left it for her niece to
speak next.

"I have thought of all that, aunt Caxton," Eleanor repeated after a
little while,--"and--"

"Well my love?"

"Aunt Caxton," said the girl, looking up now while her cheeks and brow
were all one crimson flush--"is it unmaidenly in me--would it be--to go
so, without being asked?"

"Has he not asked you?"

"Yes ma'am. But--"

"What?"

"Not since he got there."

"Have you reason to think his mind is altered on the subject?"

"No, ma'am," said Eleanor, drooping her head.

"What does your own feeling bid you do, my love?"

"I have thought it all over, aunt Caxton," said the girl slowly,--"I
did that last night; I have thought of everything about it; and my
feeling was--"

"Well, my love?"

"My feeling, as far as I am concerned--was to take the first good
opportunity that offered."

"My love, that is just what I thought you would do. And what I would
have you do, if you go at all. It is not unmaidenly. Simple honest
frankness, is the most maidenly thing in the world, when it is a
woman's time to speak. The fact that your speaking must be action does
not alter the matter. When it takes two years for people to hear from
each other, life would very soon be spent in the asking of a few
questions and getting the answers to them. I am a disinterested
witness, Eleanor; for when you are gone, all I care for in this world
is gone. You are my own child to me now."

Eleanor's head bent lower.

"But I am glad to have you go, nevertheless, my child. I think Mr. Rhys
wants you even more than I do; and I have known for some time that you
wanted something. And besides--I shall only be separated from you in
body."

Eleanor made no response.

"What are you going to do now?" was Mrs. Caxton's question in her usual
calm tone.

"Write to mamma."

"Very well. Do not send your letter to her without letting mine go with
it."

"But aunt Caxton," said Eleanor lifting up her head,--"my only fear
is--I am quite satisfied in my own mind, and I do not care for
people--my only fear is, lest Mr. Rhys himself should think I come too
easily. You know, he is fastidious in his notions." She spoke with
great difficulty and with her face a flame.

"Your fear will go away when you have heard my story," said Mrs. Caxton
tranquilly. "I will give you that to-night. He is fastidious; but he is
a sensible man."

Quieted with which suggestion, Eleanor went off to her desk.

CHAPTER XI.

IN