or home. The evening left him an excited man, not
happy in his mind.

Eleanor, having quitted her escort, went slowly up the stairs; bade her
mother good night; went into her own room and locked the door. Then
methodically she took off the several parts of her evening attire and
laid them away; put on a dressing-gown, threw her window open, and
knelt down by it.

The stars kept watch over the night. A pleasant fresh breeze blew in
from the sea. They were Eleanor's only companions, and they never
missed her from the window the whole night long. I am bound to say,
that the morning found her there.

But nights so spent make a heavy draft on the following day. In spite
of all that cold water could do in the way of refreshment, in spite of
all that the morning cup of tea could do, Eleanor was obliged to
confess to a headache.

"Why Eleanor, child, you look dreadfully!" said Mrs. Powle, who came
into her room and found her lying down. "You are as white!--and black
rings under your eyes. You will never be able to go with the riding
party this morning."

"I am afraid not, mamma. I am sorry. I would go if I could; but I
believe I must lie still. Then I shall be fit for this evening,
perhaps."

She was not; but that one day of solitude and silence was all that
Eleanor took for herself. The next day she joined the riders again; and
from that time held herself back from no engagement to which her mother
or Mr. Carlisle urged her.

Mr. Carlisle felt it with a little of his old feeling of pride. It was
the only thing in which Eleanor could be said to give the feeling much
chance; for while she did not reject his attendance, which she could
not easily do, nor do at all without first vanquishing her mother; and
while she allowed a certain remains of the old wonted familiarity, she
at the same never gave Mr. Carlisle any reason to think that he had
regained the least power over her. She received him well, but as she
received a hundred others. He was her continual attendant, but he never
felt that it was by Eleanor's choice; and he knew sometimes that it was
by her choice that he was thrown out of his office. She bewildered him
with her sweet dignity, which was more utterly unmanageable than any
form of pride or passion. The pride and passion were left to be Mr.
Carlisle's own. Pride was roused, that he was stopped by so gentle a
barrier in his advances; and passion was stimulated, by uncertainty not
merely, but by the calm gra