"I came early, to give you a great gallop to the other end of the moor—where you wished to go the other day. You are not fit for it now?"
"Hardly."
"Did you sit up with that girl last night?
"I sat up. She did not want much done for her. My being there was a great comfort to her."
"Far too great a comfort. You are a naughty child. Do you fancy,
Eleanor, your husband will allow you to do such things?"
"I must try to do what is right, Macintosh."
"Do you not think it will be right that you should pleasure me in what I ask of you?" he said very gently and with a caressing action which took away the edge of the words.
"Yes—in things that are right," said Eleanor, who felt that she owed him all gentleness because of the wrong she had done.
"I shall not ask you anything that is not right; but if I should,—the responsibility of your doing wrong will rest on me. Now do you feel inclined to practise obedience a little to day?"
"No, not at all," said Eleanor honestly, her blood rousing.