Volume II Part 9 (1/2)
”In what?”
”To love Christ, and please him.”
”Why, do you love him?” said Julia. ”Are you like Mr. Rhys?”
”Not much. But I do love the same Master he loves, Julia; and I have come home to serve him. You will help me?”
”Mamma don't like all that,” remarked Julia.
Eleanor sighed. The burden on her heart seemed growing heavy. Julia half rose up and putting both arms round her neck covered her lips with kisses.
”You don't seem like yourself!” she said; ”and you look as grave as if you had found us all dead. Eleanor--are you afraid?” she said with an earnest look.
”Afraid of what, dear?”
”Of that man--afraid of Mr. Carlisle?”
”No, I am not afraid of him, or of anything. Besides, he is hundreds of miles away, in Switzerland or somewhere.”
”No he isn't; he is here.”
”What do you mean by 'here?'”
”In England, I mean. He isn't at the Priory; but he was here at the Lodge the other day.”
Eleanor's heart made two or three springs one way and another.
”No dear, I am not afraid of him,” she repeated, with a quietness that was convincing; and Julia pa.s.sed to other subjects. Eleanor did not forget that one; and as Julia ran on with her talk, she pondered it, and made a secret thanksgiving that she was so escaped both from danger and from fear. Nevertheless she could not help thinking about the subject. It seemed that Mr. Carlisle's wound had healed very rapidly.
And moreover she had not given him credit for finding any attraction in that house, beyond her own personal presence in it. However, she reflected that Mr. Carlisle was busy in politics, and perhaps cultivated her father. They went in again, to take up the subject of Brighton.
And what followed? Muslins, flowers, laces, bonnets and ribbands. They were very irksome days to Eleanor, that were spent in getting ready for Brighton; and the thought of the calm purity of Pla.s.sy with its different occupations sometimes came over her and for the moment unnerved her hands for the finery they had to handle. Once Eleanor took a long rambling ride alone on her old pony; she did not try it again.
Business and bustle was better, at least was less painful, than such a time for thinking and feeling. So the dresses were made, and they went to Brighton.
CHAPTER IV.
AT A WATERING-PLACE.
”In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!”
Eleanor was at once plunged into a whirl of engagements, with acquaintances new and old. And the former cla.s.s multiplied very rapidly. Mrs. Powle's fair curls hung on either side of her face with almost their full measure of complacency, as she saw and beheld her daughter's successful attractions. It was true. Eleanor was found to have something unique about her; some said it was her beauty, some said it was her manners; some insisted it was neither, but had a deeper origin; at any rate she was fresh. Something out of the common line and that piqued curiosity, was delightful; and in despite of her very moderate worldly advantages, compared with many others who were there, Eleanor Powle seemed likely to become in a little while the belle of Brighton. Certain rumours which were afloat no doubt facilitated and expedited this progress of things. Happily Eleanor did not hear them.
The rush of engagements and whirl of society at first was very wearying and painful to her. No heart had Eleanor to give to it. Only by putting a force upon herself, to please her father and mother, she managed to enter with some spirit into the amus.e.m.e.nts going forward, in which she was expected to take an active part. Perhaps this very fact had something to do with the n.o.ble and sweet disengagedness of manner which marked her unlike those about her, in a world where self-interest of some sort is the ruling motive. It was not Eleanor's world; it had nothing to do with the interests that were dear in her regard; and something of that carelessness which she brought to it conferred a grace that the world imitates in vain. Eleanor found however after a little, that the rush and hurry of her life and of all the people about her had a contagion in it; her own thoughts were beginning to be absorbed in what absorbed everybody; her own cherished interests were getting pushed into a corner. Eleanor resolved to make a stand then, and secure time enough to herself to let her own inner life have play and breathing room. But it was very difficult to make such a stand.
Mrs. Powle ever stood like a watchman at the door to drive Eleanor out when she wanted to be in. Time! there seemed to be no time.
Eleanor had heard that Mr. Carlisle was expected at Brighton; so she was not greatly surprised one evening to find herself in the same room with him. It was at a public a.s.sembly. The glances that her curiosity cast, found him moving about among people very like, and in very exactly the manner of his old self. No difference that she could see.
She wondered whether he would have the audacity to come and speak to her. Audacity was not a point in which Mr. Carlisle was failing. He came; and as he came others scattered away; melted off, and left her alone.