"If you have settled that question with your conscience, my dear, there is no more necessary to be said about it. Conscience should be clear on that point, and the question settled securely. If it is not, you had better take time for thought and self-searching."
"I do not need it, aunt Caxton."
Mrs. Caxton left her place and came round to Eleanor, for the sole purpose of taking her in her arms and kissing her. Grave, earnest kisses, on brow and cheek, speaking a heart full of sympathy, full of tenderness, full of appreciation of all that this decision of Eleanor's involved, full of satisfaction with it too. A very unusual sort of demonstration from Mrs. Caxton, as was the occasion that called for it. Eleanor received it as the seal of the whole business between them. Her aunt's arms detained her lovingly while she pressed her lips to every part of Eleanor's face; then Mrs. Caxton went back to her place and poured herself out another cup of coffee. Sentiment she had plenty; she was not in the least bit sentimental. She creamed her coffee thoughtfully and broke bread and eat it, before she came out with another question.
"When will you go, Eleanor?"
Eleanor looked up doubtfully. "Where, aunt Caxton?"
"To Fiji."
There seemed to be some irresolution or uncertainty in the girl's mind; for she hesitated.
"Aunt Caxton, I doubt much—my mother will oppose my going."
"I think she will. But I think also that her opposition can be overcome. When will you write to her?"
"I will write to-day, ma'am."