smiling. "You remember he wrote to you after
+that, from Fiji; but I suppose he tried to make himself give you up, as
+far as hope went."
+
+"For all that appears, I may be here long enough yet to have letters
+before I go. We have heard of no opportunity that is likely to present
+itself soon. Aunt Caxton, if my feeling is foolish, why is it natural?"
+
+"Because you are a woman, my dear."
+
+"And foolish?"
+
+"Not at all; but feeling takes little counsel of reason in some cases.
+I am afraid you will find that out again before you get to Mr.
+Rhys--_after_ that, I do not think you will."
+
+The conversation made Eleanor rather more anxious than she had been
+before to hear of a ship; but October and November passed, and the
+prospect of her voyage was as misty as ever.
+
+Again and again, all summer, both she and Mrs. Caxton had written
+begging that Mrs. Powle would make a visit to Plassy and bring or send
+Julia. In vain. Mrs. Powle would not come. Julia could not.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+IN MEETINGS.
+
+
+  "A wild dedication of yourselves
+  To unpath'd waters, undream'd shores; most certain,
+  To miseries enough."
+
+
+In a neat plain drawing-room in a plain part of London, sat Mrs. Caxton
+and Eleanor. Eleanor however soon left her seat and took post at the
+window; and silence reigned in the room unbroken for some length time
+except by the soft rustle of Mrs. Caxton's work. Her fingers were
+rarely idle. Nor were Eleanor's hands often empty; but to-day she stood
+still as a statue before the window, while now and then a tear softly
+roll down and dropped on her folded hands. There were no signs of the
+tears however, when the girl turned round with the short announcement,
+
+"She's here."
+
+Mrs. Caxton looked up a little bit anxiously at her adopted child; but
+Eleanor's face was only still and pale. The next moment the door
+opened, and for all the world as in old times the fair face and fair
+curls of Mrs. Powle appeared. Just the same; unless just now she
+appeared a trifle frightened. The good lady felt so. Two fanatics. She
+hardly knew how to encounter them. And then, her own action, though she
+could not certainly have called it fanatical, had been peculiar, and
+might be judged divers ways. Moreover, Mrs. Powle was Eleanor's mother.
+
+There was one in the company who remembered that, witness the still
+close embrace which Eleanor threw around her, and the still hiding of
+the girl's face on her mother's bosom. Mrs. Powle returned the embrace
+heartily enough; but when Eleanor's motionless clasp had lasted as long
+as she knew how to do anything with it and longer than she felt to be
+graceful, Mrs. Powle whispered,
+
+"Won't you introduce me to your aunt, my dear,--if this is she."
+
+Eleanor released her mother, but sobbed helplessly for a few minutes;
+then she raised her head and threw off her tears; and there was to one
+of the two ladies an exquisite grace in the way she performed the
+required office of making them known to each other. The gentleness of a
+chastened heart, the strength of a loving one, the dignity of an humble
+one, made her face and manner so lovely that Mrs. Caxton involuntarily
+wished Mr. Rhys could have seen it. "But he will have chance enough,"
+she thought, somewhat incongruously, as she met and returned her
+sister-in-law's greetings. Mrs. Powle made them with ceremonious
+respect, not make believe, and with a certain eagerness which welcomed
+a diversion from Eleanor's somewhat troublesome agitation. Eleanor's
+agitation troubled no one any more, however; she sat down calm and
+quiet; and Mrs. Powle had leisure, glancing at her from time to time,
+to get into smooth sailing intercourse with Mrs. Caxton. She took off
+her bonnet, and talked about indifferent things, and sipped chocolate;
+for it was just luncheon time. Ever and anon her eyes came back to
+Eleanor; evidently as to something which troubled her and which puzzled
+her; and Mrs. Caxton saw, which had also the effect of irritation too.
+Very likely, Mrs. Caxton thought! Conscience on one hand not satisfied,
+and ambition on the other hand disappointed, and Eleanor the point of
+meeting for both uneasy feelings to concentrate their forces. It would
+come out in words soon, Mrs. Caxton knew. But how lovely Eleanor seemed
+to her. There was not even a cloud upon her brow now; fair as it was
+pure and strong.
+
+"And so you are going?" Mrs. Powle began at last, in a somewhat
+constrained voice. Eleanor smiled.
+
+"And _when_ are you going?"
+
+"My letter said, Next Tuesday the ship sails."
+
+"And pray, Eleanor, you are not going alone?"
+
+"No, mamma. A gentleman and his wife are going the whole voyage with
+me."
+
+"Who are they?"
+
+"A Mr. Amos and his wife."
+
+"_What_ are they then? missionaries?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"Going to that same place?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am--very nicely for me."
+
+"Pray how long do you expect the voyage will take you?"
+
+"I am not certain--it is made, or can be made, in four or five months;
+but then we may have to stop awhile at Sydney."
+
+"Sydney? what Sydney? Where is that?"
+
+"Australia, mamma," said Eleanor smiling. "New South Wales. Don't you
+know?"
+
+"_Australia!_ Are you going there? To Botany Bay?"
+
+"No, mamma; not to Botany Bay. And I only take Australia by the way. I
+go further."
+
+"_Further_ than Botany Bay?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"Well certainly," said Mrs. Powle with an accent of restrained despair,
+"the present age is enterprising beyond what was ever known in my young
+days. What do you think, sister Caxton, of a young lady taking voyage
+five months long after her husband, instead of her husband taking it
+for her? He ought to be a grateful man, I think!"
+
+"Certainly; but not too grateful," Mrs. Caxton answered composedly;
+"for in this case necessity alters the rule."
+
+"I do not understand such necessities," said Mrs. Powle; "at least if a
+thing cannot be done properly, I should say it was better not to do it
+at all. However, I suppose it is too late to speak now. I would not
+have my daughter hold herself so lightly as to confer such an honour on
+any man; but I gave her to you to dispose of, so no doubt it is all
+right. I hope Mr. What's-his-name is worthy of it."
+
+"Mamma, let me give you another cup of chocolate," said Eleanor. And
+she served her with the chocolate and the toast and the hung beef, in a
+way that gave Mrs. Caxton's heart a feast. There was the beautiful calm
+and high grace with which Eleanor used to meet her social difficulties
+two years ago, and baffle both her trials and her tempters. Mrs. Caxton
+had never seen it called for. Her face shewed not the slightest
+embarrassment at her mother's words; not a shade of rising colour did
+dishonour to Mr. Rhys by proving that she so much as even felt the
+slurs against him or the jealousy professed on her own behalf.
+Eleanor's calm sweet face was an assertion both of his dignity and her
+own. Perhaps Mrs. Powle felt herself in a hopeless case.
+
+"What do you expect to live on out there?" she said, changing her
+ground, as she dipped her toast into chocolate. "You won't have this
+sort of thing."
+
+"I have never thought much about it," said Eleanor smiling. "Where
+other people live and grow strong, I suppose I can."
+
+"No, it does not follow at all," replied her mother. "You are
+accustomed to certain things, and you would feel the want of them. For
+instance, will you have bread like this out there? wheat bread?"
+
+"I shall not want chocolate," said Eleanor. "The climate is too hot."
+
+"But bread?"
+
+"Wheat flour is shipped for the use of the mission families," said Mrs.
+Caxton. "It is known that many persons would suffer without it; and we
+do not wish unnecessary suffering should be undergone."
+
+"Have they cows there?"
+
+"Mamma!" said Eleanor laughing.
+
+"Well, have they? Because Miss Broadus or somebody was saying the other
+day, that in New Zealand they never had them till we sent them out. So
+I wondered directly whether they had in this place."
+
+"I fancy not, mamma. You will have to think of me as drinking my tea
+without cream."
+
+"So you will take tea there with you?"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I have got the impression," said Mrs. Powle, "somehow, that you would
+do nothing as other people do. You will drink tea, will you? I'll give
+you a box."
+
+"Thank you, mamma," said Eleanor, but the colour flushed now to the
+roots of her hair,--"aunt Caxton has given me a great stock already."
+
+"And coffee?"
+
+"Yes, mamma--for great occasions--and concentrated milk for that."
+
+"Do tell me what sort of a place it is, Eleanor."
+
+"It is a great many places, mamma. It is a great many islands, large
+and small, scattered over some hundreds of miles of ocean; but they are
+so many and near each other often, and so surrounded with interlacing
+coral reefs, that navigation there is in a kind of network of channels.
+The islands are of many varieties, and of fairy-land beauty; rich in
+vegetation and in all sorts of natural stores."
+
+"Not cows."
+
+"No, ma'am. I meant, the things that grow out of the ground," said
+Eleanor smiling again. "Cows and sheep and horses are not among them."
+
+"Nor horses either? How do you go when you travel?"
+
+"In a canoe, I suppose."
+
+"With savages?" exclaimed Mrs. Powle.
+
+"Not necessarily. Many of them are Christians."
+
+"The natives?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"Then I don't see what you are going for. Those that are Christians
+already might teach those that are not. But Eleanor, who will marry
+you?"
+
+A bright rose-colour came upon the girl's cheeks. "Mamma, there are
+clergymen enough there."
+
+"_Clergymen?_ of the Church?"
+
+"I beg your pardon, mamma; no. That is not essential?"
+
+"Well, that is as you look at things. I know you and my sister Caxton
+have wandered away,--but for me, I should feel lost out of the Church.
+It would be very essential to me. Are there no Church people in the
+islands at all?"
+
+"I believe not, mamma."
+
+"And what on earth do you expect to do there, Eleanor?"
+
+"I cannot tell you yet, mamma; but I understand everybody finds more
+than enough."
+
+"What, pray?"
+
+"The general great business, you know, is to carry light to those that
+sit in darkness."
+
+"Yes, but you do not expect to preach, do you?"
+
+Eleanor smiled, she could not help it, at the bewildered air with which
+this question was put. "I don't know, mamma. Do not you think I could
+preach to a class of children?"
+
+"But Eleanor! such horrid work. Such work for _you!_"
+
+"Why, mamma?"
+
+"Why? With your advantages and talents and education. Mr.--no matter
+who, but who used to be a good judge, said that your talents would give
+anybody else's talents enough to do;--and that you should throw them
+away upon a class of half-naked children at the antipodes!"----
+
+"There will be somebody else to take the benefit of them first," Mrs.
+Caxton said very composedly. "I rather think Mr. Rhys will see to it
+that they are not wasted."
+
+"Mamma, I think you do not understand this matter," Eleanor said
+gently. "Whoever made that speech flattered me; but I wish my talents
+were ten times so much as they are, that I might give them to this
+work."
+
+"To this gentleman, you mean!" Mrs. Powle said tartly.
+
+A light came into Eleanor's eyes; she was silent a minute and then with
+the colour rising all over her face she said, "He is abundantly worthy
+of all and much more than I am."
+
+"Well I do not understand this matter, as you said," Mrs. Powle
+answered in some discomfiture. "Tell me of something I do understand.
+What society will you have where you are going, Eleanor?"
+
+"I shall be too busy to have much time for society, mamma," Eleanor
+answered, good-humouredly.
+
+"No such thing--you will want it all the more. Sister Caxton, is it not
+so?"
+
+"People do not go out there without consenting to forego many things,"
+Mrs. Caxton answered; "but there is One who has promised to be with his
+servants when they are about his work; and I never heard that any one
+who had that society, pined greatly for want of other."
+
+Mrs. Powle opened her eyes at Mrs. Caxton's quiet face; she set this
+speech down in her mind as uncontaminated fanaticism. She turned to
+Eleanor.
+
+"Do the people there wear clothes?"
+
+"The Christians clothe themselves, mamma; the heathen portion of the
+people hardly do, I believe. The climate requires nothing. They have a
+fashion of dress of their own, but it is not much."
+
+"And can you help seeing these heathen?"
+
+"No, of course not."
+
+"Well you _are_ changed!" said Mrs. Powle. "I would never have thought
+you would have consented to such degradation."
+
+"I go that I may help mend it, mamma."
+
+"Yes, you must stoop yourself first."
+
+"Think how Jesus stooped--to what degradation--for us all."
+
+Mrs. Powle paused, at the view of Eleanor's glistening eyes. It was not
+easy to answer, moreover.
+
+"I cannot help it," she said. "You and I take different views on the
+subject. Do let us talk of something else; I am always getting on
+something where we cannot agree. Tell me about the place, Eleanor."
+
+"What, mamma? I have not been there."
+
+"No, but of course you know. What do you live in? houses or tents?"
+
+"I do not know which you would call them; they are not stone or wood.
+There is a skeleton frame of posts to uphold the building; but the
+walls are made of different thicknesses of reeds, laid different ways
+and laced together with sinnet."
+
+"What's _sinnet?_"
+
+"A strong braid made of the fibre of the cocoa-nut--of the husk of the
+cocoanut. It is made of more and less size and strength, and is used
+instead of iron to fasten a great many sorts of things; carpentry and
+boat building among them."
+
+"Goodness! what a place. Well go on with your house."
+
+"That is all," said Eleanor smiling; "except that it is thatched with
+palm leaves, or grass, or cane leaves. Sometimes the walls are covered
+with grass; and the braid work done in patterns, so as to have a very
+artistic effect."
+
+"And what is inside?"
+
+"Not much beside the people."
+
+"Well, tell me what, for instance. There is something, I suppose. The
+walls are not bare?"
+
+"Not quite. There are apt to be mats, to sit and lie on;--and pots for
+cooking, and baskets and a chest perhaps, and a great mosquito curtain."
+
+"Are you going to live in a house like that, Eleanor?"
+
+Mrs. Powle's face expressed distress. Eleanor laughed and declared she
+did not know.
+
+"It will have some chairs for her to sit upon," said Mrs. Caxton; "and
+I shall send some china cups, that she may not have to drink out of a
+cocoa-nut shell."
+
+"But I should like that very well," said Eleanor; "and I certainly
+think a Fijian wooden dish, spread with green leaves, is as nice a
+vessel for food as can be."
+
+Mrs. Powle rose up and began to arrange her shawl, with an air which
+said, "I do not understand it!"
+
+"Mamma, what are you about?"
+
+"Eleanor, you make me very uncomfortable."
+
+"Do I? Why should I, mamma?"
+
+"It is no use talking." Then suddenly facing round on Eleanor she said,
+"What are you going to do for servants in that dreadful place?"
+
+"Mr. Rhys says he has a most faithful servant--who is much attached to
+him, and does as well as he can desire."
+
+"One of those native savages?"
+
+"He was; he is a Christian now, and a good one."
+
+Mrs. Powle looked as if she did not know how to believe her daughter.
+
+"Aren't you afraid of what you are about, Eleanor--to venture among
+those creatures? and to take all that voyage first, alone? Are you not
+afraid?"
+
+There was that in the very simpleness and quietness of Eleanor's answer
+that put her negative beyond a question. Mrs. Powle sat down again for
+very bewilderment.
+
+"Why are you not afraid?" she said. "You never were afraid of little
+things, I know; but those houses--Are there no thieves among those
+heathen?"
+
+"A good many."
+
+"What is to keep them out of your house? Anybody could cut through a
+reed wall with a knife--and make no noise about it. Where is your
+security?"
+
+Alas, in the one face there was such ignorance, in the other such
+sorrowful consciousness of that ignorance, that the two faces at first
+looked mutely into each other across the gulf between them.
+
+"Mamma," said Eleanor, "why will you not understand me? Do you not
+know,--the Eternal God is our refuge!"
+
+The still, grand expression of faith Mrs. Powle could not receive; but
+the speaking of Eleanor's eyes she did. She turned from them.
+
+"Good morning, sister Caxton," she said. "I will go. I cannot bear it
+any longer to-day."
+
+"You will come to-morrow, sister Powle?"
+
+"Yes. O yes. I'll be here to-morrow. I will get my feelings quieted by
+that time. Good bye, Eleanor."
+
+"Mamma," said the girl trembling, "when will you bring Julia?"
+
+"Now Eleanor, don't let us talk about anything more that is
+disagreeable. I do not want to say anything about Julia. You have taken
+your way--and I do not mean to unsettle you in it; but Julia is in
+another line, and I cannot have you interfere with her. I am very sorry
+it is so,--but it is not my doing. I cannot help it. I do not want to
+give you pain."
+
+Mrs. Powle departed. Eleanor came back from attending her to the door,
+stopped in the middle of the room, and her cheeks grew white as she
+spoke.
+
+"I shall never see her again!"
+
+"My love," said Mrs. Caxton pityingly,--"I hardly know how to believe
+it possible."
+
+"I knew it all along," said Eleanor. She sat down and covered her face.
+Mrs. Caxton sighed.
+
+"It is as true now as it was in the old time," she said,--"'He that
+will live godly in Christ Jesus, shall suffer persecution.' So surely
+as we walk like Christ, so surely the world will call us odd and
+strange and fanatical, and treat us accordingly."
+
+
+Eleanor's head was bent low.
+
+"And Jesus is our only refuge--and our sufficient consolation."
+
+"O yes!--but--"
+
+"And he can make our silent witness-bearing bring fruits for his glory,
+and for our dear ones' good, as much as years of talking to them,
+Eleanor."
+
+"You are good comfort, aunt Caxton," said the girl putting her arms
+around her and straining her close;--"but--this is something I cannot
+help just now--"
+
+It was a natural sorrow not to be struggled with successfully; and
+Eleanor took it to her own room. So did Mrs. Caxton take it to hers.
+But the struggle was ended then and there. No trace of it remained the
+next day. Eleanor met her mother most cheerfully, and contrived
+admirably to keep her from the gulf of discussion into which she had
+been continually plunging at her first visit. With so much of grace and
+skill, and of that poise of her own mind which left her free to extend
+help to another's vacillations and uncertainties, Eleanor guided the
+conversation and bore herself generally that day, that Mrs. Powle's
+sighing commentary as she went away, was, "Ah, Eleanor!--you might have
+been a duchess!"
+
+But the paleness of sorrow came over her duchess's face again so soon
+as she was gone. Mrs. Caxton saw that if the struggle was ended, the
+pain was not; and her heart bled for Eleanor. These were days not to be
+prolonged. It was good for everybody that Tuesday, the day of sailing,
+was so near.
+
+They were heavy, the hours that intervened. In spite of keeping herself
+close and making no needless advertisement of her proceedings, Eleanor
+could not escape many an encounter with old friends or acquaintances.
+They heard of her from her mother; learned her address; and then
+curiosity was enough, without affection, to bring several; and
+affection mingled with curiosity to bring a few. Among others, the two
+Miss Broadus's, Eleanor's friends and associates at Wiglands ever since
+she had been a child, could not keep away from her and could not be
+denied when they came; though they took precious time, and though they
+tried Eleanor sorely. They wanted to know everything; if their wishes
+had sufficed, they would have learned the whole history of Mr. Rhys's
+courtship. Failing that, their inquiries went to everything else, past
+and future, to which Eleanor's own knowledge could be supposed to
+extend. What she had been doing through the year which was gone, and
+what she expected the coming year would find her to do; when she would
+get to her place of destination, and what sort of a life she would have
+of it when once there. Houses, and horses, and cows and sheep, were as
+interesting to these good ladies as they were to Mrs. Powle; and
+feeling less concern in the matter they were free to take more
+amusement, and so no side feeling or hidden feeling disturbed their
+satisfaction in the flow of information they were receiving. For
+Eleanor gratified them patiently, in all which did not touch
+immediately herself; but when they were gone she sighed. Even Mrs.
+Powle was less trying; for her annoyances were at least of a more
+dignified kind. Eleanor could meet them better.
+
+"And this is the end of you!" she exclaimed the evening before Eleanor
+was to sail. "This is the end of your life and expectations! To look at
+you and think of it!" Despondency could no further go.
+
+"Not the end of either, mamma, I hope," Eleanor responded cheerfully.
+
+"The expectation of the righteous shall be for ever, you forget," said
+Mrs. Caxton smiling. "There is no fall nor failure to that."
+
+"O yes, I know!" said Mrs. Powle impatiently; "but just look at that
+girl and see what she is. She might be presented at Court now, and
+reigning like a princess in her own house; yes, she might; and
+to-morrow she is going off as if she were a convict, to Botany Bay!"
+
+"No, mamma," said Eleanor smiling. "I never can persuade you of
+Australian geography."
+
+"Well it's New South Wales, isn't it?" said Mrs. Powle.
+
+Eleanor assented.
+
+"Very well. The girl that brings you your luncheon when you get there,
+may be the very one that stole my spoons three years ago. It's all the
+same thing. And you, Eleanor, you are so handsome, and you have the
+manners of a queen--Sister Caxton, you have no notion what admiration
+this girl excited, and what admiration she could command!"
+
+Mrs. Caxton looked from the calm face of the girl, certainly handsome
+enough, to the vexed countenance of the mother; whose fair curls failed
+to look complacent for once.
+
+"I suppose Eleanor thinks of another day," she said; "when the Lord
+will come to be admired in his saints and to be glorified in all them
+that believe. _That_ will be admiration worth having--if Eleanor thinks
+so, I confess I think so too."
+
+"Dear sister Caxton," said Mrs. Powle restraining herself, "what has
+the one thing to do with the other?"
+
+"Nothing," said Mrs. Caxton. "To seek both is impossible."
+
+"_Do_ you think it is wicked to receive admiration? I did not think you
+went so far."
+
+"No," said Mrs. Caxton, with her genial smile. "We were talking of
+seeking it."
+
+Mrs. Powle was silent, and went away in a very ill humour.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+IN PARTINGS.
+
+
+  "The sun came up upon the left,
+  Out of the sea came he!
+  And he shone bright, and on the right
+  Went down into the sea."
+
+
+And the Tuesday came, and was fair; and under a bright sky the steamer
+ran down to Gravesend with Eleanor and her friends on board. Not Julia;
+Eleanor had given up all hopes of that; but Mrs. Caxton was beside her,
+and on the other side of her was Mrs. Powle. It was a terribly
+disagreeable journey to the latter; every feeling in her somewhat
+passionless nature was in a state of fretful rebellion. The other
+stronger and deeper characters were ready for the time and met it
+bravely. Met it cheerfully too. The crisping breeze that curled the
+waters of the river, the blue sky and fair sunlight, the bright and
+beautiful of the scene around them, those two saw and tasted; with
+hopeful though very grave hearts. The other poor lady saw nothing but a
+dirty steamboat and a very unpropitious company. Among these however
+were Eleanor's fellow-voyagers, Mr. Amos and his wife; and she was
+introduced to them now for the first time. Various circumstances had
+prevented their meeting in London.
+
+"A very common-looking man,"--whispered Mrs. Powle to Eleanor.
+
+"I don't know, mamma,--but very good," Eleanor returned.
+
+"You are mad on goodness!" said Mrs. Powle. "Don't you see anything
+else in a man, or the want of anything else? I do; a thousand things;
+and if a man is ever so good, I want him to be a gentleman too."
+
+"So do I," said Eleanor smiling. "But much more, mamma, if a man is
+ever so much a gentleman, I want him to be good. Isn't that the more
+important of the two?"
+
+"No!" said Mrs. Powle. "I don't think it is; not for society."
+
+Eleanor thought of Paul's words--"Henceforth know I no man after the
+flesh"--What was the use of talking? she and her mother must have the
+same vision before they could see the same things. And she presently
+forgot Mr. Amos and all about him; for in the distance she discerned
+signs that the steamer was approaching Gravesend; and knew that the
+time of parting drew near.
+
+It came and was gone, and Eleanor was alone on the deck of the "Diana;"
+and in that last moment of trial Mrs. Powle had been the most overcome
+of the three. Eleanor's sweet face bore itself strongly as well; and
+Mrs. Caxton was strong both by life-habit and nature; and the view of
+each of them was far above that little ship-deck. Mrs. Powle saw
+nothing else. Her distress was very deep.
+
+"I wish I had taken Julia to her!" was the outburst of her penitent
+relentings; and Mrs. Caxton was only thankful, since they had come too
+late, that they were uttered too late for Eleanor to hear. _She_ went
+home like a person whose earthly treasure is all lodged away from her;
+not lost at all, indeed, but yet only to be enjoyed and watched over
+from a distance. Even then she reckoned herself rich beyond what she
+had been before Eleanor ever came to her.
+
+For Eleanor, left on the ship's deck, at first it was hard to realize
+that she had any earthly treasure at all. One part of it quitted,
+perhaps for ever, with the home and the country of her childhood; the
+other, so far, so vague, so uncertainly grasped in this moment of
+distraction, that she felt utterly broken-hearted and alone. She had
+not counted upon this; she had not expected her self-command would so
+completely fail her; but it was so; and although without one shadow of
+a wish to turn back or in any wise alter her course, the first
+beginning of her journey was made amidst mental storms. Julia was the
+particular bitter thought over which her tears poured; but they flooded
+every image that rose of home things, and childish things and things at
+Plassy. Mr. Amos came to her help.
+
+"It is nothing," Eleanor said as well as she could speak,--"it is
+nothing but the natural feeling which will have its way. Thank
+you--don't be concerned. I don't want anything--if I only could have
+seen my sister!"
+
+"Mrs. Amos is about as bad," said her comforter with a sigh. "Ah well!
+feeling must have its way, and better it should. You will both be
+better by and by, I hope."
+
+They were worse before they were better. For in a few hours sickness
+took its place among present grievances; and perhaps on the whole it
+acted as a relief by effecting a diversion from mental to bodily
+concerns. It seemed to Eleanor that she felt them both together;
+nevertheless, when at the end of a few days the sea-sickness left her
+and she was able to get up again, it was with the sweet fresh quietness
+of convalescence in mind as well as in body. She was herself again.
+Things took their place. England was behind indeed--but Fiji was
+forward--and Heaven was over all.
+
+As soon as she was able to be up she went upon deck. Strength came
+immediately with the fresh breeze. It was a cool cloudy day; the ship
+speeding along under a good spread of canvas; the sea in a beautiful
+state of life, but not boisterous. Nobody was on deck but some of the
+sailors. Eleanor took a seat by the guards, and began to drink in
+refreshment. It stole in fast, on mind as well as body, she hardly knew
+how; only both were braced up together. She felt now a curious gladness
+that the parting was over, the journey begun, and England fairly out of
+sight. The going away had been like death; a new life was rising upon
+her now; and Eleanor turned herself towards it with the same sweet
+readiness as the good ship whose head is laid upon a new course.
+
+There is a state of mind in which the soul may be aptly called the
+garden of the Lord; when answering to his culture it brings forth
+flowers and fruits for his pleasure. In such a state, the paradise
+which Adam lost is half re-entered again; the moral victory is won over
+"the works of the devil" which Christ came to destroy. The body is
+dead, no doubt, because of sin; but the spirit is life, because of
+righteousness. The air of that garden is peace; no hurricanes blow
+there; the sunshine dwells therein; the odours of sweet things come
+forth, and make known all abroad whose garden it is.
+
+Eleanor had sat awhile very still, very busy looking over into the sea,
+when she heard a step near her on the deck. She looked up, and saw a
+man whom she recognized as the master of the vessel. A rather
+hard-featured man, tall and strong set, with a pair of small eyes that
+did not give forth their expression readily. What there was struck her
+as not pleasant.
+
+"So you've got up!" said he, in a voice which was less harsh than his
+looks. "Do you feel better?"
+
+"Much better, thank you."
+
+"Hearty, eh?"
+
+"Pretty well," said Eleanor smiling, "since I have got this salt air
+into my lungs."
+
+"Ah! you'll have enough of that. 'Tother lady is down yet, eh? She has
+not got up."
+
+"No."
+
+"Are you all going to the same place?"
+
+"I believe so."
+
+"Missionaries, eh?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Think you'll get those dark fellows to listen to you?"
+
+"Why not?" said Eleanor brightly.
+
+"It's all make-believe. They only want to get your axes and hatchets,
+and such things."
+
+"Well, we want their yams and potatoes and fish and labour," said
+Eleanor; "so it is a fair bargain; and no make-believe on either side."
+
+"Why don't you stay in the Colonies? there is work enough to be done;
+people enough that need it; and a fine country. Everything in the world
+that you need; and not so far from home either."
+
+Eleanor made no answer.
+
+"Why don't you stay in the Colonies?"
+
+"One can only be in one place," said Eleanor lightly.
+
+"And that must always be the place where somebody else is," said the
+captain maliciously. "That's the way people will congregate together,
+instead of scattering where they are wanted."
+
+"Do you know the Colonies well?" said Eleanor coolly, in answer to this
+rude speech.
+
+"I ought. I have spent about a third of my life in them. I have a
+brother at Melbourne too, as rich in flocks and herds almost as Job
+was. That's the place! That's a country! But you are going to Sydney?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Friends there?"
+
+"I have one friend there who expects me."
+
+"Who's he? Maybe I know him."
+
+"Egbert Esthwaite is his name."
+
+"Don't know him, though. And so you have left England to find yourself
+a new home in the wilderness?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Pretty tough change you'll find it. Don't you find it already?"
+
+"No. Don't you know," said Eleanor giving him a good look, "when one's
+real home is in heaven, it does not make so much difference?"
+
+The captain would have answered the words fast enough; but in the
+strong sweet eye that had looked into his so full, there was something
+that silenced him. He turned off abruptly, with the internal
+conviction--"_That_ girl thinks what she says, anyhow!"
+
+Eleanor's eyes left contemplating the waters, and were busy for some
+time with the book which had lain in her lap until her colloquy with
+the captain. Somebody came and sat down beside her.
+
+"Mr. Amos! I am glad to see you," said Eleanor.
+
+"I am glad to see you, sister," he replied; "and glad to see you able
+to be here. You look well again."
+
+"O I am."
+
+"Mrs. Amos cannot raise her head. What are you doing?--if I may ask so
+blunt a question upon so short an acquaintance."
+
+"This is the first time I have been on deck. I was studying the sea, in
+the first place;--and then something drove me to study the Bible."
+
+"Ah, we are driven to that on every hand," he answered. "Now go on, and
+tell me the point of your studies, will you?"
+
+There was something in the utmost genial and kind in his look and way;
+he was not a person from whom one would keep back anything he wanted to
+know; as also evidently he was not one to ask anything he should not.
+The request did not even startle Eleanor. She looked thoughtfully over
+the heaving sea while she answered.
+
+"I had been taking a great new view of the glory of creation--over the
+ship's side here. Then I had the sorrow to find--or fear--that we have
+an unbeliever in our captain. From that, I suppose, I took hold of
+Paul's reasoning--how without excuse people are in unbelief; how the
+invisible things of God from the creation of the world are clearly
+seen, being understood by the things that are made; even his eternal
+power and Godhead. And those glorious last words were what my heart
+fixed upon."
+
+"'His eternal power and Godhead.'"
+
+Eleanor looked round without speaking; a look full of the human echo to
+those words; the joy of weakness, the strength of ignorance, the
+triumph of humility.
+
+"What a grand characterizing Paul gives in those other words," said Mr.
+Amos--"'the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only wise God.' Unto
+him be honour and glory forever!"
+
+"And then those other words," said Eleanor low,--"'The eternal God is
+thy refuge.'"
+
+"That is a good text for us to keep," said Mr. Amos. "But really, with
+that refuge, I don't see what we should be afraid of."
+
+"Not even of want of success," said Eleanor.
+
+"No. If faith didn't fail. Paul could give thanks that he was made
+always to triumph in Christ,--and by the power that wrought with him,
+so may we." He spoke very gravely, as if looking into himself and
+pondering his own responsibilities and privileges and short-comings.
+Eleanor kept silence.
+
+"How do you like this way of life?" Mr. Amos said presently.
+
+"The sea is beautiful. I have hardly tried the ship."
+
+"Haven't you?" said Mr. Amos smiling. "That speaks a candid good
+traveller. Another would have made the first few days the type of the
+whole."
+
+And he also took to his book, and the silence lasted this time.
+
+Mrs. Amos continued prostrated by sea-sickness; unable to raise her
+head from her pillow. Eleanor could do little for her. The evil was
+remediless, and admitted of very small amelioration. But the weather
+was very fine and the ship's progress excellent; and Eleanor spent
+great part of her time on deck. All day, except when she was at the
+side of Mrs. Amos, she was there. The sailors watched the figure in the
+dark neat sea-dress and cloak and the little close straw bonnet with
+chocolate ribbands; and every now and then made pretences to get near
+and see how the face looked that was hidden under it. The report of the
+first venturers was so favourable that Eleanor had an unconscious sort
+of levee the next day or two; and then, the fresh sweet face that was
+so like a flower was found to have more attractions when known than it
+had before when unknown. There was not a hand on board but seized or
+made opportunities every day and as often as he could to get near her;
+if a chance offered and he could edge in a word and have a smile and
+word in answer, that man went away esteemed both by himself and his
+comrades a lucky fellow. Eleanor awoke presently to the sense of her
+opportunities, though too genuinely humble to guess at the cause of
+them; and she began to make every one tell for her work. Every sailor
+on board soon knew what Eleanor valued more than all other things;
+every one knew, "sure as guns," as he would have expressed it, that if
+she had a chance of speaking to him, she would one way or another
+contrive before it was ended to make him think of his duty and to
+remember to whom it was owed; and yet--strange to say--there was not
+one of them that for any such reason was willing to lose or to shun one
+of those chances. "If all were like she"--was the comment of one Jack
+tar; and the rest were precisely of his opinion. The captain himself
+was no exception. He could not help frequently coming to Eleanor's
+side, to break off her studies or her musings with some information or
+some suggestion of his own and have a bit of a talk. His manners
+mended. He grew thoroughly civil to her.
+
+Meanwhile the vessel was speeding southwards. Fast, fast, every day
+they lowered their latitude. Higher and higher rose the sun; the stars
+that had been Eleanor's familiars ever since she had eyes to see them,
+sank one by one below the northern horizon; and the beauty of the new,
+strange, brilliant constellations of the southern sky began to tell her
+in curious language of her approach to her new home. They had a most
+magical charm for Eleanor. She studied and watched them unweariedly;
+they had for her that curious interest which we give to any things that
+are to be our life-companions. Here Mr. Amos could render her some
+help; but with or without help, Eleanor nightly studied the southern
+stars, watched and pondered them till she knew them well; and then she
+watched them because she knew them, as well as because she was to know
+them all the rest of her life.
+
+By day she studied other things; and the days were not weary. The ocean
+was a storehouse of pleasure for her; and Captain Fox declared his ship
+had never carried such a clever passenger; "a girl who had plenty of
+stuff, and knew what to do with herself." Certainly the last piece of
+praise was true; for Eleanor had no weary moments. She had interests on
+board, as well as outside the ship. She picked up the sailors' legends
+and superstitions; ay, and many a little bit of life history came in
+too, by favour of the sympathy and friendliness they saw in those fine
+brown eyes. Never a voyage went better; and the sailors if not the
+captain were very much of the mind that they had a good angel on board.
+
+"Well how do you like _this?_" said Mr. Amos coming up one day. N.B. It
+was the seventh day of a calm in the tropics.
+
+"I would like a wind better," Eleanor said smiling.
+
+"Can you possess your soul in patience?"
+
+"Yes," she said, but gently and with a slight intonation that spoke of
+several latent things.
+
+"We are well on our way now,--if a wind would come!"
+
+"It will come."
+
+"I have never asked you," said Mr. Amos. "How do you expect to find
+life in the islands?"
+
+"In what respect? In general, I should say, as unlike this as possible."
+
+"Of course. I understand there is no stagnation there. But as to
+hardships--as to the people?"
+
+"The people are part Christianized and part unchristianized; that gives
+every variety of experience among them, I suppose. The unchristianized
+are as bad as they can be, very nearly; the good, very good. As to
+hardships, I have no expectation."
+
+"You have not data to form one?"
+
+"I cannot say that; but things are so different according to
+circumstances; and there is so great a change going on continually in
+the character of the people."
+
+"How do you feel about leaving behind you all the arts and refinements
+and delights of taste in the old world?"
+
+"Will you look over the side of the ship, Mr. Amos?--down below
+there--do you see anything?"
+
+"Dolphin--," said Mr. Amos.
+
+"What do you think of them?"
+
+"Beautiful!" said Mr. Amos. "Beautiful, undoubtedly! as brilliant as if
+they had just come out of the jeweller's shop, polished silver. How
+clear the water is! I can see them perfectly--far below."
+
+"Isn't the sea better than a jeweller's shop?"
+
+"I never thought of it before," said Mr. Amos laughing; "but it
+certainly is; though I think it is the first time the comparison has
+been made."
+
+"Did you ever go to Tenby?"
+
+"I never did."
+
+"Nor I; but I have heard the sea-caves in its neighbourhood described
+as more splendid in their natural treasures of vegetable and animal
+growth, than any jeweller's shop could be--were he the richest in
+London."
+
+"_Splendid?_" said Mr. Amos.
+
+"Yes--for brilliance and variety of colour."
+
+"Is it possible? These are things that I do not know."
+
+"You will be likely to know them. The lagoons around the Polynesian
+islands--the still waters within the barrier-reefs, you understand--are
+lined with most gorgeous and wonderful displays of this kind. One seems
+to be sailing over a mine of gems--only not in the rough, but already
+cut and set as no workman of earth could do them."
+
+"Ah," said Mr. Amos, "I fancy you have had advantages of hearing about
+these islands, that I have not enjoyed."
+
+Eleanor was checked, and coloured a little; then rallied herself.
+
+"Look now over yonder, Mr. Amos--at those clouds."
+
+"I have looked at them every evening," he said.
+
+Their eyes were turned towards the western heavens, where the setting
+sun was gathering his mantle of purple and gold around him before
+saying good night to the world. Every glory of light and colouring was
+there, among the thick folds of his vapourous drapery; and changing and
+blending and shifting softly from one hue of richness to another.
+
+"I suppose you will tell me now," said Mr. Amos with a smile of some
+humour, "that no upholsterer's hangings can rival that. I give up--as
+the schoolboys say. Yet we do lose some things. What do you say to a
+land without churches?"
+
+"O it is not," said Eleanor. "Chapels are rising everywhere--in every
+village, on some islands; and very neat ones."
+
+"I am afraid," said Mr. Amos with his former look of quiet humour, "you
+would not be of the mind of a lady I heard rejoicing once over the
+celebration of the church service at Oxford. She remarked, that it was
+a subject of joyful thought and remembrance, to know that praise so
+near perfection was offered somewhere on the earth. There was the
+music, you know, and the beautiful building in which we heard it, and
+all the accessories. You will have nothing like that in Fiji."
+
+"She must have forgotten those words," said Eleanor--"'Where is the
+house that ye build unto me, and where is the place of my rest? ... _to
+this man_ will I look, even to him that is poor and of a contrite
+spirit, and trembleth at my word.' You will find _that_ in Fiji."
+
+"Ah," said Mr. Amos,--"I see. My friend will have a safe wife in you.
+Do you know, when I first saw you I stood in doubt. I thought you
+looked like--Well, never mind! It's all right."
+
+"Right!" said Captain Fox coming up behind them. "I am glad somebody
+thinks so. Right!--lying broiling here all day, and sleeping all night
+as if we were in port and had nothing to do--when we're a long way from
+that. Drove you down to-day, didn't it?" said he turning to Eleanor.
+
+"It was so hot; I could not get a bit of permanent shade anywhere. I
+went below for a little while."
+
+"And yet it's all right!" said the captain. "I am afraid you are not in
+a hurry to get to the end of the voyage."
+
+Mr. Amos smiled and Eleanor blushed. The truth was, she never let
+herself think of the end of the voyage. The thought would come--the
+image standing there would start up--but she always put it aside and
+kept to the present; and that was one reason certainly why Eleanor's
+mind was so quiet and free and why the enjoyable and useful things of
+the hour were not let slip and wasted. So her spirits maintained their
+healthy tone; no doubt spurred to livelier action by the abiding
+consciousness of that spot of brightness in the future towards which
+she would not allow herself to look in bewildering imaginations.
+
+Meanwhile the calm came to an end, as all things will; the beneficent
+trade wind took charge of the vessel again, and they sped on, south,
+south; till the sky over Eleanor's head was a new one from that all her
+life had known, and the bright stars at night looked at her as
+strangers. For study them as she would, she could not but feel theirs
+were new faces. The captain one day shewed her St. Helena in the
+distance; then the Cape of Good Hope was neared--and rounded--and in
+the Indian Ocean the travellers ploughed their way eastward. The island
+of St. Paul was passed; and still the ship sailed on and on to the east.
+
+Eleanor had observed for a day or two that there was an unusual degree
+of activity among the sailors. They seemed to be getting things into
+new trim; clearing up and cleaning; and the chain cable one day made
+its appearance on deck, where room had been made for it. Eleanor looked
+on at the proceedings, with a half guess at their meaning that made her
+heart beat.
+
+"What is it?" she asked Captain Fox.
+
+"What's all this rigging up? Why, we expect to see land soon. You like
+the sea so well, you'll be sorry."
+
+"How soon?"
+
+"I shouldn't wonder, in a day or two. You will stop in Sydney till you
+get a chance to go on?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I wish I could take you the whole way, I declare! but I would not take
+an angel into those awful islands. Why if you get shipwrecked there,
+they will kill and eat you."
+
+"There would be little danger of that now, Captain Fox; none at all in
+most of the islands. Instead of killing and eating, they relieve and
+comfort their shipwrecked countrymen."
+
+"Believe that?" said the captain.
+
+"I know it. I know instances."
+
+"Whereabouts are you going among them?" said he looking at her. "If I
+get driven out of my reckoning ever and find myself in those latitudes,
+I'd like to know which way to steer. Where's your place?"
+
+He was not uncivil; but he liked to see, when he could manage to bring
+it, that beautiful tinge of rose in Eleanor's cheeks which answered
+such an appeal as this.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+IN PORT.
+
+
+  "And the magic charm of foreign lands,
+  With shadows of palm, and shining sands,
+  Where the tumbling surf
+  O'er the coral reefs of Madagascar,
+  Washes the feet of the swarthy 'Lascar.'--"
+
+
+It was but the next day, and Eleanor was sitting as usual on deck
+looking over the waters in a lovely bright morning, when a sound was
+heard which almost stopped her heart's beating for a moment. It was the
+cry, rung out from the mast-head, "Land, ho!"
+
+"Where is it?" she said to the captain, who was behind her. "I do not
+see it anywhere."
+
+"You will see it in a little while. Wait a bit. If you could go aloft I
+could shew it you now."
+
+"What land? do you know?"
+
+"Australia--the finest land the sun shines upon!"
+
+"I suppose you mean, besides England."
+
+"No, I don't, begging your pardon. England is very well for those who
+can take the ripe side of the cherry; poorer folks had better come
+here, if they want any chance at all."
+
+The lucky sailor was coming down from the mast-head, and the captain
+went off to join those who were giving him sundry rewarding tokens of
+their joy for his news. Eleanor looked over the waste of waters
+eastward, feeling as if her breath had been taken away.
+
+So much of her journey done! The rest seemed, and was, but little.
+Australia was almost--_home_. And what sort of a home? And could Mr.
+Rhys possibly be at Sydney to meet her? Eleanor knew he could not; yet
+the physical possibility would assert itself in spite of all the
+well-allowed moral impossibility. But at any rate at Sydney she would
+find letters; at Sydney she would find, perhaps very soon, the means of
+making the remainder of her voyage; at Sydney she could no longer
+prevent herself from _thinking_. Eleanor had staved off thought all the
+way by wisely saying and insisting to herself "Time enough when I get
+to Sydney." Yes; she was nearing home now. So deep, so engrossing, were
+her meditations and sensations, that Mr. Amos who had come up to
+congratulate her on the approaching termination of the voyage, spoke to
+her once and again without being heard. He could not see her face, but
+the little straw bonnet was as motionless as if its wearer had been in
+a dream. He smiled and went away.
+
+Then appeared on the distant horizon somewhat like a low blue cloud,
+which gathered distinctness and strength of outline by degrees. It was
+the land, beyond doubt; the coast of New Holland itself, as the captain
+informed Eleanor; and going on and passing through Bass's Strait the
+vessel soon directed her course northward. Little remained then before
+reaching port.
+
+It was under a fair and beautiful sunlight morning that they were at
+last approaching Sydney. Mr. Amos was on deck as well as Eleanor, the
+captain standing with them; for a pilot had come on board; the captain
+had given up his charge, and was in command no longer. Before the
+watching three stretched a low unpromising shore of sandstone cliffs
+and sand.
+
+"It is good to see it," said Mr. Amos; "but in this first view it don't
+shew for much."
+
+"Don't shew for anything," said Captain Fox. "Wait till we get inside
+the Heads. It don't shew for anything; but it's the most glorious land
+the sun shines on!"
+
+"In what particular respects?" said Mr. Amos.
+
+"In every respect of making a living and enjoying it," said the
+captain. "That makes a good land, don't it?"
+
+Mr. Amos allowed that it did.
+
+"It's the most beautiful country, if you come to that," Captain Fox
+went on;--"that's what Miss Powle thinks of. I wish this was Melbourne
+we were coming to, instead of Sydney. I'd like to have her look at it."
+
+"Better than this?" said Mr. Amos, for Eleanor was silent.
+
+"A better colony, for beauty and riches," said the captain. "It's the
+most glorious country, sir, you ever saw! hundreds of square miles of
+it are as handsome as a duke's park; and good for something, which a
+duke's park ain't. There's a great tract of country up round Mt.
+Macedon--thirty or forty miles back into the land--its softly rolling
+ground without a stone on it, as nice as ever you saw; and spotted with
+the trees they call she-oaks--beautiful trees; and they don't grow in a
+wood, but just stand round in clumps and ones or twos here and there,
+like a picture; and then through the openings in the ground you can see
+miles off more of just the same, till it gets blue in the distance; and
+mountains beyond all. And when you put here and there a flock of
+thousands of sheep spotting the country with their white backs--I ain't
+poetical, sir, but I tell you! when I saw that country first, I thought
+maybe I was; but it's likely I was mistaken," said the captain
+laughing, "for the fit has never come back since. Miss Powle thinks
+there's as much poetry in the water as on the land."
+
+Still Eleanor did not move to answer; and Mr. Amos, perhaps for her
+sake, went on.
+
+"What is it that country is so good for? gold? or sheep?"
+
+"Sheep, sir, sheep! the gold grows in another part. There's enough of
+that too; but I'd as lieve make my money some other way. Victoria is
+the country for wool-growing, sir. I've a brother there--Stephen
+Fox--he went with little more than nothing; and now he has a flock of
+sheep--well, I'm afraid to say how many; but I know he needs and uses a
+tract of twelve thousand acres of land for them."
+
+"That is being a pretty large land-owner, as well as sheep-owner," Mr.
+Amos said with a smile.
+
+"O he don't own it. That wouldn't do, you know. The interest of the
+money would buy all the wool on his sheep's backs."
+
+"How then?"
+
+"He has the use of it,--that's all. Don't you know how they work it? He
+pays a license fee to Government for the privilege of using the land
+for a year--wherever he pitches upon a place; then he stocks it, and
+goes on occupying by an annual license fee, until he has got too many
+neighbours and the land is getting all taken up in his neighbourhood.
+Then some one comes along who has money and don't want the plague of a
+new settlement; and he sells off his stock and claim to him, packs up
+his traps, pokes off through the bush with his compass till he has
+found a new location somewhere; then he comes back, pays a new license
+fee, and stocks the new place with flocks and shepherds and begins
+again. And I never saw in my life anything so fine as one of those
+Victoria sheep or cattle farms."
+
+"Why don't you go into it?"
+
+"Well--it's best to divide the business just now. I can be of use to
+Stephen and he can be of use to me. And I'm a little of this lady's
+opinion."
+
+"How is it in this colony we are coming to?"
+
+"Well, they are very prosperous; it's a good place to get rich. They
+have contrived to get along with their gold mines without ruining every
+other interest, as the other colonies have done for a time. But I think
+Victoria is the queen of them all; Victoria sends home more wool than
+either of the others; and she has gold, and she has other mines;
+different. She has copper equal to Burla-Burra--and she has coal,
+within a few miles of Melbourne, and other things; but the coal is a
+great matter here, you see."
+
+The ship all the while was rapidly approaching the Heads, which mark,
+and make, the entrance to the harbour of Port Jackson. They assumed
+more dignity of elevation and feature as they were nearer seen; the
+rocks rising some two or three hundred feet high, with the sea foaming
+at their foot. Passing swiftly onward, the vessel by and by doubled
+Bradley's Head, and the magnificent sheet of water that forms the
+harbour was suddenly revealed to the strangers' gaze. Full of islands,
+full of sailing craft, bordered with varying shores of "promontory,
+creek, and bay," pleasantly wooded, and spotted along its woody shores
+with spots of white that marked where people had pretty country homes,
+the quiet water glittering in the light; the view to the sea-tossed
+travellers was nothing short of enchanting. Mrs. Amos had come on deck,
+though scarce able to stand; a quiet, gentle, sweet-looking person; her
+eyes were full of tears now. Her husband's arm was round her,
+supporting her strength that she might keep up; his face was moved and
+grave. Eleanor was afraid to shew anybody her face; yet it was
+outwardly in good order enough; she felt as if her heart would never
+get back to its accustomed beat. She sat still, breathlessly drinking
+in the scene, rejoicing and trembling at once. She heard Mrs. Amos's
+softly whispered, "Praise the Lord!--" and her husband's firm "Amen!"
+It had like to have overset her. She pressed her hands tight together
+to keep her heart still.
+
+"They know we are coming," said the captain.
+
+"Who?" said Eleanor quickly.
+
+Mr. Amos pressed his wife's arm; the captain's eyes twinkled.
+
+"Is there anybody there on the look-out for you?" he asked.
+
+"I suppose there may be," said Eleanor calmly.
+
+"Well, he bas got notice then, some hours ago," said the captain. "The
+pilot telegraphed to the South Head, and from the South Head the news
+has gone all over Sydney and Paramatta. Pretty good-looking city, is
+Sydney."
+
+It was far more than that. It had been the point of the travellers'
+attention for some time. From the water up, one height above another,
+the white buildings of the town rose and spread; a white city; with
+forts and windmills, and fair looking country seats in its
+neighbourhood.
+
+"Where is Paramatta?" said Eleanor, "and what is it?"
+
+"It's a nice little pleasure place, up the Paramatta river; fifteen
+miles above Sydney. Fine scenery; it's as good as going to Richmond,"
+added the captain.
+
+"What is that splendid large white building?" Mrs. Amos asked, "on the
+hill?"
+
+"No great things of a hill," said the captain. "That's the
+Government-house. Nice gardens and pleasure grounds there too."
+
+"How beautiful it is!" said Mrs. Amos almost with a sigh.
+
+"It is almost like a Scottish lake!" said her husband. "I remember one
+that this scene reminds me of at this moment."
+
+"A little of this is worth all Scotland," said the captain. "There's
+pretty much everything here that a man wants--and not hard to come by,
+either. O you'll stay in Sydney! why shouldn't you? There's people
+enough here that want teaching, worse than the savages. I declare, I
+think they do."
+
+"Somebody else will have to teach them," said Mr. Amos. "What an array
+of ships and sails of all sorts! This gives one an idea of the business
+of the place."
+
+"Business, and growing business," said the captain. "Sydney is getting
+ahead as fast as it can."
+
+"How sweet the air is!" said Eleanor.
+
+"Ay!" said the captain. "Now you smell green things again. I'll wager
+you won't want to put to sea any more, after you once get a firm foot
+on land. Why this is the very place for you. Enough to do, and every
+luxury a man need want, at hand when your work is done."
+
+"When is one's work done?" said Eleanor.
+
+"I should say, when one has worked enough and got what one is after,"
+said the captain. "That's my idea. I never was for working till I
+couldn't enjoy."
+
+"What are we after? do you think--" said Eleanor looking round at him.
+
+"What everybody else is!" the captain answered somewhat shortly.
+
+"Luxury, namely?"
+
+"Yes! it comes to that. Everybody is seeking happiness in his own way;
+and when he has got it, then it is luxury."
+
+Eleanor only looked at him; she did not say anything further, and
+turned again to the contemplation of the scene they had in view. The
+captain bustled off and was gone a few minutes.
+
+"I wish you'd sing, sister Powle," said Mr. Amos in that interval.
+
+"Do!" said his wife. "Please do!"
+
+Whether Eleanor was precisely in a singing mood or no, she began as
+desired. Mr. Amos joined her, in somewhat subdued tones, and Mrs. Amos
+gave a still gentler seconding; while the rich notes of her own voice
+filled the air; so mellow that their full power was scarcely
+recognized; so powerful that the mellow sound seemed to fill the ship's
+rigging. The sailors moved softly. They were accustomed to that music.
+All the way out, on every Sunday service or any other that was held,
+Eleanor had served for choir to the whole company, joined by here and
+there a rough voice that broke in as it could, and just backed by Mr.
+Amos's steady support. There was more than one in that ship's company
+to whom memory would never cease to bring a reminder that 'there is
+balm in Gilead;' for some reason or other that was one of Eleanor's
+favourite songs. Now she gave another--sweet, clear, and wild;--the
+furthest-off sailors stood still to hearken. They had heard it often
+enough to know what the words were.
+
+
+"O who's like Jesus! From sins and fears he frees us. He died for you,
+He died for me, He died to set poor sinners free. O who's like Jesus!"
+
+
+The chorus floated all over after each verse of the hymn was ended; it
+went clear to the ship's bows; but Eleanor sat quite still in her old
+position, clasping her hands fast on the rail and not moving her head.
+During the singing the captain came back and stood behind them
+listening; while people on the vessels that they passed, suspended
+their work and looked up to hear. Just as the singing was finished, a
+little boat was seen swiftly coming alongside; and in another minute
+they were boarded by the gentleman who had been its solitary passenger.
+The captain turned to meet him. He was a man rather under middle size,
+black hair curling all round his head, eyes quick and bright, and whole
+appearance handsome at once and business-like. He came forward briskly,
+and so he spoke.
+
+"Have you got anybody here that belongs to me?" he said. "Captain, is
+there a Miss Powle on board of your ship?"
+
+Captain Fox silently stepped on one side and made a motion of his hand
+towards Eleanor. Eleanor hearing herself called, slowly rose and faced
+the new-comer. There was a second's pause, as the two confronted each
+other; then the gentleman bowed very low and advanced to touch the
+lady's hand, which however when he touched he held.
+
+"Is this Miss Powle? Miss _Eleanor_ Powle?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I am honoured in having such a cousin! I hope you have heard somebody
+speak of a Mr. Esthwaite in these parts?"
+
+"I have heard Mrs. Caxton speak of Mr. Esthwaite--very often."
+
+"All right!" said the gentleman letting go Eleanor's hand. "Identity
+proved. Captain, I am going to take charge of this lady. Will you see
+that her luggage, personal effects and so on, are brought on
+deck?"--then turning to Eleanor with real deference and cordiality in
+his manner, he went on,--"Mrs. Esthwaite is longing to see you. It is
+such a pleasure to have a cousin come from England, as you can but
+feebly appreciate; she hopes to learn the new fashions from you, and
+all that sort of thing; and she has been dressing your room with
+flowers, I believe, for these three months past. If you please, we will
+not wait for the ship's slow motions, but I will carry you straight to
+land in my boat; and glad you will be! Will you signify your assent to
+this arrangement?--as I perceive the captain is a servant of yours and
+will do nothing without you bid him."
+
+"Thank you," said-Eleanor,--"I will go with you;--but what will be done
+with all my boxes in the hold?" This enquiry was addressed to the
+captain.
+
+"Don't you fear anything," said Mr. Esthwaite, "now you have overcome
+so many troubles and got to this haven of rest. We will take care of
+your boxes. I suppose you have brought enough to stock the whole
+Navigator's group--or Fiji, is it, you are going to? I would go to any
+other one rather--but never mind; the boxes shall be stored; and maybe
+you'll unpack them here after all. Captain, what about that luggage?--"
+
+Eleanor went down to give directions, and presently came on deck again,
+all ready to go ashore. There was a little delay on account of the
+baggage; and meanwhile Mr. Esthwaite was introduced to Mr. and Mrs.
+Amos.
+
+"I am very much obliged to you for taking care of this cousin of mine,"
+he said to them. "I am sure she is worth taking care of. And now I
+should like to take care of you in turn. Will you go to my house, and
+make us happy?"
+
+They explained that they were going elsewhere.
+
+"Well, come and see her then; for she will be wanting to see somebody.
+We will do the best for her we can; but still--you know--absent friends
+have the best claim. By the way! didn't I hear some sweet Methodist
+singing as I came up? was it on this ship? You haven't got any
+Methodists on board, captain; have you?"
+
+"I've been one myself, this voyage!" said the captain.
+
+"I wouldn't," said Mr. Esthwaite. "The Church service is the only one
+to be used at sea. Every other sounds--I don't know how--incompatible.
+There is something in the gentle swell of the rolling waves, and in the
+grandeur of the horizon, that calls for the finest form of words
+mortals could put together; and when you have got such a form, why not
+use it?"
+
+"You did not like the form of the singing then?" said Mr. Amos smiling.
+
+"No," said Mr. Esthwaite drily,--"it struck me that if there had been a
+cathedral roof over it, one of those voices would have lifted the
+rafters and gone on; and that would not have been reverential, you
+know. Now, my young cousin!--"
+
+"Mr. Amos," said Eleanor aside to him and colouring deeply, "if there
+are any letters for me at the house where you are going, or at the
+post-office, will you send them to me?"
+
+"I will certainly make it my care, and bring them to you myself."
+
+"I'll send for anything you want," said Mr. Esthwaite. "What's that?
+letters? We'll get all there is in Sydney, and there is a good deal,
+waiting for this young lady. I've had one floor of my warehouse half
+full for some months back already. No use of it for myself."
+
+At last they got off; and it was not quickly, for Eleanor had to give a
+good bye to everybody on board. Mr. Esthwaite looked on smiling, until
+he was permitted to hand her down the vessel's side, and lodged her in
+the wherry.
+
+"Now you are out of the ship," said he looking keenly at her. "Aren't
+you glad?"
+
+"I have some good friends in her," said Eleanor.
+
+"Friends! I should think so. Those were salt tears that were shed for
+your coming away. Positively, I don't think a man of them could see
+clear to take his last look at you."
+
+Neither were Eleanor's feelings quite unmixed at this moment. She
+expected to see Mr. and Mrs. Amos again; with the rest her intercourse
+was finished; and it had been of that character which leaves longing
+and tender memories behind. She felt all that now. And she felt much
+more. With the end of her voyage in the "Diana" came, at least for the
+present, an end to her inward tranquillity. Now there were letters
+awaiting her; letters for which she had wished nervously so long; now
+she was near Fiji and her new life; now she dared to realize, she could
+not help it, what all the voyage she had refused to think of, as still
+in a hazy distance of the future. Here it was, nigh at hand, looming up
+through the haze, taking distinctness and proportions; and Eleanor's
+heart was in a state of agitation to which that sound little member was
+very little accustomed. However, the outward effect of all this was to
+give her manner even an unwonted degree of cool quietness; and Mr.
+Esthwaite was in a state between daunted and admiring. Both of them
+kept silence for a little while after leaving the ship, while the
+wherry pulled along in the beautiful bay, passing among a crowd of
+vessels of all sorts and descriptions, moving and still. The scene was
+lively, picturesque, pleasant, in the highest degree.
+
+"How does my cousin like us on a first view?"
+
+"It is a beautiful scene!" said Eleanor. "What a great variety of
+vessels are here!"
+
+"And isn't this just the finest harbour in the world?"
+
+"I have heard a great deal of Port Philip," said Eleanor smiling. "I
+understand there is a second Bay of Naples there."
+
+"I don't care for the Bay of Naples! We have sunk all that. We are in a
+new world. Wait till you see what I will shew you to-morrow. Now look
+at that wooded point, with the white houses spotting it; those are fine
+seats; beautiful view and all that; and at Sydney you can have
+everything you want, almost at command."
+
+"You know," said Eleanor, "that is not absolutely a new experience to
+me. In England, we have not far to seek."
+
+"O you say so! Much you know about it. You have been in such a nest of
+a place as my cousin Caxton spreads her wings over. I never was in a
+nest, till I made one for myself. How is my good cousin?"
+
+The talk ran upon home things now until they reached the town and
+landed at a fine stone quay. Then to the Custom House, where business
+was easily despatched; then Mr. Esthwaite put Eleanor into a cab and
+they drove away through the streets for his house in the higher part of
+the city. Eleanor's eyes were full of business. How strange it was! So
+far away from home, and so long living on the sea, now on landing to be
+greeted by such a multitude of familiar sounds and sights. The very cab
+she was driving in; the omnibuses and carts they passed; the
+English-cut faces; the same street cries; the same trades revealing
+themselves, as she had been accustomed to in London. But now and then
+there came a difference of Australasia. There would be a dray drawn by
+three or four pair of bullocks; London streets never saw that turn-out;
+and then Eleanor would start at seeing a little group of the natives of
+the country, dressed in English leavings of costume. Those made her
+feel where she was; otherwise the streets and houses and shops had very
+much of a home air. Except indeed when a curious old edifice built of
+logs peeped in among white stone fronts and handsome shop windows; the
+relics, Mr. Esthwaite told her, of that not so very far distant time
+when the town first began to grow up, and the "bush" covered almost all
+the ground now occupied by it. Eleanor was well pleased to be so busied
+in looking out that she had little leisure for talking; and Mr.
+Esthwaite sat by and smiled in satisfaction. But this blessed immunity
+could not last. The cab stopped before a house in George street.
+
+"Has she come?" exclaimed a voice as the door opened; and a head full
+of curls put itself out into the hall;--"have you brought her? Oh how
+delightful! How glad I am!--" and the owner of the curls came near to
+be introduced, hardly waiting for the introduction, and to give Eleanor
+the most gleeful sort of a welcome.
+
+"And she was on that ship, the 'Diana,' Egbert? how nice! Just as you
+thought; and I was so afraid it was nothing but another disappointment.
+I was afraid to look out when the cab came. Now come up stairs, cousin
+Eleanor, and I will take you to your room. You must be tired to death,
+are you not?"
+
+"Why should I?" said Eleanor as she tripped up stairs after her
+hostess. "I have done nothing for four months."
+
+"Look here!" shouted Mr. Esthwaite from the hall--"Louisa, don't stop
+to talk over the fashions now--it is dinner-time. How soon will you be
+down?"--
+
+"Don't mind him," said pretty Mrs. Esthwaite, leading the way into a
+light pleasant room overlooking the bay;--"sit down and rest yourself.
+Would you like anything before you dress? Now just think you are at
+home, will you? It's too delightful to have you here!"
+
+Eleanor went to the window, which overlooked a magnificent view of the
+harbour. Very oddly, the thought in her mind at that moment was, how
+soon an opportunity could be found for her to make the rest of her
+voyage. Scarce landed, she wanted to see the means of getting away
+again. Her way she saw, over the harbour; where was her conveyance?
+While she stood looking, her new-found cousin was considering her; the
+erect beautiful figure, in all the simplicity of its dress; the close
+little bonnet with chocolate ribbands, the fine grave face under it,
+lastly the little hand which rested on the back of the chair, for
+Eleanor's sea-glove was off. And a certain awe grew up in Mrs.
+Esthwaite's mind.
+
+"Cousin Eleanor," said she, "shall I leave you to dress? Dinner will be
+ready presently, and Egbert will be impatient, I know, till you come
+down stairs again."
+
+"Thank you. I will be but a few minutes. How beautiful this is! O how
+beautiful,--to my eyes that have seen no beauty but sea beauty for so
+long. And the air is so good."
+
+"I am glad you like it. Is it prettier than England?"
+
+"Prettier than England!" Eleanor looked round smiling. "Nothing could
+be that."
+
+"Well I didn't know. Mr. Esthwaite is always running down England, you
+see, and I don't know how much of it he means. I came away when I was
+so little, I don't remember anything of course--"
+
+Here came such a shout of "Louisa!--Louisa!"--from below, that Mrs.
+Esthwaite laughing was obliged to obey it and go, and Eleanor was left.
+There was not much time then for anything; yet a minute Eleanor was
+held at the window by the bay with its wooded shores and islands
+glittering in the evening light; then she turned from it to pray, for
+her heart needed strength, and a great sense of loneliness had suddenly
+come over her. Fighting this feeling, and dressing, both eagerly, in a
+little time she was ready to descend and encounter Mr. Esthwaite and
+dinner.
+
+An encounter it was to Mr. Esthwaite. He had put himself in very
+careful order; though that, to do him justice, was an habitual weakness
+of his; and he met his guest when she appeared with a bow of profound
+recognition and appreciation. Yet Eleanor was only in the simplest of
+all white dresses; without lace or embroidery. No matter. The rich hair
+was in perfect arrangement; the fine figure and fine carriage in their
+unconscious ease were more imposing than anything pretentious can ever
+be, even to such persons as Mr. Esthwaite. He measured his young guest
+correctly and at once. His wife took the measure of Eleanor's gown
+meanwhile, and privately studied what it was that made it so graceful;
+a problem she had not solved when they sat down to dinner.
+
+The dinner was sumptuous, and well served. Mr. Esthwaite took delight
+evidently in playing his part of host, and some pride both housekeeping
+and patriotic in shewing to Eleanor all the means he had to play it
+with. The turtle soup he declared was good, though she might have seen
+better; the fish from Botany Bay, the wild fowl from the interior, the
+game of other kinds from the Hunter river, he declared she could not
+have known surpassed anywhere. Then the vegetables were excellent; the
+potatoes from Van Dieman's Land, were just better than all others in
+the world; and the dessert certainly in its abundance of treasures
+justified his boasting that Australia was a grand country for anybody
+that liked fruit. The growth of the tropics and of the cooler latitudes
+of England met together in confusion of beauty and sweetness on Mr.
+Esthwaite's table. There were oranges and pineapples on one hand,
+peaches, plums, melons, from the neighbouring country; with all sorts
+of English-grown fruits from Van Dieman's Land; gooseberries, pears and
+grapes. Native wines also he pressed on his guest, assuring her that
+some of them were as good as Sauterne, and others very fair claret and
+champagne. Eleanor took the wines on credit; for the rest, her eyes
+enabled her to give admiration where her taste fell short. And
+admiration was expected of her. Mr. Esthwaite was in a great state of
+satisfaction, having very much to do in the admiring way himself.
+
+"Did Louisa keep you up stairs to begin upon the fashions?" said he, as
+he pulled a pineapple to pieces.
+
+"I see you have very little appreciation of that subject," said Eleanor.
+
+"Yes!" said Mrs. Esthwaite,--"just ask him whether he thinks it
+important that _his_ clothes should be cut in the newest pattern, and
+how many good hats he has thrown away because he got hold of something
+new that he liked better. Just ask him! He never will hear me."
+
+"I am going to ask her something," said Mr. Esthwaite. "See here;--you
+are not going to those savage and inhospitable islands, are you?"
+
+Eleanor's smile and answer were as cool as if her whole nature had not
+been in a stir of excitement.
+
+"What in the world do _you_ expect to do there?" said her host with a
+strong tone of disapprobation. "'Wasting sweetness on the desert air'
+is nothing to it; this is positive desecration!"
+
+Eleanor let the opinion pass, and eat the pineapple which he gave her
+with an apparently unimpaired relish.
+
+"You don't know what sort of a place it is!" he insisted.
+
+"I cannot know, I suppose, without going."
+
+"Suppose you stay here," said Mr. Esthwaite; "and we'll send for
+anybody in the world you please! to make you comfortable. Seriously, we
+want good people in this colony; we have got a supply of all other
+sorts, but those are in a deficient minority."
+
+"In that case, I think everybody that stays here is bound to supply
+one."
+
+"See here--who is that gentleman that is so fortunate as to be
+expecting you? what is his name?"
+
+"Mr. Esthwaite! for shame!" said his wife. "I think you are a very
+presuming cousin."
+
+Mr. Esthwaite knew quite well that he was, but he smiled to himself
+with satisfaction to see the answer his question had called up into
+Eleanor's cheeks. The rich dye of crimson was pretty to behold; her
+words were delayed long enough to mark either difficulty of speaking or
+displeasure at the necessity for it. Mr. Esthwaite did not care which
+it was. At last Eleanor answered, with calm distinctness though without
+facing him.
+
+"Do you not know the name?"
+
+"I--I believe Mrs. Caxton must have mentioned it in one of her letters.
+She ought, and I think she did."
+
+An impatient throb of displeasure passed through Eleanor's veins. It
+did not appear. She said composedly, "The name is Rhys--it is a Welsh
+name--spelled R, h, y, s."
+
+"Hm! I remember. What sort of a man is he?"
+
+Eleanor looked up, fairly startled with the audacity of her host; and
+only replied gravely, "I am unable to say."
+
+Mr. Esthwaite at least had a sense of humour in him; for he smiled, and
+his lips kept pertinaciously unsteady for some time, even while he went
+on talking.
+
+"I mean--is he a man calculated for savage, or for civilized life?"
+
+"I hope so," said Eleanor wilfully.
+
+"Mr. Esthwaite! you astonish me!" said his wife.
+
+Mr. Esthwaite seemed however highly amused. "Do you know what savage
+life is?" he said to Eleanor. "It is not what you think. It is not a
+garden of roses, with a pineapple tucked away behind every bush. Now if
+you would come here--here is a grand opening. Here is every sort of
+work wanting you--and Mr. Rhys--whatever the line of his talents may
+be. We'll build him a church, and we'll go and hear him, and we'll make
+much of you. Seriously, if my good cousin had known what she was
+sending you to, she would have wished the 'Diana' should sink with you
+on board, rather than get to the end of her voyage. It is quite
+self-denial enough to come here--when one does not expect to gain
+anything by it."
+
+"Mr. Esthwaite! Egbert!" cried his wife. "Now you are caught!
+Self-denial to come here! That is what you mean by all your talk about
+the Colonies and England!"
+
+"Don't be--silly,--my dear," said her husband. "These people would
+think it so. I don't; but I am addressing myself to their prejudices.
+Self-denial is what they are after."
+
+"It is not what I am after," said Eleanor laughing. "I must break up
+your prejudices."
+
+"What are you after, then. Seriously, what are you going to those
+barbarous islands for--putting friendship and all such regards out of
+the question? Wheat takes you there,--without humbug? You must excuse
+me--but you are a very extraordinary person to look at,--as a
+missionary."
+
+Eleanor could hardly help laughing. She doubted whether or no this was
+a question to be answered; discerning a look of seriousness, as she
+thought, beneath the gleam in her host's eyes, she chose to run the
+risk of answering. She faced him, and them, as she spoke.
+
+"I love Jesus. And I love to do his work, wherever he gives it to me;
+or, as I am a woman and cannot do much, I am glad to help those who
+can."
+
+Mr. Esthwaite was put out a little. He had words on his lips that he
+did not speak; and piled Eleanor's plate with various fruit dainties,
+and drank one or two glasses of his Australian claret before he said
+anything more; an interval occupied by Eleanor in cooling down after
+her last speech, which had flushed her cheeks prodigiously.
+
+"That's a sort of work to be done anywhere," he said finally, as if
+Eleanor had but just spoken. "I am sure it can be done here, and much
+better for you. Now see here--I like you. Don't you suppose, if you
+were to try, you could persuade this Mr. Rhys to quit those regions of
+darkness and come and take the same sort of work at Sydney that he is
+doing there?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Seems decided!--" said Mr. Esthwaite humourously, looking towards his
+wife. "I am afraid this gentleman is a positive sort of character.
+Well!--there is no use in struggling against fate. My dear, take your
+cousin off and give her some coffee. I will be there directly."
+
+The ladies left him accordingly; and in the pretty drawing-room Mrs.
+Esthwaite plied Eleanor with questions relating to her voyage, her
+destination, and above all, the England of which she had heard so much
+and knew so little. Her curiosity was huge, and extended to the
+smallest of imaginable details; and one thing followed another with
+very little of congruous nature between them. And Eleanor answered, and
+related, and described, and the while thought--where her letters were?
+Nevertheless she gave herself kindly to her hostess's gratification,
+and patiently put her own by; and the evening ended with Mrs. Esthwaite
+being in a state of ecstatic delight with her new-found relation. Mr.
+Esthwaite had kept silence and played the part of listener for the
+larger portion of the evening, using his eyes and probably his judgment
+freely during that time. As they were separating, he asked Eleanor
+whether she could get up at six o'clock?
+
+Eleanor asked what for?
+
+"Do, for once; and I will take you a drive in the Domain."
+
+"What Domain? yours, do you mean?"
+
+"Not exactly. I have not got so far as that. No; it's the Government
+Domain--everybody rides and drives there, and almost everybody goes at
+six o'clock. It's worth going; botanical gardens, and all that sort of
+thing."
+
+Eleanor swiftly thought, that it was scarce likely Mr. Amos would have
+her letters for her, or at least bring them, so early as that; and she
+might as well indulge her host's fancy if not her own. She agreed to
+the proposal, and Mrs. Esthwaite went rejoicing with her to her room.
+
+"You'll like it," she said. "The botanical gardens are beautiful, and I
+dare say you will know a great deal more about them than I do. O it's
+delightful to have you here! I only cannot bear to think you must go
+away again."
+
+"You are very kind to me," said Eleanor gratefully. "My dear aunt
+Caxton will be made glad to know what friends I have found among
+strangers."
+
+"Don't speak about it!" said Mrs. Esthwaite, her eyes fairly glistening
+with earnestness. "I am sure if Egbert can do anything he will be too
+glad. Now won't you do just as if you were at home? I want you to be
+completely at home with us--now and always. You must feel very much the
+want of your old home in England! being so far from it, too."
+
+"Heaven is my home," said Eleanor cheerfully; "I do not feel the loss
+of England so much as you think. That other home always seems near."
+
+"Does it?" said Mrs. Esthwaite. "It seems such an immense way off, to
+me!"
+
+"I used to think so; but it is near to me now. So it does not so much
+matter whereabouts on the earth I am."
+
+"It must be nice to feel so!" said Mrs. Esthwaite with an unconscious
+sigh.
+
+"Do you not feel so?" Eleanor asked.
+
+"O no. I do not know anything about it. I am not good--like you."
+
+"It is not goodness--not my goodness--that makes heaven my home," said
+Eleanor smiling at her and taking her hands.
+
+"But I am sure you are good?" said Mrs. Esthwaite earnestly.
+
+"Just as you are,--except for the grace of God, which is free to all."
+
+"But," said Mrs. Esthwaite looking at her as if she were something
+hardly of earth like ordinary mortals,--"I have not given up the world
+as you have. I cannot. I like it too well."
+
+"I have not given it up either," said Eleanor smiling again; "not in
+the sense you mean. I have not given up anything but sin. I enjoy
+everything else in the world as much as you do."
+
+"What do you mean?" said Mrs. Esthwaite, much bewildered.
+
+"Only this," said Eleanor, with very sweet gravity now. "I do not love
+anything that my King hates. All that I have given up, and all that
+leads to it; but I am all the more free to enjoy everything that is
+really worth enjoying, quite as well as you can, or any body else."
+
+"But--you do not go to parties and dances, and you do not drink wine,
+and the theatre, and all that sort of thing; do you?"
+
+"I do not love anything that my King hates," said Eleanor shaking her
+head gently.
+
+"But dancing, and wine,--what harm is in them?"
+
+"Think what they lead to!--"
+
+"Well wine--excuse me, I know so little about these things! and I want
+to know what you think;--wine, I know, if people will drink too
+much,--but what harm is in dancing?"
+
+"None that I know of," said Eleanor,--"if it were always suited to
+womanly delicacy, and if it took one into the society of those that
+love Christ--or helped one to witness for him before those who do not."
+
+"Well, I will tell you the truth," said Mrs. Esthwaite with a sort of
+penitent laugh,--"I love dancing."
+
+"Ay, but I love Christ," said Eleanor; "and whatever is not for his
+honour I am glad to give up. It is no cross to me. I used to like some
+things too; but now I love Him; and his will is my will."
+
+"Ah, that is what I said! you are good, that is the reason. I can't
+help doing wrong things, even if I want to do it ever so much, and when
+I know they are wrong; and I shouldn't like to give up anything."
+
+"Listen," said Eleanor, holding her hands fast. "It is not that I am
+good. It is that I love Jesus and he helps me. I cannot do anything of
+myself--I cannot give up anything--but I trust in my Lord and he does
+it for me. It is he that does all in me that you would call good."
+
+"Ah, but you love him."
+
+"Should I not?" said Eleanor, "when he loved me, and gave himself for
+me, that he might bring me from myself and sin to know him and be
+happy."
+
+"And you are happy, are you not?" said Mrs. Esthwaite, looking at her
+as if it were something that she had come to believe against evidence.
+There was good evidence for it now, in Eleanor's smile; which would
+bear studying.
+
+"There is nothing but happiness where Christ is."
+
+"But I couldn't understand it--those places where you are going are so
+dreadful;--and why you should go there at all--"
+
+"No, you do not understand, and cannot till you try it. I have such joy
+in the love of Christ sometimes, that I wish for nothing so much in the
+world, as to bring others to know what I know!"
+
+There was power in the lighting face, which Mrs. Esthwaite gazed at and
+wondered.
+
+"I think I am willing to go anywhere and do anything, which my King may
+give me, in that service."
+
+"To be sure," said Mrs. Esthwaite, as if adding a convincing corollary
+from her own mind,--"you have some other reason to wish to get
+there--to the Islands, I mean."
+
+That brought a flood of crimson over Eleanor's face; she let go her
+hostess's hands and turned away.
+
+"But there was something else I wanted to ask," said Mrs. Esthwaite
+hastily. "Egbert said--Are you very tired, my dear?"
+
+"Not at all, I assure you."
+
+"Egbert said there was some most beautiful singing as he came up
+alongside the ship to-day--was it you?"
+
+"In part it was I."
+
+"He said it was hymns. Won't you sing me one?"
+
+Eleanor liked it very well; it suited her better than talking. They sat
+down together, and Eleanor sang:
+
+
+  "'There's balm in Gilead,
+  To make the wounded whole.
+  There's power enough in Jesus
+  To save a sin-sick soul.'"
+
+
+And somewhat to her surprise, before the hymn had gone far, her
+companion was weeping; and kept her face hidden in her handkerchief
+till the last words were sung.
+
+
+  "'Come then to this physician;
+  His help he'll freely give.
+  He asks no hard condition,--
+  'Tis only, look, and live.
+  For there's balm in Gilead,
+  To make the wounded whole.
+  There's power enough in Jesus
+  To save a sin-sick soul.'"
+
+
+"I never heard anything so sweet in all my life!" said Mrs. Esthwaite
+as she got up and wiped her eyes. "I've been keeping you up. But do
+tell me," said she looking at her innocently,--"are all Methodists like
+you?"
+
+"No," said Eleanor laughing; and then she was vexed at herself that the
+laugh changed to a sob and the tears came. Was _she_ hysterical? It was
+very unlike her, but this seemed something like it. Neither could she
+immediately conquer the strangling sensation, between laughter and
+crying, which threatened her.
+
+"My dear! I'm very sorry," said Mrs. Esthwaite. "You are too
+tired!--and it is my fault. Egbert will be properly angry with me."
+
+But Eleanor conquered the momentary oppression, threw off her tears,
+and gave her hostess a peaceful kiss for good night; with which the
+little lady went off comforted. Then Eleanor sat down by her window,
+and with tears wet on her eyelashes yet, looked off to the beautiful
+moonlit harbour in the distance--and thought. Her thoughts were her
+own. Only some of them had a reference to certain words that speak of
+"sowing beside all waters," and a tender earnest remembrance of the
+seed she had just been scattering. "Beside all waters"--yes; and as
+Eleanor looked over towards the fair, peace-speaking view of Port
+Jackson, in New South Wales, she recollected the prayer that labourers
+might be sent forth into the vineyard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+IN VIEWS.
+
+
+  "Know well, my soul, God's hand controls
+  Whate'er thou fearest;
+  Round Him in calmest music rolls
+  Whate'er thou hearest."
+
+
+"That girl is the most lovely creature!" said Mrs. Esthwaite when she
+rejoined her husband.
+
+"What have you been talking to her about? Now she will not be up in
+time to take a drive in the Domain."
+
+"Yes, she will. She has got plenty of spirit. But oh, Egbert! to think
+of that girl going to put herself in those savage islands, where she
+won't see anybody!"
+
+"It is absurd?" said her husband, but somewhat faintly.
+
+"I couldn't but think to-night as I looked at her--you should have seen
+her.--Something upset her and set her to crying; then she wouldn't cry;
+and the little white hand she brushed across her eyes and then rested
+on the chair-back to keep herself steady--I looked at it, and I
+couldn't bear to think of her going to teach those barbarians. And her
+eyes were all such a glitter with tears and her feelings--I've fallen
+in love with her, Egbert."
+
+"She's a magnificent creature," said Mr. Esthwaite. "Wouldn't she set
+Sydney a fire, if she was to be here a little while! But somebody has
+been beforehand with Sydney--so it's no use talking."
+
+Eleanor was ready in good time for the drive, and with spirits entirely
+refreshed by the night's sleep and the morning's renewing power. Things
+looked like new things, unlike those which yesterday saw. All feeling
+of strangeness and loneliness was gone; her spirits were primed for
+enjoyment. Mr. and Mrs. Esthwaite both watched eagerly to see the
+effect of the drive and the scene upon her; one was satisfied, the
+other was not. The intent delight in Eleanor's eyes escaped Mrs.
+Esthwaite; she looked for more expression in words; her husband was
+content that Eleanor's mind was full of what he gave it to act upon.
+The Domain was an exquisite place for a morning drive; and the more
+stylish inhabitants of Sydney found it so; there was a good display of
+equipages, varying in shew and pretension. To Mrs. Esthwaite's
+disappointment neither these nor their owners drew Eleanor's attention;
+she did not even seem to see them; while the flowers in the woods
+through which part of the drive was cut, the innumerable, gorgeous,
+novel and sweet flowers of a new land, were a very great delight to
+her. All of them were new, or nearly so; how Eleanor contrasted them
+with the wild things of Plassy which she knew so well. And instead of
+the blackbird and green wren, there were birds of brilliant hues,
+almost as gay as the flowers over which their bright wings went, and
+yet stranger than they. It was a sort of drive of enchantment to
+Eleanor; the air was delightful, though warm; with no feeling of
+lassitude or oppression resulting from the heat.
+
+There were other pleasures. From point to point, as they drove through
+the "bush," views opened upon them of the harbour and its islands,
+glittering in the morning sun. Changes of beauty; for every view was a
+little unlike the others and revealed the loveliness with a difference.
+Eleanor felt herself in a new world. She was quite ready for the
+gardens, when they got through the "bush."
+
+The gardens were fine. Here she had a feast which neither of her
+companions could enjoy with her in anything like fellowship. Eleanor
+had not lived so long with Mrs. Caxton, entering into all her pursuits,
+without becoming somewhat well acquainted with plants; and now she was
+almost equally charmed at seeing her dear old home friends, and at
+making acquaintance with the glorious beauties that outshone them but
+could never look so kindly. Slowly Eleanor went through the gardens,
+followed by her host and hostess who took their enjoyment in observing
+her. In the Botanical Gardens Mr. Esthwaite came up alongside again, to
+tell her names and discuss specimens; he found Eleanor knew more about
+them than he did.
+
+"All this was a wild 'bush'--nothing but rocks and trees, a few years
+ago," he remarked.
+
+"_This?_ this garden?"
+
+"Yes, only so long ago as 1825."
+
+"Somebody has deserved well of the community, then," said Eleanor. "It
+is a delicious place."
+
+"General Sir Ralph Darling had that good desert. It is a fine thing to
+be in high place and able to execute great plans; isn't it?"
+
+Eleanor rose up from a flower and gave Mr. Esthwaite one of her
+thoughtful glances.
+
+"I don't know," she said. "His gardeners did the work, after all."
+
+"They don't get the thanks."
+
+"_That_ is not what one works for," said Eleanor smiling. "So the thing
+is done--what matter?"
+
+"If it _isn't_ done,--what matter? No, no! I want to get the good of
+what I do,--in praise or in something else."
+
+"What is Sir Ralph Darling the better of my thanks now?"
+
+"Well, he's dead!" said Mr. Esthwaite.
+
+"So I was thinking."
+
+"Well, what do you mean? Do you mean that you would do nothing while
+you are alive, for fear you would not hear of it after you have left
+the world?"
+
+"Not exactly."
+
+"What then? I don't know what you are after."
+
+"You say this was all a wilderness a few years ago--why should you
+despair of what you call the 'black islands?'"
+
+"O ho!" said Mr. Esthwaite,--"we are there, are we? By a hop, skip, and
+jump--leaving the argument. That's like a woman."
+
+"Are you sure?" said Eleanor.
+
+"Like all the women I ever saw. Not one of them can stick to the point."
+
+"Then I will return to mine," said Eleanor laughing--"or rather bring
+you up to it. I referred--and meant to refer you--to another sort of
+gardening, in which the labourer receives wages and gathers fruit; but
+the beauty of it is, that his wages go with him--he does not leave them
+behind--and the fruit is unto life eternal."
+
+"That's fair," said Mr. Esthwaite. "See here--you don't preach, do you?"
+
+"I will not, to you," said Eleanor. "Mr. Esthwaite, I will look at no
+more flowers I believe, this morning, since you leave the time of our
+stay to me."
+
+Mr. Esthwaite behaved himself, and though a speech was on his tongue he
+was silent, and attended Eleanor home in an unexceptionable manner.
+Mrs. Esthwaite was in a dissatisfied mood of mind.
+
+"I hope it will be a great while before you find a good chance to go to
+Fiji!" she said.
+
+"Do not wish that," said Eleanor: "for in that case I may have to take
+a chance that is not good."
+
+"Ah but, you are not the sort of person to go there."
+
+"I should be very sorry to think that," said Eleanor smiling.
+
+"Well it is clear you are not. Just to look at you! I am sure you are
+exactly a person to look always as nice as you do now."
+
+"I hope never to look less nice than I do now," said Eleanor, rather
+opening her eyes.
+
+"What, in that place?"
+
+"Why yes, certainly. Why not?"
+
+"But you will not wear that flat there?"
+
+Eleanor and Mr. Esthwaite here both gave way in a fit of laughter.
+
+"Why yes I will; if I find it, as I suppose I shall, the most
+comfortable thing."
+
+"But you cannot wear white dresses there?"
+
+"If I cannot, I will submit to it, but, my dear cousin, I have brought
+little else but white dresses with me. For such a climate, what else is
+so good?"
+
+"Not like that you wore yesterday?"
+
+"They are all very much alike, I believe. What was the matter with
+that?"
+
+"Why, it was so--" Mrs. Esthwaite paused. "But how can you get them
+washed? do you expect to have servants there?"
+
+"There are plenty of servants, I believe; not very well trained,
+indeed, or it would not be necessary to have so many. At any rate, they
+can wash, whatever else they can do."
+
+"I don't believe they would know how to wash your dresses."
+
+"Then I can teach them," said Eleanor merrily.
+
+"_You!_ To wash a cambrick dress!"
+
+"That, or any other."
+
+"Eleanor, do not talk so!"
+
+"Certainly not, if you do not wish it. I was only putting you to rest
+on the score of my laundry work."
+
+"With those hands!" said Mrs. Esthwaite expressively.
+
+Eleanor looked down at her hands, for a moment a higher and graver
+expression flitted over her face, then she smiled again.
+
+"I should be ashamed of my hands if they were good for nothing."
+
+"Capital!" said Mr. Esthwaite. "That's what I like. That is what I call
+having spirit. I like to see a woman have some character of her own;
+something besides hands, in fact."
+
+"But Eleanor, I do not understand. I am serious. You never washed; how
+can you know how?"
+
+"That was precisely my reasoning; so I learned."
+
+"Learned to _wash?_ _You?"_
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You did it with your own hands?"
+
+"The dress you were so good as to approve," said Eleanor smiling, "it
+was washed and done up by myself."
+
+"Do you expect to have to do it for yourself?" said Mrs. Esthwaite
+looking intensely horrified.
+
+"No, not generally; but to teach somebody, or upon occasion, you know.
+You see," she said smiling again her full rich smile, "I am bent upon
+having my white dresses."
+
+Mrs. Esthwaite was too full for speech, and her husband looked at his
+new cousin with an eye of more absolute admiration than he had yet
+bestowed on her. Eleanor's thoughts were already on something else;
+springing forward to meet Mr. Amos and his letters.
+
+Breakfast was over however before he arrived. Much to her chagrin, she
+was obliged to receive him in the company of Mr. and Mrs. Esthwaite; no
+private talk was possible. Mr. Esthwaite engaged him immediately in an
+earnest but desultory conversation, about Sydney, Eleanor, and the
+mission, and the prospect of their getting to their destination; which
+Mr. Esthwaite prophesied would not be within any moderate limits of
+time. Mr. Amos owned that he had heard of no opportunity, near or far.
+The talk lasted a good while and it was not till he was taking leave
+that Eleanor contrived to follow him out and gain a word to herself.
+
+"There are no letters for you," said Mr. Amos, speaking under his
+breath, and turning a cheerful but concerned face towards Eleanor. "I
+have made every enquiry--at the post-office, and of everybody likely to
+know about such things. There are none, and they know of none."
+
+Eleanor said nothing; her face grew perceptibly white.
+
+"There is nothing the matter with brother Rhys," said Mr. Amos hastily;
+"we have plenty of news from him--all right--he is quite well, and for
+a year past has been on another station; different from the one he was
+on when you last heard from him. There is nothing the matter--only
+there are no letters for you; and there must be some explanation of
+that."
+
+He paused, but Eleanor was silent, only her colour returned a little.
+
+"We want to get away from here as soon as possible, I suppose," Mr.
+Amos went on half under breath; "but as yet I see no opening. It will
+come."
+
+"Yes," said Eleanor somewhat mechanically. "You will let me know--"
+
+"Certainly--as soon as I know anything myself; and I will continue to
+make enquiry for those letters. Mr. Armitage is away in the country--he
+might know something about them, but nobody else does; and he ought to
+have left them with somebody else if he had them. But there can be
+nothing wrong about it; there is only some mistake, or mischance; the
+letters from Vuliva where brother Rhys is, are quite recent and
+everything is going on most prosperously; himself included. And we are
+to proceed to the same station. I am very glad for ourselves and for
+you."
+
+"Thank you--" Eleanor said; but she was not equal to saying much. She
+listened quietly, and with her usual air, and Mr. Amos never discovered
+the work his tidings wrought; he told his wife, sister Powle looked a
+little blank, he thought, at missing her expected despatches, and no
+wonder. It was an awkward thing.
+
+Eleanor slowly made her way up to her room and sat down, feeling as if
+the foundations of the earth, to _her_ standing, had given way. She was
+more overwhelmed with dismay than she would have herself anticipated in
+England, if she could have looked forward to such a catastrophe. Reason
+said there was not sufficient cause; but poor Eleanor was to feel the
+truth of Mrs. Caxton's prediction, that she would find out again that
+certain feelings might be natural that were not reasonable. Nay, reason
+said on this occasion that the failure of letters proved too much to
+justify the distress she felt; it proved a combination of things, that
+no carelessness nor indifference nor unwillingness to write, on the
+part of Mr. Rhys, could possibly have produced. Let him feel how he
+would, he would have written, he _must_ have written to meet her there;
+all his own delicacy and his knowledge of hers affirmed and reaffirmed
+that letters were in existence somewhere, though it might be at the
+bottom of the ocean. Reason fought well; to what use, when nature
+trembled, and shivered, and shrank. Poor Eleanor! she felt alone now,
+without a mother and without shelter; and the fair shores of Port
+Jackson looked very strange and desolate to her; a very foreign land,
+far from home. What if Mr. Rhys, with his fastidious notions of
+delicacy, did not fancy so bold a proceeding as her coming out to him?
+what if he disapproved? What if, on further knowledge of the place and
+the work, he had judged both unfit for her; and did not, for his own
+sake only in a selfish point of view, choose to encourage her coming?
+in that case her being _come_ would make no difference; he would not
+shelter himself from a judgment displeasing to him, because the escape
+from its decisions was rendered easy. What if _for his own sake_ his
+feeling had changed, and he wanted her no longer? years had gone by
+since he had seen her; it must have been a wayward fancy that could
+ever have made him think of her at first; and now, about his grave work
+in a distant land, and with leisure to correct blunders of fancy,
+perhaps he had settled into the opinion that it was just as well that
+his coming away had separated them; and did not feel able to welcome
+her appearance in Australia, and was too sincere to write what he did
+not feel; so wrote nothing? Not very like Mr. Rhys, reason whispered;
+but reason's whisper, though heard, could not quiet the sensitive
+delicacy which trembled at doubt. So miserable, so chilled, so forlorn,
+Eleanor had never felt in her life; not when the 'Diana' first carried
+her away from the shores of her native land.
+
+What was she to do? that question throbbed at her heart; but it
+answered itself soon. Stay in Australia she could not; go home to
+England she could not; no, not upon this mere deficiency of testimony.
+There was only one alternative left; she must go on whenever Mr. and
+Mrs. Amos should move. Nature might tremble and quiver, and all
+Eleanor's nerves did; but there was no other course to pursue. "I can
+tell," she thought,--"I shall know--the first word, the first look,
+will tell me the whole; I cannot be deceived. I must go on and meet
+that word and look, whatever it costs me--I must; and then, if it
+is--if it is not satisfying to me, then aunt Caxton shall have me! I
+can go back, as well as I have come. Shame and misery would not hinder
+me--they would not be so bad as my staying here then."
+
+So the question of action was settled; but the question of feeling not
+so soon. Eleanor's enjoyment was gone, of all the things she had
+enjoyed those first twenty-four hours, and of all others which her
+entertainers brought forward for her pleasure. Yet Eleanor kept her own
+counsel, and as they did not know the cause she had for trouble, so
+neither did they discover any tokens of it. She did not withdraw
+herself from their kind efforts to please her, and they spared no
+pains. They took her in boat excursions round the beautiful harbour.
+They shewed her the pretty environs of the Parramatta river. Nay,
+though it was not very easy for him to leave his business, Mr.
+Esthwaite went with her and his wife to the beautiful Illawarra
+district; put the whole party on horses, and shewed Eleanor a land of
+tropical beauty under the clear, bracing, delicious warm weather of
+Australia. Fern trees springing up to the dimensions of trees indeed,
+with the very fern foliage she was accustomed to in low herbaceous
+growth at home; only magnified superbly. There were elegant palms, too,
+with other evergreens, and magnificent creepers; and floating out and
+in among them in great numbers were gay red-crested cockatoos and other
+tropical birds. The character of the scenery was exquisite. Eleanor saw
+one or two of the fair lake-like lagoons of that district, eat of the
+fish from them; for they made a kind of gypsey expedition, camping out
+and providing for themselves fascinatingly; and finally returned in the
+steamer from Wollongong to Sydney. Her friends would have taken her to
+see the gold diggings if it had been possible. But Eleanor saw it all,
+all they could shew her, with half a heart. She had learned long ago to
+conceal what she felt.
+
+"I think she wants to get away," said Mrs. Esthwaite one night, half
+vexed, wholly sorry.
+
+"That's what it is to be in love!" said her husband. "You won't keep
+her in Sydney. Do you notice she has given up smiling?"
+
+"No!" said his wife indignantly; "I notice no such thing. She is as
+ready to smile as anybody I ever saw."--And I wish I had as good
+reason! was the mental conclusion; for Eleanor and she had had many an
+evening talk by that time, and many a hymn had been listened to.
+
+"All very well," said Mr. Esthwaite; "but she don't smile as she did at
+first. Don't you remember?--that full smile she used to give once in a
+while, with a little world of mischief in the corners? I would like to
+see it the next time!--"
+
+"I declare," said Mrs. Esthwaite, "I think you take quite an
+impertinent interest in people's concerns. She wouldn't let you see it,
+besides."
+
+At which Mr. Esthwaite laughed.
+
+So near people came to it; and Eleanor covered up her troublesome
+thoughts within her own heart, and gave Mr. Esthwaite the benefit of
+that impenetrable coolness and sweetness of manner which a good while
+ago had used to bewitch London circles. In the effort to hide her real
+thoughts and feelings she did not quite accommodate it to the different
+latitude of New South Wales; and Mr. Esthwaite was a good deal struck
+and somewhat bewildered.
+
+"You have mistaken your calling," he said one evening, standing before
+Eleanor and considering her.
+
+"Do you think so?"
+
+"There! Yes, I do. I think you were born to govern."
+
+"I am sadly out of my line then," said Eleanor laughing.
+
+"Yes. You are. That is what I say. You ought to be this minute a
+duchess--or a governor's lady--or something else in the imperial line."
+
+"You mistake my tastes, if you think so."
+
+"I do not mistake something else," muttered Mr. Esthwaite; and then Mr.
+Amos entered the room.
+
+"Here, Amos," said he, "you have made an error in judging of this
+lady--she is no more fit to go a missionary than I am. She--she goes
+about with the air of a princess!"
+
+Mrs. Esthwaite exclaimed, and Mr. Amos took a look at the supposed
+princess's face, as if to reassure or inform his judgment. Apparently
+he saw nothing to alarm him.
+
+"I am come to prove the question," he said composedly; then turning to
+Eleanor,--"I have heard at last of a schooner that is going to Fiji, or
+will go, if we desire it."
+
+This simple announcement shot through Eleanor's head and heart with the
+force of a hundred pounder. An extreme and painful flush of colour
+answered it; nobody guessed at the pain.
+
+"What's that?" exclaimed Mr. Esthwaite getting up again and standing
+before Mr. Amos,--"you have found a vessel, you say?"
+
+"Yes. A small schooner, to sail in a day or two."
+
+"What schooner? whom does she belong to? Lawsons, or Hildreth?"
+
+"To nobody, I think, but her master. I believe he sails the vessel for
+his own ends and profits."
+
+"What schooner is it? what name?"
+
+"The 'Queen Esther,' I think."
+
+"You cannot go in that!" said Mr. Esthwaite turning off. "The 'Queen
+Esther'!--I know her. She's not fit for you; she's a leaky old thing,
+that that man Hawkins sails on all sorts of petty business; she'll go
+to pieces some day. She ain't sea-worthy, I don't believe."
+
+"It is not as good a chance as might be, but it is the first that has
+offered, and the first that is likely to offer for an unknown time,"
+Mr. Amos said, looking again to Eleanor.
+
+"When does she sail?"
+
+"In two days. She is small, and not in first-rate order; but the voyage
+is not for very long. I think we had better go in her."
+
+"Certainly. How long is the voyage, regularly?"
+
+"A fortnight in a good ship, and a month in a bad one," struck in Mr.
+Esthwaite. "You'll never get there, if you depend on the 'Queen Esther'
+to bring you."
+
+"We go to Tonga first," said Mr. Amos. "The 'Queen Esther' sails with
+stores for the stations at Tonga and the neighbourhood; and will carry
+us further only by special agreement; but the master is willing, and I
+came to know your mind about it."
+
+"I will go," said Eleanor. "Tell Mrs. Amos I will meet her on
+board--when?"
+
+"Day after to-morrow morning."
+
+"Very well. I will be there. Will she take the additional lading of my
+boxes?"
+
+"O yes; no difficulty about that. It's all right."
+
+"How can I do with the things you have stored for me?" Eleanor said to
+Mr. Esthwaite. "Can the schooner take them too?"
+
+"What things?"
+
+"Excuse me--perhaps I misunderstood you. I thought you said you had
+half your warehouse, one loft of it, taken up with things for me?"
+
+"Those things are gone, long ago," said Mr. Esthwaite, in a dogged kind
+of mood which did not approve of the proposed journey or conveyance.
+
+"Gone?"
+
+"Yes. According to order. Mrs. Caxton wrote, Forward as soon as
+possible; so I did."
+
+Again Eleanor's brow and cheeks and her very throat were covered with a
+rush of crimson; but when Mr. Amos took her hand on going away its
+touch made him ask involuntarily if she were well?
+
+"Perfectly well," Eleanor answered, with something in her manner that
+reminded Mr. Amos, though he could not tell why, of the charge Mr.
+Esthwaite had brought. Another look into Eleanor's eyes quieted the
+thought.
+
+"Your hand is very cold!" he said.
+
+"It's a sign of"--Mr. Esthwaite would have said "fever," but Eleanor
+had composedly faced him and he was silent; only busied himself in
+shewing Mr. Amos out, without a word that he ought not to have spoken.
+Mr. Amos went home and told his wife.
+
+"I think she is all right," he said; "but she does not look to me just
+as she did before we landed. I dare say she has had a great deal of
+admiration here--"
+
+"I dare say she feels bad," said good Mrs. Amos.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"If you were not a man, you would know," Mrs. Amos said laughing. "She
+is in a very trying situation."
+
+"Is she? O, those letters! It is unfortunate, to be sure. But there
+must be some explanation."
+
+"The explanation will be good when she gets it," Mrs. Amos remarked. "I
+hope somebody who is expecting her is worthy of her. Poor thing! I
+couldn't have done it, I believe, even for you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+IN SMOOTH WATER.
+
+
+  "But soon I heard the dash of oars,
+  I heard the pilot's cheer;
+  My head was turned perforce away,
+  And I saw a boat appear."
+
+
+The morning came for the "Queen Esther" to sail. Mr. and Mrs. Amos were
+on board first, and watched with eyes both kind and anxious to see
+Eleanor when she should come. The little bonnet with chocolate ribbands
+did not keep them waiting and the first smile and kiss to Mrs. Amos
+made _her_ sure that all was right. She had been able to see scarce
+anything of Eleanor during the weeks on shore; it was a refreshment to
+have her near again. But Eleanor had turned immediately to attend to
+Mr. Esthwaite.
+
+"This is the meanest, most abominable thing of a vessel," he said,
+"that ever Christians travelled in! It is an absurd proceeding
+altogether. Why if the boards don't part company and go to pieces
+before you get to Tonga--which I think they will--they don't give room
+for all three of you to sit down in the cabin at once."
+
+"The deck is of better capacity," Eleanor told him briskly.
+
+"Such a deck! I wonder _you_, cousin Eleanor, can make up your mind to
+endure it. There is not a man living who is worth such a sacrifice.
+Horrid!"
+
+"We hope it won't last a great while," Mr. Amos told him.
+
+"It won't! That's what I say. You will all be deposited in the bottom
+of the ocean, to pay you for not having been contented on shore. I
+would not send a dog to sea in such a ship!"
+
+"Cousin Esthwaite, you had better not stay in a situation so
+disagreeable to you. You harass yourself for nothing. Shake hands. You
+see the skipper is going to make sail directly."
+
+Eleanor with a little play in the manner of this dismissal, was enough
+in earnest to secure her point. Mr. Esthwaite felt in a manner
+constrained to take his departure. He presumed however in the
+circumstances to make interest for a cousinly kiss for good bye; which
+was refused him with a cooler demonstration of dignity than he had yet
+met with. It nettled him.
+
+"There was the princess," whispered Mr. Amos to his wife.
+
+"Good!" said Mrs. Amos.
+
+"Good bye!" cried Mr. Esthwaite, disappearing over the schooner's side.
+"_You_ are not fit for a missionary! I told you so before."
+
+Eleanor turned to Mrs. Amos, ignoring entirely this little transaction,
+and smiled at her. "I hope he has not made you nervous," she said.
+
+"No," said Mrs. Amos; "I am not nervous. If I did not get sick I should
+enjoy it; but I suppose I shall be sick as soon as we get out of the
+harbour."
+
+"Let us take the good of it then, until we are out of the harbour,"
+said Eleanor. "If the real 'Queen Esther' was at all like her namesake,
+Ahasuerus must have had a disorderly household."
+
+They sat down together on the little vessel's deck, and watched the
+beautiful shores from which they were gliding away. Eleanor was glad to
+be off. The stay at Sydney had become oppressive to her; she wanted to
+be at the end of her journey and know her fate; and hope and reason
+whispered that she had reason to be glad. For all that, the poor child
+had a great many shrinkings of heart. A vision of Mr. Rhys never came
+up in one of its aspects,--that of stern and fastidious
+delicacy,--without her heart seeming to die away within her. She could
+not talk now. She watched the sunny islands and promontories of the
+bay, changing and passing as the vessel slowly moved on; watched the
+white houses of Sydney, grateful for the home she had found there,
+longing exceedingly for a home once again that should be hers by right;
+hope and tremulousness holding her heart together. This was a conflict
+that prayer and faith did not quell; she could only come to a state of
+humble submissiveness; and she never thought of reaching Vuliva without
+a painful thrill that almost took away her breath. But she was glad to
+be on the way.
+
+The vessel was very small, not of so much as eighty tons burthen; its
+accommodations were of course a good deal as Mr. Esthwaite had said;
+and more than that, the condition of the vessel and of its appointments
+was such that Mrs. Amos felt as if she could hardly endure to shut
+herself up in the cabin. Eleanor resolved immediately that _she_ would
+not; the deck was a better plate; and she prevailed to have a mattress
+brought there for Mrs. Amos, where the good lady, though miserably ill
+as soon as they were upon the ocean roll, yet could be spared the close
+air and other horrors of the place below deck. Eleanor wrapped herself
+in her sea cloak, and lived as she could on deck with her; having a
+fine opportunity to read the stars at night, and using it. The weather
+was very fine; the wind favouring and steady; and in the Southern
+Ocean, under such conditions, there were some good things to be had,
+even on board the "Queen Esther." There were glorious hymn-singings in
+the early night-time; and Eleanor had never sung with more power on the
+"Diana." There were beautiful Bible discussions between her and Mr.
+Amos--Bible contemplations, rather; in which they brought Scripture to
+Scripture to illustrate their point; until Mr. Amos declared he thought
+it would be a grand way of holding a Bible-class; and poor Mrs. Amos
+listened, delighted, though too sick to put in more than a word now and
+then. And Eleanor's heart gave a throb every time she recollected that
+another day had gone,--so many more miles were travelled over,--they
+were so much nearer the journey's end. Her companions found no fault in
+her. There was nothing of the princess now, but a gentle, thoughtful,
+excellent nurse, and capital cook. On board the "Diana" there had been
+little need of her services for Mrs. Amos; little indeed that could be
+done. Now, in the fresh air on the open deck of the little schooner,
+Mrs. Amos suffered less in one way; but all the party were sharers in
+the discomforts of close accommodations and utter want of nicety in
+anything done or furnished on board. The condition of everything was
+such that it was scarcely possible to eat at all for well people. Poor
+Mrs. Amos would have had no chance except for Eleanor's helpfulness and
+clever management. As on board the "Diana," there was nobody in the
+schooner that would refuse her anything; and Mr. Amos smiled to himself
+to see where she would go and what she would do to secure some little
+comfort for her sick friend, and how placidly she herself munched sea
+biscuit and bad bread, after their little stock of fruit from Sydney
+had given out. She would bring a cup of tea and a bit of toast to Mrs.
+Amos, and herself take a crust with the equanimity of a philosopher.
+Eleanor did not care much what she eat, those days. Her own good times
+were when everybody else was asleep except the man at the wheel; and
+she would kneel by the guards and watch the strange constellations, and
+pray, and sometimes weep a flood of tears. Julia, her mother and
+Alfred, Mrs. Caxton, her own intense loneliness and shrinking delicacy
+in the uncertainty of her position, they were all well watered in tears
+at some of those watching hours when nobody saw.
+
+The "Queen Esther" made the Friendly Islands in something less than a
+month, notwithstanding Mr. Esthwaite's unfavourable predictions. At
+Tonga she was detained a week and more; unlading and taking in stores.
+The party improved the time in a survey of the island and mission
+premises and in pleasant intercourse with their friends stationed
+there. Or what would have been pleasant intercourse; it was impossible
+for Eleanor to enjoy it. So near her destination now, she was impatient
+to be off; and drew short breaths until the days of delay were ended,
+and the little schooner once more made sail and turned her head towards
+Vuliva. She had seen Tonga with but half an eye.
+
+Two or three days would finish their journey now. The weather and wind
+continued fair; they dipped Tonga in the salt wave, and stood on and on
+towards the unseen haven of their hopes and duties. A new change came
+over Eleanor. It could not be reason, for reason had striven in vain.
+Perhaps it was nature, which turning a corner took a new view of the
+subject. But from the time of their leaving Tonga, she was unable to
+entertain such troublesome apprehensions of what the end of the voyage
+might have in store for her. Something whispered it could be nothing
+very bad; and that point that she had so dreaded began to gather a glow
+of widely different promise. A little nervousness and trepidation
+remained about the thought of it; the determination abode fast to see
+the very first word and look and know what they portended; but in place
+of the rest of Eleanor's downhearted fear, there came now an
+overwhelming sense of shamefacedness. This was something quite new and
+unexpected; she had never known in her life more than a slight touch of
+it before; and now it consumed her. Even before Mr. and Mrs. Amos she
+felt it; and her eyes shunned theirs the last day or two as if she had
+been a shy child. Why was it? She could not help it. This seemed to be
+as natural and as unreasonable as the other; and in her lonely night
+watches, instead of trembling and sinking of heart, Eleanor was
+conscious that her cheeks dyed themselves with that unconquerable
+feeling of shame. Very inconsistent indeed with her former state of
+feeling; and that was according to Mrs. Caxton's words; not being
+reasonable, reason could not be expected from them in anything. Her
+friends had not penetrated her former mood; this they saw and smiled
+at; and indeed it made Eleanor very lovely. There was a shy, blushing
+grace about her the last day or two of the voyage which touched all she
+did; indeed Mrs. Amos declared she could see it through the little
+close straw bonnet, and it made her want to take Eleanor in her arms
+and keep her there. Mr. Amos responded in his way of subdued fun, that
+it was lucky she could not; as it would be likely to be a disputed
+possession, and he did not want to get into a quarrel with his brethren
+the first minute of his getting to land.
+
+Up came Eleanor with some trifle for Mrs. Amos which she had been
+preparing.
+
+"We are almost in, sister Eleanor!" said Mr. Amos. "The captain says he
+sees the land."
+
+Eleanor's start was somewhat prompt, to look in the direction of 'Queen
+Esther's' figure-head.
+
+"The light is failing--I don't believe you can see it," said Mr. Amos;
+"not to know it from the clouds. The captain says he shall stand off
+and on through the night, so as to have daylight to go in. The entrance
+is narrow. I suppose, if all is well, we shall have a wedding
+to-morrow?"
+
+Eleanor asked Mrs. Amos somewhat hastily, if what she had brought her
+was good?
+
+"Delicious!" Mrs. Amos said; and pulling Eleanor's face down to her she
+gave it a kiss which spoke more things than her mere thanks. She was
+rewarded with the sight of that crimson veil which spread itself over
+Eleanor's cheeks, which most people thought it was a pleasure to see.
+
+Eleanor thought she should get little sleep that night; but she was
+disappointed. She slept long and sweetly on her mattress; and awoke to
+find it quite day, with fair wind, and the schooner setting her head
+full on the land which rose up before her fresh and green, yes, and
+exceeding lovely. Eleanor got up and shook herself out; her companions
+were still sleeping. She rolled her mattress together and sat down upon
+it, to watch the approaches to the land. Fresher and fairer and greener
+every moment it lifted itself to her view; she could hardly bear to
+look steadily; her head went down for a minute often under the pressure
+of the thoughts that crowded together. And when she raised it up, the
+lovely hills of the island, with their novel outline and green
+luxuriance, were nearer and clearer and higher than they had been a
+minute before. Now she could discern here and there, she thought,
+something that must be a dwelling-house; then trees began to detach
+themselves from the universal mass; she saw smoke rising; and she
+became aware too, that along the face of the island, fronting the
+approach of the schooner, was a wall of surf; and a line of breakers
+that seemed to stretch right and left and to be without an interval in
+their white continuity. Eleanor did not see how the schooner was going
+to get in; for the surf did not break evidently on the shore of the
+island, but on a reef extending around the shore and at some little
+distance from it. Yet the vessel stood straight on; and the sweet smell
+of the land began to come with the freshness of the morning air.
+
+"Is this Vuliva before us?" she asked of the skipper whom she found
+standing near.
+
+"Ay, ay!"
+
+"Where are you going to get in? I see no opening."
+
+"Ay, ay! There _is_ an opening, though."
+
+And soon, looking keenly, Eleanor thought she could discern it. Not
+until they were almost upon it however; and then it was a place of
+rough water enough, though the regular fall of the surf was interrupted
+and there was only a general upheaving and commotion of the waves among
+themselves. It was nothing very terrific; the tide was in a good state;
+and presently Eleanor saw that they had passed the barrier, they were
+in smooth water, and making for an opening in the land immediately
+opposite which might be either the mouth of a river or an inlet of the
+sea. They neared it fast, sailed up into it; and there to Eleanor's
+mortification the skipper dropped anchor and swung to. She saw no
+settlement. Some few scattered houses were plain enough now to be seen;
+but nothing even like a village. Tufts of trees waved gracefully; rock
+and hill and rich-coloured lowland spread out a variety of beauty;
+where was Vuliva, the station? This might be the island. Where were the
+people? Could they come no nearer than this?
+
+Mr. Amos made enquiry. The village, the skipper said, was "round the
+pint;" in other words, behind a woody headland which just before them
+bent the course of the river into a sharp angle. The schooner would go
+no further; passengers and effects were to be transported the rest of
+the way in boats. People they would see soon enough; so the master of
+the "Queen Esther" advised them.
+
+"I suppose the natives will carry the news of the schooner being here,
+and our friends will come and look after us," Mr. Amos said.
+
+Eleanor changed colour, and sat with a beating heart looking at the
+fair fresh landscape which was to be--perhaps--the scene of her future
+home. The scene was peace itself. Still water after the upheavings of
+the ocean; the smell and almost the fluttering sound of the green
+leaves in the delicious wind; the ripple on the surface of the little
+river; the soft stillness of land sounds, with the heavy beat of the
+surf left behind on the reef outside. Eleanor drew a long breath.
+People would find them out soon, the skipper had said. She was
+exceedingly disposed to get rid of her sea dress and put on something
+that looked like the summer morning; for without recollecting what the
+seasons were in the Southern Ocean, that was what the time seemed like
+to her. She looked round at Mrs. Amos, who was sitting up and beginning
+to realize that she had done with the sea for the present.
+
+"How do you do?" said Eleanor.
+
+"I should feel better if I could get on something clean."
+
+"Come, then!"
+
+The two ladies disappeared down the companion way, into one of the most
+sorry tiring rooms, surely, that ever nicety used for that purpose. But
+it served two purposes with Eleanor just now; and the second was a
+hiding place. She did not want to be taken unawares, nor to be seen
+before she could see. So under the circumstances she made both Mrs.
+Amos and herself comfortable, and was as helpful as usual in a new
+line. Then she went to look out; but nobody was in sight yet, gentle or
+savage; all was safe; she went back to Mrs. Amos and fastened the door.
+
+"Let us kneel down and pray together, will you?" she said. "I cannot
+get my breath freely till we have done that."
+
+Mrs. Amos's lips trembled as she knelt. And Eleanor and she joined in
+many petitions there, while the very stillness of their little cabin
+floor reminded them they were come to their desired haven, and the long
+sea journey was over. They rose up and kissed each other.
+
+"I am so glad I have known you!" said Mrs. Amos. "What a blessing you
+have been to us! I wish we might be stationed somewhere together."
+
+"I suppose that would be too good to hope for," said Eleanor. "I am
+going to reconnoitre again."
+
+Mrs. Amos half guessed why, and smiled to herself at Eleanor's blushing
+shyness. "Poor child, her hands were all trembling too," she said in
+her thoughts. They were broken off by a low summons to the cabin door,
+which Eleanor held slightly ajar. Through the crack of the door they
+had a vision.
+
+On the deck of the "Queen Esther" stood a specimen of the native
+inhabitants of the land. A man of tall stature, nobly developed in
+limbs and muscles, he looked in his native undress almost of giant
+proportions. His clothing was only a long piece of figured native cloth
+wound about his loins, one end falling like a train to the very sloop's
+deck. A thorough black skin was the only covering of the rest of his
+person, and shewed his breadth of shoulder and strength of muscle to
+good advantage; as if carved in black marble; only there was sufficient
+graceful mobility and dignified ease of carriage and attitude; no
+marble rigidity. Black he was, this savage, but not negro. The features
+were well cut and good. What the hair might be naturally could only be
+guessed at; the work of a skilful hair-dresser had left it something
+for the uninitiated to marvel at. A band of three or four inches in
+breadth, completely white, bordered the face; the rest, a very
+luxuriant head, was jet black and dressed into a perfectly regular and
+smooth roundish form, projecting everywhere beyond the white inner
+border. He had an uncouth necklace, made of what it was impossible to
+say, except that part of it looked like shells and part like some
+animal's teeth; rings of one or two colours were on his fingers; he
+carried no weapon. But in his huge, powerful black frame, uncouth
+hair-dressing, and strange uncoveredness, he was a sufficiently
+terrible object to unused eyes. In Tonga the ladies had seen no such
+sight.
+
+"Do shut the door!" said Mrs. Amos. "He may come this way, and there is
+nobody that knows how to speak to him."
+
+Eleanor shut the door, and looked round at her friend with a smile.
+
+"I am foolish!" said Mrs. Amos laughing; "but I don't want to see him
+just yet--till there is somebody to talk to him."
+
+The door being fast, Eleanor applied herself to a somewhat large
+knot-hole she had long ago discovered in it; one which she strongly
+suspected the skipper had fostered, if not originated, for his own
+convenience of spying what was going on. Through this knot-hole Eleanor
+had a fair view of a good part of the deck, savage and all. He was
+gesticulating now and talking, evidently to the captain and Mr. Amos,
+the former of whom either did not understand or did not agree with him.
+Mr. Amos, of course, was in the former condition. Eleanor watched them
+with absorbed interest; when suddenly this vision was crossed by
+another, that looked to her eyes much as a white angel might, coming
+across a cloud of both moral and physical blackness. Mr. Rhys himself;
+his very self, and looking very much like it; only in a white dress
+literally, which in England she had never seen him wear. But the white
+dress alone did not make the impression to her eyes; there was that air
+of freshness and purity which some people always carry about with them,
+and which has to do with the clear look of temperance as well as with
+great particularity of personal care, and in part also grows out of the
+moral condition. In three breathless seconds Eleanor took note of it
+all, characteristics well known, but seen now with the novelty of long
+disuse and with the background of that huge black savage, to whom Mr.
+Rhys was addressing some words, of explanation or exhortation--Eleanor
+could not tell which. She noticed the quiet pleasant manner of his
+speech, which certainly looked not as if Mrs. Amos had any reason for
+her fears; but he was speaking earnestly, and she observed too the
+unbending look of the savage in answer and a certain pleasant deference
+with which he appeared to be listening. Mr. Rhys had taken off his hat
+for a moment--it hung in his hand while the other brushed the hair from
+his forehead. Eleanor's eye even in that moment fell to the hand which
+carried the hat; it was the same,--she recognized it with a curious
+sense of bringing great and little things together,--it was the same
+white and carefully looked-after hand that she remembered it in
+England. Mr. Rhys's own personal civilization went about with him.
+
+Eleanor did not hear any of Mrs. Amos's words to her, which were
+several; and though Mrs. Amos, half alarmed by her deafness, did not
+know but she might be witnessing something dreadful on deck, and spoke
+with some importunity. Eleanor was thinking she had not a minute to
+lose. Beyond the time of Mr. Rhys's talking to the other visitor on the
+schooner's deck, there could be but small interval before he would
+learn all about her being on board; two words to the skipper or Mr.
+Amos would bring it out; and if she wished to gain that first minute's
+testimony of look and word, she must be beforehand with them. She
+thought of all that with a beating heart in one instant's flash of
+thought, hastily caught up her ship cloak without daring to stop to put
+it on, slipped back the bolt of the door, and noiselessly passed out
+upon the deck. She neither heard nor saw anybody else; she was
+conscious of an intense and pitiful shame at being there and at thus
+presenting herself; but everything else was second to that necessity,
+to know from Mr. Rhys's look, with an absolute certainty, where _he_
+stood. She was not at that moment much afraid; yet the look she must
+see. She went forward while he was yet speaking to his black neighbour,
+she stood still a little behind him, and waited. She longed to hide her
+eyes, yet she looked steadfastly. _How_ she looked, neither she nor
+perhaps anybody else knew. There was short opportunity for observation.
+
+Mr. Rhys had no sooner finished his business with his sable friend,
+when he turned the other way; and of course the motionless figure
+standing so near his elbow, the woman's bonnet and drapery, caught his
+first glance. Eleanor was watching, with eyes that were strained
+already with the effort; they got leave to go down now. The flash of
+joy in those she had been looking at, the deep tone of the low uttered,
+"Oh, Eleanor!" which burst from him, made her feel on the instant as if
+she were paid to the full, not only for all she had done, but for all
+that life might have of disagreeable in store for her. Her eyes fell;
+she stood still in a sudden trance of contentment which made her as
+blind and deaf as another feeling had made her just before. Those two
+words--there had been such a depth in them, of tenderness and gladness;
+and somehow she felt in them too an appreciation of all she had done
+and gone through. Eleanor was satisfied. She felt it as well in the
+hold of her hand, which was taken and kept in a clasp as who should
+say, 'This is mine.'
+
+Perhaps it was out of consideration for her state, that without any
+further reference to her he turned to Mr. Amos and claimed acquaintance
+and brotherhood with him; and for a little while talked, informing
+himself of various particulars of their journey and welfare; never all
+the while loosing his hold of that hand, though not bringing her into
+the conversation, and indeed standing so as somewhat to shield her. The
+question of landing came up and was discussed. The skipper objected to
+send the schooner's boat, on the score that it would leave too few men
+on board to take care of the vessel. Mr. Rhys had only a small canoe
+with him, manned by a single native. So he decided forthwith to return
+to the village and despatch boats large enough to bring the
+missionaries and their effects to land; but about that there might be
+some delay. Then for the first time he bent down and spoke to Eleanor;
+again that subdued, tender tone.
+
+"Are you ready to go ashore?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I will take you with me. Do you want anything out of this big ship?
+The canoes may not be immediately obtained, for anything but the live
+freight."
+
+He took the grey ship cloak from Eleanor's arm and put it round her
+shoulders. She felt that she was alone and forlorn no more; she had got
+home. She was a different creature that went into the cabin to kiss
+Mrs. Amos, from the Eleanor that had come out.
+
+
+"I've seen him!" whispered Mrs. Amos. "Eleanor! you will not be married
+till we come, will you?"
+
+"I hope not--I don't know," said Eleanor hurriedly seizing her bag and
+passing out again. Another minute, and it and she were taken down the
+side of the schooner and lodged in the canoe; and their dark oarsman
+paddled off.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+AT DINNER.
+
+
+  "Nor did she lift an eye nor speak a word,
+  Rapt in the fear and in the wonder of it."
+
+
+Eleanor's shamefacedness was upon her in full force when she found
+herself in the canoe pushing off from the schooner and her friends
+there. She felt exceeding shy and strange, and with that a feeling very
+like awe of her companion. A feeling not quite unknown to her in former
+days with the same person, and in tenfold force now. There was no doubt
+to be sure of the secret mind of them both towards each other;
+nevertheless, he had never spoken to her of his affection, nor given
+her the least sign of it, except on paper, up to that day; and now he
+sat for all she could see as cool and grave as ever by her side. The
+old and the new state of things it was hard to reconcile all at once.
+To do Eleanor justice, she saw as one sees without looking; she was too
+shame-faced to look; she bent her outward attention upon their boatman.
+He was another native, of course, but attired in somewhat more
+civilized style, though in no costume of civilized lands. What he wore
+was more like a carman's frock at home than anything else it could be
+likened to. He was of pleasant countenance, and paddled along with
+great activity and skill.
+
+They had been silent for the first few minutes since leaving the
+schooner, till at length Mr. Rhys asked her, with a little of the sweet
+arch smile she remembered so well, "how she had liked the first sight
+of a Fijian?" It brought such a rush upon Eleanor of past things and
+present, old times and changes, that it was with the utmost difficulty
+she could make any answer at all.
+
+"I was too much interested to think of liking or disliking."
+
+"You were not startled?"
+
+"No."
+
+"That was a heathen chief, of the opposite village."
+
+"He wanted something, did he not?"
+
+"Yes; that the captain of the schooner should accommodate him in
+something he thought would be for his advantage. It was impossible, and
+so I told him."
+
+Eleanor looked again towards the oarsman.
+
+"This is one of our Christian brethren."
+
+"Are there many?" she asked, though feeling as if she had no breath to
+ask.
+
+"Yes. And we have cause to be thankful every day at hearing of more. We
+want ten times as many hands as we, have got. How has the long voyage
+been to you?"
+
+Eleanor answered briefly; but then she was obliged to go on and tell of
+Mrs. Caxton, and of Mr. and Mrs. Amos, and of various other matters; to
+all which still she answered in as few words as possible. She could not
+be fluent, with that sense of strangeness upon her; conscious not only
+that one of her hands was again in Mr. Rhys's hold, but that his eyes
+were never off her face. He desisted at last from questions, and they
+both sat silent; until the headland was rounded, and "There is Vuliva!"
+came from Mr. Rhys's lips.
+
+In a little bay curve of the river, behind the promontory, lay the
+village; looking pretty and foreign enough. But very pretty it was. The
+odd, or rather the strange-looking houses, sitting apart from each
+other, some large and some small, intermingled gracefully with trees
+whose shape and leafage were as new, made a sweet picture. One house in
+particular as they neared the shore struck Eleanor; it had a neat
+colonnade of slender pillars in front, and a high roof, almost like a
+Mansard in form, but thatched with native thatch. A very neat paling
+fence stretched along in front of this. Very near it, a little further
+off, rose another building that made Eleanor almost give a start of
+joy; so homelike and pleasant it looked, as well as surprising. This
+was an exceeding pretty chapel; again with a high thatched roof, and
+also with a neat slight bell-tower rising from one end. In front two
+doors at each side were separated by a large and not inelegant window;
+other windows and doors down the side of the building promised light
+and airiness; and the walls were wrought into a curious pattern;
+reminding Eleanor of the fanciful brick work of a past style of
+architecture. Near the shore and back behind the chapel and houses,
+reared themselves here and there the slender stems of palm and
+cocoa-nut trees, with their graceful tufts of feathery foliage waving
+at top; other trees of various kinds were mingled among them. Figures
+were seen moving about, in the medium attire worn by their oarsman. It
+was a pretty scene; cheerful and home-like, though so unlike home.
+Further back from the river, on the opposite shore, other houses could
+be seen; the houses of the heathen village; but Eleanor's eyes were
+fastened on this one. Mr. Rhys said not one word; only he held her hand
+in a still closer grasp which was not meaningless.
+
+"How pretty it is!" Eleanor forced herself to say. He only answered,
+"Do you like it?" but it was in such a satisfied tone of preoccupation
+that Eleanor blushed and thought she might as well leave his
+meditations alone.
+
+Yet though full of content in her heart, Mr. Rhys and his affection
+seemed both at a distance. It was so exactly the Mr. Rhys of Plassy,
+that Eleanor could not in a moment realize their changed relations and
+find her own place. A little thing administered a slight corrective to
+this reckoning.
+
+The little canoe had come to land. Eleanor was taken out of it safely,
+and then for a moment left to herself; for Mr. Rhys was engaged in a
+colloquy with his boatman and another native who had come up. Not being
+able to understand a word of what was going on, though from the tones
+and gestures she guessed it had reference to the disembarkation of the
+schooner's party, and a little ready to turn her face from view,
+Eleanor stood looking landward; in a maze of strangeness that was not
+at all unhappy. The cocoa-nut tops waved gently a welcome to her; she
+took it so; the houses looked neat and inviting; glimpses of other
+unknown foliage helped to assure her she had got home; the country
+outlines, so far as she could see them, looked fair and bright. Eleanor
+was taking note of details in a dreamy way, when she was surprised by
+the sudden frank contact of lips with hers; lips that had no
+strangeness of their own to contend with. Turning hastily, she saw that
+the natives with whom Mr. Rhys had been talking had run off different
+ways, and they two were alone. Eleanor trembled as much as she had done
+when she first read Mr. Rhys's note at Plassy. And his words when he
+spoke did not help her, they were spoken so exactly like the Mr. Rhys
+she had known there. Not exactly, neither, though he only said,
+
+"Do you want this cloak on any longer?"
+
+"Yes, thank you," said Eleanor stammering,--"I do not feel it."
+
+Which was most literally true, for at that moment she did not feel
+anything external. He looked at her, and exercising his own judgment
+proceeded to unclasp the cloak from her shoulders and hang it on his
+arm, while he put her hand on the other.
+
+"There is no need for you to be troubled with this now," said he. "I
+only put it round you to protect your dress." And with her bag in his
+hand, they went up from the river-side and past the large house with
+the colonnade. "Whither now?" thought Eleanor, but she asked nothing.
+One or two more houses were passed; then a little space without houses;
+then came a paling enclosure, of considerable size, apparently, filled
+with trees and vines. A gate opened in this and let them through, and
+Mr. Rhys led Eleanor up a walk in the garden-like plantation, to a
+house which stood encompassed by it. "Not at home yet!" he remarked to
+her as they stood at the door; with a slight smile which again brought
+the blood to her cheeks. He opened the door and they went in.
+
+"The good news is true, sister Balliol!" he said to somebody that met
+them. "I have brought you one of our friends, and there are more to
+come, that I must go and look after. Is brother Balliol at home?"
+
+"No, he is not; he has gone over the river."
+
+"Then I will leave this lady in your care, and I will go and see if I
+can find canoes. I meant to have pressed him into my service. This is
+Miss Powle, sister Balliol."
+
+The lady so called had come forward to meet them, and now took Eleanor
+by the hand and kissed her cordially. Mr. Rhys took her hand then, when
+she was released, and explained.
+
+"I am going back to the schooner after our friends--if I can find a
+canoe."
+
+And without more words, off he went. Eleanor and Mrs. Balliol were left
+to look at each other.
+
+This latter was a lady of middle height, and kindly if not fine
+features. A pair of good black eyes too. But what struck Eleanor most
+about her was her air; the general style of her figure and dress, which
+to Miss Powle's eyes was peculiar. She wore her hair in a crop; and
+that seemed to Eleanor a characteristic of the whole make up. Her dress
+was not otherwise than neat, and yet that epithet would never have
+occurred to one in describing it; all graces of style or attire were so
+ignored. Her gown sat without any; so did her collar; both were rather
+uncivilized, without partaking of the picturesqueness of savage
+costume. The face was by no means disagreeable; lacking neither in
+sense, nor in spirit nor in kindliness; but Eleanor perceived at once
+that the mind must have a serious want somewhere, in refinement or
+discernment: the exterior was so ruthlessly abandoned to ungainliness.
+
+Mrs. Balliol took her to an inner room, where the cloak and the bonnet
+were left; and returned then to her occupations in the other apartment,
+while Eleanor set herself down at the window to make observations. The
+room was large and high, cheerful and airy, with windows at two sides.
+The one where she sat commanded a view of little beside the garden,
+with its luxuriant growth of fruit trees and shrubs and flowers. A
+tropical looking garden; for the broad leaves of the banana waved there
+around its great bunches of fruit; the canopy of a cocoa-nut palm
+fluttered slightly overhead; and various fruits that Eleanor did not
+know displayed themselves along with the pine-apples that she did know.
+This garden view seemed very interesting to Eleanor, to judge by her
+intentness; and so it was for its own qualities, besides that a bit of
+the walk could be seen by which she had come and the wicket which had
+let her in and by which Mr. Rhys had gone out; but in good truth, as
+often as she turned her eyes to the scene within, she had such a sense
+of being herself an object of observation and perhaps of speculation,
+that she was fain to seek the garden again. And it was true, that while
+Mrs. Balliol plied her needle she used her eyes as well, and her
+thoughts with her needle flew in and out, as she surveyed Eleanor's
+figure in her neat fresh print dress. And the lady's eyebrows grew
+prophetical, not to say ominous.
+
+"She's too handsome!"--that was the first conclusion. "She is quite too
+handsome; she cannot have those looks without knowing it. Better have
+brought a plain face to Fiji, than a spirit of vanity. Hair done as if
+she was just come out of a hair-dresser's!--hum--ruffle all down the
+neck of her dress--flowing sleeves too, and ruffles round _them_. And a
+buckle in her belt--a gold buckle, I do believe. And shoes?"
+
+The shoes were unexceptionable, but they fitted well on a nice foot;
+and the hands--were too small and white and delicate ever to have done
+anything, or ever to be willing to do anything. That was the point. No
+harm in small hands, Mrs. Balliol allowed, if they did not betray their
+owner into daintiness of living. She pursued her lucubrations for some
+time without interrupting those of Eleanor.
+
+"Are you from England, sister?"
+
+"From England--yes; but we made some stay in Australia by the way,"
+said Eleanor turning from the window to take a more sociable position
+nearer her hostess.
+
+"A long voyage?"
+
+"Not remarkably long. I had good companions."
+
+"From what part of England?"
+
+"The borders of Wales, last."
+
+"Brother Rhys is from Wales--isn't he?"
+
+"I do not know," said Eleanor, vexed to feel the flush of blood to her
+cheeks.
+
+"Ah? You have known brother Rhys before?" with a searching look.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And how do you think you shall like it in Fiji?"
+
+"You can hardly expect me to tell under such short trial," said Eleanor
+smiling.
+
+"There are trials enough. I suppose you expect those, do you not?"
+
+"I do not mean to expect them till they come," said Eleanor, still
+smiling.
+
+"Do you think that is wise?" said the other gravely. "They will come, I
+assure you, fast enough; do you not think it is well to prepare the
+mind for what it has to go through, by looking at it beforehand?"
+
+"You never know beforehand what is to be gone through," said Eleanor.
+
+"But you know some things; and it is well, I think, to harden oneself
+against what is coming. I have found that sort of discipline very
+useful. Sister, may I ask you a searching questions?"
+
+"Certainly! If you please," said Eleanor.
+
+"You know, we should be ready to give every one a reason of the hope
+that is in us. I want to ask you, sister, what moved you to go on a
+mission?"
+
+Astonishment almost kept Eleanor silent; then noticing the quick eyes
+of Mrs. Balliol repeating the enquiry at her face, the difficulty of
+answering met and joined with a small tide of indignation at its being
+demanded of her. She did not want to be angry, and she was very near
+being ready to cry. Her mind was in that state of overwrought fulness
+when a little stir is more than the feelings can bear. Among
+conflicting tides, the sense of the ludicrous at last got the
+uppermost; and she laughed, as one laughs whose nerves are not just
+under control; heartily and merrily. Mrs. Balliol was confounded.
+
+"I should not have thought it was a laughing matter,"--she remarked at
+length. But the gravity of that threw Eleanor off again; and the little
+hands and ruffled sleeves were reviewed under new circumstances. And
+when Eleanor got command of herself, she still kept her hand over her
+eyes, for she found that she was just trembling into tears. She held it
+close pressed upon them.
+
+"Perhaps you are fatigued, sister?" said Mrs. Balliol, in utter
+incapacity to account for this demonstration.
+
+"Not much. I beg your pardon!" said Eleanor. "I believe I am a little
+unsettled at first getting here. If you please, I will try being quite
+quiet for awhile--if you will let me be so discourteous?"
+
+"Do so!" said Mrs. Balliol. "Anything to rest you." And Eleanor went
+back to her window, and turning her face to the garden again rested her
+head on her hand; and there was a hush. Mrs. Balliol worked and mused,
+probably. Eleanor did as she had said; kept quiet. The quiet lasted a
+long time, and the tropical day grew up into its meridian heats; yet it
+was not oppressive; a fine breeze relieved it and made it no other than
+pleasant. Home at last! This great stillness and quiet, after the ocean
+tossings, and months of voyaging, and change, and heart-uncertainty.
+The peace of heart now was as profound; but so profound, and so
+thankfully recognized, that Eleanor's mood was a little unsteady. She
+needed to be still and recollect herself, as she could looking out into
+the leaves of a great banana tree there in the garden, and forgetting
+the house and Mrs. Balliol.
+
+The quiet lasted a long time, and was broken then by the entrance of
+Mr. Balliol. His wife introduced him; and after learning that he could
+now render no aid to Mr. Rhys, he immediately entered into a brisk
+conversation with the new comer Mr. Rhys had brought. That went well,
+and was also strengthening. Eleanor was greatly pleased with him. He
+was evidently a man of learning and sense and spirit; a man of
+excellent parts, in good cultivation, and filled with a most benign and
+gentle temper of goodness. It was a pleasure to talk to him; and while
+they were talking the party from the schooner arrived.
+
+Eleanor felt her "shamefacedness" return upon her, while all the rest
+were making acquaintance, welcoming and receiving welcome. She stood
+aside. Did they know her position? While she was thinking, Mr. Rhys
+came to her and put her again in her chair by the window. Mrs. Amos had
+been carried off by Mrs. Balliol. The two other gentlemen were in
+earnest converse. Mr. Rhys took a seat in front of Eleanor and asked in
+a low voice if she wished for any delay?
+
+"In what?" said Eleanor, though she knew the answer.
+
+"Coming home."
+
+He was almost sorry for her, to see the quick blood flash into her
+face. But she caught her breath and said "No."
+
+"You know," he said; how exactly like the Mr. Rhys of Plassy!--"I would
+not hurry you beyond your pleasure. If you would like to remain here a
+day or two, domiciled with Mrs. Balliol, and rest, and see the
+land--you have only to say what you wish."
+
+"I do not wish it," said Eleanor, finding it very difficult to answer
+at all--"I wish it to be just as you please."
+
+"You must know what my pleasure is. Does your heart not fail you, now
+you are here?" he asked still lower and in a very gentle way.
+
+"No."
+
+"Eleanor, have you had any doubts or failings of heart at any time,
+since you left England?"
+
+"No. Yes!--I did, once--at Sydney."
+
+"At Sydney?"--repeated Mr. Rhys in a perceptibly graver tone.
+
+"Yes--at Sydney--when I did not get any letters from you."
+
+"You got no letters from me?"
+
+"No."
+
+"At Sydney?"
+
+"No," said Eleanor venturing to look up.
+
+"Did you not see Mr. Armitage?"
+
+"Mr. Armitage! O he was in the back country--I remember now Mr. Amos
+said that; and he never returned to Sydney while we were there."
+
+An inarticulate sound came from Mr. Rhys's lips, between indignation
+and impatience; the strongest expression of either that Eleanor had
+ever heard from him.
+
+"Then Mr. Armitage had the letters?"
+
+"Certainly! and I am in the utmost surprise at his carelessness. He
+ought to have left them in somebody else's charge, if he was quitting
+the place himself. When did you hear from me?"
+
+The flush rose again, not so vividly, to Eleanor's face.
+
+"I heard in England--those letters--you know."
+
+"Those letters I trusted to Mrs. Caxton?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And not since! Well, you are excused for your heart failing that once.
+Who is to do it, Eleanor?--Mr. Amos?"
+
+"If you please--I should like--"
+
+He left her for a moment to make his arrangements; and for that moment
+Eleanor's thoughts leaped to those who should have been by her side at
+such a time, with a little of a woman's heart-longing. Mrs. Caxton, or
+her mother! If one of them might have stood by her then! Eleanor's head
+bent with the moment's poor wish. But with the touch of Mr. Rhys's hand
+when he returned to her, with the sound of his voice, there came as it
+always did to Eleanor, healing and strength. The one little word
+"Come," from his lips, drove away all mental hobgoblins. He said
+nothing more, but there was a great tenderness in the manner of his
+taking her upon his arm. His look Eleanor dared not meet. She felt very
+strange yet; she could not get accustomed to the reality of things.
+This man had never spoken one word of love to her, and now she was
+standing up to be married to him.
+
+The whole little party stood together, while the marriage service of
+the English church was read. It was preceded however by a prayer that
+was never read nor written. After the service was over, and after
+Eleanor had been saluted by the two ladies who were all the
+representatives of mother and sister and friends for her on the
+occasion, Mr. Rhys whispered to her to get her bonnet. Eleanor gladly
+obeyed. But as soon as it appeared, there was a general outcry and
+protest. What were they going to do?"
+
+"Take her to see how her house looks," said Mr. Rhys. "You forget I
+have something to shew."
+
+"But you will bring her back to dinner? do, brother Rhys. We shall have
+dinner presently. You'll be back?"
+
+"If the survey is over in time--but I do not think it will," he
+answered gravely.
+
+"Then tea--you will come then? Let us all be together at tea. Will you?"
+
+"It is a happiness we have had no visitors before dinner! I will see
+about it, sister Balliol, thank you; and take advice."
+
+And glad was Eleanor when they got away; which was immediately, for Mr.
+Rhys's motions were prompt. He led her now not to the wicket by which
+she had come, but another way, through the garden wilderness still,
+till another slight paling with a wicket in it was passed and the
+wilderness took a somewhat different character. The same plants and
+trees were to be seen, but order and pleasantness of arrangement were
+in place of vegetable confusion; neat walks ran between the luxuriant
+growing bananas, and led gradually nearer to the river; till another
+house came in view; and passing round the gable end of it, Eleanor
+could cast her eye along the building and take the effect. It was long
+and low, with a high picturesque thatched roof, and the walls
+fancifully wrought in a pattern, making a not unpretty appearance. The
+door was in the middle; she had no time to see more, for Mr. Rhys
+unlocked it and led her in.
+
+The interior was high, wide, and cool and pleasant after the hot sun
+without; but again she had no time to make observations. Mr. Rhys led
+her immediately on to an inner room. Eleanor's eyes were dazed and her
+heart was beating; she could hardly see anything, except, as one takes
+impressions without seeing, that this answered to the inner room at
+Mrs. Balliol's, and had far more the air of being furnished and
+pleasantly habitable. What gave it the air she could not tell; for Mr.
+Rhys was unfastening her bonnet and throwing it off, and then taking
+her sea-cloak from his arm and casting that somewhat carelessly away;
+and then his arms enfolded her. It was the first time they had been
+really alone since her coming; and now he was silent, so silent that
+Eleanor could scarcely bear it. She was aware his eyes were studying
+her fixedly, and she felt as if they could see nothing beside the
+conscious mounting of the blood from cheek to brow, which reached what
+to her was a painful flush. Probably he saw it, for the answer came in
+a little closer pressure of the arms that were about her. She ventured
+to look up at last; she was unable to endure this silent inspection;
+and then she saw that his face was full of emotion that wrought too
+deep for words, too deep even for caresses, beyond the one or two grave
+kisses with which he had welcomed her. It overcame Eleanor completely.
+She could not meet the look. It was much more than mere joy or
+affection; there was an expression of the sort of tenderness with which
+a mother would clasp a lost child; a full keen sympathy for all she had
+done and gone through and ventured for him, for all her loneliness and
+forlornness that had been, and that was still with respect to all the
+guardians of her childhood or womanhood up to that hour. Eleanor's head
+sank down. She felt none of that now for which his looks expressed such
+keen regard; she had got to her resting-place, not the less for all the
+awe and strangeness of it, which were upon her yet. She could have
+cried for a very different feeling; but she would not; it did not suit
+her. Mr. Rhys let her be still for a few minutes. When he did speak,
+his voice was gravely tender indeed, as it had been to her all day, but
+there was no sentimentality about it. He spoke clear and abrupt, as he
+often did.
+
+"Do you want to go back to the other house to dinner?"
+
+"Do you wish it?" said Eleanor looking up to find out.
+
+"I wish to see nothing earthly, this afternoon, but your face."
+
+"Then do let it be so!" said Eleanor.
+
+He laughed and kissed her, more gaily this time, without seeming able
+to let her out of his arms; and left her at last with the injunction to
+keep still a minute till he should return, and on no account to begin
+an examination of the house by herself. Very little danger there was!
+Eleanor had not the free use of her eyes yet for anything. Presently he
+came back, put her hand on his arm, and led her out into the middle
+apartment.
+
+"Do you know," he said as he passed through this, keeping her hand in
+his own, and looking down at her face,--"what is the first lesson you
+have to learn?"
+
+"No," said Eleanor, most unaffectedly frightened; she did not know why.
+
+"The first thing we have to do, on taking possession here to-day is, to
+give our thanks and offer our prayers in company. Do not you think so?"
+
+"Yes--" said Eleanor breathlessly. "But what then?"
+
+"I mean together,--not that it should be all on one side. You with me,
+as well as I with you."
+
+"Oh no, Mr. Rhys!"
+
+"Why not?--Mrs. Rhys?"
+
+"Do not ask me! That would be dreadful!"
+
+"I do not think you will find it so."
+
+Eleanor stopped short, near the other end of the great apartment. "I
+cannot do it!" she exclaimed with tears in her eyes, but spoke gravely.
+
+"One can always do what is right."
+
+"Not to-day--" whispered Eleanor.
+
+"One can always do right to-day," he answered smiling. "And it is best
+to begin as we are going on. Come!"
+
+He took her hand and led her forward into the room at the other end of
+the house; his study, Eleanor saw with half a glance by the books and
+papers and tables that were there. Still keeping her hand fast in his,
+they knelt together; and certainly the prayer that followed was good
+for nervousness, and like the sunshine to dispel all manner of clouds.
+Eleanor was quieted and subdued; she could not help it; all sorts of
+memories and associations of Plassy and Wiglands gathered in her mind,
+back of the thoughts that immediately filled it. Hallowed, precious,
+soothing and joyful, those minutes of prayer were while Mr. Rhys spoke;
+in spite of the minutes to follow that Eleanor dreaded. And though her
+own words were few, and stammering, they were different from what she
+would have thought possible a quarter of an hour before; and not
+unhappy to look back upon.
+
+Detaining her when they arose, Mr. Rhys asked with something of his old
+comical look, whether she thought she could eat a dinner of his
+ordering? Eleanor had no doubt of it.
+
+"You think you could eat anything by this time!" said he. "Poor child!
+But my credit is at stake--suppose you wait here a few minutes, until I
+see whether all is right."
+
+He went off, and Eleanor sat still, feeling too happy to want to look
+about her. He came again presently, to lead Eleanor to the dining-room.
+
+In the lofty, spacious, and by no means inelegant middle apartment of
+the house, a little table stood spread, looking exceeding diminutive in
+contrast with the wide area and high ceiling of the room. Here Mr. Rhys
+with a very bright look established Eleanor, and proceeded to make
+amends for keeping her so long from Mrs. Balliol's table. Much to her
+astonishment there was a piece of broiled chicken and a dish of eggs
+nicely cooked, and Mr. Rhys was pouring out for her some tea in
+delicate little cups of china.
+
+"You see aunt Caxton, do you not?" he said.
+
+"O aunt Caxton! in these cups. I thought so. But I had no idea you had
+such cooks in Fiji?"
+
+"They will learn--in time," said he shortly. "You perceive this is an
+unorganized establishment. I have not indulged in tablecloths yet; but
+you will put things to rights."
+
+"Tablecloths?" said Eleanor.
+
+"Yes--you have such things lying in wait for you. You have a great deal
+to do. And in the first place, you are to find out the good qualities
+of these fruits of the land," he said, giving her portions of several
+vegetable preparations with which and with fruits the table was filled.
+
+"What is this?" said Eleanor.
+
+"Taro; one of the valuable things with which nature has blessed Fiji.
+The natives cultivate it well and carefully. That is yam; and came from
+a root five and a half feet long. Eleanor--I do not at all comprehend
+how you come to be sitting there!"
+
+It was so strange and new to Eleanor, and Mr. Rhys was such a compound
+of things new and things old to her, that a little chance word like
+this was enough to make her flutter and change colour. He perceived it,
+and bent his attention to amuse her with the matters of the table; and
+told her wonders of the natural productions of Fiji. But in the midst
+of this Mr. Rhys's hand would come abstracting her tea-cup to fill it
+again; and then Eleanor watched while he did it; and he made himself a
+little private amusement about getting it sugared right and finding how
+she liked it; and Eleanor wondered at him and her tea-cup together, and
+stirred her tea in a subdued state of mind.
+
+"One hardly expects to see such a nice little teaspoon in Fiji," she
+remarked.
+
+"Aunt Caxton, again," said Mr. Rhys.
+
+"But Mr. Rhys, your Fijians must be remarkable cooks! Or have you
+taught them?"
+
+"I have taught nobody in that line."
+
+"Then are they not remarkable for their skill in cookery?"
+
+"As a nation, I think they are; and it is one evidence of their mental
+development. They have a great variety of native dishes, some of which,
+I believe, are not despicable."
+
+"But these are English dishes."
+
+"Do justice to them, then, like a good Englishwoman."
+
+Eleanor's praise was not undeserved; for the chicken and yam were
+excellent, and the sweet potatoe which Mr. Rhys put upon her plate was
+roasted very like one that had been in some hot ashes at home. But
+everything except the dishes was strange, Mr. Rhys's hand included.
+Through the whole length of the house, and of course through the middle
+apartment, ran a double row of columns, upholding the roof. If
+Eleanor's eye followed them up, there was no ceiling, but the lofty
+roof of thatch over her head. Under her foot was a mat, of native
+workmanship; substantial and neat, and very foreign looking. And here
+were aunt Caxton's cups; and if she lifted her eyes--Eleanor felt most
+strange then, although most at home.
+
+The taro and yam and sweet potatoe were only an introduction to the
+fruit, which was beautiful as a shew. A native servant came in and
+removed the dishes, and then set on the table a large basket, in which
+the whole dessert was very simply served. Cocoanuts and bananas,
+oranges and wild plums, bread-fruit and Malay apples, came piled
+together in beautiful mingling. Mr. Rhys went himself to a sort of
+beaufet in the room and brought plates.
+
+"Servants cannot be said to be in complete training," he said with a
+humourous look as he seated himself. "It would be strange if they were,
+when there has been no one to train them. And in Fiji."
+
+"I do not understand," said Eleanor. "Have you been keeping house he
+all by yourself? I thought not, from what Mrs. Balliol said."
+
+"You may trust sister Balliol for being always correct. No, for the
+last few months, until lately, I have been building this house. Since
+it was finished I have lived in it, partly; but I have taken my
+principal meals at the other house."
+
+"_You_ have been building it?"
+
+"Or else you would not be in it at this moment. There is no carpenter
+to be depended on in Fiji but yourself. You have got to go over the
+house presently and see how you like it. Are you ready for a banana? or
+an orange? I think you must try one of these cocoanuts."
+
+"But you had people to help you?"
+
+"Yes. At the rate of two boards a day."
+
+"But, Mr. Rhys, if you cannot get carpenters, where can you get
+cooks?--or do the people have _this_ by nature?"
+
+"When you ask me properly, I will tell you," he said, with a little
+pucker in the corners of his mouth that made Eleanor take warning and
+draw off. She gave her attention to the cocoanut, which she found she
+must learn how to eat. Mr. Rhys played with an orange in the mean time,
+but she knew was really busy with nothing but her and her cocoanut.
+When she would be tempted by no more fruit, he went off and brought a
+little wooden bowl of water and a napkin, which he presented for her
+fingers, standing before her to hold it. Eleanor dipped in her fingers,
+and then looked up.
+
+"You should not do this for me, Mr. Rhys!" she said half earnestly.
+
+But he stooped down and took his own payment; and on the whole Eleanor
+did not feel that she had greatly the advantage of him. Indeed Mr. Rhys
+had payment of more sorts than one; for cheeks were rosy as the fingers
+were white which she was drying, as she had risen and stood before him.
+She looked on then with great edification, to see his fingers
+deliberately dipped in the same bowl and dried on the same napkin; for
+very well Eleanor knew they would have done it for no mortal beside
+her. And then she was carried off to look at the walls of her house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+IN THE HOUSE.
+
+
+  "Thou hast found ....
+  Thy cocoas and bananas, palms and yams,
+  And homestall thatched with leaves."
+
+
+The walls of the house were, to an Englishwoman, a curiosity. They were
+made of reeds; three layers or thicknesses of them being placed
+different ways, and bound and laced together with sinnet; the strong
+braid made of the fibre of the cocoanut-husk. It was this braid, woven
+in and out, which produced the pretty mosaic effect Eleanor had
+observed upon the outside. Mr. Rhys took her to a doorway, where she
+could examine from within and from without this novel construction; and
+explained minutely how it was managed.
+
+"This looks like a foreign land," said Eleanor. "You had described it,
+and I thought I had imagined it; but sight and feeling are quite a
+different matter."
+
+"I did not describe it to you?"
+
+"No--O no; you described it to aunt Caxton."
+
+He drew her back a step or two and laid her hand upon the post of the
+door.
+
+"What is this?" said Eleanor.
+
+"That is a piece of the stem of the palm-fern."
+
+"And these are its natural mouldings and markings! It is like elegant
+carved work! It is natural, is it not?" she said suddenly.
+
+"Certainly. The natives do execute very marvellous carving in wood,
+with tools that would drive a workman at home to despair; but I have
+not learned the art. Come here--the pillars that hold up the roof of
+your house are of the same wood."
+
+A double row of pillars through the whole length of the house gave it
+stability; they were stems of the same palm fern, and as they had been
+chosen and placed with a careful eye to size and position, the effect
+of them was not at all inelegant. The building itself was of generous
+length and width; and with a room cut off at each end, as the fashion
+was, the centre apartment was left of really noble proportions; broad,
+roomy, and lofty; with its palm columns springing up to its high roof
+of thatch. Standing beside one of them, Eleanor looked up and declared
+it a beautiful room.
+
+"Do not look at the doors and windows," said Mr. Rhys. "I did not make
+those--they were sent out framed. I had only the pleasure of putting
+them in."
+
+"And how did that agree with all your other work?"
+
+"Well," he said decidedly. "That was my recreation."
+
+"There is the prettiest mixture of wild and tame in this house," said
+Eleanor, speaking a little timidly; for she was conscious all the while
+how little Mr. Rhys was thinking of anything but herself. "Are these
+mats made here?"
+
+"Pure Fijian!"
+
+The one at which Eleanor was looking, her eyes having fallen to the
+floor, was both large and elegant. It was very substantially and neatly
+made, and had a border fancifully wrought all round it, a few inches in
+width. The pattern of the border was made with bits of worsted and
+little white feathers. This mat covered all the centre of the room;
+under it the whole floor was spread with other and coarser ones; and
+others of a still different manufacture lined the walls of the room.
+
+"One need not want a prettier carpet," said Eleanor, keeping her eyes
+on the mat. Mr. Rhys put his arm round her and drew her off to one side
+of the room, where he made her pause before a large square space which
+was sunk a foot deep in the earth and bordered massively with a frame
+of logs of hard wood.
+
+"What do you think of that?"
+
+"Mr. Rhys, what is it?"
+
+"You would not take it for a fireplace?" he said with a comical look.
+
+"But is it a fireplace?"
+
+"That is what it is intended for. The Fijians make their fireplaces in
+this manner."
+
+"And you are a Fijian, I suppose."
+
+"So are you."
+
+"But Mr. Rhys, can a fireplace of this sort be useful in an English
+house?"
+
+"No. But in a Fijian house it may--as I have proved. The natives would
+have a wooden frame here, at one side, to hold cooking vessels. You do
+not need that, for you have a kitchen."
+
+"With a fireplace like this?"
+
+"Yes," he said, with a smile that had some raillery in it, which
+Eleanor would not provoke.
+
+"Suppose you come and look at something that is not Fijian," he went
+on. "You must vary your attention."
+
+He drew her before a little unostentatious piece of furniture, that
+looked certainly as if it was made out of a good bit of English oak.
+What it was, did not appear; it was very plain and rather massively
+made. Now Mr. Rhys produced keys, and opened first doors; then a
+drawer, which displayed all the characteristic contents and
+arrangements of a lady's work-box on an extended scale. Love's work;
+Eleanor could see her adopted mother in every carefully disposed supply
+of needles and silks and braids and glittering Sheffield ware, and the
+thousand and one appliances and provisions for one who was to be at a
+very large distance from Sheffield and every home source of needle
+furniture. Love recognized love's work, as Eleanor looked into the
+drawer.
+
+"Now you are ready to say this is a small thread and needle shop," said
+Mr. Rhys; "but you will be mistaken if you do. Look further."
+
+And that she might, he unlocked a pair of smaller inner doors; the
+little piece of furniture developed itself immediately into a capital
+secretary. As thoroughgoing as the work-box, but still more
+comprehensive, here were more than mere materials and conveniences for
+writing; it was a depository for several small but very precious
+treasures of a scientific and other kinds; and even a few books lay
+nestling among them, and there was room for more.
+
+"What is this!" Eleanor exclaimed when she had got her breath.
+
+"This is--Mrs. Caxton! I do not know whether she expected you to turn
+sempstress immediately for the colony--or whether she intended you for
+another vocation, as I do."
+
+"She sent this from England!"
+
+"It was made by nobody worse than a London cabinet-maker. I did not
+know whether you would choose to have it stand in this place, or in the
+only room that can properly be called your own. Come in here;--the
+other part of the house is, you will find, pretty much public."
+
+"Even your study?"
+
+"That is no exception, sometimes. I am a public man, myself."
+
+The partition wall of this room was nicely lined with mats; the door
+was like a piece of the wall, swinging to noiselessly, but Mr. Rhys
+shewed Eleanor how she could fasten it securely on the inside. Eleanor
+had been taken into this room on her first arrival; but had then been
+unable to see anything. Now her eyes were in requisition. Here there
+was even more attention paid to comfort and appearances than in the
+dining-room. In the simplest possible manner; but somebody had been at
+work there who knew that elegance is attainable without the help of
+opulence; and that eye and hand can do what money cannot. Eye and hand
+had been busy everywhere. Very pretty and soft native mats were on the
+floor; the windows were shaded with East Indian _jalousies;_ and not
+only personal convenience but tastes were regarded in the various
+articles of furniture and the arrangement of them. Good sense was
+regarded too. Camp chairs and tables were useful for packing and
+moving, as well as neat to the eye; white draperies relieved their
+simplicity; shelves were hung against the wall in one place for books,
+and filled; and in the floor stood an easy chair of excellent
+workmanship, into which Mr. Rhys immediately put Eleanor. But she
+started up to look at it.
+
+"Did aunt Caxton send all these things?" she said with a tear in her
+eye.
+
+"She has sent almost too many. These are but the beginning, Look here,
+Eleanor."
+
+He opened a door at one end of the room, hidden under mat hangings like
+the other, which disclosed a large space lined with shelves; several
+articles reposing on them, and on the floor below sundry chests and
+boxes.
+
+"This is your storeroom. Here you may revel in the riches you do not
+immediately wish to display. This is yours; I have a storeroom on my
+own part."
+
+"And what is in those chests and boxes, Mr. Rhys?"
+
+"I don't know! except that it is aunt Caxton again. You will find
+tablecloths and napkins--I can certify that--for I stumbled upon them;
+but I thought they had best not see the light till their owner came. So
+I locked them up--and here are the keys."
+
+"And who put up all these nice shelves?"
+
+"Your head carpenter."
+
+"And have you been doing all this for me?" said Eleanor.
+
+He laughed and took her in his arms again, looking at her with that
+mixture of expressions.
+
+"I wish I could give you some of my content!" he said.
+
+"I do not want it!" said Eleanor laughing.
+
+"Is that declaration entirely generous?"
+
+Eleanor had no mind, like a wise woman, to answer this question; but
+she was held under the inspection of an eye that she knew of old clear
+and keen beyond all others to untie the knot of anybody's meaning. She
+flushed up very much and tried to turn it off, for she saw he had a
+mind to have the answer.
+
+"You do not want me to give account of every idle word after that
+fashion?" she said lightly.
+
+"Hush--hush," he said, with a gravity that had much sweetness in it. "I
+cannot have you speak in that way."
+
+"I will not--" said Eleanor, suddenly much more sober than he was.
+
+"There are too many that have the habit of using their Master's words
+to point their own sentences. Do not let us use it. Come to my
+study--you did not see it before dinner, I think."
+
+Eleanor was glad he could smile again, for at that minute she could
+not. She felt whirled back to Plassy, and to Wiglands, to the time of
+their old and very different relations. She could not realize the new,
+nor quietly understand her own happiness; and a very fresh vivid sense
+of his character made her feel almost as much awe of him as affection.
+That was according to old habit too. But if she felt shy and strange,
+she was the only one; for Mr. Rhys was in a very gay mood. As they went
+through the dining-room he stopped to shew and display to her numerous
+odd little contrivances and arrangements; here a cupboard of rustic,
+and very pretty too, native work; or at least native materials. There a
+more sophisticated beaufet, which had come from Sydney by Mrs. Caxton's
+order. "Dear Mrs. Caxton!" said Mr. Rhys,--"she has forgotten nothing.
+I am only in astonishment what she can have found to fill your new
+invoice of boxes."
+
+"Why there are not many," said Eleanor.
+
+He looked at her and laughed. "You will be doing nothing but unpacking
+for days to come," he said. "I have done what I never thought I should
+do--married a rich wife."
+
+"Why aunt Caxton sends the things quite as much to you as to me."
+
+"Does she?"
+
+"I am sure, if anybody is poor, I am."
+
+"If that speech means _me_," said Mr. Rhys with a little bit of
+provokingness in the corners of his mouth,--"I don't take it. I do not
+feel poor; and never did. Not to-day certainly, with whole shiploads
+coming in."
+
+"I do not know of a single unnecessary thing but your microscope."
+
+"Have you brought that?" he said with a change of tone. "It would be
+just like Mrs. Caxton to come out and make us a visit some day! I
+cannot think of anything else she could give us, that she has not
+given. Look at my book-cases."
+
+Eleanor did, thinking of their owner. They were of plainest
+construction, but so made that they would take to pieces in five
+minutes and become packing cases with the books packed, all ready for
+travel; or at pleasure, as now, stand up in their place in the study in
+the form of very neat bookcases. They were not large; a Fijian
+missionary's library had need be not too extensive; but Eleanor looked
+over their contents with hurried delight.
+
+The rest of the room also spoke of Mrs. Caxton; in light neat tables
+and chairs and other things. Here too, though not a hand's turn had
+apparently been wasted, everything, simple as it was, had a sort of
+pleasantness of order and fitness which left the eye gratified. Eleanor
+read that and the meaning of it. Here were contrivances again that Mr.
+Rhys had done; shelves, and brackets, and pins to hang things; nothing
+out of use, but all so contrived as to give a certain elegant effect to
+this plain work-room. Even the book and paper disorder was not that of
+a careless man. Still it was not like the room at the other end of the
+house. The mats that floored and lined it were coarser; there were no
+_jalousies_ at the windows; and no easy chair anywhere. One thing it
+had like the other; a storeroom cut off from it. This was a large one,
+like Eleanor's, and filled. His money-drawer, Mr. Rhys called it. All
+sorts of articles valued by the natives were there; Mrs. Caxton had
+taken care to send a large supply. These were to serve the purposes of
+barter. Mr. Rhys displayed to Eleanor the stores of iron tools, cotton
+prints, blankets, and articles of clothing, that were stowed away
+there; stowed away with an absolute order and method which again she
+looked at as significant of one side at least of Mr. Rhys's character.
+He amused himself with displaying everything; shewed her the whole of
+the new and strangely appointed establishment over which she had come
+to preside, so far at least as the house contained it; and when he had
+brought her to something like an apparent share in his own gay mood, at
+last placed her in a camp chair in the dining-room, which he had set in
+the middle of the floor, and opened the door of the house. It gave
+Eleanor a lovely view. The plantations had been left open, so that the
+eye had a fair range down to the river and to the opposite shore, where
+another village stood. It was seen under bright sunshine now. Mr. Rhys
+let her look a moment, then shut the door, and came and sat down before
+her, taking both her hands in his own; and Eleanor knew from a glance
+at his face that the same thoughts were working within him that had
+wrought that moved look before dinner--when she first came. She felt
+her colour mounting; it tried her to be silent under his eye in that
+way.
+
+"Mr. Rhys, do you remember preaching to me one day at Plassy--when we
+were out walking?"
+
+"Yes," he said with a half laugh.
+
+"I wish you would do it again."
+
+"I will preach you a sermon every morning if you like."
+
+"No, but now. I wish you would, so as to make me realize that you are
+the same person."
+
+"I am not the same person at all!" he said.
+
+"Why are you not?" said Eleanor opening her eyes at him.
+
+"In those days I was your pastor and friend simply. The difference is,
+that I have acquired the right to love you--take care of you--and scold
+you."
+
+"It seems to me that last was a privilege you exercised occasionally in
+those times," said Eleanor archly.
+
+"Not at all! In those days I was a poor fellow that did not dare say a
+word to you."
+
+Eleanor's recollections were of sundry exceptions to this rule, so
+marked and prominent in her memory that she could not help laughing.
+
+"O Mr. Rhys, don't you remember--"
+
+"What?" said he with the utmost gravity.
+
+But Eleanor had stopped, and coloured now brilliantly.
+
+"It seems that your recollections are of a questionable character," he
+said. Eleanor did not deny it.
+
+"What is it you wish me _not_ to remember?"
+
+"It was a time when you said I was very wrong," said Eleanor meekly,
+"so do not call it back."
+
+He bent forward to kiss her, which did not steady Eleanor's thoughts at
+all.
+
+"Do you want preaching?" he said.
+
+"Yes indeed! It will do me good."
+
+"I will give you some words to think of, that I lived in all yesterday.
+'Beloved of God.' They are wonderful words, that Paul says belong to
+all the saints; and they were about me yesterday like a halo of glory,
+from morning to night."
+
+Now Eleanor was all right; now she recognized Mr. Rhys and herself, and
+listened to every word with her old delight in them. Now she could use
+her eyes and look at him, though she well saw that he was considering
+her with that full, moved tenderness that she had felt in him all day;
+even when he was talking and thinking of other things he did not cease
+to remember _her_.
+
+"Eleanor, what do you know about the meaning of those words?"
+
+"Little!" she said. "And yet, a little."
+
+"You know that _we_ were Gentiles, carried away unto these dumb
+idols--or after others in our own hearts--as helplessly as the poor
+heathen around us. But we have got the benefit of that word,--'I will
+call them my people, which were not my people; and her beloved, which
+was not beloved.'"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+"Then look at our privileges--'The beloved of the Lord shall dwell in
+safety by him; and the Lord shall cover him all the day long, and he
+shall dwell between is shoulders.'--Heavenly security; unearthly joy; a
+hiding-place where the troubles of earth cannot reach us."
+
+Mr. Rhys left his position before Eleanor at this, and with a brow all
+alight with its thoughts began to pace up and down in front of her;
+just as he had done at Plassy, she remembered. She ventured not a word.
+Her heart was very full.
+
+"Then look how we are bidden to increase our rejoicing and to delight
+ourselves in the store laid up for us; we are not only safe and happy,
+but fed with dainties. All things are ready; Christ says he will sup
+with us; and we are bidden--'Eat, O friends; drink, yea, drink
+abundantly, O beloved.' 'He that cometh to me shall never hunger, and
+he that believeth on me shall never thirst.'
+
+"And then, Eleanor, if we are the elect of God, holy and beloved, what
+bowels of mercies should be in us; how precious all other beloved of
+him should be to us; how we should be constrained by his love. Are you?
+I am. I am willing to spend and be spent for these people among whom we
+are. I am sure there are many, many children of God among them, come
+and coming. I seek no better than to labour for them. It is the delight
+of my soul! Eleanor, how is it with you?"
+
+He had stood still before her during these last words, and now sat down
+again, taking her hands and looking with his undeceivable gaze into her
+face.
+
+"I desire the same thing. I dare not say, I desire it as strongly as
+you do,--but it is my very wish."
+
+"Is it for the love of Christ--or for love of these poor creatures? or
+for any other reason?"
+
+"I can hardly separate the first two," said Eleanor, looking a little
+wistfully. "The love of Christ is at the bottom of it all."
+
+"There is no other motive," he said; "no other that will do the work;
+nothing else that will work true love to them. But when I think of my
+Master--I am willing to do or be anything, I think, in his service!"
+
+He quitted her hands and began slowly walking up and down again.
+
+"Mr. Rhys," said Eleanor, "what can I do?"
+
+"Are you ready to encounter disagreeablenesses, and hardships, and
+privations, in the work?"
+
+"Yes; and discouragements."
+
+"There are no such things. There ought to be no such things. I never
+feel nor have felt discouraged. That is want of faith. Do you remember,
+Eleanor, 'The clouds are the dust of his feet?' Think--our eyes are
+blinded by the dust, we look at nothing else, and we do not see the
+glory of the steps that are taken."
+
+"That is true. O Mr. Rhys, that is glorious!"
+
+"Then you are not afraid? I forewarn you, little annoyances are
+sometimes harder to bear than great ones. It is one of the most trying
+things that I have to meet," said Mr. Rhys standing still with a funny
+face,--"to have Ra Mbombo's beard sweep my plate when I am at dinner."
+
+"What does he do that for?"
+
+"He is so fond of me."
+
+"That is being too fond, certainly."
+
+"It is an excess of affectionate attention,--he gets so close to me
+that we have a community of things. And you will have, Eleanor, some
+days, a perpetual levee of visitors. But what is all that, for Christ?"
+
+"I am not afraid," said Eleanor with a most unruffled smile.
+
+"I wrote to frighten you."
+
+"But I was not frightened. Are things no better in the islands than
+when you wrote?"
+
+"Changing--changing every day; from darkness to light, and from the
+power of Satan to God. Literally. There are heathen temples here, in
+which a few years ago if a woman or a child had dared cross the
+threshold they would have been done to death immediately. Now those
+very temples are used as our schools. On our way to the chapel we shall
+pass almost over a place where there used to be one of the ovens for
+cooking human bodies; now the grass and wild tomatoes are growing over
+it. I can take you to house after house, where men and women used to be
+eaten, where now if you stand to listen you may hear hymns of praise to
+Jesus and prayer going up in his name. Praise the Lord! It is grand to
+be permitted to live in Fiji now!"--
+
+Eleanor was hushed and silent a few minutes, while Mr. Rhys walked
+slowly up and down. Then she spoke with her eyes full of sympathetic
+tears.
+
+"Mr. Rhys, what can I do?"
+
+"What you have to do at present," he said with a change of tone, "is to
+take care of me and learn the language,--both languages, I should say!
+And in the mean while you had better take care of your pins,"--he
+stooped as he spoke, to pick up one at her feet and presented it with
+comical gravity. "You must remember you are not in England. Here you
+could not spend pin-money even if you had it."
+
+"If I were inclined to be extravagant," said Eleanor laughing at him,
+"your admonition would be thrown away; I have brought such quantities
+with me."
+
+"Of pins?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I hope you will not ever use them!"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I do not see what a properly made dress has to do with pins."
+
+But at this confession of masculine ignorance Eleanor first looked and
+then laughed and covered her face, till he came and sat down again and
+by forcible possession took her hands away.
+
+"You have no particular present occasion to laugh at me," he said.
+"Eleanor, what made you first willing to quit England and go anywhere?"
+
+The answer to this was first an innocent look, and then an extreme
+scarlet flush. She could not hide it, with her hands prisoners; she sat
+in a pretty state of abashment. A slight giving way of the mouth bore
+witness that he read and understood it, though his immediate words were
+reassuringly grave and unchanged in tone.
+
+"I remember, you did not comprehend such a thing as possible, at one
+time. When was that changed? You used to have a great fear."
+
+"I lost part of that at Plassy."
+
+"Where did you lose the rest of it, Eleanor?"
+
+"It was in London."
+
+He saw by the light in Eleanor's eyes, which looked at him now, that
+there was something behind. Yet she hesitated.
+
+"Sealed lips?" said he bending forward again to her face. "You must
+unseal them, Eleanor."
+
+"Do you want me to tell you all that?" she asked questioningly.
+
+"I want you to tell me everything."
+
+"It is only a long story."
+
+"Do not make it short."
+
+An easy matter! to go on and tell it with her two hands prisoners, and
+those particularly clear eyes looking into her face. It served to shew
+the grace that belonged to Eleanor, the way that in these circumstances
+she began what she had to say. Where another woman would have been
+awkward, she spoke with the simple sweet poise of manner that had been
+the admiration of many a company, and that made Mr. Rhys now press the
+little hands closer in his own. A little evident shy reluctance only
+added to the grace.
+
+"It is a good while ago--I felt, Mr. Rhys, that I wanted,--just that
+which makes one willing to go anywhere and do anything; though not for
+that reason. I expected to live in England always. I wanted to know
+more of Christ. I wanted it, not for work's sake but for happiness'
+sake. I was a Christian, I suppose; but I knew--I had seen and
+felt--that there were things,--there was a height of Christian life and
+attainment, that I had not reached; but where I had seen other people,
+with a light upon their brows that I knew never shined upon mine. I
+knew whence it came--I knew what I wanted--more knowledge of Christ,
+more love of him."
+
+"When was this?"
+
+"It is a good while ago. It is--it was,--time seems so confused to
+me!--I know it was the winter after you went away. I think it was near
+the spring. We were in London."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I was cold at the heart of religion. I was not happy. I knew what I
+wanted--more love to Christ."
+
+"You did love him."
+
+"Yes; but you know what it is just to love him a little. I went as duty
+bade me; but the love of him did not make all duty happy. I had seen
+you live differently--I saw others--and I could not be content as I was.
+
+"We were in town then. One night I sat up all night, and gave the whole
+night to it."
+
+"To seeking Jesus?"
+
+"I wanted to get out of my coldness and find him!"
+
+"And you found him?"
+
+"Not soon. I spent the night in it. I prayed--and I walked the floor
+and prayed--and I shed a great many tears over the Bible. I felt as if
+I must have what I wanted--but I could not seem to get any nearer to
+it. The whole night passed away--and I had wearied myself--and I had
+got nothing.
+
+"The dawn was just breaking, when I got up from my knees the last time.
+I was almost giving up in despair. I had done all I could--what could I
+do more? I went to the window and opened it. The light was just
+creeping up in the sky--there was a little streak of brightness along
+the horizon, or of light rather, but it was the herald of brightness. I
+felt desolate and tired, and like giving up hope and quest together.
+The dull grey canopy overhead seemed just like my heart. I cannot tell
+you how enviously I looked at the eastern dawn, wishing the light would
+break upon my own horizon. I shall never forget it. It was dusky yet
+down in the streets and over the housetops; the city had not waked up
+in our quarter; it was still yet, and the breath of the morning's
+freshness came to me and revived me and mocked me both at once. I could
+have cried for sadness, if I had not been too down-hearted and weary.
+
+"While I stood there, hearing the morning's promise, I suppose, without
+knowing it--there came up from the streets somewhere below me, and
+near, the song of a chimney-sweep. I can never tell you how it came! It
+came--but not yet; at first I only knew what he was singing by the
+notes of the air; but the next verse he began came up clear and strong
+to me at the window. He was singing those words--
+
+  "'Twas a heaven below
+  My Redeemer to know;
+  And the angels could do nothing more,
+  Than to fall at his feet,
+  And the story repeat,
+  And the Lover of sinners adore.'
+
+
+"I thought, it seemed that a band of angels came and carried those
+words up past my window! And the dawn came in my heart. I cannot tell
+you how,--I seemed to see everything at once. I saw what a heaven below
+it is, to know the love of Christ. I think my heart was something like
+the Ganges when the tide is coming in. I thought, if the angels could
+do nothing more than praise him, neither could I! I fell at his feet
+then--I do not think I have ever really left them since--not for long
+at a time; and since then my great wish has been to be allowed to
+glorify him. I have had no fears of anything in the way."
+
+Eleanor had not been able to get through her "long story" without
+tears; but they came very much against her will. She could not see, yet
+somehow she felt the strong sympathetic emotion with which she was
+listened to. She could hear it, in the subdued intonation of Mr. Rhys's
+words.
+
+"'Keep yourselves in the love of God.' How shall we do it, Eleanor?"
+
+She answered without raising her eyes--"'The Lord is good unto them
+that wait for him.'"
+
+"And, 'if ye keep my commandments, ye shall abide in my love.'"
+
+There was silence a moment.
+
+"That commandment must take me away for a while, Eleanor." She looked
+up.
+
+"I thought," he said, with his sweet arch smile, "I might take so much
+of a honeymoon as one broken day--but there is a poor sick man a mile
+off who wants me; and brother Balliol has had the schooner affairs to
+attend to. I shall be gone an hour. Will you stay here? or shall I take
+you to the other house?"
+
+"May I stay here?"
+
+"Certainly. You can fasten the door, and then if any visiters come they
+will think I am not at home. I will give Solomon directions."
+
+"Who is Solomon?"
+
+"Solomon is--I will introduce him to you!" and with a very bright face
+Mr. Rhys went off into his study, coming back again in a moment and
+with his hat. He went to a door opposite that by which Eleanor had
+entered the house, and blew a shrill whistle.
+
+"Solomon is my fast friend and very faithful servant," he said
+returning to Eleanor. "You saw him at dinner--but it is time he should
+know you."
+
+In came Solomon; a very black specimen of the islanders, in a dress
+something like that which Eleanor had noticed on the man in the canoe.
+Solomon's features were undeniably good, if somewhat heavy; they had
+sense and manliness; and his eye was mildly quiet and genial in its
+expression. It brightened, Eleanor saw, as he listened to Mr. Rhys's
+words; to which she also listened without being able to understand
+them, and wondering at the warm feeling of her cheeks. Solomon's
+gratulations were mainly given with his face, for all the English words
+he could get out were, "glad--see--Misi Risi"--Mr. Rhys laughed and
+dismissed him, and went off himself.
+
+Eleanor was half glad to be left alone for a time. She fastened the
+door, not for fear, but that her solitude might not be intruded upon;
+then walked up and down over the soft mats of the centre room and tried
+to bring her spirits to some quiet of realization. But she could not.
+The change had been so sudden, from her wandering state of uncertainty
+and expectation to absolute content and rest, of body and mind at once,
+that her mental like her actual footing seemed to sway and heave yet
+with the upheavings that were past. She could not settle down to
+anything like a composed state of mind. She could not get accustomed
+yet to Mr. Rhys in his new character. As the children say, it was "too
+good to be true."
+
+A little unready to be still, she went off again into the room
+specially prepared for her, where the green jalousies shaded the
+windows. One window here was at the end; a direction in which Eleanor
+had not looked. She softly raised the jalousies a little, expecting to
+see just the waving bananas and other plants of the tropical garden
+that surrounded the house; or perhaps servants' offices, about which
+she had a good deal of curiosity.
+
+Instead of that, the window revealed a landscape of such beauty that
+Eleanor involuntarily pulled up the blind and sat entranced before it.
+No such thing as servants or servants' offices. A wide receding stretch
+of broken country, rising in the distance to the dignity of blue
+precipitous hills; a gorge of which opened far away, to delight and
+draw the eye into its misty depth; a middle distance of lordly forest,
+with patches of clearing; bits of tropical vegetation at hand, and over
+them and over it all a tropical sky. In one direction the view was very
+open. Eleanor could discern a bit of a pathway winding through it, and
+once or twice a dark figure moving along its course. This was Vuliva!
+this was her foreign home! the region where darkness and light were
+struggling foot by foot for the mastery; where heathen temples were
+falling and heathen misery giving place to the joy of the gospel, but
+where the gospel had to fight them yet. Eleanor looked till her heart
+was too full to look any longer; and then turned aside to get the only
+possible relief in prayer.
+
+The hour was near gone when she went to her window again. The day was
+cooling towards the evening. Well she guessed that this window had been
+specially arranged for her. In everything that had been done in the
+house she had seen that same watchful care for her pleasure and
+comfort. There never was a house that seemed to be so love's work; Mr.
+Rhys's own hand had most manifestly been everywhere; and the furniture
+that Mrs. Caxton had sent he had placed. But Mrs. Caxton had not sent
+all. Eleanor's eye rested on a dressing-table that certainly never came
+from England. It was pretty enough; it was very pretty, even to her
+notions; yet it had cost nothing, and was as nearly as possible made of
+nothing. Yes, for she looked; the frame was only some native reeds or
+canes and a bit of board; the rest was white muslin drapery, which
+would pack away in a very few square inches of room, but now hung in
+pretty folds around the glass and covered the frame. Eleanor just
+looked and wondered; no more; for the hour was up, and she went to her
+window and raised the jalousies again. She was more quiet now, she
+thought; but her heart throbbed with the thought of Mr. Rhys and his
+return.
+
+She looked over the beautiful wild country, watching for him. The light
+was fair on the blue hills; the sea-breeze fluttered the leaves of the
+cocoanut trees and waved the long thick leaves of the banana. She heard
+no other sound near or far, till the quick swift tread she was
+listening for came to her ear. Nobody was to be seen; but the step was
+not to be mistaken. Eleanor got to the front door and had it open just
+in time to see him come.
+
+They stood then together in the doorway, for the view was fair on the
+river side too. The opposite shore was beautiful, and the houses of the
+heathen village had a great interest for Eleanor, aside from their
+effect as part of the landscape; but her shyness was upon her again,
+and she had a thorough consciousness that Mr. Rhys did not see how the
+light fell on either shore. At last he put his arm round her and drew
+her up to his side, saying,
+
+"And so you did not get my letters in Sydney.--Poor little dove!"
+
+It struck Eleanor with a curious pleasure, these words. They would have
+been true, she knew, in the lips of no other mortal, as also certainly
+to no other mortal would it have occurred to use them. She was not the
+sort of person by any means to whom such an appellation would generally
+be given. To be sure her temper was of the finest, but then also it had
+a body to it. Yet here she knew it was true; and he knew; it was spoken
+not by any arrogance, but by a purely frank and natural understanding
+of their mutual natures and relations. She answered by a smile,
+exceeding sweet and sparkling, as well as conscious, to the face that
+was looking down at her with a little bit of provoking archness upon
+its gravity; and their lips met in a long sealing kiss. Husband and
+wife understood each other.
+
+Perhaps Mr. Rhys knew it, for it seemed as if his lips could hardly
+leave hers; and Eleanor's face was all manner of lights.
+
+"What has become of Alfred?" he asked, in an irrelevant kind of manner,
+by way of parenthesis.
+
+"I have not seen him--hardly--since you left England. He is not under
+mamma's care now."
+
+"And my friend Julia? You have told me but a mite yet about everybody."
+
+"Julia is your friend still. But Julia--I have not seen her in a long,
+long time."
+
+"How is that?"
+
+"Mamma would not let me. O Mr. Rhys!--we have been kept apart. I could
+not even see her when I came away."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Mamma--she was afraid of my influence over her."
+
+"Is it possible!"
+
+"Julia was going on well--setting her face to do right. Now--I do not
+know how it will be. Even our letters are overlooked."
+
+"I need not ask how your mother is. I suppose she is trying to save one
+of her daughters for the world."
+
+Eleanor's thoughts swept a wide course in a few minutes; remembered
+whose hand instrumentality had saved her from such a fate and had
+striven for Julia. With a sigh that was part sorrow and part gratitude,
+Eleanor laid her head softly on Mr. Rhys's shoulder. With such
+tenderness as one gives to a child, and yet rarer, because deeper and
+graver, she was made at home there.
+
+"Don't you want to take a walk to the chapel?"
+
+"O yes!"--But she was held fast still.
+
+"And shall we give sister Balliol the pleasure of our company to tea,
+as we come back?"
+
+"If you please--if you like."
+
+"I do not like it at all," said Mr. Rhys frankly--"but I suppose we
+must."
+
+"Think of finding the restraints of society even in Fiji!" said Eleanor
+trying to laugh, as she brought her bonnet and they set out.
+
+"You must find them everywhere--unless you live to please yourself;"
+said Mr. Rhys, with his sweet grave look; and Eleanor was consoled.
+
+The walk to the church was not very long, and she could have desired it
+longer. The river shore, and the view on the other side, and the
+village by which they passed, the trees and the vegetable gardens and
+the odd thatched roofs--everything was pretty and new to Eleanor's
+eyes. They passed all they had seen in coming from the landing that
+morning, taking this time a path outside the mission premises. Past the
+house with the row of pillars in front, which Eleanor learned was a
+building for the use of the various schools. A little further on stood
+the chapel. It was neat and tasteful enough to please even an English
+eye; and indeed looked more English than foreign on a distant view; and
+standing there in the wilderness, with its little bell-tower rising
+like a witness for all that was good in the midst of a heathen land,
+the feelings of those who looked upon it had need be very tender and
+very deep.
+
+"This chapel is dear to our eyes," said Mr. Rhys. "Everything is, that
+costs such pains. This poor people have made it; and it is one of the
+best pieces of work in Fiji. It was all done by the labour of their
+hearts and hands."
+
+"That seems to be the style of carpentry in this country," said Eleanor.
+
+"The chief made up his mind on a good principle--that for a house of
+the true God, neither time nor material could be too precious. On that
+principle they went to work. The timber used in the building is what we
+call green-heart--the best there is in Fiji. To find it, they had to
+travel over many a mile of the country; and remember, there are no oxen
+here, no horses; they had no teams to help them. All must be done by
+the labour of the hands. I think there were about eighty beams of
+green-heart timber needed for the house--some of them twelve and some
+of them fifty feet long. In about three months these were collected;
+found and brought in from the woods and hills, sometimes from ten miles
+away. While the young men were doing this, the old men at home were all
+day beating cocoanut husk, to separate the fibre for making sinnet. All
+day long I used to hear their beaters going; it was good music; and
+when at the end of every few days the woodcutters came home with their
+timber--so soon as they were heard shouting the news of their
+coming--there was a general burst and cry and every creature in the
+village set off to meet them and help drag the logs home. Women and
+children and all went; and you never saw people so happy.
+
+"Then the building was done in the same spirit. Many a time when I was
+busy with them, overlooking their work, I have heard them chanting to
+each other words from the Bible--band against band. One side would
+sing--'But will God indeed dwell on the earth? Behold, the heaven of
+heavens cannot contain thee; how much less this house that I have
+builded.'--Then the other side would answer, 'The Lord hath chosen
+Zion; he hath desired it for his habitation.' I cannot tell you how
+sweet it was. There was another chant they were very fond of. A few
+would begin with Solomon's petition--'Have thou respect unto the prayer
+of thy servant, and to his supplication, O Lord my God, to hearken unto
+the cry and to the prayer, which thy servant prayeth before thee
+to-day: that thine eyes may be open toward this house night and day,
+even toward the place of which thou hast said, My name shall be there:
+that thou mayest hearken unto the prayer which thy servant shall make
+toward this place,'--and here a number of the other builders would join
+in with their cry--'Hearken unto the prayer which thy servant shall
+make!' And so in the next verse, when it came near the end the others
+would join in--'And when thou hearest, forgive!'--"
+
+"I should think you would love it!" said Eleanor, with her eyes full of
+tears. "And I should think the Lord would love it."
+
+"Come in, and see how it looks on the inside."
+
+The inside was both simple and elegant, after a quaint fashion; for it
+was Fijian elegance and Fijian simplicity. A double row of columns led
+down the centre of the building; they looked like mahogany, but it was
+only native wood; and the ornamental work at top which served for their
+capitals, was done in sinnet. Over the doors and windows triangular
+pediments were elaborately wrought in black with the same sinnet. The
+roof was both quaint and elegant. It was done in alternate open and
+close reed-work, with broad black lines dividing it; and ornamental
+lashings and bandings of sinnet were used about the fastenings and
+groinings of spars and beams. Then the wings of the communion rail were
+made of reed-work, ornamented; the rail was a beautiful piece of nut
+timber, and the balusters of sweet sandal wood. The whole effect
+exceeding pretty and graceful, though produced with such simple means.
+
+"Mr. Ruskin ought to have had this as an illustration of his 'Lamp of
+Sacrifice,'" said Eleanor. "How beautiful!--"
+
+"The 'Lamp of Truth,' too," said Mr. Rhys. "It is all honest work. That
+side was done by our heathen neighbours. The heathen chief sent us his
+compliments, said he heard we were engaged in a great work, and if we
+pleased he would come and help us. So he did. They built that side of
+the wall and the roof."
+
+"Did they do it well?"
+
+"Heartily."
+
+"Do they come to attend worship in it?"
+
+"The chapel is a great attraction. Strangers come to see--if not to
+worship,--and then we get a chance to tell the truth to them."
+
+"And Mr. Rhys, how is the truth prospering generally?"
+
+"Eleanor, we want men!--and that seems to be all we want. My heart
+feels ready to break sometimes, for the want of helpers. I am glad of
+brother Amos coming--very glad!--but we want a hundred where we have
+one. It is but a few weeks since a young man came over from one of the
+islands, a large and important island, bringing tidings that a number
+of towns there had given up heathenism--all wanting teachers--and there
+were no teachers for them. In one place the people had built a chapel;
+they had gone so far as that; it was at Koroivonu--and they gathered
+together the next Sunday after it was finished, great numbers of the
+people, filled the chapel and stood under some bread-fruit trees in
+front of it, and stood there waiting to have some one come and tell
+them the truth--and there was no one. My heart is ready to weep blood
+when I think of these things! The Tongan who came with the news came
+with his eyes full of tears. And this is no strange nor solitary case
+of Koroivonu."
+
+Mr. Rhys walked the floor of the little chapel, his features working,
+his breast heaving. Eleanor sat thinking how little she could do--how
+much she would!
+
+"You have native helpers--?" she said gently.
+
+"Praise the Lord for what they are! but we want missionaries. We want
+help from England. We cannot get it from the Colonies--not fast enough.
+Eleanor,"--and he stopped short and faced her--"a few months ago, to
+give you another instance, I was beholder of such a scene as this. I
+was to preach to a community that were for the first time publicly
+renouncing heathenism. It was Sunday."--Mr. Rhys spoke slowly,
+evidently exercising some control over himself; how often Eleanor had
+seen him do that in the pulpit!--
+
+"I stood on the shores of a bay, reefed in from the ocean. I wish I
+could put the scene before you! On the land side, one of the most
+magnificent landscapes stretched back into the country, with almost
+every sort of natural beauty. Before me the bay, with ten large canoes
+moored in it. An island in the bay, I remember, caught the light
+beautifully; and beyond that there was the white fence of breakers on
+the reef barrier. The smallest of the canoes would hold a hundred men;
+they were the fleet of Thakomban, one of Fiji's fiercest kings
+formerly, with himself and his warriors on board.
+
+"My preaching place was on what had been the dancing grounds of a
+village. I had a mat stretched on three poles for an awning--such a mat
+as they make for sails;--and around me were nine others prepared in
+like manner. This was my chapel. Just at my left hand was a spot of
+ground where were ten boiling springs; and until that Sunday, one of
+them had been the due appointed place for cooking human bodies. That
+was the place and the preparation I looked at in the still Sunday
+morning, before service time.
+
+"At that time, the time appointed for service, a drum was beat and the
+conch shell blown; the same shell which had been used to give the war
+call. Directly all those canoes were covered with men, and they were
+plunging into the water and wading to shore. These were Thakomban and
+his warriors. Not blacked and stripped and armed for fighting, but
+washed and clothed. They were stopping in that place on their way
+somewhere else, and now coming and gathering to hear the preaching. On
+the other side came a procession from the village; and down every
+hillside and along every path, I could see scattering groups and lines
+of comers from the neighbouring country. _These_ were the heathen
+inhabitants, coming up now to hear the truth and profess by a public
+act of worship that they were heathens no longer. They all gathered
+round me there under the mat awnings, and sat on the grass looking up
+to hear, while I told them of Jesus."
+
+Mr. Rhys's voice was choked and he broke off abruptly. Eleanor guessed
+how he had talked to that audience; she could see it in his flushing
+face and quivering lip. She could not find a word to say, and let him
+lead her in silence and slowly away from the chapel and towards the
+mission house. Before entering the plantation again, Eleanor stopped
+and said in a low voice,
+
+"What can I do?"
+
+He gave her a look of that moved sweetness she had seen in him all day,
+and answered with his usual abruptness,
+
+"You can pray."
+
+"I do that."
+
+"Pray as Paul prayed--for your mother, and for Julia, and for Fiji, and
+for me. Do you know how that was?"
+
+"I know what some of his prayers were."
+
+"Yes, but I never thought how Paul prayed, until the other day. You
+must put the scattered hints together. Wait until we are at home--I
+will shew you."
+
+He pushed open the wicket and they went in; and the rest of the evening
+Eleanor talked to Mrs. Amos or to Mr. Balliol; she sheered off a little
+from his wife. There was plenty of interesting conversation going on
+with one and another; but Eleanor had a little the sense of being to
+that lady an object of observation, and drew into a corner or into the
+shade as much as she could.
+
+"Your wife is very handsome, brother Rhys," Mrs. Balliol remarked in an
+aside, towards the end of the evening.
+
+"That is hardly much praise from you, sister Balliol," he answered
+gravely. "I know you do not set much store by appearances."
+
+"She is very young!"
+
+Both looked over to the opposite corner where Eleanor was talking to
+Mrs. Amos, sitting on a low seat and looking up; a little drawn back
+into the shade, yet not so shaded but that the womanly modest sweetness
+of her face could be seen well enough. Mr. Rhys made no answer.
+
+"I judge, brother Rhys, that she has been brought up in the great
+world,"--Mrs. Balliol went on, looking across to the ruffled sleeve.
+
+"She is not in it now," Mr. Rhys observed quietly.
+
+"No;--she is in good hands. But, brother Rhys, do you think our sister
+understands exactly what sort of work she has come to do here?"
+
+"She is teachable," he answered with great imperturbability.
+
+"Well, you will be able to train her, if she wants it. I am glad to
+know she is in such good hands. I think she has hardly yet a just
+notion of what lies before her, brother Rhys."
+
+"When did you make your observations?"
+
+"She was with me, you know--you left her with me this morning. We were
+alone, and we had a little conversation."
+
+"Mrs. Balliol, do you think a just notion of _anything_ call be formed
+in half an hour?"
+
+His question was rather grave, and the lady's eyes wavered from meeting
+his. She fidgeted a little.
+
+"O you know best, of course," she said; "I have had very little
+opportunity--I only judged from the want of seriousness; but that might
+have been from some other cause. You must excuse me, if I spoke too
+frankly."
+
+"You can never do that to me," he said. "Thank you, sister Balliol. I
+will take care of her."
+
+Mrs. Balliol was reassured. But neither during their walk home nor ever
+after, did Mr. Rhys tell Eleanor of this little bit of talk that had
+concerned her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+AT WORK.
+
+  "My Lady comes; my Lady goes; he can see her day by day,
+  And bless his eyes with her beauty, and with blessings strew her way."
+
+The breakfast-table was as much of a mystery to Eleanor as the dinner
+had been. Not because it looked so homelike; though in the early
+morning the doors and windows were all open and the sunlight streaming
+through on Mrs. Caxton's china cups and silver spoons. It all looked
+foreign enough yet, among those palm-fern pillars, and on the Fijian
+mat with its border made of red worsted ends and little white feathers.
+The basket of fruit, too, on the table, did not look like England. But
+the tea was unexceptionable, and there was a piece of fresh fish as
+perfectly broiled as if it had been brought over by some genius or
+fairy, smoking hot, from an English gridiron. And in the order and
+arrangements of the table, there had been something more than native
+skill and taste, Eleanor was sure.
+
+"It seems to me, Mr. Rhys," she said, "that the Fijians are remarkably
+good cooks!"
+
+"Uncommon, for savages," said Mr. Rhys with perfect gravity.
+
+"This fish is excellent."
+
+"There is no better fish-market in the world, for variety and
+abundance, than we have here."
+
+"But I mean, it is broiled just like an English fish. Isaac Walton
+himself would be satisfied with it."
+
+"Isaac Walton never saw such fishing as is carried on here. The natives
+are at home in the water from their childhood--men and women both;--and
+the women do a good deal of the fishing. But the serious business is
+the turtle fishing. It is a hand to hand conflict. The men plunge into
+the water and grapple bodily with the turtle, after they have brought
+them into an enclosure with their nets. Four or five men lay hold of
+one, if it is a large fellow, and they struggle together under water
+till the turtle thinks he has the worst of the bargain, and concludes
+to come to the surface."
+
+"Does not the turtle sometimes get the better?"
+
+"Sometimes."
+
+"Mr. Rhys, have you any particular duty to-day?"
+
+"I don't see how you can keep up that form of expression!" said he,
+with a comic gravity of dislike.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"It is not treating me with proper confidence."
+
+Her look in reply was so very pretty, both blushing and winsome, that
+the corners of his mouth were obliged to give way.
+
+"You know what my first name is, do not you?"
+
+"Yes," said Eleanor.
+
+"The people about call me 'Misi Risi'--I am not going to have my wife a
+Fijian to me."
+
+The lights on Eleanor's face were very pretty. With the same contained
+smile he went on.
+
+"I gave you my name yesterday. It is yours to do what you like with;
+but the greatest dishonour you can shew to a gift, is not to use it at
+all."
+
+"That is the most comical putting of the case that ever I heard," said
+Eleanor, quite unable to retain her own gravity.
+
+"Very good sense," said Mr. Rhys, with a dry preservation of his.
+
+"But after all," said Eleanor, "you gave me your second name, if you
+please--I do not know what I have to do with the first."
+
+"You do not? Is it possible you think your name is Henry or James, or
+something else? You are Rowland Rhys as truly as I am--only you are the
+mistress, and I am the master."
+
+Eleanor's look went over the table with something besides laughter in
+the brown eyes, which made them a gentle thing to see.
+
+"Mr. Rhys, I am thinking, what you will do to this part of you to make
+it like the other?"
+
+He gave her a glance, at which her eyes went down instantly.
+
+"I do not know," he said with infinite gravity. "I will think about it.
+Preaching does not seem to do you any good."
+
+Eleanor bent her attention upon her bread and fruit. He spoke next with
+a change of tone, giving up his gravity.
+
+"Do you know _your_ particular duty to-day?"
+
+"I thought," said Eleanor,--"that as yesterday you shewed me the
+head-carpenter, perhaps this morning you would let me see the chief
+cook."
+
+"That is not the first thing. You must have a lesson in Fijian; now
+that I hope you are instructed in English."
+
+He carried her off to his study to get it. The lesson was a matter of
+amusement to Mr. Rhys, but Eleanor set herself earnestly to learn. Then
+he said he supposed she might as well see her establishment at once,
+and took her out to the side of the house where she had not been.
+
+It was a plantation wilderness here too, though particularly devoted to
+all that in Fiji could belong to a kitchen garden. English beans and
+peas had been sown, and were flourishing; most of the luxuriance that
+met the eye had a foreign character. Beautiful order was noticeable
+everywhere. Mr. Rhys seemed to have forgotten all about the servants;
+he pleased himself with leading Eleanor through the walks and shewing
+her which were the plants of the yam and the kumera and other native
+fruits and vegetables. Bananas were here too, and the graceful stems of
+the sugar cane; and overhead the cocoa-nut trees waved their feathery
+plumes in the air.
+
+"Who did all this?" Eleanor asked admiringly.
+
+"Solomon--with a head gardener over him."
+
+"Solomon is--I saw him yesterday?"
+
+"Yes. He came with me from Vulanga. He is a nice fellow. He is a
+Christian, as I told you; and a true labourer in the great vineyard. I
+believe he never misses an opportunity to speak to his countrymen in a
+quiet way and tell them the truth. He has brought a great many to know
+it. In my service he is very faithful."
+
+"No wonder this garden looks nice," said Eleanor.
+
+"I asked Solomon one day about his religious experience. He said he was
+very happy; he had enjoyed religion all the day. He said he rose early
+in the morning and prayed that the Lord would greatly bless him and
+keep him; and that it had been so, and generally was so when he
+attended to religious duties early in the morning. 'But if I neglect
+and rush into the world,' he said, 'without properly attending to my
+religious duties, nothing goes right. I am wrong in my own heart, and
+no one round me is right.'"
+
+"Good testimony," said Eleanor. "Is he your cook as well as your
+gardener?"
+
+"I had forgotten all about the cook," said Mr. Rhys. "Come and see the
+kitchen."
+
+Near the main dwelling house, in this planted enclosure, were several
+smaller houses. Mr. Rhys at last took Eleanor that way, and permitted
+her to inspect them. The one nearest the main building was fitted for a
+laundry. The furthest was a sleeping house for the servants. The middle
+one was the kitchen. It was a Fijian kitchen. Here was a large
+fireplace, of the original fashion which had moved Eleanor's wonder in
+the dining-room; with a Fijian framework of wood at one side of it,
+holding native vessels of pottery, larger and smaller, and variously
+shaped, for cooking purposes. Some more homelike iron utensils were to
+be seen also; with other kitchen appurtenances, water jars and so
+forth. A fire had been in the fireplace, and the signs of cookery were
+remaining; but in all the houses, nobody was anywhere visible.
+
+"Solomon is gone to collect your servants," said Mr. Rhys. "That
+explains the present solitude."
+
+"Did he cook that fish?"
+
+"I have not tried him in cooking," said Mr. Rhys with a gravity that
+was perfect. "I do not know what he could do if he was tried."
+
+"Who did it then?"
+
+His smile was wonderfully pleasant--now that it could be no longer kept
+back--as he answered, "Your servant."
+
+"_You_, Rowland! And the dinner yesterday?"
+
+"Do not praise me," he said with the same look, "lest I should spoil
+the dinner to-day. I do not expect there will be anybody here till
+afternoon."
+
+"Then you shall see what I can do!"
+
+"I do not believe you know how. I have been long enough in the
+wilderness to learn all trades. You never learned how to cook at
+Wiglands."
+
+"But at Plassy I did."
+
+"Did aunt Caxton let you into her kitchen?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I shall not let you into mine."
+
+"She went with me there. I have not come out here to be useless. I will
+take care of the dinner to-day."
+
+"No, you shall not," said Mr. Rhys, drawing her away from the kitchen.
+"You have got enough to do to-day in unpacking boxes. There will be
+servants this evening to attend to all you want; and for the present
+you are my care."
+
+"Rowland, I should like it."
+
+Which view of the case did not seem to be material. At least it was
+answered in a silencing kind of way, as with his arm about her he led
+her in through the bananas to the house. It silenced Eleanor
+effectually, in spite of being very serious in her wish. She put it
+away to bide another opportunity.
+
+Mr. Rhys gave her something else to do, as he had said. The boxes had
+in part been brought from the schooner, and there was employment for
+both of them. He drew out nails, and took off covers, and did the rough
+unpacking; while the arranging and bestowing of the goods thus put
+under her disposal kept Eleanor very busy. His part of the work was
+finished long before hers, and Mr. Rhys withdrew to his study for some
+other work. Eleanor, happy and busy, with touched thoughts of Mrs.
+Caxton, put away blankets and clothes and linen and calicos, and
+unpacked glass, and stowed on her shelves a whole store of home
+comforts and necessaries; marvelling between whiles at Mr. Rhys's
+varieties of power in making himself useful and wishing she could do
+what she thought was better her work than his--the work to be done in
+the kitchen before the servants came home. By and by, Mr. Rhys came out
+of the study again, and found Eleanor sitting on the mat before a huge
+round hamper, uncovered, filled with Australian fruit. This was a late
+arrival, brought while he had been shut up at his work. Grapes and
+peaches and pears and apricots were crowded side by side in rich and
+beautiful abundance and confusion. Eleanor sat looking at it. She was
+in a working dress, of the brown stuff her aunt's maids wore at home;
+short sleeves left her arms bare to the elbow; and the full jacket and
+hoopless skirt did no wrong to a figure the soft outlines of which they
+only disclosed. Mr. Rhys stopped and stood still. Eleanor looked up.
+
+"Mr. Esthwaite has sent these on in the schooner unknown to me! What
+shall I do with them all?"
+
+"I don't know," said Mr. Rhys. "It is the penalty that attaches to
+wealth."
+
+"But you said you never were poor?" said Eleanor, laughing at his look.
+
+"I never was, in feeling. I never was in an embarrassment of riches,
+either. I can't help you!"
+
+"But these are yours, Rowland. What are you talking of?"
+
+"Are you going to make me a present of the whole?" said Mr. Rhys,
+stooping down for a grape.
+
+"No, Mr. Esthwaite has done that. The embarrassment is yours."
+
+"I am in no embarrassment; you are mistaken. By what right do you say
+that Mr. Esthwaite has sent these to me?"
+
+"Because he sent them to me," said Eleanor. "It is the same thing."
+
+"That is dutiful, and loyal, and all that sort of thing," said Mr.
+Rhys, helping himself to another grape, and looking with his keen eyes
+and imperturbable gravity at Eleanor. Perhaps _he_ liked to see the
+scarlet bloom he could so easily call up in her cheeks, which was now
+accompanied with a little impatient glance at him. "Nevertheless, I do
+not consider myself to be within the scope of the gift. The disposition
+of it remains with you. I do not like the responsibilities of other
+people's wealth to rest on my shoulders."
+
+"But this fruit is different from what we have on the island; is there
+not something you would like to have done with it?"
+
+"I should like you to give me one bunch of grapes--to be chosen by
+yourself."
+
+He looked on, with a satisfied expression of face, while Eleanor's
+fingers separated and overhauled the fruit till she had got a bunch to
+her mind; and stood still in his place to let her bring it to him. Then
+took possession of her and the grapes at once, neglecting the latter
+however entirely, to consider her.
+
+"What would you like to have done with the rest, Rowland?" said
+Eleanor, while her face glowed under his caresses and examination.
+
+"This is a very becoming dress you have on!"
+
+"I did not know you noticed ladies' dresses."
+
+"I always notice my own."
+
+Eleanor's head drooped a little, to hide the rush of pleasure and shame.
+
+"But, Rowland," she said with gentle persistence, "what _would_ you
+like to have done with that basket? Isn't there some meaning behind
+your words about it?"
+
+"What makes you think so?" said he, curling the corners of his mouth in
+an amused way.
+
+"I thought so. Please tell it me! You have something to tell me."
+
+"The fruit is yours, Eleanor."
+
+"And what am I?"
+
+The tears came into her eyes with a little vexed earnestness, for she
+fancied that Mr. Rhys would not speak _because_ the fruit was hers. His
+manner changed again, to the deep tenderness which he had shewn so
+frequently; holding her close and looking down into her face; not
+answering at once; half enjoying, half soothing, the feeling he had
+raised.
+
+"Eleanor," he said, "I do not want that fruit."
+
+"Tell me what to do with it."
+
+"If you like to send some of those grapes to sister Balliol, at the
+other house, I think they would do a great deal of good."
+
+"I will just take out a few for you, and I will send the whole basket
+over there just as it is. Is there anybody to take it?"
+
+"Do not save any for me."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because I do not want anything more than I have got."
+
+"I suppose I may do about that as I please?" said Eleanor, laughing a
+little.
+
+"No--you may not. I only want this bunch that I have in my hand, for a
+poor sick fellow whom I think they will comfort. If you feel as I do,
+and like to send the rest over to the mission house, I think they will
+be well and gratefully used."
+
+"But Rowland, why did you not tell me that just at first?" she said a
+little wistfully.
+
+"Do you feel as I do? Tell me that first."
+
+But as Eleanor was not ready with her answer to this question, of
+course her own got the go-by. Mr. Rhys laughed at her a little, and
+then told her she might get the house ready for dinner. Very much
+Eleanor wished she could rather get the dinner ready for the house; yet
+somehow she had an instinctive knowledge that it would be no use to ask
+him; and she had a curious unwillingness to make the request.
+
+"Do you know," she said, looking up in his face, "I do not know how it
+is, but you are the only person I ever was afraid of, where my natural
+courage had full play?"
+
+"Does that sentiment possess you at present?"
+
+"Yes--a little."
+
+He laughed again, and said it was wholesome; and went off without
+seeming in the least dismayed by the intelligence. If Eleanor had
+ventured that remark as a feeler, she was utterly discomfited. She went
+about her pretty work of getting the little table ready and acquainting
+herself with the details of her cupboard arrangements, feeling a little
+amused at herself, and with many deeper thoughts about Mr. Rhys and the
+basket of fruit.
+
+They were sitting in the study after dinner, alternately talking and
+studying Fijian, when Mr. Rhys suddenly asked,
+
+"Of whom have you ever been afraid, Eleanor, where your natural courage
+did not have full play?"
+
+"Mr. Carlisle."
+
+"How was that?"
+
+"I was in a false position."
+
+"I feared that, at one time," said Mr. Rhys thoughtfully.
+
+"I was a bond woman--under engagements that tied me--I did not dare do
+as I felt. I understand it all now."
+
+"Do you like to tell me how it happened?"
+
+"I like it very much. I want that you should know just how it was. I
+was pressed into those engagements without my heart being in them, and
+indeed very much against my will; but I was dazzled by a vision of
+worldly glory that made me too weak to resist. Then thoughts of another
+kind began to rise within me; I saw that worldly glory was not the
+sufficient thing I had thought it; and as my eyes got clear, I found I
+had given no love where I had given my promise. Then that consciousness
+hampered me in every action."
+
+"But you did not break with him--with Mr. Carlisle?"
+
+"Because I was such a bondwoman, as I told you. I did not know what I
+might do--what was right,--and I wanted to do right then; till I went
+to Plassy. Aunt Caxton set me free."
+
+Mr. Rhys was silent a little.
+
+"Do you remember coming to visit the old window in the ruins, just
+before you went to Plassy that time?" he said, looking round at her
+with a smile.
+
+His wife though she was, Eleanor could not help a warm flush of
+consciousness coming over her at the recollection.
+
+"I remember," she said demurely. "It was in December."
+
+"What were you afraid of at that time?"
+
+"Mr. Carlisle."
+
+"Did you think it was _he_ whom you heard?'
+
+"No. I thought it was you."
+
+"Then why were you afraid?"
+
+"I had reason enough," said Eleanor, in a low voice. "Mr. Carlisle had
+taken it into his head to become jealous of you."
+
+She answered with a certain straightforward dignity, but Mr. Rhys had a
+view of dyed cheeks and a face which shrank from his eye. He beheld it,
+no doubt, for a little while; at least he was silent; and ended with
+one or two kisses which to Eleanor's feeling, for she dared not look,
+spoke him very full of satisfaction. But he never brought up the
+subject again.
+
+The thoughts raised by the talk about the basket of fruit recurred
+again a few days later. Eleanor had got into full train of her island
+life by this time. She was studying hard to learn the language, and
+beginning to speak words of it with her strange muster of servants.
+Housekeeping duties were fairly in hand. She had begun to find out,
+too, what Mr. Rhys had foretold her respecting visitors. They came in
+groups and singly, at all hours nearly on some days, to see the new
+house and the new furniture and the new wife of "Misi Risi." Eleanor
+could not talk to them; she could only be looked at, and answer through
+an interpreter their questions and requests, and watch with unspeakable
+interest these strange poor people, and admire with unceasing
+admiration Mr. Rhys's untiring kindness, patience, and skill, in
+receiving and entertaining them. They wanted to see and understand
+every new thing and every new custom. They were polite in their
+curiosity, but insatiable; and Mr. Rhys would shew and explain and
+talk, and never seem annoyed or weary; and then, whenever he got a
+chance, put in his own claim for attention, and tell them of the
+Gospel. Eleanor always knew from his face and manner, and from theirs,
+when this sort of talk was going on; and she listened strangely to the
+unknown words in which her heart went along so blindly. When he thought
+her not needed, or when he thought her tired, Mr. Rhys would dismiss
+her to her own room, which he would not have invaded; and Eleanor's
+reverence for her husband grew with every day, although she would not
+at the beginning have thought that possible.
+
+At the end of these first few days, Eleanor went one afternoon into Mr.
+Rhys's study. He was in full tide of work now. The softly swinging door
+let her in without much noise, and she stood still in the middle of the
+room, in doubt whether to disturb him or no. He was busy at his
+writing-table. But Mr. Rhys had good ears, even when he was busy. While
+she stood there, he looked up at her. She was a pretty vision for a man
+to see and call wife. She was in one of the white dresses that had
+stirred Mrs. Esthwaite's admiration; its spotless draperies were in as
+elegant order as ever they had been for Mrs. Powle's drawing room; the
+rich banded brown hair was in as graceful order. She stood there very
+bright, very still, looking at him.
+
+"You have been working a long time, Rowland. You want to stop and rest."
+
+"Come here, and rest me," he answered stretching out his hand.
+
+"Rowland," said Eleanor when she had been standing a minute beside him.
+"Mrs. Balliol wants me to cut off my hair."
+
+Mr. Rhys looked up at her, for with one arm round her he was still
+bending attention upon his work. He glanced up as if in doubt or wonder.
+
+"I have been over to see her," Eleanor repeated, "and she counsels me
+to cut off my hair; cut it short."
+
+"See you don't!" he said sententiously.
+
+"Why?" said Eleanor.
+
+"It would be the cause of our first and last quarrel."
+
+"Our first," said Eleanor stifling some hidden amusement; "but how
+could you tell that it would be the last?"
+
+"It would be so very disagreeable!" Mr. Rhys said, with a gravity so
+dryly comic that Eleanor's gravity was destroyed.
+
+"Mrs. Balliol says I shall find it, my hair, I mean, very much in my
+way."
+
+"It would be in _my way_, if it was cut off."
+
+"She says it will take a great deal of precious time. She thinks that
+your razor would be better applied to my head."
+
+"Than to what other object?"
+
+"Than to its legitimate use and application. She wants me to get you to
+let your beard grow, and to cut off my hair. 'It's unekal'--as Sam
+Weller says."
+
+Eleanor was laughing; she could not see Mr. Rhys's face very well; it
+was somewhat bent over his papers; but the side view was of
+unprovokable gravity. A gravity however which she had learned to know
+covered a wealth of amusement or of mischief, as the case might be. She
+knelt down to bring herself within better speaking and seeing distance.
+
+"Rowland, what sort of people are your coadjutors?"
+
+"They are the Lord's people," he answered.
+
+Eleanor felt somewhat checked; the gravity of this answer was of a
+different character; but she could not refrain from carrying the matter
+further; she could not let it rest there.
+
+"Do you mean," she said a little timidly, but persistently, "that you
+are not willing to speak of them as they are, _to me?_"
+
+He was quite silent half a minute, and Eleanor grew increasingly sober.
+He said then, gently but decidedly,
+
+"There are two persons in the field, of whose faults I am willing to
+talk to you; yours and my own."
+
+"And of others you think it is wrong, then, to speak even so privately
+and kindly as we are speaking?" Eleanor was very much chagrined. Mr.
+Rhys waited a moment, and then said, in the same manner,
+
+"I cannot do it, Eleanor."
+
+He got up a moment after and went out of the room. Eleanor felt almost
+stunned with surprise and discomfort. This was the second time, in the
+few days that she had been with him, that he had found her wrong in
+something. It troubled her strangely; and the sense of how much he was
+better than she--how much higher his sphere of living than the one she
+moved in--pressed her heart down almost to the ground. She stood by the
+writing-table where she had risen to her feet, with her eyes brimful of
+tears, but so still even to her eyelids that the tears had not
+overflowed. She supposed Mr. Rhys had gone out. In another moment
+however she heard his step returning and he entered the study. Eleanor
+moved instantly to leave it, but he met and stayed her with a look
+infinitely sweet; turned her about, and made her kneel down with him.
+And then he poured out a prayer for charity; not merely the kindness
+that throws a covering over the failings of others, or that holds back
+the report of what they have been; but the overabounding heavenly love
+that will send its brightness into the dark places of human society and
+with its own richness fill the barren spots; and above all, for that
+love of Jesus the King, that makes all his servants dear, for that
+spirit of Christ that looks with his own love and forbearance on all
+that need it. And so, as the speaker prayed, he shewed his own
+possession of that which he asked for; so revealed the tender and high
+walk of his own mind and its near familiarity with heavenly things,
+that Eleanor thought her heart would break. The feeling, how far he
+stood above her in knowledge and in goodness, while it was a secret and
+deep joy, yet gave her acute pain such as she never had felt before.
+She would not weep; it was a dry aching pain, that took part of its
+strength from the thought of having done or shewn something that he did
+not like. But Mr. Rhys went on to pray for her alone; and Eleanor was
+conquered then. Tears came and she cried like a little child, and all
+the hard pain of pride or of fear was washed away; like the dust from
+the leaves in a summer shower.
+
+She was so far healed, but she would have run way when they rose from
+their knees if he had permitted her. He had no such intention. Keeping
+fast hold of her hand he brought her to a seat by the window, opened
+it, for the day was now cooling off and the sea-breeze was fresh; and
+taking the book of their studies he put her into a lesson of Fijian
+practice; till Eleanor's spirits were thoroughly restored. Then
+throwing away the book and taking her in his arms he almost kissed the
+tears back again.
+
+"Eleanor----" he said, when he saw that her eyes were wet, and her
+colour and her voice were fluttering together.
+
+"What?"
+
+"You must bear the inconvenience of your hair for my sake. Tell sister
+Balliol you wear it by my express orders."
+
+Eleanor's look was lovely. She saw that the gentleness of this speech
+was intended to give her back just that liberty she might think was
+forbidden. Humbleness and affection danced in her face together.
+
+"And you do not object to white dresses, Rowland?"
+
+"Never--when they are white--" he said with one of his peculiar smiles.
+
+"Rowland," said Eleanor, now completely happy again, "you ought to have
+those jalousie blinds at these windows. You want them here much more
+than I do."
+
+"How will you prove that?"
+
+"By putting them here; and then you will confess it."
+
+"Don't you do it!" said he smiling, seeing that Eleanor's eye was in
+earnest.
+
+"Please let me! Do let me! You want them much more than I do, Rowland."
+
+"Then you will have to let them stand; for they are just where I want
+them."
+
+"But the shade of them is much more needed here."
+
+"I could have had it. You need not disturb yourself. There is a whole
+stack of them lying under the shelves in your store-room."
+
+"Why are they lying there?" said Eleanor in great surprise.
+
+"I did not want them. I left them for you to dispose of."
+
+"For me! Then I shall dispose some of them here."
+
+"Not with my leave."
+
+"May I not know why?" said Eleanor putting her hand in his to plead for
+it.
+
+"I do not want to fare too much better than my brethren," he answered
+with a smile of infinite pleasantness at her. Eleanor's face shewed a
+sudden accession of intelligence.
+
+"Then, Rowland, let us send the other jalousies to Mr. Balliol to shade
+his study--with all my heart; and you put up mine here. I did not think
+about that before. Will you do it?"
+
+"There are plenty of them without taking yours, child."
+
+"Then, O Rowland, why did you not do it before?"
+
+"I have an objection to using other people's property--even for the
+benefit of my neighbours"--he said, with the provoking smile in the
+corners of his mouth.
+
+"But it is yours now."
+
+"Well, I make it over to you, to be offered and presented as it seems
+good to you, to brother Balliol, or to sister Balliol, for his use and
+behoof."
+
+"Do you mean that I must do it?"
+
+"If it is your pleasure."
+
+"Then I will speak of it immediately."
+
+"You can have an opportunity to-night. But Eleanor,--you must call her,
+sister Balliol."
+
+"I can't, Rowland!"
+
+Silence fell between the parties. Mr. Rhys's face was impenetrable.
+Eleanor glanced at it and again glanced at it; got no help. Finally she
+laid her hand on his shoulder and spoke a little apprehensively.
+
+"Rowland--are you serious?"
+
+"Perfectly." So he was, outwardly.
+
+"Do you think it matters really whether I call her one thing or
+another? If it were Mrs. Amos, I should not have the least difficulty.
+I could call her sister Amos. What does it matter?"
+
+"Why can't you use a Christian form of address with her as well as with
+me?"
+
+"Do you consider it a matter of _principle?_"
+
+"Only as it regards the feelings of the individual, in either case."
+Mr. Rhys's mouth was looking very comical.
+
+"Would she care, Rowland?"
+
+"I should like to have you try," he said, getting up and arranging his
+papers to leave. And Eleanor saw he was not going to tell her any more.
+
+"What is the opportunity you spoke of, Rowland?"
+
+"This is our evening for being together--it has hardly been a Class
+before this, we were so few; but we met to talk and think together, and
+usually considered some given subject. To-night it is, the 'glory to be
+revealed.'"
+
+"That is what Mr. Amos and I used to do on board the schooner; and we
+had that subject too, just after we left Tonga. So we shall be ready."
+
+"We ought to go there to tea; but I have to go over first to Nawaile;
+it will keep me till after tea-time. Do not wait for me, unless you
+choose."
+
+Eleanor chose, and told him so. While he was gone she sat at the door
+of the house watching and thinking; thinking of him especially, and of
+things that his talk that afternoon had brought up. It was a pleasant
+hour or two. The sea-breeze fresh from the sea; the waving broad banana
+leaves; the sweet perfume of flowers, which were rarely profuse and
+beautiful in their garden; the beautiful southern sky of night, with
+the stars which Eleanor had learned to know as strangers coming over in
+the ship, and now loved as the companions of her new home. Stillness,
+and flapping of leaves, and sweet thoughts; until it was time to be
+expecting Mr. Rhys back again, and Eleanor made the tea, that he might
+at least not miss so much refreshment. She knew his step rods off, and
+long before she could see him; his cup was all ready for him when he
+stepped in. He drank it, looking at Eleanor over it; would stop for
+nothing else, and carried her off.
+
+"I had a happy time," he said as they went through the plantations. "I
+have been to see an old man who lies there dying, or very near it. He
+has been a Christian two years. He is very glad to see me when I come,
+and ready to talk; but he will not talk with his neighbours. He says he
+wants to keep his thoughts fixed on God; and if he listened to these
+people they would talk to him of village affairs, and turn his mind
+off."
+
+"Then, if you had a happy time, I suppose _he_ is happy?"
+
+"He is happy. How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that
+bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace! Think of old Caesar,
+going to glory from the darkness of Fiji. He said to me to-night--'I am
+weak, and I am old; my time is come, but I am not afraid to die;
+through Jesus I feel courageous for death. Jesus is my Chief, and I
+wish to obey him: if he says I am yet to lie here, I will praise him;
+and if he says I am to go above to him, I will praise him. I do not
+wish to eat; his word is my food; I think on it, and lean entirely on
+Jesus.'--Do you know how good it is to be a missionary, Eleanor?"
+
+They exchanged looks; that was all; they were at the door, and went in.
+The party there were expecting and waiting for them, and it was more
+than a common welcome, Eleanor saw, that was given to them. She did not
+wonder at it. After exchanging warm greetings all round, she sat down;
+but Mr. Rhys began walking the floor. The rest were silent. There was a
+somewhat dim light from a lamp in the room; the windows and doors were
+open; the air, sweet with flowers and fresh from the sea, came in
+gently; the soft sounds of leaves and insects could be heard through
+the fall of Mr. Rhys's steps upon the matted floor. The hour had a
+strange charm to Eleanor.
+
+Silence lasted, until Mr. Rhys interrupted it with kneeling down for
+prayer. Then followed one of those prayers, in which it always seemed
+to Eleanor as if somebody had taken her hand, who was leading her where
+she could almost look in at the gates of that city which Bunyan called
+the Celestial. Somewhere above earth it took her, and rapt her up as
+Milton's angel is said to have descended, upon a sunbeam. One came to
+earth again at the end of the prayer; but not without a remembrance of
+where one had been.
+
+"Sister Balliol," said Mr. Rhys, "will you put us in mind concerning
+our subject this evening?"
+
+"It is the glory to be revealed; and I find that it is a glory to be
+revealed in us," Mrs. Balliol made answer. "Sufferings come first. It
+is a glory that goes along with sufferings in the present life; but it
+is so much greater than the sufferings, that no comparison can be made
+of them. For my part, I do not think the glory would be half so much
+glory, if it were not for the sufferings going before."
+
+"To suffer with Christ, and for him, that is glory now," said Mr. Rhys;
+"to have been so honoured will always be part of our joy. If any man
+suffer as a Christian, let him not be ashamed, but rather let him
+glorify God on this behalf. Those be tears that Christ's own hand will
+wipe off; and what glory will that be!"
+
+"The word of God fails to express it," said Mr. Amos, "and calls it
+'riches of glory.' Riches of glory, to be poured into vessels prepared
+to receive it. Surely, being such heirs, none of us has a right to call
+himself poor? we are heirs of an inheritance incorruptible, and
+undefiled, and not subject to decadence or failure. We may well be
+content with our penny earnest in this life, who have such an estate
+coming in."
+
+"I feel poor very often," said gentle Mrs. Amos; "and I suppose that
+must be my own fault; for the word says, 'Riches and honour are with
+me; yea, durable riches, and righteousness.'"
+
+"Those are riches that none but the poor come into possession of," said
+Mr. Rhys. "The poor in spirit inherit the kingdom, and nobody else. It
+is our very emptiness, that fits us for receiving those unsearchable
+riches. But having those, sister Amos, it is no deprivation of this
+world's good things that would make you feel poor?"
+
+"O no, indeed!" said Mrs. Amos. "I did not mean that sort of poor."
+
+"The rich he will send empty away"--Mr. Rhys went on.
+
+"So in the matter of suffering," said Mr. Balliol taking up the word.
+"If we are partakers of Christ's sufferings now, we are told to
+rejoice. For when his glory is revealed, the word is, that we shall be
+glad also, and with exceeding joy. When his glory is revealed here, a
+little, now, we are glad; our joy seems to be exceeding, now, brother
+Rhys. I wonder what it will be when God calls it exceeding joy!"
+
+There was a pause; and then Mrs. Amos, for the sake simply of starting
+Eleanor, whose voice she knew in it, began softly the song, "Burst, ye
+emerald gates!" She had her success, for Eleanor with the others took
+up the words, and carried it--Mrs. Amos thought--where Mr. Rhys's
+prayer had been. When the song ceased, there was silence; till Mr. Rhys
+said, "Eleanor!"--It was her turn to speak.
+
+"I do not believe," she said speaking low and slowly,--"that either
+sufferings, or premises, or duties, will bring the hope of glory into
+the heart; until Jesus himself brings it there. And if he brings it, it
+hardly seems to me that sufferings will enhance it--except in so far as
+they lead to greater knowledge of him or are the immediate fruit of
+love to him; and then, as Mr. Rhys says, they are honour themselves
+already. The riches of the glory of this mystery, is _Christ in you,
+the hope of glory_."
+
+Mr. Rhys was standing at the back of Eleanor's chair, leaning upon it.
+He bent his head and whispered to her to tell her story that she had
+told him. At that whisper, Eleanor would have steadily gone through the
+fire if necessary; this was not quite as hard; and though not for her
+own sake caring to do it, she told the story and told it freely and
+well. She told it so that every head there was bowed. And then there
+was silence again; till Mr. Rhys began, or rather went on with what she
+had been saying; in a voice that seemed to come from every heart.
+
+"'Whom having not seen, ye love; in whom, though now ye see him not,
+yet believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory.'
+
+"Friends, we have the present honour, of being Christ's ambassadors. Do
+we know what honour that is? 'Whosoever shall receive this child in my
+name, receiveth me; and whosoever shall receive me, receiveth him that
+sent me.' That is honour under which we may tremble!"--And standing
+there at the back of Eleanor's chair, Mr. Rhys began to talk; on the
+joy of carrying Christ's message, the honour of being his servants and
+co-workers, and the gladness of bringing the water of life to lips dry
+and failing in death. He told the instance of that evening which he had
+told to Eleanor; and leaving his station behind her, he walked up and
+down again, speaking as she had sometimes heard him speak, till every
+head was raised and turned, and every eye followed him. With fire and
+tears, speaking of the work to be done and the joy of doing it, and the
+need of more to do it; and of the carelessness people have of that
+glory which will make men shine as the stars for ever and ever.
+
+"Ay, we shall know then, brother Balliol, when the great supper is
+served, and Christ shall gird himself, and make his faithful servants
+sit down to meat, and he shall come forth and serve them--we shall know
+then, if we are there, what glory means! And we shall know what it
+means to have no want unsatisfied and no joy left out!--when the Lamb
+that is in the midst of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them
+to living fountains of waters."
+
+Mr. Balliol answered--
+
+"If any man serve me, let him follow me; and where I am, there shall
+also my servants be: if any man serve me, him will my Father honour."
+
+Mr. Rhys went on--"Feed the flock of God which is among you, taking the
+oversight thereof, not by constraint, but willingly; not for filthy
+lucre, but of a ready mind; neither as being lords over God's heritage,
+but being ensamples to the flock. And when the chief Shepherd shall
+appear, ye shall receive a crown of glory that fadeth not away."
+
+They knelt together again, and then separated; and the tropical moon
+lighted home the two who did not belong to Mrs. Balliol's household.
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+PRINTING OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHER.
+
+
+
+
+
+Typographical errors silently corrected:
+
+volume 1
+
+
+Chapter 1: =is no information?= silently corrected as =is no
+information?"=
+
+Chapter 1: the following sentence is lacking in the Tauchnitz edition:
+"Who is that Mr. Rhys?" said Eleanor.
+
+Chapter 2: =that is what I think,= silently corrected as =that is what
+I think,"=
+
+Chapter 2: =colored verbenas= silently corrected as =coloured verbenas=
+
+Chapter 5: =nothing to signify= silently corrected as ="nothing to
+signify=
+
+Chapter 5: ="Much' is comparative= silently corrected as ="'Much' is
+comparative=
+
+Chapter 7: =pushed her hair= silently corrected as =pushed her chair=
+
+Chapter 10: =And I am glad Autumn= silently corrected as ="And I am
+glad Autumn=
+
+Chapter 10: ='Let not your heart be troubled.'"= silently corrected as
+="Let not your heart be troubled."=
+
+Chapter 11: =he said gravely.= silently corrected as =he said gravely,=
+
+Chapter 11: =couteque coute= silently corrected as =coute que coute=
+
+Chapter 13: =You must do it= silently corrected as ="You must do it=
+
+Chapter 17: =to keep her,--= silently corrected as =to keep her.=
+
+
+volume 2
+
+Chapter 2: ='drink.'= silently corrected as ="drink."=
+
+Chapter 3: =cotemporaries= silently corrected as =contemporaries=
+
+Chapter 4: =Do you find it= silently corrected as ="Do you find it=
+
+Chapter 6: =said her sister:= silently corrected as =said her sister,=
+
+Chapter 9: =They are a desperate= silently corrected as ="They are a
+desperate=
+
+Chapter 10: =no doubt he could.= silently corrected as =no doubt he
+could."=
+
+Chapter 10: =My dear Eleanor: --= silently corrected as ="My dear
+Eleanor --=
+
+Chapter 10: =do all things.'"= silently corrected as =do all things.'=
+
+Chapter 10: =prayer, Eleanor?"= silently corrected as =prayer, Eleanor?=
+
+Chapter 11: =each other's hearts,"= silently corrected as =each other's
+hearts,'=
+
+Chapter 11: ="Suppose that she have= silently corrected as ='Suppose
+that she have=
+
+Chapter 11: =unhappy for nothing.= silently corrected as =unhappy for
+nothing.'=
+
+Chapter 11: ="for any other= silently corrected as ='for any other=
+
+Chapter 12: ="Lord, Jehovah= silently corrected as ="'Lord, Jehovah=
+
+Chapter 12: =do them good."= silently corrected as =do them good.'=
+
+Chapter 12: =That was the beginning= silently corrected as ="That was
+the beginning=
+
+Chapter 12: =R. R.= silently corrected as ="R. R."=
+
+Chapter 13: =letter said. Next= silently corrected as =letter said,
+Next=
+
+Chapter 15: ='Praise the lord! --'= silently corrected as ="Praise the
+lord! --"=
+
+Chapter 15: ='Amen!'= silently corrected as ="Amen!"=
+
+Chapter 16: =should have seen her= silently corrected as =should have
+seen her.=
+
+Chapter 16: =like a woman?= silently corrected as =like a woman.=
+
+Chapter 19: =never thirst.'"= silently corrected as =never thirst.'=
+
+Chapter 19: =quantities with me?= silently corrected as =quantities
+with me.=
+
+Chapter 19: =sinners adore.'"= silently corrected as =sinners adore.'=
+
+Chapter 19: =These, were the heathen= silently corrected as =These were
+the heathen=
+
+Chapter 20: =in the same manner.= silently corrected as =in the same
+manner,=
+
+Chapter 20: ="Whom having= silently corrected as ="'Whom having=
+
+Chapter 20: =full of glory."= silently corrected as =full of glory.'=
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Old Helmet, Volume II, by Susan Warner
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