solemn, rapt, such as some there had never heard before; such as some
there knew well. When Mr. Rhys had stopped, another began. The whole
house was still with tears.

There was one bowed heart there, which had divided subjects of
consideration; there was one hidden face which had a double motive for
being hid. Eleanor had been absorbed in the entrancing interest of the
time, listening with moveless eyes, and borne away from all her own
subjects of care and difficulty on the swelling tide of thought and
emotion which heaved the whole assembly. Till her own head was bent
beneath its power, and her tears sought to be covered from view. She
did not move from that attitude; until, lifting her head near the close
of the sermon, as soon as she could get it up in fact, that she might
see as much as possible of those wonderful looks she might never see
again; a slight chance turn of her head brought another idea into her
mind. A little behind her in the aisle, standing but a pace or two off,
was a figure that for one instant made all Eleanor's blood stand still.
She could not see it distinctly; she did not see the face of the person
at all; it was only the merest glimpse of some outlines, the least line
of a coat and vision of an arm and hand resting on a pew door. But if
that arm and hand did not belong to somebody she knew, in Eleanor's
belief it belonged to nobody living. It was not the colour of cloth nor
the cut of a dress; it was the indefinable character of that arm and
man's glove, seen with but half an eye. But it made her sure that Mr.
Carlisle, in living flesh and blood, stood there, in the Wesleyan
chapel though it was. Eleanor cared curiously little about it, after
the first start. She felt set free, in the deep high engagement of her
thoughts at the time, and the roused and determined state of feeling
they had produced. She did not fear Mr. Carlisle. She was quite willing
he should have seen her there. It was what she wished, that he should
know of her doing. And his neighbourhood in that place did not hinder
her full attention and enjoyment of every word that was spoken. It did
not check her tears, nor stifle the swelling of her heart under the
preaching and under the prayers. Nevertheless Eleanor was conscious of
it all the time; and became conscious too that the service would before
very long come to a close; and then without doubt that quiet glove
would have something to do with her. Eleanor did not reason nor