u not?"

"I do not mean to expect them till they come," said Eleanor, still
smiling.

"Do you think that is wise?" said the other gravely. "They will come, I
assure you, fast enough; do you not think it is well to prepare the
mind for what it has to go through, by looking at it beforehand?"

"You never know beforehand what is to be gone through," said Eleanor.

"But you know some things; and it is well, I think, to harden oneself
against what is coming. I have found that sort of discipline very
useful. Sister, may I ask you a searching questions?"

"Certainly! If you please," said Eleanor.

"You know, we should be ready to give every one a reason of the hope
that is in us. I want to ask you, sister, what moved you to go on a
mission?"

Astonishment almost kept Eleanor silent; then noticing the quick eyes
of Mrs. Balliol repeating the enquiry at her face, the difficulty of
answering met and joined with a small tide of indignation at its being
demanded of her. She did not want to be angry, and she was very near
being ready to cry. Her mind was in that state of overwrought fulness
when a little stir is more than the feelings can bear. Among
conflicting tides, the sense of the ludicrous at last got the
uppermost; and she laughed, as one laughs whose nerves are not just
under control; heartily and merrily. Mrs. Balliol was confounded.

"I should not have thought it was a laughing matter,"--she remarked at
length. But the gravity of that threw Eleanor off again; and the little
hands and ruffled sleeves were reviewed under new circumstances. And
when Eleanor got command of herself, she still kept her hand over her
eyes, for she found that she was just trembling into tears. She held it
close pressed upon them.

"Perhaps you are fatigued, sister?" said Mrs. Balliol, in utter
incapacity to account for this demonstration.

"Not much. I beg your pardon!" said Eleanor. "I believe I am a little
unsettled at first getting here. If you please, I will try being quite
quiet for awhile--if you will let me be so discourteous?"

"Do so!" said Mrs. Balliol. "Anything to rest you." And Eleanor went
back to her window, and turning her face to the garden again rested her
head on her hand; and there was a hush. Mrs. Balliol worked and mused,
probably. Eleanor did as she had said; kept quiet. The quiet lasted a
long time, and the tropical day grew up into its meridian heats; yet it
was not oppressive; a fine breeze relieved it and ma