ot dress so when he had control of her; and to get the control
seemed not easy; and the dress kept reminding him that he had it not.
On the whole probably all parties were glad when the sweet month of May
for that season came to an end. Even Eleanor was glad; for though she
had made up her mind what June would bring her, it is easier to grasp a
fear in one's hand, like a nettle, than to touch it constantly by
anticipation. So the first of June came.

CHAPTER VIII.

IN MAY.

"Come spur away!
I have no patience for a longer stay,
But must go down,
And leave the changeable noise of this great town;
I will the country see,
Where old simplicity,
Though hid in grey,
Doth look more gay
Than foppery in plush and scarlet clad."

Although Eleanor's judgment had said what the issue would be of that
day's conference, she had made no preparation to leave home. That she
could not do. She could not make certain before it came the weary
foreboding that pressed upon her. She went to her father's room after
dinner as usual, leaning her heart on that word which had been her
walking-staff for three weeks past. "The Lord is my portion, saith my
soul; therefore will I hope in him!"

Mrs. Powle was there, quietly knitting. The Squire had gathered himself
up into a heap in his easy chair, denoting a contracted state of mind;
after that curious fashion which bodily attitudes have, of repeating
the mental. Eleanor took the newspaper and sat down.

"Is there anything there particular?" growled the Squire.

"I do not see anything very particular, sir. Here is the continuation
of the debate on--"

"How about that bill of yours and Mr. Carlisle's?" broke in Mrs. Powle.

"It was ordered to be printed, mamma--it has not reached the second
reading yet. It will not for some time."

"What do you suppose will become of it then?"

"What the Lord pleases. I do not know," said Eleanor with a pang at her
heart. "I have done my part--all I could--so far."

"I suppose you expect Mr. Carlisle will take it up as his own cause,
after it has ceased to be yours?"

Eleanor understood this, and was silent. She took up the paper again to
find where to read.

"Put that down, Eleanor Powle," said her father who was evidently in a
very bad humour, as he had cause, poor old gentleman; there is nobody
so bad to be out of humour with as yourself;--"put that down! until we
know whether you are going to read to me any more or n