divisions of night
and day, and partly of stimulating hope that such might be the case, a
wild snatch at justification of herself and him flushed over her from
head to foot, wrapping her in warmth and delight; and then this all
faded away again and left her as in ashes--black and cold. No!
everything, she saw, now depended upon what she had been impelled to
say; the whole construction, Phil's account of his time, his story of
his doings--all would have fallen to pieces had she said otherwise.
Body and soul, Elinor felt herself become like a machine full of
clanging wheels and beating pistons, her heart, her pulses, her breath,
all panting, beating, bursting. What did it mean? What did it mean? And
then everything stood still in a horrible suspense and pause.

She began to hear voices again in the distance and raised her head,
which she had buried in her hands--voices that sounded so calmly in the
westering sunshine, one answering another, everything softened in the
golden outdoor light. At first as she raised herself up she thought with
horror that it was the man, the visitor whom she had supposed to be
gone, returning with Phil to give her the opportunity of contradicting
herself, of bringing back that whirlwind of doubt and possibility. But
presently her excited senses perceived that it was her mother who was
walking calmly through the garden talking with Phil. There was not a
tone of excitement in the quiet voices that came gradually nearer and
nearer, till she could hear what they were saying. It was Phil who was
speaking, while her mother now and then put in a word. Elinor did not
wish on ordinary occasions for too many private talks between her mother
and Phil. They rubbed each other the wrong way, they did not understand
each other, words seemed to mean different things in their comprehension
of them. She knew that her lover would laugh at "the old girl," which
was a phrase which offended Elinor deeply, and Mrs. Dennistoun would
become stiffer and stiffer, declaring that the very language of the
younger generation had become unintelligible to her. But to hear them
now together was a kind of anodyne to Elinor, it stayed and calmed
her. The cold moisture dried from her forehead. She smoothed her hair
instinctively with her hand, and put herself straight in mind as she did
with that involuntary action in outward appearance, feeling that no sign
of agitation, no trouble of demeanour must meet her mother's eye. And
t