‘Hateful woman!’ said Eleanor within herself. ‘She thinks he is her property, and that I am come to dispute him with her. So I have, and so I will.’ Then aloud, ‘Certainly, he was an attraction, if it needed a great attraction to make me wish to visit my own home, after so many years. Besides, who knows how long I may have the chance to be with him, and get to know him? I am astonished that he has not married before now.’ A slight pause. Eleanor herself was surprised to find in what style she was talking; but something in the very presence of the other woman seemed to arouse her pugnacity, and to place her in an almost aggressive attitude. ‘At any rate, while I have the field to myself, I mean to let Otho know that he has a sister,’ she pursued, with a slight laugh. ‘Highly commendable,’ said Magdalen, either with constraint or a slight sneer; it would have been difficult to say which. ‘He is a great friend of yours, I find,’ continued Eleanor, looking directly at Magdalen, who made no reply to the words. Eleanor paused a moment, and then took her course. She was really anxious to learn, if she could, the extent of this woman’s influence over her brother; but more than that, to get to know whether she were a sincere woman, or a false one. She would feign a tender interest in Otho’s affairs, and a sisterly solicitude for his welfare. As a matter of fact, she knew nothing of the said affairs, nor whether well or ill might be the word to apply to his spiritual condition. She would try to discover. It was a hardy resolution, with such a woman as Magdalen for her opponent, but want of courage was not one of Eleanor’s defects. ‘It seems so strange,’ she presently went on, in a musing tone, ‘that you, living in the same place and being his friend, must have seen him often, and know him quite well, while I, his own sister, scarcely know anything about him.’ ‘You think that is a great loss, I suppose?’ ‘Well, yes, I do. I think I ought to know about him—good or bad. It seems to me unnatural that I should not. I wish you would tell me something about him, Miss Wynter. It really seems as though he had left us on purpose that we might discuss him.’ ‘Why discuss him at all?’ ‘Well,’ said Eleanor with a smile, ‘I don’t think you and I can have many objects of mutual interest to talk about. Otho is one, obviously—my brother and your friend. I think it is most natural to talk about him. From what he said of you, I am sure you must know a great deal of his character and disposition. He is very reserved, I think. I want to get on with him, of course. Can’t you tell me something of his tastes and habits?’