in the Church service, the
pomps and vanities of the world are renounced; whatever that involves,
it will find me obedient."

"What has put this fancy in your head, Eleanor?"

"A sense of danger, first, I think."

"A sense of danger! Danger of what?"

"Yes. A feeling of being unready for that other life to which I might
at any time go;--that other world, I mean. I cannot be happy so." She
was agitated; her colour was high; her nerves trembled.

"How came this 'sense of danger' into your head? what brought it, or
suggested it?"

"When I was ill last summer--I felt it then. I have felt it since. I
feel my head uncovered to meet the storm that may at any time break
upon it. I am going to live, if I can, as people live whom you would
laugh at; you would call them fanatics and fools. It is the only way
for me to be happy; but you would not like it in one near you."

"Go in a black dress, Eleanor?"

She was silent. She very nearly burst into tears, but prevented that.

"You can't terrify me," said Mr. Carlisle, lazily throwing himself back
in his chair. "I don't get up a 'sense of danger' as easily as you do,
darling. One look in your face puts all that to flight at once. I am
safe. You may do what you like."

"You would not say that by and by," said Eleanor.

"Would I not?" said he, rousing up and drawing her tenderly but
irresistibly to his arms again. "But make proper amends to me for
breaking rules to-night, and you shall have _carte blanche_ for this
new fancy, Eleanor. How are you going to ask my forgiveness?"

"You ought to ask mine--for you will not attend to me."

"Contumacious?" said he lightly, touching her lips as if they were a
goblet and he were taking sips of the wine;--"then I shall take my own
amends. You shall live as you please, darling, only take me along with
you."

"You will not go."

"How do you know?"

"Neither your feeling nor your taste agree with it."

"What _are_ you going to do!" said he half laughing, holding her fast
and looking down into her face. "My little Eleanor! Make yourself a
grey nun, or a blue Puritan? Grey becomes you, darling; it makes a
duchess of you; and blue is set off by this magnificent brown head of
yours. I will answer for my taste in either event; and I think you
could bear, and consequently I could, all the other colours in the
rainbow. As for your idea, of making yourself a woman that I would not
like, I do not think you can compass it. You may try.