Volume II Part 39 (2/2)
”No, mamma,” said Eleanor smiling. ”I never can persuade you of Australian geography.”
”Well it's New South Wales, isn't it?” said Mrs. Powle.
Eleanor a.s.sented.
”Very well. The girl that brings you your luncheon when you get there, may be the very one that stole my spoons three years ago. It's all the same thing. And you, Eleanor, you are so handsome, and you have the manners of a queen--Sister Caxton, you have no notion what admiration this girl excited, and what admiration she could command!”
Mrs. Caxton looked from the calm face of the girl, certainly handsome enough, to the vexed countenance of the mother; whose fair curls failed to look complacent for once.
”I suppose Eleanor thinks of another day,” she said; ”when the Lord will come to be admired in his saints and to be glorified in all them that believe. _That_ will be admiration worth having--if Eleanor thinks so, I confess I think so too.”
”Dear sister Caxton,” said Mrs. Powle restraining herself, ”what has the one thing to do with the other?”
”Nothing,” said Mrs. Caxton. ”To seek both is impossible.”
”_Do_ you think it is wicked to receive admiration? I did not think you went so far.”
”No,” said Mrs. Caxton, with her genial smile. ”We were talking of seeking it.”
Mrs. Powle was silent, and went away in a very ill humour.
CHAPTER XIV.
IN PARTINGS.
”The sun came up upon the left, Out of the sea came he!
And he shone bright, and on the right Went down into the sea.”
And the Tuesday came, and was fair; and under a bright sky the steamer ran down to Gravesend with Eleanor and her friends on board. Not Julia; Eleanor had given up all hopes of that; but Mrs. Caxton was beside her, and on the other side of her was Mrs. Powle. It was a terribly disagreeable journey to the latter; every feeling in her somewhat pa.s.sionless nature was in a state of fretful rebellion. The other stronger and deeper characters were ready for the time and met it bravely. Met it cheerfully too. The crisping breeze that curled the waters of the river, the blue sky and fair sunlight, the bright and beautiful of the scene around them, those two saw and tasted; with hopeful though very grave hearts. The other poor lady saw nothing but a dirty steamboat and a very unpropitious company. Among these however were Eleanor's fellow-voyagers, Mr. Amos and his wife; and she was introduced to them now for the first time. Various circ.u.mstances had prevented their meeting in London.
”A very common-looking man,”--whispered Mrs. Powle to Eleanor.
”I don't know, mamma,--but very good,” Eleanor returned.
”You are mad on goodness!” said Mrs. Powle. ”Don't you see anything else in a man, or the want of anything else? I do; a thousand things; and if a man is ever so good, I want him to be a gentleman too.”
”So do I,” said Eleanor smiling. ”But much more, mamma, if a man is ever so much a gentleman, I want him to be good. Isn't that the more important of the two?”
”No!” said Mrs. Powle. ”I don't think it is; not for society.”
Eleanor thought of Paul's words--”Henceforth know I no man after the flesh”--What was the use of talking? she and her mother must have the same vision before they could see the same things. And she presently forgot Mr. Amos and all about him; for in the distance she discerned signs that the steamer was approaching Gravesend; and knew that the time of parting drew near.
It came and was gone, and Eleanor was alone on the deck of the ”Diana;”
and in that last moment of trial Mrs. Powle had been the most overcome of the three. Eleanor's sweet face bore itself strongly as well; and Mrs. Caxton was strong both by life-habit and nature; and the view of each of them was far above that little s.h.i.+p-deck. Mrs. Powle saw nothing else. Her distress was very deep.
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