The words were just whispered, and she turned immediately and looked away at the river. I understood her well. She wanted to thank me for the spirit which had prompted me in my earnest, though unsuccessful efforts. And coming down to the family-group a little while in the evening, that was for Mary's sake, and her poor father's. Her own light had expired, but she did not wish to darken the hearthstone any more than was unavoidable. She sunk down upon the seat I had vacated, remaining motionless, looking upon the river and the sky. After a time, with a long, tremulous sigh, she arose to go. A gleam from the west fell upon a single violet which, protected from the frost by the projecting roof, smiled up at us, near the door of the summer-house. With a wild kind of passion breaking through her quiet, Eleanor stooped, gathered it, pressed it to her lips, and burst into tears--it was her favorite flower--Henry's favorite. It was agony to see her cry, yet better, perhaps, than such marble repose. She was too weak to bear this sudden shock alone; she leaned upon my shoulder, every sob which shook her frame echoed by me. Yes! I am not ashamed to confess it! When manhood is fresh and unsullied, its tears are not wrung out in those single drops of mortal anguish which the rock gives forth when time and the foot of the world have hardened it. I could still remember when I had kissed my mother, and wept my boyish troubles well upon her breast. I should have been harder than the nether millstone, had I not wept tears with Eleanor then. I mastered myself in order to assist her to regain composure, for I was alarmed lest the violence of her emotion should break down the remnant of her frail strength. She, too, struggled against the storm, soon growing outwardly calm, and with the violet pressed to her bosom with one hand, with the other she clung to my arm, and we returned to the house, where they were already looking for Eleanor. Under the full light of the hall-lamp we encountered James. It was his first meeting with his cousin as well as mine. He gave her a quick, penetrating look, held out his hand, his lips moved as if striving to form a greeting. It was evident that the change was greater than he expected; he dropped his hand, before her fingers had touched it, and rushing past us through the open door, he closed it behind him, remaining out until long after tea. When he came in, Eleanor had retired to her chamber, and Mary brought him the cup of tea which she had kept hot for him. "You are a good girl, Mary," he said, drinking it hastily, as if to get rid of it. "I hope nobody will ever make you look like _that_! I thought broken hearts were easily mended--that girls usually had theirs broken three or four times, and patched them up again--but I have changed my mind."