"Don't cry, Cora! You will have plenty left in life. Sometime you will smile over this trouble. You and I will work together, and by and by we will go abroad." CHAPTER XXVI "LET US BE ENTIRELY FRANK WITH ONE ANOTHER" Eleanor walked far out on the country road. She met no one and felt no fear. There was in her heart, on the contrary, a bitter satisfaction in feeling that she was doing what Cora Scott would not dream of doing and what Mrs. Lister would heartily disapprove of. She felt a sullen indifference to Waltonville's rules of conduct. As she went on she made plans. As soon as arrangements could be completed, they would go away to return no more. She would leave behind her all the gifts which Dr. Green had showered upon her since her childhood. She saw his strong-featured face, animated by intellect and will, and then Margie's frightened eyes and her trembling mouth. For herself she would not have anything to do with love in any of its manifestations. But when she had turned back, she said under her breath, "Oh, Richard, Richard!" As she passed Dr. Green's door, walking rapidly because she felt sudden compunction on her mother's account, he appeared on the step and spoke to her with astonishment. "Where have you been at this hour, Eleanor?" Eleanor looked up at him, hating his authoritative voice. "I've been walking in the country." "Come in. I wish to speak to you." "It's late; my mother does not know where I am." "A few minutes won't make any difference. I'll walk home with you." Against her will Eleanor went slowly up the steps and into the untidy rooms. She sat down upon the edge of a chair in the office and Dr. Green sat opposite her. "I have persuaded your mother to go away from Waltonville." "Have you?" said Eleanor. "Aren't you interested?" "Oh, yes." Eleanor's tone belied her words. "It is time that you were getting away." "Why?" asked Eleanor perversely. "So that you may possess the world. You didn't expect to stay here forever, did you?" Eleanor made no answer. There were certain conditions under which she would have been willing to stay here forever. Dr. Green looked at her impatiently. "You had plans for your future. Where is the young woman who was going to be George Eliot and Jane Austen in one, pray? You haven't forgotten her?" "She has ceased to exist. I'm not interested in writing." "Not interested in writing! Nonsense!" He began to argue for learning, for travel, for education. He reminded Eleanor of her achievements, of her fine mind; he told her that it was sinful to think of anything but her own mental progress in these formative years. She had no responsibilities, no cares, nothing to look after but herself. She should go to school, continuing her work at a university. "But I am not interested in writing," repeated Eleanor.