"O wouldn't I! But we can't, you know."

"I am going to stay."

"And going to hear him?"

"Yes."

"O Eleanor! Does mamma know?"

"No."

"But she will be frightened, if we are not come home."

"Then you can take the carriage home and tell her; and send the little
waggon or my pony for me."

"Couldn't you send one of the men?"

"Yes, and then I should have Mr. Carlisle come after me. No, if I send,
you must go."

"Wouldn't he like it?"

"It is no matter whether he would like it or no. I am going to stay.
You can do as you please."

"I would like to stay!" said Julia eagerly. "O Eleanor, I want to stay!
But mamma would be so frightened. Eleanor, do you think it is right?"

"It is right for me," said Eleanor. "It is the only thing I can do. If
it displeased all the world, I should stay. You may choose what you
will do. If the horses go home, they cannot come back again; the waggon
and old Roger, or my pony, would have to come for me--with Thomas."

Julia debated, sighed, shewed great anxiety for Eleanor, great
difficulty of deciding, but finally concluded even with tears that it
would not be _right_ for her to stay. The carriage went home with her
and her purchases; Thomas, the old coachman, having answered with
surprised alacrity to the question, whether he knew where the Wesleyan
chapel in Brompton was. He was to come back for Eleanor and be with the
waggon there. Eleanor herself went to spend the intermediate time
before the hour of service, and take tea, at the house of a little
lawyer in the town whom her father employed, and whose wife she knew
would be overjoyed at the honour thus done her. It was not perhaps the
best choice of a resting-place that Eleanor could have made; for it was
a sure and certain fountain head of gossip; but she was in no mood to
care for that just now, and desired above all things, not to take
shelter in any house where a message or an emissary from the Lodge or
the Priory would be likely to find her; nor in one where her
proceedings would be gravely looked into. At Mrs. Pinchbeck's
hospitable tea-table she was very secure from both. There was nothing
but sweetmeats there!

Mrs. Pinchbeck was a lively lady, in a profusion of little fair curls
all over her head and a piece of flannel round her throat. She was very
voluble, though her voice was very hoarse. Indeed she left nothing
untold that there was time to tell. She gave Eleanor an account of all
Brompton's doings; of