The Old Helmet Volume I Part 49

"It may be given in various ways. Sometimes circ.u.mstances point it out; sometimes attention is directed to a word in the Bible; sometimes, 'thine ears shall hear a voice behind thee, saying, This is the way, walk ye in it, when ye turn to the right hand, and when ye turn to the left.'"

Eleanor did not answer; she thought her aunt was slightly fanatical.

"There is another reason for not getting an answer, Eleanor. It is, not believing that an answer will be given."

"Aunty, how can one help that?"

"By simply looking at what G.o.d has promised, and trusting it. 'But let a man ask in faith, nothing wavering. For he that wavereth is like a wave of the sea driven with the wind and tossed. For let not that man think that he shall receive anything of the Lord.'"

"Aunt Caxton, I am exactly like such a wave of the sea. And in danger of being broken to pieces like one."

"Many a one has been," said Mrs Caxton. But it was tenderly said, not coldly; and the impulse to go on was irresistible. Eleanor changed her seat for one nearer.

"Aunt Caxton, I want somebody's help dreadfully."

"I see you do."

"Do you see it, ma'am?"

"I think I have seen it ever since you have been here."

"But at the same time, aunty, I do not know how to ask it."

"Those are sometimes the neediest eases. But I hope you will find a way, my dear."

Eleanor sat silent nevertheless, for some minutes; and then she spoke in a lowered and changed tone.

"Aunt Caxton, you know the engagements I am under?"

"Yes. I have heard."

"What should a woman do--what is it her duty to do--who finds herself in every way bound to fulfil such engagements, except--"

"Except what?"

"Except her own heart, ma'am," Eleanor said low and ashamed.

"My dear, you do not mean that your heart was not in these engagements when you made them?"

"I did not know where it was, aunty. It had nothing to do with them."

"Where is it now?"

"It is not in them, ma'am."

"Eleanor, let us speak plainly. Do you mean that you do not love this gentleman whom you have promised to marry?"

Eleanor hesitated, covered her face, and hesitated; at last spoke.

"Aunt Caxton, I thought I did;--but I know now I do not; not as I think I ought;--I do not as he loves me." Eleanor spoke with burning cheeks, which her aunt could see even in the firelight and though Eleanor's hand endeavoured to s.h.i.+eld them.

"What made you enter into these engagements, my dear?"

"The will and power of two other people, aunt Caxton--and, I am afraid, now, a little ambition of my own was at work in it. And I liked him too. It was not a person that I did not like. But I did not know what I was doing. I liked him, aunt Caxton."

"And now it is a question with you whether you will fulfil these engagements?"

"Yes ma'am,--because I do not wish to fulfil them. I do not know whether I ought, or ought not."

Mrs. Caxton was silent in her turn.

"Eleanor,--do you like some one else better?"

"n.o.body else likes me better, aunt Caxton--there is nothing of that kind--"

"Still my question is not answered, Eleanor. Have _you_ more liking for any other person?"

"Aunt Caxton--I do not know--I have seen--I do not know how to answer you!" Eleanor said in bitter confusion; then hiding her face she went on--"Just so much as this is true, aunt Caxton,--I have seen, what makes me know that I do not love Mr. Carlisle; not as he loves me."

Mrs. Caxton stooped forward, took Eleanor's hands down from her face and kissed her. It was a sad, drooping, pained face, hot with shame.

"My child," she said, "your honesty has saved you. I could not have advised you, Eleanor, if you had not been frank with me. Poor child!"

Eleanor came down on the floor and hid her face in Mrs. Caxton's lap.

Her aunt kept one hand softly resting on her hair while she spoke. She was silent first, and then she spoke very tenderly.

"You did not know, at the time you engaged yourself to this gentleman, that you were doing him wrong?"

"No, ma'am--I thought rather of wrong to myself."

"Why?"

"They were in such a hurry, ma'am."

"Since then, you have seen what you like better."

"Yes, ma'am,"--said Eleanor doubtfully,--"or what I know I _could_ like better, if there was occasion. That is all."

"Now the question is, in these circ.u.mstances, what is your duty to Mr.

Carlisle."

Eleanor lifted her head to look into her aunt's face for the decision to come.

"The rule of judgment is not far off, Eleanor; it is the golden rule.

'Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them.'

My dear, take the case of the person you could like best in the world;--would you have such a person marry you if his heart belonged to somebody else?"

"Not for the whole world!" said Eleanor raising her head which had fallen again. "But aunt Caxton, that is not my case. My heart is not anybody's."