"You have tried, have you?"

"Yes, I have tried. It was only honest."

"Well I did not think you were such a fool, Eleanor; and I am sure he did not. Believe you, you little fool? he knows better. He knows that he will not have had you a week at the Priory before you will be too happy to live what life he pleases. He is just the man to bring you into order. I only wish the wedding-day was

to-morrow.

Eleanor drew herself up, and her face changed from soft and sorrowful to stubborn. She kept silence.

"In this present matter of jewels," said Mrs. Powle, returning to the charge, "I suppose I am to tell him that a plain set of jet is as much as you can fancy; or, that, as it would be rather uncommon to be married in black, you will take bugles. What he will say I am sure I don't know.""

"You had better not try, mamma," said Eleanor.

"If the

words you last said are true, and I should be unable to follow my conscience at Rythdale Priory, then I shall never go there; and in that case the jewels will not be wanted, except for somebody else whose taste neither bugles nor jet would suit."

"Now you have got one of your obstinate fits on," said Mrs. Powle, "and I will go. I shall be a better friend to you than to tell Mr. Carlisle a word of all this, which I know will be vanished in another month or two; and if you value your good fortune, Eleanor, I recommend you to keep a wise tongue between your teeth in talking to him. I know one thing-I wish Dr. Cairnes, or the Government, or the Church, or whoever has it in hand, would keep all Dissenting fools from coming to Wiglands to preach their pestiferous notions here; and that your father would not bring them to his house. That is what I wish. Will you be reasonable and give me an answer about the jewels, Eleanor ?"

"I cannot think about jewels, mamma.

Mrs. Powle departed. Eleanor sat with her head bowed in her hands; her mind in dim confusion through which loomed the one thought-that she must break this marriage. Her mother's words had roused the evil as well as the good of Eleanor's nature; and along with bitter self-reproaches and longings for good, she already by foretaste champed the bit of an authority that she did not love. So, while her mind was in a sea of turmoil, there came suddenly, like a sun-blink upon the confusion, a soft question from her little sister Julia. Neither mother nor daughter had taken notice of her being in the room. The question came strangely soft for Julia. "Eleanor, do you love Jesus?

Eleanor raised her head in unspeakable astonishment, startled, and even shocked, as one is at an unheard-of thing. Julia's face was close beside her, looking wistful and anxious, and tender also. The look struck Eleanor's heart. But she only stared.

66 Do you ?" said Julia wistfully.

It wrought the most unaccountable convulsion in Eleanor's mind. this little dove's feather of a question, touching the sore and angry

feelings that wrestled there. She flung herself off her chair, and on her knees by the table sobbed dreadfully. Julia stood by, looking as sober as if she had been a ministering angel.

Eleanor knew what the question meant, that was all. She had heard Mr. Rhys speak of it; she had heard him speak of it with a quiver on his lip and a flush in his face, which showed her that there was something in religion that she had never fathomed, nor ever before suspected; there was a hidden region of joy, the entrance to which was veiled from her. To Eleanor the thing would have been a mere mystery, but that she had seen it to be a reality; once seen, never to be forgotten. And now, in the midst of her struggles of passion and pain, Julia's question came innocently asking whether she were a sharer in that unearthly, wonderful joy which seemed to put its possessor beyond the reach of struggles. Eleanor's sobs

were the hard sobs of pain. As wisely as if she had really been a ministering angel, her little sister stood by silent; and said not another word until Eleanor had risen and taken her seat again. Nor then either. It was Eleanor that spoke.

"What do you know about it, Julia?'

"Not much," said the child.

"I love the Lora jesus, that is

all, and I thought, perhaps, from the way you spoke, that you did. Mr. Rhys would be so glad."

"He? Glad? What do you mean, Julia ?"

"I know he would; because I have heard him pray for you a great many times.

"No, no," said Eleanor, turning away, "I know nothing tat fear. I do not feel anything better. And they want me to think of everything else in the world but this one thing.' "But you will think of it, Eleanor, won't you?' Eleanor was silent and abstracted. strange eyes for Julia, anxiously observant.

time.

Her sister watched her with
The silence lasted some

"When does Mr. Rhys-? Is he going to preach again, Julia, that you know of?" "I guess not.

He was very tired after he preached the other night; he lay on the couch and did not move the whole next day. He is better to-day."

"You have seen him this morning."

"Oh, yes. I see him every day; and he teaches me a great many things. But he always prays for you.'

Eleanor did not wish to keep up the conversation, and it dropped. And after that, things went on their train.

It was a very fast train, too; and growing in importance and thickening in its urgency of speed. Every day the preparations converged more nearly towards their great focus-the twenty-first of December. Eleanor felt the whirl of circumstances, felt borne off her feet and carried away with them; and felt it hopelessly. She knew not what to urge that should be considered sufficient reason either by her mother or Mr. Carlisle for even delaying, much less breaking off the match. She was grave and proud, and unsatis

factory, as much as it was in her nature to be, partly on purpose; and Mr. Carlisle was not satisfied, and hurried on things all the more. He kept his temper perfectly, whatever thoughts he had; he rode and walked with Eleanor, when she would go, with the same cool and faultless manner; when she would not, he sometimes let it pass and sometimes made her go; but once or twice he failed in doing this; and recognised the possibility of Eleanor's ability to give him trouble. He knew his own power, however; on the whole he liked her quite as well for it.

"What is the matter with you, my darling?" he said one day. "You are not like yourself.'

"I am not happy," said Eleanor. "I told you I had a doubt unsettled upon my mind; and till that doubt is put at rest I cannot be happy; I cannot have peace; you will take no pleasure in me."

"Why do you not settle it then?" said Mr. Carlisle quietly. "Because I have no chance. I have not a moment to think, in this whirl where I am living. If you would put off the twenty-first of next month to the twenty-first of some month in the spring or summer, I might have a breathing place, and get myself in order. I cannot, now.

"You will have time to think, love, when you get to the Priory," Mr. Carlisle observed in the same tone-an absolute tone.

"Yes. I know how that would be," Eleanor answered bitterly. "But I can take no pleasure in anything, I cannot have any rest or comfort as long as I know that if anything happened to me-if death came suddenly-I am utterly unready. I cannot be happy so."

"I think I had better send Dr. Cairnes to see you," said Mr. Carlisle. "He is in duty bound to be the family physician in all things spiritual where they need him. But this is morbid, Eleanor. I know how it is. These are only whims, my darling, that will never outlive that day you dread so much.

He had drawn her into his arms as he spoke ; but in his touch and his kiss Eleanor felt or fancied something masterful, which irritated her.

"If I thought that, Mr. Carlisle," she said, "if I knew it was true, that day would never come.'

Mr. Carlisle's self-control was perfect; so was his tact. He made no answer at all to this speech; only gave Eleanor two or three more of those quiet ownership kisses. No appearance of discomposure in his manner or in his voice when he spoke, still holding her in his

arms.

"I shall know how to punish you one of these days for this," he said. “You may expect to be laughed at a little, my darling, when you turn penitent. Which will not hinder the moment from coming.

And so, dismissing the matter and her with another light touch of her lips, he left her.

"Will it be so?" thought Eleanor. control that I shall even sue to him to of my true indignation? Once his wife,

"Shall I be so within his forget and pardon this word once let the twenty-first of

December come, and there will be no more help for me. shall I do?"

What

She was desperate, but she saw no opening. She saw, however, the next day that Mr. Carlisle was coldly displeased with her. She was afraid to have him remain so, and made conciliations. These were accepted immediately and frankly, but so at the same time as made her feel she had lost ground and given Mr. Carlisle an advantage; every inch of which he knew and tock. Nobody had seen the tokens of any part of all this passage-of-arms; in three days all was just as it had been, except Eleanor's lost ground. And three days more were gone before the twenty-first of December.

"M

CHAPTER X.

AT LUNCHEON.

And, once wed,

So just a man and gentle could not choose

But make my life as smooth as marriage-ring.

ACINTOSH, do you ever condescend to do such a thing as walk?-take a walk, I mean?"

"You may command me," he answered somewhat lazily.

"May I? For the walk; but I want further to make a visit in the village."

"You may make twenty, if you feel inclined. I will order the horses to meet us there, shall I? Or do you not wish to do anything but walk to-day?"

"Oh, yes.

After my visit is paid, I shall be ready. "But it will be very inconvenient to walk so far in your habit. Can you manage that?"

66

I expect to enlighten you a good deal as to a woman's power of managing," said Eleanor.

"Is that a warning?" said he, making her turn her face towards him. Eleanor gratified him with one of her full mischievous smiles. "Did anybody ever tell you," said he, continuing the inspection, that you were handsome?"

"It never was worth anybody's while."

"How was that?"

66

Simply, that he would have gained nothing by it."

"Then I suppose I should not, or you think so?"

Nothing in the world. Mr. Carlisle, if you please, I will go and put on my

hat."

The day was November in a mild mood; pleasant enough for a walk; and so one at least of the two found it. For Eleanor, she was in a divided mood; yet even to her the exercise was grateful, and brought some glow and stir of spirits through the body to the mind. At times, too, now, she almost bent before what seemed her fate, in hopelessness of escaping from it; and at those times she strove to accommodate herself to it and tried to propitiate her captor. She did this from a twofold motive. She did fear him, and feared to have him anything but pleased with her; half slumbering that feeling lay; another feeling she was keenly conscious of. The love that he had for her-a gift that no woman can receive and be wholly unmoved by it; the affection she herself had allowed him to bestow, in full faith that it would not be thrown away; that stung Ellen with grief and self-reproach, and made her at times question whether her duty did not lie where she had formally engaged it should. At such times she was very subdued in gentleness and in observance of Mr. Carlisle's pleasure; subdued to a meekness foreign to her natural