r. Rhys preach. The desire was so violent that
it half frightened her with the possibility of its fulfilment.

She told Julia that it was an absurd wish, and impracticable, and
dismissed her; and then her whole mind focussed itself on Mr. Brooks's
barn. Eleanor saw nothing else through the morning, whatever she was
doing. It was impossible! yet it was a first, last, and only chance,
perhaps in her life, of hearing the words of truth so spoken as she
knew they would be in that place that night. Besides, she had a craving
curiosity to know _how_ they would be spoken. One month more, Eleanor
once securely lodged in Rythdale Priory, and her chance of hearing any
words whatever spoken in a barn, was over for ever; unless indeed she
condescended to become an inspector of agricultural proceedings. Yet
she said to herself over and over that she had no chance now; that her
being present was a matter of wild impossibility; she said it and
re-said it, and with every time a growing consciousness that
impossibility should not stop her. At last impossibility shaped itself
into a plan.

"I am going down to see Jane Lewis, mamma," was Eleanor's announcement
at luncheon.

"To day, Eleanor?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"But Mr. Carlisle will be here, and he will not like it."

"He will have enough of me by and by, ma'am. I shall may be never have
another chance of taking care of Jane. I know she wants to see me, and
I am going to-day. And if she wants me very much, I shall stay all
night; so you need not send."

"What will Mr. Carlisle say to all that?"

"He will say nothing to it, if you do not give him an opportunity,
mamma. I am going, at all events."

"Eleanor, I am afraid you have almost too much independence, for one
who is almost a married woman."

"Is independence a quality entirely given up, ma'am, when 'the ring is
on'?"

"Certainly! I thought you knew that. You must make up your mind to it.
You are a noble creature, Eleanor; but my comfort is that Mr. Carlisle
will know how to manage you. I never could, to my satisfaction. I
observe he has brought you in pretty well."

Eleanor left the room; and if the tide of her independence could have
run higher, her mother's words would have furnished the necessary
provocative.

Jane Lewis was a poor girl in the village; the daughter of one who had
been Eleanor's nurse, and who now old and infirm, and unable to do much
for herself or others, watched the declining days of her child wi