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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Queechy, Volume I, by Elizabeth Wetherell
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Queechy, Volume I
+
+
+Author: Elizabeth Wetherell
+
+
+
+Release Date: June 26, 2006  [eBook #18690]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUEECHY, VOLUME I***
+
+
+Susan Warner (1819-1885), Queechy (1852), Tauchnitz edition
+1854
+
+
+
+Produced by Daniel FROMONT
+
+
+
+
+
+COLLECTION
+
+OF
+
+BRITISH AUTHORS
+
+
+TAUCHNITZ EDITION.
+
+
+VOL. 311
+
+
+QUEECHY. BY ELIZABETH WETHERELL .
+
+
+IN TWO VOLUMES.
+
+
+VOL. I.
+
+
+
+
+TAUCHNITZ EDITION
+
+by the same author,
+
+
+THE WIDE WIDE WORLD 1 vol.
+
+THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC 2 vols.
+
+SAY AND SEAL 2 vols.
+
+THE OLD HELMET 2 vols.
+
+
+
+
+QUEECHY.
+
+
+BY
+
+
+ELIZABETH WETHERELL
+
+AUTHOR OF "THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD."
+
+
+IN TWO VOLUMES.
+
+
+_AUTHOR'S EDITION_.
+
+
+IN TWO VOLUMES
+
+
+VOL. I
+
+
+LEIPZIG
+
+BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ
+
+1854
+
+
+"I hope I may speak of woman without offence to the ladies."
+
+THE GUARDIAN.
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+OF VOLUME I.
+
+
+Chapter I. Curtain rises at Queechy
+
+II. Things loom out dimly through the smoke
+
+III. You amuse me and I'll amuse you
+
+IV. Aunt Miriam
+
+V. As to whether a flower can grow in the woods
+
+VI. Queechy at dinner
+
+VII. The curtain falls upon one scene
+
+VIII. The fairy leaves the house
+
+IX. How Mr. Carleton happened to be not at home
+
+X. The fairy and the Englishman
+
+XI. A little candle
+
+XII. Spars below
+
+XIII. The fairy peeps into an English house, but does not stay there
+
+XIV. Two Bibles in Paris
+
+XV. Very literary
+
+XVI Dissolving view, ending with a saw-mill in the distance
+
+XVII. Rain and water-cresses for breakfast
+
+XVIII. Mr. Rossitur's wits sharpened upon a ploughshare
+
+XIX. Fleda goes after help and finds Dr. Quackenboss
+
+XX. Society in Queechy
+
+XXI. "The sweetness of a man's friend by hearty counsel"
+
+XXII. Wherein a great many people pay their respects, in form and
+substance
+
+XXIII. The Captain out-generalled by the fairy
+
+XXIV. A breath of the world at Queechy
+
+XXV. "As good a boy as you need to have"
+
+XXVI. Pine knots
+
+XXVII. Sweet — in its consequences
+
+
+QUEECHY.
+
+
+VOL. I
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+A single cloud on a sunny day,
+When all the rest of heaven is clear,
+A frown upon the atmosphere,
+That hath no business to appear,
+When skies are blue and earth is gay.
+BYRON.
+
+
+"Come, dear grandpa! — the old mare and the wagon are at the
+gate — all ready."
+
+"Well, dear! — responded a cheerful hearty voice, "they must
+wait a bit; I haven't got my hat yet."
+
+"O, I'll get that."
+
+And the little speaker, a girl of some ten or eleven years
+old, dashed past the old gentleman, and running along the
+narrow passage which led to his room soon returned with the
+hat in her hand.
+
+"Yes, dear, — but that ain't all. I must put on my great-coat
+— and I must look and see if I can find any money —"
+
+"O yes — for the post-office. It's a beautiful day, grandpa.
+Cynthy! — wont you come and help grandpa on with his great-
+coat? — And I'll go out and keep watch of the old mare till
+you're ready."
+
+A needless caution. For the old mare, though spirited enough
+for her years, had seen some fourteen or fifteen of them, and
+was in no sort of danger of running away. She stood in what
+was called the back meadow, just without the little paling
+fence that enclosed a small courtyard round the house. Around
+this courtyard rich pasture-fields lay on every side, the high
+road cutting through them not more than a hundred or two feet
+from the house.
+
+The little girl planted herself on the outside of the paling,
+and setting her back to it, eyed the old mare with great
+contentment; for besides other grounds for security as to her
+quiet behaviour, one of the men employed about the farm, who
+had harnessed the equipage, was at the moment busied in
+putting some clean straw in the bottom of the vehicle.
+
+"Watkins," said the child presently to this person, "here is a
+strap that is just ready to come unbuckled."
+
+"What do you know about straps and buckles?" said the man
+rather grumly. But he came round, however, to see what she
+meant; and while he drew the one and fastened the other, took
+special good care not to let Fleda know that her watchful eyes
+had probably saved the whole riding party from ruin; as the
+loosing of the strap would of necessity have brought on a
+trial of the old mare's nerves, which not all her philosophy
+could have been expected to meet. Fleda was satisfied to see
+the buckle made fast, and that Watkins, roused by her hint, or
+by the cause of it, afterwards took a somewhat careful look
+over the whole establishment. In high glee then she climbed to
+her seat in the little wagon, and her grandfather coming out
+coated and hatted, with some difficulty mounted to his place
+beside her.
+
+"I think Watkins might have taken the trouble to wash the
+wagon, without hurting himself," said Fleda; "it is all
+speckled with mud since last time."
+
+"Ha'n't he washed it!" said the old gentleman in a tone of
+displeasure. "Watkins!""
+
+"Well."
+
+"Why didn't you wash the wagon as I told you?"
+
+"I did."
+
+"It's all over slosh."
+
+"That's Mr. Didenhover's work — he had it out day 'fore
+yesterday; and if you want it cleaned, Mr. Ringgan, you must
+speak to him about it. Mr. Didenhover may file his own doings;
+it's more than I'm a going to."
+
+The old gentleman made no answer, except to acquaint the mare
+with the fact of his being in readiness to set out. A shade of
+annoyance and displeasure for a moment was upon his face; but
+the gate opening from the meadow upon the high road had hardly
+swung back upon its hinges after letting them out, when he
+recovered the calm sweetness of demeanour that was habitual
+with him, and seemed as well as his little granddaughter to
+have given care the go-by for the time. Fleda had before this
+found out another fault in the harness, or rather in Mr.
+Didenhover, which like a wise little child she kept to
+herself. A broken place which her grandfather had ordered to
+be properly mended, was still tied up with the piece of rope
+which had offended her eyes the last time they had driven out.
+But she said not a word of it, because "it would only worry
+grandpa for nothing;" and forgetting it almost immediately,
+she moved on with him in a state of joyous happiness that no
+mud-stained wagon nor untidy rope-bound harness could stir for
+an instant. Her spirit was like a clear still-running stream,
+which quietly and surely deposits every defiling and obscuring
+admixture it may receive from its contact with the grosser
+elements around; the stream might for a moment be clouded; but
+a little while, and it would run as clear as ever. Neither
+Fleda nor her grandfather cared a jot for the want of
+elegancies which one despised, and the other, if she had ever
+known, had well nigh forgotten. What mattered it to her that
+the little old green wagon was rusty and worn, or that years
+and service had robbed the old mare of all the jauntiness she
+had ever possessed, so long as the sun shone and the birds
+sang? And Mr. Ringgan, in any imaginary comparison, might be
+pardoned for thinking that he was the proud man, and that his
+poor little equipage carried such a treasure as many a coach
+and four went without.
+
+"Where are we going first, grandpa? to the post-office?"
+
+"Just there!"
+
+"How pleasant it is to go there always, isn't it, grandpa? You
+have the paper to get, and I — I don't very often get a
+letter, but I have always the _hope_ of getting one; and that's
+something. May be I'll have one to-day, grandpa?"
+
+"We'll see. It's time those cousins of yours wrote to you."
+
+"O _they_ don't write to me — it's only Aunt Lucy; I never had a
+letter from a single one of them, except once from little
+Hugh, — don't you remember, grandpa? I should think he must be
+a very nice little boy, shouldn't you?"
+
+"Little boy? why I guess he is about as big as you are, Fleda
+— he is eleven years old, ain't he?"
+
+"Yes, but I am past eleven, you know, grandpa, and I am a
+little girl."
+
+This reasoning being unanswerable, Mr. Ringgan only bade the
+old mare trot on.
+
+It was a pleasant day in autumn. Fleda thought it particularly
+pleasant for riding, for the sun was veiled with thin, hazy
+clouds. The air was mild and still, and the woods, like brave
+men, putting the best face upon falling fortunes. Some trees
+were already dropping their leaves; the greater part standing
+in all the varied splendour which the late frosts had given
+them. The road, an excellent one, sloped gently up and down
+across a wide arable country, in a state of high cultivation,
+and now showing all the rich variety of autumn. The reddish
+buckwheat patches, and fine wood-tints of the fields where
+other grain had been; the bright green of young rye or winter
+wheat, then soberer-coloured pasture or meadow lands, and ever
+and anon a tuft of gay woods crowning a rising ground, or a
+knot of the everlasting pines looking sedately and steadfastly
+upon the fleeting glories of the world around them; these were
+mingled and interchanged, and succeeded each other in ever-
+varying fresh combinations. With its high picturesque beauty,
+the whole scene had a look of thrift, and plenty, and promise,
+which made it eminently cheerful. So Mr. Ringgan and his
+little granddaughter both felt it to be. For some distance,
+the grounds on either hand the road were part of the old
+gentleman's farm; and many a remark was exchanged between him
+and Fleda, as to the excellence or hopefulness of this or that
+crop or piece of soil; Fleda entering into all his enthusiasm,
+and reasoning of clover leys and cockle, and the proper
+harvesting of Indian corn, and other like matters, with no
+lack of interest or intelligence.
+
+"O grandpa," she exclaimed, suddenly, "wont you stop a minute
+and let me get out. I want to get some of that beautiful
+bittersweet."
+
+"What do you want that for?" said he. "You can't get out very
+well."
+
+"O yes, I can — please, grandpa! I want some of it very much —
+just one minute!'
+
+He stopped, and Fleda got out and went to the roadside, where
+a bittersweet vine had climbed into a young pine tree, and
+hung it, as it were, with red coral. But her one minute was at
+least four before she had succeeded in breaking off as much as
+she could carry of the splendid creeper; for not until then
+could Fleda persuade herself to leave it. She came back, and
+worked her way up into the wagon with one hand full as it
+could hold of her brilliant trophies.
+
+"Now, what good 'll that do you?" inquired Mr. Ringgan, good-
+humouredly, as he lent Fleda what help he could to her seat.
+
+"Why, grandpa, I want it to put with cedar and pine in a jar
+at home; it will keep for ever so long, and look beautiful.
+Isn't that handsome? — only it was a pity to break it."
+
+"Why, yes, it's handsome enough," said Mr. Ringgan, "but
+you've got something just by the front door there, at home,
+that would do just as well — what do you call it — that
+flaming thing there?"
+
+"What, my burning bush? O grandpa! I wouldn't cut that for
+anything in the world! It's the only pretty thing about the
+house; and, besides," said Fleda, looking up with a softened
+mien, "you said that it was planted by my mother. O grandpa! I
+wouldn't cut that for anything."
+
+Mr. Ringgan laughed a pleased laugh. "Well, dear!" said he,
+"it shall grow till it's as big as the house, if it will."
+
+"It wont do that," said Fleda. "But I am very glad I have got
+this bittersweet; this is just what I wanted. Now, if I can
+only find some holly —"
+
+"We'll come across some, I guess, by and by," said Mr.
+Ringgan; and Fleda settled herself again to enjoy the trees,
+the fields, the roads, and all the small handiwork of nature,
+for which her eyes had a curious intelligence. But this was
+not fated to be a ride of unbroken pleasure.
+
+"Why, what are those bars down for?" she said, as they came up
+with a field of winter grain. "Somebody's been in here with a
+wagon. O grandpa! Mr. Didenhover has let the Shakers have my
+butternuts! — the butternuts that you told him they mustn't
+have."
+
+The old gentleman drew up his horse. "So he has!" said he.
+
+Their eyes were upon the far end of the deep lot, where, at
+the edge of one of the pieces of woodland spoken of, a
+picturesque group of men and boys, in frocks and broad-brimmed
+white hats, were busied in filling their wagon under a clump
+of the now thin and yellow-leaved butternut trees.
+
+"The scoundrel!" said Mr. Ringgan, under his breath.
+
+"Would it be any use, grandpa, for me to jump down and run and
+tell them you don't want them to take the butternuts? — I
+shall have so few".
+
+"No, dear — no," said her grandfather; "they have got ’em
+about all by this time; the mischief's done. Didenhover meant
+to let 'em have 'em unknown to me, and pocket the pay himself
+Get up!"
+
+Fleda drew a long breath, and gave a hard look at the distant
+wagon, where her butternuts were going in by handfuls. She
+said no more.
+
+It was but a few fields further on, that the old gentleman
+came to a sudden stop again.
+
+"Ain't there some of my sheep over yonder there, Fleda — along
+with Squire Thornton's?"
+
+"I don't know, grandpa," said Fleda; "I can't see — yes, I do
+see — yes, they are, grandpa; I see the mark."
+
+"I thought so!" said Mr. Ringgan, bitterly; "I told
+Didenhover, only three days ago, that if he didn't make up
+that fence the sheep would be out, or Squire Thornton's would
+be in; — only three days ago! Ah, well!" said he, shaking the
+reins to make the mare move on again, — "it's all of a piece.
+Everything goes — I can't help it."
+
+"Why do you keep him, grandpa, if he don't behave right?"
+Fleda ventured to ask, gently.
+
+" 'Cause I can't get rid of him, dear," Mr. Ringgan answered,
+rather shortly.
+
+And till they got to the post-office, he seemed in a
+disagreeable kind of muse, which Fleda did not choose to break
+in upon. So the mile and a half was driven in sober silence.
+
+"Shall I get out and go in, grandpa?" said Fleda, when he drew
+up before the house.
+
+"No, deary," said he, in his usual kind tone; "you sit still.
+Holloa, there! — Good-day, Mr. Sampion — have you got anything
+for me?"
+
+The man disappeared and came out again.
+
+"There's your paper, grandpa," said Fleda.
+
+"Ay, and something else," said Mr. Ringgan: "I declare! —
+'Miss Fleda Ringgan — care of E. Ringgan, Esq.' —There, dear,
+there it is."
+
+"Paris!" exclaimed Fleda, as she clasped the letter and both
+her hands together. The butternuts and Mr. Didenhover were
+forgotten at last. The letter could not be read in the jolting
+of the wagon, but, as Fleda said, it was all the pleasanter,
+for she had the expectation of it the whole way home.
+
+"Where are we going now, grandpa?"
+
+"To Queechy Run."
+
+"That will give us a nice long ride. I am very glad. This has
+been a good day. With my letter and my bittersweet I have got
+enough, haven't I, grandpa?"
+
+Queechy Run was a little village, a very little village, about
+half a mile from Mr. Ringgan's house. It boasted, however, a
+decent brick church of some size, a school-house, a lawyer's
+office, a grocery store, a dozen or two of dwelling-houses,
+and a post-office; though for some reason or other Mr. Ringgan
+always chose to have his letters come through the
+Sattlersville post-office, a mile and a half further off At
+the door of the lawyer's office Mr. Ringgan again stopped, and
+again shouted "Holloa!" —
+
+"Good-day, Sir. Is Mr. Jolly within?"
+
+"He is, Sir."
+
+"Will you ask him to be so good as to step here a moment? I
+cannot very well get out."
+
+Mr. Jolly was a comfortable-looking little man, smooth and
+sleek, pleasant and plausible, reasonable honest, too, as the
+world goes; a nice man to have to do with; the world went so
+easy with his affairs that you were sure he would make no
+unnecessary rubs in your own. He came now fresh and brisk to
+the side of the wagon, with that uncommon hilarity which
+people sometimes assume when they have a disagreeable matter
+on hand that must be spoken of.
+
+"Good-morning, Sir! Fine day, Mr. Jolly."
+
+"Beautiful day, Sir! Splendid season! How do you do, Mr.
+Ringgan?"
+
+"Why, Sir, I never was better in my life, barring this
+lameness, that disables me very much. I can't go about and see
+to things any more as I used to. However — we must expect
+evils at my time of life. I don't complain. I have a great
+deal to be thankful for."
+
+"Yes, Sir, — we have a great deal to be thankful for," said
+Mr. Jolly, rather abstractedly, and patting the old mare with
+kind attention.
+
+"Have you seen that fellow, McGowan?" said Mr. Ringgan,
+abruptly, and in a lower tone.
+
+"I have seen him," said Mr. Jolly, coming back from the old
+mare to business.
+
+"He's a hard customer, I guess, aint he?"
+
+"He's as ugly a cur as ever was whelped!"
+
+"What does he say?"
+
+"Says he must have it."
+
+"Did you tell him what I told you?"
+
+"I told him, Sir, that you had not got the returns from your
+farm that you expected this year, owing to one thing and
+'nother; and that you couldn't make up the cash for him all at
+once; and that he would have to wait a spell, but that he'd be
+sure to get it in the long run. Nobody ever suffered by Mr.
+Ringgan yet, as I told him."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Well, Sir, — he was altogether refractible; he's as pig-
+headed a fellow as I ever see."
+
+"What did he say?"
+
+"He gave me names, and swore he wouldn't wait a day longer —
+said he'd waited already six months."
+
+"He has so. I couldn't meet the last payment. There's a year's
+rent due now. I can't help it. There needn't have been an
+hour, if I could go about and attend to things myself. I have
+been altogether disappointed in that Didenhover."
+
+"I expect you have."
+
+"What do you suppose he'll do, Mr. Jolly? — McGowan, I mean."
+
+"I expect he'll do what the law 'll let him, Mr. Ringgan; I
+don't know what 'll hinder him."
+
+"It's a worse turn than I thought my infirmities would ever
+play me," said the old gentleman after a short pause — "first
+to lose the property altogether, and then not to be permitted
+to wear out what is left of life in the old place — there wont
+be much."
+
+"So I told him, Mr. Ringgan. I put it to him. Says I, 'Mr.
+McGowan, it's a cruel hard business; there ain't a man in town
+that wouldn't leave Mr. Ringgan the shelter of his own roof as
+long as he wants any, and think it a pleasure, if the rent was
+anyhow.' "
+
+"Well — well!" said the old gentleman, with a mixture of
+dignity and bitterness, — "it doesn't much matter. My head
+will find a shelter somehow, above ground or under it. — The
+Lord will provide. — Whey! stand still, can't ye! What ails
+the fool? The creature's seen years enough to be steady," he
+added, with a miserable attempt at his usual cheerful laugh.
+
+Fleda had turned away her head and tried not to hear when the
+lowered tones of the speakers seemed to say that she was one
+too many in the company. But she could not help catching a few
+bits of the conversation, and a few bits were generally enough
+for Fleda's wit to work upon; she had a singular knack at
+putting loose ends of talk together. If more had been wanting,
+the tones of her grandfather's voice would have filled up
+every gap in the meaning of the scattered words that came to
+her ear. Her heart sank fast as the dialogue went on; and she
+needed no commentary or explanation to interpret the bitter
+little laugh with which it closed. It was a chill upon all the
+rosy joys and hopes of a most joyful and hopeful little
+nature.
+
+The old mare was in motion again, but Fleda no longer cared or
+had the curiosity to ask where they were going. The
+bittersweet lay listlessly in her lap; her letter, clasped to
+her breast, was not thought of; and tears were quietly running
+one after the other down her cheeks and falling on her sleeve;
+she dared not lift her handkerchief nor turn her face towards
+her grandfather lest they should catch his eye. Her
+grandfather? — could it be possible that he must be turned out
+of his old home in his old age? could it be possible? Mr.
+Jolly seemed to think it might be, and her grandfather seemed
+to think it must. Leave the old house! But where would he go?
+— Son or daughter he had none left; resources he could have
+none, or this need not happen. Work he could not; be dependent
+upon the charity of any kin or friend she knew he would never;
+she remembered hearing him once say he could better bear to go
+to the almshouse than do any such thing. And then, if they
+went, he would have his pleasant room no more where the sun
+shone in so cheerfully, and they must leave the dear old
+kitchen where they had been so happy; and the meadows and
+hills would belong to somebody else, and she would gather her
+stores of butternuts and chestnuts under the loved old trees
+never again. But these things were nothing, though the image
+of them made the tears come hot and fast, these were nothing
+in her mind to the knowledge or the dread of the effect the
+change would have upon Mr. Ringgan. Fleda knew him, and knew
+it would not be slight. Whiter his head could not be, more
+bowed it well might; and her own bowed in anticipation as her
+childish fears and imaginings ran on into the possible future.
+Of McGowan's tender mercies she had no hope. She had seen him
+once, and being unconsciously even more of a physiognomist
+than most children are, that one sight of him was enough to
+verify all Mr. Jolly had said. The remembrance of his hard,
+sinister face sealed her fears. Nothing but evil could come of
+having to do with such a man. It was, however, still not so
+much any foreboding of the future that moved Fleda's tears as
+the sense of her grandfather's present pain, — the quick
+answer of her gentle nature to every sorrow that touched him.
+His griefs were doubly hers. Both from his openness of
+character and her penetration, they could rarely be felt un-
+shared; and she shared them always in more than due measure.
+
+In beautiful harmony, while the child had forgotten herself in
+keen sympathy with her grandfather's sorrows, he, on the other
+hand, had half lost sight of them in caring for her. Again,
+and this time not before any house but in a wild piece of
+woodland, the little wagon came to a stop.
+
+"Aint there some holly berries that I see yonder?" said Mr.
+Ringgan, — "there, through those white birch stems? That's
+what you were wanting, Fleda, aint it? Give your bittersweet
+to me while you go get some, — and here, take this knife,
+dear, you can't break it. Don't cut yourself."
+
+Fleda's eyes were too dim to see white birch or holly, and she
+had no longer the least desire to have the latter; but with
+that infallible tact which assuredly is the gift of nature and
+no other, she answered, in a voice that she forced to be
+clear, "O yes! thank you, Grandpapa;" — and stealthily dashing
+away the tears, clambered down from the rickety little wagon,
+and plunged with a _cheerful_ step at least, through trees and
+underbrush to the clump of holly. But if anybody had seen
+Fleda's face! — while she seemed to be busied in cutting as
+large a quantity as possible of the rich shining leaves and
+bright berries. Her grandfather's kindness, and her effort to
+meet it had wrung her heart; she hardly knew what she was
+doing, as she cut off sprig after sprig, and threw them down
+at her feet; she was crying sadly, with even audible sobs. She
+made a long job of her bunch of holly. But when at last it
+must come to an end, she choked back her tears, smoothed her
+face, and came back to Mr. Ringgan smiling and springing over
+the stones and shrubs in her way, and exclaiming at the beauty
+of her vegetable stores. If her cheeks were red, he thought it
+was the flush of pleasure and exercise, and she did not let
+him get a good look at her eyes.
+
+"Why, you've got enough to dress up the front room chimney,"
+said he. "That'll be the best thing you can do with 'em, wont
+it?"
+
+"The front room chimney! No, indeed I wont, Grandpa. I don't
+want 'em where nobody can see them, and you know we are never
+in there now it is cold weather."
+
+"Well, dear! anyhow you like to have it. But you ha'n't a jar
+in the house big enough for them, have you?"
+
+"O, I'll manage — I've got an old broken pitcher without a
+handle, Grandpa, that'll do very well."
+
+"A broken pitcher! that isn't a very elegant vase," said he.
+
+"O you wouldn't know it is a pitcher when I have fixed it.
+I'll cover up all the broken part with green you know. Are we
+going home now, Grandpa?"
+
+"No, I want to stop a minute at uncle Joshua's."
+
+Uncle Joshua was a brother-in-law of Mr. Ringgan, a
+substantial farmer, and very well to do in the world. He was
+found not in the house, but abroad in the field with his men,
+loading an enormous basket wagon with corn-stalks. At Mr.
+Ringgan's shout he got over the fence, and came to the wagon-
+side. His face showed sense and shrewdness, but nothing of the
+open nobility of mien which nature had stamped upon that of
+his brother.
+
+"Fine morning, eh?" said he. "I'm getting in my corn-stalks."
+
+"So I see," said Mr. Ringgan. "How do you find the new way of
+curing them answer?"
+
+"Fine as ever you see. Sweet as a nut. The cattle are mad
+after them. How are you going to be off for fodder this
+winter?"
+
+"It's more than I can tell you," said Mr. Ringgan. "There
+ought to be more than plenty; but Didenhover contrives to
+bring everything out at the wrong end. I wish I was rid of
+him."
+
+"He'll never get a berth with me, I can tell you," said uncle
+Joshua, laughing.
+
+"Brother," said Mr. Ringgan, lowering his tone again, "have
+you any loose cash you could let me have for six months or
+so?"
+
+Uncle Joshua took a meditative look down the road, turned a
+quid of tobacco in his cheek, and finally brought his eyes
+again to Mr. Ringgan and answered.
+
+"Well, I don't see as I can," said he. "You see, Josh is just
+a going to set up for himself at Kenton, and he'll want some
+help of me; and I expect that'll be about as much as I can
+manage to lay my hands on."
+
+"Do you know who has any that he would be likely to lend?"
+said Mr. Ringgan.
+
+"No, I don't. Money is rather scarce. For your rent, eh?"
+
+"Yes, for my rent! The farm brings me in nothing but my
+living. That Didenhover is ruining me, brother Joshua."
+
+"He's feathering his own nest, I reckon."
+
+"You may swear to that. There wa'n't as many bushels of grain,
+by one fourth, when they were threshed out last year, as I had
+calculated there would be in the field. I don't know what on
+earth he could have done with it. I suppose it'll be the same
+thing over this year."
+
+"May be he has served you as Deacon Travis was served by one
+of his help last season — the rascal bored holes in the
+granary floor and let out the corn so, and Travis couldn't
+contrive how his grain went till the floor was empty next
+spring, and then he see how it was."
+
+"Ha! — did he catch the fellow?"
+
+"Not he — he had made tracks before that. A word in your ear —
+I wouldn't let Didenhover see much of his salary till you know
+how he will come out at the end."
+
+"He has got it already!" said Mr. Ringgan, with a nervous
+twitch at the old mare's head; "he wheedled me out of several
+little sums on one pretence and another, — he had a brother in
+New York that he wanted to send some to, and goods that he
+wanted to get out of pawn, and so on, — and I let him have it!
+and then there was one of those fatting steers that he
+proposed to me to let him have on account, and I thought it
+was as good a way of paying him as any; and that made up
+pretty near the half of what was due to him."
+
+"I warrant you his'n was the fattest of the whole lot. Well,
+keep a tight hold of the other half, brother Elzevir, that's
+my advice to you."
+
+"The other half he was to make upon shares."
+
+"Whew! — well — I wish you well rid of him; and don't make
+such another bargain again. Good-day to ye!"
+
+It was with a keen pang that little Fleda saw the down-hearted
+look of her grandfather as again he gave the old mare notice
+to move on. A few minutes passed in deep thought on both
+sides.
+
+"Grandpa," said Fleda, "wouldn't Mr. Jolly perhaps know of
+somebody that might have some money to lend?"
+
+"I declare!" said the old gentleman, after a moment, "that's
+not a bad thought. I wonder I didn't have it myself."
+
+They turned about, and without any more words measured back
+their way to Queechy Run. Mr. Jolly came out again, brisk and
+alert as ever; but after seeming to rack his brains in search
+of any actual or possible money-lender, was obliged to confess
+that it was in vain; he could not think of one.
+
+"But I'll tell you what, Mr. Ringgan," he concluded, "I'll
+turn it over in my mind to-night and see if I can think of
+anything that'll do, and if I can I'll let you know. If we
+hadn't such a nether millstone to deal with, it would be easy
+enough to work it somehow."
+
+So they set forth homewards again.
+
+"Cheer up, dear!" said the old gentleman, heartily, laying one
+hand on his little granddaughter's lap; "it will be arranged
+somehow. Don't you worry your little head with business. God
+will take care of us."
+
+"Yes, grandpa!" said the little girl, looking up with an
+instant sense of relief at these words; and then looking down
+again immediately to burst into tears.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+Have you seen but a bright lily grow,
+Before rude hands have touched it?
+Ha' you mark'd but the fall o' the snow,
+Before the soil hath smutch'd it?
+BEN JONSON.
+
+
+Where a ray of light can enter the future, a child's hope can
+find a way — a way that nothing less airy and spiritual can
+travel. By the time they reached their own door Fleda's
+spirits were at par again.
+
+"I am very glad we have got home, aren't you, grandpa?" she
+said, as she jumped down; "I'm so hungry. I guess we are both
+of us ready for supper, don't you think so?"
+
+She hurried up stairs to take off her wrappings, and then came
+down to the kitchen, where, standing on the broad hearth and
+warming herself at the blaze, with all the old associations of
+comfort settling upon her heart, it occurred to her that
+foundations so established could not be shaken. The blazing
+fire seemed to welcome her home, and bid her dismiss fear; the
+kettle singing on its accustomed hook, looked as if quietly
+ridiculing the idea that they could be parted company; her
+grandfather was in his cushioned chair at the corner of the
+hearth, reading the newspaper, as she had seen him a thousand
+times; just in the same position, with that collected air of
+grave enjoyment, one leg crossed over the other, settled back
+in his chair but upright, and scanning the columns with an
+intent but most un-careful face. A face it was that always had
+a rare union of fineness and placidness. The table stood
+spread in the usual place, warmth and comfort filled every
+corner of the room, and Fleda began to feel as if she had been
+in an uncomfortable dream, which was very absurd, but from
+which she was very glad she had awoke.
+
+"What have you got in this pitcher, Cynthy?" said she.
+"Muffins! — O let me bake them, will you? I'll bake them."
+
+"Now, Flidda," said Cynthy, "just you be quiet. There ain't no
+place where you call bake 'em. I'm just going to clap 'em in
+the reflector — that's the shortest way I can take to do 'em.
+You keep yourself out o' muss."
+
+"They wont be muffins if you bake 'em in the reflector,
+Cynthy; they aren't half so good. Ah, do let me! I wont make a
+bit of muss."
+
+"Where'll you do 'em? "
+
+"In grandpa's room — if you'll just clean off the top of the
+stove for me; now do, Cynthy! I'll do 'em beautifully, and you
+wont have a bit of trouble. — Come!"
+
+"It'll make an awful smoke, Flidda; you'll fill your grandpa's
+room with the smoke, and he wont like that, I guess. "
+
+"O, he wont mind it," said Fleda. "Will you, grandpa?"
+
+"What, dear?" said Mr. Ringgan, looking up at her from his
+paper, with a relaxing face which indeed promised to take
+nothing amiss that she might do.
+
+"Will you mind if I fill your room with smoke?"
+
+"No, dear!" said he, the strong heartiness of his acquiescence
+almost reaching a laugh; "no, dear! — fill it with anything
+you like!"
+
+There was nothing more to be said; and while Fleda in triumph
+put on an apron and made her preparations, Cynthy on her part,
+and with a very good grace, went to get ready the stove;
+which, being a wood stove, made of sheet iron, with a smooth,
+even top, afforded, in Fleda's opinion, the very best possible
+field for muffins to come to their perfection. Now Fleda cared
+little in comparison for the eating part of the business; her
+delight was, by the help of her own skill and the stove-top,
+to bring the muffins to this state of perfection; her greatest
+pleasure in them was over when they were baked.
+
+A little while had passed. Mr. Ringgan was still busy with his
+newspaper, Miss Cynthia Gall going in and out on various
+errands, Fleda shut up in the distant room with the muffins
+and the smoke; when there came a knock at the door, and Mr.
+Ringgan's "Come in!" was followed by the entrance of two
+strangers, young, welldressed, and comely. They wore the usual
+badges of seekers after game, but their guns were left
+outside.
+
+The old gentleman's look of grave expectancy told his want of
+enlightening.
+
+"I fear you do not remember me, Mr. Ringgan," said the
+foremost of the two, coming up to him, —"my name is Rossitur —
+Charlton Rossitur — a cousin of your little granddaughter. I
+have only" —
+
+"O, I know you now!" said Mr. Ringgan, rising and grasping his
+hand heartily, — "you are very welcome, Sir. How do you do? I
+recollect you perfectly, but you took me by surprise. — How do
+you do, Sir? Sit down — sit down."
+
+And the old gentleman had extended his frank welcome to the
+second of his visitors, almost before the first had time to
+utter,
+
+"My friend, Mr. Carleton."
+
+"I couldn't imagine what was coming upon me, "said Mr.
+Ringgan, cheerfully, "for you weren't anywhere very near my
+thoughts; and I don't often see much of the gay world that is
+passing by me. You have grown since I saw you last, Mr.
+Rossitur. You are studying at West Point, I believe."
+
+"No, Sir; I was studying there, but I had the pleasure of
+bringing that to an end last June."
+
+"Ah! — Well, what are you now? not a cadet any longer, I
+suppose."
+
+"No, Sir; we hatch out of that shell lieutenants."
+
+"Hum; and do you intend to remain in the army?"
+
+"Certainly, Sir, that is my purpose and hope."
+
+"Your mother would not like that, I should judge. I do not
+understand how she ever made up her mind to let you become
+that thing which hatches out into a lieutenant. Gentle
+creatures she and her sister both were; how was it, Mr.
+Rossitur? were you a wild young gentleman that wanted
+training?"
+
+"I have had it, Sir, whether I wanted it or no."
+
+"Hum! How is he, Mr. Carleton? — sober enough to command men?"
+
+"I have not seen him tried, Sir," said this gentleman,
+smiling; "but from the inconsistency of the orders he issues
+to his dogs, I doubt it exceedingly."
+
+"Why, Carleton would have no orders issued to them at all, I
+believe," said young Rossitur; "he has been saying 'hush' to
+me all day."
+
+The old gentleman laughed in a way that indicated intelligence
+with one of the speakers, — which, appeared not.
+
+"So you've been following the dogs to-day," said he. "Been
+successful?"
+
+"Not a bit of it," said Rossitur. "Whether we got on the wrong
+grounds, or didn't get on the right ones, or the dogs didn't
+mind their business, or there was nothing to fire at, I don't
+know; but we lost our patience, and got nothing in exchange."
+
+"Speak for yourself," said the other. "I assure you I was
+sensible of no ground of impatience while going over such a
+superb country as this."
+
+"It is a fine country," said Mr. Ringgan — "all this tract —
+and I ought to know it, for I have hunted every mile of it for
+many a mile around. There used to be more game than partridges
+in these hills, when I was a young man; bears and wolves, and
+deer, and now and then a panther, to say nothing of
+rattlesnakes."
+
+"That last-mentioned is an irregular sort or game, is it not."
+said Mr. Carleton, smiling.
+
+"Well, game is what you choose to make it," said the old
+gentleman. "I have seen worse days' sport than I saw once when
+we were out after rattlesnakes, and nothing else. There was a
+cave, Sir, down under a mountain, a few miles to the south of
+this, right at the foot of a bluff some four or five hundred
+feet sheer down; it was known to be a resort of those
+creatures, and a party of us went out — it's many years ago,
+now — to see if we couldn't destroy the nest; exterminate the
+whole horde. We had one dog with us, a little dog, a kind of
+spaniel, a little white and yellow fellow, and he did the
+work! Well, Sir, how many of those vermin do you guess that
+little creature made a finish of that day? of large and small,
+Sir, there were two hundred and twelve."
+
+"He must have been a gallant little fellow."
+
+"You never saw a creature, Sir, take to a sport better; he
+just dashed in among them, from one to another, he would catch
+a snake by the neck and give it a shake, and throw it down and
+rush at another; poor fellow, it was his last day's sport, he
+died almost as soon as it was over; he must have received a
+great many bites. The place is known as the rattlesnakes' den
+to this day, though there are none there now, I believe."
+
+"My little cousin is well, I hope," said Mr. Rossitur.
+
+"She? yes, bless her! she is always well. Where is she? Fairy,
+where are you? Cynthy, just call Elfleda here."
+
+"She's just in the thick of the muffins, Mr. Ringgan."
+
+"Let the muffins burn! Call her."
+
+Miss Cynthia accordingly opened a little way the door of the
+passage, from which a blue stifling smoke immediately made its
+way into the room, and called out to Fleda, whose little voice
+was heard faintly responding from the distance.
+
+"It's a wonder she can hear through all that smoke," remarked
+Cynthia.
+
+"She," said Mr. Ringgan, laughing; "she's playing cook or
+housekeeper in yonder, getting something ready for tea. She's
+a busy little spirit, if ever there was one. Ah! there she is.
+Come here, Fleda — here's your cousin Rossitur from West
+Point, and Mr. Carleton."
+
+Fleda made her appearance flushed with the heat of the stove
+and the excitement of turning the muffins, and the little iron
+spatula she used for that purpose still in her hand; and a
+fresh and larger puff of the unsavoury blue smoke accompanied
+her entrance. She came forward, however, gravely, and without
+the slightest embarrassment, to receive her cousin's somewhat
+unceremonious "How do, Fleda?" and, keeping the spatula still
+in one hand, shook hands with him with the other. But at the
+very different manner in which Mr. Carleton _rose_ and greeted
+her, the flush on Fleda's cheek deepened, and she cast down
+her eyes and stepped back to her grandfather's side with the
+demureness of a young lady just undergoing the ceremony of
+presentation.
+
+"You come upon us out of a cloud, Fleda," said her cousin. "Is
+that the way you have acquired a right to the name of Fairy?"
+
+"I am sure, no," said Mr. Carleton.
+
+Fleda did not lift up her eyes, but her mounting colour showed
+that she understood both speeches.
+
+"Because, if you are in general such a misty personage," Mr.
+Rossitur went on, half laughing, "I would humbly recommend a
+choice of incense."
+
+"O, I forgot to open the windows!" exclaimed Fleda,
+ingenuously. "Cynthy, wont you, please, go and do it! And take
+this with you," said she, holding out the spatula.
+
+" She is as good a fairy as _I_ want to see," said her
+grandfather, passing his arm fondly round her. "She carries a
+ray of sunshine in her right hand; and that's as magic-working
+a wand as any fairy ever wielded — hey, Mr. Carleton?"
+
+Mr. Carleton bowed. But whether the sunshine of affection in
+Fleda's glance and smile at her grandfather, made him feel
+that she was above a compliment, or whether it put the words
+out of his head, certain it is that he uttered none.
+
+"So you've had bad success to-day," continued Mr. Ringgan,
+"Where have you been? and what after? partridges?"
+
+"No, Sir," said Mr. Carleton, "my friend Rossitur promised me
+a rare bag of woodcock, which I understand to be the best of
+American feathered game; and, in pursuance of his promise, led
+me over a large extent of meadow and swamp land, this morning,
+with which, in the course of several hours, I became extremely
+familiar, without flushing a single bird."
+
+"Meadow and swamp land!" said the old gentleman.
+"Whereabouts?"
+
+"A mile or more beyond the little village over here, where we
+left our horses," said Rossitur. "We beat the ground well, but
+there were no signs of them even."
+
+"We had not the right kind of dog," said Mr. Carleton.
+
+"We had the kind that is always used here," said Rossitur;
+"nobody knows anything about a Cocker in America."
+
+"Ah, it was too wet," said Mr. Ringgan. "I could have told you
+that. There has been too much rain. You wouldn't find a
+woodcock in that swamp, after such a day as we had a few days
+ago. But speaking of game, Mr. Rossitur, I don't know anything
+in America equal to the grouse. It is far before woodcock. I
+remember, many years back, going a grouse shooting, I and a
+friend, down in Pennsylvania; we went two or three days
+running, and the birds we got were worth a whole season of
+woodcock. But, gentlemen, if you are not discouraged with your
+day's experience, and want to try again, _I'll_ put you in a way
+to get as many woodcock as will satisfy you — if you'll come
+here to-morrow morning. I'll go out with you far enough to
+show you the way to the best ground _I_ know for shooting that
+game in all this country; you'll have a good chance for
+partridges, too, in the course of the day; and that aint bad
+eating, when you can't get better — is it, Fairy?" he said,
+with a sudden smiling appeal to the little girl at his side.
+Her answer again was only an intelligent glance.
+
+The young sportsmen both thanked him and promised to take
+advantage of his kind offer. Fleda seized the opportunity to
+steal another look at the strangers; but meeting Mr.
+Carleton's eyes fixed on her with a remarkably soft and gentle
+expression, she withdrew her own again as fast as possible,
+and came to the conclusion that the only safe place for them
+was the floor.
+
+"I wish I was a little younger, and I'd take my gun and go
+along with you myself," said the old gentleman, pleasantly;
+"but," he added, sighing, "there is a time for everything, and
+my time for sporting is past."
+
+"You have no right to complain, Sir," said Mr. Carleton, with
+a meaning glance and smile, which the old gentleman took in
+excellent good part.
+
+"Well," said he, looking half proudly, half tenderly, upon the
+little demure figure at his side, "I don't say that I have. I
+hope I thank God for his mercies, and am happy. But in this
+world, Mr. Carleton, there is hardly a blessing but what draws
+a care after it. Well — well — these things will all be
+arranged for us!"
+
+It was plain, however, even to a stranger, that there was some
+subject of care, not vague nor undefined pressing upon Mr.
+Ringgan's mind as he said this.
+
+"Have you heard from my mother lately, Fleda?" said her
+cousin.
+
+"Why, yes," said Mr. Ringgan, — "she had a letter from her
+only to-day. You ha'n't read it yet, have you, Fleda?"
+
+"No, grandpa," said the little girl; "you know I've been
+busy."
+
+"Ay," said the old gentleman; "why couldn't you let Cynthia
+bake the cakes, and not roast yourself over the stove till
+you're as red as a turkey-cock?"
+
+"This morning I was like a chicken," said Fleda, laughing,
+"and now like a turkey-cock."
+
+"Shall I tell mamma, Fleda," said young Rossitur, "that you
+put off reading her letter to bake muffins?"
+
+Fleda answered without looking up, "Yes, if he pleased."
+
+"What do you suppose she will think?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"She will think that you love muffins better than her."
+
+"No," said Fleda, quietly, but firmly, — "she will not think
+that, because it isn't true."
+
+The gentlemen laughed, but Mr. Carleton declared that Fleda's
+reasoning was unanswerable.
+
+"Well, I will see you to-morrow," said Mr. Rossitur, "after
+you have read the letter, for I suppose you will read it some
+time. You should have had it before, — it came enclosed to me,
+— but I forgot unaccountably to mail it to you till a few days
+ago."
+
+"It will be just as good now, Sir," said Mr. Ringgan.
+
+"There is a matter in it, though," said Rossitur, "about which
+my mother has given me a charge. We will see you to-morrow. It
+was for that partly we turned out of our way this evening."
+
+"I am very glad you did," said Mr. Ringgan. "I hope your way
+will bring you here often. Wont you stay and try some of these
+same muffins before you go?"
+
+But this was declined, and the gentlemen departed; Fleda, it
+must be confessed, seeing nothing in the whole leave-taking
+but Mr. Carleton's look and smile. The muffins were a very
+tame affair after it.
+
+When supper was over, she sat down fairly to her letter, and
+read it twice through before she folded it up. By this time
+the room was clear both of the tea equipage and of Cynthia's
+presence, and Fleda and her grandfather were alone in the
+darkening twilight with the blazing wood fire; he in his usual
+place at the side, and she on the hearth directly before it;
+both silent, both thinking, for some time. At length Mr.
+Ringgan spoke, breaking as it were the silence and his
+seriousness with the same effort.
+
+"Well, dear!" said he, cheerfully, — "what does she say?"
+
+"O, she says a great many things, grandpa; shall I read you
+the letter?"
+
+"No, dear, I don't care to hear it; only tell me what she
+says."
+
+"She says they are going to stay in Paris yet a good while
+longer."
+
+"Hum!" — said Mr. Ringgan. "Well — that aint the wisest thing
+I should like to hear of her doing."
+
+"Oh, but it's because uncle Rossitur likes to stay there, I
+suppose, isn't it, grandpa?"
+
+"I don't know, dear. Maybe your aunt's caught the French
+fever. She used to be a good sensible woman; but when people
+will go into a whirligig, I think some of their wits get blown
+away before they come out. Well — what else?"
+
+"I am sure she is very kind," said Fleda. "She wants to have
+me go out there and live with her very much. She says I shall
+have everything I like, and do just as I please, and she will
+make a pet of me, and give me all sorts of pleasant things.
+She says she will take as good care of me as ever I took of
+the kittens. And there's a long piece to you about it, that
+I'll give you to read as soon as we have a light. It is very
+good of her, isn't it, grandpa? I love aunt Lucy very much."
+
+"Well," said Mr. Ringgan, after a pause, "how does she propose
+to get you there?"
+
+"Why," said Fleda, — "isn't it curious? — she says there is a
+Mrs. Carleton here, who is a friend of hers, and she is going
+to Paris in a little while, and aunt Lucy asked her if she
+wouldn't bring me, if you would let me go, and she said she
+would with great pleasure, and aunt Lucy wants me to come out
+with her."
+
+"Carleton! — Hum —" said Mr. Ringgan; " that must be this
+young man's mother?'"
+
+"Yes, aunt Lucy says she is here with her son, — at least she
+says they were coming."
+
+"A very gentlemanly young man, indeed," said Mr. Ringgan.
+
+There was a grave silence. The old gentleman sat looking on
+the floor; Fleda sat looking into the fire with all her might.
+
+"Well," said Mr. Ringgan after a little, "how would you like
+it, Fleda?"
+
+"What, grandpa?"
+
+"To go out to Paris to your aunt, with this Mrs. Carleton?"
+
+"I shouldn't like it at all," said Fleda, smiling and letting
+her eyes go back to the fire. But looking, after the pause of
+a minute or two, again to her grandfather's face, she was
+struck with its expression of stern anxiety. She rose
+instantly, and coming to him, and laying one hand gently on
+his knee, said in tones that fell as light on the ear as the
+touch of a moonbeam on the water, "_You_ do not want me to go,
+do you, grandpa?"
+
+"No, dear!" said the old gentleman, letting his hand fall upon
+hers, — "no, dear! — that is the last thing I want!"
+
+But Fleda's keen ear discerned not only the deep affection,
+but something of _regret_ in the voice, which troubled her. She
+stood, anxious and fearing while her grandfather lifting his
+hand again and again, let it fall gently upon hers; and amid
+all the fondness of the action, Fleda somehow seemed to feel
+in it the same regret.
+
+"You'll not let aunt Lucy, nor anybody else, take me away from
+you, will you, grandpa?" said she after a little, leaning both
+arms affectionately on his knee, and looking up into his face.
+
+"No, indeed, dear!" said he, with an attempt at his usual
+heartiness, — "not as long as I have a place to keep you.
+While I have a roof to put my head under, it shall cover
+yours."
+
+To Fleda's hope that would have said enough; but her
+grandfather's face was so moved from its wonted expression of
+calm dignity, that it was plain _his_ hope was tasting bitter
+things. Fleda watched in silent grief and amazement the
+watering eye and unnerved lip; till her grandfather,
+indignantly dashing away a tear or two, drew her close to his
+breast and kissed her. But she well guessed that the reason
+why he did not for a minute or two say anything, was because
+he could not. Neither could she. She was fighting with her
+woman's nature to keep it down, — learning the lesson early!
+
+"Ah well," — said Mr. Ringgan at length, in a kind of tone
+that might indicate the giving up a struggle which he had no
+means of carrying on, or the endeavour to conceal it from the
+too keen-wrought feelings of his little grand-daughter, —
+"there will be a way opened for us somehow. We must let our
+Heavenly Father take care of us."
+
+"And he will, grandpa," whispered Fleda.
+
+"Yes, dear! We are selfish creatures. Your father's and your
+mother's child will not be forgotten."
+
+"Nor you either, dear grandpa," said the little girl, laying
+her soft cheek alongside of his, and speaking by dint of a
+great effort.
+
+"No," said he, clasping her more tenderly, — "no — it would be
+wicked in me to doubt it. He has blessed me all my life long
+with a great many more blessings than I deserved; and if he
+chooses to take away the sunshine of my last days, I will bow
+my head to his will, and believe that he does all things well,
+though I cannot see it."
+
+"Don't, dear grandpa," said Fleda, stealing her other arm
+round his neck and hiding her face there, — "please don't!"
+
+He very much regretted that he had said too much. He did not,
+however, know exactly how to mend it. He kissed her, and
+stroked her soft hair, but that and the manner of it only made
+it more difficult for Fleda to recover herself, which she was
+struggling to do; and when he tried to speak in accents of
+cheering, his voice trembled. Fleda's heart was breaking, but
+she felt that she was making matters worse, and she had
+already concluded, on a mature review of circumstances, that
+it was her duty to be cheerful. So, after a few very heartfelt
+tears which she could not help, she raised her head and
+smiled, even while she wiped the traces of them away.
+
+"After all, grandpa," said she, "perhaps Mr. Jolly will come
+here in the morning with some good news, and then we should be
+troubling ourselves just for nothing."
+
+"Perhaps he will," said Mr. Ringgan, in a way that sounded
+much more like "Perhaps he wont!" But Fleda was determined now
+not to _seem_ discouraged again. She thought the best way was to
+change the conversation.
+
+"It is very kind in aunt Lucy, isn't it, grandpa, what she has
+written to me?"
+
+"Why, no," said Mr. Ringgan, decidedly; "I can't say I think
+it is any very extraordinary manifestation of kindness in
+anybody to want you."
+
+Fleda smiled her thanks for this compliment.
+
+"It might be a kindness in me to give you to her."
+
+"It wouldn't be a kindness to me, grandpa."
+
+"I don't know about that," said he, gravely. They were getting
+back to the old subject. Fleda made another great effort at a
+diversion.
+
+"Grandpa, was my father like my uncle Rossitur in anything?"
+
+The diversion was effected.
+
+"Not he, dear!" said Mr. Ringgan. "Your father had ten times
+the man in him that ever your uncle was."
+
+"Why, what kind of a man is uncle Rossitur, grandpa?"
+
+"Ho dear! I can't tell. I ha'n't seen much of him. I wouldn't
+judge a man without knowing more of him than I do of Mr.
+Rossitur. He seemed an amiable kind of man. But no one would
+ever have thought of looking at him, no more than at a shadow,
+when your father was by."
+
+The diversion took effect on Fleda herself now. She looked up
+pleased.
+
+"You remember your father, Fleda."
+
+"Yes, grandpa, but not very well always. I remember a great
+many things about him, but I can't remember exactly how he
+looked, except once or twice."
+
+"Ay, and he wa'n't well the last time you remember him. But he
+was a noble-looking man — in form and face too — and his looks
+were the worst part of him. He seemed made of different stuff
+from all the people around," said Mr. Ringgan, sighing, "and
+they felt it too, I used to notice, without knowing it. When
+his cousins were 'Sam,' and 'Johnny,' and 'Bill,' he was
+always, that is after he grew up, '_Mr. Walter_.' I believe they
+were a little afeard of him. And with all his bravery and fire
+he could be as gentle as a woman."
+
+"I know that," said Fleda, whose eyes were dropping soft tears
+and glittering at the same time with gratified feeling. "What
+made him be a soldier, grandpa? "
+
+"Oh, I don't know, dear! — he was too good to make a farmer of
+— or his high spirit wanted to rise in the world — he couldn't
+rest without trying to be something more than other folks. I
+don't know whether people are any happier for it."
+
+"Did _he_ go to West Point, grandpa?"
+
+"No, dear! — he started without having so much of a push as
+that; but he was one of those that don't need any pushing; he
+would have worked his way up, put him anywhere you would, and
+he did, — over the heads of West Pointers and all, and would
+have gone to the top, I verily believe, if he had lived long
+enough. He was as fine a fellow as there was in all the army.
+_I_ don't believe there's the like of him left in it."
+
+"He had been a major a good while, hadn't be, grandpa?"
+
+"Yes. It was just after he was made captain that he went to
+Albany, and there he saw your mother. She and her sister, your
+aunt Lucy, were wards of the patroon. I was in Albany, in the
+legislature, that winter, and I knew them both very well; but
+your aunt Lucy had been married some years before. She was
+staying there that winter without her husband — he was abroad
+somewhere."
+
+Fleda was no stranger to these details, and had learned long
+ago what was meant by "wards" and "the patroon."
+
+"Your father was made a major some years afterwards," Mr.
+Ringgan went on, "for his fine behaviour out here at the West
+— what's the name of the place? — I forget it just now —
+fighting the Indians. There never was anything finer done."
+
+"He was brave, wasn't he, grandpa?"
+
+"Brave! — he had a heart of iron sometimes, for as soft as it
+was at others. And he had an eye, when he was roused, that I
+never saw anything that would stand against. But your father
+had a better sort of courage than the common sort — he had
+enough of _that_ — but this is a rarer thing — he never was
+afraid to do what in his conscience he thought was right.
+Moral courage I call it, and it is one of the very noblest
+qualities a man can have."
+
+"That's a kind of courage a woman may have," raid Fleda.
+
+"Yes — you may have that; and I guess it's the only kind of
+courage you'll ever be troubled with," said her grandfather,
+looking laughingly at her. "However, any man may walk up to
+the cannon's mouth, but it is only one here and there that
+will walk out against men's opinions because he thinks it is
+right. That was one of the things I admired most in your
+father."
+
+"Didn't my mother have it too?" said Fleda.
+
+"I don't know — she had about everything that was good. A
+sweet pretty creature she was as ever I saw."
+
+"Was she like aunt Lucy?"
+
+"No, not much. She was a deal handsomer than your aunt is or
+ever could have been. She was the handsomest woman, I think,
+that ever I set eyes upon; and a sweet, gentle, lovely
+creature. _You_'ll never match her," said Mr. Ringgan, with a
+curious twist of his head and sly laughing twist of his eyes
+at Fleda; — "you may be as _good_ as she was, but you'll never
+be as good-looking."
+
+Fleda laughed, nowise displeased.
+
+"You've got her hazel eyes though," remarked Mr. Ringgan,
+after a minute or two, viewing his little grand-daughter with
+a sufficiently satisfied expression of countenance.
+
+"Grandpa," said she, "don't you think Mr. Carleton has
+handsome eyes?"
+
+"Mr. Carleton? — hum — I don't know; I didn't look at his
+eyes. A very well-looking young man though — very gentlemanly
+too."
+
+Fleda had heard all this and much more about her parents some
+dozens of times before; but she and her grandfather were never
+tired of going it over. If the conversation that recalled his
+lost treasures had of necessity a character of sadness and
+tenderness, it yet bespoke not more regret that he had lost
+them than exulting pride and delight in what they had been, —
+perhaps not so much. And Fleda delighted to go back and feed
+her imagination with stories of the mother whom she could not
+remember, and of the father whose fair bright image stood in
+her memory as the embodiment of all that is high and noble and
+pure. A kind of guardian angel that image was to little Fleda.
+These ideal likenesses of her father and mother, the one drawn
+from history and recollection, the other from history only,
+had been her preservative from all the untoward influences and
+unfortunate examples which had surrounded her since her
+father's death, some three or four years before, had left her
+almost alone in her grandfather's house. They had created in
+her mind a standard of the true and beautiful in character,
+which nothing she saw around her, after, of course, her
+grandfather and one other exception, seemed at all to meet;
+and partly from her own innate fineness of nature, and partly
+from this pure ideal always present with her, she had shrunk
+almost instinctively from the few varieties of human nature
+the country-side presented to her, and was in fact a very
+isolated little being, living in a world of her own, and
+clinging with all her strong out-goings of affection to her
+grandfather only; granting to but one other person any
+considerable share in her regard or esteem. Little Fleda was
+not in the least misanthropical; she gave her kindly
+sympathies to all who came in her way on whom they could
+possibly be bestowed; but these people were nothing to her;
+her spirit fell off from them, even in their presence; there
+was no affinity. She was in truth what her grandfather had
+affirmed of her father, made of different stuff from the rest
+of the world. There was no tincture of pride in all this;
+there was no conscious feeling of superiority; she could
+merely have told you that she did not care to hear these
+people talk, that she did not love to be with them; though she
+_would_ have said so to no earthly creature but her grandfather,
+if even to him.
+
+"It must be pleasant," said Fleda, after looking for some
+minutes thoughtfully into the fire, — "it must be a pleasant
+thing to have a father and mother."
+
+"Yes, dear!" said her grandfather, sighing, — "you have lost a
+great deal! But there is your aunt Lucy — you are not
+dependent altogether on me."
+
+"Oh, grandpa!" said the little girl, laying one hand again
+pleadingly on his knee; — "I didn't mean — I mean — I was
+speaking in general — I wasn't thinking of myself in
+particular."
+
+"I know, dear!" said he, as before taking the little hand in
+his own, and moving it softly up and down on his knee. But the
+action was sad, and there was the same look of sorrowful stern
+anxiety. Fleda got up and put her arm over his shoulder,
+speaking from a heart filled too full.
+
+"I don't want aunt Lucy — I don't care about aunt Lucy, I
+don't want anything but you, grandpa. I wish you wouldn't talk
+so."
+
+"Ah well, dear," said he, without looking at her, — he
+couldn't bear to look at her, — "it's well it is so. I sha'n't
+last a great while — it isn't likely — and I am glad to know
+there is some one you can fall back upon when I am gone."
+
+Fleda's next words were scarce audible, but they contained a
+reproach to him for speaking so.
+
+"We may as well look at it, dear," said he, gravely; "it must
+come to that —- sooner or later — but you mustn't distress
+yourself about it beforehand. Don't cry — don't dear!" said
+he, tenderly kissing her. "I didn't mean to trouble you so.
+There — there — look up, dear — let's take the good we have
+and be thankful for it. God will arrange the rest, in his own
+good way. Fleda! — I wouldn't have said a word if I had
+thought it would have worried you so."
+
+He would not indeed. But he had spoken as men so often speak,
+out of the depths of their own passion or bitterness,
+forgetting that they are wringing the chords of a delicate
+harp, and not knowing what mischief they have done till they
+find the instrument all out of tune, — more often not knowing
+it ever. It is pity, — for how frequently a discord is left
+that jars all life long; and how much more frequently still
+the harp, though retaining its sweetness and truth of tone to
+the end, is gradually unstrung.
+
+Poor Fleda could hardly hold up her head for a long time, and
+recalling bitterly her unlucky innocent remark which had led
+to all this trouble, she almost made up her mind, with a
+certain heroine of Miss Edgeworth's, that "it is best never to
+mention things". Mr. Ringgan, now thoroughly alive to the
+wounds he had been inflicting, held his little pet in his
+arms, pillowed her head on his breast, and by every tender and
+soothing action and word endeavoured to undo what he had done.
+And after a while the agony was over, the wet eyelashes were
+lifted up, and the meek sorrowful little face lay quietly upon
+Mr. Ringgan's breast, gazing out into the fire as gravely as
+if the panorama of life were there. She little heeded at first
+her grandfather's cheering talk, she knew it was for a
+purpose.
+
+"Aint it most time for you to go to bed?" whispered Mr.
+Ringgan, when he thought the purpose was effected.
+
+"Shall I tell Cynthy to get you your milk, grandpa?" said the
+little girl, rousing herself.
+
+"Yes dear. — Stop, — what if you and me were to have some
+roast apples? — wouldn't you like it?"
+
+"Well — yes, I should, grandpa," said Fleda, understanding
+perfectly why he wished it, and wishing it herself for that
+same reason and no other.
+
+"Cynthy, let's have some of those roast apples," said Mr.
+Ringgan, "and a couple of bowls of milk here."
+
+"No, I'll get the apples myself, Cynthy," said Fleda.
+
+"And you needn't take any of the cream off, Cynthy," added Mr.
+Ringgan.
+
+One corner of the kitchen table was hauled up to the fire, to
+be comfortable, Fleda said, and she and her grandfather sat
+down on the opposite sides of it to do honour to the apples
+and milk; each with the simple intent of keeping up
+appearances and cheating the other into cheerfulness. There
+is, however, deny it who can, an exhilarating effect in good
+wholesome food taken when one is in some need of it; and Fleda
+at least found the supper relish exceeding well. Every one
+furthermore knows the relief of a hearty flow of tears when a
+secret weight has been pressing on the mind. She was just
+ready for anything reviving. After the third mouthful she
+began to talk, and before the bottom of the bowls was reached,
+she had smiled more than once. So her grandfather thought no
+harm was done, and went to bed quite comforted; and Fleda
+climbed the steep stairs that led from his door to her little
+chamber just over his head. It was small and mean, immediately
+under the roof, with only one window. There were plenty of
+better rooms in the house, but Fleda liked this because it
+kept her near her grandfather; and indeed she had always had
+it ever since her father's death, and never thought of taking
+any other.
+
+She had a fashion, this child, in whom the simplicity of
+practical life and the poetry of imaginative life were
+curiously blended, — she had a fashion of going to her window
+every night when the moon or stars were shining, to look out
+for a minute or two before she went to bed; and sometimes the
+minutes were more than any good grandmother or aunt would have
+considered wholesome for little Fleda in the fresh night air.
+But there was no one to watch or reprimand; and whatever it
+was that Fleda read in earth or sky, the charm which held her
+one bright night was sure to bring her to her window the next.
+This evening a faint young moon lighted up but dimly the
+meadow and what was called the "east-hill," over against which
+the window in question looked. The air was calm and mild;
+there was no frost to-night; the stillness was entire, and the
+stars shone in a cloudless sky. Fleda set open the window, and
+looked out with a face that again bore tokens of the
+experiences of that day. She wanted the soothing speech of
+nature's voice; and child as she was, she could hear it. She
+did not know, in her simplicity, what it was that comforted
+and soothed her, but she stood at her window enjoying.
+
+It was so perfectly still, her fancy presently went to all
+those people who had hushed their various work and were now
+resting, or soon would be, in the unconsciousness and the
+helplessness of sleep. The _helplessness_, — and then that Eye
+that never sleeps; that Hand that keeps them all, that is
+never idle, that is the safety and the strength alike of all
+the earth, and of them that wake or sleep upon it, —
+
+"And if he takes care of them all, will he not take care of
+poor little me?" thought Fleda. "Oh, how glad I am I know
+there is a God! — How glad I am I know he is such a God! and
+that I can trust in him; and he will make everything go right.
+How I forget this sometimes! But Jesus does not forget his
+children. Oh, I am a happy little girl! — Grandpa's saying
+what he did don't make it so — perhaps I shall die the first —
+but I hope not, for what would become of him! — But this and
+everything will all be arranged right, and I have nothing to
+do with it but to obey God and please him, and he will take
+care of the rest. He has forbidden _us_ to be careful about it
+too."
+
+With grateful tears of relief Fleda shut the window and began
+to undress herself, her heart so lightened of its burden, that
+her thoughts presently took leave to go out again upon
+pleasure excursions in various directions; and one of the last
+things in Fleda's mind before sleep surprised her was, what a
+nice thing it was for any one to bow and smile so as Mr.
+Carleton did!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+I know each lane, and every alley green,
+Dingle or bushy dell of this wild wood,
+And every bosky bourne from side to side;
+My daily walks and ancient neighbourhood.
+MILTON.
+
+
+Fleda and her grandfather had but just risen from a tolerably
+early breakfast the next morning, when the two young sportsmen
+entered the room.
+
+"Ha!" said Mr. Ringgan, "I declare! you're stirring betimes.
+Come five or six miles this morning a'ready. Well — that's the
+stuff to make sportsmen of. Off for the woodcock, hey? And I
+was to go with you and show you the ground? I declare I don't
+know how in the world I can do it this morning, I'm so very
+stiff — ten times as bad as I was yesterday. I had a window
+open in my room last night, I expect that must have been the
+cause. I don't see how I could have overlooked it; but I never
+gave it a thought, till this morning I found myself so lame I
+could hardly get out of bed. I am very sorry, upon my word!"
+
+"I am very sorry we must lose your company, Sir," said the
+young Englishman, "and for such a cause; but as to the rest, I
+dare say your directions will guide us sufficiently."
+
+"I don't know about that," said the old gentleman. " It is
+pretty hard to steer by a chart that is only laid down in the
+imagination. I set out once to go in New York from one side of
+the city over into the other, and the first thing I knew I
+found myself travelling along half a mile out of town. I had
+to get in a stage and ride back, and take a fresh start. Out
+at the West they say, when you are in the woods you can tell
+which is north by the moss growing on that side of the trees;
+but if you're lost, you'll be pretty apt to find the moss
+grows on _all_ sides of the trees. I couldn't make out any
+waymarks at all, in such a labyrinth of brick corners. Well,
+let us see — if I tell you now it is so easy to mistake one
+hill for another — Fleda, child, you put on your sun-bonnet,
+and take these gentlemen back to the twenty-acre lot, and from
+there you can tell 'em how to go, so I guess they wont mistake
+it."
+
+"By no means!" said Mr. Carleton; "we cannot give her so much
+trouble; it would be buying our pleasure at much too dear a
+rate."
+
+"Tut, tut," said the old gentleman; "she thinks nothing of
+trouble, and the walk 'll do her good. She'd like to be out
+all day, I believe, if she had any one to go along with; but
+I'm rather a stupid companion for such a spry little pair of
+feet. Fleda, look here; when they get to the lot, they can
+find their own way after that. You know where the place is —
+where your cousin Seth shot so many woodcock last year, over
+in Mr. Hurlbut's land; when you get to the big lot you must
+tell these gentlemen to go straight over the hill, not Squire
+Thornton's hill, but mine, at the back of the lot. They must
+go straight over it, till they come to cleared land on the
+other side; then they must keep along by the edge of the wood,
+to the right, till they come to the brook; they must _cross the
+brook_, and follow up the opposite bank, and they'll know the
+ground when they come to it; or they don't deserve to. Do you
+understand? Now run and get your hat, for they ought to be
+off."
+
+Fleda went, but neither her step nor her look showed any great
+willingness to the business.
+
+"I am sure, Mr. Ringgan," said Mr. Carleton, "your little
+granddaughter has some reason for not wishing to take such a
+long walk this morning. Pray allow us to go without her."
+
+"Pho, pho," said the old gentleman, "she wants to go."
+
+"I guess she's skeered o' the guns," said Cynthy, happy to get
+a chance to edge in a word before such company; "it's that
+ails her."
+
+"Well, well; she must get used to it," said Mr. Ringgan. "Here
+she is!"
+
+Fleda had it in her mind to whisper to him a word of hope
+about Mr. Jolly; but she recollected that it was at best an
+uncertain hope, and that if her grandfather's thoughts were
+off the subject it was better to leave them so. She only
+kissed him for good-by, and went out with the two gentlemen.
+
+As they took up their guns, Mr. Carleton caught the timid
+shunning glance her eye gave at them.
+
+"Do you dislike the company of these noisy friends of ours,
+Miss Fleda?" said he.
+
+Fleda hesitated, and finally said, "she didn't much like to be
+very near them when they were fired."
+
+"Put that fear away then," said he, " for they shall keep a
+respectful silence so long as they have the honour to be in
+your company. If the woodcock come about us as tame as quails
+our guns shall not be provoked to say anything till your
+departure gives them leave."
+
+Fleda smiled her thanks, and set forward, privately much
+confirmed in her opinion that Mr. Carleton had handsome eyes.
+
+At a little distance from the house Fleda left the meadow for
+an old apple-orchard at the left, lying on a steep side hill.
+Up this hill-side they toiled; and then found themselves on a
+ridge of tableland, stretching back for some distance along
+the edge of a little valley or bottom of perfectly flat smooth
+pasture-ground. The valley was very narrow, only divided into
+fields by fences running from side to side. The table-land
+might be a hundred feet or more above the level of the bottom,
+with a steep face towards it. A little way back from the edge
+the woods began; between them and the brow of the hill the
+ground was smooth and green, planted as if by art with
+flourishing young silver pines, and once in a while a hemlock,
+some standing in all their luxuriance alone, and some in
+groups. With now and then a smooth grey rock, or large
+boulderstone, which had somehow inexplicably stopped on the
+brow of the hill instead of rolling down into what at some
+former time no doubt was a bed of water, — all this open strip
+of the table-land might have stood with very little coaxing
+for a piece of a gentleman's pleasure-ground. On the opposite
+side of the little valley was a low rocky height, covered with
+wood, now in the splendour of varied red and green and purple
+and brown and gold; between, at their feet, lay the soft quiet
+green meadow; and off to the left, beyond the far end of the
+valley, was the glory of the autumn woods again, softened in
+the distance. A true October sky seemed to pervade all, mildly
+blue, transparently pure, with that clearness of atmosphere
+that no other month gives us; a sky that would have conferred
+a patent of nobility on any landscape. The scene was certainly
+contracted and nowise remarkable in any of its features, but
+Nature had shaken out all her colours over the land, and drawn
+a veil from the sky, and breathed through the woods and over
+the hill-side the very breath of health, enjoyment, and
+vigour.
+
+When they were about over-against the middle of the valley,
+Mr. Carleton suddenly made a pause and stood for some minutes
+silently looking. His two companions came to a halt on either
+side of him, one not a little pleased, the other a little
+impatient.
+
+"Beautiful!" Mr. Carleton said, at length.
+
+"Yes," said Fleda, gravely, "I think it's a pretty place. I
+like it up here."
+
+"We sha'n't catch many woodcock among these pines," said young
+Rossitur.
+
+"I wonder," said Mr. Carleton, presently, "how any one should
+have called these 'melancholy days.' "
+
+"Who has?" said Rossitur.
+
+"A countryman of yours," said his friend, glancing at him. "If
+he had been a countryman of mine there would have been less
+marvel. But here is none of the sadness of decay — none of the
+withering — if the tokens of old age are seen at all it is in
+the majestic honours that crown a glorious life — the graces
+of a matured and ripened character. This has nothing in
+common, Rossitur, with those dull moralists who are always
+dinning decay and death into one's ears; this speaks of Life.
+Instead of freezing all one's hopes and energies, it quickens
+the pulse with the desire to _do_. — 'The saddest of the year' —
+Bryant was wrong."
+
+"Bryant? — oh!" — said young Rossitur; "I didn't know who you
+were speaking of."
+
+"I believe, now I think of it, he was writing of a somewhat
+later time of the year, — I don't know how all this will look
+in November."
+
+"I think it is very pleasant in November," said little Fleda,
+sedately.
+
+"Don't you know Bryant's 'Death of the Flowers,' Rossitur?"
+said his friend, smiling. "What have you been doing all your
+life?"
+
+"Not studying the fine arts at West Point, Mr. Carleton."
+
+"Then sit down here, and let me mend that place in your
+education. Sit down! and I'll give you something better than
+woodcock. You keep a game-bag for thoughts, don't you?"
+
+Mr. Rossitur wished Mr. Carleton didn't. But he sat down,
+however, and listened with an unedified face; while his
+friend, more to please himself, it must be confessed, than for
+any other reason, and perhaps with half a notion to try Fleda,
+repeated the beautiful words. He presently saw they were not
+lost upon one of his hearers; she listened intently.
+
+"It is very pretty," said Rossitur, when he had done. "I
+believe I have seen it before somewhere."
+
+"There is no 'smoky light' to-day," said Fleda.
+
+"No," said Mr. Carleton, smiling to himself. "Nothing but that
+could improve the beauty of all this, Miss Fleda."
+
+"_I_ like it better as it is," said Fleda.
+
+"I am surprised at that," said young Rossitur. "I thought you
+lived on smoke."
+
+There was nothing in the words, but the tone was not exactly
+polite. Fleda granted him neither smile nor look.
+
+"I am glad you like it up here," she went on, gravely doing
+the honours of the place. "I came this way because we
+shouldn't have so many fences to climb."
+
+"You are the best little guide possible, and I have no doubt
+would always lead one the right way," said Mr. Carleton.
+
+Again the same gentle, kind, _appreciating_ look. Fleda
+unconsciously drew a step nearer. There was a certain
+undefined confidence established between them.
+
+"There's a little brook down there in spring," said she,
+pointing to a small, grass-grown water-course in the meadow,
+hardly discernible from the height, — "but there's no water in
+it now. It runs quite full for a while after the snow breaks
+up; but it dries away by June or July."
+
+"What are those trees so beautifully tinged with red and
+orange, down there by the fence in the meadow?"
+
+"I am not woodsman enough to inform you," replied Rossitur.
+
+"Those are maples," said Fleda — "sugar maples. The one all
+orange is a hickory."
+
+"How do you know?" said Mr. Carleton, turning to her. "By your
+wit as a fairy?"
+
+"I know by the colour," said Fleda, modestly; "and by the
+shape too."
+
+"Fairy," said Mr. Rossitur, "if you have any of the stuff
+about you, I wish you would knock this gentleman over the head
+with your wand, and put the spirit of moving into him. He is
+going to sit dreaming here all day."
+
+"Not at all," said his friend, springing up; "I am ready for
+you; but I want other game than woodcock just now, I confess."
+
+They walked along in silence, and had near reached the
+extremity of the table-land, which, towards the end of the
+valley, descended into ground of a lower level covered with
+woods; when Mr. Carleton, who was a little ahead, was startled
+by Fleda's voice, exclaiming, in a tone of distress, "Oh, not
+the robins!" and turning about, perceived Mr. Rossitur
+standing still with levelled gun, and just in the act to
+shoot. Fleda had stopped her ears. In the same instant, Mr.
+Carleton had thrown up the gun, demanding of Rossitur, with a
+singular change of expression — "what he meant!"
+
+"Mean?" said the young gentleman, meeting with an astonished
+face the indignant fire of his companion's eyes — "why, I mean
+not to meddle with other people's guns, Mr. Carleton. What do
+_you_ mean?"
+
+"Nothing, but to protect myself."
+
+"Protect yourself!" said Rossitur, heating as the other cooled
+— "from what, in the name of wonder?"
+
+"Only from having my word blown away by your fire," said
+Carleton, smiling. "Come, Rossitur, recollect yourself —
+remember our compact."
+
+"Compact! one isn't bound to keep compacts with unearthly
+personages," said Rossitur, half sulkily and half angrily;
+"and besides, I made none."
+
+Mr. Carleton turned from him very coolly, and walked on.
+
+They left the table-land and the wood, entered the valley
+again, and passed through a large orchard, the last of the
+succession of fields which stretched along it. Beyond this
+orchard the ground rose suddenly, and on the steep hill-side
+there had been a large plantation of Indian corn. The corn was
+harvested, but the ground was still covered with numberless
+little stacks of the cornstalks. Halfway up the hill stood
+three ancient chestnut-trees; veritable patriarchs of the nut
+tribe they were, and respected and esteemed as patriarchs
+should be.
+
+"There are no 'dropping nuts' to-day, either," said Fleda, to
+whom the sight of her forest friends in the distance probably
+suggested the thought, for she had not spoken for some time.
+"I suppose there hasn't been frost enough yet."
+
+"Why, you have a good memory, Fairy," said Mr. Carleton. "Do
+you give the nuts leave to fall of themselves?"
+
+"Oh, sometimes grandpa and I go a nutting," said the little
+girl, getting lightly over the fence — "but we haven't been
+this year."
+
+"Then it is a pleasure to come yet?"
+
+"No," said Fleda, quietly; "the trees near the house have been
+stripped; and the only other nice place there is for us to go
+to, Mr. Didenhover let the Shakers have the nuts. I sha'n't
+get any this year."
+
+"Live in the woods and not get any nuts! that wont do, Fairy.
+Here are some fine chestnuts we are coming to — what should
+hinder our reaping a good harvest from these?"
+
+"I don't think there will be any on them," said Fleda; "Mr.
+Didenhover has been here lately with the men getting in the
+corn; I guess they have cleared the trees."
+
+"Who is Mr. Didenhover?"
+
+"He is grandpa's man."
+
+"Why didn't you bid Mr. Didenhover let the nuts alone?"
+
+"Oh, he wouldn't mind if he was told," said Fleda. "He does
+everything just as he has a mind to, and nobody can hinder
+him. Yes, they've cleared the trees — I thought so."
+
+"Don't you know of any other trees that are out of this Mr.
+Didenhover's way?"
+
+"Yes," said Fleda; "I know a place where there used to be
+beautiful hickory trees, and some chestnuts too, I think; but
+it is too far off for grandpa, and I couldn't go there alone.
+This is the twenty-acre lot," said she, looking, though she
+did not say it, "Here I leave you."
+
+"I am glad to hear it," said her cousin. "Now give us our
+directions, Fleda, and thank you for your services."
+
+"Stop a minute," said Mr. Carleton. "What if you and I should
+try to find those same hickory-trees, Miss Fleda? Will you
+take me with you — or is it too long a walk?"
+
+"For me? — oh no!" said Fleda, with a face of awakening hope;
+"but," she added, timidly, "you were going a shooting, Sir?"
+
+"What on earth are you thinking of, Carleton?" said young
+Rossitur." Let the nuts and Fleda alone, do!"
+
+"By your leave, Mr. Rossitur," said Carleton. "My murderous
+intents have all left me, Miss Fleda; I suppose your wand has
+been playing about me, and I should like nothing better than
+to go with you over the hills this morning. I have been a
+nutting many a time in my own woods at home, and I want to try
+it for once in the New World. Will you take me?"
+
+"Oh, thank you, Sir!" said Fleda; " but we have passed the
+turning a long way; we must go back ever so far the same way
+we came to get to the place where we turn off to go up the
+mountain."
+
+"I don't wish for a prettier way — if it isn't so far as to
+tire you, Fairy?"
+
+"Oh, it wont tire me!" said Fleda, overjoyed.
+
+"Carleton!" exclaimed young Rossitur. "Can you be so absurd!
+Lose this splendid day for the woodcock, when we may not have
+another while we are here!"
+
+"You are not a true sportsman, Mr. Rossitur," said the other,
+coolly, "or you would know what it is to have some sympathy
+with the sports of others. But _you_ will have the day for the
+woodcock, and bring us home a great many, I hope. Miss Fleda,
+suppose we give this impatient young gentleman his orders and
+despatch him."
+
+"I thought you were more of a sportsman," said the vexed West
+Pointer, — "or your sympathy would be with me."
+
+"I tell you the sporting mania was never stronger on me," said
+the other, carelessly. "Something less than a rifle, however,
+will do to bring down the game I am after. We will rendezvous
+at the little village over yonder, unless I go home before
+you, which I think is more probable. Au revoir!"
+
+With careless gracefulness he saluted his disconcerted
+companion, who moved off with ungraceful displeasure. Fleda
+and Mr. Carleton then began to follow back the road they had
+come, in the highest good humour both. Her sparkling face told
+him with even greater emphasis than her words,
+
+"I am so much obliged to you, Sir."
+
+"How you go over fences!" said he, — "like a sprite, as you
+are."
+
+"Oh, I have climbed a great many," said Fleda, accepting,
+however, again with that infallible instinct, the help which
+she did not need. — "I shall be so glad to get some nuts, for
+I thought I wasn't going to have any this year; and it is so
+pleasant to have them to crack in the long winter evenings."
+
+"You must find them long evenings indeed, I should think."
+
+"Oh no, we don't," said Fleda. "I didn't mean they were long
+in _that_ way. Grandpa cracks the nuts, and I pick them out, and
+he tells me stories; and then you know he likes to go to bed
+early. The evenings never seem long."
+
+"But you are not always cracking nuts."
+
+"Oh no, to be sure not; but there are plenty of other pleasant
+things to do. I dare say grandpa would have bought some nuts,
+but I had a great deal rather have those we get ourselves, and
+then the fun of getting them, besides, is the best part."
+
+Fleda was tramping over the ground at a furious rate.
+
+"How many do you count upon securing to-day?" said Mr.
+Carleton, gravely.
+
+"I don't know," said Fleda, with a business face, — "there are
+a good many trees, and fine large ones, and I don't believe
+anybody has found them out — they are so far out of the way;
+there ought to be a good parcel of nuts."
+
+"But," said Mr. Carleton, with perfect gravity, "if we should
+be lucky enough to find a supply for your winter's store, it
+would be too much for you and me to bring home, Miss Fleda,
+unless you have a broomstick in the service of fairydom."
+
+"A broomstick!" said Fleda.
+
+"Yes, — did you never hear of the man who had a broomstick
+that would fetch pails of water at his bidding?"
+
+"No," said Fleda, laughing. "What a convenient broomstick! I
+wish we had one. But I know what I can do, Mr. Carleton, — if
+there should be too many nuts for us to bring home, I can take
+Cynthy afterwards and get the rest of them. Cynthy and I could
+go — grandpa couldn't, even if he was as well as usual, for
+the trees are in a hollow away over on the other side of the
+mountain. It's a beautiful place."
+
+"Well," said Mr. Carleton, smiling curiously to himself, "in
+that case I shall be even of more use than I had hoped. But
+shan't we want a basket, Miss Fleda?"
+
+"Yes, indeed," said Fleda, — "a good large one — I am going to
+run down to the house for it as soon as we get to the turning-
+off place, if you'll be so good as to sit down and wait for
+me, Sir, — I wont be long after it."
+
+"No," said he; "I will walk with you and leave my gun in safe
+quarters. You had better not travel so fast, or I am afraid
+you will never reach the hickory-trees."
+
+Fleda smiled, and said there was no danger, but she slackened
+her pace, and they proceeded at a more reasonable rate till
+they reached the house.
+
+Mr. Carleton would not go in, placing his gun in an outer
+shelter. Fleda dashed into the kitchen, and after a few
+minutes' delay came out again with a huge basket, which Mr.
+Carleton took from her without suffering his inward amusement
+to reach his face, and a little tin pail which she kept under
+her own guardianship. In vain Mr. Carleton offered to take it
+with the basket, or even to put it in the basket, where he
+showed her it would go very well; it must go nowhere but in
+Fleda's own hand.
+
+Fleda was in restless haste till they had passed over the
+already twice-trodden ground and entered upon the mountain
+road. It was hardly a road; in some places a beaten track was
+visible, in others Mr. Carleton wondered how his little
+companion found her way, where nothing but fresh-fallen leaves
+and scattered rocks and stones could be seen, covering the
+whole surface. But her foot never faltered, her eye read way-
+marks where he saw none; she went on, he did not doubt
+unerringly, over the leaf-strewn and rock-strewn way, over
+ridge and hollow, with a steady light swiftness that he could
+not help admiring. Once they came to a little brawling stream
+of spring water, hardly three inches deep anywhere, but making
+quite a wide bed for itself in its bright way to the lowlands.
+Mr. Carleton was considering how he should contrive to get his
+little guide over it in safety, when quick, — over the little
+round stones which lifted their heads above the surface of the
+water, on the tips of her toes, Fleda tripped across before he
+had done thinking about it. He told her he had no doubt now
+that she was a fairy, and had powers of walking that did not
+belong to other people. Fleda laughed, and on her little
+demure figure went picking out the way, always with that
+little tin pail hanging at her side, like — Mr. Carleton
+busied himself in finding out similes for her. It wasn't very
+easy.
+
+For a long distance their way was through a thick woodland,
+clear of underbrush and very pleasant walking, but permitting
+no look at the distant country. They wound about, now up hill
+and now down, till at last they began to ascend in good
+earnest; the road became better marked, and Mr. Carleton came
+up with his guide again. Both were obliged to walk more
+slowly. He had overcome a good deal of Fleda's reserve, and
+she talked to him now quite freely, without however losing the
+grace of a most exquisite modesty in everything she said or
+did.
+
+"What do you suppose I have been amusing myself with all this
+while, Miss Fleda?" said he, after walking for some time
+alongside of her in silence. "I have been trying to fancy what
+you looked like as you travelled on before me with that
+mysterious tin pail."
+
+"Well, what _did_ I look like?" said Fleda, laughing.
+
+"Little Red Riding-Hood, the first thing, carrying her
+grandmother the pot of butter."
+
+"Ah, but I haven't got any butter in this, as it happens,"
+said Fleda; "and I hope you are not anything like the wolf,
+Mr. Carleton?"
+
+"I hope not," said he, laughing. "Well, then, I thought you
+might be one of those young ladies the fairy-stories tell of,
+who set out over the world to seek their fortune. That might
+hold, you know, a little provision to last for a day or two
+till you found it."
+
+"No," said Fleda, — "I should never go to seek my fortune."
+
+"Why not, pray?"
+
+"I don't think I should find it any the sooner."
+
+Mr. Carleton looked at her, and could not make up his mind
+whether or not she spoke wittingly.
+
+Well, but after all, are we not seeking our fortune?" said he.
+"We are doing something very like it. Now up here on the
+mountain-top perhaps we shall find only empty trees — perhaps
+trees with a harvest of nuts on them."
+
+"Yes, but that wouldn't be like finding a fortune," said
+Fleda; — "if we were to come to a great heap of nuts all
+picked out ready for us to carry away, _that_ would be a
+fortune; but now if we find the trees full, we have got to
+knock them down, and gather them up, and shuck them."
+
+"Make our own fortunes, eh?" said Mr. Carleton, smiling.
+
+"Well! people do say those are the sweetest nuts. I don't know
+how it may be. Ha! that is fine. What an atmosphere!"
+
+They had reached a height of the mountain that cleared them a
+view, and over the tops of the trees they looked abroad to a
+very wide extent of country undulating with hill and vale, —
+hill and valley alike far below at their feet. Fair and rich,
+— the gently swelling hills, one beyond another, in the
+patchwork dress of their many-coloured fields, — the gay hues
+of the woodland softened and melted into a rich autumn glow, —
+and far away, beyond even where this glow was sobered and lost
+in the distance, the faint blue line of the Catskill — faint,
+but clear and distinct, through the transparent air. Such a
+sky! — of such etherialized purity as if made for spirits to
+travel in, and tempting them to rise and free themselves from
+the soil; and the stillness, — like nature's hand laid upon
+the soul, bidding it think. In view of all that vastness and
+grandeur, man's littleness does bespeak itself. And yet, for
+every one, the voice of the scene is not more humbling to
+pride than rousing to all that is really noble and strong in
+character. Not only "What thou art," — but "What thou mayest
+be!" What place thou oughtest to fill — what work thou hast to
+do, — in this magnificent world. A very extended landscape,
+however genial, is also sober in its effect on the mind. One
+seems to emerge from the narrowness of individual existence,
+and take a larger view of Life as well as of Creation.
+
+Perhaps Mr. Carleton felt it so, for, after his first
+expression of pleasure, he stood silently and gravely looking
+for a long time. Little Fleda's eye loved it too, but she
+looked her fill, and then sat down on a stone to await her
+companion's pleasure, glancing now and then up at his face,
+which gave her no encouragement to interrupt him. It was
+gravely, and even gloomily thoughtful. He stood so long
+without stirring, that poor Fleda began to have sad thoughts
+of the possibility of gathering all the nuts from the hickory-
+trees, and she heaved a very gentle sigh once or twice; but
+the dark blue eye which she with reason admired, remained
+fixed on the broad scene below, as if it were reading, or
+trying to read there a difficult lesson. And when at last he
+turned and began to go up the path again, he kept the same
+face, and went moodily swinging his arm up and down, as if in
+disturbed thought. Fleda was too happy to be moving to care
+for her companion's silence; she would have compounded for no
+more conversation, so they might but reach the nut-trees. But
+before they had got quite so far, Mr. Carleton broke the
+silence, speaking in precisely the same tone and manner he had
+used the last time.
+
+"Look here, Fairy," said he, pointing to a small heap of
+chestnut burs piled at the foot of a tree — "here's a little
+fortune for you already."
+
+"That's a squirrel!" said Fleda, looking at the place very
+attentively. "There has been nobody else here. He has put them
+together, ready to be carried off to his nest."
+
+"We'll save him that trouble," said Mr. Carleton. "Little
+rascal! he's a Didenhover in miniature."
+
+"Oh, no!" said Fleda; "he had as good a right to the nuts, I
+am sure, as we have, poor fellow. — Mr. Carleton —"
+
+Mr. Carleton was throwing the nuts into the basket. At the
+anxious and undecided tone in which his name was pronounced,
+he stopped, and looked up at a very wistful face.
+
+"Mightn't we leave these nuts till we come back? If we find
+the trees over here full, we shan't want them; and if we
+don't, these would be only a handful —"
+
+"And the squirrel would be disappointed?" said Mr. Carleton,
+smiling. "You would rather we should leave them to him!"
+
+Fleda said yes, with a relieved face, and Mr. Carleton, still
+smiling, emptied his basket of the few nuts he had put in, and
+they walked on.
+
+In a hollow, rather a deep hollow, behind the crest of the
+hill, as Fleda had said, they came at last to a noble group of
+large hickory-trees, with one or two chestnuts standing in
+attendance on the outskirts. And, also, as Fleda had said, or
+hoped, the place was so far from convenient access, that
+nobody had visited them; they were thick hung with fruit. If
+the spirit of the game had been wanting or failing in Mr.
+Carleton, it must have roused again into full life at the
+joyous heartiness of Fleda's exclamations. At any rate, no boy
+could have taken to the business better. He cut, with her
+permission, a stout long pole in the woods; and swinging
+himself lightly into one of the trees, showed that he was a
+master in the art of whipping them. Fleda was delighted, but
+not surprised; for, from the first moment of Mr. Carleton's
+proposing to go with her, she had been privately sure that he
+would not prove an inactive or inefficient ally. By whatever
+slight tokens she might read this, in whatsoever fine
+characters of the eye, or speech, or manner, she knew it; and
+knew it just as well before they reached the hickory-trees as
+she did afterwards.
+
+When one of the trees was well stripped, the young gentleman
+mounted into another, while Fleda set herself to hull and
+gather up the nuts under the one first beaten. She could make
+but little headway, however, compared with her companion; the
+nuts fell a great deal faster than she could put them in her
+basket. The trees were heavy laden, and Mr. Carleton seemed
+determined to have the whole crop; from the second tree he
+went to the third. Fleda was bewildered with her happiness;
+this was doing business in style. She tried to calculate what
+the whole quantity would be, but it went beyond her; one
+basketful would not take it, nor two, nor three, — it wouldn't
+_begin to_, Fleda said to herself. She went on hulling and
+gathering with all possible industry.
+
+After the third tree was finished, Mr. Carleton threw down his
+pole, and resting himself upon the ground at the foot, told
+Fleda he would wait a few moments before he began again..
+Fleda thereupon left off her work too, and going for her
+little tin pail, presently offered it to him temptingly
+stocked with pieces of apple-pie. When he had smilingly taken
+one, she next brought him a sheet of white paper, with slices
+of young cheese.
+
+"No, thank you," said he.
+
+"Cheese is very good with apple-pie," said Fleda, competently.
+
+"Is it?" said he laughing. "Well — upon that — I think you
+would teach me a good many things, Miss Fleda, if I were to
+stay here long enough."
+
+"I wish you would stay and try, Sir," said Fleda, who did not
+know exactly what to make of the shade of seriousness which
+crossed his face. It was gone almost instantly.
+
+"I think anything is better eaten out in the woods than it is
+at home," said Fleda.
+
+"Well, I don't know," said her friend. "I have no doubt that
+is the case with cheese and apple-pie, and especially under
+hickory trees which one has been contending with pretty
+sharply. If a touch of your wand, Fairy, could transform one
+of these shells into a goblet of Lafitte, or Amontillado, we
+should have nothing to wish for."
+
+'Amontillado' was Hebrew to Fleda, but 'goblet' was
+intelligible.
+
+"I am sorry!" she said; "I don't know where there is any
+spring up here, but we shall come to one going down the
+mountain."
+
+"Do you know where all the springs are?"
+
+"No, not all, I suppose," said Fleda; "but I know a good many.
+I have gone about through the woods so much, and I always look
+for the springs."
+
+"And who roams about through the woods with you?"
+
+"Oh, nobody but grandpa," said Fleda. "He used to be out with
+me a great deal, but he can't go much now — this year or two."
+
+"Don't you go to school?"
+
+"O no!" said Fleda, smiling.
+
+"Then your grandfather teaches you at home?"
+
+"No," said Fleda; father used to teach me; grandpa doesn't
+teach me much."
+
+"What do you do with yourself all day long?"
+
+"O, plenty of things," said Fleda, smiling again. "I read, and
+talk to grandpa, and go riding, and do a great many things."
+
+"Has your home always been here, Fairy?" said Mr. Carleton,
+after a few minutes' pause.
+
+Fleda said, "No, Sir," and there stopped; and then seeming to
+think that politeness called upon her to say more, she added —
+
+"I have lived with grandpa ever since father left me here,
+when he was going away among the Indians; I used to be always
+with him before."
+
+"And how long ago is that?"
+
+"It is — four years, Sir; more, I believe. He was sick when he
+came back, and we never went away from Queechy again."
+
+Mr. Carleton looked again silently at the child, who had given
+him these pieces of information with a singular, grave
+propriety of manner; and even as it were reluctantly.
+
+"And what do you read, Fairy?" he said, after a minute.
+"Stories of fairy-land?"
+
+"No," said Fleda; "I haven't any. We haven't a great many
+books — there are only a few up in the cupboard, and the
+Encyclopaedia; father had some books, but they are locked up
+in a chest. But there is a great deal in the Encyclopaedia."
+
+"The Encyclopaedia!" said Mr. Carleton; — "what do you read in
+that? what can you find to like there?"
+
+"I like all about the insects, and birds, and animals; and
+about flowers, — and lives of people, and curious things.
+There are a great many in it."
+
+"And what are the other books in the cupboard, which you
+read?"
+
+"There's Quentin Durward," said Fleda, — "and Rob Roy, and Guy
+Mannering in two little bits of volumes; and the
+Knickerbocker, and the Christian's Magazine, and an odd volume
+of Redgauntlet, and the Beauties of Scotland."
+
+"And have you read all these, Miss Fleda?" said her companion,
+commanding his countenance with difficulty.
+
+"I haven't read quite all of the Christian's Magazine, nor all
+of the Beauties of Scotland."
+
+"All the rest."
+
+"O yes," said Fleda, — "and two or three times over. And there
+are three great red volumes besides, Robertson's History of
+something, I believe. I haven't read that either."
+
+"And which of them all do you like the best?"
+
+"I don't know," said Fleda, — "I don't know but I like to read
+the Encyclopaedia as well as any of them. And then I have the
+newspapers to read too."
+
+"I think, Miss Fleda," said Mr. Carleton, a minute after, "you
+had better let me take you with my mother over the sea, when
+we go back again, — to Paris."
+
+"Why, Sir?"
+
+"You know," said he, half smiling, "your aunt wants you, and
+has engaged my mother to bring you with her, if she can."
+
+"I know it," said Fleda. "But I am not going."
+
+It was spoken not rudely, but in a tone of quiet
+determination.
+
+"Aren't you too tired, Sir?" said she gently, when she saw Mr.
+Carleton preparing to launch into the remaining hickory trees.
+
+"Not I!" said he. "I am not tired till I have done, Fairy. And
+besides, cheese is working man's fare, you know, isn't it?"
+
+"No," said Fleda, gravely, — "I don't think it is."
+
+"What then?" said Mr. Carleton, stopping as he was about to
+spring into the tree, and looking at her with a face of
+comical amusement.
+
+"It isn't what our men live on," said Fleda, demurely eyeing
+the fallen nuts, with a head full of business.
+
+They set both to work again with renewed energy, and rested
+not till the treasures of the trees had been all brought to
+the ground, and as large a portion of them as could be coaxed
+and shaken into Fleda's basket, had been cleared from the
+hulls and bestowed there. But there remained a vast quantity.
+These with a good deal of labour, Mr. Carleton and Fleda
+gathered into a large heap in rather a sheltered place by the
+side of a rock, and took what measures they might to conceal
+them. This was entirely at Fleda's instance
+
+"You and your maid Cynthia will have to make a good many
+journeys, Miss Fleda, to get all these home, unless you can
+muster a larger basket."
+
+"O _that_'s nothing," said Fleda. "It will be all fun. I don't
+care how many times we have to come. You are _very_ good, Mr.
+Carleton."
+
+"Do you think so?" said he. "I wish I did. I wish you would
+make your wand rest on me, Fairy."
+
+"My wand?" said Fleda.
+
+"Yes — you know your grandfather says you are a fairy, and
+carry a wand. What does he say that for, Miss Fleda?"
+
+Fleda said she supposed it was because he loved her so much;
+but the rosy smile with which she said it would have let her
+hearer, if he had needed enlightening, far more into the
+secret than she was herself. And if the simplicity in her face
+had not been equal to the wit, Mr. Carleton would never have
+ventured the look of admiration he bestowed on her. He knew it
+was safe. _Approbation_ she saw, and it made her smile the
+rosier; but the admiration was a step beyond her; Fleda could
+make nothing of it.
+
+They descended the mountain now with a hasty step, for the day
+was wearing well on. At the spot where he had stood so long
+when they went up, Mr. Carleton paused again for a minute. In
+mountain scenery every hour makes a change. The sun was lower
+now, the lights and shadows more strongly contrasted, the sky
+of a yet calmer blue, cool and clear towards the horizon. The
+scene said still the same that it had said a few hours before,
+with a touch more of sadness; it seemed to whisper, "All
+things have an end — thy time may not be for ever — do what
+thou wouldest do — 'while ye have light, believe in the light,
+that ye may be children of the light.' "
+
+Whether Mr. Carleton read it so or not, he stood for a minute
+motionless, and went down the mountain looking so grave, that
+Fleda did not venture to speak to him till they reached the
+neighbourhood of the spring.
+
+"What are you searching for, Miss Fleda?" said her friend.
+
+She was making a busy quest here and there by the side of the
+little stream.
+
+"I was looking to see if I could find a mullein leaf," said
+Fleda.
+
+"A mullein leaf? what do you want it for?"
+
+"I want it — to make a drinking-cup of," said Fleda, her
+intent bright eyes peering keenly about in every direction.
+
+"A mullein leaf! that is too rough; one of these golden leaves
+— what are they? — will do better, wont it?"
+
+"That is hickory," said Fleda. " No; the mullein leaf is the
+best because it holds the water so nicely. — Here it is."
+
+And folding up one of the largest leaves into a most artist-
+like cup, she presented it to Mr. Carleton.
+
+"For me was all that trouble?" said he. "I don't deserve it."
+
+"You wanted something, Sir," said Fleda. "The water is very
+cold and nice."
+
+He stooped to the bright little stream, and filled his rural
+goblet several times.
+
+"I never knew what it was to have a fairy for my cup-bearer
+before," said he. "That was better than anything Bordeaux or
+Xeres ever sent forth."
+
+He seemed to have swallowed his seriousness, or thrown it away
+with the mullein leaf. It was quite gone.
+
+"This is the best spring in all grandpa's ground," said Fleda.
+"The water is as good as can be."
+
+How come you to be such a wood and water spirit? you must live
+out of doors. Do the trees ever talk to you? I sometimes think
+they do to me."
+
+"I don't know — I think _I_ talk to _them_," said Fleda.
+
+"It's the same thing," said her companion, smiling. "Such
+beautiful woods!"
+
+"Were you never in the country before in the fall, Sir?"
+
+"Not here — in my own country often enough; but the woods in
+England do not put on such a gay face, Miss Fleda, when they
+are going to be stripped of their summer dress — they look
+sober upon it — the leaves wither and grow brown, and the
+woods have a dull russet colour. Your trees are true Yankees —
+they 'never say die.' "
+
+"Why are the Americans more obstinate than the English?" said
+Fleda.
+
+"It is difficult to compare unknown quantities," said Mr.
+Carleton laughing, and shaking his head. "I see you have good
+ears for the key-note of patriotism."
+
+Fleda looked a little hard at him, but he did not explain; and
+indeed they were hurrying along too much for talking; leaping
+from stone to stone, and running down the smooth orchard
+slope. When they reached the last fence, but a little way from
+the house, Fleda made a resolute pause.
+
+"Mr. Carleton," — said she.
+
+Mr. Carleton put down his basket, and looked in some surprise
+at the hesitating anxious little face that looked up at him.
+
+"Wont you please not say anything to grandpa about my going
+away?"
+
+"Why not, Fairy?" said he, kindly.
+
+"Because I don't think I ought to go."
+
+"But may it not be possible," said he, "that your grandfather
+can judge better in the matter than you can do?"
+
+"No," said Fleda, "I don't think he can. He would do anything
+he thought would be most for my happiness; but it wouldn't be
+for my happiness," she said, with an unsteady lip, — "I don't
+know what he would do if I went!"
+
+"You think he would have no sunshine if your wand didn't touch
+him?" said Mr. Carleton, smiling.
+
+"No, Sir," said Fleda, gravely, "I don't think that, — but
+wont you please, Mr. Carleton, not to speak about it?"
+
+"But are you sure," he said, sitting down on a stone hard by,
+and taking one of her hands, — "are you sure that you would
+not like to go with us? I wish you would change your mind
+about it. My mother will love you very much, and I will take
+the especial charge of you till we give you to your aunt in
+Paris; — if the wind blows a little too rough I will always
+put myself between it and you," he added, smiling.
+
+Fleda smiled faintly, but immediately begged Mr. Carleton "not
+to say anything to put it into her grandfather's head."
+
+"It must be there already, I think, Miss Fleda; but at any
+rate you know my mother must perform her promise to your aunt
+Mrs. Rossitur; and she would not do that without letting your
+grandfather know how glad she would be to take you."
+
+Fleda stood silent a moment, and then with a touching look of
+waiting patience in her sweet face suffered Mr. Carleton to
+help her over the fence; and they went home.
+
+To Fleda's unspeakable surprise it was found to be past four
+o'clock, and Cynthy had supper ready. Mr. Ringgan with great
+cordiality invited Mr. Carleton to stay with them, but he
+could not; his mother would expect him to dinner.
+
+"Where is your mother?"
+
+"At Montepoole, Sir; we have been to Niagara, and came this
+way on our return, partly that my mother might fulfil the
+promise she made Mrs. Rossitur — to let you know, Sir, with
+how much pleasure she will take charge of your little
+granddaughter, and convey her to her friends in Paris, if you
+can think it best to let her go."
+
+"Hum! — she is very kind," said Mr. Ringgan, with a look of
+grave and not unmoved consideration which Fleda did not in the
+least like; — "How long will you stay at Montepoole Sir?"
+
+"It might be several days," Mr. Carleton said.
+
+"Hum — You have given up this day to Fleda, Mr. Carleton, —
+suppose you take to-morrow for the game, and come here and try
+our country fare when you have got through shooting? — you and
+young Mr. Rossitur? — and I'll think over this question and
+let you know about it."
+
+Fleda was delighted to see that her friend accepted this
+invitation with apparent pleasure.
+
+"You will be kind enough to give my respects to your mother,"
+Mr. Ringgan went on, "and thanks for her kind offer. I may
+perhaps — I don't know — avail myself of it. If anything
+should bring Mrs. Carleton this way we should like to see her.
+I am glad to see my friends," he said, shaking the young
+gentleman's hand, — "as long as I have a house to ask 'em to!"
+
+"That will be for many years, I trust," said Mr. Carleton,
+respectfully, struck with something in the old gentleman's
+manner.
+
+"I don't know, Sir!" said Mr. Ringgan, with again the
+dignified look of trouble: — " it may not be! — I wish you
+good day, Sir."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+A mind that in a calm angelic mood
+Of happy wisdom, meditating good,
+Beholds, of all from her high powers required,
+Much done, and much designed, and more desired. —
+WORDSWORTH.
+
+
+"I've had such a delicious day, dear grandpa," said little
+Fleda, as they sat at supper; "you can't think how kind Mr.
+Carleton has been."
+
+"Has he? Well, dear, I'm glad on't; he seems a very nice young
+man."
+
+"He's a smart-looking feller," said Cynthy, who was pouring
+out the tea.
+
+"And we have got the greatest quantity of nuts!" Fleda went
+on; "enough for all winter. Cynthy and I will have to make
+ever so many journeys to fetch 'em all; and they are splendid
+big ones. Don't you say anything to Mr. Didenhover, Cynthy."
+
+"I don't desire to meddle with Mr. Didenhover unless I've got
+to," said Cynthy, with an expression of considerable disgust.
+"You needn't give no charges to me."
+
+"But you'll go with me, Cynthy?"
+
+"I s'pose I'll have to," said Miss Gall, drily, after a short
+interval of sipping tea and helping herself to sweet-meats.
+
+This lady had a pervading acidity of face and temper, but it
+was no more. To take her name as standing for a fair setting
+forth of her character would be highly injurious to a really
+respectable composition, which the world's neglect (there was
+no other imaginable cause) had soured a little.
+
+Almost Fleda's first thought on coming home had been about Mr.
+Jolly. But she knew very well, without asking, that he had not
+been there; she would not touch the subject.
+
+"I haven't had such a fine day of nutting in a great while,
+grandpa," she said again; "and you never saw such a good hand
+as Mr. Carleton is at whipping the trees."
+
+"How came he to go with you?"
+
+"I don't know; I suppose it was to please me, in the first
+place; but I am sure he enjoyed it himself; and he liked the
+pie and cheese, too, Cynthy."
+
+"Where did your cousin go?"
+
+"O, he went off after the woodcock. I hope he didn't find
+any."
+
+"What do you think of those two young men, Fairy?"
+
+"In what way, grandpa?"
+
+"I mean, which of them do you like the best?"
+
+"Mr. Carleton."
+
+"But t'other one's your cousin," said Mr. Ringgan, bending
+forward and examining his little granddaughter's face with a
+curious, pleased look, as he often did when expecting an
+answer from her.
+
+"Yes," said Fleda; "but he isn't so much of a gentleman."
+
+"How do you know that?"
+
+"I don't think he is," said Fleda, quietly.
+
+"But why, Fairy?"
+
+"He doesn't know how to keep his word as well, grandpa."
+
+"Ay, ay? let's hear about that," said Mr. Ringgan.
+
+A little reluctantly, for Cynthia was present, Fleda told the
+story of the robins, and how Mr. Carleton would not let the
+gun be fired.
+
+"Wa'n't your cousin a little put out by that?"
+
+"They were both put out," said Fleda; "Mr. Carleton was very
+angry for a minute, and then Mr. Rossitur was angry, but I
+think he could have been angrier if he had chosen."
+
+Mr. Ringgan laughed, and then seemed in a sort of amused
+triumph about something.
+
+"Well, dear!" he remarked after a while; "you'll never buy
+wooden nutmegs, I expect."
+
+Fleda laughed, and hoped not, and asked him why he said so.
+But he didn't tell her.
+
+"Mr. Ringgan," said Cynthy, "hadn't I better run up the hill
+after supper, and ask Mis' Plumfield to come down and help to-
+morrow? I s'pose you'll want considerable of a set-out; and if
+both them young men comes, you'll want some more help to
+entertain 'em than I can give you, it's likely."
+
+"Do so — do so," said the old gentleman. "Tell her who I
+expect, and ask her if she can come and help you, and me too."
+
+"O, and I'll go with you, Cynthy," said Fleda. "I'll get aunt
+Miriam to come, I know."
+
+"I should think you'd be run off your legs already, Flidda,"
+said Miss Cynthia; " what ails you to want to be going again?"
+
+But this remonstrance availed nothing. Supper was hurried
+through, and leaving the table standing, Cynthia and Fleda set
+off to "run up the hill."
+
+They were hardly a few steps from the gate when they heard the
+clatter of horses' hoofs behind them, and the two young
+gentlemen came riding hurriedly past, having joined company
+and taken their horses at Queechy Run. Rossitur did not seem
+to see his little cousin and her companion; but the doffed cap
+and low inclination of the other rider as they flew by called
+up a smile and blush of pleasure to Fleda's face; and the
+sound of their horses' hoofs had died away in the distance,
+before the light had faded from her cheeks, or she was quite
+at home to Cynthia's observations. She was possessed with the
+feeling, what a delightful thing it was to have people do
+things in such a manner.
+
+"That was your cousin, wa'n't it?" said Cynthy, when the spell
+was off.
+
+"No," said Fleda, "the other one was my cousin."
+
+"Well — I mean one of them fellers that went by. He's a
+soldier, ain't he?"
+
+"An officer," said Fleda.
+
+"Well, it does give a man an elegant look to be in the
+militie, don't it? I should admire to have a cousin like that.
+It's dreadful becoming to have that — what is it they call it?
+— to let the beard grow over the mouth. I s'pose they can't do
+that without they be in the army, can they?"
+
+"I don't know," said Fleda. "I hope not. I think it is very
+ugly."
+
+"Do you? Oh! I admire it. It makes a man look so spry!"
+
+A few hundred yards from Mr. Ringgan's gate the road began to
+wind up a very long heavy hill. Just at the hill's foot, it
+crossed by a rude bridge the bed of a noisy brook that came
+roaring down from the higher grounds turning sundry mill and
+factory wheels in its way. About half-way up the hill one of
+these was placed, belonging to a mill for sawing boards. The
+little building stood alone, no other in sight, with a dark
+background of wood rising behind it on the other side of the
+brook; the stream itself running smoothly for a small space
+above the mill, and leaping down madly below, as if it
+disdained its bed, and would clear at a bound every impediment
+in its way to the sea. When the mill was not going, the
+quantity of water that found its way down the hill was indeed
+very small, enough only to keep up a pleasant chattering with
+the stones; but as soon as the stream was allowed to gather
+all its force and run free, its loquacity was such that it
+would prevent a traveller from suspecting his approach to the
+mill, until, very near, the monotonous hum of its saw could be
+heard. This was a place Fleda dearly loved. The wild sound of
+the waters, and the lonely keeping of the scene, with the
+delicious smell of the new-sawn boards, and the fascination of
+seeing the great logs of wood walk up to the relentless,
+tireless, up-and-down-going steel; as the generations of men
+in turn present themselves to the course of those sharp events
+which are the teeth of Time's saw; until all of a sudden the
+master spirit, the man regulator of this machinery, would
+perform some conjuration on lever and wheel, and at once, as
+at the touch of an enchanter, the log would be still and the
+saw stay its work; the business of life came to a stand, and
+the romance of the little brook sprang up again. Fleda never
+tired of it — never. She would watch the saw play and stop,
+and go on again; she would have her ears dinned with the
+hoarse clang of the machinery, and then listen to the laugh of
+the mill-stream; she would see with untiring patience one
+board after another cut and cast aside, and log succeed to
+log; and never turned weary away from that mysterious image of
+Time's doings. Fleda had, besides, without knowing it, the eye
+of a painter. In the lonely hill-side, the odd-shaped little
+mill, with its accompaniments of wood and water, and the great
+logs of timber lying about the ground in all directions and
+varieties of position, there was a picturesque charm for her,
+where the country people saw nothing but business and a place
+fit for it. Their hands grew hard where her mind was refining.
+Where they made dollars and cents, she was growing rich in
+stores of thought and associations of beauty. How many
+purposes the same thing serves!
+
+"That had ought to be your grandpa's mill this minute,"
+observed Cynthy.
+
+"I wish it was!" sighed Fleda. "Who's got it now, Cynthy?"
+
+"O, it's that chap McGowan, I expect; he's got pretty much the
+hull of everything. I told Mr. Ringgan I wouldn't let him have
+it if it was me, at the time. Your grandpa 'd be glad to get
+it back now, I guess."
+
+Fleda guessed so too; but also guessed that Miss Gall was
+probably very far from being possessed of the whole rationale
+of the matter. So she made her no answer.
+
+After reaching the brow of the hill, the road continued on a
+very gentle ascent towards a little settlement half a quarter
+of a mile off; passing, now and then, a few scattered
+cottages, or an occasional mill or turner's shop. Several
+mills and factories, with a store and a very few dwelling-
+houses, were all the settlement; not enough to entitle it to
+the name of a village. Beyond these and the millponds, of
+which in the course of the road there were three or four, and
+with a brief intervening space of cultivated fields, a single
+farmhouse stood alone; just upon the borders of a large and
+very fair sheet of water, from which all the others had their
+supply; so large and fair, that nobody cavilled at its taking
+the style of a lake, and giving its own pretty name of
+Deepwater both to the settlement and the farm that half
+embraced it. This farm was Seth Plumfield's.
+
+At the garden gate Fleda quitted Cynthy, and rushed forward to
+meet her aunt, whom she saw coming round the corner of the
+house, with her gown pinned up behind her, from attending to
+some domestic concern among the pigs, the cows, or the
+poultry.
+
+"O, aunt Miriam," said Fleda, eagerly, "we are going to have
+company to tea to-morrow — wont you come and help us?"
+
+Aunt Miriam laid her hands upon Fleda's shoulders, and looked
+at Cynthy.
+
+"I came up to see if you wouldn't come down to-morrow, Mis'
+Plumfield," said that personage, with her usual dry, business
+tone, always a little on the wrong side of sweet; "your
+brother has taken a notion to ask two young fellers from the
+Pool to supper, and they're grand folks, I s'pose, and have
+got to have a fuss made for 'em. I don't know what Mr. Ringgan
+was thinkin' of, or whether he thinks I have got anything to
+do or not; but anyhow, they're a comin', I s'pose, and must
+have somethin' to eat; and I thought the best thing I could do
+would be to come and get you into the works, if I could. I
+should feel a little queer to have nobody but me to say
+nothin' to them at the table."
+
+"Ah, do come, aunt Miriam!" said Fleda; "it will be twice as
+pleasant if you do; and besides, we want to have everything
+very nice, you know."
+
+Aunt Miriam smiled at Fleda, and inquired of Miss Gall what
+she had in the house.
+
+"Why, I don't know, Mis' Plumfield," said the lady, while
+Fleda threw her arms round her aunt, and thanked her; "there
+ain't nothin' particler — pork and beef, and the old story.
+I've got some first-rate pickles. I calculated to make some
+sort o' cake in the morning."
+
+"Any of those small hams left?"
+
+"Not a bone of 'em, these six weeks. _I_ don't see how they've
+gone, for my part. I'd lay any wager there were two in the
+smoke-house when I took the last one out. If Mr. Didenhover
+was a little more like a weasel I should think he'd been in."
+
+"Have you cooked that roaster I sent down."
+
+"No, Mis' Plumfield, I ha'n't; it's such a plaguy sight of
+trouble!" said Cynthy, with a little apologetic giggle; "I was
+keepin' it for some day when I hadn't much to do."
+
+"I'll take the trouble of it. l'll be down bright and early in
+the morning, and we'll see what's best to do. How's your last
+churning, Cynthy?"
+
+"Well, I guess it's pretty middlin', Mis' Plumfield."
+
+" 'T isn't anything very remarkable, aunt Miriam," said Fleda,
+shaking her head.
+
+"Well, well," said Mrs. Plumfield, smiling; "run away down
+home now, and I'll come to-morrow, and I guess we'll fix it.
+But who is it that grandpa has asked?"
+
+Fleda and Cynthy both opened at once.
+
+"One of them is my cousin, aunt Miriam, that was at West
+Point, and the other is the nicest English gentleman you ever
+saw; you will like him very much; he has been with me getting
+nuts all to-day."
+
+"They're a smart enough couple of chaps," said Cynthia; "they
+look as if they lived where money was plenty."
+
+"Well, I'll come to-morrow," repeated Mrs. Plumfield, "and
+we'll see about it. Good night, dear!"
+
+She took Fleda's head in both her hands, and gave her a most
+affectionate kiss; and the two petitioners set off homewards
+again.
+
+Aunt Miriam was not at all like her brother, in feature,
+though the moral characteristics suited the relationship
+sufficiently well. There was the expression of strong sense
+and great benevolence; the unbending uprightness of mind and
+body at once; and the dignity of an essentially noble
+character, not the same as Mr. Ringgan's, but such as well
+became his sister. She had been brought up among the Quakers,
+and though now, and for many years, a staunch Presbyterian,
+she still retained a tincture of the calm efficient gentleness
+of mind and manner that belongs so inexplicably to them. More
+womanly sweetness than was in Mr. Ringgan's blue eye, a woman
+need not wish to have; and perhaps his sister's had not so
+much. There was no want of it in her heart, nor in her manner,
+but the many and singular excellences of her character were a
+little overshadowed by super-excellent housekeeping. Not a
+taint of the littleness that sometimes grows therefrom, — not
+a trace of the narrowness of mind that over-attention to such
+pursuits is too apt to bring; — on every important occasion
+aunt Miriam would come out, free and unshackled, from all the
+cobweb entanglements of housewifery; she would have tossed
+housewifery to the winds, if need were, (but it never was, for
+in a new sense she always contrived to make both ends meet).
+It was only in the unbroken everyday course of affairs that
+aunt Miriam's face showed any tokens of that incessant train
+of _small cares_ which had never left their impertinent
+footprints upon the broad high brow of her brother. Mr.
+Ringgan had no affinity with small cares; deep serious matters
+received his deep and serious consideration; but he had as
+dignified a disdain of trifling annoyances or concernments as
+any great mastiff or Newfoundlander ever had for the yelping
+of a little cur.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+Ynne London citye was I borne,
+Of parents of grete note;
+My fadre dydd a nobile arms
+Emblazon onne hys cote.
+CHATTERTON.
+
+
+In the snuggest and best private room of the House at
+Montepoole, a party of ladies and gentlemen were gathered,
+awaiting the return of the sportsmen. The room had been made
+as comfortable as any place could be in a house built for "the
+season," after the season was past. A splendid fire of hickory
+logs was burning brilliantly and making amends for many
+deficiencies; the closed wooden shutters gave the reality if
+not the look of warmth, for though the days might be fine and
+mild, the mornings and evenings were always very cool up there
+among the mountains; and a table stood at the last point of
+readiness for having dinner served. They only waited for the
+lingering woodcock hunters.
+
+It was rather an elderly party, with the exception of one
+young man whose age might match that of the absent two. He was
+walking up and down the room with somewhat the air of having
+nothing to do with himself. Another gentleman, much older,
+stood warming his back at the fire, feeling about his jaws and
+chin with one hand, and looking at the dinner-table in a sort
+of expectant reverie. The rest, three ladies, sat quietly
+chatting. All these persons were extremely different from one
+another in individual characteristics, and all had the
+unmistakable mark of the habit of good society; as difficult
+to locate, and as easy to recognise, as the sense of _freshness_
+which some ladies have the secret of diffusing around
+themselves; — no definable sweetness, nothing in particular,
+but making a very agreeable impression.
+
+One of these ladies, the mother of the perambulating young
+officer, (he was a class-mate of Rossitur's,) was extremely
+plain in feature, even more than _ordinary_. This plainness was
+not, however, devoid of sense, and it was relieved by an
+uncommon amount of good-nature and kindness of heart. In her
+son the sense deepened into acuteness, and the kindness of
+heart retreated, it is to be hoped, into some hidden recess of
+his nature; for it very rarely showed itself in open
+expression; that is, to an eye keen in reading the natural
+signs of emotion; for it cannot be said that his manner had
+any want of amenity or politeness.
+
+The second lady, the wife of the gentleman on the hearth-rug,
+or rather on the spot where the hearth-rug should have been,
+was a strong contrast to this mother and son; remarkably
+pretty, delicate, and even lovely; with a black eye, however,
+that though in general soft, could show a mischievous sparkle
+upon occasion; still young, and one of those women who always
+were and always will be pretty and delicate at any age.
+
+The third had been very handsome, and was still a very elegant
+woman, but her face had seen more of the world's wear and
+tear. It had never known placidity of expression, beyond what
+the habitual command of good-breeding imposed. She looked
+exactly what she was, a perfect woman of the world. A very
+good specimen, — for Mrs. Carleton had sense and cultivation,
+and even feeling enough, to play the part very gracefully; yet
+her mind was bound in the shackles of "the world's" tyrannical
+forging, and had never been free; and her heart bowed
+submissively to the same authority.
+
+"Here they are! Welcome home," exclaimed this lady, as her son
+and his friend at length made their appearance; — "Welcome
+home — we are all famishing; and I don't know why in the world
+we waited for you, for I am sure you don't deserve it. What
+success? What success, Mr. Rossitur?"
+
+"Faith, Ma'am, there's little enough to boast of, as far as I
+am concerned. Mr. Carleton may speak for himself."
+
+"I am very sorry, Ma'am, you waited for me," said that
+gentleman. "I am a delinquent, I acknowledge. The day came to
+an end before I was at all aware of it."
+
+"It would not do to flatter you so far as to tell you why we
+waited," said Mrs. Evelyn's soft voice. And then perceiving
+that the gentleman at whom she was looking gave her no answer,
+she turned to the other. "How many woodcock, Mr. Rossitur?"
+
+"Nothing to show, Ma'am," he replied. "Didn't see a solitary
+one. I heard some partridges, but I didn't mean to have room
+in my bag for them."
+
+"Did you find the right ground, Rossitur?"
+
+"I had a confounded long tramp after it if I didn't," said the
+discomfited sportsman, who did not seem to have yet recovered
+his good humour.
+
+"Were you not together?" said Mrs. Carleton. - "Where were
+you, Guy?"
+
+"Following the sport another way, Ma'am; I had very good
+success, too."
+
+"What's the total?" said Mr. Evelyn. "How much game did you
+bag?"
+
+"Really, Sir, I didn't count. I can only answer for a bagful."
+
+"Ladies and gentlemen!" cried Rossitur, bursting forth, —
+"What will you say when I tell you that Mr. Carleton deserted
+me and the sport in a most unceremonious manner, and that he,
+— the cynical philosopher, the reserved English gentleman, the
+gay man of the world, — you are all of 'em by turns, aren't
+you, Carleton? — _he!_ — has gone and made a very cavaliero
+servente of himself to a piece of rusticity, and spent all to-
+day in helping a little girl pick up chestnuts."
+
+"Mr. Carleton would be a better man if he were to spend a good
+many more days in the same manner," said that gentleman, drily
+enough. But the entrance of dinner put a stop to both laughter
+and questioning for a time, all of the party being well
+disposed to their meat.
+
+When the pickerel from the lakes, and the poultry and half-
+kept joints had had their share of attention, and a pair of
+fine wild ducks were set on the table, the tongues of the
+party found something to do besides eating.
+
+"We have had a very satisfactory day among the Shakers, Guy,"
+said Mrs. Carleton; "and we have arranged to drive to Kenton
+to-morrow — I suppose you will go with us?"
+
+"With pleasure, mother, but that I am engaged to dinner about
+five or six miles in the opposite direction."
+
+"Engaged to dinner! — what with this old gentleman where you
+went last night? And you too, Mr. Rossitur?"
+
+"I have made no promise, Ma'am; but I take it I must go."
+
+"Vexatious! Is the little girl going with us, Guy?"
+
+"I don't know yet — I half apprehend, yes; there seems to be a
+doubt in her grandfather's mind, not whether he can let her
+go, but whether he can keep her, and that looks like it."
+
+"Is it your little cousin who proved the successful rival of
+the woodcock to-day, Charlton?" said Mrs. Evelyn. "What is
+she?"
+
+"I don't know, Ma'am, upon my word. I presume Carleton will
+tell you she is something uncommon and quite remarkable."
+
+"Is she, Mr. Carleton?"
+
+"What, Ma'am?"
+
+"Uncommon?"
+
+"Very."
+
+"Come? That _is_ something, from _you_," said Rossitur's brother
+officer, Lieut. Thorn.
+
+"What's the uncommonness?" said Mrs. Thorn, addressing herself
+rather to Mr. Rossitur as she saw Mr. Carleton's averted eye;
+— "Is she handsome, Mr. Rossitur?"
+
+"I can't tell you, I am sure, Ma'am. I saw nothing but a nice
+child enough, in a calico frock, just such as one would see in
+any farm-house. She rushed into the room when she was first
+called to see us, from somewhere in distant regions, with an
+immense iron ladle a foot and a half long in her hand, with
+which she had been performing unknown feats of housewifery;
+and they had left her head still encircled with a halo of
+kitchen smoke. If, as they say, 'coming events cast their
+shadows before,' she was the shadow of supper."
+
+"O, Charlton, Charlton!" said Mrs. Evelyn, but in a tone of
+very gentle and laughing reproof, — "for shame! What a
+picture! and of your cousin!"
+
+"Is she a pretty child, Guy?" said Mrs. Carleton, who did not
+relish her son's grave face.
+
+"No, Ma'am —something more than that."
+
+"How old?"
+
+"About ten or eleven."
+
+"That's an ugly age."
+
+"She will never be at an ugly age."
+
+"What style of beauty?"
+
+"The highest — that degree of mould and finish which belongs
+only to the finest material."
+
+"That is hardly the kind of beauty one would expect to see in
+such a place," said Mrs. Carleton. "From one side of her
+family, to be sure, she has a right to it."
+
+"I have seen very few examples of it anywhere," said her son.
+
+"Who were her parents?" said Mrs. Evelyn.
+
+"Her mother was Mrs. Rossitur's sister — her father" —
+
+"Amy Charlton!" exclaimed Mrs. Evelyn, — "Oh, I knew her! Was
+Amy Charlton her mother? O, I didn't know whom you were
+talking of. She was one of my dearest friends. Her daughter
+may well be handsome — she was one of the most lovely persons
+I ever knew; in body and mind both. O, I loved Amy Charlton
+very much. I must see this child."
+
+"I don't know who her father was," Mrs. Carleton went on.
+
+"Oh, her father was Major Ringgan," said Mrs. Evelyn. "I never
+saw him, but I have heard him spoken of in very high terms. I
+always heard that Amy married very well."
+
+"Major Ringgan!" said Mrs. Thorn; "his name is very well
+known; he was very distinguished."
+
+"He was a self-made man, entirely," said Mrs. Evelyn, in a
+tone that conveyed a good deal more than the simple fact.
+
+"Yes, he was a self-made man," said Mrs. Thorn, "but I should
+never think of that where a man distinguishes himself so much;
+he was very distinguished."
+
+"Yes, and for more than officer-like qualities," said Mrs.
+Evelyn. "I have heard his personal accomplishments as a
+gentleman highly praised."
+
+"So that little Miss Ringgan's right to be a beauty may be
+considered clearly made out," said Mr. Thorn.
+
+"It is one of those singular cases," said Mr. Carleton, "where
+purity of blood proves itself, and one has no need to go back
+to past generations to make any inquiry concerning it."
+
+"Hear him!" cried Rossitur; "and for the life of me I could
+see nothing of all this wonder. Her face is not at all
+striking."
+
+"The wonder is not so much in what it is, as in what it
+indicates," said Mr. Carleton.
+
+"What does it indicate?" said his mother.
+
+"Suppose you were to ask me to count the shades of colour in a
+rainbow," answered he.
+
+"Hear him!" cried Thorn, again.
+
+"Well, I hope she will go with us, and we shall have a chance
+of seeing her," said Mrs. Carleton.
+
+"If she were only a few years older, it is my belief you would
+see enough of her, Ma'am," said young Rossitur.
+
+The haughty coldness of Mr. Carleton's look, at this speech,
+could not be surpassed.
+
+"But she has beauty of feature, too, has she not?" Mrs.
+Carleton asked again of her son.
+
+"Yes, in very high degree. The contour of the eye and brow I
+never saw finer."
+
+"It is a little odd," said Mrs. Evelyn, with the slightest
+touch of a piqued air, (she had some daughters at home) —
+"that is a kind of beauty one is apt to associate with high
+breeding, and certainly you very rarely see it anywhere else;
+and Major Ringgan, however distinguished and estimable, as I
+have no doubt he was, — and this child must have been brought
+up with no advantages, here in the country."
+
+"My dear madam," said Mr. Carleton, smiling a little, "this
+high breeding is a very fine thing, but it can neither be
+given nor bequeathed; and we cannot entail it."
+
+"But it can be taught, can't it?"
+
+"If it could be taught, it is to be hoped it would be oftener
+learned," said the young man, drily.
+
+"But what do we mean, then, when we talk of the high breeding
+of certain classes — and families? and why are we not
+disappointed when we look to find it in connection with
+certain names and positions in society?"
+
+"I do not know," said Mr. Carleton.
+
+"You don't mean to say, I suppose, Mr. Carleton," said Thorn,
+bridling a little, "that it is a thing independent of
+circumstances, and that there is no value in blood?"
+
+"Very nearly — answering the question as you understand it."
+
+"May I ask how you understand it?"
+
+"As you do, Sir."
+
+"Is there no high breeding then in the world?" asked good-
+natured Mrs. Thorn, who could be touched on this point of
+family.
+
+"There is very little of it. What is commonly current under
+the name, is merely counterfeit notes which pass from hand to
+hand of those who are bankrupt in the article."
+
+"And to what serve, then," said Mrs. Evelyn, colouring, "the
+long lists of good old names which even you, Mr. Carleton, I
+know, do not disdain?"
+
+"To endorse the counterfeit notes," said Mr. Carleton,
+smiling.
+
+"Guy, you are absurd!" said his mother. "I will not sit at the
+table and listen to you if you talk such stuff. What do you
+mean?"
+
+"I beg your pardon, mother, you have misunderstood me," said
+he, seriously. "Mind, I have been talking, not of ordinary
+conformity to what the world requires, but of that fine
+perfection of mental and moral constitution, which, in its own
+natural necessary acting, leaves nothing to be desired, in
+every occasion or circumstance of life. It is the pure gold,
+and it knows no tarnish; it is the true coin, and it gives
+what it proffers to give; it is the living plant ever
+blossoming, and not the cut and art-arranged flowers. It is a
+thing of the mind altogether; and where nature has not
+curiously prepared the soil, it is in vain to try to make it
+grow. _This_ is not very often met with!"
+
+"No, indeed," said Mrs. Carleton; " but you are so
+fastidiously nice in all your notions! — at this rate nothing
+will ever satisfy you."
+
+"I don't think it is so very uncommon," said Mrs. Thorn. "It
+seems to me one sees as much of it as can be expected, Mr.
+Carleton."
+
+Mr. Carleton pared his apple with an engrossed air.
+
+"O no, Mrs. Thorn," said Mrs. Evelyn, "I don't agree with you
+— I don't think you often see such a combination as Mr.
+Carleton has been speaking of — very rarely! But, Mr.
+Carleton, don't you think it is generally found in that class
+of society where the habits of life are constantly the most
+polished and refined?"
+
+"Possibly," answered he, diving into the core of his apple.
+
+"No, but tell me; I want to know what you think."
+
+"Cultivation and refinement have taught people to recognize
+and analyze and imitate it; the counterfeits are most current
+in that society; but as to the reality, I don't know; it is
+nature's work, and she is a little freaky about it."
+
+"But, Guy!" said his mother, impatiently, "this is not selling
+but giving away one's birthright. Where is the advantage of
+birth if breeding is not supposed to go along with it? Where
+the parents have had intelligence and refinement, do we not
+constantly see them inherited by the children? and in an
+increasing degree from generation to generation?"
+
+"Very extraordinary!" said Mrs. Thorn.
+
+"I do not undervalue the blessings of inheritance, mother,
+believe me, nor deny the general doctrine; though intelligence
+does not always descend, and manners die out, and that
+invaluable legacy, a name, may be thrown away. But this
+delicate thing we are speaking of is not intelligence nor
+refinement, but comes rather from a happy combination of
+qualities, together with a peculiarly fine nervous
+constitution; the _essence_ of it may consist with an omission,
+even with an awkwardness, and with a sad ignorance of
+conventionalities."
+
+"But even if that be so, do you think it can ever reach its
+full development but in the circumstances that are favourable
+to it?" said Mrs. Evelyn.
+
+"Probably not often; the diamond in some instances wants the
+graver; — but it is the diamond. Nature seems now and then to
+have taken a princess's child and dropped it in some odd
+corner of the kingdom, while she has left the clown in the
+palace."
+
+"From all which I understand," said Mr. Thorn, "that this
+little chestnut girl is a princess in disguise."
+
+"Really, Carleton!" — Rossitur began.
+
+Mrs. Evelyn leaned back in her chair, and quietly eating a
+piece of apple, eyed Mr. Carleton with a look half amused and
+half discontented, and behind all that, keenly attentive.
+
+"Take for example those two miniatures you were looking at
+last night, Mrs. Evelyn," the young man went on; — "Louis XVI.
+and Marie Antoinette — what would you have more unrefined,
+more heavy, more _animal_, than the face of that descendant of a
+line of kings?"
+
+Mrs. Evelyn bowed her head acquiescingly, and seemed to enjoy
+her apple.
+
+"_He_ had a pretty bad lot of an inheritance, sure enough, take
+it all together," said Rossitur.
+
+"Well," said Thorn, — "is this little stray princess as well-
+looking as t'other miniature?"
+
+"Better, in some respects," said Mr. Carleton, coolly.
+
+"Better!" cried Mrs. Carleton.
+
+"Not in the brilliancy of her beauty, but in some of its
+characteristics; — better in its promise."
+
+"Make yourself intelligible, for the sake of my nerves, Guy,"
+said his mother. "Better looking than Marie Antoinette!"
+
+"My unhappy cousin is said to be a fairy, Ma'am," said Mr.
+Rossitur; "and I presume all this may be referred to
+enchantment."
+
+"That face of Marie Antoinette's," said Mr. Carleton, smiling,
+"is an undisciplined one — uneducated."
+
+"Uneducated!" exclaimed Mrs. Carleton.
+
+"Don't mistake me, mother, — I do not mean that it shows any
+want of reading or writing, but it does indicate an untrained
+character — a mind unprepared for the exigencies of life."
+
+"She met those exigencies indifferently well, too," observed
+Mr. Thorn.
+
+"Ay — but pride, and the dignity of rank, and undoubtedly some
+of the finer qualities of a woman's nature, might suffice for
+that, and yet leave her utterly unfitted to play wisely and
+gracefully a part in ordinary life."
+
+"Well, she had no such part to play," said Mrs. Carleton.
+
+"Certainly, mother — but I am comparing faces."
+
+"Well — the other face?"
+
+"It has the same style of refined beauty of feature, but — to
+compare them in a word, Marie Antoinette looks to me like a
+superb exotic that has come to its brilliant perfection of
+bloom in a hothouse — it would lose its beauty in the strong
+free air — it would change and droop if it lacked careful
+waiting upon and constant artificial excitement; — the other,"
+said Mr. Carleton, musingly, — "is a flower of the woods,
+raising its head above frost and snow and the rugged soil
+where fortune has placed it, with an air of quiet patient
+endurance; a storm wind may bring it to the ground, easily, —
+but if its gentle nature be not broken, it will look up again,
+unchanged, and bide its time in unrequited beauty and
+sweetness to the end."
+
+"The exotic for me!" cried Rossitur, — "if I only had a place
+for her. I don't like pale elegancies."
+
+"I'd make a piece of poetry of that if I was you, Carleton,"
+said Mr. Thorn.
+
+"Mr. Carleton has done that already," said Mrs. Evelyn,
+smoothly.
+
+"I never heard you talk so before, Guy," said his mother,
+looking at him. His eyes had grown dark with intensity of
+expression while he was speaking, gazing at visionary flowers
+or beauties through the dinner-table mahogany. He looked up
+and laughed as she addressed him, and rising, turned off
+lightly with his usual air.
+
+"I congratulate you, Mrs. Carleton," Mrs. Evelyn whispered as
+they went from the table, "that this little beauty is not a
+few years older."
+
+"Why?" said Mrs. Carleton, "If she is all that Guy says, I
+would give anything in the world to see him married."
+
+"Time enough," said Mrs. Evelyn, with a knowing smile.
+
+"I don't know," said Mrs. Carleton, — "I think he would be
+happier. He is a restless spirit — nothing satisfies him. —
+nothing fixes him. He cannot rest at home — he abhors politics
+— he flits away from country to country and doesn't remain
+long anywhere."
+
+"And you with him."
+
+"And I with him. I should like to see if a wife could not
+persuade him to stay at home."
+
+"I guess you have petted him too much," said Mrs. Evelyn,
+slyly.
+
+"I cannot have petted him too much, for he has never
+disappointed me."
+
+"No, of course not; but it seems you find it difficult to lead
+him."
+
+"No one ever succeeded in doing that," said Mrs. Carleton,
+with a smile, that was anything but an ungratified one. "He
+never wanted driving, and to lead him is impossible. You may
+try it; and while you think you are going to gain your end, if
+he thinks it worth while, you will suddenly find that he is
+leading you. It is so with everybody — in some inexplicable
+way."
+
+Mrs. Evelyn thought the mystery was very easily explicable, as
+far as the mother was concerned; and changed the conversation.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+To them life was a simple art
+Of duties to be done,
+A game where each man took his part,
+A race where all must run;
+A battle whose great scheme and scope
+They little cared to know,
+Content, as men-at-arms, to cope
+Each with his fronting foe.
+MILNES.
+
+
+On so great and uncommon an occasion as Mr. Ringgan's giving a
+dinner-party, the disused front parlour was opened and set in
+order; the women-folks, as he called them, wanting the whole
+back part of the house for their operations. So when the
+visitors arrived, in good time, they were ushered into a large
+square, bare-looking room — a strong contrast even to their
+dining-room at the Pool — which gave them nothing of the
+welcome of the pleasant farm-house kitchen, and where nothing
+of the comfort of the kitchen found its way but a very strong
+smell of roast pig. There was the cheerless air of a place
+where nobody lives, or thinks of living. The very chairs
+looked as if they had made up their minds to be forsaken for a
+term of months; it was impossible to imagine that a cheerful
+supper had ever been laid upon the stiff, cold-looking table,
+that stood with its leaves down so primly against the wall.
+All that a blazing fire could do to make amends for
+deficiencies, it did; but the wintry wind that swept round the
+house shook the paper window-shades in a remorseless way; and
+the utmost efforts of said fire could not prevent it from
+coming in, and giving disagreeable, impertinent whispers at
+the ears of everybody.
+
+Mr. Ringgan's welcome, however, was, and would have been the
+same thing anywhere — genial, frank, and dignified; neither he
+nor it could be changed by circumstances. Mr. Carleton admired
+anew, as he came forward, the fine presence and noble look of
+his old host; a look that it was plain had never needed to
+seek the ground; a brow that in large or small things had
+never been crossed by a shadow of shame. And to a discerning
+eye the face was not a surer index of a lofty than of a
+peaceful and pure mind; too peace-loving and pure, perhaps,
+for the best good of his affairs in the conflict with a
+selfish and unscrupulous world. At least, now, in the time of
+his old age and infirmity; in former days, his straightforward
+wisdom, backed by an indomitable courage and strength, had
+made Mr. Ringgan no safe subject for either braving or over-
+reaching.
+
+Fleda's keen-sighted affection was heartily gratified by the
+manner in which her grandfather was greeted by at least one of
+his guests, and that the one about whose opinion she cared the
+most. Mr. Carleton seemed as little sensible of the cold room
+as Mr. Ringgan himself. Fleda felt sure that her grandfather
+was appreciated; and she would have sat delightedly listening
+to what the one and the other were presently saying, if she
+had not taken notice that her cousin looked _astray_. He was
+eyeing the fire with a profound air, and she fancied he
+thought it poor amusement. Little as Fleda in secret really
+cared about that, with an instant sacrifice of her own
+pleasure, she quietly changed her position for one from which
+she could more readily bring to bear upon Mr. Rossitur's
+distraction the very light artillery of her conversation; and
+attacked him on the subject of the game he had brought home.
+Her motive and her manner both must have been lost upon the
+young gentleman. He forthwith set about amusing himself in a
+way his little entertainer had not counted upon, namely, with
+giving a chase to her wits; partly to pass away the time, and
+partly to gratify his curiosity, as he said, "to see what
+Fleda was made of." By a curious system of involved,
+startling, or absurd questions, he endeavoured to puzzle, or
+confound, or entrap her. Fleda, however, steadily presented a
+grave front to the enemy, and would every now and then
+surprise him with an unexpected turn or clever doubling, and
+sometimes when he thought he had her in a corner, jump over
+the fence and laugh at him from the other side. Mr. Rossitur's
+respect for his little adversary gradually increased, and
+finding that she had rather the best of the game, he at last
+gave it up, just as Mr. Ringgan was asking Mr. Carleton if he
+was a judge of stock? Mr. Carleton saying with a smile, "No,
+but he hoped Mr. Ringgan would give him his first lesson," —
+the old gentleman immediately arose with that alacrity of
+manner he always wore when he had a visitor that pleased him,
+and taking his hat and cane led the way out; choosing, with a
+man's true carelessness of housewifery etiquette, the kitchen
+route, of all others. Not even admonished by the sight of the
+bright Dutch oven before the fire, that he was introducing his
+visitors somewhat too early to the pig, he led the whole party
+through, Cynthia scuttling away in haste across the kitchen
+with something that must not be seen, while aunt Miriam looked
+out at the company through the crack of the pantry door, at
+which Fleda ventured a sly glance of intelligence.
+
+It was a fine though a windy and cold afternoon; the lights
+and shadows were driving across the broad upland and meadows.
+
+"This is a fine arable country," remarked Mr. Carleton.
+
+"Capital, Sir, capital, for many miles round, if we were not
+so far from a market. I was one of the first that broke ground
+in this township, — one of the very first settlers — I've seen
+the rough and the smooth of it, and I never had but one mind
+about it from the first. All this — as far as you can see — I
+cleared myself; most of it with my own hand."
+
+"That recollection must attach you strongly to the place, I
+should think, Sir."
+
+"Hum, perhaps I cared too much for it," he replied, "for it is
+taken away from me. Well, it don't matter now."
+
+"It is not yours?"
+
+"No, Sir! it was mine a great many years; but I was obliged to
+part with it, two years ago, to a scoundrel of a fellow —
+McGowan, up here — he got an advantage over me. I can't take
+care of myself any more as I used to do, and I don't find that
+other people deal by me just as I could wish —"
+
+He was silent for a moment and then went on —
+
+"Yes, Sir! when I first set myself down here, or a little
+further that way, my first house was, — a pretty rough house,
+too, — there wa'n't two settlers beside within something like
+ten miles round. — I've seen the whole of it cleared, from the
+cutting of the first forest trees till this day."
+
+"You have seen the nation itself spring up within that time,"
+remarked his guest.
+
+"Not exactly — that question of our nationality was settled a
+little before I came here. I was born rather too late to see
+the whole of that play — I saw the best of it, though — boys
+were men in those days. My father was in the thick of it from
+beginning to end."
+
+"In the army, was he?"
+
+"Ho, yes, Sir! he and every child he had that wasn't a girl —
+there wasn't a man of the name that wa'n't on the right side.
+I was in the army myself when I was fifteen. I was nothing but
+a fifer — but I tell you, Sir! there wasn't a general officer
+in the country that played his part with a prouder heart than
+I did mine!"
+
+"And was that the general spirit of the ranks?"
+
+"Not altogether," replied the old gentleman, passing his hand
+several times abstractedly over his white hair, a favourite
+gesture with him, — "not exactly that — there was a good deal
+of mixture of different materials, especially in this state;
+and where the feeling wasn't pretty strong, it was no wonder
+if it got tired out; but the real stuff, the true Yankee
+blood, was pretty firm! Ay, and some of the rest! There was a
+good deal to try men in those days. Sir, I have seen many a
+time when I had nothing to dine upon but my fife, and it was
+more than that could do to keep me from feeling very empty!"
+
+"But was this a common case? did this happen often?" said Mr.
+Carleton.
+
+"Pretty often — pretty often, sometimes," answered the old
+gentleman. "Things were very much out of order, you see, and
+in some parts of the country it was almost impossible to get
+the supplies the men needed. Nothing would have kept them
+together, — nothing under heaven — but the love and confidence
+they had in one name. Their love of right and independence
+wouldn't have been strong enough, and besides a good many of
+them got disheartened. A hungry stomach is a pretty stout
+arguer against abstract questions. I have seen my father
+crying like a child for the wants and sufferings he was
+obliged to see, and couldn't relieve."
+
+"And then you used to relieve yourselves, grandpa," said
+Fleda.
+
+"How was that, Fairy?"
+
+Fleda looked at her grandfather, who gave a little preparatory
+laugh, and passed his hand over his head again.
+
+"Why, yes," said he, — "we used to think the tories, King
+George's men, you know, were fair game; and when we happened
+to be in the neighbourhood of some of them that we knew were
+giving all the help they could to the enemy, we used to let
+them cook our dinners for us once in a while."
+
+"How did you manage that, Sir?"
+
+"Why, they used to have little bake-ovens to cook their meats
+and so on, standing some way out from the house, — did you
+never see one of them? — raised on four little heaps of stone;
+the bottom of the oven is one large flat stone, and the arch
+built over it; — they look like a great beehive. Well — we
+used to watch till we saw the good woman of the house get her
+oven cleverly heated, and put in her batch of bread, or her
+meat-pie, or her pumpkin and apple pies! — whichever it was —
+there didn't any of 'em come much amiss — and when we guessed
+they were pretty nigh done, three or four of us would creep in
+and whip off the whole — oven and all! — to a safe place. I
+tell you," said he, with a knowing nod of his head at the
+laughing Fleda, — "those were first-rate pies!"
+
+"And then did you put the oven back again afterwards,
+grandpa?"
+
+"I guess not often, dear!" replied the old gentleman.
+
+"What do you think of such lawless proceedings, Miss Fleda?"
+said Mr. Carleton, laughing at or with her.
+
+"O, I like it," said Fleda. "You liked those pies all the
+better, didn't you, grandpa, because you had got them from the
+tories?"
+
+"That we did! If we hadn't got them, maybe King George's men
+would, in some shape. But we weren't always so lucky as to get
+hold of an oven full. I remember one time several of us had
+been out on a foraging expedition — there, Sir, what do you
+think of that for a two-and-a-half year old?"
+
+They had come up with the chief favourite of his barnyard, a
+fine deep-coloured Devon bull.
+
+"I don't know what one might see in Devonshire," he remarked,
+presently, "but I know _this_ county can't show the like of
+him?"
+
+A discussion followed of the various beauties and excellencies
+of the animal; a discussion in which Mr. Carleton certainly
+took little part, while Mr. Ringgan descanted enthusiastically
+upon "hide" and "brisket" and "bone," and Rossitur stood in an
+abstraction — it might be scornful, it might be mazed. Little
+Fleda quietly listening and looking at the beautiful creature,
+which from being such a treasure to her grandfather was in a
+sort one to her, more than half understood them all; but Mr.
+Ringgan was too well satisfied with the attention of one of
+his guests to miss that of the other.
+
+"That fellow don't look as if _he_ had ever known short
+commons," was Rossitur's single remark as they turned away.
+
+"You did not give us the result of your foraging expedition,
+Sir," said Mr. Carleton, in a different manner.
+
+"Do, grandpa," said Fleda, softly.
+
+"Ha! — Oh, it is not worth telling," said the old gentleman,
+looking gratified; — "Fleda has heard my stories till she
+knows them by heart — she could tell it as well herself. What
+was it? — about the pig? — We had been out, several of us, one
+afternoon, to try to get up a supper — or a dinner, for we had
+had none — and we had caught a pig. It happened that I was the
+only one of the party that had a cloak, and so the pig was
+given to me to carry home, because I could hide it the best.
+Well, Sir! — we were coming home, and had set our mouths for a
+prime supper, when just as we were within a few rods of our
+shanty, who should come along but our captain! My heart sank
+as it never has done at the thought of a supper before or
+since, I believe! I held my cloak together as well as I could,
+and kept myself back a little, so that if the pig showed a
+cloven foot behind me, the captain might not see it. But I
+almost gave up all for lost when I saw the captain going into
+the hut with us. There was a kind of a rude bedstead standing
+there; and I set myself down upon the side of it, and gently
+worked and eased my pig off under my cloak till I got him to
+roll down behind the bed. I knew," said Mr. Ringgan, laughing,
+"I knew by the captain's eye, as well as I knew anything, that
+he smelt a rat; but he kept our counsel, as well as his own;
+and when he was gone we took the pig out into the woods behind
+the shanty and roasted him finely, and we sent and asked Capt.
+Sears to supper; and he came and helped us eat the pig with a
+great deal of appetite, and never asked no questions how we
+came by him!"
+
+"I wonder your stout-heartedness did not fail, in the course
+of so long a time," said Mr. Carleton
+
+"Never, Sir!'" said the old gentleman. "I never doubted for a
+moment what the end would be. My father never doubted for a
+moment. We trusted in God and in Washington!"
+
+"Did you see actual service yourself?"
+
+"No, Sir — I never did. I wish I had. I should like to have
+had the honour of striking one blow at the rascals. However,
+they were hit pretty well. I ought to be contented. My father
+saw enough of fighting — he was colonel of a regiment — he was
+at the affair of Burgoyne. _That_ gave us a lift in good time.
+What rejoicing there was everywhere when that news came! I
+could have fifed all day upon an empty stomach and felt
+satisfied. People reckoned everywhere that the matter was
+settled when that great piece of good fortune was given us.
+And so it was! — wa'n't it, dear?" said the old gentleman,
+with one of those fond, pleased, sympathetic looks to Fleda
+with which he often brought up what he was saying.
+
+"General Gates commanded there?" said Mr. Carleton.
+
+"Yes, Sir. Gates was a poor stick — I never thought much of
+him. That fellow Arnold distinguished himself in the actions
+before Burgoyne's surrender. He fought like a brave man. It
+seems strange that so mean a scamp should have had so much
+blood in him!"
+
+
+"Why; are great fighters generally good men, grandpa?" said
+Fleda.
+
+Not exactly, dear!" replied her grandfather; — "but such
+little-minded rascality is not just the vice one would expect
+to find in a gallant soldier."
+
+"Those were times that made men," said Mr. Carleton, musingly.
+
+"Yes," answered the old gentleman, gravely, — "they were times
+that called for men, and God raised them up. But Washington
+was the soul of the country, Sir!"
+
+"Well, the time made him," said Mr. Carleton.
+
+"I beg your pardon," said the old gentleman, with a very
+decided little turn of his head. — "I think he made the time.
+I don't know what it would have been, Sir, or what it would
+have come to, but for him. After all, it is rather that the
+things which try people show what is in them; — I hope there
+are men enough in the country yet, though they haven't as good
+a chance to show what they are."
+
+"Either way," said his guest, smiling, "it is a happiness, Mr.
+Ringgan, to have lived at a time when there was something
+worth living for."
+
+"Well — I don't know —" said the old gentleman; — "those times
+would make the prettiest figure in a story or a romance, I
+suppose; but I've tried both, and on the whole," said he, with
+another of his looks at Fleda, "I think I like these times the
+best!"
+
+
+Fleda smiled her acquiescence. His guest could not help
+thinking to himself that however pacific might be Mr.
+Ringgan's temper, no man in those days that tried men could
+have brought to the issue more stern inflexibility and gallant
+fortitude of bearing. His frame bore evidence of great
+personal strength, and his eye, with all its mildness, had an
+unflinching dignity that _could_ never have quailed before duty
+or danger. And now, while he was recalling with great
+animation and pleasure the scenes of his more active life, and
+his blue eye was shining with the fire of other days, his
+manner had the self-possession and quiet sedateness of triumph
+that bespeak a man always more ready to do than to say.
+Perhaps the contemplation of the noble Roman-like old figure
+before him did not tend to lessen the feeling, even the sigh,
+of regret with which the young man said,
+
+"There was something then for a man to do!"
+
+"There is always that," said the old gentleman, quietly. "God
+has given every man his work to do; and 'tain't difficult for
+him to find out what. No man is put here to be idle."
+
+"But," said his companion, with a look in which not a little
+haughty reserve was mingled with a desire to speak out his
+thoughts, "half the world are busy about humdrum concerns, and
+the other half doing nothing, or worse."
+
+"I don't know about that," said Mr. Ringgan; — "that depends
+upon the way you take things. 'Tain't always the men that make
+the most noise that are the most good in the world. Humdrum
+affairs needn't be humdrum in the doing of 'em. It is my
+maxim," said the old gentleman, looking at his companion with
+a singularly open, pleasant smile, — "that a man may be great
+about a'most anything — chopping wood, if he happens to be in
+that line. I used to go upon that plan, Sir. Whatever I have
+set my hand to do, I have done it as well as I knew how to;
+and if you follow that rule out you'll not be idle nor humdrum
+neither. Many's the time that I have mowed what would be a
+day's work for another man, before breakfast."
+
+Rossitur's smile was not meant to be seen. But Mr. Carleton's,
+to the credit of his politeness and his understanding both,
+was frank as the old gentleman's own, as he answered, with a
+good-humoured shake of his head,
+
+"I can readily believe it, Sir; and honour both your maxim and
+your practice. But I am not exactly in that line."
+
+"Why don't you try the army?" said Mr. Ringgan, with a look of
+interest.
+
+"There is not a cause worth fighting for," said the young man,
+his brow changing again. "It is only to add weight to the
+oppressor's hand, or throw away life in the vain endeavour to
+avert it. I will do neither."
+
+"But all the world is open before such a young man as you,"
+said Mr. Ringgan.
+
+"A large world," said Mr. Carleton, with his former mixture of
+expression, — "but there isn't much in it."
+
+"Politics?" said Mr. Ringgan.
+
+"It is to lose oneself in a seething-pot, where the scum is
+the most apparent thing."
+
+"But there is society?" said Rossitur.
+
+"Nothing better or more noble than the succession of motes
+that flit through a sunbeam into oblivion."
+
+"Well, why not, then, sit down quietly on one's estates and
+enjoy them, one who has enough?"
+
+"And be a worm in the heart of an apple."
+
+"Well, then," said Rossitur, laughing, though not knowing
+exactly how far he might venture, "there is nothing left for
+you, as I don't suppose you would take to any of the learned
+professions, but to strike out some new path for yourself —
+hit upon some grand invention for benefiting the human race
+and distinguishing your own name at once."
+
+But while he spoke, his companion's face had gone back to its
+usual look of imperturbable coolness; the dark eye was even
+haughtily unmoved, till it met Fleda's inquiring and somewhat
+anxious glance. He smiled.
+
+"The nearest approach I ever made to that," said he, "was when
+I went chestnuting the other day. Can't you find some more
+work for me, Fairy?"
+
+Taking Fleda's hand with his wonted graceful lightness of
+manner, he walked on with her, leaving the other two to follow
+together.
+
+"You would like to know, perhaps, "observed Mr. Rossitur, in
+rather a low tone, "that Mr. Carleton is an Englishman."
+
+"Ay, ay?" said Mr. Ringgan. "An Englishman, is he? Well, Sir,
+what is it that I would like to know?"
+
+"_That_," said Rossitur. "I would have told you before if I
+could. I supposed you might not choose to speak quite so
+freely, perhaps, on American affairs before him."
+
+"I haven't two ways of speaking, Sir, on anything," said the
+old gentleman, a little dryly. "Is your friend very tender on
+that chapter?"
+
+"O, not that I know of at all," said Rossitur; "but you know
+there is a great deal of feeling still among the English about
+it — they have never forgiven us heartily for whipping them;
+and I know Carleton is related to the nobility, and all that,
+you know; so I thought —"
+
+"Ah, well!" said the old gentleman — "we don't know much about
+nobility and such gimcracks in this country. I'm not much of a
+courtier. I am pretty much accustomed to speak my mind as I
+think it. He's wealthy, I suppose?"
+
+"He's more than that, Sir. Enormous estates! He's the finest
+fellow in the world — one of the first young men in England."
+
+"You have been there yourself, and know?" said Mr. Ringgan,
+glancing at his companion.
+
+"If I have not, Sir, others have told me that do."
+
+"Ah, well," said Mr. Ringgan, placidly; "we sha'n't quarrel, I
+guess. What did he come out here for — eh?"
+
+"Only to amuse himself. They are going back again in a few
+weeks, and I intend accompanying them to join my mother in
+Paris. Will my little cousin be of the party?"
+
+They were sauntering along towards the house. A loud calling
+of her name the minute before, had summoned Fleda thither at
+the top of her speed; and Mr. Carleton turned to repeat the
+same question.
+
+The old gentleman stopped, and striking his stick two or three
+times against the ground, looked sorrowfully undetermined.
+
+"Well, I don't know!" he said, at last — "It's a pretty hard
+matter — she'd break her heart about it, I suppose —"
+
+"I dare urge nothing, Sir," said Mr. Carleton. "I will only
+assure you that if you entrust your treasure to us, she shall
+be cherished as you would wish, till we place her in the hands
+of her aunt."
+
+"I know that, Sir, — I do not doubt it," said Mr. Ringgan;
+"but, I'll tell you by and by what I conclude upon," he said,
+with evident relief of manner, as Fleda came bounding back to
+them. "Mr. Rossitur, have you made your peace with Fleda?"
+
+"I was not aware that I had any to make, Sir," replied the
+young gentleman. "I will do it with pleasure, if my little
+cousin will tell me how. But she looks as if she needed
+enlightening as much as myself."
+
+"She has something against you, I can tell you," said the old
+gentleman, looking amused, and speaking as if Fleda were a
+curious little piece of human mechanism which could hear its
+performances talked of with all the insensibility of any other
+toy. "She gives it as her judgment that Mr. Carleton is the
+most of a gentleman, because he keeps his promise."
+
+"Oh, grandpa!"
+
+Poor Fleda's cheek was hot with a distressful blush. Rossitur
+coloured with anger. Mr. Carleton's smile had a very different
+expression.
+
+"If Fleda will have the goodness to recollect," said Rossitur,
+"I cannot be charged with breaking a promise, for I made
+none."
+
+"But Mr. Carleton did," said Fleda.
+
+"She is right, Mr. Rossitur, she is right," said that
+gentleman; "a fallacy might as well elude Ithuriel's spear as
+the sense of a pure spirit — there is no need of written
+codes. Make your apologies, man, and confess yourself in the
+wrong."
+
+"Pho, pho," said the old gentleman, — "she don't take it very
+much to heart, I guess _I_ ought to be the one to make the
+apologies," he added, looking at Fleda's face.
+
+But Fleda commanded herself, with difficulty, and announced
+that dinner was ready.
+
+"Mr. Rossitur tells me, Mr. Carleton, you are an Englishman,"
+said his host. "I have some notion of that's passing through
+my head before, but somehow I had entirely lost sight of it
+when I was speaking so freely to you a little while ago, about
+our national quarrel — I know some of your countrymen owe us a
+grudge yet."
+
+"Not I, I assure you," said the young Englishman. "I am
+ashamed of them for it. I congratulate you on being
+Washington's countryman, and a sharer in his grand struggle
+for the right against the wrong."
+
+Mr. Ringgan shook his guest's hand, looking very much pleased;
+and having by this time arrived at the house, the young
+gentlemen were formally introduced at once to the kitchen,
+their dinner, and aunt Miriam.
+
+It is not too much to say that the entertainment gave perfect
+satisfaction to everybody — better fate than attends most
+entertainments. Even Mr. Rossitur's ruffled spirit felt the
+soothing influence of good cheer, to which he happened to be
+peculiarly sensible, and came back to its average condition of
+amenity.
+
+Doubtless that was a most informal table, spread according to
+no rules that, for many generations at least, have been known
+in the refined world; an anomaly in the eyes of certainly one
+of the company. Yet the board had a character of its own, very
+far removed from vulgarity, and suiting remarkably well with
+the condition and demeanour of those who presided over it — a
+comfortable, well-to-do, substantial look, that could afford
+to dispense with minor graces; a self-respect that was not
+afraid of criticism. Aunt Miriam's successful efforts deserve
+to be celebrated.
+
+In the middle of the table, the polished amber of the pig's
+arched back elevated itself — a striking object — but worthy
+of the place he filled, as the honours paid him by everybody
+abundantly testified. Aunt Miriam had sent down a basket of
+her own bread, made out of the new flour, brown and white,
+both as sweet and fine as it is possible for bread to be; the
+piled-up slices were really beautiful. The superb butter had
+come from aunt Miriam's dairy, too, for on such an occasion
+she would not trust to the very doubtful excellence of Miss
+Cynthia's doings. Every spare place on the table was filled
+with dishes of potatoes, and pickles, and sweetmeats, that
+left nothing to be desired in their respective kinds; the cake
+was a delicious presentment of the finest of material; and the
+pies, pumpkin pies, such as only aunt Miriam could make, rich
+compounds of everything _but_ pumpkin, with enough of that to
+give them a name; Fleda smiled to think how pleased aunt
+Miriam must secretly be to see the homage paid her through
+them. And most happily Mrs. Plumfield had discovered that the
+last tea Mr. Ringgan had brought from the little Queechy store
+was not very good, and there was no time to send up on "the
+hill" for more, so she made coffee. Verily, it was not Mocha,
+but the thick yellow cream with which the cups were filled,
+really made up the difference. The most curious palate found
+no want.
+
+Everybody was in a high state of satisfaction, even to Miss
+Cynthia Gall; who, having some lurking suspicion that Mrs.
+Plumfield might design to cut her out of her post of tea-
+making, had slipped herself into her usual chair behind the
+tea-tray, before anybody else was ready to sit down. No one at
+table bestowed a thought upon Miss Cynthia, but as she thought
+of nothing else, she may be said to have had her fair share of
+attention. The most unqualified satisfaction, however, was no
+doubt little Fleda's. Forgetting, with a child's happy
+readiness, the fears and doubts which had lately troubled her,
+she was full of the present, enjoying, with a most unselfish
+enjoyment, everything that pleased anybody else. She was glad
+that the supper was a fine one, and so approved, because it
+was her grandfather's hospitality, and her aunt Miriam's
+housekeeping; little beside was her care for pies or coffee.
+She saw with secret glee the expression of both her aunt's and
+Mr. Ringgan's face; partly from pure sympathy, and partly
+because, as she knew, the cause of it was Mr. Carleton, whom,
+privately, Fleda liked very much. And after all, perhaps, he
+had directly more to do with her enjoyment than all other
+causes together.
+
+Certainly that was true of him with respect to the rest of the
+dinner-table. None at that dinner-table had ever seen the
+like. With all the graceful charm of manner with which he
+would have delighted a courtly circle, he came out from his
+reserve and was brilliant, gay, sensible, entertaining, and
+witty, to a degree that assuredly has very rarely been thrown
+away upon an old farmer in the country and his unpolite
+sister. They appreciated him though, as well as any courtly
+circle could have done, and he knew it. In aunt Miriam's
+strong sensible face, when not full of some hospitable care,
+he could see the reflection of every play of his own; the
+grave practical eye twinkled and brightened, giving a ready
+answer to every turn of sense or humour in what he was saying.
+Mr. Ringgan, as much of a child for the moment as Fleda
+herself, had lost everything disagreeable, and was in the full
+genial enjoyment of talk, rather listening than talking, with
+his cheeks in a perpetual dimple of gratification, and a low
+laugh of hearty amusement now and then rewarding the
+conversational and kind efforts of his guest with a complete
+triumph. Even the subtle charm which they could not quite
+recognise wrought fascination. Miss Cynthia declared
+afterwards, half admiring and half vexed, that he spoiled her
+supper, for she forgot to think how it tasted. Rossitur — his
+good humour was entirely restored; but whether even Mr.
+Carleton's power could have achieved that without the perfect
+seasoning of the pig and the smooth persuasion of the richly-
+creamed coffee, it may perhaps be doubted. He stared,
+mentally, for he had never known his friend condescend to
+bring himself out in the same manner before; and he wondered
+what he could see in the present occasion to make it worth
+while.
+
+But Mr. Carleton did not think his efforts thrown away. He
+understood and admired his fine old host and hostess; and with
+all their ignorance of conventionalities and absence of what
+is called _polish_ of manner, he could enjoy the sterling sense,
+the good feeling, the true, hearty hospitality, and the
+dignified courtesy, which both of them showed. No matter of
+the outside; this was in the grain. If mind had lacked much
+opportunity, it had also made good use of a little; his host,
+Mr. Carleton found, had been a great leader, was well
+acquainted with history, and a very intelligent reasoner upon
+it; and both he and his sister showed a strong and quick
+aptitude for intellectual subjects of conversation. No doubt
+aunt Miriam's courtesy had not been taught by a dancing-
+master, and her brown satin gown had seen many a fashion come
+and go since it was made, but a _lady_ was in both; and while
+Rossitur covertly smiled, Mr. Carleton paid his sincere
+respect where he felt it was due. Little Fleda's quick eye
+hardly saw, but more than half felt, the difference. Mr.
+Carleton had no more eager listener now than she, and perhaps
+none whose unaffected interest and sympathy gave him more
+pleasure.
+
+When they rose from the table Mr. Ringgan would not be
+_insinuated_ into the cold front room again.
+
+"No, no," said he, "what's the matter? the table? Push the
+table back, and let it take care of itself, — come, gentlemen,
+sit down — draw up your chairs round the fire, and a fig for
+ceremony! Comfort, sister Miriam, against politeness, any day
+in the year; don't you say so too, Fairy? Come here by me."
+
+"Miss Fleda," said Mr. Carleton, "will you take a ride with me
+to Montepoole to-morrow? I should like to make you acquainted
+with my mother."
+
+Fleda coloured, and looked at her grandfather.
+
+"What do you say, deary?" he inquired fondly; "will you go? —
+I believe, Sir, your proposal will prove a very acceptable
+one. You will go, wont you, Fleda?"
+
+Fleda would very much rather not! But she was always
+exceedingly afraid of hurting people's feelings; she could not
+bear that Mr. Carleton should think she disliked to go with
+him, so she answered yes, in her usual sober manner.
+
+Just then the door opened, and a man unceremoniously walked
+in, his entrance immediately following a little sullen knock
+that had made a mockery of asking permission. An ill-looking
+man, in the worst sense; his face being a mixture of cunning,
+meanness, and insolence. He shut the door, and came with a
+slow, leisurely step into the middle of the room, without
+speaking a word. Mr. Carleton saw the blank change in Fleda's
+face. She knew him.
+
+"Do you wish to see me, Mr. McGowan?" said Mr. Ringgan, not
+without something of the same change.
+
+"I guess I ha'n't come here for nothing," was the gruff
+retort.
+
+"Wouldn't another time answer as well?"
+
+"I don't mean to find you here another time," said the man,
+chuckling; "I have given you notice to quit, and now I have
+come to tell you you'll clear out. I ain't a going to be kept
+out of my property for ever. If I can't get my money from you,
+Elzevir Ringgan, I'll see you don't get no more of it in your
+hands."
+
+"Very well, Sir," said the old gentleman. "You have said all
+that is necessary."
+
+"You have got to hear a little more, though," returned the
+other; "I've an idee that there's a satisfaction in speaking
+one's mind. I'll have that much out of you! Mr. Ringgan, a man
+hadn't ought to make an agreement to pay what he doesn't _mean_
+to pay; and what he has made an agreement to pay, he ought to
+meet and be up to, if he sold his soul for it! You call
+yourself a Christian, do you, to stay in another man's house,
+month after month, when you know you ha'n't got the means to
+give him the rent for it! That's what _I_ call stealing; and
+it's what I'd live in the County House before I'd demean
+myself to do! and so ought you."
+
+"Well, well! neighbour," said Mr. Ringgan, with patient
+dignity; "it's no use calling names. You know as well as I do
+how all this came about. I hoped to be able to pay you, but I
+haven't been able to make it out, without having more time."
+
+"Time!" said the other. "Time to cheat me out of a little more
+houseroom. If I was agoing to live on charity, Mr. Ringgan,
+I'd come out and say so, and not put my hand in a man's pocket
+this way. You'll quit the house by the day after to-morrow, or
+if you don't I'll let you hear a little more of me that you
+wont like."
+
+He stalked out, shutting the door after him with a bang. Mr.
+Carleton had quitted the room a moment before him.
+
+Nobody moved or spoke at first, when the man was gone, except
+Miss Cynthia, who, as she was taking something from the table
+to the pantry, remarked, probably for Mr. Rossitur's benefit,
+that "Mr. Ringgan had to have that man punished for something
+he did a few years ago, when he was justice of the peace, and
+she guessed likely that was the reason he had a grudge agin
+him ever since." Beyond this piece of dubious information
+nothing was said. Little Fleda stood beside her grandfather,
+with a face of quiet distress; the tears silently running over
+her flushed cheeks, and her eyes fixed upon Mr. Ringgan with a
+tender, touching look of sympathy, most pure from self-
+recollection.
+
+Mr. Carleton presently came in to take leave of the disturbed
+family. The old gentleman rose, and returned his shake of the
+hand with even a degree more than usual of his manly dignity,
+or Mr. Carleton thought so.
+
+"Good day to you, Sir!" he said, heartily. "We have had a
+great deal of pleasure in your society, and I shall always be
+very happy to see you — wherever I am." And then following him
+to the door, and wringing his hand with a force he was not at
+all aware of, the old gentleman added in a lower tone, "I
+shall let her go with you."
+
+Mr. Carleton read his whole story in the stern self-command of
+brow, and the slight convulsion of feature, which all the
+self-command could not prevent. He returned warmly the grasp
+of the hand, answering merely, "I will see you again."
+
+Fleda wound her arms round her grandfather's neck when they
+were gone, and did her best to comfort him, assuring him that
+"they would be just as happy somewhere else." And aunt Miriam
+earnestly proffered her own home. But Fleda knew that her
+grandfather was not comforted. He stroked her head, with the
+same look of stern gravity and troubled emotion which had
+grieved her so much the other day. She could not win him to a
+smile, and went to bed at last, feeling desolate. She had no
+heart to look out at the night. The wind was sweeping by in
+wintry gusts; and Fleda cried herself to sleep, thinking how
+it would whistle round the dear old house when their ears
+would not be there to hear it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+He from his old hereditary nook
+Must part; the summons came, — our final leave we took.
+WORDSWORTH.
+
+
+Mr. Carleton came the next day, but not early, to take Fleda
+to Montepoole. She had told her grandfather that she did not
+think he would come, because after last night he must know
+that she would not want to go. About twelve o'clock, however,
+he was there, with a little wagon, and Fleda was fain to get
+her sunbonnet and let him put her in. Happily it was her maxim
+never to trust to uncertainties, so she was quite ready when
+he came, and they had not to wait a minute.
+
+Though Fleda had a little dread of being introduced to a party
+of strangers, and was a good deal disappointed at being
+obliged to keep her promise, she very soon began to be glad.
+She found her fear gradually falling away before Mr.
+Carleton's quiet kind reassuring manner; he took such nice
+care of her; and she presently made up her mind that he would
+manage the matter so that it would not be awkward. They had so
+much pleasant talk, too. Fleda had found before that she could
+talk to Mr. Carleton, nay, she could not help talking to him;
+and she forgot to think about it. And besides, it was a
+pleasant day, and they drove fast, and Fleda's particular
+delight was driving; and though the horse was a little gay she
+had a kind of intuitive perception that Mr. Carleton knew how
+to manage him. So she gave up every care and was very happy.
+
+When Mr. Carleton asked after her grandfather, Fleda answered
+with great animation, "O, he's very well! and such a happy
+thing. You heard what that man said last night, Mr. Carleton,
+didn't you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, it is all arranged; — this morning Mr. Jolly — he's a
+friend of grandpa's that lives over at Queechy Run and knew
+about all this — he's a lawyer — he came this morning and told
+grandpa that he had found some one that could lend him the
+money he wanted, and there was no trouble about it; and we are
+so happy, for we thought we should have to go away from where
+we live now, and I know grandpa would have felt it dreadfully.
+If it hadn't been for that, — I mean, for Mr. Jolly's coming,
+— I couldn't have gone to Montepoole to-day."
+
+"Then I am very glad Mr. Jolly made his appearance," said Mr.
+Carleton.
+
+"So am I," said Fleda; — "but I think it was a little strange
+that Mr. Jolly wouldn't tell us who it was that he had got the
+money from. Grandpa said he never saw Mr. Jolly so curious."
+
+When they got to the Pool, Fleda's nervousness returned a
+little; but she went through the dreaded introduction with
+great demureness and perfect propriety. And throughout the day
+Mr. Carleton had no reason to fear rebuke for the judgment
+which he had pronounced upon his little paragon. All the
+flattering attention which was shown her, and it was a good
+deal, could not draw Fleda a line beyond the dignified
+simplicity which seemed natural to her; any more than the
+witty attempts at raillery and endeavours to amuse themselves
+at her expense, in which some of the gentlemen showed their
+wisdom, could move her from her modest self-possession. _Very_
+quiet, _very_ modest, as she invariably was, awkwardness could
+not fasten upon her; her colour might come and her timid eye
+fall — it often did; but Fleda's wits were always in their
+place and within a call. She would shrink from a stranger's
+eye, and yet when spoken to her answers were as ready and
+acute as they were marked for simplicity and gentleness. She
+was kept to dinner; and though the arrangement and manner of
+the service must have been strange to little Fleda, it was
+impossible to guess from word or look that it was the first
+time within her recollection that she had ever seen the like.
+Her native instincts took it all as quietly as any old
+liberalized traveller looks upon the customs of a new country.
+Mr. Carleton smiled as he now and then saw a glance of
+intelligence or admiration pass between one and another of the
+company; and a little knowing nod from Mrs. Evelyn, and many a
+look from his mother, confessed he had been quite right.
+
+Those two, Mrs. Evelyn and Mrs. Carleton, were by far the most
+kind and eager in their attention to Fleda. Mrs. Thorn did
+little else but look at her. The gentlemen amused themselves
+with her. But Mr. Carleton, true to the hopes Fleda had
+founded upon his good-nature, had stood her friend all the
+day, coming to her help if she needed any, and placing himself
+easily and quietly between her and anything that threatened to
+try or annoy her too much. Fleda felt it with grateful
+admiration. Yet she noticed, too, that he was a very different
+person at this dinner-table from what he had been the other
+day at her grandfather's. Easy and graceful always, he filled
+his own place, but did not seem to care to do more; there was
+even something bordering on haughtiness in his air of grave
+reserve. He was not the life of the company here; he contented
+himself with being all that the company could possibly require
+of him.
+
+On the whole Fleda was exceedingly well pleased with her day,
+and thought all the people in general very kind. It was quite
+late before she set out to go home again; and then Mrs. Evelyn
+and Mrs. Carleton were extremely afraid lest she should take
+cold; and Mr. Carleton, without saying one word about it,
+wrapped her up so very nicely after she got into the wagon, in
+a warm cloak of his mother's. The drive home, through the
+gathering shades of twilight, was to little Fleda thoroughly
+charming. It was almost in perfect silence, but she liked
+that; and all the way home her mind was full of a shadowy
+beautiful world that seemed to lie before and around her.
+
+It was a happy child that Mr. Carleton lifted from the wagon
+when they reached Queechy. He read it in the utter
+lightheartedness of brow and voice, and the spring to the
+ground which hardly needed the help of his hands.
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Carleton," she said, when she had reached her
+own door; (he would not go in) "I have had a very nice time!"
+
+He smiled.
+
+"Good night," said he. "Tell your grandfather I will come to-
+morrow to see him about some business."
+
+Fleda ran gaily into the kitchen. Only Cynthia was there.
+
+"Where is grandpa, Cynthy?"
+
+"He went off into his room a half an hour ago. I believe he's
+layin' down. He ain't right well, I s'pect. What's made you so
+late?"
+
+"O, they kept me," said Fleda. Her gayety suddenly sobered,
+she took off her bonnet and coat, and throwing them down in
+the kitchen, stole softly along the passage to her
+grandfather's room. She stopped a minute at the door, and held
+her breath to see if she could hear any movement which might
+tell her he was not asleep. It was all still, and pulling the
+iron latch with her gentlest hand, Fleda went on tiptoe into
+the room. He was lying on the bed, but awake, for she had made
+no noise, and the blue eyes opened and looked upon her as she
+came near.
+
+"Are you not well, dear grandpa?" said the little girl.
+
+Nothing made of flesh and blood ever spoke words of more
+spirit-like sweetness, — not the beauty of a fine organ, but
+such as the sweetness of angel-speech might be; a whisper of
+love and tenderness that was hushed by its own intensity. He
+did not answer, or did not notice her first question; she
+repeated it.
+
+"Don't you feel well?"
+
+"Not exactly, dear!" he replied.
+
+There was the shadow of somewhat in his tone, that fell upon
+his little granddaughter's heart and brow at once. Her voice
+next time, though not suffered to be anything but clear and
+cheerful still, had in part the clearness of apprehension.
+
+"What is the matter?"
+
+"Oh — I don't know, dear!"
+
+She felt the shadow again, and he seemed to say that time
+would show her the meaning of it. She put her little hand in
+one of his which lay outside the coverlets, and stood looking
+at him; and presently said, but in a very different key from
+the same speech to Mr. Carleton, —
+
+"I have had a very nice time, dear grandpa."
+
+Her grandfather made her no answer. He brought the dear little
+hand to his lips and kissed it twice, so earnestly that it was
+almost passionately; then laid it on the side of the bed
+again, with his own upon it, and patted it slowly and fondly,
+and with an inexpressible kind of sadness in the manner.
+Fleda's lip trembled, and her heart was fluttering, but she
+stood so that he could not see her face in the dusk, and kept
+still till the rebel features were calm again, and she had
+schooled the heart to be silent.
+
+Mr. Ringgan had closed his eyes, and perhaps was asleep, and
+his little granddaughter sat quietly down on a chair by the
+bedside to watch by him, in that gentle sorrowful patience
+which women often know, but which hardly belongs to childhood.
+Her eye and thoughts, as she sat there in the dusky twilight,
+fell upon the hand of her grandfather which still fondly held
+one of her own; and fancy travelled fast and far, from what it
+was to what it had been. Rough, discoloured, stiff, as it lay
+there now, she thought how it had once had the hue, and the
+freshness, and the grace of youth, when it had been, the
+instrument of uncommon strength, and wielded an authority that
+none could stand against. Her fancy wandered over the scenes
+it had known; when it had felled trees in the wild forest; and
+those fingers, then supple and slight, had played the fife to
+the struggling men of the Revolution; how its activity had
+outdone the activity of all other hands in clearing and
+cultivating those very fields where her feet loved to run;
+how, in its pride of strength, it had handled the scythe, and
+the sickle, and the flail, with a grace and efficiency that no
+other could attain; and how, in happy manhood, that strong
+hand had fondled, and sheltered, and led, the little children
+that now had grown up and were gone! — Strength and activity,
+ay, and the fruits of them, were passed away; — his children
+were dead; his race was run; — the shock of corn was in full
+season, ready to be gathered. Poor little Fleda! her thought
+had travelled but a very little way before the sense of these
+things entirely overcame her, her head bowed on her knees, and
+she wept tears that all the fine springs of her nature were
+moving to feed — many, many, — but poured forth as quietly as
+bitterly; she smothered every sound. That beautiful shadowy
+world with which she had been so busy a little while ago, —
+alas! she had left the fair outlines and the dreamy light, and
+had been tracking one solitary path through the wilderness,
+and she saw how the traveller, foot-sore and weather-beaten,
+comes to the end of his way. And, after all, he comes to _the
+end_. ''Yes, and I must travel through life, and come to the
+end, too," thought little Fleda; "life is but a passing
+through the world; my hand must wither and grow old too, if I
+live long enough; and whether or no, I must come to _the end_.
+Oh, there is only one thing that ought to be very much minded
+in this world!"
+
+That thought, sober though it was, brought sweet consolation.
+Fleda's tears, if they fell as fast, grew brighter, as she
+remembered, with singular tender joy, that her mother and her
+father had been ready to see the end of their journey, and
+were not afraid of it; that her grandfather and her aunt
+Miriam were happy in the same quiet confidence, and she
+believed she herself was a lamb of the Good Shepherd's flock.
+"And he will let none of his lambs be lost," she thought. "How
+happy I am! How happy we all are!"
+
+Her grandfather still lay quiet, as if asleep, and gently
+drawing her hand from under his, Fleda went and got a candle
+and sat down by him again to read, carefully shading the light
+so that it might not awake him.
+
+He presently spoke to her, and more cheerfully.
+
+"Are you reading, dear?"
+
+"Yes, grandpa!" said the little girl, looking up brightly.
+"Does the candle disturb you?"
+
+"No, dear! — What have you got there'?
+
+"I just took up this volume of Newton that has the hymns in
+it."
+
+"Read out."
+
+Fleda read Mr. Newton's long beautiful hymn, "The Lord will
+provide;" but with her late thoughts fresh in her mind it was
+hard to get through the last verses; —
+
+
+'No strength of our own,
+Or goodness we claim;
+But since we have known
+The Saviour's great name,
+In this, our strong tower,
+For safety we hide;
+The Lord is our power,
+The Lord will provide.
+
+
+'When life sinks apace,
+And death is in view,
+This word of his grace
+Shall comfort us through.
+No fearing nor doubting, —
+With Christ on our side,
+We hope to die shouting,
+The Lord will provide !'
+
+
+The little reader's voice changed, almost broke, but she
+struggled through, and then was quietly crying behind her
+hand.
+
+"Read it again," said the old gentleman, after a pause.
+
+There is no "cannot" in the vocabulary of affection. Fleda
+waited a minute or two to rally her forces, and then went
+through it again, more steadily than the first time.
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Ringgan, calmly, folding his hands, "that will
+do! That trust wont fail, for it is founded upon a rock. 'He
+is a rock; and he knoweth them that put their trust in him!' I
+have been a fool to doubt ever that he would make all things
+work well — 'The Lord will provide!"
+
+"Grandpa," said Fleda, but in an unsteady voice, and shading
+her face with her hand still, "I can remember reading this
+hymn to my mother once when I was so little that 'suggestions'
+was a hard word to me."
+
+"Ay, ay — I dare say," said the old gentleman; "your mother
+knew that Rock, and rested her hope upon it, — where mine
+stands now. If ever there was a creature that might have
+trusted to her own doings, I believe she was one, for I never
+saw her do anything wrong, as I know. But she knew Christ was
+all. Will you follow him, as she did, dear?"
+
+Fleda tried in vain to give an answer.
+
+"Do you know what her last prayer for you was, Fleda?"
+
+"No, grandpa."
+
+"It was that you might be kept 'unspotted from the world.' I
+heard her make that prayer myself." And stretching out his
+hand, the old gentleman laid it tenderly upon Fleda's bowed
+head, saying with strong earnestness and affection, even his
+voice somewhat shaken, "God grant that prayer! — whatever else
+he do with her, keep my child from the evil! — and bring her
+to join her father and mother in heaven! — and me!"
+
+He said no more; but Fleda's sobs said a great deal. And when
+the sobs were hushed, she still sat shedding quiet tears,
+sorrowed and disturbed by her grandfather's manner. She had
+never known it so grave, so solemn; but there was that shadow
+of something else in it besides, and she would have feared if
+she had known what to fear. He told her at last that she had
+better go to bed, and to say to Cynthy that he wanted to see
+her. She was going, and had near reached the door, when he
+said,
+
+"Elfleda!"
+
+She hastened back to the bedside.
+
+"Kiss me."
+
+He let her do so twice, without moving, and then holding her
+to his breast he pressed one long earnest passionate kiss upon
+her lips, and released her.
+
+Fleda told Cynthy that her grandfather wished her to come to
+him, and then mounted the stairs, to her little bedroom. She
+went to the window, and opening it, looked out at the soft
+moonlit sky; the weather was mild again, and a little hazy,
+and the landscape was beautiful. But little Fleda was tasting
+realities, and she could not go off upon dream-journeys to
+seek the light food of fancy through the air. She did not
+think to-night about the people the moon was shining on; she
+only thought of one little sad anxious heart, — and of another
+down stairs, more sad and anxious still, she feared; what
+could it be about? Now that Mr. Jolly had settled all that
+troublesome business with McGowan?
+
+As she stood there at the window, gazing out aimlessly into
+the still night, — it was very quiet, — she heard Cynthy at
+the back of the house, calling out, but as if she were afraid
+of making too much noise, "Watkins! Watkins!"
+
+The sound had business, if not anxiety, in it. Fleda
+instinctively held her breath to listen. Presently she heard
+Watkins reply; but they were round the corner, she could not
+easily make out what they said. It was only by straining her
+ears that she caught the words.
+
+"Watkins, Mr. Ringgan wants you to go right up on the hill to
+Mis' Plumfield's, and tell her he wants her to come right down
+— he thinks" — the voice of the speaker fell, and Fleda could
+only make out the last words — "Dr. James." More was said, but
+so thick and low that she could understand nothing.
+
+She had heard enough. She shut the window, trembling, and
+fastened again the parts of her dress she had loosened; and
+softly and hastily went down the stairs into the kitchen.
+
+"Cynthy! — what is the matter with grandpa!"
+
+"Why aint you in bed, Flidda?" said Cynthy, with some
+sharpness. "That's what you had ought to be. I am sure your
+grandpa wants you to be abed."
+
+"But tell me," said Fleda, anxiously.
+
+"I don't know as there's anything the matter with him," said
+Cynthy. "Nothing much, I suppose. What makes you think
+anything is the matter?"
+
+"Because I heard you telling Watkins to go for aunt Miriam."
+Fleda could not say, —- "and the doctor."
+
+"Well, your grandpa thought he'd like to have her come down,
+and he don't feel right well, — so I sent Watkins up; but
+you'd better go to bed, Flidda; you'll catch cold if you sit
+up o' night."
+
+Fleda was unsatisfied, the more because Cynthy would not meet
+the keen searching look with which the little girl tried to
+read her face. She was not to be sent to bed, and all Cynthy's
+endeavours to make her change her mind were of no avail. Fleda
+saw in them but fresh reason for staying, and saw besides,
+what Cynthy could not hide, a somewhat of wandering and
+uneasiness in her manner which strengthened her resolution.
+She sat down in the chimney corner, resolved to wait till her
+aunt Miriam came; there would be satisfaction in her, for aunt
+Miriam always told the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but
+the truth.
+
+It was a miserable three quarters of an hour. The kitchen
+seemed to wear a strange desolate look, though seen in its
+wonted bright light of fire and candles, and in itself nice
+and cheerful as usual. Fleda looked at it also through that
+vague fear which casts its own lurid colour upon everything.
+The very flickering of the candle blaze seemed of ill omen,
+and her grandfather's empty chair stood a signal of pain to
+little Fleda whenever she looked at it. She sat still, in
+submissive patience, her cheek pale with the working of a
+heart too big for that little body. Cynthia was going in and
+out of her grandfather's room, but Fleda would not ask her any
+more questions, to be disappointed with word-answers; she
+waited, but the minutes seemed very long, — and very sad.
+
+The characteristic outward calm which Fleda had kept, and
+which belonged to a nature uncommonly moulded to patience and
+fortitude, had yet perhaps heightened the pressure of excited
+fear within. When at last she saw the cloak and hood of aunt
+Miriam coming through the moonlight to the kitchen door, she
+rushed to open it, and quite overcome for the moment, threw
+her arms around her and was speechless. Aunt Miriam's tender
+and quiet voice comforted her.
+
+"You up yet, Fleda! Hadn't you better go to bed? 'Tisn't good
+for you."
+
+"That's what I've been a-telling her," said Cynthy, "but she
+wa'n't a mind to listen to me."
+
+But the two little arms embraced aunt Miriam's cloak and
+wrappers, and the little face was hid there still, and Fleda's
+answer was a half smothered ejaculation.
+
+"I am _so_ glad you are come, dear aunt Miriam!"
+
+Aunt Miriam kissed her again, and again repeated her request.
+
+"O no — I can't go to bed," said Fleda, crying; — "I can't
+till I know — I am sure something is the matter, or Cynthy
+wouldn't look so. _Do_ tell me, aunt Miriam!"
+
+"I can't tell you anything, dear, except that grandpa is not
+well — that is all I know — I am going in to see him. I will
+tell you in the morning how he is."
+
+"No," said Fleda, "I will wait here till you come out. I
+couldn't sleep."
+
+Mrs. Plumfield made no more efforts to persuade her, but rid
+herself of cloak and hood and went into Mr. Ringgan's room.
+Fleda placed herself again in her chimney corner. Burying her
+face in her hands, she sat waiting more quietly; and Cynthy,
+having finished all her business, took a chair on the hearth
+opposite to her. Both were silent and motionless, except when
+Cynthy once in a while got up to readjust the sticks of wood
+on the fire. They sat there waiting so long that Fleda's
+anxiety began to quicken again.
+
+"Don't you think the doctor is a long time coming, Cynthy?"
+said she, raising her head at last. Her question, breaking
+that forced silence, sounded fearful.
+
+"It seems kind o' long," said Cynthy. "I guess Watkins ha'n't
+found him to hum."
+
+Watkins indeed presently came in and reported as much, and
+that the wind was changing and it was coming off cold; and
+then his heavy boots were heard going up the stairs to his
+room overhead; but Fleda listened in vain for the sound of the
+latch of her grandfather's door, or aunt Miriam's quiet foot-
+fall in the passage; listened and longed, till the minutes
+seemed like the links of a heavy chain which she was obliged
+to pass over from hand to hand, and the last link could not be
+found. The noise of Watkins' feet ceased overhead, and nothing
+stirred or moved but the crackling flames and Cynthia's
+elbows, which took turns each in resting upon the opposite
+arm, and now and then a tell-tale gust of wind in the trees.
+If Mr. Ringgan was asleep, why did not aunt Miriam come out
+and see them, — if he was better, why not come and tell them
+so. He had been asleep when she first went into his room, and
+she had come back for a minute then to try again to get Fleda
+to bed; why could she not come out for a minute once more. Two
+hours of watching and trouble had quite changed little Fleda;
+the dark ring of anxiety had come under each eye in her little
+pale face; she looked herself almost ill.
+
+Aunt Miriam's grave step was heard coming out of the room at
+last, — it did not sound cheerfully in Fleda's ears. She came
+in, and stopping to give some direction to Cynthy, walked up
+to Fleda. Her face encouraged no questions. She took the
+child's head tenderly in both her hands, and told her gently,
+but it was in vain that she tried to make her voice quite as
+usual, that she had better go to bed — that she would be sick.
+
+Fleda looked up anxiously in her face.
+
+"How is he?"
+
+But her next word was the wailing cry of sorrow, — "Oh
+grandpa!"
+
+The old lady took the little child in her arms, and they both
+sat there by the fire until the morning dawned.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+Patience and sorrow strove
+Who should express her goodliest.
+KING LEAR.
+
+
+When Mr. Carleton knocked at the front door the next day,
+about two o'clock, it was opened to him by Cynthy. He asked
+for his late host.
+
+"Mr. Ringgan is dead."
+
+"Dead!" exclaimed the young man, much shocked; — "when — how?"
+
+"Wont you come in, Sir?" said Cynthy; — "maybe you'll see Mis'
+Plumfield."
+
+"No, certainly," replied the visitor. "Only tell me about Mr.
+Ringgan."
+
+"He died last night."
+
+"What was the matter with him?"
+
+"I don't know," said Cynthy in a business-like tone of voice,
+— "I s'pose the doctor knows, but he didn't say nothing about
+it. He died very sudden."
+
+"Was he alone?"
+
+"No — his sister was with him; he had been complaining all the
+evening that he didn't feel right, but I didn't think nothing
+of it, and I didn't know as he did; and towards evening he
+went and laid down, and Flidda was with him a spell, talking
+to him; and at last he sent her to bed, and called me in and
+said he felt mighty strange, and he didn't know what it was
+going to be, and that he had as lieve I should send up and ask
+Mis' Plumfield to come down, and perhaps I might as well send
+for the doctor, too. And I sent right off, but the doctor
+wa'n't to hum, and didn't get here till long after. Mis'
+Plumfield, she come; and Mr. Ringgan was asleep then, and I
+didn't know as it was going to be anything more after all than
+just a turn, such as anybody might take; and Mis' Plumfield
+went in and sot by him; and there wa'n't no one else in the
+room; and after a while he come to, and talked to her, she
+said, a spell; but he seemed to think it was something more
+than common ailed him; and all of a sudden he just riz up half
+way in bed, and then fell back and died, — with no more
+warning than that."
+
+"And how is the little girl?"
+
+"Why," said Cynthy, looking off at right angles from her
+visitor, "she's middling now, I s'pose, but she wont be before
+long, or else she must be harder to make sick than other
+folks. We can't get her out of the room," she added, bringing
+her eyes to bear, for an instant, upon the young gentleman, —
+"she stays in there the hull time since morning, — I've tried,
+and Mis' Plumfield's tried, and everybody has tried, and there
+can't none of us manage it; she will stay in there, and it's
+an awful cold room when there aint no fire."
+
+Cynthy and her visitor were both taking the benefit of the
+chill blast which rushed in at the open door.
+
+"_The room?_" said Mr. Carleton. "The room where the body lies?"
+
+"Yes — it's dreadful chill in there when the stove aint
+heated, and she sits there the hull time. And she ha'n't got
+much to boast of now; she looks as if a feather would blow her
+away."
+
+The door at the further end of the hall opened about two
+inches, and a voice called out through the crack,
+
+"Cynthy! — Mis' Plumfield wants to know if that is Mr.
+Carleton?"
+
+"Yes. "
+
+"Well, she'd like to see him. Ask him to walk into the front
+room, she says."
+
+Cynthy upon this showed the way, and Mr. Carleton walked into
+the same room where a very few days before he had been so
+kindly welcomed by his fine old host. Cold indeed it was now,
+as was the welcome he would have given. There was no fire in
+the chimney, and even all the signs of the fire of the other
+day had been carefully cleared away; the clean empty fireplace
+looked a mournful assurance that its cheerfulness would not
+soon come back again. It was a raw disagreeable day; the paper
+window-shades fluttered uncomfortably in the wind, which had
+its way now; and the very chairs and tables seemed as if they
+had taken leave of life and society for ever. Mr. Carleton
+walked slowly up and down, his thoughts running perhaps
+somewhat in the train where poor little Fleda's had been so
+busy last night; and wrapped up in broadcloth as he was to the
+chin, he shivered when he heard the chill wind moaning round
+the house and rustling the paper hangings, and thought of
+little Fleda's delicate frame, exposed as Cynthia had
+described it. He made up his mind it must not be.
+
+Mrs. Plumfield presently came in, and met him with the calm
+dignity of that sorrow which needs no parade, and that truth
+and meekness of character which can make none. Yet there was
+nothing like stoicism, no affected or proud repression of
+feeling; her manner was simply the dictate of good sense,
+borne out by a firm and quiet spirit. Mr. Carleton was struck
+with it; it was a display of character different from any he
+had ever before met with; it was something he could not quite
+understand. For he wanted the key. But all the high respect he
+had felt for this lady from the first was confirmed and
+strengthened.
+
+After quietly receiving Mr. Carleton's silent grasp of the
+hand, aunt Miriam said,
+
+"I troubled you to stop, Sir, that I might ask you how much
+longer you expect to stop at Montepoole."
+
+Not more than two or three days, he said.
+
+"I understood," said aunt Miriam, after a minute's pause,
+"that Mrs. Carleton was so kind as to say she would take care
+of Elfleda to France, and put her in the hands of her aunt."
+
+"She would have great pleasure in doing it," said Mr.
+Carleton. "I can promise for your little niece that she shall
+have a mother's care so long as my mother can render it."
+
+Aunt Miriam was silent, and he saw her eyes fill.
+
+"You should not have had the pain of seeing me to-day," said
+he gently, "if I could have known it would give you any; but
+since I am here, may I ask, whether it is your determination
+that Fleda shall go with us?"
+
+"It was my brother's," said aunt Miriam, sighing; — "he told
+me — last night — that he wished her to go with Mrs. Carleton
+— if she would still be so good as to take her."
+
+"I have just heard about her from the housekeeper," said Mr.
+Carleton, "what has disturbed me a good deal. Will you forgive
+me, if I venture to propose that she should come to us at
+once. Of course we will not leave the place for several days —
+till you are ready to part with her."
+
+Aunt Miriam hesitated, and again the tears flushed to her
+eyes.
+
+"I believe it would be best, " she said, — "since it must be —
+I cannot get the child away from her grandfather — I am afraid
+I want firmness to do it — and she ought not to be there — she
+is a tender little creature —"
+
+For once self-command failed her, — she was obliged to cover
+her face.
+
+"A stranger's hands cannot be more tender of her than ours
+will be," said Mr. Carleton, his warm pressure of aunt
+Miriam's hand repeating the promise. "My mother will bring a
+carriage for her this afternoon, if you will permit."
+
+"If you please, Sir, —since it must be, it does not matter a
+day sooner or later," repeated aunt Miriam — "if she can be
+got away — I don't know whether it will be possible."
+
+Mr. Carleton had his own private opinion on that point. He
+merely promised to be there again in a few hours, and took his
+leave.
+
+He came, with his mother, about five o'clock in the afternoon.
+They were shown this time into the kitchen, where they found
+two or three neighbours and friends with aunt Miriam and
+Cynthy. The former received them with the same calm simplicity
+that Mr. Carleton had admired in the morning, but said she was
+afraid their coming would be in vain; she had talked with
+Fleda about the proposed plan, and could not get her to listen
+to it. She doubted whether it would be possible to persuade
+her. And yet —
+
+Aunt Miriam's self-possession seemed to be shaken when she
+thought of Fleda; she could not speak of her without watering
+eyes.
+
+"She's fixing to be sick as fast as ever she can," remarked
+Cynthia, dryly in a kind of aside meant for the audience; —
+"there wa'n't a grain of colour in her face when I went in to
+try to get her out a little while ago; and Mis' Plumfield
+ha'n't the heart to do anything with her, nor nobody else."
+
+"Mother, will you see what you can do?" said Mr. Carleton.
+
+Mrs. Carleton went, with all expression of face that her son,
+nobody else, knew meant that she thought it a particularly
+disagreeable piece of business. She came back after the lapse
+of a few minutes, in tears.
+
+"I can do nothing with her," she said hurriedly; "I don't know
+what to say to her, and she looks like death. Go yourself,
+Guy; you can manage her, if any one can."
+
+Mr. Carleton went immediately.
+
+The room into which a short passage admitted him was cheerless
+indeed. On a fair afternoon the sun's rays came in there
+pleasantly, but this was a true November day; a grey sky and a
+chill raw wind that found its way in between the loose window-
+sashes and frames. One corner of the room was sadly tenanted
+by the bed which held the remains of its late master and
+owner. At a little table between the windows, with her back
+turned towards the bed, Fleda was sitting, her face bowed in
+her hands upon the old quarto bible that lay there open; a
+shawl round her shoulders.
+
+Mr. Carleton went up to the side of the table and softly spoke
+her name. Fleda looked up at him for an instant, and then
+buried her face in her hands on the book as before. That look
+might have staggered him, but that Mr. Carleton rarely was
+staggered in any purpose when he had once made up his mind. It
+did move him — so much that he was obliged to wait a minute or
+two before he could muster firmness to speak to her again.
+Such a look, so pitiful in its sorrow, so appealing in its
+helplessness, so imposing in its purity, — he had never seen,
+and it absolutely awed him. Many a child's face is lovely to
+look upon for its innocent purity, but more commonly it is not
+like this; it is the purity of snow, unsullied, but not
+unsulliable; there is another kind more ethereal, like that of
+light, which you feel is from another sphere and will not know
+soil. But there were other signs in the face that would have
+nerved Mr. Carleton's resolution if he had needed it. Twenty-
+four hours had wrought a sad change. The child looked as if
+she had been ill for weeks. Her cheeks were colourless; the
+delicate brow would have seemed pencilled on marble but for
+the dark lines which weeping and watching, and still more
+sorrow, had drawn underneath; and the beautiful moulding of
+the features showed under the transparent skin like the work
+of the sculptor. She was not crying then, but the open pages
+of the great bible had been wet with very many tears since her
+head had rested there.
+
+"Fleda," said Mr. Carleton, after a moment, "you must come
+with me."
+
+The words were gently and tenderly spoken, yet they had that
+tone which young and old instinctively know it is vain to
+dispute. Fleda glanced up again, a touching imploring look it
+was very difficult to bear, and her "Oh no — I cannot," went
+to his heart. It was not resistance, but entreaty; and all the
+arguments she would have urged seemed to lie in the mere tone
+of her voice. She had no power of urging them in any other
+way, for even as she spoke her head went down again on the
+bible with a burst of sorrow. Mr. Carleton was moved, but not
+shaken in his purpose. He was silent a moment, drawing back
+the hair that fell over Fleda's forehead with a gentle
+caressing touch; and then he said, still lower and more
+tenderly than before, but without flinching, "You must come
+with me, Fleda."
+
+"Mayn't I stay," said Fleda, sobbing, while he could see in
+the tension of the muscles a violent effort at self-control
+which he did not like to see, — "mayn't I stay till — till —
+the day after to-morrow?"
+
+"No, dear Fleda," said he, still stroking her head kindly, "I
+will bring you back, but you must go with me now. Your aunt
+wishes it, and we all think it is best. I will bring you
+back."
+
+She sobbed bitterly for a few minutes. Then she begged, in
+smothered words, that he would leave her alone a little while.
+He went immediately.
+
+She checked her sobs when she heard the door close upon him,
+or as soon as she could, and rising went and knelt down by the
+side of the bed. It was not to cry, though what she did could
+not be done without many tears, — it was to repeat with equal
+earnestness and solemnity her mother's prayer, that she might
+be kept pure from the world's contact. There, beside the
+remains of her last dear earthly friend, as it were before
+going out of his sight for ever, little Fleda knelt down to
+set the seal of faith and hope to his wishes, and to lay the
+constraining hand of Memory upon her conscience. It was soon
+done; and then there was but one thing more to do. But, oh,
+the tears that fell as she stood there! before she could go
+on; how the little hands were pressed to the bowed face, as if
+_they_ would have borne up the load they could not reach; the
+convulsive struggle, before the last look could be taken, the
+last good-by said! But the sobs were forced back, the hands
+wiped off the tears, the quivering features were bidden into
+some degree of calmness; and she leaned forward, over the
+loved face that in death had kept all its wonted look of
+mildness and placid dignity. It was in vain to try to look
+through Fleda's blinded eyes; the hot tears dropped fast,
+while her trembling lips kissed, and kissed, those cold and
+silent that could make no return; and then feeling that it was
+the last, that the parting was over, she stood again by the
+side of the bed as she had done a few minutes before, in a
+convulsion of grief, her face bowed down and her little frame
+racked with feeling too strong for it; shaken visibly, as if
+too frail to bear the trial to which it was put.
+
+Mr. Carleton had waited and waited, as he thought, long
+enough, and now at last came in again, guessing how it was
+with her. He put his arm round the child and gently drew her
+away, and sitting down took her on his knee; and endeavoured
+rather with actions than with words to soothe and comfort her;
+for he did not know what to say. But his gentle delicate way,
+the soft touch with which he again stroked back her hair or
+took her hand, speaking kindness and sympathy, the loving
+pressure of his lips once or twice to her brow, the low tones
+in which he told her that she was making herself sick; that
+she must not do so; that she must let him take care of her;
+were powerful to soothe or quiet a sensitive mind, and Fleda
+felt them. It was a very difficult task, and if undertaken by
+any one else, would have been more likely to disgust and
+distress her. But his spirit had taken the measure of hers,
+and he knew precisely how to temper every word and tone so as
+just to meet the nice sensibilities of her nature. He had said
+hardly any thing, but she had understood all he meant to say,
+and when he told her at last, softly, that it was getting
+late, and she must let him take her away, she made no more
+difficulty, rose up, and let him lead her out of the room
+without once turning her head to look back.
+
+Mrs. Carleton looked relieved that there was a prospect of
+getting away, and rose up with a happy adjusting of her shawl
+round her shoulders. Aunt Miriam came forward to say good-by,
+but it was very quietly said. Fleda clasped her round the neck
+convulsively for an instant, kissed her as if a kiss could
+speak a whole heartful, and then turned submissively to Mr.
+Carleton, and let him lead her to the carriage.
+
+There was no fault to be found with Mrs. Carleton's kindness
+when they were on the way. She held the forlorn little child
+tenderly in her arm, and told her how glad she was to have her
+with them, how glad she should be if she were going to keep
+her always; but her saying so only made Fleda cry, and she
+soon thought it best to say nothing. All the rest of the way
+Fleda was a picture of resignation; transparently pale, meek
+and pure, and fragile seemingly as the delicatest wood-flower
+that grows. Mr. Carleton looked grieved, and leaning forward
+he took one of her hands in his own and held it
+affectionately, till they got to the end of their journey. It
+marked Fleda's feeling towards him that she let it lie there
+without making a motion to draw it away. She was so still for
+the last few miles, that her friends thought she had fallen
+asleep; but when the carriage stopped and the light of the
+lantern was flung inside, they saw the grave hazel eyes broad
+open and gazing intently out of the window.
+
+"You will order tea for us in your dressing-room, mother?"
+said Mr. Carleton.
+
+"_Us_ — who is _us?_"
+
+"Fleda and me, unless you will please to make one of the
+party."
+
+"Certainly I will, but perhaps Fleda might like it better down
+stairs. Wouldn't you, dear?"
+
+"If you please, Ma'am," said Fleda. "Wherever you please."
+
+"But which would you rather, Fleda?" said Mr. Carleton.
+
+"I would _rather_ have it up-stairs," said Fleda, gently, "but
+it's no matter."
+
+"We will have it up-stairs," said Mrs. Carleton. "We will be a
+nice little party up there by ourselves. You shall not come
+down till you like."
+
+"You are hardly able to walk up," said Mr. Carleton, tenderly.
+"Shall I carry you?"
+
+The tears rushed to Fleda's eyes, but she said no, and managed
+to mount the stairs, though it was evidently an exertion. Mrs.
+Carleton's dressing-room, as her son had called it, looked
+very pleasant when they got there. It was well lighted and
+warmed, and something answering to curtains had been summoned
+from its obscurity in storeroom or garret and hung up at the
+windows, — "them air fussy English folks had made such a pint
+of it," the landlord said. Truth was, that Mr. Carleton as
+well as his mother wanted this room as a retreat for the quiet
+and privacy which travelling in company as they did they could
+have nowhere else. Everything the hotel could furnish in the
+shape of comfort had been drawn together to give this room as
+little the look of a public-house as possible. Easy chairs, as
+Mrs. Carleton remarked with a disgusted face, one could not
+expect to find in a country inn; there were instead as many as
+half-a-dozen of "those miserable substitutes", as she called
+rocking-chairs, and sundry fashions of couches and sofas, in
+various degrees of elegance and convenience. The best of
+these, a great chintz-covered thing, full of pillows, stood
+invitingly near the bright fire. There Mr. Carleton placed
+little Fleda, took off her bonnet and things, and piled the
+cushions about her just in the way that would make her most
+easy and comfortable. He said little, and she nothing, but her
+eyes watered again at the kind tenderness of his manner. And
+then he left her in peace till the tea came.
+
+The tea was made in that room for those three alone. Fleda
+knew that Mr. and Mrs. Carleton stayed up there only for her
+sake, and it troubled her, but she could not help it. Neither
+could she be very sorry so far as one of them was concerned.
+Mr. Carleton was too good to be wished away. All that evening
+his care of her never ceased. At tea, which the poor child
+would hardly have shared but for him — and after tea, when in
+the absence of bustle she had leisure to feel more fully her
+strange circumstances and position, he hardly permitted her to
+feel either, doing everything for her ease and pleasure, and
+quietly managing at the same time to keep back his mother's
+more forward and less happily adapted tokens of kind feeling.
+Though she knew he was constantly occupied with her, Fleda
+could not feel oppressed; his kindness was as pervading and as
+unobtrusive as the summer air itself; she felt as if she was
+in somebody's hands that knew her wants before she did, and
+quietly supplied or prevented them, in a way she could not
+tell how. It was very rarely that she even got a chance to
+utter the quiet and touching "thank you," which invariably
+answered every token of kindness or thoughtfulness that
+permitted an answer. How greatly that harsh and sad day was
+softened to little Fleda's heart by the good feeling and fine
+breeding of one person. She thought when she went to bed that
+night, thought seriously and gratefully, that since she must
+go over the ocean and take that long journey to her aunt, how
+glad she was, how thankful she ought to be, that she had so
+very kind and pleasant people to go with. Kind and pleasant
+she counted them both; but what more she thought of a Mr.
+Carleton it would be hard to say. Her admiration of him was
+very high, appreciating as she did to the full all that charm
+of manner which she could neither analyze nor describe.
+
+Her last words to him that night, spoken with a most wistful
+anxious glance into his face, were,
+
+"You will take me back again, Mr. Carleton?"
+
+He knew what she meant.
+
+"Certainly I will. I promised you, Fleda."
+
+"Whatever Guy promises you may be very sure he will do," said
+his mother, with a smile.
+
+Fleda believed it. But the next morning it was very plain that
+this promise he would not be called upon to perform; Fleda
+would not be well enough to go to the funeral. She was able
+indeed to get up, but she lay all day upon the sofa in the
+dressing-room. Mr. Carleton had bargained for no company last
+night; to-day female curiosity could stand it no longer, and
+Mrs. Thorn and Mrs. Evelyn came up to look and gossip openly,
+and to admire and comment privately, when they had a chance.
+Fleda lay perfectly quiet and still, seeming not much to
+notice or care for their presence; they thought she was
+tolerably easy in body and mind, perhaps tired and sleepy, and
+like to do well enough after a few days. How little they knew!
+How little they could imagine the assembly of Thought which
+was holding in that child's mind; how little they deemed of
+the deep, sad, serious look into life which that little spirit
+was taking. How far they were from fancying while they were
+discussing all manner of trifles before her, sometimes when
+they thought her sleeping, that in the intervals between
+sadder and weightier things her nice instincts were taking the
+gauge of all their characters — unconsciously, but surely; how
+they might have been ashamed if they had known that while they
+were busy with all affairs in the universe but those which
+most nearly concerned them, the little child at their side,
+whom they had almost forgotten, was secretly looking up to her
+Father in heaven, and asking to be kept pure from the world!
+"Not unto the wise and prudent;" — how strange it may seem in
+one view of the subject, — in another, how natural, how
+beautiful, how reasonable.
+
+Fleda did not ask again to be taken to Queechy. But as the
+afternoon drew on she turned her face away from the company
+and shielded it from view among the cushions, and lay in that
+utterly motionless state of body which betrays a concentrated
+movement of the spirits in some hidden direction. To her
+companions it betrayed nothing. They only lowered their tones
+a little lest they should disturb her.
+
+It had grown dark, and she was sitting up again, leaning
+against the pillows, and in her usual quietude, when Mr.
+Carleton came in. They had not seen him since before dinner.
+He came to her side, and taking her hand made some gentle
+inquiry how she was.
+
+"She has had a fine rest," said Mrs. Evelyn.
+
+"She has been sleeping all the afternoon," said Mrs. Carleton,
+— "she lay as quiet as a mouse, without stirring; — you were
+sleeping, weren't you, dear?"
+
+Fleda's lips hardly formed the word "no," and her features
+were quivering sadly. Mr. Carleton's were impenetrable.
+
+"Dear Fleda," said he, stooping down and speaking with equal
+gravity and kindliness of manner, — "you were not able to go."
+
+Fleda's shake of the head gave a meek acquiescence. But her
+face was covered, and the gay talkers around her were silenced
+and sobered by the heaving of her little frame with sobs that
+she could not keep back. Mr. Carleton secured the permanence
+of their silence for that evening. He dismissed them the room
+again, and would have nobody there but himself and his mother.
+
+Instead of being better the next day Fleda was not able to get
+up; she was somewhat feverish and exceedingly weak. She lay
+like a baby, Mrs. Carleton said, and gave as little trouble.
+Gentle and patient always, she made no complaint, and even
+uttered no wish, and whatever they did made no objection.
+Though many a tear that day and the following paid its
+faithful tribute to the memory of what she had lost, no one
+knew it; she was never seen to weep; and the very grave
+composure of her face, and her passive unconcern as to what
+was done or doing around her, alone gave her friends reason to
+suspect that the mind was not as quiet as the body. Mr.
+Carleton was the only one who saw deeper; the only one that
+guessed why the little hand often covered the eyes so
+carefully, and read the very, very grave lines of the mouth
+that it could not hide.
+
+As soon as she could bear it he had her brought out to the
+dressing-room again, and laid on the sofa; and it was several
+days before she could be got any further. But there he could
+be more with her, and devote himself more to her pleasure; and
+it was not long before he had made himself necessary to the
+poor child's comfort in a way beyond what he was aware of.
+
+He was not the only one who showed her kindness. Unwearied
+care and most affectionate attention were lavished upon her by
+his mother and both her friends; they all thought they could
+not do enough to mark their feeling and regard for her. Mrs.
+Carleton and Mrs. Evelyn nursed her by night and by day. Mrs.
+Evelyn read to her. Mrs. Thorn would come often to look and
+smile at her and say a few words of heartfelt pity and
+sympathy. Yet Fleda could not feel quite at home with any one
+of them. They did not see it. Her manner was affectionate and
+grateful, to the utmost of their wish; her simple natural
+politeness, her nice sense of propriety, were at every call;
+she seemed after a few days to be as cheerful and to enter as
+much into what was going on about her as they had any reason
+to expect she could; and they were satisfied. But while moving
+thus smoothly among her new companions, in secret her spirit
+stood aloof; there was not one of them that could touch her,
+that could understand her, that could meet the want of her
+nature. Mrs. Carleton was incapacitated for it by education;
+Mrs. Evelyn by character; Mrs. Thorn by natural constitution.
+Of them all, though by far the least winning and agreeable in
+personal qualifications, Fleda would soonest have relied on
+Mrs. Thorn, could soonest have loved her. Her homely sympathy
+and kindness made their way to the child's heart; Fleda felt
+them and trusted them. But there were too few points of
+contact. Fleda thanked her, and did not wish to see her again.
+With Mrs. Carleton Fleda had almost nothing at all in common.
+And that notwithstanding all this lady's politeness,
+intelligence, cultivation, and real kindness towards herself.
+Fleda would readily have given her credit for them all; and
+yet, the nautilus may as soon compare notes with the
+navigator, the canary might as well study Mδlzel's metronome,
+as a child of nature and a woman of the world comprehend and
+suit each other. The nature of the one must change or the two
+must remain the world wide apart. Fleda felt it, she did not
+know why. Mrs. Carleton was very kind, and perfectly polite;
+but Fleda had no pleasure in her kindness, no trust in her
+politeness; or if that be saying too much, at least she felt
+that for some inexplicable reason both were unsatisfactory.
+Even the tact which each possessed in an exquisite degree was
+not the same in each; in one it was the self-graduating power
+of a clever machine, — in the other, the delicateness of the
+sensitive-plant. Mrs. Carleton herself was not without some
+sense of this distinction; she confessed, secretly, that there
+was something in Fleda out of the reach of her discernment,
+and consequently beyond the walk of her skill; and felt,
+rather uneasily, that more delicate hands were needed to guide
+so delicate a nature. Mrs. Evelyn came nearer the point. She
+was very pleasant, and she knew how to do things in a charming
+way; and there were times, frequently, when Fleda thought she
+was everything lovely. But yet, now and then a mere word, or
+look, would contradict this fair promise, a something of
+_hardness_ which Fleda could not reconcile with the soft
+gentleness of other times; and on the whole Mrs. Evelyn was
+unsure ground to her; she could not adventure her confidence
+there.
+
+With Mr. Carleton alone Fleda felt at home. He only, she knew,
+completely understood and appreciated her. Yet she saw also
+that with others he was not the same as with her. Whether
+grave or gay there was about him an air of cool indifference,
+very often reserved, and not seldom haughty; and the eye which
+could melt and glow when turned upon her, was sometimes as
+bright and cold as a winter sky. Fleda felt sure, however,
+that she might trust him entirely, so far as she herself was
+concerned; of the rest she stood in doubt. She was quite right
+in both cases. Whatever else there might be in that blue eye,
+there was truth in it when it met hers; she gave that truth
+her full confidence and was willing to honour every draught
+made upon her charity for the other parts of his character.
+
+He never seemed to lose sight of her. He was always doing
+something for which Fleda loved him; but so quietly and
+happily that she could neither help his taking the trouble,
+nor thank him for it. It might have been matter of surprise
+that a gay young man of fashion should concern himself like a
+brother about the wants of a little child; the young gentlemen
+down stairs who were not of the society in the dressing-room,
+did make themselves very merry upon the subject, and rallied
+Mr. Carleton with the common amount of wit and wisdom about
+his little sweetheart; a raillery which met the most flinty
+indifference. But none of those who saw Fleda ever thought
+strange of anything that was done for her; and Mrs. Carleton
+was rejoiced to have her son take up the task she was fain to
+lay down. So he really, more than any one else, had the
+management of her; and Fleda invariably greeted his entrance
+into the room with a faint smile, which even the ladies who
+saw agreed was well worth working for.
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+"If large possessions, pompous titles, honourable charges, and
+profitable commissions, could have made this proud man happy,
+there would have been nothing wanting."
+L'ESTRANGE.
+
+
+Several days had passed. Fleda's cheeks had gained no colour,
+but she had grown a little stronger, and it was thought the
+party might proceed on their way without any more tarrying;
+trusting that change and the motion of travelling would do
+better things for Fleda than could be hoped from any further
+stay at Montepoole. The matter was talked over in an evening
+consultation in the dressing-room, and it was decided that
+they would set off on the second day thereafter.
+
+Fleda was lying quietly on her sofa, with her eyes closed,
+having had nothing to say during the discussion. They thought
+she had perhaps not heard it. Mr. Carleton's sharper eyes,
+however, saw that one or two tears were glimmering just under
+the eyelash. He bent down over her and whispered, —
+
+"I know what you are thinking of Fleda, do I not?"
+
+"I was thinking of aunt Miriam," Fleda said in an answering
+whisper, without opening her eyes.
+
+"I will take care of that."
+
+Fleda looked up and smiled most expressively her thanks, and
+in five minutes was asleep. Mr. Carleton stood watching her,
+querying how long those clear eyes would have nothing to hide,
+— how long that bright purity could resist the corrosion of
+the world's breath; and half thinking that it would be better
+for the spirit to pass away, with its lustre upon it, than
+stay till self-interest should sharpen the eye, and the lines
+of diplomacy write themselves on that fair brow. "Better so, —
+better so."
+
+"What are you thinking of so gloomily, Guy?" said his mother.
+
+"That is a tender little creature to struggle with a rough
+world."
+
+"She wont have to struggle with it," said Mrs. Carleton.
+
+"She will do very well," said Mrs. Evelyn.
+
+"I don't think she'd find it a rough world, where you were,
+Mr. Carleton," said Mrs. Thorn.
+
+"Thank you, Ma'am," he said, smiling. "But unhappily, my power
+reaches very little way."
+
+"Perhaps," said Mrs. Evelyn, with a sly smile, "that might be
+arranged differently; Mrs. Rossitur, I have no doubt, would
+desire nothing better than a smooth world for her little
+niece, and Mr. Carleton's power might be unlimited in its
+extent."
+
+There was no answer, and the absolute repose of all the lines
+of the young gentleman's face bordered too nearly on contempt
+to encourage the lady to pursue her jest any further.
+
+The next day Fleda was well enough to bear moving. Mr.
+Carleton had her carefully bundled up, and then carried her
+down stairs and placed her in the little light wagon which had
+once before brought her to the Pool. Luckily it was a mild
+day, for no close carriage was to be had for love or money.
+The stage-coach in which Fleda had been fetched from her
+grandfather's was in use, away somewhere. Mr. Carleton drove
+her down to aunt Miriam's, and leaving her there he went off
+again; and whatever he did with himself it was a good two
+hours before he came back. All too little yet they were for
+the tears and the sympathy which went to so many things both
+in the past and in the future. Aunt Miriam had not said half
+she wished to say, when the wagon was at the gate again, and
+Mr. Carleton came to take his little charge away.
+
+He found her sitting happily in aunt Miriam's lap. Fleda was
+very grateful to him for leaving her such a nice long time,
+and welcomed him with even a brighter smile than usual. But
+her head rested wistfully on her aunt's bosom after that; and
+when he asked her if she was almost ready to go, she hid her
+face there and put her arms about her neck. The old lady held
+her close for a few minutes, in silence.
+
+"Elfleda," said aunt Miriam gravely, and tenderly, — "do you
+know what was your mother's prayer for you?"
+
+"Yes," — she whispered.
+
+"What was it?"
+
+"That I — might be kept —"
+
+"Unspotted from the world!" repeated aunt Miriam, in a tone of
+tender and deep feeling. "My sweet blossom! — how wilt thou
+keep so? Will you remember always your mother's prayer?"
+
+"I will try."
+
+"How will you try, Fleda?"
+
+"I will pray."
+
+Aunt Miriam kissed her again and again, fondly repeating, "The
+Lord hear thee! — the Lord bless thee! — the Lord keep thee! —
+as a lily among thorns, my precious little babe; — though in
+the world, not of it."
+
+"Do you think that is possible?" said Mr. Carleton,
+significantly when a few moments after they had risen and were
+about to separate. Aunt Miriam looked at him in surprise, and
+asked, —
+
+"What, Sir? "
+
+"To live in the world and not be like the world?"
+
+She cast her eyes upon Fleda, fondly smoothing down her soft
+hair with both hands for a minute or two before she answered,
+—
+
+"By the help of one thing, Sir, yes!"
+
+"And what is that?" said he, quickly.
+
+"The blessing of God, with whom all things are possible."
+
+His eyes fell, and there was a kind of incredulous sadness in
+his half smile which aunt Miriam understood better than he
+did. She sighed as she folded Fleda again to her breast, and
+whisperingly bade her "Remember!" But Fleda knew nothing of
+it; and when she had finally parted from aunt Miriam, and was
+seated in the little wagon on her way home, to her fancy the
+best friend she had in the world was sitting beside her.
+
+Neither was her judgment wrong, so far as it went. She saw
+true where she saw at all. But there was a great deal she
+could not see.
+
+Mr. Carleton was an unbeliever. Not maliciously, — not
+wilfully, — not stupidly; — rather the fool of circumstance.
+His scepticism might be traced to the joint workings of a very
+fine nature and a very bad education — that is, education in
+the broad sense of the term; of course none of the means and
+appliances of mental culture had been wanting to him.
+
+He was an uncommonly fine example of what nature alone can do
+for a man. A character of nature's building is at best a very
+ragged affair, without religion's finishing hand; at the
+utmost a fine ruin — no more. And if that be the _utmost_ of
+nature's handiwork, what is at the other end of the scale? —
+alas! the rubble stones of the ruin; what of good and fair
+nature had reared there was not strong enough to stand alone.
+But religion cannot work alike on every foundation; and the
+varieties are as many as the individuals. Sometimes she must
+build the whole, from the very ground; and there are cases
+where nature's work stands so strong and fair that religion's
+strength may be expended in perfecting and enriching and
+carrying it to an uncommon height of grace and beauty, and
+dedicating the fair temple to a new use.
+
+Of religion, Mr. Carleton had nothing at all; and a true
+Christian character had never crossed his path near enough for
+him to become acquainted with it. His mother was a woman of
+the world; his father had been a man of the world; and what is
+more, so deepdyed a politician, that to all intents and
+purposes, except as to bare natural affection, he was nothing
+to his son, and his son was nothing to him. Both mother and
+father thought the son a piece of perfection, and mothers and
+fathers have very often indeed thought so on less grounds. Mr.
+Carleton saw, whenever he took time to look at him, that Guy
+had no lack either of quick wit or manly bearing; that he had
+pride enough to keep him from low company and make him abhor
+low pursuits; if anything more than pride and better than
+pride mingled with it, the father's discernment could not
+reach so far. He had a love for knowledge too, that from a
+child made him eager in seeking it, in ways both regular and
+desultory; and tastes which his mother laughingly said would
+give him all the elegance of a woman, joined to the strong
+manly character which no one ever doubted he possessed. _She_
+looked mostly at the outside, willing, if that pleased her, to
+take everything else upon trust; and the grace of manner which
+a warm heart and fine sensibilities, and a mind entirely frank
+and above-board, had given him, from his earliest years, had
+more than met all her wishes. No one suspected the
+stubbornness and energy of will which was in fact the back-
+bone of his character. Nothing tried it. His father's death
+early left little Guy to his mother's guardianship.
+Contradicting him was the last thing she thought of, and of
+course it was attempted by no one else.
+
+If she would ever have allowed that he had a fault, which she
+never would, it was one that grew out of his greatest virtue,
+an unmanageable truth of character; and if she ever
+unwillingly recognised its companion virtue, firmness of will,
+it was when she endeavoured to combat certain troublesome
+demonstrations of the other. In spite of all the grace and
+charm of manner in which he was allowed to be a model, and
+which was as natural to him as it was universal, if ever the
+interests of truth came in conflict with the dictates of
+society, he flung minor considerations behind his back, and
+came out with some startling piece of bluntness at which his
+mother was utterly confounded. These occasions were very rare;
+he never sought them. Always where it was possible he chose
+either to speak or be silent in an unexceptionable manner. But
+sometimes the barrier of conventionalities, or his mother's
+unwise policy, pressed too hard upon his integrity or his
+indignation; and he would then free the barrier and present
+the shut-out truth in its full size and proportions before his
+mother's shocked eyes. It was in vain to try to coax or blind
+him; a marble statue is not more unruffled by the soft airs of
+summer; and Mrs. Carleton was fain to console herself with the
+reflection that Guy's very next act after one of these breaks
+would be one of such happy fascination that the former would
+be forgotten; and that in this world of discordances it was
+impossible, on the whole, for any one to come nearer
+perfection. And if there was inconvenience, there were also
+great comforts about this character of truthfulness.
+
+So nearly up to the time of his leaving the University, the
+young heir lived a life of as free and uncontrolled enjoyment
+as the deer on his grounds, happily led by his own fine
+instincts to seek that enjoyment in pure and natural sources.
+His tutor was proud of his success; his dependants loved his
+frank and high bearing; his mother rejoiced in his personal
+accomplishments, and was secretly well pleased that his tastes
+led him another way from the more common and less safe
+indulgences of other young men. He had not escaped the
+temptations of opportunity and example. But gambling was not
+intellectual enough, jockeying was too undignified, and
+drinking too coarse a pleasure for him. Even hunting and
+coursing charmed him but for a few times; when he found he
+could out-ride and out-leap all his companions, he hunted no
+more; telling his mother, when she attacked him on the
+subject, that he thought the hare the worthier animal of the
+two upon a chase; and that the fox deserved an easier death.
+His friends twitted him with his want of spirit and want of
+manliness; but such light shafts bounded back from the buff
+suit of cool indifference in which their object was cased; and
+his companions very soon gave over the attempt either to
+persuade or annoy him, with the conclusion that "nothing could
+be done with Carleton."
+
+The same wants that had displeased him in the sports soon led
+him to decline the company of those who indulged in them. From
+the low-minded, from the uncultivated, from the unrefined in
+mind and manner, — and such there are in the highest class of
+society, as well as in the less favoured, — he shrank away in
+secret disgust or weariness. There was no affinity. To his
+books, to his grounds, which he took endless delight in
+overseeing, to the fine arts in general, for which he had a
+great love, and for one or two of them a great talent, — he
+went with restless energy and no want of companionship; and at
+one or the other, always pushing eagerly forward after some
+point of excellence, or some new attainment not yet reached,
+and which sprang up after one another as fast as ever "Alps
+on Alps," he was happily and constantly busy. Too solitary,
+his mother thought, — caring less for society than she wished
+to see him.; but that, she trusted, would mend itself. He
+would be through the University, and come of age, and go into
+the world, as a matter of necessity.
+
+But years brought a change — not the change his mother looked
+for. That restless active energy which had made the years of
+his youth so happy, became, in connection with one or two
+other qualities, a troublesome companion, when he had reached
+the age of manhood, and, obeying manhood's law, had "put away
+childish things." On what should it spend itself? It had lost
+none of its strength; while his fastidious notions of
+excellence, and a far-reaching clear-sightedness, which
+belonged to his truth of nature, greatly narrowed the sphere
+of its possible action. He could not delude himself into the
+belief that the oversight of his plantations, and the
+perfecting his park scenery, could be a worthy end of
+existence; or that painting and music were meant to be the
+stamina of life; or even that books were their own final
+cause. These things had refined and enriched him; — they might
+go on doing so to the end of his days; — but _for what?_ For
+what?
+
+It is said that everybody has his niche, failing to find which
+nobody fills his place or acts his part in society. Mr.
+Carleton could not find his niche, and he consequently grew
+dissatisfied everywhere. His mother's hopes from the
+University and the World were sadly disappointed.
+
+At the University he had not lost his time. The pride of
+character, which, joined with less estimable pride of birth,
+was a marked feature in his composition, made him look with
+scorn upon the ephemeral pursuits of one set of young men;
+while his strong intellectual tastes drew him in the other
+direction; and the energetic activity which drove him to do
+everything well that he once took in hand, carried him to high
+distinction. Being there he would have disdained to be
+anywhere but at the top of the tree. But out of the
+University, and in possession of his estates, what should he
+do with himself and them?
+
+A question easy to settle by most young men! very easy to
+settle by Guy, if he had had the clue of Christian truth to
+guide him through the labyrinth. But the clue was wanting, and
+the world seemed to him a world of confusion.
+
+A certain clearness of judgment is apt to be the blessed hand-
+maid of uncommon truth of character; the mind that knows not
+what it is to play tricks upon its neighbours is rewarded by a
+comparative freedom from self-deception. Guy could not sit
+down upon his estates and lead an insect-life like that
+recommended by Rossitur. His energies wanted room to expend
+themselves. But the world offered no sphere that would satisfy
+him; even had his circumstances and position laid all equally
+open. It was a busy world; but to him people seemed to be busy
+upon trifles, or working in a circle, or working mischief; and
+his nice notions of what _ought to be_ were shocked by what he
+saw was, in every direction around him. He was disgusted with
+what he called the drivelling of some unhappy specimens of the
+Church which had come in his way; he disbelieved the truth of
+what such men professed. If there had been truth in it, he
+thought they would deserve to be drummed out of the
+profession. He detested the crooked involvements and double-
+dealing of the law. He despised the butterfly life of a
+soldier; and as to the other side of a soldier's life, again
+he thought, what is it for? — to humour the arrogance of the
+proud, — to pamper the appetite of the full, — to tighten the
+grip of the iron hand of power; and though it be sometimes for
+better ends, yet the soldier cannot choose what letters of the
+alphabet of obedience he will learn. Politics was the very
+shaking of the government sieve, where, if there were any
+solid result, it was accompanied with a very great flying
+about of chaff indeed. Society was nothing but whip syllabub,
+— a mere conglomeration of bubbles, — as hollow and as
+unsatisfying. And in lower departments of human life, as far
+as he knew, he saw evils yet more deplorable. The Church
+played at shuttlecock with men's credulousness; the law, with
+their purses; the medical profession, with their lives; the
+military, with their liberties and hopes. He acknowledged that
+in all these lines of action there was much talent, much good
+intention, much admirable diligence and acuteness brought out
+— but to what great general end? He saw, in short, that the
+machinery of the human mind, both at large and in particular,
+was out of order. He did not know what was the broken wheel,
+the want of which set all the rest to running wrong.
+
+This was a strange train of thought for a very young man; but
+Guy had lived much alone, and in solitude one is like a person
+who has climbed a high mountain; the air is purer about him,
+his vision is freer; the eye goes straight and clear to the
+distant view which below on the plain a thousand things would
+come between to intercept. But there was some morbidness about
+it too. Disappointment, in two or three instances, where he
+had given his full confidence and been obliged to take it
+back, had quickened him to generalize unfavourably upon human
+character, both in the mass and in individuals. And a restless
+dissatisfaction with himself and the world did not tend to a
+healthy view of things. Yet, truth was at the bottom; truth
+rarely arrived at without the help of revelation. He discerned
+a want he did not know how to supply. His fine perceptions
+felt the jar of the machinery which other men are too busy or
+too deaf to hear. It seemed to him hopelessly disordered.
+
+This habit of thinking wrought a change very unlike what his
+mother had looked for. He mingled more in society, but Mrs.
+Carleton saw that the eye with which he looked upon it was yet
+colder than it wont to be. A cloud came over the light, gay
+spirited manner he had used to wear. The charm of his address
+was as great as ever where he pleased to show it, but much
+more generally now he contented himself with a cool reserve,
+as impossible to disturb as to find fault with. His temper
+suffered the same eclipse. It was naturally excellent. His
+passions were not hastily moved. He had never been easy to
+offend; his careless good-humour, and an unbounded proud self-
+respect, made him look rather with contempt than anger upon
+the things that fire most men; though when once moved to
+displeasure, it was stern and abiding in proportion to the
+depth of his character. The same good-humour and cool self-
+respect forbade him even then to be eager in showing
+resentment; the offender fell off from his esteem, and
+apparently from the sphere of his notice, as easily as a drop
+of water from a duck's wing, and could with as much ease
+regain his lost lodgment; but unless there were wrong to be
+righted, or truth to be vindicated, he was in general safe
+from any further tokens of displeasure. In those cases, Mr.
+Carleton was an adversary to be dreaded. As cool, as
+unwavering, as persevering there as in other things, he there,
+as in other things, no more failed of his end. And at bottom
+these characteristics remained the same; it was rather his
+humour than his temper that suffered a change. That grew more
+gloomy and less gentle. He was more easily irritated, and
+would show it more freely than in the old happy times had ever
+been.
+
+Mrs. Carleton would have been glad to have those times back
+again. It could not be. Guy could not be content any longer in
+the Happy Valley of Amhara. Life had something for him to do
+beyond his park palings. He had carried manly exercises and
+personal accomplishments to an uncommon point of perfection;
+he knew his library well, and his grounds thoroughly, and had
+made excellent improvement of both; it was in vain to try to
+persuade him that seed-time and harvest were the same thing,
+and that he had nothing to do but to rest in what he had done;
+show his bright colours and flutter like a moth in the
+sunshine, or sit down like a degenerate bee in the summer time
+and eat his own honey. The power of action which he knew in
+himself could not rest without something to act upon. It
+longed to be doing.
+
+But what?
+
+Conscience is often morbidly far-sighted. Mr. Carleton had a
+very large tenantry around him and depending upon him, in
+bettering whose condition, if he had but known it, all those
+energies might have found full play. It never entered into his
+head. He abhorred _business_, — the detail of business; and. his
+fastidious tastes especially shrank from having anything to do
+among those whose business was literally their life. The eye,
+sensitively fond of elegance, the extreme of elegance, in
+everything, and permitting no other around or about him, could
+not bear the tokens of mental and bodily wretchedness among
+the ignorant poor; he escaped from them as soon as possible;
+thought that poverty was one of the irregularities of this
+wrong-working machine of a world, and something utterly beyond
+his power to do away or alleviate; and left to his steward all
+the responsibility that of right rested on his own shoulders.
+
+And at last, unable to content himself in the old routine of
+things, he quitted home and England, even before he was of
+age, and roved from place to place, trying, and trying in
+vain, to soothe the vague restlessness that called for a very
+different remedy.
+
+
+"On change de ciel, — l'on ne change point de sol."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+Faire Christabelle, that ladye bright,
+Was had forth of the towre:
+But ever she droopeth in her minde,
+As, nipt by an ungentle winde,
+Doth some faire lillye flowre.
+SYR CAULINE.
+
+
+That evening, the last of their stay at Montepoole, Fleda was
+thought well enough to take her tea in company. So Mr.
+Carleton carried her down, though she could have walked, and
+placed her on the sofa in the parlour.
+
+Whatever disposition the young officers might have felt to
+renew their pleasantry on the occasion, it was shamed into
+silence. There was a pure dignity about that little pale face
+which protected itself. They were quite struck, and Fleda had
+no reason to complain of want of attention from any of the
+party. Mr. Evelyn kissed her. Mr. Thorn brought a little table
+to the side of the sofa for her cup of tea to stand on, and
+handed her the toast most dutifully; and her cousin Rossitur
+went back and forth between her and the tea-urn. All of the
+ladies seemed to take immense satisfaction in looking at her,
+they did it so much; standing about the hearth-rug with their
+cups in their hands, sipping their tea. Fleda was quite
+touched with everybody's kindness, but somebody at the back of
+the sofa, whom she did not see, was the greatest comfort of
+all.
+
+"You must let me carry you upstairs when you go, Fleda," said
+her cousin. "I shall grow quite jealous of your friend, Mr.
+Carleton."
+
+"No," said Fleda, smiling a little, — "I shall not let any one
+but him carry me up, — if he will."
+
+"We shall all grow jealous of Mr. Carleton," said Thorn. "He
+means to monopolize you, keeping you shut up there, upstairs."
+
+"He didn't keep me shut up," said Fleda.
+
+Mr. Carleton was welcome to monopolize her, if it depended on
+her vote.
+
+"Not fair play, Carleton," continued the young officer, wisely
+shaking his head, — "all start alike, or there's no fun in the
+race. You've fairly distanced us — left us nowhere."
+
+He might have talked Chinese, and been as intelligible to
+Fleda, — and as interesting to Guy, for all that appeared.
+
+"How are we going to proceed to-morrow, Mr. Evelyn?" said Mrs.
+Carleton. "Has the missing stage-coach returned yet? or will
+it be forthcoming in the morning?"
+
+"Promised, Mrs. Carleton. The landlord's faith stands pledged
+for it."
+
+"Then it wont disappoint us, of course. What a dismal way of
+travelling!"
+
+"This young country hasn't grown up to post-coaches yet," said
+Mrs. Evelyn.
+
+"How many will it hold?" inquired Mrs. Carleton.
+
+"Hum! — nine inside, I suppose."
+
+"And we number ten, with the servants."
+
+"Just take us," said Mr. Evelyn. "There's room on the box for
+one."
+
+"It will not take me," said Mr. Carleton.
+
+"How will you go? ride?" said his mother. "I should think you
+would, since you have found a horse you like so well."
+
+"By George! I wish there was another that _I_ liked," said
+Rossitur, "and I'd go on horseback too. Such weather! The
+landlord says it's the beginning of Indian summer."
+
+"It's too early for that," said Thorn.
+
+"Well, eight inside will do very well for one day," said Mrs.
+Carleton. "That will give little Fleda a little more space to
+lie at her ease."
+
+"You may put Fleda out of your calculations, too, mother,"
+said Mr. Carleton. "I will take care of her."
+
+"How in the world," exclaimed his mother, — "if you are on
+horseback?"
+
+And Fleda twisted herself round so as to give a look of bright
+inquiry at his face. She got no answer beyond a smile, which,
+however, completely satisfied her. As to the rest, he told his
+mother that he had arranged it, and they should see in the
+morning. Mrs. Carleton was far from being at ease on the
+subject of his arrangements, but she let the matter drop.
+
+Fleda was secretly very much pleased. She thought she would a
+great deal rather go with Mr. Carleton in the little wagon
+than in the stage-coach with the rest of the people. Privately
+she did not at all admire Mr. Thorn or her cousin Rossitur.
+They amused her though; and feeling very much better and
+stronger in body, and at least quiet in mind, she sat in
+tolerable comfort on her sofa, looking and listening to the
+people who were gaily talking around her.
+
+In the gaps of talk she sometimes thought she heard a
+distressed sound in the hall. The buzz of tongues covered it
+up, — then again she heard it, — and she was sure at last that
+it was the voice of a dog. Never came an appeal in vain from
+any four-footed creature to Fleda's heart. All the rest being
+busy with their own affairs she quietly got up and opened the
+door and looked out, and finding that she was right, went
+softly into the hall. In one corner lay her cousin Rossitur's
+beautiful black pointer, which she well remembered, and had
+greatly admired several times. The poor creature was every now
+and then uttering short cries, in a manner as if he would not
+but they were forced from him.
+
+"What is the matter with him?" asked Fleda, stepping
+fearfully towards the dog, and speaking to Mr. Carleton, who
+had come out to look after her. As she spoke, the dog rose,
+and came crouching and wagging his tail to meet them.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Carleton!" Fleda almost screamed, — "look at him!
+Oh, what is the matter with him! he's all over bloody! Poor
+creature!" —
+
+"You must ask your cousin, Fleda," said Mr. Carleton, with as
+much cold disgust in his countenance as it often expressed;
+and that is saying a good deal.
+
+Fleda could speak in the cause of a dog, where she would have
+been silent in her own. She went back to the parlour, and
+begged her cousin, with a face of distress, to come out into
+the hall, — she did not say for what. Both he and Thorn
+followed her. Rossitur's face darkened as Fleda repeated her
+enquiry, her heart so full by this time, as hardly to allow
+her to make any.
+
+"Why, the dog didn't do his duty, and has been punished," he
+said, gloomily.
+
+"Punished!" said Fleda.
+
+"Shot," said Mr. Carleton, coolly.
+
+"Shot!" exclaimed Fleda, bursting into heartwrung tears —
+"shot! Oh, how _could_ any one do it! Oh, how could you, how
+could you, cousin Charlton!"
+
+It was a picture. The child was crying bitterly, her fingers
+stroking the poor dog's head with a touch in which lay, oh
+what tender healing, if the will had but had magnetic power!
+Carleton's eye glanced significantly from her to the young
+officers. Rossitur looked at Thorn.
+
+"It was not Charlton — it was I, Miss Fleda," said the latter.
+"Charlton lent him to me to-day, and he disobeyed me, and so I
+was angry with him, and punished him a little severely; but
+he'll soon get over it."
+
+But all Fleda's answer was, "I am very sorry! — I am very
+sorry! — poor dog!" — and to weep such tears as made the young
+gentlemen for once ashamed of themselves. It almost did the
+child a mischief. She did not get over it all the evening. And
+she never got over it, as far as Mr. Thorn was concerned.
+
+Mrs. Carleton hoped, faintly, that Guy would come to reason by
+the next morning, and let Fleda go in the stage-coach with the
+rest of the people. But he was as unreasonable as ever, and
+stuck to his purpose. She had supposed, however, with Fleda,
+that the difference would be only an open vehicle and his
+company instead of a covered one and her own. Both of them
+were sadly discomfited when on coming to the hall door to take
+their carriages, it was found that Mr. Carleton's meaning was
+no less than to take Fleda before him on horseback. He was
+busy even then in arranging a cushion on the pommel of the
+saddle for her to sit upon. Mrs. Carleton burst into indignant
+remonstrances; Fleda silently trembled.
+
+But Mr. Carleton had his own notions on the subject, and they
+were not moved by anything his mother could say. He quietly
+went on with his preparations; taking very slight notice of
+the raillery of the young officers, answering Mrs. Evelyn with
+polite words, and silencing his mother as he came up with one
+of those looks out of his dark eyes to which she always
+forgave the wilfulness for the sake of the beauty and the
+winning power. She was completely conquered, and stepped back
+with even a smile.
+
+"But, Carleton!" cried Rossitur, impatiently; "you can't ride
+so! you'll find it deucedly inconvenient."
+
+"Possibly," said Mr. Carleton.
+
+"Fleda would be a great deal better off in the stage-coach."
+
+"Have you studied medicine, Mr. Rossitur?" said the young man.
+"Because I am persuaded of the contrary."
+
+"I don't believe your horse will like it," said Thorn.
+
+"My horse is always of my mind, Sir; or if he be not, I
+generally succeed in convincing him."
+
+"But there is somebody else that deserves to be consulted,"
+said Mrs. Thorn. "I wonder how little Fleda will like it."
+
+"I will ask her when we get to our first stopping-place," said
+Mr. Carleton, smiling. "Come, Fleda!"
+
+Fleda would hardly have said a word if his purpose had been to
+put her under the horse's feet instead of on his back. But she
+came forward with great unwillingness, and a very tremulous
+little heart. He must have understood the want of alacrity in
+her face and manner, though he took no notice of it otherwise
+than by the gentle kindness with which he led her to the
+horse-block, and placed her upon it. Then mounting, and riding
+the horse up close to the block, he took Fleda in both hands,
+and bidding her spring, in a moment she was safely seated
+before him.
+
+At first it seemed dreadful to Fleda to have that great
+horse's head so near her, and she was afraid that her feet
+touching him would excite his most serious disapprobation.
+However, a minute or so went by, and she could not see that
+his tranquillity seemed to be at all ruffled, or even that he
+was sensible of her being upon his shoulders. They waited to
+see the stage-coach off, and then gently set forward. Fleda
+feared very much again when she felt the horse moving under
+her, easy as his gait was, and looking after the stage-coach
+in the distance, now beyond call, she felt a little as if she
+was a great way from help and dry land — cast away on a
+horse's back. But Mr. Carleton's arm was gently passed round
+her, and she knew it held her safely, and would not let her
+fall; and he bent down his face to her, and asked her so
+kindly and tenderly, and with such a look too, that seemed to
+laugh at her fears, whether she felt afraid? and with such a
+kind little pressure of his arm that promised to take care of
+her, that Fleda's courage mounted twenty degrees at once. And
+it rose higher every minute; the horse went very easily, and
+Mr. Carleton held her so that she could not be tired, and made
+her lean against him; and before they had gone a mile Fleda
+began to be delighted. Such a charming way of travelling! Such
+a free view of the country! and in this pleasant weather, too,
+neither hot nor cold, and when all nature's features were
+softened by the light veil of haze that hung over them, and
+kept off the sun's glare, Mr. Carleton was right. In the
+stage-coach Fleda would have sat quiet in a corner, and moped
+the time sadly away; now she was roused, excited, interested,
+even cheerful; forgetting herself, which was the very thing of
+all others to be desired for her. She lost her fears; she was
+willing to have the horse trot or canter as fast as his rider
+pleased; but the trotting was too rough for her, so they
+cantered or paced along most of the time, when the hills did
+not oblige them to walk quietly up and down, which happened
+pretty often. For several miles the country was not very
+familiar to Fleda. It was, however, extremely picturesque; and
+she sat silently and gravely looking at it, her head lying
+upon Mr. Carleton's breast, her little mind very full of
+thoughts and musings, curious, deep, sometimes sorrowful, but
+not unhappy.
+
+"I am afraid I tire you, Mr. Carleton!" said she, in a sudden
+fit of recollection, starting up.
+
+His look answered her, and his arm drew her back to her place
+again.
+
+"Are _you_ not tired, Elfie?"
+
+"Oh no! — You have got a new name for me, Mr. Carleton," said
+she, a moment after, looking up and smiling.
+
+"Do you like it?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You are my good genius," said he, "so I must a peculiar title
+for you, different from what other people know you by."
+
+"What is a genius, Sir?" said Fleda.
+
+"Well, a sprite, then," said he, smiling.
+
+"A sprite?" said Fleda.
+
+"I have read a story of a lady, Elfie, who had a great many
+little unearthly creatures, a kind of sprites, to attend upon
+her. Some sat in the ringlets of her hair, and took charge of
+them; some hid in the folds of her dress and made them lie
+gracefully; another lodged in a dimple in her cheek, and
+another perched on her eyebrows, and so on."
+
+"To take care of her eyebrows?" said Fleda, laughing.
+
+"Yes; to smooth out all the ill-humoured wrinkles and frowns,
+I suppose."
+
+"But am I such a sprite?" said Fleda.
+
+"Something like it."
+
+"Why, what do I do?" said Fleda, rousing herself in a mixture
+of gratification and amusement that was pleasant to behold.
+
+"What office would you choose, Elfie? what good would you like
+to do me?"
+
+It was a curious wistful look with which Fleda answered this
+question, an innocent look, in which Mr. Carleton read
+perfectly that she felt something was wanting in him, and did
+not know exactly what. His smile almost made her think she had
+been mistaken.
+
+"You are just the sprite you would wish to be, Elfie," he
+said.
+
+Fleda's head took its former position, and she sat for some
+time musing over his question and answer, till a familiar
+waymark put all such thoughts to flight. They were passing
+Deepwater Lake, and would presently be at aunt Miriam's. Fleda
+looked now with a beating heart. Every foot of ground was
+known to her. She was seeing it, perhaps, for the last time.
+It was with even an intensity of eagerness that she watched
+every point and turn of the landscape, endeavouring to lose
+nothing in her farewell view, to give her farewell look at
+every favourite clump of trees and old rock, and at the very
+mill-wheels, which for years ,whether working or at rest, had
+had such interest for her. If tears came to bid their good-by
+too, they were hastily thrown off, or suffered to roll quietly
+down; _they_ might bide their time; but eyes must look now or
+never. How pleasant, how pleasant, the quiet old country
+seemed to Fleda as they went along! — in that most quiet light
+and colouring; the brightness of the autumn glory gone, and
+the sober warm hue which the hills still wore seen under that
+hazy veil. All the home-like peace of the place was spread out
+to make it hard going away. Would she ever see any other so
+pleasant again? Those dear old hills and fields, among which
+she had been so happy; they were not to be her home any more;
+would she ever have the same sweet happiness anywhere else?
+"The Lord will provide!" thought little Fleda with swimming
+eyes.
+
+It was hard to go by aunt Miriam's. Fleda eagerly looked, as
+well as she could, but no one was to be seen about the house.
+It was just as well. A sad gush of tears must come, then, but
+she got rid of them as soon as possible, that she might not
+lose the rest of the way, promising them another time. The
+little settlement on "the hill" was passed, the factories, and
+mills, and mill-ponds, one after the other; they made Fleda
+feel very badly, for here she remembered going with her
+grandfather to see the work, and there she had stopped with
+him at the turner's shop to get a wooden bowl turned, and
+there she had been with Cynthy when she went to visit an
+acquaintance; and there never was a happier little girl than
+Fleda had been in those old times. All gone! It was no use
+trying to help it; Fleda put her two hands to her face and
+cried, at last, a silent but not the less bitter, leave-
+taking, of the shadows of the past.
+
+She forced herself into quiet again, resolved to look to the
+last. As they were going down the hill, past the saw-mill, Mr.
+Carleton noticed that her head was stretched out to look back
+at it, with an expression of face he could not withstand. He
+wheeled about immediately, and went back and stood opposite to
+it. The mill was not working today. The saw was standing
+still, though there were plenty of huge trunks of trees lying
+about in all directions, waiting to be cut up. There was a
+desolate look of the place. No one was there; the little
+brook, most of its waters cut off, did not go roaring and
+laughing down the hill, but trickled softly and plaintively
+over the stones. It seemed exceeding sad to Fleda.
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Carleton," she said, after a little earnest
+fond-looking at her old haunt; "you needn't stay any longer."
+
+But as soon as they had crossed the little rude bridge at the
+foot of the hill, they could see the poplar trees which
+skirted the courtyard fence before her grandfather's house.
+Poor Fleda's eyes could hardly serve her. She managed to keep
+them open till the horse had made a few steps more and she had
+caught the well-known face of the old house looking at her
+through the poplars. Her fortitude failed, and bowing her
+little head, she wept so exceedingly, that Mr. Carleton was
+fain to draw bridle, and try to comfort her.
+
+"My dear Elfie! do not weep so," he said, tenderly. "Is there
+anything you would like? Can I do anything for you?"
+
+He had to wait a little. He repeated his first query.
+
+"Oh, it's no matter," said Fleda, striving to conquer her
+tears, which found their way again; "if I only could have gone
+into the house once more! — but it's no matter — you needn't
+wait, Mr. Carleton —"
+
+The horse, however, remained motionless.
+
+"Do you think you would feel better, Elfie, if you had seen it
+again?"
+
+"Oh, yes! — But never mind, Mr. Carleton, you may go on."
+
+Mr. Carleton ordered his servant to open the gate, and rode up
+to the back of the house.
+
+"I am afraid there is nobody here, Elfie," he said; "the house
+seems all shut up."
+
+"I know how I can get in," said Fleda; "there's a window down
+stairs — I don't believe it is fastened; if you wouldn't mind
+waiting, Mr. Carleton; I wont keep you long."
+
+The child had dried her tears, and there was the eagerness of
+something like hope in her face. Mr. Carleton dismounted and
+took her off.
+
+"I must find a way to get in too, Elfie; I cannot let you go
+alone."
+
+"Oh, I can open the door when I get in," said Fleda.
+
+"But you have not the key."
+
+"There's no key, it's only bolted on the inside, that door. I
+can open it."
+
+She found the window unfastened as she had expected: Mr.
+Carleton held it open while she crawled in, and then she undid
+the door for him. He more than half questioned the wisdom of
+his proceeding. The house had a dismal look; cold, empty,
+deserted; it was a dreary reminder of Fleda's loss, and he
+feared the effect of it would be anything but good. He
+followed and watched her, as with an eager business step she
+went through the hall and up the stairs, putting her head into
+every room and giving an earnest wistful look all round it.
+Here and there she went in and stood a moment, where
+associations were more thick and strong; sometimes taking a
+look out of a particular window, and even opening a cupboard
+door, to give that same kind and sorrowful glance of
+recognition at the old often-resorted-to hiding-place of her
+own or her grandfather's treasures and trumpery. Those old
+corners seemed to touch Fleda more than all the rest; and she
+turned away from one of them with a face of such extreme
+sorrow, that Mr. Carleton very much regretted he had brought
+her into the house. For her sake, for his own, it was a
+curious show of character. Though tears were sometimes
+streaming, she made no delay, and gave him no trouble; with
+the calm steadiness of a woman she went regularly through the
+house, leaving no place unvisited, but never obliging him to
+hasten her away. She said not a word during the whole time;
+her very crying was still; the light tread of her little feet
+was the only sound in the silent empty rooms; and the noise of
+their footsteps in the halls, and of the opening and shutting
+doors echoed mournfully through the house.
+
+She had left her grandfather's room for the last. Mr. Carleton
+did not follow her in there, guessing that she would rather be
+alone. But she did not come back, and he was forced to go to
+fetch her.
+
+The chill desolateness of that room had been too much for poor
+little Fleda. The empty bedstead, the cold stove, the table
+bare of books, only one or two lay upon the old Bible; the
+forlorn order of the place that bespoke the master far away;
+the very sunbeams that stole in at the little windows, and met
+now no answering look of gladness or gratitude; it had struck
+the child's heart too heavily, and she was standing crying by
+the window. A second time in that room Mr. Carleton sat down
+and drew his little charge to his breast; and spoke words of
+soothing and sympathy.
+
+"I am very sorry I brought you here, dear Elfie," he said
+kindly. "It was too hard for you."
+
+"Oh, no!" even through her tears, Fleda said, "she was very
+glad!"
+
+"Hadn't we better try to overtake our friends?" he whispered,
+after another pause.
+
+She immediately, almost immediately, put away her tears, and
+with a quiet obedience that touched him, went with him from
+the room, fastened the door, and got out again at the little
+window.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Carleton!" she said, with great earnestness, when
+they had almost reached the horses, "wont you wait for me one
+minute more? I just want a piece of the burning bush."
+
+Drawing her hand from him she rushed round to the front of the
+house. A little more slowly Mr. Carleton followed, and found
+her under the burning bush, tugging furiously at a branch,
+beyond her strength to break off.
+
+"That's too much for you, Elfie," said he, gently taking her
+hand from the tree; "let my hand try."
+
+She stood back and watched, tears running down her face, while
+he got a knife from his pocket and cut off the piece she had
+been trying for, nicely, and gave it to her. The first
+movement of Fleda's head was down, bent over the pretty spray
+of red berries; but by the time she stood at the horse's side
+she looked up at Mr. Carleton and thanked him with a face of
+more than thankfulness.
+
+She was crying, however, constantly, till they had gone
+several miles on their way again, and Mr. Carleton doubted he
+had done wrong. It passed away, and she had been sitting quite
+peacefully for some time, when he told her they were near the
+place where they were to stop and join their friends. She
+looked up most gratefully in his face.
+
+"I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Carleton, for what you
+did!"
+
+"I was afraid I had made a mistake, Elfie."
+
+"Oh, no, you didn't."
+
+"Do you think you feel any easier after it, Elfie?"
+
+"Oh, yes! — indeed I do," said she, looking up again, — "thank
+you, Mr. Carleton."
+
+A gentle kind pressure of his arm answered her thanks.
+
+"I ought to be a good sprite to you, Mr. Carleton," Fleda
+said, after musing a little while, — "you are so very good to
+me!"
+
+Perhaps Mr. Carleton felt too much pleasure at this speech to
+make any answer, for he made none.
+
+"It is only selfishness, Elfie," said he, presently, looking
+down to the quiet sweet little face which seemed to him, and
+was, more pure than anything of earth's mould he had ever
+seen. — "You know I must take care of you for my own sake."
+
+Fleda laughed a little.
+
+"But what will you do when we get to Paris?"
+
+"I don't know. I should like to have you always, Elfie."
+
+"You'll have to get aunt Lucy to give me to you," said Fleda.
+
+"Mr. Carleton," said she, a few minutes after, — "is that
+story in a book?"
+
+"What story ?"
+
+"About the lady and the little sprites that waited on her."
+
+"Yes, it is in a book; you shall see it, Elfie. — Here we
+are!"
+
+And here it was proposed to stay till the next day, lest Fleda
+might not be able to bear so much travelling at first. But the
+country inn was not found inviting; the dinner was bad, and
+the rooms were worse; uninhabitable, the ladies said; and
+about the middle of the afternoon they began to cast about for
+the means of reaching Albany that night. None very comfortable
+could be had; however, it was thought better to push on at any
+rate than wear out the night in such a place. The weather was
+very mild; the moon at the full.
+
+"How is Fleda to go this afternoon," said Mrs. Evelyn.
+
+"She shall decide herself," said Mrs. Carleton. "How will you
+go, my sweet Fleda?"
+
+Fleda was lying upon a sort of rude couch which had been
+spread for her, where she had been sleeping incessantly ever
+since she arrived, the hour of dinner alone excepted. Mrs.
+Carleton repeated her question.
+
+"I am afraid Mr. Carleton must be tired," said Fleda, without
+opening her eyes.
+
+"That means that you are, don't it?" said Rossitur.
+
+"No," said Fleda, gently.
+
+Mr. Carleton smiled, and went out to press forward the
+arrangements. In spite of good words and good money there was
+some delay. It was rather late before the cavalcade left the
+inn; and a journey of several hours was before them. Mr.
+Carleton rode rather slowly, too, for Fleda's sake, so the
+evening had fallen while they were yet a mile or two from the
+city.
+
+His little charge had borne the fatigue well, thanks partly to
+his admirable care, and partly to her quiet pleasure in being
+with him. She had been so perfectly still for some distance,
+that he thought she had dropped asleep. Looking down closer,
+however, to make sure about it, he saw her thoughtful clear
+eyes most unsleepily fixed upon the sky.
+
+"What are you gazing at, Elfie?"
+
+The look of thought changed to a look of affection as the eyes
+were brought to bear upon him, and she answered with a smile,
+
+"Nothing, — I was looking at the stars."
+
+"What are you dreaming about?"
+
+"I wasn't dreaming," said Fleda, — "I was thinking."
+
+"Thinking of what?"
+
+"Oh, of pleasant things."
+
+"Mayn't I know them? — I like to hear of pleasant things."
+
+"I was thinking, —" said Fleda, looking up again at the stars,
+which shone with no purer ray than those grave eyes sent back
+to them, — "I was thinking — of being ready to die."
+
+The words, and the calm thoughtful manner in which they were
+said, thrilled upon Mr. Carleton with a disagreeable shock.
+
+"How came you to think of such a thing?" said he, lightly.
+
+"I don't know," — said Fleda, still looking at the stars," — I
+suppose — I was thinking —"
+
+"What?" said Mr. Carleton, inexpressibly curious to get at the
+workings of the child's mind, which was not easy, for Fleda
+was never very forward to talk of herself; — "what were you
+thinking? I want to know how you could get such a thing into
+your head."
+
+
+"It wasn't very strange," said Fleda. "The stars made me think
+of heaven, and grandpa's being there, and then I thought how
+he was ready to go there, and that made him ready to die —"
+
+"I wouldn't think of such things, Elfie," said Mr. Carleton,
+after a few minutes.
+
+"Why not, Sir?" said Fleda, quickly.
+
+"I don't think they are good for you."
+
+"But, Mr. Carleton," said Fleda, gently, — "if I don't think
+about it, how shall I ever be ready to die?"
+
+"It is not fit for you," said he, evading the question, — "it
+is not necessary now, — there's time enough. You are a little
+body, and should have none but gay thoughts."
+
+"But, Mr. Carleton," said Fleda, with timid earnestness, —
+"don't you think one could have gay thoughts better if one
+knew one was ready to die?"
+
+"What makes a person ready to die, Elfie?" said her friend,
+disliking to ask the question, but yet more unable to answer
+hers, and curious to hear what she would say.
+
+"Oh, to be a Christian," said Fleda.
+
+"But I have seen Christians," said Mr. Carleton, "who were no
+more ready to die than other people."
+
+"Then they were make-believe Christians," said Fleda,
+decidedly.
+
+"What makes you think so?" said her friend, carefully guarding
+his countenance from anything like a smile.
+
+"Because," said Fleda, "grandpa was ready, and my father was
+ready, and my mother, too; and I know it was because they were
+Christians."
+
+"Perhaps your kind of Christians are different from my kind,"
+said Mr. Carleton, carrying on the conversation half in spite
+of himself. "What do you mean by a Christian, Elfie?"
+
+"Why, what the Bible means," said Fleda, looking at him with
+innocent earnestness.
+
+Mr. Carleton was ashamed to tell her he did not know what that
+was, or he was unwilling to say what he felt would trouble the
+happy confidence she had in him. He was silent; but as they
+rode on, a bitter wish crossed his mind that he could have the
+simple purity of the little child in his arms; and he thought
+he would give his broad acres, supposing it possible that
+religion could be true, — in exchange for that free happy
+spirit that looks up to all its possessions in heaven.
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+Starres are poore books, and oftentimes do misse;
+This book of starres lights to eternall blisse.
+GEORGE HERBERT.
+
+
+The voyage across the Atlantic was not, in itself, at all
+notable. The first half of the passage was extremely unquiet,
+and most of the passengers uncomfortable to match. Then the
+weather cleared; and the rest of the way, though lengthened
+out a good deal by the tricks of the wind, was very fair and
+pleasant.
+
+Fifteen days of tossing and sea-sickness had brought little
+Fleda to look like the ghost of herself. So soon as the
+weather changed, and sky and sea were looking gentle again,
+Mr. Carleton had a mattress and cushions laid in a sheltered
+corner of the deck for her, and carried her up. She had hardly
+any more strength than a baby.
+
+"What are you looking at me so for, Mr. Carleton?" said she, a
+little while after he had carried her up, with a sweet serious
+smile that seemed to know the answer to her question.
+
+He stooped down and clasped her little thin hand, as
+reverentially as if she really had not belonged to the earth.
+
+"You are more like a sprite than I like to see you just now,"
+said he, unconsciously fastening the child's heart to himself
+with the magnetism of those deep eyes. — "I must get some of
+the sailors' salt beef and sea-biscuit for you — they say that
+is the best thing to make people well."
+
+"Oh, I feel better already," said Fleda; and settling her
+little face upon the cushion and closing her eyes, she added,
+"thank you, Mr. Carleton!"
+
+The fresh air began to restore her immediately; she was no
+more sick; her appetite came back; and from that time, without
+the help of beef and sea-biscuit, she mended rapidly. Mr.
+Carleton proved himself as good a nurse on the sea as on land.
+She seemed to be never far from his thoughts. He was
+constantly finding out something that would do her good or
+please her; and Fleda could not discover that he took any
+trouble about it; she could not feel that she was a burden to
+him; the things seemed to come as a matter of course. Mrs.
+Carleton was not wanting in any show of kindness or care, and
+yet, when Fleda looked back upon the day, it somehow was Guy
+that had done everything for her; she thought little of
+thanking anybody but him.
+
+There were other passengers that petted her a great deal, or
+would have done so, if Fleda's very timid, retiring nature had
+not stood in the way. She was never bashful, nor awkward; but
+yet it was only a very peculiar sympathetic style of address
+that could get within the wall of reserve which, in general,
+hid her from other people. Hid what it could: for through that
+reserve a singular modesty, sweetness, and gracefulness of
+spirit would show themselves. But there was much more behind.
+There were no eyes, however, on board, that did not look
+kindly on little Fleda, excepting only two pair. The Captain
+showed her a great deal of flattering attention, and said she
+was a pattern of a passenger; even the sailors noticed and
+spoke of her, and let slip no occasion of showing the respect
+and interest she had raised. But there were two pair of eyes,
+and one of them Fleda thought most remarkably ugly, that were
+an exception to the rest; these belonged to her cousin
+Rossitur and Lieutenant Thorn. Rossitur had never forgiven her
+remarks upon his character as a gentleman, and declared
+preference of Mr. Carleton in that capacity; and Thorn was
+mortified at the invincible childish reserve which she opposed
+to all his advances; and both, absurd as it seems, were
+jealous of the young Englishman's advantage over them. Both
+not the less, because their sole reason for making her a
+person of consequence was that he had thought fit to do so.
+Fleda would permit neither of them to do anything for her that
+she could help.
+
+They took their revenge in raillery, which was not always
+good-natured. Mr. Carleton never answered it in any other way
+than by his look of cold disdain, — not always by that; little
+Fleda could not be quite so unmoved. Many a time her nice
+sense of delicacy confessed itself hurt, by the deep and
+abiding colour her cheeks would wear after one of their ill-
+mannered flings at her. She bore them with a grave dignity
+peculiar to herself, but the same nice delicacy forbade her to
+mention the subject to any one; and the young gentlemen
+contrived to give the little child in the course of the voyage
+a good deal of pain. She shunned them at last as she would the
+plague. As to the rest, Fleda liked her life on board ship
+amazingly. In her quiet way she took al the good that offered
+and seemed not to recognise the ill.
+
+Mr. Carleton had bought for her a copy of The Rape of the
+Lock, and Bryant's poems. With these, sitting or lying among
+her cushions, Fleda amused herself a great deal; and it was an
+especial pleasure when he would sit down by her and read and
+talk about them. Still a greater was to watch the sea, in its
+changes of colour and varieties of agitation, and to get from
+Mr. Carleton, bit by bit, all the pieces of knowledge
+concerning it that he had ever made his own. Even when Fleda
+feared it she was fascinated; and while the fear went off the
+fascination grew deeper. Daintily nestling among her cushions,
+she watched with charmed eyes the long rollers that came up in
+detachments of three to attack the good ship, that like a
+slandered character rode patiently over them; or the crested
+green billows, or sometimes the little rippling waves that
+showed old Ocean's placidest face; while with ears as charmed
+as if he had been delivering a fairy tale, she listened to all
+Mr. Carleton could tell her of the green water where the
+whales feed, or the blue water where Neptune sits in his own
+solitude, the furthest from land, and the pavement under his
+feet outdoes the very canopy overhead in its deep colouring;
+of the transparent seas where the curious mysterious marine
+plants and animals may be clearly seen many feet down, and in
+the North where hundreds of feet of depth do not hide the
+bottom; of the icebergs; and whirling great fields of ice,
+between which, if a ship get, she had as good be an almond in
+a pair of strong nut-crackers. How the water grows colder and
+murkier as it is nearer the shore; how the mountain waves are
+piled together; and how old Ocean, like a wise man,. however
+roughened and tumbled outwardly by the currents of life, is
+always calm at heart. Of the signs of the weather; the out-
+riders of the winds, and the use the seaman makes of the
+tidings they bring, and before Mr. Carleton knew where he was,
+he found himself deep in the science of navigation, and making
+a star-gazer of little Fleda. Sometimes kneeling beside him as
+he sat on her mattress, with her hand leaning on his shoulder,
+Fleda asked, listened, and looked; as engaged, as rapt, as
+interested, as another child would be in Robinson Crusoe,
+gravely drinking in knowledge with a fresh healthy taste for
+it that never had enough. Mr. Carleton was about as amused and
+as interested as she. There is a second taste of knowledge
+that some minds get in imparting it, almost as sweet as the
+first relish. At any rate, Fleda never felt that she had any
+reason to fear tiring him; and his mother, complaining of his
+want of sociableness, said she believed Guy did not like to
+talk to any-body but that little pet of his, and one or two of
+the old sailors. If left to her own resources, Fleda was never
+at a loss; she amused herself with her books, or watching the
+sailors, or watching the sea, or with some fanciful
+manufacture she had learned from one of the ladies on board,
+or with what the company about her were saying and doing.
+
+One evening she had been some time alone, looking out upon the
+restless little waves that were tossing and tumbling in every
+direction. She had been afraid of them at first, and they were
+still rather fearful to her imagination. This evening, as heir
+musing eye watched them rise and fall, her childish fancy
+likened them to the up-springing chances of life, — uncertain,
+unstable, alike too much for her skill and her strength to
+manage. She was not more helpless before the attacks of the
+one than of the other. But then — that calm blue heaven that
+hung over the sea. It was like the heaven of power and love
+above her destinies; only this was far higher, and more pure
+and abiding. "He knoweth them that trust in him." "There shall
+not a hair of your head perish."
+
+Not these words, perhaps, but something like the sense of
+them, was in little Fleda's head. Mr. Carleton coming up, saw
+her gazing out upon the water, with an eye that seemed to see
+nothing.
+
+"Elfie! — Are you looking into futurity!"
+
+"No, — yes — not exactly!" said Fleda, smiling.
+
+"No, yes, and not exactly!" said he, throwing himself down
+beside her. "What does all that mean?"
+
+"I wasn't exactly looking into futurity," said Fleda.
+
+"What then? — Don't tell me you were 'thinking;' I know that
+already. What?"
+
+Fleda was always rather shy of opening her cabinet of
+thoughts. She glanced at him, and hesitated, and then yielded
+to a fascination of eye and smile that rarely failed of its
+end. Looking off to the sea again as if she had left her
+thoughts there, she said,
+
+"I was only thinking of that beautiful hymn of Mr. Newton's."
+
+"What hymn?"
+
+"That long one, 'The Lord will provide.' "
+
+"Do you know it? Tell it to me, Elfie; let us see whether I
+shall think it beautiful."
+
+Fleda knew the whole, and repeated it.
+
+
+"Though troubles assail,
+And dangers affright,
+Though friends should all fail,
+And foes all unite;
+Yet one thing secures us
+Whatever betide,
+The Scripture assures us
+'The Lord will provide.'
+
+
+"The birds without barn
+Or storehouse are fed;
+From them let us learn
+To trust for our bread.
+His saints what is fitting
+Shall ne'er be denied,
+So long as 'tis written,
+'The Lord will provide.'
+
+
+"His call we obey,
+Like Abraham of old,
+Not knowing our way,
+But faith makes us bold.
+And though we are strangers,
+We have a good guide,
+And trust in all dangers
+'The Lord will provide.'
+
+"We may like the ships
+In tempests be tossed
+On perilous deeps,
+But cannot be lost.
+Though Satan enrages
+The wind and the tide,
+The promise engages
+'The Lord will provide.'
+
+
+"When Satan appears
+To stop up our path,
+And fills us with fears,
+We triumph by faith.
+He cannot take from us,
+Though oft he has tried,
+This heart-cheering promise,
+'The Lord will provide.'
+
+
+"He tells us we're weak,
+Our hope is in vain,
+The good that we seek
+We ne'er shall obtain;
+But when such suggestions
+Our spirits have tried,
+This answers all questions,
+'The Lord will provide.'
+
+
+"No strength of our own,
+Or goodness we claim;
+But since we have known
+The Saviour's great name,
+In this, our strong tower,
+For safety we hide;
+The Lord is our power!
+'The Lord will provide.'
+
+"When life sinks apace,
+And death is in view,
+This word of his grace
+Shall comfort us through.
+No fearing nor doubting,
+With Christ on our side,
+We hope to die shouting
+'The Lord will provide!' "
+
+
+Guy listened very attentively to the whole. He was very far
+from understanding the meaning of several of the verses, but
+the bounding expression of confidence and hope he did
+understand, and did feel.
+
+"Happy to be so deluded!" he thought. "I almost wish I could
+share the delusion!"
+
+He was gloomily silent when she had done, and little Fleda's
+eyes were so full that it was a little while before she could
+look towards him, and ask in her gentle way, "Do you like it,
+Mr. Carleton?"
+
+She was gratified by his grave "Yes!"
+
+"But Elfie," said he, smiling again, "you have not told me
+your thoughts yet. What had these verses to do with the sea
+you were looking at so hard?"
+
+"Nothing; I was thinking," said Fleda, slowly, "that the sea
+seemed something like the world — I don't mean it was like,
+but it made me think of it; and I thought how pleasant it is
+to know that God takes care of his people."
+
+"Don't he take care of everybody?"
+
+"Yes, in one sort of way," said Fleda; "but then it is only
+his children that he has promised to keep from everything that
+will hurt them."
+
+"I don't see how that promise is kept, Elfie. I think those
+who call themselves so meet with as many troubles as the rest
+of the world, and perhaps more."
+
+"Yes," said Fleda, quickly, "they have troubles, but then God
+wont let the troubles do them any harm."
+
+A subtle evasion, thought Mr. Carleton. "Where did you learn
+that, Elfie?"
+
+"The Bible says so," said Fleda.
+
+"Well, how do you know it from that?" said Mr. Carleton,
+impelled, he hardly knew whether by his bad or his good angel,
+to carry on the conversation.
+
+"Why," said Fleda, looking as if it were a very simple
+question, and Mr. Carleton were catechising her, "you know,
+Mr. Carleton, the Bible was written by men who were taught by
+God exactly what to say, so there could be nothing in it that
+is not true."
+
+"How do you know those men were so taught?"
+
+"The Bible says so."
+
+A child's answer! but with a child's wisdom in it, not learnt
+of the schools. "He that is of God heareth God's words." To
+little Fleda, as to every simple and humble intelligence, the
+Bible proved itself; she had no need to go further.
+
+Mr. Carleton did not smile, for nothing would have tempted him
+to hurt her feelings; but he said, though conscience did not
+let him do it without a twinge, —
+
+"But don't you know, Elfie, there are some people who do not
+believe the Bible?"
+
+"Ah, but those are bad people," replied Fleda, quickly; "all
+good people believe it."
+
+A child's reason again, but hitting the mark this time.
+Unconsciously, little Fleda had brought forward a strong
+argument for her cause. Mr. Carleton felt it, and rising up,
+that he might not be obliged to say anything more, he began to
+pace slowly up and down the deck, turning the matter over.
+
+Was it so? that there were hardly any good men (he thought
+there might be a few), who did not believe in the Bible and
+uphold its authority? and that all the worst portion of
+society was comprehended in the other class? — and if so, how
+had he overlooked it? He had reasoned most unphilosophically,
+from a few solitary instances that had come under his own eye;
+but applying the broad principle of induction, it could not be
+doubted that the Bible was on the side of all that is sound,
+healthful, and hopeful, in this disordered world. And whatever
+might be the character of a few exceptions, it was not
+supposable that a wide system of hypocrisy should tell
+universally for the best interests of mankind. Summoning
+history to produce her witnesses, as he went on with his walk
+up and down, he saw with increasing interest, what he had
+never seen before, that the Bible had come like the breath of
+spring upon the moral waste of mind; that the ice-bound
+intellect and cold heart of the world had waked into life
+under its kindly influence, and that all the rich growth of
+the one and the other had come forth at its bidding. And
+except in that sun-lightened tract, the world was and had been
+a waste indeed. Doubtless, in that waste, intellect had at
+different times put forth sundry barren shoots, such as a
+vigorous plant can make in the absence of the sun, but also
+like them immature, unsound, and groping vainly after the
+light in which alone they could expand and perfect themselves;
+ripening no seed for a future and richer growth. And flowers
+the wilderness had none. The affections were stunted and
+overgrown.
+
+All this was so — how had he overlooked it? His unbelief had
+come from a thoughtless, ignorant, one-sided view of life and
+human things. The disorder and ruin which he saw, where he did
+not also see the adjusting hand at work, had led him to refuse
+his credit to the Supreme Fabricator. He thought the waste
+would never be reclaimed, and did not know how much it already
+owed to the sun of revelation; but what was the waste where
+that light had not been! Mr. Carleton was staggered. He did
+not know what to think. He began to think he had been a fool.
+
+Poor little Fleda was meditating less agreeably the while.
+With the sure tact of truth, she had discerned that there was
+more than jest in the questions that had been put to her. She
+almost feared that Mr. Carleton shared himself the doubts he
+had so lightly spoken of, and the thought gave her great
+distress. However, when he came to take her down to tea, with
+all his usual manner, Fleda's earnest look at him ended in the
+conviction that there was. nothing very wrong under that face.
+
+For several days, Mr. Carleton pondered the matter of this
+evening's conversation, characteristically restless till he
+had made up his mind. He wished very much to draw Fleda to
+speak further upon the subject, but it was not easy; she never
+led to it. He sought in vain an opportunity to bring it in
+easily, and at last resolved to make one..
+
+"Elfie," said he, one morning, when all the rest of the
+passengers were happily engaged at a distance with the letter-
+bags — "I wish you would let me hear that favourite hymn of
+yours again; l like it very much."
+
+Fleda was much gratified, and immediately with great
+satisfaction repeated the hymn. Its peculiar beauty struck him
+yet more the second time than the first.
+
+"Do you understand those two last verses?" said he, when she
+had done.
+
+Fleda said "Yes!" rather surprised.
+
+"I do not," he said, gravely.
+
+Fleda paused a minute or two, and then finding that it
+depended on her to enlighten him, said in her modest way, —
+
+"Why, it means that we have no goodness of our own, and only
+expect to be forgiven, and taken to heaven, for the Saviour's
+sake."
+
+Mr. Carleton asked, "How _for his sake?_"
+
+"Why, you know, Mr. Carleton, we don't deserve to go there,
+and if we are forgiven at all, it must be for what He has
+done."
+
+"And what is that, Elfie?"
+
+"He died for us," said Fleda, with a look of some anxiety into
+Mr. Carleton's face.
+
+"Died for us! — And what end was that to serve, Elfie?" said
+he, partly willing to hear the full statement of the matter,
+and partly willing to see how far her intelligence could give
+it.
+
+"Because we are sinners," said Fleda, "and God has said that
+sinners shall die."
+
+"Then how can he keep his word, and forgive at all?"
+
+"Because Christ has died _for us_," said Fleda, eagerly —
+"instead of us."
+
+"Do you understand the justice of letting one take the place
+of others?"
+
+"He was willing, Mr. Carleton," said Fleda, with a singular
+wistful expression, that touched him.
+
+"Still, Elfie," said he, after a minute's silence, "how could
+the ends of justice be answered by the death of one man in the
+place of millions?"
+
+"No, Mr. Carleton, but He was God as well as man," Fleda said,
+with a sparkle in her eye which perhaps delayed her
+companion's rejoinder.
+
+"What should induce him, Elfie," he said, gently, "to do such
+a thing for people who had displeased him?"
+
+"Because he loved us, Mr. Carleton."
+
+She answered with so evident a strong and clear appreciation
+of what she was saying, that it half made its way into Mr.
+Carleton's mind by the force of sheer sympathy. Her words came
+almost as something new.
+
+Certainly Mr. Carleton had heard these things before; though
+perhaps never in a way that appealed so directly to his
+intelligence and his candour. He was again silent an instant,
+pondering, and so was Fleda.
+
+"Do you know, Elfie," said Mr. Carleton, "there are some
+people who do not believe that the Saviour was anything more
+than a man?"
+
+"Yes, I know it," said Fleda; — "it is very strange!"
+
+"Why is it strange?"
+
+"Because the Bible says it so plainly."
+
+"But those people hold, I believe, that the Bible does not say
+it."
+
+"I don't see how they could have read the Bible," said Fleda.
+"Why, he said so himself."
+
+"Who said so?"
+
+"Jesus Christ. Don't you believe it, Mr. Carleton?"
+
+She saw he did not, and the shade that had come over her face
+was reflected in his before he said "No."
+
+"But perhaps I shall believe it yet, Elfie," he said, kindly.
+"Can you show me the place in your Bible where Jesus says this
+of himself?"
+
+Fleda looked in despair. She hastily turned over the leaves of
+her Bible to find the passages he had asked for, and Mr.
+Carleton was cut to the heart to see that she twice was
+obliged to turn her face from him, and brush her hand over her
+eyes, before she could find them. She turned to Matt. xxvi.
+63-65, and, without speaking, gave him the book, pointing to
+the passage. He read it with great care, and several times
+over.
+
+"You are right, Elfie," he said. "I do not see how those who
+honour the authority of the Bible, and the character of Jesus
+Christ, can deny the truth of His own declaration. If that is
+false, so must those be."
+
+Fleda took the Bible, and hurriedly sought out another
+passage.
+
+"Grandpa showed me these places," she said, "once when we were
+talking about Mr. Didenhover — _he_ didn't believe that. There
+are a great many other places, grandpa said; but one! is
+enough." —
+
+She gave him the latter part of the 20th chapter of John.
+
+"You see, Mr. Carleton, he let Thomas fall down and worship
+him, and call him God; and if he had _not_ been, you know — God
+is more displeased with that than with anything."
+
+"With what, Elfie?"
+
+"With men's worshipping any other than himself. He says he
+'will not give his glory to another.' "
+
+"Where is that?"
+
+"I am afraid I can't find it," said Fleda — "it is somewhere
+in Isaiah, I know" —
+
+She tried in vain; and failing, then looked up in Mr.
+Carleton's face to see what impression had been made.
+
+"You see Thomas believed when he _saw_," said he, answering her;
+— "I will believe, too, when I see."
+
+"Ah! if you wait for that" — said Fleda.
+
+Her voice suddenly checked: she bent her face down again to
+her little Bible, and there was a moment's struggle with
+herself.
+
+"Are you looking for something more to show me?" said Mr.
+Carleton, kindly, stooping his face down to hers.
+
+"Not much," said Fleda, hurriedly; and then making a great
+effort, she raised her head, and gave him the book again.
+
+"Look here, Mr. Carleton — Jesus said, 'Blessed are they that
+have not seen, and yet have believed.' "
+
+Mr. Carleton was profoundly struck, and the thought recurred
+to him afterwards, and was dwelt upon. "Blessed are they that
+have _not_ seen, and yet have believed." It was strange at
+first, and then he wondered that it should ever have been so.
+His was a mind peculiarly open to conviction, peculiarly
+accessible to truth; and his attention being called to it, he
+saw faintly now what he had never seen before, the beauty of
+the principle of _faith_ — how natural, how reasonable, how
+_necessary_, how honourable to the Supreme Being, how happy even
+for man, that the grounds of his trust in God being
+established, his acceptance of many other things should rest
+on that trust alone.
+
+Mr. Carleton now became more reserved and unsociable than
+ever. He wearied himself with thinking. If he could have got
+at the books, he would have spent his days and nights in
+studying the evidences of Christianity; but the ship was bare
+of any such books, and he never thought of turning to the most
+obvious of all, the Bible itself. His unbelief was shaken; it
+was within an ace of falling in pieces to the very foundation;
+or, rather, he began to suspect how foundationless it had
+been. It came at last to one point with him — If there were a
+God, he would not have left the world without a revelation —
+no more would he have suffered that revelation to defeat its
+own end by becoming corrupted or alloyed; if there was such a
+revelation, it could be no other than the Bible; and his
+acceptance of the whole scheme of Christianity now hung upon
+the turn of a hair. Yet he could not resolve himself. He
+balanced the counter doubts and arguments on one side and on
+the other, and strained his mind to the task; he could not
+weigh them nicely enough. He was in a maze; and seeking to
+clear and calm his judgment that he might see the way out, it
+was in vain that he tried to shake his dizzied head from the
+effect of the turns it had made. By dint of anxiety to find
+the right path, reason had lost herself in the wilderness.
+
+Fleda was not, as Mr. Carleton had feared she would be, at all
+alienated from him by the discovery that had given her so much
+pain. It wrought in another way, rather to add a touch of
+tender and anxious interest to the affection she had for him.
+It gave her, however, much more pain than he thought. If he
+had seen the secret tears that fell on his account, he would
+have been grieved; and if he had known of the many petitions
+that little heart made for him, he could hardly have loved her
+more than he did.
+
+One evening Mr. Carleton had been a long while pacing up and
+down the deck in front of little Fleda's nest, thinking and
+thinking, without coming to any end. It was a most fair
+evening, near sunset, the sky without a cloud, except two or
+three little dainty strips which set off its blue. The ocean
+was very quiet, only broken into cheerful mites of waves that
+seemed to have nothing to do but sparkle. The sun's rays were
+almost level now, and a long path of glory across the sea led
+off towards his sinking disk. Fleda sat watching and enjoying
+it all in her happy fashion, which always made the most of
+everything good, and was especially quick in catching any form
+of natural beauty.
+
+Mr. Carleton's thoughts were elsewhere — too busy to take note
+of things around him. Fleda looked now and then as he passed
+at his gloomy brow, wondering what he was thinking of, and
+wishing that he could have the same reason to be happy that
+she had. In one of his turns his eye met her gentle glance;
+and, vexed and bewildered as he was with study, there was
+something in that calm bright face that impelled him
+irresistibly to ask the little child to set the proud scholar
+right. Placing himself beside her, he said, —
+
+"Elfie, how do you know there is a God? what reason have you
+for thinking so, out of the Bible?"
+
+It was a strange look little Fleda gave him. He felt it at the
+time, and he never forgot it. Such a look of reproach, sorrow,
+and _pity_, he afterwards thought, as an angel's face might have
+worn. The _question_ did not seem to occupy her a moment. After
+this answering look she suddenly pointed to the sinking sun,
+and said —
+
+"Who made that, Mr. Carleton?"
+
+Mr. Carleton's eyes, following the direction of hers, met the
+long, bright rays, whose still witness-bearing was almost too
+powerful to be borne. The sun was just dipping majestically
+into the sea, and its calm self-assertion seemed to him at
+that instant hardly stronger than its vindication of its
+Author.
+
+A slight arrow may find the joint in the armour before which
+many weightier shafts have fallen powerless. Mr. Carleton was
+an unbeliever no more from that time.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+"He borrowed a box of the ear of the Englishman, and swore he
+would pay him again when he was able. — _Merchant of Venice_.
+
+
+One other incident alone in the course of the voyage deserves
+to be mentioned; both because it served to bring out the
+characters of several people, and because it was not — what
+is? — without its lingering consequences.
+
+Thorn and Rossitur had kept up indefatigably the game of
+teasing Fleda about her "English admirer," as they sometime
+styled him. Poor Fleda grew more and more sore on the subject.
+She thought it was very strange that two grown men could not
+find enough to do to amuse themselves without making sport of
+the comfort of a little child. She wondered they could take
+pleasure in what gave her so much pain; but so it was; and
+they had it up so often that, at last, others caught it from
+them, and, though not in malevolence, yet in thoughtless
+folly, many a light remark was made and question asked of her
+that set little Fleda's sensitive nerves a-quivering. She was
+only too happy that they were never said before Mr. Carleton —
+that would have been a thousand times worse. As it was, her
+gentle nature was constantly suffering from the pain or the
+fear of these attacks.
+
+"Where's Mr. Carleton?" said her cousin, coming up one day.
+
+"I don't know," said Fleda; "I don't know but he is gone up
+into one of the tops."
+
+"Your humble servant leaves you to yourself a great while this
+morning, it seems to me. He is growing very inattentive."
+
+"I wouldn't permit it. Miss Fleda, if I were you," said Thorn,
+maliciously. "You let him have his own way too much."
+
+"I wish you wouldn't talk so, cousin Charlton!" said Fleda.
+
+"But seriously," said Charlton, "I think you had better call
+him to account. He is very suspicious lately. I have observed
+him walking by himself, and looking very glum indeed. I am
+afraid he has taken some fancy into his head that would not
+suit you. I advise you to inquire into it."
+
+"I wouldn't give myself any concern about it," said Thorn,
+lightly, enjoying the child's confusion and his own fanciful
+style of backbiting; "I'd let him go if he has a mind to, Miss
+Fleda. He's no such great catch. He's neither lord nor knight
+— nothing in the world but a private gentleman, with plenty of
+money, I dare say, but you don't care for that; and there's as
+good fish in the sea as ever came out of it. I don't think
+much of him."
+
+"He is wonderfully better than _you_," thought Fleda, as she
+looked in the young gentleman's face for a second, but she
+said nothing.
+
+"Why, Fleda," said Charlton, laughing, "it wouldn't be a
+killing affair, would it? How has this English admirer of
+yours got so far in your fancy? praising your pretty eyes, eh?
+— eh?" he repeated, as Fleda kept a dignified silence.
+
+"No," said Fleda, in displeasure; "he never says such things."
+
+"No?" said Charlton. "What then! What does he say? I wouldn't
+let him make a fool of me, if I were you. Fleda — did he ever
+ask you for a kiss?"
+
+"No!" exclaimed Fleda, half beside herself, and bursting into
+tears: " I wish you wouldn't talk so! How can you!"
+
+They had carried the game pretty far that time, and thought
+best to leave it. Fleda stopped crying as soon as she could,
+lest somebody should see her; and was sitting quietly again,
+alone as before, when one of the sailors whom she had never
+spoken to, came by, and leaning over towards her with a leer
+as he passed, said —
+
+"Is this the young English gentleman's little sweet-heart?"
+
+Poor Fleda! She had got more than she could bear. She jumped
+up, and ran down into the cabin; and in her berth Mrs.
+Carleton found her some time afterwards, quietly crying, and
+most sorry to be discovered. She was exceeding unwilling to
+tell what had troubled her. Mrs. Carleton, really distressed,
+tried coaxing, soothing, reasoning, promising, in a way the
+most gentle and kind that she could use.
+
+"Oh, it's nothing — it's nothing," Fleda said, at last,
+eagerly; "it's because I am foolish — it's only something they
+said to me."
+
+"Who, love?"
+
+Again was Fleda most unwilling to answer, and it was after
+repeated urging that she at last said —
+
+"Cousin Charlton and Mr. Thorn."
+
+"Charlton and Mr. Thorn! What did they say? What did they say,
+darling Fleda?"
+
+"Oh, it's only that they tease me," said Fleda, trying hard to
+put an end to the tears which caused all this questioning, and
+to speak as if they were about a trifle. But Mrs. Carleton
+persisted.
+
+"What do they say to tease you, love? What is it about? Guy,
+come in here, and help me to find out what is the matter with
+Fleda."
+
+Fleda hid her face in Mrs. Carleton's neck, resolved to keep
+her lips sealed. Mr. Carleton came in, but to her great relief
+his question was directed not to her but his mother.
+
+"Fleda has been annoyed by something those young men, her
+cousin and Mr. Thorn, have said to her; they tease her, she
+says, and she will not tell me what it is."
+
+Mr. Carleton did not ask, and he presently left the state-
+room.
+
+"Oh, I am afraid he will speak to them!" exclaimed Fleda, as
+soon as he was gone. "Oh, I oughtn't to have said that!"
+
+Mrs. Carleton tried to soothe her, and asked what she was
+afraid of. But Fleda would not say any more. Her anxious fear
+that she had done mischief helped to dry her tears, and she
+sorrowfully resolved she would keep her griefs to herself next
+time.
+
+Rossitur and Thorn were in company with a brother officer, and
+friend of the latter, when Mr. Carleton approached them.
+
+"Mr. Rossitur and Mr. Thorn," said he, "you have indulged
+yourselves in a style of conversation extremely displeasing to
+the little girl under my mother's care. You will oblige me by
+abandoning it for the future."
+
+There was certainly in Mr. Carleton's manner a sufficient
+degree of the cold haughtiness with which he usually
+expressed. Displeasure, though his words gave no other cause
+of offence. Thorn retorted rather insolently.
+
+"I shall oblige myself in the matter, and do as I think
+proper."
+
+"I have a right to speak as I please to my own cousin," said
+Rossitur, sulkily, "without asking anybody's leave. I don't
+see what you have to do with it."
+
+"Simply that she is under my protection, and that I will not
+permit her to be annoyed."
+
+"I don't see how she is under your protection," said Rossitur.
+
+"And I do not see how the potency of it will avail in this
+case," said his companion.
+
+"Neither position is to be made out in words," said Mr.
+Carleton, calmly. "You see that I desire there be no
+repetition of the offence, the rest I will endeavour to make
+clear, if I am compelled to it."
+
+"Stop, Sir!" said Thorn, as the young Englishman was turning
+away, adding with an oath —"I wont bear this! You shall answer
+this to me, Sir!"
+
+"Easily," said the other.
+
+"And me, too," said Rossitur. "You have an account to settle
+with me, Carleton."
+
+"I will answer what you please," said Carleton, carelessly;
+"and as soon as we get to land, provided you do not, in the
+meantime, induce me to refuse you the honour."
+
+However incensed, the young men endeavoured to carry it off
+with the same coolness that their adversary showed. No more
+words passed; but Mrs. Carleton, possibly quickened by Fleda's
+fears, was not satisfied with the carriage of all parties, and
+resolved to sound her son, happy in knowing that nothing but
+truth was to be had from him. She found an opportunity that
+very afternoon, when he was sitting alone on the deck. The
+neighbourhood of little Fleda she hardly noticed. Fleda was
+curled up among her cushions, luxuriously bending over a
+little old black Bible, which was very often in her hand at
+times when she was quiet and had no observation to fear.
+
+"Reading! always reading!" said Mrs. Carleton, as she came up
+and took a place by her son.
+
+"By no means!" he said, closing his book with a smile; — "not
+enough to tire any one's eyes on this voyage, mother."
+
+"I wish you liked intercourse with living society," said Mrs.
+Carleton, leaning her arm on his shoulder and looking at him
+rather wistfully.
+
+"You need not wish that — when it suits me," he answered.
+
+"But none suits you. Is there any on board?"
+
+"A small proportion," he said, with the slight play of feature
+which always effected a diversion of his mother's thoughts, no
+matter in what channel they had been flowing.
+
+"But those young men," she said, returning to the charge, "you
+hold yourself very much aloof from them?"
+
+He did not answer, even by a look, but to his mother the
+perfectly quiet composure of his face was sufficiently
+expressive.
+
+"I know what you think; but, Guy, you always had the same
+opinion of them?"
+
+"I have never shown any other."
+
+"Guy," she said, speaking low and rather anxiously, "have you
+got into trouble with those young men?"
+
+"I am in no trouble, mother," he answered, somewhat haughtily;
+"I cannot speak for them."
+
+Mrs. Carleton waited a moment.
+
+"You have done something to displease them, have you not?"
+
+"They have displeased me, which is somewhat more to the
+purpose."
+
+"But their folly is nothing to you?"
+
+"No — not their folly."
+
+"Guy," said his mother, again pausing a minute, and pressing
+her hand more heavily upon his shoulder, "you will not suffer
+this to alter the friendly terms you have been on? — whatever
+it be, let it pass."
+
+"Certainly; if they choose to apologize, and behave
+themselves."
+
+"What — about Fleda?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I have no idea they meant to trouble her; I suppose they did
+no at all know what they were doing — thoughtless nonsense —
+and they could have had no design to offend you. Promise me
+that you will not take any further notice of this."
+
+He shook off the beseeching hand as he rose up, and answered
+haughtily, and not without something like an oath, that he
+_would_.
+
+Mrs. Carleton knew him better than to press the matter any
+further; and her fondness easily forgave the offence against
+herself, especially as her son almost immediately resumed his
+ordinary manner.
+
+It had well nigh passed from the minds of both parties, when
+in the middle of the next day, Mr. Carleton asked what had
+become of Fleda? — he had not seen her except at the
+breakfast-table. Mrs. Carleton said she was not well.
+
+"What's the matter?"
+
+"She complained of some headache — I think she made herself
+sick yesterday — she was crying all the afternoon, and I could
+not get her to tell me what for. I tried every means I could
+think of, but she would not give me the least clue — she said
+'No' to everything I guessed — I can't bear to see her do so —
+it makes it all the worse she does it so quietly — it was only
+by a mere chance I found she was crying at all, but I think
+she cried herself ill before she stopped. She could not eat a
+mouthful of breakfast."
+
+Mr. Carleton said nothing, and, with a changed countenance,
+went directly down to the cabin. The stewardess whom he sent
+in to see how she was, brought back word that Fleda was not
+asleep, but was too ill to speak to her. Mr. Carleton went
+immediately into the little crib of a state-room. There he
+found his little charge, sitting bolt upright, her feet on the
+rung of a chair, and her hands grasping the top to support
+herself. Her eyes were closed, her face without a particle of
+colour, except the dark shade round the eyes which bespoke
+illness and pain. She made no attempt to answer his shocked
+questions and words of tender concern, not even by the raising
+of an eyelid, and he saw that the intensity of pain at the
+moment was such as to render breathing itself difficult. He
+sent off the stewardess with all despatch after iced water and
+vinegar and brandy, and himself went on an earnest quest of
+restoratives among the lady passengers in the cabin, which
+resulted in sundry supplies of salts and cologne, and also
+offers of service, in greater plenty still, which he all
+refused. Most tenderly and judiciously he himself applied
+various remedies to the suffering child, who could not direct
+him otherwise than by gently putting away the things which she
+felt would not avail her. Several were in vain. But there was
+one bottle of strong aromatic vinegar which was destined to
+immortalize its owner in Fleda's remembrance. Before she had
+taken three whiffs of it, her colour changed. Mr. Carleton
+watched the effect of a few whiffs more, and then bade the
+stewardess take away all the other things, and bring him a cup
+of fresh strong coffee. By the time it came Fleda was ready
+for it; and by the time Mr. Carleton had administered the
+coffee, he saw it would do to throw his mother's shawl round
+her, and carry her up on deck, which he did without asking any
+questions. All this while Fleda had not spoken a word, except
+once when he asked her if she felt better. But she had given
+him, on finishing the coffee, a full look and half smile of
+such pure affectionate gratitude, that the young gentleman's
+tongue was tied for some time after.
+
+With happy skill, when he had safely bestowed Fleda among her
+cushions on deck, Mr. Carleton managed to keep off the crowd
+of busy inquirers after her well-doing, and even presently to
+turn his mother's attention another way, leaving Fleda to
+enjoy all the comfort of quiet and fresh air at once. He
+himself seeming occupied with other things, did no more but
+keep watch over her, till he saw that she was able to bear
+conversation again. Then he seated himself beside her, and
+said softly —
+
+"Elfie, what were you crying about all yesterday afternoon?"
+
+Fleda changed colour, for, soft and gentle as the tone was,
+she heard in it a determination to have the answer; and
+looking up beseechingly into his face, she saw in the steady
+full blue eye, that it was a determination she could not
+escape from. Her answer was an imploring request that he would
+not ask her. But taking one of her little hands and carrying
+it to his lips, he in the same tone repeated his question.
+Fleda snatched away her hand, and burst into very frank tears;
+Mr. Carleton was silent, but she knew through his silence that
+he was only quietly waiting for her to answer him.
+
+"I wish you wouldn't ask me, Sir," said poor Fleda, who still
+could not turn her face to meet his eye — "It was only
+something that happened yesterday."
+
+"What was it, Elfie? — You need not be afraid to tell me."
+
+"It was only — what you said to Mrs. Carleton yesterday — when
+she was talking —"
+
+"About my difficulty with those gentlemen!"
+
+"Yes," said Fleda, with a new gush of tears, as if her grief
+stirred afresh at the thought.
+
+Mr. Carleton was silent a moment; and when he spoke, there was
+no displeasure, and more tenderness than usual, in his voice.
+
+"What troubled you in that, Elfie? tell me the whole."
+
+"I was sorry, because it wasn't right," said Fleda, with a
+grave truthfulness which yet lacked none of her universal
+gentleness and modesty.
+
+"What wasn't right?"
+
+"To speak — I am afraid you wont like me to say it, Mr.
+Carleton."
+
+"I will, Elfie for I ask you."
+
+"To speak to Mrs. Carleton, so; and, besides, you know what
+you said, Mr. Carleton"
+
+"It was _not_ right," said he, after a minute, "and I very
+seldom use such an expression, but you know one cannot always
+be on one's guard, Elfie."
+
+"But," said Fleda, with gentle persistence, "one can always do
+what is right."
+
+"The deuce one can!" thought Mr. Carleton to himself.
+
+"Elfie, was this all that troubled you? that I had said what
+was not right?"
+
+"It wasn't quite that only," said Fleda, hesitating.
+
+"What else?"
+
+She stooped her face from his sight, and he could but just
+understand her words.
+
+"I was disappointed —"
+
+"What, in me?"
+
+Her tears gave the answer; she could add to them nothing but
+an assenting nod of her head.
+
+They would have flowed in double measure if she had guessed
+the pain she had given. Her questioner heard her with a keen
+pang, which did not leave him. for days. There was some hurt
+pride in it, though other and more generous feelings had a far
+larger share. He, who had been admired, lauded, followed,
+cited, and envied, by all ranks of his countrymen and
+countrywomen; in whom nobody found a fault that could be dwelt
+upon, amid the lustre of his perfections and advantages — one
+of the first young men in England, thought so by himself, as
+well as by others — this little pure being had been
+_disappointed_ in him. He could not get over it. He reckoned the
+one judgment worth all the others. Those whose direct or
+indirect flatteries had been poured at his feet, were the
+proud, the worldly, the ambitious, the interested, the
+corrupted; their praise was given to what they esteemed, and
+that, his candour said, was the least estimable part of him.
+Beneath all that, this truth-loving, truth-discerning little
+spirit had found enough to weep for. She was right, and they
+were wrong. The sense of this was so keen upon him, that it
+was ten or fifteen minutes before he could recover himself to
+speak to his little reprover. He paced up and down the deck,
+while Fleda wept more and more from the fear of having
+offended or grieved him. But she was soon reassured on the
+former point. She was just wiping away her tears, with the
+quiet expression of patience her face often wore, when Mr.
+Carleton sat down beside her and took one of her hands.
+
+"Elfie," said he, "I promise you I will never say such a thing
+again."
+
+He might well call her his good angel, for it was an angelic
+look the child gave him; so purely humble, grateful, glad; so
+rosy with joyful hope; the eyes were absolutely sparkling
+through tears. But when she saw that his were not dry, her own
+overflowed. She clasped her other hand to his hand, and
+bending down her face affectionately upon it, she wept — if
+ever angels weep — such tears as they.
+
+"Elfie," said Mr. Carleton, as soon as he could, "I want you
+to go down stairs with me; so dry those eyes, or my mother
+will be asking all sorts of difficult questions."
+
+Happiness is a quick restorative. Elfie was soon ready to go
+where he would.
+
+They found Mrs. Carleton fortunately wrapped up in a new
+novel, some distance apart from the other persons in the
+cabin. The novel was immediately laid aside to take Fleda on
+her lap, and praise Guy's nursing.
+
+"But she looks more like a wax figure yet than anything else;
+don't she, Guy?"
+
+"Not like any that ever I saw," said Mr. Carleton, gravely.
+"Hardly substantial enough. Mother, I have come to tell you I
+am ashamed of myself for having given you such cause of
+offence yesterday."
+
+Mrs. Carleton's quick look, as she laid her hand on her son's
+arm, said sufficiently well that she would have excused him
+from making any apology, rather than have him humble himself
+in the presence of a third person.
+
+"Fleda heard me yesterday," said he; "it was right she should
+hear me to-day."
+
+"Then, my dear Guy," said his mother, with a secret eagerness
+which she did not allow to appear, "if I may make a condition
+for my forgiveness, which you had before you asked for it,
+will you grant me one favour?"
+
+"Certainly, mother, if I can."
+
+"You promise me?"
+
+"As well in one word as in two."
+
+"Promise me that you will never, by any circumstances, allow
+yourself to be drawn into — what is called an _affair of
+honour_."
+
+Mr. Carleton's brow changed, and without making any reply,
+perhaps to avoid his mother's questioning gaze, he rose up and
+walked two or three times the length of the cabin. His mother
+and Fleda watched him doubtfully.
+
+"Do you see how you have got me into trouble, Elfie?" said he,
+stopping before them.
+
+Fleda looked wonderingly, and Mrs. Carleton exclaimed —
+
+"What trouble!"
+
+"Elfie," said he, without immediately answering his mother,
+"what would your conscience do with two promises, both of
+which cannot be kept?"
+
+"What such promises have you made?" said Mrs. Carleton,
+eagerly.
+
+"Let me hear first what Fleda says to my question."
+
+"Why," said Fleda, looking a little bewildered, "I would keep
+the right one."
+
+"Not the one first made?" said he, smiling.
+
+"No," said Fleda; "not unless it was the right one."
+
+"But don't you think one ought to keep one's word, in any
+event?"
+
+"I don't think anything can make it right to do wrong," Fleda
+said, gravely, and not without a secret trembling
+consciousness to what point she was speaking.
+
+He left them, and again took several turns up and down the
+cabin before he sat down.
+
+"You have not given me your promise yet, Guy," said his
+mother, whose eye had not once quitted him. "You said you
+would."
+
+"I said, if I could."
+
+"Well, you can?"
+
+"I have two honourable meetings of the proscribed kind now on
+hand, to which I stand pledged."
+
+Fleda hid her face in an agony. Mrs. Carleton's agony was in
+every line of hers as she grasped her son's wrist, exclaiming,
+"Guy, promise me!" She had words for nothing else. He
+hesitated still a moment, and then meeting his mother's look,
+he said gravely and steadily —
+
+"I promise you, mother, I never will."
+
+His mother threw herself upon his breast, and hid her face
+there, too much excited to have any thought of her customary
+regard to appearances, sobbing out thanks and blessings even
+audibly. Fleda's gentle head was bowed in almost equal
+agitation; and Mr. Carleton at that moment had no doubt that
+he had chosen well which promise to keep.
+
+There remained, however, a less agreeable part of the business
+to manage. After seeing his mother and Fleda quite happy
+again, though without satisfying in any degree the curiosity
+of the former, Guy went in search of the two young West Point
+officers. They were together, but without Thorn's friend
+Captain Beebee. Him Carleton next sought, and brought to the
+forward deck, where the others were enjoying their cigars; or
+rather, Charlton Rossitur was enjoying his with the happy
+self-satisfaction of a pair of epaulettes, off duty. Thorn had
+too busy a brain to be much of a smoker. Now, however, when it
+was plain that Mr. Carleton had something to say to them,
+Charlton's cigar gave way to his attention; it was displaced
+from his mouth, and held in abeyance, while Thorn puffed away
+more intently than ever.
+
+"Gentlemen," Carleton began, "I gave you, yesterday, reason to
+expect that so soon as circumstances permitted, you should
+have the opportunity which offended honour desires of trying
+sounder arguments than those of reason upon the offender. I
+have to tell you to-day that I will not give it you. I have
+thought further of it."
+
+"Is it a new insult that you mean by this, Sir?" exclaimed
+Rossitur, in astonishment. Thorn's cigar did not stir.
+
+"Neither new nor old. I mean, simply, that I have changed my
+mind."
+
+"But this is very extraordinary!" said Rossitur. "What reason
+do you give?"
+
+"I give none, Sir."
+
+"In that case," said Captain Beebee, "perhaps Mr. Carleton
+will not object to explain or unsay the things which gave
+offence yesterday."
+
+"I apprehend there is nothing to explain, Sir — I think I must
+have been understood; and I never take back my words, for I am
+in the habit of speaking the truth."
+
+"Then we are to consider this as a further unprovoked
+unmitigated insult, for which you will give neither reason nor
+satisfaction!" cried Rossitur.
+
+"I have already disclaimed that, Mr. Rossitur."
+
+"Are we, on mature deliberation, considered unworthy of the
+honour you so condescendingly awarded to us yesterday?"
+
+"My reasons have nothing to do with you, Sir, nor with your
+friend; they are entirely personal to myself."
+
+"Mr. Carleton must be aware," said Captain Beebee, "that his
+conduct, if unexplained, will bear a very strange
+construction."
+
+Mr. Carleton was coldly silent.
+
+"It never was heard of," the Captain went on, "that a
+gentleman declined both to explain and to give satisfaction
+for any part of his conduct which had called for it."
+
+"It never was heard that a _gentleman_ did," said Thorn,
+removing his cigar a moment, for the purpose of supplying the
+emphasis, which his friend had carefully omitted to make.
+
+"Will you say, Mr. Carleton," said Rossitur, "that you did not
+mean to offend us yesterday, in what you said?"
+
+"No, Mr. Rossitur."
+
+"You will not!" cried the Captain.
+
+"No Sir; for your friends had given me, as I conceived, just
+cause of displeasure; and I was, and am, careless of offending
+those who have done so."
+
+"You consider yourself aggrieved, then, in the first place?"
+said Beebee.
+
+"I have said so, Sir."
+
+"Then," said the Captain, after a puzzled look out to sea,
+"supposing that my friends disclaim all intention to offend
+you, in that case —"
+
+"In that case I should be glad, Captain Beebee, that they had
+changed their line of tactics — there is nothing to change in
+my own."
+
+"Then what are we to understand by this strange refusal of a
+meeting, Mr. Carleton? what does it mean?"
+
+"It means one thing in my own mind, Sir, and probably another
+in yours; but the outward expression I choose to give it is,
+that I will not reward uncalled-for rudeness with an
+opportunity of self-vindication."
+
+"You are," said Thorn, sneeringly, "probably careless as to
+the figure your own name will cut in connection with this
+story?"
+
+"Entirely so," said Mr. Carleton, eyeing him steadily.
+
+"You are aware that your character is at our mercy."
+
+A slight bow seemed to leave at their disposal the very small
+portion of his character he conceived to lie in that
+predicament.
+
+"You will expect to hear yourself spoken of in terms that
+befit a man who has cowed out of an engagement he dared not
+fulfil?"
+
+"Of course," said Carleton, haughtily; "by my present refusal
+I give you leave to say all that, and as much more as your
+ingenuity can furnish in the same style; but not in my
+hearing, Sir."
+
+"You can't help yourself," said Thorn, with the same sneer.
+"You have rid yourself of a gentleman's means of protection, —
+what others will you use?"
+
+"I will leave that to the suggestion of the moment — I do not
+doubt it will be found fruitful."
+
+Nobody doubted it who looked just then on his steady sparkling
+eye.
+
+"I consider the championship of yesterday given up, of
+course," Thorn went on in a kind of aside, not looking at
+anybody, and striking his cigar against the guards to clear it
+of ashes; — "the champion has quitted the field, and the
+little princess but lately so walled in with defences must now
+listen to whatever knight and squire may please to address to
+her. Nothing remains to be seen of her defender but his
+spurs."
+
+"They may serve for the heels of whoever is disposed to annoy
+her," said Mr. Carleton. "He will need them."
+
+He left the group with the same air of imperturbable self-
+possession which he had maintained during the conference. But
+presently, Rossitur, who had his private reasons for wishing
+to keep friends with an acquaintance who might be of service
+in more ways than one, followed him, and declared himself to
+have been, in all his nonsense to Fleda, most undesirous of
+giving displeasure to her temporary guardian, and sorry that
+it had fallen out so. He spoke frankly, and Mr. Carleton, with
+the same cool gracefulness with which he had carried on the
+quarrel, waived his displeasure, and admitted the young
+gentleman apparently to stand as before in his favour. Their
+reconciliation was not an hour old when Captain Beebee joined
+them.
+
+"I am sorry I must trouble you with a word more on this
+disagreeable subject, Mr. Carleton," he began, after a
+ceremonious salutation, "My friend, Lieutenant Thorn,
+considers himself greatly outraged by your determination not
+to meet him. He begs to ask, by me, whether it is your purpose
+to abide by it at all hazards?"
+
+"Yes, Sir."
+
+"There is some misunderstanding here, which I greatly regret.
+I hope you will see and excuse the disagreeable necessity I
+am. under of delivering the rest of my friend's message."
+
+"Say on, Sir."
+
+"Mr. Thorn declares that if you deny him the common courtesy
+which no gentleman refuses to another, he will proclaim your
+name with the most opprobrious adjuncts to all the world; and,
+in place of his former regard, he will hold you in the most
+unlimited contempt, which he will have no scruple about
+showing on all occasions."
+
+Mr. Carleton coloured a little, but replied, coolly —
+
+"I have not lived in Mr. Thorn's favour. As to the rest, I
+forgive him! — except indeed, he provoke me to measures for
+which I never will forgive him."
+
+"Measures!" said the Captain.
+
+"I hope not! for my own self-respect would be more grievously
+hurt than his. But there is an unruly spring somewhere about
+my composition, that when it gets wound up, is once in a while
+too much for me."
+
+"But," said Rossitur, "pardon me, — have you no regard to the
+effect of his misrepresentations?"
+
+"You are mistaken, Mr. Rossitur," said Carleton, slightly,
+"this is but the blast of a bellows — not the simoon."
+
+"Then what answer shall I have the honour of carrying back to
+my friend?" said Captain Beebee, after a sort of astounded
+pause of a few minutes.
+
+"None, of my sending, Sir."
+
+Captain Beebee touched his cap, and went back to Mr. Thorn, to
+whom he reported that the young Englishman was thoroughly
+impracticable, and that there was nothing to be gained by
+dealing with him; and the vexed conclusion of Thorn's own
+mind, in the end, was in favour of the wisdom of letting him
+alone.
+
+In a very different mood, saddened and disgusted, Mr. Carleton
+shook himself free of Rossitur, and went and stood alone by
+the guards, looking out upon the sea. He did not at all regret
+his promise to his mother, nor wish to take other ground than
+that he had taken. Both the theory and the practice of
+duelling he heartily despised, and he was not weak enough to
+fancy that he had brought any discredit upon either his sense
+or his honour by refusing to comply with an unwarrantable and
+barbarous custom. And he valued mankind too little to be at
+all concerned about their judgment in the matter. His own
+opinion was at all times enough for him. But the miserable
+folly and puerility of such an altercation as that in which he
+had just been engaged, the poor display of human character,
+the little, low passions which had been called up, even in
+himself, alike destitute of worthy cause and aim, and which
+had, perhaps, but just missed ending in the death of some, and
+the living death of others — it all wrought to bring him back
+to his old wearying of human nature and despondent eyeing of
+the every-where jarrings, confusions, and discordances in the
+moral world. The fresh sea-breeze that swept by the ship,
+roughening the play of the waves, and brushing his own cheek
+with its health-bearing wing, brought with. it a sad feeling
+of contrast. Free, and pure, and steadily directed, it sped on
+its way, to do its work. And, like it, all the rest of the
+natural world, faithful to the law of its Maker was stamped
+with the same signet of perfection. Only man, in all the
+universe, seemed to be at cross purposes with the end of his
+being. Only man, of all animate or inanimate things, lived an
+aimless, fruitless, broken life — or fruitful only in evil.
+How was this? and whence? and when would be the end? and would
+this confused mass of warring elements ever be at peace? would
+this disordered machinery ever work smoothly, without let or
+stop any more, and work out the beautiful. something for which
+sure it was designed? And could any hand but its first Maker
+mend the broken wheel, or supply the spring that was wanting?
+
+Has not the Desire of all nations been often sought of eyes
+that were never taught where to look for Him?
+
+Mr. Carleton was standing still by the guards, looking
+thoughtfully out to windward to meet the fresh breeze, as if
+the spirit of the wilderness were in it, and could teach him
+the truth that the spirit of the world knew not and had not to
+give, when he became sensible of something close beside him;
+and, looking down; met little Fleda's upturned face, with such
+a look of purity, freshness, and peace, it said as plainly as
+ever the dial-plate of a clock that _that_ little piece of
+machinery was working right. There was a sunlight upon it,
+too, of happy confidence and affection. Mr. Carleton's mind
+experienced a sudden revulsion. Fleda might see the reflection
+of her own light in his face as he helped her up to a stand
+where she could be more on a level with him, putting his arm
+round her to guard against any sudden roll of the ship.
+
+"What makes you wear such a happy face?" said he, with an
+expression half envious, half regretful.
+
+"I don't know!" said Fleda, innocently. "You I suppose."
+
+He looked as bright as she did, for a minute.
+
+"Were you ever angry, Elfie?"
+
+"I don't know " said Fleda. " I don't know but I have."
+
+He smiled to see that, although evidently her memory could not
+bring the charge, her modesty would not deny it.
+
+"Were you not angry yesterday with your cousin and that
+unmannerly friend of his?"
+
+"No," said Fleda, a shade crossing her face — "I was not _angry_
+—"
+
+And as she spoke, her hand was softly put upon Mr. Carleton's,
+as if partly in the fear of what might have grown out of _his_
+anger, and partly in thankfulness to him that he had rendered
+it unnecessary. There was a singular delicate timidity and
+tenderness in the action.
+
+"I wish I had your secret, Elfie," said Mr. Carleton, looking
+wistfully into the clear eyes that met his.
+
+"What secret?" said Fleda, smiling.
+
+"You say one can always do right — is that the reason you are
+happy? — because you follow that out?"
+
+"No," said Fleda, seriously. "But I think it is a great deal
+pleasanter."
+
+"I have no doubt at all of that — neither, I dare say, have
+the rest of the world; only, somehow, when it comes to the
+point, they find it is easier to do wrong. What's your secret,
+Elfie?"
+
+"I haven't any secret," said Fleda. But presently seeming to
+bethink herself, she added gently and gravely —
+
+"Aunt Miriam says —
+
+"What?"
+
+"She says that when we love Jesus Christ, it is easy to please
+him."
+
+"And do you love him, Elfie?" Mr. Carleton asked, after a
+minute.
+
+Her answer was a very quiet and sober "yes."
+
+He doubted still whether she were not unconsciously using a
+form of speech, the spirit of which she did not quite realize.
+That one might "not see and yet believe," he could understand;
+but for _affection_ to go forth towards an unseen object was
+another matter. His question was grave and acute.
+
+"By what do you judge that you do, Elfie?"
+
+"Why, Mr. Carleton," said Fleda, with an instant look of
+appeal, "who else _should_ I love?"
+
+"If not him" — her eye and her voice made sufficiently plain.
+Mr. Carleton was obliged to confess to himself that she spoke
+intelligently, with deeper intelligence than he could follow.
+He asked no more questions. Yet truth shines by its own light,
+like the sun. He had not perfectly comprehended her answers,
+but they struck him as something that deserved to be
+understood, and he resolved to make the truth of them his own.
+
+The rest of the voyage was perfectly quiet. Following the
+earnest advice of his friend, Captain Beebee, Thorn had given
+up trying to push Mr. Carleton to extremity; who, on his part,
+did not seem conscious of Thorn's existence.
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+"There the most daintie paradise on ground
+Itselfe doth offer to his sober eye —
+— The painted flowers, the trees upshooting hye,
+The dales for shade, the hills for breathing space,
+The trembling groves, the christall running by;
+And that, which all faire works doth most aggrace,
+The art which all that wrought appeared in no place."
+FAERY QUEENE.
+
+
+They had taken ship for London, as Mr. and Mrs. Carleton
+wished to visit home for a day or two before going on to
+Paris. So leaving Charlton to carry news of them to the French
+capital, so soon as he could persuade himself to leave the
+English one, they with little Fleda in company posted down to
+Carleton, in — shire.
+
+It was a time of great delight to Fleda, that is, as soon as
+Mr. Carleton had made her feel at home in England; and,
+somehow, he had contrived to do that, and to scatter some
+clouds of remembrance that seemed to gather about her, before
+they had reached the end of their first day's journey. To be
+out of the ship was itself a comfort, and to be along with
+kind friends was much more. With great joy Fleda put her
+cousin Charlton and Mr. Thorn at once out of sight and out of
+mind, and gave herself with even more than her usual happy
+readiness, to everything the way and the end of the way had
+for her. Those days were to be painted days in Fleda's memory.
+
+She thought Carleton was a very odd place — that is, the
+house, not the village, which went by the same name. If the
+manner of her two companions had not been such as to put her
+entirely at her ease, she would have felt strange and shy. As
+it was, she felt half afraid of losing herself in the house;
+to Fleda's unaccustomed eyes, it was a labyrinth of halls and
+staircases, set with the most unaccountable number and variety
+of rooms — old and new, quaint and comfortable, gloomy and
+magnificent; some with stern old-fashioned massiveness of
+style and garniture, others absolutely bewitching (to Fleda's
+eyes and understanding) in the rich beauty and luxuriousness
+of their arrangements. Mr. Carleton's own particular haunts
+were of these; his private room (the little library as it was
+called), the library, and the music-room, which was, indeed,
+rather a gallery of the fine arts, so many treasures of art
+were gathered there. To an older and nice-judging person,
+these rooms would have given no slight indications of their
+owner's mind — it had been at work on every corner of them. No
+particular fashion had been followed in anything, nor any
+model consulted, but that which fancy had built to the mind's
+order. The wealth of years had drawn together an enormous
+assemblage of matters, great and small, every one of which was
+fitted either to excite fancy, or suggest thought, or to
+satisfy the eye by its nice adaptation. And if pride had had
+the ordering of them, all these might have been but a costly
+museum, a literary alphabet that its possessor could not put
+together, an ungainly confession of ignorance on the part of
+the intellect that could do nothing with this rich heap of
+material. But pride was not the genius of the place. A most
+refined taste and curious fastidiousness had arranged and
+harmonized all the heterogeneous items; the mental
+hieroglyphics had been ordered by one to whom the reading of
+them was no mystery. Nothing struck a stranger at first
+entering, except the very rich effect and faultless air of the
+whole, and perhaps the delicious facilities for every kind of
+intellectual cultivation which appeared on every hand —
+facilities which, it must be allowed, do seem in general not
+to facilitate the work they are meant to speed. In this case,
+however, it was different. The mind that wanted them had
+brought them together to satisfy its own craving.
+
+These rooms were Guy's peculiar domain. In other parts of the
+house, where his mother reigned conjointly with him, their
+joint tastes had struck out another style of adornment, which
+might be called a style of superb elegance. Not superb alone,
+for taste had not permitted so heavy a characteristic to be
+predominant; not merely elegant, for the fineness of all the
+details would warrant an ampler word. A larger part of the
+house than both these together had been left as generations
+past had left it, in various stages of refinement, comfort,
+and comeliness. It was a day or two before Fleda found out
+that it was all one; she thought at first that it was a
+collection of several houses that had somehow inexplicably sat
+down there with their backs to each other; it was so
+straggling and irregular a pile of building, covering so much
+ground, and looking so very unlike the different parts to each
+other. One portion was quite old; the other parts ranged
+variously between the present and the far past. After she once
+understood this, it was a piece of delicious wonderment, and
+musing, and great admiration to Fleda; she never grew weary of
+wandering round it, and thinking about it — for, from a child,
+fanciful meditation was one of her delights. Within doors, she
+best liked Mr. Carleton's favourite rooms. Their rich
+colouring and moderated light, and endless stores of beauty
+and curiosity, made them a place of fascination.
+
+Out of doors she found still more to delight her. Morning,
+noon, and night, she might be seen near the house gazing,
+taking in pictures of natural beauty, which were for ever
+after to hang in Fleda's memory as standards of excellence in
+that sort. Nature's hand had been very kind to the place,
+moulding the ground in beautiful style. Art had made happy use
+of the advantage thus given her; and now what appeared was
+neither art nor nature, but a perfection that can only spring
+from the hands of both. Fleda's eyes were bewitched. She stood
+watching the rolling slopes of green turf, so soft and lovely,
+and the magnificent trees, that had kept their ground for
+ages, and seen generations rise and fall before their growing
+strength and grandeur. They were scattered here and there on
+the lawn; and further back stood on the heights, and stretched
+along the ridges of the undulating ground, the outposts of a
+wood of the same growth still beyond them.
+
+"How do you like it, Elfie?" Mr. Carleton asked her, the
+evening of the first day, as he saw her for a length of time
+looking out gravely and intently from before the hall door.
+
+"I think it is beautiful!" said Fleda. "The ground is a great
+deal smoother here than it was at home."
+
+"I'll take you to ride to-morrow," said he, smiling, "and show
+you rough ground enough."
+
+"As you did when we came from Montepoole?" said Fleda, rather
+eagerly.
+
+"Would you like that!"
+
+"Yes, very much — if _you_ would like it, Mr. Carleton.
+
+"Very well," said he. "So it shall be."
+
+And not a day passed during their short stay that he did not
+give her one of those rides. He showed her rough ground,
+according to his promise, but Fleda still thought it did not
+look much like the mountains "at home." And, indeed, unsightly
+roughness had been skilfully covered or removed; and though a
+large part of the park, which was a very extensive one, was
+wildly broken, and had apparently been left as nature left it,
+the hand of taste had been there; and many an unsuspected
+touch, instead of hindering, had heightened both the wild and
+the beautiful character. Landscape gardening had long been a
+great hobby of its owner.
+
+"How far does your ground come, Mr. Carleton?" inquired Fleda
+on one of these rides, when they had travelled a good distance
+from home.
+
+"Further than you can see, Elfie."
+
+"Further than I can see! — It must be a very large farm."
+
+"This is not a farm where we are now," said he; "did you mean
+that? This is the park; we are almost at the edge of it on
+this side."
+
+"What is the difference between a farm and a park?" said
+Fleda.
+
+"The grounds of a farm are tilled for profit; a park is an
+uncultivated enclosure, kept merely for men and women and deer
+to take pleasure in."
+
+"_I_ have taken a good deal of pleasure in it," said Fleda. "And
+have you a farm besides, Mr. Carleton?"
+
+"A good many, Elfie."
+
+Fleda looked surprised; and then remarked, that it must be
+very nice to have such a beautiful piece of ground just for
+pleasure.
+
+She enjoyed it to the full during the few days she was there.
+And one thing more, the grand piano in the music-room. The
+first evening of their arrival she was drawn by the far-off
+sounds, and Mrs. Carleton seeing it, went immediately to the
+music-room with her. The room had no light, except from the
+moonbeams that stole in through two glass doors which opened
+upon a particularly private and cherished part of the grounds,
+in summer-time full of flowers; for, in the very refinement of
+luxury, delights had been crowded about this favourite
+apartment. Mr. Carleton was at the instrument, playing. Fleda
+sat down quietly in one corner, and listened — in a rapture of
+pleasure she had hardly ever known from any like source. She
+did not think it could be greater; till, after a time, in a
+pause of the music, Mrs. Carleton asked her son to sing a
+particular ballad; and that one was followed by two or three
+more. Fleda left her corner — she could not contain herself,
+and, favoured by the darkness, came forward; and stood quite
+near; and if the performer had had light to see by, he would
+have been gratified with the tribute paid to his power by the
+unfeigned tears that ran down her cheeks. This pleasure was
+also repeated from evening to evening.
+
+"Do you know we set off for Paris to-morrow?" said Mrs.
+Carleton the last evening of their stay, as Fleda came up to
+the door after a prolonged ramble in the park, leaving Mr.
+Carleton with one or two gardeners at a little distance.
+
+"Yes!" said Fleda, with a sigh that was more than half
+audible.
+
+"Are you sorry?" said Mrs. Carleton, smiling.
+
+"I cannot be glad," said Fleda, giving a sober look over the
+lawn.
+
+"Then you like Carleton?"
+
+"Very much! — it is a prettier place than Queechy."
+
+"But we shall have you here again, dear Fleda," said Mrs.
+Carleton, restraining her smile at this, to her, very moderate
+compliment.
+
+"Perhaps not," said Fleda quietly. "Mr. Carleton said," she
+added, a minute after, with more animation, "that a park was a
+place for men and women and deer to take pleasure in. I am
+sure it is for children too!"
+
+"Did you have a pleasant ride this morning?"
+
+"Oh, very! — I always do. There isn't anything I like so
+well."
+
+"What, as to ride on horseback with Guy?" said Mrs. Carleton,
+looking exceedingly benignant.
+
+"Yes — unless —"
+
+"Unless what, my dear Fleda?"
+
+"Unless, perhaps — I don't know, — I was going to say, unless
+perhaps to hear him sing."
+
+Mrs. Carleton's delight was unequivocally expressed; and she
+promised Fleda that she should have both rides and songs there
+in plenty another time — a promise upon which Fleda built no
+trust at all.
+
+The short journey to Paris was soon made. The next morning
+Mrs. Carleton, making an excuse of her fatigue, left Guy to
+end the care he had rather taken upon himself, by delivering
+his little charge into the hands of her friends. So they drove
+to the Hτtel —, Rue —, where Mr. Rossitur had apartments in
+very handsome style. They found him alone in the saloon.
+
+"Ha! Carleton — come back again. Just in time — very glad to
+see you. And who is this? — Ah, another little daughter for
+aunt Lucy."
+
+Mr. Rossitur, who gave them this greeting very cordially, was
+rather a fine-looking man — decidedly agreeable both in person
+and manner. Fleda was pleasantly disappointed after what her
+grandfather had led her to expect. There might be something of
+sternness in his expression; people gave him credit for a
+peremptory, not to say imperious, temper; but, if truly, it
+could not often meet with opposition. The sense and
+gentlemanly character which marked his face and bearing had an
+air of smooth politeness which seemed habitual. There was no
+want of kindness nor even of tenderness in the way he drew
+Fleda within his arm and held her there, while he went on
+talking to Mr. Carleton — now and then stooping his face to
+look in at her bonnet and kiss her, which was his only
+welcome. He said nothing to her after his first question.
+
+He was too busy talking to Guy. He seemed to have a great deal
+to tell him. There was this for him to see, and that for him
+to hear, and charming new things which had been done or doing
+since Mr. Carleton left Paris. The impression upon Fleda's
+mind after listening awhile was, that the French capital was a
+great gallery of the fine arts, with a magnified likeness of
+Mr. Carleton's music-room at one end of' it. She thought her
+uncle must be most extraordinarily fond of pictures and works
+of art in general, and must have a great love for seeing
+company, and hearing people sing. This latter taste, Fleda was
+disposed to allow, might be a very reasonable one. Mr.
+Carleton, she observed, seemed much more cool on the whole
+subject. But, meanwhile, where was aunt Lucy? — and had Mr.
+Rossitur forgotten the little armful that he held so fast and
+so perseveringly? No, for here was another kiss, and another
+look into her face, so kind, that Fleda gave him a piece of
+her heart from that time.
+
+"Hugh!" said Mr. Rossitur suddenly to somebody she had not
+seen before — "Hugh! here is your little cousin. Take her off
+to your mother."
+
+A child came forward at this bidding, hardly larger than
+herself. He was a slender, graceful little figure, with
+nothing of the boy in his face or manner; delicate as a girl,
+and with something almost melancholy in the gentle sweetness
+of his countenance. Fleda's confidence was given to it on the
+instant, which had not been the case with anything in her
+uncle, and she yielded without reluctance the hand he took to
+obey his father's command. Before two steps had been taken,
+however, she suddenly broke away from him, and springing to
+Mr. Carleton's side, silently laid her hand in his. She made
+no answer whatever to a light word or two of kindness that he
+spoke just for her ear. She listened with downcast eyes and a
+lip that he saw was too unsteady to be trusted, and then after
+a moment more, without looking, pulled away her hand, and
+followed her cousin. Hugh did not once get a sight of her face
+on the way to his mother's room, but owing to her exceeding
+efforts; and quiet generalship, he never guessed the cause.
+There was nothing in her face to raise suspicion, when he
+reached the door, and opening it, announced her with —
+
+"Mother, here's cousin Fleda come."
+
+Fleda had seen her aunt before, though several years back, and
+not long enough to get acquainted with her. But no matter — it
+was her mother's sister sitting there, whose face gave her so
+lovely a welcome at that speech of Hugh's, whose arms were
+stretched out so eagerly towards her: and springing to them as
+to a very haven of rest, Fleda wept on her bosom those
+delicious tears that are only shed where the heart is at home.
+And even before they were dried the ties were knit that bound
+her to her new sphere.
+
+"Who came with you, dear Fleda?" said Mrs. Rossitur then. "Is
+Mrs. Carleton here? I must go and thank her for bringing you
+to me."
+
+"_Mr._ Carleton is here." said Hugh.
+
+"I must go and thank him, then. Jump down, dear Fleda — I'll
+be back in a minute."
+
+Fleda got off her lap, and stood looking in a kind of
+enchanted maze, while her aunt hastily arranged her hair at
+the glass; — looking, while fancy and memory were making
+strong the net in which her heart was caught. She was trying
+to see something of her mother in one who had shared her blood
+and her affection so nearly. A miniature of that mother was
+left to Fleda, and she had studied it till she could hardly
+persuade herself that she had not some recollection of the
+original; and now she thought she caught a precious shadow of
+something like it in her aunt Lucy. Not in those pretty bright
+eyes which had looked through kind tears so lovingly upon her,
+but in the graceful ringlets about the temples, the delicate
+contour of the face, and a something — Fleda could only have
+said it was "a something" — about the mouth when at rest, the
+shadow of her mother's image rejoiced her heart. Rather that
+faint shadow of the loved lost one for little Fleda, than any
+other form or combination of beauty on earth. As she stood
+fascinated, watching the movements of her aunt's light figure,
+Fleda drew a long breath with which went off the whole burden
+of doubt and anxiety that had lain upon her mind ever since
+the journey began. She had not known it was there, but she
+felt it go, yet even when that sigh of relief was breathed,
+and while fancy and feeling were weaving their rich embroidery
+into the very tissue of Fleda's happiness, most persons would
+have seen merely that the child looked very sober, and have
+thought, probably, that she felt very tired and strange.
+Perhaps Mrs. Rossitur thought so, for, again tenderly kissing
+her before she left the room, she told Hugh to take off her
+things and make her feel at home.
+
+Hugh upon this made Fleda sit down, and proceeded to untie her
+tippet-strings and take off her coat, with an air of delicate
+tenderness which showed he had great pleasure in his task, and
+which made Fleda take a good deal of pleasure in it too.
+
+"Are you tired, cousin Fleda?" said he, gently.
+
+"No," said Fleda — "O no!"
+
+"Charlton said you were tired on board ship."
+
+"I wasn't tired," said Fleda, in not a little surprise; "I
+liked it very much."
+
+"Then maybe I mistook. I know Charlton said _he_ was tired, and
+I thought he said you were too. You know my brother Charlton,
+don't you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+" Are you glad to come to Paris?"
+
+"I am glad, now," said Fleda. "I wasn't glad before."
+
+"I am very glad," said Hugh. "I think you will like it. We
+didn't know you were coming till two or three days ago, when
+Charlton got here. Do you like to take walks?"
+
+"Yes, very much."
+
+"Father and mother will take us delightful walks in the
+Tuileries — the gardens, you know — and the Champs Elysιes,
+and Versailles, and the Boulevards, and ever so many places,
+and it will be a great deal pleasanter now you are here. Do
+you know French?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then you'll have to learn. I'll help you if you will let me.
+It is very easy. Did you get my last letter?"
+
+"I don't know," said Fleda; "the last one I had came with one
+of aunt Lucy's telling me about Mrs. Carleton — I got it just
+before —"
+
+Alas! before what? Fleda suddenly remembered, and was stopped
+short. From all the strange scenes and interests which lately
+had whirled her along, her spirit leapt back with strong
+yearning recollection to her old home and her old ties; and
+such a rain of tears witnessed the dearness of what she had
+lost, and the tenderness of the memory that had let them slip
+for a moment, that Hugh was as much distressed as startled.
+With great tenderness and touching delicacy, he tried to
+soothe her, and at the same time, though guessing, to find out
+what was the matter, lest he should make a mistake.
+
+"Just before what?" said he, laying his hand caressingly on
+his little cousin's shoulder. "Don't grieve so, dear Fleda!"
+
+"It was only just before grandpa died," said Fleda.
+
+Hugh had known of that before, though like her he had
+forgotten it for a moment. A little while his feeling was too
+strong to permit any further attempt at condolence; but as he
+saw Fleda grow quiet, he took courage to speak again.
+
+"Was he a good man?" he asked softly.
+
+"O yes!"
+
+"Then," said Hugh, "you know he is happy now, Fleda. If he
+loved Jesus Christ, he is gone to be with him. That ought to
+make you glad as well as sorry."
+
+Fleda looked up, though tears were streaming yet, to give that
+full happy answer of the eye that no words could do. This was
+consolation, and sympathy. The two children had a perfect
+understanding of each other from that time forward, — a
+fellowship that never knew a break nor a weakening.
+
+Mrs. Rossitur found on her return that Hugh had obeyed her
+charge to the letter. He had made Fleda feel at home. They
+were sitting close together, Hugh's hand affectionately
+clasping hers, and he was holding forth on some subject with a
+gracious politeness that many of his elders might have copied,
+while Fleda listened and assented with entire satisfaction.
+The rest of the morning she passed in her aunt's arms,
+drinking draughts of pleasure from those dear bright eyes,
+taking in the balm of gentlest words of love and soft kisses,
+every one of which was felt at the bottom of Fleda's heart,
+and the pleasure of talking over her young sorrows with one
+who could feel them all, and answer with tears as well as
+words of sympathy. And Hugh stood by the while, looking at his
+little orphan cousin as if she might have dropped from the
+clouds into his mother's lap, a rare jewel or delicate flower,
+but much more delicate and precious than they or any other
+possible gift.
+
+Hugh and Fleda dined alone: for, as he informed her, his
+father never would have children at the dinner-table when he
+had company, and Mr. and Mrs. Carleton, and other people were
+to be there to-day. Fleda made no remark on the subject, by
+word or look, but she thought none the less. She thought it
+was a very mean fashion. _She_ not come to the table when
+strangers were there! And who would enjoy them more? When Mr.
+Rossitur and Mr. Carleton had dined with her grandfather, had
+she not taken as much pleasure in their society, and in the
+whole thing, as any other one of the party? And at Carleton
+had she not several times dined with a tableful, and been
+unspeakably amused to watch the different manners and
+characteristics of people who were strange to her? However,
+Mr. Rossitur had other notions. So she and Hugh had their
+dinner in aunt Lucy's dressing-room by themselves; and a very
+nice dinner it was, Fleda thought, and Rosaline, Mrs.
+Rossitur's French maid, was well affected and took admirable
+care of them. Indeed, before the close of the day, Rosaline
+privately informed her mistress, "qu'elle serait entκtιe
+sϋrement de cet enfant dans trois jours;" and "que son regard
+vraiment lui serrait le coeur." And Hugh was excellent
+company, failing all other, and did the honours of the table
+with the utmost thoughtfulness, and amused Fleda the whole
+time with accounts of Paris, and what they would do, and what
+she should see; and how his sister Marion was at school at a
+convent, and what kind of a place a convent was; and how he
+himself always stayed at home and learned of his mother and
+his father; "or by himself," he said, "just as it happened,"
+and he hoped they would keep Fleda at home too. So Fleda hoped
+exceedingly, but this stern rule about the dining had made her
+feel a little shy of her uncle; she thought perhaps he was not
+kind and indulgent to children, like her aunt Lucy, and if he
+said she must go to a convent, she would not dare to ask him
+to let her stay. The next time she saw him, however, she was
+obliged to change her opinion again, in part; for he was very
+kind and indulgent, both to her and Hugh, and, more than that,
+he was very amusing. He showed her pictures, and told her new
+and interesting things, and finding that she listened eagerly,
+he seemed pleased to prolong her pleasure, even at the expense
+of a good deal of his own time.
+
+Mr. Rossitur was a man of cultivated mind and very refined and
+fastidious taste. He lived for the pleasures of art and
+literature, and the society where these are valued. For this,
+and not without some secret love of display, he lived in
+Paris; not extravagant in his pleasures, nor silly in his
+ostentation, but leading, like a gentleman, as worthy and
+rational a life as a man can lead who lives only to himself,
+with no further thought than to enjoy the passing hours. Mr.
+Rossitur enjoyed them elegantly, and, for a man of the world,
+moderately; bestowing, however, few of those precious hours
+upon his children. It was his maxim, that they should be kept
+out of the way whenever their presence might by any chance
+interfere with the amusements of their elders; and this maxim,
+a good one certainly in some hands, was, in his reading of it,
+a very broad one. Still, when he did take time to give his
+family, he was a delightful companion to those of them who
+could understand him. If they showed no taste for sensible
+pleasure, he had no patience with them, nor desire of their
+company. Report had done him no wrong in giving him a stern
+temper; but this almost never came out in actual exercise;
+Fleda knew it only from in occasional hint now and then, and
+by her childish intuitive reading of the lines it had drawn
+round the mouth and brow. It had no disagreeable bearing on
+his everyday life and manner; and the quiet fact probably
+served but to heighten the love and reverence in which his
+family held him very high.
+
+Mr. Rossitur did once moot the question, whether Fleda should
+not join Marion at her convent. But his wife looked very
+grave, and said that she was too tender and delicate a little
+thing to be trusted to the hands of strangers. Hugh pleaded,
+and argued that she might share all his lessons; and Fleda's
+own face pleaded more powerfully. There was something
+appealing in its extreme delicacy and purity which seemed to
+call for shelter and protection from every rough breath of the
+world; and Mr. Rossitur was easily persuaded to let her remain
+in the stronghold of home. Hugh had never quitted it. Neither
+father nor mother ever thought of such a thing. He was the
+cherished idol of the whole family. Always a delicate child,
+always blameless in life and behaviour, his loveliness of mind
+and person, his affectionateness, the winning sweetness that
+was about him like a halo, and the slight tenure by which they
+seemed to hold him, had wrought to bind the hearts of father
+and mother to this child, as it were, with the very life-
+strings of both. Not his mother was more gentle with Hugh than
+his much sterner father. And now little Fleda, sharing
+somewhat of Hugh's peculiar claims upon their tenderness, and
+adding another of her own, was admitted, not to the same place
+in their hearts — that could not be — but, to their honour be
+it spoken, to the same place in all outward show of thought
+and feeling. Hugh had nothing that Fleda did not have, even to
+the time, care, and caresses of his parents. And not Hugh
+rendered them a more faithful return of devoted affection.
+
+Once made easy on the question of school, which was never
+seriously stirred again, Fleda's life became very happy. It
+was easy to make her happy; affection and sympathy would have
+done it almost anywhere; but in Paris she had much more; and
+after time had softened the sorrow she brought with her, no
+bird ever found existence less of a burden, nor sang more
+light-heartedly along its life. In her aunt she had all but
+the name of a mother; in her uncle with kindness and
+affection, she had amusement, interest, and improvement; in
+Hugh, everything — love, confidence, sympathy, society, help;
+their tastes, opinions, pursuits, went hand in hand. The two
+children were always together. Fleda's spirits were brighter
+than Hugh's, and her intellectual tastes stronger and more
+universal. That might be as much from difference of physical
+as of mental constitution. Hugh's temperament led him somewhat
+to melancholy, and to those studies and pleasures which best
+side with subdued feeling and delicate nerves. Fleda's nervous
+system was of the finest too, but, in short, she was as like a
+bird as possible. Perfect health, which yet a slight thing was
+enough to shake to the foundation; joyous spirits, which a
+look could quell; happy energies, which a harsh hand might
+easily crush for ever. Well for little Fleda that so tender a
+plant was permitted to unfold in so nicely tempered an
+atmosphere. A cold wind would soon have killed it. Besides all
+this, there were charming studies to be gone through every day
+with Hugh — some for aunt Lucy to hear, some for masters and
+mistresses. There were amusing walks in the Boulevards, and
+delicious pleasure-taking in the gardens of Paris, and a new
+world of people, and manners, and things, and histories, for
+the little American. And despite her early rustic experience,
+Fleda had from nature an indefeasible taste for the elegances
+of life; it suited her well, to see all about her, in dress,
+in furniture, in various appliances, as commodious and
+tasteful as wealth and refinement could contrive it; and she
+very soon knew what was right in each kind. There were, now
+and then, most gleeful excursions in the environs of Paris,
+when she and Hugh found in earth and air a world of delights
+more than they could tell anybody but each other. And at home,
+what peaceful times they two had — what endless conversations,
+discussions, schemes, air journeys of memory and fancy,
+backward and forward! — what sociable dinners alone, and
+delightful evenings with Mr. and Mrs. Rossitur in the saloon,
+when nobody, or only a very few people, were there, how
+pleasantly in those evenings the foundations were laid of a
+strong and enduring love for the works of art, painted,
+sculptured, or engraven; what a multitude of curious and
+excellent bits of knowledge Fleda's ears picked up from the
+talk of different people. They were capital ears; what they
+caught they never let fall. In the course of the year her
+gleanings amounted to more than many another person's harvest.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+"Heav'n bless thee;
+Thou hast the sweetest face I ever look'd on."
+SHAKESPEARE.
+
+
+One of the greatest of Fleda's pleasures was when Mr. Carleton
+came to take her out with him. He did that often. Fleda only
+wished he would have taken Hugh too, but somehow he never did.
+Nothing but that was wanting to make the pleasure of those
+times perfect. Knowing that she saw the _common things_ in other
+company, Guy was at the pains to vary the amusement when she
+went with him. Instead of going to Versailles or St. Cloud, he
+would take her long delightful drives into the country, and
+show her some old or interesting place that nobody else went
+to see. Often there was a history belonging to the spot, which
+Fleda listened to with the delight of eye and fancy at once.
+In the city, where they more frequently walked, still he
+showed her what she would perhaps have seen under no other
+guidance. He made it his business to give her pleasure; and
+understanding the inquisitive active little spirit he had to
+do with, he went where his own tastes would hardly have led
+him. The Quai aux Fleurs was often visited, but also the Halle
+aux Blιs, the great Halle aux Vins, the Jardin des Plantes,
+and the Marchι des Innocens. Guy even took the trouble, more
+for her sake than his own, to go to the latter place once very
+early in the morning, when the market bell had not two hours
+sounded, while the interest and prettiness of the scene were
+yet in their full life. Hugh was in company this time, and the
+delight of both children was beyond words, as it would have
+been beyond anybody's patience, that had not a strong motive
+to back it. They never discovered that Mr. Carleton was in a
+hurry, as indeed he was not. They bargained for fruit with any
+number of people, upon all sorts of inducements, and to an
+extent of which they had no competent notion; but Hugh had his
+mother's purse, and Fleda was skilfully commissioned to
+purchase what she pleased for Mrs. Carleton. Verily the two
+children that morning bought pleasure, not peaches. Fancy and
+Benevolence held the purse-strings, and Economy did not even
+look on. They revelled too, Fleda especially, amidst the
+bright pictures of the odd, the new, and the picturesque, and
+the varieties of character and incident that were displayed
+around them, even till the country people began to go away,
+and the scene to lose its charm. It never lost it in memory;
+and many a time in after life, Hugh and Fleda recurred to
+something that was seen or done "that morning when we bought
+fruit at the Innocens."
+
+Besides these scenes of everyday life, which interested and
+amused Fleda to the last degree, Mr. Carleton showed her many
+an obscure part of Paris, where deeds of daring and of blood
+had been, and thrilled the little listener's ear with
+histories of the past. He judged her rightly. She would rather
+at any time have gone to walk with him than with anybody else
+to see any show that could be devised. His object in all this
+was, in the first place, to give her pleasure; and, in the
+second place, to draw out her mind into free communion with
+his own, which he knew could only be done by talking sense to
+her. He succeeded as he wished. Lost in the interest of the
+scenes he presented to her eye and mind, she forgot everything
+else, and showed him herself — precisely what he wanted to
+see.
+
+It was strange that a young man, an admired man of fashion, a
+flattered favourite of the gay and great world, and,
+furthermore, a reserved and proud repeller of almost all who
+sought his intimacy, should seek and delight in the society of
+a little child. His mother would have wondered if she had
+known it. Mrs. Rossitur did marvel that even Fleda should have
+so won upon the cold and haughty young Englishman; and her
+husband said he probably chose to have Fleda with him because
+he could make up his mind to like nobody else; a remark which
+perhaps arose from the utter failure of every attempt to draw
+him and Charlton nearer together. But Mr. Rossitur was only
+half right. The reason lay deeper.
+
+Mr. Carleton had admitted the truth of Christianity, upon what
+he considered sufficient grounds, and would now have steadily
+fought for it, as he would for anything else that he believed
+to be truth. But there he stopped. He had not discovered, nor
+tried to discover, whether the truth of Christianity imposed
+any obligation upon him. He had cast off his unbelief, and
+looked upon it now as a singular folly. But his belief was
+almost as vague and as fruitless as his infidelity had been.
+Perhaps, a little, his bitter dissatisfaction with the world
+and human things, or rather his despondent view of them, was
+mitigated. If there was, as he now held, a Supreme Orderer of
+events, it might be, and it was rational to suppose there
+would be, in the issues of time, an entire change wrought in
+the disordered and dishonoured state of his handiwork. There
+might be a remedial system somewhere — nay, it might be in the
+Bible, — he meant to look some day. But that _he_ had anything
+to do with that change; that the working of the remedial
+system called for hands; that _his_ had any charge in the
+matter, had never entered into his imagination nor stirred his
+conscience. He was living his old life at Paris, with his old
+dissatisfaction — perhaps a trifle less bitter. He was seeking
+pleasure in whatever art, learning, literature, refinement,
+and luxury can do for a man who has them all at command; but
+there was something within him that spurned this ignoble
+existence, and called for higher aims and worthier exertion.
+He was not vicious, he never had been vicious, or, as somebody
+else said, his vices were all refined vices; but a life of
+mere self-indulgence, although pursued without self-
+satisfaction, is constantly lowering the standard and
+weakening the forces of virtue — lessening the whole man. He
+felt it so; and to leave his ordinary scenes and occupations,
+and lose a morning with little Fleda, was a freshening of his
+better nature; it was like breathing pure air after the fever-
+heat of a sick-room; it was like hearing the birds sing after
+the meaningless jabber of Bedlam. Mr. Carleton, indeed, did
+not put the matter quite so strongly to himself. He called
+Fleda his good angel. He did not exactly know that the office
+this good angel performed was simply to hold a candle to his
+conscience; for conscience was not by any means dead in him,
+it only wanted light to see by. When he turned from the gay
+and corrupt world in which he lived, where the changes were
+rung incessantly upon self-interest, falsehood, pride, and the
+various, more or less refined forms of sensuality; and when he
+looked upon that pure bright little face, so free from
+selfishness, those clear eyes so innocent of evil, the
+peaceful brow under which a thought of double-dealing had
+never hid, Mr. Carleton felt himself in a healthier region.
+Here, as elsewhere, he honoured and loved the image of truth,
+in the broad sense of truth, — that which suits the perfect
+standard of right. But his pleasure in this case was
+invariably mixed with a slight feeling of self-reproach; and
+it was this hardly recognised stir of his better nature, this
+clearing of his mental eyesight under the light of a bright
+example, that made him call the little torch-bearer his good
+angel. If this were truth, this purity, uprightness, and
+singleness of mind, as conscience said it was, where was he?
+how far wandering from his beloved idol?
+
+One other feeling saddened the pleasure he had in her society,
+— a belief that the ground of it could not last. "If she could
+grow up so!" he said to himself. "But it is impossible. A very
+few years, and all that clear sunshine of the mind will be
+overcast, — there is not a cloud now!"
+
+Under the working of these thoughts, Mr. Carleton sometimes
+forgot to talk to his little charge, and would walk for a
+length of way by her side, wrapped up in sombre musings. Fleda
+never disturbed him then, but waited contentedly and patiently
+for him to come out of them, with her old feeling, wondering
+what he could be thinking of, and wishing he were as happy as
+she. But he never left her very long. He was sure to wave his
+own humour and give her all the graceful kind attention which
+nobody else could bestow so well. Nobody understood and
+appreciated it better than Fleda.
+
+One day, some months after they had been in Paris, they were
+sitting in the Place de la Concorde. Mr. Carleton was in one
+of these thinking fits. He had been giving Fleda a long detail
+of the scenes that had taken place in that spot; a history of
+it from the time when it had lain an unsightly waste, — such a
+graphic lively account as he knew well how to give. The
+absorbed interest with which she had lost everything else in
+what he was saying, had given him at once reward and motive
+enough as he went on. Standing by his side, with one little
+hand confidingly resting on his knee, she gazed alternately
+into his face and towards the broad highly-adorned square by
+the side of which they had placed themselves, and where it was
+hard to realize that the ground had once been soaked in blood,
+while madness and death filled the air; and her changing face,
+like a mirror, gave him back the reflection of the times he
+held up to her view. And still standing there in the same
+attitude after he had done, she had been looking out towards
+the square in a fit of deep meditation. Mr. Carleton had
+forgotten her for a while in his own thoughts, and then the
+sight of the little gloved hand upon his knee brought him back
+again.
+
+"What are you musing about, Elfie, dear?" he said, cheerfully,
+taking the hand in one of his.
+
+Fleda gave a swift glance into his face, as if to see whether
+it would be safe for her to answer his question, — a kind of
+exploring look, in which her eyes often acted as scouts for
+her tongue. Those she met pledged their faith for her
+security; yet Fleda's look went back to the square and then
+again to his face in silence.
+
+"How do you like living in Paris?" said he. "You should know
+by this time."
+
+"I like it very much indeed," said Fleda.
+
+"I thought you would."
+
+"I like Queechy better, though," she went on, gravely, her
+eyes turning again to the square.
+
+"Like Queechy better! Were you thinking of Queechy just now
+when I spoke to you?"
+
+"O no!" — with a smile.
+
+"Were you going over all those horrors I have been distressing
+you with?"
+
+"No," said Fleda; "I was thinking of them, a while ago."
+
+"What then?" said he pleasantly. "You were looking so sober, I
+should like to know how near your thoughts were to mine."
+
+"I was thinking," said Fleda, gravely, and a little
+unwillingly, but Guy's manner was not to be withstood — "I was
+wishing I could be like the disciple whom Jesus loved."
+
+Mr. Carleton let her see none of the surprise he felt at this
+answer.
+
+"Was there one more loved than the rest?"
+
+"Yes — the Bible calls him 'the disciple whom Jesus loved.'
+That was John."
+
+"Why was he preferred above the others?"
+
+"I don't know. I suppose he was more gentle and good than the
+others, and loved Jesus more. I think Aunt Miriam said so when
+I asked her once."
+
+Mr. Carleton thought Fleda had not far to seek for the
+fulfilment of her wish.
+
+"But how in the world, Elfie, did you work round to this
+gentle and good disciple from those scenes of blood you set
+out with?"
+
+"Why," said Elfie, "I was thinking how unhappy and bad people
+are, especially people here, I think; and how much must be
+done before they will all be brought right; and then I was
+thinking of the work Jesus gave his disciples to do; and so I
+wished I could be like that disciple. Hugh and I were talking
+about it this morning."
+
+"What is the work he gave them to do?'" said Mr. Carleton,
+more and more interested.
+
+"Why," said Fleda, lifting her gentle wistful eyes to his, and
+then looking away, "to bring everybody to be good and happy."
+
+"And how in the world are they to do that?" said Mr. Carleton,
+astonished to see his own problem quietly handled by this
+child.
+
+"By telling them about Jesus Christ, and getting them to
+believe and love him," said Fleda, glancing at him again, "and
+living so beautifully that people cannot help believing them."
+
+"That last is an important clause," said Mr. Carleton,
+thoughtfully. "But suppose people will not hear when they are
+spoken to, Elfie?"
+
+"Some will, at any rate," said Fleda, "and by and by everybody
+will."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"Because the Bible says so."
+
+"Are you sure of that, Elfie?"
+
+"Why, yes, Mr. Carleton, — God has promised that the world
+shall be full of good people, and then they will be all happy.
+_I_ wish it was now."
+
+"But if that be so, Elfie, God can make them all good without
+our help."
+
+"Yes, but I suppose he wishes to do it with our help, Mr.
+Carleton," said Fleda, with equal naοvetι and gravity.
+
+"But is not this you speak of," said he, half smiling, "rather
+the business of clergymen? you have nothing to do with it?"
+
+"No," said Fleda, "everybody has something to do with it — the
+Bible says so; ministers must do it in their way, and other
+people in other ways; everybody has his own work. Don't you
+remember the parable of the ten talents, Mr. Carleton?"
+
+Mr. Carleton was silent for a minute.
+
+"I do not know the Bible quite as well as you do, Elfie," he
+said then, "nor as I ought to do."
+
+Elfie's only answer was by a look somewhat like that he well
+remembered on shipboard he had thought was angel-like, — a
+look of gentle sorrowful wistfulness, which she did not
+venture to put into words. It had not for that the less power.
+But he did not choose to prolong the conversation. They rose
+up and began to walk homeward, Elfie thinking with all the
+warmth of her little heart that she wished very much Mr.
+Carleton knew the Bible better; divided between him and "that
+disciple" whom she and Hugh had been talking about.
+
+"I suppose you are very busy now, Elfie," observed her
+companion, when they had walked the length of several squares
+in silence.
+
+"O yes!" said Fleda. " Hugh and I are as busy as we can be. We
+are busy every minute."
+
+"Except when you are on some chase after pleasure?"
+
+"Well," said Fleda, laughing, "that is a kind of business; and
+all the business is pleasure too. I didn't mean that we were
+always busy about work. Oh, Mr. Carleton, we had such a nice
+time the day before yesterday!" — And she went on to give him
+the history of a very successful chase after pleasure which
+they had made to St. Cloud.
+
+"And yet you like Queechy better?"
+
+"Yes," said Fleda, with a gentle steadiness peculiar to
+herself — "if I had aunt Lucy, and Hugh, and uncle Rolf there,
+and everybody that I care for, I should like it a great deal
+better."
+
+" 'Unspotted' yet," he thought.
+
+"Mr. Carleton," said Fleda, presently — "do you play and sing
+every day here in Paris?"
+
+"Yes," said he, smiling, — "about every day. Why?"
+
+"I was thinking how pleasant it was at your house in England."
+
+"Has Carleton the honour of rivalling Queechy in your liking?"
+
+"I haven't lived there so long, you know," said Fleda, "I dare
+say it would if I had. I think it is quite as pretty a place."
+
+Mr. Carleton smiled with a very pleased expression. Truth and
+politeness had joined hands in her answer with a child's
+grace.
+
+He brought Fleda to her own door, and there was leaving her.
+
+"Stop! Oh, Mr. Carleton," cried Fleda, "come in, just for one
+minute — I want to show you something."
+
+He made no resistance to that. She led him to the saloon,
+where it happened that nobody was, and repeating, "One
+minute!" — rushed out of the room. In less than that time, she
+came running back with a beautiful half-blown bud of a monthly
+rose in her hand, and in her face such a bloom of pleasure and
+eagerness as more than rivalled it. The rose was fairly
+eclipsed. She put the bud quietly, but with a most satisfied
+air of affection, into Mr. Carleton's hand. It had come from a
+little tree which he had given her on one of' their first
+visits to the Quai aux Fleurs. She had had the choice of what
+she liked best, and had characteristically taken a flourishing
+little rose-bush, that as yet showed nothing but leaves and
+green buds, partly, because she would have the pleasure of
+seeing its beauties come forward, and partly, because she
+thought having no flowers, it would not cost much. The former
+reason, however, was all that she had given to Mr. Carleton's
+remonstrances.
+
+"What is all this, Elfie?" said he. "Have you been robbing
+your rose-tree?"
+
+"No," said Elfie, "there are plenty more buds! Isn't it
+lovely? This is the first one. They've been a great while
+coming out."
+
+His eye went from the rose to her; he thought the one was a
+mere emblem of the other. Fleda was usually very quiet in her
+demonstrations; it was as if a little green bud had suddenly
+burst into a flush of loveliness; and he saw, it was as plain
+as possible, that goodwill to him had been the moving power.
+He was so much struck and moved, that his thanks, though as
+usual perfect in their kind, were far shorter and graver than
+he would have given if he had felt less. He turned away from
+the house, his mind full of the bright unsullied purity and
+single-hearted goodwill that had looked out of that beaming
+little face; he seemed to see them again in the flower he held
+in his hand, and he saw nothing else as he went.
+
+Mr. Carleton preached to himself all the way home, and his
+text was a rose.
+
+Laugh who will. To many it may seem ridiculous; and to most
+minds it would have been impossible; but to a nature very
+finely wrought and highly trained, many a voice that grosser
+senses cannot hear, comes with an utterance as clear as it is
+sweet-spoken; many a touch that coarser nerves cannot heed,
+reaches the springs of the deeper life; many a truth that
+duller eyes have no skill to see, shows its fair features, hid
+away among the petals of a rose, or peering out between the
+wings of a butterfly, or reflected in a bright drop of dew.
+The material is but a veil for the spiritual; but, then, eyes
+must be quickened, or the veil becomes an impassable cloud.
+
+That particular rose was to Mr. Carleton's eye a most perfect
+emblem and representative of its little giver. He traced out
+the points of resemblance as he went along. The delicacy and
+character of refinement for which that kind of rose is
+remarkable above many of its more superb kindred; a refinement
+essential and unalterable by decay or otherwise, as true a
+characteristic of the child as of the flower; a delicacy that
+called for gentle handling and tender cherishing; the
+sweetness, rare indeed, but asserting itself as it were
+timidly, at least with equally rare modesty; the very style of
+the beauty that, with all its loveliness, would not startle
+nor even catch the eye among its more showy neighbours; and
+the breath of purity that seemed to own no kindred with earth,
+nor liability to infection.
+
+As he went on with his musing, and drawing out this fair
+character from the type before him, the feeling of contrast
+that he had known before pressed upon Mr. Carleton's mind; the
+feeling of self-reproach, and the bitter wish that he could be
+again what he once had been — something like this. How changed
+now he seemed to himself — not a point of likeness left. How
+much less honourable, how much less worth, how much less
+dignified, than that fair innocent child! How much better a
+part she was acting in life — what an influence she was
+exerting, — as pure, as sweet-breathed, and as unobtrusive, as
+the very rose in his hand! And he — doing no good to an
+earthly creature, and losing himself by inches.
+
+He reached his room, put the flower in a glass on the table,
+and walked up and down before it. It had come to a struggle
+between the sense of what was and the passionate wish for what
+might have been.
+
+"It is late, Sir," said his servant, opening the door — "and
+you were —"
+
+"I am not going out."
+
+"This evening, Sir?"
+
+"No — not at all to-day. Spenser, I don't wish to see anybody
+— let no one come near me."
+
+The servant retired, and Guy went on with his walk and his
+meditations — looking back over his life, and reviewing, with
+a wiser ken now, the steps by which he had come. He compared
+the selfish disgust with which he had cast off the world with
+the very different spirit of little Fleda's look upon it that
+morning; the useless, self-pleasing, vain life he was leading,
+with her wish to be like the beloved disciple, and do
+something to heal the troubles of those less happy than
+herself. He did not very well comprehend the grounds of her
+feeling or reasoning, but he began to see, mistily, that his
+own had been mistaken and wild.
+
+His step grew slower, his eye more intent, his brow quiet.
+
+"She is right, and I am wrong," he thought. "She is by far the
+nobler creature — worth many such as I. Like her I cannot be —
+I cannot regain what I have lost — I cannot undo what years
+have done. But I can be something other than I am! If there be
+a system of remedy, as there well may, it may as well take
+effect on myself first. She says everybody has his work; I
+believe her. It must, in the nature of things, be so. I will
+make it my business to find out what mine is; and when I have
+made that sure, I will give myself to the doing of it. An All-
+wise Governor must look for service of me. He shall have it.
+Whatever my life be, it shall be to some end. If not what I
+would, what I can. If not the purity of the rose, that of
+tempered steel!"
+
+Mr. Carleton walked his room for three hours; then rung for
+his servant, and ordered him to prepare everything for leaving
+Paris the second day thereafter.
+
+The next morning over theirs coffee he told his mother of his
+purpose.
+
+"Leave Paris! To-morrow! My dear Guy, that is rather a sudden
+notice."
+
+"No, mother; for I am going alone."
+
+His mother immediately bent an anxious and somewhat terrified
+look upon him. The frank smile she met put half her suspicions
+out of her head at once.
+
+"What is the matter?"
+
+"Nothing at all — if by 'matter' you mean mischief."
+
+"You are not in difficulty with those young men again?"
+
+"No, mother," said he, coolly. "I am in difficulty with no one
+but myself."
+
+"With yourself! But why will you not let me go with you?"
+
+"My business will go on better if I am quite alone."
+
+"What business?''
+
+"Only to settle this question with myself," said he, smiling.
+
+"But, Guy! you are enigmatical this morning. Is it the
+question that of all others I wish to see settled?"
+
+"No, mother," said he, laughing, and colouring a little; "I
+don't want another half to take care of till I have this one
+under management."
+
+"I don't understand you," said Mrs. Carleton. "There is no
+hidden reason under all this that you are keeping from me?"
+
+"I wont say that. But there is none that need give you the
+least uneasiness. There are one or two matters I want to study
+out; I cannot do it here, so I am going where I shall be
+free."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"I think I shall pass the summer between Switzerland and
+Germany."
+
+"And when and where shall I meet you again?"
+
+"I think, at home; I cannot say when."
+
+"At home!" said his mother with a brightening face. "Then you
+are beginning to be tired of wandering at last?"
+
+"Not precisely, mother," — rather out of humour.
+
+"I shall be glad of anything," said his mother, gazing at him
+admiringly, "that brings you home again, Guy."
+
+"Brings me home a better man, I hope, mother," said he,
+kissing her as he left the room. "I will see you again by and
+by."
+
+" 'A better man!' " thought Mrs. Carleton, as she sat with
+full eyes, the image of her son filling the place where his
+presence had been; "I would be willing never to see him
+better, and be sure of his never being worse."
+
+Mr. Carleton's farewell visit found Mr. and Mrs. Rossitur not
+at home. They had driven out early into the country to fetch
+Marion from her convent for some holiday. Fleda came alone
+into the saloon to receive him.
+
+"I have your rose in safe keeping, Elfie," he said. "It has
+done me more good than ever a rose did before."
+
+Fleda smiled an innocently pleased smile. But her look changed
+when he added —
+
+"I have come to tell you so, and to bid you good-bye."
+
+"Are you going away, Mr. Carleton?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But you will be back soon?"
+
+"No, Elfie — I do not know that I shall ever come back."
+
+He spoke gravely, more gravely than he was used, and Fleda's
+acuteness saw that there was some solid reason for this sudden
+determination. Her face changed sadly, but she was silent, her
+eyes never wavering from those that read hers with such gentle
+intelligence.
+
+"You will be satisfied to have me go, Elfie, when I tell you
+that I am going on business which I believe to be duty.
+Nothing else takes me away. I am going to try to do right,"
+said he, smiling.
+
+Elfie could not answer the smile. She wanted to ask whether
+she should never see him again, and there was another thought
+upon her tongue too; but her lip trembled, and she said
+nothing.
+
+"I shall miss my good fairy," Mr. Carleton went on, lightly;
+"I don't know how I shall do without her. If your wand was
+long enough to reach so far I would ask you to touch me now
+and then, Elfie."
+
+Poor Elfie could not stand it. Heir head sank. She knew she
+had a wand that could touch him, and well and gratefully she
+resolved that its light blessing should "now and then" rest on
+his head; but he did not understand that; he was talking,
+whether lightly or seriously — and Elfie knew it was a little
+of both — he was talking of wanting her help, and was ignorant
+of the help that alone could avail him. "O that he knew but
+that!" What with this feeling and sorrow together, the child's
+distress was exceeding great; and the tokens of grief in one
+so accustomed to hide them were the more painful to see. Mr.
+Carleton drew the sorrowing little creature within his arm,
+and endeavoured with a mixture of kindness and lightness in
+his tone to cheer her.
+
+"I shall often remember you, dear Elfie," he said; "I shall
+keep your rose always, and take it with me wherever I go. You
+must not make it too hard for me to quit Paris — you are glad
+to have me go on such an errand, are you not?"
+
+She presently commanded herself, bade her tears wait till
+another time as usual, and trying to get rid of those that
+covered her face, asked him "What errand?"
+
+He hesitated.
+
+"I have been thinking of what we were talking of yesterday,
+Elfie," he said at length. "I am going to try to discover my
+duty, and then to do it."
+
+But Fleda at that clasped his hand, and squeezing it in both
+hers, bent down her little head over it to hide her face and
+the tears that streamed again. He hardly knew how to
+understand, or what to say to her. He half suspected that
+there were depths in that childish mind beyond his fathoming.
+He was not, however, left to wait long. Fleda, though she
+might now and then be surprised into showing it, never allowed
+her sorrow of any kind to press upon the notice or the time of
+others. She again checked herself and dried her face.
+
+"There is nobody else in Paris that will be so sorry for my
+leaving it," said Mr. Carleton, half tenderly and half
+pleasantly.
+
+"There is nobody else that has so much cause," said Elfie,
+near bursting out again, but she restrained herself.
+
+"And you will not come here again;, Mr. Carleton?" she said,
+after a few minutes.
+
+"I do not say that — it is possible — if I do, it will be to
+see you, Elfie."
+
+A shadow of a smile passed over her face at that. It was gone
+instantly.
+
+"My mother will not leave Paris yet," he went on — you will
+see her often."
+
+But he saw that Fleda was thinking of something else; she
+scarce seemed to hear him. She was thinking of something that
+troubled her.
+
+"Mr. Carleton," she began, and her colour changed.
+
+"Speak, Elfie."
+
+Her colour changed again. "Mr. Carleton, will you be
+displeased if I say something?"
+
+"Don't you know me better than to ask me that, Elfie?" he
+said, gently.
+
+"I want to ask you something — if you wont mind my saying it?"
+
+"What is it?" said he, reading in her face that a request was
+behind. "I will do it."
+
+Her eyes sparkled, but she seemed to have some difficulty in
+going on.
+
+"I will do it whatever it is," he said, watching her.
+
+"Will you wait for me one moment, Mr. Carleton?"
+
+"Half an hour."
+
+She sprang away, her face absolutely flashing pleasure through
+her tears. It was much soberer, and again doubtful and
+changing colour, when a few minutes afterwards she came back
+with a book in her hand. With a striking mixture of timidity,
+modesty, and eagerness in her countenance, she came forward,
+and putting the little volume, which was her own Bible, into
+Mr. Carleton's hands, said, under her breath, "Please read
+it." She did not venture to look up.
+
+He saw what the book was; and then taking the gentle hand
+which had given it, he kissed it two or three times — if it
+had been a princess's he could not with more respect.
+
+"You have my promise, Elfie," he said; "I need not repeat it."
+
+She raised her eves and gave him a look so grateful, so
+loving, so happy, that it dwelt for ever in his remembrance. A
+moment after it had faded, and she stood still where he had
+left her listening to his footsteps as they went down the
+stairs. She heard the last of them, and then sank upon her
+knees by a chair, and burst into a passion of tears. Their
+time was now, and she let them come. It was not only the
+losing a loved and pleasant friend, it was not only the
+stirring of sudden and disagreeable excitement — poor Elfie
+was crying for her Bible. It had been her father's own — it
+was filled with his marks — it was precious to her above price
+— and Elfie cried with all her heart for the loss of it. She
+had done what she had on the spur of the emergency — she was
+satisfied she had done right; she would not take it back if
+she could; but not the less her Bible was gone, and the pages
+that loved eyes had looked upon were for hers to look upon no
+more. Her very heart was wrung that she should have parted
+with it; and yet, what could she do? It was as bad as the
+parting with Mr. Carleton.
+
+That agony was over, and even that was shortened, for "Hugh
+would find out that she had been crying." Hours had passed,
+and the tears were dried, and the little face was bending over
+the wonted tasks, with a shadow upon its wonted cheerfulness,
+when Rosaline came to tell her that Victor said there was
+somebody in the passage who wanted to see her and would not
+come in.
+
+It was Mr. Carleton himself. He gave her a parcel, smiled at
+her without saying a word, kissed her hand earnestly, and was
+gone again. Fleda ran to her own room, and took the wrappers
+off such a beauty of a Bible as she had never seen — bound in
+blue velvet, with clasps of gold, and her initials in letters
+of gold upon the cover. Fleda hardly knew whether to be most
+pleased or sorry; for to have its place so supplied seemed to
+put her lost treasure further away than ever. The result was
+another flood of very tender tears; in the very shedding of
+which, however, the new little Bible was bound to her heart
+with cords of association as bright and as incorruptible as
+its gold mountings.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+"Her sports were such as carried riches of knowledge upon the
+stream of delight."
+SIDNEY.
+
+
+Fleda had not been a year in Paris, when her uncle suddenly
+made up his mind to quit it and go home. Some trouble in money
+affairs, felt or feared, brought him to this step, which a
+month before he had no definite purpose of ever taking. There
+was cloudy weather in the financial world of New York, and he
+wisely judged it best that his own eyes should be on the spot
+to see to his own interests. Nobody was sorry for this
+determination. Mrs. Rossitur always liked what her husband
+liked, but she had at the same time a decided predilection for
+home. Marion was glad to leave her convent for the gay world,
+which her parents promised she should immediately enter. And
+Hugh and Fleda had too lively a spring of happiness within
+themselves to care where its outgoings should be.
+
+So home they came, in good mood, bringing with them all manner
+of Parisian delights that Paris could part with — furniture,
+that at home at least they might forget where they were;
+dresses, that, at home or abroad, nobody might forget where
+they had been; pictures, and statuary, and engravings, and
+books, to satisfy a taste really strong and well cultivated.
+And, indeed, the other items were quite as much for this
+purpose as for any other. A French cook for Mr. Rossitur, and
+even Rosaline for his wife, who declared she was worth all the
+rest of Paris. Hugh cared little for any of these things; he
+brought home a treasure of books and a flute, to which he was
+devoted. Fleda cared for them all, even Monsieur Emile and
+Rosaline, for her uncle's and aunt's sake; but her special joy
+was a beautiful little King Charles, which had been sent her
+by Mr. Carleton a few weeks before. It came with the kindest
+of letters, saying, that some matters had made it inexpedient
+for him to pass through Paris on his way home, but that he
+hoped, nevertheless, to see her soon. That intimation was the
+only thing that made Fleda sorry to leave Paris. The little
+dog was a beauty, allowed to be so not only by his mistress
+but by every one else, of the true black and tan colours; and
+Fleda's dearly loved and constant companion.
+
+The life she and Hugh led was little changed by the change of
+place. They went out and came in as they had done in Paris,
+and took the same quiet but intense happiness in the same
+quiet occupations and pleasures; only the Tuileries and Champs
+Elysιes had a miserable substitute in the Battery, and no
+substitute at all anywhere else. And the pleasant drives in
+the environs of Paris were missed too, and had nothing in New
+York to supply their place. Mrs. Rossitur always said it was
+impossible to get out of New York by land, and not worth the
+trouble to do it by water. But, then, in the house Fleda
+thought there was a great gain. The dirty Parisian hotel was
+well exchanged for the bright, clean, well-appointed house in
+State street. And if Broadway was disagreeable, and the Park a
+weariness to the eyes, after the dressed gardens of the French
+capital, Hugh and Fleda made it up in the delights of the
+luxuriously furnished library, and the dear at-home feeling of
+having the whole house their own.
+
+They were left, those two children, quite as much to
+themselves as ever. Marion was going into company, and she and
+her mother were swallowed up in the consequent necessary calls
+upon their time. Marion never had been anything to Fleda. She
+was a fine, handsome girl, outwardly, but seemed to have more
+of her father than her mother in her composition, though
+colder-natured, and more wrapped up in self than Mr. Rossitur
+would be called by anybody that knew him. She had never done
+anything to draw Fleda towards her, and even Hugh had very
+little of her attention. They did not miss it. They were
+everything to each other.
+
+Everything — for now morning and night there was a sort of
+whirlwind in the house which carried the mother and daughter
+round and round, and permitted no rest; and Mr. Rossitur
+himself was drawn in. It was worse than it had been in Paris.
+There, with Marion in her convent, there were often evenings
+when they did not go abroad nor receive company, and spent the
+time quietly and happily in each other's society. No such
+evenings now: if by chance there were an unoccupied one, Mrs.
+Rossitur and her daughter were sure to be tired, and Mr.
+Rossitur busy.
+
+Hugh and Fleda in those bustling times retreated to the
+library; Mr. Rossitur would rarely have that invaded; and
+while the net was so eagerly cast for pleasure among the gay
+company below, pleasure had often slipped away, and hid
+herself among the things on the library table, and was dancing
+on every page of Hugh's book, and minding each stroke of
+Fleda's pencil, and cocking the spaniel's ears whenever his
+mistress looked at him. King, the spaniel, lay on a silk
+cushion on the library table, his nose just touching Fleda's
+fingers. Fleda's drawing was mere amusement; she and Hugh were
+not so burdened with studies that they had not always their
+evenings free, and, to tell truth, much more than their
+evenings. Masters, indeed, they had; but the heads of the
+house were busy with the interests of their grown-up child,
+and, perhaps, with other interests, and took it for granted
+that all was going right with the young ones.
+
+"Haven't we a great deal better time than they have down
+stairs, Fleda?" said Hugh, one of these evenings.
+
+"Hum — yes" — answered Fleda, abstractedly, stroking into
+order some old man in her drawing with great intentness.
+"King! you rascal — keep back and be quiet, Sir!"
+
+Nothing could be conceived more gentle and loving than Fleda's
+tone of fault-finding, and her repulse only fell short of a
+caress.
+
+"What's he doing?"
+
+"Wants to get into my lap."
+
+"Why don't you let him?"
+
+"Because I don't choose to — a silk cushion is good enough for
+his majesty. King!" (laying her soft cheek against the little
+dog's soft head, and forsaking her drawing for the purpose.)
+
+"How you do love that dog!" said Hugh.
+
+"Very well — why shouldn't I? — provided he steals no love
+from anybody else," said Fleda, still caressing him.
+
+"What a noise somebody is making down stairs!" said Hugh. " I
+don't think I should ever want to go to large parties, Fleda;
+do you?"
+
+"I don't know," said Fleda, whose natural taste for society
+was strongly developed; "it would depend upon what kind of
+parties they were."
+
+"I shouldn't like them, I know, of whatever kind," said Hugh.
+"What are you smiling at?"
+
+"Only Mr. Pickwick's face, that I am drawing here."
+
+Hugh came round to look and laugh, and then began again.
+
+"I can't think of anything pleasanter than this room as we are
+now."
+
+"You should have seen Mr. Carleton's library," said Fleda, in
+a musing tone, going on with her drawing.
+
+"Was it so much better than this?"
+
+Fleda's eyes gave a slight glance at the room, and then looked
+down again with a little shake of her head sufficiently
+expressive.
+
+"Well," said Hugh, "you and I do not want any better than
+this; do we, Fleda?"
+
+Fleda's smile — a most satisfactory one — was divided between
+him and King.
+
+"I don't believe," said Hugh, "you would have loved that dog
+near so well if anybody else had given him to you."
+
+"I don't believe I should! — not a quarter," said Fleda, with
+sufficient distinctness.
+
+"I never liked that Mr. Carleton as well as you did."
+
+"That is because you did not know him," said Fleda, quietly.
+
+"Do you think he was a good man, Fleda?"
+
+"He was very good to me," said Fleda, "always. What rides I
+did have on that great black horse of his!" —
+
+"A black horse?"
+
+"Yes, a great black horse, strong, but so gentle, and he went
+so delightfully. His name was Harold. Oh, I should like to see
+that horse! When I wasn't with him, Mr. Carleton used to ride
+another, the greatest beauty of a horse, Hugh — a brown
+Arabian — so slender and delicate — her name was Zephyr, and
+she used to go like the wind, to be sure. Mr. Carleton said he
+wouldn't trust me on such a fly-away thing."
+
+"But you didn't use to ride alone?" said Hugh.
+
+"O no! — and I wouldn't have been afraid if he had chosen to
+take me on any one."
+
+"But do you think, Fleda, he was a good man — as I mean?"
+
+"I am sure he was better than a great many others," answered
+Fleda, evasively — "the worst of him was infinitely better
+than the best of half the people down stairs — Mr. Sweden
+included."
+
+"Sweden! — you don't call his name right."
+
+"The worse it is called the better, in my opinion," said
+Fleda.
+
+"Well, I don't like him; but what makes you dislike him so
+much?"
+
+"I don't know — partly because Uncle Rolf and Marion like him
+so much, I believe — I don't think there is any moral
+expression in his face."
+
+"I wonder why they like him," said Hugh.
+
+It was a somewhat irregular and desultory education that the
+two children gathered under this system of things. The masters
+they had were rather for accomplishments and languages than
+for anything solid — the rest they worked out for themselves.
+Fortunately they both loved books, and rational books; and
+hours and hours, when Mrs. Rossitur and her daughter were
+paying or receiving visits, they, always together, were stowed
+away behind the book-cases or in the library window, poring
+patiently over pages of various complexion — the soft turning
+of the leaves, or Fleda's frequent attentions to King, the
+only sound in the room. They walked together, talking of what
+they had read, though, indeed, they ranged beyond that into
+nameless and numberless fields of speculation, where, if they
+sometimes found fruit, they as often lost their way. However,
+the habit of ranging was something. Then when they joined the
+rest of the family at the dinner-table, especially if others
+were present, and most especially if a certain German
+gentleman happened to be there, who, the second winter after
+their return, Fleda thought came very often, she and Hugh
+would be sure to find the strange talk of the world that was
+going on unsuited and wearisome to them, and they would make
+their escape up-stairs again to handle the pencil, and to play
+the flute, and to read, and to draw plans for the future,
+while King crept upon the skirts of his mistress's gown, and
+laid his little head on her feet. Nobody ever thought of
+sending them to school. Hugh was a child of frail health, and
+though not often very ill, was often near it; and as for
+Fleda, she and Hugh were inseparable, and besides, by this
+time her uncle and aunt would almost as soon have thought of
+taking the mats off their delicate shrubs in winter, as of
+exposing her to any atmosphere less genial than that of home.
+
+For Fleda, this doubtful course of mental training wrought
+singularly well. An uncommonly quick eye, and strong memory,
+and clear head, which she had even in childhood, passed over
+no field of truth or fancy without making their quiet
+gleanings; and the stores thus gathered, though somewhat
+miscellaneous and unarranged, were both rich and uncommon, and
+more than any one or she herself knew. Perhaps such a mind
+thus left to itself knew a more free and luxuriant growth than
+could ever have flourished within the confinement of rules —
+perhaps a plant at once so strong and so delicate was safest
+without the hand of the dresser — at all events it was
+permitted to spring and to put forth all its native
+gracefulness alike unhindered and unknown. Cherished as little
+Fleda dearly was, her mind kept company with no one but
+herself — and Hugh. As to externals; music was uncommonly
+loved by both the children, and by both cultivated with great
+success. So much came under Mrs. Rossitur's knowledge; also
+every foreign Signor and Madame that came into the house to
+teach them spoke with enthusiasm of the apt minds and flexible
+tongues that honoured their instructions. In private and in
+public, the gentle, docile, and affectionate children answered
+every wish, both of taste and judgment. And perhaps, in a
+world where education is not understood, their guardians might
+be pardoned for taking it for granted that all was right where
+nothing appeared that was wrong — certainly they took no pains
+to make sure of the fact. In this case, one of a thousand,
+their neglect was not punished with disappointment. They never
+found out that Hugh's mind wanted the strengthening that early
+skilful training might have given it. His intellectual tastes
+were not so strong as Fleda's — his reading was more
+superficial — his gleanings not so sound, and in far fewer
+fields, and they went rather to nourish sentiment and fancy
+than to stimulate thought, or lay up food for it. But his
+parents saw nothing of this.
+
+The third winter had not passed, when Fleda's discernment saw
+that Mr. Sweden, as she called him, the German gentleman,
+would not cease coming to the house till he had carried off
+Marion with him. Her opinion on the subject was delivered to
+no one but Hugh.
+
+That winter introduced them to a better acquaintance. One
+evening Dr. Gregory, an uncle of Mrs. Rossitur's, had been
+dining with her, and was in the drawing-room. Mr. Schwiden had
+been there too, and he and Marion, and one or two other young
+people, had gone out to some popular entertainment. The
+children knew little of Dr. Gregory, but that he was a very
+respectable-looking elderly gentleman, a little rough in his
+manners. The doctor had not long been returned from a stay of
+some years in Europe, where he had been collecting rare books
+for a fine public library, the charge of which was now
+entrusted to him. After talking some time with Mr. and Mrs.
+Rossitur, the doctor pushed round his chair to take a look at
+the children.
+
+"So that's Amy's child," said he. "Come here, Amy."
+
+"That is not my name," said the little girl, coming forward.
+
+"Isn't it? It ought to be. What is, then?"
+
+"Elfleda."
+
+"Elfleda! where in the name of all that is auricular did you
+get such an outlandish name?"
+
+"My father gave it to me, Sir," said Fleda, with a dignified
+sobriety which amused the old gentleman.
+
+"Your father! — hum — I understand. And couldn't your father
+find a cap that fitted you without going back to the old-
+fashioned days of King Alfred?"
+
+"Yes, Sir; it was my grandmother's cap."
+
+"I am afraid your grandmother's cap isn't all of her that's
+come down to you," said he, tapping his snuff-box, and looking
+at her with a curious twinkle in his eyes. "What do you call
+yourself? Haven't you some variations of this tongue-twisting
+appellative to serve for every day, and save trouble?"
+
+"They call me Fleda," said the little girl, who could not help
+laughing.
+
+"Nothing better than that?"
+
+Fleda remembered two prettier nicknames which had been her's;
+but one had been given by dear lips long ago, and she was not
+going to have it profaned by common use; and "Elfie" belonged
+to Mr. Carleton. She would own to nothing but Fleda.
+
+"Well, Miss Fleda," said the doctor, "are you going to
+school?"
+
+"No, Sir."
+
+"You intend to live without such a vulgar thing as learning?"
+
+"No, Sir. Hugh and I have our lessons at home."
+
+"Teaching each other, I suppose?"
+
+"O no, Sir," said Fleda, laughing; "Mme. Lascelles and Mr.
+Schweppenhesser, and Signor Barytone come to teach us, besides
+our music masters."
+
+"Do you ever talk German with this Mr. What's-his-name, who
+has just gone out with your cousin Marion!"
+
+"I never talk to him at all, Sir."
+
+"Don't you? Why not? Don't you like him?"
+
+Fleda said, "Not particularly," and seemed to wish to let the
+subject pass, but the doctor was amused, and pressed it.
+
+"Why, why don't you like him?" said he; "I am sure he's a
+fine-looking dashing gentleman; — dresses as well as anybody,
+and talks as much as most people — why don't you like him?
+Isn't he a handsome fellow — eh?"
+
+"I dare say he is, to many people," said Fleda.
+
+"She said she didn't think there was any moral expression in
+his face," said Hugh, by way of settling the matter.
+
+"Moral expression!" cried the doctor, "moral expression! and
+what if there isn't, you Elf! — what if there isn't?"
+
+"I shouldn't care what other kind of expression it had," said
+Fleda, colouring a little.
+
+Mr. Rossitur "pished" rather impatiently. The doctor glanced
+at his niece, and changed the subject.
+
+"Well, who teaches you English, Miss Fleda? you haven't told
+me that yet."
+
+"Oh, that we teach ourselves," said Fleda, smiling, as if it
+was a very innocent question.
+
+"Hum! — you do! Pray how do you teach yourselves?"
+
+"By reading, Sir."
+
+"Reading! And what do you read? what have you read in the last
+twelve months, now?"
+
+"I don't think I could remember all exactly," said Fleda.
+
+"But you have got a list of them all," said Hugh, who chanced
+to have been looking over said list a day or two before, and
+felt quite proud of it.
+
+"Let's have it, let's have it," said the doctor. And Mrs.
+Rossitur, laughing, said, "Let's have it;" and even her
+husband commanded Hugh to go and fetch it; so poor Fleda,
+though not a little unwilling, was obliged to let the list be
+forthcoming. Hugh brought it, in a neat little book covered
+with pink blotting paper.
+
+"Now for it!" said the doctor; "let us see what this English
+amounts to. Can you stand fire, Elfleda?"
+
+" 'Jan. 1. Robinson Crusoe.' * [* A true list made by a child
+of that age.]
+
+"Hum — that sounds reasonable, at all events."
+
+"I had it for a New Year's present," remarked Fleda, who stood
+by with downcast eyes, like a person undergoing an
+examination.
+
+" 'Jan. 2. Histoire de France.'
+
+"What History of France is this?"
+
+Fleda hesitated, and then said it was by Lacretelle.
+
+"Lacretelle? — what? of the Revolution?"
+
+"No, Sir; it is before that; it is in five or six large
+volumes."
+
+"What, Louis XV.'s time," said the doctor, muttering to
+himself.
+
+" 'Jan. 27. 2 ditto, ditto.'
+
+" 'Two' means the second volume, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes, Sir."
+
+"Hum — if you were a mouse, you would gnaw through the wall in
+time, at that rate. This is in the original?"
+
+"Yes Sir."
+
+" 'Feb. 3. Paris. L. E. K.'
+
+"What do these hieroglyphics mean?"
+
+"That stands for the 'Library of Entertaining Knowledge,' "
+said Fleda.
+
+"But how is this? do you go hop, skip, and jump through these
+books, or read a little, and then throw them away'? Here it is
+only seven days since you began the second volume of
+Lacretelle — not time enough to get through it."
+
+"Oh no, Sir," said Fleda, smiling: "I like to have several
+books that I am reading in at once; I mean at the same time,
+you know; and then if I am not in the mood of one I take up
+another."
+
+"She reads them all through," said Hugh, "always, though she
+reads them very quick."
+
+"Hum — I understand," said the old doctor, with a humorous
+expression, going on with the list.
+
+" 'March 3. 3 Hist. de France.'
+
+"But you finish one of these volumes, I suppose, before you
+begin another; or do you dip into different parts of the same
+work at once?"
+
+"Oh no, Sir; of course not!"
+
+" 'Mar. 5. Modern Egyptians. L. E. K. Ap. 13.'
+
+"What are these dates on the right, as well as on the left?"
+
+"Those on the right show when I finished the volume."
+
+"Well, I wonder what you were cut out for!" said the doctor.
+"A Quaker! you aren't a Quaker, are you?"
+
+"No, Sir," said Fleda, laughing.
+
+"You look like it," said he.
+
+" 'Feb. 24. Five Penny Magazines, finished Mar. 4.'
+
+"They are in paper numbers, you know, Sir."
+
+" 'April 4. 4 Hist. de. F.'
+
+"Let us see — the third volume was finished, March 29 — I
+declare you keep it up pretty well."
+
+" 'Ap. 19. Incidents of Travel.'
+
+"Whose is that?"
+
+"It is by Mr. Stephens."
+
+"How did you like it?"
+
+"Oh, very much, indeed."
+
+"Ay, I see you did; you finished it by the first of May. 'Tour
+to the Hebrides' — what, Johnson's?"
+
+"Yes Sir."
+
+"Read it all fairly through?"
+
+"Yes, Sir; certainly."
+
+He smiled, and went on.
+
+" 'May 12. Peter Simple.'"
+
+There was quite a shout at the heterogeneous character of
+Fleda's reading, which she, not knowing exactly what to make
+of it, heard rather abashed.
+
+" 'Peter Simple!' " said the doctor, settling himself to go on
+with his list; "well, let us see. 'World without Souls.' Why,
+you Elf! read in two days."
+
+"It is very short, you know, Sir."
+
+"What did you think of it?"
+
+"I liked parts of it very much."
+
+He went on, still smiling.
+
+" 'June 15. Goldsmith's Animated Nature.'
+
+" 'June I8. 1 Life of Washington.'
+
+"What Life of Washington?"
+
+"Marshall's."
+
+"Hum. — 'July 9. 2 Goldsmith's An. Na.' As I live, begun the
+very day the first volume was finished! Did you read the whole
+of that?"
+
+"Oh yes, Sir. I liked that book very much."
+
+" 'July 12. 5 Hist. de France.'
+
+"Two histories on hand at once! Out of all rule, Miss Fleda!
+We must look after you."
+
+"Yes Sir; sometimes I wanted to read one, and sometimes I
+wanted to read the other."
+
+"And you always do what you want to do, I suppose?"
+
+"I think the reading does me more good in that way."
+
+" 'July 15. Paley's Natural Theology!' "
+
+There was another shout. Poor Fleda's eyes filled with tears.
+
+"What in the world put that book into your head, or before
+your eyes?" said the doctor.
+
+"I don't know, Sir — I thought I should like to read it," said
+Fleda, drooping her eyelids, that the bright drops under them
+might not be seen.
+
+"And finished in eleven days, as I live!" said the doctor,
+wagging his head. " 'July 19. 3 Goldsmith's A. N.'
+
+" 'Aug. 6. 4 Do. Do.' "
+
+"That is one of Fleda's favourite books," put in Hugh.
+
+"So it seems. '6 Hist. de France.' — What does this little
+cross mean?"
+
+"That shows when the book is finished," said Fleda, looking on
+the page — "the last volume, I mean."
+
+" 'Retrospect of Western Travel' — 'Goldsmith's A. N., last
+vol.' — 'Mιmoires de Sully' — in the French ?"
+
+"Yes, Sir."
+
+" 'Life of Newton' — What's this? — 'Sep. 8. 1 Fairy Queen!' —
+not Spenser's?"
+
+"Yes, Sir, I believe so — the Fairy Queen, in five volumes."
+
+The doctor looked up comically at his niece and her husband,
+who were both sitting or standing close by.
+
+" 'Sep. 10. Paolo e Virginia' — in what language?"
+
+"Italian, Sir; I was just beginning, and I haven't finished it
+yet."
+
+" 'Sep. 16. Milner's Church History!' —What the deuce! — 'Vol.
+2. Fairy Queen.' — Why, this must have been a favourite book,
+too."
+
+"That's one of the books Fleda loves best," said Hugh; — "she
+went through that very fast."
+
+"Over it, you mean, I reckon; how much did you skip, Fleda?"
+
+"I didn't skip at all," said Fleda; "I read every word of it."
+
+" ' Sep. 20. 2 Mιm. de Sully.' Well, you're an industrious
+mouse, I'll say that for you. What's this? — 'Don Quixote!' —
+'Life of Howard.' — 'Nov. 17. 3 Fairy Queen.' — 'Nov. 29. 4
+Fairy Queen.' — 'Dec. 8. 1 Goldsmith's England.' — Well, if
+this list of books is a fair exhibit of your taste and
+capacity, you have a most happily proportioned set of
+intellectuals. Let us see — history, fun, facts, nature,
+theology, poetry and divinity! — upon my soul! — and poetry
+and history the leading features! — a little fun — as much as
+you could lay your hand on, I'll warrant, by that pinch in the
+corner of your eye. And here, the eleventh of December, you
+finished the Fairy Queen; and ever since, I suppose, you have
+been imagining yourself the 'faire Una,' with Hugh standing
+for Prince Arthur or the Red-cross Knight — haven't you?"
+
+"No, Sir. I didn't imagine anything about it."
+
+"Don't tell me. What did you read it for?"
+
+"Only because I liked it, Sir. I liked it better than any
+other book I read last year."
+
+"You did! Well, the year ends, I see, with another volume of
+Sully. I wont enter upon this year's list. Pray, how much of
+all these volumes do you suppose you remember? I'll try and
+find out next time I come to see you. I can give a guess, if
+you study with that little pug in your lap."
+
+"He is not a pug!" said Fleda, in whose arms King was lying
+luxuriously — "and he never gets into my lap, besides."
+
+"Don't he! Why not?"
+
+"Because I don't like it, Sir. I don't like to see dogs in
+laps."
+
+"But all the ladies in the land do it, you little Saxon! it is
+universally considered a mark of distinction."
+
+"I can't help what all the ladies in the land do," said Fleda.
+"That wont alter my liking; and I don't think a lady's lap is
+a place for a dog."
+
+"I wish you were my daughter!' said the old doctor, shaking
+his head at her with a comic fierce expression of countenance,
+which Fleda perfectly understood and laughed at accordingly.
+Then as the two children with the dog went off into the other
+room, he said, turning to his niece and Mr. Rossitur —
+
+"If that girl ever takes a wrong turn with the bit in her
+teeth, you'll be puzzled to hold her. What stuff will you make
+the reins of?"
+
+"I don't think she ever will take a wrong turn," said Mr.
+Rossitur.
+
+"A look is enough to manage her, if she did," said his wife. "
+Hugh is not more gentle."
+
+"I should be inclined rather to fear her not having stability
+of character enough," said Mr. Rossitur. "She is so very meek
+and yielding, I almost doubt whether anything would give her
+courage to take ground of her own, and keep it."
+
+"Hum — well, well!" said the old doctor, walking off after the
+children. "Prince Arthur, will you bring this damsel up to my
+den some of these days? — the 'faire Una' is safe from the
+wild beasts, you know; — and I'll show her books enough to
+build herself a house with, if she likes."
+
+The acceptance of this invitation led to some of the
+pleasantest hours of Fleda's city life. The visits to the
+great library became very frequent. Dr. Gregory and the
+children were little while in growing fond of each other; he
+loved to see them, and taught them to come at such times as
+the library was free of visitors and his hands of engagements.
+Then he delighted himself with giving them pleasure,
+especially Fleda, whose quick curiosity and intelligence were
+a constant amusement to him. He would establish the children
+in some corner of the large apartments, out of the way behind
+a screen of books and tables; and there, shut out from the
+world, they would enjoy a kind of fairyland pleasure over some
+volume or set of engravings that they could not see at home.
+Hours and hours were spent so. Fleda would stand clasping her
+hands before Audubon, or rapt over a finely illustrated book
+of travels, or going through and through, with Hugh, the works
+of the best masters of the pencil and the graver. The doctor
+found he could trust them, and then all the treasures of the
+library were at their disposal. Very often he put chosen
+pieces of reading into their hands; and it was pleasantest of
+all when he was not busy and came and sat down with them; for
+with all his odd manner he was extremely kind, and could and
+did put them in the way to profit greatly by their
+opportunities. The doctor and the children had nice times
+there together.
+
+They lasted for many months, and grew more and more worth. Mr.
+Schwiden carried off Marion, as Fleda had foreseen he would,
+before the end of spring; and after she was gone, something
+like the old pleasant Paris life was taken up again. They had
+no more company now than was agreeable, and it was picked not
+to suit Marion's taste, but her father's — a very different
+matter. Fleda and Hugh were not forbidden the dinner-table,
+and so had the good of hearing much useful conversation, from
+which the former, according to custom, made her steady,
+precious gleanings. The pleasant evenings in the family were
+still better enjoyed than they used to be. Fleda was older;
+and the snug, handsome American house had a home-feeling to
+her that the wide Parisian saloons never knew. She had become
+bound to her uncle and aunt by all but the ties of blood;
+nobody in the house ever remembered that she was not born
+their daughter; except, indeed, Fleda herself, who remembered
+everything, and with whom the forming of any new affections or
+relations somehow never blotted out or even faded the register
+of the old. It lived in all its brightness; the writing of
+past loves and friendships was as plain as ever in her heart;
+and often, often the eye and the kiss of memory fell upon it.
+In the secret of her heart's core; for still, as at the first,
+no one had a suspicion of the movings of thought that were
+beneath that childish brow. No one guessed how clear a
+judgment weighed and decided upon many things. No one dreamed,
+amid their busy, bustling, thoughtless life, how often, in the
+street, in her bed, in company and alone, her mother's last
+prayer was in Fleda's heart; well cherished; never forgotten.
+
+Her education and Hugh's meanwhile went on after the old
+fashion. If Mr. Rossitur had more time, he seemed to have no
+more thought for the matter; and Mrs. Rossitur, fine-natured
+as she was, had never been trained to self-exertion, and, of
+course, was entirely out of the way of training others. Her
+children were pieces of perfection, and needed no oversight;
+her house was a piece of perfection too. If either had not
+been, Mrs. Rossitur would have been utterly at a loss how to
+mend matters, — except in the latter instance, by getting a
+new housekeeper; and as Mrs. Renney, the good woman who held
+that station, was in everybody's opinion another treasure,
+Mrs. Rossitur's mind was uncrossed by the shadow of such a
+dilemma. With Mrs. Renney, as with every one else, Fleda was
+held in highest regard — always welcome to her premises, and
+to those mysteries of her trade which were sacred from other
+intrusion. Fleda's natural inquisitiveness carried her often
+to the housekeeper's room, and made her there the same curious
+and careful observer that she had been in the library or at
+the Louvre.
+
+"Come," said Hugh, one day when he had sought and found her in
+Mrs. Renney's precincts — "come away, Fleda! What do you want
+to stand here and see Mrs. Renney roll butter and sugar for?"
+
+"My dear Mr. Rossitur," said Fleda, "you don't understand
+quelquechoses. How do you know but I may have to get my living
+by making them, some day?"
+
+"By making what?" said Hugh.
+
+"Quelquechoses — Anglice, kickshaws — alias, sweet trifles,
+denominated merrings."
+
+"Pshaw, Fleda!"
+
+"Miss. Fleda is more likely to get her living by eating them,
+Mr. Hugh, isn't she?" said the housekeeper.
+
+"I hope to decline both lines of life," said Fleda,
+laughingly, as she followed Hugh out of the room. But her
+chance remark had grazed the truth sufficiently near.
+
+Those years in New York were a happy time for little Fleda — a
+time when mind and body flourished under the sun of
+prosperity. Luxury did not spoil her; and any one that saw her
+in the soft furs of her winter wrappings, would have said that
+delicate cheek and frame were never made to know the
+unkindliness of harsher things.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+"Whereunto is money good?
+Who has it not wants hardihood.
+Who has it has much trouble and care,
+Who once has had it has despair."
+LONGFELLOW. _From the German_.
+
+
+It was the middle of winter. One day Hugh and Fleda had come
+home from their walk. They dashed into the parlour,
+complaining that it was bitterly cold, and began unrobing
+before the glowing grate, which was a mass of living fire from
+end to end. Mrs. Rossitur was there in an easy chair, alone,
+and doing nothing. That was not a thing absolutely unheard of,
+but Fleda had not pulled off her second glove before she bent
+down towards her, and in a changed tone tenderly asked if she
+did not feel well.
+
+Mrs. Rossitur looked up in her face a minute, and then drawing
+her down, kissed the blooming cheeks, one and the other,
+several times. But as she looked off to the fire again, Fleda
+saw that it was through watering eyes. She dropped on her
+knees by the side of the easy chair, that she might have a
+better sight of that face, and tried to read it as she asked
+again what was the matter; and Hugh, coming to the other side,
+repeated her question. His mother passed an arm round each,
+looking wistfully from one to the other, and kissing them
+earnestly, but she said only, with a very heart-felt emphasis,
+"Poor children!"
+
+Fleda was now afraid to speak, but Hugh pressed his inquiry.
+
+"Why 'poor', Mamma? what makes you say so?"
+
+"Because you are poor really, dear Hugh. We have lost
+everything we have in the world."
+
+"Mamma! What do you mean?"
+
+"Your father has failed."
+
+"Failed! — But, Mamma, I thought he wasn't in business?"
+
+"So I thought," said Mrs. Rossitur; "I didn't know people
+could fail that were not in business; but it seems they can.
+He was a partner in some concern or other, and it's all broken
+to pieces, and your father with it, he says!"
+
+Mrs. Rossitur's face was distressful. They were all silent for
+a little, Hugh kissing his mother's wet cheeks. Fleda had
+softly nestled her head in her bosom. But Mrs. Rossitur soon
+recovered herself.
+
+"How bad is it, mother?" said Hugh.
+
+"As bad as can possibly be."
+
+"Is everything gone?"
+
+"Everything!" —
+
+"You don't mean the house, Mamma?"
+
+"The house, and all that is in it."
+
+The children's hearts were struck, and they were silent again,
+only a trembling touch of Fleda's lips spoke sympathy and
+patience, if ever a kiss did.
+
+"But, Mamma," said Hugh, after he had gathered breath for it,
+"do you mean to say that everything, literally everything, is
+gone? Is there nothing left?"
+
+"Nothing in the world — not a sou."
+
+"Then what are we going to do?"
+
+Mrs. Rossitur shook her head, and had no words.
+
+Fleda looked across to Hugh to ask no more, and putting her
+arms around her aunt's neck, and laying cheek to cheek, she
+spoke what comfort she could.
+
+"Don't, dear aunt Lucy! — there will be some way — things
+always turn out better than at first, I dare say we shall find
+out it isn't so bad by and by. Don't you mind it, and then we
+wont. We can be happy anywhere together."
+
+If there was not much in the reasoning, there was something in
+the tone of the words, to bid Mrs. Rossitur bear herself well.
+Its tremulous sweetness, its anxious love, was without a taint
+of self-recollection; its sorrow was for her. Mrs. Rossitur
+felt that she must not show herself overcome. She again kissed
+and blessed, and pressed closer in her arms, her little
+comforter, while her other hand was given to Hugh.
+
+"I have only heard about it this morning. Your uncle was here
+telling me just now — a little while before you came in. Don't
+say anything about it before him."
+
+Why not? The words struck Fleda disagreeably.
+
+"What will be done with the house, Mamma?" said Hugh.
+
+"Sold — sold, and everything in it."
+
+"Papa's books, Mamma! and all the things in the library!"
+exclaimed Hugh, looking terrified.
+
+Mrs. Rossitur's face gave the answer; do it in words she could
+not.
+
+The children were a long time silent, trying hard to swallow
+this bitter pill; and still Hugh's hand was in his mother's,
+and Fleda's head lay on her bosom. Thought was busy, going up
+and down, and breaking the companionship they had so long held
+with the pleasant drawing-room, and the tasteful arrangements
+among which Fleda was so much at home; the easy chairs in
+whose comfortable arms she had had so many an hour of nice
+reading; the soft rug, where, in the very wantonness of
+frolic, she had stretched herself to play with King; that very
+luxurious bright grateful of fire, which had given her so
+often the same warm welcome home — an apt introduction to the
+other stores of comfort which awaited her above and below
+stairs; the rich-coloured curtains and carpet, the beauty of
+which had been such a constant gratification to Fleda's eye;
+and the exquisite French table and lamps they had brought out
+with them, in which her uncle and aunt had so much pride, and
+which could nowhere be matched for elegance — they must all be
+said "good-bye" to; and as yet fancy had nothing to furnish
+the future with; it looked very bare.
+
+King had come in, and wagged himself up close to his mistress,
+but even he could obtain nothing but the touch of most
+abstracted finger-ends. Yet, though keenly recognised, these
+thoughts were only passing compared with the anxious and
+sorrowful ones that went to her aunt and uncle; for Hugh and
+her, she judged, it was less matter. And Mrs. Rossitur's care
+was most for her husband; and Hugh's was for them all. His
+associations were less quick, and his tastes less keen, than
+Fleda's, and less a part of himself. Hugh lived in his
+affections; with a salvo to them he could bear to lose
+anything and go anywhere.
+
+"Mamma," said he, after a long time — "will anything be done
+with Fleda's books?"
+
+A question that had been in Fleda's mind before, but which she
+had patiently forborne just then to ask.
+
+"No, indeed!" said Mrs. Rossitur, pressing Fleda more closely,
+and kissing in a kind of rapture the sweet, thoughtful face —
+"not yours, my darling; they can't touch anything that belongs
+to you — I wish it was more — and I don't suppose they will
+take anything of mine either."
+
+"Ah, well!" said Fleda, raising her head, "you have got quite
+a parcel of books, aunt Lucy, and I have a good many — how
+well it is I have had so many given me since I have been here!
+That will make quite a nice little library, both together, and
+Hugh has some; I thought perhaps we shouldn't have one at all
+left, and that would have been rather bad."
+
+"Rather bad!" Mrs. Rossitur looked at her, and was dumb.
+
+"Only don't you wear a sad face for anything!" Fleda went on
+earnestly; "we shall be perfectly happy if you and uncle Rolf
+only will be."
+
+"My dear children!" said Mrs. Rossitur, wiping her eyes, "it
+is for you I am unhappy — you and your uncle; I do not think
+of myself."
+
+"And we do not think of ourselves, Mamma," said Hugh.
+
+"I know it; but having good children don't make one care less
+about them," said Mrs. Rossitur, the tears fairly raining over
+her fingers.
+
+Hugh pulled the fingers down and again tried the efficacy of
+his lips.
+
+"And you know Papa thinks most of you, Mamma."
+
+"Ah, your father!" said Mrs. Rossitur shaking her head; "I am
+afraid it will go hard with him! But I will be happy as long
+as I have you two, or else I should be a very wicked woman. It
+only grieves me to think of your education and prospects" —
+
+"Fleda's piano, Mamma!" said Hugh, with sudden dismay.
+
+Mrs. Rossitur shook her head again and covered her eyes, while
+Fleda stretching across to Hugh, gave him, by look and touch,
+an earnest admonition to let that subject alone. And then,
+with a sweetness and gentleness like nothing but the breath of
+the south wind, she wooed her aunt to hope and resignation.
+Hugh held back, feeling or thinking that Fleda could do it
+better than he, and watching her progress, as Mrs. Rossitur
+took her hand from her face and smiled, at first mournfully,
+and then really mirthfully, in Fleda's face, at some sally
+that nobody but a nice observer would have seen was got up for
+the occasion; and it was hardly that, so completely had the
+child forgotten her own sorrow in ministering to that of
+another. "Blessed are the peacemakers!" It is always so.
+
+"You are a witch or a fairy," said Mrs. Rossitur, catching her
+again in her arms — "nothing else! You must try your powers of
+charming upon your uncle."
+
+Fleda laughed without any effort; but as to trying her slight
+wand upon Mr. Rossitur, she had serious doubts. And the doubts
+became certainty when they met at dinner; he looked so grave
+that she dared not attack him. It was a gloomy meal, for the
+face that should have lighted the whole table cast a shadow
+there.
+
+Without at all comprehending the whole of her husband's
+character, the sure magnetism of affection had enabled Mrs.
+Rossitur to divine his thoughts. Pride was his ruling passion;
+not such pride as Mr. Carleton's, which was rather like
+exaggerated self-respect, but wider and more indiscriminate in
+its choice of objects. It was pride in his family name; pride
+in his own talents, which were considerable; pride in his
+family, wife, and children, and all of which he thought did
+him honour — if they had not, his love for them assuredly
+would have known some diminishing; pride in his wealth, and in
+the attractions with which it surrounded him; and, lastly,
+pride in the skill, taste, and connoisseurship which enabled
+him to bring those attractions together. Furthermore, his love
+for both literature and art was true and strong; and for many
+years he had accustomed himself to lead a life of great
+luxuriousness, catering for body and mind in every taste that
+could be elegantly enjoyed; and again proud of the elegance of
+every enjoyment. The change of circumstances which touched his
+pride, wounded him at every point where he was vulnerable at
+all.
+
+Fleda had never felt so afraid of him. She was glad to see Dr.
+Gregory come in to tea. Mr. Rossitur was not there. The Doctor
+did not touch upon affairs, if he had heard of their
+misfortune; he went on as usual in a rambling cheerful way all
+tea-time, talking mostly to Fleda and Hugh. But after tea he
+talked no more, but sat still and waited till the master of
+the house came in.
+
+Fleda thought Mr. Rossitur did not look glad to see him. But
+how could he look glad about anything? He did not sit down,
+and for a few minutes there was a kind of meaning silence.
+Fleda sat in the corner with the heartache, to see her uncle's
+gloomy tramp up and down the rich apartment, and her aunt
+Lucy's gaze at him.
+
+"Humph! — well! — So!" said the Doctor, at last, "You've all
+gone overboard with a smash, I understand?"
+
+The walker gave him no regard.
+
+"True, is it?" said the doctor.
+
+Mr. Rossitur made no answer, unless a smothered grunt might be
+taken for one.
+
+"How came it about?"
+
+"Folly and devilry."
+
+"Humph! — bad capital to work upon. I hope the principal is
+gone with the interest. What's the amount of your loss?"
+
+"Ruin."
+
+"Humph! French ruin, or American ruin? because there's a
+difference. What do you mean?"
+
+"I am not so happy as to understand you, Sir; but we shall not
+pay seventy cents, on the dollar."
+
+The old gentleman got up, and stood before the fire, with his
+back to Mr. Rossitur, saying, "That was rather bad."
+
+"What are you going to do?"
+
+Mr. Rossitur hesitated a few moments for an answer, and then
+said —
+
+"Pay the seventy cents, and begin the world anew with
+nothing."
+
+"Of course," said the doctor. "I understand that; but where
+and how? What end of the world will you take up first?."
+
+Mr. Rossitur writhed in impatience or disgust, and after again
+hesitating, answered drily, that he had not determined.
+
+"Have you thought of anything in particular?"
+
+"Zounds! no, Sir, nothing except my misfortune. That's enough
+for one day."
+
+"And too much," said the old doctor, "unless you can mix some
+other thought with it. That's what I came for. Will you go
+into business?"
+
+Fleda was startled by the vehemence with which her uncle said,
+"No, never!" and he presently added, "I'll do nothing here."
+
+"Well, well," said the doctor to himself; "will you go into
+the country?"
+
+"Yes! — anywhere! the further the better."
+
+Mrs. Rossitur startled, but her husband's face did not
+encourage her to open her lips.
+
+"Ay; but on a farm, I mean?"
+
+"On anything, that will give me a standing."
+
+"I thought that, too," said Dr. Gregory, now whirling about.
+"I have a fine piece of land that wants a tenant. You may take
+it at an easy rate, and pay me when the crops come in. I
+shouldn't expect so young a farmer, you know, to keep any
+closer terms."
+
+"How far is it?"
+
+"Far enough — up in Wyandot County."
+
+"How large?"
+
+"A matter of two or three hundred acres of so. It is very
+fine, they say. It came into a fellow's hands that owed me
+what I thought was a bad debt: so, for fear he would never pay
+me, I thought best to take it and pay him; whether the place
+will ever fill my pockets again remains to be seen — doubtful,
+I think."
+
+"I'll take it, Dr. Gregory, and see if I cannot bring that
+about."
+
+"Pooh, pooh! fill your own. I am not careful about it; the
+less money one has the more it jingles, unless it gets too
+low, indeed."
+
+"I will take it, Dr. Gregory, and feel myself under obligation
+to you."
+
+"No, I told you, not till the crops come in. No obligation is
+binding till the term is up. Well, I'll see you further about
+it."
+
+"But Rolf!" said Mrs. Rossitur, "stop a minute; uncle, don't
+go yet; Rolf don't know anything in the world about the
+management of a farm; neither do I."
+
+"The 'faire Una' can enlighten you," said the doctor, waving
+his hand towards his little favourite in the corner. — "But I
+forgot! Well, if you don't know, the crops wont come in;
+that's all the difference."
+
+But Mrs. Rossitur looked anxiously at her husband. "Do you
+know exactly what you are undertaking, Rolf!" she said.
+
+"If I do not, I presume I shall discover in time."
+
+"But it may be too late," said Mrs. Rossitur, in the tone of
+sad remonstrance that had gone all the length it dared.
+
+"It can not be too late!" said her husband, impatiently. "If I
+do not know what I am taking up, I know very well what I am
+laying down; and it does not signify a straw what comes after
+— if it was a snail-shell, that would cover my head!"
+
+"Hum —" said the old doctor, — "the snail is very well in his
+way, but I have no idea that he was ever cut out for a
+farmer."
+
+"Do you think you will find it a business you would like, Mr.
+Rossitur?" said his wife, timidly.
+
+"I tell you," said he, facing about, "it is not a question of
+liking. I will like anything that will bury me out of the
+world."
+
+Poor Mrs. Rossitur! She had not yet come to wishing herself
+buried alive, and she had small faith in the permanence of her
+husband's taste for it. She looked desponding.
+
+"You don't suppose," said Mr. Rossitur, stopping again in the
+middle of the floor, after another turn and a half — "you do
+not suppose that I am going to take the labouring of the farm
+upon myself? I shall employ some one, of course, who
+understands the matter, to take all that off my hands."
+
+The doctor thought of the old proverb, and the alternative the
+plough presents to those who would thrive by it; Fleda thought
+of Mr. Didenhover; Mrs. Rossitur would fain have suggested
+that such an important person must be well paid; but neither
+of them spoke.
+
+"Of course," said Mr. Rossitur, haughtily, as he went on with
+his walk, "I do not expect, any more than you, to live in the
+back woods the life we have been leading here. That is at an
+end."
+
+"Is it a very wild country?" asked Mrs. Rossitur of the
+doctor.
+
+"No wild beasts, my dear, if that is your meaning — and I do
+not suppose there are even many snakes left by this time."
+
+"No, but, dear uncle, I mean, is it in all unsettled state?"
+
+"No, my dear, not at all — perfectly quiet."
+
+"Ah! but do not play with me," exclaimed poor Mrs. Rossitur,
+between laughing and crying; — "I mean, is it far from any
+town, and not among neighbours?"
+
+"Far enough to be out of the way of morning calls," said the
+doctor; "and when your neighbours come to see you, they will
+expect tea by four o'clock. There are not a great many near
+by, but they don't mind coming from five or six miles off."
+
+Mrs. Rossitur looked chilled, and horrified. To her he had
+described a very wild country indeed. Fleda would have laughed
+if it had not been for her aunt's face; but that settled down
+into a doubtful anxious look that pained her. It pained the
+old doctor too.
+
+"Come," said he, touching her pretty chin with his fore-finger
+— "what are you thinking of? folks may be good folks, and yet
+have tea at four o'clock, mayn't they?"
+
+"When do they have dinner!" said Mrs. Rossitur.
+
+"I really don't know. When you get settled up there, I'll come
+and see."
+
+"Hardly," said Mrs. Rossitur. "I don't believe it would be
+possible for Emile to get dinner before the tea-time; and I am
+sure I shouldn't like to propose such a thing to Mrs. Renney."
+
+The doctor fidgeted about a little on the hearth-rug, and
+looked comical, perfectly understood by one acute observer in
+the corner.
+
+"Are you wise enough to imagine, Lucy," said Mr. Rossitur,
+sternly, "that you can carry your whole establishment with
+you? What do you suppose Emile and Mrs. Renney would do in a
+farmhouse?"
+
+"I can do without whatever you can," said Mrs. Rossitur,
+meekly. "I did not know that you would be willing to part with
+Emile, and I do not think Mrs. Renney would like to leave us."
+
+"I told you before, it is no more a question of liking,"
+answered he.
+
+"And if it were," said the doctor, "I have no idea that
+Monsieur Emile and Madame Renney would be satisfied with the
+style of a country kitchen, or think the interior of
+Yankeeland a hopeful sphere for their energies."
+
+"What sort of a house is it?" said Mrs. Rossitur.
+
+"A wooden-frame house, I believe."
+
+"No, but, dear uncle, do tell me."
+
+"What sort of a house? — Humph — large enough, I am told. It
+will accommodate you in one way."
+
+"Comfortable?"
+
+"I don't know," said the doctor, shaking his head — "depends
+on who's in it. No house is that per se. But I reckon there
+isn't much plate glass. I suppose you'll find the doors all
+painted blue, and every fireplace with a crane in it."
+
+"A crane!" said Mrs. Rossitur, to whose imagination the word
+suggested nothing but a large water-bird with a long neck.
+
+"Ay!" said the doctor. "But it's just as well. You wont want
+hanging lamps there — and candelabra would hardly be in place
+either, to hold tallow candles."
+
+"Tallow candles!" exclaimed Mrs. Rossitur. Her husband winced,
+but said nothing.
+
+"Ay," said the doctor, again — "and make them yourself, if you
+are a good housewife. Come, Lucy," said he, taking her hand,
+"do you know how the wild fowl do on the Chesapeake? — duck
+and swim under water till they can show their heads with
+safety. 'T wont spoil your eyes to see by a tallow candle."
+
+Mrs. Rossitur half smiled, but looked anxiously towards her
+husband.
+
+"Pooh, pooh! Rolf wont care what the light burns that lights
+him to independence — and when you get there, you may
+illuminate with a whole whale if you like. By the way, Rolf,
+there is a fine water power up yonder, and a saw-mill in good
+order, they tell me, but a short way from the house. Hugh
+might learn to manage it, and it would be fine employment for
+him."
+
+"Hugh!" said his mother, disconsolately. Mr. Rossitur neither
+spoke nor looked an answer. Fleda sprang forward.
+
+"A saw-mill! — Uncle Orrin! — where is it?"
+
+"Just a little way from the house, they say. You can't manage
+it, fair Saxon! — though you look as if you would undertake
+all the mills in creation, for a trifle."
+
+"No, but the place, uncle Orrin; — where is the place?"
+
+"The place? Hum — why it's up in Wyandot County — some five or
+six miles from the Montepoole Spring — what's this they call
+it? — Queechy! — By the way!" said he, reading Fleda's
+countenance, "it is the very place where your father was born!
+— it is! I didn't think of that before."
+
+Fleda's hands were clasped.
+
+"Oh, I am very glad!" she said. "It's my old home. It is the
+most lovely place, aunt Lucy! — most lovely — and we shall
+have some good neighbours there too. Oh, I am very glad! — The
+dear old saw-mill! —"
+
+"Dear old saw-mill!" said the doctor, looking at her. "Rolf,
+I'll tell you what, you shall give me this girl. I want her. I
+can take better care of her, perhaps, now, than you can. Let
+her come to me when you leave the city — it will be better for
+her than to help work the saw-mill; and I have as good a right
+to her as anybody, for Amy before her was like my own child."
+
+The doctor spoke not with his usual light jesting manner, but
+very seriously. Hugh's lips parted — Mrs. Rossitur looked with
+a sad thoughtful look at Fleda — Mr. Rossitur walked up and
+down looking at nobody. Fleda watched him.
+
+"What does Fleda herself say?" said he, stopping short
+suddenly. His face softened, and his eye changed as it fell
+upon her, for the first time that day. Fleda saw her opening;
+she came to him, within his arms, and laid her head upon his
+breast.
+
+"What does Fleda say?" said he, softly kissing her.
+
+Fleda's tears said a good deal, that needed no interpreter.
+She felt her uncle's hand passed more and more tenderly over
+her head — so tenderly that it made it all the more difficult
+for her to govern herself and stop her tears. But she did stop
+them, and looked up at him then with such a face — so glowing
+through smiles and tears — it was like a very rainbow of hope
+upon the cloud of their prospects. Mr. Rossitur felt the power
+of the sunbeam wand; it reached his heart; it was even with a
+smile that he said, as he looked at her —
+
+"Will you go to your uncle Orrin, Fleda?"
+
+"Not if uncle Rolf will keep me."
+
+"Keep you!" said Mr. Rossitur; "I should like to see who
+wouldn't keep you! There, Dr. Gregory, you have your answer."
+
+"Hum! — I might have known," said the doctor, "that the 'faire
+Una' would abjure cities. Come here, you Elf!" — and he
+wrapped her in his arms so tight she could not stir — "I have
+a spite against you for this. What amends will you make me for
+such an affront?"
+
+"Let me take breath," said Fleda, laughing, "and I'll tell
+you. You don't want any amends, uncle Orrin."
+
+"Well," said he, gazing with more feeling than he cared to
+show into that sweet face, so innocent of apology-making — you
+shall promise me that you will not forget uncle Orrin, and the
+old house in Bleecker Street."
+
+Fleda's eyes grew more wistful.
+
+"And will you promise me that if ever you want anything, you
+will come, or send straight there?"
+
+"If ever I want anything I can't get nor do without," said
+Fleda.
+
+"Pshaw!" said the doctor, letting her go, but laughing at the
+same time. " Mind my words, Mr. and Mrs. Rossitur — if ever
+that girl takes the wrong bit in her mouth — Well, well! I'll
+go home."
+
+Home he went. The rest drew together particularly near, round
+the fire — Hugh at his father's shoulder, and Fleda kneeling
+on the rug, between her uncle and aunt, with a hand on each;
+and there was not one of them whose gloom was not lightened by
+her bright face and cheerful words of hope, that, in the new
+scenes they were going to, "they would all be so happy."
+
+The days that followed were gloomy, but Fleda's ministry was
+unceasing. Hugh seconded her well, though more passively.
+Feeling less pain himself, he perhaps for that very reason was
+less acutely alive to it in others — not so quick to foresee
+and ward off, not so skilful to allay it. Fleda seemed to have
+intuition for the one and a charm for the other. To her there
+was pain in every parting; her sympathies clung to whatever
+wore the livery of habit. There was hardly any piece of
+furniture, there was no book or marble or picture, that she
+could take leave of without a pang. But it was kept to
+herself; her sorrowful good-byes were said in secret; before
+others, in all those weeks, she was a very Euphrosyne — light,
+bright, cheerful of eye, and foot, and hand — a shield between
+her aunt and every annoyance that she could take instead — a
+good little fairy, that sent her sunbeam wand, quick as a
+flash, where any eye rested gloomily. People did not always
+find out where the light came from, but it was her witchery.
+
+The creditors would touch none of Mrs. Rossitur's things, her
+husband's honourable behaviour had been so thorough. They even
+presented him with one or two pictures, which he sold for a
+considerable sum; and to Mrs. Rossitur they gave up all the
+plate in daily use, a matter of great rejoicing to Fleda, who
+knew well how sorely it would have been missed. She and her
+aunt had quite a little library, too, of their own private
+store; a little one it was indeed, but the worth of every
+volume was now trebled in her eyes. Their furniture was all
+left behind; and in its stead went some of neat light painted
+wood, which looked to Fleda deliciously countrified. A
+promising cook and housemaid were engaged to go with them to
+the wilds, and about the first of April they turned their
+backs upon the city.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+"The thresher's weary flinging-tree
+The lee-lang day had tired me:
+And whan the day had closed his e'e,
+Far i' the west,
+Ben i' the spence, right pensivelie,
+I gaed to rest."
+BURNS.
+
+
+Queechy was reached at night. Fleda had promised herself to be
+off almost with the dawn of light the next morning to see aunt
+Miriam, but a heavy rain kept her fast at home the whole day.
+It was very well; she was wanted there.
+
+Despite the rain and her disappointment it was impossible for
+Fleda to lie abed from the time the first grey light began to
+break in at her windows — those old windows that had rattled
+their welcome to her all night. She was up and dressed, and
+had had a long consultation with herself over matters and
+prospects before anybody else had thought of leaving the
+indubitable comfort of a feather bed for the doubtful
+contingency of happiness that awaited them down stairs. Fleda
+took in the whole length and breadth of it, half wittingly and
+half through some finer sense than that of the understanding.
+
+The first view of things could not strike them pleasantly; it
+was not to be looked for. The doors did not happen to be
+painted blue; they were a deep chocolate colour — doors and
+wainscot. The fire-places were not all furnished with cranes,
+but they were all uncouthly wide and deep. Nobody would have
+thought them so indeed in the winter, when piled up with
+blazing hickory logs; but in summer they yawned uncomfortably
+upon the eye. The ceilings were low; the walls rough papered
+or rougher whitewashed; the sashes not hung; the rooms,
+otherwise well enough proportioned, stuck with little
+cupboards, in recesses and corners, and out-of-the-way places,
+in a style impertinently suggestive of housekeeping, and
+fitted to shock any symmetrical set of nerves. The old house
+had undergone a thorough putting in order, it is true; the
+chocolate paint was just dry, and the paper-hangings freshly
+put up; and the bulk of the new furniture had been sent on
+before and unpacked, though not a single article of it was in
+its right place. The house was clean and tight — that is, as
+tight as it ever was. But the colour had been unfortunately
+chosen — perhaps there was no help for that; the paper was
+very coarse and countrified; the big windows were startling,
+they looked so bare, without any manner of drapery; and the
+long reaches of wall were unbroken by mirror or picture-frame.
+And this to eyes trained to eschew ungracefulness and that
+abhorred a vacuum as much as nature is said to do! Even Fleda
+felt there was something disagreeable in the change, though it
+reached her more through the channel of other people's
+sensitiveness than her own. To her it was the dear old house
+still, though her eyes had seen better things since they loved
+it. No corner or recess could have a pleasanter filling, to
+her fancy, than the old brown cupboard or shelves which had
+always been there. But what would her uncle say to them! and
+to that dismal paper! and what would aunt Lucy think of those
+rattling window sashes! this cool raw day, too, for the first!
+—
+
+Think as she might, Fleda did not stand still to think. She
+had gone softly all over the house, taking a strange look at
+the old places and the images with which memory filled them,
+thinking of the last time, and many a time before that — and
+she had at last come back to the sitting-room, long before
+anybody else was down stairs; the two tired servants were just
+rubbing their eyes open in the kitchen, and speculating
+themselves awake. Leaving them, at their peril, to get ready a
+decent breakfast (by the way she grudged them the old
+kitchen), Fleda set about trying what her wand could do
+towards brightening the face of affairs in the other part of
+the house. It was quite cold enough for a fire, luckily. She
+ordered one to be made, and meanwhile busied herself with the
+various stray packages and articles of wearing apparel that
+lay scattered about, giving the whole place a look of
+discomfort. Fleda gathered them up, and bestowed them in one
+or two of the impertinent cupboards, and then undertook the
+labour of carrying out all the wrong furniture that had got
+into the breakfast-room, and bringing in that which really
+belonged there from the hall and the parlour beyond, moving
+like a mouse that she might not disturb the people up stairs.
+A quarter of an hour was spent in arranging to the best
+advantage these various pieces of furniture in the room; it
+was the very same in which Mr. Carleton and Charlton Rossitur
+had been received the memorable day of the roast-pig dinner,
+but that was not the uppermost association in Fleda's mind.
+Satisfied at last that a happier effect could not be produced
+with the given materials, and well pleased too, with her
+success, Fleda turned to the fire. It was made, but not by any
+means doing its part to encourage the other portions of the
+room to look their best. Fleda knew something of wood fires
+from old times; she laid hold of the tongs, and touched and
+loosened and coaxed a stick here and there, with a delicate
+hand, till, seeing the very opening it had wanted — without
+which neither fire nor hope can keep its activity — the blaze
+sprang up energetically, crackling through all the piled oak
+and hickory, and driving the smoke clean out of sight. Fleda
+had done her work. It would have been a misanthropical person
+indeed that could have come into the room then, and not felt
+his face brighten. One other thing remained — setting the
+breakfast-table; and Fleda would let no hands but hers do it
+this morning; she was curious about the setting of tables. How
+she remembered or divined where everything had been stowed;
+how quietly and efficiently her little fingers unfastened
+hampers and pried into baskets, without making any noise; till
+all the breakfast paraphernalia of silver, china, and table-
+linen was found, gathered from various receptacles, and laid
+in most exquisite order on the table. State Street never saw
+better. Fleda stood and looked at it then, in immense
+satisfaction, seeing that her uncle's eye would miss nothing
+of its accustomed gratification. To her the old room, shining
+with firelight and new furniture, was perfectly charming. If
+those great windows were staringly bright, health and
+cheerfulness seemed to look in at them. And what other images
+of association, with "nods and becks and wreathed smiles,"
+looked at her out of the curling flames in the old wide fire-
+place! And one other angel stood there unseen — the one whose
+errand it is to see fulfilled the promise, "Give, and it shall
+be given to you; full measure, and pressed down, and heaped
+up, and running over."
+
+A little while Fleda sat contentedly eyeing her work; then a
+new idea struck her and she sprang up. In the next meadow,
+only one fence between, a little spring of purest water ran
+through from the woodland; water-cresses used to grow there.
+Uncle Rolf was very fond of them. It was pouring with rain;
+but no matter. Her heart beating between haste and delight,
+Fleda slipped her feet into galoches, and put an old cloak of
+Hugh's over her head, and ran out through the kitchen, the old
+accustomed way. The servants exclaimed and entreated, but
+Fleda only flashed a bright look at them from under her cloak
+as she opened the door, and ran off, over the wet grass, under
+the fence, and over half the meadow, till she came to the
+stream. She was getting a delicious taste of old times; and
+though the spring water was very cold, and with it and the
+rain one-half of each sleeve was soon thoroughly wetted, she
+gathered her cresses, and scampered back with a pair of eyes
+and cheeks that might have struck any city belle chill with
+envy.
+
+"Then, but that's a sweet girl!" said Mary the cook to Jane
+the housemaid.
+
+"A lovely countenance she has," answered Jane, who was refined
+in her speech.
+
+"Take her away, and you've taken the best of the house, I'm a
+thinking."
+
+"Mrs. Rossitur is a lady," said Jane, in a low voice.
+
+"Ay, and a very proper behaved one she is, and him the same,
+that is, for a gentleman I mean; but Jane; I say, I'm thinking
+he'll have eat too much sour bread lately! I wish I knowed how
+they'd have their eggs boiled till I'd have them ready."
+
+"Sure it's on the table itself they'll do 'em," said Jane.
+"They've an elegant little fixture in there for the purpose."
+
+"Is that it!"
+
+Nobody found out how busy Fleda's wand had been in the old
+breakfast-room. But she was not disappointed; she had not
+worked for praise. Her cresses were appreciated; that was
+enough. She enjoyed her breakfast — the only one of the party
+that did. Mr. Rossitur looked moody; his wife looked anxious;
+and Hugh's face was the reflection of theirs. If Fleda's face
+reflected anything, it was the sunlight of heaven.
+
+"How sweet the air is after New York!" said she.
+
+They looked at her. There was a fresh sweetness of another
+kind about that breakfast-table. They all felt it, and
+breathed more freely.
+
+"Delicious cresses!' said Mrs. Rossitur.
+
+"Yes; I wonder where they came from," said her husband. "Who
+got them?"
+
+"I guess Fleda knows," said Hugh.
+
+"They grow in a little stream of spring water over here in the
+meadow," said Fleda, demurely.
+
+"Yes, but you don't answer my question," said her uncle,
+putting his hand under her chin, and smiling at the blushing
+face he brought round to view. "Who got them?"
+
+"I did."
+
+"You have been out in the rain?"
+
+"Oh, Queechy rain don't hurt me, uncle Rolf."
+
+"And don't it wet you either?"
+
+"Yes, Sir — a little."
+
+"How much?"
+
+"My sleeves — oh, I dried them long ago."
+
+"Don't you repeat that experiment, Fleda," said he, seriously,
+but with a look that was a good reward to her, nevertheless.
+
+"It is a raw day!" said Mrs. Rossitur, drawing her shoulders
+together, as an ill-disposed window-sash gave one of its
+admonitory shakes.
+
+"What little panes of glass for such big windows!" said Hugh.
+
+"But what a pleasant prospect through them," said Fleda —
+"look, Hugh! — worth all the Batteries and Parks in the
+world."
+
+"In the world! in New York, you mean," said her uncle. "Not
+better than the Champs Elysιes?"
+
+"Better to me," said Fleda.
+
+"For to-day I must attend to the prospect in-doors," said Mrs.
+Rossitur.
+
+"Now, aunt Lucy," said Fleda, "you are just going to put
+yourself down in the corner, in the rocking-chair there, with
+your book, and make yourself comfortable; and Hugh and I will
+see to all these things. Hugh and I and Mary and Jane — that
+makes quite an army of us, and we can do everything without
+you, and you must just keep quiet. I'll build you up a fine
+fire, and then, when I don't know what to do, I will come to
+you for orders. Uncle Rolf, would you be so good as just to
+open that box of books in the hall, because I am afraid Hugh
+isn't strong enough. I'll take care of you, aunt Lucy."
+
+Fleda's plans were not entirely carried out, but she contrived
+pretty well to take the brunt of the business on her own
+shoulders. She was as busy as a bee the whole day. To her all
+the ins and outs of the house, its advantages and
+disadvantages, were much better known than to anybody else;
+nothing could be done but by her advice; and, more than that,
+she contrived by some sweet management to baffle Mrs.
+Rossitur's desire to spare her, and to bear the larger half of
+every burden that should have come upon her aunt. What she had
+done in the breakfast-room, she did or helped to do in the
+other parts of the house; she unpacked boxes and put away
+clothes and linen, in which Hugh was her excellent helper; she
+arranged her uncle's dressing-table with a scrupulosity that
+left nothing uncared-for; and the last thing before tea she
+and Hugh dived into the book-box to get out some favourite
+volumes to lay upon the table in the evening, that the room
+might not look to her uncle quite so dismally bare. He had
+been abroad, notwithstanding the rain, near the whole day.
+
+It was a weary party that gathered round the supper-table that
+night — weary, it seemed, as much in mind as in body; and the
+meal exerted its cheering influence over only two of them; Mr.
+and Mrs. Rossitur sipped their cups of tea abstractedly.
+
+"I don't believe that fellow, Donohan, knows much about his
+business," remarked the former at length.
+
+"Why don't you get somebody else, then?" said his wife.
+
+"I happen to have engaged him, unfortunately."
+
+A pause.
+
+"What doesn't he know?"
+
+Mr. Rossitur laughed, not a pleasant laugh.
+
+"It would take too long to enumerate. If you had asked me what
+part of his business he does understand, I could have told you
+shortly that I don't know."
+
+"But you do not understand it very well yourself. Are you
+sure?"
+
+"Am I sure of what?"
+
+"That this man does not know his business?"
+
+"No further sure than I can have confidence in my own common
+sense."
+
+"What will you do?" said Mrs. Rossitur, after a moment.
+
+A question men are not fond of answering, especially when they
+have not made up their minds. Mr. Rossitur was silent, and his
+wife too, after that.
+
+"If I could get some long-headed Yankee to go along with him,"
+he remarked again, balancing his spoon on the edge of his cup,
+in curious illustration of his own mental position at the
+moment — Donohan being the only fixed point, and all the rest
+wavering in uncertainty. There were a few silent minutes
+before anybody answered.
+
+"If you want one, and don't know of one, uncle Rolf," said
+Fleda, "I dare say cousin Seth might."
+
+That gentle modest speech brought his attention round upon
+her. His face softened.
+
+"Cousin Seth? who is cousin Seth?"
+
+"He is aunt Miriam's son," said Fleda. "Seth Plumfield. He's a
+very good farmer, I know; grandpa used to say he was; and he
+knows everybody."
+
+"Mrs. Plumfield," said Mrs. Rossitur, as her husband's eyes
+went inquiringly to her — "Mrs. Plumfield was Mr. Ringgan's
+sister, you remember. This is her son."
+
+"Cousin Seth, eh?" said Mr. Rossitur, dubiously. " Well — Why,
+Fleda, your sweet air don't seem to agree with you, as far as
+I see; I have not known you look so — so triste — since we
+left Paris. What have you been doing, my child?"
+
+"She has been doing everything, father," said Hugh.
+
+"Oh! it's nothing," said Fleda, answering Mr. Rossitur's look
+and tone of affection with a bright smile. " I'm a little
+tired, that's all!"
+
+"A little tired!' She went to sleep on the sofa directly after
+supper, and slept like a baby all the evening; but her power
+did not sleep with her; for that quiet, sweet, tired face,
+tired in their service, seemed to bear witness against the
+indulgence of anything harsh or unlovely in the same
+atmosphere. A gentle witness-bearing, but strong in its
+gentleness. They sat close together round the fire, talked
+softly, and from time to time cast loving glances at the quiet
+little sleeper by their side. They did not know that she was a
+fairy, and that though her wand had fallen out of her hand it
+was still resting upon them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+"_Gon_. Here is everything advantageous to life.
+_Ant_. True; save means to live."
+TEMPEST.
+
+
+Fleda's fatigue did not prevent her being up before sunrise
+the next day. Fatigue was forgotten, for the light of a fair
+spring morning was shining in at her windows, and she meant to
+see aunt Miriam before breakfast. She ran out to find Hugh,
+and her merry shout reached him before she did, and brought
+him to meet her.
+
+"Come, Hugh! I'm going off up to aunt Miriam's, and I want
+you. Come! Isn't this delicious?"
+
+"Hush!" said Hugh. " Father's just here in the barn. I can't
+go, Fleda."
+
+Fleda's countenance clouded.
+
+"Can't go! what's the matter? can't you go, Hugh?"
+
+He shook his head, and went off into the barn.
+
+A chill came upon Fleda. She turned away with a very sober
+step. What if her uncle was in the barn, why should she hush?
+He never had been a check upon her merriment — never; what was
+coming now? Hugh, too, looked disturbed. It was a spring
+morning no longer. Fleda forgot the glittering wet grass that
+had set her own eyes a-sparkling but a minute ago; she walked
+along, cogitating, swinging her bonnet by the strings in
+thoughtful vibration, till, by the help of sunlight and sweet
+air, and the loved scenes, her spirits again made head and
+swept over the sudden hindrance they had met. There were the
+blessed old sugar maples, seven in number, that fringed the
+side of the road — how well Fleda knew them! Only skeletons
+now, but she remembered how beautiful they looked after the
+October frosts; and presently they would be putting out their
+new green leaves, and be beautiful in another way. How
+different in their free-born luxuriance from the dusty and
+city-prisoned elms and willows she had left! She came to the
+bridge then, and stopped with a thrill of pleasure and pain to
+look and listen. Unchanged! — all but herself. The mill was
+not going; the little brook went by quietly chattering to
+itself, just as it had done the last time she saw it, when she
+rode past on Mr. Carleton's horse. Four and a half years ago!
+And now how strange that she had come to live there again.
+
+Drawing a long breath, and swinging her bonnet again, Fleda
+softly went on up the hill, past the saw-mill, the ponds, the
+factories, the houses of the settlement. The same, and not the
+same! Bright with the morning sun, and yet, somehow, a little
+browner and homelier than of old they used to be. Fleda did
+not care for that — she would hardly acknowledge it to herself
+— her affection never made any discount for infirmity. Leaving
+the little settlement behind her thoughts as behind her back,
+she ran on now towards aunt Miriam's, breathlessly, till field
+after field was passed, and her eye caught a bit of the smooth
+lake, and the old farm-house in its old place. Very brown it
+looked, but Fleda dashed on, through the garden, and in at the
+front door.
+
+Nobody at all was in the entrance-room, the common sitting-
+room of the family. With trembling delight, Fleda opened the
+well-known door, and stole noiselessly through the little
+passage-way to the kitchen. The door of that was only on the
+latch, and a gentle movement of it gave to Fleda's eye the
+tall figure of aunt Miriam, just before her, stooping down to
+look in at the open mouth of the oven, which she was at that
+moment engaged in supplying with more work to do. It was a
+huge one, and, beyond her aunt's head, Fleda could see in the
+far end the great loaves of bread, half baked, and more near a
+perfect squad of pies and pans of gingerbread just going in to
+take the benefit of the oven's milder mood. Fleda saw all
+this, as it were, without seeing it; she stood still as a
+mouse and breathless, till her aunt turned, and then — a
+spring and a half shout of joy, and she had clasped her in her
+arms, and was crying with her whole heart. Aunt Miriam was
+taken all aback — she could do nothing but sit down and cry
+too, and forgot her oven-door."
+
+"Aint breakfast ready yet, mother?" said a manly voice coming
+in. "I must be off to see after them ploughs. Hollo — why,
+mother!"
+
+The first exclamation was uttered as the speaker put the door
+to the oven's mouth; the second as he turned in quest of the
+hand that should have done it. He stood wondering, while his
+mother and Fleda, between laughing and crying, tried to rouse
+themselves and look up.
+
+"What is all this?"
+
+"Don't you see, Seth?"
+
+"I see somebody that had like to have spoiled your whole
+baking — I don't know who it is yet."
+
+"Don't you now, cousin Seth?" said Fleda, shaking away her
+tears and getting up.
+
+"I ha'n't quite lost my recollection. Cousin, you must give me
+a kiss. How do you do! You ha'n't forgot how to colour, I see,
+for all you've been so long among the pale city folks."
+
+"I hav'n't forgotten anything, cousin Seth," said Fleda,
+blushing indeed, but laughing and shaking his hand with as
+hearty good-will.
+
+"I don't believe you have — anything that is good," said he.
+"Where have you been all this while?"
+
+"Oh, part of the time in New York, and part of the time in
+Paris, and some other places."
+
+"Well, you ha'n't seen anything better than Queechy, or
+Queechy bread and butter, have you?"
+
+"No, indeed!"
+
+"Come, you shall give me another kiss for that," said he,
+suiting the action to the word; "and now sit down and eat as
+much bread and butter as you can. It's just as good as it used
+to be. Come, mother, I guess breakfast is ready by the looks
+of that coffee-pot."
+
+"Breakfast ready!" said Fleda.
+
+"Ay indeed; it's a good half-hour since it ought to ha' been
+ready. If it aint, I can't stop for it. Them boys will be
+running their furrows like sarpents if I aint there to start
+them."
+
+"Which like sarpents," said Fleda, — "the furrows or the men?"
+
+"Well, I was thinking of the furrows," said he, glancing at
+her. "I guess there aint cunning enough in the others to
+trouble them. Come, sit down, and let me see whether you have
+forgot a Queechy appetite."
+
+"I don't know," said Fleda, doubtfully; "they will expect me
+at home."
+
+"I don't care who expects you — sit down! you aint going to
+eat any bread and butter this morning but my mother's — you
+haven't got any like it at your house. Mother, give her a cup
+of coffee, will you, and set her to work."
+
+Fleda was too willing to comply with the invitation, were it
+only for the charm of old times. She had not seen such a table
+for years, and little as the conventionalities of delicate
+taste were known there, it was not without a comeliness of its
+own in its air of wholesome abundance and the extreme purity
+of all its arrangements. If but a piece of cold pork were on
+aunt Miriam's table, it was served with a nicety that would
+not have offended the most fastidious; and amid irregularities
+that the fastidious would scorn, there was a sound excellence
+of material and preparation that they very often fail to know.
+Fleda made up her mind she would be wanted at home; all the
+rather, perhaps, for Hugh's mysterious "hush;" and there was
+something in the hearty kindness and truth of these friends
+that she felt particularly genial. And if there was a lack of
+silver at the board, its place was more than filled with the
+pure gold of association. They sat down to table, but aunt
+Miriam's eyes devoured Fleda. Mr. Plumfield set about his more
+material breakfast with all despatch.
+
+"So Mr. Rossitur has left the city for good?" said aunt
+Miriam. "How does he like it?"
+
+"He hasn't been here but a day, you know, aunt Miriam," said
+Fleda evasively.
+
+"Is he anything of a farmer?" asked her cousin.
+
+"Not much," said Fleda.
+
+"Is he going to work the farm himself?"
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"I mean, is he going to work the farm himself, or hire it out,
+or let somebody else work it on shares?"
+
+"I don't know," said Fleda — "I think he is going to have a
+farmer, and oversee things himself."
+
+"He'll get sick o' that," said Seth; "unless he's the luck to
+get hold of just the right hand."
+
+"Has he hired anybody yet?" said aunt Miriam, after a little
+interval of supplying Fleda with "bread and butter."
+
+"Yes, Ma'am, I believe so."
+
+"What's his name?"
+
+"Donohan — an Irishman, I believe; uncle Rolf hired him in New
+York."
+
+"For his head man?" said Seth, with a sufficiently
+intelligible look.
+
+"Yes," said Fleda. "Why?"
+
+But he did not immediately answer her.
+
+"The land's in poor heart now," said he, "a good deal of it;
+it has been wasted; it wants first-rate management to bring it
+in order, and make much of it for two or three years to come.
+I never see an Irishman's head yet that was worth more than a
+joke. Their hands are all of 'em that's good for anything."
+
+"I believe uncle Rolf wants to have an American to go with
+this man," said Fleda.
+
+Seth said nothing; but Fleda understood the shake of his head
+as he reached over after a pickle.
+
+"Are you going to keep a dairy, Fleda?" said her aunt.
+
+"I don't know, Ma'am — I haven't heard anything about it."
+
+"Does Mrs. Rossitur know anything about country affairs?"
+
+"No — nothing," Fleda said, her heart sinking perceptibly with
+every new question.
+
+"She hasn't any cows yet?"
+
+She? — any cows! — But Fleda only said they had not come; she
+believed they were coming.
+
+"What help has she got?"
+
+"Two women — Irishwomen," said Fleda.
+
+"Mother, you'll have to take hold and learn her," said Mr.
+Plumfield.
+
+"Teach her?" cried Fleda, repelling the idea — "aunt Lucy? she
+cannot do anything — she isn't strong enough; not anything of
+that kind."
+
+"What did she come here for?" said Seth.
+
+"You know," said his mother, "that Mr. Rossitur's
+circumstances obliged him to quit New York."
+
+"Ay, but that aint my question. A man had better keep his
+fingers off anything he can't live by. A farm's one thing or
+t'other, just as it's worked. The land wont grow specie — it
+must be fetched out of it. Is Mr. Rossitur a smart man?"
+
+"Very," Fleda said, "about everything but farming."
+
+"Well, if he'll put himself to school, maybe he'll learn,"
+Seth concluded, as he finished his breakfast and went off.
+Fleda rose too, and was standing thoughtfully by the fire,
+when aunt Miriam came up and put her arms round her. Fleda's
+eyes sparkled again.
+
+"You're not changed — you're the same little Fleda," she said.
+
+"Not quite so little," said Fleda, smiling.
+
+"Not quite so little, but my own darling. The world hasn't
+spoiled thee yet."
+
+"I hope not, aunt Miriam."
+
+"You have remembered your mother's prayer, Fleda?"
+
+"Always!"
+
+How tenderly aunt Miriam's hand was passed over the bowed head
+— how fondly she pressed her! And Fleda's answer was as fond.
+
+"I wanted to bring Hugh up to see you, aunt Miriam, with me,
+but he couldn't come. You will like Hugh. He is so good!"
+
+"I will come down and see him," said aunt Miriam; and then she
+went to look after her oven's doings. Fleda stood by, amused
+to see the quantities of nice things that were rummaged out of
+it. They did not look like Mrs. Renney's work, but she knew
+from old experience that they were good.
+
+"How early you must have been up to put these things in," said
+Fleda.
+
+"Put them in! yes, and make them. These were all made this
+morning, Fleda."
+
+"This morning! — before breakfast! Why, the sun was only just
+rising when I set out to come up the hill, and I wasn't long
+coming, aunt Miriam."
+
+"To be sure; that's the way to get things done. Before
+breakfast! — What time do you breakfast, Fleda?"
+
+"Not till eight or nine o'clock."
+
+"Eight or nine! — Here?"
+
+"There hasn't been any change made yet, and I don't suppose
+there will be. Uncle Rolf is always up early, but he can't
+bear to have breakfast early."
+
+Aunt Miriam's face showed what she thought; and Fleda went
+away with all its gravity and doubt settled like lead upon her
+heart. Though she had one of the identical apple pies in her
+hands, which aunt Miriam had quietly said was for "her and
+Hugh," and though a pleasant savour of old times was about it,
+Fleda could not get up again the bright feeling with which she
+had come up the hill. There was a miserable misgiving at
+heart. It would work off in time.
+
+It had begun to work off, when, at the foot of the hill, she
+met her uncle. He was coming after her to ask Mr. Plumfield
+about the desideratum of a Yankee. Fleda put her pie in safety
+behind a rock, and turned back with him, and aunt Miriam told
+them the way to Seth's ploughing ground.
+
+A pleasant word or two had set Fleda's spirits a-bounding
+again, and the walk was delightful. Truly the leaves were not
+on the trees, but it was April, and they soon would be; there
+was promise in the light, and hope in the air, and everything
+smelt of the country and spring-time. The soft tread of the
+sod, that her foot had not felt for so long, the fresh look of
+the newly-turned earth; here and there the brilliance of a
+field of winter grain, and that nameless beauty of the budding
+trees, that the full luxuriance of summer can never equal —
+Fleda's heart was springing for sympathy. And to her, with
+whom association was everywhere so strong, there was in it all
+a shadowy presence of her grandfather, with whom she had so
+often seen the spring-time bless those same hills and fields
+long ago. She walked on in silence, as her manner commonly was
+when deeply pleased; there were hardly two persons to whom she
+would speak her mind freely then. Mr. Rossitur had his own
+thoughts.
+
+"Can anything equal the spring-time?" she burst forth at
+length.
+
+Her uncle looked at her and smiled. "Perhaps not; but it is
+one thing," said he, sighing, "for taste to enjoy, and another
+thing for calculation to improve."
+
+"But one can do both, can't one?" said Fleda, brightly.
+
+"I don't know," said he, sighing again. "Hardly."
+
+Fleda knew he was mistaken, and thought the sighs out of
+place. But they reached her; and she had hardly condemned them
+before they set her off upon a long train of excuses for him,
+and she had wrought herself into quite a fit of tenderness by
+the time they reached her cousin.
+
+They found him on a gentle side-hill, with two other men and
+teams, both of whom were stepping away in different parts of
+the field. Mr. Plumfield was just about setting off to work
+his way to the other side of the lot, when they came up with
+him.
+
+Fleda was not ashamed of her aunt Miriam's son, even before
+such critical eyes as those of her uncle. Farmer-like as were
+his dress and air, they showed him, nevertheless, a well-
+built, fine-looking man, with the independent bearing of one
+who has never recognised any but mental or moral superiority.
+His face might have been called handsome; there was at least
+manliness in every line of it; and his excellent dark eye
+showed an equal mingling of kindness and acute common sense.
+Let Mr. Plumfield wear what clothes he would, one felt obliged
+to follow Burns' notable example, and pay respect to the man
+that was in them.
+
+"A fine day, Sir," he remarked to Mr. Rossitur, after they had
+shaken hands.
+
+"Yes, and I will not interrupt you but a minute. Mr.
+Plumfield, I am in want of hands — hands for this very
+business you are about, ploughing — and Fleda says you know
+everybody; so I have come to ask if you can direct me."
+
+" Heads or hands, do you want?" said Seth, clearing his boot-
+sole from some superfluous soil upon the share of his plough.
+
+"Why both, to tell you the truth. I want bands and teams, for
+that matter, for I have only two, and I suppose there is no
+time to be lost. And I want very much to get a person
+thoroughly acquainted with the business to go along with my
+man. He is an Irishman, and I am afraid not very well
+accustomed to the ways of doing things here."
+
+"Like enough," said Seth; " and the worst of 'em is, you can't
+learn 'em."
+
+"Well! — can you help me?"
+
+"Mr. Douglass!" said Seth, raising his voice to speak to one
+of his assistants who was approaching them — "Mr. Douglass!
+you're holding that 'ere plough a little too obleekly for my
+grounds."
+
+"Very good, Mr. Plumfield!" said the person called upon, with
+a quick accent that intimated, "If you don't know what is
+best, it is not my affair!" — the voice very peculiar, seeming
+to come from no lower than the top of his throat, with a
+guttural roll of the words.
+
+"Is that Earl Douglass?" said Fleda.
+
+"You remember him?" said her cousin, smiling. "He's just where
+he was, and his wife too. Well, Mr. Rossitur, 'tain't very
+easy to find what you want just at this season, when most
+folks have their hands full, and help is all taken up. I'll
+see if I can't come down and give you a lift myself with the
+ploughing, for a day or two, as I'm pretty beforehand with the
+spring, but you'll want more than that. I ain't sure — I
+haven't more hands than I'll want myself, but I think it is
+possible Squire Springer may spare you one of his'n. He aint
+taking in any new land this year, and he's got things pretty
+snug; I guess he don't care to do any more than common, —
+anyhow, you might try. You know where uncle Joshua lives,
+Fleda? Well, Philetus — what now?"
+
+They had been slowly walking along the fence towards the
+furthest of Mr. Plumfield's coadjutors, upon whom his eye had
+been curiously fixed as he was speaking — a young man who was
+an excellent sample of what is called "the raw material." He
+had just come to a sudden stop in the midst of the furrow when
+his employer called to him; and he answered, somewhat lack-a-
+daisically —
+
+"Why, I've broke this here clavis: I ha'n't touched anything
+nor nothing, and it broke right in teu!"
+
+"What do you 'spose 'll be done now?" said Mr. Plumfield,
+gravely, going up to examine the fracture.
+
+"Well, 't wa'n't none of my doings," said the young man. "I
+ha'n't touched anything nor nothing, and the mean thing broke
+right in teu. 'Tain't so handy as the old kind o' plough, by a
+long jump."
+
+"You go 'long down to the house and ask my mother for a new
+clavis; and talk about ploughs when you know how to hold 'em,"
+said Mr. Plumfield.
+
+"It don't look so difficult a matter," said Mr. Rossitur, —
+"but I am a novice myself. What is the principal thing to be
+attended to in ploughing, Mr. Plumfield?"
+
+There was a twinkle in Seth's eye, as he looked down upon a
+piece of straw he was breaking to bits, which Fleda, who could
+see, interpreted thoroughly.
+
+"Well," said he, looking up — "the breadth of the stitches and
+the width and depth of the furrow must be regulated according
+to the nature of the soil and the lay of the ground, and what
+you're ploughing for. There's stubble-ploughing, and breaking
+up old leys, and ploughing for fallow crops, and ribbing,
+where the land has been some years in grass, and so on; and
+the plough must be geared accordingly, and so as not to take
+too much land nor go out of the land; and after that the best
+part of the work is to guide the plough right, and run the
+furrows straight and even."
+
+He spoke with the most impenetrable gravity, while Mr.
+Rossitur looked blank and puzzled. Fleda could hardly keep her
+countenance.
+
+"That row of poles," said Mr. Rossitur, presently, "are they
+to guide you in running the furrow straight?"
+
+"Yes, Sir, they are to mark out the crown of the stitch. I
+keep 'em right between the horses, and plough 'em down one
+after another. It's a kind of way country-folks play at nine-
+pins," said Seth, with a glance half inquisitive, half sly, at
+his questioner.
+
+Mr. Rossitur asked no more. Fleda felt a little uneasy again.
+It was rather a longish walk to uncle Joshua's, and hardly a
+word spoken on either side.
+
+The old gentleman was "to hum;" and while Fleda went back into
+some remote part of the house to see "aunt Syra," Mr. Rossitur
+set forth his errand.
+
+"Well, and so you're looking for help — eh?" said uncle
+Joshua, when he had heard him through.
+
+"Yes, Sir — I want help."
+
+"And a team too?"
+
+"So I have said, Sir," Mr. Rossitur answered rather shortly.
+"Can you supply me?"
+
+"Well, I don't know as I can," said the old man, rubbing his
+hands slowly over his knees. "You ha'n't got much done yet, I
+s'pose?"
+
+"Nothing. I came the day before yesterday."
+
+"Land's in rather poor condition in some parts, aint it?"
+
+"I really am not able to say, Sir, — till I have seen it."
+
+"It ought to be," said the old gentleman, shaking his head, —
+"the fellow that was there last didn't do right by it. He
+worked the land too hard, and didn't put on it anywhere near
+what he had ought to; I guess you'll find it pretty poor in
+some places. He was trying to get all he could out of it, I
+s'pose. There's a good deal of fencing to be done too, aint
+there?"
+
+"All that there was, Sir, — I have done none since I came."
+
+"Seth Plumfield got through ploughing yet?"
+
+"We found him at it."
+
+"Ay, he's a smart man. What are you going to do, Mr. Rossitur,
+with that piece of marsh land that lies off to the south east
+of the barn, beyond the meadow, between the hills? I had just
+sich another, and I —"
+
+"Before I do anything with the wet land, Mr. — I am so unhappy
+as to have forgotten your name —"
+
+"Springer, Sir," said the old gentleman, — "Springer — Joshua
+Springer. That is my name, Sir."
+
+"Mr. Springer, before I do anything with the wet land, I
+should like to have something growing on the dry; and as that
+is the present matter in hand, will you be so good as to let
+me know whether I can have your assistance."
+
+"Well, I don't know," said the old gentleman; "there aint
+anybody to send but my boy Lucas, and I don't know whether he
+would make up his mind to go or not."
+
+"Well, Sir!" said Mr. Rossitur, rising, "in that case, I will
+bid you good morning. I am sorry to have given you the
+trouble."
+
+"Stop," said the old man, "stop a bit. Just sit down. I'll go
+in and see about it."
+
+Mr. Rossitur sat down, and uncle Joshua left him to go into
+the kitchen and consult his wife, without whose counsel, of
+late years especially, he rarely did anything. They never
+varied in opinion, but aunt Syra's wits supplied the steel
+edge to his heavy metal.
+
+"I don't know but Lucas would as lieve go as not," the old
+gentleman remarked on coming back from this sharpening
+process, — "and I can make out to spare him, I guess. You
+calculate to keep him, I s'pose?"
+
+"Until this press is over; and perhaps longer, if I find he
+can do what I want."
+
+"You'll find him pretty handy at a'most anything, but I mean —
+I s'pose he'll get his victuals with you?"
+
+"I have made no arrangement of the kind," said Mr. Rossitur,
+controlling with some effort his rebelling muscles. "Donohan
+is boarded somewhere else, and for the present it will be best
+for all in my employ to follow the same plan."
+
+"Very good," said uncle Joshua; "it makes no difference —
+only, of course, in that case it is worth more, when a man has
+to find himself and his team."
+
+"Whatever it is worth, I am quite ready to pay, Sir."
+
+"Very good. You and Lucas can agree about that. He'll be along
+in the morning."
+
+So they parted; and Fleda understood the impatient quick step
+with which her uncle got over the ground.
+
+"Is that man a brother of your grandfather?"
+
+"No, Sir — Oh no! only his brother-in-law. My grandmother was
+his sister, but they weren't in the least like each other."
+
+"I should think they could not," said Mr. Rossitur.
+
+"Oh, they were not!" Fleda repeated. "I have always heard
+that."
+
+After paying her respects to aunt Syra in the kitchen, she had
+come back time enough to hear the end of the discourse in the
+parlour, and had felt its full teaching. Doubts returned, and
+her spirits were sobered again. Not another word was spoken
+till they reached home; when Fleda seized upon Hugh, and went
+off to the rock after her forsaken pie.
+
+"Have you succeeded?" asked Mrs. Rossitur, while they were
+gone.
+
+"Yes — that is, a cousin has kindly consented to come and help
+me."
+
+"A cousin!" said Mrs. Rossitur.
+
+"Ay — we're in a nest of cousins."
+
+"In a what, Mr. Rossitur?"
+
+"In a nest of cousins; and I had rather be in a nest of rooks.
+I wonder if I shall be expected to ask my ploughmen to dinner!
+Every second man is a cousin, and the rest are uncles."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+"Whilst skies are blue and bright,
+Whilst flowers are gay,
+Whilst eyes that change ere night
+Make glad the day;
+Whilst yet the calm hours creep,
+Dream thou — and from thy sleep
+Then wake to weep."
+SHELLEY.
+
+
+The days of summer flew by, for the most part lightly, over
+the heads of Hugh and Fleda. The farm was little to them but a
+place of pretty and picturesque doings, and the scene of
+nameless delights by wood and stream, in all which, all that
+summer, Fleda rejoiced; pulling Hugh along with her, even when
+sometimes he would rather have been poring over his books at
+home. She laughingly said it was good for him, and one half,
+at least, of every fine day their feet were abroad. They knew
+nothing, practically, of the dairy, but that it was an
+inexhaustible source of the sweetest milk and butter, and,
+indirectly, of the richest custards and syllabubs. The flock
+of sheep that now and then came in sight, running over the
+hill-side, were to them only an image of pastoral beauty, and
+a soft link with the beauty of the past. The two children took
+the very cream of country life. The books they had left were
+read with greater eagerness than ever. When the weather was
+"too lovely to stay in the house," Shakespeare, or Massillon,
+or Sully, or the "Curiosities of Literature," or "Corinne," or
+Milner's Church History — for Fleda's reading was as
+miscellaneous as ever — was enjoyed under the flutter of
+leaves and along with the rippling of the mountain spring;
+whilst King curled himself up on the skirt of his mistress's
+gown, and slept for company; hardly more thoughtless and
+fearless of harm than his two companions. Now and then Fleda
+opened her eyes to see that her uncle was moody and not like
+himself, and that her aunt's gentle face was clouded in
+consequence; and she could not sometimes help the suspicion
+that he was not making a farmer of himself; but the next
+summer-wind would blow these thoughts away, or the next look
+of her flowers would put them out of her head. The whole
+courtyard in front of the house had been given up to her
+peculiar use as a flower garden, and there she and Hugh made
+themselves very busy.
+
+But the summer-time came to an end.
+
+It was a November morning, and Fleda had been doing some of
+the last jobs in her flower-beds. She was coming in with
+spirits as bright as her cheeks, when her aunt's attitude and
+look, more than usually spiritless, suddenly checked them.
+Fleda gave her a hopeful kiss, and asked for the explanation.
+
+"How bright you look, darling!" said her aunt, stroking her
+cheek.
+
+"Yes, but you don't, aunt Lucy. What has happened?"
+
+"Mary and Jane are going away."
+
+"Going away! — What for?"
+
+"They are tired of the place — don't like it, I suppose."
+
+"Very foolish of them! Well, aunt Lucy, what matter? we can
+get plenty more in their room."
+
+"Not from the city — not possible; they would not come at this
+time of year."
+
+"Sure? — Well, then, here we can, at any rate."
+
+"Here! But what sort of persons shall we get here? And your
+uncle — just think!" —
+
+"Oh, but I think we can manage," said Fleda. "When do Mary and
+Jane want to go?"
+
+"Immediately! — to-morrow; they are not willing to wait till
+we can get somebody. Think of it!"
+
+"Well, let them go," said Fleda; "the sooner the better."
+
+"Yes: and I am sure I don't want to keep them; but" — and Mrs.
+Rossitur wrung her hands — "I haven't money enough to pay them
+quite — and they wont go without it."
+
+Fleda felt shocked; so much that she could not help looking
+it.
+
+"But can't uncle Rolf give it you?"
+
+Mrs. Rossitur shook her head. "I have asked him."
+
+"How much is wanting?"
+
+"Twenty-five. Think of his not being able to give me that!" —
+Mrs. Rossitur burst into tears.
+
+"Now don't, aunt Lucy!" said Fleda, guarding well her own
+composure; "you know he has had a great deal to spend upon the
+farm, and paying men, and all, and it is no wonder that he
+should be a little short just now — now, cheer up! — we can
+get along with this, anyhow."
+
+"I asked him," said Mrs. Rossitur, through her tears, "when he
+would be able to give it to me; and he told me he didn't
+know!"
+
+Fleda ventured no reply, but some of the tenderest caresses
+that lips and arms could give; and then sprang away, and in
+three minutes was at her aunt's side again.
+
+"Look here, aunt Lucy," said she, gently, "here is twenty
+dollars, if you can manage the five."
+
+"Where did you get this?" Mrs. Rossitur exclaimed.
+
+"I got it honestly. It is mine, aunt Lucy," said Fleda,
+smiling. "Uncle Orrin gave me some money, just before we came
+away, to do what I liked with; and I haven't wanted to do
+anything with it till now."
+
+But this seemed to hurt Mrs. Rossitur more than all the rest.
+Leaning her head forward upon Fleda's breast, and clasping her
+arms about her, she cried worse tears than Fleda had seen her
+shed. If it had not been for the emergency, Fleda would have
+broken down utterly too.
+
+"That it should have come to this! — I can't take it, dear
+Fleda! —"
+
+"Yes, you must, aunt Lucy," said Fleda, soothingly. "I
+couldn't do anything else with it that would give me so much
+pleasure. I don't want it; it would lie in my drawer till I
+don't know when. We'll let these people be off as soon as they
+please. Don't take it so; uncle Rolf will have money again —
+only just now he is out, I suppose — and we'll get somebody
+else in the kitchen that will do nicely; you see if we don't."
+
+Mrs. Rossitur's embrace said what words were powerless to say.
+
+"But I don't know how we're to find any one here in the
+country — I don't know who'll go to look — I am sure your
+uncle wont want to; and Hugh wouldn't know —"
+
+"I'll go," said Fleda, cheerfully — "Hugh and I. We can do
+famously, if you'll trust me. I wont promise to bring home a
+French cook."
+
+"No, indeed; we must take what we can get. But you can get no
+one to-day, and they will be off by the morning's coach; what
+shall we do to-morrow — for dinner? — your uncle —"
+
+"I'll get dinner," said Fleda, caressing her; "I'll take all
+that on myself. It sha'n't be a bad dinner either. Uncle Rolf
+will like what I do for him, I dare say. Now, cheer up, aunt
+Lucy; do; that's all I ask of you. Wont you — for me?"
+
+She longed to speak a word of that quiet hope with which in
+every trouble she secretly comforted herself — she wanted to
+whisper the words that were that moment in her own mind,
+"Truly, I know that it shall be well with them that fear God;"
+but her natural reserve and timidity kept her lips shut to her
+grief.
+
+The women were paid off and dismissed, and departed in the
+next day's coach from Montepoole. Fleda stood at the front
+door to see them go, with a curious sense that there was an
+empty house at her back, and indeed upon her back. And in
+spite of all the cheeriness of her tone to her aunt, she was
+not without some shadowy feeling that soberer times might be
+coming upon them.
+
+"What is to be done now?" said Hugh, close beside her.
+
+"Oh, we are going to get somebody else," said Fleda.
+
+"Where?"
+
+"I don't know! You and I are going to find out."
+
+"You and I!"
+
+"Yes. We are going out after dinner, Hugh, dear," said she,
+turning her bright merry face towards him — "to pick up
+somebody."
+
+Linking her arm within his, she went back to the deserted
+kitchen premises, to see how her promise about talking Mary's
+place was to be fulfilled.
+
+"Do you know where to look?" said Hugh.
+
+"I've a notion; but the first thing is dinner, that uncle Rolf
+mayn't think the world is turning topsy-turvy. There is
+nothing at all here, Hugh — nothing in the world but bread —
+it's a blessing there is that. Uncle Rolf will have to be
+satisfied with a coffee dinner to-day, and I'll make him the
+most superb omelette that my skill is equal to! Hugh, dear,
+you shall set the table. — You don't know how? — then you
+shall make the toast, and I will set it the first thing of
+all. You perceive it is well to know how to do everything, Mr.
+Hugh Rossitur."
+
+"Where did you learn to make omelettes?" said Hugh, with
+laughing admiration, as Fleda bared two pretty arms, and ran
+about, the very impersonation of good-humoured activity. The
+table was set — the coffee was making — and she had him
+established at the fire with two great plates, a pile of
+slices of bread, and the toasting-iron.
+
+"Where? oh, don't you remember the days of Mrs. Renney? I have
+seen Emile make them. And by dint of trying to teach Mary this
+summer, I have taught myself. There is no knowing, you see,
+what a person may come to."
+
+"I wonder what father would say, if he knew you had made all
+the coffee this summer?"
+
+"That is an unnecessary speculation, my dear Hugh, as I have
+no intention of telling him. But see! that is the way with
+speculators! 'while they go on refining,' the toast burns!"
+
+The coffee, and the omelette, and the toast, and Mr.
+Rossitur's favourite French salad, were served with beautiful
+accuracy; and he was quite satisfied. But aunt Lucy looked
+sadly at Fleda's flushed face, and saw that her appetite
+seemed to have gone off in the steam of her preparations.
+Fleda had a kind of heart-feast, however, which answered as
+well.
+
+Hugh harnessed the little wagon, for no one was at hand to do
+it, and he and Fleda set off as early as possible after
+dinner. Fleda's thoughts had turned to her old acquaintance,
+Cynthia Gall, who she knew was out of employment, and staying
+at home somewhere near Montepoole. They got the exact
+direction from aunt Miriam, who approved of her plan.
+
+It was a pleasant, peaceful drive they had. They never were
+alone together, they two, but vexations seemed to lose their
+power, or be forgotten; and an atmosphere of quietness gather
+about them, the natural element of both hearts. It might
+refuse its presence to one, but the attraction of both
+together was too strong to be resisted.
+
+Miss Cynthia's present abode was in an out-of-the-way place,
+and a good distance off; they were some time in reaching it.
+The barest-looking and dingiest of houses, set plump in a
+green field, without one softening or home-like touch from any
+home-feeling within; not a flower, not a shrub, not an out-
+house, not a tree near. One would have thought it a deserted
+house, but that a thin wreath of smoke lazily stole up from
+one of the brown chimneys; and graceful as that was, it took
+nothing from the hard, stern barrenness below, which told of a
+worse poverty than that of paint and glazing.
+
+"Can this be the place?" said Hugh.
+
+"It must be. You stay here with the horse, and I'll go in and
+seek my fortune. — Don't promise much," said Fleda, shaking
+her head.
+
+The house stood back from the road. Fleda picked her way to it
+along a little footpath which seemed to be the equal property
+of the geese. Her knock brought an invitation to "come in."
+
+An elderly woman was sitting there, whose appearance did not
+mend the general impression. She had the same dull and
+unhopeful look that her house had.
+
+"Does Mrs. Gall live here?"
+
+"I do," said this person.
+
+"Is Cynthia at home?"
+
+The woman, upon this, raised her voice, and directed it at an
+inner door.
+
+"Lucindy!" said she, in a diversity of tones; "Lucindy! tell
+Cynthy here's somebody wants to see her." But no one answered;
+and throwing the work from her lap, the woman muttered she
+would go and see, and left Fleda, with a cold invitation to
+sit down.
+
+Dismal work! Fleda wished herself out of it. The house did not
+look poverty-stricken within, but poverty must have struck to
+the very heart, Fleda thought, where there was no apparent
+cherishing of anything. There was no absolute distress
+visible, neither was there a sign of real comfort, or of a
+happy home. She could not fancy it was one.
+
+She waited so long, that she was sure Cynthia did not hold
+herself in readiness to see company. And when the lady at last
+came in, it was with very evident marks of "smarting up" about
+her.
+
+"Why, it's Flidda Ringgan!" said Miss Gall, after a dubious
+look or two at her visitor. "How do you do? I didn't 'spect to
+see you. How much you have growed!"
+
+She looked really pleased, and gave Fleda's hand a very strong
+grasp as she shook it.
+
+"There aint no fire here to-day," pursued Cynthy, paying her
+attentions to the fire-place; "we let it go down on account of
+our being all busy out at the back of the house. I guess
+you're cold, aint you."
+
+Fleda said, "No;" and remembered that the woman she had first
+seen was certainly not busy at the back of the house, nor
+anywhere else but in that very room, where she had found her
+deep in a pile of patchwork.
+
+"I heerd you had come to the old place. Were you glad to be
+back again?" Cynthy asked, with a smile that might be taken to
+express some doubt upon the subject.
+
+"I was very glad to see it again."
+
+"I ha'n't seen it in a great while. I've been staying to hum
+this year or two. I got tired o' going out," Cynthy remarked,
+with again a smile very peculiar, and, Fleda thought, a little
+sardonical. She did not know how to answer.
+
+"Well, how do you come along down yonder?" Cynthy went on,
+making a great fuss with the shovel and tongs to very little
+purpose. "Ha' you come all the way from Queechy?"
+
+"Yes. I came on purpose to see you, Cynthy."
+
+Without staying to ask what for, Miss Gall now went out to
+"the back of the house," and came running in again with a live
+brand pinched in the tongs, and a long tail of smoke running
+after it. Fleda would have compounded for no fire and no
+choking. The choking was only useful to give her time to
+think. She was uncertain how to bring in her errand.
+
+"And how is Mis' Plumfield?" said Cynthy, in an interval of
+blowing the brand.
+
+"She is quite well; but, Cynthy, you need not have taken all
+that trouble for me. I cannot stay but a few minutes."
+
+"There is wood enough!" Cynthia remarked, with one of her grim
+smiles — an assertion Fleda could not help doubting. Indeed,
+she thought Miss Gall had grown altogether more disagreeable
+than she used to be in old times. Why, she could not divine,
+unless the souring effect had gone on with the years.
+
+"And what's become of Earl Douglass and Mis' Douglass? I
+hain't heerd nothin' of 'em this great while. I always told
+your grandpa he'd ha' saved himself a great deal o' trouble if
+he'd ha' let Earl Douglass take hold of things. You han't got
+Mr. Didenhover into the works again, I guess, have you? He was
+there a good spell after your grandpa died.''
+
+"I haven't seen Mrs. Douglass," said Fleda. "But, Cynthy, what
+do you think I have come here for?"
+
+"I don't know," said Cynthy, with another of her peculiar
+looks directed at the fire. "I s'pose you want someh'n nother
+of me."
+
+"I have come to see if you wouldn't come and live with my
+aunt, Mrs. Rossitur. We are left alone, and want somebody very
+much; and I thought I would find you out and see if we
+couldn't have you, first of all, before I looked for anybody
+else."
+
+Cynthy was absolutely silent. She sat before the fire, her
+feet stretched out towards it as far as they would go, and her
+arms crossed, and not moving her steady gaze at the smoking
+wood, or the chimney-back, whichever it might be; but there
+was in the corners of her mouth the threatening of a smile
+that Fleda did not at all like.
+
+"What do you say to it, Cynthy?"
+
+"I reckon you'd best get somebody else," said Miss Gall, with
+a kind of condescending dryness, and the smile showing a
+little more.
+
+"Why?" said Fleda. "I would a great deal rather have an old
+friend than a stranger."
+
+"Be you the housekeeper?" said Cynthy, a little abruptly.
+
+"Oh, I am a little of everything," said Fleda — "cook and
+housekeeper, and whatever comes first. I want you to come and
+be housekeeper, Cynthy."
+
+"I reckon Mis' Rossitur don't have much to do with her help,
+does she?" said Cynthy, after a pause, during which the
+corners of her mouth never changed. The tone of piqued
+independence let some light into Fleda's mind.
+
+"She is not strong enough to do much herself, and she wants
+some one that will take all the trouble from her. You'd have
+the field all to yourself, Cynthy."
+
+"Your aunt sets two tables, I calculate, don't she?"
+
+"Yes; my uncle doesn't like to have any but his own family
+around him."
+
+"I guess I shouldn't suit!" said Miss Gall, after another
+little pause, and stooping very diligently to pick up some
+scattered shreds from the floor. But Fleda could see the
+flushed face, and the smile which pride and a touch of
+spiteful pleasure in the revenge she was taking made
+particularly hateful. She needed no more convincing that Miss
+Gall "wouldn't suit;" but she was sorry, at the same time, for
+the perverseness that had so needlessly disappointed her; and
+went rather pensively back again down the little footpath to
+the waiting wagon.
+
+"This is hardly the romance of life, dear Hugh," she said, as
+she seated herself.
+
+"Haven't you succeeded?"
+
+Fleda shook her head.
+
+"What's the matter?"
+
+"Oh — pride — injured pride of station! The wrong of not
+coming to our table and putting her knife into our butter."
+
+"And living in such a place!" said Hugh.
+
+"You don't know what a place. They are rniserably poor, I am
+sure; and yet — I suppose that the less people have to be
+proud of, the more they make of what is left. Poor people!" —
+
+"Poor Fleda!" said Hugh, looking at her. "What will you do
+now?"
+
+"Oh, we'll do somehow," said she, cheerfully. "Perhaps it is
+just as well, after all; for Cynthy isn't the smartest woman
+in the world. I remember grandpa used to say he didn't believe
+she could get a bean into the middle of her bread."
+
+"A bean into the middle of her bread!" said Hugh.
+
+But Fleda's sobriety was quite banished by his mystified look,
+and her laugh rang along over the fields before she answered
+him.
+
+That laugh had blown away all the vapours, for the present at
+least, and they jogged on again very sociably.
+
+"Do you know," said Fleda, after a while of silent enjoyment
+in the changes of scene and the mild autumn weather — "I am
+not sure that it wasn't very well for me that we came away
+from New York."
+
+"I dare say it was," said Hugh — "since we came; but what
+makes you say so?"
+
+"I don't mean that it was for anybody else, but for me. I
+think I was a little proud of our nice things there."
+
+"You, Fleda!" said Hugh, with a look of appreciating
+affection.
+
+"Yes, I was, a little. It didn't make the greatest part of my
+love for them, I am sure; but I think I had a little undefined
+sort of pleasure in the feeling that they were better and
+prettier than other people had."
+
+"You are sure you are not proud of your little King Charles
+now?" said Hugh.
+
+"I don't know but I am," said Fleda, laughing. "But how much
+pleasanter it is here on almost every account! Look at the
+beautiful sweep of the ground off among those hills — isn't
+it? What an exquisite horizon line, Hugh!"
+
+"And what a sky over it!"
+
+"Yes — I love these fall skies. Oh, I would a great deal
+rather be here than in any city that ever was built!"
+
+"So would I," said Hugh. "But the thing is —"
+
+Fleda knew quite well what the thing was, and did not answer.
+
+"But, my dear Hugh," she said, presently — "I don't remember
+that sweep of hills when we were coming?"
+
+"You were going the other way," said Hugh.
+
+"Yes, but Hugh — I am sure we did not pass these grain fields.
+We must have got into the wrong road."
+
+Hugh drew the reins, and looked and doubted.
+
+"There is a house yonder," said Fleda — we had better drive
+on, and ask."
+
+"There is no house —"
+
+"Yes, there is — behind that piece of wood. Look over it;
+don't you see a light curl of blue smoke against the sky? — We
+never passed that house and wood, I am certain. We ought to
+make haste, for the afternoons are short now, and you will
+please to recollect there is nobody at home to get tea."
+
+"I hope Lucas will get upon one of his everlasting talks with
+father," said Hugh.
+
+"And that it will hold till we get home," said Fleda. "It will
+be the happiest use Lucas has made of his tongue in a good
+while."
+
+Just as they stopped before a substantial-looking farm-house,
+a man came from the other way and stopped there too, with his
+hand upon the gate.
+
+"How far are we from Queechy, Sir?" said Hugh.
+
+"You're not from it at all, Sir," said the man, politely.
+"You're in Queechy, Sir, at present."
+
+"Is this the right road from Montepoole to Queechy village?"
+
+"It is not, Sir. It is a very tortuous direction, indeed. Have
+I not the pleasure of speaking to Mr. Rossitur's young
+gentleman?"
+
+Mr. Rossitur's young gentleman acknowledged his relationship,
+and begged the favour of being set in the right way home.
+
+"With much pleasure! You have been showing Miss Rossitur the
+picturesque country about Montepoole?"
+
+"My cousin and I have been there on business, and lost our way
+coming back."
+
+"Ah, I dare say! Very easy. First time you have been there?"
+
+"Yes, Sir; and we are in a hurry to get home."
+
+"Well, Sir — you know the road by Deacon Patterson's? — comes
+out just above the lake."
+
+Hugh did not remember.
+
+"Well — you keep this road straight on, — I'm sorry you are in
+a hurry, — you keep on till — do you know when you strike Mr.
+Harris's ground?"
+
+No, Hugh knew nothing about it, nor Fleda.
+
+"Well, I'll tell you now how it is," said the stranger, "if
+you'll permit me. You and your — a — cousin — come in and do
+us the pleasure of taking some refreshment. I know my sister
+'ll have her table set out by this time — and I'll do myself
+the honour of introducing you to — a — these strange roads,
+afterwards."
+
+"Thank you, Sir, but that trouble is unnecessary — cannot you
+direct us?"
+
+"No trouble — indeed, Sir, I assure you, I should esteem it a
+favour — very highly. I — I am Dr. Quackenboss, Sir; you may
+have heard —"
+
+"Thank you, Dr. Quackenboss, but we have no time this
+afternoon — we are very anxious to reach home as soon as
+possible, if you would be so good as to put us in the way."
+
+"I — really, Sir, I am afraid — to a person ignorant of the
+various localities — you will lose no time — I will just hitch
+your horse here, and I'll have mine ready by the time this
+young lady has rested. Miss — a — wont you join with me? I
+assure you I will not put you to the expense of a minute.
+Thank you, Mr. Harden! — just clap the saddle on to Lollypop,
+and have him up here in three seconds. Thank you! — My dear
+Miss — a — wont you take my arm? I am gratified, I assure
+you."
+
+Yielding to the apparent impossibility of getting anything out
+of Dr. Quackenboss, except civility, and to the real
+difficulty of disappointing such very earnest good will, Fleda
+and Hugh did what older persons would not have done — alighted
+and walked up to the house.
+
+"This is quite a fortuitous occurrence," the doctor went on.
+"I have often had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Rossitur's family
+in church — in the little church at Queechy Run — and that
+enabled me to recognise your cousin, as soon as I saw him in
+the wagon. Perhaps, Miss — a — you may have possibly heard of
+my name? — Quackenboss — I don't know that you understood —"
+
+"I have heard it, Sir."
+
+"My Irishmen, Miss — a — my Irish labourers, can't get hold of
+but one end of it — they call me Boss — ha, ha, ha!"
+
+Fleda hoped his patients did not get hold of the other end of
+it, and trembled, visibly.
+
+"Hard to pull a man's name to pieces before his face — ha, ha!
+but I am — a — not one thing myself — a kind of heterogynous —
+I am a piece of a physician, and a little in the agricultural
+line also; so it's all fair."
+
+"The Irish treat my name as hardly, Dr. Quackenboss — they
+call me nothing but Miss Ring-again."
+
+And then Fleda could laugh — and laugh she did — so heartily,
+that the doctor was delighted.
+
+"Ring-again! ha, ha! — very good! Well, Miss — a — I shouldn't
+think that anybody in your service would ever — a — ever let
+you put your name in practice."
+
+But Fleda's delight at the excessive gallantry and awkwardness
+of this speech was almost too much; or, as the doctor
+pleasantly remarked, her nerves were too many for her; and
+every one of them was dancing by the time they reached the
+hall door. The doctor's flourishes lost not a bit of their
+angularity from his tall, ungainly figure, and a lantern-jawed
+face, the lower member of which had now and then a somewhat
+lateral play when he was speaking, which curiously aided the
+quaint effect of his words. He ushered his guests into the
+house, seeming in a flow of self-gratulation.
+
+The supper-table was spread, sure enough, and hovering about
+it was the doctor's sister; a lady in whom Fleda only saw a
+Dutch face, with eyes that made no impression, disagreeable
+fair hair, and a string of gilt beads round her neck. A
+painted yellow floor under foot, a room that looked
+excessively _wooden_ and smelt of cheese, bare walls, and a
+well-filled table, was all that she took in besides.
+
+"I have the honour of presenting you to my sister," said the
+doctor, with suavity. "Flora, the Irish domestics of this
+young lady call her name Miss Ring-again — if she will let us
+know how it ought to be called, we shall be happy to be
+informed."
+
+Dr. Quackenboss was made happy.
+
+"Miss _Ringgan_ — and this young gentleman is young Mr. Rossitur
+— the gentleman that has taken Squire Ringgan's old place. We
+were so fortunate as to have them lose their way this
+afternoon, coming from the Pool, and they have just stepped in
+to see if you can't find 'em a mouthful of something they can
+eat, while Lollypop is a-getting ready to see them home."
+
+Poor Miss Flora immediately disappeared into the kitchen, to
+order a bit of superior cheese, and to have some slices of ham
+put on the gridiron, and then, coming back to the common room,
+went rummaging about, from cupboard to cupboard, in search of
+cake and sweetmeats. Fleda protested and begged in vain.
+
+"She was so sorry she hadn't knowed," Miss Flora said — "she'd
+ha' had some cakes made that maybe they could have eaten, but
+the bread was dry; and the cheese wa'n't as good somehow as
+the last one they cut; maybe Miss Ringgan would prefer a piece
+of newer made, if she liked it; and she hadn't had good luck
+with her preserves last summer — the most of 'em had fomented
+— she thought it was the damp weather; but there was some
+stewed pears that maybe she would be so good as to approve —
+and there was some ham! whatever else it was, it was hot!" —
+
+It was impossible — it was impossible, to do dishonour to all
+this hospitality and kindness and pride that was brought out
+for them. Early or late, they must eat, in mere gratitude. The
+difficulty was to avoid eating everything. Hugh and Fleda
+managed to compound the matter with each other, one taking the
+cake and pears, and the other the ham and cheese. In the midst
+of all this overflow of goodwill, Fleda bethought her to ask
+if Miss Flora knew of any girl or woman that would go out to
+service. Miss Flora took the matter into grave consideration
+as soon as her anxiety on the subject of their cups of tea had
+subsided. She did not commit herself, but thought it possible
+that one of the Finns might be willing to go out.
+
+"Where do they live?"
+
+"It's — a — not far from Queechy Run," said the doctor, whose
+now and then hesitation in the midst of his speech was never
+for want of a thought, but simply and merely for the best
+words to clothe it in.
+
+"Is it in our way to-night?"
+
+He could make it so, the doctor said, with pleasure, for it
+would give him permission to gallant them a little further.
+
+They had several miles yet to go, and the sun went down as
+they were passing through Queechy Run. Under that still, cool,
+clear, autumn sky, Fleda would have enjoyed the ride very
+much, but that her unfulfilled errand was weighing upon her,
+and she feared her aunt and uncle might want her services
+before she could be at home. Still, late as it was, she
+determined to stop for a minute at Mrs. Finn's, and go home
+with a clear conscience. At her door, and not till there, the
+doctor was prevailed upon to part company, the rest of the way
+being perfectly plain.
+
+Mrs. Finn's house was a great unprepossessing building, washed
+and dried by the rain and sun into a dark, dingy colour, the
+only one that had ever supplanted the original hue of the
+freshsawn boards. This, indeed, was not an uncommon thing in
+the country; near all the houses of the Deepwater settlement
+were in the same case. Fleda went up a flight of steps to what
+seemed the front door, but the girl that answered her knock
+led her down them again, and round to a lower entrance on the
+other side. This introduced Fleda to a large ground-floor
+apartment, probably the common room of the family, with the
+large kitchen fireplace, and flagged hearth, and wall
+cupboards, and the only furniture, the usual red backed
+splinter chairs and wooden table. A woman standing before the
+fire with a broom in her hand, answered Fleda's inclination
+with a saturnine nod of the head, and, fetching one of the
+red-backs from the wall, bade her "sit down."
+
+Poor Fleda's nerves bade her "go away." The people looked like
+their house. The principal woman, who remained standing, broom
+in hand, to hear Fleda's business, was, in good truth, a dark
+personage — her head covered with black hair, her person with
+a dingy black calico, and a sullen cloud lowering over her
+eye. At the corner of the fireplace was an old woman, laid by
+in an easy-chair; disabled, it was plain, not from mental but
+bodily infirmity; for her face had a cast of mischief which
+could not stand with the innocence of second childhood. At the
+other corner sat an elderly woman sewing, with tokens of her
+trade for yards on the floor around her. Back at the far side
+of the room, a young man was eating his supper at the table,
+alone; and under the table, on the floor, the enormous family
+bread-trough was unwontedly filled with the sewing-woman's
+child, which had with superhuman efforts crawled into it, and
+lay kicking and crowing in delight at its new cradle. Fleda
+did not know how to enter upon her business.
+
+"I have been looking," she began, "for a person who is willing
+to go out to work. Miss Flora Quackenboss told me perhaps I
+might find somebody here."
+
+"Somebody to help?" said the woman, beginning to use her broom
+upon the hearth. "Who wants 'em?"
+
+"Mrs. Rossitur — my aunt."
+
+"Mrs. Rossitur? — what, down to old Squire Ringgan's place?"
+
+"Yes. We are left alone, and want somebody very much."
+
+"Do you want her only a few days, or do you calculate to have
+her stop longer? because you know it wouldn't be worth the
+while to put oneself out for a week."
+
+"Oh, we want her to stay; if we suit each other."
+
+"Well, I don't know," said the woman, going on with her
+sweeping. "I could let you have Hannah, but I 'spect I'll want
+her to hum. What does Mis' Rossitur calculate to give?"
+
+"I don't know — anything that's reasonable."
+
+"Hannah kin go — just as good as not," said the old woman in
+the corner, rubbing her hands up and down her lap — "Hannah
+kin go, — just as good as not!"
+
+"Hannah ain't a-going," said the first speaker, answering
+without looking at her. "Hannah 'll be wanted to hum; and she
+aint a well girl neither; she's kind o' weak in her muscles;
+and I calculate you'll want somebody that call take hold
+lively. There's Lucy, if she took a notion, she could go — but
+she'd please herself about it. She wont do nothing without she
+has a notion."
+
+This was inconclusive, and desiring to bring matters to a
+point, Fleda, after a pause, asked if this lady thought Lucy
+would have a notion to go.
+
+"Well, I can't say — she ain't to hum, or you could ask her.
+She's down to Mis' Douglass's, working for her to-day. Do you
+know Mis' Douglass? — Earl Douglass's wife?"
+
+"O yes, I knew her long ago," said Fleda, thinking it might be
+as well to throw in a spice of ingratiation. "I am Fleda
+Ringgan. I used to live here with my grandfather."
+
+"Don't say! Well, I thought you had a kind o' look — the old
+Squire's granddarter, ain't you?"
+
+"She looks like her father," said the sewing-woman, laying
+down her needle, which indeed had been little hindrance to her
+admiration since Fleda came in.
+
+"She's a real pretty gal," said the old woman in the corner.
+
+"He was as smart a looking man as there was in Queechy
+township, or Montepoole either," the sewing-woman went on, "Do
+you mind him, Flidda?"
+
+"Anastasy," said the old woman aside, "let Hannah go!"
+
+"Hannah's a-going to keep to hum — Well, about Lucy," she
+said, as Fleda rose to go — "I can't just say — suppos'n you
+come here to-morrow afternoon — there's a few coming to quilt
+— and Lucy 'll be to hum then. I should admire to have you,
+and then you and Lucy can agree what you'll fix upon. You can
+get somebody to bring you, can't you?"
+
+Fleda inwardly shrank, but managed to get off with thanks, and
+without making a positive promise, which Miss Anastasia would
+fain have had. She was glad to be out of the house, and
+driving off with Hugh.
+
+"How delicious the open air feels!"
+
+"What has this visit produced?" said Hugh.
+
+"An invitation to a party, and a slight possibility that at
+the party I may find what I want."
+
+"A party," said Hugh. Fleda laughed and explained.
+
+"And do you intend to go?"
+
+"Not I — at least I think not. But, Hugh, don't say anything
+about all this to aunt Lucy. She would be troubled."
+
+Fleda had certainly, when she came away, no notion of
+improving her acquaintance with Miss Anastasia; but the
+supper, and the breakfast and the dinner of the next day, with
+all the nameless and almost numberless duties of house work
+that filled up the time between, wrought her to a very strong
+sense of the necessity of having some kind of "help" soon.
+Mrs. Rossitur wearied herself excessively with doing very
+little, and then looked so sad to see Fleda working on, that
+it was more disheartening and harder to bear than the fatigue.
+Hugh was a most faithful and invaluable coadjutor, and his
+lack of strength was, like her own, made up by energy of will;
+but neither of them could bear the strain long; and when the
+final clearing away of the dinner-dishes gave her a breathing-
+time, she resolved to dress herself, and put her thimble in
+her pocket, and go over to Miss Finn's quilting. Miss Lucy
+might not be like Miss Anastasia; and if she were, anything
+that had hands and feet to move instead of her own, would be
+welcome.
+
+Hugh went with her to the door, and was to come for her at
+sunset.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+
+"With superfluity of breeding
+First makes you sick, and then with feeding."
+JENYNS.
+
+
+Miss Anastasia was a little surprised and a good deal
+gratified, Fleda saw, by her coming, and played the hostess
+with great benignity. The quilting-frame was stretched in an
+upper room, not in the long kitchen, to Fleda's joy; most of
+the company were already seated at it, and she had to go
+through a long string of introductions before she was
+permitted to take her place. First of all, Earl Douglass's
+wife, who rose up, and taking both Fleda's hands, squeezed and
+shook them heartily, giving her, with eye and lip, a most
+genial welcome. This lady had every look of being a very
+clever woman — "a manager," she was said to be; and, indeed,
+her very nose had a little pinch, which prepared one for
+nothing superfluous about her. Even her dress could not have
+wanted another breadth from the skirt, and had no fullness to
+spare about the body — neat as a pin, though; and a well-to-do
+look through it all. Miss Quackenboss Fleda recognised as an
+old friend, gilt beads and all. Catherine Douglass had grown
+up to a pretty girl during the five years since Fleda had left
+Queechy, and gave her a greeting, half-smiling, half-shy.
+There was a little more affluence about the flow of her
+drapery, and the pink ribbon round her neck was confined by a
+little dainty Jew's-harp of a brooch; she had her mother's
+pinch of the nose too. Then there were two other young ladies
+— Miss Letitia Ann Thornton, a tall-grown girl in pantalettes,
+evidently a would-be aristocrat, from the air of her head and
+lip, with a well-looking face, and looking well knowing of the
+same, and sporting neat little white cuffs at her wrists — the
+only one who bore such a distinction. The third of these
+damsels, Jessie Healy, impressed Fleda with having been
+brought up upon coarse meat, and having grown heavy in
+consequence; the other two were extremely fair and delicate,
+both in complexion and feature. Her aunt Syra, Fleda
+recognised without particular pleasure, and managed to seat
+herself at the quilt with the sewing-woman and Miss Hannah
+between them. Miss Lucy Finn she found seated at her right
+hand, but after all the civilities she had just gone through,
+Fleda had not courage just then to dash into business with
+her, and Miss Lucy herself stitched away, and was dumb.
+
+So were the rest of the party — rather. The presence of the
+new comer seemed to have the effect of a spell. Fleda could
+not think they had been as silent before her joining them, as
+they were for some time afterwards. The young ladies were
+absolutely mute, and conversation seemed to flag even among
+the elder ones; and if Fleda ever raised her eyes from the
+quilt to look at somebody, she was sure to see somebody's eyes
+looking at her, with a curiosity well enough defined, and
+mixed with a more or less amount of benevolence and pleasure.
+Fleda was growing very industrious and feeling her cheeks grow
+warm, when the checked stream of conversation began to take
+revenge by turning its tide upon her.
+
+"Are you glad to be back to Queechy, Fleda?" said Mrs.
+Douglass, from the opposite far end of the quilt.
+
+"Yes Ma'am," said Fleda, smiling back her answer — "on some
+accounts."
+
+"Ain't she growed like her father, Mis' Douglass?" said the
+sewing-woman. "Do you recollect Walter Ringgan? What a
+handsome feller he was!"
+
+The two opposite girls immediately found something to say to
+each other.
+
+"She aint a bit more like him than she is like her mother,"
+said Mrs. Douglass, biting off the end of her thread
+energetically. "Amy Ringgan was a sweet good woman as ever was
+in this town."
+
+Again her daughter's glance and smile went over to the
+speaker.
+
+"You stay in Queechy, and live like Queechy folks do," Mrs.
+Douglass added, nodding encouragingly, "and you'll beat both
+on 'em."
+
+But this speech jarred, and Fleda wished it had not been
+spoken.
+
+"How does your uncle like farming?" said aunt Syra.
+
+A home thrust, which Fleda parried by saying he had hardly got
+accustomed to it yet.
+
+"What's been his business? what has he been doing all his life
+till now?" said the sewing-woman.
+
+Fleda replied that he had had no business; and after the minds
+of the company had had time to entertain this statement, she
+was startled by Miss Lucy's voice at her elbow.
+
+"It seems kind o' curious, don't it, that a man should live to
+be forty or fifty years old, and not know anything of the
+earth he gets his bread from?"
+
+"What makes you think he don't?" said Miss Thornton, rather
+tartly.
+
+"She wa'n't speaking o' nobody," said aunt Syra.
+
+"I was — I was speaking of man — I was speaking abstractly,"
+said Fleda's right-hand neighbour.
+
+"What's abstractly?" said Miss Anastasia, scornfully.
+
+"Where do you get hold of such hard words, Lucy?" said Mrs.
+Douglass.
+
+"I don't know, Mis' Douglass, they come to me; it's practice,
+I suppose. I had no intention of being obscure."
+
+"One kind o' word 's as easy as another, I suppose, when
+you're used to it, aint it?" said the sewing-woman.
+
+"What's abstractly?" said the mistress of the house, again.
+
+"Look in the dictionary, if you want to know," said her
+sister.
+
+"I don't want to know — I only want you to tell."
+
+"When do you get time for it, Lucy? ha'n't you nothing else to
+practise?" pursued Mrs. Douglass.
+
+"Yes, Mis' Douglass; but then there are times for exertion,
+and other times less disposable; and when I feel thoughtful or
+low, I commonly retire to my room, and contemplate the stars,
+or write a composition."
+
+The sewing-woman greeted this speech with an unqualified ha!
+ha! and Fleda involuntarily raised her head to look at the
+last speaker; but there was nothing to be noticed about her,
+except that she was in rather nicer order than the rest of the
+Finn family.
+
+"Did you get home safe last night?" inquired Miss Quackenboss,
+bending forward over the quilt to look down to Fleda.
+
+Fleda thanked her, and replied that they had been overturned,
+and had several ribs broken.
+
+"And where have you been, Fleda, all this while?" said Mrs.
+Douglass.
+
+Fleda told, upon which all the quilting party raised their
+heads simultaneously, to take another review of her.
+
+"Your uncle's wife aint a Frenchwoman, be she?" asked the
+sewing-woman.
+
+Fleda said, "Oh, no!" and Miss Quackenboss remarked, that "she
+thought she wa'n't;" whereby Fleda perceived it had been a
+subject of discussion.
+
+"She lives like one, don't she?" said aunt Syra.
+
+Which imputation Fleda also refuted to the best of her power.
+
+"Well, don't she have dinner in the middle of the afternoon?"
+pursued aunt Syra.
+
+Fleda was obliged to admit that.
+
+"And she can't eat without she has a fresh piece of roast meat
+on table every day, can she?"
+
+"It is not always roast," said Fleda, half vexed and half
+laughing.
+
+"I'd rather have a good dish o' bread and 'lasses, than the
+hull on't," observed old Mrs. Finn, from the corner where she
+sat, manifestly turning up her nose at the far-off joints on
+Mrs. Rossitur's dinner-table.
+
+The girls on the other side of the quilt again held counsel
+together, deep and low.
+
+"Well, didn't she pick up all them notions in that place
+yonder? — where you say she has been?" aunt Syra went on.
+
+"No," said Fleda; "everybody does so in New York."
+
+"I want to know what kind of a place New York is, now," said
+old Mrs. Finn, drawlingly. "I s'pose it's pretty big, aint
+it?"
+
+Fleda replied that it was.
+
+"I shouldn't wonder if it was a'most as far as from here to
+Queechy Run, now; aint it?"
+
+The distance mentioned being somewhere about one-eighth of New
+York's longest diameter, Fleda answered that it was quite as
+far.
+
+"I s'pose there's plenty o' mighty rich folks there, aint
+there?"
+
+"Plenty, I believe," said Fleda.
+
+"I should hate to live in it awfully," was the old woman's
+conclusion.
+
+"I should admire to travel in many countries," said Miss Lucy,
+for the first time seeming to intend her words particularly
+for Fleda's ear. "I think nothing makes people more genteel. I
+have observed it frequently."
+
+Fleda said it was very pleasant; but though encouraged by this
+opening, could not muster enough courage to ask if Miss Lucy
+had a "notion" to come and prove their gentility. Her next
+question was startling — if Fleda had ever studied
+mathematics.
+
+"No," said Fleda. "Have you?"
+
+"O my, yes! There was a lot of us concluded we would learn it;
+and we commenced to study it a long time ago. I think it's a
+most elevating —"
+
+The discussion was suddenly broken off, for the sewing-woman
+exclaimed, as the other sister came in and took her seat —
+
+"Why, Hannah! you ha'n't been makin' bread with that clock on
+your hands!"
+
+"Well, Mis' Barnes!" said the girl; "I've washed 'em, and I've
+made bread with 'em, and even that did not take it off!"
+
+"Do you look at the stars, too, Hannah?" said Mrs. Douglass.
+
+Amidst a small hubbub of laugh and talk which now became
+general, poor Fleda fell back upon one single thought, one
+wish — that Hugh would come to fetch her home before tea-time.
+But it was a vain hope. Hugh was not to be there till sundown,
+and supper was announced long before that. They all filed
+down, and Fleda with them, to the great kitchen below stairs;
+and she found herself placed in the seat of honour indeed, but
+an honour she would gladly have escaped, at Miss Anastasia's
+right hand.
+
+A temporary locked-jaw would have been felt a blessing. Fleda
+dared hardly even look about her; but under the eye of her
+hostess the instinct of good breeding was found sufficient to
+swallow everything, literally and figuratively. There was a
+good deal to swallow. The usual variety of cakes, sweetmeats,
+beef, cheese, biscuits, and pies, was set out with some
+peculiarity of arrangement which Fleda had never seen before,
+and which left that of Miss Quackenboss elegant by comparison.
+Down each side of the table ran an advanced guard of little
+sauces in Indian file, but in companies of three, the file
+leader of each being a saucer of custard, its follower a ditto
+of preserves, and the third keeping a sharp look-out in the
+shape of pickles; and to Fleda's unspeakable horror, she
+discovered that the guests were expected to help themselves at
+will from these several stores with their own spoons,
+transferring what they took either to their own plates, or at
+once to its final destination, which last mode several of the
+company preferred. The advantage of this plan was the
+necessary great display of the new silver tea-spoons, which
+Mrs. Douglass slily hinted to aunt Syra were the moving cause
+of the tea-party. But aunt Syra swallowed sweetmeats, and
+would not give heed.
+
+There was no relief for poor Fleda. Aunt Syra was her next
+neighbour, and opposite to her, at Miss Anastasia's left hand,
+was the disagreeable countenance and peering eyes of the old
+crone, her mother. Fleda kept her own eyes fixed upon her
+plate, and endeavoured to see nothing but that.
+
+"Why, here's Fleda aint eating anything," said Mrs. Douglass.
+"Wont you have some preserves? take some custard, do!
+Anastasy, she ha'n't a spoon — no wonder!"
+
+Fleda had secretly conveyed hers under cover.
+
+"There was one," said Miss Anastasia, looking about where one
+should have been. I'll get another as soon as I give Mis'
+Springer her tea."
+
+"Ha'n't you got enough to go round?" said the old woman,
+plucking at her daughter's sleeve. "Anastasy! ha'n't you got
+enough to go round?"
+
+This speech, which was spoken with a most spiteful simplicity,
+Miss Anastasia answered with superb silence, and presently
+produced spoons enough to satisfy herself and the company. But
+Fleda! No earthly persuasion could prevail upon her to touch
+pickles, sweetmeats, or custard that evening; and even in the
+bread and cakes she had a vision of hands before her that took
+away her appetite. She endeavoured to make a show with hung
+beef and cups of tea, which indeed was not Pouchong; but her
+supper came suddenly to an end upon a remark of her hostess,
+addressed to the whole table, that they needn't be surprised
+if they found any bits of pudding in the gingerbread, for it
+was made from the molasses the children left the other day.
+Who "the children" were Fleda did not know, neither was it
+material.
+
+It was sundown, but Hugh had not come when they went to the
+upper rooms again. Two were open now, for they were small, and
+the company promised not to be such. Fathers and brothers, and
+husbands began to come, and loud talking, and laughing and
+joking took place of the quilting chit-chat. Fleda would fain
+have absorbed herself in the work again, but though the frame
+still stood there, the minds of the company were plainly
+turned aside from their duty, or perhaps they thought that
+Miss Anastasia had had admiration enough to dispense with
+service. Nobody showed a thimble but one or two old ladies;
+and as numbers and spirits gathered strength, a kind of
+romping game was set on foot, in which a vast deal of kissing
+seemed to be the grand wit of the matter. Fleda shrank away
+out of sight behind the open door of communication between the
+two rooms, pleading, with great truth, that she was tired, and
+would like to keep perfectly quiet; and she had soon the
+satisfaction of being apparently forgotten.
+
+In the other room, some of the older people were enjoying
+themselves more soberly. Fleda's ear was too near the crack of
+the door, not to have the benefit of more of their
+conversation than she cared for. It soon put quiet of mind out
+of the question.
+
+"He'll twist himself up pretty short — that's my sense of it;
+and he wont take long to do it, nother," said Earl Douglass's
+voice.
+
+Fleda would have known it anywhere, from its extreme
+peculiarity. It never either rose or fell much from a certain
+pitch; and at that level the words gurgled forth, seemingly
+from an everbrimming fountain; he never wanted one; and the
+stream had neither let nor stay till his modicum of sense had
+fairly run out. People thought he had not a greater stock of
+that than some of his neighbours; but he issued an amount of
+word-currency sufficient for the use of the county.
+
+"He'll run himself agin a post pretty quick," said uncle
+Joshua, in a confirmatory tone of voice.
+
+Fleda had a confused idea that somebody was going to hang
+himself.
+
+"He aint a-workin' things right," said Douglass; "he aint a-
+workin' things right; he's takin' hold o' everything by the
+tail end. He aint studied the business; he doesn't know when
+things is right, and he doesn't know when things is wrong; and
+if they're wrong, he don't know how to set 'em right. He's got
+a feller there that aint no more fit to be there, than I am to
+be Vice-President of the United States; and I aint a-going to
+say what I think I am fit for, but I ha'n't studied for that
+place, and I shouldn't like to stand an examination for't; and
+a man hadn't ought to be a farmer no more if he ha'n't
+qualified himself. That's my idee. I like to see a thing done
+well, if it's to be done at all; and there aint a stitch o'
+land been laid right on the hull farm, nor a furrow driv' as
+it had ought to be, since he came on to it; and I say, Squire
+Springer, a man aint going to get along in that way, and he
+hadn't ought to. I work hard myself, and I calculate to work
+hard, and I make a livin' by't; and I'm content to work hard.
+When I see a man with his hands in his pockets, I think he'll
+have nothin' else in 'em soon. I don't believe he's done a
+hand's turn himself on the land the hull season!"
+
+And upon this Mr. Douglass brought up.
+
+"My son, Lucas, has been workin' with him, off and on, pretty
+much the hull time since he come; and he says he ha'n't begun
+to know how to spell farmer yet."
+
+"Ay, ay! My wife — she's a little harder on folks than I be —
+I think it aint worth while to say nothin' of a man without I
+can say some good of him — that's my idee; and it don't do no
+harm, nother; but my wife, she says he's got to let down his
+notions a peg or two afore they'll hitch just in the right
+place; and I wont say but what I think she aint, maybe, fur
+from right. If a man's above his business, he stands a pretty
+fair chance to be below it some day. I wont say myself, for I
+haven't any acquaintance with him, and a man oughtn't to speak
+but of what he's knowing to; but I have heerd say, that he
+wa'n't as conversationable as it would ha' been handsome in
+him to be, all things considerin.' There seems to be a good
+many things said of him, somehow, and l always think men don't
+talk of a man if he don't give 'em occasion; but, anyhow, I've
+been past the farm pretty often myself this summer, working
+with Seth Plumfield; and I've took notice of things myself;
+and I know he's been makin' beds o' sparrowgrass when he had
+ought to ha' been makin' fences, and he's been helpin' that
+little girl o' his'n set her flowers, when he would ha' been
+better sot to work lookin' after his Irishman. But I don't
+know as it made much matter, nother; for if he went wrong, Mr.
+Rossitur wouldn't know how to set him right, and if he was a-
+going right, Mr. Rossitur would ha' been just as likely to ha'
+set him wrong. Well, I'm sorry for him!"
+
+"Mr. Rossitur is a most gentlemanlike man," said the voice of
+Dr. Quackenboss.
+
+"Ay — I dare say he is," Earl responded, in precisely the same
+tone. "I was down to his house one day last summer to see him.
+He wa'n't to hum, though."
+
+"It would be strange if harm come to a man with such a
+guardian angel in the house as that man has in his'n." said
+Dr. Quackenboss.
+
+"Well she's a pretty creetur!" said Douglass, looking up with
+some animation. "I wouldn't blame any man that sot a good deal
+by her. I will say I think she's as handsome as my own darter;
+and a man can't go no furder than that, I suppose."
+
+"She wont help his farming much, I guess," said uncle Joshua,
+"nor his wife nother."
+
+Fleda heard Dr. Quackenboss coming through the doorway, and
+started from her corner, for fear he might find her out there,
+and know what she had heard.
+
+He very soon found her out in the new place she had chosen,
+and came up to pay his compliments. Fleda was in a mood for
+anything but laughing, yet the mixture of the ludicrous which
+the doctor administered set her nerves a-twitching. Bringing
+his chair down sideways at one angle and his person at
+another, so as to meet at the moment of the chair's touching
+the floor, and with a look and smile, slanting to match, the
+doctor said —
+
+"Well, Miss Ringgan, has — a — Mrs. Rossitur — does she feel
+herself reconciled yet?"
+
+"Reconciled, Sir?' said Fleda.
+
+"Yes — a — to Queechy?"
+
+"She never quarrelled with it, Sir," said Fleda, quite unable
+to keep from laughing.
+
+"Yes — I mean — a — she feels that she can sustain her spirits
+in different situations?"
+
+"She is very well, Sir, thank you."
+
+"It must have been a great change to her — and to you all —
+coming to this place."
+
+"Yes, Sir; the country is very different from the city."
+
+"In what part of New York was Mr. Rossitur's former
+residence?"
+
+" In State-street, Sir."
+
+"State-street — that is somewhere in the direction of the
+Park?"
+
+"No, Sir, not exactly."
+
+"Was Mrs. Rossitur a native of the city?"
+
+"Not of New York. Oh, Hugh! my dear Hugh!" exclaimed Fleda, in
+another tone — "what have you been thinking of?"
+
+"Father wanted me," said Hugh. "I could not help it, Fleda."
+
+"You are not going to have the cruelty to take your — a —
+cousin away, Mr. Rossitur?" said the doctor.
+
+But Fleda was for once happy to be cruel; she would hear no
+remonstrances. Though her desire for Miss Lucy's "help" had
+considerably lessened, she thought she could not in politeness
+avoid speaking on the subject, after being invited there on
+purpose. But Miss Lucy said she "calculated to stay at home
+this winter," unless she went to live with somebody at Kenton,
+for the purpose of attending a course of philosophy lectures
+that she heard were to be given there. So that matter was
+settled; and, clasping Hugh's arm, Fleda turned away from the
+house with a step and heart both lightened by the joy of being
+out of it.
+
+"I coudn't come sooner, Fleda," said Hugh.
+
+"No matter — Oh, I'm so glad to be away! Walk a little faster,
+dear Hugh. Have you missed me at home?"
+
+"Do you want me to say no or yes?" said Hugh, smiling. "We did
+very well — mother and I — and I have left everything ready to
+have tea the minute you get home. What sort of a time have you
+had?"
+
+In answer to which Fleda gave him a long history, and then
+they walked on a while in silence. The evening was still, and
+would have been dark but for the extreme brilliancy of the
+stars through the keen, clear atmosphere. Fleda looked up at
+them, and drew large draughts of bodily and mental refreshment
+with the bracing air.
+
+"Do you know to-morrow will be Thanksgiving-day?"
+
+"Yes; what made you think of it?"
+
+"They were talking about it; they make a great fuss here
+Thanksgiving-day."
+
+"I don't think we shall make much of a fuss," said Hugh.
+
+"I don't think we shall. I wonder what I shall do — I am
+afraid uncle Rolf will get tired of coffee and omelettes in
+the course of time; and my list of receipts is very limited."
+
+"It is a pity you didn't beg one of Mrs. Renney's books," said
+Hugh, laughing. "If you had only known —"
+
+" 'Tisn't too late!" said Fleda, quickly. "I'll send to New
+York for one. I will! I'll ask uncle Orrin to get it for me.
+That's the best thought!"
+
+"But, Fleda, you're not going to turn cook in that fashion?"
+
+"It would be no harm to have the book," said Fleda. "I can
+tell you, we mustn't expect to get anybody here that can make
+an omelette, or even coffee, that uncle Rolf will drink. Oh,
+Hugh! —"
+
+"What?"
+
+"I don't know where we are going to get anybody! But don't say
+anything to aunt Lucy about it."
+
+"Well, we can keep Thanksgiving-day, Fleda, without a dinner,"
+said Hugh, cheerfully.
+
+"Yes, indeed — I am sure I can — after being among these
+people to-night. How much I have that they want! Look at the
+Great Bear over there! Isn't that better than New York?"
+
+"The Great Bear hangs over New York, too," Hugh said, with a
+smile.
+
+"Ah! but it isn't the same thing. Heaven hasn't the same eyes
+for the city and the country."
+
+As Hugh and Fleda went quick up to the kitchen-door, they
+overtook a dark figure, at whom looking narrowly as she
+passed, Fleda recognised Seth Plumfield. He was joyfully let
+into the kitchen, and there proved to be the bearer of a huge
+dish, carefully covered with a napkin.
+
+"Mother guessed you hadn't any Thanksgiving ready," he said,
+"and she wanted to send this down to you; so I thought I would
+come and fetch it myself."
+
+"Oh, thank her! and thank you, cousin Seth; how good you are!"
+
+"Mother ha'n't lost her old trick at 'em," said he; "so I hope
+that's good."
+
+"Oh, I know it is," said Fleda. "I remember aunt Miriam's
+Thanksgiving chicken-pies. Now, cousin Seth, you must come in,
+and see aunt Lucy."
+
+"No," said he, quietly: "I've got my farm boots on. I guess I
+wont see anybody but you."
+
+But Fleda would not suffer that; and finding she could not
+move him, she brought her aunt out into the kitchen. Mrs.
+Rossitur's manner of speaking, and thanking him, quite charmed
+Seth, and he went away with a kindly feeling towards those
+gentle, bright eves, which he never forgot.
+
+"Now, we've something for to-morrow, Hugh !" said Fleda; "and
+such a chicken-pie, I can tell you, as you never saw. Hugh,
+isn't it odd, how different a thing is in different
+circumstances? You don't know how glad I was when I put my
+hands upon that warm pie-dish, and knew what it was; and when
+did I ever care in New York about Emile's doings?"
+
+"Except the almond gauffres," said Hugh, smiling.
+
+"I never thought to be so glad of a chicken-pie," said Fleda,
+shaking her head.
+
+Aunt Miriam's dish bore out Fleda's praise, in the opinion of
+all that tasted it; for such fowls, such butter, and such
+cream, as went to its composition, could hardly be known but
+in an unsophisticated state of society. But one pie could not
+last for ever; and as soon as the signs of dinner were got rid
+of, Thanksgiving-day though it was, poor Fleda was fain to go
+up the hill, to consult aunt Miriam about the possibility of
+getting "help."
+
+"I don't know, dear Fleda," said she; "if you cannot get Lucy
+Flinn, I don't know who else there is you can get. Mrs. Toles
+wants both her daughters at home, I know, this winter, because
+she is sick; and Marietta Winchel is working at aunt Syra's. I
+don't know — do you remember Barby Elster, that used to live
+with me?"
+
+"O yes!"
+
+"She might go — she has been staying at home these two years,
+to take care of her old mother, that's the reason she left me;
+but she has another sister come home now — Hetty, that
+married, and went to Montepoole; she's lost her husband and
+come home to live; so perhaps Barby would go out again. But I
+don't know — how do you think your aunt Lucy would get along
+with her?"
+
+"Dear aunt Miriam, you know we must do as we can. We must have
+somebody."
+
+"Barby is a little quick," said Mrs. Plumfield, "but I think
+she is good-hearted, and she is thorough and faithful as the
+day is long. If your aunt and uncle can put up with her ways."
+
+"I am sure we can, aunt Miriam. Aunt Lucy's the easiest person
+in the world to please; and I'll try and keep her away from
+uncle Rolf. I think we can get along. I know Barby used to
+like me."
+
+"But then Barby knows nothing about French cooking, my child;
+she can do nothing but the common, country things. What will
+your uncle and aunt say to that?"
+
+"I don't know," said Fleda, "but anything is better than
+nothing. I must try and do what she can't do. I'll come up and
+get you to teach me, aunt Miriam."
+
+Aunt Miriam hugged and kissed her before speaking.
+
+"I'll teach you what I know, my darling: — and now we'll go
+right off and see Barby — we shall catch her just in a good
+time."
+
+It was a poor little unpainted house, standing back from the
+road, and with a double row of' boards laid down to serve as a
+path to it. But this board walk was scrubbed perfectly clean.
+They went in without knocking. There was nobody there but an
+old woman seated before the fire, shaking all over with the
+St. Vitus's Dance. She gave them no salutation, calling
+instead on "Barby!" — who presently made her appearance from
+the inner door.
+
+"Barby! who's this?"
+
+"That's Mis' Plumfield, mother," said the daughter, speaking
+loud as to a deaf person.
+
+The old lady immediately got up and dropped a very quick and
+what was meant to be a very respect-showing courtesy, saying
+at the same time, with much deference, and with one of her
+involuntary twitches, "I ' 'maun ' to know!" The sense of the
+ludicrous and the feeling of pity together, were painfully
+oppressive. Fleda turned away to the daughter, who came
+forward and shook hands with a frank look of pleasure at the
+sight of her elder visitor.
+
+"Barby," said Mrs. Plumfield, "this is little Fleda Ringgan —
+do you remember her?"
+
+"I 'mind to know!" said Barby, transferring her hand to
+Fleda's, and giving it a good squeeze. "She's growed a fine
+gal, Mis' Plumfield. You ha'n't lost none of your good looks —
+- ha' you kept all your old goodness along with 'em?"
+
+Fleda laughed at this abrupt question, and said she didn't
+know.
+
+"If you ha'n't, I wouldn't give much for your eyes," said
+Barby, letting go her hand.
+
+Mrs. Plumfield laughed too at Barby's equivocal mode of
+complimenting.
+
+"Who's that young gal, Barby?" inquired Mrs. Elster.
+
+"That's Mis' Plumfield's niece, mother."
+
+"She's a handsome little creetur, aint she?"
+
+They all laughed at that, and Fleda's cheeks growing crimson,
+Mrs. Plumfield stepped forward to ask after the old lady's
+health; and while she talked and listened, Fleda's eyes noted
+the spotless condition of the room — the white table, the nice
+rag-carpet, the bright many-coloured patchwork counterpane on
+the bed, the brilliant cleanliness of the floor, where the
+small carpet left the boards bare, the tidy look of the two
+women; and she made up her mind that she could get along with
+Miss Barbara very well. Barby was rather tall, and in face
+decidedly a fine-looking woman, though her figure had the
+usual scantling proportions which nature or fashion assigns to
+the hard-working dwellers in the country. A handsome, quick,
+gray eye, and the mouth, were sufficiently expressive of
+character, and perhaps of temper, but there were no lines of
+anything sinister or surly; you could imagine a flash, but not
+a cloud.
+
+"Barby, you are not tied at home any longer, are you?" said.
+Mrs. Plumfield, coming back from the old lady and speaking
+rather low; — "now that Hetty is here, can't your mother spare
+you?"
+
+"Well, I reckon she could, Mis' Plumfield, if I could work it
+so that she'd be more comfortable by my being away."
+
+"Then you'd have no objection to go out again?"
+
+"Where to?"
+
+"Fleda's uncle, you know, has taken my brother's old place,
+and they have no help. They want somebody to take the whole
+management — just you, Barby. Mrs. Rossitur isn't strong."
+
+"Nor don't want to be, does she? I've heerd tell of her, Mis'
+Plumfield — I should despise to have as many legs and arms as
+other folks, and not be able to help myself!"
+
+"But you wouldn't despise to help other folks, I hope," said
+Mrs. Plumfield, smiling.
+
+"People that want you very much, too," said Fleda; for she
+quite longed to have that strong hand and healthy eye to rely
+upon at home. Barby looked at her with a relaxed face, and,
+after a little consideration, said she guessed "she'd try."
+
+"Mis' Plumfield," cried the old lady, as they were moving —
+"Mis' Plumfield, you said you'd send me a piece of pork."
+
+"I haven't forgotten it, Mrs. Elster — you shall have it."
+
+"Well, you get it out for me yourself," said the old woman,
+speaking very energetically — "don't you send no one else to
+the barrel for't, because I know you'll give me the biggest
+piece."
+
+Mrs. Plumfield laughed and promised.
+
+"I'll come up and work it out some odd day," said the
+daughter, nodding intelligently, as she followed them to the
+door.
+
+"We'll talk about that," said Mrs. Plumfield.
+
+"She was wonderful pleased with the pie," said Barby, "and so
+was Hetty; she ha'n't seen anything so good, she says, since
+she quit Queechy."
+
+"Well, Barby," said Mrs. Plumfield, as she turned and grasped
+her hand, "did you remember your thanksgiving over it?"
+
+"Yes, Mis' Plumfield," and the fine grey eyes fell to the
+floor; "but I minded it only because it had come from you. I
+seemed to hear you saying just that out of every bone I
+picked."
+
+"You minded my message," said the other, gently.
+
+"Well, I don't mind the things I had ought to most," said
+Barby, in a subdued voice — "never! — 'cept mother — I aint
+very apt to forget her."
+
+Mrs. Plumfield saw a tell-tale glittering beneath the drooping
+eyelid. She added no more but a sympathetic strong squeeze of
+the hand she held, and turned to follow Fleda who had gone on
+ahead.
+
+"Mis' Plumfield," said Barby, before they had reached the
+stile that led into the road, where Fleda was standing, "will
+I be sure of having the money regular down yonder? You know, I
+hadn't ought to go otherways, on account of mother."
+
+"Yes, it will be sure," said Mrs. Plumfield, "and regular;"
+adding quietly, "I'll make it so."
+
+There was a bond for the whole amount in aunt Miriam's eyes;
+and, quite satisfied, Barby went back to the house.
+
+"Will she expect to come to our table, aunt Miriam'? said
+Fleda, when they had walked a little way.
+
+"No, she will not expect that; but Barby will want a different
+kind of managing from those Irish women of yours. She wont
+bear to be spoken to in a way that don't suit her notions of
+what she thinks she deserves; and perhaps your aunt and uncle
+will think her notions rather high — I don't know."
+
+"There is no difficulty with aunt Lucy," said Fleda; "and I
+guess I can manage uncle Rolf — I'll try. _I_ like her very
+much."
+
+"Barby is very poor," said Mrs. Plumfield; "she has nothing
+but her own earnings to support herself and her old mother,
+and now, I suppose, her sister and her child; for Hetty is a
+poor thing — never did much, and now I suppose does nothing."
+
+"Are those Finns poor, aunt Miriam?"
+
+"O no — not at all — they are very well off."
+
+"So I thought — they seemed to have plenty of everything, and
+silver spoons and all. But why then do they go out to work?"
+
+"They are a little too fond of getting money, I expect," said
+aunt Miriam. "And they are a queer sort of people rather — the
+mother is queer, and the children are queer — they aint like
+other folks exactly — never were."
+
+"I am very glad we are to have Barby, instead of that Lucy
+Finn," said Fleda. "Oh, aunt Miriam! you can't think how much
+easier my heart feels."
+
+"Poor child!" said aunt Miriam, looking at her. "But it isn't
+best, Fleda, to have things work too smooth in this world."
+
+"No, I suppose not," said Fleda, sighing. "Isn't it very
+strange, aunt Miriam, that it should make people worse instead
+of better to have everything go pleasantly with them?"
+
+"It is because they are apt then to be so full of the present,
+that they forget the care of the future."
+
+"Yes, and forget there is anything better than the present, I
+suppose," said Fleda.
+
+"So we mustn't fret at the ways our Father takes to keep us
+from hurting ourselves," said aunt Miriam, cheerfully.
+
+"O no!" said Fleda, looking up brightly, in answer to the
+tender manner in which these words were spoken; — "and I
+didn't mean that _this_ is much of a trouble — only I am very
+glad to think that somebody is coming to-morrow."
+
+Aunt Miriam thought that gentle unfretful face could not stand
+in need of much discipline.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+
+"Wise men alway
+Affyrme and say,
+That best is for a man
+Diligently,
+For to apply,
+The business that he can." — MORE
+
+
+Fleda waited for Barby's coming the next day with a little
+anxiety. The introduction and installation, however, were
+happily got over. Mrs. Rossitur, as Fleda knew, was most
+easily pleased, and Barby Elster's quick eye was satisfied
+with the unaffected and universal gentleness and politeness of
+her new employer. She made herself at home in half an hour;
+and Mrs. Rossitur and Fleda were comforted to perceive, by
+unmistakable signs, that their presence was not needed in the
+kitchen, and they might retire to their own premises and
+forget there was another part of the house. Fleda had
+forgotten it utterly, and deliciously enjoying the rest of
+mind and body, she was stretched upon the sofa, luxuriating
+over some volume from her remnant of a library, when the inner
+door was suddenly pushed open far enough to admit of the
+entrance of Miss Elster's head.
+
+"Where's the soft soap?"
+
+Fleda's book went down, and her heart jumped to her mouth, for
+her uncle was sitting over by the window. Mrs. Rossitur looked
+up in amaze, and waited for the question to be repeated.
+
+"I say, where's the soft soap?"
+
+"Soft soap!" said Mrs. Rossitur — "I don't know whether there
+is any — Fleda, do you know?"
+
+"I was trying to think, aunt Lucy — I don't believe there is
+any."
+
+"_Where_ is it?" said Barby.
+
+"There is none, I believe," said Mrs. Rossitur
+
+"Where _was_ it, then?"
+
+"Nowhere — there has not been any in the house," said Fleda,
+raising herself up to see over the back of her sofa.
+
+"There ha'n't been none!" said Miss Elster, in a tone more
+significant than her words, and shutting the door as abruptly
+as she had opened it.
+
+"What upon earth does the woman mean?" exclaimed Mr. Rossitur,
+springing up and advancing towards the kitchen door. Fleda
+threw herself before him.
+
+"Nothing at all, uncle Rolf — she doesn't mean anything at all
+— she doesn't know any better."
+
+"I will improve her knowledge — get out of the way, Fleda."
+
+"But, uncle Rolf, just hear me one moment — please don't! —
+she didn't mean any harm — these people don't know any manners
+— just let me speak to her, please, uncle Rolf!" said Fleda,
+laying both hands upon her uncle's arms — "I'll manage her."
+
+Mr. Rossitur's wrath was high, and he would have run over or
+knocked down anything less gentle that had stood in his way;
+hut even the harshness of strength shuns to set itself in
+array against the meekness that does not _oppose;_ if the touch
+of those hands had been a whit less light, or the glance of
+her eye less submissively appealing, it would have availed
+nothing. As it was, he stopped and looked at her, at first
+scowling, but then with a smile.
+
+"_You_ manage her!" said he.
+
+"Yes," said Fleda, laughing, and now exerting her force, she
+gently pushed him back towards the seat he had quitted — "yes,
+uncle Rolf, you've enough else to manage, don't undertake our
+'help.' Deliver over all your displeasure upon me when
+anything goes wrong — I will be the conductor to carry it off
+safely into the kitchen, and discharge it just at that point
+where I think it will do most execution. Now, will you, uncle
+Rolf? — Because we have got a new-fashioned piece of fire-arms
+in the other room, that I am afraid will go off unexpectedly
+if it is meddled with by an unskilful hand; and that would
+leave us without arms, you see, or with only aunt Lucy's and
+mine, which are not reliable."
+
+"You saucy girl!" said her uncle, who was laughing partly at
+and partly with her, "I don't know what you deserve exactly.
+Well, keep this precious new operative of yours out of my way,
+and I'll take care to keep out of hers. But mind, you must
+manage not to have your piece snapping in my face in this
+fashion, for I wont stand it."
+
+And so, quieted, Mr. Rossitur sat down to his book again; and
+Fleda, leaving hers open, went to attend upon Barby.
+
+"There ain't much yallow soap neither," said this personage,
+"if this is all. There's one thing — if we ha'n't got it, we
+can make it. I must get Mis' Rossitur to have a leach-tub sot
+up right away. I'm a dreadful hand for havin' plenty o' soap."
+
+"What is a leach-tub?" said Fleda.
+
+"Why, a leach-tub, for to leach ashes in. That's easy enough.
+I'll fix it, afore we're any on us much older. If Mr. Rossitur
+'ll keep me in good hard wood, I sha'n't cost him hardly
+anything for potash."
+
+"I'll see about it," said Fleda; "and I will see about having
+the leach-tub, or whatever it is, put up for you. And, Barby,
+whenever you want anything, will you just speak to me about
+it? — and if I am in the other room, ask me to come out here;
+because my aunt is not strong, and does not know where things
+are as well as I do; and when my uncle is in there, he
+sometimes does not like to be disturbed with hearing any such
+talk. If you'll tell me, I'll see and have everything done for
+you."
+
+"Well — you get me a leach sot up — that's all I'll ask of you
+just now," said Barby, good-humouredly, "and help me to find
+the soap-grease, if there is any. As to the rest, I don't want
+to see nothin' o' him in the kitchen, so I'll relieve him if
+he don't want to see much o' me in the parlour. I shouldn't
+wonder if there wa'n't a speck of it in the house."
+
+Not a speck was there to be found.
+
+"Your uncle's pockets must ha' had a good hole in 'em by this
+time," remarked Barby, as they came back from the cellar.
+"However, there never was a crock so empty it couldn't be
+filled. You get me a leach-tub sot up, and I'll find work for
+it."
+
+From that time, Fleda had no more trouble with her uncle and
+Barby. Each seemed to have a wholesome appreciation of the
+other's combative qualities, and to shun them. With Mrs.
+Rossitur, Barby was soon all-powerful. It was enough that she
+wanted a thing, if Mrs. Rossitur's own resources could compass
+it. For Fleda, to say that Barby had presently a perfect
+understanding with her, and joined to that, a most
+affectionate, careful regard, is not, perhaps, saying much;
+for it was true of every one, without exception, with whom
+Fleda had much to do. Barby was to all of them a very great
+comfort and stand-by.
+
+It was well for them that they had her within doors to keep
+things, as she called it, "right and tight;" for abroad the
+only system in vogue was one of fluctuation and uncertainty.
+Mr. Rossitur's Irishman, Donohan, staid his year out, doing as
+little good, and as much, at least, negative harm, as he well
+could; and then went, leaving them a good deal poorer than he
+found them. Dr. Gregory's generosity had added to Mr.
+Rossitur's own small stock of ready money, giving him the
+means to make some needed outlays on the farm. But the outlay,
+ill-applied, had been greater than the income; a scarcity of'
+money began to be more and more felt; and the comfort of the
+family accordingly drew within more and more narrow bounds.
+The temper of the head of the family suffered in at least
+equal degree.
+
+From the first of Barby's coming, poor Fleda had done her
+utmost to prevent the want of Mons. Emile from being felt. Mr.
+Rossitur's table was always set by her careful hand, and all
+the delicacies that came upon it were, unknown to him, of her
+providing — even the bread. One day, at breakfast, Mr.
+Rossitur had expressed his impatient displeasure at that of
+Miss Elster's manufacture. Fleda saw the distressed shade that
+came over her aunt's face, and took her resolution. It was the
+last time. She had followed her plan of sending for the
+receipts, and she studied them diligently, both at home and
+under aunt Miriam. Natural quickness of eye and hand came in
+aid of her affectionate zeal, and it was not long before she
+could trust herself to undertake any operation in the whole
+range of her cookery-book. But, meanwhile, materials were
+growing scarce, and hard to come by. The delicate French rolls
+which were now always ready for her uncle's plate in the
+morning, had sometimes nothing to back them, unless the
+unfailing water-cress from the good little spring in the
+meadow. Fleda could not spare her eggs, for, perhaps, they
+might have nothing else to depend upon for dinner. It was no
+burden to her to do these things; she had a sufficient reward
+in seeing that her aunt and Hugh ate the better, and that her
+uncle's brow was clear; but it was a burden when her hands
+were tied by the lack of means, for she knew the failure of
+the usual supply was bitterly felt, not for the actual want,
+but for that other want which it implied and prefigured.
+
+On the first dismissal of Donohan, Fleda hoped for a good turn
+of affairs. But Mr. Rossitur, disgusted with his first
+experiment, resolved this season to be his own head man; and
+appointed Lucas Springer the second in command, with a possι
+of labourers to execute his decrees. It did not work well. Mr.
+Rossitur found he had a very tough prime minister, who would
+have every one of his plans to go through a kind of winnowing
+process by being tossed about in an argument. The arguments
+were interminable, until Mr. Rossitur not unfrequently quit
+the field with, "Well, do what you like about it!" — not
+conquered, but wearied. The labourers, either from want of
+ready money, or of what they called "manners" in their
+employer, fell off at the wrong times, just when they were
+most wanted. Hugh threw himself then into the breach and
+wrought beyond his strength; and that tried Fleda worst of
+all. She was glad to see haying and harvest pass over; but the
+change of seasons seemed to bring only a change of
+disagreeableness, and she could not find that hope had any
+better breathing-time in the short days of winter than in the
+long days of summer. Her gentle face grew more gentle than
+ever, for under the shade of sorrowful patience, which was
+always there, now its meekness had no eclipse.
+
+Mrs. Rossitur was struck with it one morning. She was coming
+down from her room and saw Fleda standing on the landing-place
+gazing out of the window. It was before breakfast one cold
+morning in winter. Mrs. Rossitur put her arms round her softly
+and kissed her.
+
+"What are you thinking about, dear Fleda? — you ought not to
+be standing here."
+
+"I was looking at Hugh," said Fleda, and her eye went back to
+the window. Mrs. Rossitur's followed it. The window gave them
+a view of the ground behind the house; and there was Hugh,
+just coming in with a large armful of heavy wood which he had
+been sawing.
+
+"He isn't strong enough to do that, aunt Lucy," said Fleda,
+softly.
+
+"I know it," said his mother, in a subdued tone, and not
+moving her eye, though Hugh had disappeared.
+
+"It is too cold for him; he is too thinly clad to bear this
+exposure," said Fleda, anxiously.
+
+"I know it," said his mother, again.
+
+"Can't you tell uncle Rolf? can't you get him to do it? I am
+afraid Hugh will hurt himself, aunt Lucy."
+
+"I did tell him the other day — I did speak to him about it,"
+said Mrs. Rossitur; "but he said there was no reason why Hugh
+should do it — there were plenty of other people —"
+
+"But how can he say so when he knows we never can ask Lucas to
+do anything of the kind, and that other man always contrives
+to be out of the way when he is wanted? Oh, what is he
+thinking of?" said Fleda, bitterly, as she saw Hugh again at
+his work.
+
+It was so rarely that Fleda was seen to shed tears, that they
+always were a signal of dismay to any of the household. There
+was even agony in Mrs. Rossitur's voice as she implored her
+not to give way to them. But, notwithstanding that, Fleda's
+tears came this time from too deep a spring to be stopped at
+once.
+
+"It makes me feel as if all was lost, Fleda, when I see you do
+so."
+
+Fleda put her arms about her neck, and whispered that "she
+would not" — that "she should not —"
+
+Yet it was a little while before she could say any more.
+
+"But, aunt Lucy, he doesn't know what he is doing."
+
+"No; and I can't make him know. I cannot say anything more,
+Fleda — it would do no good. I don't know what is the matter —
+he is entirely changed from what he used to be."
+
+"I know what is the matter," said Fleda, now turning comforter
+in her turn, as her aunt's tears fell more quietly, because
+more despairingly, than her own — "I know what it is — he is
+not happy; — that is all. He has not succeeded well in these
+farm doings, and he wants money, and he is worried — it is no
+wonder if he don't seem exactly as he used to."
+
+"And oh, that troubles me most of all!" said Mrs. Rossitur.
+"The farm is bringing in nothing, I know — he don't know how
+to get along with it — I was afraid it would be so; — and we
+are paying nothing to uncle Orrin — and it is just a dead
+weight on his hands; — and I can't bear to think of it! And
+what will it come to?"
+
+Mrs. Rossitur was now in her turn surprised into showing the
+strength of her sorrows and apprehensions. Fleda was fain to
+put her own out of sight, and bend her utmost powers to soothe
+and compose her aunt, till they could both go down to the
+breakfast-table. She had got ready a nice little dish that her
+uncle was very fond of; but her pleasure in it was all gone;
+and indeed it seemed to be thrown away upon the whole table.
+Half the meal was over before anybody said a word.
+
+"I am going to wash my hands of these miserable farm affairs,"
+said Mr. Rossitur.
+
+"Are you?" said his wife.
+
+"Yes — of all personal concern in them; that is, I am wearied
+to death with the perpetual annoyances and vexations, and
+petty calls upon my time — life is not worth having at such a
+rate! I'll have done with it."
+
+"You will give up the entire charge to Lucas?" said Mrs.
+Rossitur.
+
+"Lucas! — No! — I wouldn't undergo that man's tongue for
+another year if he would take out his wages in talking. I
+could not have more of it in that case than I have had the
+last six months. After money, the thing that man loves best is
+certainly the sound of his own voice; — and a most
+insufferable egotist! No — I have been talking with a man who
+wants to take the whole farm for two years upon shares — that
+will clear me of all trouble."
+
+There was sober silence for a few minutes, and then Mrs.
+Rossitur asked who it was.
+
+"His name is Didenhover."
+
+"Oh, uncle Rolf, don't have anything to do with him!"
+exclaimed Fleda.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because he lived with grandpa a great while ago, and behaved
+very ill. Grandpa had a great deal of trouble with him."
+
+"How old were you then?"
+
+"I was young to be sure," said Fleda, hanging her head, "but I
+remember very well how it was."
+
+"You may have occasion to remember it a second time," said Mr.
+Rossitur, drily, "for the thing is done. I have engaged him."
+
+Not another word was spoken.
+
+Mr. Rossitur went out after breakfast, and Mrs. Rossitur
+busied herself with the breakfast cups and a tub of hot water
+— a work she never would let Fleda share with her, and which
+lasted in consequence long enough, Barby said, to cook and eat
+three breakfasts. Fleda and Hugh sat looking at the floor and
+the fire respectively.
+
+"I am going up the hill to get a sight of aunt Miriam," said
+Fleda, bringing her eyes from the fire upon her aunt.
+
+"Well, dear, do. You have been shut up long enough by the
+snow. Wrap yourself up well, and put on my snow-boots."
+
+"No, indeed!" said Fleda. "I shall just draw on another pair
+of stockings over my shoes, within my India-rubbers — I will
+take a pair of Hugh's woollen ones."
+
+"What has become of your own?" said Hugh.
+
+"My own what? Stockings?"
+
+"Snow-boots."
+
+"Worn out, Mr. Rossitur! I have run them to death, poor
+things! Is that a slight intimation that you are afraid of the
+same fate for your socks?"
+
+"No," said Hugh, smiling in spite of himself, at her manner —
+"I will lend you anything I have got, Fleda."
+
+His tone put Fleda in mind of the very doubtful pretensions of
+the socks in question to be comprehended under the term — she
+was silent a minute.
+
+"Will you go with me, Hugh?"
+
+"No, dear, I can't; I must get a little ahead with the wood
+while I can; it looks as if it would snow again, and Barby
+isn't provided for more than a day or two."
+
+"And how for this fire?"
+
+Hugh shook his head, and rose up to go forth into the kitchen.
+Fleda went too, linking her arm in his, and bearing
+affectionately upon it; a sort of tacit saying, that they
+would sink or swim together. Hugh understood it perfectly.
+
+"I am very sorry you have to do it, dear Hugh; oh, that
+woodshed! If it had only been made —"
+
+"Never mind — can't help it now — we shall get through the
+winter by and by."
+
+"Can't you get uncle Rolf to help you a little?" whispered
+Fleda; "It would do him good."
+
+But Hugh only shook his head.
+
+"What are we going to do for dinner, Barby?" said Fleda, still
+holding Hugh there before the fire.
+
+"Aint much choice," said Barby. "It would puzzle anybody to
+spell much more out of it than pork and ham. There's plenty of
+them. _I_ sha'n't starve this some time."
+
+"But we had ham yesterday, and pork the day before yesterday,
+and ham Monday," said Fleda. "There is plenty of vegetables,
+thanks to you and me, Hugh," she said, with a little reminding
+squeeze of his arm. "I could make soups nicely, if I had
+anything to make them of!"
+
+"There's enough to be had for the catching," said Barby. "If I
+hadn't a man-mountain of work upon me, I'd start out and shoot
+or steal something."
+
+"_You_ shoot, Barby!" said Fleda, laughing.
+
+"I guess I can do most anything I set my hand to. If I
+couldn't, I'd shoot myself. It wont do to kill no more o' them
+chickens."
+
+"O no, — now they are laying so finely. Well, I am going up
+the hill, and when I come home I'll try and make up something,
+Barby."
+
+"Earl Douglass 'll go out in the woods now and then, of a day,
+when he ha'n't no work particular to do, and fetch hum as many
+pigeons and woodchucks as you could shake a stick at."
+
+"Hugh, my dear," said Fleda, laughing, "it's a pity you aren't
+a hunter — I would shake a stick at you with great pleasure.
+Well, Barby, we will see when I come home."
+
+"I was just a-thinkin'," said Barby; — "Mis' Douglass sent
+round to know if Mis' Rossitur would like a piece of fresh
+meat — Earl's been killing a sheep — there's a nice quarter,
+she says, if she'd like to have it."
+
+"A quarter of mutton!" said Fleda, — "I don't know — no, I
+think not, Barby; I don't know when we should be able to pay
+it back again. And yet, Hugh — do you think uncle Rolf will
+kill another sheep this winter?"
+
+"I am sure he will not," said Hugh; "there have so many died."
+
+"If he only knowed it, that is a reason for killing more,"
+said Barby — "and have the good of them while he can."
+
+"Tell Mrs. Douglass we are obliged to her, but we do not want
+the mutton, Barby."
+
+Hugh went to his chopping, and Fleda set out upon her walk —
+the lines of her face settling into a most fixed gravity so
+soon as she turned away from the house. It was what might be
+called a fine winter's day — cold and still, and the sky
+covered with one uniform grey cloud. The snow lay in
+uncompromising whiteness, thick over all the world — a kindly
+shelter for the young grain and covering for the soil; but
+Fleda's spirits, just then in another mood, saw in it only the
+cold refusal to hope, and the barren check to exertion. The
+wind had cleared the snow from the trees and fences, and they
+stood in all their unsoftened blackness and nakedness, bleak
+and stern. The high grey sky threatened a fresh fall of snow
+in a few hours; it was just now a lull between two storms; and
+Fleda's spirits, that sometimes would have laughed in the face
+of nature's soberness, to-day sank to its own quiet. Her pace
+neither slackened nor quickened till she reached aunt Miriam's
+house, and entered the kitchen.
+
+Aunt Miriam was in high tide of business over a pot of boiling
+lard, and the enormous bread-tray by the side of the fire was
+half-full of very tempting light-brown cruller, which,
+however, were little more than a kind of sweet bread for the
+workmen. In the bustle of putting in and taking out, aunt
+Miriam could give her visitor but a word and a look. Fleda
+pulled off her hood, and sitting down, watched in unusual
+silence the old lady's operations.
+
+"And how are they all at your house to-day?" aunt Miriam
+asked, as she was carefully draining her cruller out of the
+kettle.
+
+Fleda answered that they were as well as usual, but a slight
+hesitation and the tell-tale tone of her voice made the old
+lady look at her more narrowly. She came near and kissed that
+gentle brow, and looking in her eyes, asked her what the
+matter was?
+
+"I don't know; " said Fleda, eyes and voice wavering alike —
+"I am foolish, I believe —"
+
+Aunt Miriam tenderly put aside the hair from her forehead, and
+kissed it again, but the cruller was burning, and she went
+back to the kettle.
+
+"I got down-hearted somehow this morning," Fleda went on,
+trying to steady her voice and school herself.
+
+"_You_ down-hearted, dear! About what?"
+
+There was a world of sympathy in these words, in the warmth of
+which Fleda's shut-up heart unfolded itself at once.
+
+"It's nothing new, aunt Miriam — only somehow I felt it
+particularly this morning — I have been kept in the house so
+long by this snow, I have got dumpish, I suppose —"
+
+Aunt Miriam looked anxiously at the tears which seemed to come
+involuntarily, but she said nothing.
+
+"We are not getting along well at home."
+
+"I supposed that," said Mrs. Plumfield, quietly. "But anything
+new?"
+
+"Yes — uncle Rolf has let the farm — only think of it! — he
+has let the farm to that Didenhover."
+
+"Didenhover!"
+
+"For two years."
+
+"Did you tell him what you knew about him?"
+
+"Yes, but it was too late — the mischief was done."
+
+Aunt Miriam went on skimming out her cruller with a very grave
+face.
+
+"How came your uncle to do so without learning about him
+first?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know! — he was in a hurry to do anything that
+would take the trouble of the farm off his hands; he don't
+like it."
+
+"On what terms has he let him have it?"
+
+"On shares — and I know, I know under that Didenhover it will
+bring us in nothing, and it has brought us in nothing all the
+time we have been here; and I don't know what we are going to
+live upon —"
+
+"Has your uncle nor your aunt no property at all left?"
+
+"Not a bit — except some waste lands in Michigan? I believe,
+that were left to aunt Lucy a year or two ago; but they are as
+good as nothing."
+
+"Has he let Didenhover have the saw-mill too?"
+
+"I don't know — he didn't say — if he has, there will be
+nothing at all left for us to live upon. I expect nothing from
+Didenhover, — his face is enough. I should have thought it
+might have been for uncle Rolf. Oh, if it wasn't for aunt Lucy
+and Hugh, I shouldn't care!" —
+
+"What has your uncle been doing all this year past?"
+
+"I don't know, aunt Miriam — he can't bear the business, and
+he has left the most of it to Lucas, and I think Lucas is more
+of a talker than a doer. Almost nothing has gone right. The
+crops have been ill-managed — I do not know a great deal about
+it, but I know enough for that; and uncle Rolf did not know
+anything about it but what he got from books. And the sheep
+are dying off — Barby says it is because they were in such
+poor condition at the beginning of winter, and I dare say she
+is right."
+
+"He ought to have had a thorough good man at the beginning, to
+get along well."
+
+"O yes! — but he hadn't, you see, and so we have just been
+growing poorer every month. And now, aunt Miriam, I really
+don't know from day to day what to do to get dinner. You know,
+for a good while after we came we used to have our marketing
+brought every few days from Albany, but we have run up such a
+bill there already at the butcher's as I don't know when in
+the world will get paid, and aunt Lucy and I will do anything
+before we will send for any more; and if it wasn't for her and
+Hugh I wouldn't care, but they haven't much appetite, and I
+know that all this takes what little they have away — this,
+and seeing the effect it has upon uncle Rolf —"
+
+"Does he think so much more of eating than of anything else?"
+said aunt Miriam.
+
+"O no, it is not that," said Fleda, earnestly, "it is not that
+at all — he is not a great eater — but he can't bear to have
+things different from what they used to be, and from what they
+ought to be — O no, don't think that! I don't know whether I
+ought to have said what I have said, but I couldn't help it —"
+
+Fleda's voice was lost for a little while.
+
+"He is changed from what he used to be — a little thing vexes
+him now, and I know it is because he is not happy; — he used
+to be so kind and pleasant, and he is still sometimes; but
+aunt Lucy's face — Oh, aunt Miriam!"
+
+"Why, dear?" said aunt Miriam, tenderly.
+
+"It is so changed from what it used to be!"
+
+Poor Fleda covered her own, and aunt Miriam came to her side
+to give softer and gentler expression to sympathy than words
+could do, till the bowed face was raised again and hid in her
+neck.
+
+"I can't see thee do so, my child — my dear child! Hope for
+brighter days, dear Fleda."
+
+"I could bear it," said Fleda, after a little interval, "if it
+wasn't for aunt Lucy and Hugh — oh, that is the worst!"
+
+"What about Hugh?" said aunt Miriam, soothingly.
+
+"Oh, he does what he ought not to do, aunt Miriam, and there
+is no help for it — and he did last summer, when we wanted
+men; and in the hot haying-time he used to work, I know,
+beyond his strength, and aunt Lucy and I did not know what to
+do with ourselves."
+
+Fleda's head, which had been raised, sunk again and more
+heavily.
+
+"Where was his father?" said Mrs. Plumfield.
+
+"Oh, he was in the house — he didn't know it — he didn't think
+about it."
+
+"Didn't think about it?"
+
+"No — oh, he didn't think Hugh was hurting himself, but he
+was; he showed it for weeks afterward. I have said what I
+ought not now," said Fleda, looking up, and seeming to check
+her tears, and the spring of them at once.
+
+"So much security any woman has in a man without religion,"
+said aunt Miriam, going back to her work. Fleda would have
+said something if she could; she was silent; she stood looking
+into the fire, while the tears seemed to come as it were by
+stealth, and ran down her face unregarded.
+
+"Is Hugh not well?"
+
+"I don't know," said Fleda, faintly; "he is not ill, but he
+never was very strong, and he exposes himself now, I know, in
+a way he ought not. I am sorry I have just come and troubled
+you with all this now, aunt Miriam," she said, after a little
+pause; "I shall feel better by and by — I don't very often get
+such a fit."
+
+"My dear little Fleda!" — and there was unspeakable tenderness
+in the old lady's voice, as she came up, and drew Fleda's head
+again to rest upon her — "I would not let a rough wind touch
+thee if I had the holding of it. But we may be glad the
+arranging of things is not in my hand — I should be a poor
+friend after all, for I do not know what is best. Canst thou
+trust Him who does know, my child?"
+
+"I do, aunt Miriam — oh, I do," said Fleda, burying her face
+in her bosom — "I don't often feel so as I did to-day."
+
+"There comes not a cloud that its shadow is not wanted," said
+aunt Miriam. "I cannot see why, but it is that thou mayest
+bloom the brighter, my dear one."
+
+"I know it" — Fleda's words were hardly audible — "I will
+try." —
+
+"Remember his own message to every one under a cloud — 'Cast
+all thy care upon him, for he careth for thee;' — thou mayest
+keep none of it; and then the peace that passeth understanding
+shall keep thee. — 'So he giveth his beloved sleep.' "
+
+Fleda wept for a minute on the old lady's neck, and then she
+looked up, dried her tears, and sat down with a face greatly
+quieted and lightened of its burden, while aunt Miriam once
+more went back to her work. The one wrought and the other
+looked on in silence.
+
+The cruller were all done at last — the great bread-trough was
+filled and set away — the remnant of the fat was carefully
+disposed of, and aunt Miriam's handmaid was called in to "take
+the watch." She herself and her visitor adjourned to the
+sitting-room.
+
+"Well," said Fleda., in a tone again steady and clear, "I must
+go home to see about getting up a dinner. I am the greatest
+hand at making something out of nothing, aunt Miriam, that
+ever you saw. There is nothing like practice. I only wish the
+man uncle Orrin talks about would come along once in a while."
+
+"Who was that?" said aunt Miriam.
+
+"A man that used to go about from house to house," said Fleda,
+laughing, "when the cottagers were making soup, with a ham-
+bone to give it a relish, and he used to charge them so much
+for a dip, and so much for a wallop."
+
+"Come, come, I can do as much for you as that," said aunt
+Miriam, proceeding to her store pantry — "see here — wouldn't
+this be as good as a ham-bone?" said she, bringing out of it a
+fat fowl; "how would a wallop of this do?"
+
+"Admirably! — only — the ham-bone used to come out again, and
+I am confident this never would."
+
+"Well, I guess I'll stand that," said aunt Miriam, smiling —
+"you wouldn't mind carrying this under your cloak, would you?"
+
+"I have no doubt I shall go home lighter with it than without
+it, Ma'am, — thank you, dear aunty! —dear aunt Miriam!"
+
+There was a change of tone, and of eye, as Fleda sealed each
+thank with a kiss.
+
+"But how is it? — does all the charge of the house come upon
+you, dear?"
+
+"Oh, this kind of thing, because aunt Lucy doesn't understand
+it, and can't get along with it so well. She likes better to
+sew, and I had quite as lief do this."
+
+"And don't you sew, too?"
+
+"Oh, a little. She does as much as she can," said Fleda,
+gravely.
+
+"Where is your other cousin?" said Mrs. Plumfield, abruptly.
+
+"Marion? — she is in England, I believe — we don't hear from
+her very often."
+
+"No, no — I mean the one who is in the army?"
+
+"Charlton! — Oh, he is just ordered off to Mexico," said
+Fleda, sadly, "and that is another great trouble to aunt Lucy.
+This miserable war!"
+
+"Does he never come home?"
+
+"Only once since we came from Paris — while we were in New
+York. He has been stationed away off at the West."
+
+"He has a captain's pay now, hasn't he?"
+
+"Yes, but he doesn't know at all how things are at home; he
+hasn't an idea of it — and he will not have. Well, good-bye,
+dear aunt Miriam — I must run home to take care of my
+chicken."
+
+She ran away; and if her eyes many a time on the way down the
+hill filled and overflowed, they were not bitter nor dark
+tears; they were the gushings of high and pure and generous
+affections, weeping for fullness, not for want.
+
+That chicken was not wasted in soup; it was converted into the
+nicest possible little fricassee, because the toast would make
+so much more of it; and to Fleda's own dinner, little went
+beside the toast, that a greater portion of the rest might be
+for her aunt and Hugh.
+
+That same evening, Seth Plumfield came into the kitchen, while
+Fleda was there.
+
+"Here is something belongs to you, I believe," said he, with a
+covert smile, bringing out from under his cloak the mate to
+Fleda's fowl — "mother said somethin' had run away with
+t'other one, and she didn't know what to do with this one
+alone. Your uncle at home?"
+
+The next news that Fleda heard was, that Seth had taken a
+lease of the saw-mill for two years.
+
+Mr. Didenhover did not disappoint Fleda's expectations. Very
+little could be got from him, or the farm under him, beyond
+the immediate supply wanted for the use of the family; and
+that in kind, not in cash. Mrs. Rossitur was comforted by
+knowing, that some portion of rent had also gone to Dr.
+Gregory — how large or how small a portion, she could not find
+out. But this left the family in increasing straits, which
+narrowed and narrowed during the whole first summer and winter
+of Didenhover's administration. Very straitened they would
+have been, but for the means of relief adopted by the two
+_children_, as they were always called. Hugh, as soon as the
+spring opened, had a quiet hint through Fleda, that if he had
+a mind to take the working of the saw-mill he might, for a
+consideration merely nominal. This offer was immediately and
+gratefully closed with; and Hugh's earnings were thenceforward
+very important at home. Fleda had her own ways and means. Mr.
+Rossitur, more low-spirited and gloomy than ever, seemed to
+have no heart to anything. He would have worked, perhaps, if
+he could have done it alone; but to join Didenhover and his
+men, or any other gang of workmen, was too much for his
+magnanimity. He helped nobody but Fleda. For her he would do
+anything, at any time; and in the garden, and among her
+flowers in the flowery courtyard, he might often be seen at
+work with her. But nowhere else.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+
+"Some bring a capon, some a rurall cake,
+Some nuts, some apples; some that thinke they make
+The better cheeses, bring 'hem; or else send
+By their ripe daughters, whom they would commend
+This way to husbands; and whose baskets beare
+An embleme of themselves in plum or pears."
+BEN JOHNSON.
+
+
+So the time walked away — for this family was not now of those
+"whom time runneth withal" — to the second summer of Mr.
+Didenhover's term.
+
+One morning Mrs. Rossitur was seated in the breakfast-room at
+her usual employment, mending and patching — no sinecure now.
+Fleda opened the kitchen door and came in, folding up a calico
+apron she had just taken off.
+
+"You are tired, dear," said Mrs. Rossitur, sorrowfully; — you
+look pale."
+
+"Do I?" said Fleda, sitting down. "I am a little tired!"
+
+"Why do you do so?"
+
+"Oh, it's nothing," said Fleda, cheerfully; "I haven't hurt
+myself. I shall be rested again in a few minutes."
+
+"What have you been doing?"
+
+"Oh, I tired myself a little before breakfast in the garden, I
+suppose. Aunt Lucy, don't you think I had almost a bushel of
+pease? — and there was a little over a half bushel last-time,
+so I shall call it a bushel. Isn't that fine?"
+
+"You didn't pick them all yourself?"
+
+"Hugh helped me a little while; but he had the horse to get
+ready, and I was out before him this morning — poor fellow, he
+was tired from yesterday, I dare say."
+
+Mrs. Rossitur looked at her, a look between remonstrance and
+reproach, and cast her eves down without saying a word,
+swallowing a whole heartful of thoughts and feelings. Fleda
+stooped forward till her own forehead softly touched Mrs.
+Rossitur's, as gentle a chiding of despondency as a very
+sunbeam could have given.
+
+"Now, aunt Lucy! — what do you mean? Don't you know it's good
+for me? — And do you know, Mr. Sweet will give me four
+shillings a bushel? and, aunt Lucy, I sent three dozen heads
+of lettuce this morning besides. Isn't that doing well? and I
+sent two dozen day before yesterday. It is time they were
+gone, for they are running up to seed, this set; I have got
+another fine set almost ready."
+
+Mrs. Rossitur looked at her again, as if she had been a sort
+of terrestrial angel.
+
+"And how much will you get for them?"
+
+"I don't know exactly — threepence, or sixpence, perhaps — I
+guess not so much — they are so easily raised; though I don't
+believe there are so fine as mine to be seen in this region.
+If I only had somebody to water the strawberries! — we should
+have a great many. Aunt Lucy, I am going to send as many as I
+can without robbing uncle Rolf — he sha'n't miss them; but the
+rest of us don't mind eating rather fewer than usual? I shall
+make a good deal by them. And I think these morning rides do
+Hugh good; don't you think so?"
+
+"And what have you been busy about ever since breakfast,
+Fleda?"
+
+"Oh — two or three things," said Fleda, lightly.
+
+"What?"
+
+"I had bread to make — and then I thought, while my hands were
+in, I would make a custard for uncle Rolf."
+
+"You needn't have done that, dear, it was not necessary."
+
+"Yes it was, because, you know, we have only fried pork for
+dinner to-day; and while we have the milk and eggs, it doesn't
+cost much — the sugar is almost nothing. He will like it
+better, and so will Hugh. As for you," said Fleda, gently
+touching her forehead again, "you know it is of no
+consequence!"
+
+"I wish you would think yourself of some consequence," said
+Mrs. Rossitur.
+
+"Don't I think myself of consequence?" said Fleda,
+affectionately. "I don't know how you'd all get on without me.
+What do you think I have a mind to do now, by way of resting
+myself?"
+
+"Well?" said Mrs. Rossitur, thinking of something else.
+
+"It is the day for making presents to the minister, you know?"
+
+"The minister? —"
+
+"Yes, the new minister — they expect him to-day; you have
+heard of it; the things are all to be carried to his house to-
+day. I have a great notion to go and see the fun — If I only
+had anything in the world I could possibly take with me —"
+
+"Aren't you too tired, dear?"
+
+"No — it would rest me; it is early yet; if I only had
+something to take! I couldn't go without taking something —"
+
+"A basket of eggs?" said Mrs. Rossitur.
+
+"Can't, aunt Lucy — I can't spare them; so many of the hens
+are setting now. A basket of strawberries! — that's the thing!
+I've got enough picked for that and to-night too. That will
+do!"
+
+Fleda's preparations were soon made, and with her basket on
+her arm she was ready to set forth.
+
+"If pride had not been a little put down in me," she said,
+smiling, "I suppose I should rather stay at home than go with
+such a petty offering. And no doubt every one that sees it or
+hears of it will lay it to anything but the right reason. So
+much the world knows about the people it judges! It is too bad
+to leave you all alone, aunt Lucy."
+
+Mrs. Rossitur pulled her down for a kiss — a kiss in which how
+much was said on both sides! — and Fleda set forth, choosing,
+as she very commonly did, the old-time way through the
+kitchen.
+
+"Off again?" said Barby, who was on her knees scrubbing the
+great flag-stones of the hearth.
+
+"Yes, I am going up to see the donation party."
+
+"Has the minister come?"
+
+"No, but he is coming to-day, I understand."
+
+"He ha'n't preached for 'em yet, has he?"
+
+"Not yet; I suppose he will next Sunday."
+
+"They are in a mighty hurry to give him a donation party!"
+said Barby. "I'd a' waited till he was here first. I don't
+believe they'd be quite so spry with their donations if they
+had paid the last man up as they ought. I'd rather give a man
+what belongs to him, and make him presents afterwards."
+
+"Why, so I hope they will, Barby," said Fleda, laughing. But
+Barby said no more.
+
+The parsonage-house was about a quarter of a mile, a little
+more, from the saw-mill, in a line at right angles with the
+main road. Fleda took Hugh from his work, to see her safe
+there. The road ran north, keeping near the level of the mid-
+hill, where it branched off a little below the saw-mill; and
+as the ground continued rising towards the east, and was well
+clothed with woods, the way, at this hour, was still
+pleasantly shady. To the left, the same slope of ground
+carried down to the foot of the hill gave them an
+uninterrupted view over a wide plain or bottom, edged in the
+distance with a circle of gently swelling hills. Close against
+the hills, in the far corner of the plain, lay the little
+village of Queechy Run, hid from sight by a slight intervening
+rise of ground. Not a chimney showed itself in the whole
+spread of country. A sunny landscape just now; but rich in
+picturesque associations of hay-cocks and win-rows, spotting
+it near and far; and close by below them was a field of mowers
+at work; they could distinctly hear the measured rush of the
+scythes through the grass, and then the soft clink of the
+rifles would seem to play some old delicious tune of childish
+days. Fleda made Hugh stand still to listen. It was a warm
+day, but "the sweet south that breathes upon a bank of
+violets" could hardly be more sweet than the air which, coming
+to them over the whole breadth of the valley, had been charged
+by the new-made hay.
+
+"How good it is, Hugh," said Fleda, "that one can get out of
+doors, and forget everything that ever happened or ever will
+happen within four walls!"
+
+"Do you?" said Hugh, rather soberly.
+
+"Yes, I do — even in my flower-patch, right before the house-
+door; but here" — said Fleda, turning away, and swinging her
+basket of strawberries as she went, "I have no idea I ever did
+such a thing as make bread, — and how clothes get mended I do
+not comprehend in the least!"
+
+"And have you forgotten the pease and the asparagus too?"
+
+"I am afraid you haven't, dear Hugh," said Fleda, linking her
+arm within his. "Hugh — I must find some way to make money."
+
+"More money!" said Hugh, smiling.
+
+"Yes — this garden business is all very well, but it doesn't
+come to any very great things after all, if you are aware of
+it; and Hugh, I want to get aunt Lucy a new dress. I can't
+bear to see her in that old merino, and it isn't good for her.
+Why, Hugh, she couldn't possibly see anybody, if anybody
+should come to the house."
+
+"Who is there to come?" said Hugh.
+
+"Why, nobody; but still, she ought not to be so."
+
+"What more can you do, dear Fleda? You work a great deal too
+hard already," said Hugh, sighing. "You should have seen the
+way father and mother looked at you last night when you were
+asleep on the sofa."
+
+Fleda stifled her sigh, and went on.
+
+"I am sure there are things that might be done — things for
+the booksellers — translating, or copying, or something — I
+don't know exactly — I have heard of people's doing such
+things. I mean to write to uncle Orrin, and ask him. I am sure
+he can manage it for me."
+
+"What were you writing the other night?" said Hugh, suddenly.
+
+"When!"
+
+"The other night — when you were writing by the fire-light? I
+saw your pencil scribbling away at a furious rate over the
+paper, and you kept your hand up carefully between me and your
+face, but I could see it was something very interesting. Ha!"
+— said Hugh, laughingly trying to get another view of Fleda's
+face which was again kept from him. "Send that to uncle Orrin,
+Fleda; — or show it to me first, and then I will tell you."
+
+Fleda made no answer; and at the parsonage-door Hugh left her.
+
+Two or three wagons were standing there, but nobody to be
+seen. Fleda went up the steps and crossed the broad piazza,
+brown and unpainted, but picturesque still, and guided by the
+sound of tongues turned to the right, where she found a large
+low room, the very centre of the stir. But the stir had not by
+any means reached the height yet. Not more than a dozen people
+were gathered. Here were aunt Syra and Mrs. Douglass,
+appointed a committee to receive and dispose the offerings as
+they were brought in.
+
+"Why, there is not much to be seen yet," said Fleda. "I did
+not know I was so early."
+
+"Time enough," said Mrs. Douglass. "They'll come the thicker
+when they do come. Good morning, Dr. Quackenboss! I hope
+you're a-going to give us something else besides a bow? and I
+wont take none of your physic neither."
+
+"I humbly submit," said the doctor, graciously, "that nothing
+ought to be expected of gentlemen that — a — are so unhappy as
+to be alone; for they really — a — have nothing to give — but
+themselves."
+
+There was a shout of merriment.
+
+"And suppos'n that's a gift that nobody wants?" said Mrs.
+Douglass's sharp eye and voice at once.
+
+"In that case," said the doctor, "I really — Miss Ringgan, may
+I — a — may I relieve your hand of this fair burden?"
+
+"It is not a very fair burden, Sir," said Fleda, laughing, and
+relinquishing her strawberries.
+
+"Ah, but, fair, you know, I mean — we speak — in that sense —
+Mrs. Douglass, here is by far the most elegant offering that
+your hands will have the honour of receiving this day."
+
+"I hope so," said Mrs. Douglass, "or there wont be much to eat
+for the minister. Did you never take notice how elegant things
+somehow made folks grow poor?"
+
+"I guess he'd as lieve see something a little substantial,"
+said aunt Syra.
+
+"Well, now," said the doctor, "here is Miss Ringgan, who is
+unquestionably — a —elegant! — and I am sure nobody will say
+that she — looks poor."
+
+In one sense, surely not! There could not be two opinions. But
+with all the fairness of health, and the flush which two or
+three feelings had brought to her cheeks, there was a look as
+if the workings of the mind had refined away a little of the
+strength of the physical frame, and as if growing poor in Mrs.
+Douglass's sense — that is, thin, might easily be the next
+step.
+
+"What's your uncle going to give us, Fleda?" said aunt Syra.
+
+But Fleda was saved replying; for Mrs. Douglass, who, if she
+was sharp, could be good-natured too, and had watched to see
+how Fleda took the double fire upon elegance and poverty,
+could bear no more trial of that sweet gentle face. Without
+giving her time to answer, she carried her off to see the
+things already stored in the closet, bidding the doctor, over
+her shoulder, "be off after his goods, whether he had got 'em
+or no."
+
+There was certainly a promising beginning made for the future
+minister's comfort. One shelf was already completely stocked
+with pies, and another showed a quantity of cake, and biscuits
+enough to last a good-sized family for several meals.
+
+"That is always the way," said Mrs. Douglass; "it's the
+strangest thing that folks has no sense! Now, one half o' them
+pies 'll be dried up afore they can eat the rest; 't aint much
+loss, for Mis' Prin sent 'em down, and if they are worth
+anything, it's the first time anything ever come out of her
+house that was. Now look at them biscuit!"
+
+"How many are coming to eat them?" said Fleda.
+
+"How?"
+
+"How large a family has the minister?"
+
+"He ha'n't a bit of a family! He ain't married."
+
+"Not!"
+
+At the grave way in which Mrs. Douglass faced round upon her
+and answered, and at the idea of a single mouth devoted to all
+that closetful Fleda's gravity gave place to most
+uncontrollable merriment.
+
+"No," said Mrs. Douglass, with a curious twist of her mouth,
+but commanding herself, — "he aint, to be sure, not yet. He
+ha'n't any family but himself and some sort of a housekeeper,
+I suppose; they'll divide the house between 'em."
+
+"And the biscuits, I hope," said Fleda. "But what will he do
+with all the other things, Mrs. Douglass?"
+
+"Sell 'em if he don't want 'em," said Mrs. Douglass,
+quizzically. "Shut up, Fleda, I forget who sent them biscuit —
+somebody that calculated to make a show for a little, I
+reckon. My sakes! I believe it was Mis' Springer herself! she
+didn't hear me though," said Mrs. Douglass, peeping out of the
+half-open door. "It's a good thing the world aint all alike;
+there's Mis' Plumfield — stop now, and I'll tell you all she
+sent; that big jar of lard, there's as good as eighteen or
+twenty pound — and that basket of eggs, I don't know how many
+there is — and that cheese, a real fine one, I'll be bound,
+she wouldn't pick out the worst in her dairy; and Seth fetched
+down a hundred weight of corn meal, and another of rye flour;
+now, that's what I call doing things something like; if
+everybody else would keep up their end as well as they keep up
+their'n, the world wouldn't be quite so one-sided as it is. I
+never see the time yet when I couldn't tell where to find Mis'
+Plumfield."
+
+"No, nor anybody else," said Fleda, looking happy.
+
+"There's Mis' Silbert couldn't find nothing better to send
+than a kag of soap," Mrs. Douglass went on, seeming very much
+amused; "I _was_ beat when I saw that walk in! I should think
+she'd feel streaked to come here by and by, and see it a-
+standing between Mis' Plumfield's lard and Mis' Clavering's
+pork — that's a handsome kag of pork, aint it? What's that man
+done with your strawberries? I'll put 'em up here, afore
+somebody takes a notion to 'em. I'll let the minister know who
+he's got to thank for 'em," said she, winking at Fleda.
+"Where's Dr. Quackenboss?"
+
+"Coming, Ma'am!" sounded from the hall, and forthwith, at the
+open door, entered the doctor's head, simultaneously with a
+large cheese, which he was rolling before him, the rest of the
+doctor's person being thrown into the background in
+consequence — a curious natural representation of a
+wheelbarrow, the wheel being the only artificial part.
+
+"Oh! that's you, doctor, is it?" said Mrs. Douglass.
+
+"This is me, Ma'am," said the doctor, rolling up to the closet
+door; "this has the honour to be — a — myself, — bringing my
+service to the feet of Miss Ringgan."
+
+" 'Tain't very elegant," said the sharp lady.
+
+Fleda thought if his service was at her feet, her feet should
+be somewhere else, and accordingly stepped quietly out of the
+way, and went to one of the windows, from whence she could
+have a view both of the comers and the come; and by this time,
+thoroughly in the spirit of the thing, she used her eyes upon
+both with great amusement. People were constantly arriving
+now, in wagons and on foot; and stores of all kinds were most
+literally pouring in. Bags, and even barrels of meal, flour,
+pork, and potatoes; strings of dried apples, salt, hams, and
+beef; hops, pickles, vinegar, maple-sugar and molasses; rolls
+of fresh butter, cheese, and eggs; cake, bread, and pies,
+without end. Mr. Penny, the storekeeper, sent a box of tea.
+Mr. Winegar, the carpenter, a new ox-sled. Earl Douglass
+brought a handsome axe-helve of his own fashioning; his wife,
+a quantity of rolls of wool. Zan Finn carted a load of wood
+into the wood-shed, and Squire Thornton another. Home-made
+candles, custards, preserves, and smoked liver, came in a
+batch from two or three miles off, up on the mountain. Half-a-
+dozen chairs from the factory-man; half-a-dozen brooms from
+the other storekeeper at the Deepwater settlement; a carpet
+for the best room from the ladies of the township, who had
+clubbed forces to furnish it — and a home-made concern it was,
+from the shears to the loom.
+
+The room was full now, for every one, after depositing his
+gift, turned aside to see what others had brought and were
+bringing; and men and women, the young and old, had their
+several circles of gossip in various parts of the crowd. Apart
+from them all Fleda sat in her window, probably voted
+"elegant" by others than the doctor, for they vouchsafed her
+no more than a transitory attention, and sheered off to find
+something more congenial. She sat watching the people, smiling
+very often as some odd figure, or look, or some peculiar turn
+of expression or tone of voice, caught her ear or her eye.
+
+Both ear and eye were fastened by a young countryman, with a
+particularly fresh face, whom she saw approaching the house.
+He came up on foot, carrying a single fowl slung at his back
+by a stick thrown across his shoulder, and, without stirring
+hat or stick, he came into the room, and made his way through
+the crowd of people, looking to the one hand and the other,
+evidently in a maze of doubt to whom he should deliver himself
+and his chicken, till brought up by Mrs. Douglass's sharp
+voice.
+
+"Well, Philetus, what are you looking for?"
+
+"Do, Mis' Douglass!" — it is impossible to express the
+abortive attempt at a bow which accompanied this salutation —
+"I want to know if the minister 'll be in town to-day."
+
+"What do you want of him?"
+
+"I don't want nothin' of him. I want to know if he'll be in
+town to-day?"
+
+"Yes; I expect he'll be along directly. Why, what then?"
+
+" 'Cause I've got teu chickens for him here, and mother said
+they hadn't ought to be kept no longer, and if he wan't to
+hum, I were to fetch 'em back, straight."
+
+"Well, he'll be here, so let's have 'em," said Mrs. Douglass,
+biting her lips.
+
+"What's become o' t'other one?" said Earl, as the young man's
+stick was brought round to the table: "I guess you've lost it,
+ha'n't you?"
+
+"My gracious!" was all Philetus's powers were equal to. Mrs.
+Douglass went off into fits, which rendered her incapable of
+speaking, and left the unlucky chicken-bearer to tell his
+story his own way, but all he brought forth was, "Du tell! — I
+_am_ beat!"
+
+"Where's t'other one?" said Mrs. Douglass, between paroxysms.
+
+"Why, I ha'n't done nothin' to it," said Philetus, dismally;
+"there was teu on 'em afore I started, and I took and tied 'em
+together, and hitched 'em onto the stick, and that one must
+ha' loosened itself off some way — I believe the darned thing
+did it o' purpose."
+
+"I guess your mother knowed that one wouldn't keep till it got
+here," said Mrs. Douglass.
+
+The room was now all one shout, in the midst of which poor
+Philetus took himself off as speedily as possible. Before
+Fleda had dried her eyes, her attention was taken by a lady
+and gentleman who had just got out of a vehicle of more than
+the ordinary pretension, and were coming up to the door. The
+gentleman was young — the lady was not; both had a
+particularly amiable and pleasant appearance; but about the
+lady there was something that moved Fleda singularly, and,
+somehow, touched the spring of old memories, which she felt
+stirring at the sight of her. As they neared the house she
+lost them; then they entered the room and came through it
+slowly, looking about them with an air of good-humoured
+amusement. Fleda's eye was fixed, but her mind puzzled itself
+in vain to recover what, in her experience, had been connected
+with that fair and lady-like physiognomy, and the bland smile
+that was overlooked by those acute eyes. The eyes met hers,
+and then seemed to reflect her doubt, for they remained as
+fixed as her own, while the lady, quickening her steps, came
+up to her.
+
+"I am sure," she said, holding out her hand, and with a gentle
+graciousness that was very agreeable, "I am sure you are
+somebody I know. What is your name?"
+
+"Fleda Ringgan."
+
+"I thought so!" said the lady, now shaking her hand warmly,
+and kissing her; "I knew nobody could have been your mother
+but Amy Charlton! How like her you look! Don't you know me?
+don't you remember Mrs. Evelyn?"
+
+"Mrs. Evelyn!" said Fleda, the whole coming back to her at
+once.
+
+"You remember me now? — How well I recollect you! and all that
+old time at Montepoole. Poor little creature that you were!
+and dear little creature, as I am sure you have been ever
+since! And how is your dear aunt Lucy?"
+
+Fleda answered that she was well.
+
+"I used to love her very much — that was before I knew you —
+before she went abroad. We have just got home — this spring;
+and now we are staying at Montepoole for a few days. I shall
+come and see her to-morrow — I knew you were somewhere in this
+region, but I did not know exactly where to find you; that was
+one reason why I came here to-day, I thought I might hear
+something of you. And where are your aunt Lucy's children? and
+how are they?"
+
+"Hugh is at home," said Fleda, "and rather delicate — Charlton
+is in the army."
+
+"In the army! In Mexico! —"
+
+"In Mexico he has been —"
+
+"Your poor aunt Lucy!"
+
+"— In Mexico he has been, but he is just coming home now — he
+has been wounded, and he is coming home to spend a long
+furlough."
+
+"Coming home. That will make you all very happy. And Hugh is
+delicate; and how are you, love? you hardly look like a
+country-girl. Mr. Olmney!" said Mrs. Evelyn, looking round for
+her companion, who was standing quietly a few steps off,
+surveying the scene. "Mr. Olmney! I am going to do you a
+favour, Sir, in introducing you to Miss Ringgan, a very old
+friend of mine. Mr. Olmney, these are not exactly the apple-
+cheeks and _robustious_ demonstrations we are taught to look for
+in country-land."
+
+This was said with a kind of sly funny enjoyment, which took
+away everything disagreeable from the appeal; but Fleda
+conceived a favourable opinion of the person to whom it was
+made from the fact that he paid her no compliment, and made no
+answer beyond a very pleasant smile.
+
+"What is Mrs. Evelyn's definition of a _very old_ friend?" said
+he, with another smile, as that lady moved off to take a more
+particular view of what she had come to see. "To judge by the
+specimen before me, I should consider it very equivocal."
+
+"Perhaps Mrs. Evelyn counts friendships by inheritance," said
+Fleda. "I think they ought to be counted so."
+
+" 'Thine own friend, and thy father's friend, forsake not,' "
+said the young man.
+
+Fleda looked up and smiled a pleased answer.
+
+"There is something very lovely in the faithfulness of tried
+friendship, and very uncommon."
+
+"I know that it is uncommon only by hearsay," said Fleda. "I
+have so many good friends."
+
+He was silent for an instant, possibly thinking there might be
+a reason for that, unknown only to Fleda herself.
+
+"Perhaps one must be in peculiar circumstances to realize it,"
+he said, sighing; — "circumstances that leave one of no
+importance to any one in the world. But it is a kind lesson, —
+one learns to depend more on the one friendship that can never
+disappoint."
+
+Fleda's eyes again gave an answer of sympathy; for she thought
+from the shade that had come upon his face, that these
+circumstances had probably been known to himself.
+
+"This is rather an amusing scene," he remarked presently, in a
+low tone.
+
+"Very," said Fleda. "I have never seen such a one before."
+
+"Nor I," said he. "It is a pleasant scene, too; it is pleasant
+to see so many evidences of kindness and good feeling on the
+part of all these people."
+
+"There is all the more show of it, I suppose, to-day," said
+Fleda, "because we have a new minister coming; they want to
+make a favourable impression."
+
+"Does the old proverb of the 'new broom' hold good here too?"
+said he, smiling. "What's the name of your new minister?"
+
+"I am not certain," said Fleda; "there were two talked of; the
+last I heard was, that it was an old Mr. Carey; but from what
+I hear this morning, I suppose it must be the other — a Mr.
+Ollum, or some such queer name, I believe."
+
+Fleda thought her hearer looked very much amused, and followed
+his eye into the room, where Mrs. Evelyn was going about in
+all quarters looking at everything, and finding occasion to
+enter into conversation with at least a quarter of the people
+who were present. Whatever she was saying, it seemed at that
+moment to have something to do with them, for sundry eyes
+turned in their direction; and presently Dr. Quackenboss came
+up, with even more than common suavity of manner.
+
+"I trust Miss Ringgan will do me the favour of making me
+acquainted with — a — with our future pastor!" said the
+doctor, looking, however, not at all at Miss Ringgan, but
+straight at the pastor in question. "I have great pleasure in
+giving you the first welcome, Sir — or, I should say, rather
+the second; since, no doubt, Miss Ringgan has been in advance
+of me. It is not un — a — appropriate, Sir, for I may say we —
+a — divide the town between us. You are, I am sure, a worthy
+representative of Peter and Paul; and I am — a — a pupil of
+Esculapius, Sir! You are the intellectual physician, and I am
+the external."
+
+"I hope we shall both prove ourselves good workmen, Sir," said
+the young minister, shaking the doctor's hand heartily.
+
+"This is Dr. Quackenboss; Mr. Olmney," said Fleda, making a
+tremendous effort. But though she could see corresponding
+indications about her companion's eyes and mouth, she admired
+the kindness and self-command with which he listened to the
+doctor's civilities and answered them; expressing his grateful
+sense of the favours received, not only from him, but from
+others.
+
+"Oh — a little to begin with," said the doctor, looking round
+upon the room, which would certainly have furnished _that_ for
+fifty people; "I hope we aint done yet by considerable — But
+here is Miss Ringgan, Mr. — a — Ummin, that has brought you
+some of the fruits of her own garden, with her own fair hands
+— a basket of fine strawberries, which, I am sure — a — will
+make you forget everything else!"
+
+Mr. Olmney had the good-breeding not to look at Fleda, as he
+answered, "I am sure the spirit of kindness was the same in
+all, Dr. Quackenboss, and I trust not to forget that readily."
+
+Others now came up; and Mr. Olmney was walked off to be "made
+acquainted" with all, or with all the chief of his
+parishioners then and there assembled. Fleda watched him going
+about, shaking hands, talking and smiling, in all directions,
+with about as much freedom of locomotion as a fly in a
+spider's web; till, at Mrs. Evelyn's approach, the others fell
+off a little, and taking him by the arm, she rescued him.
+
+"My dear Mr. Olmney," she whispered, with an intensely amused
+face, "I shall have a vision of you every day for a month to
+come, sitting down to dinner, with a rueful face, to a
+whortleberry pie; for there are so many of them, your
+conscience will not let you have anything else cooked, — you
+cannot manage more than one a day."
+
+"Pies!" said the young gentleman, as Mrs. Evelyn left talking,
+to indulge her feelings in ecstatic quiet laughing — "I have a
+horror of pies!"
+
+"Yes, yes," said Mrs. Evelyn, nodding her head delightedly, as
+she drew him towards the pantry — "I know! — Come and see what
+is in store for you. You are to do penance for a month to come
+with tin pans of blackberry jam, fringed with pie crust — no,
+they can't be blackberries, they must be raspberries, the
+blackberries are not ripe yet. And you may sup upon cake and
+custards, unless you give the custards for the little pig out
+there, he will want something."
+
+"A pig!" said Mr. Olmney, in amaze — Mrs. Evelyn again giving
+out in distress. "A pig!" said Mr. Olmney.
+
+"Yes, a pig — a very little one," said Mrs. Evelyn,
+convulsively. "I am sure he is hungry now."
+
+They had reached the pantry, and Mr. Olmney's face was all
+that was wanting to Mrs. Evelyn's delight. How she smothered
+it, so that it should go no further than to distress his self-
+command, is a mystery known only to the initiated. Mrs.
+Douglass was forthwith called into council.
+
+"Mrs. Douglass," said Mr. Olmney, "I feel very much inclined
+to play the host, and beg my friends to share with me some of
+these good things they have been so bountifully providing."
+
+"He would enjoy them much more than he would alone, Mrs.
+Douglass," said Mrs. Evelyn, who still had hold of Mr.
+Olmney's arm, looking round to the lady with a most benign
+face.
+
+"I reckon some of 'em would be past enjoying by the time he
+got to 'em, wouldn't they?" said the lady. "Well, they'll have
+to take 'em in their fingers, for our crockery ha'n't come yet
+— I shall have to jog Mr. Flatt's elbow; but hungry folks aint
+curious."
+
+"In their fingers, or any way, provided you have only a knife
+to cut them with," said Mr. Olmney, while Mrs. Evelyn squeezed
+his arm in secret mischief; "and pray, if we can muster two
+knives, let us cut one of these cheeses, Mrs. Douglass."
+
+And presently Fleda saw pieces of pie walking about in all
+directions, supported by pieces of cheese. And then Mrs.
+Evelyn and Mr. Olmney came out from the pantry and came
+towards her, the latter bringing her, with his own hands, a
+portion in a tin pan. The two ladies sat down in the window
+together to eat and be amused.
+
+"My dear Fleda, I hope you are hungry," said Mrs. Evelyn,
+biting her pie, Fleda could not help thinking, with an air of
+good-humoured condescension.
+
+"I am, Ma'am," she said, laughing.
+
+"You look just as you used to do," Mrs. Evelyn went on,
+earnestly.
+
+"Do I?" said Fleda, privately thinking that the lady must have
+good eyes for features of resemblance.
+
+"Except that you have more colour in your cheeks and more
+sparkles in your eyes. Dear little creature that you were; I
+want to make you know my children. Do you remember that Mr.
+and Mrs. Carleton that took such care of you at Montepoole?"
+
+"Certainly I do! — very well."
+
+"We saw them last winter; we were down at their country place
+in — shire. They have a magnificent place there — everything
+you can think of to make life pleasant. We spent a week with
+them. My dear Fleda, I wish I could show you that place! you
+never saw anything like it."
+
+Fleda ate her pie.
+
+"We have nothing like it in this country; of course, cannot
+have. One of those superb English country seats is beyond even
+the imagination of an American."
+
+"Nature has been as kind to us, hasn't she?" said Fleda.
+
+"O yes; but such fortunes, you know. Mr. Olmney, what do you
+think of those overgrown fortunes? I was speaking to Miss
+Ringgan just now of a gentleman who has forty thousand pounds
+a year income — sterling, Sir; forty thousand pounds a year
+sterling. Somebody says, you know, that 'he who has more than
+enough is a thief of the rights of his brother' — what do you
+think?"
+
+But Mr. Olmney's attention was at the moment forcibly called
+off by the "income" of a parishioner.
+
+"I suppose," said Fleda, "his thievish character must depend
+entirely on the use he makes of what he has."
+
+"I don't know," said Mrs. Evelyn, shaking her head; "I think
+the possession of great wealth is very hardening."
+
+"To a fine nature?" said Fleda.
+
+Mrs. Evelyn shook her head again, but did not seem to think it
+worth while to reply; and Fleda was trying the question in her
+own mind whether wealth or poverty might be the most hardening
+in its effects; when Mr. Olmney, having succeeded in getting
+free again, came and took his station beside them, and they
+had a particularly pleasant talk, which Fleda, who had seen
+nobody in a great while, enjoyed very much. They had several
+such talks in the course of the day; for though the
+distractions caused by Mr. Olmney's other friends were many
+and engrossing, he generally contrived in time to find his way
+back to their window. Meanwhile, Mrs. Evelyn had a great deal
+to say to Fleda, and to hear from her; and left her at last
+under an engagement to spend the next day at the Pool.
+
+Upon Mr. Olmney's departure with Mrs. Evelyn, the attraction
+which had held the company together was broken, and they
+scattered fast. Fleda presently finding herself in the
+minority, was glad to set out with Miss Anastasia Finn, and
+her sister Lucy, who would leave her but very little way from
+her own door. But she had more company than she bargained for.
+Dr. Quackenboss was pleased to attach himself to their party,
+though his own shortest road certainly lay in another
+direction; and Fleda wondered what he had done with his wagon,
+which, beyond a question, must have brought the cheese in the
+morning. She edged herself out of the conversation as much as
+possible, and hoped it would prove so agreeable that he would
+not think of attending her home. In vain. When they made a
+stand at the cross roads the doctor stood on her side.
+
+"I hope now you've made a commencement, you will come to see
+us again, Fleda," said Miss Lucy.
+
+"What's the use of asking?" said her sister, abruptly. "If she
+has a mind to, she will, and if she ha'n't, I am sure we don't
+want her."
+
+They turned off.
+
+"Those are excellent people," said the doctor, when they were
+beyond hearing; "really respectable!"
+
+"Are they?" said Fleda.
+
+"But your goodness does not look, I am sure, to find — a —
+Parisian graces in so remote a circle?"
+
+"Certainly not," said Fleda.
+
+"We have had a genial day!" said the doctor, quitting the
+Finns.
+
+"I don't know," said Fleda, permitting a little of her inward
+merriment to work off; "I think it has been rather too hot."
+
+"Yes," said the doctor, "the sun has been ardent; but I
+referred rather to the — a — to the warming of affections, and
+the pleasant exchange of intercourse on all sides which has
+taken place. How do you like our — a — the stranger?"
+
+"Who, Sir?"
+
+"The new-comer — this young Mr. Ummin?"
+
+Fleda answered, but she hardly knew what, for she was musing
+whether the doctor would go away or come in. They reached the
+door, and Fleda invited him, with terrible effort after her
+voice; the doctor having just blandly offered an opinion upon
+the decided polish of Mr. Olmney's manners.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+
+"Labour is light, where love (quoth I) doth pay;
+(Saith he) light burthens heavy, if far borne."
+DRAYTON.
+
+
+Fleda pushed open the parlour door, and preceded her convoy,
+in a kind of tip-toe state of spirits. The first thing that
+met her eyes was her aunt, in one of the few handsome silks
+which were almost her sole relic of past wardrobe prosperity,
+and with a face uncommonly happy and pretty; and the next
+instant she saw the explanation of this appearance in her
+cousin Charlton, a little palish, but looking better than she
+had ever seen him, and another gentleman, of whom her eye took
+in only the general outlines of fashion and comfortable
+circumstances, now too strange to it to go unnoted. In Fleda's
+usual mood her next movement would have been made with a
+demureness that would have looked like bashfulness. But the
+amusement and pleasure of the day just passed had for the
+moment set her spirits free from the burden that generally
+bound them down; and they were as elastic as her step, as she
+came forward and presented to her aunt "Dr. Quackenboss," and
+then turned to shake her cousin's hand.
+
+"Charlton! — Where did you come from? We didn't expect you so
+soon."
+
+"You are not sorry to see me, I hope?"
+
+"Not at all — very glad;" — and then as her eye glanced
+towards the other new-comer, Charlton presented to her "Mr.
+Thorn," and Fleda's fancy made a sudden quick leap on the
+instant to the old hall at Montepoole, and the shot dog. And
+then Dr. Quackenboss was presented, an introduction which
+Captain Rossitur received coldly, and Mr. Thorn with something
+more than frigidity.
+
+The doctor's elasticity, however, defied depression,
+especially in the presence of a silk dress and a military
+coat. Fleda presently saw that he was agonizing her uncle.
+Mrs. Rossitur had drawn close to her son. Fleda was left to
+take care of the other visitor. The young men had both seemed
+more struck at the vision presented to them than she had been
+on her part. She thought neither of them was very ready to
+speak to her.
+
+"I did not know," said Mr. Thorn, softly, "what reason I had
+to thank Rossitur for bringing me home with him to-night — he
+promised me a supper and a welcome — but I find he did not
+tell me the half of my entertainment."
+
+"That was wise in him," said Fleda; "the half that is not
+expected is always worth a great deal more than the other."
+
+"In this case, most assuredly," said Thorn, bowing, and, Fleda
+was sure, not knowing what to make of her.
+
+"Have you been in Mexico, too, Mr. Thorn?"
+
+"Not I! — that's an entertainment I beg to decline. I never
+felt inclined to barter an arm for a shoulder-knot, or to
+abridge my usual means of locomotion for the privilege of
+riding on parade — or selling one's-self for a name. Peter
+Schlemil's selling his shadow I can understand; but this is
+really lessening one's-self that one's shadow may grow the
+larger."
+
+"But you were in the army?" said Fleda.
+
+"Yes, it wasn't my doing. There is a time, you know, when one
+must please the old folks — I grew old enough and wise enough
+to cut loose from the army before I had gained or lost much by
+it."
+
+He did not understand the displeased gravity of Fleda's face,
+and went on insinuatingly —
+
+"Unless I have lost what Charlton has gained — something I did
+not know hung upon the decision — Perhaps you think a man is
+taller for having iron heels to his boots?"
+
+"I do not measure a man by his inches," said Fleda.
+
+"Then you have no particular predilection for shooting-men?"
+
+"I have no predilection for shooting anything, Sir?"
+
+"Then I am safe!" said he, with an arrogant little air of
+satisfaction. "I was born under an indolent star, but I
+confess to you, privately, of the two I would rather gather my
+harvests with the sickle than the sword. How does your uncle
+find it?"
+
+"Find what, Sir?"
+
+"The worship of Ceres? — I remember he used to be devoted to
+Apollo and the Muses."
+
+"Are they rival deities?"
+
+"Why — I have been rather of the opinion that they were too
+many for one house to hold," said Thorn, glancing at Mr.
+Rossitur. "But perhaps the Graces manage to reconcile them."
+
+"Did you ever hear of the Graces getting supper?" said Fleda.
+"Because Ceres sometimes sets them at that work. Uncle Rolf,"
+she added as she passed him — "Mr. Thorn is inquiring after
+Apollo — will you set him right, while I do the same for the
+tablecloth?"
+
+Her uncle looked from her sparkling eyes to the rather puzzled
+expression of his guest's face.
+
+"I was only asking your lovely niece," said Mr. Thorn, coming
+down from his stilts, "how you liked this country life."
+
+Dr. Quackenboss bowed, probably in approbation of the epithet.
+
+"Well, Sir, what information did she give you on the subject?"
+
+"Left me in the dark, Sir, with a vague hope that you would
+enlighten me."
+
+"I trust Mr. Rossitur can give a favourable report?" said the
+doctor, benignly.
+
+But Mr. Rossitur's frowning brow looked very little like it.
+
+"What do you say to our country life, Sir?"
+
+"It's a confounded life, Sir," said Mr. Rossitur, taking a
+pamphlet from the table to fold and twist as he spoke; "it is
+a confounded life; for the head and the hands must either live
+separate, or the head must do no other work but wait upon the
+hands. It is an alternative of loss and waste, Sir."
+
+"The alternative seems to be of — a — limited application,"
+said the doctor, as Fleda, having found that Hugh and Barby
+had been beforehand with her, now came back to the company. "I
+am sure this lady would not give such a testimony."
+
+"About what?" said Fleda, colouring under the fire of so many
+eyes.
+
+"The blighting influence of Ceres' sceptre," said Mr. Thorn.
+
+"This country life," said her uncle — "do you like it, Fleda?"
+
+"You know, uncle," said she, cheerfully, "I was always of the
+old Douglass's mind — I like better to hear the lark sing than
+the mouse squeak."
+
+"Is that one of Earl Douglass's sayings," said the doctor.
+
+"Yes, Sir," said Fleda with quivering lips, "but not the one
+you know — an older man."
+
+"Ah!" said the doctor, intelligently, "Mr. Rossitur — speaking
+of hands — I have employed the Irish very much of late years —
+they are as good as one can have, if you do not want a head."
+
+"That is to say — if you have a head," said Thorn.
+
+"Exactly!" said the doctor, all abroad — "and when there are
+not too many of them together. I had enough of that, Sir, some
+years ago, when a multitude of them were employed on the
+public works. The Irish were in a state of mutilation, Sir,
+all through the country."
+
+"Ah!" said Thorn, "had the military been at work upon them?"
+
+"No, Sir, but I wish they had, I am sure; it would have been
+for the peace of the town. There were hundreds of them. We
+were in want of an army."
+
+"Of surgeons, I should think," said Thorn.
+
+Fleda saw the doctor's dubious air and her uncle's compressed
+lips; and, commanding herself, with even a look of something
+like displeasure, she quitted her seat by Mr. Thorn, and
+called the doctor to the window to look at a cluster of rose
+acacias just then in their glory. He admired, and she
+expatiated, till she hoped everybody but herself had forgotten
+what they had been talking about. But they had no sooner
+returned to their seats than Thorn began again.
+
+"The Irish in your town are not in the same mutilated state
+now, I suppose, Sir?"
+
+"No, Sir, no," said the doctor: "there are much fewer of them
+to break each other's bones. It was all among themselves,
+Sir."
+
+"The country is full of foreigners," said Mr. Rossitur, with
+praiseworthy gravity.
+
+"Yes, Sir," said Dr. Quackenboss, thoughtfully, "we shall have
+none of our ancestors left in a short time, if they go on as
+they are doing."
+
+Fleda was beaten from the field, and, rushing into the
+breakfast-room, astonished Hugh by seizing hold of him and
+indulging in a most prolonged and unbounded laugh. She did not
+show herself again till the company came in to supper; but
+then she was found as grave as Minerva. She devoted herself
+particularly to the care and entertainment of Dr. Quackenboss
+till he took leave; nor could Thorn get another chance to talk
+to her through all the evening.
+
+When he and Rossitur were at last in their rooms, Fleda told
+her story.
+
+"You don't know how pleasant it was, aunt Lucy — how much I
+enjoyed it — seeing and talking to somebody again. Mrs. Evelyn
+was so very kind."
+
+"I a very glad, my darling," said Mrs. Rossitur, stroking away
+the hair from the forehead that was bent down towards her — "I
+am glad you had it to-day, and I am glad you will have it
+again to-morrow."
+
+"You will have it too, aunt Lucy. Mrs. Evelyn will be here in
+the morning — she said so."
+
+"I shall not see her."
+
+"Why? Now, aunt Lucy! — you will."
+
+"I have nothing in the world to see her in — I cannot."
+
+"You have this?"
+
+"For the morning? A rich French silk? — It would be absurd.
+No, no — it would be better to wear my old merino than that."
+
+"But you will have to dress in the morning for Mr. Thorn? — he
+will be here to breakfast."
+
+"I shall not come down to breakfast. Don't look so, love! — I
+can't help it."
+
+"Why was that calico got for me and not for you!" said Fleda,
+bitterly.
+
+"A sixpenny calico!" said Mrs. Rossitur, smiling — "it would
+be hard if you could not have so much as that, love."
+
+"And you will not see Mrs. Evelyn and her daughters at all! —
+and I was thinking that it would do you so much good!"
+
+Mrs. Rossitur drew her face a little nearer and kissed it,
+over and over.
+
+"It will do you good, my darling — that is what I care for
+much more."
+
+"It will not do me half as much," said Fleda, sighing.
+
+Her spirits were in their old place again; no more a tiptoe
+to-night. The short light of pleasure was overcast. She went
+to bed feeling very quiet indeed; and received Mrs. Evelyn and
+excused her aunt the next day, almost wishing the lady had not
+been as good as her word. But though in the same mood she set
+off with her to drive to Montepoole, it could not stand the
+bright influences with which she found herself surrounded. She
+came home again at night with dancing spirits.
+
+It was some days before Captain Rossitur began at all to
+comprehend the change which had come upon his family. One
+morning Fleda and Hugh, having finished their morning's work,
+were in the breakfast-room waiting for the rest of the family,
+when Charlton made his appearance, with the cloud on his brow
+which had been lately gathering.
+
+"Where is the paper?" said he. "I haven't seen a paper since I
+have been here."
+
+"You mustn't expect to find Mexican luxuries in Queechy,
+Captain Rossitur," said Fleda pleasantly. — "Look at these
+roses, and don't ask me for papers!"
+
+He did look a minute at the dish of flowers she was arranging
+for the breakfast table, and at the rival freshness and
+sweetness of the face that hung over them.
+
+"You don't mean to say you live without a paper?"
+
+"Well, it's astonishing how many things people can live
+without," said Fleda, rather dreamily, intent upon settling an
+uneasy rose that would topple over.
+
+"I wish you'd answer me really," said Charlton. "Don't you
+take a paper here?"
+
+"We would take one, thankfully, if it would be so good as to
+come; but, seriously, Charlton, we haven't any," she said,
+changing her tone.
+
+"And have you done without one all through the war?"
+
+"No — we used to borrow one from a kind neighbour once in a
+while, to make sure, as Mr. Thorn says, that you had not
+bartered an arm for a shoulder-knot."
+
+"You never looked to see whether I was killed in the
+meanwhile, I suppose?"
+
+"No — never," said Fleda, gravely, as she took her place on a
+low seat in the corner — "I always knew you were safe before I
+touched the paper."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I am not an enemy, Charlton," said Fleda, laughing. "I mean
+that I used to make aunt Miriam look over the accounts before
+I did."
+
+Charlton walked up and down the room for a little while in
+sullen silence; and then brought up before Fleda.
+
+"What are you doing?"
+
+Fleda looked up — a glance that, as sweetly and brightly as
+possible, half asked, half bade him be silent and ask no
+questions.
+
+"What are you doing?" he repeated.
+
+"I am putting a patch on my shoe."
+
+His look expressed more indignation than anything else.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Just what I say," said Fleda, going on with her work.
+
+"What in the name of all the cobblers in the land do you do it
+for?"
+
+"Because I prefer it to having a hole in my shoe; which would
+give me the additional trouble of mending my stockings."
+
+Charlton muttered an impatient sentence, of which Fleda only
+understood that "the devil" was in it, and then desired to
+know if whole shoes would not answer the purpose as well as
+either holes or patches.
+
+"Quite — if I had them," said Fleda, giving him another
+glance, which, with all its gravity and sweetness, carried
+also a little gentle reproach.
+
+"But do you know," said he, after standing still a minute
+looking at her, "that any cobbler in the country would do what
+you are doing much better for sixpence?"
+
+"I am quite aware of that," said Fleda, stitching away.
+
+"Your hands are not strong enough for that work."
+
+Fleda again smiled at him, in the very dint of giving a hard
+push to her needle — a smile that would have witched him into
+good humour if he had not been determinately in a cloud, and
+proof against everything. It only admonished him that he could
+not safely remain in the region of sunbeams; and he walked up
+and down the room furiously again. The sudden ceasing of his
+footsteps presently made her look up.
+
+"What have you got there? — Oh, Charlton, don't! — please put
+that down! — I didn't know I had left them there. They were a
+little wet, and I laid them on the chair to dry."
+
+"What do you call this?" said he, not minding her request.
+
+"They are only my gardening gloves — I thought I had put them
+away."
+
+"Gloves!" said he, pulling at them disdainfully — "why, here
+are two — one within the other — what's that for?"
+
+"It's an old-fashioned way of mending matters — two friends
+covering each other's deficiencies. The inner pair are too
+thin alone, and the outer ones have holes that are past
+cobbling."
+
+"Are we going to have any breakfast to-day?" said he, flinging
+the gloves down. "You are very late!"
+
+"No," said Fleda, quietly — "it is not time for aunt Lucy to
+be down yet."
+
+"Don't you have breakfast before nine o'clock?"
+
+"Yes — by half-past eight generally."
+
+"Strange way of getting along on a farm! Well, I can't wait, —
+I promised Thorn I would meet him this morning — Barby! I wish
+you would bring me my boots!" —
+
+Fleda made two springs, — one to touch Charlton's mouth, the
+other to close the door of communication with the kitchen.
+
+"Well! — what is the matter? — can't I have them?"
+
+"Yes, yes, but ask me for what you want. You mustn't call upon
+Barby in that fashion."
+
+"Why not? Is she too good to be spoken to? What is she in the
+kitchen for?"
+
+"She wouldn't be in the kitchen long if we were to speak to
+her in that way," said Fleda. "I suppose she would as soon put
+your boots on for you as fetch and carry them. I'll see about
+it."
+
+"It seems to me Fleda rules the house," remarked Captain
+Rossitur, when she had left the room.
+
+"Well, who should rule it?" said Hugh.
+
+"Not she!"
+
+"I don't think she does," said Hugh; "but if she did, I am
+sure it could not be in better hands."
+
+"It shouldn't be in her hands at all. But I have noticed since
+I have been here that she takes the arrangement of almost
+everything. My mother seems to have nothing to do in her own
+family."
+
+"I wonder what the family or anybody in it would do without
+Fleda!" said Hugh, his gentle eyes quite firing with
+indignation. "You had better know more before you speak,
+Charlton."
+
+"What is there for me to know?"
+
+"Fleda does everything."
+
+"So I say — and that is what I don't like."
+
+"How little you know what you are talking about!" said Hugh.
+"I can tell you she is the life of the house, almost
+literally, we should have had little enough to live upon this
+summer if it had not been for her."
+
+"What do you mean?" — impatiently enough.
+
+"Fleda — if it had not been for her gardening and management —
+she has taken care of the garden these two years, and sold I
+can't tell you how much from it. Mr. Sweet, the hotelman at
+the Pool, takes all we can give him."
+
+"How much does her 'taking care of the garden' amount to?"
+
+"It amounts to all the planting, and nearly all the other
+work, after the first digging — by far the greater part of
+it."
+
+Charlton walked up and down a few turns in most unsatisfied
+silence.
+
+"How does she get the things to Montepoole?"
+
+"I take them."
+
+"You! — When?"
+
+"I ride with them there before breakfast. Fleda is up very
+early to gather them."
+
+"You have not been there this morning?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"With what?"
+
+"Pease and strawberries."
+
+"And Fleda picked them?"
+
+"Yes — with some help from Barby and me."
+
+"That glove of hers was wringing wet."
+
+"Yes, with the pea-vines, and strawberries too; you know they
+get so loaded with dew. Oh, Fleda gets more than her gloves
+wet. But she does not mind anything she does for father and
+mother."
+
+"Humph! and does she get enough when all is done to pay for
+the trouble?"
+
+"I don't know," said Hugh, rather sadly. "_She_ thinks so. It is
+no trifle."
+
+"Which, the pay or the trouble?"
+
+"Both. But I meant the pay. Why, she made ten dollars last
+year from the asparagus beds alone, and I don't know how much
+more this year."
+
+"Ten dollars! — The devil!"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Have you come to counting your dollars by the tens?"
+
+"We have counted our sixpences so a good while," said Hugh,
+quietly.
+
+Charlton strode about the room again in much perturbation.
+Then came in Fleda, looking as bright as if dollars had been
+counted by the thousand, and bearing his boots.
+
+"What on earth did you do that for?" said he, angrily. "I
+could have gone for them myself."
+
+"No harm done," said Fleda, lightly; "only I have got
+something else instead of the thanks I expected."
+
+"I can't conceive," said he, sitting down and sulkily drawing
+on his foot-gear, "why this piece of punctiliousness should
+have made any more difficulty about bringing me my boots than
+about blacking them."
+
+A sly glance of intelligence, which Charlton was quick enough
+to detect, passed between Fleda and Hugh. His eye carried its
+question from one to the other. Fleda's gravity gave way.
+
+"Don't look at me so, Charlton," said she, laughing; "I can't
+help it, you are so excessively comical! — I recommend that
+you go out upon the grass-plat before the door and turn round
+two or three times.
+
+"Will you have the goodness to explain yourself? Who did black
+these boots?"
+
+"Never pry into the secrets of families," said Fleda. "Hugh
+and I have a couple of convenient little fairies in our
+service that do things _unknownst_."
+
+"I blacked them, Charlton," said Hugh.
+
+Captain Rossitur gave his slippers a fling that carried them
+clean into the corner of the room.
+
+"I will see," he said, rising, "whether some other service
+cannot be had more satisfactory than that of fairies!"
+
+"Now, Charlton," said Fleda, with a sudden change of manner,
+corning to him and laying her hand most gently on his arm,
+"please don't speak about these things before uncle Rolf or
+your mother — please do not, Charlton. It would only do a
+great deal of harm, and do no good."
+
+She looked up in his face, but he would not meet her pleading
+eye, and shook off her hand.
+
+"I don't need to be instructed how to speak to my father and
+mother; and I am not one of the household that has submitted
+itself to your direction."
+
+Fleda sat down on her bench and was quiet, but with a lip that
+trembled a little and eyes that let fall one or two witnesses
+against him. Charlton did not see them, and he knew better
+than to meet Hugh's look of reproach. But for all that, there
+was a certain consciousness that hung about the neck of his
+purpose and kept it down in spite of him; and it was not till
+breakfast was half over that his ill-humour could make head
+against this gentle thwarting and cast it off. For so long the
+meal was excessively dull; Hugh and Fleda had their own
+thoughts; Charlton was biting his resolution into every slice
+of bread-and-butter that occupied him; and Mr. Rossitur's face
+looked like anything but encouraging an inquiry into his
+affairs. Since his son's arrival he had been most uncommonly
+gloomy; and Mrs. Rossitur's face was never in sunshine when
+his was in shade.
+
+"You'll have a warm day of it at the mill, Hugh," said Fleda,
+by way of saying something to break the dismal monotony of
+knives and forks.
+
+"Does that mill make much?" suddenly inquired Charlton.
+
+"It has made a new bridge to the brook, literally," said Fleda
+gaily; "for it has sawn out the boards; and you know you
+mustn't speak evil of what carries you over the water."
+
+"Does that mill pay for the working?' said Charlton, turning
+with the dryest disregard from her interference, and
+addressing himself determinately to his father.
+
+"What do you mean? It does not work gratuitously," answered
+Mr. Rossitur, with at least equal dryness.
+
+"But, I mean, are the profits of it enough to pay for the loss
+of Hugh's time?"
+
+"If Hugh judges they are not, he is at liberty to let it
+alone."
+
+"My time is not lost," said Hugh; "I' don't know what I should
+do with it."
+
+"I don't know what we should do without the mill," said Mrs.
+Rossitur.
+
+That gave Charlton an unlucky opening.
+
+"Has the prospect of farming disappointed you, father?"
+
+"What is the prospect of your company?" said Mr. Rossitur,
+swallowing half an egg before he replied.
+
+"A very limited prospect!" said Charlton, "if you mean the one
+that went with me. Not a fifth part of them left."
+
+"What have you done with them?"
+
+"Showed them where the balls were flying, Sir, and did my best
+to show them the thickest of it."
+
+"Is it necessary to show it to us too?" said Fleda.
+
+"I believe there are not twenty living that followed me into
+Mexico," he went on, as if he had not heard her.
+
+"Was all that havoc made in one engagement?" said Mrs.
+Rossitur, whose cheek had turned pale.
+
+"Yes, mother; in the course of a few minutes."
+
+"I wonder what would pay for _that_ loss," said Fleda,
+indignantly.
+
+"Why, the point was gained! and it did not signify what the
+cost was, so we did that. My poor boys were a small part of
+it."
+
+"What point do you mean?"
+
+"I mean the point we had in view, which was taking the place."
+
+"And what was the advantage of gaining the place?"
+
+"Pshaw! the advantage of doing one's duty."
+
+"But what made it duty?" said Hugh.
+
+"Orders."
+
+"I grant you," said Fleda; "I understand that — but bear with
+me, Charlton — what was the advantage to the army or the
+country?"
+
+"The advantage of great honour if we succeeded, and avoiding
+the shame of failure."
+
+"Is that all?" said Hugh.
+
+"All!" said Charlton.
+
+"Glory must be a precious thing, when other men's lives are so
+cheap to buy it," said Fleda.
+
+"We did not risk theirs without our own," said Charlton,
+colouring.
+
+"No; but still theirs were risked for you."
+
+"Not at all; why, this is absurd! you are saying that the
+whole war was for nothing."
+
+"What better than nothing was the end of it? We paid Mexico
+for the territory she yielded to us, didn't we, uncle Rolf?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"How much?"
+
+"Twenty millions, I believe."
+
+"And what do you suppose the war has cost?"
+
+"Hum — I don't know — a hundred."
+
+"A hundred million! Besides — how much besides! And don't you
+suppose, uncle Rolf, that for half of that sum Mexico would
+have sold us peaceably what she did in the end?"
+
+"It is possible — I think it is very likely."
+
+"What was the fruit of the war, Captain Rossitur?"
+
+"Why, a great deal of honour to the army and the nation at
+large."
+
+"Honour again! But granting that the army gained it, which
+they certainly did, for one I do not feel very proud of the
+nation's share."
+
+"Why, they are one," said Charlton, impatiently.
+
+"In an unjust war?"
+
+"It was _not_ an unjust war."
+
+"That's what you call a knock-downer," said Fleda, laughing.
+"But I confess myself so simple as to have agreed with Seth
+Plumfield, when I heard him and Lucas disputing about it last
+winter, that it was a shame to a great and strong nation like
+ours to display its might in crushing a weak one."
+
+"But they drew it upon themselves. _They_ began hostilities."
+
+"There is a diversity of opinion about that."
+
+"Not in heads that have two grains of information."
+
+"I beg your pardon. Mrs. Evelyn and Judge Sensible were
+talking over that very question the other day at Montepoole;
+and he made it quite clear to my mind that we were the
+aggressors."
+
+"Judge Sensible is a fool!" said Mr. Rossitur.
+
+"Very well!" said Fleda, laughing; — "but as I do not wish to
+be comprehended in the same class, will you show me how he was
+wrong, uncle?"
+
+This drew on a discussion of some length, to which Fleda
+listened with profound attention, long after her aunt had
+ceased to listen at all, and Hugh was thoughtful, and Charlton
+disgusted. At the end of it, Mr. Rossitur left the table and
+the room, and Fleda subsiding, turned to her cold coffee-cup.
+
+"I didn't know you ever cared anything about politics before,"
+said Hugh.
+
+"Didn't you?" said Fleda, smiling. "You do me injustice."
+
+Their eyes met for a second, with a most appreciating smile on
+his part; and then he too went off to his work. There was a
+few minutes' silent pause after that.
+
+"Mother," said Charlton, looking up and bursting forth, "what
+is all this about the mill and the farm? — is not the farm
+doing well?"
+
+"I am afraid not very well," said Mrs. Rossitur, gently.
+
+"What is the difficulty?"
+
+"Why, your father has let it to a man by the name of
+Didenhover, and I am afraid he is not faithful; it does not
+seem to bring us in what it ought."
+
+"What did he do that for?"
+
+"He was wearied with the annoyances he had to endure before,
+and thought it would be better and more profitable to have
+somebody else take the whole charge and management. He did not
+know Didenhover's character at the time."
+
+"Engaged him without knowing him!"
+
+Fleda was the only third party present, and Charlton
+unwittingly allowing himself to meet her eye, received a look
+of keen displeasure that he was not prepared for.
+
+"That is not like him," he said, in a much moderated tone.
+"But you must be changed too, mother, or you would not endure
+such anomalous service in your kitchen."
+
+"There are a great many changes, dear Charlton," said his
+mother, looking at him with such a face of sorrowful sweetness
+and patience that his mouth was stopped. Fleda left the room.
+
+"And have you really nothing to depend upon but that child's
+strawberries and Hugh's wood-saw?" he said, in the tone he
+ought to have used from the beginning.
+
+"Little else."
+
+Charlton stifled two or three sentences that rose to his lips,
+and began to walk up and down the room again. His mother sat
+musing by the tea-board still, softly clinking her spoon
+against the edge of her tea-cup.
+
+"She has grown up very pretty," he remarked, after a pause.
+
+"Pretty!" said Mrs. Rossitur.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"No one that has seen much of Fleda would ever describe her by
+that name."
+
+Charlton had the candour to think he had seen something of her
+that morning.
+
+"Poor child!" said Mrs. Rossitur, sadly, " I can't bear to
+think of her spending her life as she is doing — wearing
+herself out, I know, sometimes — and buried alive."
+
+"Buried!" said Charlton, in his turn.
+
+"Yes; without any of the advantages and opportunities she
+ought to have. I can't bear to think of it. And yet how should
+I ever live without her" said Mrs. Rossitur, leaning her lace
+upon her hands. "And if she were known she would not be mine
+long. But It grieves me to have her go without her music, that
+she is so fond of, and the book she wants; she and Hugh have
+gone from end to end of every volume there is in the house, I
+believe, in every language, except Greek."
+
+"Well, she looks pretty happy and contented, mother."
+
+"I don't know!'" said Mrs.. Rossitur, shaking her head.
+
+"Isn't she happy?"
+
+"I don't know," said Mrs. Rossitur, again; "she has a spirit
+that is happy in doing her duty, or anything for those she
+loves; but I see her sometimes wearing a look that pains me
+exceedingly. I am afraid the way she lives, and the changes in
+our affairs, have worn upon her more than we know of — she
+feels doubly everything that touches me, or Hugh, or your
+father. She is a gentle spirit!" —
+
+"She seems to me not to want character," said Charlton.
+
+"Character! I don't know who has so much. She has at least
+fifty times as much character as I have. And energy. She is
+admirable at managing people — she knows how to influence them
+somehow, so that everybody does what she wants."
+
+"And who influences her?" said Charlton.
+
+"Who influences her? Everybody that she loves. Who has the
+most influence over her, do you mean? I am sure I don't know —
+Hugh, if anybody — but she is rather the moving spirit of the
+household."
+
+Captain Rossitur resolved that he would be an exception to her
+rule.
+
+He forgot, however, for some reason or other, to sound his
+father any more on the subject of mismanagement. His thoughts,
+indeed, were more pleasantly taken up.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+
+"My lord Sebastian,
+The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness,
+And time to speak it in: you rub the sore,
+When you should bring the plaster."
+_Tempest_.
+
+
+The Evelyns spent several weeks at the Pool; and both mother
+and daughters conceiving a great affection for Fleda, kept her
+in their company as much as possible. For those weeks Fleda
+had enough of gaiety. She was constantly spending the day with
+them at the Pool, or going on some party of pleasure, or
+taking quiet sensible walks and rides with them alone, or with
+only one or two more of the most rational and agreeable people
+that the place could command. And even Mrs. Rossitur was
+persuaded, more times than one, to put herself in her plainest
+remaining French silk, and entertain the whole party, with the
+addition of one or two of Charlton's friends, at her Queechy
+farm-house.
+
+Fleda enjoyed it all with the quick spring of a mind
+habitually bent to the patient fulfilment of duty, and
+habitually under the pressure of rather sobering thoughts. It
+was a needed and very useful refreshment. Charlton's being at
+home gave her the full good of the opportunity more than would
+else have been possible. He was her constant attendant,
+driving her to and from the Pool, and finding as much to call
+him there as she had; for, besides the Evelyns, his friend
+Thorn abode there all this time. The only drawback to Fleda's
+pleasure as she drove off from Queechy would be the leaving
+Hugh plodding away at his saw-mill. She used to nod and wave
+to him as they went by, and almost feel that she ought not to
+go on and enjoy herself while he was tending that wearisome
+machinery all day long. Still she went on and enjoyed herself;
+but the mere thought of his patient smile as she passed would
+have kept her from too much elation of spirits, if there had
+been any danger. There never was any.
+
+"That's a lovely little cousin of yours," said Thorn, one
+evening, when he and Rossitur, on horseback, were leisurely
+making their way along the up-and-down road between Montepoole
+and Queechy.
+
+"She is not particularly little," said Rossitur, with a
+dryness that somehow lacked any savour of gratification.
+
+"She is of a most fair stature," said Thorn; "I did not mean
+anything against that; but there are characters to which one
+gives instinctively a softening appellative."
+
+"Are there?" said Charlton.
+
+"Yes. She is a lovely little creature."
+
+"She is not to compare to one of those girls we have left
+behind us at Montepoole," said Charlton.
+
+"Hum — well, perhaps you are right; but which girl do you
+mean? — for I profess I don't know."
+
+"The second of Mrs. Evelyn's daughters — the auburn-haired
+one."
+
+"Miss Constance, eh?" said Thorn. "In what isn't the other one
+to be compared to her?"
+
+"In anything! Nobody would ever think of looking at her in the
+same room."
+
+"Why not?" said Thorn, coolly.
+
+"I don't know why not," said Charlton, "except that she has
+not a tithe of her beauty. That's a superb girl!"
+
+For a matter of twenty yards, Mr. Thorn went softly humming a
+tune to himself, and leisurely switching the flies off his
+horse.
+
+"Well," said he, "there's no accounting for tastes —
+
+
+'I ask no red and white
+To make up my delight,
+No odd becoming graces,
+Black eyes, or little know-not-what in faces.' "
+
+
+"What _do_ you want, then?" said Charlton, half laughing at him
+though his friend was perfectly grave.
+
+"A cool eye, and a mind in it."
+
+"A cool eye!" said Rossitur.
+
+"Yes. Those we have left behind us are arrant will-o'-the-
+wisps — dancing fires — no more."
+
+"I can tell you, there is fire sometimes in the other eyes,"
+said Charlton.
+
+"Very likely," said his friend, composedly; "I could have
+guessed as much; but that is a fire you may warm yourself at;
+no eternal phosphorescence — it is the leaping up of all
+internal fire, that only shows itself upon occasion."
+
+"I suppose you know what you are talking about," said
+Charlton; "but I can't follow you into the region of
+volcanoes. Constance Evelyn has superb eyes. It is uncommon to
+see a light blue so brilliant."
+
+"I would rather trust a sick head to the handling of the
+lovely lady than the superb one, at a venture."
+
+"I thought you never had a sick head," said Charlton.
+
+"That is lucky for me, as the hands do not happen to be at my
+service. But no imagination could put Miss Constance in
+Desdemona's place, when Othello complained of his headache —
+you remember, Charlton, —
+
+
+"Faith, that's with watching — 'twill away again —
+Let me but bind this handkerchief about it hard.' "
+
+
+Thorn gave the intonation truly and admirably.
+
+"Fleda never said anything so soft as that," said Charlton.
+
+"No?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You speak — well, but _soft!_ — do you know what you are
+talking about there?"
+
+"Not very well," said Charlton. "I only remember there was
+nothing soft about Othello; what you quoted of his wife just
+now seemed to me to smack of that quality."
+
+"I forgive your memory," said Thorn, "or else I certainly
+would not forgive you. If there is a fair creation in all
+Shakespeare, it is Desdemona; and if there is a pretty
+combination on earth that nearly matches it, I believe it is
+that one."
+
+"What one?"
+
+"Your pretty cousin."
+
+Charlton was silent.
+
+"It is generous in me to undertake her defence," Thorn went
+on, "for she bestows as little of her fair countenance upon me
+as she can well help. But try as she will, she cannot be so
+repellent as she is attractive."
+
+Charlton pushed his horse into a brisker pace not favourable
+to conversation; and they rode forward in silence, till, in
+descending the hill below Deepwater, they came within view of
+Hugh's work-place, the saw-mill. Charlton suddenly drew
+bridle.
+
+"There she is."
+
+"And who is with her?" said Thorn. "As I live! — our friend —
+what's his name? — who has lost all his ancestors. — And who
+is the other?"
+
+"My brother," said Charlton.
+
+"I don't mean your brother, Captain Rossitur," said Thorn,
+throwing himself off his horse.
+
+He joined the party, who were just leaving the mill to go down
+towards the house. Very much at his leisure, Charlton
+dismounted, and came after him.
+
+"I have brought Charlton safe home, Miss Ringgan," said Thorn,
+who, leading his horse, had quietly secured a position at her
+side.
+
+"What's the matter?" said Fleda, laughing. "Couldn't he bring
+himself home?"
+
+"I don't know what's the matter, but he's been uncommonly
+dumpish; we've been as near as possible to quarrelling for
+half a dozen miles back."
+
+"We have been — a — more agreeably employed," said Dr.
+Quackenboss, looking round at him with a face that was a
+concentration of affability.
+
+"I make no doubt of it, Sir; I trust we shall bring no
+unharmonious interruption. If I may change somebody else's
+words," he added more low to Fleda — " 'disdain itself must
+convert to courtesy in your presence.' "
+
+"I am sorry disdain should live to pay me a compliment," said
+Fleda. "Mr. Thorn, may I introduce to you, Mr. Olmney?"
+
+Mr. Thorn honoured the introduction with perfect civility, but
+then fell back to his former position and slightly lowered
+tone.
+
+"Are you then a sworn foe to compliments?"
+
+"I was never so fiercely attacked by them as to give me any
+occasion."
+
+"I should be very sorry to furnish the occasion; but what's
+the harm in them, Miss Ringgan?"
+
+"Chiefly a want of agreeableness."
+
+"Of agreeableness! Pardon me; I hope you will be so good as to
+give me the rationale of that?"
+
+"I am of Miss Edgeworth's opinion, Sir," said Fleda, blushing,
+" that a lady may always judge of the estimation in which she
+is held, by the conversation which is addressed to her."
+
+"And you judge compliments to be a doubtful indication of
+esteem!"
+
+"I am sure you do not need information on that point, Sir."
+
+"As to your opinion, or the matter of fact?" said he, somewhat
+keenly.
+
+"As to the matter of fact," said Fleda, with a glance both
+simple and acute in its expression.
+
+"I will not venture to say a word," said Thorn, smiling.
+"Protestations would certainly fall flat at the gates where
+_les douces paroles_ cannot enter. But do you know this is
+picking a man's pocket of all his silver pennies, and obliging
+him to produce his gold?"
+
+"That _would_ be a hard measure upon a good many people," said
+Fleda, laughing. "But they're not driven to that. There's
+plenty of small change left."
+
+"You certainly do not deal in the coin you condemn," said
+Thorn, bowing. "But you will remember that none call for gold
+but those who can exchange it, and the number of them is few.
+In a world where cowrie passes current, a man may be excused
+for not throwing about his guineas."
+
+"I wish you'd throw about a few for our entertainment," said
+Charlton, who was close behind. "I haven't seen a yellow-boy
+in a good while."
+
+"A proof that your eyes are not jaundiced," said his friend,
+without turning his head, "whatever may be the case with you
+otherwise. Is he out of humour with the country-life you like
+so well, Miss Ringgan? or has he left his domestic tastes in
+Mexico? How do you think he likes Queechy?"
+
+"You might as well ask myself," said Charlton.
+
+"How do you think he likes Queechy, Miss Ringgan?"
+
+"I am afraid something after the fashion of Touchstone," said
+Fleda, laughing; — "he thinks, that 'in respect of itself, it
+is a good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd's life,
+it is nought. In respect that it is solitary, he likes it very
+well; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vile
+life. Now, in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth him
+well; but in respect it is not in the court, it is tedious.' "
+
+"There's a guinea for you, Captain Rossitur," said his friend.
+"Do you know out of what mint?"
+
+"It doesn't bear the head of Socrates," said Charlton.
+
+" 'Hast no philosophy in thee,' Charlton?" said Fleda,
+laughing back at him.
+
+"Has not Queechy — a — the honour of your approbation, Captain
+Rossitur?" said the doctor.
+
+"Certainly, Sir; I have no doubt of its being a very fine
+country."
+
+"Only he has imbibed some doubts whether happiness be an
+indigenous crop," said Thorn.
+
+"Undoubtedly," said the doctor, blandly; "to one who has
+roamed over the plains of Mexico, Queechy must seem rather — a
+— a rather flat place."
+
+"If he could lose sight of the hills," said Thorn.
+
+"Undoubtedly, Sir, undoubtedly," said the doctor; "they are a
+marked feature in the landscape, and do much to relieve — a —
+the charge of sameness."
+
+"Luckily," said Mr. Olmney, smiling, "happiness is not a thing
+of circumstance; it depends on a man's self."
+
+"I used to think so," said Thorn; "that is what I have always
+subscribed to; but I am afraid I could not live in this region
+and find it so long."
+
+"What an evening!" said Fleda. "Queechy is doing its best to
+deserve our regards under this light. Mr. Olmney, did you ever
+notice the beautiful curve of the hills in that hollow where
+the sun sets?"
+
+"I do notice it now," he said.
+
+"It is exquisite!" said the doctor. "Captain Rossitur, do you
+observe, Sir — in that hollow where the sun sets?"
+
+Captain Rossitur's eye made a very speedy transition from the
+hills to Fleda, who had fallen back a little to take Hugh's
+arm, and placing herself between him and Mr. Olmney, was
+giving her attention undividedly to the latter. And to him she
+talked perseveringly of the mountains, the country, and the
+people, till they reached the courtyard gate. Mr. Olmney then
+passed on. So did the doctor, though invited to tarry,
+averring that the sun had gone down behind the firmament, and
+he had something to attend to at home.
+
+"You will come in, Thorn," said Charlton.
+
+"Why, I had intended returning; but the sun has gone down
+indeed, and as our friend says there is no chance of our
+seeing him again, I may as well go in and take what comfort is
+to be had in the circumstances. Gentle Euphrosyne, doth it not
+become the Graces to laugh?"
+
+"They always ask leave, Sir," said Fleda, hesitating.
+
+"A most Grace-ful answer, though it does not smile upon me,"
+said Thorn.
+
+"I am sorry, Sir," said Fleda, smiling now, "that you have so
+many silver pennies to dispose of — we shall never get at the
+gold."
+
+"I will do my very best," said he.
+
+So he did, and made himself agreeable that evening to every
+one of the circle; though Fleda's sole reason for liking to
+see him come in had been, that she was glad of everything that
+served to keep Charlton's attention from home subjects. She
+saw sometimes the threatening of a cloud that troubled her.
+
+But the Evelyns and Thorn, and everybody else whom they knew,
+left the Pool at last, before Charlton, who was sufficiently
+well again, had near run out his furlough; and then the cloud,
+which had only showed itself by turns during all those weeks,
+gathered and settled determinately upon his brow.
+
+He had long ago supplied the want of a newspaper. One evening
+in September, the family were sitting in the room where they
+had had tea, for the benefit of the fire, when Barby pushed
+open the kitchen door and came in.
+
+"Fleda, will you let me have one of the last papers? I've a
+notion to look at it."
+
+Fleda rose and went to rummaging in the cupboards.
+
+"You can have it again in a little while," said Barby,
+considerately.
+
+The paper was found, and Miss Elster went out with it.
+
+"What an unendurable piece of ill-manners that woman is!" said
+Charlton.
+
+"She has no idea of being ill-mannered, I assure you," said
+Fleda,.
+
+His voice was like a brewing storm — hers was so clear and
+soft that it made a lull in spite of him. But he began again.
+
+"There is no necessity for submitting to impertinence. I never
+would do it."
+
+"I have no doubt you never will," said his father. "Unless you
+can't help yourself."
+
+"Is there any good reason, Sir, why you should not have proper
+servants in the house?"
+
+"A very good reason," said Mr. Rossitur. "Fleda would be in
+despair."
+
+"Is there none beside that?" said Charlton, dryly.
+
+"None — except a trifling one," Mr. Rossitur answered, in the
+same tone.
+
+"We cannot afford it, dear Charlton," said his mother, softly.
+
+There was a silence, during which Fleda moralized on the ways
+people take to make themselves uncomfortable.
+
+"Does that man — to whom you let the farm — does he do his
+duty?"
+
+"I am not the keeper of his conscience."
+
+" I am afraid it would be a small charge to any one," said
+Fleda.
+
+"But are you the keeper of the gains you ought to have from
+him? Does he deal fairly by you?"
+
+"May I ask first what interest it is of yours?"
+
+"It is my interest, Sir, because I come home and find the
+family living upon the exertions of Hugh and Fleda, and find
+them growing thin and pale under it."
+
+"You, at least, are free from all pains of the kind, Captain
+Rossitur."
+
+"Don't listen to him, uncle Rolf!" said Fleda, going round to
+her uncle, and making, as she passed, a most warning
+impression upon Charlton's arm — "don't mind what he says —
+that young gentleman has been among the Mexican ladies till he
+has lost an eye for a really proper complexion. Look at me! —
+do I look pale and thin? I was paid a most brilliant
+compliment the other day upon my roses. Uncle, don't listen to
+him! — he hasn't been in a decent humour since the Evelyns
+went away."
+
+She knelt down before him and laid her hands upon his, and
+looked up in his face to bring all her plea — the plea of most
+winning sweetness of entreaty in features yet flushed and
+trembling. His own did not unbend as he gazed at her, but he
+gave her a silent answer in a pressure of the hands that went
+straight from his heart to hers. Fleda's eye turned to
+Charlton appealingly.
+
+"Is it necessary," he repeated, "that that child and this boy
+should spend their days in labour to keep the family alive?"
+
+"If it were," replied Mr. Rossitur, "I am very willing that
+their exertions should cease. For my own part, I would quite
+as lief be out of the world as in it."
+
+"Charlton! — how can you!" said Fleda, half-beside herself —
+"you should know of what you speak, or be silent! — Uncle,
+don't mind him! he is talking wildly — my work does me good."
+
+"You do not understand yourself," said Charlton, obstinately;
+— "it is more than you ought to do, and I know my mother
+thinks so, too."
+
+"Well!" said Mr. Rossitur — "it seems there is an agreement in
+my own family to bring me to the bar — get up, Fleda, — let us
+hear all the charges to be brought against me, at once, and
+then pass sentence. What have you and your mother agreed upon,
+Charlton? — go on!"
+
+Mrs. Rossitur, now beyond speech, left the room, weeping even
+aloud. Hugh followed her. Fleda wrestled with her agitation
+for a minute or two, and than got up and put both arms round
+her uncle's neck.
+
+"Don't talk so, dear uncle Rolf! — you make us very unhappy —
+aunt Lucy did not mean any such thing — it is only Charlton's
+nonsense. Do go and tell her you don't think so — you have
+broken her heart by what you said; — do go, uncle Rolf! — do
+go and make her happy again! Forget it all! — Charlton did not
+know what he was saying — wont you go, dear uncle Rolf? —"
+
+The words were spoken between bursts of tears that utterly
+overcame her, though they did not hinder the utmost
+caressingness of manner. It seemed at first spent upon a rock.
+Mr. Rossitur stood like a man that did not care what happened
+or what became of him — dumb and unrelenting — suffering her
+sweet words and imploring tears, with no attempt to answer the
+one or stay the other. But he could not hold out against her
+beseeching. He was no match for it. He returned at last
+heartily the pressure of her arms, and, unable to give her any
+other answer, kissed her two or three times — such kisses as
+are charged with the heart's whole message; and, disengaging
+himself, left the room.
+
+For a minute after he was gone, Fleda cried excessively; and
+Charlton, now alone with her, felt as if he had not a particle
+of self-respect left to stand upon. One such agony would do
+her more harm than whole weeks of labour and weariness. He was
+too vexed and ashamed of himself to be able to utter a word,
+but when she recovered a little, and was leaving the room, he
+stood still by the door in an attitude that seemed to ask her
+to speak a word to him.
+
+"I am sure, Charlton," she said, gently, "you'll be sorry to-
+morrow for what you have done."
+
+"I am sorry now," he said. But she passed out without saying
+anything more.
+
+Captain Rossitur passed the night in unmitigated vexation with
+himself. But his repentance could not have been very genuine,
+since his most painful thought was, what Fleda must think of
+him.
+
+He was somewhat reassured at breakfast to find no traces of
+the evening's storm; indeed, the moral atmosphere seemed
+rather clearer and purer than common. His own face was the
+only one which had an unusual shade upon it. There was no
+difference in anybody's manner towards himself; and there was
+even a particularly gentle and kind pleasantness about Fleda,
+intended, he knew, to soothe and put to rest any movings of
+self-reproach he might feel. It somehow missed of its aim, and
+made him feel worse; and after, on his part, a very silent
+meal, he quitted the house, and took himself and his
+discontent to the woods.
+
+Whatever effect they had upon him, it was the middle of the
+morning before he came back again. He found Fleda alone in the
+breakfast-room, sewing; and for the first time noticed the
+look his mother had spoken of — a look not of sadness, but
+rather of settled, patient gravity; the more painful to see,
+because it could only have been wrought by long-acting causes,
+and might be as slow to do away as it must have been to bring.
+Charlton's displeasure with the existing state of things had
+revived as his remorse died away, and that quiet face did not
+have a quieting effect upon him.
+
+"What on earth is going on?" he began, rather abruptly, as
+soon as he entered the room. "What horrible cookery is on
+foot?"
+
+"I venture to recommend that you do not inquire," said Fleda.
+"It was set on foot in the kitchen, and it has walked in here.
+If you open the window, it will walk out."
+
+"But you will be cold?"
+
+"Never mind — in that case I will walk out too, into the
+kitchen."
+
+"Into the thick of it! No — I will try some other way of
+relief. This is unendurable!"
+
+Fleda looked, but made no other remonstrance, and not heeding
+the look, Mr. Charlton walked out into the kitchen, shutting
+the door behind him.
+
+"Barby," said he, "you have got something cooking here that is
+very disagreeable in the other room."
+
+"Is it?" said Barby. "I reckoned it would all fly up chimney.
+I guess the draught ain't so strong as I thought it was."
+
+"But I tell you it fills the house!"
+
+"Well, it'll have to a spell yet," said Barby, "cause if it
+didn't, you see, Captain Rossitur, there'd be nothing to fill
+Fleda's chickens with."
+
+"Chickens! — where's all the corn in the land?"
+
+"It's some place besides in our barn," said Barby. "All last
+year's is out, and Mr. Didenhover aint fetched any of this
+year's home; so I made a bargain with 'em, they shouldn't
+starve as long as they'd eat boiled pursley."
+
+"What do you give them?"
+
+"Most everything — they aint particular now-a-days — chunks o'
+cabbages, and scarcity, and pun'kin, and that — all the sass
+that aint wanted."
+
+"And do they eat that?"
+
+"Eat it!" said Barby; "they don't know how to thank me for't."
+
+"But it ought to be done out of doors," said Charlton, coming
+black from a kind of maze in which he had been listening to
+her. "It is unendurable."
+
+"Then I guess you'll have to go some place where you wont know
+it," said Barby — "that's the most likely plan I can hit upon;
+for it'll have to stay on till it's ready."
+
+Charlton went back into the other room really down-hearted,
+and stood watching the play of Fleda's fingers.
+
+"Is it come to this!" he said at length. "Is it possible that
+you are obliged to go without such a trifle as the miserable
+supply of food your fowls want?"
+
+"That's a small matter!" said Fleda, speaking lightly though
+she smothered a sigh. "We have been obliged to do without more
+than that."
+
+"What is the reason?"
+
+"Why, this man Didenhover is a rogue, I suspect, and he
+manages to spirit away all the profits that should come to
+uncle Rolf's hands — I don't know how. We have lived almost
+entirely upon the mill for some time."
+
+"And has my father been doing nothing all this while?"
+
+"Nothing on the farm."
+
+"And what of anything else?"
+
+"I don't know," said Fleda, speaking with evident
+unwillingness. "But surely, Charlton, he knows his own
+business best. It is not our affair."
+
+"He is mad!" said Charlton, violently striding up and down the
+floor.
+
+"No," said Fleda, with equal gentleness and sadness, "he is
+only unhappy; I understand it all — he has had no spirit to
+take hold of anything ever since we came here."
+
+"Spirit!" said Charlton; "he ought to have worked off his
+fingers to their joints before he let you do as you have been
+doing!"
+
+"Don't say so!" said Fleda, looking even pale in her eagerness
+— "don't think so, Charlton! it isn't right. We cannot tell
+what he may have had to trouble him; I know he has suffered,
+and does suffer a great deal. Do not speak again about
+anything as you did last night! Oh," said Fleda, now shedding
+bitter tears, "this is the worst of growing poor — the
+difficulty of keeping up the old kindness, and sympathy, and
+care, for each other!"
+
+"I am sure it does not work so upon you," said Charlton, in an
+altered voice.
+
+"Promise me, dear Charlton," said Fleda, looking up after a
+moment, and drying her eyes again, "promise me you will not
+say any more about these things! I am sure it pains uncle Rolf
+more than you think. Say you will not — for your mother's
+sake!"
+
+"I will not Fleda for your sake. I would not give you any more
+trouble to bear. Promise me that you will be more careful of
+yourself in future."
+
+"Oh there is no danger about me," said Fleda, with a faint
+smile, and taking up her work again!
+
+"Who are you making shirts for?" said Charlton, after a
+pause."
+
+"Hugh."
+
+"You do everything for Hugh, don't you?"
+
+"Little enough. Not half so much as he does for me."
+
+"Is he up at the mill to-day?"
+
+"He is always there," said Fleda, sighing.
+
+There was another silence.
+
+"Charlton," said Fleda, looking up with a face of the
+loveliest insinuation — "isn't there something _you_ might do to
+help us a little?"
+
+"I will help you garden, Fleda, with pleasure."
+
+"I would rather you should help somebody else," said she,
+still looking at him.
+
+"What, Hugh? You would have me go and work at the mill for
+him, I suppose?"
+
+"Don't be angry with me, Charlton, for suggesting it," said
+Fleda, looking down again.
+
+"Angry!" said he. "But is that what you would have me do."
+
+"Not unless you like; I didn't know but you might take his
+place once in a while for a little, to give him a rest —"
+
+"And suppose some of the people from Montepoole, that know me,
+should come by? — What are you thinking of?" said he, in a
+tone that certainly justified Fleda's deprecation.
+
+"Well!" said Fleda, in a kind of choked voice — "there is a
+strange rule of honour in vogue in the world."
+
+"Why should I help Hugh rather than anybody else?"
+
+"He is killing himself!" said Fleda, letting her work fall,
+and hardly speaking the words through thick tears. Her head
+was down, and they came fast. Charlton stood abashed for a
+minute.
+
+"You sha'n't do so, Fleda," said he gently, endeavouring to
+raise her — "you have tired yourself with this miserable work!
+Come to the window — you have got low-spirited, but, I am
+sure, without reason about Hugh — but you shall set me about
+what you will; you are right, I dare say, and I am wrong; but
+don't make me think myself a brute, and I will do anything you
+please."
+
+He had raised her up, and made her lean upon him. Fleda wiped
+her eyes and tried to smile.
+
+"I will do anything that will please you, Fleda."
+
+"It is not to please _me_," she answered, meekly.
+
+"I would not have spoken a word last night if I had known it
+would have grieved you so."
+
+"I am sorry you should have none but so poor a reason for
+doing right," said Fleda, gently.
+
+"Upon my word, I think you are about as good reason as anybody
+need have," said Charlton.
+
+She put her hand upon his arm, and looked up — such a look of
+pure rebuke, as carried to his mind the full force of the
+words she did not speak, — "Who art thou that carest for a
+worm which shall die, and forgettest the Lord thy Maker!"
+Charlton's eyes fell. Fleda turned gently away, and began to
+mend the fire. He stood watching her for a little.
+
+"What do you think of me, Fleda?" he said at length.
+
+"A little wrong-headed," answered Fleda, giving him a glance
+and a smile. "I don't think you are very bad."
+
+"If you will go with me, Fleda, you shall make what you please
+of me."
+
+He spoke half in jest, half in earnest, and did not himself
+know at the moment which way he wished Fleda to take it. But
+she had no notion of any depth in his words.
+
+"A hopeless task!" she answered, lightly, shaking her head, as
+she got down on her knees to blow the fire; — "I am afraid it
+is too much for me. I have been trying to mend you ever since
+you came, and I cannot see the slightest change for the
+better."
+
+"Where is the bellows?" said Charlton, in another tone.
+
+"It has expired — its last breath," said Fleda. "In other
+words, it has lost its nose."
+
+"Well, look here," said he, laughing and pulling her away —
+"you will stand a fair chance of losing your face if you put
+it in the fire. You sha'n't do it. Come and show me where to
+find the scattered parts of that old wind instrument, and I
+will see if it cannot be persuaded to play again."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+
+"I dinna ken what I should want
+If I could get but a man."
+SCOTCH BALLAD.
+
+
+Captain Rossitur did no work at the saw-mill. But Fleda's
+words had not fallen to the ground. He began to show care for
+his fellow-creatures in getting the bellows mended; his next
+step was to look to his gun; and from that time, so long as he
+stayed, the table was plentifully supplied with all kinds of
+game the season and the country could furnish. Wild ducks and
+partridges banished pork and bacon even from memory; and Fleda
+joyfully declared she would not see another omelette again
+till she was in distress.
+
+While Charlton was still at home came a very urgent invitation
+from Mrs. Evelyn, that Fleda should pay them a long visit in
+New York, bidding her care for no want of preparation, but
+come and make it there. Fleda demurred, however, on that very
+score. But before her answer was written another missive came
+from Dr. Gregory, not asking so much as demanding her
+presence, and enclosing a fifty dollar bill, for which he said
+he would hold her responsible till she had paid him with, not
+her own hands, but her own lips. There was no withstanding the
+manner of this entreaty. Fleda packed up some of Mrs.
+Rossitur's laid-by silks, to be refreshed with an air of
+fashion, and set off with Charlton at the end of his furlough.
+
+To her simple spirit of enjoyment the weeks ran fast; and all
+manner of novelties and kindnesses helped them on. It was a
+time of cloudless pleasure. But those she had left thought it
+long. She wrote them how delightfully she kept house for the
+old doctor, whose wife had long been dead, and how joyously
+she and the Evelyns made time fly And every pleasure she felt
+awoke almost as strong a throb in the hearts at home. But they
+missed her, as Barby said, "dreadfully;" and she was most
+dearly welcomed when she came back. It was just before New
+Year.
+
+For half an hour there was most gladsome use of eyes and
+tongues. Fleda had a great deal to tell them.
+
+"How well — how well you are looking, dear Fleda!" said her
+aunt, for the third or fourth time.
+
+"That's more than I can say for you and Hugh, aunt Lucy. What
+have you been doing to yourselves?"
+
+"Nothing new," they said, as her eye went from one to the
+other.
+
+"I guess you have wanted me!" said Fleda, shaking her head, as
+she kissed them both again.
+
+"I guess we have," said Hugh, "but don't fancy we have grown
+thin upon the want."
+
+"But where's uncle Rolf? you didn't tell me."
+
+"He is gone to look after those lands in Michigan."
+
+"In Michigan! — When did he go?"
+
+"Very soon after you."
+
+"And you didn't let me know! — Oh, why didn't you? How lonely
+you must have been!"
+
+"Let you know, indeed!" said Mrs. Rossitur, wrapping her in
+her arms again; — "Hugh and I counted every week that you
+stayed, with more pleasure each one."
+
+"I understand!" said Fleda, laughing under her aunt's kisses.
+"Well, I am glad I am at home again to take care of you. I see
+you can't get along without me."
+
+"People have been very kind, Fleda," said Hugh.
+
+"Have they?"
+
+"Yes — thinking we were desolate, I suppose. There has been no
+end to aunt Miriam's goodness and pleasantness."
+
+"Oh, aunt Miriam, always!" said Fleda. "And Seth."
+
+"Catherine Douglass has been up twice to ask if her mother
+could do anything for us; and Mrs. Douglass sent us once a
+rabbit, and once a quantity of wild pigeons that Earl had
+shot. Mother and I lived upon pigeons for I don't know how
+long. Barby wouldn't eat 'em — she said she liked pork better;
+but I believe she did it on purpose."
+
+"Like enough," said Fleda, smiling, from her aunt's arms where
+she still lay.
+
+"And Seth has sent you plenty of your favourite hickory nuts,
+very fine ones; and I gathered butternuts enough for you near
+home."
+
+"Everything is for me," said Fleda. "Well, the first thing I
+do shall be to make some butternut candy for _you_. You wont
+despise that Mr. Hugh?"
+
+Hugh smiled at her, and went on.
+
+"And your friend Mr. Olmney has sent us a corn-basket fill of
+the superbest apples you ever saw. He has one tree of the
+finest in Queechy, he says."
+
+"_My_ friend!" said Fleda, colouring a little.
+
+"Well, I don't know whose he is, if he isn't yours," said
+Hugh. "And even the Finns sent us some fish that their brother
+had caught, because, they said, they had more than they
+wanted. And Dr. Quackenboss sent us a goose and a turkey. We
+didn't like to keep them, but we were afraid, if we sent them
+back, it would not be understood."
+
+"Send them back!" said Fleda. "That would never do! All
+Queechy would have rung with it."
+
+"Well, we didn't," said Hugh. "But so we sent one of them to
+Barby's old mother, for Christmas."
+
+"Poor Dr. Quackenboss!" said Fleda. "That man has as near as
+possible killed me two or three times. As for the others, they
+are certainly the oddest of all the finny tribes. I must go
+out and see Barby for a minute."
+
+It was a good many minutes, however, before she could get free
+to do any such thing.
+
+"You han't lost no flesh," said Barby, shaking hands with her
+anew. "What did they think of Queechy keep, down in York?"
+
+"I don't know — I didn't ask them," said Fleda. "How goes the
+world with you, Barby?"
+
+"I'm mighty glad you are come home, Fleda," said Barby,
+lowering her voice.
+
+"Why?" said Fleda, in a like tone.
+
+"I guess I aint all that's glad of it," Miss Elster went on,
+with a glance of her bright eye.
+
+"I guess not," said Fleda, reddening a little — "but what is
+the matter?"
+
+"There's two of our friends ha'n't made us but one visit
+apiece since — oh, ever since some time in October!"
+
+"Well, never mind the people," said Fleda. "Tell me what you
+were going to say."
+
+"And Mr. Olmney," said Barby, not minding her, "he's took and
+sent us a great basket chock full of apples. Now, wa'n't that
+smart of him, when he knowed there wa'n't no one here that
+cared about 'em ?"
+
+"They are a particularly fine kind," said Fleda.
+
+"Did you hear about the goose and turkey?"
+
+"Yes," said Fleda, laughing.
+
+"The doctor thinks he has done the thing just about right,
+this time, I 'spect. He had ought to take out a patent right
+for his invention. He'd feel spry if he knowed who ate one on
+'em."
+
+"Never mind the doctor, Barby. Was this what you wanted to see
+me for?"
+
+"No," said Barby, changing her tone. "I'd give something it
+was. I've been all but at my wit's end; for you know, Mis'
+Rossitur aint no hand about anything — I couldn't say a word
+to her; and ever since he went away, we have been just winding
+ourselves up. I thought I should clear out, when Mis' Rossitur
+said, maybe you wa'n't a-coming till next week."
+
+"But what is it, Barby? what is wrong?"
+
+"There ha'n't been anything right, to my notions, for a long
+spell," said Barby, wringing out her dish-cloth hard, and
+flinging it down, to give herself uninterruptedly to talk;
+"but now you see, Didenhover, nor none of the men, never comes
+near the house to do a chore; and there aint wood to last
+three days; and Hugh aint fit to cut it if it was piled up in
+the yard; and there aint the first stick of it out of the
+woods yet."
+
+Fleda sat down, and looked very thoughtfully into the fire.
+
+"He had ought to ha' seen to it afore he went away; but he
+ha'n't done it, and there it is."
+
+"Why, who takes care of the cows?" said Fleda.
+
+"Oh, never mind the cows," said Barby, "they aint suffering —
+I wish we was as well off as they be; but I guess, when he
+went away, he made a hole in our pockets for to mend his'n. I
+don't say he hadn't ought to ha' done it, but we've been
+pretty short ever sen, Fleda — we're in the last bushel of
+flour, and there aint but a handful of corn meal, and mighty
+little sugar, white or brown. I did say something to Mis'
+Rossitur, but all the good it did was to spoil her appetite, I
+s'pose; and if there's grain in the floor, there aint nobody
+to carry it to mill — nor to thrash it — nor a team to draw
+it, fur's I know."
+
+"Hugh cannot cut wood," said Fleda, "nor drive to mill either,
+in this weather."
+
+"I could go to mill," said Barby, "now you're to hum; but
+that's only the beginning, and it's no use to try to do
+everything — flesh and blood must stop somewhere."
+
+"No, indeed!" said Fleda. "We must have somebody immediately."
+
+"That's what I had fixed upon," said Barby. "If you could get
+hold o' some young feller that wa'n't sot up with an idee that
+he was a grown man and too big to be told, I'd just clap to
+and fix that little room up-stairs for him, and give him his
+victuals here, and we'd have some good of him; instead o'
+having him streaking off just at the minute when he'd ought to
+be along."
+
+"Who is there we could get, Barby?"
+
+"I don't know," said Barby; "but they say there is never a
+nick that there aint a jog some place; so I guess it can be
+made out. I asked Mis' Plumfield, but she didn't know anybody
+that was out of work; nor Seth Plumfield. I'll tell you who
+does — that is, if there is anybody — Mis' Douglass. She keeps
+hold. of one end of most everybody's affairs, I tell her.
+Anyhow, she's a good hand to go to."
+
+"I'll go there at once," said Fleda. "Do you know anything
+about making maple sugar, Barby?"
+
+"That's the very thing," exclaimed Barby, ecstatically.
+"There's lots o' sugar-maples on the farm, and it's murder to
+let them go to loss; and they ha'n't done us a speck o' good
+ever since I come here. And in your grandfather's time, they
+used to make barrels and barrels. You and me and Hugh, and
+somebody else we'll have, we could clap to and make as much
+sugar and molasses in a week as would last us till spring come
+round again. There's no sense into it All we'd want would be
+to borrow a team some place. I had all that in my head long
+ago. If we could see the last of that man, Didenhover, oncet,
+I'd take hold of the plough myself, and see if I couldn't make
+a living out of it. I don't believe the world would go now,
+Fleda, if it wa'n't for women. I never see three men, yet,
+that didn't try me more than they were worth."
+
+"Patience, Barby!" said Fleda, smiling. "Let us take things
+quietly."
+
+"Well, I declare, I'm beat, to see how you take 'em," said
+Barby, looking at her lovingly.
+
+"Don't you know why, Barby?"
+
+"I s'pose I do," said Barby, her face softening still more —
+"or I can guess."
+
+"Because I know that all these troublesome things will be
+managed in the best way, and by my best Friend, and I know
+that He will let none of them hurt me. I am sure of it — isn't
+that enough to keep me quiet?"
+
+Fleda's eyes were filling, and Barby looked away from them.
+
+"Well, it beats me," she said, taking up her dish-cloth again,
+"why you should have anything to trouble you. I can understand
+wicked folks being plagued, but I can't see the sense of the
+good ones."
+
+"Troubles are to make good people better, Barby."
+
+"Well," said Barby, with a very odd mixture of real feeling
+and seeming want of it, "it's a wonder I never got religion,
+for I will say that all the decent people I ever see were of
+that kind, — Mis' Rossitur aint, though, is she?"
+
+"No," said Fleda, a pang crossing her at the thought that all
+her aunt's loveliness must tell directly and heavily in this
+case to lighten religion's testimony. It was that thought, and
+no other, which saddened her brow as she went back into the
+other room.
+
+"Troubles already!" said Mrs. Rossitur. "You will be sorry you
+have come back to them, dear."
+
+"No, indeed," said Fleda, brightly; "I am very glad I have
+come home. We will try and manage the troubles, aunt Lucy."
+
+There was no doing anything that day, but the very next
+afternoon Fleda and Hugh walked down through the snow to Mrs.
+Douglass's. It was a long walk and a cold one, and the snow
+was heavy; but the pleasure of being together made up for it
+all. It was a bright walk, too, in spite of everything.
+
+In a most thrifty-looking well-painted farm-house, lived Mrs.
+Douglass.
+
+"Why, 'taint you, is it'?" she said, when she opened the door
+— "Catharine said it was, and I said I guessed it wa'n't, for
+I reckoned you had made up your mind not to come and see me at
+all. How do you do?"
+
+The last sentence in the tone of hearty and earnest
+hospitality. Fleda made her excuses.
+
+"Ay, ay — I can understand all that just as well as if you
+said it. I know how much it means, too. Take off your hat."
+
+Fleda said she could not stay, and explained her business.
+
+"So you ha'n't come to see me, after all? Well, now, take off
+your hat 'cause I wont have anything to say to you till you
+do. I'll give you supper right away."
+
+"But I have left my aunt alone, Mrs. Douglass; and the
+afternoons are so short now, it would be dark before we could
+get home."
+
+"Serve her right for not coming along! and you sha'n't walk
+home in the dark, for Earl will harness the team, and carry
+you home like a streak — the horses have nothing to do. Come,
+you sha'n't go."
+
+And as Mrs. Douglass laid violent hands on her bonnet, Fleda
+thought best to submit. She was presently rewarded with the
+promise of the very person she wanted — a boy, or young man,
+then in Earl Douglass's employ; but his wife said, "she
+guessed he'd give him up to her;" and what his wife said,
+Fleda knew Earl Douglass was in the habit of making good.
+
+"There aint enough to do to keep him busy," said Mrs.
+Douglass. "I told Earl he made me more work than he saved; but
+he's hung on till now."
+
+"What sort of a boy is he, Mrs. Douglass."
+
+"He aint a steel-trap, I tell you beforehand," said the lady,
+with one of her sharp intelligent glances; "he don't know
+which way to go till you show him; but he's a clever enough
+kind of a chap — he don't mean no harm. I guess he'll do for
+what you want."
+
+"Is he to be trusted?"
+
+"Trust him with anything but a knife and fork," said she, with
+another look and shake of the head. "He has no idee but what
+everything on the supper-table is meant to be eaten straight
+off. I would keep two such men as my husband as soon as I
+would Philetus."
+
+"Philetus!" said Fleda — "the person that brought the chicken,
+and thought he had brought two?"
+
+"You've hit it," said Mrs. Douglass. "Now you know him. How do
+you like our new minister?"
+
+"We are all very much pleased with him."
+
+"He's very good-looking, don't you think so?"
+
+"A very pleasant face."
+
+"I ha'n't seen him much yet except in church; but those that
+know, say he is very agreeable in the house."
+
+"Truly, I dare say," answered Fleda, for Mrs. Douglass's face
+looked for her testimony.
+
+"But I think he looks as if he was beating his brains out
+there among his books. I tell him he is getting the blues,
+living in that big house by himself."
+
+"Do you manage to do all your work without help, Mrs.
+Douglass?" said Fleda, knowing that the question was in
+"order," and that the affirmative answer was not counted a
+thing to he ashamed of.
+
+"Well, I guess I'll know good reason," said Mrs. Douglass,
+complacently, "before I'll have any help to spoil _my_ work.
+Come along, and I'll let you see whether I want one."
+
+Fleda went, very willingly, to be shown all Mrs. Douglass's
+household arrangements and clever contrivances, of her own or
+her husband's devising, for lessening or facilitating labour.
+The lady was proud, and had some reason to be, of the very
+superb order and neatness of each part and detail. No corner
+or closet that might not be laid open fearlessly to a
+visitor's inspection. Miss Catharine was then directed to open
+her piano, and amuse Fleda with it while her mother performed
+her promise of getting an early supper — a command grateful to
+one or two of the party, for Catharine had been carrying on
+all this while a most stately tκte-ΰ-tκte with Hugh, which
+neither had any wish to prolong. So Fleda filled up the time
+good naturedly with thrumming over the two or three bits of
+her childish music that she could recall, till Mr. Douglass
+came in, and they were summoned to sit down to supper; which
+Mrs. Douglass introduced by telling her guests "they must take
+what they could get, for she had made fresh bread and cake and
+pies for them two or three times, and she wasn't a-going to do
+it again."
+
+Her table was abundantly spread, however, and with most
+exquisite neatness; and everything was of excellent quality,
+saving only certain matters which call for a free hand in the
+use of material. Fleda thought the pumpkin pies must have been
+made from that vaunted stock which is said to want no eggs nor
+sugar, and the cakes, she told Mrs. Rossitur afterwards, would
+have been good if half the flour had been left out, and the
+other ingredients doubled, The deficiency in one kind,
+however, was made up by superabundance in another; the table
+was stocked with such wealth of crockery that one could not
+imagine any poverty in what was to go upon it. Fleda hardly
+knew how to marshal the confusion of plates which grouped
+themselves around her cup and saucer, and none of them might
+be dispensed with. There was one set of little glass dishes
+for one kind of sweetmeat, another set of ditto for another
+kind; an army of tiny plates to receive and shield the
+tablecloth from the dislodged cups of tea, saucers being the
+conventional drinking vessels; and there were the standard
+bread and butter plates, which, besides their proper charge of
+bread and butter, and beef, and cheese, were expected, Fleda
+knew, to receive a portion of every kind of cake that might
+happen to be on the table. It was a very different thing,
+however, from Miss Anastasia's tea-table, or that of Miss
+Flora Quackenboss. Fleda enjoyed the whole time without
+difficulty.
+
+Mr. Douglass readily agreed to the transfer of Philetus's
+services.
+
+"He's a good boy!" said Earl — he's a good boy; he's as good a
+kind of a boy as you need to have. He wants tellin'; most boys
+want tellin'; but he'll do when he is told, and he means to do
+right."
+
+"How long do you expect your uncle will be gone?" said Mrs.
+Douglass.
+
+"I do not know," said Fleda.
+
+"Have you heard from him since he left?"
+
+"Not since I came home," said Fleda. "Mr. Douglass, what is
+the first thing to be done about the maple-trees in the sugar
+season?"
+
+"Why, you calculate to try makin' sugar in the spring?"
+
+"Perhaps — at any rate I should like to know about it."
+
+"Well, I should think you would," said Earl, "and it's easy
+done — there aint nothin' easier, when you know the right way
+to set to work about it; and there's a fine lot of sugar trees
+on the old farm — I recollect of them sugar trees as long ago
+as when I was a boy — I've helped to work them afore now, but
+there's a good many years since — has made me a leetle older;
+but the first thing you want is a man and a team, to go about
+and empty the buckets — the buckets must be emptied every day
+— and then carry it down to the house."
+
+"Yes, I know," said Fleda; "but what is the first thing to be
+done to the trees?"
+
+"Why, la! 'tain't much to do to the trees — all you've got to
+do is to take an axe and chip a bit out, and stick a chip a
+leetle way into the cut for to dreen the sap, and set a trough
+under, and then go on to the next one, and so on; — you may
+make one or two cuts in the south side of the tree, and one or
+two cuts in the north side, if the tree's big enough, and if
+it aint, only make one or two cuts in the south side of the
+tree; and for the sap to run good, it had ought to be that
+kind o' weather when it freezes in the day and thaws by night;
+I would say! — when it friz in the night and thaws in the day;
+the sap runs more bountifully in that kind o' weather."
+
+It needed little from Fleda to keep Mr. Douglass at the maple-
+trees till supper was ended; and then, as it was already
+sundown, he went to harness the sleigh.
+
+It was a comfortable one, and the horses, if not very handsome
+nor bright-curried, were well fed and had good heart to their
+work. A two-mile drive was before them, and with no
+troublesome tongues or eyes to claim her attention, Fleda
+enjoyed it fully. In the soft clear winter twilight, when
+heaven and earth mingle so gently, and the stars look forth
+brighter and cheerfuller than ever at another time, they slid
+along over the fine roads, too swiftly, towards home; and
+Fleda's thoughts as easily and swiftly slipped away from Mr.
+Douglass, and maple-sugar, and Philetus, and an unfilled
+woodyard, and an empty flour-barrel, and revelled in the pure
+ether. A dark rising ground covered with wood sometimes rose
+between her and the western horizon; and then a long stretch
+of snow, only less pure, would leave free view of its
+unearthly white light, dimmed by no exhalation, a gentle,
+mute, but not the less eloquent, witness to earth of what
+heaven must be.
+
+But the sleigh stopped at the gate, and Fleda's musings came
+home.
+
+"Good night!" said Earl, in reply to their thanks and adieus;
+— " 'taint anything to thank a body for — let me know when
+you're a-goin' into the sugar-making, and I'll come and help
+you."
+
+"How sweet a pleasant message may make an unmusical tongue!"
+said Fleda, as she and Hugh made their way up to the house.
+
+"We had a stupid enough afternoon," said Hugh.
+
+"But the ride home was worth it all!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+
+" 'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good green wood,
+So blithe Lady Alice is singing;
+On the beech's pride, and the oak's brown side,
+Lord Richard's axe is ringing."
+LADY OF THE LAKE.
+
+
+Philetus came, and was inducted into office and the little
+room immediately; and Fleda felt herself eased of a burden.
+Barby reported him stout and willing, and he proved it by what
+seemed a perverted inclination for bearing the most enormous
+logs of wood he could find into the kitchen.
+
+"He will hurt himself!" said Fleda.
+
+"I'll protect him! — against anything but buckwheat batter,"
+said Barby, with a grave shake of her head. "Lazy folks takes
+the most pains, I tell him. But it would be good to have some
+more ground, Fleda, for Philetus says he don't care for no
+dinner when he has griddles to breakfast, and there aint
+anything much cheaper than that."
+
+"Aunt Lucy, have you any change in the house?" said Fleda,
+that same day.
+
+"There isn't but three and sixpence," said Mrs. Rossitur, with
+a pained, conscious look. "What is wanting, dear?"
+
+"Only candles — Barby has suddenly found we are out, and she
+wont have any more made before to-morrow. Never mind."
+
+"There is only that," repeated Mrs. Rossitur. "Hugh has a
+little money due to him from last summer, but he hasn't been
+able to get it yet. You may take that, dear."
+
+"No," said Fleda, "we mustn't. We might want it more."
+
+"We can sit in the dark for once, said Hugh, "and try to make
+an uncommon display of what Dr. Quackenboss calls 'sociality!'
+"
+
+"No," said Fleda, who had stood busily thinking, "I am going
+to send Philetus down to the post-office for the paper, and
+when it comes, I am not to be balked of reading it; I've made
+up my mind. We'll go right off into the woods and get some
+pine knots, Hugh — come! They make a lovely light. You get us
+a couple of baskets and the hatchet; I wish we had two; and
+I'll be ready in no time. That'll do!"
+
+It is to be noticed, that Charlton had provided against any
+future deficiency of news in his family. Fleda skipped away,
+and in five minutes returned arrayed for the expedition, in
+her usual out-of-door working trim, namely, an old dark merino
+cloak, almost black, the effect of which was continued by the
+edge of an old dark mousseline below, and rendered decidedly
+striking by the contrast of a large whitish yarn shawl worn
+over it; the whole crowned with a little close-fitting hood
+made of some old silver-grey silk, shaped tight to the head,
+without any bow or furbelow to break the outline. But such a
+face within side of it! She came almost dancing into the room.
+
+"This is Miss Ringgan! as she appeared when she was going to
+see the pine-trees. Hugh, don't you wish you had a picture of
+me?"
+
+"I have got a tolerable picture of you, somewhere," said Hugh.
+
+"This is somebody very different from the Miss Ringgan that
+went to see Mrs. Evelyn, I can tell you," Fleda went on,
+gaily. "Do you know, aunt Lucy, I have made up my mind that my
+visit to New York was a dream, and the dream is nicely folded
+away with my silk dresses. Now, I must go tell that precious
+Philetus about the post-office; I am so comforted, aunt Lucy,
+whenever I see that fellow staggering into the house under a
+great log of wood! I have not heard anything in a long time so
+pleasant as the ringing strokes of his axe in the yard. Isn't
+life made up of little things?"
+
+"Why don't you put a better pair of shoes on?"
+
+"Can't afford it, Mrs. Rossitur. You are extravagant."
+
+"Go and put on my India-rubbers."
+
+"No, Ma'am — the rocks would cut them to pieces. I have
+brought my mind down to — my shoes."
+
+"It isn't safe, Fleda; you might see somebody."
+
+"Well, Ma'am! But I tell you I am not going to see anybody but
+the chick-a-dees and the snow-birds, and there is great
+simplicity of manners prevailing among them."
+
+The shoes were changed, and Hugh and Fleda set forth,
+lingering a while, however, to give a new edge to their
+hatchet — Fleda turning the grindstone. They mounted then the
+apple-orchard hill, and went a little distance along the edge
+of the table-land, before striking off into the woods. They
+had stood still a minute to look over the little white valley
+to the snow-dressed woodland beyond.
+
+"This is better than New York, Hugh," said Fleda.
+
+"I am very glad to hear you say that," said another voice.
+Fleda turned, and started a little to see Mr. Olmney at her
+side, and congratulated herself instantly on her shoes.
+
+"Mrs. Rossitur told me where you had gone, and gave me
+permission to follow you, but I hardly hoped to overtake you
+so soon."
+
+"We stopped to sharpen our tools," said Fleda. "We are out on
+a foraging expedition."
+
+"Will you let me help you?"
+
+"Certainly — if you understand the business. Do you know a
+pine-knot when you see it?"
+
+He laughed, and shook his head, but avowed a wish to learn.
+
+"Well, it would be a charity to teach you anything wholesome,"
+said Fleda; "for I heard one of Mr. Olmney's friends lately
+saying that he looked like a person who was in danger of
+committing suicide."
+
+"Suicide! One of my friends!" he exclaimed, in the utmost
+astonishment.
+
+"Yes," said Fleda, laughing; "and there is nothing like the
+open air for clearing away vapours."
+
+"You cannot have known that by experience," said he, looking
+at her.
+
+Fleda shook her head, and, advising him to take nothing for
+granted, set off into the woods.
+
+They were in a beautiful state. A light snow, but an inch or
+two deep, had fallen the night before; the air had been
+perfectly still during the day; and though the sun was out,
+bright and mild, it had done little but glitter on the earth's
+white capping. The light dry flakes of snow had not stirred
+from their first resting-place. The long branches of the large
+pines were just tipped with snow at the ends; on the smaller
+evergreens every leaf and tuft had its separate crest. Stones
+and rocks were smoothly rounded over, little shrubs and sprays
+that lay along the ground were all doubled in white; and the
+hemlock branches, bending with their feathery burden, stooped
+to the foreheads of the party, and gave them the freshest of
+salutations as they brushed by. The whole wood-scene was
+particularly fair and graceful. A light veil of purity, no
+more, thrown over the wilderness of stones, and stumps, and
+bare ground — like the blessing of charity, covering all
+roughnesses and unsightlinesses — like the innocent, unsullied
+nature that places its light shield between the eye and
+whatever is unequal, unkindly, and unlovely in the world.
+
+"What do you think of this for a misanthropical man, Mr.
+Olmney? there's a better tonic to be found in the woods than
+in any remedies of man's devising."
+
+"Better than books?" said he.
+
+"Certainly! — No comparison."
+
+"I have to learn that yet."
+
+"So I suppose," said Fleda. "The very danger to be
+apprehended, as I hear, Sir, is from your running a tilt into
+some of those thick folios of yours, head foremost. There's no
+pitch there, Hugh — you may leave it alone. We must go on —
+there are more yellow pines higher up."
+
+"But who could give such a strange character of me to you?"
+said Mr. Olmney.
+
+"I am sure your wisdom would not advise me to tell you that,
+Sir. You will find nothing there, Mr. Olmney."
+
+They went gaily on, careering about in all directions, and
+bearing down upon every promising stump or dead pine-tree they
+saw in the distance. Hugh and Mr. Olmney took turns in the
+labour of hewing out the fat pine knots, and splitting down
+the old stumps to get at the pitchy heart of the wood; and the
+baskets began to grow heavy. The whole party were in excellent
+spirits, and as happy as the birds that filled the woods, and
+whose cheery "chick-a-dee-dee-dee" was heard whenever they
+paused to rest, and let the hatchet be still.
+
+"How one sees everything in the colour of one's own
+spectacles!" said Fleda.
+
+"May I ask what colour yours are to-day?" said Mr. Olmney.
+
+"Rose, I think," said Hugh.
+
+"No," said Fleda, "they are better than that — they are no
+worse colour than the snow's own — they show me everything
+just as it is. It could not be lovelier."
+
+"Then we may conclude, may we not," said Mr. Olmney, "that you
+are not sorry to find yourself in Queechy again?"
+
+"I am not sorry to find myself in the woods again. That is not
+pitch, Mr. Olmney."
+
+"It has the same colour — and weight."
+
+"No, it is only wet — see this, and smell of it — do you see
+the difference? Isn't it pleasant?"
+
+"Everything is pleasant to-day," said he, smiling.
+
+"I shall report you a cure. Come, I want to go a little higher
+and show you a view. Leave that, Hugh — we have got enough."
+
+But Hugh chose to finish an obstinate stump, and his
+companions went on without him. It was not very far up the
+mountain, and they came to a fine look-out point — the same
+where Fleda and Mr. Carleton had paused long before on their
+quest after nuts. The wide spread of country was a white waste
+now; the delicate beauties of the snow were lost in the far
+view; and the distant Catskill showed wintrily against the
+fair blue sky. The air was gentle enough to invite them to
+stand still, after the exercise they had taken; and as they
+both looked in silence, Mr. Olmney observed that his
+companion's face settled into a gravity rather at variance
+with the expression it had worn.
+
+"I should hardly think," said he, softly, "that you were
+looking through white spectacles, if you had not told us so."
+
+"Oh — a shade may come over what one is looking at, you know,"
+said Fleda. But seeing that he still watched her inquiringly,
+she added —
+
+"I do not think a very wide landscape is ever gay in its
+effect upon the mind — do you?"
+
+"Perhaps — I do not know," said he, his eyes turning to it
+again, as if to try what the effect was.
+
+"My thoughts had gone back," said Fleda, "to a time a good
+while ago, when I was a child, and stood here in summer
+weather — and I was thinking that the change in the landscape
+is something like that which years make in the mind."
+
+"But you have not, for a long time at least, known any very
+acute sorrow?"
+
+"No," said Fleda, "but that is not necessary. There is a
+gentle kind of discipline which does its work, I think, more
+surely."
+
+"Thank God for _gentle_ discipline!" said Mr. Olmney; "if you do
+not know what those griefs are that break down mind and body
+together."
+
+"I am not unthankful, I hope, for anything," said Fleda,
+gently; "but I have been apt to think that, after a crushing
+sorrow, the mind may rise up again, but that a long-continued
+though much lesser pressure in time breaks the spring."
+
+He looked at her again with a mixture of incredulous and
+tender interest, but her face did not belie her words, strange
+as they sounded from so young and in general so bright-seeming
+a creature.
+
+"There shall no evil happen to the just," he said, presently,
+and with great sympathy.
+
+Fleda flashed a look of gratitude at him — it was no more, for
+she felt her eyes watering, and turned them away.
+
+"You have not, I trust, heard any bad news?"
+
+"No, Sir — not at all."
+
+"I beg pardon for asking, but Mrs. Rossitur seemed to be in
+less good spirits than usual." He had some reason to say so,
+having found her in a violent fit of weeping.
+
+"You do not need to be told," he went on, "of the need there
+is that a cloud should now and then come over this lower scene
+— the danger that, if it did not, our eyes would look nowhere
+else?"
+
+There is something very touching in hearing a kind voice say
+what one has often struggled to say to one's-self.
+
+"I know it, Sir," said Fleda, her words a little choked — "and
+one may not wish the cloud away — but it does not the less
+cast a shade upon the face. I guess Hugh has worked his way
+into the middle of that stump by this time, Mr. Olmney."
+
+They rejoined him; and the baskets being now sufficiently
+heavy, and arms pretty well tired, they left the further
+riches of the pine woods unexplored, and walked sagely
+homewards. At the brow of the table-land, Mr. Olmney left them
+to take a shorter cut to the high road, having a visit to make
+which the shortening day warned him not to defer.
+
+"Put down your basket, and rest a minute, Hugh," said Fleda.
+"I had a world of things to talk to you about, and this
+blessed man has driven them all out of my head."
+
+"But you are not sorry he came along with us?"
+
+"O no. We had a very good time. How lovely it is, Hugh! Look
+at the snow down there — without a track; and the woods have
+been dressed by the fairies. Oh, look how the sun is glinting
+on the west side of that hillock!"
+
+"It is twice as bright since you have come home," said Hugh.
+
+"The snow is too beautiful to-day. Oh, I was right! One may
+grow morbid over books, but I defy anybody, in the company of
+those chick-a-dees. I should think it would be hard to keep
+quite sound in the city."
+
+"You are glad to be here again, aren't you?" said Hugh.
+
+"Very! O, Hugh! — it is better to be poor, and have one's feet
+on these hills, than to be rich, and shut up to brick walls!"
+
+"It is best as it is," said Hugh, quietly.
+
+"Once," Fleda went on — "one fair day, when I was out driving
+in New York, it did come over me with a kind of pang, how
+pleasant it would be to have plenty of money again, and be at
+ease; and then, as I was looking off over that pretty north
+river to the other shore, I bethought me — 'A little that a
+righteous man hath is better than the riches of many wicked.'
+"
+
+Hugh did not answer, for the face she turned to him, in its
+half-tearful, half-bright submission, took away his speech.
+
+"Why, you cannot have enjoyed yourself as much as we thought,
+Fleda, if you dislike the city so much."
+
+"Yes, I did. Oh, I enjoyed a great many things. I enjoyed
+being with the Evelyns. You don't know how much they made of
+me — every one of them — father and mother, and all the three
+daughters — and uncle Orrin. I have been well petted, I can
+tell you, since I have been gone."
+
+"I am glad they showed so much discrimination," said Hugh;
+"they would be puzzled to make too much of you."
+
+"I must have been in a remarkably discriminating society,"
+said Fleda, "for everybody was very kind."
+
+"How do you like the Evelyns, on a nearer view?"
+
+"Very much, indeed; and I believe they really love me. Nothing
+could possibly be kinder, in all ways of showing kindness. I
+shall never forget it."
+
+"Who were you driving with that day?" said Hugh.
+
+"Mr. Thorn."
+
+"Did you see much of him?"
+
+"Quite as much as I wished. Hugh, I took your advice."
+
+"About what?" said Hugh.
+
+"I carried down some of my scribblings, and sent them to a
+magazine."
+
+"Did you!" said Hugh, looking delighted. "And will they
+publish them?"
+
+"I don't know," said Fleda; "that's another matter. I sent
+them, or uncle Orrin did, when I first went down; and I have
+heard nothing of them yet."
+
+"You showed them to uncle Orrin?"
+
+"Couldn't help it, you know. I had to."
+
+"And what did he say to them?"
+
+"Come! — I'm not going to be cross-questioned," said Fleda,
+laughing. "He did not prevent my sending them."
+
+"And if they take them, do you expect they will give anything
+for them — the magazine people?"
+
+"I am sure, if they don't, they shall have no more; that is my
+only possible inducement to let them be printed. For my own
+pleasure, I would far rather not."
+
+"Did you sign with your own name?"
+
+"My own name! — Yes, and desired it to be printed in large
+capitals. What are you thinking of? No! — I hope you'll
+forgive me, — but I signed myself what our friend the doctor
+calls 'Yugh.' "
+
+"I'll forgive you, if you'll do one thing for me."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Show me all you have in your portfolio — Do, Fleda! — to-
+night, by the light of the pitch-pine knots. Why shouldn't you
+give me that pleasure? And, besides, you know Moliθre had an
+old woman?"
+
+"Well," said Fleda, with a face that to Hugh was extremely
+satisfactory, "we'll see — I suppose you might as well read my
+productions in manuscript as in print. But they are in a
+terribly scratchy condition — they go sometimes for weeks in
+my head before I find time to put them down — you may guess,
+polishing is pretty well out of the question. Suppose we try
+to get home with these baskets."
+
+Which they did.
+
+"Has Philetus got home?" was Fleda's first question.
+
+"No," said Mrs. Rossitur, "but Dr. Quackenboss has been here,
+and brought the paper; he was at the post-office this morning,
+he says. Did you see Mr. Olmney?"
+
+"Yes, Ma'am, and I feel he has saved me from a lame arm —
+those pine-knots are so heavy."
+
+"He is a lovely young man!" said Mrs. Rossitur, with uncommon
+emphasis.
+
+"I should have been blind to the fact, aunt Lucy, if you had
+not made me change my shoes. At present, no disparagement to
+him, I feel as if a cup of tea would be rather more lovely
+than anything else."
+
+"He sat with me some time," said Mrs. Rossitur; "I was afraid
+he would not overtake you."
+
+Tea was ready, and only waiting for Mrs. Rossitur to come down
+stairs, when Fleda, whose eye was carelessly running along the
+columns of the paper, uttered a sudden shout, and covered her
+face with it. Hugh looked up in astonishment, but Fleda was
+beyond anything but exclamations, laughing and flushing to the
+very roots of her hair.
+
+"What is the matter, Fleda?"
+
+"Why," said Fleda, "how comical! — I was just looking over the
+list of articles in the January number of the _Excelsior_" —
+
+"The _Excelsior!_" said Hugh.
+
+"Yes — the magazine I sent my things to — I was running over
+their advertisement here, where they give a special puff of
+the publication in general, and of several things in
+particular, and I saw — here they speak of 'A tale of
+thrilling interest, by Mrs. Eliza Lothbury, unsurpassed,' and
+so forth, and so forth; 'another valuable communication from
+Mr. Charleston, whose first acute and discriminating paper all
+our leaders will remember; the beginning of a new tale from
+the infallibly graceful pen of Miss Delia Lawriston: we are
+sure it will be so and so; '_The Wind's Voices_,' _by our new
+correspondent_, '_Hugh_,' _has a delicate sweetness that would do
+no discredit to some of our most honoured names!_' What do you
+think of that?"
+
+What Hugh thought he did not say, but he looked delighted, and
+came to read the grateful words for himself.
+
+"I did not know but they had declined it utterly," said Fleda;
+"it was so long since I had sent it, and they had taken no
+notice of it; but it seems they kept it for the beginning of a
+new volume."
+
+" 'Would do no discredit to some of our most honoured names!'
+" said Hugh. "Dear Fleda, I am very glad! But it is no more
+than I expected."
+
+"Expected!" said Fleda. "When you had not seen a line! Hush,
+my dear Hugh, aren't you hungry?"
+
+The tea, with this spice to their appetites, was wonderfully
+relished; and Hugh and Fleda kept making despatches of secret
+pleasure and sympathy to each other's eyes; though Fleda's
+face, after the first flush had faded, was perhaps rather
+quieter than usual. Hugh's was illuminated.
+
+"Mr. Skillcorn is a smart man," said Barby, coming in with a
+package; "he has made out to go two miles in two hours, and
+get back again safe."
+
+"More from the post-office!" exclaimed Fleda, pouncing upon
+it. — "O yes, there has been another mail. A letter for you,
+aunt Lucy, from uncle Rolf. We'll forgive him, Barby — and
+here's a letter for me, from uncle Orrin, and — yes — the
+_Excelsior_. Hugh, uncle Orrin said he would send it. Now for
+those blessed pineknots. Aunt Lucy, you shall be honoured with
+the one whole candle the house contains."
+
+The table soon cleared away, the basket of fat fuel was
+brought in; and one or two splinters being delicately
+insinuated between the sticks on the fire, a very brilliant
+illumination sprang out. Fleda sent a congratulatory look over
+to Hugh on the other side of the fireplace, as she cosily
+established herself on her little bench at one corner with her
+letter: he had the magazine. Mrs. Rossitur between them at the
+table, with her one candle, was already insensible to all
+outward things.
+
+And soon the other two were as delightfully absorbed. The
+bright light of the fire shone upon three motionless and rapt
+figures, and getting no greeting from them, went off and
+danced on the old cupboard doors and paper-hangings, in a
+kindly hearty joviality, that would have put any number of
+stately wax candles out of countenance. There was no poverty
+in the room that night. But the people were too busy to know
+how cosy they were, till Fleda was ready to look up from her
+note, and Hugh had gone twice carefully over the new poem —
+when there was a sudden giving out of the pine splinters. New
+ones were supplied in eager haste and silence, and Hugh was
+beginning "The Wind's Voices," for the third time, when a
+soft-whispered "Hugh!" across the fire, made him look over to
+Fleda's corner. She was holding up, with both hands, a five-
+dollar bank note, and just showing him her eyes over it.
+
+"What's that?" said Hugh, in an energetic whisper.
+
+"I don't know!" said Fleda, shaking her head comically; "I am
+told 'The Wind's Voices' have blown it here, but, privately, I
+am afraid it is a windfall of another kind."
+
+"What?" said Hugh, laughing.
+
+"Uncle Orrin says it is the first-fruits of what I sent to the
+_Excelsior_, and that more will come; but I do not feel at all
+sure that it is entirely the growth of that soil."
+
+"I dare say it is," said Hugh; "I am sure it is worth more
+than that. Dear Fleda, I like it so much!"
+
+Fleda gave him such a smile of grateful affection — not at all
+as if she deserved his praise, but as if it was very pleasant
+to have.
+
+"What put it into your head? anything in particular?"
+
+"No — nothing — I was looking out of the window one day, and
+seeing the willow-tree blow; and that looked over my shoulder;
+as you know Hans Andersen says his stories did."
+
+"It is just like you! — exactly as it can be."
+
+"Things put themselves in my head," said Fleda, tucking
+another splinter into the fire. "Isn't this better than a
+chandelier?"
+
+"Ten times!"
+
+"And so much pleasanter for having got it ourselves. What a
+nice time we had, Hugh!"
+
+"Very. Now for the portfolio, Fleda — come — mother is fast;
+she wont see or hear anything. What does father say, mother?"
+
+In answer to this they had the letter read, which, indeed,
+contained nothing remarkable beyond its strong expressions of
+affection to each one of the little family — a cordial which
+Mrs. Rossitur drank and grew strong upon in the very act of
+reading. It is pity the medicine of kind words is not more
+used in the world — it has so much power. Then, having folded
+up her treasure and talked a little while about it, Mrs.
+Rossitur caught up the magazine like a person who had been
+famished in that kind; and soon she and it and her tallow
+candle formed a trio apart from all the world again. Fleda and
+Hugh were safe to pass most mysterious-looking little papers
+from hand to hand right before her, though they had the care
+to read them behind newspapers, and exchanges of thought and
+feeling went on more swiftly still, and softly, across the
+fire. Looks, and smiles, and whispers, and tears too, under
+cover of a _Tribune_ and an _Express_. And the blaze would die
+down just when Hugh had got to the last verse of something,
+and then while impatiently waiting for the new pine splinters
+to catch, he would tell Fleda how much he liked it, or how
+beautiful he thought it, and whisper inquiries and critical
+questions; till the fire reached the fat vein, and leaped up
+in defiant emulation of gas-lights unknown, and then he would
+fall to again with renewed gusto. And Fleda hunted out in her
+portfolio what bits to give him first, and bade him, as she
+gave them, remember this and understand that, which was
+necessary to be borne in mind in the reading. And through all
+the brightening and fading blaze, and all the whispering,
+congratulating, explaining, and rejoicing going on at her
+side, Mrs. Rossitur and her tallow candle were devoted to each
+other, happily and engrossingly. At last, however, she flung
+the magazine from her, and turning from the table sat looking
+into the fire with a rather uncommonly careful and unsatisfied
+brow.
+
+"What did you think of the second piece of poetry there,
+mother?" said Hugh — "that ballad? — 'The Wind's Voices,' it
+is called."
+
+" 'The Wind's Voices?' — I don't know — I didn't read it, I
+believe."
+
+"Why, mother! I liked it very much. Do read it — read it
+aloud."
+
+Mrs. Rossitur took up the magazine again abstractedly, and
+read
+
+
+" 'Mamma, what makes your face so sad?
+The sound of the wind makes me feel glad;
+But whenever it blows, as grave you look
+As if you were reading a sorrowful book.'
+
+
+" 'A sorrowful book I am reading, dear —
+A book of weeping, and pain, and fear —
+A book deep printed on my heart,
+Which I cannot read but the tears will start.
+
+
+" 'That breeze to my ear was soft and mild,
+Just so, when I was a little child;
+But now I hear in its freshening breath
+The voices of those that sleep in death.'
+
+
+" 'Mamma,' said the child, with shaded brow,
+What is this book you are reading now?
+And why do you read what makes you cry?'
+'My child, it comes up before my eye;
+
+
+" ' 'Tis the memory, love, of a far-off day,
+When my life's best friend was taken away; —
+Of the weeks and months that my eyes were dim,
+Watching for tidings — watching for him.
+
+
+" 'Many a year has come and pass'd
+Since a ship sailed over the ocean fast,
+Bound for a port on England's shore —
+She sail'd — but was never heard of more.'
+
+
+" 'Mamma' — and she closer press'd her side —
+'Was that the time when my father died? —
+Is it his ship you think you see? —
+Dearest mamma — wont you speak to me?'
+
+
+"The lady paused, but then calmly said —
+Yes, Lucy — the sea was his dying bed!
+And now, whenever I hear the blast,
+I think again of that storm long past.
+
+
+" 'The winds' fierce howlings hurt not me,
+But I think how they beat on the pathless sea —
+Of the breaking mast — of the parting rope —
+Of the anxious strife, and the failing hope.'
+
+
+" 'Mamma,' said the child, with streaming eyes,
+My father has gone above the skies;
+And you tell me this world is mean and base
+Compared with heaven — that blessed place.'
+
+
+" 'My daughter, I know — I believe it all —
+I would not his spirit to earth recal.
+The bless'd one he — his storm was brief —
+Mine, a long tempest of tears and grief.
+
+
+" 'I have you, my darling — I should not sigh —
+I have one star more in my cloudy sky —
+The hope that we both shall join him there,
+In that perfect rest from weeping and care.' "
+
+
+"Well, mother; how do you like it?" said Hugh, whose eyes gave
+tender witness to his liking for it.
+
+"It is pretty" — said Mrs. Rossitur.
+
+Hugh exclaimed, and Fleda, laughing, took it out of her hand.
+
+"Why, mother," said Hugh — "it is Fleda's!"
+
+"Fleda's!" exclaimed Mrs. Rossitur, snatching the magazine
+again. "My dear child, I was not thinking in the least of what
+I was reading. Fleda's!" —
+
+She read it over anew, with swimming eyes this time, and then
+clasped Fleda in her arms, and gave her, not words, but the
+better reward of kisses and tears. They remained so a long
+time, even till Hugh left them; and then Fleda, released from
+her aunt's embrace, still crouched by her side with one arm in
+her lap.
+
+They both sat thoughtfully looking into the fire till it had
+burnt itself out, and nothing but a glowing bed of coals
+remained.
+
+"That is an excellent young man," said Mrs. Rossitur.
+
+"Who?"
+
+"Mr. Olmney. He sat with me some time after you had gone."
+
+"So you said before," said Fleda, wondering at the troubled
+expression of her aunt's face.
+
+"He made me wish," said Mrs. Rossitur, hesitating, "that I
+could be something different from what I am — I believe I
+should be a great deal happier."
+
+The last word was hardly spoken. Fleda rose to her knees, and
+putting both arms about her aunt, pressed face to face, with a
+clinging sympathy that told how very near her spirit was,
+while tears from the eyes of both fell without measure.
+
+"Dear aunt Lucy — _dear_ aunt Lucy — I wish you would — I am
+sure you would be a great deal happier —"
+
+But the mixture of feelings was too much for Fleda; her head
+sank lower on her aunt's bosom, and she wept aloud.
+
+"But I don't know anything about it," said Mrs. Rossitur, as
+well as she could speak — "I am as ignorant as a child!"
+
+"Dear aunty! that is nothing — God will teach you, if you ask
+him — he has promised. Oh, ask him, aunt Lucy! I know you
+would be happier. I know it is better — a million times — to
+be a child of God, than to have everything in the world. If
+they only brought us that, I would be very glad of all our
+troubles — indeed I would."
+
+"But I don't think I ever did anything right in my life," said
+poor Mrs. Rossitur.
+
+"Dear aunt Lucy!" said Fleda, straining her closer, and with
+her very heart gushing out at these words — "_dear_ aunty,
+Christ came for just such sinners — for just such as you and
+I."
+
+"_You_," said Mrs. Rossitur, but speech failed utterly, and with
+a muttered prayer that Fleda would help her she sunk her head
+upon her shoulder, and sobbed herself into quietness, or into
+exhaustion. The glow of the fire-light faded away till only a
+faint sparkle was left in the chimney.
+
+There was not another word spoken, but when they rose up, with
+such kisses as gave and took unuttered affection, counsel, and
+sympathy, they bade each other good-night.
+
+Fleda went to her window, for the moon rode high, and her
+childish habit had never been forgotten. But surely the face
+that looked out that night was as the face of an angel. In all
+the pouring moonbeams that filled the air, she could see
+nothing but the flood of God's goodness on a dark world. And
+her heart that night had nothing but an unbounded and
+unqualified thanksgiving for all the "gentle discipline" they
+had felt — for every sorrow, and weariness, and
+disappointment; except, besides, the prayer, almost too deep
+to be put into words, that its due and hoped-for fruit might
+be brought forth unto perfection.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+
+"If I become not a cart as well as another man, a plague on my
+bringing up."
+SHAKESPEARE.
+
+
+Every day could not be as bright as the last, even by the help
+of pitch pine knots. They blazed, indeed, many a time, but the
+blaze shone upon faces that it could not sometimes light up.
+Matters drew gradually within a smaller and smaller compass.
+Another five dollars came from uncle Orrin, and the hope of
+more; but these were carefully laid by to pay Philetus; and
+for all other wants of the household excepting those the farm
+supplied, the family were dependent on mere driblets of sums.
+None came from Mr. Rossitur. Hugh managed to collect a very
+little. That kept them from absolute distress — that, and
+Fleda's delicate instrumentality. Regular dinners were given
+up, fresh meat being now unheard of, unless when a kind
+neighbour made them a present; and appetite would have lagged
+sadly but for Fleda's untiring care. She thought no time nor
+pains ill bestowed which could prevent her aunt and Hugh from
+feeling the want of old comforts; and her nicest skill was
+displayed in varying the combinations of their very few and
+simple stores. The diversity and deliciousness of her bread-
+stuffs, Barby said, was "beyond everything!" and a cup of rich
+coffee was found to cover all deficiencies of removes and
+_entremets;_ and this was always served, Barby said further, as
+if the President of the United States was expected. Fleda
+never permitted the least slackness in the manner of doing
+this or anything else that she could control.
+
+Mr. Plumfield had sent down an opportune present of a fine
+porker. One cold day in the beginning of February, Fleda was
+busy in the kitchen, making something. for dinner, and Hugh at
+another table was vigorously chopping sausage-meat.
+
+"I should like to have some cake again," said Fleda.
+
+"Well, why don't you?" said Hugh, chopping away.
+
+"No eggs, Mr. Rossitur — and can't afford 'em at two shillings
+a dozen. I believe I am getting discontented — I have a great
+desire to do something to distinguish myself — I would make a
+plumpudding if I had raisins, but there is not one in the
+house."
+
+"You can get 'em up to Mr. Hemps's for six pence a pound,"
+said Barby.
+
+But Fleda shook her head at the sixpence, and went on moulding
+out her biscuits diligently.
+
+"I wish Philetus would make his appearance with the cows — it
+is a very odd thing they should be gone since yesterday
+morning, and no news of them."
+
+"I only hope the snow aint so bright it'll blind his eyes,"
+said Barby.
+
+"There he is this minute," said Hugh. "It is impossible to
+tell from his countenance whether successful or not."
+
+"Well, where are the cows, Mr. Skillcorn?" said Barby, as he
+came in.
+
+"I have went all over town," said the person addressed, "and
+they aint no place."
+
+"Have you asked news of them, Philetus?"
+
+"I have asked the hull town, and I have went all over, 'till I
+was a'most beat out with the cold — and I ha'n't seen the
+first sight of 'em yet!"
+
+Fleda and Hugh exchanged looks, while Barby and Mr. Skillcorn
+entered into an animated discussion of probabilities and
+impossibilities.
+
+"If we should be driven from our coffee dinners to tea with no
+milk in it!" said Hugh, softly, in mock dismay.
+
+"Wouldn't!" said Fled. "We'd beat up an egg and put it in the
+coffee."
+
+"We couldn't afford it," said Hugh, smiling.
+
+"Could! — cheaper than to keep the cows. I'll have some sugar
+at any rate, I'm determined. — Philetus!"
+
+"Marm!"
+
+"I wish, when you have got a good pile of wood chopped, you
+would make some troughs to put under the maple trees — you
+know how to make them, don't you?"
+
+"I do."
+
+"I wish you would make some — you have pine logs out there
+large enough, haven't you?"
+
+"They hadn't ought to want much of it — there's some 'gregious
+big ones!"
+
+"I don't know how many we shall want, but a hundred or two, at
+any rate; and the sooner the better. Do you know how much
+sugar they make from one tree?"
+
+"Waul, I don't," said Mr. Skillcorn, with the air of a person
+who was at fault on no other point; "the big trees gives more
+than the little ones —"
+
+Fleda's eyes flashed at Hugh, who took to chopping in sheer
+desperation; and the muscles of both gave them full occupation
+for five minutes. Philetus stood comfortably warming himself
+at the fire, looking first at one and then at the other, as if
+they were a show, and he had paid for it. Barby grew
+impatient.
+
+"I guess this cold weather makes lazy people of me!' she said,
+bustling about her fire with an amount of energy that was
+significant. It seemed to signify nothing to Philetus; he only
+moved a little out of the way.
+
+"Didenhover's cleared out," he burst forth, at length,
+abruptly.
+
+"What!" said Fleda and Barby at once, the broom and the
+biscuits standing still.
+
+"Mr. Didenhover."
+
+"What of him?"
+
+"He has tuk himself off out o' town."
+
+"Where to?"
+
+"I can't tell where teu — he aint coming back, tain't likely."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+" 'Cause he's tuk all his traps and went, and he said farming
+didn't pay, and he wa'n't a-going to have nothin' more to deu
+with it; — he telled Mis' Simpson so — he lived to Mis'
+Simpson's; and she telled Mr. Ten Eyck."
+
+"Are you sure, Philetus?"
+
+"Sure as 'lection! — he telled Mis' Simpson so, and she telled
+Mr. Ten Eyck; and he's cleared out."
+
+Fleda and Hugh again looked at each other. Mr. Skillcorn
+having now delivered himself of his news, went out to the
+woodyard.
+
+"I hope he ha'n't carried off our cows along with him," said
+Barby, as she, too, went out to some other part of her
+premises.
+
+"He was to have made us quite a payment on the first of
+March," said Fleda.
+
+"Yes, and that was to have gone to uncle Orrin," said Hugh.
+
+"We shall not see a cent of it. And we wanted a little of it
+for ourselves. I have that money from the _Excelsior_, but I
+can't touch a penny of it, for it must go to Philetus's wages.
+What Barby does without hers, I do not know; she has had but
+one five dollars in six months. Why she stays I cannot
+imagine; unless it is for pure love."
+
+"As soon as the spring opens, I can go to the mill again,"
+said Hugh, after a little pause. Fleda looked at him
+sorrowfully, and shook her head as she withdrew her eyes.
+
+"I wish father would give up the farm," Hugh went on, under
+his breath. "I cannot bear to live upon uncle Orrin so."
+
+Fleda's answer was to clasp her hands. Her only words were,
+"Don't say anything to aunt Lucy."
+
+"It is of no use to say anything to anybody," said Hugh. "But
+it weighs me to the ground, Fleda."
+
+"If uncle Rolf doesn't come home by spring — I hope, I hope he
+will! but if he does not, I will take desperate measures. I
+will try farming myself, Hugh. I have thought of it, and I
+certainly will. I will get Earl Douglass, or somebody else, to
+play second fiddle, but I will have but one head on the farm,
+and I will try what mine is worth."
+
+"You could not do it, Fleda."
+
+"One can do anything! with a strong enough motive."
+
+"I'm afraid you'd soon be tired, Fleda."
+
+"Not if I succeeded — not so tired as I am now."
+
+"Poor Fleda! I dare say you are tired!"
+
+"It wasn't _that_ I meant," said Fleda, slightly drawing her
+breath; "I meant this feeling of everything going wrong, and
+uncle Orrin, and all."
+
+"But you _are_ weary," said Hugh, affectionately. "I see it in
+your face."
+
+"Not so much body as mind, after all. Oh, Hugh! this is the
+worst part of being poor — the constant occupation of one's
+mind on a miserable succession of trifles. I am so weary
+sometimes! If I only had a nice book to rest myself for a
+while, and forget all these things, I would give so much for
+it! —"
+
+"Dear Fleda, I wish you had!"
+
+"That was one delight of being in New York; I forgot all about
+money, from one end of it to the other; I put all that away;
+and not having to think of meals till I came to eat them. You
+can't think how tired I get of ringing the changes on pork and
+flour, and Indian meal, and eggs, and vegetables!"
+
+Fleda looked tired, and pale; and Hugh looked sadly conscious
+of it.
+
+"Don't tell aunt Lucy I have said all this!" she exclaimed,
+after a moment, rousing herself; "I don't always feel so; only
+once in a while I get such a fit. And now, I have just
+troubled you by speaking of it."
+
+"You don't trouble any one in that way very often, dear
+Fleda," said Hugh, kissing her.
+
+"I ought not at all — you have enough else to think of; but it
+is a kind of relief sometimes. I like to do these things in
+general — only now and then I get tired, as I was just now, I
+suppose, and then one sees everything through a different
+medium."
+
+"I am afraid it would tire you more to have the charge of Earl
+Douglass and the farm upon your mind; and mother could be no
+help to you, — nor I, if I am at the mill."
+
+"But there's Seth Plumfield. Oh, I've thought of it all. You
+don't know what I am up to, Mr. Rossitur. You shall see how I
+will manage — unless uncle Rolf comes home, in which case I
+will very gladly forego all my honours and responsibilities
+together."
+
+"I hope he will come!" said Hugh.
+
+But this hope was to be disappointed. Mr. Rossitur wrote again
+about the first of March, saying, that he hoped to make
+something of his lands in Michigan, and that he had the
+prospect of being engaged in some land agencies, which would
+make it worth his while to spend the summer there. He bade his
+wife let anybody take the farm that could manage it, and would
+pay; and to remit to Dr. Gregory whatever she should receive,
+and could spare. He hoped to do something where he was.
+
+It was just then the beginning of the sugar season, and Mrs.
+Douglass having renewed and urged Earl's offer of help, Fleda
+sent Philetus down to ask him to come the next day with his
+team. Seth Plumfield's, which had drawn the wood in the
+winter, was now busy in his own sugar business. On Earl
+Douglass's ground there happened to be no maple-trees. His
+lands were of moderate extent, and almost entirely cultivated
+as a sheep farm; and Mr. Douglass himself, though in very
+comfortable circumstances, was in the habit of assisting, on
+advantageous terms, all. the farmers in the neighbourhood.
+
+Philetus came back again in a remarkably short time; and
+announced that he had met Dr. Quackenboss in the way, who had
+offered to come with his team for the desired service.
+
+"Then you have not been to Mr. Douglass's?"
+
+"I have not," said Philetus — "I thought likely you wouldn't
+calculate to want him teu."
+
+"How came the doctor to know what you were going for?"
+
+"I told him."
+
+"But how came you to tell him?''
+
+"Waul, I guess he had a mind to know," said Philetus; "so I
+didn't keep it no closer than I had teu."
+
+"Well," said Fleda, biting her lips, "you will have to go down
+to Mr. Douglass's, nevertheless, Philetus, and tell him the
+doctor is coming to-morrow, but I should be very much obliged
+to him if he will be here next day. Will you?"
+
+"Yes, marm!"
+
+"Now, dear Hugh, will you make me those little spouts for the
+trees? — of some dry wood : you can get plenty out here. You
+want to split them, up with a hollow chisel, about a quarter
+of an inch thick, and a little more than half an inch broad.
+Have you got a hollow chisel?"
+
+"No, but I can get one up the hill. Why must it be hollow?"
+
+"To make little spouts, you know, for the sap to run in. And
+then, my dear Hugh, they must be sharpened at one end so as to
+fit where the chisel goes in. I am afraid I have given you a
+day's work of it. How sorry I am you must go to-morrow to the
+mill! — and yet I am glad too."
+
+"Why need you go round yourself with these people?" said Hugh.
+"I don't see the sense of it."
+
+"They don't know where the trees are," said Fleda.
+
+"I am sure I do not. Do you?"
+
+"Perfectly well. And besides," said Fleda, laughing, "I should
+have great doubts of the discreetness of Philetus's auger if
+it were left to his simple direction. I have no notion the
+trees would yield their sap as kindly to him as to me. But I
+didn't bargain for Dr. Quackenboss."
+
+Dr. Quackenboss arrived punctually the next morning with his
+oxen and sled; and, by the time it was loaded with the sap-
+troughs, Fleda, in her black cloak, yarn shawl, and grey
+little hood, came out of the house to the wood-yard. Earl
+Douglass was there, too, not with his team, but merely to see
+how matters stood, and give advice.
+
+"Good day, Mr. Douglass!" said the doctor. "You see I'm so
+fortunate as to have got the start of you."
+
+"Very good," said Earl, contentedly; "you may have it: the
+start's one thing, and the pull's another. I'm willin' anybody
+should have the start, but it takes a pull to know whether a
+man's got stuff in him or no."
+
+"What do you mean?" said the doctor.
+
+"I don't mean nothin' at all. You make a start to-day, and
+I'll come ahint and take the pull to-morrow. Ha' you got
+anythin' to boil down in, Fleda? There's a potash kittle
+somewheres, aint there? I guess there is. There is in most
+houses."
+
+"There is a large kettle — I suppose large enough," said
+Fleda.
+
+"That'll do, I guess. Well, what do you calculate to put the
+syrup in? Ha' you got a good big cask, or plenty o' tubs and
+that? or will you sugar off the hull lot every night, and fix
+it that way? You must do one thing or t'other, and it's good
+to know what you're a-going to do afore you come to do it."
+
+"I don't know, Mr. Douglass," said Fleda. "Whichever is the
+best way: we have no cask large enough, I am afraid."
+
+"Well, I tell you what I'll do. I know where there's a tub,
+and where they aint usin' it, nother, and I reckon I can get
+'em to let me have it — I reckon I can; and I'll go round
+for't and fetch it here to-morrow mornin' when I come with the
+team. 'Twont be much out of my way. It's more handier to leave
+the sugarin' off till the next day; and it had ought to have a
+settlin' besides. Where'll you have your fire built? — in
+doors or out?"
+
+"Out, I would rather, if we can. But can we?"
+
+"La! 'tain't nothin' easier; it's as easy out as in. All
+you've got to do is to take and roll a couple of pretty sized
+billets for your fireplace, and stick a couple o' crotched
+sticks for to hang the kittle over: I'd as lieve have it out
+as in, and if anythin', a leetle liever. If you'll lend me
+Philetus, me and him 'll fix it all ready agin you come back;
+'tain't no trouble at all; and if the sticks aint here, we'll
+go into the woods after 'em, and have it all sot up."
+
+But Fleda represented that the services of Philetus were just
+then in requisition, and that there would be no sap brought
+home till to-morrow.
+
+"Very good!" said Earl, amicably — "_very_ good! it's just as
+easy done one day as another — it don't make no difference to
+me: and if it makes any difference to you, of course, we'll
+leave it to-day, and there'll be time enough to do it to-
+morrow. Me and him 'll knock it up in a whistle. What's them
+little shingles for?"
+
+Fleda explained the use and application of Hugh's mimic
+spouts. He turned one about, whistling, while he listened to
+her.
+
+"That's some o' Seth Plumfield's new jigs, aint it? I wonder
+if he thinks now the sap's a-goin' to run any sweeter out o'
+that 'ere than it would off the end of a chip that wa'n't
+quite so handsome?"
+
+"No, Mr. Douglass," said Fleda smiling, "he only thinks that
+this will catch a little more."
+
+"His sugar wont never tell where it come from," remarked Earl,
+throwing the spout down. "Well, you shall see more o' me to-
+morrow. Good-bye, Dr. Quackenboss."
+
+"Do you contemplate the refining process?" said the doctor, as
+they moved off.
+
+"I have often contemplated the want of it," said Fleda; "but
+it is best not to try to do too much. I should like to make
+sure of something worth refining in the first place."
+
+"Mr. Douglass and I," said the doctor — "I hope — a — he's a
+very good-hearted man, Miss Fleda, but, ha! ha! — he wouldn't
+suffer loss from a little refining himself. Haw! you rascal —
+where are you going? Haw! I tell ye" —
+
+"I am very sorry, Dr. Quackenboss," said Fleda, when she had
+the power and the chance to speak again — "I am very sorry you
+should have to take this trouble; but, unfortunately, the art
+of driving oxen is not among Mr. Skillcorn's accomplishments."
+
+"My dear Miss Ringgan!" said the doctor, "I — I — nothing, I
+assure you, could give me greater pleasure than to drive my
+oxen to any place where you would like to have them go."
+
+Poor Fleda wished she could have despatched them and him in
+one direction while she took another; the art of driving oxen
+_quietly_ was certainly not among the doctor's accomplishments.
+She was almost deafened. She tried to escape from the
+immediate din by running before to show Philetus about tapping
+the trees and fixing the little spouts, but it was a longer
+operation than she had counted upon, and by the time they were
+ready to leave the tree the doctor was gee-hawing alongside of
+it; and then if the next maple was not within sight she could
+not in decent kindness leave him alone. The oxen went slowly,
+and though Fleda managed to have no delay longer than to throw
+down a trough as the sled came up with each tree which she and
+Philetus had tapped, the business promised to make a long day
+of it. It might have been a pleasant day in pleasant company;
+but Fleda's spirits were down to set out with, and Doctor
+Quackenboss was not the person to give them the needed spring;
+his long-winded complimentary speeches had not interest enough
+even to divert her. She felt that she was entering upon an
+untried and most weighty undertaking; charging her time and
+thoughts with a burden they could well spare. Her energies did
+not flag, but the spirit that should have sustained them was
+not strong enough for the task.
+
+It was a blustering day of early March, with that
+uncompromising brightness of sky and land which has no shadow
+of sympathy with a heart overcast. The snow still lay a foot
+thick over the ground, thawing a little in sunny spots; the
+trees quite bare and brown, the buds even of the early maples
+hardly showing colour; the blessed evergreens alone doing
+their utmost to redeem the waste, and speaking of patience and
+fortitude that can brave the blast and outstand the long
+waiting, and cheerfully bide the time when "the winter shall
+be over and gone." Poor Fleda thought they were like her in
+their circumstances, but she feared she was not like them in
+their strong endurance. She looked at the pines and hemlocks
+as she passed, as if they were curious preachers to her; and
+when she had a chance, she prayed quietly that she might stand
+faithfully like them to cheer a desolation far worse, and she
+feared far more abiding than snows could make or melt away.
+She thought of Hugh, alone in his mill-work that rough chilly
+day, when the wind stalked through the woods and over the
+country as if it had been the personification of March just
+come of age and taking possession of his domains. She thought
+of her uncle, doing what? — in Michigan — leaving them to
+fight with difficulties as they might — why? — why? and her
+gentle aunt at home sad and alone, pining for the want of them
+all, but most of him, and fading with their fortunes. And
+Fleda's thoughts travelled about from one to the other, and
+dwelt with them all by turns till she was heart-sick; and
+tears, tears fell hot on the snow many a time when her eyes
+had a moment's shield from the doctor and his somewhat more
+obtuse coadjutor. She felt half superstitiously, as if with
+her taking the farm were beginning the last stage of their
+falling prospects, which would leave them with none of hope's
+colouring. Not that in the least she doubted her own ability
+and success; but her uncle did not deserve to have his affairs
+prosper under such a system, and she had no faith that they
+would.
+
+"It is most grateful," said the doctor, with that sideway
+twist of his jaw and his head at once, in harmony — "it is a
+most grateful thing to see such a young lady — Haw! there now!
+— what are you about? — haw — haw? then! It is a most grateful
+thing to see —"
+
+But Fleda was not at his side — she had bounded away and was
+standing under a great maple-tree a little a-head, making sure
+that Philetus screwed his auger _up_ into the tree instead of
+_down_, which he had several times shown an unreasonable desire
+to do. The doctor had steered his oxen by her little grey hood
+and black cloak all the day. He made for it now.
+
+"Have we arrived at the termination of our — a — adventure?"
+said he, as he came up and threw down the last trough.
+
+"Why, no, Sir," said Fleda, "for we have yet to get home
+again."
+
+" 'Tain't so fur going that way as it were this'n," said
+Philetus. "My! aint I glad?"
+
+"Glad of what?" said the doctor. "Here's Miss Ringgan's walked
+the whole way, and she a lady — aint you ashamed to speak of
+being tired?"
+
+"I ha'n't said the first word o' being tired!" said Philetus,
+in an injured tone of voice — "but a man ha'n't no right to
+kill hisself, if he aint a gal!"
+
+"I'll qualify to your being safe enough," said the doctor.
+"But, Miss Ringgan, my dear, you are — a — you have lost
+something since you came out —"
+
+"What?" said Fleda, laughing. "Not my patience?"
+
+"No," said the doctor, "no — you're — a — you're an angel! but
+your cheeks, my dear Miss Ringgan, show that you have exceeded
+your — a —"
+
+"Not my intentions, doctor," said Fleda, lightly. "I am very
+well satisfied with our day's work, and with my share of it,
+and a cup of coffee will make me quite up again. Don't look at
+my cheeks till then."
+
+"I shall disobey you constantly," said the doctor; "but, my
+dear Miss Fleda, we must give you some felicities for reaching
+home, or Mrs. Rossitur will be — a — distressed when she sees
+them. Might I propose — that you should just bear your weight
+on this wood-sled, and let my oxen and me have the honour —
+The cup of coffee, I am confident, would be at your lips
+considerably earlier —"
+
+"The sun wont be a great haighth by the time we get there,"
+said Philetus, in a cynical manner; "and I ha'n't took the
+first thing to-day!"
+
+"Well, who has?" said the doctor; "you aint the only one.
+Follow your nose down hill, Mr. Skillcorn, and it'll smell
+supper directly. Now, my dear Miss Ringgan, will you?"
+
+Fleda hesitated, but her relaxed energies warned her not to
+despise a homely mode of relief. The wood-sled was pretty
+clean, and the road decently good over the snow. So Fleda
+gathered her cloak about her, and sat down flat on the bottom
+of her rustic vehicle — too grateful for the rest to care if
+there had been a dozen people to laugh at her — but the doctor
+was only delighted, and Philetus regarded every social
+phenomenon as coolly, and in the same business light, as he
+would the butter to his bread, or any other infallible every-
+day matter.
+
+Fleda was very glad presently that she had taken this plan,
+for, besides the rest of body, she was happily relieved from
+all necessity of speaking. The doctor, though but a few paces
+off, was perfectly given up to the care of his team, in the
+intense anxiety to show his skill and gallantry in saving her
+harmless from every ugly place in the road that threatened a
+jar or a plunge. Why his oxen didn't go distracted was a
+question; but the very vehemence and iteration of his cries at
+last drowned itself in Fleda's ear, and she could hear it like
+the wind's roaring, without thinking of it. She presently
+subsided to that. With a weary frame, and with that peculiar
+quietness of spirits that comes upon the ending of a day's
+work in which mind and body have both been busily engaged, and
+the sudden ceasing of any call upon either, fancy asked no
+leave, and dreamily roved hither and thither between the
+material and the spirit world; the will too subdued to stir.
+Days gone by came marshalling their scenes and their actors
+before her; again she saw herself a little child under those
+same trees that stretched their great black arms over her
+head, and, swaying their tops in the wind, seemed to beckon
+her back to the past. They talked of their old owner, whose
+steps had so often passed beneath them with her own light
+tread — light now, but how dancing then! — by his side; and of
+her father, whose hand perhaps had long ago tapped those very
+trees where she had noticed the old closed-up scars of the
+axe. At any rate, his boyhood had rejoiced there, and she
+could look back to one time at least in his manhood when she
+had taken a pleasant walk with him in summer weather among
+those same woods — in that very ox-track she believed. Gone —
+two generations that she had known there; hopes and fears and
+disappointments, akin to her own, at rest, — as hers would be;
+and how sedately the old trees stood telling her of it, and
+waving their arms in grave and gentle commenting on the folly
+of anxieties that came and went with the wind. Fleda agreed to
+it all; she heard all they said; and her own spirit was as
+sober and quiet as their quaint moralizing. She felt as if it
+would never dance again.
+
+The wind had greatly abated of its violence; as if satisfied
+with the show of strength it had given in the morning, it
+seemed willing to make no more commotion that day. The sun was
+far on his way to the horizon, and many a broad hill-side
+slope was in shadow; the snow had blown or melted from off the
+stones and rocks, leaving all their roughness and bareness
+unveiled; and the white crust of snow that lay between them
+looked a cheerless waste in the shade of the wood and the
+hill. But there were other spots where the sunbeams struck,
+and bright streams of light ran between the trees, smiling and
+making them smile. And as Fleda's eye rested there, another
+voice seemed to say — "At evening time it shall be light," and
+"Sorrow may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the
+morning." She could have cried, but spirits were too
+absolutely at an ebb. She knew this was partly physical,
+because she was tired and faint, but it could not the better
+be overcome. Yet those streaks of sunlight were pleasant
+company, and Fleda watched them, thinking how bright they used
+to be once; till the oxen and sled came out from the woods,
+and she could see the evening colours on the hill-tops beyond
+the village, lighting up the whole landscape with promise of
+the morrow. She thought her day had seen its brightest; but
+she thought too that if she must know sorrows, it was a very
+great blessing to know them at Queechy.
+
+The smoke of the chimney-tops came in sight, and fancy went
+home — a few minutes before her.
+
+"I wonder what you'll take and do to yourself next," said
+Barby, in extreme vexation, when she saw her come in. "You're
+as white as the wall, and as cold, aint you? I'd ha' let
+Philetus cut all the trees, and drink all the sap afterwards.
+I wonder which you think is the worst, the want o' you, or the
+want o' sugar."
+
+A day's headache was pretty sure to visit Fleda after any
+overexertion or exhaustion, and the next day justified Barby's
+fears. She was the quiet prisoner of pain. But Earl Douglass
+and Mr. Skillcorn could now do without her in the woods; and
+her own part of the trouble Fleda always took with speechless
+patience. She had the mixed comfort that love could bestow —
+Hugh's sorrowful kiss and look before setting off for the
+mill, Mrs. Rossitur's caressing care, and Barby's softened
+voice, and sympathizing hand on her brow, and hearty heart-
+speaking kiss; and poor little King lay all day with his head
+in her lap, casting grave wistful glances up at his mistress's
+face, and licking her hand with intense affection when even in
+her distress it stole to his head to reward and comfort him.
+He never would budge from her side, or her feet, till she
+could move herself, and he knew that she was well. As sure as
+King came trotting into the kitchen, Barby used to look into
+the other room, and say, "So you're better, aint you, Fleda? I
+knowed it."
+
+After hours of suffering, the fit was at last over; and in the
+evening, though looking and feeling racked, Fleda would go out
+to see the sap-boilers. Earl Douglass and Philetus had had a
+very good day of it, and now were in full blast with the
+evening part of the work. The weather was mild, and having the
+stay of Hugh's arm, Fleda grew too amused to leave them.
+
+It was a very pretty scene. The sap-boilers had planted
+themselves near the cellar door on the other side of the house
+from the kitchen door and the woodyard — the casks and tubs
+for syrup being under cover there; and there they had made a
+most picturesque work-place. Two strong crotched sticks were
+stuck in the ground some six or eight feet apart, and a pole
+laid upon them, to which by the help of some very rustic hooks
+two enormous iron kettles were slung. Under them a fine fire
+of smallish split sticks was doing duty, kept in order by a
+couple of huge logs which walled it in on the one side and on
+the other. It was a dark night, and the fire painted all this
+in strong lights and. shadows threw a faint, fading, Aurora-
+like light over the snow, beyond the shade of its log
+barriers; glimmered by turns upon the paling of the garden
+fence, whenever the dark figures that were passing and
+repassing between gave it a chance; and invested the cellar-
+opening and the outstanding corner of the house with striking
+and unwonted dignity, in a light that revealed nothing except
+to the imagination. Nothing was more fancifully dignified, or
+more quaintly travestied by that light than the figures around
+it, busy and flitting about, and showing themselves in every
+novel variety of grouping and colouring. There was Earl
+Douglass, not a hair different from what he was every day in
+reality, but with his dark skin and eyes, and a hat that, like
+its master, had concluded to abjure all fashions; and perhaps,
+for the same reason, he looked now like any bandit, and now,
+in a more pacific view, could pass for nothing less than a
+Spanish shepherd at least, with an iron ladle in lieu of
+crook. There was Dr. Quackenboss, who had come too,
+determined, as Earl said, "to keep his eend up," excessively
+bland, and busy, and important; the fire would throw his one-
+sidedness of feature into such aspects of gravity or sternness
+that Fleda could make nothing of him but a poor clergyman or a
+poor schoolmaster alternately. Philetus, who was kept handing
+about a bucket of sap, or trudging off for wood, defied all
+comparison — he was Philetus still; but when Barby came once
+or twice and peered into the kettle, her strong features, with
+the handkerchief she always wore about her head, were lit up
+into a very handsome gipsy. Fleda stood some time unseen in
+the shadow of the house to enjoy the sight, and then went
+forward on the same principle that a sovereign princess shows
+herself to her army, to grace and reward the labours of her
+servants. The doctor was profuse in inquiries after her
+health, and Earl informed her of the success of the day.
+
+"We've had first-rate weather," he said; — "I don't want to
+see no better weather for sugar-makin'; it's as good kind o'
+weather as you need to have. It friz everythin' up tight in
+the night, and it thew in the sun this morning as soon as the
+sun was anywhere; the trees couldn't do no better than they
+have done. I guess we ha'n't got much this side o' two hundred
+gallon — I aint sure about it, but that's what I think;
+there's nigh two hundred gallon we've fetched down; I'll
+qualify to better than a hundred and fifty, or a hundred and
+sixty either. We should ha' had more yet if Mr. Skillcorn
+hadn't managed to spill over one cask of it — I reckon he
+wanted it for sass for his chicken."
+
+"Now, Mr. Douglass!" said Philetus, in a comical tone of
+deprecation.
+
+"It is an uncommonly fine lot of sugar trees," said the
+doctor; "and they stand so on the ground as to give great
+felicities to the oxen."
+
+"Now, Fleda," Earl went on, busy all the while with his iron
+ladle in dipping the boiling sap from one kettle into the
+other — "you know how this is fixed when we've done all we've
+got to do with it? — it must be strained out o' this biler
+into a cask or a tub, or somethin' nother — anythin' that'll
+hold it — and stand a day or so; — you may strain it through a
+cotton cloth, or through a woollen cloth, or through any kind
+of a cloth, — and let it stand to settle; and then when it's
+biled down — Barby knows about bilin' down — you can tell when
+it's comin' to the sugar when the yellow blobbers rises thick
+to the top and puffs off; and then it's time to try it in cold
+water — it's best to be a leetle the right side o' the sugar
+and stop afore it's done too much, for the molasses will dreen
+off afterwards" —
+
+"It must be clarified in the commencement," put in the doctor.
+
+"O' course it must be clarified," said Earl — "Barby knows
+about clarifyin' — that's when you first put it on — you had
+ought to throw in a teeny drop o' milk fur to clear it —
+milk's as good as a'most anything — or, if you can get it,
+calf's blood's better" —
+
+"Eggs would be a more preferable ingredient on the present
+occasion, I presume," said the doctor. "Miss Ringgan's
+delicacy would be — a — would shrink from — a — and the
+albumen of eggs will answer all the same purpose."
+
+"Well, anyhow you like to fix it," said Earl, — "eggs or
+calf's blood — I wont quarrel with you about the eggs, though
+I never heerd o' blue ones afore, 'cept the robin's and
+bluebird's — and I've heerd say the swamp blackbird lays a
+handsome blue egg, but I never happened to see the nest
+myself; — and there's the chippin' sparrow; but you'd want to
+rob all the bird's nests in creation to get enough of 'em, and
+they aint here in sugar time, nother; but, anyhow, any eggs
+'ll do, I s'pose, if you can get 'em — or milk 'll do, if you
+ha'n't nothin' else — and after it is turned out into the
+barrel, you just let it stand still a spell, till it begins to
+grain and look clean on top" —
+
+"May I suggest an improvement?" said the doctor. "Many persons
+are of the opinion that if you take and stir it up well from
+the bottom for a length of time, it will help the coagulation
+of the particles. I believe that is the practice of Mr.
+Plumfield and others."
+
+" 'Taint the practice of as good men as him, and as good sugar
+bilers besides," said Earl; "though I don't mean to say
+nothin' agin' Seth Plumfield nor agin' his sugar, for the both
+is as good as you'd need to have; he's a good man and he's a
+good farmer — there aint no better man in town than Seth
+Plumfield, nor no better farmer, nor no better sugar nother;
+but I hope there's as good; and I've seen as handsome sugar
+that wa'n't stirred as I'd want to see or eat either."
+
+"It would lame a man's arms the worst kind," said Philetus.
+
+Fleda stood listening to the discussion and smiling, when
+Hugh, suddenly wheeling about, brought her face to face with
+Mr. Olmney.
+
+"I have been sitting some time with Mrs. Rossitur," he said,
+"and she rewarded me with permission to come and look at you.
+I mean — not that I wanted a reward, for I certainly did not —
+"
+
+"Ah, Mr. Olmney!" said Fleda, laughing, "you are served right.
+You see how dangerous it is to meddle with such equivocal
+things as compliments. But we are worth looking at, aren't we?
+I have been standing here this half hour."
+
+He did not say this time what he thought.
+
+"Pretty, isn't it?" said Fleda. "Stand a little further back,
+Mr. Olmney; isn't it quite a wild looking scene, in that
+peculiar light, and with the snowy background? Look at
+Philetus now, with that bundle of sticks. Hugh, isn't he
+exactly like some of the figures in the old pictures of the
+martyrdoms, bringing billets to feed the fire? that old
+martyrdom of St. Lawrence — whose was it — Spagnoletto! — at
+Mrs. Decatur's — don't you recollect? It is fine, isn't it,
+Mr. Olmney?"
+
+"I am afraid," said he, shaking his head a little, "my eye
+wants training. I have not been once in your company, I
+believe, without your showing me something I could not see."
+
+"That young lady, Sir," said Dr. Quackenboss, from the far
+side of the fire, where he was busy giving it more wood; "that
+young lady, Sir, is a patron to her — a — to all young
+ladies."
+
+"A patron!" said Mr. Olmney.
+
+"Passively, not actively, the doctor means," said Fleda,
+softly.
+
+"Well, I wont say but she's a good girl," said Mr. Douglass,
+in an abstracted manner, busy with his iron ladle: "she means
+to be a good girl, she's as clever a girl as you need to
+have."
+
+Nobody's gravity stood this, excepting Philetus, in whom the
+principle of fun seemed not to be developed.
+
+"Miss Ringgan, Sir," Dr. Quackenboss went on, with a most
+benign expression of countenance — "Miss Ringgan, Sir, Mr.
+Olmney, sets an example to all ladies who — a — have had
+elegant advantages. She gives her patronage to the
+agricultural interest in society."
+
+"Not exclusively, I hope?" said Mr. Olmney, smiling, and
+making the question with his eye of Fleda. But she did not
+meet it.
+
+"You know," she said, rather quickly, and drawing back from
+the fire, "I am of an agricultural turn, perforce; in uncle
+Rolf's absence, I am going to be a farmer myself."
+
+"So I have heard— so Mrs. Rossitur told me; but I fear, pardon
+me, you do not look fit to grapple with such a burden of
+care."
+
+Hugh sighed, and Fleda's eyes gave Mr. Olmney a hint to be
+silent.
+
+"I am not going to grapple with any thing, Sir; I intend to
+take things easily."
+
+"I wish I could take an agricultural turn, too," said he,
+smiling, "and be of some service to you."
+
+"Oh, I shall have no lack of service," said Fleda, gaily; "I
+am not going unprovided into the business. There is my cousin
+Seth Plumfield who has engaged himself to be my counsellor and
+instructor in general; I could not have a better; and Mr.
+Douglass is to be my right hand, I occupying only the quiet
+and unassuming post of the will, to convey the orders of the
+head to the hand. And for the rest, Sir, there is Philetus!"
+
+Mr. Olmney looked, half laughing, at Mr. Skillcorn, who was at
+that moment standing with his hands on his sides, eyeing with
+concentrated gravity the movements of Earl Douglass and the
+doctor.
+
+"Don't shake your head at him!" said Fleda. "I wish you had
+come an hour earlier, Mr. Olmney."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I was just thinking of coming out here," said Fleda, her eyes
+flashing with hidden fun; "and Hugh and I were both standing
+in the kitchen, when we heard a tremendous shout from the
+woodyard. Don't laugh, or I can't go on. We all ran out
+towards the lantern which we saw standing there, and so soon
+as we got near we heard Philetus singing out, 'Ho, Miss
+Elster! I'm dreadfully on't!' — Why he called upon Barby I
+don't know, unless from some notion of her general efficiency,
+though, to be sure, he was nearer her than the sap-boilers,
+and perhaps thought her aid would come quickest. And he was in
+a hurry, for the cries came thick, — 'Miss Elster! — here! —
+I'm dreadfully on't' —"
+
+"I don't understand —"
+
+"No," said Fleda, whose amusement seemed to be increased by
+the gentleman's want of understanding, "and neither did we
+till we came up to him. The silly fellow had been sent up for
+more wood, and, splitting a log, he had put his hand in to
+keep the cleft, instead of a wedge, and when he took out the
+axe the wood pinched him; and he had the fate of Milo before
+his eyes, I suppose, and could do nothing but roar. You should
+have seen the supreme indignation with which Barby took the
+axe and released him, with, 'You're a smart man, Mr.
+Skillcorn!' "
+
+"What was the fate of Milo?" said Mr. Olmney, presently..
+
+"Don't you remember the famous wrestler that, in his old age,
+trying to break open a tree, found himself not strong enough?
+and the wood closing upon his hands held him fast till the
+wild beasts came and made an end of him. The figure of our
+unfortunate wood-cutter, though, was hardly so dignified as
+that of the old athlete in the statue. Dr. Quackenboss, and
+Mr. Douglass, you will come in and see us when this
+troublesome business is done?"
+
+"It'll be a pretty spell yet," said Earl; "but the doctor, he
+can go in, he ha'n't nothin' to do. It don't take more'n half
+a dozen men to keep one pot a-bilin'."
+
+"Aint there teu on 'em, Mr. Douglass?" said Philetus.
+
+
+
+
+END OF VOL. I.
+
+
+
+
+
+Typographical errors:
+
+
+Chapter 1 : =go in, grandpa?'= silently corrected as =go in,
+grandpa?"=
+
+
+Chapter 2 : =read it sometime= silently corrected as =read it
+some time=
+
+
+Chapter 3 : =Carleton, said at length= silently corrected as
+=Carleton said, at length=
+
+
+Chapter 7 : =ain't tright well= silently corrected as =ain't
+right well=
+
+
+Chapter 7 : =trust in him!= Silently corrected as =trust in him!'=
+
+
+Chapter 8 : =hand, aunt Miriam said.= silently corrected as
+=hand, aunt Miriam said,=
+
+
+Chapter 9 : =If large possessions= silently corrected as ="If
+large possessions=
+
+
+Chapter 11 : =these places;= silently corrected as =these places,=
+
+
+Chapter 14 : =were to mine.= silently corrected as =were to
+mine."=
+
+
+Chapter 14 : =said he. smiling= silently corrected as =said he,
+smiling=
+
+
+Chapter 15 : =Memoires de Sully' — in French= silently corrected
+as =Mιmoires de Sully' — in French=
+
+
+Chapter 15 : =Newton' — 'what's= silently corrected as =Newton' —
+what's=
+
+
+Chapter 15 : =Mem. de Sully= silently corrected as =Mιm. de Sully=
+
+
+Chapter 16 : =that Monsieur Emilie= silently corrected as =that
+Monsieur Emile=
+
+
+Chapter 19 : =other people had.= silently corrected as =other
+people had."=
+
+
+Chapter 19 : =down to Mis' Douglases= silently corrected as =down
+to Mis' Douglass's=
+
+
+Chapter 20 : =hull on't;= silently corrected as =hull on't,=
+
+
+Chapter 21 : =nowork particular= silently corrected as =no work
+particular=
+
+
+Chapter 21 : =well, god-bye= silently corrected as =well, good-
+bye=
+
+
+Chapter 22 : =came in. folding= silently corrected as =came in,
+folding=
+
+
+Cbapter 22 : =This is me, Ma'am,= said silently corrected as
+=This is me, Ma'am,"=
+
+
+Chapter 22 : =in the army.= silently corrected as =in the army."=
+
+
+Chapter 23 : =taking the place.= silently corrected as =taking
+the place."=
+
+
+Chapter 23 : =house, a believe= silently corrected as =house, I
+believe=
+
+
+Chapter 25 : =he's took= silently corrected as ="he's took=
+
+
+Chapter 26 : =as a child!= silently corrected as =as a child!"=
+
+
+Chapter 26 : =entremκts= silently corrected as =entremets=
+
+
+Chapter 27 : =tired, Fleda.= silently corrected as =tired,
+Fleda."=
+
+
+Chapter 27 : =on't' —= silently corrected as =on't' —"=
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUEECHY, VOLUME I***
+
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