had sought
this interview; but still the part of Iphigenia was to be played out.
The gods had heard her prayer, granted her request, and were they not
to have their promised sacrifice? Eleanor was not a girl to defraud
them wilfully; so, as soon as she decently could, she got up for her
bonnet.

"Are you going so soon?" said Bold, who half an hour since would
have given a hundred pounds that he was in London, and she still at
Barchester.

"Oh yes!" said she. "I am so much obliged to you; papa will feel
this to be so kind." She did not quite appreciate all her father's
feelings. "Of course I must tell him, and I will say that you will
see the archdeacon."

"But may I not say one word for myself?" said Bold.

"I'll fetch you your bonnet, Eleanor," said Mary, in the act of
leaving the room.

"Mary, Mary," said she, getting up and catching her by her dress;
"don't go, I'll get my bonnet myself." But Mary, the traitress, stood
fast by the door, and permitted no such retreat. Poor Iphigenia!

And with a volley of impassioned love, John Bold poured forth the
feelings of his heart, swearing, as men do, some truths and many
falsehoods; and Eleanor repeated with every shade of vehemence the
"No, no, no," which had had a short time since so much effect; but
now, alas! its strength was gone. Let her be never so vehement, her
vehemence was not respected; all her "No, no, no's" were met with
counter-asseverations, and at last were overpowered. The ground was
cut from under her on every side. She was pressed to say whether her
father would object; whether she herself had any aversion (aversion!
God help her, poor girl! the word nearly made her jump into his arms);
any other preference (this she loudly disclaimed); whether it was
impossible that she should love him (Eleanor could not say that it
was impossible): and so at last all her defences demolished, all her
maiden barriers swept away, she capitulated, or rather marched out
with the honours of war, vanquished evidently, palpably vanquished,
but still not reduced to the necessity of confessing it.

And so the altar on the shore of the modern Aulis reeked with no
sacrifice.

Chapter XII

MR BOLD'S VISIT TO PLUMSTEAD

Whether or no the ill-natured prediction made by certain ladies in
the beginning of the last chapter was or was not carried out to the
letter, I am not in a position to state. Eleanor, however, certainly
did feel herself to have been baf