here he loved
to have it; on the tiled floor under the projecting roof before
mentioned. A dish was crowned with red and white strawberries in the
middle of the table, and Eleanor stood decorating it slowly with ivy
leaves and blossoms of white heath.

"It is not certain, my dear, he will come home to-night," Mrs. Caxton
said as she watched her.

"No, aunty,"--said Eleanor with a slight start, but then going on with
her occupation. "What about it?"

"Nothing. We will enjoy the flowers ourselves."

"But he thought he would be at home to-night, aunt Caxton?"

"He could not be sure. He might easily be detained. You have got over
your fear of Mr. Rhys, Eleanor?"

"Aunt Caxton, I don't think I ever feared him!"

"He used to have a 'quieting influence' upon you," Mrs. Caxton said
smiling.

"Well,--he does now, ma'am. At least I am sure Mr. Rhys is one of the
persons I should never care to contradict."

"I should think not," said Mrs. Caxton quietly. Eleanor had coloured a
little.

"But that is not because, merely, I do not think myself wise; because
there are other persons before whom I think myself no wiser, whom I
_would_ contradict--I mean, in a polite way--if it came into my head."

"We shall miss him when he goes," said Mrs. Caxton with a little bit of
a sigh. Eleanor wanted to ask a question, but the words did not come.
The ornamenting of the strawberry dish was finished. She turned from
it, and looked down where the long train of cows came winding through
the meadows and over the bridge. Pretty, peaceful, lovely, was this
gentle rural scene; what was the connection that made but a step in
Eleanor's thoughts between the meadows of Plassy and some far-off
islands in distant Polynesia? Eleanor had changed since some time ago.
She could understand now why Mr. Rhys wanted to go there; she could
comprehend it; she could understand how it was that he was not afraid
to go and did not shrink from leaving all this loveliness at her feet.
All that was no mystery now; but her thoughts fastened on her aunt's
words--how they would "miss him." She was very still, and so was Mrs.
Caxton; till a step brought both heads round to the door.

It was only a servant that came out, bringing letters; one for Eleanor,
one for Mrs. Caxton. Standing where she was, Eleanor broke hers open.
It was from her mother, and it contained something both new and
unexpected; an urgent injunction on her to return immediately home. The
family w