Eleanor felt stung.
"Why do you say so, Julia?"
"Why, you always do what he tells you," said Julia, who was not apt to soften her communications. "He says 'Eleanor'—and you go that way; and he says 'Eleanor'—and you go the other way."
"And why do you suppose he would have any objection to my going this way?"
"I know"—said Julia. "I am glad he is in London. I hope he'll stay there."
Eleanor made no answer but to switch her dress and the bushes as they went by, with a little rod in her hand. There was more truth in the allegation than it pleased her to remember. She did not always feel her bonds at the time, they were so gently put on and the spell of another's will was so natural and so irresistible. But it chafed her to be reminded of it and to feel that it was so openly exerted and her own subjugation so complete. The switching went on vigorously, taking the bushes and her muslin dress impartially; and Eleanor's mind was so engrossed that she did not perceive how suddenly the weather was changing. They had passed through the village and left it behind, when Julia exclaimed, "There's a storm coming, Eleanor! maybe we can get in before it rains." It was an undeniable fact; and without further parley both sisters set off to run, seeing that there were very few minutes to accomplish Julia's hope. It began sprinkling already.
"It's going to be a real storm," said Julia gleefully. "Over the moor it's as black as thunder. I saw it through the trees."
"But where are you going?"—For Julia had left the road, or rather lane, and dashed down a path through the trees leading off from it.
"O this is the best—this leads round to the other side of the house,"
Julia said.
Just as well, to go in at the kitchen, Eleanor thought; and let Julia find her way with her sago and jelly to Mr. Rhys's room, if she so inclined. So they ran on, reached a little strip of open ground at the back of the cottage, and rushed in at the door like a small tornado; for the rain was by this time coming down merrily.