more reasons than it would do to let
Mr. Carlisle see.

"You do not believe that?" he said, coming with his brilliant eyes to
find her out where her thoughts had plunged her. Eleanor came forth of
them immediately and answered.

"No more, than that one of those fieldfares, if you should catch it and
fasten a leash round its neck, would say it was well done that its time
of free flying was over."

"My bird shall soar higher from the perch where I will place her, than
ever she ventured before."

"Ay, and stoop to your lure, Mr. Carlisle!"

He laughed at this flash, and took instant tribute of the lips whose
sauciness tempted him.

"Do you wonder," he said softly, "that I want to have my tassel-gentle
on my hand?"

Eleanor coloured again, and was wisely silent.

"I am afraid you are not ambitious, Eleanor."

"Is that such a favourite vice, that you wish I were?"

"Vice! It is a virtue, say rather; but not for a woman," he added in a
different tone. "No, I do not wish you any more of it, Nellie, than a
little education will give."

"You are mistaken, though, Macintosh. I am very ambitious," Eleanor
said gravely.

"Pray in what line? Of being able to govern Tippoo without my help?"

"Is it Tippoo that I am to ride to-day?"

"Yes. I will give you a lesson. What line does your ambition take,
darling?"

"I have a great ambition--higher and deeper than you can think--to be a
great deal better than myself."

She said it lowly and seriously, in a way that sufficiently spoke her
earnestness. It was just as well to let Mr. Carlisle know now and then
which way her thoughts travelled. She did not look up till the
consciousness of his examining eyes upon her made her raise her own.
His look was intent and silent, at first grave, and then changing into
a very sunny smile with the words--

"My little Saint Eleanor?"--

They were inimitably spoken; it is difficult to say how. The
graciousness, and affection, and only a very little tender raillery
discernible with them, at once smote and won Eleanor. What could she do
to make amends to this man for letting him love her, but to be his wife
and give him all the good she could? She answered his smile, and if
hers was shy and slight it was also so gentle that Mr. Carlisle was
more than content.

"If you have no other ambition than that," he said, "then the wise man
is proved wrong who said that moderation is the sloth of the soul, as
ambition is its activity."

"Wh