anor was conquered; she felt it, and chafed under
it. Mr. Carlisle opened a door and walked her into an apartment, large
and luxurious, the one evidently that his mother had designated. He
rang the bell.

"Arles," said he, "find this lady something that will fit her. She
wishes to change her dress. Do your best."

He went out and left Eleanor in the hands of the tire-woman. Eleanor
felt utterly out of countenance, but powerless; though she longed to
defy the maid and the mistress and say, "I will wear my own and nothing
else." Why could she not say it? She did not like to defy the master.

So Arles had her way, and after one or two rapid glances at the subject
of her cares and a moment's reflection on her introduction there, she
took her cue. "Blushes like that are not for nothing," thought Arles;
"and when Mr. Macintosh says 'Do your best'--why, it is easy to see!"

She was quick and skilful and silent; but Eleanor felt like a wild
creature in harness. Her riding-dress went off--her hair received a
touch, all it wanted, as the waiting maid said; and after one or two
journeys to wardrobes, Mrs. Arles brought out and proceeded to array
Eleanor in a robe of white lawn, very flowing and full of laces. Yet it
was simple in style, and Eleanor thought it useless to ask for a
change; although when the robing was completed she was dressed more
elegantly than she had ever been in her life. She was sadly ashamed,
greatly indignant, and mortified at herself; that she should be so
facile to the will of a person who had no right to command her. But if
she was dissatisfied, Arles was not; the deep colour in Eleanor's
cheeks only relieved her white drapery to perfection; and her beautiful
hair and faultless figure harmonized with flowing folds and soft laces
which can do so much for outlines that are not soft. Eleanor was not
without a consciousness of this; nevertheless, vanity was not her
foible; and her state of mind was anything but enviable when she left
the dressing-room for the gallery. But Mr. Carlisle was there, to meet
her and her mood too; and Eleanor found herself taken in hand at once.
He had a way of mixing affection with his power over her, in such a way
as to soothe and overawe at the same time; and before they reached the
drawing-room now Eleanor was caressed and laughed into good order;
leaving nevertheless a little root of opposition in her secret heart,
which might grow fast upon occasion.

She was taken into