a great state of
satisfaction with her daughter to-day; Eleanor had shunned no company
nor exertion, had carried an unusual spirit into all; and a minute with
Mr. Carlisle after the ride had shewed him in a sort of exultant mood.
She looked over Eleanor's dress critically when they were about leaving
home for the evening's entertainment. It was very simple indeed; yet
Mrs. Powle in the depth of her heart could not find that anything was
wanting to the effect.

Nor could a yet more captious critic, Mr. Carlisle; who was on the
ground before them and watched and observed a little while from a
distance. Admiration and passion were roused within him, as he watched
anew what he had already seen in Eleanor's manner since she came to
Brighton; that grace of absolute ease and unconsciousness, which only
the very highest breeding can successfully imitate. No Lady Rythdale,
he was obliged to confess, that ever lived, had better advanced the
honours of her house, than would this one; could she be persuaded to
accept the position. This manner did not use to be Eleanor's; how had
she got it on the borders of Wales? Neither was the sweetness of that
smile to be seen on her lip in the times gone by; and a little gravity
was wanting then, which gave a charm of dignity to the exquisite poise
which whether of character or manner was so at home with her now. Was
she too grave? The question rose; but he answered it with a negative.
Her smile came readily, and it was the sweeter for not being always
seen. His meditations were interrupted by a whisper at his elbow.

"She will not dance!"

"Who will not?" said he, finding himself face to face with Mrs. Powle.

"Eleanor. She will not. I am afraid it is one of her new notions."

Mr. Carlisle smiled a peculiar smile. "Hardly a fault, I think, Mrs.
Powle. I am not inclined to quarrel with it."

"You do not see any faults at all, I believe," said the lady. "Now I am
more discerning."

Mr. Carlisle did not speak his thoughts, which were complimentary only
in one direction, to say truth. He went off to Eleanor, and prevented
any more propositions of dancing for the rest of the evening. He could
not monopolize her, though. He was obliged to see her attention divided
in part among other people, and to take a share which though perfectly
free and sufficiently gracious, gave him no advantage in that respect
over several others. The only advantage he could make sure of was that
of attending Elean