Alas, in the one face there was such ignorance, in the other such sorrowful consciousness of that ignorance, that the two faces at first looked mutely into each other across the gulf between them.
"Mamma," said Eleanor, "why will you not understand me? Do you not know,—the Eternal God is our refuge!"
The still, grand expression of faith Mrs. Powle could not receive; but the speaking of Eleanor's eyes she did. She turned from them.
"Good morning, sister Caxton," she said. "I will go. I cannot bear it any longer to-day."
"You will come to-morrow, sister Powle?"
"Yes. O yes. I'll be here to-morrow. I will get my feelings quieted by that time. Good bye, Eleanor."
"Mamma," said the girl trembling, "when will you bring Julia?"
"Now Eleanor, don't let us talk about anything more that is disagreeable. I do not want to say anything about Julia. You have taken your way—and I do not mean to unsettle you in it; but Julia is in another line, and I cannot have you interfere with her. I am very sorry it is so,—but it is not my doing. I cannot help it. I do not want to give you pain."
Mrs. Powle departed. Eleanor came back from attending her to the door, stopped in the middle of the room, and her cheeks grew white as she spoke.
"I shall never see her again!"