len upon for thinking of
anything but my task-work. So I'll take a leaf out of your book,
you cautious Lenore, and wait till I come down victorious, happy and
glorious--and I shall now. I feel as if you had given me power to
scale Olympus, now I know I may carry your heart with me. Do you
remember this, Lena?" He guided her hand to the smooth pebble on
his chain. She responded by putting her own into his.

"My talisman!" he said. "It has been my talisman of success many a
time. I have laid my hand on it, and thought I was working for you.
Mine! mine! mine! Waters cannot quench love--never fear."

"Hush!" as the light of the opening hall door was seen, and Lady
Tyrrell's voice was heard, saying, "I thought we passed her; I am
sure she was near."

Eleonora withdrew her arm, patted Frank back, waved him into
silence, and went forward, saying, "Here I am, Camilla; I walked
home."

Her voice was calm and self-contained as ever--the unassailable
dignity just as usual. The hall was full of officers, standing
about the fire and drinking tea, and Eleonora's well-worn armour was
instantly on, as her sister asked where she had been, since others
had walked home and had not overtaken her.

"I came by the lower road," said she.

"Indeed! I never saw you."

"I saw you pass--or rather heard you."

"And did not let me pick you up! Did you hide yourself?"

"It was much warmer to walk."

"So you seem to have found it, to judge by your cheeks," said Lady
Tyrrell.

And Mr. Strangeways and one or two others could not restrain a
murmured exclamation on the exceeding loveliness of that deepened
colour and brightened eye; but Lenore only knew that an equally
bright and keen eye was watching her heedfully, and knew that she
was suspected, if not read through and through.

She mingled in the discussion of the skating, with those outward
society-senses that she learnt to put on, and escaped as soon as
possible to her own room.

Again she almost fell on the ground in her own little oratory
chamber, in a tumult of gladness that was almost agony, and fear
that was almost joy.

She wanted to give thanks that Frank had become so wholly and
avowedly hers, and for that deep intense affection that had gone on,
unfed, uncherished, for years; but the overflow of delight was
checked with foreboding--there was the instinctive terror of a
basilisk eye gazing into her paradise of joy--the thanksgiving ran
into a half-despairing