d
power, Eleanor discerned now a want these could not fill. What should
she do when they failed? there was no provision in them for the want of
them. Eleanor forgot her loss of independence, and pondered these
thoughts till they grew bitter with pain. By turns she wished she had
never seen Mr. Rhys, who she remembered first started them; or wished
she could see him again.

In the stillness and freedom and peace of the wide moor, Eleanor had
fearlessly given herself up to her musings, without thinking or caring
which way she went. The pony, finding the choice left to him, had
naturally enough turned off into a track leading over some wild hills
where he had been bred; the locality had pleasant associations for him.
But it had none of any kind for Eleanor; and when she roused herself to
think of it, she found she was in a distant part of the moor and
drawing near to the hills aforesaid; a bleak and dreary looking region,
and very far from home. Neither was she very sure by which way she
might soonest regain a neighbourhood that she knew. To follow the path
she was on and turn off into the first track that branched in the right
direction, seemed the best to do; and she roused up her pony to an
energetic little gallop. It seemed little after the long bounds Black
Maggie would take through the air; but it was brisk work for the pony.
Eleanor kept him at his speed. It was luxurious, to be alone; ride as
she liked, slow or fast, and think as she liked, even forbidden
thoughts. Her own mistress once more. Eleanor exulted, all the more
because she was a rebel. The wild moor was delicious; the freedom was
delicious; only she was far from home and the afternoon was on the
wane. She kept the pony to his speed.

By the base of the hills near to which the road led her, stood a
miserable little house. It needed but a look at the place, to decide
that the people who lived in it must be also miserable, and probably in
more ways than one. Eleanor who had intended asking there for some news
of her whereabouts and the roads, changed her mind as she drew near and
resolved to pass the house at a gallop. So much for wise resolves. The
miserable children who dwelt in the house had been that day making a
bonfire for their amusement right on her track. The hot ashes were
still there; the pony set his feet in them, reared high, and threw his
rider, who had never known the pony do such a thing before and had no
reason to expect it of him. Eleano