the ruling motive. It was not Eleanor's world; it had
nothing to do with the interests that were dear in her regard; and
something of that carelessness which she brought to it conferred a
grace that the world imitates in vain. Eleanor found however after a
little, that the rush and hurry of her life and of all the people about
her had a contagion in it; her own thoughts were beginning to be
absorbed in what absorbed everybody; her own cherished interests were
getting pushed into a corner. Eleanor resolved to make a stand then,
and secure time enough to herself to let her own inner life have play
and breathing room. But it was very difficult to make such a stand.
Mrs. Powle ever stood like a watchman at the door to drive Eleanor out
when she wanted to be in. Time! there seemed to be no time.

Eleanor had heard that Mr. Carlisle was expected at Brighton; so she
was not greatly surprised one evening to find herself in the same room
with him. It was at a public assembly. The glances that her curiosity
cast, found him moving about among people very like, and in very
exactly the manner of his old self. No difference that she could see.
She wondered whether he would have the audacity to come and speak to
her. Audacity was not a point in which Mr. Carlisle was failing. He
came; and as he came others scattered away; melted off, and left her
alone.

He came with the best air in the world; a little conscious, a little
apologetic, wholly respectful, not altogether devoid of the old
familiarity. He offered his hand; did not to be sure detain hers, which
would have been inconvenient in a public assembly; but he detained
_her_, falling into talk with an ease or an effrontery which it was
impossible not to admire. And Eleanor admired him involuntarily.
Certainly this man had capacities. He did not detain her too long;
passed away as easily as he had come up; but returned again in the
course of the evening to offer her some civility; and it was Mr.
Carlisle who put her mother and herself into their carriage. Eleanor
looked for a remark from her mother on the subject during their drive
home; but Mrs. Powle made none.

The next evening he was at Mrs. Powle's rooms, where a small company
was gathered every Tuesday. He might be excused if he watched, more
than he wished to be seen watching, the sweet unconscious grace and
ease with which Eleanor moved and spoke. Others noticed it, but Mr.
Carlisle drew comparisons; and found to his mysti