ion
from all but the meats and wines which were offered him, the enjoyment
of which it probably heightened; the talk was prolonged, and seemed to
grow more interesting as it went on. Eleanor could not hear what it was
about, her own ear was so much engaged with business nearer at hand.
The whole play had not escaped her, however; and between question and
answer of the rattling gaiety going on about her ears, and indeed on
her own tongue, she found time to wonder whether Mr. Rhys were shy, or
kept back by a feeling of inferiority; so marked his conduct was by the
absence of all voluntary self-assertion, She could not determine that
he was either. No look or word favoured the one or the other
supposition. And Eleanor could not look at those keen eyes, without
feeling that it was extremely unlikely they would quail before anybody
or anything. Very different from those fine hazel irids that were
flashing fun and gallantry into hers with every glance. Very different;
but what was the difference? It was something deeper than colour and
contour. Eleanor had no chance to make further discoveries; for her
father engrossed his new acquaintance all the way home, and only did
not bring him to Ivy Lodge to tea because Mr. Rhys refused it; for the
invitation was given.

CHAPTER II.

AT THE GARDEN-DOOR.

"To die--to sleep.
To sleep! perchance to dream; ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come"--

The family at Ivy Lodge gathered round the tea-table with spirits
rather whetted, apparently for both talking and eating. Certainly the
one exercise had been intermitted for some hours; the other however had
gone on without cessation. It went on still. The party was now reduced
to the home party, with the addition of Miss Broadus; which lady, with
her sister, was at home at Ivy Lodge, as she was everywhere else.
Elderly, respectable and respected old ladies they were; and though
they dealt in gossip, would not willingly have hurt a fly. They dealt
in receipts and in jellies too; in fashions, and in many kindnesses,
both received and given by all the neighbourhood. They were daughters
of a former rector of the parish, and poor, and asked nobody to help
them; which indeed they had no need to ask.

"You seemed to like your afternoon's acquaintance, papa?" said Eleanor.

"He is a fine fellow," said the squire. "He's a fine fellow. Knows
something. My dear, he teaches a small school at Wiglands,