a contrast as it was to all the evenings since she had left home. Even
when John came, what a poor substitute for Elinor! The ingratitude of
those whose heart is set on one object made Mrs. Dennistoun thus make
light of what had been her great consolation. He was very kind, very
good, and oh, how glad she had been to see him through that heavy
winter--but he was not Elinor! It was enough for Elinor to step across
her mother's threshold to make Mrs. Dennistoun feel that there was no
substitute for her--none: and that John was of no more consequence than
the Rector or any habitual caller. But, at the same time, in all the
melody of the home-coming, in the sweetness of Elinor's voice, and look,
and kiss, in the perfection of seeing her there again in her own place,
and listening to her dear step running up and down the no longer silent
house, there were notes of disquiet which could not be mistaken. She was
not unhappy, the mother thought; her eyes could not be so bright, nor
her colour so fair unless she was happy. Trouble does not embellish, and
Elinor was embellished. But yet--there were notes of disquiet in the
air.

Next day Mrs. Dennistoun drove her child to the railway in order not
to lose a moment of so short a visit, and naturally, though she had
received that unexpected visit with rapture, feeling that a whole night
of Elinor was worth a month, a year of anybody else, yet now that Elinor
was going she found it very short. "You'll come again soon, my darling?"
she said, as she stood at the window of the carriage ready to say
good-bye.

"Whenever I can, mother dear, of that you may be sure; whenever I can
get away."

"I don't wish to draw you from your husband. Don't get away--come with
Philip from Saturday to Monday. Give him my love, and tell him so. He
shall not be bored; but Sunday is a day without engagements."

"Oh, not now, mamma. There are just as many things to do on Sundays as
on any other day."

There were a great many words on Mrs. Dennistoun's lips, but she did not
say them; all she did say was, "Well, then, Elinor--when you can get
away."

"Oh, you need not doubt me, mamma." And the train, which sometimes
lingers so long, which some people that very day were swearing at as so
slow, "Like all country trains," they said--that inevitable heartless
thing got into motion, and Mrs. Dennistoun watched it till it
disappeared; and--what was that that came over Elinor's face as she sank
back into the c