"Don't think me wicked," said Eleanor getting up at last. "I am not glad of anything but my own deliverance. Oh, Julia!"
"Poor Eleanor!" said her little sister wonderingly. "Then you don't want to be married and go to Rythdale?"
"Not Monday!" said Eleanor. "And now I shall not. It is not possible that a wedding and a funeral should be in one house on the same day. I know which they would put off if they could, but they have got to put off the other. O Julia, it is the saving of me!"
She caught the little one in her arms and sat with her so, their two heads nestling together, Eleanor's bowed upon her sister's neck.
"But Eleanor, will you not marry Mr. Carlisle after all?"
"I cannot,—for a good while, child."
"But then?"
"I shall never be married in a hurry. I have got breathing time—time to think. And I'll use it."
"And, O Eleanor! won't you do something else?"
"What?"