pending time;
nice ways too; and in one and another of these Eleanor found hers all
gone. Day by day it was so. Nothing was left but those hours before
breakfast. And what was worse, Mr. Carlisle was at her elbow in every
place; and Eleanor became conscious that she was in spite of herself
appearing before the world as his particular property, and that the
conclusion was endorsed by her mother. She walked as straight as she
could; but the days grew to be heavy days.

She devoted herself to her father as much as possible; and in that
found a refuge. The Squire was discontented and unwell; a good deal
depressed in spirits as a consequence; he delighted to have Eleanor
come and sit with him and read to him after dinner. She escaped many an
engagement by that means. In vain Mrs. Powle came in with her appeal,
about Eleanor's good requiring him to do without her; the Squire
listened, struggled, and selfishness got the better.

"St. George and the Dragon!" he exclaimed,--"she shall do as she likes,
and as I like, for one hour in the twenty-four. You may haul her about
the rest of the time--but from dinner for a while or so you may spare
her. I choose she shall be with me."

The "while" was often three hours. Eleanor enjoyed repose then, and
enjoyed ministering to her father; who speedily became exceedingly
wedded to her services, and learned to delight in her presence after a
new manner. He would have her read to him; she might read everything
she pleased except what had a religious bearing. That he disposed of at
once, and bade her seek another book. He loved to have her brush his
hair, when his head ached, by the half hour together; at other times he
engaged her in a game of chess and a talk about Plassy. The poor Squire
was getting a good deal tamed down, to take satisfaction in such quiet
pleasures; but the truth was that he found himself unable for what he
liked better. Strength and health were both failing; he was often
suffering; drives in the park wearied him almost as much as sitting
alone in his room; he swore at them for the stupidest entertainment man
ever pleased himself with. What he did with the lonely hours he spent
entirely by himself, nobody knew; Eleanor knew that he was rejoiced
every time to see her come in. His eye brightened when she opened the
door, and he settled himself in his easy chair to have a good time; and
then even the long columns of the newspaper, read from one end to the
other, up and do