"Partially."
"It is what you say Black Maggie's is not."
"Is it? Take the reins a little shorter, Eleanor."
It is difficult to say how much there may be in two short words; but as Mr. Carlisle went round to the other side and mounted, he left his little lady in a state of fume. Those two words said so plainly to Eleanor's ear, that her announcement was neither denied nor disliked. Nay, they expressed pleasure; the sort of pleasure that a man has in a spirited horse of which he is master. It threw Eleanor's mind into a tumult, so great that for a minute or two she hardly knew what she was about. But for the sound, sweet good temper, which in spite of Eleanor's self-characterising was part of her nature, she would have been in a rage. As it was, she only handled Black Maggie in a more stately style than she had cared about at the beginning of the ride; putting her upon her paces; and so rode through all the village, in a way that certainly pleased Mr. Carlisle, though he said nothing about it. He contrived however to aid in the soothing work done by Black Maggie's steps, so that long before Ivy Lodge was reached Eleanor's smile came free and sweet again, and her lip lost its ominous curve.
"You are a darling!" Mr. Carlisle whispered as he took her down from her horse.
Eleanor went on into the drawing-room. He followed her. Nobody was there.
"What have you to say to me, Eleanor?" he said as he held her hand before parting.
"Nothing whatever, Mr. Carlisle." Eleanor's frank brilliant smile gleamed mischievously upon him.
"Will you not give me a word of kindness before I go?"
"No! Mr. Carlisle, if I had my own way," said Eleanor switching her riding-whip nervously about her habit,—"I would be my own mistress for a good while longer."