Susan Warner

“ Oh, Julia!"
"Poor Eleanor!" said her little sister wonderingly. "Then you don't want to be married and go to Rythdale?"
"Not Monday!" said Eleanor. "And now I shall not. It is not possible that a wedding and a funeral should be in one house on the same day. I know which they would put off if they could, but they have got to put off the other. O Julia, it is the saving of me!"
She caught the little one in her arms and sat with her so, their two heads nestling together, Eleanor's bowed upon her sister's neck.
"But Eleanor, will you not marry Mr. Carlisle after all?" ”

“ Eleanor. "Bad passions often will. They escape control."
"I have seen a lady—a lovely and refined lady—faint away at the sudden tidings that a child's life was secure,—whom she had almost given up for lost."
"But, dear aunt Caxton! you do not call that a parallel case?"
"A parallel case with what?"
"Anybody might be excited at such a thing. You would wonder if they were not."
"I do not see the justness of your reasoning, Eleanor. A man may turn white with passion, and it is natural; woman may faint with joy at receiving back her child from death; and you are not surprised. ”

“ Eleanor did not answer; she thought her aunt was slightly fanatical.
"There is another reason for not getting an answer, Eleanor. It is, not believing that an answer will be given."
"Aunty, how can one help that?"
"By simply looking at what God has promised, and trusting it. 'But let a man ask in faith, nothing wavering. For he that wavereth is like a wave of the sea driven with the wind and tossed. For let not that man think that he shall receive anything of the Lord.'"
"Aunt Caxton, I am exactly like such a wave of the sea. And in danger of being broken to pieces like one." ”

“ Caxton was silent in her turn.
"Eleanor,—do you like some one else better?"
"Nobody else likes me better, aunt Caxton—there is nothing of that kind—"
"Still my question is not answered, Eleanor. Have you more liking for any other person?"
"Aunt Caxton—I do not know—I have seen—I do not know how to answer you!" Eleanor said in bitter confusion; then hiding her face she went on—"Just so much as this is true, aunt Caxton,—I have seen, what makes me know that I do not love Mr. Carlisle; not as he loves me." ”

“ It is the parsonage, where the rector of the parish lives. Beyond this wood and these buildings, old and new, the eye can catch only bits of hills and woods that promise beauty further on; but nearer than they, and making a boundary line between the present and the distant, the flash of a little river is seen, which curves about the old priory lands. A somewhat doubtful sunlight is struggling over it all; casting a stray beam on the grass, and a light on the ivy of the old tower.
"What a queer old place it must have been," said Eleanor. ”

“ Julia and Mr. Rhys had fallen behind; and the long walk to Barton's Tower was made with Mr. Carlisle alone, who was in no haste to abridge it, and seemed to enjoy himself very well. Eleanor once or twice looked back, and saw her little sister, hand in hand with her companion of the old window, walking and talking in very eager and gay style; to judge by Julia's lively movements.
"Who is that Mr. Rhys?" said Eleanor.
"I have hardly the honour to know him. May I ask, why you ask?"
"He is peculiar," said Eleanor.
"He can hardly be worthy your study." ”

“ The rush of colour to her face Eleanor felt as if she could hardly bear. She had much ado not to put up her hands like a child.
"You must have mercy on her, mamma," said Mr. Carlisle, walking off to a bookcase. "She has the uncommon grace of modesty."
"It is no use," said Lady Rythdale. "She may as well get accustomed to it. Others will tell her, if you do not."
There was silence. Eleanor felt displeased.
"Is she as good as she is pretty?" enquired Lady Rythdale.
"No, ma'am," said Eleanor in a low voice. The baroness laughed. Her son smiled. Eleanor was vexed at herself for speaking. ”

“ The peace he held up to her view,—the joy in which a child of God lives and walks—and dies; the security of every movement, the confidence in every action, the rest in all turmoil, the fearlessness in all danger; the riches in the midst of poverty, the rejoicing even in time of sorrow; the victory over sin and death, wrought in him as well as for him;—Eleanor's heart seemed to die within her, and at the same time started in a struggle for life. ”

“ Arles brought out and proceeded to array Eleanor in a robe of white lawn, very flowing and full of laces. Yet it was simple in style, and Eleanor thought it useless to ask for a change; although when the robing was completed she was dressed more elegantly than she had ever been in her life. She was sadly ashamed, greatly indignant, and mortified at herself; that she should be so facile to the will of a person who had no right to command her. But if she was dissatisfied, Arles was not; the deep colour in Eleanor's cheeks only relieved her white drapery to perfection ”

“ Eleanor hid the whole within her own heart, and the fire burned there all the more. Not a sign of it must Mr. Carlisle see; and as for Dr. Cairnes, Eleanor could never get a chance for a safe talk with him. Somebody was always near, or might be near. The very effort to hide her thoughts grew sometimes irksome; and the whirl of engagements and occupations in which she lived gave her a stifled feeling. She could not even indulge herself in solitary consideration of that which there was nobody to help her consider. ”

“ Powle. "With the wedding-dresses made, and almost the wedding-cake—every preparation—the whole world to be scandalized and talking at any delay—your family disgraced, and yourself ruined for ever;—and Mr. Carlisle—Eleanor, I think you are crazy! only you sit there with such a wicked face!—"
"It is in danger of being wicked," said Eleanor, drawing both her hands over it;—"for I warn you, mother, I am determined. I have been hurried on. I will be hurried no further. I will take poison, before I will be married on the twenty-first! As well lose my soul one way as another. ”

“ There was Eleanor's mother, good-natured under all circumstances; fair and handsome; every inch of her, from the close fair curls on each side of her temples, to the tips of her neat walking shoes, shewing the ample perfection of abundant means and indulgent living. There were some friends that formed part of their household just then, and the young people of a neighbouring family; with the Miss Broadus's; two elderly ladies from the village who were always in everything. ”

“ She stood before the superb animal, which shewed blood in every line of its head and beautiful frame; and looked at it, and looked at the ground. Mr. Carlisle gently removed the carnations from her hand, taking them into his own, then gave her the reins of Black Maggie and put her into the saddle. In another minute they were off, and out of the reach of observation. But Eleanor had felt again, even in that instant or giving into her fingers the reins which he had taken from the groom, the same thing that she had felt last night—the expression of something new between them. ”

“ Rhys is the tallest—but Mr. Carlisle is a splendid looking man,—don't you think so, Eleanor?"
Miss Broadus's energetic whisper Eleanor thought fit to ignore, though she did not fail to note the contrast which a moment's colloquy between the two men presented. There was little in common between them; between the marked features and grave keen expression of the one face, and the cool, bright, somewhat supercilious eye and smile of the other. There was power in both faces, Eleanor thought, of different kinds; and power is attractive. ”

“ It was the sense of want and pain in Eleanor's mind; not spoken indeed except by her countenance; but that toned strongly with the notes of feeling that were uttered around her. As from the bottom of a dark abyss into which he had fallen, a person might look up to the bright sky, of which he could see but a little, which yet would give him token of all the firmamental light and beauty up there which he had not. From her darkness Eleanor saw it; saw it in the preacher's face and words; yes, and heard it in many a deep-breathed utterance of gladness or thanksgiving at her side. ”

“ Life was no longer the rough thing it had seemed to her yesterday. A constant drop of thankfulness at her heart kept all her words and manner sweet with its secret perfume. Eleanor's temper was always as sound as a nut; but there was now a peculiar grace of gentleness and softness in all she did. She was able to go faultlessly through all the scenes of that day and the following days; through her mother's open discomfiture and half expressed disappointment, and Mr. Carlisle's suppressed impatience. ”