"The dress you were so good as to approve," said Eleanor smiling, "it was washed and done up by myself."
"Do you expect to have to do it for yourself?" said Mrs. Esthwaite looking intensely horrified.
"No, not generally; but to teach somebody, or upon occasion, you know. You see," she said smiling again her full rich smile, "I am bent upon having my white dresses."
Mrs. Esthwaite was too full for speech, and her husband looked at his new cousin with an eye of more absolute admiration than he had yet bestowed on her. Eleanor's thoughts were already on something else; springing forward to meet Mr. Amos and his letters.
Breakfast was over however before he arrived. Much to her chagrin, she was obliged to receive him in the company of Mr. and Mrs. Esthwaite; no private talk was possible. Mr. Esthwaite engaged him immediately in an earnest but desultory conversation, about Sydney, Eleanor, and the mission, and the prospect of their getting to their destination; which Mr. Esthwaite prophesied would not be within any moderate limits of time. Mr. Amos owned that he had heard of no opportunity, near or far. The talk lasted a good while and it was not till he was taking leave that Eleanor contrived to follow him out and gain a word to herself.
"There are no letters for you," said Mr. Amos, speaking under his breath, and turning a cheerful but concerned face towards Eleanor. "I have made every enquiry—at the post-office, and of everybody likely to know about such things. There are none, and they know of none."
Eleanor said nothing; her face grew perceptibly white.
"There is nothing the matter with brother Rhys," said Mr. Amos hastily; "we have plenty of news from him—all right—he is quite well, and for a year past has been on another station; different from the one he was on when you last heard from him. There is nothing the matter—only there are no letters for you; and there must be some explanation of that."
He paused, but Eleanor was silent, only her colour returned a little.
"We want to get away from here as soon as possible, I suppose," Mr. Amos went on half under breath; "but as yet I see no opening. It will come."