me from the hills and gathered the sweetness of the
valleys. Roses and honeysuckles and jessamines and primroses, with a
thousand others, loaded the air with their gifts to it, from Mrs.
Caxton's garden and from all the fields and hedge-rows around. And one
after another bit of hilly outline reminded Eleanor that off _there_
went the narrow valley that led to the little church at Glanog; _there_
went the road to the village, where she and Powis had gone so often of
Wednesday afternoons; and in _that_ direction lay the little cot where
she had watched all night by the dying woman. Not much time for such
remembrances was just now; for the farmhouse stood just before her. The
dear old farmhouse! looking as pretty as everything else in its dark
red stone walls and slate roof; stretching along the ground at that
rambling, picturesque, and also opulent style. Eleanor would not knock
now, and the door was not fastened to make her need it. Softly she
opened it, went in, and stood upon the tiled floor.

No sound of anything in particular; only certain tokens of life in the
house. Eleanor went on, opened the door of the sitting parlour and
looked in. Nobody there; the room in its summer state of neatness and
coolness as she had left it. Eleanor's heart began to grow warm. She
would not yet summon a servant; she left that part of the house and
wound about among the passages till she came to the back door that led
out into the long tiled porch where supper was wont to be spread. And
there was the table set this evening; and the wonted glow from the
sunny west greeted her there, and a vision of the gorgeous
flower-garden. But Eleanor hardly saw the one thing or the other; for
Mrs. Caxton was there also, standing by the tea-table, alone, putting
something on it. Eleanor moved forward without a word. Her voice would
not come out of her throat very well.

"Eleanor!" exclaimed Mrs. Caxton. "My dear love! what has given me this
happiness?"

Very strong language for Mrs. Caxton to use. Eleanor felt it, every
word of it, as well as the embrace of those kind arms and her aunt's
kisses upon her lips; but she was silent.

"How come you here, my darling?"

"They have sent me away from home."

Mrs. Caxton saw that there was some difficulty of speech, and she would
not press matters. She put Eleanor into a seat, and looked at her, and
took off her bonnet with her own hands; stooped down and kissed her
brow. Eleanor steadied herself and lo