oked up.

"It is true, aunt Caxton. I come to you because I have nowhere else to
be."

"My love, it is a great happiness to have you, for any cause. Wait, and
tell me what the matter is by and by."

She left Eleanor for a moment, only a moment; gave some orders, and
returned to her side. She sat down and took Eleanor's hand.

"What is it, my dear?"

And then Eleanor's composure, which she had thought sure, gave way all
of a sudden; and she cried heartily for a minute, laying her head in
its old resting-place. But that did her good; and then she kissed Mrs.
Caxton over and over before she began to speak.

"They want me to make a great match, aunty; and will not be satisfied
with anything else."

"What, Mr. Carlisle?"

"Yes."

"And is that all broken off?" said Mrs. Caxton, a little tone of
eagerness discernible under her calm manner.

"It was broken off a year ago," said Eleanor--"more than a year ago. It
has always been broken since."

"I heard that it was all going on again. I expected to hear of your
marriage."

"It was not true. But it is true, that the world had a great deal of
reason to think so; and I could not help that."

"How so, Eleanor?"

"Mamma, and papa, and Mr. Carlisle. They managed it."

"But in such a case, my dear, a woman owes it to herself and to her
suitor and to her parents too, to be explicit."

"I do not think I compromised the truth, aunt Caxton," said Eleanor,
passing her hand somewhat after a troubled fashion over her brow. "Mr.
Carlisle knew I never encouraged him with more favour than I gave
others. I could not help being with him, for mamma and he had it so;
and they were too much for me. I could not help it. So the report grew.
I had a difficult part to play," said Eleanor, repeating her troubled
gesture and seeming ready to burst into tears.

"In what way, my love?"

Eleanor did not immediately answer; sat looking off over the meadow as
if some danger existed to self-control; then, still silent, turned and
met with an eloquent soft eye the sympathizing yet questioning glance
that was fixed on her. It was curious how Eleanor's eye met it; how her
eye roved over Mrs. Caxton's face and looked into her quiet grey eyes,
with a kind of glinting of some spirit fire within, which could almost
be seen to play and flicker as thought and feeling swayed to and fro.
Her eye said that much was to be said, looked into Mrs. Caxton's face
with an intensity of half-speech,--and the