The Old Helmet, Volume II

spur

tience for a

ust g

angeable noise o

the cou

ld simp

hid i

ook mo

in plush and

do. She could not make certain before it came the weary foreboding that pressed upon her. She went to her father's room after dinner as usual, leanin

n his easy chair, denoting a contracted state of mind; after that curious fashion which

there particular?"

articular, sir. Here is the c

yours and Mr. Carlisle

a-it has not reached the second rea

ppose will beco

said Eleanor with a pang at her heart. "

will take it up as his own cause,

as silent. She took up the pap

se, poor old gentleman; there is nobody so bad to be out of humour with as yourself;-"put that down!

d, for it was di

swer. Are you going to be an obedient child, a

ir, in everything but

ing, any more

an he has? W

teem and regard, sir-an

ot marry him, as

I ca

give up being

. I will not go to church, pap

The Squire got up out of his chair. He h

sister to think there

arties, I sup

y are wicked, and

servant of Christ; and I can do no work for my Master the

all this if you did not give it up-and I stand to my word. You come here to-morrow morning, prepared to put your hand in Mr. Carlisle's and let him know that you will be his obedient servant-or, yo

adiness to attend her on a journey the next day. The orders were given clearly and distinctly as usual; but Thomas shook his head as he went down from her presence at the white face his young mistress had worn. "She don't

henever she stopped to think, the tears would come. But she grew quiet; and was only pale still, when at an early hour in the morning she left the house. She could not bear to go through a parting scene with her father; she knew him better

d had a note from him, promising her all freedom for all her religious predilections and opinions-leave to do what she would, if she would only b

her, one sorrowful and disagreeable page of life's book was turned over. London was gone, and she was in the midst of the country again, and the country was at the beginning of June. Green fields and roses and flowery hedge-rows, and sweet air, all wooed her back to hopefulness. Hopefulness for the moment stole in. Eleanor thought things could hardly continue so bad as they seemed. It was not natura

nobody thought of great marriages or settlements, or when such thoughts lay all hidden in Mrs. Powle's mind. Every tree and room and book was so full of good and homely associations of the past, that it half broke Eleanor's heart. Home associations now so broken up; the family divided, literally and otherwise; and worst of all, and over which Eleanor's tears flowed bitterest, her own ministrations and influence were cut off from those who most needed them and whom she most wished to benefit. Eleanor's day at home was a day of tears; it was impossible to help it. The roses with their sweet faces looked remonstrance at her; the roads and walks an

d look at the place. Plassy never was more lovely. An aromatic breath, pure and strong, came from the hills and gathered the sweetness of the valleys. Roses and honeysuckles and jessamines and primroses, with a thousand others, loaded the air with their gifts to it, from Mrs. Caxton's garden and from all the fields and hedge-rows around. And one after another bit of hilly outline reminded Eleanor that off there went the narrow valley that led to the little church at Glanog; there went the road to the village, where she and Powis had gone s

yet summon a servant; she left that part of the house and wound about among the passages till she came to the back door that led out into the long tiled porch where supper was wont to be spread. And there was the table set this evening; and the wonted glow from the sunny west greeted

axton. "My dear love! what

t, every word of it, as well as the embrace of those kind a

you here,

sent me awa

ters. She put Eleanor into a seat, and looked at her, and took off her bonnet with he

I come to you because I

have you, for any cause. Wait, and

nt; gave some orders, and returned to her

s it, m

d she cried heartily for a minute, laying her head in its old resting-place. But that

match, aunty; and will not be

Mr. Car

es

rs. Caxton, a little tone of eagerne

aid Eleanor-"more than a year ago

oing on again. I expected

the world had a great deal of reason

o, Ele

and Mr. Carlisle

owes it to herself and to her suitor a

I never encouraged him with more favour than I gave others. I could not help being with him, for mamma and he had it so; and they were too much for me. I

t way,

er eye roved over Mrs. Caxton's face and looked into her quiet grey eyes, with a kind of glinting of some spirit fire within, which could almost be seen to play and flicker as thought and feeling swayed to and fro. Her eye said that much was to be said, looked into Mrs. Caxton's f

r ch

nor's cheek at that; sh

rcumstances too strong for me; and to draw me by degree

u learned he

ies and theatres and the opera, and I had got bewildered and forgotten that a great worldly establishmen

Eleanor's cheeks than her words ac

in danger from the

hink it never so m

his own risk," said Mrs. Caxton

e a strange homeles

e her one or two good strong kisses. There was reproof as well as

tions. They cannot be homeless. And for the rest, remember that whatever brings you here

f the air coming in at the casements. How peaceful and undisturbed the old furniture looked. The influence of the place began to

em. Then how Mrs. Caxton's own household had prospered; how the dairy went on; and there were some favourite cows that Eleanor desired to hear of. From the cows they got to the garden. And all the while the lovely meadow valley lay spread out in its greenness before Eleanor; the beautiful old hills drew the same loved outline across the sunset sky; the lights and

ike the very same eveni

a year," sai

the evening light, as the servants were clearing away the table. Perhaps the mounta

rstand a little better about this affair that

I am sent from them at home; but sent t

rm assigned to

rlisle's wishes, or giving up being, as papa says, a Meth

ink better of

ust now when I am so needed at home. Papa is unwell-and I was beginning to get his ear,-and I have great influence over

anor; that is all your concern. The

ng. It is hard to see how

they cannot glorify him; and he never sends them where they have not work to do or a le

lled very full; s

the like renovating influence. Eleanor breathed it while they sat at the table; she felt she had got back into her element. She felt it more and more when at family prayer the whole household were met together, and she heard her aunt's sweet and high petitions again. And