ekeeping duties were fairly in hand. She had begun to find out,
too, what Mr. Rhys had foretold her respecting visitors. They came in
groups and singly, at all hours nearly on some days, to see the new
house and the new furniture and the new wife of "Misi Risi." Eleanor
could not talk to them; she could only be looked at, and answer through
an interpreter their questions and requests, and watch with unspeakable
interest these strange poor people, and admire with unceasing
admiration Mr. Rhys's untiring kindness, patience, and skill, in
receiving and entertaining them. They wanted to see and understand
every new thing and every new custom. They were polite in their
curiosity, but insatiable; and Mr. Rhys would shew and explain and
talk, and never seem annoyed or weary; and then, whenever he got a
chance, put in his own claim for attention, and tell them of the
Gospel. Eleanor always knew from his face and manner, and from theirs,
when this sort of talk was going on; and she listened strangely to the
unknown words in which her heart went along so blindly. When he thought
her not needed, or when he thought her tired, Mr. Rhys would dismiss
her to her own room, which he would not have invaded; and Eleanor's
reverence for her husband grew with every day, although she would not
at the beginning have thought that possible.

At the end of these first few days, Eleanor went one afternoon into Mr.
Rhys's study. He was in full tide of work now. The softly swinging door
let her in without much noise, and she stood still in the middle of the
room, in doubt whether to disturb him or no. He was busy at his
writing-table. But Mr. Rhys had good ears, even when he was busy. While
she stood there, he looked up at her. She was a pretty vision for a man
to see and call wife. She was in one of the white dresses that had
stirred Mrs. Esthwaite's admiration; its spotless draperies were in as
elegant order as ever they had been for Mrs. Powle's drawing room; the
rich banded brown hair was in as graceful order. She stood there very
bright, very still, looking at him.

"You have been working a long time, Rowland. You want to stop and rest."

"Come here, and rest me," he answered stretching out his hand.

"Rowland," said Eleanor when she had been standing a minute beside him.
"Mrs. Balliol wants me to cut off my hair."

Mr. Rhys looked up at her, for with one arm round her he was still
bending attention upon his work. He glanced up as if in do