"Shall I give you back your liberty?" said he, drawing her into his arms. Eleanor was silent. Their touch manifested no such intention. He bent his head lower and said softly, "Kiss me, Eleanor."
There was, as before, just that mingling of affection and exaction which conquered her. She knew all she was giving, but she half dared not and half cared not to refuse.
"You little witch—" said he as he took possession of the just permitted lips,—"I will punish you for your naughtiness, by taking you home very soon—into my own management."
Mrs. Powle was in Eleanor's room when she entered; waiting there for her.
"Well Eleanor," she began,—"is it settled? Are you to be Lady
Rythdale?"
"If Mr. Carlisle has his will, ma'am."
"And what is your will?"
"I have none any longer. But if you and he try to hurry on the day, mamma, it shall never come,—never!"
Mrs. Powle thought she would leave that matter in more skilful hands; and went away well satisfied.