shew."

"But you will bring her back to dinner? do, brother Rhys. We shall have
dinner presently. You'll be back?"

"If the survey is over in time--but I do not think it will," he
answered gravely.

"Then tea--you will come then? Let us all be together at tea. Will you?"

"It is a happiness we have had no visitors before dinner! I will see
about it, sister Balliol, thank you; and take advice."

And glad was Eleanor when they got away; which was immediately, for Mr.
Rhys's motions were prompt. He led her now not to the wicket by which
she had come, but another way, through the garden wilderness still,
till another slight paling with a wicket in it was passed and the
wilderness took a somewhat different character. The same plants and
trees were to be seen, but order and pleasantness of arrangement were
in place of vegetable confusion; neat walks ran between the luxuriant
growing bananas, and led gradually nearer to the river; till another
house came in view; and passing round the gable end of it, Eleanor
could cast her eye along the building and take the effect. It was long
and low, with a high picturesque thatched roof, and the walls
fancifully wrought in a pattern, making a not unpretty appearance. The
door was in the middle; she had no time to see more, for Mr. Rhys
unlocked it and led her in.

The interior was high, wide, and cool and pleasant after the hot sun
without; but again she had no time to make observations. Mr. Rhys led
her immediately on to an inner room. Eleanor's eyes were dazed and her
heart was beating; she could hardly see anything, except, as one takes
impressions without seeing, that this answered to the inner room at
Mrs. Balliol's, and had far more the air of being furnished and
pleasantly habitable. What gave it the air she could not tell; for Mr.
Rhys was unfastening her bonnet and throwing it off, and then taking
her sea-cloak from his arm and casting that somewhat carelessly away;
and then his arms enfolded her. It was the first time they had been
really alone since her coming; and now he was silent, so silent that
Eleanor could scarcely bear it. She was aware his eyes were studying
her fixedly, and she felt as if they could see nothing beside the
conscious mounting of the blood from cheek to brow, which reached what
to her was a painful flush. Probably he saw it, for the answer came in
a little closer pressure of the arms that were about her. She ventured
to look up at last; she was un