"Nothing. It speaks for itself. And these two sayings alone prove that he had no knowledge of what is really noble in men."
"Very few have," said Mr. Carlisle dryly.
"But you do not agree with him?"
"Not in these two instances. I have a living confutation at my side."
"Her accent is not perfect by any means," said Lady Rythdale.
"You are right, madam," said Eleanor, with a moment's hesitation and a little colour. "I had good advantages at school, but I did not avail myself of them fully."
"I know whose temper is perfect," said Mr. Carlisle, drawing the book from her hand and whispering, "Do you want to see the flowers?"
He was not pleased, Eleanor saw; he carried her off to the conservatory and walked about with her there, watching her pleasure. She wished she could have been alone. The flowers were quite a different society from Lady Rythdale's, and drew off her thoughts into a different channel. The roses looked sweetness at her; the Dendrobium shone in purity; myrtles and ferns and some exquisite foreign plants that she knew not by name, were the very prime of elegant refinement and refreshing suggestion. Eleanor plucked a geranium leaf and bruised it and thoughts together under her finger. Mr. Carlisle was called in and for a moment she was left to herself. When he came back his first action was to gather a very superb rose and fasten it in her hair. Eleanor tried to arrest his hand, but he prevented her.
"I do not like it, Macintosh. Lady Rythdale does not know me. Do not adorn me here!"
"Your appearance here is my affair," said he coolly. "Eleanor, I have a request to make. My mother would like to hear you sing."