Very simple words; words that to some ears have become trite with repetition; but thoughts that went down into the depths of Eleanor's heart and garrisoned themselves there, beyond the power of any attacks to dislodge. Her gravity and indifference piqued Mr. Carlisle, curiosity and affection both. He spent the evening in trying to overcome them; with very partial success. When he was leaving her, Eleanor drew the letter from her pocket.
"What is this?" said he taking it.
"Only a letter for you."
"From you! The consideration of that must not be postponed." He broke the seal. "Come, sit down again. I will read it here."
"Not now! Take it home, Macintosh, and read it there. Let it wait so long."
"Why?"
"Never mind why. Do! Because I ask you."
"I don't believe I can understand it without you beside me," said he smiling, and drawing the letter from its envelope while he looked at her.
"But there is everybody here," said Eleanor glancing at another part of the room where the rest of the family were congregated. "I would rather you took it home with you."
"It is something that requires serious treatment?"