rendered easy. What if _for his own sake_ his
feeling had changed, and he wanted her no longer? years had gone by
since he had seen her; it must have been a wayward fancy that could
ever have made him think of her at first; and now, about his grave work
in a distant land, and with leisure to correct blunders of fancy,
perhaps he had settled into the opinion that it was just as well that
his coming away had separated them; and did not feel able to welcome
her appearance in Australia, and was too sincere to write what he did
not feel; so wrote nothing? Not very like Mr. Rhys, reason whispered;
but reason's whisper, though heard, could not quiet the sensitive
delicacy which trembled at doubt. So miserable, so chilled, so forlorn,
Eleanor had never felt in her life; not when the 'Diana' first carried
her away from the shores of her native land.

What was she to do? that question throbbed at her heart; but it
answered itself soon. Stay in Australia she could not; go home to
England she could not; no, not upon this mere deficiency of testimony.
There was only one alternative left; she must go on whenever Mr. and
Mrs. Amos should move. Nature might tremble and quiver, and all
Eleanor's nerves did; but there was no other course to pursue. "I can
tell," she thought,--"I shall know--the first word, the first look,
will tell me the whole; I cannot be deceived. I must go on and meet
that word and look, whatever it costs me--I must; and then, if it
is--if it is not satisfying to me, then aunt Caxton shall have me! I
can go back, as well as I have come. Shame and misery would not hinder
me--they would not be so bad as my staying here then."

So the question of action was settled; but the question of feeling not
so soon. Eleanor's enjoyment was gone, of all the things she had
enjoyed those first twenty-four hours, and of all others which her
entertainers brought forward for her pleasure. Yet Eleanor kept her own
counsel, and as they did not know the cause she had for trouble, so
neither did they discover any tokens of it. She did not withdraw
herself from their kind efforts to please her, and they spared no
pains. They took her in boat excursions round the beautiful harbour.
They shewed her the pretty environs of the Parramatta river. Nay,
though it was not very easy for him to leave his business, Mr.
Esthwaite went with her and his wife to the beautiful Illawarra
district; put the whole party on horses, and shewed Eleanor a land of