g to listen, when a servant brought Eleanor a letter. It was
very short, for she did not turn the leaf. When she had read it she
drew out her watch.

"'I have an hour before the express-train starts. Tell Mrs. Bickford to
pack my trunk for a journey. Harness the black horse to drive to the
station.'

"She put the letter into Mr. Lee's hands. 'My brother is very ill, and
I shall go to him at once. Elizabeth, I am sorry to leave you here
alone, but while I am gone I hope Thornton will consider you under his
charge and protection.'

"She rose, as she spoke, and went towards the house, followed by
Thornton.

"In a few minutes she appeared again, dressed in a gray
travelling-dress,--kissed me lightly on the check, and bade me
good-bye. All her preparations for this long journey had been made
without any hurry or confusion, and she did not apparently feel so
agitated or nervous at the thought of travelling this distance alone as
I should to have gone by myself to the nearest town. Why Thornton did
not accompany her, whether he could not or she did not wish it, I do
not know; but he parted from her at the station, and soon returned for
his horse.

"_July_ 1.--Eleanor has been gone a month; in that time we have
received but one letter from her. Her brother still lies in a very
critical state, and she will not leave him at present. His motherless
children, too, she thinks require her care. It seemed very lonesome at
first without her. I did not think I could have missed an uncongenial
person, one with whom I had so little sympathy, so much. I think I must
belong to the tribe of creeping plants, which cling to whatever is
nearest to them. Ashcroft grows daily more beautiful, and Thornton
comes often to see me. We read together books that I like, (not Dante,)
walk and sketch. We are on excellent terms, and call each other Cousin
in view of our future relationship. I can talk more freely to him, now
that Eleanor is not here,--and feel no disposition to hide my thoughts,
now that I can keep them to myself, if I choose.

"_July_ 24.--A week ago, one fair midsummer afternoon, we strolled to
the knoll, and sat down under the blossoming boughs of the
chestnut-tree.

"'I think,' said I, 'this is the pleasantest place in all the grounds;
but Eleanor never seemed willing to come here.'

"'Eleanor has many unpleasant remembrances connected with the place,'
replied Thornton. 'Her father's obstinate persistence in digging the
well