st reminded Mrs. Caxton of the perfume as well as
of the colour of the flower it was likened to. There was a certain
unfolding sweetness in Eleanor's face, that was most like the opening
of a rosebud just getting into full blossom; but the lips, unbent into
happy lines, were a little shame-faced, and would not open to speak a
word or ask another question. So they both sat still; the younger and
elder lady.

"Do you want me to tell you any more, Eleanor?"

"Why do you tell me this at all now, aunt Caxton?" Eleanor said very
slowly and without stirring.

"Mr. Rhys desired I should."

"Why, aunt Caxton?"

"Why do gentlemen generally desire such things to be made known to
young ladies?"

"But ma'am"--said Eleanor, the crimson starting again.

"Well, my dear?"

"There is the whole breadth of the earth between us."

"Ships traverse it," said Mrs. Caxton coolly.

"Do you mean that he is coming home?" said Eleanor. Her face was a
study, for its changing lights; too quick, too mingled, too subtle in
their expression, to be described. So it was at this instant. Half
eager, and half shame-faced; an unmistakeable glow of delight, and yet
something that was very like shrinking.

"No, my love," Mrs. Caxton made answer--"I do not mean that. He would
not leave his place and his work, even for you."

"But then, ma'am--"

"What all this signifies? you would ask. Are you sorry--do you feel any
regret--that it should be made known to you?"

"No, ma'am," said Eleanor low, and hanging her head.

"What it signifies, I do not know. That depends upon the answer to a
very practical question which I must now put to you. If Mr. Rhys were
stationed in England and could tell you all this himself, what would
you say to him in answer?"

"I could give him but one, aunt Caxton," said Eleanor in the same
manner.

"And that would be a grant of his demand?"

"You know it would, ma'am, without asking me."

"Now we come to the question. He cannot leave his work to come to you.
Is your regard for him enough to make you go to Fiji?"

"Not without asking, aunt Caxton," Eleanor said, turning away.

"Suppose he has asked you."

"But dear aunt Caxton," Eleanor said in a troubled voice, "he never
said one word to me of his liking for me, nor to draw out my feeling
towards him."

"Suppose he has said it."

"How, ma'am? By word, or in writing?"

"In writing."

Eleanor was silent a little, with her head turned away; then she said
i