e game could go no further.
Eleanor began to put up the pieces, feeling worsted in more ways than
one. She had not dared to raise her eyes higher than that coat-sleeve;
and she knew at the same time that she herself had been thoroughly
overlooked. Those same fingers came now helping her to lay the
chess-men in the box, ordering them better than she did.

"I want to shew you some cottages I have been building beyond Rythdale
tower," said the owner of the fingers. "Will you ride with me to-morrow
to look at them?"

He waited for her answer, which Eleanor hesitated to give. But she
could not say no, and finally she gave a low yes. Her yes was so low,
it was significant; Eleanor knew it; but Mr. Carlisle went on in the
same tone.

"At what hour? At eleven?"

"That will do," said Eleanor, after hesitating again.

"Thank you."

He went on, taking the chess-men from her fingers as fast as she
gathered them up, and bestowing them in the box after a leisurely
manner; then rose and bowed and took his departure. Eleanor saw that he
did not hold any communication with her mother on his way out; and in
dread of Mrs. Powle's visitation of curiosity upon herself, she too
made as quick and as quiet an escape as possible to her own room. There
locked the door and walked the floor to think.

In effect she had given her answer, by agreeing to ride; she knew it.
She knew that Mr. Carlisle had taken it so, even by the slight freedom
with which his fingers touched hers in taking the chess-men from them.
It was a very little thing; and yet Eleanor could never recall the
willing contact of those fingers, repeated and repeated, without a
thrill of feeling that she had committed herself; that she had given
the end of the clue into Mr. Carlisle's hand, which duly wound up would
land her safe enough, mistress of Rythdale Priory. And was she
unwilling to be that? No--not exactly. And did she dislike Rythdale
Priory's master, or future master? No, not at all; nevertheless,
Eleanor did not feel quite willing to have him hers just yet; she was
not ready for that; and she chafed at feeling that the end of that clue
was in the hand of her chess-playing antagonist, and alternatives
pretty well out of her power. An alternative Eleanor would have liked.
She would have liked the play to have gone on for some time longer,
leaving her her liberty in all kinds; liberty to make up her mind at
leisure, among other things. She was not just now eager to b