any one
could in her carefully made clothes. She was now a fashionable young
woman, about whose dresses there was no question, who wore everything as
those do who are at the fountain-head, no matter what it was she wore.
Mrs. Dennistoun's eyes caught this difference at once, which is also
indescribable to the uninitiated, and a sensation of pride came into her
mind. Elinor was improved, too, in so many ways. Her mother had never
thought of calling her anything more, even in her inmost thoughts, than
very pretty, very sweet; but it seemed to Mrs. Dennistoun now as if
people might use a stronger word, and call Elinor beautiful. Her face
had gained a great deal of expression, though it was always an
expressive face; her eyes looked deeper; her manner had a wonderful
youthful dignity. Altogether, it was another Elinor, yet, God be
praised, the same.

It was but for one night, but that was a great deal, a night subtracted
from the blank, a night that seemed to come out of the old times--those
old times that had not been known to be so very happy till they were
over and gone. Elinor had naturally a great deal to tell her mother, but
in the glory of seeing her, of hearing her voice, of knowing that it was
actually she who was speaking, Mrs. Dennistoun did not observe, what she
remembered afterwards, that again it was much more of places than of
people that Elinor talked, and that though she named Phil when there was
any occasion for doing so, she did not babble about him as brides do, as
if he were altogether the sun, and everything revolved round him. It is
not a good sign, perhaps, when the husband comes down to his "proper
place" as the representative of the other half of the world too soon.
Elinor looked round upon her old home with a mingled smile and sigh.
Undoubtedly it had grown smaller, perhaps even shabbier, since she went
away: but she did not say so to her mother. She cried out how pretty it
was, how delightful to come back to it! and that was true too. How often
it happens in this life that there are two things quite opposed to each
other, and yet both of them true.

"John will be delighted to hear that you have come, Elinor," her mother
said.

"John, dear old John! I hope he is well and happy, and all that; and he
comes often to see you, mother? How sweet of him! You must give him ever
so much love from his poor Nelly. I always keep that name sacred to
him."

"But why should I give him messages as if you we