it. Though her face was grave enough, there was a beauty in
the lines of it that yesterday had not seen; a nameless witness in the
corners of her mouth, that told tales the tongue would not. Mrs. Caxton
looked on and saw it and read it, for half the breakfast time, before
she spoke. Maybe she had a secret sigh or two to cover; but at any rate
there was nothing like that in her look or her voice when she spoke.

"So you will go, Eleanor!"

Eleanor started, and coloured; then looked down at her plate, the blush
growing universal.

"Have you decided, my love?"

Eleanor leaned her head upon her hand, as if with the question came the
remembrance of last night's burden of thoughts; but her answer was a
quiet low "yes."

"May I know--for I feel myself responsible to a degree in this
matter,--may I know, on what ground?"

Eleanor's look was worth five hundred pounds. The little glance of
surprise and consciousness--the flash of hidden light, there was no
need to ask from what magazine, answered so completely, so
involuntarily. She cast down her eyes immediately and answered in words
sedate enough--

"Because I am unable to come to any other decision, ma'am."

"But Eleanor, my dear," said Mrs. Caxton,--"do you know, Mr. Rhys
himself would be unwilling you should come to him for his own sake
alone--in Fiji."

Eleanor turned away from the table at that and covered her face with
her hands; a perfect rush of confusion bringing over face and neck and
almost even over the little white fingers, a suffusing crimson glow.
She spoke presently.

"I cannot say anything to that, aunt Caxton. I have tried myself as
well as I can. I think I would go anywhere and do anything where I saw
clearly my work and my place were put for me. I do not know anything
more about it."

"My love, that is enough. I believe you. I entirely approve your
decision. I spoke, because I needed to ask the question _he_ would have
asked if he had been here. Mr. Rhys has written to me very stringently
on the subject."

"So he has to me, ma'am."

"If you have settled that question with your conscience, my dear, there
is no more necessary to be said about it. Conscience should be clear on
that point, and the question settled securely. If it is not, you had
better take time for thought and self-searching."

"I do not need it, aunt Caxton."

Mrs. Caxton left her place and came round to Eleanor, for the sole
purpose of taking her in her arms and kissing