"I think you can make her do," said the baroness contentedly.
"Not as a permanent winding reel!" exclaimed Eleanor jumping up. "Mr. Carlisle, I am tired;—have the goodness to take this silk from my fingers."
And slipping it over the gentleman's astonished hands, before he had time quite to know what she was about, Eleanor left the pair to arrange the rest of the business between them, and herself walked off to one of the deep windows. She was engaged there immediately by Lord Rythdale, in civil conversation enough; then he introduced other gentlemen; and it was not till after a series of talks with one and another, that Eleanor had a minute to herself. She was sitting in the window, where an encroaching branch of ivy at one side reminded her of the elegant work it was doing round the corner. Eleanor would have liked to go through the house—or the grounds—if she might have got away alone and indulged herself in a good musing fit. How beautiful the shaven turf looked under the soft sun's light! how stately stood old oaks and beeches here and there! how rich the thicker border of vegetation beyond the lawn! What beauty of order and keeping everywhere. Nothing had been attempted here but what the resources of the proprietors were fully equal to; the impression was of ample power to do more. While musing, Eleanor's attention was attracted by Mr. Carlisle, who had stepped out upon the lawn with one or two of his guests, and she looked at the place and its master together. He suited it very well. He was an undeniably handsome man; his bearing graceful and good. Eleanor liked Mr. Carlisle, not the less perhaps that she feared him a little. She only felt a little wilful rebellion against the way in which she had come to occupy her present position. If but she might have been permitted to take her own time, and say yea for herself, without having it said for her, she would have been content. As it was, Eleanor was not very discontented. Her heart swelled with a secret satisfaction and some pride, as without seeing her the group passed the window and she was left with the sunlit lawn and beautiful old trees again. Close upon that feeling of pride came another thought. What when this earthly coronet should fade?—
"Dr. Cairnes," said Eleanor seizing an opportunity,—"come here and sit down by me. I have not seen you in a great while."
"You have not missed me, my dear lady," said the doctor blandly.
"Yes I have," said Eleanor. "I want to talk to you. I want you to tell me something."
"How soon I am to make you happy? or help you to make somebody else happy? Well I shall be at your service any time about Christmas."
"No, no!" said Eleanor colouring, "I want something very different. I am talking seriously, Dr. Cairnes. I want you to tell me something. I want to know how I may be happy—for I am unhappy now."
"You unhappy!" said the doctor. "I must talk to my friend Mr. Carlisle about that. We must call him in for counsel. What would he say, to your being unhappy? hey?"
He was there to speak for himself; there with a slight cloud on his brow too, Eleanor thought. He had come from within the room; she thought he was safe away in the grounds with his guests.