of understanding are
equal to the old gentleman's, unless I am mistaken in myself. What are
you unhappy about, darling?"

"Nothing that you could make anything of," said Eleanor. "I was talking
to Dr. Cairnes in a language that you do not understand. Do let it
alone!"

"Did he report you truly, to have used the English word 'unhappy'?"

"Yes," said Eleanor; "but Mr. Carlisle, you do not know what you are
talking about."

"I am coming to it. Darling, do you think you would be unhappy at the
Priory?"

"I did not say that--" said Eleanor, confused.

"Do you think I could make you happy there?--Speak, Eleanor--speak!"

"Yes--if I could be happy anywhere."

"What makes you unhappy? My wife must not hide her heart from me."

"Yes, but I am not that yet," said Eleanor with spirit, rousing up to
assert herself.

He laughed and kissed her. "How long first, Eleanor?"

"I am sure I don't know. Very long."

"What is very long?"

"I do not know. A year or two at least."

"Do you suppose I will agree to that?"

Eleanor knew he would not; and further saw a quiet purpose in his face.
She was sure he had fixed upon the time, if not the day. She felt those
cobweb bands all around her. Here she was, almost in bridal attire, at
his side already. She made no answer.

"Divide by twelve, and get a quotient, Eleanor."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean to have a merry Christmas--by your leave."

Christmas! that was what the doctor had said. Was it so far without her
leave? Eleanor felt angry. That did not hinder her feeling frightened.

"You cannot have it in the way you propose, Mr. Carlisle. I am not
ready for that."

"You will be," he said coolly. "I shall be obliged to go up to London
after Christmas; then I mean to instal you in Berkeley Square; and in
the summer you shall go to Switzerland with me. Now tell me, my
darling, what you are unhappy about?"

Eleanor felt tongue-tied and powerless. The last words had been said
very affectionately, and as she was silent they were repeated.

"It is nothing you would understand."

"Try me."

"It is nothing that would interest you at all."

"Not interest me!" said he; and if his manner had been self-willed, it
was also now as tender and gentle as it was possible to be. He folded
Eleanor in his arms caressingly and waited for her words. "Not interest
me! Do you know that from your riding-cap to the very gloves you pull
on and off, there is nothing that touches you that