LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

fancy, but to her they spoke unqualified content both with her opposition and her yielding. She was chafed with the consciousness that she had been obliged to yield; vexed to feel that she was not her own mistress; even while the kisses that stopped her lips told her how much love mingled with her captor's power. There was no questioning that fact; it only half soothed Eleanor.

      Mr. Carlisle bade her sit down and rest, while he went to see if the horses were there. Eleanor sat down dreamily on the old tombstone, and in the space of three minutes went over whole fields of thought. Her mind was in a perverse state. Before her the old tower of the ruined priory rose in its time-worn beauty, with the young honours of the ivy clinging all about it; on either side of her stretched the grey, ivied and mossy, crumbling walls. It was a magnificent place; if not her own mistress, it was a pleasant thing to be mistress of such as that; and a vision of gay grandeur floated over her mind. Still, in contrast with that vision, the quiet, ruined priory tower spoke of a different life – brought up a separate vision; of unworldly possessions, aims, hopes, and occupations; it was not familiar to Eleanor's mind, yet now somehow it rose upon her, with the feeling of that once-wanted, still desired, – only she had forgotten it – armour of security. Why did she think of it now? was it because Eleanor's mind was in that disordered state which lets everything come to the surface by turns; or because she was still suffering, from vexation, and her spirit chose contraries with a natural readiness and relish? It was not more than three minutes, but Eleanor travelled far in dream-land; so far that the sudden feeling of two hands upon her shoulders, brought her back with even a visible start. She was rallied and laughed at; then her hand was put upon Mr. Carlisle's arm and so Eleanor was walked out to where Black Maggie stood waiting for her. Of course she felt that her engagement was to be made known to all the world immediately. Mr. Carlisle's servant must know it now. It seemed to Eleanor that fine bands of cobwebs had been cast round her, binding her hands and feet, which loved their liberty. The feeling made one little imprudent burst. As Mr. Carlisle put Maggie's reins into her hand, he repeated what he had before said, that Eleanor should use her voice if the bridle failed to win obedience.

      "She is not of a rebellious disposition," he added.

      "Do you read dispositions?" said Eleanor, gathering up the reins. He stood at her saddle-bow.

      "Sometimes."

      "Do you know mine?"

      "Partially."

      "It is what you say Black Maggie's is not."

      "Is it? Take the reins a little shorter, Eleanor."

      It is difficult to say how much there may be in two short words; but as Mr. Carlisle went round to the other side and mounted, he left his little lady in a state of fume. Those two words said so plainly to Eleanor's ear, that her announcement was neither denied nor disliked. Nay, they expressed pleasure; the sort of pleasure that a man has in a spirited horse of which he is master. It threw Eleanor's mind into a tumult, so great that for a minute or two she hardly knew what she was about. But for the sound, sweet good temper, which in spite of Eleanor's self-characterising was part of her nature, she would have been in a rage. As it was, she only handled Black Maggie in a more stately style than she had cared about at the beginning of the ride; putting her upon her paces; and so rode through all the village, in a way that certainly pleased Mr. Carlisle, though he said nothing about it. He contrived however to aid in the soothing work done by Black Maggie's steps, so that long before Ivy Lodge was reached Eleanor's smile came free and sweet again, and her lip lost its ominous curve.

      "You are a darling!" Mr. Carlisle whispered as he took her down from her horse.

      Eleanor went on into the drawing-room. He followed her. Nobody was there.

      "What have you to say to me, Eleanor?" he said as he held her hand before parting.

      "Nothing whatever, Mr. Carlisle." Eleanor's frank brilliant smile gleamed mischievously upon him.

      "Will you not give me a word of kindness before I go?"

      "No! Mr. Carlisle, if I had my own way," said Eleanor switching her riding-whip nervously about her habit, – "I would be my own mistress for a good while longer."

      "Shall I give you back your liberty?" said he, drawing her into his arms. Eleanor was silent. Their touch manifested no such intention. He bent his head lower and said softly, "Kiss me, Eleanor."

      There was, as before, just that mingling of affection and exaction which conquered her. She knew all she was giving, but she half dared not and half cared not to refuse.

      "You little witch – " said he as he took possession of the just permitted lips, – "I will punish you for your naughtiness, by taking you home very soon – into my own management."

      Mrs. Powle was in Eleanor's room when she entered; waiting there for her.

      "Well Eleanor," she began, – "is it settled? Are you to be Lady Rythdale?"

      "If Mr. Carlisle has his will, ma'am."

      "And what is your will?"

      "I have none any longer. But if you and he try to hurry on the day, mamma, it shall never come, – never!"

      Mrs. Powle thought she would leave that matter in more skilful hands; and went away well satisfied.

      CHAPTER V.

      AT THE COTTAGE

      "This floating life hath but this port of rest,

      A heart prepared, that fears no ill to come."

      The matter was in skilful hands; for the days rolled on, after that eventful excursion, with great smoothness. Mr. Carlisle kept Eleanor busy, with some pleasant little excitement, every day varied. She was made to taste the sweets of her new position, and to depend more and more upon the hand that introduced her to them. Mr. Carlisle ministered carefully to her tastes. Eleanor daily was well mounted, generally on Maggie; and enjoyed her heart's delight of a gallop over the moor, or a more moderate pace through a more rewarding scenery. Mr. Carlisle entered into the spirit of her gardening pursuits; took her to his mother's conservatory; and found that he never pleased Eleanor better than when he plunged her into the midst of flowers. He took good care to advance his own interests all the time; and advanced them fast and surely. He had Eleanor's liking before; and her nature was too sweet and rich not to incline towards the person whom she had given such a position with herself, yielding to him more and more of faith and affection. And that in spite of what sometimes chafed her; the quiet sway she felt Mr. Carlisle had over her, beneath which she was powerless. Or rather, perhaps she inclined towards him secretly the more on account of it; for to women of rich natures there is something attractive in being obliged to look up; and to women of all natures it is imposing. So Mr. Carlisle's threat, by Eleanor so stoutly resisted and resented, was extremely likely to come to pass. Mrs. Powle was too wise to touch her finger to the game.

      Several weeks went by, during which Eleanor had no chance to think of anything but Mr. Carlisle and the matters he presented for her notice. At the end of that time he was obliged to go up to London on sudden business. It made a great lull in the house; and Eleanor began to sit in her garden parlour again and dream. While dreaming one day, she heard the voice of her little sister sobbing at the door-step. She had not observed before that she was sitting there.

      "Julia!" said Eleanor – "What is the matter?"

      Julia would not immediately say, but then faltered out, "Mr. Rhys."

      "Mr. Rhys! What of him?"

      "He's sick. He's going to die, I know."

      "How do you know he is sick? Come, stop crying, Julia, and speak. What makes you think he is sick?"

      "Because he just lies on the sofa, and looks so white, and he can't keep school. He sent away the boys yesterday."

      "Does he see the doctor?"

      "No. I don't know. No, I know he don't," said Julia; "because the old woman said he ought to see him."

      "What old woman, child?"

      "His old woman – Mrs. Williams. And mamma said I might have some jelly and some sago for him – and there is nobody to take it. Foster is out of the way, and

Скачать книгу