"My child! if I had known what danger you were in, I should have spent even more time than I did in praying for you."
"I suppose I was in danger," said Eleanor thoughtfully. "It was a difficult winter. Then do you think—Mr. Rhys gave me up?"
"No," said Mrs. Caxton smiling. "You remember he wrote to you after that, from Fiji; but I suppose he tried to make himself give you up, as far as hope went."
"For all that appears, I may be here long enough yet to have letters before I go. We have heard of no opportunity that is likely to present itself soon. Aunt Caxton, if my feeling is foolish, why is it natural?"
"Because you are a woman, my dear."
"And foolish?"
"Not at all; but feeling takes little counsel of reason in some cases.
I am afraid you will find that out again before you get to Mr.
Rhys—after that, I do not think you will."
The conversation made Eleanor rather more anxious than she had been before to hear of a ship; but October and November passed, and the prospect of her voyage was as misty as ever.
Again and again, all summer, both she and Mrs. Caxton had written begging that Mrs. Powle would make a visit to Plassy and bring or send Julia. In vain. Mrs. Powle would not come. Julia could not.