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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/26830-8.txt b/26830-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e33df3b --- /dev/null +++ b/26830-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13653 @@ +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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OLD HELMET, VOLUME II *** + +***** This file should be named 26830-8.txt or 26830-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/8/3/26830/ + +Produced by Daniel Fromont + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/26830-8.zip b/26830-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..753edef --- /dev/null +++ b/26830-8.zip diff --git a/26830.txt b/26830.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..afee9f3 --- /dev/null +++ b/26830.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13653 @@ +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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OLD HELMET, VOLUME II *** + +***** This file should be named 26830.txt or 26830.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/8/3/26830/ + +Produced by Daniel Fromont + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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