"I suppose Eleanor thinks of another day," she said; "when the Lord will come to be admired in his saints and to be glorified in all them that believe. That will be admiration worth having—if Eleanor thinks so, I confess I think so too."
"Dear sister Caxton," said Mrs. Powle restraining herself, "what has the one thing to do with the other?"
"Nothing," said Mrs. Caxton. "To seek both is impossible."
"Do you think it is wicked to receive admiration? I did not think you went so far."
"No," said Mrs. Caxton, with her genial smile. "We were talking of seeking it."
Mrs. Powle was silent, and went away in a very ill humour.
CHAPTER XIV.
IN PARTINGS.
"The sun came up upon the left,
Out of the sea came he!
And he shone bright, and on the right
Went down into the sea."
And the Tuesday came, and was fair; and under a bright sky the steamer ran down to Gravesend with Eleanor and her friends on board. Not Julia; Eleanor had given up all hopes of that; but Mrs. Caxton was beside her, and on the other side of her was Mrs. Powle. It was a terribly disagreeable journey to the latter; every feeling in her somewhat passionless nature was in a state of fretful rebellion. The other stronger and deeper characters were ready for the time and met it bravely. Met it cheerfully too. The crisping breeze that curled the waters of the river, the blue sky and fair sunlight, the bright and beautiful of the scene around them, those two saw and tasted; with hopeful though very grave hearts. The other poor lady saw nothing but a dirty steamboat and a very unpropitious company. Among these however were Eleanor's fellow-voyagers, Mr. Amos and his wife; and she was introduced to them now for the first time. Various circumstances had prevented their meeting in London.