ention on writing out the
meditation she had just heard from Dr. Easterby.

It had been a strange time. All externally was a great hush. There
was perfect rest from the tumult of society, and from the harassing
state of tacit resistance habitual to her. This was the holy
quietude for which she had longed, yet where was the power to feel
and profit by it? Did not the peace without only make her hear the
storm within all the more?

A storm had truly been raging within ever since Conny Strangeways
had triumphantly exhibited the prize she had won from Frank Charnock
at the races; and Camilla had taken care that full and undeniable
evidence should prove that this was not all that the young man had
lost upon the Backsworth race-ground.

Lenore might guess, with her peculiarly painful intuition, who had
been the tempter, but that did not lessen her severity towards the
victim. In her resolution against a betting man, had she not
trusted Frank too implicitly even to warn him of her vow? Nay, had
she not felt him drifting from her all through the season, unjustly
angered, unworthily distrustful, easily led astray? All the
misgivings that had fretted her at intervals and then cleared away
seemed to gather into one conviction--Frank had failed her!

Eleonora's nature was one to resent before grieving. Her spirit was
too high to break down under the first shock, and she carried her
head proudly to the ball, betraying by no outward sign the stern
despair of her heart, as she listened to the gay chatter of her
companions, and with unflinching severity she carried out that
judicial reply to Frank which she had already prepared, and then
guarded herself among numerous partners against remonstrance or
explanation. It had been all one whirl of bewilderment; Lady
Tyrrell tired, and making the girls' intended journey on the morrow
a plea for early departure; and the Strangeways, though dancing
indefatigably, and laughing at fatigue, coming away as soon as they
saw she really wished it. All said good night and good-bye
together, both to Lady Tyrrell and Sir Harry, and Lenore started at
ten o'clock without having seen either. Her sense of heroism lasted
till after the glimpse of Frank on the road. Her mood was of bitter
disappointment and indignation. Frank was given up, but not less so
were her father, her sister, and the world. Sir Harry had made
Camilla suffice to him, he did not want her. He had been the means
of per