And without another word she departed.
Eleanor was much at a loss what would be the next move. Nevertheless she was greatly surprised when it came. The atmosphere of the house was heavy that day; they did not see Mr. Carlisle in the evening. The next day, when Eleanor went to her father's room after dinner she found, not Mr. Carlisle, but her mother with him. "Waiting for me"—thought Eleanor. The air of Mrs. Powle said so. The squire was gathered up into a kind of hard knot, hanging his head over his knees. When he spoke, and was answered by his daughter, the contrast of the two voices was striking, and in character; one gruff, the other sweet but steady.
"What's all this, Eleanor? what's all this?" he said abruptly.
"What, papa?"
"Have you refused Mr. Carlisle?"
"Long ago, sir."
"Yes, that's all past; and now this winter you have been accepting him again; are you going to throw him over now?"
"Papa—"
"Only one thing!" roared the Squire,—"are you going to say no to him? tell me that."
"I must, papa."