"That question?—O no, aunt Caxton! It is all confusion; and it is all confused with another question."
There was more than talk in this evidently, for Eleanor's face had all darkened. Mrs. Caxton answered calmly,
"My dear, the first thing I would do, would be to separate them."
"Aunty, they are like two wrestlers; I cannot seem to separate them. If
I think of the one, I get hold of he other; and if I take up the other,
I am obliged to think of the one; and my mind is the fighting ground."
"Then the two questions are in reality one?"
"No, aunt Caxton—they are not. Only they both press for attention at once."
"Which is the most important?"
"This one—about which you asked me," Eleanor said, drooping her head a little.
"Then decide that to-day, Eleanor."
"Aunty, I have decided it—in one way. I am determined what I will be—if I can. Only I do not see how. And before I do see how,—perhaps—the other question may have decided itself; and then—Aunty, I cannot tell you about it to-day. Let me wait a few days; till I know you better and you have time to know me."