"It is the Priory. The new Priory, it ought to be called; I am sure the old one is down there in the valley yet—beneath it." But Eleanor's colour rose.
"What do you think of that place?"
"Considering that the old priory and its grounds belong to it, I think it must be one of the loveliest places in England."
"I should like to see it in your possession—" Mrs. Powle remarked, going on with her tissue paper.
Eleanor also went on assiduously with her drawing, and her colour remained a rich tint. But she went on frankly with her words too.
"I am not sure, mamma, that I like the owner of it well enough to receive such a valuable gift from him."
"He likes you, quite well enough to bestow it on you, without asking any questions," said Mrs. Powle. "He hardly thinks it is worth having, unless you have it too."
"That is inconvenient," said Eleanor.
"It strikes me the other way," said her mother.
"How do you know this, which you affirm so securely, mamma?"