minute she could
not. She felt whirled back to Plassy, and to Wiglands, to the time of
their old and very different relations. She could not realize the new,
nor quietly understand her own happiness; and a very fresh vivid sense
of his character made her feel almost as much awe of him as affection.
That was according to old habit too. But if she felt shy and strange,
she was the only one; for Mr. Rhys was in a very gay mood. As they went
through the dining-room he stopped to shew and display to her numerous
odd little contrivances and arrangements; here a cupboard of rustic,
and very pretty too, native work; or at least native materials. There a
more sophisticated beaufet, which had come from Sydney by Mrs. Caxton's
order. "Dear Mrs. Caxton!" said Mr. Rhys,--"she has forgotten nothing.
I am only in astonishment what she can have found to fill your new
invoice of boxes."

"Why there are not many," said Eleanor.

He looked at her and laughed. "You will be doing nothing but unpacking
for days to come," he said. "I have done what I never thought I should
do--married a rich wife."

"Why aunt Caxton sends the things quite as much to you as to me."

"Does she?"

"I am sure, if anybody is poor, I am."

"If that speech means _me_," said Mr. Rhys with a little bit of
provokingness in the corners of his mouth,--"I don't take it. I do not
feel poor; and never did. Not to-day certainly, with whole shiploads
coming in."

"I do not know of a single unnecessary thing but your microscope."

"Have you brought that?" he said with a change of tone. "It would be
just like Mrs. Caxton to come out and make us a visit some day! I
cannot think of anything else she could give us, that she has not
given. Look at my book-cases."

Eleanor did, thinking of their owner. They were of plainest
construction, but so made that they would take to pieces in five
minutes and become packing cases with the books packed, all ready for
travel; or at pleasure, as now, stand up in their place in the study in
the form of very neat bookcases. They were not large; a Fijian
missionary's library had need be not too extensive; but Eleanor looked
over their contents with hurried delight.

The rest of the room also spoke of Mrs. Caxton; in light neat tables
and chairs and other things. Here too, though not a hand's turn had
apparently been wasted, everything, simple as it was, had a sort of
pleasantness of order and fitness which left the eye gratified. Elea