"I do that."
"Pray as Paul prayed—for your mother, and for Julia, and for Fiji, and for me. Do you know how that was?"
"I know what some of his prayers were."
"Yes, but I never thought how Paul prayed, until the other day. You must put the scattered hints together. Wait until we are at home—I will shew you."
He pushed open the wicket and they went in; and the rest of the evening Eleanor talked to Mrs. Amos or to Mr. Balliol; she sheered off a little from his wife. There was plenty of interesting conversation going on with one and another; but Eleanor had a little the sense of being to that lady an object of observation, and drew into a corner or into the shade as much as she could.
"Your wife is very handsome, brother Rhys," Mrs. Balliol remarked in an aside, towards the end of the evening.
"That is hardly much praise from you, sister Balliol," he answered gravely. "I know you do not set much store by appearances."
"She is very young!"
Both looked over to the opposite corner where Eleanor was talking to Mrs. Amos, sitting on a low seat and looking up; a little drawn back into the shade, yet not so shaded but that the womanly modest sweetness of her face could be seen well enough. Mr. Rhys made no answer.
"I judge, brother Rhys, that she has been brought up in the great world,"—Mrs. Balliol went on, looking across to the ruffled sleeve.