"If I say it at all, I shall hold to it, Macintosh."
"Then do not say it at all, my little Eleanor," said he lightly; "I shall make you give it up. I think I will make you give it up now."
"You are not generous, Robert."
"No—I suppose I am not," he said contentedly. "I am forced to go to London after Christmas, and I cannot go without you. Do you not love me well enough to give me that, Eleanor?"
Eleanor was silent. She was not willing to say no; she could not with truth say yes. Mr. Carlisle bent down to look into her face.
"What have you to say to me?"
"Nothing—" said Eleanor avoiding his eye.
"Kiss me, Nellie, and promise that you will be my good little wife at
Christmas."
His mother's very phrase. Eleanor rebelled secretly, but felt powerless under those commanding eyes. Perhaps he was aware of her latent obstinacy; if he was, he also knew himself able to master it; for the eyes were sparkling with pleasure as well as with wilfulness. The occasion was not sufficient to justify a contest with Mr. Carlisle; Eleanor was not ready to brave one; she hesitated long enough to shew her rebellion, and then yielded, ingloriously she felt, though on the whole wisely. She met her punishment. The offered permission was not only taken; she was laughed at and rejoiced over triumphantly, to Mr. Carlisle's content. Eleanor bore it as well at she could; wishing that she had not tried to assert herself in such vain fashion, and feeling her discomfiture complete.
It was more than time to return to the company. Eleanor knew what a mark she was for people's eyes, and would gladly have screened herself behind somebody in a corner; but Mr. Carlisle kept full possession of her. He walked her into the room, and gently retained her hand in its place while he went from one to another, obliging her to stand and talk or to be talked to with him through the whole company. Eleanor winced; nevertheless bore herself well and a little proudly until the evening was over.