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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/18691-8.txt b/18691-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..44ec6e3 --- /dev/null +++ b/18691-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,19762 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Queechy, Volume II, 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 II + + +Author: Elizabeth Wetherell + + + +Release Date: June 26, 2006 [eBook #18691] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUEECHY, VOLUME II*** + + +Susan Warner (1819-1885), Queechy (1852), Tauchnitz edition +1854 + + + +Produced by Daniel FROMONT + +tome 2 + + + +COLLECTION + +OF + +BRITISH AUTHORS + + +TAUCHNITZ EDITION. + + +VOL. 312 + + +QUEECHY. BY ELIZABETH WETHERELL . + + +IN TWO VOLUMES. + + +VOL. II. + + + + +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. II + + +LEIPZIG + +BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ + +1854 + + + + +CONTENTS + +OF VOLUME II. + + +Chapter I. The Brook's old Song, and the new + +II. Flighty and unsatisfactory + +III. Disclosures by Mr. Skillcorn + +IV. Mr. Olmney's cause argued + +V. Sometimes inconvenient, "from the loop-hole of retreat, to +peep at such a world" + +VI. Fleda's white Muslin + +VII. How the Fairy engaged two Englishmen + +VIII. Fleda forgets herself + +IX. The Roses and the Gentlemen + +X. "An unseen enemy round the corner" + +XI. The Fairy at her work again + +XII. A Night of uncertain length + +XIII. A Thorn enters + +XIV. Dealings with the Press + +XV. Ends with soft music + +XVI. How Fleda was watched by blue eyes + +XVII. What pleasant people one meets in Society + +XVIII. How much trouble one may have about a note + +XIX. Aromatic vinegar + +XX. The fur-cloak on a journey + +XXI. Quarrenton to Queechy + +XXII. Montepoole becomes a point of interest + +XXIII. The house on "the hill" once more + +XXIV. The first one that left Queechy + +XXV. The last Sunset there + +XXVI. Fleda alone on an Isthmus + +XXVII. The Gothic chapel before breakfast + + + +QUEECHY. + + +VOL. II. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + + +"He that has light within his own clear breast, +May sit i' th' centre and enjoy bright day." +MILTON. + + +The farming plan succeeded beyond Fleda's hopes — thanks not +more to her wisdom than to the nice tact with which the wisdom +was brought into play. The one was eked out with Seth +Plumfield's; the other was all her own. Seth was indefatigably +kind and faithful. After his own day's work was done, he used +to walk down to see Fleda, go with her often to view the +particular field or work just then in question, and give her +the best counsel dictated by great sagacity and great +experience. It was given, too, with equal frankness and +intelligence, so that Fleda knew the steps she took, and could +maintain them against the. prejudice or the ignorance of her +subordinates. But Fleda's delicate handling stood her yet more +in stead than her strength. Earl Douglass was sometimes +unmanageable, and held out in favour of an old custom or a +prevailing opinion in spite of all the weight of testimony and +light of discovery that could be brought to bear upon him. +Fleda would let the thing go. But seizing her opportunity +another time, she would ask him to try the experiment on a +piece of the ground, so pleasantly and skilfully, that Earl +could do nothing but shut his mouth and obey, like an animal +fairly stroked into good humour. And as Fleda always forgot to +remind him that she had been right and he wrong, he forgot it +too, and presently took to the new way kindly. In other +matters he could be depended on, and the seed-time and harvest +prospered well. There was hope of making a good payment to Dr. +Gregory in the course of a few months. + +As the spring came forward, Fleda took care that her garden +should — both gardens, indeed. There she and Philetus had the +game in their own hands, and beautifully it was managed. Hugh +had full occupation at the mill. Many a dollar this summer was +earned by the loads of fine fruits and vegetables which +Philetus carried to Montepoole; and accident opened a new +source of revenue. When the courtyard was in the full blaze of +its beauty, one day an admiring passer-by modestly inquired if +a few of those exquisite flowers might be had for money. They +were given him most cheerfully that time; but the demand +returned, accompanied by the offer, and Fleda obliged herself +not to decline it. A trial it was, to cut her roses and +jessamines for anything but her own or her friends' pleasure, +but, according to custom, she bore it without hesitation. The +place became a resort for all the flower-lovers who happened +to be staying at the Pool; and rose-leaves were changed into +silver pennies as fast as in a fairy-tale. + +But the delicate mainspring that kept all this machinery in +order suffered from too severe a strain. There was too much +running, too much considering, too much watchfulness. In the +garden, pulling peas, and seeing that Philetus weeded the +carrots right — in the field or the wood-yard, consulting and +arranging, or maybe debating, with Earl Douglass, who acquired +by degrees an unwonted and concentrated respect for womankind +in her proper person; breakfast waiting for her often before +she came in; — in the house, her old housewifery concerns, her +share in Barby's cares or difficulties, her sweet +countenancing and cheering of her aunt, her dinner, her work; +— then when evening came, budding her roses, or tying her +carnations, or weeding, or raking the ground between them +(where Philetus could do nothing), or training her multiflora +and sweet-brier branches; and then often, after all, walking +up to the mill to give Hugh a little earlier a home smile, and +make his way down pleasant. No wonder if the energies which +owed much of their strength to love's nerving, should at last +give out, and Fleda's evening be passed in wearied slumbers. +No wonder if many a day was given up to the forced quietude of +a headache, the more grievous to Fleda, because she knew that +her aunt and Hugh always found the day dark that was not +lightened by her sun-beam. How brightly it shone out the +moment the cloud of pain was removed, winning the shadow from +their faces and a smile to their lips, though solitude always +saw her own settle into a gravity as fixed as it was soft. + +"You have been doing too much, Fleda," said Mrs. Rossitur, one +morning when she came in from the garden. + +"I didn't know it would take me so long," said Fleda, drawing +a long breath: "but I couldn't help it. I had those celery +plants to prick out — and then I was helping Philetus to plant +another patch of corn." + +"He might have done that without help, I should think." + +"But it must be put in to-day, and he had other things to do." + +"And then you were at your flowers?" — + +"Oh, well! — budding a few roses — that's only play. It was +time they were done. But I am tired; and I am going up to see +Hugh — it will rest me and him too." + +The gardening frock and gloves were exchanged for those of +ordinary wear, and Fleda set off slowly to go up to the saw- +mill. + +She stopped a moment when she came upon the bridge, to look +off to the right where the waters of the little run came +hurrying along through a narrow wooded chasm in the hill, +murmuring to her of the time when a little child's feet had +paused there, and a child's heart danced to its music. The +freshness of its song was unchanged, the glad rush of its +waters was as joyous as ever, but the spirits were quieted +that used to answer it with sweeter freshness and lighter +joyousness. Its faint echo of the old-time laugh was blended +now in Fleda's ear with a gentle wail for the rushing days and +swifter-fleeing delights of human life; — gentle, faint, but +clear — she could hear it very well. Taking up her walk again, +with a step yet slower, and a brow yet more quiet, she went on +till she came in sight of the little mill; and presently, +above the noise of the brook, could hear the saw going. To her +childish ears what a signal of pleasure that had always been! +— and now — she sighed, and stopping at a little distance, +looked for Hugh. He was there; she saw him in a moment going +forward to stop the machinery, the piece of timber in hand +having walked its utmost length up to the saw; she saw him +throwing aside the new-cut board, and adjusting what was left +till it was ready for another march up to head-quarters. When +it stopped the second time, Fleda went forward. Hugh must have +been busy in his own thoughts, for he did not see her until he +had again adjusted the log, and set the noisy works in motion. +She stood still. Several huge timbers lay close by, ready for +the saw; and on one of them where he had been sitting, Fleda +saw his Bible lying open. As her eye went from it to him, it +struck her heart with a pang that he looked tired, and that +there was a something of delicacy, even of fragility, in the +air of face and figure both. + +He came to meet her, and welcomed her with a smile, that +coming upon this feeling set Fleda's heart a-quivering. Hugh's +smile was always one of very great sweetness, though never +unshadowed; there was often something ethereal in its pure +gentleness. This time it seemed even sweeter than usual; but +though not sadder, perhaps less sad, Fleda could hardly +command herself to reply to it. She could not at the moment +speak; her eye glanced at his open book. + +"Yes, it rests me," he said, answering her. + +"Rests you, dear Hugh!" — + +He smiled again. "Here is somebody else that wants resting, I +am afraid," said he, placing her gently on the log; and before +she had found anything to say, he went off again to his +machinery. Fleda sat looking at him, and trying to clear her +bosom of its thick breathing. + +"What has brought you up here through the hot sun?" said he, +coming back after he had stopped the saw, and sitting down +beside her. + +Fleda's lip moved nervously, and her eye shunned meeting his. +Softly pushing back the wet hair from his temples, she said — + +"I had one of my fits of doing nothing at home — I didn't feel +very bright, and thought perhaps you didn't — so, on the +principle that two negatives make an affirmative —" + +"I feel bright," said Hugh, gently. + +Fleda's eye came down to his, which was steady and clear as +the reflection of the sky in Deepwater lake — and then hers +fell lower. + +"Why don't you, dear Fleda?" + +"I believe I am a little tired," Fleda said, trying, but in +vain, to command herself and look up — "and there are states +of body when anything almost is enough to depress one." + +"And what depresses you now?" said he, very steadily and +quietly. + +"Oh — I was feeling a little down about things in general," +said Fleda, in a choked voice, trying to throw off her load +with a long breath; "it's because I am tired, I suppose —" + +"I felt so too, a little while ago," said Hugh. "But I have +concluded to give all that up, Fleda." + +Fleda looked at him. Her eyes were swimming full, but his were +clear and gentle as ever, only glistening a little in sympathy +with hers. + +"I thought all was going wrong with us," he went on. "But I +found it was only I that was wrong; and since that, I have +been quite happy, Fleda." + +Fleda could not speak to him; his words made her pain worse. + +"I told you this rested me," said he, reaching across her for +his book; "and now I am never weary long. Shall I rest you +with it? What have you been troubling yourself about to-day?" + +She did not answer while he was turning over the leaves, and +he then said, — + +"Do you remember this, Fleda — '_Truly God is good to Israel, +even to them that are of a clean heart_.' " + +Fleda bent her head down upon her hands. + +"I was moody and restless the other day," said Hugh; +"desponding of everything; and I came upon this psalm; and it +made me ashamed of myself. I had been disbelieving it; and +because I could not see how things were going to work good, I +thought they were going to work evil. I thought we were +wearing out our lives alone here in a wearisome way, and I +forgot that it must be the very straightest way that we could +get home. I am sure we shall not want anything that will do us +good; and the rest I am willing to want — and so are you, +Fleda?" + +Fleda squeezed his hand — that was all. For a minute he was +silent, and then went on, without any change of tone. + +"I had a notion, awhile ago, that I should like if it were +possible for me to go to college; but I am quite satisfied +now. I have good time and opportunity to furnish myself with a +better kind of knowledge, that I shall want where college +learning wouldn't be of much use to me; and I can do it, I +dare say, better here in this mill, than if we had stayed in +New York, and I had lived in our favourite library." + +"But, dear Hugh," said Fleda, who did not like this speech in +any sense of it; "the two things do not clash! The better man, +the better Christian always, other things being equal. The +more precious kind of knowledge should not make one undervalue +the less?" + +"No," he said; but the extreme quietness and simplicity of his +reply smote Fleda's fears; it answered her words and waved her +thought. She dared not press him further. She sat looking over +the road with an aching heart. + +"You haven't taken enough of my medicine," said Hugh, smiling. +"Listen, Fleda — '_All the paths of the Lord are mercy and +truth unto such as keep his covenant and his testimonies_.' " + +But that made Fleda cry again. + +" 'All his paths,' Fleda; then, whatever may happen to you, +and whatever may happen to me, or to any of us, I can trust +him. I am willing any one should have the world, if I may have +what Abraham had — '_fear not; I am thy shield and thy +exceeding great reward;_' — and I believe I shall, Fleda; for +it is not the hungry that he has threatened to send empty +away." + +Fleda could say nothing, and Hugh just then said no more. For +a little while, near and busy as thoughts might be, tongues +were silent. Fleda was crying quietly, the utmost she could do +being to keep it quiet; Hugh, more quietly, was considering +again the strong pillars on which he had laid his hope, and +trying their strength and beauty, till all other things were +to him as the mist rolling off from he valley is to the man +planted on a watch-tower. + +His meditations were interrupted by the tramp of horse; and a +party of riders, male and female, came past them up the hill. +Hugh looked on as they went by; Fleda's head was not raised. + +"There are some people enjoying themselves," said Hugh. "After +all, dear Fleda, we should be very sorry to change places with +those gay riders. I would not, for a thousand worlds, give my +hope and treasure for all other they can possibly have in +possession or prospect." + +"No, indeed!" said Fleda, energetically, and trying to rouse +herself, — "and, besides that, Hugh, we have, as it is, a +great deal more to enjoy than most other people. We are so +happy —" + +In each other, she was going to say, but the words choked her. + +"Those people looked very hard at us, or at one of us," said +Hugh. "It must have been you, I think, Fleda." + +"They are welcome," said Fleda; "they couldn't have made much +out of the back of my sun-bonnet." + +"Well, dear Fleda, I must content myself with little more than +looking at you now, for Mr. Winegar is in a hurry for his +timber to be sawn, and I must set this noisy concern a-going +again." + +Fleda sat and watched him, with rising and falling hopes and +fears, forcing her lips to a smile when he came near her, and +hiding her tears at other times; till the shadows stretching +well to the east of the meridian, admonished her she had been +there long enough; and she left him still going backward and +forward tending the saw. + +As she went down the hill, she pressed involuntarily her hands +upon her heart, for the dull heavy pain there. But that was no +plaster for it; and when she got to the bridge the soft +singing of the little brook was just enough to shake her +spirits from the doubtful poise they had kept. Giving one +hasty glance along the road and up the hill, to make sure that +no one was near, she sat down on a stone in the edge of the +woods, and indulged in such weeping as her gentle eyes rarely +knew; for the habit of patience so cultivated for others' sake +constantly rewarded her own life with its sweet fruits. But +deep and bitter in proportion was the flow of the fountain +once broken up. She struggled to remind herself that +"Providence runneth not on broken wheels;" she struggled to +repeat to herself what she did not doubt, that, "_all_ the ways +of the Lord are mercy and truth" to his people; — in vain. The +slight check for a moment to the torrent of grief but gave it +greater head to sweep over the barrier; and the self-reproach +that blamed its violence and needlessness only made the flood +more bitter. Nature fought against patience for awhile; but +when the loaded heart had partly relieved itself, patience +came in again, and she rose up to go home. It startled her +exceedingly to find Mr. Olmney standing before her, and +looking so sorrowful that Fleda's eyes could not bear it. + +"My dear Miss Ringgan! — forgive me — I hope you will forgive +me — but I could not leave you in such distress. I knew that +in you it could only be from some very serious cause of +grief." + +"I cannot say it is from anything new, Mr. Olmney — except to +my apprehensions." + +"You are all _well?_" he said, inquiringly, after they had +walked a few steps in silence. + +"Well? — yes, Sir," said Fleda, hesitatingly; "but I do not +think that Hugh looks very well." + +The trembling of her voice told him her thought. But he +remained silent. + +"You have noticed it?" she said, hastily looking up. + +"I think you have told me he always was delicate?" + +"And you have noticed him looking so, lately, Mr. Olmney!" + +"I have thought so — but you say he always was that. If you +will permit me to say so, I have thought the same of you, Miss +Fleda." + +Fleda was silent: her heart ached again. + +"We would gladly save each other from every threatening +trouble," said Mr. Olmney again, after a pause; — "but it +ought to content us that we do not know how. Hugh is in good +hands, my dear Miss Ringgan." + +"I know it, Sir," said Fleda, unable quite to keep back her +tears; "and I know very well this thread of our life will not +bear the strain always — and I know that the strands must, in +all probability, part unevenly — and I know it is in the power +of no blind fate — but that —" + +"Does not lessen our clinging to each other. O no! — it grows +but the tenderer and the stronger for the knowledge." + +Fleda could but cry. + +"And yet," said he, very kindly, "we who are Christians may +and ought to learn to take troubles hopefully, for +'tribulation worketh patience, and patience,' that is, quiet +waiting on God, 'works experience' of his goodness and +faithfulness; and 'experience worketh hope,' and that 'hope,' +we know, 'maketh not ashamed.' " + +"I know it," said Fleda; "but, Mr. Olmney, how easily the +brunt of a new affliction breaks down all that chain of +reasoning!" + +"Yes!" he said, sadly and thoughtfully; "but, my dear Miss +Fleda, you know the way to build it up again. I would be very +glad to bear all need for it away from you." + +They had reached the gate. Fleda could not look up to thank +him; the hand she held out was grasped, more than kindly, and +he turned away. + +Fleda's tears came hot again as she went up the walk; she held +her head down to hide them, and went round the back way. + + +CHAPTER II. + + +"Now the melancholy god protect thee: and the tailor make thy +doublet of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is a very opal." +TWELFTH NIGHT. + + +"Well, what did you come home for?" was Barby's salutation; +"here's company been waiting for you till they're tired, and I +am sure I be." + +"Company!" said Fleda. + +"Yes, and it's ungrateful in you to say so," said Barby; "for +she's been in a wonderful hurry to see you, or to get +somethin' to eat — I don't know which; a little o' both, I +hope in charity." + +"Why didn't you give her something to eat? Who is it?" + +"I don't know who it is! It's one of your highfliers, that's +all I can make out. She 'a'n't a hat a bit better than a man's +beaver; one 'ud think she had stole her little brother's for a +spree, if the rest of her was like common folks; but she's got +a tail to her dress as long as from here to Queechy Run, and +she's been tiddling in and out here, with it puckered up under +her arm, sixty times. I guess she belongs to some company of +female militie, for the body of it is all thick with braid and +buttons. I believe she ha'n't sot still five minutes since she +come into the house, till I don't know whether I am on my head +or my heels." + +"But why didn't you give her something to eat?" said Fleda, +who was hastily throwing off her gloves, and smoothing her +disordered hair with her hands into something of composure. + +"Did!" said Barby; "I give her some o' them cold biscuit and +butter and cheese, and a pitcher of milk — sot a good enough +meal for anybody; but she didn't take but a crumb, and she +turned up her nose at that. Come, go! you've slicked up +enough; you're handsome enough to show yourself to her any +time o' day, for all her jig-em bobs." + +"Where is aunt Lucy?" + +"She's up stairs; there's been nobody to see to her but me. +She's had the hull lower part of the house to herself, kitchen +and all, and she's done nothing but go out of one room into +another ever since she come. She'll be in here again directly, +if you aint spry." + +Fleda went in, round to the west room, and there found herself +in the arms of the second Miss Evelyn, who jumped to meet her, +and half-stifled her with caresses. + +"You wicked little creature! what have you been doing? Here +have I been growing melancholy over the tokens of your +absence, and watching the decline of the sun, with distracted +feelings these six hours." + +"Six hours!" said Fleda, smiling. + +"My dear little Fleda! it's so delicious to see you again!" +said Miss Evelyn, with another prolonged hug and kiss. + +"My dear Constance! I am very glad! but where are the rest?" + +"It's unkind of you to ask after anybody but me, when I came +here this morning on purpose to talk the whole day to you. +Now, dear little Fleda," said Miss Constance, executing an +impatient little persuasive caper round her, — "won't you go +out and order dinner? for I'm raging. Your woman did give me +something, but I found the want of you had taken away all my +appetite; and now the delight of seeing you has exhausted me, +and I feel that nature is sinking. The stimulus of gratified +affection is too much for me." + +"You absurd child!" said Fleda; "you haven't mended a bit. But +I told Barby to put on the tea-kettle, and I will administer a +composing draught as soon as it can be got ready; we don't +indulge in dinners here in the wilderness. Meanwhile, suppose +that exhausted nature try the support of this easy-chair." + +She put her visitor gently into it, and, seating herself upon +the arm, held her hand, and looked at her with a smiling face, +and yet with eyes that were almost too gentle in their +welcoming. + +"My dear little Fleda! you're as lovely as you can be! Are you +glad to see me?" + +"Very." + +"Why don't you ask after somebody else?" + +"I was afraid of overtasking your exhausted energies." + +"Come, and sit down here upon my lap! — You shall, or I won't +say another word to you. Fleda! you've grown thin! what have +you been doing to yourself?" + +"Nothing, with that particular purpose." + +"I don't care — you've done something. You have been insanely +imagining that it is necessary for you to be in three or four +places at the same time; and in the distracted effort after +ubiquity, you are in imminent danger of being nowhere; there's +nothing left of you!" + +"I don't wonder you were overcome at the sight of me," said +Fleda. + +"But you are looking charmingly for all that," Constance went +on; "so charmingly, that I feel a morbid sensation creeping +all over me while I sit regarding you. Really, when you come +to us next winter, if you persist in being — by way of showing +your superiority to ordinary human nature — a rose without a +thorn, the rest of the flowers may all shut up at once. And +the rose reddens in my very face, to spite me!" + +"Is 'ordinary human nature' typified by a thorn? You give it +rather a poor character." + +"I never heard of a thorn that didn't bear an excellent +character," said Constance, gravely. + +"Hush!" said Fleda, laughing; "I don't want to hear about Mr. +Thorn. Tell me of somebody else." + +"I haven't said a word about Mr. Thorn!" said Constance, +ecstatically; "but since you ask about him, I will tell you. +He has not acted like himself since you disappeared from our +horizon — that is, he has ceased to be at all pointed in his +attentions to me; his conversation has lost all the acuteness +for which I remember you admired it; he has walked Broadway in +a moody state of mind all winter, and grown as dull as is +consistent with the essential sharpness of his nature. I ought +to except our last interview, though, for his entreaties to +Mamma that she would bring you home with her were piercing." + +Fleda was unable, in spite of herself, to keep from laughing; +but entreated that Constance would tell her of somebody else. + +"My respected parents are at Montepoole, with all their +offspring — that is, Florence and Edith; I am at present +anxiously inquired after, being nobody knows where, and to be +fetched by Mamma this evening. Wasn't I good, little Fleda, to +run away from Mr. Carleton, to come and spend a whole day in +social converse with you!" + +"Carleton!" said Fleda. + +"Yes? Oh, you don't know who he is! he's a new attraction; +there's been nothing like him this great while, and all New +York is topsy-turvy about him; the mothers are dying with +anxiety, and the daughters with admiration; and it's too +delightful to see the cool superiority with which he takes it +all; like a new star that all the people are pointing their +telescopes at, as Thorn said, spitefully, the other day. Oh, +he has turned my head! I have looked till I cannot look at +anything else. I can just manage to see a rose, but my dazzled +powers of vision are equal to nothing more." + +"My dear Constance!" + +"It's perfectly true! Why, as soon as we knew he was coming to +Montepoole, I wouldn't let Mamma rest till we all made a rush +after him; and when we got here first, and I was afraid he +wasn't coming, nothing can express the state of my feelings! +But he appeared the next morning, and then I was quite happy," +said Constance, rising and falling in her chair, on what must +have been ecstatic springs, for wire ones it had none. + +"Constance," said Fleda, with a miserable attempt at rebuke, +"how can you talk so!" + +"And so we were all riding round here this morning, and I had +the self-denial to stop to see you, and leave Florence and the +Marlboroughs to monopolize him all the way home. You ought to +love me for ever for it. My dear Fleda!" said Constance, +clasping her hands, and elevating her eyes in mock ecstasy, +"if you had ever seen Mr. Carleton!" + +"I dare say I have seen somebody as good," said Fleda, +quietly. + +"My dear Fleda!" said Constance, a little scornfully this +time; "you haven't the least idea what you are talking about! +I tell you, he is an Englishman; he's of one of the best +families in England: not such as you ever see here but once in +an age; he's rich enough to count Mr. Thorn over, I don't know +how many times." + +"I don't like anybody the better for being an Englishman," +said Fleda; "and it must be a small man whose purse will hold +his measure." + +Constance made an impatient gesture. + +"But I tell you it isn't! We knew him when we were abroad; and +we know what he is; and we know his mother very well. When we +were in England, we were a week with them down at their +beautiful place in — shire — the loveliest time! You see, she +was over here with Mr. Carleton once before, a good while ago; +and mamma and papa were polite to them, and so they showed us +a great deal of attention when we were in England. We had the +loveliest time down there you can possibly conceive. And, my +dear Fleda, he wears such a fur cloak! — lined with the most +exquisite black fox." + +"But, Constance!" said Fleda, a little vexed, though laughing +— "any man may wear a fur cloak; the thing is, what is inside +of it." + +"It is perfectly indifferent to me what is inside of it," said +Constance, ecstatically. "I can see nothing but the edges of +the black fox, especially when it is worn so very gracefully." + +"But, in some cases, there might be a white fox within." + +"There is nothing of the fox about Mr. Carleton," said +Constance, impatiently. "If it had been anybody else, I should +have said he was a bear two or three times; but he wears +everything as he does his cloak, and makes you take what he +pleases from him — what I wouldn't take from any- body else, I +know." + +"With a fox lining," said Fleda, laughing. + +"Then foxes haven't got their true character, that's all. Now +I'll just tell you an instance — it was at a party somewhere — +it was at that tiresome Mrs. Swinburne's, where the evenings +are always so stupid, and there was nothing worth going or +staying for but the supper — except Mr. Carleton — and he +never stays five minutes, except at two or three places; and +it drives me crazy, because they are places I don't go to very +often —" + +"Suppose you keep your wits, and tell me your story." + +"Well — don't interrupt me — he was there, and he had taken me +into the supper-room, when mamma came along, and took it into +her head to tell me not to take something — I forget what — +punch, I believe — because I had not been well in the morning. +Now, you know, it was absurd. I was perfectly well then, and I +told her I shouldn't mind her; but do you believe, Mr. +Carleton wouldn't give it to me? — absolutely told me he +wouldn't, and told me why, as coolly as possible, and gave me +a glass of water, and made me drink it; and if it had been +anybody else, I do assure you I would have flung it in his +face, and never spoken to him again; and I have been in love +with him ever since. Now, is that tea going to be ready?" + +"Presently. How long have you been here?" + +"Oh, a day or two — and it has poured with rain every single +day since we came, till this one; and just think," said +Constance with a ludicrously scared face — "I must make haste, +and be back again. You see, I came away on principle, that I +may strike with the effect of novelty when I appear again; but +if I stay _too_ long, you know — there is a point —" + +"On the principle of the ice-boats," said Fleda, "that back a +little to give a better blow to the ice, where they find it +tough?" + +"Tough!" said Constance. + +"Does Florence like this paragon of yours as well as you do?" + +"I don't know — she don't talk so much about him, but that +proves nothing; she's too happy to talk _to_ him. I expect our +family concord will be shattered by and by," said Constance, +shaking her head. + +"You seem to take the prospect philosophically," said Fleda, +looking amused. "How long are you going to stay at the Pool?" + +Constance gave an expressive shrug, intimating that the +deciding of that question did not rest with her. + +"That is to say, you are here to watch the transit of this +star over the meridian of Queechy?" + +"Of Queechy! — of Montepoole." + +"Very well — of Montepoole. I don't wonder that nature is +exhausted. I will go and see after this refection." + +The prettiest little meal in the world was presently forth for +the two. Fleda knew her aunt would not come down, and Hugh was +yet at the mill; so she led her visitor into the breakfast- +room alone — Constance, by the way, again fondly embracing +her, and repeating, "My dear little Fleda, how glad I am to +see you!" + +The lady was apparently hungry, for there was a minute of +silence while the refection begun, and then Constance claimed, +perhaps with a sudden appreciation of the delicious bread and +butter, and cream and strawberries — + +"What a lovely old room this is — and what lovely times you +have here, don't you, Fleda?" + +"Yes — sometimes," Fleda said, with a sigh. + +"But I shall tell mamma you are growing thin, and the first +minute we get home I shall send for you to come us. Mrs. Thorn +will be amazingly glad to see you." + +"Has she got back from Europe?" said Fleda. + +"Ages! — and she's been entertaining the world as hard as she +could ever since. I have no doubt Lewis has confided to the +maternal bosom all his distresses; and there never was +anything like the rush that I expect will be made to our +greenhouse next winter. Oh, Fleda, you should see Mr. +Carleton's greenhouses!" + +"Should I?" said Fleda. + +"Dear me! I hope mamma will come!" said Constance, with a +comical, fidgety shake of herself; "when I think of those +greenhouses I lose my self-command. And the park! — Fleda, +it's the loveliest thing you ever saw in your life; and it's +all that delightful man's doing; only he wont have a geometric +flower-garden, as I did everything I could think of to +persuade him. I pity the woman that will be his wife — she +wont have her own way in a single thing; but then he will +fascinate her into thinking that his way is the best — so it +will do just as well, I suppose. Do you know, I can't conceive +what he has come over here for. He has been here before, you +know, and he don't seem to me to know exactly what he means to +do; at least, I can't find out, and I have tried." + +"How long has he been here?" + +"Oh, a month or two — since the beginning of April, I believe. +He came over with some friends of his — a Sir George Egerton +and his family; — he is going to Canada, to be established in +some post there, I forget what; and they are spending part of +the summer here before they fix themselves at the North. It is +easy to see what _they_ are here for — they are strangers, and +amusing themselves; but Mr. Carleton is at home, and _not_ +amusing himself, at least, he don't seem to be. He goes about +with the Egertons, but that is just for his friendship for +them; and he puzzles me. He don't know whether he is going to +Niagara — he has been once already — and 'perhaps' he may go +to Canada — and 'possibly' he will make a journey to the West +— and I can't find out that he wants anything in particular." + +"Perhaps he don't mean that you shall," said Fleda. + +"Perhaps he don't; but you see that aggravates my state of +mind to a distressing degree. And then I'm afraid he will go +somewhere where I can't keep watch of him!" + +Fleda could not help laughing. + +"Perhaps he was tired of home, and came for mere weariness." + +"Weariness! it's my opinion he has no idea there is such a +word in the language — I am certain, if he heard it, he would +call for a dictionary the next minute. Why, at Carleton, it +seems to me he was half the time on horseback, flying about +from one end of the country to the other; and, when he is in +the house, he is always at work at something; it's a piece of +condescension to get him to attend to you at all; only when he +does, my dear Fleda! — he is so enchanting that you live in a +state of delight till next time. And yet, I never could get +him to pay me a compliment to this minute — I tried two or +three times, and he rewarded me with some very rude speeches." + +"Rude!" said Fleda. + +"Yes — that is, they were the most graceful and fascinating +things possible, but they would have been rudeness in anybody +else. Where is mamma?" said Constance, with another comic +counterfeit of distress. "My dear Fleda, it's the most +captivating thing to breakfast at Carleton!" + +"I have no idea the bread and butter is sweeter there than in +some other parts of the world," said Fleda. + +"I don't know about the bread and butter," said Constance, +"but those exquisite little sugar-dishes! My dear Fleda, every +one has his own sugar-dish and cream-ewer — the loveliest +little things!" + +"I have heard of such things before," said Fleda. + +"I don't care about the bread and butter," — said Constance — +"eating is immaterial, with those perfect little things right +opposite to me. They weren't like any you ever saw, Fleda — +the sugar-bowl was just a little, plain, oval box, with the +lid on a hinge, and not a bit of chasing, only the arms on the +cover — like nothing I ever saw but a old-fashioned silver +tea-caddy; and the cream-jug, a little, straight, up-and-down +thing to match. Mamma said they were clumsy, but they +bewitched me!" + +"I think everything bewitched you," said Fleda, smiling. +"Can't your head stand a sugar-dish and milk-cup?" + +"My dear Fleda, I never had your superiority to the ordinary +weaknesses of human nature — I can stand _one_ sugar-bowl, but I +confess myself overcome by a dozen. How we have all wanted to +see you, Fleda! and papa — you have captivated papa! — and he +says —" + + +"Never mind; don't tell me what he says," said Fleda. + +"There! — that's your modesty that everybody rave about: I +wish I could catch it. Fleda, where did you get that little +Bible? While I was waiting for you I tried to soothe my +restless anticipations with examining all the things in all +the rooms. Where did you get it?" + +"It was given me a long while ago," said Fleda. + +"But it is real gold on the outside — the clasps and all. Do +you know it? it is not washed." + +"I know it," said Fleda, smiling; "and it is better than gold +inside." + +"Wasn't that mamma's favourite, Mr. Olmney, that parted from +you at the gate?" said Constance, after a minute's silence. + +"Yes." + +"Is he a favourite of yours, too?" + +"You must define what you mean by a favourite," said Fleda, +gravely. + +"Well, how do you like him?" + +"I believe everybody likes him," said Fleda, colouring, and +vexed at herself that she could not help it. The bright eyes +opposite her took note of the fact with a sufficiently wide- +awake glance. + +"He's very good!" said Constance, hugging herself, and taking +a fresh supply of butter; "but don't let him know I have been +to see you, or he'll tell you all sorts of evil things about +me, for fear you should innocently be contaminated. Don't you +like to be taken care of?" + +"Very much," said Fleda, smiling, "by people that know how." + +"I can't bear it!" said Constance, apparently with great +sincerity; "I think it is the most impertinent thing in the +world people can do; I can't endure it, except from — ! Oh, my +dear Fleda, it is perfect luxury to have him put a shawl round +your shoulders!" + +"Fleda," said Earl Douglass, putting his head in from the +kitchen, and before he said any more, bobbing it frankly at +Miss Evelyn, half in acknowledgment of her presence, and half, +as it seemed, in apology for his own; "Fleda, will you let +Barby pack up somethin' 'nother for the men's lunch? — my wife +would ha' done it, as she had ought to, if she wa'n't down +with the teethache, and Catherine's away on a jig to Kenton, +and the men wont do so much work on nothin', and I can't say +nothin' to 'em if they don't; and I'd like to get that 'ere +clover-field down afore night: it's goin' to be a fine spell +o' weather. I was a-goin' to try to get along without it, but +I believe we can't." + +"Very well," said Fleda. "But, Mr. Douglass, you'll try the +experiment of curing it in cocks?" + +"Well, I don't know," said Earl, in a tone of very +discontented acquiescence; "I don't see how anythin' should be +as sweet as the sun for dryin' hay; I know folks says it is, +and I've heerd 'em say it is, and they'll stand to it, and you +can't beat 'em off the notion it is, but somehow or 'nother I +can't seem to come into it. I know the sun makes sweet hay, +and I think the sun was meant to make hay, and I don't want to +see no sweeter hay than the sun makes; it's as good hay as you +need to have." + +"But you wouldn't mind trying it for once, Mr. Douglass, just +for me?" + +"I'll do just what you please," said he, with a little +exculpatory shake of his head; " 'tain't my concern — it's no +concern of mine; the gain or the loss 'll be your'n, and it's +fair you should have the gain or the loss, whichever on 'em +you choose to have. I'll put it in cocks: how much heft should +be in 'em?" + +"About a hundred pounds; and you don't want to cut any more +than you can put up to-night, Mr. Douglass. We'll try it." + +"Very good! And you'll send along somethin' for the men. Barby +knows," said Earl, bobbing his head again intelligently at +Fleda; "there's four on 'em, and it takes somethin' to feed +'em: workin' men 'll put away a good deal o' meat." + +He withdrew his head and closed the door, happily for +Constance, who went off into a succession of ecstatic +convulsions. + +"What time of day do your eccentric hay-makers prefer for the +rest of their meals, if they lunch at three o'clock? I never +heard anything so original in my life." + +"This is lunch number two," said Fleda, smiling; "lunch number +one is about ten in the morning, and dinner at twelve." + +"And do they gladden their families with their presence at the +other ordinary convivial occasions?" + +"Certainly." + +"And what do they have for lunch?" + +"Varieties. Bread and cheese, and pies, and Quirl-cakes; at +every other meal they have meat." + +"Horrid creatures!" + +"It is only during haying and harvesting." + +"And you have to see to all this, poor little Fleda! I +declare, if I was you, I'd do something —" + +"No," said Fleda, quietly, "Mrs. Douglass and Barby manage the +lunch between them. I am not at all desperate." + +"But to have to talk to these people!" + +"Earl Douglass is not a very polished specimen," said Fleda, +smiling; "but I assure you, in some of 'these people' there is +an amount of goodness and wit, and shrewd practical sense and +judgment, that would utterly distance many of those that would +call them bears." + +Constance looked a good deal more than she said. + +"My dear little Fleda! you're too sensible for anything; but +as I don't like sense from anybody but Mr. Carleton, I would +rather look at you in the capacity of a rose, smiling a gentle +rebuke upon me while I talk nonsense." + +And she did talk, and Fleda did smile and laugh, in spite of +herself, till Mrs. Evelyn and her other daughters made their +appearance. + +Then Barby said she thought they'd have talked the house down; +and she expected there'd be nothing left of Fleda after all +the kissing she got. But it was not too much for Fleda's +pleasure. Mrs. Evelyn was so tenderly kind, and Miss Evelyn as +caressing as her sister had been, and Edith, who was but a +child, so joyously delighted, that Fleda's eyes were swimming +in happiness as she looked from one to the other, and she +could hardly answer kisses and questions fast enough. + +"Them is good-looking enough girls," said Barby, as Fleda came +back to the house after seeing them to their carriage, if they +knowed how to dress themselves. I never see this fly-away one +afore. I knowed the old one as soon as I clapped my eyes onto +her. Be they stopping at the Pool again?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, when are you going up there to see 'em?" + +"I don't know," said Fleda, quietly. And then, sighing as the +thought of her aunt came into her head, she went off to find +her and bring her down. + +Fleda's brow was sobered, and her spirits were in a flutter +that was not all of happiness, and that threatened not to +settle down quietly. But as she went slowly up the stairs, +faith's hand was laid, even as her own grasped the balusters, +on the promise — + + + +"All the paths of the Lord are mercy and truth unto such as +keep His covenant and His testimonies." + + +She set faith's foot down on those sure stepping-stones; and +she opened her aunt's door and looked in with a face that was +neither troubled nor afraid. + + +CHAPTER III. + + +"_Ant_. He misses not much. +_Seb_. No, he doth but mistake the truth totally." +TEMPEST. + + +It was the very next morning that several ladies and gentlemen +were gathered on the piazza of the hotel at Montepoole, to +brace minds or appetites with the sweet mountain air while +waiting for breakfast. As they stood there, a young countryman +came by bearing on his hip a large basket of fruit and +vegetables. + +"Oh, look at those lovely strawberries!" exclaimed Constance +Evelyn, running down the steps. "Stop, if you please — where +are you going with these?" + +"Marm!" responded the somewhat startled carrier. + +"What are you going to do with them?" + +"I aint going to do nothin' with 'em." + +"Whose are they? Are they for sale?" + +"Well, 'twon't deu no harm, as I know," said the young man, +making a virtue of necessity, for the fingers of Constance +were already hovering over the dainty little leaf-strewn +baskets, and her eyes complacently searching for the most +promising; "I ha'n't got nothin' to deu with 'ern." + +"Constance!" said Mrs. Evelyn, from the piazza, "don't take +that. I dare say they are for Mr. Sweet." + +"Well, Mamma," said Constance, with great equanimity, "Mr. +Sweet gets them for me, and I only save him the trouble of +spoiling them. My taste leads me to prefer the simplicity of +primitive arrangements this morning." + +"Young man!" called out the landlady's reproving voice, "wont +you never recollect to bring that basket round the back way!" + +" 't aint no handier than this way," said Philetus, with so +much belligerent demonstration, that the landlady thought +best, in presence of her guests, to give over the question. + +"Where do you get them?" said Mrs. Evelyn. + +"How?" said Philetus. + +"Where do they come from? Are they fresh picked?" + +"Just afore I started." + +"Started from where?" said a gentleman, standing by Mrs. +Evelyn. + +"From Mr. Rossitur's, down to Queechy." + +"Mr. Rossitur's!" said Mrs. Evelyn. "Does he send them here?" + +"He doos not," said Philetus — "he doosn't keep to hum for a +long spell." + +"Who does send them, then?" said Constance. + +"Who doos? It's Miss Fliddy Ringgan." + +"Mamma!" exclaimed Constance, looking up. + +"What does she have to do with it?" said Mrs. Evelyn. + +"There don't nobody else have nothin' to deu with it — I guess +she's pretty much the hull," said her coadjutor. "Her and me +was a-picking 'em afore sunrise." + +"All that basketful?" + +" 't aint all strawberries — there's garden sass up to the +top." + +"And does she send that, too?" + +"She sends that teu," said Philetus, succinctly. + +"But hasn't she any help in taking care of the garden?" said +Constance. + +"Yes, Marm — I calculate to help considerable in the back +garden — she wont let no one into the front where she grows +her posies." + +"But where is Mr. Hugh?" + +"He's to hum." + +"But has he nothing to do with all this? Does he leave it all +to his cousin?" + +"He's to the mill." + +"And Miss Ringgan manages farm, and garden, and all?" said +Mrs. Evelyn. + +"She doos," said Philetus. + +And receiving a gratuity, which he accepted without +demonstration of any kind whatever, the basket-bearer, at +length released, moved off. + +"Poor Fleda!" said Miss Evelyn, as he disappeared with his +load. + +"She's a very clever girl," said Mrs. Evelyn, dismissing the +subject. + +"She's too lovely for anything!" said Constance. "Mr. +Carleton, if you will just imagine we are in China, and +introduct a pair of familiar chopsticks into this basket, I +shall be repaid for the loss of a strawberry by the expression +of ecstasy which will immediately spread itself over your +features. I intend to patronize the natural mode of eating in +future. I find the ends of my fingers decidedly odoriferous." + +He smiled a little as he complied with the young lady's +invitation, but the expression of ecstasy did not come. + +"Are Mr. Rossitur's circumstances so much reduced?" he said, +drawing nearer to Mrs. Evelyn. + +"Do you know them?" exclaimed both the daughters at once. + +"I knew Mrs. Rossitur very well some years ago, when she was +in Paris." + +"They are all broken to pieces," said Mrs. Evelyn, as Mr. +Carleton's eye went back to her for his answer; "Mr. Rossitur +failed and lost everything — bankrupt — a year or two after +they came home." + +"And what has he been doing since?" + +"I don't know — trying to farm it here; but I am afraid he has +not succeeded well — I am afraid not. They don't look like it. +Mrs. Rossitur will not see anybody, and I don't believe they +have done any more than struggle for a living since they came +here." + +"Where is Mr. Rossitur now?" + +"He is at the West, somewhere — Fleda tells me he is engaged +in some agencies there; but I doubt," said Mrs. Evelyn, +shaking her head, compassionately, "there is more in the name +of it than anything else. He has gone down hill sadly since +his misfortunes. I am very sorry for them." + +"And his niece takes care of his farm in the meantime?" + +"Do you know her?" asked both the Miss Evelyns again. + +"I can hardly say that," he replied. "I had such a pleasure +formerly. Do I understand that she is the person to fill Mr. +Rossitur's place when he is away?" + +"So she says." + +"And so she acts," said Constance. "I wish you had heard her +yesterday. It was beyond everything. We were conversing very +amicably, regarding each other through a friendly vista formed +by the sugar-bowl and tea-pot, when a horrid man, that looked +as if he had slept all his life in a haycock, and only waked +up to turn it over, stuck his head in, and immediately +introduced a clover-field; and Fleda and he went to tumbling +about the cocks till, I do assure you, I was deluded into a +momentary belief that hay-making was the principal end of +human nature, and looked upon myself as a burden to society; +and after I had recovered my locality, and ventured upon a +sentence of gentle commiseration for her sufferings, Fleda +went off into a eulogium upon the intelligence of hay-makers +in general, and the strength of mind barbarians are +universally known to possess." + +The manner, still more than the matter of this speech, was +beyond the withstanding of any good-natured muscles, though +the gentleman's smile was a grave one, and quickly lost in +gravity. Mrs. Evelyn laughed and reproved in a breath, but the +laugh was admiring, and the reproof was stimulative. The +bright eye of Constance danced in return with the mischievous +delight of a horse that has slipped his bridle and knows you +can't catch him. + +"And this has been her life ever since Mr. Rossitur lost his +property?" + +"Entirely, — sacrificed!" said Mrs. Evelyn, with a +compassionately resigned air; — education, advantages, and +everything given up, and set down here, where she has seen +nobody from year's end to year's end but the country people +about — very good people — but not the kind of people she +ought to have been brought up among." + +"Oh, Mamma!" said the eldest Miss Evelyn, in a deprecatory +tone, "you shouldn't talk so — it isn't right — I am sure she +is very nice — nicer now than anybody else I know, and clever +too." + +"Nice!" said Edith. "I wish I had such a sister." + +"She is a good girl— a very good girl," said Mrs. Evelyn, in a +tone which would have deterred any one from wishing to make +her acquaintance. + +"And happy, Mamma — Fleda don't look miserable — she seems +perfectly happy and contented." + +"Yes," said Mrs. Evelyn, "she has got accustomed to this state +of things — it's her life — she makes delicious bread and +puddings for her aunt, and raises vegetables for market, and +oversees her uncle's farmers; and it isn't a hardship to her — +she finds her happiness in it. She is a very good girl, but +she might have been made something much better than a farmer's +wife." + +"You may set your mind at rest on that subject, Mamma," said +Constance, still using her chopsticks with great complacency; +"it's my opinion that the farmer is not in existence who is +blessed with such a conjugal futurity. I think Fleda's strong +pastoral tastes are likely to develop themselves in a new +direction." + +Mrs. Evelyn looked, with a partial smile, at the pretty +features which the business of eating the strawberries +displayed in sundry novel and picturesque points of view, and +asked what she meant? + +"I don't know," said Constance, intent upon her basket; "I +feel a friend's distress for Mr. Thorn — it's all your doing, +Mamma — you wont be able to look him in the face when we have +Fleda next fall. I am sure I shall not want to look at his. +He'll be too savage for anything." + +"Mr. Thorn!" said Mr. Carleton. + +"Yes," said Mrs. Evelyn, in an indulgent tone — "he was very +attentive to her last winter when she was with us, but she +went away before anything was decided. I don't think he has +forgotten her." + +"I shouldn't think anybody could forget her," said Edith. + +"I am confident he would be here at this moment," said +Constance, "if he wasn't in London." + +"But what is 'all mamma's doing,' Constance?" inquired her +sister. + +"The destruction of the peace of the whole family of Thorns; I +shouldn't sleep sound in my bed if I were she, with such a +reflection. I look forward to heart-rending scenes, with a +very disturbed state of mind." + +"But what have I done, my child?" said Mrs. Evelyn. + +"Didn't you introduce your favourite, Mr. Olmney, to Miss +Ringgan, last summer? I don't know" — her native delicacy +shrunk from making any disclosures, and, of course, the tongue +of friendship is silent — "but they were out ages yesterday +while I was waiting for her, and their parting at the gate was +— I feel myself unequal to the task of describing it," said +Constance, ecstatically; "and she was in the most elevated +tone of mind during our whole interview afterwards, and took +all my brilliant remarks with as much coolness as if they had +been drops of rain — more, I presume, considering that it was +hay-time." + +"Did you see him?" said Mrs. Evelyn. + +"Only at that impracticable distance, Mamma; but I introduced +his name afterwards, in my usual happy manner, and I found +that Miss Ringgan's cheeks were by no means indifferent to it. +I didn't dare go any further." + +"I am very glad of it. I hope it is so," said Mrs. Evelyn, +energetically. "It would be a most excellent match. He is a +charming young man, and would make her very happy." + +"You are exciting gloomy feelings in Mr. Carleton's mind, +Mamma, by your felicitous suggestions. Mr. Carleton, did your +ears receive a faint announcement of ham and eggs, which went +quite through and through mine just now?" + +He bowed, and handed the young lady in; but Constance +declared, that though he sat beside her, and took care of her +at breakfast, he had on one of his intangible fits, which +drove her to the last extreme of impatience and captivation. + +The sun was not much more than two hours high the next +morning, when a rider was slowly approaching Mr. Rossitur's +house from the bridge, walking his horse, like a man who +wished to look well at all he was passing. He paused behind a +clump of locusts and rose-acacias, in the corner of the court- +yard, as a figure, bonneted and gloved, came out of the house, +and began to be busy among the rose-bushes. Another figure +presently appeared at the hall door, and called out — + +"Fleda!" + +"Well, Barby —" + +This second voice was hardly raised, but it came from so much +nearer that the words could be distinctly heard. + +"Mr. Skillcorn wants to know if you're going to fix the +flowers for him to carry?" + +"They're not ready, and it wont do for him to wait — Mr. Sweet +must send for them if he wants them. Philetus must make haste +back, for you know Mr. Douglass wants him to help in the barn +meadow. Lucas wont be here, and now the weather is so fine, I +want to make haste with the hay." + +"Well, will you have the samp for breakfast?" + +"No — we'll keep that for dinner. I'll come in and poach some +eggs, Barby, — if you'll make me some thin pieces of toast — +and call me when it's time. Thin, Barby." + +The gentleman turned his horse, and galloped back to +Montepoole. + +Some disappointment was created among a portion of Mr. Sweet's +guests that afternoon, by the intelligence that Mr. Carleton +purposed setting off the next morning to join his English +friends at Saratoga, on their way to the Falls and Canada. +Which purpose was duly carried into effect. + + +CHAPTER IV. + + +"With your leave, Sir, an' there were no more men living upon +the face of the earth, I should not fancy him, by St. George." +EVERY MAN OUT OF HIS HUMOUR. + + +October had come, and a fair season and a fine harvest, had +enabled Fleda to ease her mind by sending a good remittance to +Dr. Gregory. The family were still living upon her and Hugh's +energies. Mr. Rossitur talked of coming home, that was all. + +It sometimes happened that a pause in the urgency of business +permitted Hugh to take a day's holiday. One of these falling +soon after the frosts had opened the burrs of the chestnut- +trees, and the shells of the hickories, Fleda seized upon it +for a nutting frolic. They took Philetus, and went up to the +fine group of trees on the mountain, the most difficult to +reach, and the best worth reaching of all their nut wood. The +sport was very fine; and after spoiling the trees, Philetus +was left to "shuck" and bring home a load of the fruit, while +Fleda and Hugh took their way slowly down the mountain. She +stopped him, as usual, on the old look-out place. The leaves +were just then in their richest colouring, and the October +sky, in its strong vitality, seemed to fill all inanimate +nature with the breath of life. If ever, then on that day, to +the fancy, "the little hills rejoiced on every side." The +woods stood thick with honours, and earth lay smiling under +the tokens of the summer's harvest, and the promise for the +coming year; and the wind came in gusts over the lower country +and up the hill-side, with a hearty good-will that blew away +all vapours, physical and mental, from its path, bidding +everything follow its example and be up and doing. Fleda drew +a long breath or two that seemed to recognise its freshening +power. + +"How long it seems," she said — "how very long — since I was +here with Mr. Carleton; — just nine years ago. How changed +everything is! I was a little child then. It seems such an age +ago!" — + +"It is very odd he didn't come to see us," said Hugh. + +"He did — don't you know? — the very next day after we heard +he was here — when, most unluckily, I was up at aunt +Miriam's." + +"I should think he might have come again, considering what +friends you used to be." + +"I dare say he would, if he had not left Montepoole so soon. +But, dear Hugh, I was a mere child — how could he remember me +much?" + +"You remember him," said Hugh. + +"Ah, but I have good reason. Besides, I never forget anything. +I would have given a great deal to see him — if I had it." + +"I wish the Evelyns had staid longer," said Hugh. "I think you +have wanted something to brighten you up. They did you a great +deal of good last year. I am afraid all this taking care of +Philetus and Earl Douglass is too much for you." + +Fleda gave him a very bright smile, half affection, half fun. + +"Don't you admire my management?" said she. "Because I do. +Philetus is firmly persuaded that he is an invaluable +assistant to me in the mystery of gardening; and the origin of +Earl Douglass's new ideas is so enveloped in mist, that he +does not himself know where they come from. It was rich to +hear him the other day descanting to Lucas upon the evil +effects of earthing up corn, and the advantages of curing hay +in cocks, as to both which matters Lucas is a thorough +unbeliever, and Earl was a year ago." + +"But that doesn't hinder your looking pale and thin, and a +great deal soberer than I like to see you," said Hugh. "You +want a change, I know. I don't know how you are to get it. I +wish they would send for you to New York again." + +"I don't know that I should want to go, if they did," said +Fleda. "They don't raise my spirits, Hugh. I am amused +sometimes — I can't help that — but such excessive gaiety +rather makes me shrink within myself; I am, too, out of tone +with it. I never feel more absolutely quiet than sometimes +when I am laughing at Constance Evelyn's mad sallies — and +sometimes I cannot laugh at them. I do not know what they must +think of me; it is what they can have no means of +understanding." + +"I wish you didn't understand it, either, Fleda." + +"But you shouldn't say that. I am happier than they are, now, +Hugh — now that you are better — with all their means of +happiness. They know nothing of our quiet enjoyments; they +must live in a whirl, or they would think they are not living +at all; and I do not believe that all New York can give them +the real pleasure that I have in such a day as this. They +would see almost nothing in all this beauty that my eyes +'drink in,' as Cowper says; and they would be certain to +quarrel with the wind, that to me is like the shake of an old +friend's hand. Delicious!" said Fleda, as the wind rewarded +this eulogium with a very hearty shake indeed. + +"I believe you would make friends with everything, Fleda, said +Hugh, laughing. + +"The wind is always that to me," said Fleda; "not always in +such a cheerful mood as to-day, though. It talks to me often +of a thousand old-time things, and sighs over them with me, a +most sympathizing friend! but to-day he invites me to a waltz +— Come!" + +And pulling Hugh after her, away she went down the rocky path, +with a step too light to care for the stones; the little feet +capering down the mountain with a disdain of the ground that +made Hugh smile to see her; and eyes dancing for company, till +they reached the lower woodland. + +"A most spirited waltz!" said Hugh. + +"And a most slack partner. Why didn't you keep me company?" + +"I never was made for waltzing," said Hugh, shaking his head. + +"Not to the tune of the north wind? That has done me good, +Hugh." + +"So I should judge, by your cheeks." + +"Poverty need not always make people poor," said Fleda, +talking breath and his arm together. "You and I are rich, +Hugh." + +"And our riches cannot take to themselves wings and fly away," +said Hugh. + +"No, but besides those riches, there are the pleasures of the +eye and the mind, that one may enjoy everywhere — everywhere +in the country at least — unless poverty bear one down very +hard; and they are some of the purest and most satisfying of +any. Oh, the blessing of a good education! how it makes one +independent of circumstances!" + +"And circumstances are education, too," said Hugh, smiling. "I +dare say we should not appreciate our mountains and woods so +well, if we had had our old plenty of everything else." + +"I always loved them," said Fleda. "But what good company they +have been to us for years past, Hugh! — to me especially; I +have more reason to love them." + +They walked on quietly and soberly to the brow of the table- +land, where they parted; Hugh being obliged to go home, and +Fleda wishing to pay a visit to her aunt Miriam. + +She turned off alone to take the way to the high road, and +went softly on, no longer, certainly, in the momentary spirits +with which she had shaken hands with the wind, and skipped +down the mountain; but feeling, and thankful that she felt, a +cheerful patience to tread the dusty highway of life. + +The old lady had been rather ailing, and from one or two +expressions she had let fall, Fleda could not help thinking +that she looked upon her ailments with a much more serious eye +than anybody else thought was called for. It did not, however, +appear to-day. She was not worse, and Fleda's slight anxious +feeling could find nothing to justify it, if it were not the +very calm and quietly happy face and manner of the old lady; +and that, if it had something to alarm, did much more to +soothe. Fleda had sat with her a long time, patience and +cheerfulness all the while unconsciously growing in her +company; when, catching up her bonnet with a sudden haste very +unlike her usual collectedness of manner, Fleda kissed her +aunt and was rushing away. + +"But stop! where are you going, Fleda?" + +"Home, aunt Miriam; I must, don't keep me." + +"But what are you going that way for? you can't go home that +way?" + +"Yes, I can." + +"How?" + +"I can cross the blackberry hill behind the barn, and then +over the east hill, and then there's nothing but the water- +cress meadow." + +"I sha'n't let you go that way alone; sit down and tell me +what you mean — what is this desperate hurry?" + +But, with equal precipitation, Fleda had cast her bonnet out +of sight behind the table, and the next moment turned, with +the utmost possible quietness, to shake hands with Mr. Olmney. +Aunt Miriam had presence of mind enough to make no remark, and +receive the young gentleman with her usual dignity and +kindness. + +He stayed some time, but Fleda's hurry seemed to have forsaken +her. She had seized upon an interminable long gray stocking +her aunt was knitting, and sat in the corner working at it +most diligently, without raising her eyes unless spoken to. + +"Do you give yourself no rest, at home or abroad, Miss Fleda?" +said the gentleman. + +"Put that stocking down, Fleda," said her aunt; "it is in no +hurry." + +"I like to do it, aunt Miriam." + +But she felt, with warming cheeks, that she did not like to do +it with two people sitting still and looking at her. The +gentleman presently rose. + +"Don't go till we have had tea, Mr. Olmney," said Mrs. +Plumfield. + +"Thank you, Ma'am; I cannot stay, I believe, unless Miss Fleda +will let me take care of her down the hill by and by." + +"Thank you, Mr. Olmney," said Fleda, "but I am not going home +before night, unless they send for me." + +"I am afraid," said he, looking at her, "that the agricultural +turn has proved an overmatch for your energies." + +"The farm don't complain of me, does it?" said Fleda, looking +up at him with a comic, grave expression of countenance. + +"No," said he, laughing, "certainly not; but, if you will +forgive me for saying so, I think you complain of it, tacitly +— and that will raise a good many complaints in other +quarters, if you do not take care of yourself." + +He shook hands and left them; and Mrs. Plumfield sat silently +looking at Fleda, who, on her part, looked at nothing but the +gray stocking. + +"What is all this, Fleda?" + +"What is what, aunt Miriam?" said Fleda, picking up a stitch +with desperate diligence. + +"Why did you want to run away from Mr. Olmney?" + +"I didn't wish to be delayed, — I wanted to get home." + +"Then, why wouldn't you let him go home with you?" + +"I liked better to go alone, aunt Miriam." + +"Don't you like him, Fleda?" + +"Certainly, aunt Miriam; very much." + +"I think he likes you Fleda," said her aunt, smiling. + +"I am very sorry for it," said Fleda, with great gravity. + +Mrs. Plumfield looked at her for a few minutes in silence, and +then said — + +"Fleda, love, come over here and sit by me, and tell me what +you mean. Why are you sorry? It has given me a great deal of +pleasure to think of it." + +But Fleda did not budge from her seat or her stocking, and +seemed tongue-tied. Mrs. Plumfield pressed for an answer. + +"Because, aunt Miriam," said Fleda, with the prettiest red +cheeks in the world, but speaking very clearly and steadily, +"my liking only goes to a point which, I am afraid, will not +satisfy either him or you." + +"But why? — it will go further." + +"No, Ma'am." + +"Why not? — why do you say so?" + +"Because I must, if you ask me." + +"But what can be more excellent and estimable, Fleda? — who +could be more worth liking? I should have thought he would +just please you. He is one of the most lovely young men I have +ever seen." + +"Dear aunt Miriam," said Fleda, looking up beseechingly, "why +should we talk about it?" + +"Because I want to understand you, Fleda, and to be sure that +you understand yourself." + +"I do," said Fleda, quietly, and with a quivering lip. + +"What is there that you dislike about Mr. Olmney?" + +"Nothing in the world, aunt Miriam." + +"Then, what is the reason you cannot like him enough?" + +"Because, aunt Miriam," said Fleda, speaking in desperation, +"there isn't enough of him. He is very good and excellent in +every way, nobody feels that more than I do; I don't want to +say a word against him, but I do not think he has a very +strong mind, and he isn't cultivated enough." + +"But you cannot have everything, Fleda." + +"No, Ma'am, I don't expect it." + +"I am afraid you have set up too high a standard for +yourself," said Mrs. Plumfield, looking rather troubled. + +"I don't think that is possible, aunt Miriam." + +"But I am afraid it will prevent your ever liking anybody." + +"It will not prevent my liking the friends I have already; it +may prevent my leaving them for somebody else," said Fleda, +with a gravity that was touching in its expression. + +"But Mr. Olmney is sensible, and well educated." + +"Yes, but his tastes are not. He could not at all enter into a +great many things that give me the most pleasure. I do not +think he quite understands above half of what I say to him." + +"Are you sure? I know he admires you, Fleda." + +"Ah, but that is only half enough, you see, aunt Miriam, +unless I could admire him too." + +Mrs. Plumfield looked at her in some difficulty; Mr. Olmney +was not the only one, clearly, whose powers of comprehension +were not equal to the subject. + +"Fleda," said her aunt, inquiringly, "is there anybody else +that has put Mr. Olmney out of your head?" + +"Nobody in the world!" exclaimed Fleda, with a frank look and +tone of astonishment at the question, and cheeks colouring as +promptly. "How could you ask? — but he never was in my head, +aunt Miriam." + +"Mr. Thorn?" said Mrs. Plumfield. + +"Mr. Thorn!" said Fleda, indignantly. "Don't you know me +better than that, aunt Miriam? But you do not know him." + +"I believe I know you, dear Fleda; but I heard he had paid you +a great deal of attention last year; and you would not have +been the first unsuspecting nature that has been mistaken." + +Fleda was silent, flushed, and disturbed; and Mrs. Plumfield +was silent and meditating; when Hugh came in. He came to fetch +Fleda home. Dr. Gregory had arrived. In haste again, Fleda +sought her bonnet, and exchanging a more than usually wistful +and affectionate kiss and embrace with her aunt, set off with +Hugh down the hill. + +Hugh had a great deal to say to her all the way home, of which +Fleda's ears alone took the benefit, for her understanding +received none of it; and when she at last came into the +breakfast-room where the doctor was sitting, the fact of his +being there was the only one which had entered her mind. + +"Here she is, I declare!" said the doctor, holding her back to +look at her after the first greetings had passed. "I'll be +hanged if you aint handsome. Now, what's the use of pinking +your cheeks any more at that, as if you didn't know it before? +— eh?" + +"I will always do my best to deserve your good opinion, Sir," +said Fleda, laughing. + +"Well, sit down now," said he, shaking his head, "and pour me +out a cup of tea — your mother can't make it right." + +And sipping his tea for some time, the old doctor sat +listening to Mrs. Rossitur, and eating bread and butter, +saying little, but casting a very frequent glance at the +figure opposite him, behind the tea-board. + +"I am afraid," said he, after a while, "that your care for my +good opinion wont outlast an occasion. Is _that_ the way you +look for every day?" + +The colour came with the smile; but the old doctor looked at +her in a way that made the tears come too. He turned his eyes +to Mrs. Rossitur for an explanation. + +"She is well," said Mrs. Rossitur, fondly — "she has been very +well — except her old headaches now and then; I think she has +grown rather thin, lately." + +"Thin!" said the old doctor — "etherealized to a mere abstract +of herself; only that is a very bad figure, for an abstract +should have all the bone and muscle of the subject; and I +should say you had little left but pure spirit. You are the +best proof I ever saw of the principle of the homeopaths — I +see now, that though a little corn may fatten a man, a great +deal may be the death of him." + +"But I have tried it both ways, uncle Orrin," said Fleda, +laughing. "I ought to be a happy medium between plethora and +starvation. I am pretty substantial, what there is of me." + +"Substantial!" said the doctor; "you look as substantial a +personage as your old friend, the 'faire Una' — just about. +Well, prepare yourself, gentle Saxon, to ride home with me the +day after to-morrow. I'll try a little humanizing regimen with +you." + +"I don't think that is possible, uncle Orrin," said Fleda, +gently. + +"We'll talk about the possibility afterwards — at present, all +you have to do is to get ready. If you raise difficulties, you +will find me a very Hercules to clear them away — I'm +substantial enough, I can tell you — so it's just as well to +spare yourself and me the trouble." + +"There are no difficulties," Mrs. Rossitur and Hugh said, both +at once. + +"I knew there weren't. Put a pair or two of clean stockings in +your trunk — that's all you want — Mrs. Pritchard and I will +find the rest. There's the people in Fourteenth street want +you the first of November, and I want you all the time till +then, and longer too. Stop — I've got a missive of some sort +here for you." + +He foisted out of his breast-pocket a little package of notes +— one from Mrs. Evelyn, and one from Florence, begging Fleda +to come to them at the time the doctor had named; the third +from Constance: + + +"MY DARLING LITTLE FLEDA, + +"I am dying to see you — so pack up and come down with Dr. +Gregory, if the least spark of regard for me is slumbering in +your breast. Mamma and Florence are writing to beg you — but +though an insignificant member of the family, considering that +instead of being 'next to head', only little Edith prevents my +being at the less dignified end of this branch of the social +system, I could not prevail upon myself to let the +representations of my respected elders go unsupported by mine +— especially as I felt persuaded of the superior efficacy of +the motives I had it in my power to present to your truly +philanthropical mind. + +"I am in a state of mind that baffles description — Mr. +Carleton is going home! — + +"I have not worn ear-rings in my ears for a fortnight; my +personal appearance is become a matter of indifference to me; +any description of mental exertion is excruciating; I sit +constantly listening for the ringing of the door-bell, and +when it sounds, I rush frantically to the head of the +staircase, and look over to see who it is; the mere sight of +pen and ink excites delirious ideas — judge what I suffer in +writing to you. + +"To make the matter worse (if it could be), I have been +informed privately, that he is going home to crown at the +altar of Hymen an old attachment to one of the loveliest of +all England's daughters. Conceive the complication of my +feelings! — + +"Nothing is left me but the resources of friendship — so come, +darling Fleda, before a barrier of ice interposes itself +between my chilled heart and your sympathy. + +"Mr. Thorn's state would move my pity if I were capable of +being moved by anything — by this you will comprehend he is +returned. He has been informed by somebody, that there is a +wolf in sheep's clothing prowling about Queechy, and his head +is filled with the idea that you have fallen a victim, of +which, in my calmer moments, I have in vain endeavoured to +dispossess him. Every morning we are wakened up at an +unseasonable hour by a furious ringing at the door-bell — Joe +Manton pulls off his nightcap, and slowly descending the +stairs, opens the door, and finds Mr. Thorn, who inquires +distractedly whether Miss Ringgan has arrived; and being +answered in the negative, gloomily walks off towards the East +river. The state of anxiety in which his mother is thereby +kept is rapidly depriving her of all her flesh — but we have +directed Joe lately to reply, 'No, Sir, but she is expected' — +upon which Mr. Thorn regularly smiles faintly, and rewards the +'fowling-piece' with a quarter dollar — + +"So make haste, dear Fleda, or I shall feel that we are acting +the part of innocent swindlers. + +C.E." + + +There was but one voice at home on the point whether Fleda +should go. So she went. + + +CHAPTER V. + + +_Host_. Now, my young guest! methinks you're allycholy; I pray +you why is it? +_Jul_. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be merry. +TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. + + +Some nights after their arrival, the doctor and Fleda were +seated at tea in the little snug old-fashioned back parlour, +where the doctor's nicest of housekeepers, Mrs. Pritchard, had +made it ready for them. In general, Mrs. Pritchard herself +poured it out for the doctor, but she descended most +cheerfully from her post of elevation, whenever Fleda was +there to fill it. + +The doctor and Fleda sat cozily looking at each other across +the toast and chipped beef, their glances grazing the tea-urn, +which was just on one side of their range of vision. A +comfortable Liverpool-coal fire in a state of repletion burned +away indolently, and gave everything else in the room somewhat +of its own look of sonsy independence — except, perhaps, the +delicate creature at whom the doctor, between sips of his tea, +took rather wistful observations. + +"When are you going to Mrs. Evelyn?" he said, breaking the +silence. + +"They say next week, Sir." + +"I shall be glad of it!" said the doctor. + +"Glad of it?" said Fleda, smiling. "Do you want to get rid of +me, uncle Orrin?" + +"Yes!" said he. "This isn't the right place for you. You are +too much alone." + +"No, indeed, Sir. I have been reading voraciously, and +enjoying myself as much as possible. I would quite as lieve be +here as there, putting you out of the question." + +"I wouldn't as lieve have you," said he, shaking his head. + +"What were you musing about before tea? your face gave me the +heartache." + +"My face!" said Fleda, smiling, while an instant flush of the +eyes answered him; "what was the matter with my face?" + +"That is the very thing I want to know." + +"Before tea? — I was only thinking," said Fleda, her look +going back to the fire from association — "thinking of +different things — not disagreeably; taking a kind of bird's- +eye view of things, as one does sometimes." + +"I don't believe you ever take other than a bird's-eye view of +anything," said her uncle. "But what were you viewing just +then, my little Saxon?" + +"I was thinking of them at home," said Fleda, smiling, +thoughtfully; "and I somehow had perched myself on a point of +observation, and was taking one of those wider views which are +always rather sobering." + +"Views of what?" + +"Of life, Sir." + +"As how?" said the doctor. + +"How near the end is to the beginning, and how short the space +between, and how little the ups and downs of it will matter if +we take the right road and get home." + +"Pshaw!" said the doctor. + +But Fleda knew him too well to take his interjection otherwise +than most kindly. And, indeed, though he whirled round and ate +his toast at the fire discontentedly, his look came back to +her after a little, with even more than its usual gentle +appreciation. + +"What do you suppose you have come to New York for?" said he. + +"To see you, Sir, in the first place, and the Evelyns in the +second." + +"And who in the third?" + +"I am afraid the third place is vacant," said Fleda, smiling. + +"You are, eh? Well — I don't know — but I know that I have +been inquired of by two several and distinct people as to your +coming. Ah! you needn't open your bright eyes at me, because I +shall not tell you. Only let me ask — you have no notion of +fencing off, my Queechy rose, with a hedge of blackthorn, or +anything of that kind, have you?" + +"I have no notion of any fences at all, except invisible ones, +Sir," said Fleda, laughing, and colouring very prettily. + +"Well, those are not American fences," said the doctor; "so, I +suppose, I am safe enough. Whom did I see you out riding with +yesterday?" + +"I was with Mrs. Evelyn," said Fleda. "I didn't want to go, +but I couldn't very well help myself." + +"Mrs. Evelyn! Mrs. Evelyn wasn't driving, was she?" + +"No, Sir; Mr. Thorn was driving." + +"I thought so. Have you seen your old friend, Mr. Carleton, +yet?" + +"Do you know him, uncle Orrin?" + +"Why shouldn't I? What's the difficulty of knowing people? +Have you seen him?" + +"But how did you know that he was an old friend of mine?" + +"Question!" said the doctor. "Hum — well, I won't tell you; so +there's the answer. Now, will you answer me?" + +"I have not seen him, Sir." + +"Haven't met him, in all the times you have been to Mrs. +Evelyn's?" + +"No, Sir. I have been there but once in the evening, uncle +Orrin. He is just about sailing for England." + +"Well, you're going there to-night, aren't you? Run, and +bundle yourself up, and I'll take you there before I begin my +work." + +There was a small party that evening at Mrs. Evelyn's. Fleda +was very early. She ran up to the first floor — rooms lighted +and open, but nobody there. + +"Fleda Ringgan," called out the voice of Constance from over +the stairs, "is that you?" + +"No," said Fleda. + +"Well, just wait till I come down to you. My darling little +Fleda, it's delicious of you to come so early. Now, just tell +me, am I captivating?" + +"Well, I retain self-possession," said Fleda. "I cannot tell +about the strength of head of other people." + +"You wretched little creature! Fleda, don't you admire my +hair? it's new style, my dear — just come out; the Delancys +brought it out with them; Eloise Delancy taught it us; isn't +it graceful? Nobody in New York has it yet, except the +Delancys and we." + +"How do you know but they have taught somebody else?" said +Fleda. + +"I won't talk to you! Don't you like it?" + +"I am not sure that I do not like you in your ordinary way +better." + +Constance made a gesture of impatience, and then pulled Fleda +after her into the drawing-rooms. + +"Come in here; I wont waste the elegancies of my toilet upon +your dull perceptions; come here and let me show you some +flowers — aren't those lovely? This bunch came to-day, 'for +Miss Evelyn', so Florence will have it it is hers, and it's +very mean of her, for I am perfectly certain it is mine; it's +come from somebody who wasn't enlightened on the subject of my +family circle, and has innocently imagined that two Miss +Evelyns could not belong to the same one! I know the floral +representatives of all Florence's dear friends and admirers, +and this isn't from any of them. I have been distractedly +endeavouring all day to find who it came from, for if I don't, +I can't take the least comfort in it." + +"But you might enjoy the flowers for their own sake, I should +think," said Fleda, breathing the sweetness of myrtle and +heliotrope. + +"No, I can't, for I have all the time the association of some +horrid creature they might have come from, you know; but it +will do just as well to humbug people: I shall make Cornelia +Schenck believe that this came from my dear Mr. Carleton!" + +"No, you wont, Constance," said Fleda, gently. + +"My dear little Fleda, I shock you, don't I? but I sha'n't +tell any lies; I shall merely expressively indicate a +particular specimen, and say, 'My dear Cornelia, do you +perceive that this is an English rose?' and then it's none of +my business, you know, what she believes; and she will be +dying with curiosity and despair all the rest of the evening." + +"I shouldn't think there would be much pleasure in that, I +confess," said Fleda, gravely. "How very ungracefully and +stiffly those are made up!" + +"My dear little Queechy rose," said Constance, impatiently, +"you are, pardon me, as fresh as possible. They can't cut the +flowers with long stems, you know; the gardeners would be +ruined. That is perfectly elegant; it must have cost at least +ten dollars. My dear little Fleda!" said Constance, capering +off before the long pier-glass, "I am afraid I am not +captivating! Do you think it would be an improvement if I put +drops in my ears? — or one curl behind them? I don't know +which Mr. Carleton likes best!" — + +And with her head first on one side and then on the other, she +stood before the glass looking at herself and Fleda by turns +with such a comic expression of mock doubt and anxiety, that +no gravity but her own could stand it. + +"She is a silly girl, Fleda, isn't she?" said Mrs. Evelyn, +coming up behind them. + +"Mamma! am I captivating?" cried Constance, wheeling round. + +The mother's smile said "Very!" + +"Fleda is wishing she were out of the sphere of my influence, +Mamma. Wasn't Mr. Olmney afraid of my corrupting you?" she +said, with a sudden pull-up in front of Fleda. "My blessed +stars! there's somebody's voice I know. Well, I believe it is +true that a rose without thorns is a desideratum. Mamma, is +Mrs. Thorn's turban to be an invariable _pendant_ to your +_coiffure_ all the while Miss Ringgan is here?" + +"Hush!" + +With the entrance of company came Constance's return from +extravaganzas to a sufficiently graceful every-day manner, +only enough touched with high spirits and lawlessness to free +it from the charge of commonplace. But the contrast of these +high spirits with her own rather made Fleda's mood more quiet, +and it needed no quieting. Of the sundry people that she knew +among those presently assembled there were none that she +wanted to talk to; the rooms were hot, and she felt nervous +and fluttered, partly from encounters already sustained, and +partly from a little anxious expecting of Mr. Carleton's +appearance. The Evelyns had not said he was to be there, but +she had rather gathered it; and the remembrance of old times +was strong enough to make her very earnestly wish to see him, +and dread to be disappointed. She swung clear of Mr. Thorn, +with some difficulty, and ensconced herself under the shadow +of a large cabinet, between that and a young lady who was very +good society, for she wanted no help in carrying on the +business of it. All Fleda had to do was to sit still and +listen, or not listen, which she generally preferred. Miss +Tomlinson discoursed upon varieties, with great sociableness +and satisfaction; while poor Fleda's mind, letting all her +sense and nonsense go, was again taking a somewhat bird's-eye +view of things, and from the little centre of her post in Mrs. +Evelyn's drawing-room, casting curious glances over the +panorama of her life — England, France, New York, and Queechy! +— half coming to the conclusion that her place henceforth was +only at the last, and that the world and she had nothing to do +with each other. The tide of life and gaiety seemed to have +thrown her on one side, as something that could not swim with +it, and to be rushing past too strongly and swiftly for her +slight bark ever to launch upon it again. Perhaps the shore +might be the safest and happiest place; but it was sober in +the comparison; and, as a stranded bark might look upon the +white sails flying by, Fleda saw the gay faces and heard the +light tones with which her own could so little keep company. +But as little they with her. Their enjoyment was not more +foreign to her than the causes which moved it were strange. +Merry? — she might like to be merry, but she could sooner +laugh with the north wind than with one of those vapid faces, +or with any face that she could not trust. Conversation might +be pleasant, but it must be something different from the noisy +cross-fire of nonsense that was going on in one quarter, or +the profitless barter of nothings that was kept up on the +other side of her. Rather Queechy and silence, by far, than +New York and _this!_ + +And through it all, Miss Tomlinson talked on and was happy. + +"My dear Fleda! what are you back here for?" said Florence, +coming up to her. + +"I was glad to be at a safe distance from the fire." + +"Take a screen — here! Miss Tomlinson, your conversation is +too exciting for Miss Ringgan; look at her cheeks! I must +carry you off; I want to show you a delightful contrivance for +transparencies that I learned the other day." + +The seat beside her was vacated, and, not casting so much as a +look towards any quarter whence a possible successor to Miss +Tomlinson might be arriving, Fleda sprang up and took a place +in the far corner of the room by Mrs. Thorn, happily not +another vacant chair in the neighbourhood. Mrs. Thorn had +shown a very great fancy for her, and was almost as good +company as Miss Tomlinson — not quite, for it was necessary +sometimes to answer, and therefore necessary always to hear. +But Fleda liked her; she was thoroughly amiable, sensible, and +good-hearted; and Mrs. Thorn, very much gratified at Fleda's +choice of a seat, talked to her with a benignity which Fleda +could not help answering with grateful pleasure. + +"Little Queechy, what has driven you into the corner?" said +Constance, pausing a moment before her. + +"It must have been a retiring spirit," said Fleda. + +"Mrs. Thorn, isn't she lovely?" + +Mrs. Thorn's smile at Fleda might almost have been called +that, it was so full of benevolent pleasure. But she spoiled +it by her answer. "I don't believe I am the first one to find +it out.". + +"But what are you looking so sober for?" Constance went on, +taking Fleda's screen from her hand and fanning her diligently +with it — "you don't talk. The gravity of Miss Ringgan's face +casts a gloom over the brightness of the evening. I couldn't +conceive what made me feel chilly in the other room till I +looked about and found that the shade came from this corner; +and Mr. Thorn's teeth, I saw, were chattering." + +"Constance," said Fleda, laughing and vexed, and making the +reproof more strongly with her eyes — "how can you talk so?" + +"Mrs. Thorn, isn't it true?" + +Mrs. Thorn's look at Fleda was the essence of good humour. + +"Will you let Lewis come and take you a good long ride to- +morrow?" + +"No, Mrs. Thorn, I believe not — I intend to stay +perseveringly at home to-morrow, and see if it is possible to +be quiet a day in New York." + +"But you will go with me to the concert to-morrow night? — +both of you — and hear Truffi; — come to my house and take +tea, and go from there? will you, Constance?" + +"My dear Mrs. Thorn," said Constance, "I shall be in +ecstasies, and Miss Ringgan was privately imploring me last +night to find some way of getting her to it. We regard such +material pleasures as tea and muffins with great indifference, +but when you look up after swallowing your last cup you will +see Miss Ringgan and Miss Evelyn, cloaked and hooded, +anxiously awaiting your next movement. My dear Fleda, there is +a ring!" — + +And giving her the benefit of a most comic and expressive +arching of her eyebrows, Constance flung back the screen into +Fleda's lap, and skimmed away. + +Fleda was too vexed for a few minutes to understand more of +Mrs. Thorn's talk than that she was first enlarging upon the +concert, and afterwards detailing to her a long shopping +expedition in search of something which had been a morning's +annoyance. She almost thought Constance was unkind, because +she wanted to go to the concert herself, to lug her in so +unceremoniously, and wished herself back in her uncle's snug, +little, quiet parlour, unless M. Carleton would come. + +And there he is, said a quick beat of her heart, as his +entrance explained Constance's "ring." + +Such a rush of associations came over Fleda that she was in +imminent danger of losing Mrs. Thorn altogether. She managed, +however, by some sort of instinct, to disprove the assertion +that the mind cannot attend to two things at once, and carried +on a double conversation with herself and with Mrs. Thorn for +some time very vigorously. + +"Just the same! — he has not altered a jot," she said to +herself as he came forward to Mrs. Evelyn; — "it is himself! — +his very self — he doesn't look a day older — I'm very glad! — +(Yes, Ma'am, it's extremely tiresome —). How exactly as when +he left me in Paris, — and how much pleasanter than anybody +else! — more pleasant than ever, it seems, to me, but that is +because I have not seen him in so long; he only wanted one +thing. That same grave eye — but quieter, isn't it than it +used to be? — I think so — (It's the best store in town, I +think, Mrs. Thorn, by far — yes, Ma'am —). Those eyes are +certainly the finest I ever saw. How I have seen him stand and +look just so when he was talking to his workmen — without that +air of consciousness that all these people have, comparatively +— what a difference! (I know very little about it, Ma'am; — I +am not learned in laces — I never bought any —). I wish he +would look this way — I wonder if Mrs. Evelyn does not mean to +bring him to see me — she must remember; — now there is that +curious old smile and looking down! how much better I know +what it means than Mrs. Evelyn does! — (Yes, Ma'am, I +understand — I mean! — it is very convenient — I never go +anywhere else to get anything — at least, I should not if I +lived here —). She does not know whom she is talking to. She +is going to walk him off into the other room! How very much +more gracefully he does everything than anybody else — it +comes from that entire high-mindedness and frankness, I think +— not altogether, a fine person must aid the effect, and that +complete independence of other people — I wonder if Mrs. +Evelyn has forgotten my existence? — he has not, I am sure — I +think she is a little odd — (Yes, Ma'am, my face is flushed — +the room is very warm —.)" + +"But the fire has gone down — it will be cooler now," said +Mrs. Thorn. + +Which were the first words that fairly entered Fleda's +understanding. She was glad to use the screen to hide her face +now, not the fire. + +Apparently the gentleman and lady found nothing to detain them +in the other room, for, after sauntering off to it, they +sauntered back again, and placed themselves to talk just +opposite her. Fleda had an additional screen now in the person +of Miss Tomlinson, who had sought her corner, and was earnest +talking across her to Mrs. Thorn, so that she was sure, even +if Mr. Carleton's eyes should chance to wander that way, they +would see nothing but the unremarkable skirt of her green silk +dress, most unlikely to detain them. + +The trade in nothings going on over the said green silk was +very brisk indeed; but, disregarding the buzz of tongues near +at hand, Fleda's quick ears were able to free the barrier, and +catch every one of the quiet tones beyond. + +"And you leave us the day after to-morrow?" said Mrs. Evelyn. + +"No, Mrs. Evelyn, I shall wait another steamer." + +The lady's brow instantly revealed to Fleda a trap setting +beneath to catch his reason. + +"I'm very glad!" exclaimed little Edith, who, in defiance of +conventionalities and proprieties, made good her claim to be +in the drawing-room on all occasions — "then you will take me +another ride, wont you, Mr. Carleton?" + +"You do not flatter us with a very long stay," pursued Mrs. +Evelyn. + +"Quite as long as I expected — longer than I meant it to be," +he answered, rather thoughtfully. + +"Mr. Carleton," said Constance, sidling up in front of him. "I +have been in distress to ask you a question, and I am afraid — +" + +"Of what are you afraid, Miss Constance?" + +"That you would reward me with one of your severe looks, which +would petrify me; and then, I am afraid I should feel +uncomfortable" — + +"I hope he will!" said Mrs. Evelyn, settling herself back in +the corner of the sofa, and with a look at her daughter which +was complacency itself — "I hope Mr. Carleton will, if you are +guilty of any impertinence." + +"What is the question, Miss Constance?" + +"I want to know what brought you out here?" + +"Fie, Constance," said her mother. "I am ashamed of you. Do +not answer her, Mr. Carleton." + +"Mr. Carleton will answer me, Mamma — he looks benevolently +upon my faults, which are entirely those of education. What +was it, Mr. Carleton?" + +"I suppose," said he, smiling, "it might be traced more or +less remotely to the restlessness incident to human nature." + +"But you are not restless, Mr. Carleton," said Florence, with +a glance which might be taken as complimentary. + +"And knowing that I am," said Constance, in comic impatience, +"you are maliciously prolonging my agonies. It is not what I +expected of you, Mr. Carleton." + +"My dear," said her father, "Mr. Carleton, I am sure, will +fulfil all reasonable expectations. What is the matter?" + +"I asked him where a certain tribe of Indians was to be found, +Papa, and he told me they were supposed originally to have +come across Behring's Strait, one cold winter." + +Mr. Evelyn looked a little doubtfully, and Constance with so +unhesitating gravity, that the gravity of nobody else was +worth talking about. + +"But it is so uncommon," said Mrs. Evelyn, when they had done +laughing, "to see an Englishman of your class here at all, +that when he comes a second time we may be forgiven for +wondering what has procured us such an honour." + +"Women may always be forgiven for wondering, my dear," said +Mr. Evelyn, "or the rest of mankind must live at odds with +them." + +"Your principal object was to visit our western prairies, +wasn't it, Mr. Carleton?" said Florence. + +"No," he replied, quietly, "I cannot say that. I should choose +to give a less romantic explanation of my movements. From, +some knowledge growing out of my former visit to this country, +I thought there were certain negotiations I might enter into +here with advantage; and it was for the purpose of attending +to these, Miss Constance, that I came." + +"And have you succeeded?" said Mrs. Evelyn, with an expression +of benevolent interest. + +"No, Ma'am — my information had not been sufficient." + +"Very likely," said Mr. Evelyn. "There isn't one man in a +hundred whose representations on such a matter are to be +trusted at a distance." + +"On such a matter," repeated his wife, funnily; "you don't +know what the matter was, Mr. Evelyn — you don't know what you +are talking about." + +"Business, my dear — business — I take only what Mr. Carleton +said; it doesn't signify a straw what business. A man must +always see with his own eyes." + +Whether Mr. Carleton had seen or had not seen, or whether even +he had his faculty of hearing in present exercise, a glance at +his face was incompetent to discover. + +"I never should have imagined," said Constance, eyeing him +keenly, "that Mr. Carleton's errand to this country was one of +business, and not of romance. I believe it's a humbug!" + +For an instant this was answered by one of those looks of +absolute composure, in every muscle and feature, which put an +effectual bar to all further attempts from without, or +revelations from within — a look Fleda remembered well, and +felt even in her corner. But it presently relaxed, and he said +with his usual manner, + +"You cannot understand, then, Miss Constance, that there +should be any romance about business?" + +"I cannot understand," said Mrs. Evelyn, "why romance should +not come after business. Mr. Carleton, Sir, you have seen +American scenery this summer; isn't American beauty worth +staying a little while longer for?" + +"My dear," said Mr. Evelyn, "Mr. Carleton is too much of a +philosopher to care about beauty — every man of sense is." + +"I am sure he is not," said Mrs. Evelyn, smoothly. "Mr. +Carleton, you are an admirer of beauty, are you not, Sir ?" + +"I hope so, Mrs. Evelyn," he said smiling; "but perhaps, I +shall shock you by adding — not of beauties." + +"That sounds very odd," said Florence. + +"But let us understand," said Mrs. Evelyn, with the air of a +person solving a problem; "I suppose we are to infer that your +taste in beauty is of a peculiar kind?" + +"That may be a fair inference," he said. + +"What is it, then?" said Constance, eagerly. + +"Yes — what is it you look for in a face?" said Mrs. Evelyn. + +"Let us hear whether America has any chance," said Mr. Thorn, +who had joined the group, and placed himself precisely so as +to hinder Fleda's view. + +"My fancy has no stamp of nationality, in this, at least," he +said, pleasantly. + +"Now, for instance, the Miss Delancys — don't you call them +handsome, Mr. Carleton?" said Florence. + +"Yes," he said, half smiling. + +"But not beautiful? Now, what is it they want?" + +"I do not wish, if I could, to make the want visible to other +eyes than my own." + +"Well, Cornelia Schenck — how do you like her face?" + +"It is very pretty-featured." + +"Pretty-featured! Why, she is called beautiful! She has a +beautiful smile, Mr. Carleton!" + +"She has only one." + +"Only one! and how many smiles ought the same person to have?" +cried Florence, impatiently. But that which instantly answered +her said forcibly, that a plurality of them was possible. + +"I have seen one face," he said, gravely, and his eye seeking +the floor, "that had, I think, a thousand." + +"Different smiles!" said Mrs. Evelyn, in a constrained voice. + +"If they were not all absolutely that, they had so much of +freshness and variety that they all seemed new." + +"Was the mouth so beautiful?" said Florence. + +"Perhaps it would not have been remarked for beauty when it +was perfectly at rest, but it could not move with the least +play of feeling, grave or gay, that it did not become so in a +very high degree. I think there was no touch or shade of +sentiment in the mind that the lips did not give with singular +nicety; and the mind was one of the most finely wrought I have +ever known." + +"And what other features went with this mouth?" said Florence. + +"The usual complement, I suppose," said Thorn. " '_Item_, two +lips indifferent red; _item_, two gray eyes, with lids to them; +_item_, one neck, one chin, and so forth." + +"Mr. Carleton, Sir," said Mrs. Evelyn, blandly," as Mr. Evelyn +says, women may be forgiven for wondering, wont you answer +Florence's question?" + +"Mr. Thorn has done it, Mrs. Evelyn, for me." + +"But I have great doubts of the correctness of Mr. Thorn's +description, Sir; wont you indulge us with yours?" + +"Word-painting is a difficult matter, Mrs. Evelyn, in some +instances; if I must do it, I will borrow my colours. In +general, 'that which made her fairness much the fairer was, +that it was but an ambassador of a most fair mind.' " + +"A most exquisite picture!" said Thorn; "and the originals +don't stand so thick that one is in any danger of mistaking +them. Is the painter Shakespeare? — I don't recollect." + +"I think Sidney, Sir; I am not sure." + +"But still, Mr. Carleton," said Mrs. Evelyn, "this is only in +general — I want very much to know the particulars; what style +of features belonged to this face?" + +"The fairest, I think, I have ever known," said Mr. Carleton. +"You asked me, Miss Evelyn, what was my notion of beauty; this +face was a good illustration of it. Not perfection of outline, +though it had that, too, in very uncommon degree; but the +loveliness of mind and character to which these features were +only an index; the thoughts were invariably telegraphed +through eye and mouth more faithfully than words could give +them." + +"What kind of eyes?" said Florence. + +His own grew dark as he answered — + +"Clear and pure as one might imagine an angel's — through +which I am sure my good angel many a time looked at me." + +Good angels were at a premium among the eyes that were +exchanging glances just then. + +"And Mr. Carleton," said Mrs. Evelyn, "is it fair to ask — +this paragon — is she living, still?" + +"I hope so," he answered, with his old light smile, dismissing +the subject. + +"You spoke so much in the past tense," said Mrs. Evelyn, +apologetically. + +"Yes; I have not seen it since it was a child's." + +"A child's face! Oh," said Florence, "I think you see a great +many children's faces with that kind of look." + +"I never saw but the one," said Mr. Carleton, drily. + +So far Fleda listened, with cheeks that would certainly have +excited Mrs. Thorn's alarm, if she had not been happily +engrossed with Miss Tomlinson's affairs; though up to the last +two minutes the idea of herself had not entered Fleda's head +in connection with the subject of conversation. But then, +feeling it impossible to make her appearance in public that +evening, she quietly slipped out of the open window close by, +which led into a little greenhouse on the piazza, and by +another door gained the hall and the dressing-room. + +When Dr. Gregory came to Mrs. Evelyn's an hour or two after, a +figure all cloaked and hooded ran down the stairs and met him +in the hall. + +"Ready!" said the doctor, in surprise. + +"I have been ready some time, Sir," said Fleda. + +"Well," said he, "then we'll go straight home, for I've not +done my work yet." + +"Dear uncle Orrin," said Fleda, "if I had known you had work +to do, I wouldn't have come." + +"Yes, you would," said he, decidedly. + +She clasped her uncle's arm, and walked with him briskly home +through the frosty air, looking at the silent lights and +shadows on the walls of the street, and feeling a great desire +to cry. + +"Did you have a pleasant evening?" said the doctor, when they +were about half way. + +"Not particularly, Sir," said Fleda, hesitating. + +He said not another word till they got home, and Fleda went up +to her room. But the habit of patience overcame the wish to +cry; and though the outside of her little gold-clasped bible +awoke it again, a few words of the inside were enough to lay +it quietly to sleep. + +"Well," said the doctor, as they sat at breakfast the next +morning, "where are you going next?" + +"To the concert, I must, to-night," said Fleda. "I couldn't +help myself." + +"Why should you want to help yourself?" said the doctor. "And +to Mrs. Thorn's to-morrow night?" + +"No, Sir; I believe not." + +"I believe you will," said he, looking at her. + +"I am sure I should enjoy myself more at home, uncle Orrin. +There is very little rational pleasure to be had in these +assemblages." + +"Rational pleasure!" said he. "Didn't you have any rational +pleasure last night?" + +"I didn't hear a single word spoken, Sir, that was worth +listening to; at least, that was spoken to me; and the hollow +kind of rattle that one hears from every tongue, makes me more +tired than anything else, I believe. I am out of tune with it, +somehow." + +"Out of tune!" said the old doctor, giving her a look made up +of humourous vexation and real sadness; "I wish I knew the +right tuning-key to take hold of you!" + +"I become harmonious rapidly, uncle Orrin, when I am in this +pleasant little room alone with you." + +"That wont do!" said he, shaking his head at the smile with +which this was said — "there is too much tension upon the +strings. So that was the reason you were all ready waiting for +me last night? Well, you must tune up, my little piece of +discordance, and go with me to Mrs. Thorn's to-morrow night — +I wont let you off." + +"With you, Sir!" said Fleda. + +"Yes," he said. "I'll go along and take care of you, lest you +get drawn into something else you don't like." + +"But, dear uncle Orrin, there is another difficulty — it is to +be a large party, and I have not a dress exactly fit." + +"What have you got?" said he, with a comic kind of fierceness. + +"I have silks, but they are none of them proper for this +occasion — they are ever so little old-fashioned." + +"What do you want?" + +"Nothing, Sir," said Fleda; "for I don't want to go." + +"You mend a pair of stockings to put on," said he, nodding at +her, "and I'll see to the rest." + +"Apparently you place great importance in stockings," said +Fleda, laughing, "for you always mention them first. But, +please don't get anything for me, uncle Orrin — please don't! +I have plenty for common occasions, and I don't care to go to +Mrs. Thorn's." + +"I don't care either," said the doctor, working himself into +his great coat. "By the by, do you want to invoke the aid of +St. Crispin?" + +He went off, and Fleda did not know whether to cry or to laugh +at the vigorous way in which he trod through the hall, and +slammed the front door after him. Her spirits just kept the +medium, and did neither. But they were in the same doubtful +mood still an hour after, when he came back with a paper +parcel he had brought home under his arm, and unrolled a fine +embroidered muslin; her eyes were very unsteady in carrying +their brief messages of thankfulness, as if they feared saying +too much. The doctor, however, was in the mood for doing, not +talking, by looks or otherwise. Mrs. Pritchard was called into +consultation, and with great pride and delight engaged to have +the dress and all things else in due order by the following +night; her eyes saying all manner of gratulatory things as +they went from the muslin to Fleda, and from Fleda to Dr. +Gregory. + +The rest of the day was, not books, but needlefuls of thread; +and from the confusion of laces and draperies, Fleda was +almost glad to escape, and go to the concert — but for one +item; that spoiled it. + +They were in their seats early. Fleda managed successfully to +place the two Evelyns between her and Mr. Thorn, and then +prepared herself to wear out the evening with patience. + +"My dear Fleda!" whispered Constance, after some time spent in +restless reconnoitring of everything — "I don't see my English +rose anywhere!" + +"Hush!" said Fleda, smiling. "That happened not to be an +English rose, Constance." + +"What was it?" + +"American, unfortunately; it was a Noisette; the variety, I +think, that they call 'Conque de Vénus.' " + +"My dear little Fleda, you're too wise for anything!" said +Constance, with a rather significant arching of her eye-brows. +"You mustn't expect other people to be as rural in their +acquirements as yourself. I don't pretend to know any rose by +sight but the Queechy," she said, with a change of expression, +meant to cover the former one. + +Fleda's face, however, did not call for any apology. It was +perfectly quiet. + +"But what has become of him?" said Constance, with her comic +impatience. "My dear Fleda! if my eyes cannot rest upon that +development of elegance, the parterre is become a wilderness +to me!" + +"Hush, Constance!" Fleda whispered earnestly — "you are not +safe — he may be near you." + +"Safe!" ejaculated Constance; but a half backward hasty glance +of her eye brought home so strong an impression that the +person in question was seated a little behind her, that she +dared not venture another look, and became straightway +extremely well-behave. + +He was there; and being presently convinced that he was in the +neighbourhood of his little friend of former days, he resolved +with his own excellent eyes to test the truth of the opinion +he had formed as to the natural and inevitable effect of +circumstances upon her character; whether it could by +possibility have retained its great delicacy and refinement, +under the rough handling and unkindly bearing of things +seemingly foreign to both. He had thought not. + +Truffi did not sing, and the entertainment was of a very +secondary quality. This seemed to give no uneasiness to the +Miss Evelyns, for if they pouted, they laughed and talked in +the same breath, and that incessantly. It was nothing to Mr. +Carleton, for his mind was bent on something else. And with a +little surprise, he saw that it was nothing to the subject of +his thoughts, either because her own were elsewhere, too, or +because they were in league with a nice taste, that permitted +them to take no interest in what was going on. Even her eyes, +trained as they had been to recluse habits, were far less busy +than those of her companions; indeed, they were not busy at +all; for the greater part of the time, one hand was upon the +brow, shielding them from the glare of the gas-lights. +Ostensibly — but the very quiet air of the face led him to +guess that the mind was glad of a shield too. It relaxed +sometimes. Constance, and Florence, and Mr. Thorn, and Mr. +Thorn's mother, were every now and then making demands upon +her, and they were met always with an intelligent well-bred +eye, and often with a smile of equal gentleness and character; +but her observer noticed that though the smile came readily, +it went as readily, and the lines of the face quickly settled +again into what seemed to be an habitual composure. There were +the same outlines, the same characters, he remembered very +well; yet there was a difference; not grief had changed them, +but life had. The brow had all its fine chiselling and high +purity of expression; but now there sat there a hopelessness, +or rather a want of hopefulness, that a child's face never +knows. The mouth was sweet and pliable as ever, but now often +patience and endurance did not quit their seat upon the lip +even when it smiled. The eye, with all its old clearness and +truthfulness, had a shade upon it that, nine years ago, only +fell at the bidding of sorrow; and in every line of the face +there was a quiet gravity that went to the heart of the person +who was studying it. Whatever causes had been at work, he was +very sure, had done no harm to the character; its old +simplicity had suffered no change, as every look and movement +proved; the very unstudied careless position of the fingers +over the eyes showed that the thoughts had nothing to do +there. + + +On one half of his doubt Mr. Carleton's mind was entirely made +up; but education? the training and storing of the mind — how +had that fared? He would know! + +Perhaps he would have made some attempt that very evening +towards satisfying himself; but noticing that, in coming out, +Thorn permitted the Evelyns to pass him, and attached himself +determinately to Fleda, he drew back, and resolved to make his +observations indirectly, and on more than one point, before he +should seem to make them at all. + + +CHAPTER VI. + + +"Hark: I hear the sound of coaches, +The hour of attack approaches." +GAY. + + +Mrs. Pritchard had arrayed Fleda in the white muslin, with an +amount of satisfaction and admiration that all the lines of +her face were insufficient to express. + +"Now," she said, "you must just run down and let the doctor +see you, afore you take the shine off, or he wont be able to +look at anything else when you get to the place." + +"That would be unfortunate!" said Fleda, and she ran down, +laughing, into the room where the doctor was waiting for her; +but her astonished eyes encountering the figure of Dr. +Quackenboss, she stopped short, with an air that no woman of +the world could have bettered. The physician of Queechy, on +his part, was at least equally taken aback. + +"Dr. Quackenboss!" said Fleda. + +"I — I was going to say, Miss Ringgan!" said the doctor, with +a most unaffected obeisance, "but — a — I am afraid, Sir, it +is a deceptive influence!" + +"I hope not," said Dr. Gregory, smiling; one corner of his +mouth for his guest and the other for his niece. "Real enough +to do real execution, or I am mistaken, Sir." + +"Upon my word, Sir," said Dr. Quackenboss, bowing again, "I +hope — a — Miss Ringgan — will remember the acts of her +executive power at home, and return in time to prevent an +unfortunate termination!" + +Dr. Gregory laughed heartily now, while Fleda's cheeks +relieved her dress to admiration. + +"Who will complain of her if she don't?" said the doctor. "Who +will complain of her if she don't?" + +But Fleda put in her question. + +"How are you all at home, Dr. Quackenboss?" + +"All Queechy, Sir," answered the doctor, politely, on the +principle of 'first come, first served' — "and individuals — I +shouldn't like to specify" — + +"How are you all in Queechy, Dr. Quackenboss?" said Fleda. + +"I — have the pleasure to say — we are coming along as usual," +replied the doctor, who seemed to have lost his power of +standing up straight. "My sister Flora enjoys but poor health +lately — they are all holding their heads up at your house. +Mr. Rossitur has come home." + +"Uncle Rolf! Has he?" exclaimed Fleda, the colour of joy quite +supplanting the other. "Oh, I'm very glad!" + +"Yes," said the doctor — "he's been home now — I guess, going +on four days." + +"I am very glad!" repeated Fleda. "But wont you come and see +me another time, Dr. Quackenboss? — I am obliged to go out." + +The doctor professed his great willingness, adding that he had +only come down to the city to do two or three chores, and +thought she might perhaps like to take the opportunity — which +would afford him such very great gratification. + +"No, indeed, faire Una," said Dr. Gregory, when they were on +their way to Mrs. Thorn's — "they've got your uncle at home +now, and we've got you; and I mean to keep you till I'm +satisfied. So you may bring home that eye that has been +squinting at Queechy ever since you have been here, and make +up your mind to enjoy yourself; I shan't let you go till you +do." + +"I ought to enjoy myself, uncle Orrin," said Fleda, squeezing +his arm gratefully. + +"See you do," said he. + +The pleasant news from home had given Fleda's spirits the +needed spur, which the quick walk to Mrs. Thorn's did not take +off. + +"Did you ever see Fleda look so well, Mamma?" said Florence, +as the former entered the drawing-room. + +"That is the loveliest and best face in the room," said Mr. +Evelyn; "and she looks like herself to-night." + +"There is a matchless simplicity about her," said a gentleman, +standing by. + +"Her dress is becoming," said Mrs. Evelyn. + +"Why, where did you ever see her, Mr. Stackpole, except at our +house?" said Constance. + +"At Mrs. Decatur's — I have had that pleasure — and once at +her uncle's." + +"I didn't know you ever noticed ladies' faces, Mr. Stackpole," +said Florence. + +"How Mrs. Thorn does look at her!" said Constance, under her +breath. "It is too much." + +It was almost too much for Fleda's equanimity, for the colour +began to come. + +"And there goes Mr. Carleton!" said Constance. "I expect +momentarily to hear the company strike up, 'Sparkling and +Bright.' " + +"They should have done that some time ago, Miss Constance," +said the gentleman. + +Which compliment, however, Constance received with hardly +disguised scorn, and turned her attention again to Mr. +Carleton. + +"I trust I do not need presentation," said his voice and his +smile at once, as he presented himself to Fleda. + +How little he needed it, the flash of feeling which met his +eyes said sufficiently well. But apparently the feeling was a +little too deep, for the colour mounted, and the eyes fell, +and the smile suddenly died on the lips. Mr. Thorn came up to +them, and releasing her hand, Mr. Carleton stepped back and +permitted him to lead her away. + +"What do think of _that_ face?" said Constance, finding herself +a few moments after at his side. + +" 'That' must define itself," said he, "or I can hardly give a +safe answer." + +"What face? Why, I mean, of course, the one Mr. Thorn carried +off just now." + +"You are her friend, Miss .Constance," he said, coolly. "May I +ask for your judgment upon it before I give mine?" + +"Mine? why, I expected every minute that Mr. Thorn would make +the musicians play 'Sparkling and Bright,' and tell Miss +Ringgan that to save trouble he had directed them to express +what he was sure were the sentiments of the whole company in +one burst." + +He smiled a little, but in a way that Constance could not +understand, and did not like. + +"Those are common epithets," he said. + +"Must I use uncommon?" said Constance, significantly. + +"No; but these may say one thing or another." + +"I have said one thing," said Constance; "and now you may say +the other." + +"Pardon me — you have said nothing. These epithets are +deserved by a great many faces, but on very different grounds; +and the praise is a different thing, accordingly." + +"Well, what is the difference?" said Constance. + +"On what do you think this lady's title to it rests?" + +"On what? — why, on that bewitching little air of the eyes and +mouth, I suppose." + +"Bewitching is a very vague term," said he, smiling again, +more quietly. "But you have had an opportunity of knowing it +much better of late than I — to which class of bright faces +would you refer this one? Where does the light come from?" + +"I never studied faces in a class," said Constance, a little +scornfully. "Come from? — a region of mist and clouds, I +should say, for it is sometimes pretty well covered up." + +"There are some eyes whose sparkling is nothing more than the +play of light upon a bright bead of glass." + +"It is not that," said Constance, answering in spite of +herself, after delaying as long as she dared. + +"There is the brightness that is only the reflection of +outward circumstances, and passes away with them." + +"It isn't that in Fleda Ringgan," said Constance, "for her +outward circumstances have no brightness, I should think, that +reflection would not utterly absorb." + +She would fain have turned the conversation, but the questions +were put so lightly and quietly that it could not be +gracefully done. She longed to cut it short, but her hand was +upon Mr. Carleton's arm, and they were slowly sauntering down +the rooms — too pleasant a state of things to be relinquished +for a trifle. + +"There is the broad day-light of mere animal spirits," he went +on, seeming rather to be suggesting these things for her +consideration than eager to set forth any opinions of his own +— "there is the sparkling of mischief, and the fire of hidden +passions — there is the passing brilliance of wit, as +satisfactory and resting as these gaslights — and there is now +and then the light of refined affections out of a heart +unspotted from the world, as pure and abiding as the stars, +and, like them, throwing its soft ray especially upon the +shadows of life." + +"I have always understood," said Constance, "that cat's eyes +are brightest in the dark." + +"They do not love the light, I believe," said Mr. Carleton, +calmly. + +"Well," said Constance, not relishing the expression of her +companion's eye, which, from glowing, had suddenly be come +cool and bright — "where would you put me, Mr. Carleton, among +all these illuminators of the social system?" + +"You may put yourself — where you please, Miss Constance," he +said, again turning upon her an eye so deep and full in its +meaning, that her own and her humour fell before it; for a +moment she looked most unlike the gay scene around her. + +"Is not that the best brightness," he said speaking low, "that +will last forever? — and is not that lightness of heart best +worth having which does not depend on circumstances, and will +find its perfection just when all other kinds of happiness +fail utterly?" + +"I can't conceive," said Constance, presently rallying, or +trying to rally herself — "what you and I have to do in a +place where people are enjoying themselves at this moment, Mr. +Carleton!" + +He smiled at that, and led her out of it into the +conservatory, close to which they found themselves. It was a +large and fine one, terminating the suite of rooms in this +direction. Few people were there; but, at the far end stood a +group, among whom Fleda and Mr. Thorn were conspicuous. He was +busying himself in putting together a quantity of flowers for +her; and Mrs. Evelyn and old Mr. Thorn stood looking on; with +Mr. Stackpole. Mr. Stackpole was an Englishman, of certainly +not very prepossessing exterior, but somewhat noted as an +author, and a good deal sought after in consequence. At +present he was engaged by Mrs. Evelyn. Mr. Carleton and +Constance sauntered up towards them, and paused at a little +distance to look at some curious plants. + +"Don't try for that, Mr. Thorn," said Fleda, as the gentleman +was making rather ticklish efforts to reach a superb fuchsia +that hung high. "You are endangering sundry things besides +yourself." + +"I have learned, Miss Fleda," said Thorn, as with much ado he +grasped the beautiful cluster, "that what we take the most +pains for is apt to be reckoned the best prize — a truth I +should never think of putting into a lady's head if I believed +it possible that a single one of them was ignorant of its +practical value." + +"I have this same rose in my garden at home," said Fleda. + +"You are a great gardener, Miss Fleda, I hear," said the old +gentleman. "My son says you are an adept in it." + +"I am very fond of it, Sir," said Fleda, answering him with an +entirely different face. + +"I thought the delicacy of American ladies was beyond such a +masculine employment as gardening," said Mr. Stackpole, edging +away from Mrs. Evelyn. + +"I guess this young lady is an exception to the rule," said +old Mr. Thorn. + +"I guess she is an exception to most rules that you have got +in your note-book, Mr. Stackpole," said the younger man. "But +there is no guessing about the garden, for I have with my own +eyes seen these gentle hands at one end of a spade, and her +foot at the other — a sight that, I declare, I don't know +whether I was most filled with astonishment or admiration." + +"Yes," said Fleda, half laughing and colouring, "and he +ingenuously confessed in his surprise that he didn't know +whether politeness ought to oblige him to stop and shake +hands, or to pass by without seeing me; evidently showing that +he thought I was about something equivocal." + +The laugh was now turned against Mr. Thorn, but he went on +cutting his geraniums with a grave face. + +"Well," said he at length, "I think it is something of very +equivocal utility. Why should such gentle hands and feet spend +their strength in clod-breaking, when rough ones are at +command?" + +There was nothing equivocal about Fleda's merriment this time. + +"I have learned, Mr. Thorn, by sad experience, that the rough +hands break more than the clods. One day I set Philetus to +work among my flowers; and the first thing I knew, he had +pulled up a fine passion-flower which didn't make much show +above ground, and was displaying it to me with the grave +commentary, 'Well! that root did grow to a great haigth!' " + +"Some mental clod-breaking to be done up there, isn't there?" +said Thorn, in a kind of aside. "I cannot express my +admiration at the idea of your dealing with those boors, as it +has been described to me." + +"They do not deserve the name, Mr. Thorn," said Fleda. "They +are many of them most sensible and excellent people, and +friends that I value very highly." + +"Ah! your goodness would make friends of everything." + +"Not of boors, I hope," said Fleda, coolly. "Besides, what do +you mean by the name?" + +"Anybody incapable of appreciating that of which you alone +should be unconscious," he said, softly. + +Fleda stood impatiently tapping her flowers against her left +hand. + +"I doubt their power of appreciation reaches a point that +would surprise you, Sir." + +"It does indeed — if I am mistaken in my supposition," he +said, with a glance which Fleda refused to acknowledge. + +"What proportion, do you suppose," she went on, "of all these +roomfuls of people behind us — without saying anything +uncharitable — what proportion of them, if compelled to amuse +themselves for two hours at a bookcase, would pitch upon +Macaulay's Essays, or anything like them, to spend the time?" + +"Hum — really, Miss Fleda," said Thorn, "I should want to +brush up my Algebra considerably before I could hope to find +x, y, and z in such a confusion of the alphabet." + +"Or extract the small sensible root of such a quantity of +light matter," said Mr. Stackpole. + +"Will you bear with my vindication of my country friends? — +Hugh and I sent for a carpenter to make some new arrangement +of shelves in a cupboard where we kept our books; he was one +of these boors, Mr. Thorn, in no respect above the rest. The +right stuff for his work was wanting, and while it was sent +for, he took up one of the volumes that were lying about, and +read perseveringly until the messenger returned. It was a +volume of Macaulay's Miscellanies; and afterwards he borrowed +the book of me." + +"And you lent it to him?" said Constance. + +"Most assuredly; and with a great deal of pleasure." + +"And is this no more than a common instance, Miss Ringgan?" +said Mr. Carleton. + +"No, I think not," said Fleda; the quick blood in her cheeks +again answering the familiar voice and old associations; — "I +know several of the farmers' daughters around us that have +studied Latin and Greek; and philosophy is a common thing; and +I am sure there is more sense —" + +She suddenly checked herself, and her eye which had been +sparkling grew quiet. + +"It is very absurd!" said Mr. Stackpole. + +"Why, Sir?" + +"Oh, these people have nothing to do with such things — do +them nothing but harm!" + +"May I ask again, what harm?" said Fleda, gently. + +"Unfit them for the duties of their station, and make them +discontented with it." + +"By making it pleasanter?" + +"No, no — not by making it pleasanter." + +"By what then, Mr. Stackpole?" said Thorn, to draw him on, and +to draw her out, Fleda was sure. + +"By lifting them out of it." + +"And what objection to lifting them out of it?" said Thorn. + +"You can't lift every body out of it," said the gentleman, +with a little irritation in his manner — "that station must be +filled — there must always be poor people." + +"And what degree of poverty ought to debar a man from the +pleasures of education and a cultivated taste, such as he can +attain?" + +"No, no, not that," said Mr. Stackpole; "but it all goes to +fill them with absurd notions about their place in society, +inconsistent with proper subordination." + +Fleda looked at him, but shook her head slightly, and was +silent. + +"Things are in very different order on our side the water," +said Mr. Stackpole, hugging himself. + +"Are they?" said Fleda. + +"Yes — we understand how to keep things in their places a +little better." + +"I did not know," said Fleda, quietly, "that it was by _design_ +of the rulers of England that so many of her lower class are +in the intellectual condition of our slaves." + +"Mr. Carleton," said Mrs. Evelyn, laughing, "what do you say +to that, Sir?" + +Fleda's face turned suddenly to him with a quick look of +apology, which she immediately knew was not needed. + +"But this kind of thing don't make the people any happier," +pursued Mr. Stackpole; — "only serves to give them uppish and +dissatisfied longings that cannot be gratified." + +"Somebody says," observed Thorn, "that 'under a despotism all +are contented, because none can get on, and in a republic, +none are contented, because all can get on.' " + +"Precisely," said Mr. Stackpole. + +"That might do very well if the world were in a state of +perfection," said Fleda. "As it is, commend me to discontent +and getting on. And the uppishness, I am afraid, is a national +fault, Sir; you know our state motto is 'Excelsior.' " + +"We are at liberty to suppose," said Thorn, "that Miss Ringgan +has followed the example of her friends, the farmers' +daughters? — or led them in it?" + +"It is dangerous to make surmises," said Fleda, colouring. + +"It is a pleasant way of running into danger," said Mr. Thorn, +who was leisurely pruning the prickles from the stem of a +rose. + +"I was talking to a gentleman once," said Fleda, "about the +birds and flowers we find in our wilds; and he told me +afterwards gravely, that he was afraid I was studying too many +things at once! — when I was innocent of all ornithology but +what my eyes and ears had picked up in the wood, except some +childish reminiscences of Audubon." + +"That is just the right sort of learning for a lady," said Mr. +Stackpole, smiling at her, however; "women have nothing to do +with books." + +"What do you say to that, Miss Fleda?" said Thorn. + +"Nothing, Sir; it is one of those positions that are +unanswerable." + +"But, Mr. Stackpole," said Mrs. Evelyn, "I don't like that +doctrine, Sir. I do not believe in it at all." + +"That is unfortunate — for my doctrine," said the gentleman. + +"But I do not believe it is yours. Why must women have nothing +to do with books? what harm do they do, Mr. Stackpole?" + +"Not needed, Ma'am; a woman, as somebody says, knows +intuitively all that is really worth knowing." + +"Of what use is a mine that is never worked?" said Mr. +Carleton. + +"It is worked," said Mr. Stackpole. "Domestic life is the true +training for the female mind. One woman will learn more wisdom +from the child on her breast than another will learn from ten +thousand volumes." + +"It is very doubtful how much wisdom the child will ever learn +from her," said Mr. Carleton, smiling. + +"A woman who never saw a book," pursued Mr. Stackpole, +unconsciously quoting his author, "may be infinitely superior, +even in all those matters of which books treat, to the woman +who has read, and read intelligently, a whole library." + +"Unquestionably; and it is, likewise, beyond question, that a +silver sixpence may be worth more than a washed guinea." + +"But a woman's true sphere is in her family — in her home +duties, which furnish the best and most appropriate training +for her faculties — pointed out by nature itself." + +"Yes!" said Mr. Carleton — "and for those duties, some of the +very highest and noblest that are entrusted to human agency, +the fine machinery that is to perform them should be wrought +to its last point of perfectness. The wealth of a woman's +mind, instead of lying in the rough, should be richly brought +out and fashioned for its various ends, while yet those ends +are in the future, or it will never meet the demand. And, for +her own happiness, all the more because her sphere is at home, +her home stores should be exhaustless — the stores she cannot +go abroad to seek. I would add to strength beauty, and to +beauty grace, in the intellectual proportions, so far as +possible. It were ungenerous in man to condemn the _best_ half +of human intellect to insignificance, merely because it is not +his own." + +Mrs. Evelyn wore a smile of admiration that nobody saw, but +Fleda's face was a study while Mr. Carleton was saying this. +Her look was fixed upon him with such intent satisfaction and +eagerness, that it was not till he had finished that she +became aware that those dark eyes were going very deep into +hers, and suddenly put a stop to the inquisition. + +"Very pleasant doctrine to the ears that have an interest in +it," said Mr. Stackpole, rather discontentedly. + +"The man knows little of his own interest," said Mr. Carleton, +"who would leave that ground waste, or would cultivate it only +in the narrow spirit of a utilitarian. He needs an influence +in his family not more refreshing than rectifying; and no man +will seek that in one greatly his inferior. He is to be pitied +who cannot fall back upon his home with the assurance that he +has there something better than himself." + +"Why, Mr. Carleton, Sir," said Mrs. Evelyn, with every line of +her mouth saying funny things — "I am afraid you have sadly +neglected your own interest — have you anything at Carleton +better than yourself?" + +Suddenly cool again, he laughed, and said, "You were there, +Mrs. Evelyn." + +"But, Mr. Carleton," pursued the lady, with a mixture of +insinuation and fun — "why were you never married?" + +"Circumstances have always forbade it," he answered, with a +smile, which Constance declared was the most fascinating thing +she ever saw in her life. + +Fleda was arranging her flowers, with the help of some very +unnecessary suggestions from the donor. + +"Mr. Lewis," said Constance, with a kind of insinuation very +different from her mother's, made up of fun and dating, — "Mr. +Carleton has been giving me a long lecture on botany, while my +attention was distracted by listening to your _spirituel_ +conversation." + +"Well, Miss Constance?" + +"And I am morally certain I sha'n't recollect a word of it if +I don't carry away some specimens to refresh my memory, and in +that case he would never give me another." + +It was impossible to help laughing at the distressful position +of the young lady's eyebrows, and, with at least some measure +of outward grace, Mr. Thorn set about complying with her +request. Fleda again stood tapping her left hand with her +flowers, wondering a little that somebody else did not come +and speak to her, but he was talking to Mrs. Evelyn and Mr. +Stackpole. Fleda did not wish to join them, and nothing better +occurred to her than to arrange her flowers over again; so, +throwing them all down before her on a marble slab, she began +to pick them up one by one, and put them together, with, it +must be confessed, a very indistinct realization of the +difference between myrtle and lemon blossoms; and as she +seemed to be laying acacia to rose, and disposing some sprigs +of beautiful heath behind them, in reality she was laying +kindness alongside of kindness, and looking at the years +beyond years where their place had been. It was with a little +start that she suddenly found the person of her thoughts +standing at her elbow, and talking to her in bodily presence. +But while he spoke with all the ease and simplicity of old +times, almost making Fleda think it was but last week they had +been strolling through the Place de la Concorde together, +there was a constraint upon her that she could not get rid of, +and that bound eye and tongue. It might have worn off, but his +attention was presently claimed again by Mrs. Evelyn, and +Fleda thought best, while yet Constance's bouquet was +unfinished, to join another party, and make her escape into +the drawing-rooms. + + +CHAPTER VII. + + +"Have you observed a sitting hare, +List'ning, and, fearful of the storm +Of horns and hounds, clap back her ear, +Afraid to keep or leave her form? +PRIOR. + + +By the Evelyns' own desire, Fleda's going to them was delayed +for a week, because, they said, a furnace was to be brought +into the house, and they would be all topsy-turvy till that +fuss was over. Fleda kept herself very quiet in the meantime, +seeing almost nobody but the person whom it was her especial +object to shun. Do her best, she could not quite escape him, +and was even drawn into two or three walks and rides, in spite +of denying herself utterly to gentlemen at home, and losing, +in consequence, a visit from her old friend. She was glad at +last to go to the Evelyns, and see company again, hoping that +Mr. Thorn would be merged in a crowd. + +But she could not merge him, and sometimes was almost inclined +to suspect that his constant prominence in the picture must be +owing to some mysterious and wilful conjuration going on in +the background. She was at a loss to conceive how else it +happened that, despite her utmost endeavours to the contrary, +she was so often thrown upon his care, and obliged to take up +with his company. It was very disagreeable. Mr. Carleton she +saw almost as constantly, but, though frequently near, she had +never much to do with him. There seemed to be a dividing +atmosphere always in the way, and whenever he did speak to +her, she felt miserably constrained, and unable to appear like +herself. Why was it? she asked herself, in a very vexed state +of mind. No doubt, partly from the remembrance of that +overheard conversation which she could not help applying, but +much more from an indefinable sense that at these times there +were always eyes upon her. She tried to charge the feeling +upon her consciousness of their having heard that same talk, +but it would not the more go off. And it had no chance to wear +off, for somehow, the occasions never lasted long — something +was sure to break them up — while an unfortunate combination +of circumstances, or of connivers, seemed to give Mr. Thorn +unlimited facilities in the same kind. Fleda was quick-witted +and skilful enough to work herself out of them once in a +while; more often the combination was too much for her +simplicity and straightforwardness. + +She was a little disappointed and a little surprised at Mr. +Carleton's coolness. He was quite equal to withstand or out- +general the schemes of any set of manoeuvrers; therefore it +was plain he did not care for the society of his little friend +and companion of old time. Fleda felt it, especially as she +now and then heard him in delightful talk with somebody else, +making himself so interesting that, when Fleda could get a +chance to listen, she was quite ready to forgive his not +talking to her for the pleasure of hearing him talk at all. +But at other times she said, sorrowfully to herself, "He will +be going home presently, and I shall not have seen him." + +One day she had successfully defended herself against taking a +drive which Mr. Thorn came to propose, though the proposition +had been laughingly backed by Mrs. Evelyn. Raillery was much +harder to withstand than persuasion, but Fleda's quiet +resolution had proved a match for both. The better to cover +her ground, she declined to go out at all, and remained at +home, the only one of the family, that fine day. + +In the afternoon Mr. Carleton was there. Fleda sat a little +apart from the rest, industriously bending over a complicated +piece of embroidery belonging to Constance, and in which that +young lady had made a great blunder, which she declared her +patience unequal to the task of rectifying. The conversation +went gaily forward among the others, Fleda taking no part in +it beyond an involuntary one. Mr. Carleton's part was rather +reserved and grave, according to his manner in ordinary +society. + +"What do you keep bothering yourself with that for?" said +Edith, coming to Fleda's side. + +"One must be doing something, you know," said Fleda, lightly. + +"No, you mustn't — not when you're tired — and I know you are. +I'd let Constance pick out her own work." + +"I promised her I would do it," said Fleda. + +"Well, you didn't promise her when. Come! — everybody's been +out but you, and you have sat here over this the whole day. +Why don't you come over there and talk with the rest? I know +you want to, for I've watched your mouth going." + +"Going! — how!" + +"Going — off at the corners. I've seen it! Come." + +But Fleda said she could listen and work at once, and would +not budge. Edith stood looking at her a little while in a kind +of admiring sympathy, and then went back to the group. + +"Mr. Carleton," said the young lady, who was treading with +laudable success in the steps of her sister Constance — "what +has become of that ride you promised to give me?" + +"I do not know, Miss Edith," said Mr. Carleton, smiling, "for +my conscience never had the keeping of it." + +"Hush, Edith!" said her mother; "do you think Mr. Carleton has +nothing to do but to take you riding?" + +"I don't believe he has much to do," said Edith, securely. +"But, Mr. Carleton, you did promise, for I asked you, and you +said nothing; and I always have been told that silence gives +consent; so what is to become of it?" + +"Will you go now, Miss Edith?" + +"Now? — O, yes! And will you go out to Manhattanville, Mr. +Carleton — along by the river?" + +"If you like. But, Miss Edith, the carriage will hold another +— cannot you persuade one of these ladies to go with us?" + +"Fleda!" said Edith, springing off to her with extravagant +capers of joy — "Fleda, you shall go! you haven't been out to- +day." + +"And I cannot go out to-day," said Fleda, gently. + +"The air is very fine," said Mr. Carleton, approaching her +table, with no want of alacrity in step or tone, her ears +knew; "and this weather makes everything beautiful. Has that +piece of canvas any claims upon you that cannot be put aside +for a little?" + +"No, Sir," said Fleda, "but, I am sorry I have a stronger +reason that must keep me at home." + +"She knows how the weather looks," said Edith; "Mr. Thorn +takes her out every other day. It's no use to talk to her, Mr. +Carleton — when she says she wont, she wont." + +"Every other day!" said Fleda. + +"No, no," said Mrs. Evelyn, coming up, and with that smile +which Fleda had never liked so little as at that minute — "not +_every other_ day, Edith; what are you talking of? Go, and don't +keep Mr. Carleton waiting." + +Fleda worked on, feeling a little aggrieved. Mr. Carleton +stood still by her table, watching her, while his companions +were getting themselves ready; but he said no more, and Fleda +did not raise her head till the party were off. Florence had +taken her resigned place. + +"I dare say the weather will be quite as fine to-morrow, dear +Fleda," said Mrs. Evelyn, softly. + +"I hope it will," said Fleda, in a tone of resolute +simplicity. + +"I only hope it will not bring too great a throng of carriages +to the door," Mrs. Evelyn went on, in a tone of great internal +amusement; "I never used to mind it, but I have lately a +nervous fear of collisions." + +"To-morrow is not your reception-day?" said Fleda. + +"No, not mine," said Mrs. Evelyn, softly — "but that doesn't +signify — it may be one of my neighbours." + +Fleda pulled away at her threads of worsted, and wouldn't know +anything else. + +"I have read of the servants of Lot and the servants of +Abraham quarrelling," Mrs. Evelyn went on, in the same +undertone of delight — "because the land was too strait for +them — I should be very sorry to have anything of the sort +happen again, for I cannot imagine where Lot would go to find +a plain that would suit him." + +"Lot and Abraham, Mamma," said Constance, from the sofa — +"what on earth are you talking about?" + +"None of your business," said Mrs. Evelyn; "I was talking of +some country friends of mine that you don't know." + +Constance knew her mother's laugh very well, but Mrs. Evelyn +was impenetrable. + +The next day Fleda ran away, and spent a good part of the +morning with her uncle in the library, looking over new books, +among which she found herself quite a stranger, so many had +made their appearance since the time when she had much to do +with libraries or book stores. Living friends, male and +female, were happily forgotten in the delighted acquaintance- +making with those quiet companions, which, whatever their +deficiencies in other respects, are at least never importunate +nor variable. Fleda had come home rather late, and was +dressing for dinner, with Constance's company and help, when +Mrs. Evelyn came into her room. + +"My dear Fleda," said the lady, her face and voice as full as +possible of fun, "Mr. Carleton wants to know if you will ride +with him this afternoon. I told him I believed you were, in +general, shy of gentlemen that drove their own horses; that I +thought I had noticed you were; but I would come up and see." + +"Mrs. Evelyn! — you did not tell him that?" + +"He said he was sorry to see you looked pale yesterday when he +was asking you; and he was afraid that embroidery is not good +for you. He thinks you are a very charming girl —" + +And Mrs. Evelyn went off into little fits of laughter, which +unstrung all Fleda's nerves. She stood absolutely trembling. + +"Mamma, don't plague her!" said Constance. "He didn't say so." + +"He did! — upon my word!" said Mrs. Evelyn, speaking with +great difficulty — "he said she was very charming, and it +might be dangerous to see too much of her." + +"You made him say that, Mrs. Evelyn," said Fleda, +reproachfully. + +"Well, I did ask him if you were not very charming, but he +answered — without hesitation," said the lady — "I am only so +afraid that Lot will make his appearance —" + +Fleda turned round to the glass, and went on arranging her +hair, with a quivering lip. + +"Lot! Mamma," said Constance, somewhat indignantly. + +"Yes," said Mrs. Evelyn, in ecstasies; "because the land will +not bear both of them. But Mr. Carleton is very much in +earnest for his answer, Fleda, my dear — what shall I tell it +him? You need be under no apprehensions about going — he will +perhaps tell you that you are charming, but I don't I think he +will say anything more. You know, he is a kind of patriarch; +and when I asked him if he didn't think it might be dangerous +to see too much of you, he said he thought it might to some +people, so, you see, you are safe." + +"Mrs. Evelyn, how could you use my name so?" said Fleda, with +a voice that carried a good deal of reproach. + +"My dear Fleda, shall I tell him you will go? You need not be +afraid to go riding, only you must not let yourself be seen +walking with him." + +"I shall not go, Ma'am," said Fleda, quietly. + +"I wanted to send Edith with you, thinking it would be +pleasanter; but I knew Mr. Carleton's carriage would hold but +two to-day. So what shall I tell him?" + +"I am not going, Ma'am," repeated Fleda. + +"But what shall I tell him? I must give him some reason. Shall +I say that you think a sea-breeze is blowing, and you don't +like it? or shall I say that prospects are a matter of +indifference to you?" + +Fleda was quite silent, and went on dressing herself with +trembling fingers. + +"My dear Fleda," said the lady, bringing her face a little +into order, "wont you go? I am very sorry —" + +"So am I sorry," said Fleda. "I can't go, Mrs. Evelyn." + +"I will tell Mr. Carleton you are very sorry," said Mrs. +Evelyn, every line of her face drawing again — "that will +console him; and let him hope that you will not mind sea- +breezes by and by, after you have been a little longer in the +neighbourhood of them. I will tell him you are a good +republican, and have an objection, at present, to an English +equipage, but I have no doubt that is a prejudice which will +wear off." + +She stopped to laugh, while Fleda had the greatest difficulty +not to cry. The lady did not seem to see her disturbed brow; +but recovering herself after a little, though not readily, she +bent forward and touched her lips to it in kind fashion. Fleda +did not look up, and saying again, "I will tell him, dear +Fleda," Mrs. Evelyn left the room. + +Constance, after a little laughing and condoling, neither of +which Fleda attempted to answer, ran off, too, to dress +herself; and Fleda, after finishing her own toilette, locked +her door, sat down, and cried heartily. She thought Mrs. +Evelyn had been, perhaps unconsciously, very unkind; and to +say that unkindness has not been meant, is but to shift the +charge from one to another vital point in the character of a +friend, and one, perhaps, sometimes not less grave. A moment's +passionate wrong may consist with the endurance of a +friendship worth having, better than the thoughtlessness of +obtuse wits that can never know how to be kind. Fleda's whole +frame was still in a tremor from disagreeable excitement, and +she had serious causes of sorrow to cry for. She was sorry she +had lost what would have been a great pleasure in the ride — +and her great pleasures were not often — but nothing would +have been more impossible than for her to go after what Mrs. +Evelyn had said. She was sorry Mr. Carleton should have asked +her twice in vain — what must he think? — she was exceeding +sorry that a thought should have been put into her head that +never before had visited the most distant dreams of her +imagination, so needlessly, so gratuitously — she was very +sorry, for she could not be free of it again, and she felt it +would make her miserably hampered and constrained, in mind and +manner both, in any future intercourse with the person in +question. And then again, what would he think of that? Poor +Fleda came to the conclusion that her best place was at home, +and made up her mind to take the first good opportunity of +getting there. + +She went down to dinner with no traces of either tears or +unkindness on her sweet face, but her nerves were quivering +all the afternoon — she could not tell whether Mrs. Evelyn and +her daughters found it out; and it was impossible for her to +get back even her old degree of freedom of manner before +either Mr. Carleton or Mr. Thorn, all the more, because Mrs. +Evelyn was every now and then bringing out some sly allusion, +which afforded herself intense delight, and wrought Fleda to +the last degree of quietness. Unkind — Fleda thought now it +was but half from ignorance of the mischief she was doing, and +the other half from the mere desire of selfish gratification. +The times and ways in which Lot and Abraham were walked into +the conversation were incalculable, and unintelligible, except +to the person who understood it only too well. On one +occasion, Mrs. Evelyn went on with a long rigmarole to Mr. +Thorn about sea-breezes, with a face of most exquisite delight +at his mystification and her own hidden fun, till Fleda was +absolutely trembling. Fleda shunned both the gentlemen, at +length, with a kind of nervous horror. + +One steamer had left New York, and another, and still Mr. +Carleton did not leave it. Why he staid, Constance was as much +in a puzzle as ever, for no mortal could guess. Clearly, she +said, he did not delight in New York society, for he honoured +it as slightly and partially as might be; and it was equally +clear, if he had a particular reason for staying, he didn't +mean anybody should know it. + +"If he don't mean it, you wont find it out, Constance," said +Fleda. + +"But it is that very consideration, you see, which inflames my +impatience to a most dreadful degree. I think our house is +distinguished with his regards, though I am sure I can't +imagine why, for he never condescends to anything beyond +general benevolence when he is here, and not always to that. +He has no taste for embroidery, or Miss Ringgan's crewels +would receive more of his notice — he listens to my spirited +conversation with a self-possession which invariably deprives +me of mine! —and his ear is evidently dull to musical +sensibilities, or Florence's harp would have greater charms. I +hope there is a web weaving somewhere that will catch him — at +present he stands in an attitude of provoking independence of +all the rest of the world. It is curious," said Constance, +with an indescribable face — "I feel that the independence of +another is rapidly making a slave of me!" — + +"What do you mean, Constance?' said Edith, indignantly. But +the others could do nothing but laugh. + +Fleda did not wonder that Mr. Carleton made no more efforts to +get her to ride, for the very next day after his last failure +he had met her driving with Mr. Thorn. Fleda had been asked by +Mr. Thorn's mother, in such a way as made it impossible to get +off; but it caused her to set a fresh seal of unkindness to +Mrs. Evelyn's behaviour. + +One evening, when there was no other company at Mrs. Evelyn's +Mr. Stackpole was entertaining himself with a long +dissertation upon the affairs of America, past, present, and +future. It was a favourite subject; Mr. Stackpole always +seemed to have more complacent enjoyment of his easy chair +when he could succeed in making every American in the room sit +uncomfortably. And this time, without any one to thwart him, +he went on to his heart's content disposing of the subject as +one would strip a rose of its petals, with as much seeming +_nonchalance_ and ease, and with precisely the same design, to +make a rose no rose. Leaf after leaf fell under Mr. +Stackpole's touch, as if it had been a black frost. The +American government was a rickety experiment — go to pieces +presently; American institutions an alternative between +fallacy and absurdity, the fruit of raw minds and precocious +theories; American liberty a contradiction; American character +a compound of quackery and pretension; American society +(except at Mrs. Evelyn's) an anomaly; American destiny the +same with that of a cactus, or a volcano — a period of rest +followed by a period of excitement; not, however, like the +former, making successive shoots towards perfection, but, like +the latter, grounding every new face of things upon the +demolition of that which went before. Smoothly and pleasantly +Mr. Stackpole went on compounding this cup of entertainment +for himself and his hearers, smacking his lips over it, and +all the more, Fleda thought, when they made wry faces; +throwing in a little truth, a good deal of fallacy, a great +deal of perversion and misrepresentation; while Mrs. Evelyn +listened and smiled, and half parried and half assented to his +positions; and Fleda sat impatiently drumming upon her elbow +with the fingers of her other hand, in the sheer necessity of +giving some expression to her feelings. Mr. Stackpole at last +got his finger upon the sore spot of American slavery, and +pressed it hard. + +"This is the land of the stars and the stripes!" said the +gentleman, in a little fit of virtuous indignation; — "this is +the land where all are brothers! where 'All men are born free +and equal!' " + +"Mr. Stackpole," said Fleda, in a tone that called his +attention; "are you well acquainted with the popular proverbs +of your country?" + +"Not particularly," he said. He had never made it a branch of +study. + +"I am a great admirer of them." + +He bowed, and begged to be excused for remarking that he +didn't see the point yet. + +"Do you remember this one, Sir," said Fleda, colouring a +little; " 'Those that live in glass houses shouldn't throw +stones?' " + +"I have heard it; but, pardon me, though your remark seems to +imply the contrary, I am in the dark yet. What unfortunate +points of vitrification have I laid open to your fire?" + +"I thought they were probably forgotten by you, Sir." + +"I shall be exceedingly obliged to you if you will put me in +condition to defend myself." + +"I think nothing could do that, Mr. Stackpole. Under whose +auspices and fostering care was this curse of slavery laid +upon America?" + +"Why, of course — but you will observe, Miss Ringgan, that at +that day the world was unenlightened on a great many points; +since then, we have cast off the wrong which we then shared +with the rest of mankind." + +"Ay, Sir, but not until we had first repudiated it, and +Englishmen had desired to force it back upon us at the point +of the sword. Four times —" + +"But, my dear Fleda," interrupted Mrs. Evelyn, "the English +nation have no slaves, nor slave-trade; they have put an end +to slavery entirely, everywhere under their flag." + +"They were very slow about it," said Fleda. "Four times the +government of Massachusetts abolished the slave-trade under +their control, and four times the English government thrust it +back upon them. Do you remember what Burke says about that, in +his speech on Conciliation with America?" + +"It don't signify what Burke says about it," said Mr. +Stackpole, rubbing his chin — "Burke is not the first +authority; but, Miss Ringgan, it is undeniable that slavery, +and the slave-trade too, does at this moment exist in the +interior of your own country." + +"I will never excuse what is wrong, Sir; but I think it +becomes an Englishman to be very moderate in putting forth +that charge." + +"Why?" said he, hastily: "we have done away with it entirely +in our own dominions — wiped that stain clean off. Not a slave +can touch British ground but he breathes free air from that +minute." + +"Yes, Sir; but candour will allow that we are not in a +condition in this country to decide the question by a _tour de +force_." + +"What is to decide it, then!" said he, a little arrogantly. + +"The progress of truth in public opinion." + +"And why not the government, as well as our government!" + +"It has not the power, you know, Sir." + +"Not the power! well, that speaks for itself." + +"Nothing against us, on a fair construction," said Fleda, +patiently. "It is well known, to those who understand the +subject" — + +"Where did you learn so much about it, Fleda?" said Mrs. +Evelyn, humourously. + +"As the birds pick up their supplies, Ma'am — here and there. +It is well known, Mr. Stackpole, that our constitution never +could have been agreed upon, if that question of slavery had +not been, by common consent, left where it was — with the +separate state governments." + +"The separate state governments! — well, why do not _they_ put +an end to it? The disgrace is only shifted." + +"Of course, they must first have the consent of the public +mind of those states." + +"Ah! their consent! and why is their consent wanting?" + +"We cannot defend ourselves there," said Mrs. Evelyn. "I wish +we could." + +"The disgrace, at least, is shifted from the whole to a part. +But will you permit me," said Fleda, "to give another +quotation from my despised authority, and remind you of an +Englishman's testimony, that beyond a doubt that point of +emancipation would never have been carried in parliament had +the interests of even a part of the electors been concerned in +it!" + +"It was done, however, and done at the expense of twenty +millions of money." + +"And I am sure that was very noble," said Florence. + +"It was what no nation but the English would ever have done," +said Mrs. Evelyn. + +"I do not wish to dispute it," said Fleda; "but still it was +doing what did not touch the sensitive point of their own +well-being." + +"_We_ think there is a little national honour concerned in it," +said Mr. Stackpole, drily, stroking his chin again. + +"So does every right-minded person," said Mrs. Evelyn. "I am +sure I do." + +"And I am sure so do I," said Fleda; "but I think the honour +of a piece of generosity is considerably lessened by the fact +that it is done at the expense of another." + +"Generosity!" said Mr. Stackpole; "it was not generosity, it +was justice — there was no generosity about it." + +"Then it deserves no honour at all," said Fleda, "if it was +merely that; the tardy execution of justice is but the removal +of a reproach." + +"We Englishmen are of opinion, however," said Mr. Stackpole, +contentedly, "that the removers of a reproach are entitled to +some honour, which those who persist in retaining it cannot +claim." + +"Yes," said Fleda, drawing rather a long breath, "I +acknowledge that; but I think that, while some of these same +Englishmen have shown themselves so unwilling to have the +condition of their own factory slaves ameliorated, they should +be very gentle in speaking of wrongs which we have far less +ability to rectify." + +"Ah! I like consistency," said Mr. Stackpole. "America +shouldn't dress up poles with liberty caps, till all who walk +under are free to wear them. She cannot boast that the breath +of her air and the breath of freedom are one." + +"Can England?" said Fleda, gently — "when her own citizens are +not free from the horrors of impressment?" + +"Pshaw!" said Mr. Stackpole, half in a pet and half laughing; +"why where did you get such a fury against England? you are +the first _fair_ antagonist I have met on this side of the +water." + +"I wish I was a better one, Sir," said Fleda, laughing. + +"Miss Ringgan has been prejudiced by an acquaintance with one +or two unfortunate specimens," said Mrs. Evelyn. + +"Ay!" said Mr. Stackpole, a little bitterly; "America is the +natural birthplace of prejudice — always was." + +"Displayed, first, in maintaining the rights against the +swords of Englishmen; latterly, how, Mr. Stackpole?" + +"It isn't necessary to enlighten _you_ on any part of the +subject," said he, a little pointedly. + +"Fleda, my dear, you are answered," said Mrs. Evelyn, +apparently with great internal amusement. + +"Yet you will indulge me so far as to indicate what part of +the subject you are upon?" said Fleda, quietly. + +"You must grant so much as that to so gentle a requisition, +Mr. Stackpole," said the older lady. + +"I venture to assume that you do not say that on your own +account, Mrs. Evelyn?" + +"Not at all — I agree with you, that Americans are prejudiced; +but I think it will pass off, Mr. Stackpole, as they learn to +know themselves and other countries better." + +"But how do they deserve such a charge and such a defence? or +how have they deserved it?" said Fleda. + +"Tell her, Mr. Stackpole," said Mrs. Evelyn. + +"Why," said Mr. Stackpole, "in their absurd opposition to all +the old and tried forms of things, and rancorous dislike of +those who uphold them; and in their pertinacity on every point +where they might be set right, and impatience of hearing the +truth." + +"Are they singular in that last item?" said Fleda. + +"Now," said Mr. Stackpole, not heeding her, "there's your +treatment of the aborigines of this country — what do call +that, for a _free_ people?" + +"A powder magazine, communicating with a great one of your own +somewhere else; so, if you are a good subject, Sir, you will +not carry a lighted candle into it." + +"One of our own — where?" said he. + +"In India," said Fleda with a glance — "and there are I don't +know how many trains leading to it — so, better hands off, +Sir." + +"Where did you pick up such a spite against us?" said Mr. +Stackpole, drawing a little back and eyeing her as one would a +belligerent mouse or cricket. "Will you tell me now that +Americans are not prejudiced?" + +"What do you call prejudice?" said Fleda, smiling. + +"Oh, there is a great deal of it, no doubt, here, Mr. +Stackpole," said Mrs. Evelyn, blandly; "but we shall grow out +of it in time; it is only the premature wisdom of a young +people." + +"And young people never like to hear their wisdom rebuked," +said. Mr. Stackpole, bowing. + +"Fleda, my dear, what for is that little significant shake of +your head?" said Mrs. Evelyn, in her amused voice. + +"A trifle, Ma'am." + +"Covers a hidden rebuke, Mrs. Evelyn, I have no doubt, for +both our last remarks. What is it, Miss Fleda? — I dare say we +can bear it." + +"I was thinking, Sir, that none would trouble themselves much +about our foolscap if we had not once made them wear it." + +"Mr. Stackpole, you are worsted! — I only wish Mr. Carleton +had been here!" said Mrs. Evelyn, with a face of excessive +delight. + +"I wish he had," said Fleda, "for then I need not have spoken +a word." + +"Why," said Mr. Stackpole, a little irritated, "you suppose he +would have fought for you against me?" + +"I suppose he would have fought for truth against anybody, +Sir," said Fleda. + +"Even against his own interests?" + +"If I am not mistaken in him," said Fleda, "he reckons his own +and those of truth identical." + +The shout that was raised at this by all the ladies of the +family made her look up in wonderment. + +"Mr. Carleton," said Mrs. Evelyn, "what do you say to that, +Sir?" + +The direction of the lady's eye made Fleda spring up and face +about. The gentleman in question was standing quietly at the +back of her chair — too quietly, she saw, to leave any doubt +of his having been there some time. Mr. Stackpole uttered an +ejaculation, but Fleda stood absolutely motionless, and +nothing could be prettier than her colour. + +"What do you say to what you have heard, Mr. Carleton?" said +Mrs. Evelyn. + +Fleda's eyes were on the floor, but she thoroughly appreciated +the tone of the question. + +"I hardly know whether I have listened with most pleasure or +pain, Mrs. Evelyn." + +"Pleasure!" said Constance. + +"Pain!" said Mr. Stackpole. + +"I am certain Miss Ringgan was pure from any intention of +giving pain," said Mrs. Evelyn, with her voice of contained +fun. "She has no national antipathies, I am sure — unless in +the case of the Jews — she is too charming a girl for that." + +"Miss Ringgan cannot regret less than I a word that she has +spoken," said Mr. Carleton, looking keenly at her as she drew +back and took a seat a little off from the rest. + +"Then why was the pain?" said Mr. Stackpole. + +"That there should have been any occasion for them, Sir." + +"Well, I wasn't sensible of the occasion, so I didn't feel the +pain," said Mr. Stackpole, drily — for the other gentleman's +tone was almost haughtily significant. "But if I had, the +pleasure of such sparkling eyes would have made me forget it. +Good evening, Mrs. Evelyn — good evening, my gentle antagonist +— it seems to me you have learned, if it is permissible to +alter one of your favourite proverbs, that it is possible to +_break two windows_ with one stone. However, I don't feel that I +go away with any of mine shattered." + +"Fleda, my dear," said Mrs. Evelyn, laughing, "what do you say +to that?" + +"As he is not here, I will say nothing to it, Mrs. Evelyn," +said Fleda, quietly drawing off to the table with her work, +and again in a tremor from head to foot. + +"Why, didn't you see Mr. Carleton come in?" said Edith, +following her; "I did — he came in long before you had done +talking, and mamma held up her finger and made him stop; and +he stood at the back of your chair the whole time listening. +Mr. Stackpole didn't know he was there either. But what's the +matter with you?" + +"Nothing," said Fleda; but she made her escape out of the room +the next instant. + +"Mamma," said Edith, "what ails Fleda?" + +"I don't know, my love," said Mrs. Evelyn. "Nothing, I hope." + +"There does, though," said Edith, decidedly. + +"Come here, Edith," said Constance, "and don't meddle with +matters above your comprehension. Miss Ringgan has probably +hurt her hand with throwing stones." + +"Hurt her hand!" said Edith. But she was taken possession of +by her eldest sister. + +"That is a lovely girl, Mr. Carleton," said Mrs. Evelyn, with +an indescribable look — outwardly benign, but beneath that +most keen in its scrutiny. + +He bowed rather abstractedly. + +"She will make a charming little farmer's wife — don't you +think so?" + +"Is that her lot, Mrs. Evelyn?" he said, with a somewhat +incredulous smile. + +"Why, no — not precisely," said the lady; "you know, in the +country, or you do not know, the ministers are half farmers, +but I suppose not more than half; just such a mixture as will +suit Fleda, I should think. She has not told me in so many +words, but it is easy to read so ingenuous a nature as hers, +and I have discovered that there is a most deserving young +friend of mine settled at Queechy that she is by no means +indifferent to. I take it for granted that will be the end of +it," said Mrs. Evelyn, pinching her sofa cushion in a great +many successive places, with a most composed and satisfied +air. + +But Mr. Carleton did not seem at all interested in the +subject, and presently introduced another. + + +CHAPTER VIII. + + +"It is a hard matter for friends to meet: but mountains may be +removed with earthquakes, and so encounter." +AS YOU LIKE IT. + + +"What have we to do to-night?" said Florence, at breakfast the +next morning. + +"You have no engagement, have you?" said her mother. + +"No, Mamma," said Constance, arching her eyebrows — "we are to +taste the sweets of domestic life — you, as head of the +family, will go to sleep in the _dormeuse_, and Florence and I +shall take turns in yawning by your side." + +"And what will Fleda do?" said Mrs. Evelyn, laughing. + +"Fleda, Mamma, will be wrapped in remorseful recollections of +having enacted a mob last evening, and have enough occupation +in considering how she shall repair damages." + +"Fleda , my dear, she is very saucy," said Mrs. Evelyn, +sipping her tea with great comfort. + +"Why should we yawn to-night any more than last night?" said +Fleda — a question which Edith would certainly have asked if +she had not been away at school. The breakfast was too late +for both her and her father. + +"Last night, my dear, your fractious disposition kept us upon +half breath; there wasn't time to yawn. I meant to have eased +my breast by laughing afterwards, but that expectation was +stifled." + +"What stifled it?" + +"I was afraid!" said Constance, with a little flutter of her +person up and down in her chair. + +"Afraid of what?" + +"And besides, you know, we can't have our drawing-rooms filled +with distinguished foreigners every evening we are not at +home. I shall direct the fowling-piece to be severe in his +execution of orders to-night, and let nobody in. I forgot!" +exclaimed Constance, with another flutter — "it is Mr. Thorn's +night! My dearest mamma, will you consent to have the dormeuse +wheeled round with its back to the fire? — and Florence and I +will take the opportunity to hear little Edith's lessons in +the next room, unless Mr. Decatur comes. I must endeavour to +make the Manton comprehend what he has to do." + +"But what is to become of Mr. Evelyn?" said Fleda; "you make +Mrs. Evelyn the head of the family very unceremoniously." + +"Mr. Evelyn, my dear," said Constance, gravely, "makes a +futile attempt semi-weekly to beat his brains out with a club; +and every successive failure encourages him to try again; the +only effect being a temporary decapitation of his family; and +I believe this is the night on which he periodically turns a +frigid eye upon their destitution." + +"You are too absurd!" said Florence, reaching over for a +sausage. + +"Dear Constance!" said Fleda, half laughing, "why do you talk +so?" + +"Constance, behave yourself," said her mother. + +"Mamma," said the young lady, "I am actuated by a benevolent +desire to effect a diversion of Miss Ringgan's mind from its +gloomy meditations, by presenting to her some more real +subjects of distress." + +"I wonder if you ever looked at such a thing," said Fleda. + +"What 'such a thing'?" + +"As a real subject of distress." + +"Yes; I have one incessantly before me in your serious +countenance. Why in the world, Fleda, don't you look like +other people?" + +"I suppose, because I don't feel like them." + +"And why don't you? I am sure you ought to be as happy as most +people." + +"I think I am a great deal happier," said Fleda. + +"Than I am?" said the young lady, with arched eyebrows. But +they went down, and her look softened in spite of herself, at +the eye and smile which answered her. + +"I should be very glad, dear Constance, to know you were as +happy as I." + +"Why do you think I am not?" said the young lady, a little +tartly. + +"Because no happiness would satisfy me that cannot last." + +"And why can't it last?" + +"It is not built upon lasting things." + +"Pshaw!" said Constance, "I wouldn't have such a dismal kind +of happiness as yours, Fleda, for anything." + +"Dismal!" said Fleda, smiling; "because it can never +disappoint me? or because it isn't noisy?" + +"My dear little Fleda," said Constance, in her usual manner, +"you have lived up there among the solitudes till you have got +morbid ideas of life, which it makes me melancholy to observe. +I am very much afraid they verge towards stagnation." + +"No, indeed!" said Fleda, laughing; "but, if you please, with +me the stream of life has flowed so quietly, that I have +looked quite to the bottom, and know how shallow it is, and +growing shallower; I could not venture my bark of happiness +there; but with you it is like a spring torrent — the foam and +the roar hinder your looking deep into it." + +Constance gave her a significant glance; a strong contrast to +the earnest simplicity of Fleda's face, and presently inquired +if she ever wrote poetry. + +"Shall I have the pleasure, some day, of discovering your +uncommon signature in the secular corner of some religious +newspaper?" + +"I hope not," said Fleda, quietly. + +Joe Manton just then brought in a bouquet for Miss Evelyn, a +very common enlivener of the breakfast-table, all the more +when, as in the present case, the sisters could not divine +where it came from. It moved Fleda's wonder to see how very +little the flowers were valued for their own sake; the +probable cost, the probable giver, the probable _éclat_, were +points enthusiastically discussed and thoroughly appreciated; +but the sweet messengers themselves were carelessly set by for +other eyes, and seemed to have no attraction for those they +were destined to. Fleda enjoyed them at a distance, and could +not help thinking that Heaven sends almonds to those that have +no teeth. + +"This camellia will just do for my hair to-morrow night!" said +Florence; "just what I want with my white muslin." + +"I think I will go with you to-morrow, Florence," said Fleda; +"Mrs. Decatur has asked me so often." + +"Well, my dear, I shall be made happy by your company," said +Florence abstractedly, examining her bouquet. "I am afraid it +hasn't stem enough, Constance; never mind — I'll fix it — +where is the end of this myrtle? I shall be very glad, of +course, Fleda, my dear, but" — picking her bouquet to pieces — +"I think it right to tell you, privately, I am afraid you will +find it very stupid." + +"Oh, I dare say she will not," said Mrs. Evelyn; "she can go +and try, at any rate; she would find it very stupid with me +here alone, and Constance at the concert; I dare say she will +find some one there whom she knows." + +"But the thing is, Mamma, you see, at these _conversaziones_ +they never talk anything but French and German — I don't know +— _of course_ I should be delighted to have Fleda with me, and I +have no doubt Mrs. Decatur would be very glad to have her; but +I am afraid she wont enjoy herself." + +"I do not want to go where I shall not enjoy myself," said +Fleda, quietly; "that is certain." + +"Of course, you know, dear, I would a great deal rather have +you than not; I only speak for what I think would be for your +pleasure." + +"I would do just as I felt inclined, Fleda," said Mrs. Evelyn. + +"I shall let her encounter the dullness alone, Ma'am," said +Fleda, lightly. + +But it was not in a light mood that she put on her bonnet +after dinner, and set out to pay a visit to her uncle at the +library; she had resolved that she would not be near the +_dormeuse_ in whatsoever relative position that evening. Very, +very quiet she was; her grave little face walked through the +crowd of busy, bustling, anxious people, as if she had nothing +in common with them; and Fleda felt that she had very little. +Half unconsciously, as she passed along the streets, her eye +scanned the countenances of that moving panorama; and the +report it brought back made her draw closer within herself. + +She wondered that her feet had ever tripped lightly up those +library stairs. + +"Ha! my fair Saxon," said the doctor, "what has brought you +down here to-day?" + +"I felt in want of something fresh, uncle Orrin, so I thought +I would come and see you." + +"Fresh!" said he. "Ah! you are pining for green fields, I +know. But, you little piece of simplicity, there are no green +fields now at Queechy, they are two feet deep with snow by +this time." + +"Well, I am sure _that_ is fresh," said Fleda, smiling. + +The doctor was turning over great volumes one after another in +a delightful confusion of business. + +"When do you think you shall go north, uncle Orrin?" + +"North?" said he — "what do you want to know about the north?" + +"You said, you know, Sir, that you would go a little out of +your way to leave me at home." + +"I wont go out of my way for anybody. If I leave you there, it +will be in my way. Why, you are not getting home-sick?" + +"No Sir, not exactly; but I think I will go with you when you +go." + +"That wont be yet awhile; I thought those people wanted you to +stay till January." + +"Ay, but suppose I want to do something else?" + +He looked at her with a comical kind of indecision, and said — + +"You don't know what you want; I thought when you came in you +needn't go further than the glass to see something fresh; but +I believe the sea-breezes haven't had enough of you yet. Which +part of you wants freshening?" he said, in his mock-fierce +way. + +Fleda laughed, and said she didn't know. + +"Out of humour, I guess," said the doctor. "I'll talk to you. +Take this and amuse yourself awhile with something that isn't +fresh till I get through, and then you shall go home with me." + +Fleda carried the large volume into one of the reading-rooms, +where there was nobody, and sat down at the baize-covered +table. But the book was not of the right kind, or her mood was +not, for it failed to interest her. She sat nonchalantly +turning over the leaves; but mentally she was busy turning +over other leaves, which had by far most of her attention. The +pages that memory read — the record of the old times passed in +that very room, and the old childish light-hearted feelings +that were, she thought, as much beyond recall. Those pleasant +times, when the world was all bright and friends all fair, and +the light heart had never been borne down by the pressure of +care, nor sobered by disappointment, nor chilled by +experience. The spirit will not spring elastic again from +under that weight; and the flower that has closed upon its own +sweetness will not open a second time to the world's breath. +Thoughtfully, softly, she was touching and feeling of the +bands that years had fastened about her heart — they would not +be undone — though so quietly and almost stealthily they had +been bound there. She was remembering the shadows that, one +after another, had been cast upon her life, till now one soft +veil of a cloud covered the whole; no storm-cloud certainly, +but also there was nothing left of the glad sunlight that her +young eyes rejoiced in. At Queechy the first shadow had +fallen; it was a good while before the next one, but then they +came thick. There was the loss of some old comforts and +advantages, that could have been borne; then, consequent upon +that, the annoyances and difficulties that had wrought such a +change in her uncle, till Fleda could hardly look back and. +believe that he was the same person. Once manly, frank, busy, +happy and making his family so — now reserved, gloomy, +irritable, unfaithful to his duty, and selfishly throwing down +the burden they must take up, but were far less able to bear. +And so Hugh was changed too; not in loveliness of character +and demeanour, nor even much in the always gentle and tender +expression of countenance; but the animal spirits and frame, +that should have had all the strong cherishing and bracing +that affection and wisdom together could have applied, had +been left to wear themselves out under trials his father had +shrunk from, and other trials his father had made. And Mrs. +Rossitur— it was hard for Fleda to remember the face she wore +at Paris — the bright eye and joyous corners of the mouth, +that now were so utterly changed. All by his fault — that made +it so hard to bear. Fleda had thought all this a hundred +times; she went over it now as one looks at a thing one is +well accustomed to; not with new sorrow, only in a subdued +mood of mind just fit to make the most of it. The familiar +place took her back to the time when it became familiar; she +compared herself sitting there, and feeling the whole world a +blank, except for the two or three at home, with the child who +had sat there years before in that happy time "when the +feelings were young and the world was new." + +Then the Evelyns — why should they trouble one so inoffensive, +and so easily troubled as her poor little self? They did not +know all they were doing; but if they had eyes, they must see +a little of it. Why could she not have been allowed to keep +her old free, simple feeling with everybody, instead of being +hampered, and constrained, and miserable, from this +pertinacious putting of thoughts in her head that ought not to +be there? It had made her unlike herself, she knew, in the +company of several people. And perhaps _they_ might be sharp- +sighted enough to read it; but, even if not, how it had +hindered her enjoyment! She had taken so much pleasure in the +Evelyns last year, and in her visit; well, she would go home +and forget it, and maybe they would come to their right minds +by the next time she saw them. + +"What pleasant times we used to have here once, uncle Orrin!" +she said, with half a sigh, the other half quite made up by +the tone in which she spoke. But it was not, as she thought, +uncle Orrin that was standing by her side, and looking up as +she finished speaking — Fleda saw, with a start, that it was +Mr. Carleton. There was such a degree of life and pleasantness +in his eyes, that, in spite of the start, her own quite +brightened. + +"That is a pleasure one may always command," he said, +answering part of her speech. + +"Ay, provided one has one's mind always under command," said +Fleda. "It is possible to sit down to a feast with a want of +appetite." + +"In such a case, what is the best tonic?" + +His manner, even in those two minutes, had put Fleda perfectly +at her ease, ill-bred eyes and ears being absent. She looked +up and answered, with such entire trust in him, as made her +forget that she had ever had any cause to distrust herself. + +"For me," she said, "as a general rule, nothing is better than +to go out of doors — into the woods or the garden — they are +the best fresheners I know of. I can do myself good there at +times when books are a nuisance." + +"You are not changed from your old self," he said. + +The wish was strong upon Fleda to know whether _he_ was, but it +was not till she saw the answer in his face that she knew how +plainly hers had asked the question. And then she was so +confused that she did not know what the answer had been. + +"I find it so, too," he said. "The influences of pure nature +are the best thing I know for some moods — after the company +of a good horse." + +"And you on his back, I suppose?" + +"That was my meaning. What is the doubt thereupon?" said he, +laughing. + +"Did I express any doubt?" + +"Or my eyes were mistaken." + +"I remember they never used to be that," said Fleda. + +"What was it?" + +"Why," said Fleda, thinking that Mr. Carleton had probably +retained more than one of his old habits, for she was +answering with her old obedience — "I was doubting what the +influence is in that case — worth analyzing, I think. I am +afraid the good horse's company has little to do with it." + +"What, then, do you suppose?" said he, smiling. + +"Why," said Fleda — "it might be — but I beg your pardon, Mr. +Carleton! I am astonished at my own presumption." + +"Go on, and let me know why," he said, with that happiness of +manner which was never resisted. Fleda went on, reassuring her +courage now and then with a glance. + +"The relief _might_ spring, Sir, from the gratification of a +proud feeling of independence — or from a dignified sense of +isolation — or an imaginary riding down of opposition — or the +consciousness of being master of what you have in hand." + +She would have added to the general category, "the running +away from one's-self;" but the eye and bearing of the person +before her forbade even such a thought as connected with him. +He laughed, but shook his head. + +"Perhaps, then," said Fleda, "it may be nothing worse than the +working off of a surplus of energy or impatience that leaves +behind no more than can be managed." + +"You have learned something of human nature since I had the +pleasure of knowing you," he said, with a look at once amused +and penetrating. + +"I wish I hadn't," said Fleda. + +Her countenance absolutely fell. + +"I sometimes think," said he, turning over the leaves of her +book, "that these are the best companionship one can have — +the world at large is very unsatisfactory." + +"O, how much!" said Fleda, with a long breath. "The only +pleasant thing that my eyes rested upon as I came through the +streets this afternoon, was a huge bunch of violets that +somebody was carrying. I walked behind them as long as I +could." + +"Is your old love for Queechy in full force?" said Mr. +Carleton, still turning over the leaves, and smiling. + +"I believe so — I should be very sorry to live here long — at +home I can always go out and find society that refreshes me." + +"You have set yourself a high standard," he said, with no +displeased expression of the lips. + +"I have been charged with that," said Fleda; "but is it +possible to set too high a standard, Mr. Carleton?" + +"One may leave one's-self almost alone in the world." + +"Well, even then," said Fleda, "I would rather have only the +image of excellence than be contented with inferiority." + +"Isn't it possible to do both?" said he, smiling again. + +"I don't know," said Fleda; "perhaps I am too easily +dissatisfied — I believe I have grown fastidious, living alone +— I have sometimes almost a disgust at the world and +everything in it." + +"I have often felt so," he said; "but I am not sure that it is +a mood to be indulged in — likely to further our own good or +that of others." + +"I am sure it is not," said Fleda; "I often feel vexed with +myself for it; but what can one do, Mr. Carleton?" + +"Don't your friends the flowers help you in this?" + +"Not a bit," said Fleda — "they draw the other way; their +society is so very pure and satisfying, that one is all the +less inclined to take up with the other." + +She could not tell quite what to make of the smile with which +he began to speak; it half abashed her. + +"When I spoke, a little while ago," said he, "of the best cure +for an ill mood, I was speaking of secondary means simply — +the only really humanizing, rectifying, peace-giving thing I +ever tried, was looking at time in the light of eternity, and +shaming or melting my coldness away in the rays of the Sun of +Righteousness." + +Fleda's eyes, which had fallen on her book, were raised again +with such a flash of feeling that it quite prevented her +seeing what was in his. But the feeling was a little too +strong — the eyes went down, lower than ever, and the features +showed that the utmost efforts of self-command were needed to +control them. + +"There is no other cure," he went on in the same tone; — "but +disgust and weariness and selfishness shrink away and hide +themselves before a word or a look of the Redeemer of men. +When we hear him say, 'I have bought thee — thou art mine,' it +is like one of those old words of healing, 'Thou art loosed +from thine infirmity' — 'Be thou clean' — and the mind takes +sweetly the grace and the command together, 'That he who +loveth God love his brother also.' Only the preparation of the +gospel of peace can make our feet go softly over the +roughnesses of the way." + +Fleda did not move, unless her twinkling eyelashes might seem +to contradict that. + +"I need not tell you," Mr. Carleton went on, a little lower, +"where this medicine is to be sought." + +"It is strange," said Fleda, presently, "how well one may +know, and how well one may forget. But I think the body has a +great deal to do with it sometimes — these states of feeling, +I mean." + +"No doubt it has; and in these cases the cure is a more +complicated matter. I should think the roses would be useful +there?" + +Fleda's mind was crossed by an indistinct vision of peas, +asparagus, and sweet corn; she said nothing. + +"An indirect remedy is sometimes the very best that can be +employed. However, it is always true that the more our eyes +are fixed upon the source of light, the less we notice the +shadows that things we are passing fling across our way." + +Fleda did not know how to talk for a little while; she was too +happy. Whatever kept Mr. Carleton from talking, he was silent +also. Perhaps it was the understanding of her mood. + +"Mr. Carleton," said Fleda, after a little time, "did you ever +carry out that plan of a rose-garden that you were talking of +a long while ago?" + +"You remember it?" said he, with a pleased look. "Yes, that +was one of the first things I set about, after I went home — +but I did not follow the regular fashion of arrangement that +one of your friends is so fond of." + +"I should not like that for anything," said Fleda, "and least +of all for roses." + +"Do you remember the little shrubbery path that opened just in +front of the library windows —leading, at the distance of half +a mile, to a long, narrow, winding glen?" + +"Perfectly well," said Fleda, — "through the wood of +evergreens — Oh, I remember the glen very well." + +"About half way from the house," said he, smiling at her eyes, +"a glade opens, which merges at last in the head of the glen — +I planted my roses there — the circumstances of the ground +were very happy for disposing them according to my wish." + +"And how far?" + +"The roses? — Oh, all the way, and some distance down the +glen. Not a continuous thicket of them," he added, smiling +again — "I wished each kind to stand so that its peculiar +beauty should be fully relieved and appreciated; and that +would have been lost in a crowd." + +"Yes, I know it," said Fleda; "one's eye rests upon the chief +objects of attraction, and the others are hardly seen — they +do not even serve as foils. And they must show beautifully +against that dark background of firs and larches!" + +"Yes; and the windings of the ground gave me every sort of +situation and exposure. I wanted room, too, for the different +effects of masses of the same kind growing together, and of +fine individuals or groups standing alone, where they could +show the full graceful development of their nature." + +"What a pleasure! — What a beauty it must be!" + +"The ground is very happy — many varieties of soil and +exposure were needed for the plants of different habits, and I +found or made them all. The rocky beginnings of the glen even +furnished me with south walls for the little tea-roses, and +the Macartneys, and musk roses; the banksias I kept nearer +home." + +"Do you know them all, Mr. Carleton?" + +"Not quite," said he, smiling at her. + +"I have seen one banksia — the Macartney is a name that tells +me nothing." + +"They are evergreens — with large white flowers — very +abundant and late in the season, but they need the shelter of +a wall with us." + +"I should think you would say 'with me,' " said Fleda. "I +cannot conceive that the head-quarters of the rose tribe +should be anywhere else." + +"One of the queens of the tribe is there, in the neighbourhood +of the Macartneys — the difficult _rosa sulphurea_ — it finds +itself so well accommodated, that it condescends to play its +part to perfection. Do you know that?" + +"Not at all." + +"It is one of the most beautiful of all, though not my +favourite — it has large double yellow flowers, shaped like +the Provence — very superb, but as wilful as any queen of them +all." + +"Which is your favourite, Mr. Carleton?" + +"Not that which shows itself most splendid to the eye, but +which offers fairest indications to the fancy." + +Fleda looked a little wistfully, for there was a smile rather +of the eye than of the lips, which said there was a hidden +thought beneath. + +"Don't you assign characters to your flowers?" said he, +gravely. + +"Always." + +"That _rosa sulphurea_ is a haughty high-bred beauty, that +disdains even to show herself beautiful, unless she is pleased +— I love better what comes nearer home to the charities and +wants of every-day life." + +He had not answered her, Fleda knew; she thought of what he +had said to Mrs. Evelyn about liking beauty, but not _beauties_. + +"Then." said he, smiling again in that hidden way, "the head +of the glen gave me the soil I needed for the Bourbons and +French roses." + +"Bourbons?" said Fleda. + +"Those are exceeding fine — a hybrid between the Chinese and +the _rose-à-quatre-saisons_ — I have not confined them all to +the head of the glen; many of them are in richer soil, grafted +on standards." + +"I like standard roses," said Fleda, "better than any." + +"Not better than climbers?" + +"Better than any climbers I ever saw — except the banksia." + +"There is hardly a more elegant variety than that, though it +is not strictly a climber; and, indeed, when I spoke, I was +thinking as much of the training roses. Many of the _noisettes_ +are very fine. But I have the climbers all over — in some +parts nothing else, where the wood closes in upon the path — +there the evergreen roses or the Ayrshire, cover the ground +under the trees, or are trained up the trunks, and allowed to +find their own way through the branches down again — the +_multiflora_ in the same manner. I have made the _boursault_ cover +some unsightly rocks that were in my way. Then in wider parts +of the glade, nearer home, are your favourite standards — the +damask, and Provence, and moss, which, you know, are varieties +of the _centifolia_, and the _noisette_ standards — some of them +are very fine, and the Chinese roses, and countless hybrids +and varieties of all these, with many Bourbons; and your +beautiful American yellow rose, and the Austrian briar and +eglantine, and the Scotch, and white and dog roses, in their +innumerable varieties, change admirably well with the others, +and relieve the eye very happily." + +"Relieve the eye!" said Fleda; "my imagination wants +relieving! Isn't there — I have a fancy that there is — a view +of the sea from some parts of that walk, Mr. Carleton?" + +"Yes — you have a good memory," said he, smiling. "On one side +the wood is rather dense, and in some parts of the other side; +but elsewhere the trees are thinned off towards the south- +west, and in one or two points the descent of the ground and +some cutting have given free access to the air and free range +to the eye, bounded only by the sea-line in the distance; if, +indeed, that can be said to bound anything." + +"I haven't seen it since I was a child," said Fleda. "And for +how long a time in the year is this literally a garden of +roses, Mr. Carleton?" + +"The perpetual roses are in bloom for eight months — the +damask and the Chinese, and some of their varieties; the +Provence roses are in blossom all the summer." + +"Ah! we can do nothing like that in this country," said Fleda, +shaking her head; "our winters are unmanageable." + +She was silent a minute, turning over the leaves of her book +in an abstracted manner. + +"You have struck out upon a grave path of reflection," said +Mr. Carleton, gently, "and left me bewildered among the +roses." + +"I was thinking," said Fleda, looking up and laughing, "I was +moralizing to myself upon the curious equalization of +happiness in the world; I just sheered off from a feeling of +envy, and comfortably reflected that one measures happiness by +what one knows — not by what one does not know; and so, that +in all probability I have had near as much enjoyment in the +little number of plants that I have brought up and cherished, +and know intimately, as you, Sir, in your superb walk through +fairy-land." + +"Do you suppose," said he, laughing, "that I leave the whole +care of fairy-land to my gardener? No, you are mistaken; when +the roses are to act as my correctors, I find I must become +theirs. I seldom go among them without a pruning knife, and +never without wishing for one. And you are certainly right so +far — that the plants on which I bestow most pains give me the +most pleasure. There are some that no hand but mine ever +touches, and those are by far the best loved of my eye." + +A discussion followed — partly natural, partly moral — on the +manner of pruning various roses, and on the curious connection +between care and complacency, and the philosophy of the same. + +"The rules of the library are to shut up at sundown, Sir," +said one the bookmen, who had come into the room. + +"Sundown!" exclaimed Fleda, jumping up; "is my uncle not here, +Mr. Frost?" + +"He has been gone half an hour, Ma'am." + +"And I was to have gone home with him; I have forgotten +myself." + +"If that is at all the fault of my roses," said Mr. Carleton, +smiling, "I will do my best to repair it." + +"I am not disposed to call it a fault," said Fleda, tying her +bonnet-strings; "it is rather an agreeable thing once in a +while. I shall dream of those roses, Mr. Carleton." + +"That would be doing them too much honour." + +Very happily she had forgotten herself; and during all the +walk home her mind was too full of one great piece of joy, +and, indeed, too much engaged with conversation to take up her +own subject again. Her only wish was that they might not meet +any of the Evelyns; Mr. Thorn, whom they did meet, was a +matter of entire indifference. + +The door was opened by Dr. Gregory himself. To Fleda's utter +astonishment, Mr. Carleton accepted his invitation to come in. +She went up stairs to take off her things, in a kind of maze. + +"I thought he would go away without my seeing him; and now, +what a nice time I have had — in spite of Mrs. Evelyn!" + +That thought slipped in without Fleda's knowledge, but she +could not get it out again. + +"I don't know how much it has been her fault either, but one +thing is certain — I never could have had it at her house. How +very glad I am! — how _very_ glad I am! — that I have seen him, +and heard all this from his own lips. But how very funny that +he will be here to tea!" + +"Well!" said the doctor, when she came down, "you _do_ look +freshened up, I declare. Here is this girl, Sir, was coming to +me a little while ago, complaining that she wanted something +_fresh_, and begging me to take her back to Queechy, forsooth, +to find it with two feet of snow on the ground. Who wants to +see you at Queechy?" he said, facing round upon her with a +look half fierce, half quizzical. + +Fleda laughed, but was vexed to feel that she could not help +colouring, and colouring exceedingly, partly from the +consciousness of his meaning, and partly from a vague notion +that somebody else was conscious of it, too. Dr. Gregory, +however, dashed right off into the thick of conversation with +his guest, and kept him busily engaged till tea-time. Fleda +sat still on the sofa, looking and listening with simple +pleasure — memory served her up a rich entertainment enough. +Yet she thought her uncle was the most heartily interested of +the two in the conversation; there was a shade more upon Mr. +Carleton, not than he often wore, but than he had worn a +little while ago. Dr. Gregory was a great bibliopole, and in +the course of the hour hauled out, and made his guest +overhaul, no less than several musty old folios, and Fleda +could not help fancying that he did it with an access of +gravity greater even than the occasion called for. The grace +of his manner, however, was unaltered; and at tea, she did not +know whether she had been right or not. Demurely as she sat +there behind the tea-urn — for Dr. Gregory still engrossed all +the attention of his guest, as far as talking was concerned — +Fleda was again inwardly smiling to herself at the oddity and +the pleasantness of the chance that had brought those three +together in such a quiet way, after all the weeks she had been +seeing Mr. Carleton at a distance. And she enjoyed the +conversation, too; for though Dr. Gregory was a little fond of +his hobby, it was still conversation worthy the name. + +"I have been so unfortunate in the matter of the drives," Mr. +Carleton said, when he was about to take leave, and standing +before Fleda, "that I am half afraid to mention it again." + +"I could not help it both those times, Mr. Carleton," said +Fleda, earnestly. + +"Both the last? — or both the first?" said he, smiling. + +"The last!" said Fleda. + +"I have had the honour of making such an attempt twice within +the last ten days — to my disappointment." + +"It was not by my fault then, either, Sir," Fleda said, +quietly. + +But he knew very well from the expression of her face a moment +before, where to put the emphasis her tongue would not make. + +"Dare I ask you to go with me, to-morrow?" + +"I don't know," said Fleda, with the old childish sparkle of +her eye; "but if you ask me, Sir, I will go." + +He sat down beside her immediately, and Fleda knew, by his +change of eye, that her former thought had been right. + +"Shall I see you at Mrs. Decatur's, to-morrow?" + +"No, Sir." + +"I thought I understood," said he, in an explanatory tone, +"from your friends, the Miss Evelyns, that they were going." + +"I believe they are, and I did think of it; but I have changed +my mind, and shall stay at home with Mrs. Evelyn." + +After some further conversation, the hour for the drive was +appointed, and Mr. Carleton took leave. + +"Come for me twice, and Mrs. Evelyn refused without consulting +me!" thought Fleda. "What could make her do so? How very rude +he must have thought me! And how glad I am I have had an +opportunity of setting that right!" + +So, quitting Mrs. Evelyn, her thoughts went off upon a long +train of wandering over the afternoon's talk. + +"Wake up!" said the doctor, laying his hand kindly upon her +shoulder; "you'll want something fresh again presently. What +mine of profundity are you digging into now?" + +Fleda looked up, and came back from her profundity with a +glance and smile as simple as a child's. + +"Dear uncle Orrin, how came you to leave me alone in the +library?" + +"Was that what you were trying to discover?" + +"Oh no, Sir! But why did you, uncle Orrin? I might have been +left utterly alone." + +"Why," said the doctor, "I was going out, and a friend, that I +thought I could confide in, promised to take care of you." + +"A friend! — Nobody came near me," said Fleda. + +"Then I'll never trust anybody again," said the doctor. "But +what were you hammering at, mentally, just now? — Come, you +shall tell me." + +"O nothing, uncle Orrin," said Fleda, looking grave again, +however; "I was thinking that I had been talking too much to- +day." + +"Talking too much? — why, whom have you been talking to?" + +"Oh, nobody but Mr. Carleton." + +"Mr. Carleton! Why, you didn't say six and a quarter words +while he was here." + +"No, but I mean in the library, and walking home." + +"Talking too much! I guess you did," said the doctor; — "your +tongue is like + + +'the music of the spheres, +So loud it deafens human ears.' + + +How came you to talk too much? I thought you were too shy to +talk at all in company." + +"No, Sir, I am not; I am not at all shy unless people frighten +me. It takes almost nothing to do that; but I am very bold if +I am not frightened." + +"Were you frightened this afternoon?" + +"No, Sir?" + +"Well, if you weren't frightened, I guess nobody else was," +said the doctor. + + +CHAPTER IX. + + +"Whence came this? +This is some token from a newer friend." +SHAKESPEARE. + + +The snow-flakes were falling softly and thick when Fleda got +up the next morning. + +"No ride for me to-day — but how very glad I am that I had a +chance of setting that matter right. What could Mrs. Evelyn +have been thinking of? Very false kindness! if I had disliked +to go ever so much, she ought to have made me, for my own +sake, rather than let me seem so rude — it is true she didn't +know _how_ rude. O snow-flakes, how much purer and prettier you +are than most things in this place!" + +No one was in the breakfast-parlour when Fleda came down, so +she took her book and the _dormeuse_, and had an hour of +luxurious quiet before anybody appeared. Not a footfall in the +house, nor even one outside to be heard, for the soft +carpeting of snow which was laid over the streets. The gentle +breathing of the fire the only sound in the room, while the +very light came subdued through the falling snow and the thin +muslin curtains, and gave an air of softer luxury to the +apartment. "Money is pleasant," thought Fleda, as she took a +little complacent review of all this before opening her book. +"And yet how unspeakably happier one may be without it, than +another with it. Happiness never was locked up in a purse vet. +I am sure Hugh and I — They must want me at home!" — + +There was a little sober consideration of the lumps of coal +and the contented-looking blaze in the grate, a most +essentially home-like thing — and then Fleda went to her book, +and for the space of an hour turned over her pages without +interruption. At the end of the hour "the fowling-piece," +certainly the noisiest of his kind, put his head in, but +seeing none of his ladies, took it and himself away again, and +left Fleda in peace for another half-hour. Then appeared Mrs. +Evelyn in her morning wrapper, and only stopping at the bell- +handle, came up to the _dormeuse_, and stooping down, kissed +Fleda's forehead with so much tenderness that it won a look of +most affectionate gratitude in reply. + +"Fleda, my dear, we set you a sad example. But you won't copy +it. Joe, breakfast. Has Mr. Evelyn gone down town?" + +"Yes, Ma'am, two hours ago." + +"Did it ever occur to you, Fleda, my dear," said Mrs. Evelyn, +breaking the lumps of coal with the poker, in a very leisurely +satisfied kind of a way — "Did it ever occur to you to rejoice +that you were not born a business man? What a life —" + +"I wonder how it compares with that of a business woman," said +Fleda, laughing. "There is an uncompromising old proverb which +says — + + +'Man's work is from sun to sun — +But a woman's work is never done.' " + + +A saying which, she instantly reflected, was entirely beyond +the comprehension of the person to whose consideration she had +offered it. + +And then came in Florence, rubbing her hands and knitting her +eyebrows. + +"Why, you don't look as bright as the rest of the world this +morning," said Fleda. + +"What a wretched storm!" + +"Wretched! This beautiful snow! Here have I been enjoying it +for this hour." + +But Florence rubbed her hands, and looked as if Fleda were no +rule for other people. + +"How horrid it will make the going out to-night, if it snows +all day!" + +"Then you, can stay at home," said her mother, composedly. + +"Indeed I shall not, Mamma." + +"Mamma," said Constance, now coming in with Edith, "isn't +breakfast ready? It strikes me that the fowling-piece wants +polishing up. I have an indistinct impression that the sun +would be upon the meridian, if he was anywhere." + +"Not quite so bad as that," said Fleda, smiling; "it is only +an hour and a half since I came down stairs." + +"You horrid little creature! — Mamma, I consider it an act of +inhospitality to permit studious habits on the part of your +guests. And I am surprised your ordinary sagacity has not +discovered that it is the greatest impolicy towards the +objects of your maternal care. We are labouring under growing +disadvantages; for when we have brought the enemy to, at long +shot, there is a mean little craft that comes in and unmans +him, in a close fight, before we can get our speaking-trumpets +up." + +"Constance! — do hush!" said her sister. "You are too absurd." + +"Fact," said Constance, gravely. "Captain Lewiston was telling +me the other night how the thing is managed; and I recognised +it immediately, and told him I had often seen it done." + +"Hold your tongue, Constance," said her mother, smiling, "and +come to breakfast." + +Half, and but half, of the mandate the young lady had any idea +of obeying. + +"I can't imagine what you are talking about, Constance," said +Edith. + +"And then, being a friend, you see," pursued Constance, "we +can do nothing but fire a salute, instead of demolishing her." + +"Can't you!" said Fleda. "I am sure many a time I have felt as +if you had left me nothing but my colours." + +"Except your prizes, my dear. I am sure I don't know about +your being a friend, either, for I have observed that you +engage English and American alike." + +"She is getting up her colours now," said Mrs. Evelyn, in mock +gravity — "you call tell what she is." + +"Blood-red!" said Constance. "A pirate! — I thought so," she +exclaimed, with an ecstatic gesture. "I shall make it my +business to warn everybody." + +"Oh, Constance!" said Fleda, burying her face in her hands. +But they all laughed. + +"Fleda, my dear, I would box her ears," said Mrs. Evelyn, +commanding herself. It is a mere envious insinuation — I have +always understood those were the most successful colours +carried." + +"Dear Mrs. Evelyn!" — + +"My dear Fleda, that is not a hot roll — you shan't eat it — +take this. Florence, give her a piece of the bacon — Fleda, my +dear, it is good for the digestion — you must try it. +Constance was quite mistaken in supposing yours were those +obnoxious colours — there is too much white with the red — it +is more like a very different flag." + +"Like what, then, Mamma!" said Constance; "a good American +would have blue in it." + +"You may keep the American yourself," said her mother. + +"Only," said Fleda, trying to recover herself, "there is a +slight irregularity; with you the stars are blue and the +ground white." + +"My dear little Fleda," exclaimed Constance, jumping up, and +capering round the table to kiss her, "you are too delicious +for anything; and in future I will be blind to your colours, +which is a piece of self-denial I am sure nobody else will +practise." + +"Mamma," said Edith, "what _are_ you all talking about? Can't +Constance sit down and let Fleda eat her breakfast?" + +"Sit down, Constance, and eat your breakfast." + +"I will do it, Mamma, out of consideration for the bacon. +Nothing else would move me." + +"Are you going to Mrs. Decatur's to-night, Fleda?" + +"No, Edith, I believe not." + +"I'm very glad; then there'll be somebody at home. But why +don't you?" + +"I think, on the whole, I had rather not." + +"Mamma," said Constance, "you have done very wrong in +permitting such a thing. I know just how it will be. Mr. Thorn +and Mr. Stackpole will make indefinite voyages of discovery +round Mrs. Decatur's rooms, and then, having a glimmering +perception that the light of Miss Ringgan's eyes is in another +direction, they will sheer off; and you will presently see +them come sailing blandly in, one after the other, and cast +anchor for the evening; when, to your extreme delight, Mr. +Stackpole and Miss Ringgan will immediately commence fighting. +I shall stay at home to see!" exclaimed Constance, with little +bounds of delight up and down upon her chair, which this time +afforded her the additional elasticity of springs; "I will not +go. I am persuaded how it will be, and I would not miss it for +anything." + +"Dear Constance," said Fleda, unable to help laughing through +all her vexation, "please do not talk so. You know very well +Mr. Stackpole only comes to see your mother." + +"He was here last night," said Constance, in an extreme state +of delight, "with all the rest of your admirers, ranged in the +hall, with their hats in a pile at the foot of the staircase, +as a token of their determination not to go till you came +home; and, as they could not be induced to come up to the +drawing-room, Mr. Evelyn was obliged to go down, and with some +difficulty persuaded them to disperse." + +Fleda was by this time in a state of indecision betwixt crying +and laughing, assiduously attentive to her breakfast. + +"Mr. Carleton asked me if you would go to ride with him again +the other day, Fleda," said Mrs. Evelyn, with her face of +delighted mischief, "and I excused you, for I thought you +would thank me for it." + +"Mamma," said Constance, "the mention of that name rouses all +the bitter feelings I am capable of. My dear Fleda, we have +been friends; but if I see you abstracting my English rose —" + +"Look at those roses behind you!" said Fleda. + +The young lady turned and sprang at the word, followed by both +her sisters; and for some moments nothing but a hubbub of +exclamations filled the air. + +"Joe, you are enchanting! But did you ever see such flowers? +Oh, those rose-buds!" + +"And these camellias," said Edith; "look, Florence, how they +are cut — with such splendid long stems!" + +"And the roses, too — all of them — see, Mamma, just cut from +the bushes, with the buds all left on, and immensely long +stems! Mamma, these must have cost an immensity!" + +"That is what I call a bouquet," said Fleda, fain to leave the +table, too, and draw near the tempting show in Florence's +hand. + +"This is the handsomest you have had all winter, Florence," +said Edith. + +"Handsomest! I never saw anything like it. I shall wear some +of these to-night, Mamma." + +"You are in a great hurry to appropriate it," said Constance; +"how do you know but it is mine?" + +"Which of us is it for, Joe?" + +"Say it is mine, Joe, and I will vote you — the best article +of your kind," said Constance, with an inexpressible glance at +Fleda. + +"Who brought it, Joe?" said Mrs. Evelyn. + +"Yes, Joe, who brought it? where did it come from, Joe?" Joe +had hardly a chance to answer. + +"I really couldn't say, Miss Florence; the man wasn't known to +me." + +"But did he say it was for Florence or for me?" + +"No, Ma'am — he —" + +"_Which_ did he say it was for?" + +"He didn't say it was either for Miss Florence or for you, +Miss Constance; he —" + +"But didn't he say who sent it?" + +"No, Ma'am. It's —" + +"Mamma, here is a white moss that is beyond everything! with +two of the most lovely buds. Oh!" said Constance, clasping her +hands, and whirling about the room in comic ecstasy, "I +sha'n't survive it if I cannot find out where it is from." + +"How delicious the scent of these tea-roses is!" said Fleda. +"You ought not to mind the snow-storm to-day, after this, +Florence. I should think you would be perfectly happy." + +"I shall be, if I can contrive to keep them fresh to wear to- +night. Mamma, how sweetly they would dress me!" + +"They're a great deal too good to be wasted so," said Mrs. +Evelyn; "I sha'n't let you do it." + +"Mamma! it wouldn't take any of them at all for my hair, and +the _bouquet de corsage_, too; there'd be thousands left. Well, +Joe, what are you waiting for?" + +"I didn't say," said Joe, looking a good deal blank and a +little afraid — "I should have said — that the bouquet — is —" + +"What is it?" + +"It is — I believe, Ma'am — the man said it was for Miss +Ringgan." + +"For me!" exclaimed Fleda, her cheeks forming instantly the +most exquisite commentary on the gift that the giver could +have desired. She took in her hand the superb bunch of flowers +from which the fingers of Florence unclosed as if it had been +an icicle. + + +"Why didn't you say so before?" she inquired sharply; but the +"fowling-piece" had wisely disappeared. + +"I am very glad!" exclaimed Edith. "They have had plenty all +winter, and you haven't had one. I am very glad it is yours, +Fleda." + +But such a shadow had come upon every other face that Fleda's +pleasure was completely overclouded. She smelled at her roses, +just ready to burst into tears, and wishing sincerely that +they had never come. + +"I am afraid, my dear Fleda," said Mrs. Evelyn, quietly going +on with her breakfast, "that there is a thorn somewhere among +those flowers." + +Fleda was too sure of it; but not by any means the one Mrs. +Evelyn intended. + +"He never could have got half those from his own green-house, +Mamma," said Florence, "if he had cut every rose that was in +it; and he isn't very free with his knife, either." + +"I said nothing about anybody's greenhouse," said Mrs. Evelyn, +"though I don't suppose there is more than one Lot in the city +they could have come from." + +"Well," said Constance, settling herself back in her chair and +closing her eyes, "I feel extinguished! Mamma, do you suppose +it possible that a hot cup of tea might revive me? I am +suffering from a universal sense of unappreciated merit, and +nobody can tell what the pain is that hasn't felt it." + +"I think you are extremely foolish, Constance," said Edith. +"Fleda hasn't had a single flower sent her since she has been +here, and you have had them every other day. I think Florence +is the only one that has a right to be disappointed." + +"Dear Florence," said Fleda, earnestly, "you shall have as +many of them as you please, to dress yourself — and welcome!" + +"Oh, no — of course not!" Florence said; "it's of no sort of +consequence — I don't want them in the least, my dear. I +wonder what somebody would think to see his flowers in my +head!" + +Fleda secretly had mooted the same question, and was very well +pleased not to have it put to the proof. She took the flowers +up stairs after breakfast, resolving that they should not be +an eyesore to her friends; placed them in water, and sat down +to enjoy and muse over them in a very sorrowful mood. She +again thought she would take the first opportunity of going +home. How strange! — out of their abundance of tributary +flowers, to grudge her this one bunch! To be sure, it was a +magnificent one. The flowers were mostly roses, of the rarer +kinds, with a very few fine camellias; all of them cut with a +freedom that evidently had known no constraint but that of +taste, and put together with an exquisite skill that Fleda +felt sure was never possessed by any gardener. She knew that +only one hand had had anything to do with them, and that the +hand that had bought, not the one that had sold; and "How very +kind!" presently quite supplanted "How very strange!" "How +exactly like him! and how singular that Mrs. Evelyn and her +daughters should have supposed they could have come from Mr. +Thorn!" It was a moral impossibility that _he_ should have put +such a bunch of flowers together; while to Fleda's eye they so +bore the impress of another person's character, that she had +absolutely been glad to get them out of sight for fear they +might betray him. She hung over their varied loveliness, +tasted and studied it, till the soft breath of the roses had +wafted away every cloud of disagreeable feeling, and she was +drinking in pure and strong pleasure from. each leaf and bud. +What a very apt emblem of kindness and friendship she thought +them; when their gentle preaching and silent sympathy could +alone so nearly do friendship's work; for to Fleda there was +both counsel and consolation in flowers. So she found it this +morning. An hour's talk with them had done her a great deal of +good; and, when she dressed herself and went down to the +drawing-room, her grave little face was not less placid than +the roses she had left; she would not wear even one of them +down to be a disagreeable reminder. And she thought that still +snowy day was one of the very pleasantest she had had in New +York. + +Florence went to Mrs. Decatur's; but Constance, according to +her avowed determination, remained at home to see the fun. +Fleda hoped most sincerely there would be none for her to see. + +But, a good deal to her astonishment, early in the evening, +Mr. Carleton walked in, followed very soon by Mr. Thorn. +Constance and Mrs. Evelyn were forthwith in a perfect +effervescence of delight, which as they could not very well +give it full play, promised to last the evening; and Fleda, +all her nervous trembling awakened again, took her work to the +table, and endeavoured to bury herself in it. But ears could +not be fastened as well as eyes; and the mere sound of Mrs. +Evelyn's voice sometimes sent a thrill over her. + +"Mr. Thorn," said the lady, in her smoothest manner, "are you +a lover of floriculture, Sir?" + +"Can't say that I am, Mrs. Evelyn — except as practised by +others." + +"Then you are not a _connoisseur_ in roses? Miss Ringgan's happy +lot — sent her a most exquisite collection this morning, and +she has been wanting to apply to somebody who could tell her +what they are — I thought you might know. Oh, they are not +here," said Mrs. Evelyn, as she noticed the gentleman's look +round the room; "Miss Ringgan judges them too precious for any +eyes but her own. Fleda, my dear, wont you bring down your +roses to let Mr. Thorn tell us their names?" + +"I am sure Mr. Thorn will excuse me, Mrs. Evelyn — I believe +he would find it a puzzling task." + +"The surest way, Mrs. Evelyn, would be to apply at the +fountain head for information," said Thorn, drily. + +"If I could get at it," said Mrs. Evelyn (Fleda knew, with +quivering lips) — "but it seems to me I might as well try to +find the Dead Sea!" + +"Perhaps Mr. Carleton might serve your purpose," said Thorn. + +That gentleman was at the moment talking to Constance. + +"Mr. Carleton," said Mrs. Evelyn, "are you a judge, Sir?" + +"Of what, Mrs. Evelyn? — I beg your pardon." + +The lady's tone somewhat lowered. + +"Are you a judge of roses, Mr. Carleton?" + +"So far as to know a rose when I see it," he answered, +smiling, and with an imperturbable coolness that it quieted +Fleda to hear. + +"Ay, but the thing is," said Constance, "do you know twenty +roses when you see them?" + +"Miss Ringgan, Mr. Carleton," said Mrs. Evelyn, "has received +a most beautiful supply this morning; but, like a true woman, +she is not satisfied to enjoy unless she can enjoy +intelligently — they are strangers to us all, and she would +like to know what name to give them; Mr. Thorn suggested that +perhaps you might help us out of our difficulty." + +"With great pleasure, so far as I am able — if my judgment may +be exercised by day-light. I cannot answer for shades of green +in the night-time." + +But he spoke with an ease and simplicity that left no mortal +able to guess whether he had ever heard of a particular bunch +of roses in his life before. + +"You give me more of Eve in my character, Mrs. Evelyn, than I +think belongs to me," said Fleda, from her work at the far +centre-table, which certainly did not get its name from its +place in the room. "My enjoyment to-day has not been in the +least troubled by curiosity." + +Which none of the rest of the family could have affirmed. + +"Do you mean to say, Mr. Carleton," said Constance, "that it +is necessary to distinguish between shades of green in judging +of roses?" + +"It is necessary to make shades of distinction in judging of +almost anything, Miss Constance. The difference between +varieties of the same flower is often extremely nice." + +"I have read of magicians," said Thorn, softly, bending down +towards Fleda's work — "who did not need to see things to +answer questions respecting them." + +Fleda thought that was a kind of magic remarkably common in +the world; but even her displeasure could not give her courage +to speak. It gave her courage to be silent, however; and Mr. +Thorn's best efforts, in a conversation of some length, could +gain nothing but very uninterested rejoinders. A sudden pinch +from Constance then made her look up, and almost destroyed her +self-possession, as she saw Mr. Stackpole male his way into +the room. + +"I hope I find my fair enemy in a mollified humour," he said, +approaching them. + +"I suppose you have repaired damages, Mr. Stackpole," said +Constance, "since you venture into the region of broken +windows again." + +"Mr. Stackpole declared there were none to repair," said Mrs. +Evelyn, from the sofa. + +"More than I knew of," said the gentleman, laughing — "there +were more than I knew of; but you see I court the danger, +having rashly concluded that I might as well know all my weak +points at once." + +"Miss Ringgan will break nothing to-night, Mr. Stackpole — she +promised me she would not." + +"Not even her silence?" said the gentleman. + +"Is she always so desperately industrious?" said Mr. Thorn. + +"Miss Ringgan, Mr. Stackpole," said Constance, "is subject to +occasional fits of misanthropy, in which cases her retreating +with her work to the solitude of the centre-table is +significant of her desire to avoid conversation — as Mr. Thorn +has been experiencing." + +"I am happy to see that the malady is not catching, Miss +Constance." + +"Mr. Stackpole," said Constance, "I am in a morose state of +mind! — Miss Ringgan, this morning, received a magnificent +bouquet of roses, which, in the first place, I rashly +appropriated to myself; and ever since I discovered my +mistake, I have been meditating the renouncing of society — it +has excited more bad feelings than I thought had existence in +my nature." + +"Mr. Stackpole," said Mrs. Evelyn, "would you ever have +supposed that roses could be a cause of discord?" + +Mr. Stackpole looked as if he did not exactly know what the +ladies were driving at. + +"There have five thousand emigrants arrived at this port +within a week!" said he, as if that were something worth +talking about. + +"Poor creatures! where will they all go?" said Mrs. Evelyn, +comfortably. + +"Country's large enough," said Thorn. + +"Yes — but such a stream of immigration will reach the +Pacific, and come back again before long; and then there will +be a meeting of the waters! This tide of German and Irish will +sweep over everything." + +"I suppose, if the land will not bear both, one party will +have to seek other quarters," said Mrs. Evelyn, with an +exquisite satisfaction, which Fleda could hear in her voice. +"You remember the story of Lot and Abraham, Mr. Stackpole — +when a quarrel arose between them? — not about roses." + +Mr. Stackpole looked as if women were — to say the least — +incomprehensible. + +"Five thousand a week!" he repeated. + +"I wish there was a Dead Sea for them all to sheer off into!" +said Thorn. + +"If you had seen the look of grave rebuke that speech called +forth, Mr. Thorn," said Constance, "your feelings would have +been penetrated — if you have any." + +"I had forgotten," he said, looking round with a bland change +of manner, "what gentle charities were so near me." + +"Mamma!" said Constance, with a most comic show of +indignation, "Mr. Thorn thought that with Miss Ringgan he had +forgotten all the gentle charities in the room! — I am of no +further use to society! — I will trouble you to ring that +bell, Mr. Thorn, if you please. I shall request candles, and +retire to the privacy of my own apartment." + +"Not till you have permitted me to expiate my fault," said Mr. +Thorn, laughing. + +"It cannot be expiated! — My worth will be known at some +future day. Mr. Carleton, will you have the goodness to summon +our domestic attendant?" + +"If you will permit me to give the order," he said, smiling, +with his hand on the bell. "I am afraid you are hardly fit to +be trusted alone." + +"Why?" + +"May I delay obeying you long enough to give my reasons?" + +"Yes." + +"Because," said he, coming up to her, "when people turn away +from the world in disgust, they generally find worse company +in themselves." + +"Mr. Carleton! — I would not sit still another minute, if +curiosity didn't keep me. I thought solitude was said to be +such a corrector!" + +"Like a clear atmosphere — an excellent medium if your object +is to take an observation of your position; worse than lost if +you mean to shut up the windows and burn sickly lights of your +own." + +"Then, according to that, one shouldn't seek solitude unless +one doesn't want it." + +"No," said Mr. Carleton, with that eye of deep meaning to +which Constance always rendered involuntary homage — "every +one wants, it; if we do not daily take an observation to find +where we are, we are sailing about wildly, and do not know +whither we are going." + +"An observation?" said Constance, understanding part, and +impatient of not catching the whole of his meaning. + +"Yes," he said, with a smile of singular fascination — "I +mean, consulting the unerring guides of the way to know where +we are, and if we are sailing safely and happily in the right +direction — otherwise we are in danger of striking upon some +rock, or of never making the harbour; and in either case, all +is lost." + +The power of eye and smile was too much for Constance, as it +had happened more than once before; her own eyes fell, and for +a moment she wore a look of unwonted sadness and sweetness, at +what from any other person would have roused her mockery. + +"Mr. Carleton," said she, trying to rally herself, but still +not daring to look up, knowing that would put it out of her +power, "I can't understand how you ever came to be such a +grave person." + +"What is your idea of gravity?" said he smiling. "To have a +mind so at rest about the future, as to be able to enjoy +thoroughly all that is worth enjoying in the present?" + +"But I can't imagine how _you_ ever came to take up such +notions." + +"May I ask again, why not I?" + +"Oh, you know, you have so much to make you otherwise." + +"What degree of present contentment ought to make one +satisfied to leave that of the limitless future an uncertain +thing?" + +"Do you think it can be made certain?" + +"Undoubtedly! — why not? the tickets are free — the only thing +is, to make sure that ours has the true signature. Do you +think the possession of that ticket makes life a sadder thing? +The very handwriting of it is more precious to me, by far, +Miss Constance, than everything else I have." + +"But you are a very uncommon instance," said Constance, still +unable to look up, and speaking without any of her usual +attempt at jocularity. + +"No, I hope not," he said, quietly. + +"I mean," said Constance, "that it is very uncommon language +to hear from a person like you." + +"I suppose I know your meaning," he said, after a minute's +pause; "but, Miss Constance, there is hardly a graver thought +to me, than that power and responsibility go hand in hand." + +"It don't generally work so," said Constance, rather uneasily. + +"What are you talking about, Constance?" said Mrs. Evelyn. + +"Mr. Carleton, Mamma, has been making me melancholy." + +"Mr. Carleton," said Mrs. Evelyn, "I am going to petition that +you will turn your efforts in another direction. I have felt +oppressed all the afternoon, from the effects of that funeral +service I was attending — I am only just getting over it. The +preacher seemed to delight in putting together all the gloomy +thoughts he could think of." + +"Yes," said Mr. Stackpole, putting his hands in his pockets, +"it is the particular enjoyment of some of them, I believe, to +do their best to make other people miserable." + +Mr. Thorn said nothing, being warned by the impatient little +hammering of Fleda's worsted needle upon the marble, while her +eye was no longer considering her work, and her face rested +anxiously upon her hand. + +"There wasn't a thing," the lady went on, "in anything he +said; in his prayer or his speech, there wasn't a single +cheering or elevating consideration — all he talked and prayed +for was, that the people there might be filled with a sense of +their wickedness —" + +"It's their trade, Ma'am," said Mr. Stackpole — "it's their +trade! I wonder if it ever occurs to them to include +themselves in that petition." + +"There wasn't the slightest effort made, in anything he said, +or prayed for — and one would have thought that would have +been so natural; there was not the least endeavour to do away +with that superstitious fear of death which is so common — and +one would think it was the very occasion to do it; he never +once asked that we might be led to look upon it rationally and +calmly. It's so unreasonable, Mr. Stackpole — it is so +dissonant with our views of a benevolent Supreme Being — as if +it could be according to _his_ will that his creatures should +live lives of tormenting themselves — it so shows a want of +trust in his goodness." + +"It's a relic of barbarism, Ma'am," said Mr. Stackpole — it's +a popular delusion, and it is like to be, till you can get men +to embrace wider and more liberal views of things." + +"What do you suppose it proceeds from?" said Mr. Carleton, as +if the question had just occurred to him. + +"I suppose from false notions received from education, Sir." + +"Hardly," said Mr. Carleton; "it is too universal. You find it +everywhere; and to ascribe it everywhere to education would be +but shifting the question back one generation." + +"It is a root of barbarous ages," said Mr. Stackpole — "a +piece of superstition handed down from father to son — a set +of false ideas which men are bred up and almost born with, and +that they can hardly get rid of." + +"How can that be a root of barbarism, which the utmost degree +of intelligence and cultivation has no power to do away, nor +even to lessen, however it may afford motive to control? Men +may often put a brave face upon it, and show none of their +thoughts to the world; but I think, no one, capable of +reflection, has not at times felt the influence of that +dread." + +"Men have often sought death, of purpose and choice," said Mr. +Stackpole, drily, and rubbing his chin. + +"Not from the absence of this feeling, but from the greater +momentary pressure of some other." + +"Of course," said Mr. Stackpole, rubbing his chin still, +"there is a natural love of life — the world could not get on +if there was not." + +"If the love of life is natural, the fear of death must be so, +by the same reason." + +"Undoubtedly," said Mrs. Evelyn, "it is natural — it is part +of the constitution of our nature." + +"Yes," said Mr. Stackpole, settling himself again in his +chair, with his hands in his pockets — "it is not unnatural, I +suppose — but then that is the first view of the subject — it +is the business of reason to correct many impressions and +prejudices that are, as we say, natural." + +"And there was where my clergyman of to-day failed utterly," +said Mrs. Evelyn — "he aimed at strengthening that feeling, +and driving it down as hard as he could into everybody's mind +— not a single lisp of anything to do it away, or lessen the +gloom with which we are, naturally, as you say, disposed to +invest the subject." + +"I dare say he has held it up as a bugbear till it has become +one to himself," said Mr. Stackpole. + +"Is it nothing more than the mere natural dread of +dissolution?" said Mr. Carleton. + +"I think it is that," said Mrs. Evelyn — "I think that is the +principal thing." + +"Is there not, besides, an undefined fear of what lies beyond +— an uneasy misgiving, that there may be issues which the +spirit is not prepared to meet?" + +"I suppose there is," said Mrs. Evelyn — "but, Sir —" + +"Why, that is the very thing," said Mr. Stackpole — "that is +the mischief of education I was speaking of — men are brought +up to it." + +"You cannot dispose of it so, Sir, for this feeling is quite +as universal as the other, and so strong, that men have not +only been willing to render life miserable, but even to endure +death itself, with all the aggravation of torture, to smooth +their way in that unknown region beyond." + +"It is one of the maladies of human nature," said Mr. +Stackpole, "that it remains for the progress of enlightened +reason to dispel." + +"What is the cure for the malady?" said Mr. Carleton, quietly. + +"Why, Sir, the looking upon death as a necessary step in the +course of our existence, which simply introduces us from a +lower to a higher sphere — from a comparatively narrow to a +wider and nobler range of feeling and intellect." + +"Ay, but how shall we be sure that it is so?" + +"Why, Mr. Carleton, Sir," said Mrs. Evelyn, "do you doubt +that? Do you suppose it possible, for a moment, that a +benevolent being would make creatures to be anything but +happy?" + +"You believe the Bible, Mrs. Evelyn?" he said, smiling +slightly. + +"Certainly, Sir; but, Mr. Carleton, the Bible, I am sure, +holds out the same views, of the goodness and glory of the +Creator — you cannot open it but you find them on every page. +If I could take such views of things as some people have," +said Mrs. Evelyn, getting up to punch the fire in her +extremity — "I don't know what I should do! Mr. Carleton, I +think I would rather never have been born, Sir!" + +"Every one runs to the Bible!" said Mr. Stackpole. "It is the +general armoury, and all parties draw from it to fight each +other." + +"True," said Mr. Carleton, "but only while they draw +partially. No man can fight the battle of truth but in the +whole panoply, and no man so armed can fight any other." + +"What do you mean, Sir?" + +"I mean that the Bible is not a riddle, neither inconsistent +with itself; but if you take off one leg of a pair of +compasses, the measuring power is gone." + +"But, Mr. Carleton, Sir," said Mrs. Evelyn — "do you think +that reading the Bible is calculated to give one gloomy ideas +of the future?" + +"By no means," he said, with one of those meaning-fraught +smiles; "but is it safe, Mrs. Evelyn, in such a matter, to +venture a single grasp of hope without the direct warrant of +God's Word?" + +"Well, Sir?" + +"Well, Ma'am, that says, 'The soul that sinneth, it shall +die.' " + +"That disposes of the whole matter comfortably at once," said +Mr. Stackpole. + +"But, Sir," said Mrs. Evelyn — "that doesn't stand alone — the +Bible everywhere speaks of the fulness and freeness of +Christ's salvation!" + +"Full and free as it can possibly be," he answered, with +something of a sad expression of countenance; "but, Mrs. +Evelyn, _never offered but with conditions_." + +"What conditions?" said Mr. Stackpole, hastily. + +"I recommend you to look for them, Sir," answered Mr. +Carleton, gravely; — "they should not be unknown to a wise +man." + +"Then you would leave mankind ridden by this nightmare of +fear? — or what is your remedy?" + +"There is a remedy, Sir," said Mr. Carleton, with that +dilating and darkening eye which showed him deeply engaged in +what he was thinking about; "it is not mine. When men feel +themselves lost, and are willing to be saved in God's way, +then the breach is made up — then hope can look across the gap +and see its best home and its best friend on the other side — +then faith lays hold on forgiveness, and trembling is done — +then, sin being pardoned, the sting of death is taken away and +the fear of death is no more, for it is swallowed up in +victory. But men will not apply to a physician while they +think themselves well; and people will not seek the sweet way +of safety by Christ till they know there is no other; and so, +do you see, Mrs. Evelyn, that when the gentleman you were +speaking of sought to-day to persuade his hearers that they +were poorer than they thought they were, he was but taking the +surest way to bring them to be made richer than they ever +dreamed." + +There was a power of gentle earnestness in his eye that Mrs. +Evelyn could not answer; her look fell as that of Constance +had done, and there was a moment's silence. + +Thorn had kept quiet, for two reasons — that he might not +displease Fleda, and that he might watch her. She had left her +work and turning half round from the table, had listened +intently to the conversation, towards the last, very forgetful +that there might be anybody to observe her — with eyes fixed +and cheeks flushing, and the corners of the mouth just +indicating delight — till the silence fell; and then she +turned round to the table and took up her worsted-work. But +the lips were quite grave now, and Thorn's keen eyes discerned +that upon one or two of the artificial roses there lay two or +three very natural drops. + +"Mr. Carleton," said Edith, "what makes you talk such sober +things? — you have set Miss Ringgan to crying." + +"Mr. Carleton could not be better pleased than at such a +tribute to his eloquence," said Mr. Thorn, with a saturnine +expression. + +"Smiles are common things," said Mr. Stackpole, a little +maliciously; "but any man may be flattered to find his words +drop diamonds." + +"Fleda, my dear," said Mrs. Evelyn, with that trembling tone +of concealed ecstasy which always set every one of Fleda's +nerves a-jarring — "you may tell the gentlemen that they do +not always know when they are making an unfelicitous +compliment — I never read what poets say about 'briny drops' +and 'salt tears', without imagining the heroine immediately to +be something like Lot's wife." + +"Nobody said anything about briny drops, Mamma," said Edith; +"why, there's Florence!" + +Her entrance made a little bustle, which Fleda was very glad +of. Unkind! — She was trembling again in every finger. She +bent down over her canvas and worked away as hard as she +could. That did not hinder her becoming aware presently that +Mr. Carleton was standing close beside her. + +"Are you not trying your eyes?" said he. + +The words were nothing, but the tone was a great deal; there +was a kind of quiet intelligence in it. Fleda looked up, and +something in the clear steady self-reliant eye she met wrought +an instant change in her feeling. She met it a moment, and +then looked at her work again with nerves quieted. + +"Cannot I persuade them to be of my mind?" said Mr. Carleton, +bending down a little nearer to their sphere of action. + +"Mr. Carleton is unreasonable to require more testimony of +that this evening," said Mr. Thorn; "his own must have been +ill employed." + +Fleda did not look up, but the absolute quietness of Mr. +Carleton's manner could be felt; she felt it, almost with +sympathetic pain. Thorn immediately left them, and took leave. + +"What are you searching for in the papers, Mr. Carleton?" said +Mrs. Evelyn, presently coming up to them. + +"I was looking for the steamers, Mrs. Evelyn." + +"How soon do you think of bidding us good-bye?" + +"I do not know, Ma'am," he answered, coolly; "I expect my +mother." + +Mrs. Evelyn walked back to her sofa. + +But in the space of two minutes she came over to the centre- +table again, with an open magazine in her hand. + +"Mr. Carleton," said the lady, "you must read this for me, and +tell me what you think of it, will you, Sir? I have been +showing it to Mr. Stackpole, and he can't see any beauty in +it; and I tell him it is his fault, and there is some serious +want in his composition. Now, I want to know what you will say +to it." + +"An arbiter, Mrs. Evelyn, should be chosen by both parties." + +"Read it and tell me what you think!" repeated the lady, +walking away, to leave him opportunity. Mr. Carleton looked it +over. + +"That is something pretty," he said, putting it before Fleda. +Mrs. Evelyn was still at a distance. + +"What do you think of that print for trying the eyes?" said +Fleda, laughing as she took it. But he noticed that her colour +rose a little. + +"How do you like it?" + +"I like it pretty well," said Fleda, rather hesitatingly. + +"You have seen it before?" + +"Why?" Fleda said, with a look up at him, at once a little +startled and a little curious — "what makes you say so?" + +"Because — pardon me — you did not read it." + +"Oh," said Fleda, laughing, but colouring at the same time +very frankly, "I can tell how I like some things without +reading them very carefully." + +Mr. Carleton looked at her, and then took the magazine again. + +"What have you there, Mr. Carleton?" said Florence. + +"A piece of English, on which I was asking this lady's +opinion, Miss Evelyn." + +"Now, Mr. Carleton," exclaimed Constance, jumping up — "I am +going to ask you to decide a quarrel between Fleda and me +about a point of English —" + +"Hush, Constance!" said her mother — "I want to speak to Mr. +Carleton. Mr. Carleton, how do you like it?" + +"Like what, Mamma?" said Florence. + +"A piece I gave Mr. Carleton to read. Mr. Carleton, tell me +how you like it, Sir." + +"But what is it, Mamma!" + +"A piece of poetry in an old _Excelsior_ — 'The Spirit of the +Fireside.' Mr. Carleton, wont you read it aloud, and let us +all hear? but tell me, first, what you think of it." + +"It has pleased me particularly, Mrs. Evelyn." + +"Mr. Stackpole says he does not understand it, Sir." + +"Fanciful," said Mr. Stackpole; "it's a little fanciful — and +I can't quite make out what the fancy is." + +"It has been the misfortune of many good things before, not to +be prized, Mr. Stackpole," said the lady, funnily. + +"True, Ma'am," said that gentleman, rubbing his chin, "and the +converse is also true, unfortunately, and with a much wider +application." + +"There is a peculiarity of mental development or training," +said Mr. Carleton, "which must fail of pleasing many minds, +because of their wanting the corresponding key of nature or +experience. Some literature has a hidden free-masonry of its +own." + +"Very hidden, indeed!" said Mr. Stackpole; "the cloud is so +thick that I can't see the electricity." + +"Mr. Carleton," said Mrs. Evelyn, laughing, "I take that +remark as a compliment, Sir; I have always appreciated that +writer's pieces; I enjoy them very much." + +"Well, wont you, please, read it, Mr. Carleton?" said +Florence, "and let us know what we are talking about." + +Mr. Carleton obeyed, standing where he was, by the centre- +table. + + +"By the old hearthstone a Spirit dwells, +The child of bygone years — +He lieth hid the stones amid, +And liveth on smiles and tears. + + +"But when the night is drawing on, +And the fire burns clear and bright, +He cometh out and walketh about +In the pleasant grave twilight. + + +"He goeth round on tiptoe soft, +And scanneth close each face; +If one in the room be sunk in gloom, +By him he taketh his place. + + +"And then with fingers cool and soft +(Their touch who does not know?) +With water brought from the well of thought, +That was dug long years ago, + + +"He layeth his hand on the weary eyes — +They are closed and quiet now; — +And he wipeth away the dust of the day +Which had settled on the brow. + + +"And gently then he walketh away +And sits in the corner chair; +And the closed eyes swim — it seemeth to him +The form that once sat there. + + +"And whisper'd words of comfort and love +Fall sweet on the ear of sorrow; — +'Why weepest thou? — thou art troubled now, +But there cometh a bright to-morrow. + + +" 'We, too, have pass'd over life's wild stream +In a frail and shatter'd boat, +But the pilot was sure — and we sail'd secure +When we seem'd but scarce afloat. + + +" 'Though toss'd by the rage of waves and wind, +The bark held together still, +One arm was strong — it bore us along, +And has saved from every ill.' + + +"The Spirit returns to his hiding-place, +But his words have been like balm. +The big tears start, but the fluttering heart +Is sooth'd, and soften'd, and calm." + + +"I remember that," said Florence; "it is beautiful." + +"Who's the writer?" said Mr. Stackpole. + +"I don't know," said Mrs. Evelyn, "it is signed 'Hugh'. There +have been a good many of his pieces in the _Excelsior_, for a +year past, and all of them pretty." + +"Hugh!" exclaimed Edith, springing forward, "that's the one +that wrote the Chestnuts! Fleda, wont you read Mr. Carleton +the Chestnuts?" + +"Why, no, Edith; I think not." + +"Ah, do! I like it so much, and I want him to hear it; and you +know Mamma says they're all pretty. Wont you?" + +"My dear Edith, you have heard it once already to-day" + +"But I want you to read it for me again." + +"Let me have it, Miss Edith," said Mr. Carleton, smiling. "I +will read it for you." + +"Ah, but it would be twice as good if you could hear her read +it," said Edith, fluttering over the leaves of the magazine, +"she reads it so well. It's so funny — about the coffee and +buckwheat cakes." + +"What is that, Edith?" said her mother. + +"Something Mr. Carleton is going to read for me, Mamma." + +"Don't you trouble Mr. Carleton." + +"It won't trouble him, Mamma; he promised of his own accord." + +"Let us all have the benefit of it, Mr. Carleton," said the +lady. + +It is worthy of remark that Fleda's politeness utterly +deserted her during the reading of both this piece and the +last. She as near as possible turned her back upon the reader. + + +"Merrily sang the crickets forth +One fair October night; +And the stars look'd down, and the northern crown +Gave its strange fantastic light. + + +"A nipping frost was in the air, +On flowers and grass it fell; +And the leaves were still on the eastern hill, +As if touched by a fairy spell. + + +"To the very top of the tall nut-trees +The frost-king seemed to ride; +With his wand he stirs the chestnut burrs, +And straight they are open'd wide. + + +"And squirrels and children together dream +Of the coming winter's hoard; +And many, I ween, are the chestnuts seen +In hole or in garret stored. + + +"The children are sleeping in feather-beds — +Poor Bun in his mossy nest; +_He_ courts repose with his tail on his nose, +On the others warm blankets rest. + + +"Late in the morning the sun gets up +From behind the village spire; +And the children dream that the first red gleam +Is the chestnut-trees on fire! + + +"The squirrel had on when he first awoke, +All the clothing he could command; +And his breakfast was light — he just took a bite +Of an acorn that lay at hand: + + +"And then he was off to the trees to work: +While the children some time it takes +To dress and to eat what _they_ think meet +Of coffee and buckwheat cakes. + + +"The sparkling frost, when they first go out, +Lies thick upon all around; +And earth and grass, as they onward pass, +Give a pleasant crackling sound. + + +"Oh, there is a heap of chestnuts, see!' +Cried the youngest of the train; +For they came to a stone where the squirrel had thrown +What he meant to pick up again. + + +"And two bright eyes, from the tree o'er head, +Look'd down at the open bag +Where the nuts went in — and so to begin, +Almost made his courage flag. + + +"Away on the hill, outside the wood, +Three giant trees there stand: +And the chestnuts bright, that hang in sight, +Are eyed by the youthful band. + + +"And one of their number climbs the tree, +And passes from bough to bough — +And the children run — for with pelting fun +The nuts fall thickly now. + + +"Some of the burrs are still shut tight — +Some open with chestnuts three, +And some nuts fall with no burrs at all — +Smooth, shiny, as nuts should be. + + +"Oh, who can tell what fun it was +To see the prickly shower: +To feel what a whack on head or back +Was within a chestnut's power! + + +"To run beneath the shaking tree, +And then to scamper away; +And with laughing shout to dance about +The grass where the chestnuts lay. + + +"With flowing dresses, and blowing hair, +And eyes that no shadow knew, +Like the growing light of a morning bright — +The dawn of the summer blue! + + +"The work was ended — the trees were stripped — +The children were 'tired of play:' +And they forgot (but the squirrel did not) +The wrong they had done that day." + + +Whether it was from the reader's enjoyment or good giving of +these lines, or from Edith's delight in them, he was +frequently interrupted with bursts of laughter. + +"I can understand _that_," said Mr. Stackpole, "without any +difficulty." + +"You are not lost in the mysteries of chestnutting in open +daylight," said Mrs. Evelyn. + +"Mr. Carleton," said Edith, "wouldn't you have taken the +squirrel's chestnuts?" + +"I believe I should, Miss Edith, if I had not been hindered." + +"But what would have hindered you? don't you think it was +right?" + +"Ask your friend, Miss Ringgan, what she thinks of it," said +he, smiling. + +"Now, Mr. Carleton," said Constance, as he threw down the +magazine, "will you decide that point of English between Miss +Ringgan and me?" + +"I should like to hear the pleadings on both sides, Miss +Constance." + +"Well, Fleda, will you agree to submit it to Mr. Carleton?" + +"I must know by what standards Mr. Carleton will be guided, +before I agree to any such thing," said Fleda. + +"Standards! but aren't you going to trust anybody in anything, +without knowing what standards they go by ?" + +"Would that be a safe rule to follow in general?" said Fleda, +smiling. + +"You wont be a true woman if you don't follow it, sooner or +later, my dear Fleda," said Mrs. Evelyn. "Every woman must." + +"The later the better, Ma'am, I cannot help thinking." + +"You will change your mind," said Mrs. Evelyn, complacently. + +"Mamma's notions, Mr. Stackpole, would satisfy any man's +pride, when she is expatiating upon the subject of woman's +dependence," said Florence. + +"The dependence of affection," said Mrs. Evelyn. "Of course! +It's their lot. Affection always leads a true woman to merge +her separate judgment, on anything, in the judgment of the +beloved object." + +"Ay," said Fleda, laughing, "suppose her affection is wasted +on an object that has none?" + +"My dear Fleda!" said Mrs. Evelyn, with a funny expression, +"that can never be, you know; don't you remember what your +favourite, Longfellow, says, — 'Affection never is wasted'? — +Florence, my love, just hand me 'Evangeline,' there — I want +you to listen to it, Mr. Stackpole, here it is — + + +'Talk not of wasted affection: affection never was wasted: +If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters returning +Back to their springs, shall fill them full of refreshment. +That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the +fountain.' " + + +"How very plain it is that was written by a man," said Fleda. + +"Why?" said Mr. Carleton, laughing. + +"I always thought it was so exquisite!" said Florence. + +"_I_ was so struck with it," said Constance, "that I have been +looking ever since for an object to waste _my_ affections upon." + +"Hush, Constance!" said her mother. "Don't you like it, Mr. +Carleton?" + +"I should like to hear Miss Ringgan's commentary," said Mr. +Stackpole; "I can't anticipate it. I should have said the +sentiment was quite soft and tender enough for a woman." + +"Don't you agree with it, Mr. Carleton?" repeated Mrs. Evelyn. + +"I beg leave to second Mr. Stackpole's motion," he said, +smiling. + +"Fleda, my dear, you must explain yourself; the gentlemen are +at a stand." + +"I believe, Mrs. Evelyn," said Fleda, smiling and blushing — +"I am of the mind of the old woman who couldn't bear to see +anything wasted." + +"But the assertion is, that it _isn't_ wasted," said Mr. +Stackpole. + +" 'That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the +fountain,' " said Mrs. Evelyn. + +"Yes, to flood and lay waste the fair growth of nature," said +Fleda, with a little energy, though her colour rose and rose +higher. "Did it never occur to you, Mrs. Evelyn, that the +streams which fertilize as they flow, do but desolate if their +course be checked?" + +"But your objection lies only against the author's figure," +said Mr. Stackpole — "come to the fact." + +"I was speaking as he did, Sir, of the fact under the figure — +I did not mean to separate them." + +Both the gentlemen were smiling, though with very different +expression. + +"Perhaps," said Mr. Carleton, "the writer was thinking of a +gentler and more diffusive flow of kind feeling, which, +however it may meet with barren ground and raise no fruit +there, is sure, in due time, to come back, heaven-refined, to +refresh and replenish its source." + +"Perhaps so," said Fleda, with a very pleased answering look — +"I do not recollect how it is brought in — I may have answered +rather Mrs. Evelyn than Mr. Longfellow." + +"But granting that it is an error," said Mr. Stackpole, "as +you understood it — what shows it to have been made by a man?" + +"Its utter ignorance of the subject, Sir." + +"You think _they_ never waste their affections?" said he. + +"By no means! but I think they rarely waste so much in any one +direction as to leave them quite impoverished." + +"Mr. Carleton, how do you bear that, Sir?" said Mrs. Evelyn. +"Will you let such an assertion pass unchecked?" + +"I would not, if I could help it, Mrs. Evelyn." + +"That isn't saying much for yourself," said Constance; "but +Fleda, my dear, where did you get such an experience of waste +and desolation?" + +"Oh, 'man is a microcosm,' you know," said Fleda, lightly. + +"But you make it out that only one-half of mankind can +appropriate that axiom," said Mr. Stackpole. "How can a woman +know _men's_ hearts so well?" + +"On the principle that the whole is greater than a part?' said +Mr. Carleton, smiling. + +"I'll sleep upon that, before I give my opinion," said Mr. +Stackpole. "Mrs. Evelyn, good evening!" — + +"Well, Mr. Carleton!" said Constance, "you have said a great +deal for women's minds." + +"Some women's minds," he said, with a smile. + +"And some men's minds," said Fleda. "I was speaking only in +the general." + +Her eye half unconsciously reiterated her meaning as she shook +hands with Mr. Carleton. And without speaking a word for other +people to hear, his look and smile in return were more than an +answer. Fleda sat for some time after he was gone, trying to +think what it was in eye and lip which had given her so much +pleasure. She could not make out anything but approbation — +the look of loving approbation that one gives to a good child; +but she thought it had also something of that quiet +intelligence — a silent communication of sympathy which the +others in company could not share. + +She was roused from her reverie by Mrs. Evelyn. + +"Fleda, my dear, I am writing to your aunt Lucy — have you any +message to send?" + +"No, Mrs. Evelyn — I wrote myself to-day." + +And she went back to her musings. + +"I am writing about you, Fleda," said Mrs. Evelyn again, in a +few minutes. + +"Giving a good account, I hope, ma'am," said Fleda, smiling. + +"I shall tell her I think sea-breezes have an unfavourable +effect upon you," said Mrs. Evelyn — "that I am afraid you are +growing pale; and that you have clearly expressed yourself in +favour of a garden at Queechy, rather than any lot in the city +— or anywhere else — so she had better send for you home +immediately." + +Fleda tried to find out what the lady really meant; but Mrs. +Evelyn's delighted amusement did not consist with making the +matter very plain. Fleda's questions did nothing but aggravate +the cause of them, to her own annoyance; so she was fain at +last to take her light and go to her own. + +She looked at her flowers again with a renewal of the first +pleasure and of the quieting influence the giver of them had +exercised over her that evening; thought again how very kind +it was of him to send them, and to choose them so; how +strikingly he differed from other people; how glad she was to +have seen him again, and how more than glad that he was so +happily changed from his old self. And then from that change +and the cause of it, to those higher, more tranquillizing, and +sweetening influences that own no kindred with earth's dust, +and descend like the dew of heaven to lay and fertilize it. +And when she laid herself down to sleep, it was with a spirit +grave, but simply happy; every annoyance and unkindness as +unfelt now as ever the parching heat of a few hours before +when the stars are abroad. + + +CHAPTER X. + + +"A snake bedded himself under the threshold of a country +house." +L'ESTRANGE. + + +To Fleda's very great satisfaction Mr. Thorn was not seen +again for several days. It would have been to her very great +comfort, too, if he could have been permitted to die out of +mind as well as out of sight; but he was brought up before her +"lots of times," till poor Fleda almost felt as if she was +really in the moral neighbourhood of the Dead Sea, every +natural growth of pleasure was so withered under the barren +spirit of raillery. Sea-breezes were never so disagreeable +since winds blew; and nervous and fidgety again whenever Mr. +Carleton was present, Fleda retreated to her work and the +table, and withdrew herself as much as she could from notice +and conversation; feeling humbled — feeling sorry, and vexed, +and ashamed, that such ideas should have been put into her +head, the absurdity of which, she thought, was only equalled +by their needlessness. "As much as she could" she withdrew; +but that was not entirely; now and then interest made her +forget herself, and quitting her needle she would give eyes +and attention to the principal speaker as frankly as he could +have desired. Bad weather and bad roads for those days put +riding out of the question. + +One morning she was called down to see a gentleman, and came +eschewing in advance the expected image of Mr. Thorn. It was a +very different person. + +"Charlton Rossitur! My dear Charlton, how do you do? Where did +you come from?" + +"You had better ask me what I have come for," he said, +laughing, as he shook hands with her. + +"What have you come for?" + +"To carry you home." + +"Home?" said Fleda. + +"I am going up there for a day or two, and mamma wrote me I +had better act as your escort, which, of course, I am most +willing to do. See what mamma says to you." + +"When are you going, Charlton?" said Fleda, as she broke the +seal of the note he gave her. + +"To-morrow morning." + +"That is too sudden a notice, Captain Rossitur," said Mrs. +Evelyn. "Fleda will hurry herself out of her colour, and then +your mother will say there is something in sea-breezes that +isn't good for her; and then she will never trust her within +reach of them again — which I am sure Miss Ringgan would be +sorry for." + +Fleda took her note to the window, half angry with herself +that a kind of banter, in which certainly there was very +little wit, should have power enough to disturb her. But +though the shaft might be a slight one, it was winged with a +will; the intensity of Mrs. Evelyn's enjoyment in her own +mischief gave it all the force that was wanting. Fleda's head +was in confusion; she read her aunt's note three times over +before she had made up her mind on any point respecting it. + + +"MY DEAREST FLEDA, + +"Charlton is coming home for a day or two — hadn't you better +take the opportunity to return with him? I feel as if you had +been long away, my dear child — don't you feel so too? Your +uncle is very desirous of seeing you; and as for Hugh and me, +we are but half ourselves. I would not still say a word about +your coming home if it were for your good to stay; but I fancy +from something in Mrs. Evelyn's letter, that Queechy air will +by this time do you good again; and opportunities of making +the journey are very uncertain. My heart has grown lighter +since I gave it leave to expect you. — Yours, my darling, + + +R. + + +"P. S. — I will write to Mrs. E. soon." + + +"What string has pulled these wires that are twitching me +home?" thought Fleda, as her eyes went over and over the words +which the feeling of the lines of her face would alone have +told her were unwelcome. And why unwelcome? — "One likes to be +moved by fair means and not by foul," was the immediate +answer. "And, besides, it is very disagreeable to be taken by +surprise. Whenever in any matter of my staying or going, did +aunt Lucy have any wish but my pleasure?" Fleda mused a little +while; and then, with a perfect understanding of the machinery +that had been at work, though an extremely vague and repulsed +notion of the spring that had moved it, she came quietly out +from her window and told Charlton she would go with him. + +"But not to-morrow?" said Mrs. Evelyn, composedly. "You will +not hurry her off so soon as that Captain Rossitur?" + +"Furloughs are the stubbornest things in the world, Mrs. +Evelyn; there is no spirit of accommodation about them. Mine +lies between to-morrow morning, and one other morning some two +days thereafter; and you might as soon persuade Atlas to +change his place. Will you be ready, coz?" + +"I will be ready," said Fleda; and her cousin departed. + +"Now, my dear Fleda,"' said Mrs. Evelyn, but it was with that +funny face, as she saw Fleda standing thoughtfully before the +fire; "you must be very careful in getting your things +together —" + +"Why, Mrs. Evelyn?" + +"I am afraid you will leave something behind you, my love." + +"I will take care of that, Ma'am, and that I may, I will go +and see about it at once." + +Very busy till dinner-time; she would not let herself stop to +think about anything. At dinner, Mr. Evelyn openly expressed +his regrets for her going, and his earnest wishes that she +would at least stay till the holidays were over. + +"Don't you know Fleda better, Papa," said Florence, "than to +try to make her alter her mind? When she says a thing is +determined upon, I know there is nothing to do but to submit +with as good a grace as you can." + +"I tried to make Captain Rossitur leave her a little longer," +said Mrs. Evelyn; "but he says furloughs are immovable, and +his begins to-morrow morning — so he was immovable too. I +should keep her notwithstanding, though, if her aunt Lucy +hadn't sent for her." + +"Well, see what she wants, and come back again," said Mr. +Evelyn. + +"Thank you, Sir," said Fleda, smiling gratefully; "I think not +this winter." + +"There are two or three of my friends that will be +confoundedly taken aback," said Mr. Evelyn, carefully helping +himself to gravy. + +"I expect that an immediate depopulation of New York will +commence," said Constance, "and go on till the heights about +Queechy are all thickly settled with elegant country seats, +which is the conventional term for a species of mouse-trap." + +"Hush, you baggage," said her father. "Fleda, I wish you could +spare her a little of your common sense, to go through the +world with." + +"Papa thinks, you see, my dear, that you have _more than +enough_, which is not, perhaps, precisely the compliment he +intended." + +"I take the full benefit of his and yours," said Fleda, +smiling. + +After dinner, she had just time to run down to the library to +bid Dr. Gregory good-bye — her last walk in the city. It +wasn't a walk she enjoyed much. + +"Going to-morrow!" said he. "Why, I am going to Boston in a +week, you had better stay, and go with me." + +"I can't now, uncle Orrin, I am dislodged, and you know there +is nothing to do then but to go." + +"Come and stay with me till next week." + +But Fleda said it was best not, and went home to finish her +preparations. + +She had no chance till late, for several gentlemen spent he +evening with them. Mr. Carleton was there part of the time, +but he was one of the first to go; and Fleda could not find an +opportunity to say that she should not see him again. Her +timidity would not allow her to make one. But it grieved her. + +At last she escaped to her own room, where most of her packing +was still to do. By the time half the floor and all the bed +was strewn with neat-looking piles of things — the varieties +of her modest wardrobe — Florence and Constance came in to see +and talk with her, and sat down on the floor too; partly, +perhaps, because the chairs were all bespoken in the service +of boxes and baskets, and partly to follow what seemed to be +the prevailing style of things. + +"What do you suppose has become of Mr. Thorn?" said Constance. +"I have a presentiment that you will find him cracking nuts +sociably with Mr. Rossitur, or drinking one of aunt Lucy's +excellent cups of coffee, in comfortable expectation of your +return." + +"If I thought that, I should stay here," said Fleda. "My dear, +those were my cups of coffee." + +"I wish I could make you think it, then," said Constance. + +"But you are glad to go home, aren't you, Fleda?" said +Florence. + +"She isn't," said her sister. "She knows Mamma contemplates +making a grand entertainment of all the Jews, as soon as she +is gone. What _does_ mamma mean by that, Fleda? I observe you +comprehend her with most invariable quickness." + +"I should be puzzled to explain all that your mother means," +said Fleda, gently, as she went on bestowing her things in the +trunk. "No, I am not particularly glad to go home, but I fancy +it is time. I am afraid I have grown too accustomed to your +luxury of life, and want knocking about to harden me a +little." + +"Harden you!" said Constance. "My dear Fleda, you are under a +delusion. Why should any one go through an indurating process? +Will you inform me?" + +"I don't say that every one should," said Fleda; "but isn't it +well for those whose lot does not lie among soft things?" + +There was extreme sweetness, and a touching insinuation in her +manner, and both the young ladies were silent for some time +thereafter, watching somewhat wistfully the gentle hands and +face that were so quietly busy, till the room was cleared +again, and looked remarkably empty, with Fleda's trunk +standing in the middle of it. And then, reminding them that +she wanted some sleep to fit her for the hardening process, +and must therefore send them away, she was left alone. + +One thing Fleda had put off till then — the care of her bunch +of flowers. They were beautiful still. They had given her a +very great deal of pleasure; and she was determined they +should be left to no servant's hands to be flung into the +street. If it had been summer, she was sure she could have got +buds from them; as it was, perhaps she might strike some +cuttings; at all events, they should go home with her. So, +carefully taking them out of the water, and wrapping the ends +in some fresh earth she had got that very afternoon from her +uncle's garden, Fleda bestowed them in the corner of her trunk +that she had left for them, and went to bed, feeling weary in +body, and in mind to the last degree quiet. + +In the same mind and mood she reached Queechy the next +afternoon. It was a little before January — just the same time +that she had come home last year. As then, it was a bright +day, and the country was again covered thick with the +unspotted snow; but Fleda forgot to think how bright and fresh +it was. Somehow she did not feel this time quite so glad to +find herself there. It had never occurred to her so strongly +before, that Queechy could want anything. + +This feeling flew away before the first glimpse of her aunt's +smile, and, for half an hour after, Fleda would have certified +that Queechy wanted nothing. At the end of that time came in +Mr. Rossitur. His greeting of Charlton was sufficiently +unmarked; but eye and lip wakened when he turned to Fleda. + +"My dear child," he said, holding her face in both his hands, +"how lovely you have grown!" + +"That's only because you have forgotten her, father," said +Hugh, laughing. + +It was a very lovely face just then. Mr. Rossitur gazed into +it a moment, and again kissed first one cheek and then the +other, and then suddenly withdrew his hands and turned away, +with an air — Fleda could not tell what to make of it — an air +that struck her with an immediate feeling of pain; somewhat as +if for some cause or other he had nothing to do with her or +her loveliness. And she needed not to see him walk the room +for three minutes to know that Michigan agencies had done +nothing to lighten his brow, or uncloud his character. If this +had wanted confirmation, Fleda would have found it in her +aunt's face. She soon discovered, even in the course of the +pleasant talkative hours before supper, that it was not +brightened, as she had expected to find it, by her uncle's +coming home; and her ears now caught painfully the occasional +long breath, but half smothered, which told of a burden upon +the heart but half concealed. Fleda supposed that Mr. +Rossitur's business affairs at the West must have disappointed +him; and resolved not to remember that Michigan was in the map +of North America. + +Still they talked on, through the afternoon and evening, all +of them except him: he was moody and silent. Fleda felt the +cloud overshadow sadly her own gaiety; but Mrs. Rossitur and +Hugh were accustomed to it, and Charlton was much too tall a +light to come under any external obscuration whatever. He was +descanting brilliantly upon the doings and prospects at Fort +Hamilton, where he was stationed, much to the entertainment of +his mother and brother. Fleda could not listen to him, while +his father was sitting lost in something not half so pleasant +as sleep, in the corner of the sofa. Her eyes watched him +stealthily, till she could not bear it any longer. She +resolved to bring the power of her sunbeam to bear, and, going +round, seated herself on the sofa close by him, and laid her +hand on his arm. He felt it immediately. The arm was instantly +drawn away to be put round her, and Fleda was pressed nearer +to his side, while the other hand took hers; and his lips were +again on her forehead. + +"And how do you like me for a farmer, uncle Rolf?" she said, +looking up at him, laughingly, and then fearing immediately +that she had chosen her subject ill. Not from any change in +his countenance, however — that decidedly brightened up. He +did not answer at once. + +"My child, you make me ashamed of mankind!" + +"Of the dominant half of them, Sir, do you mean?" said +Charlton — "or is your observation a sweeping one?" + +"It would sweep the greatest part of the world into the +background, Sir," answered his father, drily, "if its sense +were the general rule." + +"And what has Fleda done to be such a besom of desolation?" + +Fleda's laugh set everybody else a-going, and there was +immediately more life and common feeling in the society than +had been all day. They all seemed willing to shake off a +weight, and even Fleda, in the endeavour to chase the gloom +that hung over others, as it had often happened, lost half of +her own. + +"But still I am not answered," said Charlton, when they were +grave again. "What has Fleda done to put such a libel upon +mankind?" + +"You should call it a _label_, as Dr. Quackenboss does," said +Fleda, in a fresh burst; "he says he never would stand being +labelled!" + +"But come back to the point," said Charlton; "I want to know +what is the label in this case, that Fleda's doings put upon +those of other people?" + +"Insignificance," said his father, drily. + +"I should like to know how bestowed," said Charlton. + +"Don't enlighten him, uncle Rolf," said Fleda, laughing; "let +my doings remain in safe obscurity, please." + +"I stand as a representative of mankind," said Charlton, "and +I demand an explanation." + +"Look at what this slight frame and delicate nerves have been +found equal to, and then tell me if the broad shoulders of all +your mess would have borne half the burden, or their united +heads accomplished a quarter the results." + +He spoke with sufficient depth of meaning, though now with no +unpleasant expression. But Charlton, notwithstanding, rather +gathered himself up. + +"Oh, uncle Rolf," said Fleda, gently, "nerves and muscles +haven't much to do with it; after all, you know, I have just +served the place of a mouthpiece. Seth was the head, and good +Earl Douglass the hand." + +"I am ashamed of myself and of mankind," Mr. Rossitur +repeated, "when I see what mere weakness can do, and how +proudly valueless strength is contended to be. You are +looking, Captain Rossitur; but, after all, a cap and plume +really makes a man taller only to the eye." + +"When I have flung my plume in anybody's face, Sir," said +Charlton, rather hotly, "it will be time enough to throw it +back again." + +Mrs. Rossitur put her. hand on his arm, and looked her +remonstrance. + +"Are you glad to be home again, dear Fleda?" she said, turning +to her. + +But Fleda was making some smiling communications to her uncle, +and did not seem to hear. + +"Fleda, does it seem pleasant to be here again?" + +"Very pleasant, dear aunt Lucy, though I have had a very +pleasant visit too." + +"On the whole, you do not wish you were at this moment driving +out of town in Mr. Thorn's cabriolet?" said her cousin. + +"Not in the least," said Fleda, coolly. How did you know I +ever did such a thing?" + +"I wonder what should bring Mr. Thorn to Queechy at this time +of year," said Hugh. + +Fleda started at this confirmation of Constance's words; and, +what was very odd, she could not get rid of the impression +that Mr. Rossitur had started too. Perhaps it was only her own +nerves, but he had certainly taken away the arm that was round +her. + +"I suppose he has followed Miss Ringgan," said Charlton, +gravely. + +"No," said Hugh, "he has been here some little time." + +"Then he preceded her, I suppose, to see and get the sleighs +in order." + +"He did not know I was coming," said Fleda. + +"Didn't!" + +"No, I have not seen him for several days." + +"My dear little cousin," said Charlton, laughing, "you are not +a witch in your own affairs, whatever you may be in those of +other people." + +"Why, Charlton?" + +"You are no adept in the art of concealment." + +"I have nothing to conceal," said Fleda. "How do you know he +is here, Hugh?" + +"I was anxiously asked the other day," said Hugh, with a +slight smile, "whether you had come home, and then told that +Mr. Thorn was in Queechy. There is no mistake about it, for my +informant had actually seen him, and given him the directions +to Mr. Plumfield's, for which he was inquiring." + +"The direction to Mr. Plumfield's!" said Fleda. + +"What's your old friend, Mr. Carleton, doing in New York?" +said Charlton. + +"Is he there still?" said Mrs. Rossitur. + +"Large as life," answered her son. + +"Which, though you might not suppose it, aunt Lucy, is about +the height of Captain Rossitur, with — I should judge — a +trifle less weight." + +"Your eyes are observant!" said Charlton. + +"Of a good many things," said Fleda, lightly. + +"He is _not_ my height by half an inch!" said Charlton; "I am +just six feet without my boots." + +"An excellent height!" said Fleda — " 'your six feet was ever +the only height.' " + +"Who said that?" said Charlton. + +"Isn't it enough that I say it?" + +"What's he staying here for?" + +"I don't know really," said Fleda. "It's very difficult to +tell what people do things for." + +"Have you seen much of him?" said Mrs. Rossitur. + +"Yes, Ma'am, a good deal — he was often at Mrs. Evelyn's." + +"Is he going to marry one of her daughters?" + +"Oh, no!" said Fleda, smiling; "he isn't thinking of such a +thing; — not in America — I don't know what he may do in +England." + +"No!" said Charlton, "I suppose he would think himself +contaminated by matching with any blood in this hemisphere." + +"You do him injustice" said Fleda, colouring; — "you do not +know him, Charlton." + +"You do?" + +"Much better than that." + +"And he is not one of the most touch-me-not pieces of English +birth and wealth that ever stood upon their own dignity?" + +"Not at all," said Fleda, — "How people may be misunderstood! +— he is one of the most gentle and kind persons I ever saw." + +"To you!" + +"To everybody that deserves it." + +"Humph! — And not proud?" + +"No, not as you understand it," — and she felt it was very +difficult to make him understand it, as the discovery involved +a very offensive implication; — "he is too fine a character to +be proud." + +"That _is_ arguing in a circle with a vengeance!" said Charlton. + +"I know what you are thinking of," said Fleda, "and I suppose +it passes for pride with a great many people who cannot +comprehend it — he has a singular power of quietly rebuking +wrong, and keeping impertinence at a distance — where, Captain +Rossitur, for instance, I suppose, would throw his cap in a +man's face, Mr. Carleton's mere silence would make the +offender doff his and ask pardon." + +The manner in which this was said precluded all taking +offence. + +"Well," said Charlton, shrugging his shoulders "then I don't +know what pride is — that's all!" + +"Take care, Captain Rossitur," said Fleda, laughing — "I have +heard of such a thing as American pride before now." + +"Certainly!" said Charlton; "and I'm quite willing — but it +never reaches quite such a towering height on our side the +water." + +"I am sure I don't know how that may be," said Fleda; "but I +know I have heard a lady, an enlightened, gentle-tempered +American lady, so called — I have heard her talk to a poor +Irishwoman with whom she had nothing in the world to do, in a +style that moved my indignation — it stirred my blood! — and +there was nothing whatever to call it out. 'All the blood of +all the Howards,' I hope, would not have disgraced itself so." + +"What business have you to 'hope' anything about it?" + +"None — except from the natural desire to find what one has a +right to look for. But, indeed, I wouldn't take the blood of +all the Howards for any security: pride, as well as high- +breeding, is a thing of natural not adventitious growth: it +belongs to character, not circumstance." + +"Do you know that your favourite, Mr. Carleton, is nearly +connected with those same Howards, and quarters their arms +with his own?" + +"I have a very vague idea of the dignity implied in that +expression of 'quartering arms,' which comes so roundly out of +your mouth, Charlton," said Fleda, laughing. "No, I didn't +know it. But, in general, I am apt to think that pride is a +thing which reverses the usual rules of architecture, and +builds highest on the narrowest foundations." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Never mind," said Fleda; "if a meaning isn't plain, it isn't +worth looking after. But it will not do to measure pride by +its supposed materials. It does not depend on them, but on the +individual. You everywhere see people assert that most of +which they feel least sure, and then it is easy for them to +conclude that where there is so much more of the reality, +there must be proportionably more of the assertion. I wish +some of our gentlemen and ladies, who talk of pride where they +see, and can see nothing but the habit of wealth; I wish they +could see the universal politeness with which Mr. Carleton +returns the salutes of his inferiors. Not more respectfully +they lift their hats to him than he lifts his to them — unless +when he speaks." + +"You have seen it?" + +"Often." + +"Where?" + +"In England, at his own place, among his own servants and +dependents. I remember very well, it struck even my childish +eyes." + +"Well, after all, that is nothing still but a refined kind of +haughtiness." + +"It is a kind that I wish some of our Americans would copy," +said Fleda. + +"But, dear Fleda," said Mrs. Rossitur, "all Americans are not +like that lady you were talking of — it would be very unfair +to make her a sample. I don't think I ever heard any one speak +so in my life — you never heard me speak so." + +"Dear aunt Lucy! — no — I was only giving instance for +instance. I have no idea that Mr. Carleton is a type of +Englishmen in general — I wish he were. But I think it is the +very people that cry out against superiority, who are the most +happy to assert their own where they can; the same jealous +feeling that repines on the one hand, revenges itself on the +other." + +"Superiority of what kind?" said Charlton, stiffly. + +"Of any kind — superiority of wealth, or refinement, or name, +or standing. Now, it does not follow that an Englishman is +proud because he keeps liveried servants, and it by no means +follows that an American lacks the essence of haughtiness +because he finds fault with him for doing so." + +"I dare say some of our neighbours think we are proud," said +Hugh, "because we use silver forks instead of steel." + +"Because we're _too good for steel forks_, you ought to say," +said Fleda. "I am sure they think so. I have been given to +understand as much. Barby, I believe, has a good opinion of +us, and charitably concludes that we mean right; but some +other of our country friends would think I was far gone in +uppishness if they knew that I never touch fish with a steel +knife; and it wouldn't mend the matter much to tell them that +the combination of flavours is disagreeable to me — it hardly +suits the doctrine of liberty and equality that my palate +should be so much nicer than theirs." + +"Absurd!" said Charlton. + +"Very," said Fleda; "but on which side, in all probability, is +the pride?" + +"It wasn't for liveried servants that I charged Mr. Carleton," +said her cousin. "How do the Evelyns like this paragon of +yours?" + +"Oh, everybody likes him, " said Fleda, smiling, "except you +and your friend, Mr. Thorn." + +"Thorn don't like him, eh?" + +"I think not." + +"What do you suppose is the reason?" said Charlton, gravely. + +"I don't think Mr. Thorn is particularly apt to like anybody," +said Fleda, who knew very well the original cause of both +exceptions, but did not like to advert to it. + +"Apparently you don't like Mr. Thorn?" said Mr. Rossitur, +speaking for the first time. + +"I don't know who does, Sir, much — except his mother." + +"What is he?" + +"A man not wanting in parts, Sir, and with considerable force +of character — but I am afraid more for ill than good. I +should be very sorry to trust him with anything dear to me." + +"How long were you in forming that opinion?" said Charlton, +looking at her curiously. + +"It was formed, substantially, the first evening I saw him, +and I have never seen cause to alter it since." + +The several members of the family therewith fell into a +general muse, with the single exception of Hugh, whose eyes +and thoughts seemed to be occupied with Fleda's living +presence. Mr. Rossitur then requested that breakfast might be +ready very early — at six o'clock. + +"Six o'clock!" exclaimed Mrs. Rossitur. + +"I have to take a long ride, on business, which must be done +early in the day." + +"When will you be back?" + +"Not before nightfall." + +"But going on _another_ business journey!" said Mrs. Rossitur. +"You have but just these few hours come home from one." + +"Cannot breakfast be ready?" + +"Yes, uncle Rolf," said Fleda, bringing her bright face before +him — "ready at half-past five, if you like — now that _I_ am to +the fore, you know." + +He clasped her to his breast and kissed her again, but with a +face so very grave that Fleda was glad nobody else saw it. + +Then Charlton went, averring that he wanted at least a night +and a half of sleep between two such journeys as the one of +that day and the one before him on the next — especially as he +must resign himself to going without anything to eat. Him also +Fleda laughingly promised that, precisely half an hour before +the stage time, a cup of coffee and a roll should be smoking +on the table, with whatever substantial appendages might be +within the bounds of possibility, or the house. + +"I will pay you for that beforehand with a kiss," said he. + +"You will do nothing of the kind," said Fleda, stepping back; +"a kiss is a favour taken, not given — and I am entirely +ignorant what you have done to deserve it." + +"You make a curious difference between me and Hugh," said +Charlton, half in jest, half in earnest. + +"Hugh is my brother, Captain Rossitur," said Fleda, smiling — +"and that is an honour you never made any pretensions to." + +"Come, you shall not say that any more," said he, taking the +kiss that Fleda had no mind to give him. + +Half laughing, but with eyes that were all too ready for +something else, she turned again to Hugh, when his brother had +left the room, and looked wistfully in his face, stroking back +the hair from his temples with a caressing hand. + +"You are just as you were when I left you!" she said, with +lips that seemed too unsteady to say more, and remained +parted. + +"I am afraid so are you," he replied; "not a bit fatter. I +hoped you would be." + +"What have you been smiling at so this evening?" + +"I was thinking how well you talked." + +"Why, Hugh! you should have helped me — I talked too much." + +"I would much rather listen," said Hugh. "Dear Fleda, what a +different thing the house is with you in it!" + +Fleda said nothing, except an inexplicable little shake of her +head, which said a great many things; and then she and her +aunt were left alone. Mrs. Rossitur drew her to her bosom, +with a look so exceeding fond that its sadness was hardly +discernible. It was mingled, however, with an expression of +some doubt. + +"What has made you keep so thin?" + +"I have been very well, aunt Lucy — thinness agrees with me." + +"Are you glad to be home again, dear Fleda?" + +"I am very glad to be with you, dear aunt Lucy!" + +"But not glad to be home?" + +"Yes, I am," said Fleda; "but somehow — I don't know — I +believe I have got a little spoiled — it is time I was at +home, I am sure. I shall be quite glad after a day or two, +when I have got into the works again. I am glad now, aunt +Lucy." + +Mrs. Rossitur seemed unsatisfied, and stroked the hair from +Fleda's forehead, with an absent look. + +"What was there in New York, that you were so sorry to leave?" + +"Nothing, Ma'am, in particular," said Fleda, brightly; "and I +am not sorry, aunt Lucy — I tell you, I am a little spoiled +with company and easy living — I am glad to be with you +again." + +Mrs. Rossitur was silent. + +"Don't you get up to uncle Rolf's breakfast, to-morrow, aunt +Lucy." + +"Nor you." + +"I sha'n't, unless I want to; but there'll be nothing for you +to do; and you must just lie still. We will all have our +breakfast together when Charlton has his." + +"You are the veriest sunbeam that ever came into a house," +said her aunt, kissing her. + + +CHAPTER XI. + + +"My flagging soul flies under her own pitch." +DRYDEN. + + +Fleda mused as she went up stairs, whether the sun were a +luminous body to himself or no, feeling herself at that moment +dull enough. Bright was she, to others? nothing seemed bright +to her. Every old shadow was darker than ever. Her uncle's +unchanged gloom — her aunt's unrested face — Hugh's unaltered, +delicate, sweet look, which always, to her fancy, seemed to +write upon his face, "Passing away!" — and the thickening +prospects whence sprang the miasm that infected the whole +moral atmosphere — alas, yes! — "Money is a good thing," +thought Fleda; "and poverty need not be a bad thing, if people +can take it right; but if they take it wrong!" + +With a very drooping heart, indeed, she went to the window. +Her old childish habit had never been forgotten; whenever the +moon or the stars were abroad, Fleda rarely failed to have a +talk with them from her window. She stood there, now, looking +out into the cold, still night, with eyes just dimmed with +tears — not that she lacked sadness enough, but she did lack +spirit enough to cry. It was very still; after the rattle and +confusion of the city streets, that extent of snow-covered +country, where the very shadows were motionless — the entire +absence of soil and of disturbance — the rest of nature — the +breathlessness of the very wind — all preached a quaint kind +of sermon to Fleda. By the force of contrast, they told her +what should be; and there was more yet — she thought that by +the force of example, they showed what might be. Her eyes had +not long travelled over the familiar old fields and fences +before she came to the conclusion that she was home in good +time — she thought she had been growing selfish, or in danger +of it; and she made up her mind she was glad to be back again +among the rough things of life, where she could do so much to +smooth them for others, and her own spirit might grow to a +polish it would never gain in the regions of ease and +pleasure. " To do life's work!" thought Fleda, clasping her +hands — "no matter where — and mine is here. I am glad I am in +my place again — I was forgetting I had one." + +It was a face of strange purity and gravity that the moon +shone upon, with no power to brighten as in past days; the +shadows of life were upon the child's brow. But nothing to +brighten it from within! One sweet, strong ray of other light +suddenly found its way through the shadows, and entered her +heart. "The Lord reigneth! let the earth be glad!" and then +the moonbeams, pouring down with equal ray upon all the +unevenness of this little world, seemed to say the same thing +over and over. Even so! Not less equally his providence +touches all — not less impartially his faithfulness guides. +"The Lord reigneth! let the earth be glad!" There was +brightness in the moonbeams now that Fleda could read this in +them; she went to sleep, a very child again, with these words +for her pillow. + +It was not six, and darkness yet filled the world, when Mr. +Rossitur came down stairs, and softly opened the sitting-room +door. But the home fairy had been at work; he was greeted with +such a blaze of cheerfulness as seemed to say what a dark +place the world was everywhere but at home; his breakfast- +table was standing ready, well set and well supplied; and even +as he entered by one door, Fleda pushed open the other, and +came in from the kitchen, looking as if she had some strange +spirit-like kindred with the cheery, hearty glow which filled +both rooms. + +"Fleda! — you up at this hour!" + +"Yes, uncle Rolf," she said, coming forward to put her hands +upon his; "you are not sorry to see me, I hope." + +But he did not say he was glad; and he did not speak at all; +he busied himself gravely with some little matters of +preparation for his journey. Evidently, the gloom of last +night was upon him yet. But Fleda had not wrought for praise, +and could work without encouragement; neither step nor hand +slackened, till all she and Barby had made ready was in nice +order on the table, and she was pouring out a cup of smoking +coffee. + +"You are not fit to be up," said Mr. Rossitur, looking at her; +"you are pale, now. Put yourself in that arm-chair, Fleda, and +go to sleep; I will do this for myself." + +"No, indeed, uncle Rolf," she answered, brightly: "l have +enjoyed getting breakfast very much at this out-of-the-way +hour, and now I am going to have the pleasure of seeing you +eat it. Suppose you were to take a cup of coffee instead of my +shoulder!" + +He took it and sat down; but Fleda found that the pleasure of +seeing him was to be a very qualified thing. He ate like a +business man, in unbroken silence and gravity; and her +cheerful words and looks got no return. It became an effort at +length to keep either bright. Mr. Rossitur's sole remarks +during breakfast were, to ask if Charlton was going back that +day, and if Philetus was getting the horse ready? + +Mr. Skillcorn had been called in good time by Barby, at +Fleda's suggestion, and coming down stairs had opined +discontentedly that "a man hadn't no right to be took out of +bed in the morning afore he could see himself." But this, and +Barby's spirited reply, that "there was no chance of his doing +_that_ at any time of day, so it was no use to wait," Fleda did +not repeat. Her uncle was in no humour to be amused. + +She expected almost that he would go off without speaking to +her. But he came up kindly to where she stood watching him. + +"You must bid me good-bye for all the family, uncle Rolf, as I +am the only one here," she said, laughing. + +But she was sure that the embrace and kiss which followed were +very exclusively for her. They made her face almost as sober +as his own. + +"There will be a blessing for you," said he, "if there is a +blessing anywhere!" + +"_If_, uncle Rolf," said Fleda, her heart swelling to her eyes. + +He turned away, without answering her. + +Fleda sat down in the easy chair, then, and cried, but that +lasted very few minutes; she soon left crying for herself to +pray for him, that he might have the blessing he did not know. +That did not stop tears. She remembered the poor man sick of +the palsy, who was brought in by friends to be healed, and +that "Jesus seeing _their_ faith, said unto the sick of the +palsy, 'Son, thy sins be forgiven thee.' " It was a handle +that faith took hold of and held fast, while love made its +petition. It was all she could do, she thought; _she_ never +could venture to speak to her uncle on the subject. + +Weary and tired, tears and longing at length lost themselves +in sleep. When she awaked, she found the daylight broadly +come, little King in her lap, the fire, instead of being burnt +out, in perfect preservation, and Barby standing before it, +and looking at her. + +"You ha'n't got one speck o' good by _this_ journey to New +York," was Miss Elster's vexed salutation. + +"Do you think so?" said Fleda, rousing herself. "I wouldn't +venture to say as much as that, Barby." + +"If you have, 'tain't in your cheeks," said Barby, decidedly. +"You look just as if you was made of anything that wouldn't +stand wear, and that isn't the way you used to look." + +"I have been up a good while without breakfast — my cheeks +will be a better colour when I have had that, Barby — they +feel pale." + +The second breakfast was a cheerfuller thing. But when the +second traveller was despatched, and the rest fell back upon +their old numbers, Fleda was very quiet again. It vexed her to +be so, but she could not change her mood. She felt as if she +had been whirled along in a dream, and was now just opening +her eyes to daylight and reality. And reality — she could not +help it — looked rather dull after dream-land. She thought it +was very well she was waked up; but it cost her some effort to +appear so. And then she charged herself with ingratitude, her +aunt and Hugh were so exceedingly happy in her company. + +"Earl Douglass is quite delighted with the clover hay, Fleda. +said Hugh, as the three sat at an early dinner. + +"Is he?" said Fleda. + +"Yes — you know he was very unwilling to cure it in your way, +and he thinks there never was anything like it now." + +"Did you ever see finer ham, Fleda?" inquired her aunt. "Mr. +Plumfield says it could not be better." + +"Very good!" said Fleda, whose thoughts had somehow got upon +Mr. Carleton's notions about female education, and were very +busy with them. + +"I expected you would have remarked upon our potatoes before +now," said Hugh. "These are the Elephants — have you seen +anything like them in New York?" + +"There cannot be more beautiful potatoes," said Mrs. Rossitur. +"We had not tried any of them before you went away, Fleda, had +we?" + +"I don't know, aunt Lucy — no, I think not." + +"You needn't talk to Fleda, mother," said Hugh, laughing — +"she is quite beyond attending to all such ordinary matters; +her thoughts have learned to take a higher flight since she +has been in New York." + +"It is time they were brought down, then, said Fleda, smiling; +"but they have not learned to fly out of sight of home, Hugh." + +"Where were they, dear Fleda?" said her aunt. + +"I was thinking, a minute ago, of something I heard talked +about in New York, aunt Lucy; and, afterwards, I was trying to +find out by what possible or imaginable road I had got round +to it." + +"Could you tell?" + +Fleda said, "No," and tried to bear her part in the +conversation. But she did not know whether to blame the +subjects which had been brought forward, or herself, for her +utter want of interest in them. She went into the kitchen, +feeling dissatisfied with both. + +"Did you ever see potatoes that would beat them Elephants?" +said Barby. + +"Never, certainly," said Fleda, with a most involuntary smile. + +"I never did," said Barby. "They beat all, for bigness and +goodness both. I can't keep 'em together. There's thousands of +'em, and I mean to make Philetus eat 'em for supper — such +potatoes and milk is good enough for him, or anybody. The cow +has gained on her milk wonderful, Fleda, since she begun to +have them roots fed out to her." + +"Which cow?" said Fleda. + +"Which cow? — why — the blue cow — there aint none of the +others that's giving any, to speak of," said Barby, looking at +her. "Don't you know — the cow you said them carrots should be +kept for?" + +Fleda half laughed, as there began to rise up before her the +various magazines of vegetables, grain, hay, and fodder, that +for many weeks had been deliciously distant from her +imagination. + +"I made butter for four weeks, I guess, after you went away," +Barby went on; — "just come in here and see — and the carrots +makes it as yellow and sweet as June — I churned as long as I +had anything to churn, and longer; and now we live on cream — +you can make some cheesecakes just as soon as you're a mind to +— see! aint that doing pretty well? — and fine it is — put +your nose down to it —" + +"Bravely, Barby — and it is very sweet." + +"You ha'n't left nothing behind you in New York, have you?" +said Barby, when they returned to the kitchen. + +"Left anything! no — what do you think I have left?" + +"I didn't know but you might have forgotten to pack up your +memory," said Barby, drily. + +Fleda laughed, and then in walked Mr. Douglass. + +"How d'ye do?" said he. "Got back again. I heerd you was hum, +and so I thought I'd just step up and see. Been getting along +pretty well?" + +Fleda answered, smiling internally at the wide distance +between her "getting along," and his idea of it. + +"Well, the hay's first rate!" said Earl, taking off his hat, +and sitting down in the nearest chair —"I've been feedin' it +out now for a good spell, and I know what to think about it. +We've been feedin' it out ever since some time this side o' +the middle o' November — I never see nothin' sweeter, and I +don't want to see nothin' sweeter than it is! and the cattle +eats it liked May roses — they don't know how to thank you +enough for it." + +"To thank _you_, Mr. Douglass," said Fleda, smiling. + +"No," said he, in a decided manner — "I don't want no thanks +for it, and I don't deserve none! 'Twa'n't thanks to none or +_my_ foresightedness that the clover wa'n't served the old way. +I didn't like new notions, and I never did like new notions, +and I never see much good of 'em; but I suppose there's some +on 'em that aint moonshine — my woman says there is, and I +suppose there is, and after this clover hay I'm willin' to +allow that there is. It's as sweet as a posie if you smell to +it — and all of it's cured alike; and I think, Fleda, there's +a quarter more weight of it. I ha'n't proved it nor weighed +it, but I've an eye and a hand as good as most folks, and I'll +qualify to there being a fourth part more weight of it — and +it's a beautiful colour. The critters is as fond of it as you +and I be of strawberries." + +"Well, that is satisfactory, Mr. Douglass," said Fleda. "How +is Mrs. Douglass and Catherine?" + +"I ha'n't heerd 'em sayin' nothin' about it," he said; "and if +there was anythin' the matter, I suppose they'd let me know. +There don't much go wrong in a man's house without his hearin' +tell of it. So I think. Maybe 'tan't the same in other men's +houses. That's the way it is in mine." + +"Mrs. Douglass would not thank you," said Fleda, wholly unable +to keep from laughing. Earl's mouth gave way a very little, +and then he went on. + +"How be you?" he said. "You ha'n't gained much, as I see. I +don't see but you're as poor as when you went away." + +"I am very well, Mr. Douglass." + +"I guess New York aint the place to grow fat. Well, Fleda, +there ha'n't been seen in the hull country, or by any man in +it, the like of the crop of corn we took off that 'ere twenty- +acre lot — they're all beat to hear tell of it — they wont +believe me — Seth Plumfield ha'n't showed as much himself; he +says you're the best farmer in the state." + +"I hope he gives you part of the credit, Mr. Douglass — how +much was there?" + +"I'll take my share of credit whenever I can get it," said +Earl, "and I think it's right to take it, as long as you +ha'n't nothing to be ashamed of; but I wont take no more than +my share; and I will say I thought we was a-goin' to choke the +corn to death, when we seeded the field in that way. Well, +there's better than two thousand bushel — more or less — and +as handsome corn as I want to see — there never was handsomer +corn. Would you let it go for five shillings? — there's a man +I've heerd of wants the hull of it." + +"Is that a good price, Mr. Douglass? Why don't you ask Mr. +Rossitur?" + +"Do you s'pose Mr. Rossitur knows much about it?" inquired +Earl, with a curious turn of feature, between sly and +contemptuous. "The less he has to do with that heap of corn, +the bigger it'll be — that's my idee. I aint a-goin' to ask +him nothin' — you may ask him what you like to ask him — but I +don't think he'll tell you much that'll make you and me wiser +in the matter o' farmin'." + +"But now that he is at home, Mr. Douglass, I certainly cannot +decide without speaking to him." + +"Very good," said Earl, uneasily — " 'taint no affair of nine +— as you like to have it, so you'll have it — just as you +please! But now, Fleda, there's another thing I want to speak +to you about — I want you to let me take hold of that 'ere +piece of swamp land and bring it in. I knew a man that fixed a +piece of land like that, and cleared nigh a thousand dollars +off it the first year." + +"Which piece?" said Fleda. + +"Why, you know which 'tis — just the other side of the trees +over there between them two little hills. There's six or seven +acres of it — nothin' in the world but mud and briers — will +you let me take hold of it. I'll do the hull job if you'll +give me half the profits for one year. Come over and look at +it, and I'll tell you — come! — the walk wont hurt you, and it +aint fur." + +All Fleda's inclinations said no, but she thought it was not +best to indulge them. She put on her hood and went off with +him; and was treated to a long and most implicated detail of +ways and means, from which she at length disentangled the +_rationale_ of the matter, and gave Mr. Douglass the consent he +asked for, promising to gain that of her uncle. + +The day was fair and mild, and in spite of weariness of body, +a certain weariness of mind prompted Fleda, when she had got +rid of Earl Douglass, to go and see her aunt Miriam. She went, +questioning with herself all the way, for her want of goodwill +to these matters. True, they were not pleasant mind-work; but +she tried to school herself into taking them patiently as good +life-work. She had had too much pleasant company, and enjoyed +too much conversation she said. It had unfitted her for home +duties. + +Mrs. Plumfield, she knew, was no better. But her eye found no +change for the worse. The old lady was very glad to see her, +and very cheerful and kind as usual. + +"Well, are you glad to be home again?" said aunt Miriam, after +a pause in the conversation. + +"Everybody asks me that question," said Fleda, smiling. + +"Perhaps for the same reason I did — because they thought you +didn't look very glad." + +"I am glad," said Fleda, "but I believe not so glad as I was +last year." + +"Why not?" + +"I suppose I had a pleasanter time. I have got a little +spoiled, I believe, aunt Miriam," Fleda said, with glistening +eyes and an altering voice — "I don't take up my old cares and +duties kindly at first — I shall be myself again in a few +days." + +Aunt Miriam looked at her with that fond, wistful, benevolent +look which made Fleda turn away. + +"What has spoiled you, love?" + +"Oh! — easy living and pleasure, I suppose," Fleda said, but +said with difficulty. + +"Pleasure?" said aunt Miriam, putting one arm gently round +her. Fleda struggled with herself. + +"It is so pleasant, aunt Miriam, to forget these money cares! +— to lift one's eyes from the ground, and feel free to stretch +out one's hand — not to be obliged to think about spending +sixpences, and to have one's mind at liberty for a great many +things that I haven't time for here. And Hugh — and aunt Lucy +— somehow things seem sad to me." — + +Nothing could be more sympathizingly kind than the way in +which aunt Miriam brought Fleda closer to her side, and +wrapped her in her arms. + +"I am very foolish," Fleda whispered. "I am very wrong — I +shall get over it." + +"I am afraid, dear Fleda," Mrs. Plumfield said, after a pause, +"it isn't best for us always to be without sad things — though +I cannot bear to see your dear little face look sad — but it +wouldn't fit us for the work we have to do — it wouldn't fit +us to stand where I stand now, and look forward happily." + +"Where you stand?" said Fleda, raising her head. + +"Yes, and I would not be without a sorrow I have ever known. +They are bitter now, when they are present — but the sweet +fruit comes after." + +"But what do you mean by 'where you stand?' " + +"On the edge of life." + +"You do not think so, aunt Miriam!" Fleda said, with a +terrified look. "You are not worse?" + +"I don't expect ever to be better," said Mrs. Plumfield, with +a smile. "Nay, my love," she said, as Fleda's head went down +on her bosom again — "not so! I do not wish it either, Fleda. +I do not expect to leave you soon, but I would not prolong the +time by a day. I would not have spoken of it now if I had +recollected myself; but I am so accustomed to think and speak +of it, that it came out before I knew it. My darling child, it +is nothing to cry for." + +"I know it, aunt Miriam." + +"Then don't cry," whispered aunt Miriam, when she had stroked +Fleda's head for five minutes. + +"I am crying for myself, aunt Miriam," said Fleda. "I shall be +left alone." + +"Alone, my dear child?" + +"Yes — there is nobody but you that I feel I can talk to." + +She would have added that she dared not say a word to Hugh, +for fear of troubling him. But that pain at her heart stopped +her, and pressing her hands together, she burst into bitter +weeping. + +"Nobody to talk to but me?" said Mrs. Plumfield, after again +soothing her for some time — "what do you mean, dear?" + +"Oh, I can't say anything to them at home," said Fleda, with a +forced effort after voice; "and you are the only one I can +look to for help — Hugh never says anything — almost never — +anything of that kind; he would rather others should counsel +him." + +"There is One friend to whom you may always tell everything, +with no fear of wearying Him — of whom you may at all times +ask counsel, without any danger of being denied — more dear, +more precious, more rejoiced in, the more he is sought unto. +Thou mayest lose friend after friend, and gain more than thou +losest — in that one." + +"I know it," said Fleda; "but dear aunt Miriam, don't you +think human nature longs for some human sympathy and help +too?" + +"My sweet blossom! yes," said Mrs. Plumfield, caressingly, +stroking her bowed head; "but let Him do what he will; he hath +said, 'I will never leave thee nor forsake thee.' " + +"I know that too," said Fleda, weeping. "How do people bear +life that do not know it?" + +"Or that cannot take the comfort of it. Thou art not poor nor +alone while thou hast him to go to, little Fleda. And you are +not losing me yet, my child; you will have time, I think, to +grow as well satisfied as I with the prospect." + +"Is that possible, for _others?_" said Fleda. + +The mother sighed as her son entered the room. + +He looked uncommonly grave, Fleda thought. That did not +surprise her, but it seemed that it did his mother, for she +asked an explanation, which, however, he did not give. + +"So you've got back from New York," said he. + +"Just got back yesterday," said Fleda. + +"Why didn't you stay longer?" + +"I thought my friends at home would be glad to see me," said +Fleda. "Was I mistaken?" + +He made no answer for a minute, and then said — + +"Is your uncle at home?" + +"No," said Fleda; "he went away this morning on business, and +we do not expect him home before nightfall. Do you want to see +him?" + +"No," said Seth, very decidedly. "I wish he had staid in +Michigan, or gone further west — anywhere that Queechy'd never +have heard of him." + +"Why, what has he done?" said Fleda, looking up, half +laughing, and half amazed at her cousin. But his face was +disagreeably dark, though she could not make out that the +expression was one of displeasure. It did not encourage her to +talk. + +"Do you know a man in New York by the name of Thorn?" he said, +after standing still a minute or two. + +"I know two men of that name," said Fleda, colouring and +wondering. + +"Is either on 'em a friend of your'n?" + +"No" + +"He aint?" said Mr. Plumfield, giving the forestick on the +fire an energetic kick, which Fleda could not help thinking +was mentally aimed at the said New Yorker. + +"No, certainly, what makes you ask?" + +"Oh," said Seth, drily, "folks' tongues will find work to do; +I heerd say something like that; I thought you must take to +him more than I do." + +"Why what do you know of him?" + +"He's been here a spell lately," said Seth, "poking round; +more for ill than for good, I reckon." + +He turned, and quitted the room abruptly; and Fleda bethought +her that she must go home while she had light enough. + + +CHAPTER XII. + + +"Nothing could be more obliging and respectful than the lion's +letter was, in appearance; but there was death in the true +intent." +L'ESTRANGE. + + +The landscape had grown more dark since Fleda came up the +hill, or else the eyes that looked at it. Both, probably. It +was just after sundown, and that is a very sober time of day +in winter, especially in some states of the weather. The sun +had left no largesses behind him; the scenery was deserted to +all the coming poverty of night, and looked grim and +threadbare already. Not one of the colours of prosperity left. +The land was in mourning dress; all the ground, and even the +ice on the little mill-ponds, a uniform spread of white, while +the hills were draperied with black stems, here just veiling +the snow, and there on a side view making a thick fold of +black. Every little unpainted workshop or mill showed +uncompromisingly all its forbidding sharpness of angle and +outline darkening against the twilight. In better days, +perhaps, some friendly tree had hung over it, shielding part +of its faults, and redeeming the rest. Now nothing but the +gaunt skeleton of a friend stood there — doubtless to bud +forth again as fairly as ever, should the season smile. Still +and quiet, all was, as Fleda's spirit, and in too good harmony +with it; she resolved to choose the morning to go out in +future. There was as little of the light of spring or summer +in her own mind as on the hills, and it was desirable to catch +at least a cheering reflection. She could rouse herself to no +bright thoughts, try as she would; the happy voices of nature +that used to speak to her were all hushed, or her ear was +deaf; and her eye met nothing that did not immediately fall in +with the train of sad images that were passing through her +mind, and swell the procession. She was fain to fall back and +stay herself upon these words, the only stand-by she could lay +hold of: — + + +"TO THEM WHO, BY PATIENT CONTINUANCE IN WELL-DOING SEEK FOR +GLORY, AND HONOUR, AND IMMORTALITY, ETERNAL LIFE!" + + +They toned with the scene and with her spirit exactly; they +suited the darkening sky and the coming night; for "glory, +honour, and immortality" are not now. They filled Fleda's mind +after they had once entered, and then nature's sympathy was +again as readily given; each barren, stern-looking hill in its +guise of present desolation and calm expectancy seemed to echo +softly, "patient continuance in well-doing." And the tears +trembled then in Fleda's eyes; she had set her face, as the +old Scotchman says, "in the right airth."* [* Quarter, +direction.] "How sweet is the wind that bloweth out of the +airth where Christ is!" + +"Well," said Hugh, who entered the kitchen with her, "you have +been late enough. Did you have a pleasant walk? You are pale, +Fleda." + +"Yes, it was pleasant," said Fleda, with one of her winning +smiles — "a kind of pleasant. But have you looked at the +hills? They are exactly as if they had put on mourning — +nothing but white and black — a crape-like dressing of black +tree-stems upon the snowy face of the ground, and on every +slope and edge of the hills the crape lies in folds. Do look +at it when you go out! It has a most curious effect." + +"Not pleasant, I should think?" said Hugh. + +"You'll see it is just as I have described it. No; not +pleasant, exactly; the landscape wants the sun to light it up +just now — it is cold and wilderness-looking. I think I'll +take the morning in future. Whither are you bound?" + +"I must go over to Queechy Run for a minute, on business — +I'll be home before supper — I should have been back by this +time, but Philetus has gone to bed with a headache, and I had +to take care of the cows." + +"Three times and out," said Barby. "I wont try again. [ didn't +know as anything would be too powerful for his head; but I +find, as sure as he has apple dumplin' for dinner, he goes to +bed for his supper, and leaves the cows without none. And then +Hugh has to take it. It has saved so many Elephants — that's +one thing." + +Hugh went out by one door, and Fleda by another entered the +breakfast-room, the one generally used in winter for all +purposes. Mrs. Rossitur sat there alone in an easy-chair; and +Fleda no sooner caught the outline of her figure than her +heart sank at once to an unknown depth — unknown before and +unfathomable now. She was cowering over the fire — her head +sunk in her hands, so crouching, that the line of neck and +shoulders instantly conveyed to Fleda the idea of fancied or +felt degradation — there was no escaping it — how, whence, +what, was all wild confusion. But the language of mere +attitude was so unmistakable — the expression of crushing pain +was so strong, that, after Fleda had fearfully made her way up +beside her, she could do no more. She stood there tongue-tied, +spell-bound, present to nothing but a nameless chill of fear +and heart-sinking. She was afraid to speak — afraid to touch +her aunt, and abode motionless in the grasp of that dread for +minutes. But Mrs. Rossitur did not stir a hair, and the terror +of that stillness grew to be less endurable than any other. + +Fleda spoke to her — it did not win the shadow of a reply — +again and again. She laid her hand then upon Mrs. Rossitur's +shoulder, but the very significant answer to that, was a +shrinking gesture of the shoulder and neck away from the hand. +Fleda, growing desperate, then implored an answer in words — +prayed for an explanation — with an intensity of distress in +voice and manner, that no one whose ears were not stopped with +a stronger feeling could have been deaf to; but Mrs. Rossitur +would not raise her head, nor slacken in the least the clasp +of the fingers that supported it; that of themselves in their +relentless tension spoke what no words could. Fleda's +trembling prayers were in vain — in vain. Poor nature at last +sought a woman's relief in tears — but they were heart- +breaking, not heart-relieving tears — racking both mind and +body more than they ought to bear, but bringing no cure. Mrs. +Rossitur seemed as unconscious of her niece's mute agony as +she had been of her agony of words; and it was from Fleda's +own self-recollection alone that she fought off pain, and +roused herself above weakness to do what the time called for. + +"Aunt Lucy," she said, laying her hand upon her shoulder, and +this time the voice was steady, and the hand would not be +shaken off — "Aunt Lucy, Hugh will be in presently — hadn't +you better rouse yourself and go up stairs — for awhile? — +till you are better? — and not let him see you so?" — + +How the voice was broken and quivering before it got through? + +The answer this time was a low long-drawn moan, so exceeding +plaintive and full of pain that it made Fleda shake like an +aspen. But after a moment she spoke again, bearing more +heavily with her hand to mark her words. + +"I am afraid he will be in presently — he ought not to see you +now. Aunt Lucy, I am afraid it might do him an injury he might +not get over" — + +She spoke with the strength of desperation; her nerves were +unstrung by fear, and every joint weakened, so that she could +hardly support herself. She had not, however, spoken in vain; +one or two convulsive shudders passed over her aunt, and then +Mrs. Rossitur suddenly rose, turning her face from Fleda; +neither would she permit her to follow her. But Fleda thought +she had seen that one or two unfolded letters or papers of +some kind — they looked like letters — were in her lap when +she raised her head. + +Left alone, Fleda sat down on the floor by the easy chair, and +rested her head there, waiting — she could do nothing else — +till her extreme excitement of body and mind should have +quieted itself. She had a kind of vague hope that time would +do something for her before Hugh came in. Perhaps it did; for +though she lay in a kind of stupor, and was conscious of no +change whatever she was able, when she heard him coming, to +get up and sit in the chair in an ordinary attitude. But she +looked like the wraith of herself an hour ago. + +"Fleda!" Hugh exclaimed, as soon as he looked from the fire to +her face; "what is the matter? — what is the matter with you?" + +"I am not very well — I don't feel very well," said Fleda, +speaking almost mechanically; "I shall have a headache to- +morrow." — + +"Headache! But you look shockingly: what has happened to you? +what is the matter, Fleda?" + +"I am not ill — I shall be better by and by. There is nothing +the matter with me that need trouble you, dear Hugh." + +"Nothing the matter with you," said he, and Fleda might see +how she looked in the reflection of his face; "where's +mother?" + +"She is up stairs — you mustn't go to her, Hugh!" said Fleda, +laying a detaining hand upon him with more strength than she +thought she had; "I don't want anything." + +"Why mustn't I go to her?" + +"I don't think she wants to be disturbed" — + +"I must disturb her" — + +"You mustn't! — I know she don't — she isn't well — something +has happened to trouble her" — + +"What?" + +"I don't know." + +"And is that what has troubled you, too?" said Hugh, his +countenance changing as he gained more light on the subject; +"what is it, dear Fleda?" + +"I don't know," repeated Fleda, bursting into tears. Hugh was +quiet enough now, and sat down beside her, subdued and still, +without even desiring to ask a question. Fleda's tears flowed +violently for a minute, then she checked them for his sake, +and they sat motionless, without speaking to one another, +looking into the fire, and letting it die out before them into +embers and ashes, neither stirring to put a hand to it. As the +fire died, the moonlight streamed in : how very dismal the +room looked! + +"What do you think about having tea?" said Barby, opening the +door of the kitchen. + +Neither felt it possible to answer her. + +"Mr. Rossitur aint come home, is he?" + +"No," said Fleda, shuddering. + +"So I thought, and so I told Seth Plumfield, just now — he was +asking for him. My stars! ha'n't you no fire here? what did +you let it go out for?" + +Barby came in and began to build it up. + +"It's growing cold, I can tell you, so you may as well have +something in the chimney to look at. You'll want it shortly, +if you don't now." + +"Was Mr. Plumfield here, did you say, Barby?" + +"Yes." + +"Why didn't he come in!" + +"I s'pose he hadn't a mind to," said Barby. " 'Twa'n't for +want of being asked. I did the civil thing by him if he didn't +by me; but he said he didn't want to see anybody but Mr. +Rossitur." + +Did not want to see anybody but Mr. Rossitur, when he had +distinctly said he did not wish to see him! Fleda felt sick, +merely from the mysterious dread which could fasten upon +nothing, and therefore took in everything. + +"Well, what about tea?" concluded Barby, when the fire was +going according to her wishes. "Will you have it, or will you +wait longer?" + +"No, we wont wait; we will have it now, Barby," said Fleda, +forcing herself to make the exertion; and she went to the +window to put down the hangings. + +The moonlight was very bright, and Fleda's eye was caught in +the very act of letting down the curtain, by a figure in the +road slowly passing before the courtyard fence. It paused a +moment by the horse-gate, and turning, paced slowly back till +it was hid behind the rose-acacias. There was a clump of +shrubbery in that corner thick enough even in winter to serve +for a screen. Fleda stood with the curtain in her hand, half +let down, unable to move, and feeling almost as if the very +currents of life within her were standing still, too. She +thought, she was almost sure, she knew the figure; it was on +her tongue to ask Hugh to come and look, but she checked that. +The form appeared again from behind the acacias, moving with +the same leisurely pace the other way towards the horse-gate. +Fleda let down the curtain, then the other two, quietly, and +then left the room, and stole, noiselessly, out at the front +door, leaving it open, that the sound of it might not warn +Hugh what she was about; and stepping like a cat down the +steps, ran, breathlessly, over the snow to the courtyard gate; +there waited, shivering in the cold, but not feeling it for +the cold within, while the person she was watching stood still +a few moments by the horse-gate, and came again, with +leisurely steps towards her. + +"Seth Plumfield!" said Fleda, almost as much frightened at the +sound of her own voice as he was. He stopped immediately, with +a start, and came up to the little gate behind which she was +standing, but said nothing. + +"What are you doing here?" + +"You oughtn't to be out without anything on," said he — +"you're fixing to take your death." + +He had good reason to say so. But she gave him no more heed +than the wind. + +"What are you waiting here for? What do you want?" + +"I have nothing better to do with my time," said he; "I +thought I'd walk up and down here a little. You go in!" + +"Are you waiting to see uncle Rolf?" she said, with teeth +chattering. + +"You mustn't stay out here," said he, earnestly; "you're like +nothing but a spook this minute — I'd rather see one, or a +hull army of 'em. Go in, go in!" + +"Tell me if you want to see him, Seth." + +"No, I don't — I told you I didn't." + +"Then why are you waiting for him?" + +"I thought I'd see if he was coming home to-night — I had a +word to say if I could catch him before he got into the +house." + +"_Is_ he coming home to-night?" said Fleda. + +"I don't know!" said he, looking at her. "Do you!" + +Fleda burst open the gate between them, and putting her hands +on his, implored him to tell her what was the matter. He +looked singularly disturbed; his fine eye twinkled with +compassion; but his face, never a weak one, showed no signs of +yielding now. + +"The matter is," said he, pressing hard both her hands, "that +you are fixing to be down sick in your bed by to-morrow. You +mustn't stay another second." + +"Come in, then." + +"No — not to-night." + +"You wont tell me?" + +"There is nothing I can tell you — maybe there'll be nothing +to tell — run in, run in, and keep quiet." + +Fleda hurried back to the house, feeling that she had gone to +the limit of risk already. Not daring to show herself to Hugh +in her chilled state of body and mind, she went into the +kitchen. + +"Why, what on earth's come over you!" was Barby's terrified +ejaculation, when she saw her. + +"I have been out and got myself cold —" + +"Cold!" said Barby — "you're looking dreadful! What on earth +ails you, Fleda?" + +"Don't ask me, Barby," said Fleda, hiding her face in her +hands, and shivering; "I made myself very cold just now — Aunt +Lucy doesn't feel very well, and I got frightened," she added, +presently. + +"What's the matter with her?" + +"I don't know — if you'll make me a cup of tea, I'll take it +up to her, Barby." + +"You put yourself down there," said Barby, placing her with +gentle force in a chair; "you'll do no such a thing till I see +you look as if there was some blood in you. I'll take it up +myself." + +But Fleda held her, though with a hand much too feeble indeed +for any but moral suasion. It was enough. Barby stood +silently, and very anxiously watching her, till the fire had +removed the outward chill at least. But even that took long to +do, and before it was well done, Fleda again asked for the cup +of tea. Barby made it without a word, and Fleda went to her +aunt with it, taking her strength from the sheer emergency. +Her knees trembled under her as she mounted the stairs, and +once a glimpse of those words flitted across her mind — +"patient continuance in well-doing." It was like a lightning +flash in a dark night showing the way one must go. She could +lay hold of no other stay. Her mind was full of one intense +purpose — to end the suspense. + +She gently tried the door of her aunt's room; it was +unfastened, and she went in. Mrs. Rossitur was lying on the +bed; but her first mood had changed, for at Fleda's soft word +and touch she half rose up, and, putting both arms round her +waist, laid her face against her. There were no tears still, +only a succession of low moans, so inexpressibly weak and +plaintive, that Fleda's nature could hardly bear them without +giving way. A more fragile support was never clung to. Yet her +trembling fingers, in their agony, moved caressingly among her +aunt's hair and over her brow, as she begged her — when she +could, she was not able at first — to let her know the cause +that was grieving her. The straitened clasp of Mrs. Rossitur's +arms, and her increased moaning, gave only an answer of pain. +But Fleda repeated the question. Mrs. Rossitur still +neglecting it, then made her sit down upon the bed, so that +she could lay her head higher on Fleda's bosom; where she hid +it, with a mingling of fondness given and asked — a poor +seeking for comfort and rest, that wrung her niece's heart. + +They sat so for a little time; Fleda hoping that her aunt +would by degrees come to the point herself. The tea stood +cooling on the table, not even offered; not wanted there. + +"Wouldn't you feel better if you told me, dear aunt Lucy?" +said Fleda, when they had been for a little while perfectly +still. Even the moaning had ceased. + +"Is your uncle come home?" whispered Mrs. Rossitur, but so low +that Fleda could but half catch the words. + +"Not yet." + +"What o'clock is it?" + +"I don't know — not early — it must be near eight. — Why?" + +"You have not heard anything of him?" + +"No — nothing." + +There was silence again for a little, and then Mrs. Rossitur +said in a low, fearful whisper — + +"Have you seen anybody round the house?" + +Fleda's thoughts flew to Seth, with that nameless fear to +which she could give neither shape nor direction, and after a +moment's hesitation she said — + +"What do you mean?" + +"Have you?" said Mrs. Rossitur, with more energy. + +"Seth Plumfield was here a little while ago." + +Her aunt had the clue that she had not, for with a half +scream, half exclamation, she quitted Fleda's arms, and fell +back upon the pillows, turning from her and hiding her face +there. Fleda prayed again for her confidence, as well as the +weakness and the strength of fear could do; and Mrs. Rossitur +presently grasping a paper that lay on the bed, held it out to +her, saying only, as Fleda was about quitting the room, "Bring +me a light." + +Fleda left the letter there and went down to fetch one. She +commanded herself under the excitement and necessity of the +moment — all but her face; that terrified Barby exceedingly. +But she spoke with a strange degree of calmness; told her Mrs. +Rossitur was not alarmingly ill; that she did not need Barby's +services, and wished to see nobody but herself, and didn't +want a fire. As she was passing through the hall again, Hugh +came out of the sitting-room to ask after his mother. Fleda +kept the light from her face. + +"She does not want to be disturbed — I hope she will be better +to-morrow." + +"What is the matter, Fleda?" + +"I don't know yet." + +"And you are ill yourself, Fleda? — you are ill?" — + +"No — I shall do very well — never mind me. Hugh, take some +tea — I will be down by and by." + +He went back, and Fleda went up stairs. Mrs. Rossitur had not +moved. Fleda set down the light, and herself beside it, with +the paper her aunt had given her. It was a letter. + + +"Queechy, Thursday. + +"It gives me great concern, my dear Madam, to be the means of +bringing to you a piece of painful information — but it cannot +be long kept from your knowledge, and you may perhaps learn it +better from me than by any other channel. May I entreat you +not to be too much alarmed, since I am confident the cause +will be of short duration? + +"Pardon me for what I am about to say. + +"There are proceedings entered into against Mr. Rossitur — +there are writs out against him — on the charge of having, +some years ago, endorsed my father's name upon a note of his +own giving. Why it has lain so long I cannot explain. There +is, unhappily, no doubt of the fact. + +"I was in Queechy some days ago, on business of my own, when I +became aware that this was going on — my father had made no +mention of it to me. I immediately took strict measures, I am +happy to say, I believe with complete success — to have the +matter kept a profound secret. I then made my way as fast +possible to New York to confer on the subject with the +original mover of it — unfortunately I was disappointed. My +father had left for a neighbouring city, to be absent several +days. Finding myself too late to prevent, as I had hoped to +do, any open steps from being taken at Queechy, I returned +hither immediately to enforce secrecy of proceedings and to +assure you, Madam, that my utmost exertions shall not be +wanting to bring the whole matter to a speedy and satisfactory +termination. I entertain no doubt of being able to succeed +entirely — even to the point of having the whole transaction +remain unknown and unsuspected by the world. It is so entirely +as yet, with the exception of one or two law officers, whose +silence I have means of procuring. + +"May I confess that I am not entirely disinterested? May the +selfishness of human nature ask its reward, and own its moving +spring! May I own that my zeal in this cause is quickened by +the unspeakable excellencies of Mr. Rossitur's lovely niece — +which I have learned to appreciate with my whole heart — and +be forgiven? And may I hope for the kind offices and +intercession of the lady I have the honour of addressing, with +her niece, Miss Ringgan, that my reward — the single word of +encouragement I ask for — may be given me? Having that, I will +promise anything — I will guarantee the success of any +enterprise, however difficult, to which she may impel me — and +I will undertake that the matter which furnishes the painful +theme of this letter shall never more be spoken or thought of +by the world, or my father, or by Mrs. Rossitur's obliged, +grateful, and faithful servant, + +LEWIS THORN." + + +Fleda felt, as she read, as if icicles were gathering about +her heart. The whirlwind of fear and distress of a little +while ago, which could take no definite direction, seemed to +have died away and given place to a dead frost — the steady +bearing down of disgrace and misery, inevitable, unmitigable, +unchangeable; no lessening, no softening of that blasting +power, no, nor ever any rising up from under it; the landscape +could never be made to smile again. It was the fall of a +bright star from their home constellation, but alas! the star +was fallen long ago, and the failure of light which they had +deplored was all too easily accounted for; yet now they knew +that no restoration was to be hoped. And the mother and son — +what would become of them? And the father — what would become +of him? what further distress was in store? — Public disgrace? +— and Fleda bowed her head forward on her clasped hands with +the mechanical, vain endeavour to seek rest or shelter from +thought. She made nothing of Mr. Thorn's professions, she took +only the facts of his letter; the rest her eye had glanced +over as if she had no concern with it, and it hardly occurred +to her that she had any. But the sense of his words she had +taken in, and knew, better perhaps than her aunt, that there +was nothing to look for from his kind offices. The weight on +her heart was too great just then for her to suspect, as she +did afterwards, that he was the sole mover of the whole +affair. + +As the first confusion of thought cleared away, two images of +distress loomed up and filled the view — her aunt, broken +under the news, and Hugh still unknowing to them; her own +separate existence Fleda was hardly conscious of. Hugh +especially — how was he to be told, and how could he bear to +hear, with his most sensitive conformation of both physical +and moral nature? And if an arrest should take place there +that night! — Fleda shuddered, and, unable to go on thinking, +rose up and went to her aunt's bedside. It had not entered her +mind till the moment she read Mr. Thorn's letter that Seth +Plumfield was sheriff for the county. She was shaking again +from head to foot with fear. She could not say anything — the +touch of her lips to the throbbing temples, soft and tender as +sympathy itself, was all she ventured. + +"Have you heard anything of him?" Mrs. Rossitur whispered. + +"No — I doubt if we do at all to-night." + +There was a half breathed "Oh!" — of indescribable pain and +longing; and with a restless change of position Mrs. Rossitur +gathered herself up on the bed and sat with her head leaning +on her knees. Fleda brought a large cloak and put it round +her. + +"I am in no danger," she said — "I wish I were!" + +Again Fleda's lips softly, tremblingly touched her cheek. + +Mrs. Rossitur put her arm round her and drew her down to her +side, upon the bed, and wrapped half of the big cloak about +her; and they sat there still in each other's arms, without +speaking or weeping, while quarter after quarter of an hour +passed away — nobody knew how many. And the cold bright +moonlight streamed in on the floor, mocking them. + +"Go!" whispered Mrs. Rossitur, at last — "go down stairs, and +take care of yourself — and Hugh." + +"Wont you come?" + +Mrs. Rossitur shook her head. + +"Mayn't I bring you something? — do let me." + +But Mrs. Rossitur's shake of the head was decisive. Fleda +crawled off the bed, feeling as if a month's illness had been +making its ravages upon her frame and strength. She stood a +moment to collect her thoughts; but alas, thinking was +impossible; there was a palsy upon her mind. She went into her +own room, and for a minute kneeled down — not to form a +petition in words — she was as much beyond that; it was only +the mute attitude of appeal, the pitiful outward token of the +mind's bearing, that could not be forborne — a silent uttering +of the plea she had made her own in happy days. There was +something of comfort in the mere feeling of doing it; and +there was more in one or two words that even in that blank +came to her mind — "_Like as a father pitieth his children, so +the Lord pitieth them that fear him;_" and she again +recollected that "Providence runneth not upon broken wheels." +Nothing could be darker than the prospect before her, and +these things did not bring light; but they gave her a sure +stay to hold on by and keep her feet — a bit of strength to +preserve from utterly fainting. Ah! the store-house must be +filled, and the mind well familiarized with what is stored in +it while yet the days are bright, or it will never be able to +find what it wants in the dark. + +Fleda first went into the kitchen to tell Barby to fasten the +doors, and not sit up. + +"I don't believe uncle Rolf will be home to-night; but if he +comes, I will let him in." + +Barby looked at her with absolutely a face of distress; but +not daring to ask, and not knowing how to propose anything, +she looked in silence. + +"It must be nine o'clock now," Fleda went on. + +"And how long be you going to sit up?" said Barby. + +"I don't know — a while yet." + +"You look proper for it!" said Barby, half sorrowfully and +half indignantly; "you look as if a straw would knock you down +this minute. There's sense into everything. You catch me a- +going to bed, and leaving you up! It wont do me no hurt to sit +here the hull night; and I'm the only one in the house that's +fit for it, with the exception of Philetus, and the little wit +he has by day seems to forsake him at night. All the light +that ever gets into his head, _I_ believe, comes from the +outside; as soon as ever that's gone, he shuts up his +shutters. He's been snoozing a'ready now this hour and a half. +Go yourself off to bed, Fleda," she added, with a mixture of +reproach and kindness, "and leave me alone to take care of +myself and the house too." + +Fleda did not remonstrate, for Barby was as determined in her +way as it was possible for anything to be. She went into the +other room without a particle of notion what she should say or +do. + +Hugh was walking up and down the floor — a most unusual sign +of perturbation with him. He met and stopped her as she came +in. + +"Fleda, I cannot bear it. What is the matter? Do you know?" he +said, as her eyes fell. + +"Yes —" + +"What is it?" + +She was silent, and tried to pass on to the fire. But he +stayed her. + +"What is it?" he repeated. + +"Oh, I wish I could keep it from you!" said Fleda, bursting +into tears. + +He was still a moment; and then, bringing her to the arm- +chair, made her sit down, and stood himself before her, +silently waiting, perhaps because he could not speak, perhaps +from the accustomed gentle endurance of his nature. But Fleda +was speechless too. + +"You are keeping me in distress," he said, at length. + +"I cannot end the distress, dear Hugh," said Fleda. + +She saw him change colour, and he stood motionless still. + +"Do you remember," said Fleda, trembling even to her voice, +"what Rutherford says about Providence 'not running on broken +wheels?' " + +He gave her no answer but the intent look of expectation. Its +intentness paralysed Fleda. She did not know how to go on. She +rose from her chair and hung upon his shoulder. + +"Believe it now, if you can; for oh, dear Hugh! we have +something to try it." + +"It is strange my father don't come home," said he, supporting +her with tenderness, which had very little strength to help +it; "we want him very much." + +Whether or not any unacknowledged feeling prompted this +remark, some slight involuntary movement of Fleda's made him +ask, suddenly — + +"Is it about him?" + +He had grown deadly pale, and Fleda answered, eagerly — + +"Nothing that has happened to-day — it is not anything that +has happened to-day: he is perfectly well, I trust and +believe." + +"But it is about him?" + +Fleda's head sank, and she burst into such an agony of tears +that Hugh's distress was for a time divided. + +"When did it happen, Fleda?" + +"Years ago." + +"And what?" + +Fleda hesitated still, and then said — + +"It was something he did, Hugh." + +"What?" + +"He put another person's name on the back of a note he gave." + +She did not look up, and Hugh was silent for a moment. + +"How do you know?" + +"Mr. Thorn wrote it to aunt Lucy; it was Mr. Thorn's father." + +Hugh sat down and leaned his head on the table. A long, long, +time passed — unmeasured by the wild coursing of thought to +and fro. Then Fleda came and knelt down at the table beside +him, and put her arm round his neck. + +"Dear Hugh," she said — and if ever love, and tenderness, and +sympathy could be distilled in tones, such drops were those +that fell upon the mind's ear — "can't you look up at me?" + +He did then, but he did not give her a chance to look at him. +He locked his arms about her, bringing her close to his +breast; and for a few minutes, in utter silence, they knew +what strange sweetness pure affection can mingle, even in the +communion of sorrow. There were tears shed in those minutes +that, bitter as they seemed at the time, memory knew had been +largely qualified with another admixture. + +"Dear Hugh," said Fleda, "let us keep what we can. Wont you go +to bed and rest?" + +He looked dreadfully as if he needed it; but the usual +calmness and sweetness of his face was not altered; it was +only deepened to very great sadness. Mentally, Fleda thought, +he had borne the shock better than his mother; for the bodily +frame she trembled. He had not answered, and she spoke again. + +"You need it worse than I, poor Fleda." + +"I will go, too, presently: I do not think anybody will be +here to-night." + +"Is — are there — is this what has taken him away?" said Hugh. + +Her silence and her look told him; and then, laying her cheek +again alongside of his, she whispered (how unsteadily!) — + +"We have only one help, dear Hugh." + +They were still and quiet again for minutes, counting the +pulses of pain, till Fleda came back to her poor wish "to keep +what they could." She mixed a restorative of wine and water, +which, however little desired, she felt was necessary for both +of them, and Hugh went up stairs. She staid a few minutes to +prepare another glass, with particular care, for her aunt. It +was just finished, and, taking her candle, she had bid Barby +good night, when there came a loud rap at the front door. +Fleda set down candle and glass, from the quick inability to +hold them, as well as for other reasons, and she and Barby +stood and looked at each other, in such a confusion of doubt +and dread, that some little time had passed before either +stirred even her eyes. Barby then threw down the tongs, with +which she had begun to make preparations for covering up the +fire, and set off to the front. + +"You mustn't open the door, Barby," cried Fleda, following +her. "Come in here, and let us look out of one of the +windows." + +Before this could be reached, however, there was another +prolonged repetition of the first thundering burst. It went +through Fleda's heart, because of the two up stairs who must +hear it. + +Barby threw up the sash. + +"Who's there?" + +"Is this Mr. Rossitur's place?" inquired a gruff voice. + +"Yes, it is." + +"Well will you come round and open the door?" + +"Who wants it open?" + +"A lady wants it open." + +"A lady! — what lady?" + +"Down yonder, in the carriage." + +"What lady? — who is she?" + +"I don't know who she is: she wanted to come to Mr. Rossitur's +place. Will you open the door for her?" + +Barby and Fleda both now saw a carriage standing in the road. + +"We must see who it is first," whispered Fleda. + +"When the lady comes, I'll open the door," was Barby's +ultimatum. + +The man withdrew to the carriage, and, after a few moments of +intense watching, Fleda and Barby certainly saw something in +female apparel enter the little gate of the court-yard, and +come up over the bright, moonlit snow towards the house, +accompanied by a child; while the man with whom they had had +the interview came behind, transformed into an unmistakable +baggage-carrier. + + +CHAPTER XIII. + + +"Zeal was the spring whence flowed her hardiment." +FAIRFAX. + + +Barby undid bolt and lock, and Fleda met the traveller in the +hall. She was a lady; her air and dress showed that, though +the latter was very plain. + +"Does Mr. Rossitur live here?" was her first word. + +Fleda answered it, and brought her visitor into the sitting- +room. But the light falling upon a form and face that had seen +more wear and tear than time, gave her no clue as to the who +or what of the person before her. The stranger's hurried look +around the room seemed to expect something. + +"Are they all gone to bed?" + +"All but me," said Fleda. + +"We have been delayed — we took a wrong road — we've been +riding for hours to find the place — hadn't the right +direction." Then, looking keenly at Fleda, from whose vision +an electric spark of intelligence had scattered the clouds, +she said — + +"I am Marion Rossitur." + +"I knew it!" said Fleda, with lips and eyes that gave her +already a sister's welcome; and they were folded in each +other's arms almost as tenderly and affectionately, on the +part of one at least, as if there had really been the +relationship between them. But more than surprise and +affection struck Fleda's heart. + +"And where are they all, Fleda? Can't I see them?" + +"You must wait till I have prepared them; Hugh and aunt Lucy +are not very well. I don't know that it will do for you to see +them at all to-night, Marion." + +"Not to-night! They are not ill?" + +"No — only enough to be taken care of — not ill. But it would +be better to wait." + +"And my father?" + +"He is not at home." + +Marion exclaimed in sorrow, and Fleda, to hide the look that +she felt was on her face, stooped down to kiss the child. He +was a remarkably fine-looking, manly boy. + +"That is your cousin Fleda," said his mother. + +"No — _aunt_ Fleda," said the person thus introduced — "don't +put me off into cousindom, Marion. I am uncle Hugh's sister — +and so I am your aunt Fleda. Who are you?" + +"Rolf Rossitur Schwiden." + +Alas, how wide are the ramifications of evil! How was what +might have been very pure pleasure utterly poisoned and turned +into bitterness! It went through Fleda's heart with a keen +pang, when she heard that name and looked on the very fair +brow that owned it, and thought of the ineffaceable stain that +had come upon both. She dared look at nobody but the child. He +already understood the melting eyes that were making +acquaintance with his, and half felt the pain that gave so +much tenderness to her kiss, and looked at her with a grave +face of awakening wonder and sympathy. Fleda was glad to have +business to call her into the kitchen. + +"Who is it?" was Barby's immediate question. + +"Aunt Lucy's daughter." + +"She don't look much like her!" said Barby, intelligently. + +"They will want something to eat, Barby." + +"I'll put the kettle on. It'll boil directly. I'll go in there +and fix up the fire." + +A word or two more, and then Fleda ran up to speak to her aunt +and Hugh. + +Her aunt she found in a state of agitation that was frightful. +Even Fleda's assurances, with all the soothing arts she could +bring to bear, were some minutes before they could in any +measure tranquillize her. Fleda's own nerves were in no +condition to stand another shock, when she left her and went +to Hugh's door. But she could get no answer from him, though +she spoke repeatedly. + +She did not return to her aunt's room. She went down stairs, +and brought up Barby and a light from thence. + +Hugh was lying senseless and white — not whiter than his +adopted sister, as she stood by his side. Her eye went to her +companion. + +"Not a bit of it!" said Barby, — "he's in nothing but a faint +— just run down stairs and get the vinegar-bottle, Fleda — the +pepper vinegar. Is there any water here?" — + +Fleda obeyed, and watched — she could little more — the +efforts of Barby, who indeed needed no help, with the cold +water, the vinegar, and rubbing of the limbs. They were for +some time unsuccessful — the fit was a severe one, and Fleda +was exceedingly terrified before any signs of returning life +came to reassure her. + +"Now, you go down stairs and keep quiet!" said Barby, when +Hugh was fairly restored, and had smiled a faint answer to +Fleda's kiss and explanations — "Go, Fleda! you aint fit to +stand. Go and sit down some place, and I'll be along directly +and see how the fire burns. Don't you s'pose Mis' Rossitur +could come in, and sit in this easy-chair a spell without +hurting herself?" + +It occurred to Fleda immediately, that it might do more good +than harm to her aunt if her attention were diverted even by +another cause of anxiety. She gently summoned her, telling her +no more than was necessary to fit her for being Hugh's nurse, +and, in a very few minutes, she and Barby were at liberty to +attend to other claims upon them. But it sank into her heart, +"Hugh will not get over this!" — and when she entered the +sitting-room, what Mr. Carleton, years before, had said of the +wood-flower, was come true in its fullest extent — "A storm- +wind had beaten it to the ground." + +She was able, literally, to do no more than Barby had said — +sit down and keep herself quiet. Miss Elster was in her +briskest mood, flew in and out, made up the fire in the +sitting-room, and put on the kettle in the kitchen, which she +had been just about doing when called to see Hugh. The much- +needed supper of the travellers must be still waited for; but +the fire was burning now, the room was cozily warm and bright, +and Marion drew up her chair with a look of thoughtful +contentment. Fleda felt as if some conjurer had been at work +there for the last few hours — the room looked so like and +felt so unlike itself. + +"Are you going to be ill too, Fleda?" said Marion, suddenly. +"You are looking — very far from well!" + +"I shall have a headache to-morrow," said Fleda, quietly, — "I +generally know the day beforehand." + +"Does it always make you look so?" + +"Not always — I am somewhat tired." + +"Where is my father gone?" + +"I don't know. Rolf, dear," said Fleda, bending forward to the +little fellow, who was giving expression to some very fidgety +impatience — "what is the matter? — what do you want?" + +The child's voice fell a little from its querulousness towards +the sweet key in which the questions had been put, but he gave +utterance to a very decided wish for "bread and butter." + +"Come here," said Fleda, reaching out a hand and drawing him, +certainly with no force but that of attraction, towards her +easy-chair — "come here and rest yourself in this nice place +by me — see, there is plenty of room for you — and you shall +have bread and butter and tea, and something else, too, I +guess, just as soon as Barby can get it ready." + +"Who is Barby?" was the next question, in a most +uncompromising tone of voice. + +"You saw the woman that came in to put wood on the fire — that +was Barby — she is very good and kind, and will do anything +for you if you behave yourself." + +The child muttered, but so low as to show some unwillingness +that his words should reach the ears that were nearest him, +that "he wasn't going to behave himself." + +Fleda did not choose to hear, and went on with composing +observations, till the fair little face she had drawn to her +side was as bright as the sun, and returned her smile with +interest. + +"You have an admirable talent at moral suasion, Fleda," said +the mother, half smiling — "I wish I had it." + +"You don't need it so much here." + +"Why not?" + +"It may do very well for me, but I think, not so well for +you." + +"Why? — what do you mean? I think it is the only way in the +world to bring up children — the only way fit for rational +beings to be guided." + +Fleda smiled, though the faintest indication that lips could +give, and shook her head — ever so little. + +"Why do you do that? — tell me." + +"Because, in my limited experience," said Fleda, as she passed +her fingers through the boy's dark locks of hair — "in every +household where 'moral suasion' has been the law, the children +have been the administrators of it. Where is your husband?" + +"I have lost him — years ago" — said Marion, with a quick +expressive glance towards the child. "I never lost what I at +first thought I had, for I never had it. Do you understand?" + +Fleda's eyes gave a sufficient answer. + +"I am a widow — these five years — in all but what the law +would require," Marion went on. "I have been alone since then +— except my child. He was two years old then; and since then I +have lived such a life, Fleda!" + +"Why didn't you come home?" + +"Couldn't — the most absolute reason in the world. Think of +it! — Come home! It was as much as I could do to stay there!" + +Those sympathizing eyes were enough to make her go on. + +"I have wanted everything — except trouble. I have done +everything — except ask alms. I have learned, Fleda, that +death is not the worst form in which distress can come." + +Fleda felt stung, and bent down her head to touch her lips to +the brow of little Rolf. + +"Death would have been a trifle!" said Marion. "I mean — not +that _I_ should have wished to leave Rolf alone in the world; +but if I had been left — I mean I would rather wear outside +than inside mourning." + +Fleda looked up again, and at her. + +"Oh, I was so mistaken, Fleda!" she said, clasping her hands — +"so mistaken! — in everything; — so disappointed — in all my +hopes. And the loss of my fortune was the cause of it all." + +Nay, verily! thought Fleda, but she said nothing; she hung her +head again; and Marion, after a pause, went on to question her +about an endless string of matters concerning themselves and +other people, past doings and present prospects, till little +Rolf, soothed by the uninteresting soft murmur of voices, +fairly forgot bread and butter and himself in a sound sleep, +his head resting upon Fleda. + +"Here is one comfort for you, Marion," she said, looking down +at the dark eyelashes which lay on a cheek rosy and healthy as +ever seven years old knew; " he is a beautiful child, and I am +sure, a fine one." + +"It is thanks to his beauty that I have ever seen home again," +said his mother. + +Fleda had no heart this evening to speak words that were not +necessary; her eyes asked Marion to explain herself. + +"He was in Hyde Park one day — I had a miserable lodging not +far from it, and I used to let him go in there, because he +must go somewhere, you know — I couldn't go with him —" + +"Why not?" + +"Couldn't! — Oh Fleda! — I have seen changes! — He was there +one afternoon, alone, and had got into difficulty with some +bigger boys — a little fellow, you know — he stood his ground +manfully, but his strength wasn't equal to his spirit, and +they were tyrannizing over him after the fashion of boys, who +are, I do think, the ugliest creatures in creation!" said Mme. +Schwiden, not apparently reckoning her own to be of the same +gender — "and a gentleman, who was riding by, stopped and +interfered, and took him out of their hands, and then asked +him his name — struck, I suppose, with his appearance. Very +kind, wasn't it? men so seldom bother themselves about what +becomes of children. I suppose there were thousands of others +riding by at the same time." + +"Very kind," Fleda said. + +"When he heard what his name was, he gave his horse to his +servant, and walked home with Rolf; and the next day he sent +me a note, speaking of having known my father and mother, and +asking permission to call upon me. I never was so mortified, I +think, in my life," said Marion, after a moment's hesitation. + +"Why?" said Fleda, not a little at a loss to follow out the +chain of her cousin's reasoning. + +"Why, I was in such a sort of a place, you don't know, Fleda; +I was working then for a fancy storekeeper, to support myself +— living in a miserable little two rooms. If it had been a +stranger, I wouldn't have cared so much, but somebody that had +known us in different times. I hadn't a thing in the world to +answer the note upon but a half-sheet of letter paper." + +Fleda's lips sought Rolf's forehead again, with a curious rush +of tears and smiles at once. Perhaps Marion had caught the +expression of her countenance, for she added, with a little +energy — + +"It is nothing to be surprised at — you would have felt just +the same; for I knew by his note, the whole style of it, what +sort of a person it must be." + +"My pride has been a good deal chastened," Fleda said, gently. + +"I never want _mine_ to be, beyond minding everything," said +Marion; "and I don't believe yours is. I don't know why in the +world I did not refuse to see him — I had fifty minds to — but +he had won Rolf's heart, and I was a little curious, and it +was something strange to see the face of a friend, any better +one than my old landlady, so I let him come." + +"Was _she_ a friend?" said Fleda. + +"If she hadn't been, I should not have lived to be here; the +best soul that ever was; but still, you know, she could do +nothing for me but be as kind as she could live; this was +something different. So I let him come, and he came the next +day." + +Fleda was silent, a little wondering that Marion should be so +frank with her, beyond what she had ever been in former years; +but, as she guessed, Mme. Schwiden's heart was a little opened +by the joy of finding herself at home, and the absolute +necessity of talking to somebody; and there was a further +reason, which Fleda could not judge of, in her own face and +manner. Marion needed no questions, and went on again, after +stopping a moment. + +"I was so glad, in five minutes — I can't tell you, Fleda — +that I had let him come. I forgot entirely about how I looked, +and the wretched place I was in. He was all that I had +supposed, and a great deal more; but, somehow, he hadn't been +in the room three minutes before I didn't care at all for all +the things I had thought would trouble me. Isn't it strange +what a witchery some people have to make you forget everything +but themselves!" + +"The reason is, I think, because that is the only thing they +forget," said Fleda, whose imagination, however, was entirely +busy with the _singular_ number. + +"I shall never forget him," said Marion. "He was very kind to +me — I cannot tell how kind — though I never realized it till +afterwards; at the time, it always seemed only a sort of +elegant politeness which he could not help. I never saw so +elegant a person. He came two or three times to see me, and he +took Rolf out with him, I don't know how often, to drive; and +he sent me fruit — such fruit! and game, and flowers; and I +had not had anything of the kind, not even seen it, for so +long; I can't tell you what it was to me. He said he had known +my father and mother well when they were abroad." + +"What was his name?" said Fleda, quickly. + +"I don't know — he never told me — and I never could ask him. +Don't you know, there are some people you can't do anything +with, but just what they please? There wasn't the least thing +like stiffness; you never saw anybody less stiff; but I never +dreamed of asking him questions, except when he was out of +sight. Why, do you know him?" she said, suddenly. + +"When you tell me who he was, I'll tell you," said Fleda, +smiling. + +"Have you ever heard this story before?" + +"Certainly not!" + +"He is somebody that knows us very well," said Marion, "for he +asked after every one of the family in particular." + +"But what had all this to do with your getting home?" + +"I don't wonder you ask. The day after his last visit, came a +note, saying, that he owed a debt in my family, which it had +never been in his power to repay; that he could not give the +enclosure to my father, who would not recognise the +obligation; and that if I would permit him to place it in my +hands, I should confer a singular favour upon him." + +"And what was the enclosure?" + +"Five hundred pounds." + +Fleda's head went down again, and tears dropped fast upon +little Rolf's shoulder. + +"I suppose my pride has been a little broken, too," Marion +went on, "or I shouldn't have kept it. But then, if you saw +the person, and the whole manner of it — I don't know how I +could ever have sent it back. Literally I couldn't, though, +for I hadn't the least clue. I never saw or heard from him +afterwards." + +"When was this, Marion?" + +"Last spring." + +"Last spring! — then what kept you so long?" + +"Because of the arrival of eyes that I was afraid of. I dared +not make the least move that would show I could move. I came +off the very first packet after I was free." + +"How glad you must be!" said Fleda. + +"Glad!" — + +"Glad of what, Mamma?" said Rolf,. whose dreams the entrance +of Barby had probably disturbed. + +"Glad of bread and butter," said his mother; wake up — here it +is." + +The young gentleman declared, rubbing his eyes, that he did +not want it now; but, however, Fleda contrived to dispel that +illusion, and bread and butter was found to have the same +dulcifying properties at Queechy that it owns in all the rest +of the world. Little Rolf was completely mollified after a +hearty meal, and was put with his mother to enjoy most +unbroken slumbers in Fleda's room. Fleda herself, after a look +at Hugh, crept to her aunt's bed; whither Barby very soon +despatched Mrs. Rossitur, taking in her place the arm-chair +and the watch with most invincible good-will and +determination; and sleep at last took the joys and sorrows of +that disturbed household into its kind custody. + +Fleda was the first one awake, and was thinking how she should +break the last news to her aunt, when Mrs. Rossitur put her +arms round her, and, after a most affectionate look and kiss, +spoke to what she supposed had been her niece's purpose. + +"You want taking care of more than I do, poor Fleda!" + +"It was not for that I came," said Fleda; "I had to give up my +room to the travellers." + +"Travellers!" — + +A very few words more brought out the whole, and Mrs. Rossitur +sprang out of bed, and rushed to her daughter's room. + +Fleda hid her face in the bed to cry — for a moment's +passionate indulgence in weeping while no one could see. But a +moment was all. There was work to do, and she must not disable +herself. She slowly got up, feeling thankful that her headache +did not announce itself with the dawn, and that she would be +able to attend to the morning affairs and the breakfast, which +was something more of a circumstance now with the new +additions to the family. More than that, she knew, from sure +signs, she would not be able to accomplish. + +It was all done, and done well, though with what secret +flagging of mind and body nobody knew or suspected. The +business of the day was arranged, Barby's course made clear, +Hugh visited and smiled upon; and then Fleda set herself down +in the breakfast-room to wear out the rest of the day in +patient suffering. Her little spaniel, who seemed to +understand her languid step and faint tones, and know what was +coming, crept into her lap and looked up at her with a face of +equal truth and affection; and after a few gentle +acknowledging touches from the loved hand, laid his head on +her knees, and silently avowed his determination of abiding +her fortunes for the remainder of the day. + +They had been there for some hours. Mrs. Rossitur and her +daughter were gathered in Hugh's room; whither Rolf also, +after sundry expressions of sympathy for Fleda's headache, +finding it a dull companion, had departed. Pain of body, +rising above pain of mind, had obliged, as far as possible, +even thought to be still; when a loud lap at the front door +brought the blood in a sudden flush of pain to Fleda's face. +She knew instinctively what it meant. + +She heard Barby's distinct accents saying that somebody was +"not well." The other voice was more smothered. But in a +moment the door of the breakfast-room opened, and Mr. Thorn +walked in. + +The intensity of the pain she was suffering effectually +precluded Fleda from discovering emotion of any kind. She +could not move. Only King lifted up his head and looked at the +intruder, who seemed shocked, and well he might. Fleda was in +her old headache position — bolt upright on the sofa, her feet +on the rung of a chair, while her hands supported her by their +grasp upon the back of it. The flush had passed away, leaving +the deadly paleness of pain, which the dark rings under her +eyes showed to be well seated. + +"Miss Ringgan!" said the gentleman, coming up softly, as to +something that frightened him — "my dear Miss Fleda! I am +distressed! You are very ill. Can nothing be done to relieve +you?" + +Fleda's lips rather than her voice said, "Nothing." + +"I would not have come in on any account to disturb you if I +had known — I did not understand you were more than a trifle +ill." + +Fleda wished he would mend his .mistake, as his understanding +certainly by this time was mended. But that did not seem to be +his conclusion of the best thing to do. + +"Since I am here, can you bear to hear me say three words, +without too much pain? I do not ask you to speak." + +A faint whispered "yes" gave him leave to go on. She had never +looked at him. She sat like a statue; to answer by a motion of +her head was more than could be risked. + +He drew up a chair and sat down, while King looked at him with +eyes of suspicious indignation. + +"I am not surprised," he said gently, "to find you suffering. +I knew how your sensibilities must feel the shock of +yesterday. I would fain have spared it you. I will spare you +all further pain on the same score, if possible. Dear Miss +Ringgan, since I am here, and time is precious, may I say one +word before I cease troubling you? I take it for granted that +you were made acquainted with the contents of my letter to +Mrs. Rossitur? — with _all_ the contents? — were you?" + +Again Fleda's lips almost voicelessly gave the answer. + +"Will you give me what I ventured to ask for?" said he, +gently, "the permission to work _for you?_ Do not trouble those +precious lips to speak — the answer of these fingers will be +as sure a warrant to me as all words that could be spoken, +that you do not deny my request." + +He had taken one of her hands in his own. But the fingers lay +with unanswering coldness and lifelessness for a second in his +clasp, and then were drawn away, and took determinate hold of +the chair-back. Again the flush came to Fleda's cheeks, +brought by a sharp pain — oh, bodily and mental too! — and, +after a moment's pause, with a distinctness of utterance that +let him know every word, she said, — + +"A generous man would not ask it, Sir." + +Thorn sprang up, and several times paced the length of the +room, up and down, before he said anything more. He looked at +Fleda, but the flush was gone again, and nothing could seem +less conscious of his presence. Pain and patience were in +every line of her face, but he could read nothing more, except +a calmness as unmistakably written. Thorn gave that face +repeated glances as he walked, then stood still and read it at +leisure. Then he came to her side again, and spoke in a +different voice. + +"You are so unlike anybody else," he said, "that you shall +make me unlike myself. I will do freely what I hoped to do +with the light of your smile before me. You shall hear no more +of this affair, neither you nor the world — I have the matter +perfectly in my own hands — it shall never raise a whisper +again. I will move heaven and earth rather than fail — but +there is no danger of my failing. I will try to prove myself +worthy of your esteem, even where a man is most excusable for +being selfish." + +He took one of her cold hands again — Fleda could not help it +without more force than she cared to use, and, indeed, pain +would by this time almost have swallowed up other sensation if +every word and touch had not sent it ill a stronger throb to +her very finger-ends. Thorn bent his lips to her hand, twice +kissed it fervently, and then left her, much to King's +satisfaction, who thereupon resigned himself to quiet +slumbers. + +His mistress knew no such relief. Excitement had dreadfully +aggravated her disorder, at a time when it was needful to +banish even thought as far as possible. Pain effectually +banished it now, and Barby, coming in a little after Mr. Thorn +had gone, found her quite unable to speak, and scarce able to +breathe, from agony. Barby's energies and fainting remedies +were again put in use, but pain reigned triumphant for hours; +and when its hard rule was at last abated, Fleda was able to +do nothing but sleep like a child for hours more. + +Towards a late tea-time she was at last awake, and carrying on +a very one-sided conversation with Rolf, her own lips being +called upon for little more than a smile now and then. King, +not able to be in her lap, had curled himself up upon a piece +of his mistress's dress, and as close within the circle of her +arms as possible, where Fleda's hand and his head were on +terms of mutual satisfaction. + +"I thought you wouldn't permit a dog to lie in your lap," said +Marion. + +Do you remember that?" said Fleda, with a smile. "Ah, I have +grown tender-hearted, Marion, since I have known what it was +to want comfort myself. I have come to the conclusion that it +is best to let everything have all the enjoyment it can in the +circumstances. King crawled into my lap one day when I had not +spirits enough to turn him out, and he has kept the place ever +since. Little King!" — + +In answer to which word of intelligence, King looked in her +face and wagged his tail, and then earnestly endeavoured to +lick all her fingers, which, however, was a piece of comfort +she would not give him. + +"Fleda," said Barby, putting her head in, "I wish you'd just +step out here and tell me which cheese you'd like to have +cut." + +"What a fool !" said Marion. "Let her cut them all if she +likes." + +"She is no fool," said Fleda. She thought Barby's +punctiliousness, however, a little ill-timed, as she rose from +her sofa, and went into the kitchen. + +"Well, you _do_ look as if you wa'n't good for nothing but to be +taken care of," said Barby. "I wouldn't have riz you up if it +hadn't been just tea-time, and I knowed you couldn't stay +quiet much longer;" and, with a look which explained her +tactics, she put into Fleda's hand a letter, directed to her +aunt. + +"Philetus give it to me," she said, without a glance at +Fleda's face; "he said it was give to him by a spry little +shaver, who wa'n't a mind to tell nothin' about himself." + +"Thank you, Barby!" was Fleda's most grateful return, and +summoning her aunt up stairs, she took her into her own room, +and locked the door before she gave her the letter, which +Barby's shrewdness and delicacy had taken such care should not +reach its owner in a wrong way. Fleda watched her as her eye +ran over the paper, and caught it as it fell from her fingers. + + +"My dear wife, + +"That villain Thorn has got a handle of me which he will not +fail to use — you know it all, I suppose, by this time. It is +true that in an evil hour, long ago, when greatly pressed, I +did what I thought I should surely undo in a few days. The +time never came — I don't know why he has let it lie so long, +but he has taken it up now, and he will push it to the +extreme. There is but one thing left for me — I shall not see +you again. The rascal would never let me rest, I know, in any +spot that calls itself American ground. + +"You will do better without me than with me. + +"R. R." + + +Fleda mused over the letter for several minutes, and then +touched her aunt, who had fallen on a chair, with her head +sunk in her hands. + +"What does he mean?" said Mrs. Rossitur, looking up with a +perfectly colourless face. + +"To leave the country." + +"Are you sure? Is that it?" said Mrs. Rossitur, rising and +looking over the words again. "He would do anything, Fleda." + +"That is what he means, aunt Lucy; don't you see he says he +could not be safe anywhere in America?" + +Mrs. Rossitur stood eyeing with intense eagerness, for a +minute or two, the note in her niece's hand. + +"Then he is gone! now that it is all settled! — And we don't +know where — and we can't get word to him!" + +Her cheek, which had a little brightened, became perfectly +white again. + +"He isn't gone yet — he can't be — he cannot have left Queechy +till to-day — he will be in New York for several days yet, +probably." + +"New York? — it may be Boston!" + +"No, he would be more likely to go to New York — I am sure he +would — he is accustomed to it." + +"We might write to both places," said poor Mrs. Rossitur. "I +will do it, and send them off at once." + +"But he might not get the letters," said Fleda, thoughtfully; +"he might not dare to ask at the post-office." + +His wife looked at that possibility, and then wrung her hands. + +"Oh, why didn't he give us a clue?" + +Fleda put an arm round her affectionately, and stood thinking; +stood trembling, might as well be said, for she was too weak +to be standing at all. + +"What can we do, dear Fleda?" said Mrs. Rossitur, in great +distress, "Once out of New York, and we can get nothing to +him. If he only knew that there is no need, and that it is all +over!" + +"We must do everything, aunt Lucy," said Fleda, thoughtfully; +"and I hope we shall succeed yet. We will write, but I think +the most hopeful other thing we could do, would be to put +advertisements in the newspapers — he would be very likely to +see them." + +"Advertisements! But you couldn't — what would you put in?" + +"Something that would catch his eye, and nobody's else; that +is easy, aunt Lucy." + +"But there is nobody to put them in, Fleda; you said uncle +Orrin was going to Boston?" + +"He wasn't going there till next week, but he was to be in +Philadelphia a few days before that; the letter might miss +him." + +"Mr. Plumfield! — couldn't he?" + +But Fleda shook her head. + +"Wouldn't do, aunt Lucy: he would do all he could, but he +don't know New York, nor the papers; he wouldn't know how to +manage it; he don't know uncle Rolf; I shouldn't like to trust +it to him." + +"Who, then? There isn't a creature we could ask." + +Fleda laid her cheek to her poor aunt's, and said, — + +"I'll do it." + +"But you must be in New York to do it, dear Fleda — you can't +do it here." + +"I will go to New York." + +"When?" + +"To-morrow morning." + +"But, dear Fleda, you can't go alone! I can't let you, and +you're not fit to go at all, my poor child!" and between +conflicting feelings Mrs. Rossitur sat down and wept without +measure. + +"Listen, aunt Lucy," said Fleda, pressing a hand on her +shoulder; "listen, and don't cry so. I'll go and make all +right, if efforts can do it. I am not going alone — I'll get +Seth to go with me, and I can sleep in the cars, and rest +nicely in the steamboat. I shall feel happy and well when I +know that I am leaving you easier, and doing all that can be +done to bring uncle Rolf home. Leave me to manage, and don't +say anything to Marion — it is one blessed thing that she need +not know anything about all this. I shall feel better than if +I were at home, and had trusted this business to any other +hands." + +"You are the blessing of my life," said Mrs. Rossitur. + +"Cheer up, and come down and let us have some tea," said +Fleda, kissing her; "I feel as if that would make me up a +little; and then I'll write the letters. I sha'n't want but +very little baggage; there'll be nothing to pack up." + +Philetus was sent up the hill with a note to Seth Plumfield, +and brought home a favourable answer. Fleda thought, as she +went to rest, that it was well the mind's strength could +sometimes act independently of its servant, the body, — hers +felt so very shattered and unsubstantial. + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + +"I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had as lief +have been myself alone." +AS YOU LIKE IT. + + +The first thing next morning, Seth Plumfield came down to say +that he had seen Dr. Quackenboss the night before, and had +chanced to find out that he was going to New York, too, this +very day; and knowing that the doctor would be just as safe an +escort as himself, Seth had made over the charge of his cousin +to him; "calculating," he said, "that it would make no +difference to Fleda, and that he had better stay at home with +his mother." + +Fleda said nothing, and looked as little as possible of her +disappointment, and her cousin went away wholly unsuspecting +of it. + +"Seth Plumfield ha'n't done a smarter thing than that in a +good while," Barby remarked, satirically, as he was shutting +the door. "I should think he'd ha' hurt himself." + +"I dare say the doctor will take good care of me," said Fleda; +"as good as he knows how." + +"Men beat all!" said Barby, impatiently. "The little sense +there is into them." + +Fleda's sinking heart was almost ready to echo the sentiment; +but nobody knew it. + +Coffee was swallowed, her little travelling-bag and bonnet on +the sofa — all ready. Then came the doctor. + +"My dear Miss Ringgan, I am most happy of this delightful +opportunity — I had supposed you were located at home for the +winter. This is a sudden start." + +"Is it sudden to you, Dr. Quackenboss?" said Fleda. + +"Why — a — not disagreeably so," said the doctor, smiling; +"nothing could be that in the present circumstances — but I — +a — I hadn't calculated upon it for much of a spell +beforehand." + +Fleda was vexed, and looked — only unconversable. + +"I suppose," said the doctor, after a pause, "that we have not +much time to waste — a — in idle moments. Which route do you +intend to travel?" + +"I was thinking to go by the North River, Sir." + +"But the ice has collected, I am afraid." + +"At Albany, I know; but when I came up, there was a boat every +other day, and we could get there in time by the stage — this +is her day." + +"But we have had some pretty tight weather since, if you +remember," said the doctor; "and the boats have ceased to +connect with the stage. We shall have to go to Greenfield to +take the Housatonic, which will land us at Bridgeport on the +Sound." + +"Have we time to reach Greenfield this morning?" + +"Oceans of time," said the doctor, delightedly; "I've got my +team here, and they're jumping out of their skins with having +nothing to do, and the weather — they'll carry us there as +spry as grasshoppers — now, if you're ready, my dear Miss +Ringgan." + +There was nothing more but to give and receive those +speechless lip-messages that are out of the reach of words, +and Mrs. Rossitur's half-spoken last charge, to take care of +herself; and with these seals upon her mission, Fleda set +forth and joined the doctor, thankful for one foil to +curiosity in the shape of a veil, and only wishing that there +were any invented screen that she could place between her and +hearing. + +"I hope your attire is of a very warm description," said the +doctor, as he helped her into the wagon; "it friz pretty hard +last night, and I don't think it has got out of the notion +yet. If I had been consulted in any other— a — form, than that +of a friend, I should have disapprobated, if you'll excuse me, +Miss Ringgan's travelling again before her 'Rose of Cassius' +there was in blow. I hope you have heard no evil tidings? Dr. +— a — Gregory, I hope, is not taken ill?" + +"I hope not, Sir," said Fleda. + +"He didn't look like it. A very hearty old gentleman. Not very +old either, I should judge. Was he the brother of your mother +or your father?" + +"Neither, Sir." + +"Ah! — I misunderstood — I thought, but of course I was +mistaken — I thought I heard you speak to him under the title +of uncle. But that is a title we sometimes give to elderly +people as a term of familiarity; there is an old fellow that +works for me, he has been a long time in our family, and we +always call him 'uncle Jenk.' " + +Fleda was ready to laugh, cry, and be angry, in a breath. She +looked straight before her, and was mum. + +"That 'Rose of Cassius' is a most exquisite thing," said the +doctor, recurring to the cluster of bare bushy stems in the +corner of the garden. "Did Mr. Rossitur bring it with him when +he came to his present residence?" + +"Yes, Sir." + +"Where is Mr. Rossitur now?" + +Fleda replied, with a jump of her heart, that business affairs +had obliged him to be away for a few days. + +"And when does he expect to return?" said the doctor. + +"I hope he will be home as soon as I am," said Fleda. + +"Then you do not expect to remain long in the city this time?" + +"I shall not have much of a winter at home if I do," said +Fleda. "We are almost at January." + +"Because," said the doctor, "in that case I should have no +higher gratification than in attending upon your motions. I — +a — beg you to believe, my dear Miss Ringgan, that it would +afford me the — a — most particular — it would be most +particularly grateful to me to wait upon you to — a — the +confines of the world." + +Fleda hastened to assure her officious friend that the time of +her return was altogether uncertain, resolving rather to abide +a guest with Mrs. Pritchard than to have Dr. Quackenboss +hanging upon her motions every day of her being there. But, in +the meantime, the doctor got upon Captain Rossitur's subject, +then came to Mr. Thorn, and then wanted to know the exact +nature of Mr. Rossitur's business affairs in Michigan, through +all which matters poor Fleda had to run the gauntlet of +questions, interspersed with gracious speeches which she could +bear even less well. She was extremely glad to reach the cars, +and take refuge in seeming sleep from the mongrel attentions, +which, if for the most part prompted by admiration, owned so +large a share of curiosity. Her weary head and heart would +fain have courted the reality of sleep, as a refuge from more +painful thoughts, and a feeling of exhaustion that could +scarcely support itself; but the restless roar and jumble of +the rail-cars put it beyond her power. How long the hours were +— how hard to wear out, with no possibility of a change of +position that would give rest! Fleda would not even raise her +head when they stopped, for fear of being talked to; how +trying that endless noise to her racked nerves! It came to an +end at last, though Fleda would not move for fear they might +be only taking in wood and water. + +"Miss Ringgan!" said the doctor in her ear, "my dear Miss +Ringgan, we are here" — + +"Are we?" said Fleda, looking up; "what other name has the +place, doctor?" + +"Why, Bridgeport," said the doctor; "we're at Bridgeport. Now +we have leave to exchange conveyances. A man feels constrained +after a prolonged length of time in a place. How have you +enjoyed the ride?" + +"Not very well — it has seemed long. I am glad we are at the +end of it." + +But as she rose and threw back her veil, the doctor looked +startled. + +"My dear Miss Ringgan, are you faint?" + +"No, Sir." + +"You are not well, indeed! — I am very sorry — the ride has +been — Take my arm! — Ma'am," said the doctor, touching a +black satin cloak which filled the passage-way, "will you have +the goodness to give this lady a passport?" + +But the black satin cloak preferred a straightforward manner +of doing this, so their egress was somewhat delayed. Happily +faintness was not the matter. + +"My dear Miss Ringgan," said the doctor, as they reached the +ground and the outer air, "what was it? — the stove too +powerful? You are looking — you are of a dreadfully delicate +appearance!" + +"I had a headache yesterday," said Fleda; "it always leaves me +with a disagreeable reminder the next day. I am not ill." + +But he looked frightened, and hurried her, as fast as he +dared, to the steamboat; and there proposed half a dozen +restoratives, the simplest of which Fleda took, and then +sought delicious rest from him and from herself on the +cushions of a settee. Delicious! — though she was alone, in +the cabin of a steamboat, with strange forms and noisy tongues +around her, the closed eyelids shut it out all; and she had +time but for one resting thought of "patient continuance in +well-doing," and one happy heart-look up to Him who has said +that he cares for his children, a look that laid her anxieties +down there — when past misery and future difficulty faded away +before a sleep that lasted till the vessel reached her +moorings and was made fast. + +She was too weary and faint even to think during the long +drive up to Bleecker Street. She was fain to let it all go — +the work she had to do, and the way she must set about it, and +rest in the assurance that nothing could be done that night. +She did not so much as hear Dr. Quackenboss's observations, +though she answered a few of them, till, at the door, she was +conscious of his promising to see her to-morrow, and of her +instant conclusion to take measures to see nobody. + +How strange everything seemed! She walked through the familiar +hall, feeling as if her acquaintance with every old thing was +broken. There was no light in the back parlour, but a +comfortable fire. + +"Is my — is Dr. Gregory at home?" she asked of the girl who +had let her in. + +"No, Ma'am; he hasn't got back from Philadelphia." + +"Tell Mrs. Pritchard a lady wants to see her." + +Good Mrs. Pritchard was much more frightened than Dr. +Quackenboss had been when she came into the back parlour to +see "a lady," and found Fleda in. the great arm-chair, taking +off her things. She poured out questions, wonderings, and +lamentings, not "in a breath," but in a great many; quite +forgot to be glad to see her, she looked so dreadfully; and +"what had been the matter?" Fleda answered her — told of +yesterday's illness and to-day's journey; and met all her +shocked inquiries with so composed a face, and such a calm +smile and bearing, that Mrs. Pritchard was almost persuaded +not to believe her eyes. + +"My uncle is not at home?" + +"O no, Miss Fleda! I suppose he's in Philadelphy — but his +motions is so little to be depended on, that I never know when +I have him; maybe he'll stop going through to Boston, and +maybe no, and I don't know when; so anyhow I had to have a +fire made, and this room all ready; and aint it lucky it was +ready for you to-night? — and now he aint here, you can have +the great chair all to yourself, and make yourself comfortable +— we can keep warmer here, I guess, than you can in the +country," said the good housekeeper, giving some skilful +admonishing touches to the fire; — "and you must just sit +there and read and rest, and see if you can't get back your +old looks again. If I thought it was _that_ you came for, I'd be +happy. I never did see such a change in any one in five days." + +She stood looking down at her guest with a face of very +serious concern, evidently thinking much more than she chose +to give utterance to. + +"I am tired, Mrs. Pritchard," said Fleda, smiling up at her. + +"I wish you had somebody to take care of you, Miss Fleda, that +wouldn't let you tire yourself. It's a sin to throw your +strength away so — and you don't care for looks, nor nothing +else when it's for other people. You're looking just as +handsome, too, for all," she said, her mouth giving way a +little, as she stooped down to take off Fleda's overshoes; +"but that's only because you can't help it. Now, what is there +you'd like to have for supper? — just say, and you shall have +it — whatever would seem best — because I mightn't hit the +right thing." + +Fleda declared her indifference to everything but a cup of +tea, and her hostess bustled away to get that, and tax her own +ingenuity and kindness for the rest. And, leaning her weary +head back in the lounge, Fleda tried to think — but it was not +time yet; she could only feel — feel what a sad change had +come over her since she had sat there last — shut her eyes and +wish she could sleep again. + +But Mrs. Pritchard's hospitality must be gone through with +first. + +The nicest of suppers was served in the bright little parlour, +and her hostess was a compound of care and good-will; nothing +was wanting to the feast but a merry heart. Fleda could not +bring that, so her performance was unsatisfactory, and Mrs. +Pritchard was distressed. Fleda went to her own room, +promising better doings to-morrow. + +She awoke in the morning to the full burden of care and sorrow +which sheer weakness and weariness the day before had in part +laid down — to a quicker sense of the state of things than she +had had yet. The blasting evil that had fallen upon them — +Fleda writhed on her bed when she thought of it. The sternest, +cruellest, most inflexible grasp of distress. Poverty may be +borne, death may be sweetened, even to the survivors; but +_disgrace_ — Fleda hid her head, as if she would shut the idea +out with the light. And the ruin it had wrought! Affection +killed at the root — her aunt's happiness withered for this +world — Hugh's life threatened — the fair name of his family +gone — the wear and weariness of her own spirit — but that had +hardly a thought. Himself! — oh! no one could tell what a +possible wreck, now that self-respect and the esteem of others +— those two safeguards of character — were lost to him. "So +much security has any woman in a man without religion;" she +remembered those words of her aunt Miriam now; and she +thought, if Mr. Thorn had sought an ill wind to blow, upon his +pretensions, he could not have pitched them better. What +fairer promise, without religion, could be than her uncle had +given! Reproach had never breathed against his name, and no +one less than those who knew him best could fancy that he had +ever given it occasion. And who could have more at stake? — +and the stake was lost — that was the summing up thought. + +No, it was not — for Fleda's mind presently sprang beyond — to +the remedy; and after a little swift and earnest flitting +about of thought over feasibilities and contingencies, she +jumped up, and dressed herself with a prompt energy which +showed a mind made up to its course. And yet when she came +down to the parlour, though bending herself with nervous +intentness to the work she had to do, her fingers and her +heart were only stayed in their trembling by some of the happy +assurances she had been fleeing to — + + + +"COMMIT THY WORKS UNTO THE LORD, AND ALL THY THOUGHTS SHALL BE +ESTABLISHED." + + +"IN ALL THY WAYS ACKNOWLEDGE HIM: HE SHALL DIRECT THY PATHS." + + +— Assurances, not, indeed, that her plans should meet with +success, but that they should have the issue best for them. + +She was early, but the room was warm, and in order, and the +servant had left it. Fleda sought out paper and pencil, and +sat down to fashion the form of an advertisement — the first +thing to be done. She had no notion how difficult a thing, +till she came to do it. + +"_R. R. is entreated to communicate with his niece at the old +place in Bleecker Street, on business of the greatest +importance_." + +"It will not do," said Fleda, to herself, as she sat and +looked at it — "there is not enough to catch his eye, and +there is _too much_, if it caught anybody else's eye — 'R. R.', +and 'his niece,' and 'Bleecker Street,' — that would tell +plain enough." + +"_Dear uncle, F. has followed you here on business of the +greatest importance. Pray let her see you; she is at the old +place_." + +"It will not do," thought Fleda, again — "there is still less +to catch his eye — I cannot trust it. And if I were to put +'Queechy' over it, that would give the clue to the Evelyns, +and everybody. But I had better risk anything rather than his +seeing it." + + +The miserable needlessness of the whole thing, the pitiful +weighing of sorrow against sorrow, and shame against shame, +overcame her for a little; and then, dashing away the tears +she had no time for, and locking up the strong-box of her +heart, she took her pencil again. + +"_Queechy_. +"_Let me see you at the old place. I have come here on urgent +business for you. Do not deny me, for H—'s sake!_" + +With a trifle of alteration, she thought this would do; and +went on to make a number of fair copies of it for so many +papers. This was done, and all traces of it out of the way +before Mrs. Pritchard came in and the breakfast; and after +bracing herself with coffee, though the good housekeeper was +still sadly dissatisfied with her indifference to some more +substantial brace in the shape of chickens and ham, Fleda +prepared herself inwardly and outwardly to brave the wind and +the newspaper offices, and set forth. It was a bright, keen +day; she was sorry; she would it had been cloudy. It seemed as +if she could not hope to escape some eyes in such an +atmosphere. + +She went to the library first, and there requested the +librarian, whom she knew, to bring her from the reading-room +the files of morning and evening papers. They were many more +than she had supposed; she had not near advertisements enough. +Paper and ink were at hand, however, and making carefully her +list of the various offices, morning and evening separate, she +wrote out a copy of the notice for each of them. + +The morning was well on by the time she could leave the +library. It was yet far from the fashionable hour, however, +and sedulously shunning the recognition of anybody, in hopes +that it would be one step towards her escaping theirs, she +made her way down the bright thoroughfare as far as the City +Hall, and then crossed over the Park and plunged into a region +where it was very little likely she would see a face that she +knew. She saw nothing else either that she knew; in spite of +having studied the map of the city in the library, she was +forced several times to ask her way, as she visited office +after office, of the evening papers first, till she had placed +her notice with each one of them. Her courage almost failed +her — her heart did quite, after two or three. It was a trial +from which her whole nature shrank, to go among the people, to +face the eyes, to exchange talk with the lips that were at +home in those purlieus; look at them she did not. Making her +slow way through the choked narrow streets, where the mere +confusion of business was bewildering — very, to any one come +from Queechy; among crowds, of what mixed and doubtful +character, hurrying along and brushing with little ceremony +past her; edging by loitering groups that filled the whole +sidewalk, or perhaps edging through them — groups whose +general type of character was sufficiently plain and _un_mixed; +entering into parley with clerk after clerk, who looked at +such a visitor as an anomaly — poor Fleda almost thought so +too, and shrank within herself; venturing hardly her eyes +beyond her thick veil, and shutting her ears resolutely as far +as possible to all the dissonant rough voices that helped to +assure her she was where she ought not to be. Sometimes she +felt that it was _impossible_ to go on and finish her task; but +a thought or two nerved her again to plunge into another +untried quarter, or make good her entrance to some new office +through a host of loungers and waiting newsboys collected +round the door. Sometimes, in utter discouragement, she went +on and walked to a distance and came back, in the hope of a +better opportunity. It was a long business; and she often had +to wait. The end of her list was reached at last, and the +paper was thrown away; but she did not draw free breath till +she had got to the west side of Broadway again, and turned her +back upon them all. + +It was late then, and the street was thinned of a part of its +gay throng. Completely worn in body as well as mind, with slow +faltering steps, Fleda moved on among those still left; +looking upon them with a curious eye, as if they and she +belonged to different classes of beings; so very far her +sobered and saddened spirit seemed to herself from their stir +of business and gaiety; if they had been a train of lady-flies +or black ants, Fleda would hardly have felt that she had less +in common with them. It was a weary, long way up to Bleecker +Street, as she was forced to travel it. + +The relief was unspeakable to find herself within her uncle's +door, with the sense that her dreaded duty was done, and well +and thoroughly. Now her part was to be still and wait. But +with the relief came also a reaction from the strain of the +morning. Before her weary feet had well mounted the stairs, +her heart gave up its control; and she locked herself in her +room to yield to a helpless outpouring of tears which she was +utterly unable to restrain, though conscious that long time +could not pass before she would be called to dinner. Dinner +had to wait. + +"Miss Fleda," said the housekeeper, in a vexed tone, when the +meal was half over — "I didn't know you ever did anything +wrong." + +"You were sadly mistaken, Mrs. Pritchard," said Fleda, half +lightly, half sadly. + +"You're looking not a bit better than last night, and, if +anything, rather worse," Mrs. Pritchard went on. "It isn't +right, Miss Fleda. You oughtn't to ha' set the first step out +of doors, I know you oughtn't, this blessed day; and you've +been on your feet these seven hours — and you show it! You're +just ready to drop." + +"I will rest to-morrow," said Fleda, "or try to." + +"You are fit for nothing but bed," said the housekeeper — "and +you've been using yourself, Miss Fleda, as if you had the +strength of an elephant. Now, do you think you've been doing +right?" + +Fleda would have made some cheerful answer, but she was not +equal to it; she had lost all command of herself, and she +dropped knife and fork to burst into a flood of exceeding +tears. Mrs. Pritchard, equally astonished and mystified, +hurried questions, apologies, and consolations, one upon +another; and made up her mind that there was something +mysterious on foot, about which she had better ask no +questions. Neither did she from that time. She sealed up her +mouth, and contented herself with taking the best care of her +guest that she possibly could. Needed enough, but all of +little avail. + +The reaction did not cease with that day. The next Sunday was +spent on the sofa, in a state of utter prostration. With the +necessity for exertion the power had died. Fleda could only +lie upon the cushions and sleep helplessly, while Mrs. +Pritchard sat by, anxiously watching her; curiosity really +swallowed up in kind feeling. Monday was little better; but +towards the after part of the day, the stimulant of anxiety +began to work again, and Fleda sat up to watch for a word from +her uncle. But none came, and Tuesday morning distressed Mrs. +Pritchard with its want of amendment. It was not to be hoped +for, Fleda knew, while this fearful watching lasted. Her uncle +might not have seen the advertisement — he might not have got +her letter — he might be even then setting sail to quit home +for ever. And she could do nothing but wait. Her nerves were +alive to every stir; every touch of the bell made her tremble; +it was impossible to read, to lie down, to be quiet or still +anywhere. She had set the glass of expectancy, for one thing, +in the distance: and all things else were a blur or a blank. + +They had sat down to dinner that Tuesday, when a ring at the +door, which had made her heart jump, was followed — yes, it +was — by the entrance of the maid-servant holding a folded bit +of paper in her hand. Fleda did not wait to ask whose it was — +she seized it and saw — and sprang away up stairs. It was a +sealed scrap of paper, that had been the back of a letter, +containing two lines without signature. + +"I will meet you _at Dinah's_ — if you come there alone about +sundown." + +Enough! Dinah was an old black woman who once had been a very +attached servant in Mr. Rossitur's family, and, having married +and become a widow years ago, had set up for herself in the +trade of a washerwoman, occupying an obscure little tenement +out towards Chelsea. Fleda had rather a shadowy idea of the +locality, though remembering very well sundry journeys of +kindness she and Hugh had made to it in days gone by. But she +recollected it was in Sloman Street, and she knew she could +find it; and dropping upon her knees, poured out thanks too +deep to be uttered, and too strong to be even thought, without +a convulsion of tears. Her dinner after that was but a mental +thanksgiving — she was hardly conscious of anything beside — +and a thankful rejoicing for all her weary labours. Their +weariness was sweet to her now. Let her but see him — the rest +was sure. + + +CHAPTER XV. + + +"How well appaid she was her bird to find!" +SIDNEY. + + +Fleda counted the minutes till it wanted an hour of sundown, +and then, avoiding Mrs. Pritchard, made her escape out of the +house. A long walk was before her, and the latter part of it +through a region which she wished to pass while the light was +good. And she was utterly unable to travel at any but a very +gentle rate; so she gave herself plenty of time. + +It was a very bright afternoon, and all the world was astir. +Fleda shielded herself with a thick veil, and went up one of +the narrow streets, not daring to venture into Broadway, and +passing Waverly Place, which was almost as bright, turned down +Eighth Street. A few blocks now, and she would be out of all +danger of meeting any one that knew her. She drew her veil +close, and hurried on. But the proverb saith, "A miss is as +good as a mile," and with reason; for if fate wills, the +chances make nothing. As Fleda set her foot down to cross +Fifth Avenue, she saw Mr. Carleton on the other side coming up +from Waverly Place. She went as slowly as she dared, hoping +that he would pass without looking her way, or be unable to +recognize her through her thick wrapper. In vain — she soon +saw that she was known — he was waiting for her, and she must +put up her veil and speak to him. + +"Why, I thought you had left New York," said he — "I was told +so." + +"I had left it — I have left it, Sir," said Fleda — "I have +only come back for a day or two." — + +"Have you been ill?" he said, with a sudden change of tone, +the light in his eye, and smile, giving place to a very marked +gravity. + +Fleda would have answered with a half smile, but such a +sickness of heart came over her, that speech failed, and she +was very near bursting into tears. Mr. Carleton looked at her +earnestly a moment, and then put the hand which Fleda had +forgotten he still held upon his arm, and began to walk +forward gently with her. Something in the grave tenderness +with which this was done, reminded Fleda irresistibly of the +times when she had been a child under his care; and, somehow, +her thoughts went off on a tangent back to the further days of +her mother, and father, and grandfather, the other friends +from whom she had had the same gentle protection, which now +there was no one in the world to give her. And their images +did never seem more winning fair than just then — when their +place was left most especially empty. Her uncle she had never +looked up to in the same way, and whatever stay he had been +was cut down. Her aunt leaned upon _her;_ and Hugh had always +been more of a younger than an elder brother. The quick +contrast of those old happy childish days was too strong; the +glance back at what she had had, made her feel the want. Fleda +blamed herself, reasoned and fought with herself; but she was +weak in mind and body, her nerves were unsteady yet, her +spirits unprepared for any encounter or reminder of pleasure; +and though vexed and ashamed, she _could_ not hold her head up, +and she could not prevent tear after tear from falling as they +went along; she could only hope that nobody saw them. + +Nobody spoke of them. But then nobody said anything; and the +silence at last frightened her into rousing herself. She +checked her tears and raised her head; she ventured no more; +she dared not turn her face towards her companion. He looked +at her once or twice, as if in doubt whether to speak or not. + +"Are you not going beyond your strength?" he said at length, +gently. + +Fleda said, "No," although in a tone that half confessed his +suspicion. He was silent again, however, and she cast about in +vain for something to speak of; it seemed to her that all +subjects of conversation in general had been packed up for +exportation; neither eye nor memory could light upon a single +one. Block after block was passed, the pace at which he +walked, and the manner of his care for her, alone showing that +he knew what a very light hand was resting upon his arm. + +"How pretty the curl of blue smoke is from that chimney," he +said. + +It was said with a tone so carelessly easy, that Fleda's heart +jumped for one instant in the persuasion that he had seen and +noticed nothing peculiar about her. + +"I know it," she said, eagerly — "I have often thought of it — +especially here in the city —" + +"Why is it? what is it?" + +Fleda's eye gave one of its exploratory looks at his, such as +he remembered from years ago, before she spoke. + +"Isn't it contrast? — or at least I think that helps the +effect here." + +"What do you make the contrast?" he said, quietly. + +"Isn't it," said Fleda, with another glance, "the contrast of +something pure and free and upward-tending, with what is below +it? I did not mean the mere painter's contrast. In the +country, smoke is more picturesque, but in the city I think it +has more character." + +"To how many people do you suppose it ever occurred that smoke +had a character?" said he, smiling. + +"You are laughing at me, Mr. Carleton; perhaps I deserve it." + +"You do not think that," said he, with a look that forbade her +to think it. "But I see you are of Lavater's mind, that +everything has a physiognomy?" + +"I think he was perfectly right," said Fleda. "Don't you, Mr. +Carleton?" + +"To some people, yes! — But the expression is so subtle, that +only very nice sensibilities, with fine training, can hope to +catch it; therefore, to the mass of the world Lavater would +talk nonsense." + +"That is a gentle hint to me. But if I talk nonsense, I wish +you would set me right, Mr. Carleton; I am very apt to amuse +myself with tracing out fancied analogies in almost +everything, and I may carry it too far — too far to be spoken +of wisely. I think it enlarges the field of pleasure very +much. Where one eye is stopped, another is but invited on." + +"So," said Mr. Carleton, "while that puff of smoke would lead +one person's imagination only down the chimney to the kitchen +fire, it would take another's — where did yours go?" said he, +suddenly turning round upon her. + +Fleda met his eye again, without speaking; but her look had, +perhaps, more than half revealed her thought, for she was +answered with a smile so intelligent and sympathetic, that she +was abashed. + +"How very much religion heightens the enjoyments of life!" Mr. +Carleton said, after a while. + +Fleda's heart throbbed an answer — she did not speak. + +"Both in its direct and indirect action. The mind is set free +from influences that narrowed its range and dimmed its vision, +and refined to a keener sensibility, a juster perception, a +higher power of appreciation, by far, than it had before. And +then, to say nothing of religion's own peculiar sphere of +enjoyment, technically religious — what a field of pleasure it +opens to its possessor in the world of moral beauty, most +partially known to any other — and the fine but exquisite +analogies of things material with things spiritual — those +_harmonies of Nature_, to which, talk as they will, all other +ears are deaf." + +"You know," said Fleda, with full eyes that she dared not +show, "how Henry Martyn said that he found he enjoyed painting +and music so much more after he became a Christian." + +"I remember. It is the substituting a just medium for a false +one — it is putting nature within and nature without in tune +with each other, so that the chords are perfect now which were +jarring before." + +"And yet how far people would be from believing you, Mr. +Carleton." + +"Yes, they are possessed with the contrary notion. But in all +the creation nothing has a one-sided usefulness. What a +reflection it would be upon the wisdom of its Author, if +godliness alone were the exception — if it were not +'profitable for the life that now is, as well as for that +which is to come!' " + +"They make that work the other way, don't they?" said Fleda; +"not being able to see how thorough religion should be for +anybody's happiness, they make use of your argument to +conclude that it is not what the Bible requires. How I have +heard that urged — that God intended his creatures to be happy +— as a reason why they should disobey him! They lay hold on +the wrong end of the argument, and work backwards." + +"Precisely. + + +" 'God intended his creatures to be happy. +" 'Strict obedience would make them unhappy. +" 'Therefore, he does not intend them to obey.' " + + +"They never put it before them quite so clearly," said Fleda. + +"They would startle at it a little. But so they would at the +right stating of the case." + +"And how would that be, Mr. Carleton?" + +"It might be somewhat after this fashion — + + +" 'God requires nothing that is not for the happiness of his +people. +" 'He requires perfect obedience. +" 'Therefore, perfect obedience is for their happiness.' + + +"But unbelief will not understand that. Did it ever strike you +how much there is in those words, 'Come and see?' All that +argument can do, after all, is but to persuade to that. Only +faith will submit to terms, and enter the narrow gate; and +only obedience knows what the prospect is on the other side." + +"But isn't it true, Mr. Carleton, that the world have some +cause for their opinion — judging as they do by the outside? +The peculiar pleasures of religion, as you say, are out of +sight, and they do not always find in religious people that +enlargement and refinement of which you were speaking." + +"Because they make unequal comparisons. Recollect that, as God +has declared, the ranks of religion are not for the most part +filled from the wise and the great. In making your estimate, +you must measure things equal in other respects. Compare the +same man with himself before he was a Christian, or with his +unchristianized fellows, and you will find invariably the +refining, dignifying, ennobling, influence of true religion — +the enlarged intelligence, and the greater power of +enjoyment." + +"And besides those causes of pleasure-giving that your +mentioned," said Fleda, "there is a mind at ease; and how much +that is, alone! If I may judge others by myself, the mere fact +of being unpoised, unresting, disables the mind from a +thousand things that are joyfully relished by one entirely at +ease." + +"Yes," said he; "do you remember that word, — 'The stones of +the field shall be at peace with thee?' " + +"I am afraid people would understand you as little as they +would me, Mr. Carleton," said Fleda, laughing. + +He smiled, rather a prolonged smile, the expression of which +Fleda could not make out; she felt that _she_ did not quite +understand him. + +"I have thought," said he, after a pause, "that much of the +beauty we find in many things is owing to a hidden analogy — +the harmony they make with some unknown string of the mind's +harp which they have set a-vibrating. But the music of that is +so low and soft, that one must listen very closely to find out +what it is." + +"Why, that is the very theory of which I gave you a smoky +illustration a little while ago," said Fleda. "I thought I was +on safe ground, after what you said about the characters of +flowers, for that was a little —" + +"Fanciful?" said he, smiling. + +"What you please,"' said Fleda, colouring a little — "I am +sure it is true. The theory, I mean. I have many a time felt +it, though I never put it in words. I shall think of that." + +"Did you ever happen to see the very early dawn of a winter's +morning?" said he. + +But he laughed the next instant at the comical expression of +Fleda's face as it was turned to him. + +"Forgive me for supposing you as ignorant as myself. I have +seen it —once." + +"Appreciated it, I hope, that time?" said Fleda. + +"I shall never forget it." + +"And it never wrought in you a desire to see it again?" + +"I might see many a dawn," said he, smiling, "without what I +saw then. It was very early, and a cloudy morning, so that +night had still almost undisturbed possession of earth and +sky; but in the south-eastern quarter, between two clouds, +there was a space of fair white promise, hardly making any +impression upon the darkness, but only set off by it. And upon +this one bright spot in earth or heaven, rode the planet of +the morning — the sun's forerunner — bright upon the +brightness. All else was dusky, except where overhead the +clouds had parted again and showed a faint old moon, +glimmering down upon the night it could no longer be said to +'rule.' " + +"Beautiful!" said Fleda. "There is hardly any time I like so +well as the dawn of a winter morning, with an old moon in the +sky. Summer weather has no beauty like it — in some things." + +"Once," continued Mr. Carleton, "I should have seen no more +than I have told you — the beauty that every cultivated eye +must take in. But now, methought I saw the dayspring that has +come upon a longer night; and from out of the midst of it +there was the fair face of the morning star looking at me with +its sweet reminder and invitation; looking over the world with +its aspect of triumphant expectancy: there was its calm +assurance of the coming day — its promise that the star of +hope, which now there were only a few watching eyes to see, +should presently be followed by the full beams of the Sun of +Righteousness making the kingdoms of the world His own. Your +memory may bring to you the words that came to mine, the +promise 'to him that overcometh,' and the beauty of the lips +that made it: the encouragement to 'patient continuance in +well doing,' 'till the day break, and the shadows flee away.' +And there, on the other hand, was the substituted light of +earth's wisdom and inventions, dominant yet, but waning, and +soon to be put out for ever." + +Fleda was crying again, and perhaps that was the reason why +Mr. Carleton was silent for some time. She was very sorry to +show herself so weak, but she could not help it; part of his +words had come too close. And when she had recovered again, +she was absolutely silent too, for they were nearing Sloman- +street, and she could not take him there with her. She did not +know what to say, nor what he would think; and she said not +another word till they came to the corner. There she must stop +and speak. + +"I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Carleton," she said, +drawing her hand from his arm, "for taking care of me all this +disagreeable way; I will not give you any more trouble." + +"You are not going to dismiss me?" said he, looking at her +with a countenance of serious anxiety. + +"I must," said Fleda, ingenuously — "I have business to attend +to here —" + +"But you will let me have the pleasure of waiting for you?" + +"O no," said Fleda, hesitating and flushing — "thank you, Mr. +Carleton; but pray do not — I don't know at all how long I may +be detained." + +He bowed, she thought gravely, and turned away; and she +entered the little wretched street, with a strange feeling of +pain that she could not analyze. She did not know where it +came from, but she thought if there only had been a hiding- +place for her, she could have sat down and wept a whole +heartful. The feeling must be kept back now, and it was soon +forgotten in the throbbing of her heart at another thought +which took entire possession. + +The sun was not down — there was time enough — but it was with +a step and eye of hurried anxiety that Fleda passed along the +little street, for fear of missing her quest, or lest Dinah +should have changed her domicile. Yet would her uncle have +named it for their meeting if he had not been sure of it? It +was very odd he should have appointed that place at all, and +Fleda was inclined to think he must have seen Dinah by some +chance, or it never would have come into his head. Still her +eye passed unheeding over all the varieties of dinginess and +misery in her way, intent only upon finding that particular +dingy cellar-way which used to admit her to Dinah's premises. +It was found at last, and she went in. + +The old woman, herself most unchanged, did not know the young +lady, but well remembered the little girl whom Fleda brought +to her mind. And then she was overjoyed to see her, and asked +a multitude of questions, and told a long story of her having +met Mr. Rossitur in the street the other day, "in the last +place where she'd have looked to see him;" and how old he had +grown, and how surprised she had been to see the gray hairs in +his head. Fleda at last gave her to understand that she +expected him to meet her there, and would like to see him +alone; and the good woman immediately took her work into +another apartment, made up the fire, and set up the chairs, +and leaving her, assured Fleda she would lock up the doors, +"and not let no one come through." + +It was sundown, and later, Fleda thought, and she felt as if +every pulse was doing double duty. No matter, if she were +shattered and the work done. But what work! Oh, the +needlessness, the cruelty, the folly of it! And how much of +the ill consequences she might be unable, after all, to ward +off. She took off her hat, to relieve a nervous smothered +feeling; and walked, and sat down; and then sat still, from +trembling inability to do anything else. Dinah's poor little +room, clean though it was, looked to her the most dismal place +in the world, from its association with her errand; she hid +her face on her knees, that she might have no disagreeableness +to contend with, but that which could not be shut out. + +It had lain there some time, till a sudden feeling of terror +at the growing lateness made her raise it to look at the +window. Mr. Rossitur was standings still before her — he must +have come in very softly — and looking — oh, Fleda had not +imagined him looking so changed. All was forgotten — the +wrong, and the needlessness, and the indignation with which +she had sometimes thought of it; Fleda remembered nothing but +love and pity, and threw herself upon his neck with such tears +of tenderness and sympathy, such kisses of forgiveness and +comfort-speaking, as might have broken a stouter heart than +Mr. Rossitur's. He held her in his arms for a few minutes, +passively suffering her caresses, and then gently unloosing +her hold, placed her on a seat, sat down a little way off, +covered his face and groaned aloud. + +Fleda could not recover herself at once. Then shaking off her +agitation, she came and knelt down by his side, and putting +one arm over his shoulders, laid her cheek against his +forehead. Words were beyond reach, but his forehead was wet +with her tears; and kisses, of soft entreaty, of winning +assurance, said all she could say. + +"What did you come here for, Fleda?" said Mr. Rossitur, at +length, without changing his position. + +"To bring you home, uncle Rolf." + +"Home!" said he, with an accent between bitterness and +despair. + +"Yes, for it's all over, it's all forgotten — there is no more +to be said about it at all," said Fleda, getting her words out +she didn't know how. + +What is forgotten?" said he, harshly. + +"All that you would wish, Sir," replied Fleda, softly and +gently; "there is no more to be done about it; and I came to +tell you, if possible, before it was too late. Oh, I'm so +glad!" and her arms and her cheek pressed closer, as fresh +tears stopped her voice. + +"How do you know, Fleda?" said Mr. Rossitur, raising his head, +and bringing hers to his shoulder, while his arms in turn +enclosed her. + +Fleda whispered, "He told me so himself." + +"Who?" + +"Mr. Thorn." + +The words were but just spoken above her breath. Mr. Rossitur +was silent for some time. + +"Are you sure you understood him?" + +"Yes, Sir; it could not have been spoken plainer." + +"Are you quite sure he meant what he said, Fleda?" + +"Perfectly sure, uncle Rolf! I know he did." + +"What stipulation did he make beforehand?" + +"He did it without any stipulation, Sir." + +"What was his inducement, then? If I know him, he is not a man +to act without any." + +Fleda's cheek was dyed, but except that, she gave no other +answer. + +"Why has it been left so long?" said her uncle, presently. + +"I don't know, Sir — he said nothing about that. He promised +that neither we nor the world should hear anything more of +it." + +"The world!" said Mr. Rossitur. + +"No, Sir; he said that only one or two persons had any notion +of it, and that their secrecy he had the means of securing." + +"Did he tell you anything more?" + +"Only that he had the matter entirely under his control, and +that never a whisper of it should be heard again. No promise +could be given more fully and absolutely." + +Mr. Rossitur drew a long breath, speaking to Fleda's ear very +great relief, and was silent. + +"And what reward is he to have for this, Fleda?" he said, +after some musing. + +"All that my hearty thanks and gratitude can give, as far as I +am concerned, Sir." + +"Is that what he expects, Fleda?" + +"I cannot help what he expects," said Fleda, in some distress. + +"What have you engaged yourself to, my child?" + +"Nothing in the world, uncle Rolf!" said Fleda, earnestly — +"nothing in the world. I haven't engaged myself to anything. +The promise was made freely, without any sort of stipulation." + +Mr. Rossitur looked thoughtful and disquieted. Fleda's tears +were pouring again. + +"I will not trust him," he said; "I will not stay in the +country!" + +"But you will come home, uncle?" said Fleda, terrified. + +"Yes, my dear child — yes, my dear child!" he said, tenderly, +putting his arms round Fleda again, and kissing, with an +earnestness of acknowledgment that went to her heart, her lips +and brow; "you shall do what you will with me; and when I go, +we will all go together." + +From Queechy? from America? But she had no time for that +thought now. + +"You said, 'for Hugh's sake,' " Mr. Rossitur observed, after a +pause, and with some apparent difficulty; "what of him?" + +"He is not well, uncle Rolf," said Fleda; "and I think the +best medicine will be the sight of you again." + +Mr. Rossitur looked pale, and was silent a moment. + +"And my wife?" he said. + +His face, and the thought of those faces at home, were too +much for Fleda; she could not help it. "Oh, uncle Rolf," she +said, hiding her face, "they only want to see you again now!" + +Mr. Rossitur leaned his head in his hands and groaned; and +Fleda could but cry; she felt there was nothing to say. + +"It was for Marion," he said at length; "it was when I was +hard pressed, and I was fearful if it were known that it might +ruin her prospects. I wanted that miserable sum — only four +thousand dollars — that fellow Schwiden asked to borrow it of +me for a few days, and to refuse would have been to confess +all. I dared not try my credit, and I just madly took that +step that proved irretrievable. I counted at the moment upon +funds that were coming to me only the next week — sure, I +thought, as possible — but the man cheated me, and our +embarrassments thickened from that time; that thing has been a +weight — oh, a weight of deadening power! — round my neck ever +since. I have died a living death these six years!" + +"I know it, dear uncle — I know it all!" said Fleda, bringing +the sympathizing touch of her cheek to his again. "The good +that it did has been unspeakably overbalanced by the evil. +Even long ago I knew that." + +"The good that it did!" It was no time then to moralize, but +he must know that Marion was at home, or he might incautiously +reveal to her what happily there was no necessity for her ever +knowing. And the story must give him great and fresh pain. + +"Dear uncle Rolf," said Fleda, pressing closer to him "we may +be happier than we have been in a long time, if you will only +take it so. The cloud upon you has been a cloud upon us." + +"I know it!" he exclaimed — "a cloud that served to show me +that my jewels were diamonds!" + +"You have an accession to your jewels, uncle Rolf." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean," said Fleda, trembling, "that there are two more at +home." + +He held her back to look at her. + +"Can't you guess who?" + +"No!" said he. "What do you mean?" + +"I must tell you, because they know nothing, and needn't know, +of all this matter." + +"What are you talking about?" + +"Marion is there!" + +"Marion!" exclaimed Mr. Rossitur, with quick changes of +expression — "Marion! At Queechy! — and her husband?" + +"No, Sir — a dear little child." + +"Marion! — and her husband — where is he?" + +Fleda hesitated. + +"I don't know — I don't know whether she knows." + +"Is he dead?" + +"No, Sir." + +Mr. Rossitur put her away, and got up and walked, or strode up +and down the little apartment. Fleda dared not look at him, +even by the faint glimmer that came from the chimney. + +But abroad it was perfectly dark — the stars were shining, the +only lamps that illumined the poor little street, and for a +long time there had been no light in the room but that of the +tiny wood fire. Dinah never could be persuaded of the superior +cheapness of coal. Fleda came at last to her uncle's side, and +putting her arm within his, said — + +"How soon will you set off for home, uncle Rolf?" + +"To-morrow morning." + +"You must take the boat to Bridgeport now — you know the river +is fast." + +"Yes, I know." + +"Then I will meet you at the wharf, uncle Rolf — at what +o'clock?" + +"My dear child," said he, stopping and passing his hand +tenderly over her cheek, "are you fit for it to-morrow? You +had better stay where you are quietly for a few days — you +want rest." + +"No, I will go home with you," said Fleda, "and rest there. +But hadn't we better let Dinah in, and bid her good-bye? for I +ought to be somewhere else to get ready." + +Dinah was called, and a few kind words spoken, and with a more +substantial remembrance, or reward, from Fleda's hand, they +left her. + +Fleda had the support of her uncle's arm till they came within +sight of the house, and then he stood and watched her while +she went the rest of the way alone. + +Anything more white and spirit-looking, and more spirit-like, +in its purity and peacefulness surely did not walk that night. +There was music in her ear, and abroad in the star-light, more +ethereal than Ariel's; but she knew where it came from — it +was the chimes of her heart that were ringing; and never a +happier peal, nor ever had the mental atmosphere been more +clear for their sounding. Thankfulness — that was the oftenest +note — swelling thankfulness for her success — joy for herself +and for the dear ones at home — generous delight at having +been the instrument of their relief — the harmonies of pure +affections, without any grating now — the hope, well grounded +she thought, of improvement in her uncle, and better times for +them all — a childlike peace that was at rest with itself and +the world — these were mingling and interchanging their music, +and again and again, in the midst of it all, faith rang the +last chime in heaven. + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + +"As some lone bird at day's departing hour +Sings in the sunbeam of the transient shower, +Forgetful though its wings are wet the while." +BOWLES. + + +Happily possessed with the notion that there was some hidden +mystery in Fleda's movements, Mrs. Pritchard said not a word +about her having gone out, and only spoke in looks her pain at +the imprudence of which she had been guilty. But when Fleda +asked to have a carriage ordered to take her to the boat in +the morning, the good housekeeper could not hold any longer. + +"Miss Fleda," said she, with a look of very serious +remonstrance — "I don't know what you're thinking of, but _I_ +know you're fixing to kill yourself. You are no more fit to go +to Queechy to-morrow than you were to be out till seven +o'clock this evening; and if you saw yourself, you wouldn't +want me to say any more. There is not the least morsel of +colour in your face, and you look as if you had a mind to get +rid of your body altogether as fast as you can! You want to be +in bed for two days running, now this minute." + +"Thank you, dear Mrs. Pritchard," said Fleda, smiling — "you +are very careful of me, but I must go home to-morrow, and go +to bed afterwards." + +The housekeeper looked at her a minute in silence, and then +said, "Don't, dear Miss Fleda!" with an energy of entreaty, +which brought the tears into Fleda's eyes. But she persisted +in desiring the carriage, and Mrs. Pritchard was silenced, +observing, however, that she shouldn't wonder if she wasn't +able to go, after all. Fleda herself was not without a doubt +on the subject before the evening was over. The reaction, +complete now, began to make itself felt, and morning settled +the question. She was not able even to rise from her bed. + +The housekeeper was, in a sort, delighted; and Fleda was in +too passive a mood of body and mind to have any care on the +subject. The agitation of the past days had given way to an +absolute quiet, that seemed as if nothing could ever ruffle it +again, and this feeling was seconded by the extreme +prostration of body. She was a mere child in the hands of her +nurse, and had, Mrs. Pritchard said, "if she wouldn't mind her +telling — the sweetest baby-face that ever had so much sense +belonging to it." + +The morning was half spent in dozing slumbers, when Fleda +heard a rush of footsteps, much lighter and sprightlier than +good Mrs. Pritchard's, coming up the stairs, and pattering +along the entry to her room, and, with little ceremony, in +rushed Florence and Constance Evelyn. They almost smothered +Fleda with their delighted caresses, and ran so hard their +questions about her looks and her illness, that she was well +nigh spared the trouble of answering. + +"You horrid little creature!" said Constance, "why didn't you +come straight to our house? Just think of the injurious +suspicions you have exposed us to! — to say nothing of the +extent of fiction we have found ourselves obliged to execute. +I didn't expect it of you, little Queechy." + +Fleda kept her pale face quiet on the pillow, and only smiled +her incredulous curiosity. + +"But when did you come back, Fleda?" said Miss Evelyn. + +"We should never have known a breath about your being here," +Constance went on. "We were sitting last night, in peaceful +unconsciousness of there being any neglected calls upon our +friendship in the vicinity, when Mr. Carleton came in and +asked for you. Imagine our horror! We said you had gone out +early in the afternoon, and had not returned." + +"You didn't say that!" said Fleda, colouring. + +"And he remarked at some length," said Constance, "upon the +importance of young ladies having some attendance when they +are out late in the evening, and that you in particular were +one of those persons — he didn't say, but he intimated, of a +slightly volatile disposition — whom their friends ought not +to lose sight of." + +"But what brought you to town again, Fleda " said the elder +sister. + +"What makes you talk so, Constance?" said Fleda. + +"I haven't told you the half!" said Constance, demurely. "And +then mamma excused herself as well as she could, and Mr. +Carleton said, very seriously, that he knew there was a great +element of headstrongness in your character; he had remarked +it, he said, when you were arguing with Mr. Stackpole." + +"Constance, be quiet!" said her sister. "_Will_ you tell me, +Fleda, what you have come to town for? I am dying with +curiosity." + +"Then it's inordinate curiosity, and ought to be checked, my +dear," said Fleda, smiling. + +"Tell me." + +"I came to take care of some business that could not very well +be attended to at a distance." + +"Who did you come with?" + +"One of our Queechy neighbours that I heard was coming to New +York." + +"Wasn't your uncle at home?" + +"Of course not. If he had been, there would have been no need +of my stirring." + +"But was there nobody else to do it but you?" + +"Uncle Orrin away, you know; and Charlton down at his post — +Fort Hamilton, is it? — I forget which fort — he is fast +there." + +"He is not so very fast," said Constance, "for I see him every +now and then in Broadway, shouldering Mr. Thorn instead of a +musket; and he has taken up the distressing idea that it is +part of his duty to oversee the progress of Florence's +worsted-work — (I've made over that horrid thing to her, +Fleda) — or else his precision has been struck with the +anomaly of blue stars on a white ground, and he is studying +that — I don't know which; and so every few nights he rushes +over from Governor's Island, or somewhere, to prosecute +inquiries. Mamma is quite concerned about him; she says he is +wearing himself out." + +The mixture of amusement, admiration, and affection, with +which the other sister looked at her, and laughed with her was +a pretty thing to see. + +"But where is your other cousin — Hugh?" said Florence. + +"He was not well." + +"Where is your uncle?" + +"He will be at home to-day, I expect; and so should I have +been — I meant to be there as soon as he was, but I found this +morning that I was not well enough — to my sorrow." + +"You were not going alone!" + +"Oh, no! — a friend of ours was going to-day." + +"I never saw anybody with so many friends, said Florence. "But +you are coming to us now, Fleda. How soon are you going to get +up?" + +"Oh, by to-morrow," said Fleda, smiling; "but I had better +stay where I am the little while I shall be here. I must go +home the first minute I can find an opportunity." + +"But you sha'n't find an opportunity till we've had you," said +Constance. "I'm going to bring a carriage for you this +afternoon. I could bear the loss of your friendship, my dear, +but not the peril of my own reputation. Mr. Carleton is under +the impression that you are suffering from a momentary +succession of fainting fits; and if we were to leave you here +in an empty house, to come out of them at your leisure, what +would he think of us?" + +What would he think? Oh, world! Is this it? + +But Fleda was not able to be moved in the afternoon; and it +soon appeared that nature would take more revenge than a day's +sleep for the rough handling she had had the past week. Fleda +could not rise from her bed the next morning; and instead of +that, a kind of nondescript nervous fever set in, nowise +dangerous, but very wearying. She was, nevertheless, extremely +glad of it, for it would serve to explain to all her friends +the change of look which had astonished them. They would make +it now the token of coming, not of past, evil. The rest she +took with her accustomed patience and quietness, thankful for +everything, after the anxiety and the relief she had just +before known. + +Dr. Gregory came home from Philadelphia in the height of her +attack, and aggravated it for a day or two with the fear of +his questioning. But Fleda was surprised at his want of +curiosity. He asked her, indeed, what she had come to town +for, but her whispered answer of "business," seemed to satisfy +him, for he did not inquire what the business was. He did ask +her, furthermore, what had made her get sick; but this time he +was satisfied more easily still, with a very curious, sweet +smile, which was the utmost reply Fleda's wits, at the moment, +could frame. "Well, get well," said he, kissing her heartily +once or twice, "and I wont quarrel with you about it." + +The getting well, however, promised to be a leisurely affair. +Dr. Gregory staid two or three days, and then went on to +Boston, leaving Fleda in no want of him. + +Mrs. Pritchard was the tenderest and carefullest of nurses. +The Evelyns did everything but nurse her. They sat by her, +talked to her, made her laugh, and not seldom made her look +sober too, with their wild tales of the world and the world's +doings. But they were indeed very affectionate and kind, and +Fleda loved them for it. If they wearied her sometimes with +their talk, it was a change from the weariness of fever and +silence that on the whole was useful. + +She was quieting herself one morning, as well as she could, in +the midst of both, lying with shut eyes against her pillow, +and trying to fix her mind on pleasant things, when she heard +Mrs. Pritchard open the door and come in. She knew it was Mrs. +Pritchard, so she didn't move nor look. But, in a moment, the +knowledge that Mrs. Pritchard's feet had stopped just by the +bed, and a strange sensation of something delicious saluting +her, made her open her eyes; when they lighted upon a huge +bunch of violets just before them, and in most friendly +neighbourhood to her nose. Fleda started up, and her "Oh!" +fairly made the housekeeper laugh; it was the very +quintessence of gratification. + +"Where did you get them?" + +"I didn't get them, indeed, Miss Fleda," said the housekeeper, +gravely, with an immense amount of delighted satisfaction. + +"Delicious! — Where did they come from?" + +"Well, they must have come from a greenhouse, or hothouse, or +something of that kind, Miss Fleda — these things don't grow +nowhere out o' doors at this time." + +Mrs. Pritchard guessed Fleda had got the clue, from her quick +change of colour and falling eye. There was a quick little +smile too; and "How kind!" was upon the end of Fleda's tongue, +but it never got any further. Her energies, so far as +expression was concerned, seemed to be concentrated in the act +of smelling. Mrs. Pritchard stood by. + +"They must be put in water," said Fleda — "I must have a dish +for them — Dear Mrs. Pritchard, will you get me one?" + +The housekeeper went, smiling to herself. The dish was +brought, the violets placed in it, and a little table, at +Fleda's request, was set by the side of the bed, close to her +pillow, for them to stand upon; and Fleda lay on her pillow +and looked at them. + + +There never were purer-breathed flowers than those. All the +pleasant associations of Fleda's life seemed to hang about +them, from the time when her childish eyes had first made +acquaintance with violets, to the conversation in the library +a few days ago; and painful things stood aloof — they had no +part. The freshness of youth, and the sweetness of spring- +time, and all the kindly influences which had ever joined with +both to bless her, came back with their blessing in the +violets' reminding breath. Fleda shut her eyes and she felt +it; she opened her eyes, and the little, double blue things +smiled at her good-humouredly, and said, "Here we are — you +may shut them again." And it was curious how often Fleda gave +them a smile back as she did so. + +Mrs. Pritchard thought Fleda lived upon the violets that day +rather than upon food and medicine; or, at least, she said, +they agreed remarkably well together. And the next day it was +much the same. + +"What will you do when they are withered?" she said, that +evening. "I shall have to see and get some more for you." + +"Oh, they will last a great while," said Fleda, smiling. + +But the next morning Mrs. Pritchard came into her room with a +great bunch of roses, the very like of the one Fleda had had +at the Evelyns'. She delivered them with a sort of silent +triumph, and then, as before, stood by to enjoy Fleda and the +flowers together. But the degree of Fleda's wonderment, +pleasure, and gratitude, made her reception of them, outwardly +at least, this time rather grave. + +"You may throw the others away now, Miss Fleda," said the +housekeeper, smiling. + +"Indeed, I shall not!" + +"The violets, I suppose, is all gone," Mrs. Pritchard went on; +"but I never did see such a bunch of roses as that since I +lived anywhere. They have made a rose of you, Miss Fleda." + +"How beautiful!" was Fleda's answer. + +"Somebody — he didn't say who — desired to know particularly +how Miss Ringgan was to-day." + +"Somebody is _very_ kind!" said Fleda, from the bottom of her +heart. "But, dear Mrs. Pritchard, I shall want another dish." + +Somebody was kind, she thought more and more; for there came +every day or two the most delicious bouquets, every day +different. They were _at least_ equal in their soothing and +refreshing influences, to all the efforts of all the Evelyns +and Mrs. Pritchard put together. There never came any name +with them, and there never was any need. Those bunches of +flowers certainly had a physiognomy; and to Fleda were (not +the flowers, but the choosing, cutting, and putting of them +together) the embodiment of an amount of grace, refined +feeling, generosity, and kindness, that her imagination never +thought of in connection with but one person. And his kindness +was answered, perhaps Mrs. Pritchard better than Fleda guessed +how well, from the delighted colour and sparkle of the eye +with which every fresh arrival was greeted as it walked into +her room. By Fleda's order, the bouquets were invariably put +out of sight before the Evelyns made their first visit in the +morning, and not brought out again till all danger of seeing +them any more for the day was past. The regular coming of +these floral messengers confirmed Mrs. Pritchard in her +mysterious surmises about Fleda, which were still further +strengthened by this incomprehensible order; and at last she +got so into the spirit of the thing, that if she heard an +untimely ring at the door, she would catch up a glass of +flowers and run as if they had been contraband, without a word +from anybody. + +The Evelyns wrote to Mrs. Rossitur, by Fleda's desire, so as +not to alarm her; merely saying that Fleda was not quite well, +and that they meant to keep her a little while to recruit +herself; and that Mrs. Rossitur must send her some clothes. +This last clause was the particular addition of Constance. + +The fever lasted a fortnight, and then went off by degrees, +leaving her with a very small portion of her ordinary +strength. Fleda was to go to the Evelyns' as soon as she could +bear it; at present she was only able to come down to the +little back parlour, and sit in the doctor's arm-chair, and +eat jelly, and sleep, and look at Constance, and, when +Constance was not there, look at her flowers. She could hardly +bear a book as yet. She hadn't a bit of colour in her face, +Mrs. Pritchard said, but she looked better than when she came +to town; and to herself the good housekeeper added, that she +looked happier too. No doubt that was true. Fleda's principal +feeling, ever since she lay down in her bed, had been +thankfulness; and now that the ease of returning health was +joined to this feeling, her face, with all its subdued +gravity, was as untroubled in its expression as the faces of +her flowers. + +She was disagreeably surprised one day, after she had been two +or three days down stairs, by a visit from Mrs. Thorn. In her +well-grounded dread of seeing one person, Fleda had given +strict orders that no _gentleman_ should be admitted; she had +not counted upon this invasion. Mrs. Thorn had always been +extremely kind to her, but though Fleda gave her credit for +thorough good-heartedness, and a true liking for herself, she +could not disconnect her attentions from another thought, and +therefore always wished them away; and never had her kind face +been more thoroughly disagreeable to Fleda than when it made +its appearance in the doctor's little back parlour on this +occasion. With even more than her usual fondness, or Fleda's +excited imagination fancied so, Mrs. Thorn lavished caresses +upon her, and finally besought her to go out and take the air +in her carriage. Fleda tried most earnestly to get rid of this +invitation, and was gently unpersuadable, till the lady at +last was brought to promise that she should see no creature +during the drive but herself. An ominous promise! but Fleda +did not know any longer how to refuse without hurting a person +for whom she had really a grateful regard. So she went, and +doubted afterwards exceedingly whether she had done well. + +She took special good care to see nobody again till she went +to the Evelyns'. But then precautions were at an end. It was +no longer possible to keep herself shut up. She had cause, +poor child, the very first night of her coming, to wish +herself back again. + +This first evening she would fain have pleaded weakness as her +excuse, and gone to her room, but Constance laid violent hands +on her, and insisted that she should stay at least a little +while with them. And she seemed fated to see all her friends +in a bevy. First came Charlton; then followed the Decaturs, +whom she knew and liked very well, and engrossed her, happily +before her cousin had time to make any inquiries; then came +Mr. Carleton; then Mr. Stackpole. Then Mr. Thorn, in +expectation of whom Fleda's breath had been coming and going +painfully all the evening. She could not meet him without a +strange mixture of embarrassment and confusion with the +gratitude she wished to express, an embarrassment not at all +lessened by the air of happy confidence with which he came +forward to her. It carried an intimation that almost took away +the little strength she had. And if anything could have made +his presence more intolerable, it was the feeling she could +not get rid of, that it was the cause why Mr. Carleton did not +come near her again, though she prolonged her stay in the +drawing-room in the hope that he would. It proved to be for +Mr. Thorn's benefit alone. + +"Well, you staid all the evening, after all," said Constance, +as they were going up stairs. + +"Yes — I wish I hadn't," said Fleda. "I wonder when I shall be +likely to find a chance of getting back to Queechy?" + +"You're not fit yet, so you needn't trouble yourself about +it," said Constance. "We'll find you plenty of chances." + +Fleda could not think of Mr. Thorn without trembling. His +manner meant — so much more than it had any right, or than she +had counted upon. He seemed — she pressed her hands upon her +face to get rid of the impression — he seemed to take for +granted precisely that which she had refused to admit; he +seemed to reckon as paid for that which she had declined to +set a price upon. Her uncle's words and manner came up in her +memory. She could see nothing best to do but to get home as +fast as possible. She had no one here to fall back upon. Again +that vision of father and mother, and grandfather, flitted +across her fancy; and though Fleda's heart ended by resting +down on that foundation to which it always recurred, it rested +with a great many tears. + +For several days she denied herself absolutely to morning +visitors of every kind. But she could not entirely absent +herself from the drawing-room in the evening; and whenever the +family were at home there was a regular levee. Mr. Thorn could +not be avoided then. He was always there, and always with that +same look and manner of satisfied confidence. Fleda was as +grave, as silent, as reserved, as she could possibly be, and +not be rude; but he seemed to take it in excellent good part, +as being half indisposition and half timidity. Fleda set her +face earnestly towards home, and pressed Mrs. Evelyn to find +her an opportunity, weak or strong, of going there; but for +those days as yet none presented itself. + +Mr. Carleton was at the house almost as often as Mr. Thorn, +seldom staying so long, however, and never having any more to +do with Fleda than he had that first evening. Whenever he did +come in contact with her, he was, she thought, as grave as he +was graceful. That was, to be sure, his common manner in +company, yet she could not help thinking there was some +difference since the walk they had taken together — and it +grieved her. + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + +"The best-laid schemes o' mice and men +Gang aft ajee." + + +After a few days, Charlton verified what Constance had said +about his not being very fast at Fort Hamilton, by coming +again to see them one morning. Fleda asked him if he could not +get another furlough to go with her home, but he declared he +was just spending one which was near out; and he could not +hope for a third in some time; he must be back at his post by +the day after to-morrow. + +"When do you want to go, coz?" + +"I would to-morrow, if I had anybody to go with me," said +Fleda, sighing. + +"No, you wouldn't," said Constance; "you are well enough to go +out now, and you forget we are all to make Mrs. Thorn happy +to-morrow night." + +"I am not," said Fleda. + +"Not? you can't help yourself — you must; you said you would." + +"I did not, indeed." + +"Well, then, I said it for you, and that will do just as well. +Why, my dear, if you don't — just think! — the Thorns will be +in a state — I should prefer to go through a hedge of any +description rather than meet the trying demonstrations which +will encounter me on every side." + +"I am going to Mrs. Decatur's," said Fleda; "she invited me +first, and I owe it to her; she has asked me so often and so +kindly." + +"I shouldn't think you'd enjoy yourself there," said Florence; +"they don't talk a bit of English these nights. If I was +going, my dear, I would act as your interpreter, but my +destiny lies in another direction." + +"If I cannot make anybody understand my French, I will get +somebody to condescend to my English," said Fleda. + +"Why, do you talk French?" was the instant question from both +mouths. + +"Unless she has forgotten herself strangely," said Charlton. +"Talk! she will talk to anybody's satisfaction — that happens +to differ from her; and I think her tongue cares very little +which language it wags in. There is no danger about Fleda's +enjoying herself, where people are talking." + +Fleda laughed at him, and the Evelyns rather stared at them +both. + +"But we are all going to Mrs. Thorn's? you can't go alone?" + +"I will make Charlton take me," said Fleda; "or rather I will +take him, if he will let me. Will you, Charlton? will you take +care of me to Mrs. Decatur's to-morrow night?" + +"With the greatest pleasure, my dear coz; but I have another +engagement in the course of the evening." + +"Oh, that is nothing," said Fleda; "if you will only go with +me, that is all I care for. You needn't stay but ten minutes. +And you can call for me," she added, turning to the Evelyns, +"as you come back from Mrs. Thorn's." + +To this no objection could be made, and the ensuing raillery +Fleda bore with steadiness at least, if not with coolness; for +Charlton heard it, and she was distressed. + +She went to Mrs. Decatur's the next evening in greater elation +of spirits than she had known since she left her uncle's; +delighted to be missing from the party at Mrs. Thorn's, and +hoping that Mr. Lewis would be satisfied with this very plain +hint of her mind. A little pleased, too, to feel quite free, +alone from too friendly eyes, and ears that had too lively a +concern in her sayings and doings. She did not in the least +care about going to Mrs. Decatur's; her joy was that she was +not at the other place. But there never was elation so +outwardly quiet. Nobody would have suspected its existence. + +The evening was near half over when Mr. Carleton came in. +Fleda had half hoped he would be there, and now immediately +hoped she might have a chance to see him alone, and to thank +him for his flowers; she had not been able to do that yet. He +presently came up to speak to her, just as Charlton, who had +found attraction enough to keep him so long, came to tell her +he was going. + +"You are looking better," said the former, as gravely as ever, +but with an eye of serious interest that made the words +something. + +"I am better," said Fleda, gratefully. + +"So much better that she is in a hurry to make herself worse," +said her cousin. "Mr. Carleton, you are a professor of +medicine, I believe. I have an indistinct impression of your +having once prescribed a ride on horseback for somebody; +wouldn't you recommend some measure of prudence to her +consideration?" + +"In general," Mr. Carleton answered, gravely; "but in the +present case I could not venture upon any special +prescription, Captain Rossitur." + +"As, for instance, that she should remain in New York till she +is fit to leave it. By the way, what brought you here again in +such a hurry, Fleda? I haven't heard that yet." + +The question was rather sudden. Fleda was a little taken by +surprise. Her face showed some pain and confusion both. Mr. +Carleton prevented her answer, she could not tell whether with +design. + +"What imprudence do you charge your cousin with, Captain +Rossitur?" + +"Why, she is in a great hurry to get back to Queechy, before +she is able to go anywhere — begging me to find an escort for +her. It is lucky I can't. I didn't know I ever should be glad +to be 'posted up' in this fashion, but I am." + +"You have not sought very far, Captain Rossitur," said the +voice of Thorn behind him. "Here is one that will be very +happy to attend Miss Fleda, whenever she pleases." + +Fleda's shocked start and change of countenance was seen by +more eyes than one pair. Thorn's fell, and a shade crossed his +countenance, too, for an instant, that Fleda's vision was too +dazzled to see. Mr. Carleton moved away. + +"Why are _you_ going to Queechy?" said Charlton, astonished. + +His friend was silent a moment, perhaps for want of power to +speak. Fleda dared not look at him. + +"It is not impossible — unless this lady forbid me. I am not a +fixture." + +"But what brought you here, man, to offer your services?" said +Charlton; "most ungallantly leaving so many pairs of bright +eyes to shine upon your absence." + +"Mr. Thorn will not find himself in darkness here, Captain +Rossitur," said Mrs. Decatur. + +"It's my opinion he ought, Ma'am," said Charlton. + +"It is my opinion every man ought, who makes his dependance on +gleams of sunshine," said Mr. Thorn, rather cynically. "I +cannot say I was thinking of brightness, before or behind me." + +"I should think not," said Charlton; "you don't look as if you +had seen any in a good while." + +"A light goes out every now and then," said Thorn; "and it +takes one's eyes some time to get accustomed to it. What a +singular world we live in, Mrs. Decatur!" + +"That is so new an idea," said the lady, laughing, "that I +must request an explanation." + +"What new experience of its singularity has your wisdom made?" +said his friend. "I thought you and the world knew each +other's faces pretty well before." + +"Then you have not heard the news?" + +"What news?" + +"Hum — I suppose it is not about, yet," said Thorn, +composedly. "No — you haven't heard it." + +"But what, man?" said Charlton; "let's hear your news, for I +must be off." + +"Why — but it is no more than rumour yet — but it is said that +strange things are coming to light about a name that used to +be held in very high respect." + +"In this city?" + +"In this city? — yes; it is said proceedings are afoot against +one of our oldest citizens, on charge of a very grave +offence." + +"Who — and what offence? what do you mean?" + +"Is it a secret, Mr. Thorn?" said Mrs. Decatur. + +"If you have not heard, perhaps it is as well not to mention +names too soon; if it comes out, it will be all over directly; +possibly the family may hush it up, and, in that case, the +less said the better; but those have it in hand that will not +let it slip through their fingers." + +Mrs. Decatur turned away, saying, "How shocking such things +were!" and Thorn, with a smile which did not, however, light +up his face, said — + +"You may be off, Charlton, with no concern for the bright eyes +you leave behind you; I will endeavour to atone for my +negligence elsewhere, by my mindfulness of them." + +"Don't excuse you," said Charlton; but his eye catching at the +moment another attraction opposite in the form of man or +woman, instead of quitting the room, he leisurely crossed it +to speak to the new-comer; and Thorn, with an entire change of +look and manner, pressed forward, and offered his arm to +Fleda, who was looking perfectly white. If his words had +needed any commentary, it was given by his eye as it met hers, +in speaking the last sentence to Mrs. Decatur. No one was near +whom she knew, and Mr. Thorn led her out to a little back room +where the gentlemen had thrown off their cloaks, where the air +was fresher, and placing her on a seat, stood waiting before +her till she could speak to him. + +"What do you mean, Mr. Thorn?" Fleda looked as much as said, +when she could meet his face. + +"I may rather ask you what _you_ mean, Miss Fleda," he answered, +gravely. + +Fleda drew breath painfully. + +"I mean nothing," she said, lowering her head again; "I have +done nothing." + +"Did you think I meant nothing when I agreed to do all you +wished?" + +"I thought you said you would do it freely," she said, with a +tone of voice that might have touched anybody, there was such +a sinking of heart in it. + +"Didn't you understand me?" + +"And is it all over now?" said Fleda, after a pause. + +"Not yet; but it soon may be. A weak hand may stop it now — it +will soon be beyond the power of the strongest." + +"And what becomes of your promise that it should no more be +heard of?" said Fleda, looking up at him with a colourless +face, but eyes that put the question forcibly, nevertheless. + +"Is any promise bound to stand without its conditions?" + +"I made no conditions," said Fleda, quickly. + +"Forgive me! but did you not permit me to understand them?" + +"No! or if I did, I could not help it." + +"Did you say that you wished to help it?" said he, gently. + +"I must say so now, then, Mr. Thorn," said Fleda, withdrawing +the hand he had taken; "I did not mean or wish you to think +so, but I was too ill to speak — almost to know what I did. It +was not my fault." + +"You do not make it mine, that I chose such a time, selfishly, +I grant, to draw from your lips the words that are more to me +than life?" + +"Cannot you be generous ?" _for once_, she was very near saying. + +"Where you are concerned, I do not know how." + +Fleda was silent a moment, and then bowed her face in her +hands. + +"May I not ask that question of you?" said he, bending down +and endeavouring to remove them; "will you not say — or look — +that word that will make others happy beside me?" + +"I cannot, Sir." + +"Not for their sakes?" he said, calmly. + +"Can you ask me to do for theirs, what I would not for my +own?" + +"Yes — for mine," he said, with a meaning deliberateness. + +Fleda was silent, with a face of white determination. + +"It will be beyond _eluding_, as beyond recal, the second time. +I may seem selfish — I am selfish — but, dear Miss Ringgan, +you do not see all — you, who make me so, can make me anything +else with a touch of your hand — it is selfishness that would +be bound to your happiness, if you did but entrust it to me." + +Fleda neither spoke nor looked at him, and rose up from her +chair. + +"Is this _your_ generosity?" he said, pointedly, though gently. + +"That is not the question now, Sir," said Fleda, who was +trembling painfully. "I cannot do evil that good may come." + +"But _evil?_" said he, detaining her — "what evil do I ask of +you? to _remove_ evil, I do." + +Fleda clasped her hands, but answered calmly — + +"I cannot make any pretences, Sir; I cannot promise to give +what is not in my power." + +"In whose power, then?" said he, quickly. + +A feeling of indignation came to Fleda's aid, and she turned +away. But he stopped her still. + +"Do you think I do not understand?" he said, with a covert +sneer, that had the keenness, and hardness, and the brightness +of steel. + +"_I_ do not, Sir," said Fleda. + +"Do you think I do not know whom you came here to meet?" + +Fleda's glance of reproach was a most innocent one, but it did +not check him. + +"Has that fellow renewed his old admiration of you?" he went +on, in the same tone. + +"Do not make me desire his old protection," said Fleda, her +gentle face roused to a flush of displeasure. + +"Protection!" said Charlton, coming in, "who wants protection? +here it is — protection from what? my old friend Lewis? what +the deuce does this lady want of protection, Mr. Thorn?" + +It was plain enough that Fleda wanted it, from the way she was +drooping upon his arm. + +"You may ask the lady herself," said Thorn, in the same tone +he had before used; — "I have not the honour to be her +spokesman." + +"She don't need one," said Charlton; "I addressed myself to +you — speak for yourself, man." + +"I am not sure that it would be her pleasure I should," said +Thorn. "Shall I tell this gentleman, Miss Ringgan, who needs +protection, and from what?" + +Fleda raised her head, and, putting her hand on his arm, +looked a concentration of entreaty — lips were sealed. + +"Will you give me," said he, gently taking the hand in his +own, "your sign-manual for Captain Rossitur's security? It is +not too late. Ask it of her, Sir." + +"What does this mean?" said Charlton, looking from his cousin +to his friend. + +"You shall have the pleasure of knowing, Sir, just so soon as +I find it convenient." + +"I will have a few words with you on this subject, my fine +fellow," said Captain Rossitur, as the other was preparing to +leave the room. + +"You had better speak to somebody else," said Thorn. "But I am +ready." + +Charlton muttered an imprecation upon his absurdity, and +turned his attention to Fleda, who needed it, and yet desired +anything else. For a moment she had an excuse for not +answering his questions in her inability; and then, +opportunely, Mrs. Decatur came in to look after her; and she +was followed by her daughter. Fleda roused all her powers to +conceal and command her feelings; rallied herself; said she +had been a little weak and faint; drank water, and declared +herself able to go back into the drawing-room. To go home +would have been her utmost desire, but at the instant her +energies were all bent to the one point of putting back +thought, and keeping off suspicion. And in the first hurry and +bewilderment of distress, the dread of finding herself alone +with Charlton, till she had had time to collect her thoughts, +would of itself have been enough to prevent her accepting the +proposal. + +She entered the drawing-room again on Mrs. Decatur's arm, and +had stood a few minutes talking or listening, with that same +concentration of all her faculties upon the effort to bear up +outwardly, when Charlton came up to ask if he should leave +her. Fleda made no objection, and he was out of her sight, far +enough to be beyond reach or recal, when it suddenly struck +her that she ought not to have let him go without speaking to +him — without entreating him to see her in the morning before +he saw Thorn. The sickness of this new apprehension was too +much for poor Fleda's power of keeping up. She quietly drew +her arm from Mrs. Decatur's, saying that she would sit down; +and sought out a place for herself, apart from the rest, by an +engraving-stand, where for a little while, not to seem +unoccupied, she turned over print after print, that she did +not see. Even that effort failed at last; and she sat gazing +at one of Sir Thomas Lawrence's bright-faced children, and +feeling as if in herself the tides of life were setting back +upon their fountain preparatory to being still for ever. She +became sensible that some one was standing beside the +engravings, and looked up at Mr. Carleton. + +"Are. you ill?" he said, very gently and tenderly. + +The answer was a quick motion of Fleda's hand to her head, +speaking sudden pain, and perhaps sudden difficulty of self- +command. She did not speak. + +"Will you have anything?" + +A whispered "No." + +"Would you like to return to Mrs. Evelyn's? — I have a +carriage here." + +With a look of relief that seemed to welcome him as her good +angel, Fleda instantly rose up, and took the arm he offered +her. She would have hastened from the room then, but he gently +checked her pace; and Fleda was immediately grateful for the +quiet and perfect shielding from observation that his manner +secured her. He went with her up the stairs, and to the very +door of the dressing-room. There Fleda hurried on her shoes +and mufflers in trembling fear that some one might come and +find her, gained Mr. Carleton's arm again, and was placed in +the carriage. + +The drive was in perfect silence, and Fleda's agony deepened +and strengthened with every minute. She had freedom to think, +and thought did but carry a torch into chamber after chamber +of misery. There seemed nothing to be done. She could not get +hold of Charlton; and if she could? — Nothing could be less +amenable than his passions to her gentle restraints. Mr. Thorn +was still less approachable or manageable, except in one way — +that she did not even think of. His insinuations about Mr. +Carleton did not leave even a tinge of embarrassment upon her +mind; they were cast from her as insulting absurdities, which +she could not think of a second time without shame. + +The carriage rolled on with them a long time without a word +being said. Mr. Carleton knew that she was not weeping nor +faint. But as the light of the lamps was now and then cast +within the carriage, he saw that her face looked ghastly; and +he saw too, that its expression was not of a quiet sinking +under sorrow, nor of an endeavour to bear up against it, but a +wild searching gaze into the darkness of _possibilities_. They +had near reached Mrs. Evelyn's. + +"I cannot see you so," he said, gently touching the hand which +lay listlessly beside him. "You are ill!" + +Again the same motion of the other hand to her face, the quick +token of great pain suddenly stirred. + +"For the sake of old times, let me ask," said he — "can +nothing be done?" + +Those very gentle and delicate tones of sympathy and kindness +were too much to bear. The hand was snatched away to be +pressed to her face. O that those old times were back again, +and she a child that could ask his protection! — no one to +give it now. + +He was silent a moment. Fleda's head bowed beneath the mental +pressure. + +"Has Dr. Gregory returned?" + +The negative answer was followed by a half-uttered exclamation +of longing — checked midway, but sufficiently expressive of +her want. + +"Do you trust me?" he said, after another second of pausing. + +"Perfectly!" said Fleda, amidst her tears, too much excited to +know what she was saying, and in her simplicity half +forgetting that she was not a child still; — "more than any +one in the world!" + +The few words he had spoken, and the manner of them, had +curiously borne her back years in a minute; she seemed to be +under his care more than for the drive home. He did not speak +again for a minute; when he did, his tone was very quiet, and +lower than before. + +"Give me what a friend can have in charge to do for you, and +it shall be done." + +Fleda raised her head, and looked out of the window, in a +silence of doubt. The carriage stopped at Mrs. Evelyn's. + +"Not now," said Mr. Carleton, as the servant was about to open +the door — "drive round the square — till I speak to you." + +Fleda was motionless and almost breathless with uncertainty. +If Charlton could be hindered from meeting Mr. Thorn — but how +could Mr. Carleton effect it? But there was that in him or in +his manner, which invariably created confidence in his +ability, or fear of it, even in strangers; and how much more +in her who had a childish but very clear recollection of +several points in his character which confirmed the feeling. +And might not something be done, through his means, to +facilitate her uncle's escape? of whom she seemed to herself +now the betrayer. But to tell him the story! — a person of his +high nice notions of character — what a distance it would put +even between his friendship and her — but that thought was +banished instantly, with one glance at Mr. Thorn's imputation +of ungenerousness. To sacrifice herself to _him_ would not have +been generosity — to lower herself in the esteem of a +different character, she felt, called for it. There was time +even then, too, for one swift thought of the needlessness and +bitter fruits of wrong-doing. But here they were — should she +make them known, and trouble Mr. Carleton, friend though he +were, with these miserable matters in which he had no concern? +She sat with a beating heart and a very troubled brow, but a +brow as easy to read as a child's. It was the trouble of +anxious questioning. Mr. Carleton watched it for a little +while — undecided as ever, and more pained. + +"You said you trusted me," he said quietly, taking her hand +again. + +"But — I don't know what you could do, Mr. Carleton," Fleda +said, with a trembling voice. + +"Will you let me be the judge of that?" + +"I cannot bear to trouble you with these miserable things —" + +"You cannot," said he, with that same quiet tone, "but by +thinking and saying so. I can have no greater pleasure than to +take pains for you." + +Fleda heard these words precisely, and with the same +simplicity as a child would have heard them, and answered with +a very frank burst of tears — soon, as soon as possible, +according to her custom, driven back, though even in the act +of quieting herself, they broke forth again as uncontrollably +as at first. But Mr. Carleton had not long to wait. She raised +her head again after a short struggle, with the wonted look of +patience sitting upon her brow, and wiping away her tears, +paused merely for breath and voice. He was perfectly silent. + +"Mr. Carleton, I will tell you," she began; "I hardly know +whether I ought or ought not" — and her hand went to her +forehead for a moment — "but I cannot think to-night — and I +have not a friend to apply to" — + +She hesitated; and then went on, with a voice that trembled +and quavered sadly. + +"Mr. Thorn has a secret — of my uncle's — in his power — which +he promised — without conditions — to keep faithfully; and now +insists that he will not — but upon conditions" — + +"And cannot the conditions be met?" + +"No — and, oh, I may as well tell you at once!" said Fleda in +bitter sorrow; "it is a crime that he committed" — + +"Mr. Thorn?" + +"No — O no!" said Fleda, weeping bitterly, "not he" — + +Her agitation was excessive for a moment; then she threw it +off, and spoke more collectedly, though with exceeding +depression of manner. + +"It was long ago — when he was in trouble — he put Mr. Thorn's +name to a note, and never was able to take it up; and nothing +was ever heard about it till lately; and last week he was +going to leave the country, and Mr. Thorn promised that the +proceedings should be entirely given up; and that was why I +came to town, to find uncle Rolf, and bring him home; and I +did, and he is gone; and now Mr. Thorn says, it is all going +on again, and that he will not escape this time; and I have +done it!" — + +Fleda writhed again in distress. + +"Thorn promised without conditions?" + +"Certainly — he promised freely — and now he insists upon +them; and you see uncle Rolf would have been safe out of the +country now, if it hadn't been for me" — + +"I think I can undo this snarl," said Mr. Carleton, calmly. + +"But that is not all," said Fleda, a little quieted; "Charlton +came in this evening when we were talking, and he was +surprised to find me so, and Mr. Thorn was in a very ill +humour, and some words passed between them, and Charlton +threatened to see him again; and oh, if he does!" said poor +Fleda — "that will finish our difficulties! — for Charlton is +very hot, and I know how it will end — how it must end" — + +"Where is your cousin to be found?" + +"I don't know where he lodges when he is in town." + +"You did not leave him at Mrs. Decatur's. Do you know where he +is this evening?" + +"Yes!" said Fleda, wondering that she should have heard and +remembered; "he said he was going to meet a party of his +brother officers at Mme. Fouché's — a sister-in-law of his +Colonel, I believe." + +"I know her. This note — was it the name of the young Mr. +Thorn, or of his father that was used?" + +"Of his father." + +"Has _he_ appeared at all in this business?" + +"No," said Fleda, feeling for the first time that there was +something notable about it. + +"What sort of person do you take him to be?" + +"Very kind — very pleasant, always, he has been to me, and I +should think to everybody — very unlike the son." + +Mr. Carleton had ordered the coachman back to Mrs. Evelyn's. + +"Do you know the amount of the note? It may be desirable that +I should not appear uninformed." + +"It was for four thousand dollars," Fleda said, in the low +voice of shame. + +"And when given?" + +"I don't know exactly — but six years ago — some time in the +winter of '43, it must have been." + +He said no more till the carriage stopped; and then, before +handing her out of it, lifted her hand to his lips. That +carried all the promise Fleda wanted, from him. How oddly — +how curiously, her hand kept the feeling of that kiss upon it +all night! + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + +"Heat not a furnace for your friend so hot +That it may singe yourself." +SHAKESPEARE. + + +Mr. Carleton went to Madame Fouché's, who received most +graciously, as any lady would, his apology for introducing +himself unlooked-for, and begged that he would commit the same +fault often. As soon as practicable, he made his way to +Charlton, and invited him to breakfast with him the next +morning. + +Mrs. Carleton always said it never was known that Guy was +refused anything he had a mind to ask. Charlton, though taken +by surprise, and certainly not too much prepossessed in his +favour, was won by an influence that, where its owner chose to +exert it, was generally found irresistible; and not only +accepted the invitation, but was conscious to himself of doing +it with a good deal of pleasure. Even when Mr. Carleton made +the further request that Captain Rossitur would, in the +meantime, see no one on business of any kind, intimating that +the reason would then be given, Charlton, though startling a +little at this restraint upon his freedom of motion, could do +no other than give the desired promise, and with the utmost +readiness. Guy then went to Mr. Thorn's. It was, by this time, +not early. + +"Mr. Lewis Thorn — is he at home?" + +"He is, Sir," said the servant, admitting him rather +hesitatingly. + +"I wish to see him a few moments on business." + +"It is no hour for business," said the voice of Mr. Lewis from +over the balusters — "I can't see anybody to-night." + +"I ask but a few minutes," said Mr. Carleton. "It is +important." + +"It may be anything!" said Thorn. "I wont do business after +twelve o'clock." + +Mr. Carleton desired the servant to carry his card, with the +same request, to Mr. Thorn the elder. + +"What's that?" said Thorn, as the man came up stairs — "my +father? — Pshaw! _he_ can't attend to it. Well, walk up, Sir, if +you please! — may as well have it over and done with it." + +Mr. Carleton mounted the stairs and followed the young +gentleman into an apartment, to which he rapidly led the way. + +"You've no objection to this, I suppose?" Thorn remarked, as +he locked the door behind them. + +"Certainly not," said Mr. Carleton, coolly, taking out the key +and putting it in his pocket — "my business is private — it +needs no witnesses." + +"Especially as it so nearly concerns yourself," said Thorn, +sneeringly. + +"Which part of it, Sir?" said Mr. Carleton, with admirable +breeding. It vexed, at the same time that it constrained +Thorn. + +"I'll let you know, presently!" he said, hurriedly proceeding +to the lower end of the room, where some cabinets stood, and +unlocking door after door in mad haste. + +The place had somewhat the air of a study — perhaps Thorn's +private room. A long table stood in the middle of the floor, +with materials for writing, and a good many books were about +the room, in cases and on the tables, with maps, and +engravings, and portfolio's, and a nameless collection of +articles — the miscellaneous gathering of a man of leisure and +some literary taste. + +Their owner presently came back from the cabinets with tokens +of a very different kind about him. + +"There, Sir!" he said, offering to his guest a brace of most +inhospitable-looking pistols — "take one, and take your stand, +as soon as you please — nothing like coming to the point at +once!" + +He was heated and excited even more than his manner indicated. +Mr. Carleton glanced at him, and stood quietly examining the +pistol he had taken. It was already loaded. + +"This is a business that comes upon me by surprise," he said, +calmly. "I don't know what I have to do with this, Mr. Thorn." + +"Well, I do," said Thorn, "and that's enough. Take your place, +Sir! You escaped me once, but " — and he gave his words +dreadful emphasis — "you wont do it the second time!" + +"You do not mean," said the other, "that your recollection of +such an offence has lived out so many years?" + +"No, Sir! No Sir!" said Thorn — "it is not that. I despise it, +as I do the offender. You have touched me more nearly." + +"Let me know ill what," said Mr. Carleton, turning his +pistol's mouth down upon the table, and leaning on it. + +"You know already — what do you ask me for?" said Thorn, who +was foaming; "if you say you don't, you lie heartily. I'll +tell you nothing but out of _this_." + +"I have not knowingly injured you, Sir — in a whit." + +"Then a Carleton may be a liar," said Thorn, "and you are one +— I dare say not the first. Put yourself there, Sir, will +you?" + +"Well," said Guy, carelessly, "if it is decreed that I am to +fight, of course there's no help for it; but as I have +business on hand that might not be so well done afterwards, I +must beg your attention to that in the first place." + +"No, Sir," said Thorn, "I'll attend to nothing — I'll hear +nothing from you. I know you! I'll not hear a word. I'll see +to the business! Take your stand." + +"I will not have anything to do with pistols," said Mr. +Carleton, coolly, laying his out of his hand; "they make too +much noise." + +"Who cares for the noise?" said Thorn. "It wont hurt you; and +the door is locked." + +"But people's ears are not," said Guy. + +Neither tone, nor attitude, nor look, had changed in the least +its calm gracefulness. It began to act upon Thorn. + +"Well, in the devil's name, have your own way," said he, +throwing down his pistol too, and going back to the cabinets +at the lower end of the room — "there are rapiers here, if you +like them better — _I_ don't — the shortest the best for me — +but here they are — take your choice." + +Guy examined them carefully for a few minutes, and then laid +them both, with a firm hand upon them, on the table. + +"I will choose neither, Mr. Thorn, till you have heard me. I +came here to see you on the part of others — I should be a +recreant to my charge if I allowed you or myself to draw me +into anything that might prevent my fulfilling it. That must +be done first." + +Thorn looked with a lowering brow on the indications of his +opponent's eye and attitude; they left him plainly but one +course to take. + +"Well, speak and have done," he said, as in spite of himself; +"but I know it already." + +"I am here as a friend of Mr. Rossitur." + +"Why don't you say a friend of somebody else, and come nearer +the truth?" said Thorn. + +There was an intensity of expression in his sneer, but pain +was there as well as anger; and it was with even a feeling of +pity that Mr. Carleton answered — + +"The truth will be best reached, Sir, if I am allowed to +choose my own words." + +There was no haughtiness in the steady gravity of this speech, +whatever there was in the quiet silence he permitted to +follow. Thorn did not break it. + +"I am informed of the particulars concerning this prosecution +of Mr. Rossitur — I am come here to know if no terms can be +obtained." + +"No!" said Thorn — "no terms — I wont speak of terms. The +matter will be followed up now till the fellow is lodged in +jail, where he deserves to be." + +"Are you aware, Sir, that this, if done, will be the cause of +very great distress to a family who have not deserved it?" + +"That can't be helped," said Thorn. "Of course, it must cause +distress, but you can't act upon that. Of course, when a man +turns rogue, he ruins his family — that's part of his +punishment — and a just one." + +"The law is just," said Mr. Carleton, "but a friend may be +merciful." + +"I don't pretend to be a friend," said Thorn, viciously, "and +I have no cause to be merciful. I like to bring a man to +public shame when he has forfeited his title to anything else; +and I intend that Mr. Rossitur shall become intimately +acquainted with the interior of the State's prison." + +"Did it ever occur to you that public shame _might_ fall upon +other than Mr. Rossitur, and without the State prison?" + +Thorn fixed a somewhat startled look upon the steady powerful +eye of his opponent, and did not like its meaning. + +"You must explain yourself, Sir," he said, haughtily. + +"I am acquainted with _all_ the particulars of this proceeding, +Mr. Thorn. If it goes abroad, so surely will they." + +"She told you, did she?" said Thorn, in a sudden flash of +fury. + +Mr. Carleton was silent, with his air of imperturbable +reserve, telling and expressing nothing but a cool +independence that put the world at a distance. + +"Ha!" said Thorn, "it is easy to see why our brave Englishman +comes here to solicit 'terms' for his honest friend Rossitur — +he would not like the scandal of franking letters to Sing +Sing. Come, Sir!" he said, snatching up the pistol, "our +business is ended — come, I say, or I wont wait for you." + +But the pistol was struck from his hand. + +"Not yet," said Mr. Carleton, calmly, "you shall have your +turn at these — mind, I promise you; but my business must be +done first — till then, let them alone." + +"Well, what is it?" said Thorn, impatiently. "Rossitur will be +a convict, I tell you; so you'll have to give up all thoughts +of his niece, or pocket her shame along with her. What more +have you got to say? that's all your business, I take it." + +"You are mistaken, Mr. Thorn," said Mr. Carleton, gravely. + +"Am I? In what ?" + +"In every position of your last speech." + +"It don't affect your plans and views, I suppose, personally, +whether this prosecution is continued or not?" + +"It does not in the least." + +"It is indifferent to you, I suppose, what sort of a queen +consort you carry to your little throne of a provinciality +down yonder?" + +"I will reply to you, Sir, when you come back to the subject," +said Mr. Carleton, coldly. + +"You mean to say that your pretensions have not been in the +way of mine?" + +"I have made none, Sir." + +"Doesn't she like you?" + +"I have never asked her." + +"Then, what possessed her to tell you all this to-night?" + +"Simply because I was an old friend, and the only one at hand, +I presume." + +"And you do not look for any reward of your services, of +course?" + +"I wish for none, Sir, but her relief." + +"Well, it don't signify," said Thorn, with a mixture of +expressions in his face — "if I believed you, which I don't — +it don't signify a hair what you do, when once this matter is +known. I should never think of advancing my pretensions into a +felon's family." + +"You know that the lady in whose welfare you take so much +interest will in that case suffer aggravated distress as +having been the means of hindering Mr. Rossitur's escape." + +"Can't help it," said Thorn, beating the table with a ruler; +"so she has; she must suffer for it. It isn't my fault." + +"You are willing, then, to abide the consequences of a full +disclosure of all the circumstances? — for part will not come +out without the whole." + +"There is happily nobody to tell them," said Thorn, with a +sneer. + +"Pardon me — they will not only be told, but known thoroughly +in all the circles in this country that know Mr. Thorn's +name." + +"_The lady_," said Thorn, in the same tone, "would hardly relish +such a publication of _her_ name — _her welfare_ would be scantily +advantaged by it." + +"I will take the risk of that upon myself," said Mr. Carleton, +quietly; "and the charge of the other." + +"You dare not !" said Thorn. "You shall not go alive out of +this room to do it! Let me have it, Sir! You said you would." + +His passion was at a fearful height, for the family pride +which had been appealed to, felt a touch of fear, and his +other thoughts were confirmed again, besides the dim vision of +a possible thwarting of all his plans. Desire almost +concentred itself upon revenge against the object that +threatened them. He had thrown himself again towards the +weapons which lay beyond his reach, but was met, and forcibly +withheld from them. + +"Stand back!" said Mr. Carleton. "I said I would, but I am not +ready — finish this business first." + +"What is there to finish?" said Thorn, furiously — "you will +never live to do anything out of these doors again — you are +mocking yourself." + +"My life is not in your hands, Sir, and I will settle this +matter before I put it in peril. If not with you, with Mr. +Thorn, your father, to whom it more properly belongs." + +"You cannot leave the room to see him," said Thorn, +sneeringly. + +"That is at my pleasure," said the other, "unless hindered by +means I do not think you will use." + +Thorn was silent. + +"Will you yield anything of justice, once more, in favour of +this distressed family?" + +"That is, yield the whole, and let the guilty go free?" + +"When the punishment of the offender would involve that of so +many unoffending, who, in this case, would feel it with +peculiar severity." + +"He deserves it, if it was only for the money he has kept me +out of; he ought to be made to refund what he has stolen, if +it took the skin off his back!" + +"That part of his obligation," said Mr. Carleton, "I am +authorised to discharge, on condition of having the note given +up. I have a cheque with me which I am commissioned to fill +up, from one of the best names here. I need only the date of +the note, which the giver of the cheque did not know." + +Thorn hesitated, again tapping the table with the ruler in a +troubled manner. He knew, by the calm erect figure before him +and the steady eye he did not care to meet, that the threat of +disclosure would be kept. He was not prepared to brave it, in +case his revenge should fail; and if it did not — + +"It is deuced folly," he said, at length, with a half laugh, +"for I shall have it back again in five minutes, if my eye +don't play me a trick; however, if you will have it so, I +don't care. There are chances in all things." + +He went again to the cabinets, and presently brought the +endorsed note. Mr. Carleton gave it a cool and careful +examination, to satisfy himself of its being the true one, and +then delivered him the cheque — the blank duly filled up. + +"There are chances in nothing, Sir," he said, as he proceeded +to burn the note effectually in the candle. + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean that there is a Supreme Disposer of all things, who, +among the rest, has our lives in his hand. And now, Sir, I +will give you that chance at my life for which you have been +so eagerly wishing." + +"Well, take your place," said Thorn, seizing his pistol, "and +take your arms, put yourself at the end of the table, never +mind the noise!" + +"I shall stand here," said Mr. Carleton, quietly folding his +arms; "you may take your place where you please." + +"But you are not armed," said Thorn, impatiently: "why don't +you get ready? what are you waiting for?" + +"I have nothing to do with arms," said Mr. Carleton, smiling; +"I have no wish to hurt you, Mr. Thorn; I bear you no ill- +will. But you may do what you please with me." + +"But you promised!" said Thorn, in desperation. + +"I abide by my promise, Sir." + +Thorn's pistol hand fell — he looked _dreadfully_. There was a +silence of several minutes. + +"Well?" said Mr. Carleton, looking up and smiling. + +"I can do nothing, unless you will," said Thorn, hoarsely, and +looking hurriedly away. + +"I am at your pleasure, Sir! But, on my own part, I have none +to gratify." + +There was silence again, during which Thorn's face was +pitiable in its darkness. He did not stir. + +"I did not come here in enmity, Mr. Thorn," said Guy, after a +little, approaching him — "I have none now. If you believe me, +you will throw away the remains of yours, and take my hand in +pledge of it." + +Thorn was ashamed and confounded, in the midst of passions +that made him at the moment a mere wreck of himself. He +inwardly drew back exceedingly from the proposal. But the +grace with which the words were said wrought upon all the +gentlemanly character that belonged to him, and made it +impossible not to comply. The pistol was exchanged for Mr. +Carleton's hand. + +"I need not assure you," said the latter, "that nothing of +what we have talked of to-night shall ever be known or +suspected, in any quarter, unless by your means." + +Thorn's answer was merely a bow, and Mr. Carleton withdrew, +his quondam antagonist lighting him ceremoniously to the door. + +It was easy for Mr. Carleton the next morning to deal with his +guest at the breakfast-table. + +The appointments of the service were such as of themselves to +put Charlton in a good humour, if he had not come already +provided with that happy qualification; and the powers of +manner and conversation which his entertainer brought into +play, not only put them into the back-ground of Captain +Rossitur's perceptions, but even made him merge certain other +things in fascination, and lose all thought of what probably +had called him there. Once before, he had known Mr. Carleton +come out in a like manner, but this time he forgot to be +surprised. + +The meal was two-thirds over before the business that had +drawn them together was alluded to. + +"I made an odd request of you last night, Captain Rossitur," +said his host; "you haven't asked for an explanation." + +"I had forgotten all about it," said Rossitur, candidly. "I am +inconséquent enough myself not to think everything odd that +requires an explanation." + +"Then I hope you will pardon me if mine seem to touch upon +what is not my concern. You had some cause to be displeased +with Mr. Thorn's behaviour last night?" + +Who told you as much? — was in Rossitur's open eyes, and upon +his tongue; but few ever asked naughty questions of Mr. +Carleton. Charlton's eyes came back, not indeed to their +former dimensions, but to his plate, in silence. + +"He was incomprehensible," he said, after a minute: "and +didn't act like himself; I don't know what was the matter. I +shall call him to account for it." + +"Captain Rossitur, I am going to ask you a favour." + +"I will grant it with the greatest pleasure," said Charlton — +"if it lie within my power." + +"A wise man's addition," said Mr. Carleton; "but I trust you +will not think me extravagant. I will hold myself much obliged +to you, if you will let Mr. Thorn's folly, or impertinence, go +this time without notice." + +Charlton absolutely laid down his knife in astonishment; while +at the same moment this slight let to the assertion of his +dignity roused it to uncommon pugnaciousness. + +"Sir — Mr. Carleton" — he stammered — "I would be very happy +to grant anything in my power —but this, Sir — really goes +beyond it." + +"Permit me to say," said Mr. Carleton, "that I have myself +seen Thorn upon the business that occasioned his discomposure, +and that it has been satisfactorily arranged; so that nothing +more is to be gained or desired from a second interview." + +Who gave you authority to do any such thing? was again in +Charlton's eyes, and an odd twinge crossed his mind; but, as +before, his thoughts were silent. + +"_My_ part of the business cannot have been arranged," he said, +"for it lies in a question or two that I must put to the +gentleman myself." + +"What will that question or two probably end in?" said Mr. +Carleton, significantly. + +"I can't tell!" said Rossitur; "depends on himself, it will +end according to his answers." + +"Is his offence so great that it cannot be forgiven upon my +entreaty?" + +"Mr. Carleton!" said Rossitur — "I would gladly pleasure you, +Sir; but, you see, this is a thing a man owes to himself." + +"What thing, Sir?" + +"Why, not to suffer impertinence to be offered him with +impunity." + +"Even though the punishment extend to hearts at home that must +feel it far more heavily than the offender?" + +"Would you suffer yourself to be insulted, Mr. Carleton?" said +Rossitur, by way of a mouth-stopper. + +"Not if I could help it," said Mr. Carleton, smiling; "but, if +such a misfortune happened, I don't know how it would be +repaired by being made a matter of life and death." + +"But honour might," said Rossitur. + +"Honour is not reached, Captain Rossitur. Honour dwells in a +strong citadel, and a squib against the walls does in no wise +affect their security." + +"But, also, it is not consistent with honour to sit still and +suffer it." + +"Question. The firing of a cracker, I think, hardly warrants a +sally." + +"It calls for chastisement, though," said Rossitur, a little +shortly. + +"I don't know that," said Mr. Carleton, gravely. "We have it +on the highest authority that it is the glory of man to _pass +by_ a transgression." + +"But you can't go by that," said Charlton, a little fidgeted; +"the world wouldn't get along so; men must take care of +themselves." + +"Certainly. But what part of themselves is cared for in this +resenting of injuries?" + +"Why, their good name!" + +"As how affected? — pardon me." + +"By the world's opinion," said Rossitur; "which stamps every +man with something worse than infamy who cannot protect his +own standing." + +"That is to say," said Mr. Carleton, seriously, "that Captain +Rossitur will punish a fool's words with death, or visit the +last extremity of distress upon those who are dearest to him, +rather than leave the world in any doubt of his prowess." + +"Mr. Carleton!" said Rossitur, colouring — "what do you mean +by speaking so, Sir?" + +"Not to displease you, Captain Rossitur." + +"Then you count the world's opinion for nothing?" + +"For less than nothing — compared with the regards I have +named." + +"You would brave it without scruple?" + +"I do not call him a brave man who would not, Sir." + +"I remember," said Charlton, half laughing — "you did it +yourself once; and I must confess I believe nobody thought you +lost anything by it." + +"But forgive me for asking," said Mr. Carleton — "is this +terrible world a party to _this_ matter? In the request which I +made — and which I have not given up, Sir — do I presume upon +any more than the sacrifice of a little private feeling?" + +"Why, yes," said Charlton, looking somewhat puzzled, "for I +promised the fellow I would see to it, and I must keep my +word." + +"And you know how that will of necessity issue." + +"I can't consider that, Sir; that is a secondary matter. I +must do what I told him I would." + +"At all hazards?" said Mr. Carleton. + +"What hazards?" + +"Not hazard, but certainty — of incurring a reckoning far less +easy to deal with." + +"What, do you mean with yourself?" said Rossitur. + +"No, Sir, said Mr. Carleton, a shade of even sorrowful +expression crossing his face; "I mean with one whose +displeasure is a more weighty matter; one who has declared +very distinctly, 'Thou shalt not kill.' " + +"I am sorry for it," said Rossitur, after a disturbed pause of +some minutes — "I wish you had asked me anything else; but we +can't take this thing in the light you do, Sir. I wish Thorn +had been in any spot of the world but at Mrs. Decatur's, last +night, or that Fleda hadn't taken me there; but since he was, +there is no help for it — I must make him account for his +behaviour, to her as well as to me. I really don't know how to +help it, Sir." + +"Let me beg you to reconsider that," Mr. Carleton said, with a +smile which disarmed offence — "for, if you will not help it, +I must." + +Charlton looked in doubt for a moment, and then asked how he +would help it. + +"In that case, I shall think it my duty to have you bound over +to keep the peace." + +He spoke gravely now, and with that quiet tone which always +carries conviction. Charlton stared unmistakably, and in +silence. + +"You are not in earnest?" he then said. + +"I trust you will permit me to leave you for ever in doubt on +that point," said Mr. Carleton, with again a slight giving way +of the muscles of his face. + +"I cannot, indeed," said Rossitur. "Do you mean what you said +just now?" + +"Entirely." + +"But, Mr. Carleton," said Rossitur, flushing, and not knowing +exactly how to take him up — "is this the manner of one +gentleman towards another?" + +He had not chosen right, for he received no answer but an +absolute quietness which needed no interpretation. Charlton +was vexed and confused, but, somehow, it did not come into his +head to pick a quarrel with his host, in spite of his +irritation. That was, perhaps, because he felt it to be +impossible. + +"I beg your pardon," he said, most unconsciously verifying +Fleda's words in his own person — "but, Mr. Carleton, do me +the favour to say that I have misunderstood your words. They +are incomprehensible to me, Sir." + +"I must abide by them nevertheless, Captain Rossitur," Mr. +Carleton answered, with a smile. "I will not permit this thing +to be done, while, as I believe, I have the power to prevent +it. You see," he said, smiling again, "I put in practice my +own theory." + +Charlton looked exceedingly disturbed, and maintained a vexed +and irresolute silence for several minutes, realizing the +extreme disagreeableness of having more than his match to deal +with. + +"Come, Captain Rossitur," said the other, turning suddenly +round upon him — "say that you forgive me what you know was +meant in no disrespect to you." + +"I certainly should not," said Rossitur, yielding, however, +with a half laugh, "if it were not for the truth of the +proverb, that it takes two to make a quarrel." + +"Give me your hand upon that. And now that the question of +honour is taken out of your hands, grant, not to me, but to +those for whom I ask it, your promise to forgive this man." + +Charlton hesitated, but it was difficult to resist the +request, backed as it was with weight of character and grace +of manner, along with its intrinsic reasonableness; and he saw +no other way so expedient of getting out of his dilemma. + +"I ought to be angry with somebody," he said, half laughing, +and a little ashamed; — "if you will point out any substitute +for Thorn, I will let him go, since I cannot help myself, with +pleasure." + +"I will bear it," said Mr. Carleton, lightly. "Give me your +promise for Thorn, and hold me your debtor in what amount you +please." + +"Very well — I forgive him," said Rossitur; — "and now, Mr. +Carleton I shall have a reckoning with you some day for this." + +"I will meet it. When you are next in England, you shall come +down to — shire, and I will give you any satisfaction you +please." + +They parted in high good-humour; but Charlton looked grave as +he went down the staircase; and, very oddly, all the way down +to Whitehall his head was running upon the various +excellencies and perfections of his cousin Fleda. + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + +"There is a fortune coming +Towards you, dainty, that will take thee thus, +And set thee aloft." +BEN JONSON. + + +That day was spent by Fleda in the never-failing headache +which was sure to visit her after any extraordinary nervous +agitation, or too great mental or bodily trial. It was severe +this time, not only from the anxiety of the preceding night, +but from the uncertainty that weighed upon her all day long. +The person who could have removed the uncertainty came, +indeed, to the house, but she was too ill to see anybody. + +The extremity of pain wore itself off with the day, and at +evening she was able to leave her room and come down stairs. +But she was ill yet, and could do nothing but sit in the +corner of the sofa, with her hair unbound, and Florence gently +bathing her head with cologne. Anxiety as well as pain had, in +some measure, given place to exhaustion, and she looked a +white embodiment of endurance, which gave a shock to her +friends' sympathy. Visitors were denied, and Constance and +Edith devoted their eyes and tongues at least to her service, +if they could do no more. + +It happened that Joe Manton was out of the way, holding an +important conference with a brother usher next door, — a +conference that he had no notion would be so important when he +began it, when a ring on his own premises summoned one of the +maid-servants to the door. She knew nothing about "not at +home," and unceremoniously desired the gentleman to "walk up," +— "the ladies were in the drawing-room." + +The door had been set wide open for the heat, and Fleda was +close in the corner behind it, gratefully permitting +Florence's efforts with the _cologne_, which yet she knew could +avail nothing but the kind feelings of the operator; for +herself — patiently waiting her enemy's time. Constance was +sitting on the floor looking at her. + +"I can't conceive how you can bear so much," she said, at +length. + +Fleda thought how little she knew what was borne! + +"Why, you could bear it, I suppose, if you had to," said +Edith, philosophically. + +"She knows she looks most beautiful," said Florence, softly +passing her cologned hands down over the smooth hair — "she +knows + + +' Il faut souffrir pour être belle.' " + + +"La migraine ne se guérit avec les douceurs," said Mr. +Carleton, entering — "try something sharp, Miss Evelyn." + +"Where are we to get it?" said Constance, springing up, and +adding, in a most lack-a-daisical aside to her mother — +"Mamma! — the fowling-piece! — Our last vinegar hardly comes +under the appellation; and you don't expect to find anything +volatile in this house, Mr. Carleton?" + +He smiled. + +"Have you none for grave occasions, Miss Constance?" + +"I wont retort the question about 'something sharp,' " said +Constance, arching her eyebrows, "because it is against my +principles to make people uncomfortable; but you have +certainly brought in some medicine with you, for Miss +Ringgan's cheeks, a little while ago, were as pure as her mind +— from a tinge of any sort — and now, you see —" + +"My dear Constance," said her mother, "Miss Ringgan's cheeks +will stand a much better chance if you come away and leave her +in peace. How can she get well with such a chatter in her +ears?" + +"Mr. Carleton and I, Mamma, are conferring upon measures of +relief, and Miss Ringgan gives token of improvement already." + +"For which I am very little to be thanked," said Mr. Carleton. +"But I am not a bringer of bad news, that she should look pale +at the sight of me." + +"Are you a bringer of any news?" said Constance, "Oh, do let +us have them, Mr. Carleton! — I am dying for news — I haven't +heard a bit to-day." + +"What is the news, Mr. Carleton?" said her mother's voice, +from the more distant region of the fire. + +"I believe there are no general news, Mrs. Evelyn." + +"Are there any particular news?" said Constance. "I like +particular news infinitely the best." + +"I am sorry, Miss Constance, I have none for you. But, will +this headache yield to nothing?" + +"Fleda prophesied that it would to time," said Florence; "she +would not let us try much beside." + +"And I must confess there has been no volatile agency employed +at all," said Constance; "I never knew time have less of it, +and Fleda seemed to prefer him for her physician." + +"He hasn't been a good one to-day," said Edith, nestling +affectionately to her side. "Isn't it better, Fleda?" for she +had covered her eyes with her hand. + +"Not just now," said Fleda, softly. + +"It is fair to change physicians if the first fails," said Mr. +Carleton. "I have had a slight experience in headache-curing; +if you will permit me, Miss Constance, I will supersede time +and try a different prescription." + +He went out to seek it, and Fleda leaned her head in her hand, +and tried to quiet the throbbing heart, every pulsation of +which was felt so keenly at the seat of pain. She knew, from +Mr. Carleton's voice and manner — she _thought_ she knew — that +he had exceeding good tidings for her; once assured of that, +she would soon be better; but she was worse now. + +"Where is Mr. Carleton gone?" said Mrs. Evelyn. + +"I haven't the least idea, Mamma — he has ventured upon an +extraordinary undertaking, and has gone off to qualify +himself, I suppose. I can't conceive why he didn't ask Miss +Ringgan's permission to change her physician instead of mine." + +"I suppose he knew there was no doubt about that," said Edith, +hitting the precise answer of Fleda's thoughts. + +"And what should make him think there was any doubt about +mine?" said Constance, tartly. + +"Oh, you know," said her sister, "you are so odd, nobody can +tell what you will take a fancy to." + +"You are extremely liberal in your expressions, at least, Miss +Evelyn, I must say," said Constance, with a glance of no +doubtful meaning. "Joe — did you let Mr. Carleton in?" + +"No, Ma'am." + +"Well, let him in next time, and don't let in anybody else." + +Whereafter the party relapsed into silent expectation. + +It was not many minutes before Mr. Carleton returned. + +"Tell your friend, Miss Constance," he said, putting an +exquisite little vinaigrette into her hand, "that I have +nothing worse for her than that." + +"Worse than this!" said Constance, examining it. "Mr. +Carleton, I doubt exceedingly whether smelling this will +afford Miss Ringgan any benefit." + +"Why, Miss Constance?" + +"Because it has made me sick only to look at it!" + +"There will be no danger for her," he said, smiling. + +"Wont there? Well, Fleda, my dear, here, take it," said the +young lady; "I hope you are differently constituted from me, +for I feel a sudden pain since I saw it; but as you keep your +eyes shut, and so escape the sight of this lovely gold +chasing, perhaps it will do you no mischief." + +"It will do her all the more good for that," said Mrs. Evelyn. + +The only ears that took the benefit of this speech were +Edith's and Mr. Carleton's; Fleda's were deafened by the rush +of feeling. She very little knew what she was holding. Mr. +Carleton stood with rather significant gravity, watching the +effect of his prescription, while Edith beset her mother to +know why the outside of the vinaigrette, being of gold, should +make it do Fleda any more good; the disposing of which +question effectually occupied Mrs. Evelyn's attention for some +time. + +"And, pray, how long is it since you took up the trade of a +physician, Mr. Carleton?" said Constance. + +"It is just about nine years, Miss Constance," he answered, +gravely. + +But that little reminder, slight as it was, overcame the small +remnant of Fleda's self-command — the vinaigrette fell from +her hands, and her face was hid in them; whatever became of +pain, tears must flow. + +"Forgive me," said Mr. Carleton, gently, bending down towards +her, "for speaking when I should have been silent — Miss +Evelyn, and Miss Constance, will you permit me to order that +my patient be left in quiet." + +And he took them away to Mrs. Evelyn's quarter, and kept them +all three engaged in conversation, too busily to trouble Fleda +with any attention, till she had had ample time to try the +effect of the quiet and of the vinegar both. Then he went +himself to look after her. + +"Are you better?" said he, bending down, and speaking low. + +Fleda opened her eyes and gave him, what a look! — of grateful +feeling. She did not know the half that was in it; but he did. +That she was better, was a very small item. + +"Ready for the coffee?" said he, smiling. + +"Oh, no," whispered Fleda — "It don't matter about that — +never mind the coffee!" + +But he went back with his usual calmness to Mrs. Evelyn, and +begged that she would have the goodness to order a cup of +rather strong coffee to be made. + +"But, Mr. Carleton, Sir," said that lady, "I am not at all +sure that it would be the best thing for Miss Ringgan — if she +is better — I think it would do her far more good to go to +rest, and let sleep finish her cure, before taking something +that will make sleep impossible." + +"Did you ever hear of a physician, Mrs. Evelyn," he said, +smiling, "'that allowed his prescriptions to be interfered +with? I must beg you will do me this favour." + +"I doubt very much whether it will be a favour to Miss +Ringgan," said Mrs. Evelyn — "however —" + +And she rang the bell, and gave the desired order, with a +somewhat disconcerted face. But Mr. Carleton again left Fleda +to herself, and devoted his attention to the other ladies, +with so much success, though with his usual absence of effort +that good humour was served long before the coffee. + +Then, indeed, he played the physician's part again — made the +coffee himself, and saw it taken, according to his own +pleasure — skilfully, however, seeming all the while, except +to Fleda, to be occupied with everything else. The group +gathered round her anew; she was well enough to bear their +talk by this time — by the time the coffee was drunk, quite +well. + +"Is it quite gone?" asked Edith. + +"The headache? — yes." + +"You will owe your physician a great many thanks, my dear +Fleda," said Mrs. Evelyn. + +Fleda's only answer to this, however, was by a very slight +smile; and she presently left the room, to go up stairs and +arrange her yet disarranged hair. + +"That is a very fine girl," remarked Mrs. Evelyn, preparing +half a cup of coffee for herself in a kind of amused +abstraction. "My friend Mr. Thorn will have an excellent wife +of her." + +"Provided she marries him," said Constance, somewhat shortly. + +"I am sure I hope she wont," said Edith; "and I don't believe +she will." + +"What do you think of his chances of success, Mr. Carleton?" + +"Your manner of speech would seem to imply that they are very +good, Mrs. Evelyn," he answered, coolly. + +"Well, don't you think so?" said Mrs. Evelyn, coming back to +her seat with her coffee-cup, and apparently dividing her +attention between it and her subject. "It's a great chance for +her — most girls in her circumstances would not refuse it — _I_ +think he's pretty sure of his ground." + +"So I think," said Florence. + +"It don't prove anything, if he is," said Constance, drily. "I +hate people who are always sure of their ground." + +"What do you think, Mr. Carleton?" said Mrs. Evelyn, taking +little satisfied sips of her coffee. + +"May I ask, first, what is meant by the 'chance,' and what by +the 'circumstances.' " + +"Why, Mr. Thorn has a fine fortune, you know, and he is of an +excellent family — there is not a better family in the city — +and very few young men of such pretensions would think of a +girl that has no name nor standing." + +"Unless she had qualities that would command them," said Mr. +Carleton. + +"But, Mr. Carleton, Sir," said the lady, "Do you think that +can be? do you think a woman can fill, gracefully, a high +place in society, if she has had disadvantages in early life +to contend with, that were calculated to unfit her for it?" + +"But, mamma," said Constance, "Fleda don't show any such +thing." + +"No, she don't show it," said Mrs. Evelyn, "but I am not +talking of Fleda — I am talking of the effect of early +disadvantages. What do you think, Mr. Carleton?" + +"Disadvantages of what kind, Mrs. Evelyn?" + +"Why, for instance — the strange habits of intercourse, on +familiar terms, with rough and uncultivated people — such +intercourse, for years — in all sorts of ways — in the field +and in the house — mingling with them as one of them — it +seems to me, it must leave its traces on the mind, and on the +habits of acting and thinking." + +"There is no doubt it does," he answered, with an extremely +unconcerned face. + +"And then, there's the actual want of cultivation," said Mrs. +Evelyn, warming — "time taken up with other things, you know — +usefully and properly, but still taken up — so as to make much +intellectual acquirement and accomplishments impossible; it +can't be otherwise, you know — neither opportunity nor +instructors; and I don't think anything can supply the want in +after life. It isn't the mere things themselves which may be +acquired — the mind should grow up in the atmosphere of them — +don't you think so, Mr. Carleton?" + +He bowed. + +"Music, for instance, and languages, and converse with +society, and a great many things, are put completely beyond +reach — Edith, my dear, you are not to touch the coffee — nor +Constance either — no, I will not let you — And there could +not be even much reading, for want of books, if for nothing +else. Perhaps I am wrong, but I confess I don't see how it is +possible in such a case" — + +She checked herself suddenly, for Fleda, with the slow, +noiseless step that weakness imposed, had come in again, and +stood by the centre-table. + +"We are discussing a knotty question, Miss Ringgan," said Mr. +Carleton, with a smile, as he brought a _bergère_ for her; "I +should like to have your voice on it." + +There was no seconding of his motion. He waited till she had +seated herself, and then went on. + +"What, in your opinion, is the best preparation for wearing +prosperity well?" + +A glance at Mrs. Evelyn's face, which was opposite her, and at +one or two others, which had, undeniably, the air of being +_arrested_, was enough for Fleda's quick apprehension. She knew +they had been talking of her. Her eye stopped short of Mr. +Carleton's, and she coloured, and hesitated. No one spoke. + +"By prosperity, you mean —" + +"Rank and fortune," said Florence, without looking up. + +"Marrying a rich man, for instance," said Edith, "and having +one's hands full." + +This peculiar statement of the case occasioned a laugh all +round, but the silence which followed seemed still to wait +upon Fleda's reply. + +"Am I expected to give a serious answer to that question?" she +said, a little doubtfully. + +"Expectations are not stringent things," said her first +questioner, smiling. "That waits upon your choice." + +"They are horridly stringent, _I_ think," said Constance. + +"We shall all be disappointed, if you don't, Fleda, my dear." + +"By wearing it 'well,' you mean making a good use of it?" + +"And gracefully," said Mrs. Evelyn. + +"I think I should say, then," said Fleda, after some little. +Hesitation, and speaking with evident difficulty — "such an a +experience as might teach one both the worth and the +worthlessness of money." + +Mr. Carleton's smile was a sufficiently satisfied one; but +Mrs. Evelyn retorted — + +"The _worth_ and the _worthlessness!_ — Fleda, my dear, I don't +understand —" + +"And what experience teaches one the worth, and what the +worthlessness of money?" said Constance; "mamma is morbidly +persuaded that I do not understand the first — of the second I +have an indefinite idea, from never being able to do more than +half that I want with it." + +Fleda smiled and hesitated again, in a way that showed she +would willingly be excused, but the silence left her no choice +but to speak. + +"I think,'' she said, modestly, "that a person can hardly +understand the true worth of money — the ends it can best +subserve — that has not been taught it by his own experience +of the want; and" — + +"What follows?" said Mr. Carleton. + +"I was going to say, Sir, that there is danger, especially +when people have not been accustomed to it, that they will +greatly overvalue and misplace the real worth of prosperity; +unless the mind has been steadied by another kind of +experience, and has learnt to measure things by a higher +scale." + +"And how when they _have_ been accustomed to it?" said Florence. + +"The same danger, without the 'especially,' " said Fleda, with +a look that disclaimed any assuming. + +"One thing is certain," said Constance, "you hardly ever see +_les nouveaux riches_ make a graceful use of anything. Fleda, my +dear, I am seconding all of your last speech that I +understand. Mamma, I perceive, is at work upon the rest." + +"I think we ought all to be at work upon it," said Mrs. +Evelyn, "for Miss Ringgan has made it out that there is hardly +anybody here that is qualified to wear prosperity well." + +"I was just thinking so," said Florence. + +Fleda said nothing, and perhaps her colour rose a little. + +"I will take lessons of her," said Constance, with eyebrows +just raised enough to neutralize the composed gravity of the +other features, "as soon as I have an amount of prosperity +that will make it worth while." + +"But I don't think," said Florence, "that a graceful use of +things is consistent with such a careful valuation and +considering of the exact worth of everything — it's not my +idea of grace." + +"Yet _propriety_ is an essential element of gracefulness, Miss +Evelyn." + +"Well," said Florence, "certainly; but what then?" + +"Is it attainable, in the use of means, without a nice +knowledge of their true value?" + +"But, Mr. Carleton, I am sure I have seen improper things — +things improper in a way — gracefully done?" + +"No doubt; but, Miss Evelyn," said he, smiling, "the +impropriety did not in those cases, I presume, attach itself +to the other quality. The graceful _manner_ was strictly proper +to its ends, was it not, however the ends might be false?" + +"I don't know," said Florence, "you have gone too deep for me. +But do you think that close calculation, and all that sort of +thing, is likely to make people use money, or anything else, +gracefully? I never thought it did." + +"Not close calculation alone," said Mr. Carleton. + +"But do you think it is _consistent_ with gracefulness?" + +"The largest and grandest views of material things that man +has ever taken, Miss Evelyn, stand upon a basis of the closest +calculation." + +Florence worked at her worsted, and looked very dissatisfied. + +"Oh, Mr. Carleton," said Constance, as he was going, "don't +leave your vinaigrette — there it is — on the table." + +He made no motion to take it up. + +"Don't you know, Miss Constance, that physicians seldom like +to have anything to do with their own prescriptions." + +"It's very suspicious of them," said Constance; "but you must +take it Mr. Carleton, if you please, for I shouldn't like the +responsibility of its being left here; and I am afraid it +would be dangerous to our peace of mind, besides." + +"I shall risk that," he said, laughing. "Its work is not +done." + +"And then, Mr. Carleton," said Mrs. Evelyn, and Fleda knew +with what a look, "you know physicians are accustomed to be +paid when their prescriptions are taken." + +But the answer to this was only a bow, so expressive in its +air of haughty coldness, that any further efforts of Mrs. +Evelyn's wit were chilled for some minutes after he had gone. + +Fleda had not seen this. She had taken up the vinaigrette, and +was thinking with acute pleasure that Mr. Carleton's manner +last night and to-night had returned to all the familiar +kindness of old times. Not as it had been during the rest of +her stay in the city. She could be quite contented now to have +him go back to England, with this pleasant remembrance left +her. She sat turning over the vinaigrette, which to her fancy +was covered with hieroglyphics that no one else could read; of +her uncle's affair, of Charlton's danger, of her own distress, +and the kindness which had wrought its relief, more +penetrating and pleasant than even the fine aromatic scent +which fairly typified it. Constance's voice broke in upon her +musings. + +"Isn't it awkward?" she said, as she saw Fleda handling and +looking at the pretty toy — "Isn't it awkward? I sha'n't have +a bit of rest now for fear something will happen to that. I +hate to have people do such things." + +"Fleda, my dear," said Mrs. Evelyn, "I wouldn't handle it, my +love; you may depend there is some charm in it — some +mischievous, hidden influence — and if you have much to do +with it, I am afraid you will find a gradual coldness stealing +over you, and a strange forgetfulness of Queechy, and you will +perhaps lose your desire ever to go back there any more." + +The vinaigrette dropped from Fleda's fingers, but beyond a +heightened colour and a little tremulous gravity about the +lip, she gave no other sign of emotion. + +"Mamma," said Florence, laughing, "you are too bad !" + +"Mamma," said Constance, "I wonder how any tender sentiment +for you can continue to exist in Fleda's breast! By the way, +Fleda, my dear, do you know that we have heard of two escorts +for you? but I only tell you because I know you'll not be fit +to travel this age." + +"I should not be able to travel to-morrow," said Fleda. + +"They are not going to-morrow," said Mrs. Evelyn, quietly. + +"Who are they ?" + +"Excellent ones," said Mrs. Evelyn. "One of them is your old +friend, Mr. Olmney." + +"Mr. Olmney!" said Fleda. "What has brought him to New York?" + +"Really," said Mrs. Evelyn, laughing, "I do not know. What +should keep him away? I was very glad to see him, for my part. +Maybe he has come to take you home." + +"Who is the other?" said Fleda. + +"That's another old friend of yours — Mrs. Renney." + +"Mrs. Renney? who is she?" said Fleda. + +"Why, don't you know? Mrs. Renney — she used to live with your +aunt Lucy, in some capacity — years ago, when she was in New +York — housekeeper, I think; don't you remember her?" + +"Perfectly now," said Fleda. "Mrs. Renney!" — + +"She has been housekeeper for Mrs. Schenck these several +years, and she is going somewhere out West to some relation, +her brother, I believe, to take care of his family; and her +road leads her your way." + +"When do they go, Mrs. Evelyn?" + +"Both the same day, and both the day after to-morrow. Mr. +Olmney takes the morning train, he says, unless you would +prefer some other. I told him you were very anxious to go; and +Mrs. Renney goes in the afternoon. So there's a choice for +you." + +"Mamma," said Constance, "Fleda is not fit to go at all, +either time." + +"I don't think she is," said Mrs. Evelyn. "But she knows best +what she likes to do." + +Thoughts and resolutions come swiftly one after another into +Fleda's mind, and were decided upon in as quick succession. +First, that she must go the day after to-morrow at all events; +second, that it should not be with Mr. Olmney; third, that to +prevent that, she must not see him in the meantime — and, +therefore — yes, no help for it — must refuse to see any one +that called the next day; there was to be a party in the +evening, so then she would be safe. No doubt Mr. Carleton +would come, to give her a more particular account of what he +had done, and she wished unspeakably to hear it; but it was +not possible that she should make an exception in his favour +and admit him alone. That could not be. If friends would only +be simple, and straightforward, and kind, one could afford to +be straightforward too; but as it was, she must not do what +she longed to do, and they would be sure to misunderstand. +There was, indeed, the morning of the day following left her, +if Mr. Olmney did not take it into his head to stay. And it +might issue in her not seeing Mr. Carleton at all, to bid +good-bye and thank him? He would not think her ungrateful, he +knew better than that, but still — Well! so much for kindness! +— + +"What _are_ you looking so grave about? said Constance. + +"Considering ways and means," Fleda said, with a slight smile. + +"Ways and means of what?" + +"Going." + +"You don't mean to go the day after to-morrow?" + +"Yes." + +"It's too absurd for anything! You sha'n't do it." + +"I must, indeed." + +"Mamma," said Constance, "if you permit such a thing, I shall +hope that memory will be a fingerboard of remorse to you," +pointing to Miss Ringgan's pale cheeks. + +"I shall charge it entirely upon Miss Ringgan's own +fingerboard," said Mrs. Evelyn, with her complacently amused +face. "Fleda, my dear, shall I request Mr. Olmney to delay his +journey for a day or two, my love, till you are stronger?" + +"Not at all, Mrs. Evelyn! I shall go then; — if I am not ready +in the morning, I will take Mrs. Renney in the afternoon — I +would quite as lief go with her." + +"Then I will make Mr. Olmney keep to his first purpose," said +Mrs. Evelyn. + +Poor Fleda, though with a very sorrowful heart, kept her +resolutions, and for very forlornness and weariness, slept +away a great part of the next day. Neither would she appear in +the evening, for fear of more people than one. It was +impossible to tell whether Mrs. Evelyn's love of mischief +would not bring Mr. Olmney there, and the Thorns, she knew, +were invited. Mr. Lewis would probably absent himself, but +Fleda could not endure even the chance of seeing his mother. +She wanted to know, but dared not ask, whether Mr. Carleton +had been to see her. What if to-morrow morning should pass +without her seeing him? Fleda pondered this uncertainty a +little, and then jumped out of bed, and wrote him the +heartiest little note of thanks and remembrance that tears +would let her write; sealed it, and carried it herself to the +nearest branch of the despatch post the first thing next +morning. + +She took a long look that same morning at the little +vinaigrette, which still lay on the centre-table, wishing very +much to take it up stairs and pack it away among her things. +It was meant for her, she knew, and she wanted it as a very +pleasant relic from the kind hands that had given it; and +besides, he might think it odd, if she should slight his +intention. But how odd it would seem to him if he knew that +the Evelyns had half appropriated it. And appropriate it anew, +in another direction, she could not. She could not, without +their knowledge, and they would put their own absurd +construction on what was a simple matter of kindness; she +could not brave it. + +The morning — a long one it was — had passed away; Fleda had +just finished packing her trunk, and was sitting with a faint- +hearted feeling of body and mind, trying to rest before being +called to her early dinner, when Florence came to tell her it +was ready. + +"Mr. Carleton was here a while ago," she said, "and he asked +for you; but mamma said you were busy; she knew you had enough +to tire you without coming down stairs to see him. He asked +when you thought of going." + +"What did you tell him?" + +"I told him, 'Oh, you were not gone yet!' — it's such a plague +to be bidding people good-bye — _I_ always want to get rid of +it. Was I right?" + +Fleda said nothing, but in her heart she wondered what +possible concern it could be of her friends if Mr. Carleton +wanted to see her before she went away. She felt it was unkind +— they did not know how unkind, for they did not understand +that he was a very particular friend, and an old friend — they +could not tell what reason there was for her wishing to bid +him good-bye. She thought she should have liked to do it, very +much. + + +CHAPTER XX. + + +"Methought I was — there is no man can tell what. Methought I +was, and methought I had — But man is but a patched fool, if +he will offer to say what methought I had." +MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. + + +Mrs. Evelyn drove down to the boat with Fleda, and did not +leave her till she was safely put in charge of Mrs. Renney. +Fleda immediately retreated to the. innermost depths of the +ladies' cabin, hoping to find some rest for the body at least, +if not forgetfulness for the mind. + +The latter was not to be. Mrs. Renney was exceeding glad to +see her, and bent upon knowing what had become of her since +those days when they used to know each other. + +"You're just the same, Miss Fleda, that you used to be — +you're very little altered — I can see that — though you're +looking a good-deal more thin and pale; you had very pretty +roses in your cheeks in those times. Yes, I know, I understood +Mrs. Evelyn to say you had not been well; but, allowing for +that, I can see you are just yourself still — I'm glad of it. +Do you recollect, Miss Fleda, what a little thing you was +then?" + +"I recollect, very well," said Fleda. + +"I'm sure of another thing — you're just as good as you used +to be," said the housekeeper, looking at her complacently. "Do +you remember how you used to come into my room to see me make +jelly? I see it as well as if it was yesterday; and you used +to beg me to let you squeeze the lemons; and I never could +refuse you, because you never did anything I didn't want you +to. And do you mind how I used to tie you up in a big towel, +for fear you would stain your dress with the acid, and I'd +stand and watch to see you putting all your strength to +squeeze 'em clean, and be afraid that Mrs. Rossitur would be +angry with me for letting you spoil your hands; but you used +to look up and smile at me so, I couldn't help myself, but let +you do just whatever you had a mind? You don't look quite so +light and bright as you did in those times; — but, to be sure, +you aint feeling well! See here — just let me pull some of +these things onto this settee, and you put yourself down there +and rest — pillows — let's have another pillow — there, how's +that?" + +Oh, if Fleda might have silenced her! She thought it was +rather hard that she should have two talkative companions on +this journey of all others. The housekeeper paused no longer +than to arrange her couch and see her comfortably laid down. + +"And then Mr. Hugh would come in to find you and carry you +away — he never could bear to be long from you. How is Mr. +Hugh, Miss Fleda? he used to be always a very delicate-looking +child. I remember you and him used to be always together — he +was a very sweet boy! I have often said I never saw such +another pair of children. How does Mr. Hugh have his health, +Miss Fleda?" + +"Not very well, just now," said Fleda, gently, and shutting +her eyes that they might reveal less. + +There was need; for the housekeeper went on to ask +particularly after every member of the family, and where they +had been living, and as much as she conveniently could about +how they had been living. She was very kind through it all, or +she tried to be; but Fleda felt there was a difference since +the time when her aunt kept house in State Street, and Mrs. +Renney made jellies for her. When her neighbours' affairs were +exhausted, Mrs. Renney fell back upon her own, and gave Fleda +a very circumstantial account of the occurrences that were +drawing her westward; how so many years ago her brother had +married and removed thither; how lately his wife had died; +what, in general, was the character of his wife, and what, in +particular, the story of her decease; how many children were +left without care, and the state of her brother's business, +which demanded a great deal; and how, finally, she, Mrs. +Renney, had received and accepted an invitation to go on to +Belle Rivière, and be housekeeper de son chef. And as Fleda's +pale worn face had for some time given her no sign of +attention, the housekeeper then hoped she was asleep, an +placed herself so as to screen her, and have herself a good +view of everything that was going on in the cabin. + +But poor Fleda was not asleep, much as she rejoiced in being +thought so. Mind and body could get no repose, sadly as the +condition of both called for it. Too worn to sleep, perhaps; — +too down-hearted to rest. She blamed herself for it, and told +over to herself the causes, the recent causes, she had of joy +and gratitude; but it would not do. Grateful she could be and +was; but tears that were not the distillation of joy came with +her gratitude; came from under the closed eyelid in spite of +her; the pillow was wet with them. She excused herself, or +tried to, with thinking that she was weak and not very well, +and that her nerves had gone through so much for a few days +past, it was no wonder if a reaction left her without her +usual strength of mind. And she could not help thinking, there +had been a want of kindness in the Evelyns to let her come +away to-day to make such a journey, at such a season, under +such guardianship. But it was not all that; she knew it was +not. The journey was a small matter; only a little piece of +disagreeableness that was well in keeping with her other +meditations. She was going home, and home had lost all its +fair-seeming; its honours were withered. It would be pleasant +indeed to be there again to nurse Hugh; but nurse him for +what? — life or death? — she did not like to think; and beyond +that she could fix upon nothing at all that looked bright in +the prospect; she almost thought herself wicked, but she could +not. If she might hope that her uncle would take hold of his +farm like a man, and redeem his character and his family's +happiness on the old place — that would have been something; +but he had declared a different purpose, and Fleda knew him +too well to hope that he would be better than his word. Then +they must leave the old homestead, where at least the +associations of happiness clung, and go to a strange land. It +looked desolate to Fleda, wherever it might be. Leave Queechy! +— that she loved unspeakably beyond any other place in the +world; where the very hills had been the friends of her +childhood, and where she had seen the maples grow green and +grow red, through as many coloured changes of her own +fortunes; the woods where the shade of her grandfather walked +with her, and where the presence even of her father could be +brought back by memory; where the air was sweeter and the +sunlight brighter; by far, than in any other place — for both +had some strange kindred with the sunny days of long ago. Poor +Fleda turned her face from Mrs. Renney, and leaving doubtful +prospects and withering comforts for a while, as it were, out +of sight, she wept the fair outlines and the red maples of +Queechy, as if they had been all she had to regret. They had +never disappointed her. Their countenance had comforted her +many a time, under many a sorrow. After all, it was only fancy +choosing at which shrine the whole offering of sorrow should +be made. She knew that many of the tears that fell were due to +some other. It was in vain to tell herself they were selfish; +mind and body were in no condition to struggle with anything. + +It had fallen dark some time, and she had wept and sorrowed +herself into a half-dozing state, when a few words spoken near +aroused her. + +"It is snowing," was said by several voices. + +"Going very slow, aint we?" said Fleda's friend, in a +suppressed voice. + +"Yes, 'cause it's so dark, you see; the Captain durstn't let +her run." + +Some poor witticism followed from a third party about the +"Butterfly's" having run herself off her legs the first time +she ever ran at all; and then Mrs. Renney went on. + +"Is the storm so bad, Hannah?" + +"Pretty thick — can't see far ahead — I hope we'll make out to +find our way in — that's all I care for." + +"How far are we?" + +"Not half way yet — I don't know — depends on what headway we +make, you know; — there aint much wind yet, that's a good +thing." + +"There aint any danger, is there?" + +This, of course, the chambermaid denied, and a whispered +colloquy followed, which Fleda did not try to catch. A new +feeling came upon her weary heart — a feeling of fear. There +was a sad twinge of a wish that she were out of the boat, and +safe back again with the Evelyns; and a fresh sense of the +unkindness of letting her come away that afternoon so +attended. And then, with that sickness of heart, the forlorn +feeling of being alone, of wanting some one at hand to depend +upon, to look to. It is true, that, in case of real danger, +none such could be a real protection; and yet lot so neither, +for strength and decision can live and make live, where a +moment's faltering will kill; and weakness must often falter +of necessity. "All the ways of the Lord are mercy and truth" +to his people; she thought of that, and yet she feared — for +his ways are often what we do not like. A few moments of sick- +heartedness and trembling — and then Fleda mentally folded her +arms about a few other words of the Bible, and laid her head +down in quiet again. — "_The Lord is my refuge and my fortress: +my God: in him will I trust_." + +And then what comes after — + +"_He shall cover thee with his feathers; and under his wings +shalt thou trust; his truth shall be thy shield and buckler_." + +Fleda lay quiet till she was called to tea. + +"Bless me, how pale you are?" said the housekeeper, as Fleda +raised herself up at this summons; "do you feel very bad, Miss +Fleda?" + +Fleda said "No." + +"Are you frighted?" said the housekeeper — "there's no need of +that — Hannah says there's no need — we'll be in by and by." + +"No, Mrs. Renney," said Fleda, smiling. "I believe I am not +very strong yet." + +The housekeeper and Hannah both looked at her with strangely +touched faces, and again begged her to try the refreshment of +tea. But Fleda would not go down, so they served her up there, +with great zeal and tenderness. And then she waited patiently +and watched the people in the cabin, as they sat gossiping in +groups, or stupefying in solitude; and thought how miserable a +thing is existence where religion and refinement have not +taught the mind to live in somewhat beyond and above its +every-day concerns. + +Late at night the boat arrived safe at Bridgeport. Mrs. Renney +and Fleda had resolved to stay on board till morning, when the +former promised to take her to the house of a sister she had +living in the town; as the cars would not leave the place till +near eleven o'clock. Rest was not to be hoped for meantime in +the boat, on the miserable couch which was the best the cabin +could furnish; but Fleda was so thankful to have finished the +voyage in safety, that she took thankfully everything else, +even lying awake. It was a wild night. The wind rose soon +after they reached Bridgeport, and swept furiously over the +boat, rattling the tiller chains, and making Fleda so +nervously alive to possibilities that she got up two or three +times to see if the boat were fast to her moorings. It was +very dark, and only by a fortunately-placed lantern, she could +see a bit of the dark wharf and one of the posts belonging to +it, from which the lantern never budged; so, at last quieted, +or tired-out, nature had her rights, and she slept. + +It was not refreshing rest after all, and Fleda was very glad +that Mrs. Renney's impatience for something comfortable made +her willing to be astir as early as there was any chance of +finding people up in the town. Few were abroad when they left +the boat, they two. Not a foot had printed the deep layer of +snow that covered the wharf. It had fallen thick during the +night. Just then it was not snowing; the clouds seemed to have +taken a recess, for they hung threatening yet; one uniform +leaden canopy was over the whole horizon. + +"The snow aint done yet," said Mrs. Renney. + +"No, but the worst of our journey is over," said Fleda. "I am +glad to be on the land." + +"I hope we'll get something to eat here," said Mrs. Renney, as +they stepped along over the wharf. "They ought to be ashamed +to give people such a mess, when it's just as easy to have +things decent. My! how it has snowed! I declare, if I'd ha' +known, I'd ha' waited till somebody had tracked a path for us. +But I guess it's just as well we didn't; you look as like a +ghost as you can, Miss Fleda. You'll be better when you get +some breakfast. You'd better catch on to my arm — I'll waken +up the seven sleepers but what I'll have something to put life +into you directly." + +Fleda thanked her, but declined the proffered accommodation, +and followed her companion in the narrow beaten path a few +travellers had made in the street, feeling enough like a +ghost, if want of flesh and blood reality were enough. It +seemed a dream that she was walking through the grey light, +and the empty streets of the little town; everything looked +and felt so wild and strange. + +If it was a dream, she was soon waked out of it. In the house, +where they were presently received and established in +sufficient comfort, there was such a little specimen of +masculine humanity as never showed his face in dream-land yet +— a little bit of reality, enough to bring any dreamer to his +senses. He seemed to have been brought up on stove heat, for +he was all glowing yet from a very warm bed he had just +tumbled out of somewhere, and he looked at the pale thin +stranger by his mother's fire-place, as if she were an anomaly +in the comfortable world. If he could have contented himself +with looking! — but he planted himself firmly on the rug, just +two feet from Fleda, and, with a laudable and most persistent +desire to examine into the causes of what he could not +understand, he commenced inquiring — + +"Are you cold? — say! Are you cold? — say!" in a tone most +provokingly made up of wonder and dulness. In vain Fleda +answered him, that she was not very cold, and would soon not +be cold at all by that good fire — the question came again, +apparently in all its freshness, from the interrogator's mind +— + +"Are you cold? — say !" — + +And silence and words, looking grave and laughing, were alike +thrown away. Fleda shut her eyes at length, and used the small +remnant of her patience to keep herself quiet till she was +called to breakfast. After breakfast she accepted the offer of +her hostess to go up stairs and lie down till the cars were +ready; and there got some real and much needed refreshment of +sleep and rest. + +It lasted longer than she had counted upon. For the cars were +not ready at eleven o'clock — the snow last night had +occasioned some perplexing delays. It was not till near three +o'clock, that the often-despatched messenger to the depôt +brought back word that they might go as soon as they pleased. +It pleased Mrs. Renney to be in a great hurry, for her baggage +was in the cars, she said, and it would be dreadful if she and +it went different ways; so Fleda and her companion hastened +down to the station-house and chose their places some time +before anybody else thought of coming. They had a long, very +tiresome waiting to go through, and room for some uneasy +speculations about being belated and a night-journey. But +Fleda was stronger now, and bore it all with her usual patient +submission At length, by degrees, the people dropped in and +filled the cars, and they set off. + +"How early do you suppose we shall reach Greenfield?" said +Fleda. + +"Why, we ought to get there between nine and ten o'clock, I +should think," said her companion. "I hope the snow will hold +up till we get there." + +Fleda thought it a hope very unlikely to be fulfilled. There +were as yet no snow-flakes to be seen near by, but, at a +little distance, the low clouds seemed already to enshroud +every clump of trees, and put a mist about every hill. They +surely would descend more palpably soon. + +It was pleasant to be moving swiftly on again towards the end +of their journey, if Fleda could have rid herself of some +qualms about the possible storm and the certain darkness; they +might not reach Greenfield by ten o'clock; and she disliked +travelling in the night at any time. But she could do nothing, +and she resigned herself anew to the comfort and trust she had +built upon last night. She had the seat next the window, and +with a very sober kind of pleasure watched the pretty +landscape they were flitting by — misty as her own prospects — +darkening as they? — no, she would not allow that thought. " +'Surely I know that it shall be well with them that fear God;' +and I can trust Him." And she found a strange sweetness in +that naked trust and clinging of faith, that faith never tried +never knows. But the breath of daylight was already gone, +though the universal spread of snow gave the eye a fair range +yet, white, white, as far as the view could reach, with that +light misty drapery round everything in the distance, and +merging into the soft grey sky; and every now and then, as the +wind served, a thick wreath of white vapour came by from the +engine and hid all, eddying past the windows, and then +skimming off away over the snowy ground from which it would +not lift; a more palpable veil for a moment of the distant +things — and then broken, scattered, fragmentary, lovely in +its frailty, and evanishing. It was a pretty afternoon, but a +sober; and the bare, black, solitary trees near hand which the +cars flew by, looked to Fleda constantly like finger-posts of +the past; and back, at their bidding, her thoughts and her +spirits went, back and forward, comparing, in her own mental +view what had once been so gay and genial with its present +bleak and chill condition. And from this, in sudden contrast, +came a strangely fair and bright image of heaven — its +exchange of peace for all this turmoil — of rest for all this +weary bearing up of mind and body against the ills that beset +both — of its quiet home for this unstable strange world, +where nothing is at a standstill — of perfect and pure society +for the unsatisfactory and wearying friendships that the most +are here. The thought came to Fleda like one of those +unearthly clear north-western skies from which a storm-cloud +has rolled away, that seem almost to mock earth with their +distance from its defilement and agitations. "Truly I know +that it shall be well with them that fear God!" She could +remember Hugh — she could not think of the words without him — +and yet say them with the full bounding assurance. And in that +weary and uneasy afternoon, her mind rested and delighted +itself with two lines of George Herbert, that only a Christian +can well understand — + + +"Thy power and love, my love and trust, +Make one place everywhere." + + +But the night fell, and Fleda at last could see nothing but +the dim rail-fences they were flying by, and the reflection +from some stationary lantern on the engine, or one of the +forward cars, that always threw a bright spot of light on the +snow. Still she kept her eyes fastened out of the window; +anything but the view _inboard_. They were going slowly now, and +frequently stopping; for they were out of time, and some other +trains were to be looked-out for. Nervous work; and whenever +they stopped, the voices which at other times were happily +drowned in the rolling of the car-wheels, rose and jarred in +discords far less endurable. Fleda shut her ears to the words, +but it was easy enough without words to understand the +indications of coarse and disagreeable natures in whose +neighbourhood she disliked to find herself — of whose +neighbourhood she exceedingly disliked to be reminded. The +muttered oath, the more than muttered jest, the various laughs +that tell so much of head or heart emptiness — the shadowy but +sure tokens of that in human nature which one would not +realize, and which one strives to forget; Fleda shrank within +herself, and would gladly have stopped her ears; did sometimes +covertly. Oh, if home could be but reached, and she out of +this atmosphere! how well she resolved that never another +time, by any motive of delicacy, or otherwise, she would be +tempted to trust herself in the like again without more than +womanly protection. The hours rolled wearily on; they heard +nothing of Greenfield yet. + +They came at length to a more obstinate stop than usual. Fleda +took her hands from her ears to ask what was the matter. + +"I don't know," said Mrs. Renney. "I hope they won't keep us a +great while waiting here." + +The door swung open, and the red comforter and tarpaulin hat +of one of the breakmen showed itself a moment. Presently +after, "Can't get on," was repeated by several voices in the +various tones of assertion, interrogation, and impatience. The +women folks, having nobody to ask questions of, had nothing +for it but to be quiet and use their ears. + +"Can't get on!" said another man, coming in — "there's nothing +but snow out o' doors — track's all foul." + +A number of people instantly rushed out to see. + +"Can't get on any further to-night?" asked a quiet old +gentleman of the news-bringer. + +"Not another inch, Sir; worse off than old Dobbs was in the +mill-pond — we've got half way, but we can't turn and go +back." + +"And what are we going to do?" said an unhappy wight, not +quick in drawing conclusions. + +"I s'pose we'll all be stiff by the morning," answered the +other, gravely — "unless the wood holds out, which aint +likely." + +How much there is in even a cheery tone of voice. Fleda was +sorry when this man took his away with him. There was a most +uncheering confusion of tongues for a few minutes among the +people he had left, and then the car was near deserted; +everybody went out to bring his own wits to bear upon the +obstacles in the way of their progress. Mrs. Renney observed +that she might as well warm her feet while she could, and went +to the stove for the purpose. + +Poor Fleda felt as if she had no heart left. She sat still in +her place, and leaned her head upon the back of the deserted +chair before her, in utter inability to keep it up. The night +journey was bad enough, but _this_ was more than she had counted +upon. Danger, to be sure, there might be none in standing +still there all night, unless, perhaps, the danger of death +from the cold. She had heard of such things; but to sit there +till morning among all those people, and obliged to hear their +unloosed tongues, Fleda felt almost that she could not bear it +— a most forlorn feeling, with which came anew a keen +reflection upon the Evelyns, for having permitted her to run +even the hazard of such trouble. And in the morning, if well +it came, who would take care of them in all the subsequent +annoyance and difficulty of getting out of the snow? + +It must have taken very little time for these thoughts to run +through her head, for half a minute had not flown, when the +vacant seat beside her was occupied, and a band softly touched +one of hers which lay in her lap. Fleda started up in terror, +to have the hand taken and her eye met by Mr. Carleton. + +"Mr. Carleton! — O Sir, how glad I am to see you!" was said by +eye and cheek, as unmistakably as by word. + +"Have you come from the clouds?" + +"I might rather ask that question of you," said he, smiling. +"You have been invisible ever since the night when I had the +honour of playing the part of your physician." + +"I could not help it, Sir — I was sure you would believe it. I +wanted exceedingly to see you, and to thank you as well as I +could, but I was obliged to leave it." + +She could hardly say so much. Her swimming eye gave him more +thanks than he wanted. But she scolded herself vigorously, and +after a few minutes, was able to look and speak again. + +"I hoped you would not think me ungrateful, Sir, but in case +you might, I wrote to let you know that you were mistaken." + +"You wrote to me?" said he. + +"Yes, Sir, yesterday morning — at least it put in the post +yesterday morning." + +"It was more unnecessary than you are aware of," he said, with +a smile, and turning one of his deep looks away from her. + +"Are we fast here for all night, Mr. Carleton!" she said, +presently. + +"I am afraid so — I believe so — I have been out to examine, +and the storm is very thick." + +"You need not look so about it for me," said Fleda — "I don't +care for it all now." + +And a long-drawn breath half told how much she had cared for +it, and what a burden was gone. + +"You look very little like breasting hardships," said Mr. +Carleton, bending on her so exactly the look of affectionate +care that she had often had from him when she was a child, +that Fleda was very near overcome again. + +"Oh, you know," she said, speaking by dint of great force upon +herself — "you know the will is everything, and mine is very +good." + +But he looked extremely unconvinced and unsatisfied. + +"I am so comforted to see you sitting there, Sir," Fleda went +on gratefully, "that I am sure I can bear patiently all the +rest." + +His eye turned away, and she did not know what to make of his +gravity. But a moment after, he looked again, and spoke with +his usual manner. + +"That business you entrusted to me," he said, in a lower tone, +— "I believe you will have no more trouble with it." + +"So I thought! — so I gathered, the other night," said Fleda, +her heart and her face suddenly full of many things. + +"The note was given up — I saw it burned." + +Fleda's two hands clasped each other mutely. + +"And will he be silent?" + +"I think he will choose to be so, for his own sake." + +The only sake that would avail in that quarter, Fleda knew. +How had Mr. Carleton ever managed it? + +"And Charlton?" she said, after a few minutes' cheerful +musing. + +"I had the pleasure of Captain Rossitur's company to breakfast +the next morning, and I am happy to report that there is no +danger of any trouble arising there." + +"How shall I ever thank you, Sir!" said Fleda, with trembling +lips. + +His smile was so peculiar, she almost thought he was going to +tell her. But just then, Mrs. Renney having accomplished the +desirable temperature of her feet, came back to warm her ears, +and placed herself on the next seat — happily not the one +behind, but the one before them, where her eyes were thrown +away; and the lines of Mr. Carleton's mouth came back to their +usual quiet expression. + +"You were in particular haste to reach home?" he asked. + +Fleda said no, not in the abstract; it made no difference +whether to-day or to-morrow. + +"You had heard no ill news of your cousin?" + +"Not at all, but it is difficult to find an opportunity of +making the journey, and I thought I ought to come yesterday." + +He was silent again; and the baffled seekers after ways and +means, who had gone out to try arguments upon the storm, began +to come pouring back into the car. And bringing with them not +only their loud and coarse voices, with every shade of +disagreeableness, aggravated by ill-humour, but also an +average amount of snow upon their hats and shoulders, the +place was soon full of a reeking atmosphere of great-coats. +Fleda was trying to put up her window, but Mr. Carleton gently +stopped her, and began bargaining with a neighbouring fellow- +traveller for the opening of his. + +"Well, Sir, I'll open it if you wish it," said the man, +civilly, "but they say we sha'n't have nothing to make fires +with more than an hour or two longer; so maybe you'll think we +can't afford to let any too much cold in." + +The gentleman however, persisting in his wish, and the wish +being moreover backed with those arguments to which every +grade of human reason is accessible, the window was opened. At +first the rush of fresh air was a great relief; but it was not +very long before the raw snowy atmosphere, which made its way +in, was felt to be more dangerous, if it was more endurable, +than the close pent-up one it displaced. Mr. Carleton ordered +the window closed again; and Fleda's glance of meek grateful +patience was enough to pay any reasonable man for his share of +the suffering. _Her_ share of it was another matter. Perhaps Mr. +Carleton thought so, for he immediately bent himself to reward +her and to avert the evil, and for that purpose brought into +play every talent of manner and conversation that could +beguile the time, and make her forget what she was among. If +success were his reward he had it. He withdrew her attention +completely from all that was around her, and without tasking +it; she could not have borne that. He did not seem to task +himself; but without making any exertion, he held her eye and +ear, and guarded both from communication with things +disagreeable. He knew it. There was not a change in her eye's +happy interest, till, in the course of the conversation, Fleda +happened to mention Hugh, and he noticed the saddening of the +eye immediately afterwards. + +"Is he ill?" said Mr. Carleton. + +"I don't know," said Fleda, faltering a little — "he was not — +very — but a few weeks ago." + +Her eye explained the broken sentences which there, in the +neighbourhood of other ears, she dared not finish. + +"He will be better after he has seen you," said Mr. Carleton, +gently. + +"Yes." + +A very sorrowful and uncertain "yes," with an "if" in the +speaker's mind, which she did not bring out. + +"Can you sing your old song yet?" said Mr. Carleton, softly — + + +"Yet one thing secures us, +Whatever betide?" + + +But Fleda burst into tears. + +"Forgive me," he whispered, earnestly, "for reminding you of +that — you did not need it, and I have only troubled you." + +"No, Sir, you have not," said Fleda — "it did not trouble me, +and Hugh knows it better than I do. I cannot bear anything to- +night I believe" — + +"So you have remembered that, Mr. Carleton?" she said, a +minute after. + +"Do you remember that?" said he, putting her old little Bible +into her hand. + +Fleda seized it, but she could hardly bear the throng of +images that started up around it. The smooth worn cover +brought so back the childish happy days when it had been her +constant companion — the shadows of the Queechy of old, and +Cynthia and her grandfather, and the very atmosphere of those +times when she had led a light-hearted strange wild life all +alone with them, reading the Encyclopaedia, and hunting out +the wood-springs. She opened the book and slowly turned over +the leaves where her father's hand had drawn those lines of +remark and affection round many a passage — the very look of +them she knew; but she could not see it now, for her eyes were +dim, and tears were dropping fast into her lap — she hoped Mr. +Carleton did not see them, but she could not help it; she +could only keep the book out of the way of being blotted. And +there were other and later associations she had with it too — +how dear! — how tender! — how grateful! + +Mr. Carleton was quite silent for a good while — till the +tears had ceased; then he bent towards her so as to be heard +no further off. + +"It has been for many years my best friend and companion," he +said, in a low tone. + +Fleda could make no answer, even by look. + +"At first," he went on, softly, "I had a strong association of +you with it; but the time came when I lost that entirely, and +itself quite swallowed up the thought of the giver." + +A quick glance and smile told how well Fleda understood, how +heartily she was pleased with that. But she instantly looked +away again. + +"And now," said Mr. Carleton, after a pause — "for some time +past, I have got the association again; and I do not choose to +have it so. I have come to the resolution to put the book back +into your hands, and not receive it again, unless the giver go +with the gift." + +Fleda looked up, a startled look of wonder, into his face, but +the dark eye left no doubt of the meaning of his words; and in +unbounded confusion she turned her own and her attention, +ostensibly, to the book in her hand, though sight and sense +were almost equally out of her power. For a few minutes poor +Fleda felt as if all sensation had retreated to her finger- +ends. She turned the leaves over and over, as if willing to +cheat herself or her companion into the belief that she had +something to think of there, while associations and images of +the past were gone with a vengeance, swallowed up in a +tremendous reality of the present; and the book, which a +minute ago was her father's Bible, was now, — what was it? — +something of Mr. Carleton's, which she must give back to him. +But still she held it and looked at it — conscious of no one +distinct idea but that, and a faint one besides, that he might +like to be repossessed of his property in some reasonable time +— time like everything else was in a whirl? the only steady +thing in creation seemed to be that perfectly still and +moveless figure by her side — till her trembling fingers +admonished her they would not be able to hold anything much +longer; and gently and slowly, without looking, her hand put +the book back towards Mr. Carleton. That both were detained +together she knew, but hardly felt; — the thing was that she +had given it! — + +There was no other answer; and there was no further need that +Mr. Carleton should make any efforts for diverting her from +the scene and the circumstances where they were. Probably he +knew that, for he made none. He was perfectly silent for a +long time, and Fleda was deaf to any other voice that could be +raised, near or far. She could not even think. + +Mrs. Renney was happily snoring, and most of the other people +had descended into their coat collars, or, figuratively +speaking, had lowered their blinds by tilting over their hats +in some uncomfortable position that signified sleep; and +comparative quiet had blessed the place for some time; as +little noticed, indeed, by Fleda, as noise would have been. +The sole thing that she clearly recognized in connexion with +the exterior world, was that clasp in which one of her hands +lay. She did not know that the car had grown quiet, and that +only an occasional grunt of ill-humour or waking-up colloquy +testified that it was the unwonted domicile of a number of +human beings, who were harbouring there in a disturbed state +of mind. But this state of things could not last. The time +came that had been threatened, when their last supply of +extrinsic warmth was at an end. Despite shut windows, the +darkening of the stove was presently followed by a very +sensible and fast-increasing change of temperature; and this +addition to their causes of discomfort roused every one of the +company from his temporary lethargy. The growl of dissatisfied +voices awoke again, more gruff than before; the spirit of +jesting had long languished, and now died outright, and in its +stead came some low, and deep, and bitter-spoken curses. Poor +Mrs. Renney shook off her somnolency and shook her shoulders, +a little business shake, admonitory to herself to keep cool; +and Fleda came to the consciousness that some very +disagreeable chills were making their way over her. + +"Are you warm enough?" said Mr. Carleton, suddenly, turning to +her. + +"Not quite," said Fleda, hesitating; "I feel the cold a +little. Please don't, Mr. Carleton!" she added, earnestly, as +she saw him preparing to throw off his cloak, the identical +black fox which Constance had described, with so much +vivacity; "pray do not. I am not very cold — I can bear a +little — I am not so tender as you think me; I do not need it, +and you would feel the want very much after wearing it. I +won't put it on." + +But he smilingly bade her "stand up," stooping down and taking +one of her hands to enforce his words, and giving her, at the +same time, the benefit of one of those looks of good-humoured +wilfulness to which his mother always yielded, and to which +Fleda yielded instantly, though with a colour considerably +heightened at the slight touch of peremptoriness in his tone. + +"You are not offended with me, Elfie?" he said, in another +manner, when she had sat down again, and he was arranging the +heavy folds of the cloak. + +Offended! — a glance answered. + +"You shall have everything your own way," he whispered, +gently, as he stooped down to bring the cloak under her feet, +"_except yourself_." + +What good care should be taken of that exception was said in +the dark eye at which Fleda hardly ventured half a glance. She +had much ado to command herself. + +She was shielded again from all the sights and sounds within +reach. She was in a maze. The comfort of the fur-cloak was +curiously mixed with the feeling of something else, of which +that was an emblem — a surrounding of care and strength which +would effectually be exerted for her protection — somewhat +that Fleda had not known for many a long day — the making up +of the old want. Fleda had it in her heart to cry like a baby. +Such a dash of sunlight had fallen at her feet that she hardly +dared look at it for fear of being dazzled; but she could not +look anywhere that she did not see the reflection. + +In the mean time the carful of people settled again into +sullen quietude. The cold was not found propitious to +quarrelling. Those who could subsided again into lethargy; +those who could not, gathered in their outposts to make the +best defence they might of the citadel. Most happily it was +not an extreme night; cold enough to be very disagreeable, and +even (without a fur-cloak) dangerous; but not enough to put +even noses and ears in immediate jeopardy. Mr. Carleton had +contrived to procure a comfortable wrapper for Mrs. Renney, +from a Yankee, who, for the sake of being a "warm man" as to +his pockets, was willing to be cold otherwise for a time. The +rest of the great-coats and cloaks, which were so alert and +erect a little while ago, were doubled up on every side in all +sorts of despondent attitudes. A dull quiet brooded over the +assembly, and Mr. Carleton walked up and down the vacant +space. Once he caught an anxious glance from Fleda, and came +immediately to her side. + +"You need not be troubled about me," he said, with a most +genial smile; "I am not suffering — never was farther from it +in my life." + +Fleda could neither answer nor look. + +"There are not many hours of the night to wear out," he said. +"Can't you follow your neighbour's example?" + +She shook her head. + +"This watching is too hard for you. You will have another +headache to-morrow." + +"No, perhaps not," she said, with a grateful look up. + +"You do not feel the cold now, Elfie?" + +"Not at all — not in the least — I am perfectly comfortable — +I am doing very well." + +He stood still, and the changing lights and shades on Fleda's +cheek grew deeper. + +"Do you know where we are, Mr. Carleton?" + +"Somewhere between a town the name of which I have forgotten, +and a place called Quarrenton, I think; and Quarrenton, they +tell me, is but a few miles from Greenfield. Our difficulties +will vanish, I hope, with the darkness." + +He walked again, and Fleda mused, and wondered at herself in +the black fox. She did not venture another look, though her +eye took in nothing very distinctly but the outlines of that +figure passing up and down through the car. He walked +perseveringly; and weariness at last prevailed over everything +else with Fleda; she lost herself, with her head leaning +against the bit of wood between the windows. + +The rousing of the great-coats, and the growing gray light, +roused her before her uneasy sleep had lasted an hour. The +lamps were out, the car was again spotted with two long rows +of window-panes, through which the light as yet came but +dimly. The morning had dawned at last, and seemed to have +brought with it a fresh accession of cold, for everybody was +on the stir. Fleda put up her window to get a breath of fresh +air, and see how the day looked. + +A change of weather had come with the dawn. It was not fine +yet. The snowing had ceased, but the clouds hung overhead +still, though not with the leaden uniformity of yesterday; +they were higher, and broken into many a soft, gray fold, that +promised to roll away from the sky by and by. The snow was +deep on the ground; every visible thing lapped in a thick +white covering; a still, very grave, very pretty winter +landscape, but somewhat dreary in its aspect, to a trainful of +people fixed in the midst of it, out of sight of human +habitation. Fleda felt that; but only in the abstract — to her +it did not seem dreary; she enjoyed the wild, solitary beauty +of the scene very much, with many a grateful thought of what +might have been. As it was, she left difficulties entirely to +others. + +As soon as it was light, the various inmates of the strange +dormitory gathered themselves up, and set out on foot for +Quarrenton. By one of them Mr. Carleton sent an order for a +sleigh, which in as short a time as possible arrived, and +transported him and Fleda, and Mrs. Renney, and one other ill- +bestead woman, safely to the little town of Quarrenton. + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + +"Welcome the sour cup of prosperity! Affliction may one day +smile again, and till then, sit thee down, sorrow!" +LOVE'S LABOUR LOST. + + +It had been a wild night, and the morning looked scared. +Perhaps it was only the particular locality, for if ever a +place showed bleak and winter-stricken, the little town of +Quarrenton was in that condition that morning. The snow +overlaid and enveloped everything, except where the wind had +been at work; and the wind and the gray clouds seemed the only +agencies abroad. Not a ray of sunlight to relieve the uniform +sober tints, the universal gray and white, only varied where a +black house-roof, partially cleared, or a blacker bare- +branched tree, gave it a sharp interruption. There was not a +solitary thing that bore an indication of comfortable life, +unless the curls of smoke that went up from the chimneys; and +Fleda was in no condition to study their physiognomy. + +A little square hotel, perched alone on a rising ground, +looked the especial bleak and unpromising spot of the place. +It bore, however, the imposing title of the Pocahontas; and +there the sleigh set them down. + +They were ushered upstairs into a little parlour, furnished in +the usual style, with one or two articles a great deal too +showy for the place, and a general dearth as to the rest. A +lumbering mahogany sofa, that showed as much wood and as +little promise as possible, a marble-topped centre-table, +chairs in the minority, and curtains minus, and the hearth-rug +providently turned bottom upwards. On the centre-table lay a +pile of Penny Magazines, a volume of' selections of poetry +from various good authors, and a sufficient complement of +newspapers. The room was rather cold, but of that the waiter +gave a reasonable explanation in the fact that the fire had +not been burning long. + +Furs, however, might be dispensed with, or Fleda thought so; +and taking off her bonnet, she endeavoured to rest her weary +head against the sharp-cut top of the sofa-back, which seemed +contrived expressly to punish and forbid all attempts at ease- +seeking. The mere change of position was still comparative +ease. But the black fox had not done duty yet. Its ample folds +were laid over the sofa, cushion, back, and all, so as at once +to serve for pillow and mattress; and Fleda being gently +placed upon it, laid her face down again upon the soft fur, +which gave a very kindly welcome not more to the body than to +the mind. Fleda almost smiled as she felt that. The furs were +something more than a pillow for her cheek — they were the +soft image of somewhat for her mind to rest on. But entirely +exhausted, too much for smiles or tears, though both were +near, she resigned herself as helplessly as an infant to the +feeling of rest; and, in five minutes, was in a state of +dreamy unconsciousness. + +Mrs. Renney, who had slept a great part of the night, courted +sleep anew in the rocking-chair, till breakfast should be +ready; the other woman had found quarters in the lower part of +the house; and Mr. Carleton stood still, with folded arms, to +read at his leisure the fair face that rested so confidingly +upon the black fur of his cloak, looking so very fair in the +contrast. It was the same face he had known in time past — the +same, with only an alteration that had added new graces, but +had taken away none of the old. Not one of the soft outlines +had grown hard under Time's discipline: not a curve had lost +its grace, or its sweet mobility; and yet the hand of Time had +been there; for on brow and lip, and cheek and eyelid, there +was that nameless, grave composure, which said touchingly, +that hope had long ago clasped hands with submission. And, +perhaps, that if hope's anchor had not been well placed, ay, +even where it could not be moved, the storms of life might +have beaten even hope from her ground, and made a clean sweep +of desolation over all she had left. Not the storms of the +last few weeks. Mr. Carleton saw and understood their work in +the perfectly colourless and thin cheek. But these other finer +drawn characters had taken longer to write. He did not know +the instrument, but he read the handwriting, and came to his +own resolutions therefrom. + +Yet if not untroubled, she had remained unspotted by the +world; that was as clear as the other. The slight eyebrow sat +with its wonted calm purity of outline just where it used; the +eyelid fell as quietly; the forehead above it was as +unruffled; and if the mouth had a subdued gravity that it had +taken years to teach, it had neither lost any of the +sweetness, nor any of the simplicity of childhood. It was a +strange picture that Mr. Carleton was looking at — strange for +its rareness. In this very matter of simplicity, that the +world will never leave those who belong to it. Half sitting +and half reclining, she had given herself to rest with the +abandonment and self-forgetfulness of a child; her attitude +had the very grace of a child's unconsciousness; and her face +showed that, even in placing herself there, she had lost all +thought of any other presence or any other eyes than her own; +even of what her hand and cheek lay upon, and what it +betokened. It meant something to Mr. Carleton, too; and if +Fleda could have opened her eyes, she would have seen in those +that were fixed upon her a happy promise for her future life. +She was beyond making any such observations; and Mrs. Renney +gave no interruption to his till the breakfast bell rang. + +Mr. Carleton had desired the meal to be served in a private +room. But he was met with a speech in which such a confusion +of arguments endeavoured to persuade him to be of another +mind, that he had at last given way. It was asserted that the +ladies would have their breakfast a great deal quicker, and a +great deal hotter, with the rest of the company; and in the +same breath that it would be a very great favour to the house +if the gentleman would not put them to the inconvenience of +setting a separate table; the reasons of which inconvenience +were set forth in detail, or would have been if the gentleman +would have heard them; and desirous especially of haste, on +Fleda's account, Mr. Carleton signified his willingness to let +the house accommodate itself. Following the bell, a waiter now +came to announce and conduct them to their breakfast. + +Down the stairs, through sundry narrow turning passages, they +went to a long low room at one corner of the house; where a +table was spread for a very nondescript company, as it soon +proved, many of their last night's companions having found +their way thither. The two ladies, however, were given the +chief posts at the head, as near as possible to a fiery hot +stove, and served with tea and coffee from a neighbouring +table, by a young lady in long ringlets, who was there +probably for their express honour. But, alas for the +breakfast! They might as good have had the comfort of a +private room, for there was none other to be had. Of the tea +and coffee it might be said, as once it was said of two bad +roads — "whichever one you take, you will wish you had taken +the other;" the beefsteak was a problem of impracticability; +and the chickens — Fleda could not help thinking, that a well- +to-do rooster which she saw flapping his wings in the yard, +must, in all probability, be at that very moment endeavouring +to account for a sudden breach in his social circle; and if +the oysters had been some very fine ladies, they could hardly +have retained less recollection of their original +circumstances. It was in vain to try to eat or to drink; and +Fleda returned to her sofa with even an increased appetite for +rest, the more that her head began to take its revenge for the +trials to which it had been put the past day and night. + +She had closed her eyes again in her old position. Mrs. Renney +was tying her bonnet-strings. Mr. Carleton was pacing up and +down. + +"Aren't you going to get ready, Miss Ringgan?" said the +former. + +"How soon will the cars be here?" exclaimed Fleda, starting +up. + +"Presently," said Mr. Carleton; "but," said he, coming up to +her and taking her hands — "I am going to prescribe for you +again — will you let me?" + +Fleda's face gave small promise of opposition. + +"You are not fit to travel now. You need some hours of quiet +rest before we go any further." + +"But when shall we get home?" said Fleda. + +"In good time — not by the railroad — there is a nearer way +that will take us to Queechy without going through Greenfield. +I have ordered a room to be made ready for you — will you try +if it be habitable?" + +Fleda submitted; and, indeed, there was in his manner a sort +of gentle determination to which few women would have opposed +themselves; besides that, her head threatened to make a +journey a miserable business. + +"You are ill now," said Mr. Carleton. "Cannot you induce your +companion to stay and attend you?" + +"I don't want her," said Fleda. + +Mr. Carleton, however, mooted the question himself with Mrs. +Renney, but she represented to him, though with much +deference, that the care of her property must oblige her to go +where and when it went. He rang, and ordered the housekeeper +to be sent. + +Presently after, a young lady in ringlets entered the room, +and first taking a somewhat leisurely survey of the company, +walked to the window, and stood there looking out. A dim +recollection of her figure and air made Fleda query whether +she were not the person sent for; but it was several minutes +before it came into Mr. Carleton's head to ask if she belonged +to the house. + +"I do, Sir," was the dignified answer. + +"Will you show this lady the room prepared for her. And take +care that she wants nothing." + +The owner of the ringlets answered not, but turning the front +view of them full upon Fleda, seemed to intimate that she was +ready to act as her guide. She hinted, however, that the rooms +were very _airy_ in winter, and that Fleda would stand a better +chance of comfort where she was. But this Fleda would not +listen to, and followed her adviser to the half-warmed, and +certainly very airy apartment which had been got ready for +her. It was probably more owing to something in her own +appearance, than to Mr. Carleton's word of admonition on the +subject, that her attendant was really assiduous and kind. + +"Be you of this country?" she said, abruptly, after her good +offices, as Fleda thought, were ended, and she had just closed +her eyes. + +She opened them again, and said "Yes." + +"Well, that aint in the parlour, is he?" + +"What?" said Fleda. + +"One of our folks?" + +"An American, you mean? — No." + +"I thought he wa'n't — What is he?" + +"He is English." + +"Is he your brother?" + +"No." + +The young lady gave her a good look out of her large dark +eyes, and remarking that "she thought they didn't look much +like," left the room. + +The day was spent by poor Fleda between pain and stupor, each +of which acted in some measure to check the other — too much +exhausted for nervous pain, to reach the height it sometimes +did, while yet that was sufficient to prevent stupor from +sinking into sleep. Beyond any power of thought, or even +fancy, with only a dreamy succession of images flitting across +her mind, the hours passed, she knew not how; that they did +pass, she knew from her handmaid in the long curls, who was +every now and then coming in to look at her, and give her +fresh water; it needed no ice. Her handmaid told her that the +cars were gone by — that it was near noon — then, that it was +past noon. There was no help for it; she could only lie still +and wait; it was long past noon before she was able to move; +and she was looking ill enough yet, when she at last opened +the door of the parlour and slowly presented herself. + +Mr. Carleton was there alone, Mrs. Renney having long since +accompanied her baggage. He came forward instantly, and led +Fleda to the sofa, with such gentle, grave kindness, that she +could hardly bear it; her nerves had been in an unsteady state +all day. A table was set, and partially spread with evidently +much more care than the one of the morning, and Fleda sat +looking at it, afraid to trust herself to look anywhere else. +For years she had been taking care of others, and now there +was something so strange in this feeling of being cared for, +that her heart was full. Whatever Mr. Carleton saw or +suspected of this, it did not appear. On the contrary, his +manner and his talk on different matters was as cool, as +quiet, as graceful, as if neither he nor Fleda had anything +particular to think of; avoiding even an allusion to whatever +might in the least distress her. Fleda thought she had a great +many reasons to be grateful to him, but she never thanked him +for anything more than at that moment she thanked him for the +delicacy which so regarded her delicacy, and put her in a few +minutes completely at her ease as she could be. + +The refreshments were presently brought, and Fleda was served +with them in a way that went, as far as possible, towards +making them satisfactory; but, though a great improvement upon +the morning, they furnished still but the substitute for a +meal. There was a little pause then, after the horses were +ordered. + +"I am afraid you have wanted my former prescription to-day," +said Mr. Carleton, after considering the little-improved +colour of Fleda's face. + +"I have, indeed." + +"Where is it?" + +Fleda hesitated, and then, in a little confusion, said, she +supposed it was lying on Mrs. Evelyn's centre-table. + +"How happens that?" said he, smiling. + +"Because I could not help it, Mr. Carleton," said Fleda, with +no little difficulty; "I was foolish, I could not bring it +away." + +He understood and was silent. + +"Are you fit to bear a long ride in the cold?" he said, +compassionately, a few minutes after. + +"Oh, yes; it will do me good." + +"You have had a miserable day, have you not?" + +"My head has been pretty bad," said Fleda, a little evasively. + +"Well, what would you have?" said he, lightly; "doesn't that +make a miserable day of it?" + +Fleda hesitated and coloured, and then, conscious that her +cheeks were answering for her, coloured so exceedingly, that +she was fain to put both her hands up to hide what they only +served the more plainly to show. No advantage was taken. Mr. +Carleton said nothing; she could not see what answer might be +in his face. It was only by a peculiar quietness in his tone +whenever he spoke to her afterwards that Fleda knew she had +been thoroughly understood. She dared not lift her eyes. + +They had soon employment enough around her. A sleigh and +horses, better than anything else Quarrenton had been known to +furnish, were carrying her rapidly towards home, the weather +had perfectly cleared off, and in full brightness and fairness +the sun was shining upon a brilliant world. It was cold +indeed, though the only wind was that made by their progress; +but Fleda had been again unresistingly wrapped in the furs, +and was, for the time, beyond the reach of that or any other +annoyance. She sat silently and quietly enjoying; so quietly +that a stranger might have questioned there being any +enjoyment in the case. It was a very picturesque, broken +country, fresh covered with snow; and at that hour, late in +the day, the lights and shadows were a constantly varying +charm to the eye. Clumps of evergreens stood out in full +disclosure against the white ground; the bare branches of +neighbouring trees in all their barrenness, had a wild +prospective or retrospective beauty peculiar to themselves. On +the wavy white surface of the meadow land, or the steep hill- +sides, lay every variety of shadow in blue and neutral tint; +where they lay not, the snow was too brilliant to be borne. +And afar off, through a heaven, bright and cold enough to hold +the canopy over winter's head, the ruler of the day was gently +preparing to say good-bye to the world. Fleda's eye seemed to +be new set for all forms of beauty, and roved from one to the +other as grave and bright as nature itself. + +For a little way, Mr. Carleton left her to her musings, and +was as silent as she. But then he gently drew her into a +conversation that broke up the settled gravity of her face, +and obliged her to divide her attention between nature and +him, and his part of it he knew how to manage. But though eye +and smile constantly answered him, he could win neither to a +straightforward bearing. + +They were about a mile from Queechy, when Fleda suddenly +exclaimed — + +"Oh, Mr. Carleton, please stop the sleigh!" + +The horses were stopped. + +"It is only Earl Douglass, our farmer," Fleda said, in +explanation: "I want to ask how they are at home?" + +In answer to her nod of recognition, Mr. Douglass came to the +side of the vehicle; but till he was there, close, gave her no +other answer by word or sign; when there, broke forth his +accustomed guttural — "How d'ye do?" + +"How d'ye do, Mr. Douglass," said Fleda. "How are they all at +home?" + +"Well, there aint nothin' new among 'em, as I've heerd on," +said Earl, diligently though stealthily, at the same time +qualifying himself to make a report of Mr. Carleton. "I guess +they'll be glad to see you. _I_ be." + +"Thank you, Mr. Douglass. How is Hugh?" + +"He aint nothin' different from what he's been for a spell +back — at least I ain't heerd that he was. Maybe he is, but if +he is, I ha'n't heerd speak of it, and if he was, I think I +should ha' heerd speak of it. He was pretty bad a spell ago — +about when you went away — but he's been better sen. So they +say. I ha'n't seen him. Well Flidda," he added, with somewhat +of a sly gleam in his eye, "do you think you're going to make +up your mind to stay to hum this time?" + +"I have no immediate intention of running away, Mr. Douglass," +said Fleda, her pale cheeks turning rose as she saw him +looking curiously up and down the edges of the black fox. His +eye came back to hers with a good- humoured intelligence that +she could hardly stand. + +"It's time you was back," said he. "Your uncle's to hum, but +he don't do me much good, whatever he does to other folks, or +himself nother, as far as the farm goes; there's that corn —" + +"Very well, Mr. Douglass," said Fleda, "I shall be at home +now, and I'll see about it." + +"_Very_ good!" said Earl, as he stepped back, "Queechy can't get +along without you, that's no mistake." + +They drove on a few minutes in silence. + +"Aren't you thinking, Mr. Carleton," said Fleda, "that my +countrymen are a strange mixture?" + +"I was not thinking of them at all at this moment. I believe +such a notion has crossed my mind." + +"It has crossed mine very often," said Fleda. + +"How do you read them? What is the basis of it?" + +"I think, the strong self-respect which springs from the +security and importance that republican institutions give +every man. But," she added, colouring, "I have seen very +little of the world, and ought not to judge." + +"I have no doubt you are quite right," said Mr. Carleton, +smiling. "But don't you think an equal degree of self-respect +may consist with giving honour where honour is due?" + +"Yes," said Fleda, a little doubtfully, "where religion and +not republicanism is the spring of it." + +"Humility and not pride," said he. "Yes, you are right." + +"My countrymen do yield honour where they think it is due," +said Fleda, "especially where it is not claimed. They must +give it to reality, not to pretension. And, I confess, I would +rather see them a little rude in their independence, than +cringing before mere advantages of external position — even +for my own personal pleasure." + +"I agree with you, Elfie, putting, perhaps, the last clause +out of the question." + +"Now, that man," said Fleda, smiling at his look — "I suppose +his address must have struck you as very strange; and yet +there was no want of respect under it. I am sure he has a true +thorough respect, and even regard for me, and would prove it +on any occasion." + +"I have no doubt of that." + +"But it does not satisfy you?" + +"Not quite. I confess I should require more from any one under +my control." + +"Oh, nobody is under control here," said Fleda. "That is, I +mean, individual control, unless so far as self-interest comes +in. I suppose that is all-powerful here as elsewhere." + +"And the reason it gives less power to individuals is, that +the greater freedom of resources makes no man's interest +depend so absolutely on one other man. That is a reason you +cannot regret. No, your countrymen have the best of it, Elfie. +But, do you suppose that this is a fair sample of the whole +country?" + +"I dare not say that," said Fleda. "I am afraid there is not +so much intelligence and cultivation everywhere. But I am sure +there are many parts of the land that will bear a fair +comparison with it." + +"It is more than I would dare say for my own land." + +"I should think" — Fleda suddenly stopped. + +"What?" — said Mr. Carleton, gently. + +"I beg your pardon, Sir — I was going to say something very +presumptuous." + +"You cannot," he said in the same tone. + +"I was going to say," said Fleda, blushing, "that I should +think there might be a great deal of pleasure in raising the +tone of mind and character among the people, as one could who +had influence over a large neighbourhood." + +His smile was very bright in answer. + +"I have been trying that, Elfie, for the last eight years." + +Fleda's eye looked now eagerly in pleasure and in curiosity +for more. But he was silent. + +"I was thinking a little while ago," he said, "of the time, +once before, when I rode here with you — when you were +beginning to lead me to the problem I have been trying to work +out ever since. When I left you in Paris, I went to resolve +with myself the question, What I had to do in the world? Your +little Bible was my invaluable help. I had read very little of +it when I threw aside all other books; and my problem was soon +solved. I saw that the life has no honour nor value which is +not spent to the glory of God. I saw the end I was made for — +the happiness I was fitted for — the dignity to which even a +fallen creature may rise, through his dear Redeemer and +Surety." + +Fleda's eyes were down now. Mr. Carleton was silent a moment, +watching one or two bright witnesses that fell from them. + +"The next conclusion was easy — that my work was at home — I +have wanted my good fairy," Mr. Carleton went on, smiling. +"But I hope she will be contented to carry the standard of +Christianity, without that of republicanism." + +"But Christianity tends directly to republicanism, Mr. +Carleton," said Fleda, trying to laugh. + +"I know that," said he, smiling — "and I am willing to know +it. But the leaven of truth is one thing, and the powder train +of the innovator is another." + +Fleda sat thinking that she had very little in common with the +layers of powder trains. She did not know the sleigh was +passing Deepwater lake, till Mr. Carleton said — + +"I am glad, my dear Elfie, for your sake, that we are almost +at the end of your journey." + +"I should think you might be glad for your own sake, Mr. +Carleton." + +"No — my journey is not ended —" + +"Not?" + +"No — it will not be ended till I get back to New York, or +rather till I find myself here again — I shall make very +little delay there —" + +"But you will not go any further to-night?" said Fleda, her +eye this time meeting his fully. + +"Yes — I must take the first train to New York. I have some +reason to expect my mother by this steamer." + +"Back to New York!" said Fleda. "Then taking care of me has +just hindered you in your business." + +But even as she spoke, she read the truth in his eye, and her +own fell in confusion. + +"My business?" said he, smiling; — "you know it now, Elfie. I +arrived at Mrs. Evelyn's just after you had quitted it, +intending to ask you to take the long-talked-of drive; and +learned, to my astonishment, that you had left the city, and, +as Edith kindly informed me, under no better guardianship than +that in which I found you. I was just in time to reach the +boat." + +"And you ere in the boat night before last?" + +"Certainly." + +"I should have felt a great deal easier if I had known that," +said Fleda. + +"So should I," said he; "but you were invisible, till I +discerned you in the midst of a crowd of people before me in +the car." + +Fleda was silent, till the sleigh stopped, and Mr. Carleton +had handed her out. + +"What's going to be done with this here trunk?" said heir +driver, trying a tug at one handle. + +"I will send somebody down to help you with it," said Fleda. +"It is too heavy for one alone." + +"Well, I reckon it is," said he. "I guess you didn't know I +was a cousin, did you?" + +"No," said Fleda. + +"I believe I be." + +"Who are you?" + +"I am Pierson Barnes. I live to Quarrenton for a year back. +Squire Joshua Springer's your uncle, aint he?" + +"Yes, my father's uncle." + +"Well, he's mine too. His sister's my mother." + +"I'll send somebody to help you, Mr. Barnes." + +She took Mr. Carleton's arm, and walked half the way up to the +house without daring to look at him. + +"Another specimen of your countrymen," he said, smiling. + +There was nothing but quiet amusement in the tone, and there +was not the shadow of anything else in his face. Fleda looked, +and thanked him mentally, and drew breath easier. At the +house-door he made a pause. + +"You are coming in, Mr. Carleton?" + +"Not now." + +"It is a long drive to Greenfield, Mr. Carleton; — you must +not turn away from a country-house till we have shown +ourselves unworthy to live in it. You will come in and let us +give you something more substantial than those Quarrenton +oysters. Do not say no," she said, earnestly, as she saw a +refusal in his eye — "I know what you are thinking of, but +they do not know that you have been told anything — it makes +no difference." + +She laid her gentle detaining hand, as irresistible in its way +as most things, upon his arm, and he followed her in. + +Only Hugh was in the sitting-room, and n a great easy-chair by +the fire. It struck to Fleda's heart; but there was no time +but for a flash of thought. He had turned his face and saw +her. Fleda meant to have controlled herself and presented Mr. +Carleton properly, but Hugh started up; he saw nothing but +herself, and one view of the ethereal delicacy of his face +made Fleda for a moment forget everything but him. They were +in each other's arms, and then still as death. Hugh was +unconscious that a stranger was there, and though Fleda was +very conscious that one was there who was no stranger — there +was so much in both hearts, so much of sorrow and joy, and +gratitude and tenderness, on the one part and on the other, so +much that even if they had been alone lips could only have +said silently — that for a little while they kissed each other +and wept in a passionate attempt to speak what their hearts +were too full of. + +Fleda at last whispered to Hugh that somebody else was there, +and turned to make, as well as she might, the introduction. +But Mr. Carleton did not need it, and made his own with that +singular talent which in all circumstances, wherever he chose +to exert it, had absolute power. Fleda saw Hugh's countenance +change, with a kind of pleased surprise, and herself stood +still under the charm for a minute; then she recollected she +might be dispensed with. She took up her little spaniel, who +was in an agony of gratulation at her feet, and went out into +the kitchen. + +"Well, do you mean to say you are here at last?" said Barby, +her gray eyes flashing pleasure as she came forward to take +the half hand which, owing to King's monopoly, was all Fleda +had to give her. "Have you come home to stay, Fleda?" + +"I am tired enough to be quiet," said Fleda. "But, dear Barby, +what have you got in the house? — I want supper as quickly as +it can be had." + +"Well, you do look dreadful bad," said Barby eyeing her. "Why, +there aint much particular, Fleda; nobody's had any heart to +eat lately; I thought I might a'most as well save myself the +fuss of getting victuals. Hugh lives like a bird, and Mis' +Rossitur aint much better, and I think all of 'em have been +keeping their appetites till you came back; 'cept Philetus and +me; we keep it up pretty well. Why, you're come home hungry, +aint you?" + +"No, not I," said Fleda; "but there's a gentleman here that +came with me that must have something before he goes away +again. What have you, Barby?" + +"Who is he?" said Barby. + +"A friend that took care of me on the way — I'll tell you +about it; but, in the meantime, supper, Barby." + +"Is he a New Yorker, that one must be curious for?" + +"As curious as you like," said Fleda, "but he is not a New +Yorker." + +"Where _is_ he from, then?" said Barby, who was busily putting +on the tea-kettle. + +"England." + +"England!" said Barby, facing about. "Oh, if he's an +Englishman, I don't care for him, Fleda." + +"But you care for me," said Fleda, laughing; "and for my sake +don't let our hospitality fail to somebody who has been very +kind to me, if he is an Englishman; and he is in haste to be +off." + +"Well, I don't know what we're a-going to give him," said +Barby, looking at her. "There aint much in the pantry besides +cold pork and beans, that Philetus and me made our dinner on — +they wouldn't have it in there, and eat nothing but some +pickerel the doctor sent down — and cold fish aint good for +much." + +"None of them left uncooked?" + +"Yes, there's a couple — he sent a great lot — I guess he +thought there was more in the family — but two aint enough to +go round; they're little ones." + +"No, but put them down, and I'll make an omelette. Just get +the things ready for me, Barby, will you, while I run up to +see aunt Lucy. The hens have begun to lay?" + +"La, yes — Philetus fetches in lots of eggs — he loves 'em, I +reckon — but you aint fit this minute to do a thing but rest, +Fleda." + +"I'll rest afterwards. Just get the things ready for me, +Barby, and an apron; and the table — I'll be down in a minute. +And, Barby, grind some coffee, will you?" + +But, as she turned to run upstairs, her uncle stood in her +way, and the supper vanished from Fleda's head. His arms were +open, and she was silently clasped in them, with so much +feeling on both sides, that thought, and well nigh strength, +for anything else on her part was gone. His smothered words of +deep blessing overcame her. Fleda could do nothing but sob, in +distress, till she recollected Barby. Putting her arms round +his neck, then she whispered to him that Mr. Carleton was in +the other room, and shortly explained how he came to be there, +and begged her uncle would go in and see him till supper +should be ready. Enforcing this request with a parting kiss on +his cheek, she ran off up stairs. Mr. Rossitur looked +extremely moody and cloudy for a few minutes, and then went in +and joined his guest. Mrs. Rossitur and her daughter could not +be induced to show themselves. + +Little Rolf, however, had no scruples of any kind. He +presently edged himself into the room to see the stranger, +whom he no sooner saw than, with a joyous exclamation, he +bounded forward to claim an old friend. + +"Why, Mr. Carleton," exclaimed Mr. Rossitur, in surprise, "I +was not aware that this young gentleman had the honour of your +acquaintance." + +"But I have," said Rolf. + +"In London, Sir, I had that pleasure," said Mr. Carleton. + +"I think it was _I_ had the pleasure," said Rolf, pounding one +hand upon Mr. Carleton's knee. + +"Where is your mother?" + +"She wouldn't come down," said Rolf; "but I guess she will +when she knows who is here" — + +And he was darting away to tell her, when Mr. Carleton, within +whose arms he stood, quietly restrained him, and told him he +was going away presently, but would come again and see his +mother another time. + +"Are you going back to England, Sir?" + +"By and by." + +"But you will come here again first?" + +"Yes, if Mr. Rossitur will let me." + +"Mr. Carleton knows he commands his own welcome," said that +gentleman, somewhat stately. "Go and tell your aunt Fleda that +tea is ready, Rolf." + +"She knows," said Rolf. "She was making an omelette — I guess +it was for this gentleman." + +Whose name he was not clear of yet. Mr. Rossitur looked vexed, +but Hugh laughed, and asked if his aunt gave him leave to tell +that. Rolf entered forthwith into discussion on this subject, +while Mr. Carleton, who had not seemed to hear it, engaged Mr. +Rossitur busily in another, till the omelette and Fleda came +in. Rolf's mind, however, was ill at ease. + +"Aunt Fleda," said he, as soon as she had fairly taken her +place at the head of the table, "would you mind my telling +that you made the omelette for this gentleman?" + +Fleda cast a confused glance, first at the person in question +and then round the table; but Mr. Carleton, without looking at +her, answered instantly — + +"Don't you understand, Rolf, that the same kindness which will +do a favour for a friend, will keep him in ignorance of it?" + +Rolf pondered a moment, and then burst forth — + +"Why, Sir, wouldn't you like it as well for knowing she made +it?" + +It was hardly in human gravity to stand this. Fleda herself +laughed, but Mr. Carleton, as unmoved as possible, answered +him, "Certainly not," and Rolf was nonplussed. + +The supper was over. Hugh had left the room, and Mr. Rossitur +had before that gone out to give directions about Mr. +Carleton's horses. He and Fleda were left alone. + +"I have something against you, fairy," said he, lightly, +taking her hand, and putting it to his lips. "You shall not +again do me such honour as you have done me to-day — I did not +deserve it, Elfie." + +The last words were spoken half reproachfully. Fleda stood a +moment motionless, and then by some curious revulsion of +feeling, put both her hands to her face and burst into tears. + +She struggled against them, and spoke almost immediately — + +"You will think me very foolish, Mr. Carleton — I am ashamed +of myself — but I have lived here so long in this way — my +spirits have grown so quieted by different things, that it +seems, sometimes, as if I could not bear anything — I am +afraid" — + +"Of what, my dear Elfie?" + +But she did not answer, and her tears came again. + +"You are weary and spent," he said, gently, repossessing +himself of one of her hands. "I will ask you another time what +you are afraid of, and rebuke all your fears." + +"I deserve nothing but rebuke now," said Fleda. + +But her hand knew, by the gentle and quiet clasp in which it +lay, that there was no disposition to give it. + +"Do not speak to me for a minute," she said, hastily, as she +heard some one coming. + +She went to the window, and stood there looking out, till Mr. +Carleton came to bid her good-bye. + +"Will you permit me to say to Mrs. Evelyn," he said, in a low +tone, "that you left a piece of your property in her house, +and have commissioned me to bring it you?" + +"Yes," said Fleda, hesitating, and looking a little confused; +"but — will you let me write a note instead, Mr. Carleton?" + +"Certainly! — but what are you thinking of, Elfie? what grave +doubt is lying under your brow?" + +All Fleda's shadows rolled away before that clear, bright eye. + +"I have found by experience," she said, smiling a little, but +looking down, "that whenever I tell my secret thoughts to +anybody, I have some reason afterwards to be sorry for it." + +"You shall make me an exception to your rule, however, Elfie." + +Fleda looked up, one of her looks, half questioning, half +fearing, and then answered, a little hesitating — + +"I was afraid, Sir, that if you went to Mrs. Evelyn's on that +errand — I was afraid you would show them you were +displeased." + +"And what then?" said he, quietly. + +"Only — that I wanted to spare them what always gives me a +cold chill." + +"Gives you!" said Mr. Carleton. + +"No, Sir — only by sympathy — I thought my agency would be the +gentlest." + +"I see I was right," she said, looking up, as he did not +answer; "but they don't deserve it — not half so much as you +think. They talk — they don't know what. I am sure they never +meant half they said — never meant to annoy me with it, I mean +— and I am sure they have a true love for me — they have shown +it in a great many ways. Constance, especially, never showed +me anything else. They have been very kind to me; and as to +letting me come away as they did, I suppose they thought I was +in a greater hurry to get home than I really was; and they +would very likely not have minded travelling so themselves; I +am so different from them, that they might in many things +judge me by themselves, and yet judge far wrong." + +Fleda was going on, but she suddenly became aware that the eye +to which she was speaking had ceased to look at the Evelyns, +even in imagination, and she stopped short. + +"Will you trust me, after this, to see Mrs. Evelyn without the +note?" said he, smiling. + +But Fleda gave him her hand, very demurely, without raising +her eyes again, and he went. + +Barby, who had come in to clear away the table, took her stand +at the window to watch Mr. Carleton drive off. Fleda had +retreated to the fire. Barby looked in silence till the sleigh +was out of sight. + +"Is he going back to England now?" she said, coming back to +the table. + +"No." + +Barby gathered a pile of plates together, and then inquired — + +"Is he going to settle in America?" + +"Why, no, Barby! What makes you ask such a thing?" + +"I thought he looked as if he had dressed himself for a cold +climate," said Barby, drily. + +Fleda sat down by Hugh's easy-chair, and laid her head on his +breast. + +"I like your Mr. Carleton very much," Hugh whispered, after a +while. + +"Do you?" said Fleda, a little wondering at Hugh's choice of +that particular pronominal adjective. + +"Very much indeed. But he has changed, Fleda." + +"Yes —in some things — some great things." + +"He says he is coming again," said Hugh. + +Fleda's heart beat. She was silent. + +"I am very glad," repeated Hugh, "I like him very much. But +you won't leave me, Fleda, will you?" + +"Leave you?" said Fleda, looking at him. + +"Yes," said Hugh, smiling, and drawing her head down again: "I +always thought what he came over here for. But you will stay +with me while I want you, Fleda?" + +"While you want me!" said Fleda, again. + +"Yes — it won't be long." + +"What won't be long?" + +"I," said Hugh, quietly. "Not long. I am very glad I shall not +leave you alone, dear Fleda — very glad! — promise me you will +not leave me any more." + +"Don't talk so, dear Hugh!" + +"But it is true, Fleda," said Hugh, gently. "I know it. I +sha'n't be here, but a little while. I am so glad you are come +home, dear Fleda! You will not let anybody take you away till +I am gone first?" + +Fleda drew her arm close around Hugh's neck, and was still — +still even to his ear — for a good while. A hard battle must +be fought, and she must not be weak, for his sake, and for +everybody's sake. Others of the family had come, or were +coming into the room. Hugh waited till a short breath, but +freer drawn, told him he might speak. + +"Fleda," he whispered. + +"What?" + +"I am very happy. I only want your promise about that." + +"I can't talk to you, Hugh." + +"No; but promise me." + +"What?" + +"That you will not let anybody take you away while I want +you." + +"I am sure he would not ask it," said Fleda, hiding her cheeks +and eyes at once in his breast. + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + +"Do you think I shall not love a sad Pamela as well as a +joyful!" +SIDNEY. + + +Mr. Carleton came back without his mother; she had chosen to +put off her voyage till spring. He took up his quarters at +Montepoole, which, far though it was, was yet the nearest +point where his notions of ease could have freedom enough. + +One would have thought that saw him — those most nearly +concerned almost did think — that in his daily coming to +Queechy, Mr. Carleton sought everybody's pleasure rather than +his own. He was Fleda's most gentle and kind assistant in +taking care of Hugh, soon dearly valued by the sick one, who +watched for and welcomed his coming as a bright spot in the +day; and loved particularly to have Mr. Carleton's hand do +anything for him, rather than almost any other. His mother's +was too feeling; Fleda's, Hugh often feared, was weary; and +his father's, though gentle to him as to an infant, yet lacked +the mind's training. And though Marion was his sister in +blood, Guy was his brother in better bonds. The deep blue eye +that little Fleda had admired, Hugh learned to love and rest +on singularly. + +To the rest of the family, Mr. Carleton's influence was more +soothing and cheering than any cause beside. To all but the +head of it. Even Mrs. Rossitur, after she had once made up her +mind to see him, could not bear to be absent when he was in +the house. The dreaded contrast with old times gave no pain, +either to her or Marion. Mr. Carleton forgot so completely +that there was any difference, that they were charmed into +forgetting it too. But Mr. Rossitur's pride lay deeper, or had +been less humbled by sorrow; the recollections that his family +let slip never failed to gall him, when Mr. Carleton was +present; and if now and then, for a moment, these were +banished by his guest's graces of mind and manner, the next +breath was a sigh for the circles and the pleasures they +served to recall, now seeming for ever lost to him. Mr. +Carleton perceived that his company gave pain and not pleasure +to his host, and for that reason was the less in the house, +and made his visits to Hugh at times when Mr. Rossitur was not +in the way. Fleda he took out of the house and away with him, +for her good and his own. + +To Fleda, the old childish feeling came back, that she was in +somebody's hands who had a marvellous happy way of managing +things about her, and even of managing herself. A kind of +genial atmosphere, that was always doing her good, yet so +quietly and so skilfully, that she could only now and then get +a chance even to look her thanks. Quietly and efficiently he +was exerting himself to raise the tone of her mind, to +brighten her spirits, to reach those sober lines that years of +patience had drawn round her eye, and mouth, and charm them +away. So gently, so indirectly, by efforts so wisely and +gracefully aimed, he set about it, that Fleda did not know +what he was doing; but _he_ knew. He knew when he saw her brow +unbend, and her eye catch its old light sparkle, that his +conversation and the thoughts and interests with which he was +rousing her mind or fancy, were working and would work all he +pleased. And though the next day he might find the old look of +patient gravity again, he hardly wished it not there, for the +pleasure of doing it away. Hugh's anxious question to Fleda +had been very uncalled for, and Fleda's assurance was well +grounded; that subject was never touched upon. + +Fleda's manner with Mr. Carleton was peculiar and +characteristic. In the house, before others, she was as demure +and reserved as though he had been a stranger; she never +placed herself near him, nor entered into conversation with +him, unless when he obliged her; but when they were alone +there was a frank confidence and simplicity in her manner that +most happily answered the high-bred delicacy that had called +it out. + +One afternoon of a pleasant day in March, Fleda and Hugh were +sitting alone together in the sick-room. Hugh was weaker than +usual but not confined to his bed; he was in his great easy- +chair, which had been moved up stairs for him again. Fleda had +been repeating hymns. + +"You are tired," Hugh said. + +"No." + +"There's something about you that isn't strong," said Hugh, +fondly. "I wonder where is Mr. Carleton to-day. It is very +pleasant, isn't it?" + +"Very pleasant and warm; it is like April; the snow all went +off yesterday, and the ground is dry except in spots." + +"I wish he would come and give you a good walk. I have noticed +how you always come back looking so much brighter after one of +your walks or rides with him." + +"What makes you think so, dear Hugh?" said Fleda, a little +troubled. + +"Only my eyes," said Hugh, smiling. "It does me as much good +as you, Fleda." + +"I _never_ want to go and leave you, Hugh." + +"I am very glad there is somebody to take you. I wish he would +come. You want it this minute." + +"I don't think I shall let him take me if he comes." + +"Whither? and whom?" said another voice. + +"I didn't know you were there, Sir," said Fleda, suddenly +rising. + +"I am but just here — Rolf admitted me as he passed out." + +Coming in between them, and still holding the hand of one, Mr. +Carleton bent down towards the other. + +"How is Hugh to-day?" + +It was pleasant to see that meeting of eyes — the grave +kindliness on the one side, the confident affection on the +other. But the wasted features said as plainly as the tone of +Hugh's gentle reply, that he was passing away — fast. + +"What shall I do for you?" + +"Take Fleda out and give her a good walk. She wants it." + +"I will, presently. You are weary — what shall I do to rest +you?" + +"Nothing," said Hugh, closing his eyes with a very placid +look; "unless you will put me in mind of something about +heaven, Mr. Carleton." + +"Shall I read to you? — Baxter — or something else?" + +"No — just give me something to think of while you're gone — +as you have done before, Mr. Carleton." + +"I will give you two or three of the Bible bits on that +subject; they are but hints and indications, you know — rather +rays of light that stream out from the place than any +description of it; but you have only to follow one of these +indications and see whither it will lead you. The first I +recollect is that one spoken to Abraham, 'Fear not — I am thy +shield, and thy exceeding great reward.' " + +"Don't go any further, Mr. Carleton," said Hugh, with a smile. +"Fleda — do you remember?" + +They sat all silent, quite silent, all three, for nobody knew +how long. + +"You were going to walk," said Hugh, without looking at them. + +Fleda, however, did not move till a word or two from Mr. +Carleton had backed Hugh's request; then she went. + +"Is she gone?" said Hugh. "Mr. Carleton, will you hand me that +little desk?" + +It was his own. Mr. Carleton brought it. Hugh opened it, and +took out a folded paper, which he gave to Mr. Carleton, saying +that he thought he ought to have it. + +"Do you know the handwriting, Sir?" + +"No." + +"Ah! she has scratched it so. It is Fleda's." + +Hugh shut his eyes again, and Mr. Carleton seeing that he had +settled himself to sleep, went to the window with the paper. +It hardly told him anything he did not know before, though set +in a fresh light. + + +"Cold blew the east wind, +And thick fell the rain — +I look'd for the tops +Of the mountains in vain; +Twilight was gathering, +And dark grew the west, +And the wood-fire's crackling +Toned well with the rest. + + +"Speak fire, and tell me — +Thy flickering flame +Fell on me in years past — +Say, am I the same? +Has my face the same brightness +In those days it wore ? +My foot the same lightness, +As it crosses the floor? + + +"Methinks there are changes — +I am weary to-night — +I once was as tireless +As the bird on her flight: +My bark, in full measure, +Threw foam from the prow — +Not even for pleasure +Would I care to move now. + + +" 'Tis not the foot only +That lieth thus still — +I am weary in spirit — +I am listless in will. +My eye vainly peereth +Through the darkness, to find +Some object that cheereth — +Some light for the mind. + + +"What shadows come o'er me — +What things of the past — +Bright things of my childhood +That fled all too fast; +The scenes where light roaming, +My foot wandered free, +Come back through the gloamin' — +Come all back to me. + + +"The cool autumn evening, +The fair summer morn — +The dress and the aspect +Some dear ones have worn — +The sunshiny places — +The shady hill side — +The words and the faces +That might not abide. + + +"Die out, little fire — +Ay, blacken and pine! — +So have paled many lights +That were brighter than thine. +I can quicker thy embers +Again with a breath, +But the others lie cold +In the ashes of death." + + +Mr. Carleton had read near through the paper before Fleda came +in. + +"I have kept you a long time, Mr. Carleton," she said, coming +up to the window; "I found aunt Lucy wanted me." + +But she saw with a little surprise the deepening eye which met +her, and which showed, she knew, the working of strong +feeling. Her own eye went to the paper in search of +explanation. + +"What have you there? — Oh, Mr. Carleton," she said, putting +her hand over it — "please to give it to me!" + +Fleda's face was very much in earnest. He took the hand, but +did not give her the paper, and looked his refusal. + +"I am ashamed you should see that! Who gave it to you?" + +"You shall wreak your displeasure on no one but me," he said, +smiling. + +"But have you read it?" + +"Yes." + +"I am very sorry!" + +"I am very glad, my dear Elfie." + +"You will think — you will think what wasn't true — it was +just a mood I used to get into once in a while — I used to be +angry with myself for it, but I could not help it — one of +those listless fits would take me now and then —" + +"I understand it, Elfie." + +"I am very sorry you should know I ever felt or wrote so." + +"Why?" + +"It is very foolish and wrong —" + +"Is that a reason for my not knowing it?" + +"No — not a good one. — But you have read it now — wont you +let me have it?" + +"No — I shall ask for all the rest of the portfolio, Elfie," +he said, as he put it in a place of security. + +"Pray, do not!" said Fleda, most unaffectedly. + +"Why?" + +"Because I remember Mrs. Carleton says you always have what +you ask for." + +"Give me permission to put on your bonnet, then?" said he, +laughingly, taking it from her hand. + +The air was very sweet, he footing pleasant. The first few +steps of the walk were made by Fleda in silence, with eager +breath, and a foot that grew lighter as it trod. + +"I don't think it was a right mood of mind I had when I wrote +that," she said. "It was morbid. But I couldn't help it. Yet +if one could keep possession of those words you quoted just +now, I suppose one never would have morbid feelings, Mr. +Carleton?" + +"Perhaps not; but human nature has a weak hold of anything, +and many things may make it weaker." + +"Mine is weak," said Fleda. "But it is possible to keep firm +hold of those words, Mr. Carleton?" + +"Yes — by strength that is not human nature's — and, after +all, the firm hold is rather that in which we are held, or +ours would soon fail. The very hand that makes the promise its +own must be nerved to grasp it. And so it is best, for it +keeps us looking off always to the Author and Finisher of our +faith." + +"I love those words," said Fleda. "But, Mr. Carleton, how +shall one be sure that one has a right to those other words — +those, I mean, that you told to Hugh? One cannot take the +comfort of them unless one is _sure_." + +Her voice trembled. + +"My dear Elfie, the promises have many of them their double — +stamped with the very same signet — and if that sealed +counterpart is your own, it is the sure earnest and title to +the whole value of the promise." + +"Well — in this case?" said Fleda, eagerly. + +"In this case, God says, 'I am thy shield, and thy exceeding +great reward.' Now, see if your own heart can give the +countersign — '_Thou art my portion, O Lord!_' " + +Fleda's head sank instantly, and almost lay upon his arm. + +"If you have the one, my dear Elfie, the other is yours — it +is the note of hand of the maker of the promise — sure to be +honoured. And if you want proof, here it is — and a threefold +cord is not soon broken — 'Because he hath set his love upon +me, therefore will I deliver him: I will set him on high, +because he hath known my name. He shall call upon me, and I +will answer him; I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver +him, and honour him. With long life will I satisfy him, and +show him my salvation.' " + +There was a pause of some length. Fleda had lifted up her +head, but walked along very quietly, not seeming to care to +speak. + +"Have you the countersign, Elfie?" + +Fleda flashed a look at him, and only restrained herself from +weeping again. + +"Yes. But so I had then, Mr. Carleton — only sometimes I got +those fits of feeling — I forgot it, I suppose." + +"When were these verses written?" + +"Last fall — uncle Rolf was away, and aunt Lucy unhappy — and, +I believe, I was tired. I suppose it was that." + +For a matter of several rods, each was busy with his own +musings. But Mr. Carleton bethought himself. + +"Where are you, Elfie?" + +"Where am I?" + +"Yes — Not at Queechy?" + +"No, indeed" said Fleda, laughing. "Far enough away." + +"Where?" + +"At Paris — at the Marché des Innocens." + +"How did you get to Paris?" + +"I don't know — by a bridge of associations, I suppose, +resting one end on last year, and the other on the time when I +was eleven years old." + +"Very intelligible," said Mr. Carleton, smiling. + +"Do you remember that morning, Mr. Carleton, when you took +Hugh and me to the Marché des Innocens?" + +"Perfectly." + +"I have thanked you a great many times since for getting up so +early that morning." + +"I think I was well paid at the time. I remember I thought I +had seen one of the prettiest sights I had ever seen in +Paris." + +"So I thought!" said Fleda. "It has been a pleasant picture in +my imagination ever since." + +There was a curious curl in the corners of Mr. Carleton's +mouth, which made Fleda look an inquiry — a look so innocently +wistful, that his gravity gave way. + +"My dear Elfie!" said he, "you are the very child you were +then." + +"Am I?" said Fleda. "I dare say I am, for I feel so. I have +the very same feeling I used to have then, that I am a child, +and you taking the care of me into your own hands." + +"One half of that is true, and the other half nearly so." + +"How good you always were to me!" Fleda said, with a sigh. + +"Not necessary to balance the debtor and creditor items on +both sides," he said, with a smile, "as the account bids fair +to run a good while." + +A silence again, during which Fleda is clearly not enjoying +the landscape nor the fine weather. + +"Elfie — what are you meditating?" + +She came back from her meditations with a very frank look. + +"I was thinking — Mr. Carleton — of your notions about female +education." + +"Well?" + +They had paused upon a rising ground. Fleda hesitated, and +then looked up in his face. + +"I am afraid you will find me wanting, and when you do, will +you put me in the way of being all you wish me to be?" + +Her look was ingenuous and tender, equally. He gave her no +answer, except by the eye of grave intentness that fixed hers +till she could meet it no longer, and her own fell. Mr. +Carleton recollected himself. + +"My dear Elfie," said he, and whatever the look had meant, +Elfie was at no loss for the tone now — "what do you consider +yourself deficient in?" + +Fleda spoke with a little difficulty. + +"I am afraid, in a good many things — in general reading — and +in what are called accomplishments —" + +"You shall read as much as you please, by and by," said he, +"provided you will let me read with you; and, as for the other +want, Elfie, it is rather a source of gratification to me." + +Elfie very naturally asked "Why?" + +"Because, as soon as I have the power, I shall immediately +constitute myself your master in the arts of riding and +drawing, and in any other art or acquisition you may take a +fancy to, and give you lessons diligently." + +"And will there be gratification in that?" said Fleda. + +His answer was by a smile. But he somewhat mischievously asked +her, "Will there not?" — and Fleda was quiet. + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + +"Friends, I sorrow not to leave ye; +If this life an exile be, +We who leave it do but journey +Homeward to our family." +SPANISH BALLAD. + + + +The first of April came. + +Mr. Rossitur had made up his mind not to abide at Queechy, +which only held him now by the frail thread of Hugh's life. +Mr. Carleton knew this, and had even taken some steps towards +securing for him a situation in the West Indies. But it was +unknown to Fleda; she had not heard her uncle say anything on +the subject since she came home; and though aware that their +stay was a doubtful matter, she still thought it might be as +well to have the garden in order. Philetus could not be +trusted to do everything wisely of his own head, and even some +delicate jobs of hand could not be safely left to his skill; +if the garden was to make any head-way, Fleda's head and hand +must both be there, she knew. So, as the spring opened, she +used to steal away from the house every morning for an hour or +two, hardly letting her friends know what she was about, to +make sure that peas, and potatoes, and radishes, and lettuce, +were in the right places at the right times, and to see that +the later and more delicate vegetables were preparing for. She +took care to have this business well over before the time that +Mr. Carleton ever arrived from the Pool. + +One morning she was busy in dressing the strawberry beds, +forking up the ground between the plants, and filling the +vacancies that the severe winter or some irregularities of +fall dressing had made. Mr. Skillcorn was rendering a somewhat +inefficient help, or, perhaps, amusing himself with seeing how +she worked. The little old silver-grey hood was bending down +over the strawberries, and the fork was going at a very +energetic rate. + +"Philetus —" + +"Marm!" + +"Will you bring me that bunch of strawberry plants that lies +at the corner of the beds, in the walk? — and my trowel?" + +"I will!" said Mr. Skillcorn. + +It was, another hand, however, that brought them and laid them +beside her; but Fleda, very intent upon her work, and hidden +under her close hood, did not find it out. She went on busily +putting in the plants as she found room for them, and just +conscious, as she thought, that Philetus was still standing at +her side, she called upon him from time to time, or merely +stretched out her hand, for a fresh plant as she had occasion +for it. + +"Philetus," she said at length, raising her voice a little +that it might win to him round the edge of her hood, without +turning her face — "I wish you would get the ground ready for +that other planting of potatoes — you needn't stay to help me +any longer." + +" 'Tain't me, I guess," said the voice of Philetus, on the +other side of her. + +Fleda looked in astonishment to make sure that it really was +Mr. Skillcorn proceeding along the garden path in that +quarter, and turning, jumped up and dropped her trowel and +fork, to have her hands otherwise occupied. Mr. Skillcorn +walked off leisurely towards the potato ground, singing to +himself in a kind of consolatory aside — + + +"I cock'd up my beaver, and who but I! +The lace in my hat was so gallant and so gay, +That I flourished like a king in his own countray." + + +"There is one of your countrymen that is an odd variety, +certainly," said Mr. Carleton, looking after him with a very +comic expression of eye. + +"Is he not?" said Fleda. "And hardly a common one. There never +was a line more mathematically straight than the course of +Philetus's ideas; they never diverge, I think, to the right +hand or the left, a jot from his own self-interest." + +"You will be an invaluable help to me, Elfie, if you can read +my English friends as closely." + +"I am afraid you will not let me come as close to them," said +Fleda, laughing. + +"Perhaps not. I shouldn't like to pay too high a premium for +the knowledge. How is Hugh, to-day?" + +Fleda answered, with a quick change of look and voice, that he +was much as usual. + +"My mother has written me that she will be here by the +'Europa,' which is due to-morrow. I must set off for New York +this afternoon; therefore I came so early to Queechy." + +Fleda was instinctively pulling off her gardening gloves, as +they walked towards the house. + +"Aunt Miriam wants to see you, Mr. Carleton — she begged I +would ask you to come there some time —" + +"With great pleasure. Shall we go there now, Elfie?" + +"I will be ready in five minutes." + +Mrs. Rossitur was alone in the breakfast-room when they went +in. Hugh, she reported, was asleep, and would be just ready to +see Mr. Carleton by the time they got back. They stood a few +minutes talking, and then Fleda went to get ready. + +Both pair of eyes followed her as she left the room, and then +met with perfect understanding. + +"Will you give your child to me, Mrs. Rossitur?" said the +gentleman. + +"With all my heart!" exclaimed Mrs. Rossitur, bursting into +tears — "even if I were left alone entirely —" + +Her agitation was uncontrolled for a minute; and then she +said, with feeling seemingly too strong to be kept in — + +"If I were only sure of meeting her in heaven, I could be +content to be without her till then!" + +"What is in the way, my dear Madam?" said Mr. Carleton, with a +gentle sympathy that touched the very spring he meant it +should. Mrs. Rossitur waited a minute, but it was only till +tears would let her speak, and then said like a child — + +"Oh, it is all darkness!" + +"Except this," said he, gently and clearly, "that Jesus Christ +is a sun and a shield; and those that put themselves at His +feet are safe from all fear, and they who go to Him for light +shall complain of darkness no more." + +"But I do not know how —" + +"Ask Him, and He will tell you." + +"But I am unworthy even to look up towards Him," said Mrs. +Rossitur, struggling, it seemed, between doubts and wishes. + +"He knows that, and yet He has bid you come to Him. He knows +that; and, knowing it, He has taken your responsibility, and +paid your debt, and offers you now a clean discharge, if you +will take it at His hand; and for the other part of this +unworthiness, that blood cannot do away, blood has brought the +remedy — + +Shall we, who are evil, give good things to our children; and +shall not our Father, which is in heaven, give His Holy Spirit +to them that ask Him?" + +"But must I do nothing?" said Mrs. Rossitur, when she had +remained quiet, with her face in her hands, for a minute or +two after he had done speaking. + +"Nothing but be willing — be willing to have Christ in all His +offices, as your Teacher, your King, and your Redeemer; give +yourself to Him, dear Mrs. Rossitur, and He will take care of +the rest." + +"I am willing!" she exclaimed. Fresh tears came, and came +freely. Mr. Carleton said no more, till; hearing some noise of +opening and shutting doors above stairs, Mrs. Rossitur +hurriedly left the room, and Fleda came in by the other +entrance. + +"May I take you a little out of the way, Mr. Carleton?" she +said, when they had passed through the Deepwater settlement. +"I have a message to carry to Mrs. Elster — a poor woman out +here beyond the Lake. It is not a disagreeable place." + +"And what if it were?" + +"I should not, perhaps, have asked you to go with me," said +Fleda, a little doubtfully. + +"You may take me where you will, Elfie," he said, gently. "I +hope to do as much by you some day." + +Fleda looked up at the piece of elegance beside her, and +thought what a change must have come over him if _he_ would +visit poor places. He was silent and grave, however, and so +was she, till they arrived at the house they were going to. + +Certainly it was not a disagreeable place. Barb's much less +strong-minded sister had at least a good share of her +practical nicety. The little board path to the door was clean +and white still, with possibly a trifle less brilliant effect. +The room and its old inhabitants were very comfortable and +tidy — the patchwork counterpane as gay as ever. Mrs. Elster +was alone, keeping company with a snug little wood fire, which +was near as much needed in that early spring weather as it had +been during the winter. + +Mr. Carleton had come back from his abstraction, and stood, +taking half unconscious note of these things, while Fleda was +delivering her message to the old woman. Mrs. Elster listened +to her implicitly, with, every now and then, an acquiescing +nod or ejaculation; but so soon as Fleda had said her say, she +burst out, with a voice that had never known the mufflings of +delicacy, and was now pitched entirely beyond its owner's ken. +Looking hard at Mr. Carleton — + +"Fleda! Is _this_ the gentleman that's to be your — _husband?_" + +The last word elevated and brought out with emphatic +distinctness of utterance. + +If the demand had been, whether the gentleman in question was +a follower of Mohammed, it would hardly have been more +impossible for Fleda to give an affirmative answer; but Mr. +Carleton laughed, and, bringing his face a little nearer the +old crone, answered — + +"So she has promised, Ma'am ." + +It was curious to see the lines of the old woman's face relax +as she looked at him. + +"He's worthy of you, as far as looks goes," she said, in the +same key as before, apostrophising Fleda, who had drawn back, +but not stirring her eyes from Mr. Carleton all the time. And +then she added to him, with a little, satisfied nod, and in a +very decided tone of information — + +"She will make you a good wife." + +"Because she has made a good friend?" said Mr. Carleton, +quietly. "Will you let me be a friend, too?" + +He had turned the old lady's thoughts into a golden channel, +whence, as she was an American, they had no immediate issue in +words; and Fleda and Mr. Carleton left the house without +anything more. + +Fleda felt nervous. But Mr. Carleton's first words were as +coolly and as gravely spoken as if they had just come out from +a philosophical lecture; and with an immediate spring of +relief, she enjoyed every step of the way, and every word of +the conversation, which was kept up with great life till they +reached Mrs. Plumfield's door. + +No one was in the sitting-room. Fleda left Mr. Carleton there, +and passed gently into the inner apartment, the door of which +was standing ajar. + +But her heart absolutely leaped into her mouth, for Dr. +Quackenboss and Mr. Olmney were there on either side of her +aunt's bed. Fleda came forward and shook hands. + +"This is quite a meeting of friends," said the doctor, +blandly, yet with a perceptible shading of the whilome broad +sunshine of his face. "Your — a — aunt, my dear Miss Ringgan, +is in a most extraordinary state of mind!" + +Fleda was glad to hide her face against her aunt's, and asked +her how she did. + +"Dr. Quackenboss thinks it extraordinary, Fleda," said the old +lady, with her usual cheerful sedateness, "that one who has +trusted God, and had constant experience of His goodness and +faithfulness for forty years, should not doubt Him at the end +of it." + +"You have no doubt — of any kind, Mrs. Plumfield?" said the +clergyman. + +"Not the shadow of a doubt!" was the hearty, steady reply. + +"You mistake, my dear Madam," said Dr. Quackenboss, "pardon me +— it is not that: I would be understood to say, merely, that I +do not comprehend how such — a — such security — can be +attained respecting what seems so — a — elevated — and +difficult to know." + +"Only by believing," said Mrs. Plumfield, with a very calm +smile. " 'He that believeth on Him shall not be ashamed;' — +'shall _not _ be ashamed!' " she repeated, slowly. + +Dr. Quackenboss looked at Fleda, who kept her eyes fixed upon +her aunt. + +"But it seems to me — I beg pardon; perhaps I am arrogant" — +he said, with a little bow; "but it appears to me almost — in +a manner — almost presumptuous, not to be a little doubtful in +such a matter until the time comes. Am I — do you disapprove +of me, Mr. Olmney?" + +Mr. Olmney silently referred him for his answer to the person +he had first addressed, who had closed her eyes while he was +speaking. + +"Sir," she said, opening them, "it can't be presumption to +obey God, and He tells me to rejoice. And I do — I do! — 'Let +all those that love thee rejoice in thee, and be glad in +thee!' But mind!" she added, energetically, fixing her strong +grey eve upon him, "He does not tell you to rejoice — do not +think it — not while you stand aloof from His terms of peace. +Take God at His word, and be happy; but if not, you have +nothing to do with the song that I sing!" + +The doctor stared at her till she had done speaking, and then +slunk out of her range of vision behind the curtains of the +bed-post. Not silenced, however. + +"But — a — Mr. Olmney," said he, hesitating, "don't you think +that there is in general — a — a becoming modesty, in — a — in +people that have done wrong, as we all have — putting off +being sure until they are so? It seems so to me!" + +"Come here, Dr. Quackenboss," said aunt Miriam. + +She waited till he came to her side, and then taking his hand, +and looking at him very kindly, she said — + +"Sir, forty years ago I found in the Bible, as you say, that I +was a sinner, and that drove me to look for something else. I +found then God's promise, that if I would give my dependence +entirely to the Substitute he had provided for me, and yield +my heart to his service, he would, for Christ's sake, hold me +quit of all my debts, and be my father, and make me his child. +And, Sir, I did it. I abhor every other dependence — the +things you count good in me I reckon but filthy rags. At the +same time, I know that ever since that day, forty years ago, I +have lived in his service, and tried to live to his glory. And +now, Sir, shall I disbelieve his promise? do you think he +would be pleased if I did?" + +The doctor's mouth was stopped, for once, He drew back as soon +as he could, and said not another word. + +Before anybody had broken the silence, Seth came in; and after +shaking hands with Fleda, startled her by asking, whether that +was not Mr. Carleton in the other room. + +"Yes," Fleda said — "he came to see aunt Miriam." + +"Aint you well enough to see him, mother?" + +"Quite — and very happy," she said. + +Seth immediately went back and invited him in. Fleda dared not +look up while the introductions were passing — of "the Rev. +Mr. Olmney," and of "Dr. Quackenboss," the former of whom Mr. +Carleton took cordially by the hand, while Dr. Quackenboss, +conceiving that his hand must be as acceptable, made his +salutations with an indescribable air, at once of attempted +gracefulness and ingratiation. Fleda saw the whole in the +advancing line of the doctor's person, a vision of which +crossed her downcast eye. She drew back then, for Mr. Carleton +came where she was standing, to take her aunt's hand; Seth had +absolutely stayed his way before to make the said +introductions. + +Mrs. Plumfield was little changed by years or disease since he +had seen her. There was somewhat more of a look of bodily +weakness than there used to be; but the dignified, strong- +minded expression of the face was even heightened; eye and +brow were more pure and unclouded in their steadfastness. She +looked very earnestly at her visitor, and then with evident +pleasure from the manner of his look and greeting. Fleda +watched her eye softening with a gratified expression, and +fixed upon him, as he was gently talking to her. + +Mr. Olmney presently came round to take leave, promising to +see her another time; and passing Fleda, with a frank grave +pressure of the hand, which gave her some pain. He and Seth +left the room. Fleda was hardly conscious that Dr. Quackenboss +was still standing at the foot of the bed, making the utmost +use of his powers of observation. He could use little else, +for Mr. Carleton and Mrs. Plumfield, after a few words on each +side, had, as it were, by common consent, come to a pause. The +doctor, when a sufficient time had made him fully sensible of +this, walked up to Fleda, who wished heartily at the moment +that she could have presented the reverse end of the magnet to +him. Perhaps, however, it was that very thing which, by a +perverse sort of attraction, drew him towards her. + +"I suppose — a — we may conclude," said he, with a some. what +saturnine expression of mischief — "that Miss Ringgan +contemplates forsaking the agricultural line before a great +while?" + +"I have not given up my old habits, Sir," said Fleda, a good +deal vexed. + +"No — I suppose not — but Queechy air is not so well suited +for them — other skies will prove more genial," he said, she +could not help thinking, pleased at her displeasure. + +"What is the fault of Queechy air, Sir?" said Mr. Carleton, +approaching them. + +"Sir!" said the doctor, exceedingly taken aback, though the +words had been spoken in the quietest manner possible — "it — +a — it has no fault, Sir — that I am particularly aware of — +it is perfectly salubrious. Mrs. Plumfield, I will bid you +good-day; — I — a — I hope you will get well again." + +"I hope not, Sir!" said aunt Miriam, in the same clear hearty +tones which had answered him before. + +The doctor took his departure, and made capital of his +interview with Mr. Carleton; who, he affirmed, he could tell +by what he had seen of him, was a very deciduous character, +and not always conciliating in his manners. + +Fleda waited with a little anxiety for what was to follow the +doctor's leave-taking. + +It was with a very softened eye that aunt Miriam looked at the +two who were left, clasping Fleda's hand again; and it was +with a very softened voice that she next spoke. + +"Do you remember our last meeting, Sir?" + +"I remember it well," he said. + +"Fleda tells me you are a changed man since that time?" + +He answered only by a slight and grave bow. + +"Mr. Carleton," said the old lady — "I am a dying woman — and +this child is the dearest thing in the world to me after my +own — and hardly after him. Will you pardon me — will you bear +with me, if, that I may die in peace, I say, Sir, what else it +would not become me to say? — and it is for her sake." + +"Speak to me freely as you would to her," he said, with a look +that gave her full permission. + +Fleda had drawn close and hid her face in her aunt's neck. +Aunt Miriam's hand moved fondly over her cheek and brow for a +minute or two in silence; her eye resting there too. + +"Mr. Carleton, this child is to belong to you — how will you +guide her?" + +"By the gentlest paths," he said, with a smile. + +A whispered remonstrance from Fleda to her aunt had no effect. + +"Will her best interests be safe in your hands?" + +"How shall I resolve you of that, Mrs. Plumfield?" he said, +gravely. + +"Will you help her to mind her mother's prayer, and keep +herself unspotted from the world?" + +"As I trust she will help me." + +A rogue may answer questions, but an eye that has never known +the shadow of double-dealing makes no doubtful discoveries of +itself. Mrs. Plumfield read it, and gave it her very thorough +respect. + +"Mr. Carleton — pardon me, Sir — I do not doubt you — but I +remember hearing long ago that you were rich and great in the +world — it is dangerous for a Christian to be so — can she +keep in your grandeur the simplicity of heart and life she has +had at Queechy?" + +"May I remind you of your own words, my dear madam? By the +blessing of God all things are possible. These things you +speak of are not in themselves evil; if the mind be set on +somewhat else, they are little beside a larger storehouse of +material to work with — an increased stewardship to account +for." + +"She has been taking care of others all her life," said aunt +Miriam, tenderly; "it is time she was taken care of: and these +feet are very unfit for rough paths; but I would rather she +should go on struggling, as she has done, with difficulties, +and live and die in poverty, than that the lustre of her +heavenly inheritance should be tarnished even a little. I +would, my darling." + +"But the alternative is not so," said Mr. Carleton, with +gentle grace, touching Fleda's hand, who he saw was a good +deal disturbed. "Do not make her afraid of me, Mrs. +Plumfield." + +"I do not believe I need," said aunt Miriam, "and I am sure I +could not — but, Sir, you will forgive me?" + +"No, Madam — that is not possible." + +"One cannot stand where I do," said the old lady, "without +learning a little the comparative value of things; and I seek +my child's good — that is my excuse. I could not be satisfied +to take her testimony." + +"Take mine, Madam," said Mr. Carleton. "I have learned the +comparative value of things too; and I will guard her highest +interests as carefully as I will every other — as earnestly as +you can desire." + +"I thank you, Sir," said the old lady, gratefully. "I am sure +of it. I shall leave her in good hands. I wanted this +assurance. And if ever there was a tender plant that was not +fitted to grow on the rough side of the world — I think this +is one," said she, kissing earnestly the face that yet Fleda +did not dare to lift up. + +Mr. Carleton did not say what he thought. He presently took +kind leave of the old lady, and went into the next room, where +Fleda soon rejoined him, and they set off homewards. + +Fleda was quietly crying all the way down the hill. At the +foot of the hill, Mr. Carleton resolutely slackened his pace. + +"I have one consolation," he said, "my dear Elfie — you will +have the less to leave for me." + +She put her hand with a quick motion upon his, and roused +herself. + +"She is a beautiful rebuke to unbelief. But she is hardly to +be mourned for, Elfie." + +"Oh, I was not crying for aunt Miriam," said Fleda. + +"For what then?" he said, gently. + +"Myself." + +"That needs explanation," he said, in the same tone. "Let me +have it, Elfie." + +"Oh — I was thinking of several things," said Fleda, not +exactly wishing to give the explanation. + +"Too vague," said Mr. Carleton, smiling. "Trust me with a +little more of your mind, Elfie." + +Fleda glanced up at him, half smiling, and yet with filling +eyes, and then, as usual, yielded to the winning power of the +look that met her. + +"I was thinking," she said, keeping her head carefully down, +"of some of the things you and aunt Miriam were saying just +now — and — how good for nothing I am." + +"In what respect?" said Mr. Carleton, with praiseworthy +gravity. + +Fleda hesitated, and he pressed the matter no further; but, +more unwilling to displease him than herself, she presently +went on, with some difficulty; wording what she had to say +with as much care as she could. + +"I was thinking, how gratitude — or not gratitude alone — but +how one can be full of the desire to please another — a +fellow-creature — and find it constantly easy to do or bear +anything for that purpose; and how slowly and coldly duty has +to move alone in the direction where it should be the swiftest +and warmest." + +She knew he would take her words as simply as she said them; +she was not disappointed. He was silent a minute, and then +said gravely, — + +"Is this a late discovery, Elfie?" + +"No — only I was realizing it strongly just now." + +"It is a complaint we may all make. The remedy is, not to love +less what we know, but to know better that of which we are in +ignorance. We will be helps, and not hindrances to each other, +Elfie." + +"You have said that before," said Fleda, still keeping her +head down. + +"What?" + +"About my being a help to you!" + +"It will not be the first time," said he, smiling; "nor the +second. Your little hand first held up a glass to gather the +scattered rays of truth that could not warm me, into a centre +where they must burn." + +"Very innocently," said Fleda, with a little unsteady feeling +of voice. + +"Very innocently!" said Mr. Carleton, smiling. "A veritable +lens could hardly have been more unconscious of its work, or +more pure of design." + +"I do not think that was quite so, either, Mr. Carleton," said +Fleda. + +"It was so, my dear Elfie, and your present speech is nothing +against it. This power of example is always unconsciously +wielded; the medium ceases to be clear so soon as it is made +anything but as medium. The bits of truth you aimed at me +wittingly would have been nothing, if they had not come +through that medium." + +"Then apparently one's prime efforts ought to be directed to +one's self." + +"One's first efforts, certainly Your silent example was the +first thing that moved me." + +"Silent example!" said Fleda, catching her breath a little. +"Mine ought to be very good, for I can never do good in any +other way." + +"You used to talk pretty freely to me." + +"It wasn't my fault, I am certain," said Fleda, half laughing. +"Besides, I was sure of my ground. But, in general, I never +can speak to people about what will do them any good." + +"Yet, whatever be the power of silent example, there are often +times when a word is of incalculable importance." + +"I know it," said Fleda, earnestly; "I have felt it very +often, and grieved that I could not say it, even at the very +moment when I knew it was wanting." + +"Is that right, Elfie?" + +"No," said Fleda, with quick watering eyes; "it is not right +at all; but it is constitutional with me. I never can talk to +other people of what concerns my own thoughts and feelings." + +"But this concerns other people's thoughts and feelings." + +"Yes; but there is an implied revelation of my own." + +"Do you expect to include me in the denomination of 'other +people?' " + +"I don't know," said Fleda, laughing. + +"Do you wish it?" + +Fleda looked down and up, and coloured, and said she didn't +know. + +"I will teach you," said he, smiling. + +The rest of the day, by both, was given to Hugh. + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + +"O what is life but a sum of love, +And death but to lose it all? +Weeds be for those that are left behind, +And not for those that fall!" +MILNES. + + +"Here's something come, Fleda," said Barby, walking into the +sick-room one morning, a few days afterwards; "a great bag of +something — more than you can eat up in a fortnight; it's for +Hugh." + +"It's extraordinary that anybody should send me a great bag of +anything eatable," said Hugh. + +"Where did it come from?" said Fleda. + +"Philetus fetched it — he found it down to Mr. Sampion's, when +he went with the sheep-skins." + +"How do you know it's for me?" said Hugh. + +" 'Cause it's written on, as plain as a pikestaff. I guess +it's a mistake, though." + +"Why?" said Fleda; "and what is it?" + +"Oh, I don't much think 'twas meant for him," said Barby. +"It's oysters." + +"Oysters!" + +"Yes — come out and look at 'em — you never see such fine +fellows. I've heerd say," said Barby, abstractedly, as Fleda +followed her out, and she displayed to view some magnificent +Ostraceans — "I've heerd say that an English shilling was +worth two American ones; but I never understood it rightly, +till now." + +To all intents and purposes those were English oysters, and +worth twice as much as any others, Fleda secretly confessed. + +That evening, up in the sick room — it was quite evening, and +all the others of the family were taking rest, or keeping Mr. +Rossitur company down stairs — Fleda was carefully roasting +some of the same oysters for Hugh's supper. She had spread out +a glowing bed of coals on the hearth, and there lay four or +five of the big bivalves, snapping and sputtering in +approbation of their quarters, in a most comfortable manner; +and Fleda, standing before the fire, tended them with a double +kind of pleasure. From one friend, and for another, those were +most odorous oysters. Hugh sat watching them and her, the same +in happy simplicity that he had been at eleven years old. + +"How pleasant those oysters smell!" said he. "Fleda, they +remind me so of the time when you and I used to roast oysters +in Mrs. Renney's room for lunch — do you recollect? — and +sometimes in the evening, when everybody was gone out, you +know; and what an airing we used to have to give the dining- +room afterwards. How we used to enjoy them, Fleda —you and I, +all alone." + +"Yes," said Fleda, in a tone of doubtful enjoyment. She was +shielding her face with a paper, and making self-sacrificing +efforts to persuade a large oyster-shell to stand so on the +coals as to keep the juice. + +"Don't," said Hugh; "I would rather the oysters should burn +than you. Mr. Carleton wouldn't thank me for letting you do +so." + +"Never mind," said Fleda, arranging the oysters to her +satisfaction; "he isn't here to see. Now, Hugh, my dear, these +are ready as soon as I am." + +"I am ready," said Hugh. "How long it is since we had a roast +oyster, Fleda!" + +"They look good, don't they?" + +A little stand was brought up between them, with the bread- +and-butter and the cups; and Fleda opened oysters and prepared +tea for Hugh, with her nicest, gentlest, busiest of hands +making every bit to be twice as sweet, for her sympathizing +eyes and loving smile and pleasant word commenting. She shared +the meal with him, but her own part was as slender as his, and +much less thought of. His enjoyment was what she enjoyed, +though it was with a sad twinge of alloy, which changed her +face whenever it was where he could not see it: when turned +upon him, it was only bright and affectionate, and sometimes a +little too tender; but Fleda was too good a nurse to let that +often appear. + +"Mr. Carleton did not bargain for your opening his oysters, +Fleda. How kind it was of him to send them!" + +"Yes." + +"How long will he be gone, Fleda?" + +"I don't know — he didn't say. I don't believe many days." + +Hugh was silent a little, while she was putting away the stand +and the oyster-shells. Then she came and sat down by him. + +"You have burnt yourself over those things," said he, +sorrowfully; "you shouldn't have done it. It is not right." + +"Dear Hugh," said Fleda, lightly laying her head on his +shoulder. "I like to burn myself for you." + +"That's just the way you have been doing all your life." + +"Hush!" she said, softly. + +"It is true — for me and for everybody else. It is time you +were taken better care of, dear Fleda." + +"Don't, dear Hugh!" + +"I am right, though," said he. "You are pale and worn now with +waiting upon me, and thinking of me. It is time you were gone. +But I think it is well I am going too, for what should I do in +the world without you, Fleda?" + +Fleda was crying now, intensely, though quietly; but Hugh went +on with feeling, as calm as it was deep. + +"What should I have done all these years — or any of us? How +you have tired yourself for everybody — in the garden and in +the kitchen, and with Earl Douglass — how we could let you, I +don't know, but I believe we could not help it." + +Fleda put her hand upon his mouth. But he took it away and +went on — + +"How often I have seen you sleeping all the evening on the +sofa with a pale face, tired out, dear Fleda," said he, +kissing her cheek; "I am glad there's to be an end put to it. +And all the day you went about with such a bright face, that +it made mother and me happy to look at you; and I knew then, +many a time, it was for our sakes —" + +"Why do you cry so, Fleda? I like to think of it, and to talk +of it, now that I know you won't do so any more. I know the +whole truth, and it went to the bottom of my heart; but I +could do nothing but love you — I did that! — Don't cry so, +Fleda! — you ought not. You have been the sunshine of the +house. My spirit never was so strong as yours; I should have +been borne to the ground, I know, in all these years, if it +had not been for you; and mother — you have been her life." + +"You have been tired too," Fleda whispered. + +"Yes, at the saw-mill. And then you would come up there +through the sun to look at me, and your smile would make me +forget everything sorrowful for the rest of the day — except +that I couldn't help you." + +"Oh, you did — you did — you helped me always, Hugh!" + +"Not much. I couldn't help you when you were sewing for me and +father till your fingers and eyes were aching, and you never +would own that you were anything but 'a little' tired — it +made my heart ache. Oh, I knew it all, dear Fleda. I am very, +very glad that you will have somebody to take care of you now, +that will not let you burn four fingers for him or anybody +else. It makes me happy!" + +"You make me very unhappy, dear Hugh." + +"I don't mean it," said Hugh, tenderly. "But I don't believe +there is anybody else in the world that I could be so +satisfied to leave you with." + +Fleda made no answer to that. She sat up and tried to recover +herself. + +"I hope he will come back in time," said Hugh, settling +himself back in the easy-chair with a weary look, and closing +his eyes. + +"In time for what!" + +"To see me again." + +"My dear Hugh! — he will, to be sure, I hope." + +"He must make haste," said Hugh. "But I want to see him again +very much, Fleda." + +"For anything in particular?" + +"No — only because I love him. I want to see him once more." + +Hugh slumbered; and Fleda, by his side, wept tears of mixed +feeling till she was tired. + +Hugh was right. But nobody else knew it, and his brother was +not sent for. + +It was about a week after this, when one night a horse and +waggon came up to the back of the house from the road, the +gentleman who had been driving leading the horse. It was late, +long past Mr. Skillcorn's usual hour of retiring, but some +errand of business had kept him abroad, and he stood there +looking on. The stars gave light enough. + +"Can you fasten my horse where he may stand a little while, +Sir, without taking him out?" + +"I guess I can," replied Philetus, with reasonable confidence, +"if there's a rope's end some place." + +And forthwith he went back into the house to seek it; the +gentleman patiently holding his horse meanwhile till he came +out. + +"How is Mr. Hugh to-night?" + +"Well — he aint just so smart, they say," responded Philetus, +insinuating the rope's end as awkwardly as possible among the +horse's head-gear. "I believe he's dying." + +Instead of going round now to the front of the house, Mr. +Carleton knocked gently at the kitchen door, and asked the +question anew of Barby. + +"He's — come in, Sir, if you please," she said, opening wide +the door for him to enter. "I'll tell 'em you're here." + +"Do not disturb any one for me," said he. + +"I won't disturb 'em!" said Barby, in a tone a little, though +unconsciously, significant. + +Mr. Carleton neglected the chair she had placed for him, and +remained standing by the mantel-piece, thinking of the scenes +of his early introduction to that kitchen. It wore the same +look it had done then; under Barby's rule it was precisely the +same thing it had been under Cynthia's. The passing years +seemed a dream, and the passing generations of men a vanity, +before the old house, more abiding than they. He stood +thinking of the people he had seen gathered by that fire- +place, and the little household fairy whose childish +ministrations had give such a beauty to the scene — when a +very light step crossed the painted floor, and she was there +again before him. She did not speak a word; she stood still a +moment trying for words, and then put her hand upon Mr. +Carleton's arm, and gently drew him out of the room with her. + +The family were all gathered in the room to which she brought +him. Mr. Rossitur, as soon as he saw Mr. Carleton come in, +shrunk back where he could be a little shielded by the bed- +post. Marion's face was hid on the foot of the bed. Mrs. +Rossitur did not move. Leaving Mr. Carleton on the near side +of the bed, Fleda went round to the place she seemed to have +occupied before at Hugh's right hand; and they were all still, +for he was in a little doze, lying with his eyes closed, and +the face as gently and placidly sweet as it had been in his +boyhood. Perhaps Mr. Rossitur looked at it: but no other did +just then, except Mr. Carleton. His eye rested nowhere else. +The breathing of an infant could not be more gentle; the face +of an angel not more peacefully at rest. "So He giveth His +beloved sleep," thought he gentleman, as he gazed on the brow +from which all care, if care there had ever been, seemed to +have taken flight. + +Not yet — not quite yet; for Hugh suddenly opened his eyes, +and without seeing anybody else, said — + +"Father." + +Mr. Rossitur left the bed-post, and came close to where Fleda +was standing, and leaning forward, touched his son's head, but +did not speak. + +"Father," said Hugh, in a voice so gentle that it seemed as if +strength must be failing, "what will you do when you come to +lie here?" + +Mr. Rossitur put his hands to his face. + +"Father — I must speak now if I never did before — once I must +speak to you — what will you do when you come to lie where I +do? — what will you trust to?" + +The person addressed was as motionless as a statue. Hugh did +not move his eyes from him. + +"Father, I will be a living warning and example to you, for +know that I shall live in your memory — you shall remember +what I say to you — that Jesus Christ is a dear friend to +those that trust in him, and if he is not yours it will be +because you will not let him. You shall remember my testimony, +that he can make death sweeter than life — in his presence is +fulness of joy — at his right hand there are pleasures for +evermore. He is better, he is more to me, even than you all, +and he will be to you a better friend than the poor child you +are losing, though you do not know it now. It is he that has +made my life in this world happy — only he — and I have +nothing to look to but him in the world I am going to. But +what will you do in the hour of death, as I am, if he isn't +your friend, father?" + +Mr. Rossitur's frame swayed like a tree that one sees shaken +by a distant wind, but he said nothing. + +"Will you remember me happily, father, if you come to die +without having done as I begged you? Will you think of me in +heaven, and not try to come there too? Father, will you be a +Christian? — will you not? — for my sake — for _little Hugh's_ +sake, as you used to call him? — Father." + +Mr. Rossitur knelt down and hid his face in the coverings, but +he did not utter a word. + +Hugh's eye dwelt on him for a moment with unspeakable +expression, and his lip trembled. He said no more — he closed +his eyes, and, for a little time, there was nothing to be +heard but the sobs, which could not be restrained, from all +but the two gentlemen. It probably oppressed Hugh, for, after +a while, he said, with a weary sigh, and without opening his +eyes — + +"I wish somebody would sing." + +Nobody answered at first. + +"Sing what, dear Hugh?" said Fleda, putting aside her tears, +and leaning her face towards him. + +"Something that speaks of my want," said Hugh. + +"What do you want, dear Hugh?" + +"Only Jesus Christ," he said, with a half smile. + +But they were silent as death. Fleda's face was in her hands, +and her utmost efforts after self-control wrought nothing but +tears. The stillness had lasted a little while, when, very +softly and sweetly, the notes of a hymn floated to their ears, +and though they floated on and filled the room, the voice was +so nicely modulated, that its waves of sweetness broke gently +upon the nearest ear. + + +"Jesus, the sinner's friend, to Thee, +Lost and undone, for aid I flee; +Weary of earth, myself, and sin, +Open thine arms and take me in. + + +"Pity and save my sin-sick soul — +'Tis thou alone canst make me whole; +Dark, till in me thine image shine, +And lost I am, till thou art mine. + + +"At length I own it cannot be, +That I should fit myself for thee, +Here now to thee I all resign — +Thine is the work, and only thine. + + +"What shall I say thy grace to move? +Lord, I am sin, but thou art love! +I give up every plea beside — +Lord, I am lost — but thou hast died!" + + +They were still again after the voice had ceased — almost +perfectly still — though tears might be pouring, as indeed +they were, from every eye, there was no break to the silence, +other than a half-caught sob, now and then, from a kneeling +figure, whose head was in Marion's lap. + +"Who was that?" said Hugh, when the singer had been silent a +minute. + +Nobody answered immediately, and then Mr. Carleton, bending +over him, said — + +"Don't you know me, dear Hugh?" + +"Is it Mr. Carleton?" + +Hugh looked pleased, and clasped both of his hands upon Guy's, +which he laid upon his breast. For a second he closed his eyes +and was silent. + +"Was it you sang?" + +"Yes." + +"You never sang for me before," he remarked. + +He was silent again. + +"Are you going to take Fleda away?" + +"By and by," said Mr. Carleton, gently. + +"Will you take good care of her?" + +Mr. Carleton hesitated, and then said, so low that it could +reach but one other person's ear — + +"What hand and life can." + +"I know it," said Hugh. "I am very glad you will have her. You +will not let her tire herself any more." + +Whatever became of Fleda's tears, she had driven them away, +and leaning forward, she touched her cheek to his, saying, +with a clearness and sweetness of voice that only intensity of +feeling could have given her at the moment — + +"I am not tired, dear Hugh." + +Hugh clasped one arm round her neck and kissed her — again and +again, seeming unable to say anything to her in any other way; +still keeping his hold of Mr. Carleton's hand. + +"I give all my part of her to you," he said, at length. "Mr. +Carleton, I shall see both of you in heaven?" + +"I hope so," was the answer, in those very calm and clear +tones that have a singular effect in quieting emotion, while +they indicate anything but the want of it. + +"I am the best off of you all," Hugh said. + +He lay still for awhile with shut eyes. Fleda had withdrawn +herself from his arms and stood at his side, with a bowed +head, but perfectly quiet. He still held Mr. Carleton's hand, +as something he did not want to part with. + +"Fleda," said he, "who is that crying? — Mother — come here." + +Mr. Carleton gave place to her. Hugh pulled her down to him +till her face lay upon his, and folded both his arms around +her. + +"Mother," he said, softly, "will you meet me in heaven? — say +yes." + +"How can I, dear Hugh?" + +"You can, dear mother," said he, kissing her with exceeding +tenderness of expression — "my Saviour will be yours and take +you there. Say you will give yourself to Christ — dear mother! +— sweet mother! — promise me I shall see you again!" + +Mrs. Rossitur's weeping it was difficult to hear. But Hugh, +hardly shedding a tear, still kissed her, repeating, "Promise +me, dear mother — promise me that you will;" — till Mrs. +Rossitur, in an agony, sobbed out the word he wanted, and Hugh +hid his face then in her neck. + +Mr. Carleton left the room and went down stairs. He found the +sitting-room desolate, untenanted and cold for hours; and he +went again into the kitchen. Barby was there for some time, +and then she left him alone. + +He had passed a long while in thinking, and walking up and +down, and he was standing musing by the fire, when Fleda again +came in. She came in silently to his side, and putting her arm +within his, laid her face upon it with a simplicity of trust +and reliance that went to his heart; and she wept there for a +long hour They hardly changed their position in all that time; +and her tears flowed silently, though incessantly, the only +tokens of his part being such a gentle caressing, smoothing of +her hair, or putting it from her brow as he had used when she +was a child. The bearing of her hand and head upon his arm, in +time showed her increasingly weary. Nothing showed him so. + +"Elfie — my dear Elfie," he said at last, very tenderly, in +the same way that he would have spoken nine years before — +"Hugh gave his part of you to me — I must take care of it." + +Fleda tried to rouse herself immediately. + +"This is poor entertainment for you, Mr. Carleton," she said, +raising her head, and wiping away the tears from her face. + +"You are mistaken," he said, gently. "You never gave me such +pleasure but twice before, Elfie?" + +Fleda's head went down again instantly, and this time there +was something almost caressing in the motion. + +"Next to the happiness of having friends on earth," he said +soothingly, "is the happiness of having friends in heaven. +Don't weep any more to-night, my dear Elfie." + +"He told me to thank you," said Fleda. But stopping short and +clasping with convulsive energy the arm she held, she shed +more violent tears than she had done that night before. The +most gentle soothing, the most tender reproof, availed at last +to quiet her; and she stood clinging to his arm still, and +looking down into the fire. + +"I did not think it would be so soon," she said. + +"It was not soon to him, Elfie." + +"He told me to thank you for singing. How little while it +seems since we were children together — how little while since +before that — when I was a little child here — how different!" + +"No, the very same," said he, touching his lips to her +forehead — "you are the very same child you were then; but it +is time you were my child, for I see you would make yourself +ill. No," said he, softly, taking the hand Fleda raised to her +face — "no more to-night — tell me how early I may see you in +the morning — for, Elfie, I must leave you after breakfast." + +Fleda looked up inquiringly. + +"My mother has brought news that determines me to return to +England immediately." + +"To England!" + +"I have been too long from home — I am wanted there." + +Fleda looked down again, and did her best not to show what she +felt. + +"I do not know how to leave you — and now — but I must. There +are disturbances among the people, and my own are infected. I +_must_ be there without delay." + +"Political disturbances?" said Fleda. + +"Somewhat of that nature — but partly local. How early may I +come to you?" + +"But you are not going away to-night? It is very late." + +"That is nothing — my horse is here." + +Fleda would have begged in vain, if Barby had not come in and +added her word, to the effect that it would be a mess of work +to look for lodgings at that time of night, and that she had +made the west room ready for Mr. Carleton. She rejected with +great sincerity any claim to the thanks with which Fleda as +well as Mr. Carleton repaid her; "there wa'n't no trouble +about it," she said. Mr. Carleton, however, found his room +prepared for him with all the care that Barby's utmost ideas +of refinement and exactness could suggest. + +It was still very early the next morning when he left it and +came into the sitting-room, but he was not the first there. +The firelight glimmered on the silver and china of the +breakfast table, all set; everything was in absolute order, +from the fire to the two cups and saucers which were alone on +the board. A still silent figure was standing by one of the +windows looking out. Not crying; but that Mr. Carleton knew +from the unmistakeable lines of the face was only because +tears were waiting another time; quiet now, it would not be by +and by. He came and stood at the window with her. + +"Do you know," he said, after a little, "that Mr. Rossitur +purposes to leave Queechy?" + +"Does he?" said Fleda, rather starting, but she added not +another word, simply because she felt she could not safely. + +"He has accepted, I believe, a consulship at Jamaica." + +"Jamaica!" said Fleda. "I have heard him speak of the West +Indies — I am not surprised — I knew it was likely he would +not stay here." + +How tightly her fingers that were free grasped the edge of the +window-frame. Mr. Carleton saw it and softly removed them into +his own keeping. + +"He may go before I can be here again. But I shall leave my +mother to take care of you, Elfie." + +"Thank you," said Fleda, faintly. "You are very kind —" + +"Kind to myself," he said, smiling. "I am only taking care of +my own. I need not say that you will see me again as early as +my duty can make it possible; — but I may be detained, and +your friends may be gone — Elfie — give me the right to send +if I cannot come for you. Let me leave my wife in my mother's +care." + +Fleda looked down, and coloured, and hesitated; but the +expression in her face was not that of doubt. + +"Am I asking too much?" he said, gently. + +"No, Sir," said Fleda — "and — but —" + +"What is in the way?" + +But it seemed impossible for Fleda to tell him. + +"May I not know?" he said, gently putting away the hair from +Fleda's face, which looked distressed. "Is it only your +feeling?" + +"No, Sir," said Fleda — "at least — not the feeling you think +it is — but — I could not do it without giving great pain." + +Mr. Carleton was silent. + +"Not to anybody you know, Mr. Carleton," said Fleda, suddenly +fearing a wrong interpretation to her words — "I don't mean +that — I mean somebody else — the person — the only person you +could apply to" — she said, covering her face in utter +confusion. + +"Do I understand you?" said he, smiling. "Has this gentleman +any reason to dislike the sight of me?" + +"No, Sir," said Fleda — "but he thinks he has." + +"That only I meant," said he. "You are quite right, my dear +Elfie — I, of all men, ought to understand that." + +The subject was dropped; and in a few minutes his gentle skill +had wellnigh made Fleda forget what they had been talking +about. Himself and his wishes seemed to be put quite out of +his own view, and out of hers as far as possible, except that +the very fact made Fleda recognise, with unspeakable gratitude +and admiration, the kindness and grace that were always +exerted for her pleasure. If her goodwill could have been put +into the cups of coffee she poured out for him, he might have +gone, in the strength of them, all the way to England. There +was strength of another kind to be gained from her face of +quiet sorrow and quiet self-command, which were her very +childhood's own. + +"You will see me at the earliest possible moment," he said, +when at last taking leave. "I hope to be free in a short time: +but it may not be. Elfie, if I should be detained longer than +I hope — if I should not be able to return in a reasonable +time — will you let my mother bring you out? — if I cannot +come to you, will you come to me?" + +Fleda coloured a good deal, and said, scarce intelligibly, +that she hoped he would be able to come. He did not press the +matter. He parted from her, and was leaving the room. Fleda +suddenly sprang after him, before he had reached the door, and +laid her hand on his arm. + +"I did not answer your question, Mr. Carleton," she said, with +cheeks that were dyed now — "I will do whatever you please — +whatever you think best." + +His thanks were most gratefully, though silently, spoken, and +he went away. + + +CHAPTER XXV. + + +"Daughter, they seem to say, +Peace to thy heart! +We too, yes, daughter, +Have been as thou art. +Hope-lifted, doubt-depress'd, +Seeing in part — +Tried, troubled, tempted — +Sustain'd — as thou art." +UNKNOWN. + + +Mr. Rossitur was disposed for no further delay now in leaving +Queechy. The office at Jamaica, which Mr. Carleton and Dr. +Gregory had secured for him, was immediately accepted, and +every arrangement pressed to hasten his going. On every +account, he was impatient to be out of America, and especially +since his son's death. Marion was of his mind. Mrs. Rossitur +had more of a home feeling, even for the place where home had +not been to her as happy as it might. + +They were sad weeks of bustle and weariness that followed +Hugh's death — less sad, perhaps, for the weariness and the +bustle. There was little time for musing — no time for +lingering regrets. If thought and feeling played their Aeolian +measures on Fleda's harpstrings, they were listened to only by +snatches, and she rarely sat down and cried to them. + +A very kind note had been received from Mrs. Carleton. + +April gave place to May. One afternoon, Fleda had taken an +hour or two to go and look at some of the old places on the +farm that she loved, and that were not too far to reach. A +last look she guessed it might be, for it was weeks since she +had had a spare afternoon, and another she might not be able +to find. It was a doubtful pleasure she sought too, but she +must have it. + +She visited the long meadow and the height that stretched +along it, and even went so far as the extremity of the valley, +at the foot of the twenty-acre lot, and then stood still to +gather up the ends of memory. There she had gone chestnutting +with Mr. Ringgan — thither she had guided Mr. Carleton and her +cousin Rossitur that day when they were going after woodcock — +there she had directed and overseen Earl Douglass's huge crop +of corn. How many pieces of her life were connected with it! +She stood for a little while looking at the old chestnut +trees, looking and thinking, and turned away soberly with the +recollection, "The world passeth away, but the word of our God +shall stand for ever." And though there was one thought that +was a continual well of happiness in the depth of Fleda's +heart, her mind passed it now, and echoed with great joy the +countersign of Abraham's privilege, — "Thou art my portion, O +Lord!" — And in that assurance every past and every hoped-for +good was sweet with added sweetness. She walked home without +thinking much of the long meadow. + +It was a chill spring afternoon, and Fleda was in her old trim +— the black cloak, the white shawl over it, and the hood of +grey silk. And in that trim she walked into the sitting-room. + +A lady was there, in a travelling dress, a stranger. Fleda's +eye took in her outline and feature one moment with a kind of +bewilderment, the next with perfect intelligence. If the lady +had been in any doubt, Fleda's cheeks alone would have +announced her identity. But she came forward without +hesitation after the first moment, pulling off her hood, and +stood before her visitor, blushing, in a way that perhaps Mrs. +Carleton looked at as a novelty in her world. Fleda did not +know how she looked at it, but she had, nevertheless, an +instinctive feeling, even at the moment, that the lady +wondered how her son should have fancied particularly anything +that went about under such a hood. + +Whatever Mrs. Carleton thought, her son's fancies, she knew, +were unmanageable; and she had far too much good breeding to +let her thoughts be known — unless to one of those curious +spirit thermometers that can tell a variation of temperature +through every sort of medium. There might have been the +slightest want of forwardness to do it, but she embraced Fleda +with great cordiality. + +"This is for the old time — not for the new, dear Fleda," she +said. "Do you remember me?" + +"Perfectly! — very well," said Fleda, giving Mrs. Carleton for +a moment a glimpse of her eyes. — "I do not easily forget." + +"Your look promises me an advantage from that, which I do not +deserve, but which I may as well use as another. I want all I +can have, Fleda." + +There was a half look at the speaker that seemed to deny the +truth of that, but Fleda did not otherwise answer. She begged +her visitor to sit down, and throwing off the white shawl and +black cloak, took tongs in hand, and began to mend the fire. +Mrs. Carleton sat considering a moment the figure of the fire- +maker, not much regardful of the skill she was bringing to +bear upon the sticks of wood. + +Fleda turned from the fire to remove her visitor's bonnet and +wrappings, but the former was all Mrs. Carleton would give +her. She threw off shawl and tippet on the nearest chair. + +It was the same Mrs. Carleton of old — Fleda saw while this +was doing — unaltered almost entirely. The fine figure and +bearing were the same; time had made no difference; even the +face had paid little tribute to the years that had passed by +it; and the hair held its own without a change. Bodily and +mentally she was the same. Apparently she was thinking the +like of Fleda. + +"I remember you very well," she said, with kindly accent, when +Fleda sat down by her. "I have never forgotten you. A dear +little creature you were. I always knew that." + +Fleda hoped privately the lady would see no occasion to change +her mind; but for the present she was bankrupt in words. + +"I was in the same room this morning at Montepoole where we +used to dine, and it brought back the whole thing to me — the +time when you were sick there with us. I could think of +nothing else. But I don't think I was your favourite, Fleda." + +Such a rush of blood again answered her as moved Mrs. +Carleton, in common kindness, to speak of common things. She +entered into a long story of her journey — of her passage from +England — of the steamer that brought her — of her stay in New +York — all which Fleda heard very indifferently well. She was +more distinctly conscious of the handsome travelling dress, +which seemed all the while to look as its wearer had done, +with some want of affinity upon the little grey hood which lay +on the chair in the corner. Still she listened and responded +as became her, though, for the most part, with eyes that did +not venture from home. The little hood itself could never have +kept its place with less presumption, nor with less flutter of +self-distrust. + +Mrs. Carleton came at last to a general account of the +circumstances that had determined Guy to return home so +suddenly, where she was more interesting. She hoped he would +not be detained, but it was impossible to tell. It was just as +it might happen. + +"Are you acquainted with the commission I have been charged +with?" she said, when her narrations had at last lapsed into +silence, and Fleda's eyes had returned to the ground. + +"I suppose so, Ma'am, " said Fleda, with a little smile. + +"It is a very pleasant charge" said Mrs. Carleton, softly +kissing her cheek. Something in the face itself must have +called forth that kiss, for this time there were no +requisitions of politeness. + +"Do you recognise my commission, Fleda?" + +Fleda did not answer. Mrs. Carleton sat a few minutes +thoughtfully drawing back the curls from her forehead, Mr. +Carleton's very gesture, but not by any means with his +fingers; and musing, perhaps, on the possibility of a hood's +having very little to do with what it covered. + +"Do you know," she said, "I have felt as if I were nearer to +Guy since I have seen you." + +The quick smile and colour that answered this, both very +bright, wrought in Mrs. Carleton an instant recollection that +her son was very apt to be right in his judgments, and that +probably the present case might prove him so. The hand which +had played with Fleda's hair was put round her waist, very +affectionately, and Mrs. Carleton drew near her. + +"I am sure we shall love each other, Fleda," she said. + +It was said like Fleda, not like Mrs. Carleton, and answered +as simply. Fleda had gained her place. Her head was in Mrs. +Carleton's neck, and welcomed there. + +"At least I am sure I shall love you," said the lady, kissing +her; "and I don't despair on my own account for somebody +else's sake." + +"No," said Fleda, but she was not fluent to-day. She sat up +and repeated, "I have not forgotten old times either, Mrs. +Carleton." + +"I don't want to think of the old time — I want to think of +the new," — she seemed to have a great fancy for stroking back +those curls of hair; "I want to tell you how happy I am, dear +Fleda." + +Fleda did not say whether she was happy or unhappy, and her +look might have been taken for dubious. She kept her eyes on +the ground, while Mrs. Carleton drew the hair off from her +flushing cheeks, and considered the face laid bare to her +view; and thought it was a fair face — a very presentable face +— delicate and lovely — a face that she would have no reason +to be ashamed of, even by her son's side. Her speech was not +precisely to that effect. + +"You know now why I have come upon you at such a time. I need +not ask pardon. I felt that I should be hardly discharging my +commission if I did not see you till you arrived in New York. +My wishes I could have made to wait, but not my trust. So I +came." + +"I am very glad you did." + +She could fain have persuaded the lady to disregard +circumstances, and stay with her, at least till the next day, +but Mrs. Carleton was unpersuadable. She would return +immediately to Montepoole. + +"And how long shall you be here now?" she said. + +"A few days — it will not be more than a week." + +"Do you know how soon Mr. Rossitur intends to sail for +Jamaica?" + +"As soon as possible — he will make his stay in New York very +short — not more than a fortnight, perhaps; — as short as he +can." + +"And then, my dear Fleda, I am to have the charge of you — for +a little while — am I not?" + +Fleda hesitated, and began to say, "Thank you," but it was +finished with a burst of very hearty tears. + +Mrs. Carleton knew immediately the tender spot she had +touched. She put her arms about Fleda, and caressed her as +gently as her own mother might have done. + +"Forgive me, dear Fleda! — I forgot that so much that is sad +to you must come before what is so much pleasure to me. Look +up and tell me that you forgive me." + +Fleda soon looked up, but she looked very sorrowful, and said +nothing. Mrs. Carleton watched her face for a little while, +really pained. + +"Have you heard from Guy since he went away?" she whispered. + +"No, Ma'am." + +"I have." + +And therewith she put into Fleda's hand a letter — not Mrs. +Carleton's letter, as Fleda's first thought was. It had her +own name and the seal was unbroken. But it moved Mrs. +Carleton's wonder to see Fleda cry again, and longer than +before. She did not understand it. She tried soothing, but she +ventured no attempt at consoling, for she did not know what +was the matter. + +"You will let me go now, I know," she said, smilingly, when +Fleda was again recovered, and standing before the fire with a +face not so sorrowful, Mrs. Carleton saw. "But I must say +something — I shall not hurt you again." + +"O no, you did not hurt me at all — it was not what you said." + +"You will come to me, dear Fleda? I feel that I want you very +much." + +"Thank you — but there is my uncle Orrin, Mrs. Carleton — Dr. +Gregory." + +"Dr. Gregory? He is just on the eve of sailing for Europe; I +thought you knew it." + +"On the eve? so soon?" + +"Very soon, he told me. Dear Fleda, shall I remind you of my +commission, and who gave it to me?" + +Fleda hesitated still; at least, she stood looking into the +fire, and did not answer. + +"You do not own his authority yet," Mrs. Carleton went on; +"but I am sure his wishes do not weigh for nothing with you, +and I can plead them." + +Probably it was a source of some gratification to Mrs. +Carleton to see those deep spots on Fleda's cheeks. They were +a silent tribute to an invisible presence that flattered the +lady's affection — or her pride. + +"What do you say, dear Fleda — to him and to me?" she said, +smiling and kissing her. + +"I will come, Mrs. Carleton." + +The lady was quite satisfied, and departed on the instant, +having got, she said, all she wanted; and Fleda — cried till +her eyes were sore. + +The days were few that remained to them in their old home; not +more than a week, as Fleda had said. It was the first week in +May. + +The evening before they were to leave Queechy, Fleda and Mrs. +Rossitur went together to pay their farewell visit to Hugh's +grave. It was some distance off. They walked there arm in arm +without a word by the way. + +The little country grave-yard lay alone on a hill-side, a good +way from any house, and out of sight even of any but a very +distant one. A sober and quiet place, no tokens of busy life +immediately near, the fields around it being used for +pasturing sheep, except an instance or two of winter grain now +nearing its maturity. A by-road not much travelled led to the +grave-yard, and led off from it over the broken country, +following the ups and down of the ground to a long distance +away, without a moving thing upon it in sight near or far. No +sound of stirring and active humanity. Nothing to touch the +perfect repose. But every lesson of the place could be heard +more distinctly amid that silence of all other voices. Except, +indeed, Nature's voice; that was not silent: and neither did +it jar with the other. The very light of the evening fell more +tenderly upon the old grey stones and the thick grass in that +place. + +Fleda and Mrs. Rossitur went softly to one spot where the +grass was not grown, and where the bright white marble caught +the eye and spoke of grief, fresh too. O that that were grey +and moss-grown like the others! The mother placed herself +where the staring black letters of Hugh's name could not +remind her so harshly that it no more belonged to the living; +and, sitting down on the ground, hid her face, to struggle +through the parting agony once more, with added bitterness. + +Fleda stood a while sharing it, for with her too it was the +last time in all likelihood. If she had been alone, her grief +might have witnessed itself bitterly and uncontrolled: but the +selfish relief was foregone, for the sake of another, that it +might be in her power by and by to minister to a heart yet +sorer and weaker than hers. The tears that fell so quietly and +so fast upon the foot of Hugh's grave were all the deeper +drawn and richer fraught. + +A while she stood there; and then passed round to a group a +little way off, that had as dear and strong claims upon her +love and memory. These were not fresh, not very; oblivion had +not come there yet — only Time's softening hand. Was it +softening? — for Fleda's head was bent down further here, and +tears rained faster. It was hard to leave these! The cherished +names that from early years had lived in her child's heart — +from this their last earthly abiding-place she was to part +company. Her mother's and her father's graves were there, side +by side; and never had Fleda's heart so clung to the old grey +stones, never had the faded lettering seemed so dear — of the +dear names and of the words of faith and hope that were their +dying or living testimony. And next to them was her +grandfather's resting-place; and with that sunshiny green +mound came a throng of strangely tender and sweet +associations, more even than with the other two. His gentle, +venerable, dignified figure rose before her, and her heart +yearned towards it. In imagination Fleda pressed again to her +breast the withered hand that had led her childhood so kindly; +and overcome here for a little, she kneeled down upon the sod, +and bent her head till the long grass almost touched it, in an +agony of human sorrow. Could she leave them? — and for ever in +this world? and be content to see on more these dear memorials +till others like them should be raised for herself, far away? +But then stole in consolations not human, nor of man's +devising — the words that were written upon her mother's +tombstone — + + +"_Them that sleep in Jesus will God bring with him_." + + +— It was like the march of angels' feet over the turf. And her +mother had been a meek child of faith, and her father and +grandfather, though strong men, had bowed like little children +to the same rule. Fleda's head bent lower yet, and she wept, +even aloud, but it was one-half in pure thankfulness and a joy +that the world knows nothing of. Doubtless they and she were +one; doubtless, though the grass now covered their graves, the +heavenly bond in which they were held would bring them +together again in light, to a new and more beautiful life that +should know no severing. Asleep in Jesus; and even as he had +risen so should they — they and others that she loved — all +whom she loved best. She could leave their graves; and with an +unspeakable look of thanks to Him who had brought life and +immortality to light, she did; but not till she had there once +again remembered her mother's prayer, and her aunt Miriam's +words, and prayed that rather anything might happen to her +than that prosperity and the world's favour should draw her +from the simplicity and humility of a life above the world. +Rather than not meet them in joy at the last, oh, let her want +what she most wished for in this world! + +If riches have their poisonous snares, Fleda carried away from +this place a strong antidote. With a spirit strangely simple, +pure, and calm, she went back to her aunt. + +Poor Mrs. Rossitur was not quieted, but at Fleda's touch and +voice, gentle and loving as the spirit of love and gentleness +could make them, she tried to rouse herself; lifted up her +weary head, and clasped her arms about her niece. The manner +of it went to Fleda's heart, for there was in it both a +looking to her for support and a clinging to her as another +dear thing she was about to lose. Fleda could not speak for +the heart-ache. + +"It is harder to leave this place than all the rest," Mrs. +Rossitur murmured, after some little time had passed on. + +"He is not here," said Fleda's soothing voice. It set her aunt +to crying again. + +"No — I know it," she said. + +"We shall see him again. Think of that." + +"_You_ will," said Mrs. Rossitur, very sadly. + +"And so will you, dear aunt Lucy — _dear_ aunt Lucy — you +promised him?" + +"Yes" — sobbed Mrs. Rossitur — "I promised him — but I am such +a poor creature." + +"So poor that Jesus cannot save you? — or will not? No, dear +aunt Lucy — you do not think that; — only trust him — you do +trust him now, do you not?" + +A fresh gush of tears came with the answer, but it was in the +affirmative; and, after a few minutes, Mrs. Rossitur grew more +quiet. + +"I wish something were done to this," she said, looking at the +fresh earth beside her; "if we could have planted something —" + +"I have thought of it a thousand times," said Fleda, sighing; +— "I would have done it long ago if I could have got here; — +but it doesn't matter, aunt Lucy. — I wish I could have done +it." + +"You?" said Mrs. Rossitur; — "my poor child! you have been +wearing yourself out working for me. I never was worth +anything!" she said, hiding her face again. + +"When you have been the dearest and best mother to me? Now +that is not right, aunt Lucy — look up and kiss me." + +The pleading sweet tone of voice was not to be resisted. Mrs. +Rossitur looked up and kissed her earnestly enough, but with +unabated self-reproach. + +"I don't deserve to kiss you, for I have let you try yourself +beyond your strength. How you look! Oh, how you look!" + +"Never mind how I look," said Fleda, bringing her face so +close that her aunt could not see it. "You helped me all you +could, aunt Lucy — don't talk so — and I shall look well +enough by and by, I am not so very tired." + +"You always were so!" exclaimed Mrs. Rossitur, clasping her in +her arms again: "and now I am going to lose you, too. My dear +Fleda! that gives me more pleasure than anything else in the +world!" + +But it was a pleasure well cried over. + +"We shall all meet again, I hope — I will hope," said Mrs. +Rossitur, meekly, when Fleda had risen from her arms. + +"Dear aunty! but before that — in England — you will come to +see me. Uncle Rolf will bring you." + +Even then, Fleda could not say even that without the blood +mounting to her face. Mrs. Rossitur shook her head, and +sighed; but smiled a little, too, as if that delightful chink +of possibility let some light in. + +"I shouldn't like to see Mr. Carleton now," she said, "for I +could not look him in the face; and I am afraid he wouldn't +want to look in mine, he would be so angry with me." + +The sun was sinking low on that fair May afternoon, and they +had two miles to walk to get home. Slowly and lingeringly they +moved away. + +The talk with her aunt had shaken Fleda's calmness, and she +could have cried now with all her heart; but she constrained +herself. They stopped a moment at the fence, to look the last +before turning their backs upon the place. They lingered, and +still Mrs. Rossitur did not move, and Fleda could not take +away her eyes. + +It was that prettiest time of nature, which, while it shows +indeed the shade side of everything, makes it the occasion of +a fair contrast. The grave-stones cast long shadows over the +ground, foretokens of night where another night was resting +already; the longest stretched away from the head of Hugh's +grave. But the rays of the setting sun, softly touching the +grass and the face of the white tombstone, seemed to say — +"Thy brother shall rise again!" Light upon the grave! The +promise kissing the record of death! — It was impossible to +look in calmness. Fleda bowed her head upon the paling, and +cried with a straitened heart, for grief and gratitude +together. + +Mrs. Rossitur had not moved when Fleda looked up again. The +sun was yet lower — the sunbeams, more slant, touched not only +that bright white stone — they passed on beyond, and carried +the promise to those other grey ones, a little further off; +that she had left — yes, for the last time; and Fleda's +thoughts went forward swiftly to the time of the promise — +"_Then_ shall be brought to pass the saying which is written, +Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is thy sting? +O grave, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin, and +the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, which +giveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ." And +then, as she looked, the sunbeams might have been a choir of +angels in light, singing, ever so softly, "Glory to God in the +highest, and on earth peace, good will towards men." + +With a full heart Fleda clasped her aunt's arm, and they went +gently down the lane without saying one word to each other, +till they had left the grave-yard far behind them and were in +the high road again. + +Fleda internally thanked Mr. Carleton for what he had said to +her on a former occasion, for the thought of his words had +given her courage, or strength, to go beyond her usual reserve +in speaking to her aunt; and she thought her words had done +good. + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + + +"Use your pleasure: if your love do not persuade you to come, +let not my letter." +MERCHANT OF VENICE. + + +On the way home, Mrs. Rossitur and Fleda went a trifle out of +their road to say good-bye to Mrs. Douglass's family. Fleda +had seen her aunt Miriam in the morning, and bid her a +conditional farewell; for, as after Mrs. Rossitur's sailing +she would be with Mrs. Carleton, she judged it little likely +that she should see Queechy again. + +They had time for but a minute at Mrs. Douglass's. Mrs. +Rossitur had shaken hands, and was leaving the house when Mrs. +Douglass pulled Fleda back. + +"Be you going to the West Indies, too, Fleda?" + +"No, Mrs. Douglass." + +"Then why don't you stay here?" + +"I want to be with my aunt while I can," said Fleda. + +"And then do you calculate to stop in New York?" + +"For a while," said Fleda, colouring. + +"Oh, go 'long!" said Mrs. Douglass; "I know all about it. Now, +do you s'pose you're agoing to be any happier among all those +great folks than you would be if you staid among little +folks?" she added, tartly; while Catherine looked with a kind +of incredulous admiration at the future lady of Carleton. + +"I don't suppose that greatness has anything to do with +happiness, Mrs. Douglass," said Fleda, gently. + +So gently, and so calmly sweet the face was that said it, that +Mrs. Douglass's mood was overcome. + +"Well, you aint agoing to forget Queechy?" she said, shaking +Fleda's hand with a hearty grasp. + +"Never — never!" + +"I'll tell you what I think," said Mrs. Douglass, the tears in +her eyes answering those in Fleda's; "it 'll be a happy house +that gets you into it, wherever 't is! I only wish it wa'n't +out o' Queechy." + +Fleda thought on the whole, as she walked home, that she did +not wish any such thing. Queechy seemed dismantled, and she +thought she would rather go to a new place now that she had +taken such a leave of everything here. + +Two things remained, however, to be taken leave of — the house +and Barby. Happily Fleda had little time for the former. It +was a busy evening, and the morning would be more busy; she +contrived that all the family should go to rest before her, +meaning then to have one quiet look at the old rooms by +herself — a leave-taking that no other eyes should interfere +with. She sat down before the kitchen fire-place, but she had +hardly realized that she was alone when one of the many doors +opened, and Barby's tall figure walked in. + +"Here you be," she half whispered. "I knowed there wouldn't be +a minute's peace to-morrow; so I thought I'd bid you good-bye +to-night." + +Fleda gave her a smile and a hand, but did not speak. Barby +drew up a chair beside her, and they sat silent for some time, +while quiet tears from the eyes of each said a great many +things. + +"Well, I hope you'll be as happy as you deserve to be," — were +Barby's first words, in a voice very altered from its +accustomed firm and spirited accent. + +"Make some better wish for me than that, dear Barby." + +"I wouldn't want any better for myself," said Barby, +determinately. + +"I would for you," said Fleda. + +She thought of Mr. Carleton's words again, and went on in +spite of herself. + +"It is a mistake, Barby. The best of us do not deserve +anything good; and if we have the sight of a friend's face, or +the very sweet air we breathe, it is because Christ has bought +it for us. Don't let us forget that, and forget him." + +"I do, always," said Barby, crying, "forget everything. Fleda, +I wish you'd pray for me when you are far away, for I aint as +good as you be." + +"Dear Barby," said Fleda, touching her shoulder +affectionately, "I haven't waited to be far away to do that." + +Barby sobbed for a few minutes, with the strength of a strong +nature that rarely gave way in that manner; and then dashed +her tears right and left, not at all as if she were ashamed of +them, but with a resolution not to be overcome. + +"There won't be nothing good left in Queechy, when you're +gone, you and Mis' Plumfield — without I go and look at the +place where Hugh lies —" + +"Dear Barby," said Fleda, with softening eyes, "won't you be +something good yourself?" + +Barby put up her hand to shield her face. Fleda was silent, +for she saw that strong feeling was at work. + +"I wish't I could," Barby broke forth at last, "if it was only +for your sake." + +"Dear Barby," said Fleda, "you can do this for me — you can go +to church, and hear what Mr. Olmney says. I should go away +happier if I thought you would, and if I thought you would +follow what he says; for, dear Barby, there is a time coming +when you will wish you were a Christian more then you do now, +and not for my sake." + +"I believe there is, Fleda." + +"Then, will you? Won't you give me so much pleasure?" + +"I'd do a'most anything to do you a pleasure." + +"Then do it, Barby." + +"Well, I'll go," said Barby. "But now just think of that, +Fleda — how you might have stayed in Queechy all your days, +and done what you liked with everybody. I'm glad you aint, +though; I guess you'll be better off." + +Fleda was silent upon that. + +"I'd like amazingly to see how you'll be fixed," said Barby, +after a trifle of ruminating. "If 't wa'n't for my old mother, +I'd be 'most a mind to pull up sticks, and go after you." + +"I wish you could, Barby; only I am afraid you would not like +it so well there as here." + +"Maybe I wouldn't. I s'pect them English folks has ways of +their own, from what I've heerd tell; they set up dreadful, +don't they?" + +"Not all of them," said Fleda. + +"No, I don't believe but what I could get along with Mr. +Carleton well enough; I never see any one that knowed how to +behave himself better." + +Fleda gave her a smiling acknowledgment of this compliment. + +"He's plenty of money, ha'n't he?" + +"I believe so." + +"You'll be sot up like a princess, and never have nothing to +do no more." + +"Oh, no!" said Fleda, laughing; "I expect to have a great deal +to do; if I don't find it, I shall make it." + +"I guess it 'll be pleasant work," said Barby. "Well, I don't +care; you've done work enough since you've lived here that +wa'n't pleasant, to play for the rest of your days; and I'm +glad on't. I guess he don't hurt himself. You wouldn't stand +it much longer to do as you have been doing lately." + +"That couldn't be helped," said Fleda; "but that I may stand +it to-morrow, I am afraid we must go to bed, Barby." + +Barby bade her good-night, and left her; but Fleda's musing +mood was gone. She had no longer the desire to call back the +reminiscences of the old walls. All that page of her life, she +felt, was turned over; and, after a few minutes' quiet survey +of the familiar things, without the power of moralizing over +them as she could have done half an hour before, she left +them, for the next day had no eyes but for business. + +It was a trying week or two before Mr. Rossitur and his family +were fairly on shipboard. Fleda, as usual, and more than usual +— with the eagerness of affection that felt its opportunities +numbered, and would gladly have concentrated the services of +years into days — wrought, watched, and toiled, at what +expense to her own flesh and blood Mrs. Rossitur never knew, +and the others were too busy to guess; but Mrs. Carleton saw +the signs of it, and was heartily rejoiced when they were +fairly gone and Fleda was committed to her hands. + +For days, almost for weeks, after her aunt was gone, Fleda +could do little but rest and sleep — so great was the +weariness of mind and body, and the exhaustion of the animal +spirits, which had been kept upon a strain to hide her +feelings and support those of others. To the very last moment +affection's sweet work had been done; the eye, the voice, the +smile, to say nothing of the hands, had been tasked and kept +in play to put away recollections, to cheer hopes, to soften +the present, to lighten the future; and, hardest of all, to do +the whole by her own living example. As soon as the last look +and wave of the hand were exchanged, and there was no longer +anybody to lean upon her for strength and support, Fleda +showed how weak she was, and sank into a state of prostration +as gentle and deep almost as an infant's. + +As sweet and lovely as a child, too, Mrs. Carleton declared +her to be — sweet and lovely as she was when a child; and +there was no going beyond that. As neither this lady nor Fleda +had changed essentially since the days of their former +acquaintanceship, it followed that there was still as little +in common between them, except, indeed, now the strong ground +of affection. Whatever concerned her son concerned Mrs. +Carleton in almost equal degree; anything that he valued she +valued; and to have a thorough appreciation of him was a sure +title to her esteem. The consequence of all this was, that +Fleda was now the most precious thing in the world to her +after himself; especially since her eyes, sharpened as well as +opened by affection, could find in her nothing that she +thought unworthy of him. In her, personally; country and +blood, Mrs. Carleton might have wished changed; but her desire +that her son should marry — the strongest wish she had known +for years — had grown so despairing, that her only feeling now +on the subject was joy; she was not in the least inclined to +quarrel with his choice. Fleda had from her the tenderest care +as well as the utmost delicacy that affection and good- +breeding could teach. And Fleda needed both, for she was slow +in going back to her old health and strength; and, stripped on +a sudden of all her old friends, on this turning-point of her +life, her spirits were in that quiet mood that would have felt +any jarring most keenly. + +The weeks of her first languor and weariness were over, and +she was beginning again to feel and look like herself. The +weather was hot and the city disagreeable now, for it was the +end of June; but they had pleasant rooms upon the Battery, and +Fleda's windows looked out upon the waving tops of green trees +and the bright waters of the bay. She used to lie gazing out +at the coming and going vessels with a curious fantastic +interest in them; they seemed oddly to belong to that piece of +her life, and to be weaving the threads of her future fate as +they flitted about in all directions before her. In a very +quiet, placid mood, not as if she wished to touch one of the +threads, she lay watching the bright sails that seemed to +carry the shuttle of life to and fro, letting Mrs. Carleton +arrange and dispose of everything and of her as she pleased. + +She was on her couch as usual, looking out one fair morning, +when Mrs. Carleton came in to kiss her and ask how she did. +Fleda said, "Better." + +"Better! you always say 'better'," said Mrs. Carleton; "but I +don't see that you get better very fast. And sober — this +cheek is too sober," she added, passing her hand fondly over +it; "I don't like to see it so." + +"That is just the way I have been feeling, Ma'am — unable to +rouse myself. I should be ashamed of it if I could help it." + +"Mrs. Evelyn has been here begging that we would join her in a +party to the Springs — Saratoga. How would you like that?" + +"I should like anything that you would like, Ma'am," said +Fleda, with a thought how she would like to read Montepoole +for Saratoga. + +"The city is very hot and dusty just now." + +"Very, and I am sorry to keep you in it, Mrs. Carleton." + +"Keep me, love?" said Mrs. Carleton, bending down her face to +her again; "it's a pleasure to be kept anywhere by you." + +Fleda shut her eyes, for she could hardly bear a little word +now. + +"I don't like to keep _you_ here; it is not myself I am thinking +of. I fancy a change would do you good." + +"You are very kind, Ma'am." + +"Very interested kindness," said Mrs. Carleton. "I want to see +you looking a little better before Guy comes; I am afraid he +will look grave at both of us." But as she paused and stroked +Fleda's cheek, it came into her mind to doubt the truth of the +last assertion, and she ended off with, "I wish he would +come!" + +So Fleda wished truly; for now, cut off as she was from her +old associations, she longed for the presence of the one +friend that was to take place of them all. + +"I hope we shall hear soon that there is some prospect of his +getting free," Mrs. Carleton went on. "He has been gone now — +how many weeks? I am looking for a letter to-day. And there it +is!" + +The maid at this moment entered with the steamer despatches. +Mrs. Carleton pounced upon the one she knew, and broke it +open. + +"Here it is! and there is yours, Fleda." + +With kind politeness, she went off to read her own, and left +Fleda to study hers at her leisure. An hour after she came in +again. Fleda's face was turned from her. + +"Well, what does he say?" she asked in a lively tone. + +"I suppose, the same he has said to you, Ma'am," said Fleda. + +"I don't suppose it, indeed," said Mrs. Carleton, laughing. +"He has given me sundry charges, which, if he has given you, +it is morally certain we shall never come to an +understanding." + +"I have received no charges," said Fleda. + +"I am directed to be very careful to find out your exact wish +in the matter, and to let you follow no other. So what is it, +my sweet Fleda?" + +"I promised," said Fleda, colouring and turning her letter +over. But there she stopped. + +"Whom, and what?" said Mrs. Carleton, after she had waited a +reasonable time. + +"Mr. Carleton." + +"What did you promise, my dear Fleda?" + +"That I would do as he said." + +"But he wishes you to do as you please." + +Fleda brought her eyes quick out of Mrs. Carleton's view, and +was silent. + +"What do you say, dear Fleda?" said the lady, taking her hand +and bending over her. + +"I am sure we shall be expected," said Fleda. "I will go." + +"You are a darling girl!" said Mrs. Carleton, kissing her +again and again. "I will love you for ever for that. And I am +sure it will be the best thing for you — the sea will do you +good — and _ne vous en déplaise_, our own home is pleasanter +just now than this dusty town. I will write by this steamer +and tell Guy we will be there by the next. He will have +everything in readiness, I know, at all events; and in half an +hour after you get there, my dear Fleda, you will be +established in all your rights — as well as if it had been +done six months before. Guy will know how to thank you. But, +after all, Fleda, you might do him this grace — considering +how long he has been waiting upon you." + +Something in Fleda's eyes induced Mrs. Carleton to say, +laughing — + +"What's the matter?" + +"He never waited for me," said Fleda, simply. + +"Didn't he? But, my dear Fleda!" said Mrs. Carleton, in amused +extremity — "how long is it since you knew what he came out +here for?" + +"I don't know now, Ma'am," said Fleda. But she became +angelically rosy the next minute. + +"He never told you?" + +"No." + +"And you never asked him?" + +"Why, no, Ma'am!" + +"He will be well suited in a wife," said Mrs. Carleton, +laughing. "But he can have no objection to your knowing now, I +suppose. He never told me but at the latest. You must know, +Fleda, that it has been my wish for a great many years that +Guy would marry — and I almost despaired, he was so difficult +to please — his taste in everything is so fastidious; but I am +glad of it now," she added, kissing Fleda's cheek. "Last +spring — not this last, but a year ago — one evening at home I +was talking to him on this subject; but he met everything I +said lightly — you know his way — and I saw my words took no +hold. I asked him at last in a kind of desperation, if he +supposed there was a woman in the world that could please him; +and he laughed, and said, if there was, he was afraid she was +not in that hemisphere. And a day or two after he told me he +was going to America." + +"Did he say for what?" + +"No; but I guessed, as soon as I found he was prolonging his +stay, and I was sure when he wrote me to come out to him. But +I never knew till I landed, Fleda, my dear, any more than +that. The first question I asked him was who he was going to +introduce to me." + +The interval was short to the next steamer, but also the +preparations were few. A day or two after the foregoing +conversation, Constance Evelyn coming into Fleda's room, found +her busy with some light packing. + +"My dear little creature!" she exclaimed ecstatically, "are +you going with us?" + +"No," said Fleda. + +"Where are you going, then?" + +"To England." + +"England? — Has — I mean, is there any addition to my list of +acquaintances in the city?" + +"Not that I know of," said Fleda, going on with her work. + +"And you are going to England! Greenhouses will be a +desolation to me! —" + +"I hope not," said Fleda, smiling; "you will recover yourself, +and your sense of sweetness, in time." + +"It will have nothing to act upon! And you are going to +England! I think it is very mean of you not to ask me to go +too, and be your bridesmaid." + +"I don't expect to have such a thing," said Fleda. + +"Not? — Horrid! I wouldn't be married so, Fleda. You don't +know the world, little Queechy; the art _de vous faire valoir_, +I am afraid, is unknown to you." + +"So it may remain with my good will," said Fleda. + +"Why?" said Constance. + +"I have never felt the want of it," said Fleda, simply. + +"When are you going?" said Constance, after a minute's pause. + +"By the 'Europa.' " + +"But this is a very sudden move?" + +"Yes; very sudden." + +"I should think you would want a little time to make +preparations." + +"That is all happily taken off my hands," said Fleda. "Mrs. +Carleton has written to her sister in England to take care of +it for me." + +"I didn't know that Mrs. Carleton had a sister. What's her +name?" + +"Lady Peterborough." + +Constance was silent again. + +"What are you going to do about mourning, Fleda? wear white, I +suppose. As nobody there knows anything about you, you won't +care." + +"I do not care in the least," said Fleda, calmly; "my feeling +would quite as soon choose white as black. Mourning so often +goes alone, that I should think grief might be excused for +shunning its company." + +"And as you have not put it on yet," said Constance, "you +won't feel the change. And then, in reality, after all, he was +only a cousin." + +Fleda's quiet mood, sober and tender as it was, could go to a +certain length of endurance, but this asked too much. Dropping +the things from her hands, she turned from the trunk beside +which she was kneeling, and hiding her face on a chair, wept +such tears as cousins never shed for each other. Constance was +startled and distressed; and Fleda's quick sympathy knew that +she must be, before she could see it. + +"You needn't mind it at all, dear Constance," she said, as +soon as she could speak — "it's no matter — I am in such a +mood sometimes that I cannot bear anything. Don't think of +it," she said, kissing her. + +Constance, however, could not for the remainder of her visit +get back her wonted light mood, which indeed had been +singularly wanting to her during the whole interview. + +Mrs. Carleton counted the days to the steamer, and her spirits +rose with each one. Fleda's spirits were quiet to the last +degree, and passive — too passive, Mrs. Carleton thought. She +did not know the course of the years that had gone, and could +not understand how strangely Fleda seemed to herself now to +stand alone, broken off from her old friends and her former +life, on a little piece of time that was like an isthmus +joining two continents. Fleda felt it all exceedingly; felt +that she was changing from one sphere of life to another; +never forgot the graves she had left at Queechy, and as little +the thoughts and prayers that had sprung up beside them. She +felt, with all Mrs. Carleton's kindness, that she was +completely alone, with no one on her side the ocean to look +to; and glad to be relieved from taking active part in +anything, she made her little Bible her companion for the +greater part of the time. + +"Are you going to carry that sober face all the way to +Carleton?" said Mrs. Carleton one day pleasantly. + +"I don't know, Ma'am." + +"What do you suppose Guy will think of it?" + +But the thought of what he would think of it, and what he +would say to it, and how fast he would brighten it, made Fleda +burst into tears. Mrs. Carleton resolved to talk to her no +more, but to get her home as fast as possible. + +"I have one consolation," said Charlton Rossitur, as he shook +hands with her on board the steamer; "I have received +permission, from head-quarters, to come and see you in +England; and to that I shall look forward constantly from this +time." + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + + +"The full sum of me +Is sum of something; which to term in gross, +Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractis'd: +Happy in this, she is not yet so old +But she may learn; and happier than this, +She is not bred so dull but she can learn; +Happiest of all, is that her gentle spirit +Commits itself to yours to be directed, +As from her lord, her governor, her king." +MERCHANT OF VENICE. + + +They had a very speedy passage to the other side, and partly +in consequence of that Mr. Carleton was _not_ found waiting for +them in Liverpool. Mrs. Carleton would not tarry there, but +hastened down at once to the country, thinking to be at home +before the news of their arrival. + +It was early morning of one fair day in July when they were at +last drawing near the end of their journey. They would have +reached it the evening before but for a storm which had +constrained them to stop and wait over the night at a small +town about eight miles off. For fear, then, of passing Guy on +the road, his mother sent a servant before, and, making an +extraordinary exertion, was actually herself in the carriage +by seven o'clock. + +Nothing could be fairer than that early drive, if Fleda might +have enjoyed it in peace. The sweet morning air was exceeding +sweet, and the summer light fell upon a perfect luxuriance of +green things. Out of the carriage Fleda's spirits were at +home, but not within it; and it was sadly irksome to be +obliged to hear and respond to Mrs. Carleton's talk, which was +kept up, she knew, in the charitable intent to divert her. She +was just in a state to listen to nature's talk; to the other +she attended and replied with a patient longing to be left +free that she might steady and quiet herself. Perhaps Mrs. +Carleton's tact discovered this in the matter-of-course and +uninterested manner of her rejoinders; for, as they entered +the park-gates, she became silent, and the long drive from +them to the house was made without a word on either side. + +For a length of way the road was through a forest of trees of +noble growth, which in some places closed their arms overhead, +and in all sentinelled the path in stately array. The eye had +no scope beyond the ranks of this magnificent body; Carleton +park was celebrated for its trees; but magnificent though they +were, and dearly as Fleda loved every form of forest beauty +she felt oppressed. The eye forbidden to range, so was the +mind, shut in to itself; and she only felt under the gloom and +shadow of those great trees the shadow of the responsibilities +and of the change that were coming upon her. But after a while +the ranks began to be thinned and the ground to be broken; the +little touches of beauty with which the sun had enlivened the +woodland began to grow broader and cheerfuller; and then as +the forest scattered away to the right and left, gay streams +of light came through the glades and touched the surface of +the rolling ground, where, in the hollows, on the heights, on +the sloping sides of the dingles, knots of trees of yet more +luxuriant and picturesque growth, planted or left by the +cultivator's hand long ago, and trained by no hand but +nature's, stood so as to distract a painter's eye; and just +now, in the fresh gilding of the morning, and with all the +witchery of the long shadows upon the uneven ground, certainly +charmed Fleda's eye and mind both. Fancy was dancing again, +albeit with one hand upon gravity's shoulder, and the dancing +was a little nervous too. But she looked and caught her breath +as she looked, while the road led along the very edge of a +dingle, and then was lost in a kind of enchanted open woodland +— it seemed so — and then passing through a thicket came out +upon a broad sweep of green turf that wiled the eye by its +smooth facility to the distant screen of oaks and beeches and +firs on its far border. It was all new. Fleda's memory had +retained only an indistinct vision of beauty, like the face of +an angel in a cloud as painters have drawn it; now came out +the beautiful features one after another, as if she had never +seen them. + +So far nature had seemed to stand alone. But now another hand +appeared; not interfering with nature, but adding to her. The +road came upon a belt of the shrubbery where the old tenants +of the soil were mingled with lighter and gayer companionship, +and in some instances gave it place, though in general the +mingling was very graceful. There was never any crowding of +effects; it seemed all nature still, only as if several climes +had joined together to grace one. Then that was past; and over +smooth undulating ground, bearing a lighter growth of foreign +wood, with here and there a stately elm or ash that disdained +their rivalry, the carriage came under the brown walls and +turrets of the house. Fleda's mood had changed again, and, as +the grave outlines rose above her, half remembered, and all +the more for that imposing, she trembled at the thought of +what she had come there to do and to be. She felt very nervous +and strange and out of place, and longed for the familiar face +and voice that would bid her be at home. Mrs. Carleton, now, +was not enough of a stand-by. With all that, Fleda descended +from the carriage with her usual quiet demureness; no one that +did not know her well would have seen in her any other token +of emotion than a somewhat undue and wavering colour. + +They were welcomed, at least one of them was, with every +appearance of sincerity by the most respectable-looking +personage who opened to them, and whom Fleda remembered +instantly. The array of servants in the hall would almost have +startled her if she had not recollected the same thing on her +first coming to Carleton. She stepped in with a curious sense +of that first time, when she had come there a little child. + +"Where is your master?" was Mrs. Carleton's immediate demand. + +"Mr. Carleton set off this morning for Liverpool." + +Mrs. Carleton gave a quick glance at Fleda, who kept her eyes +at home. + +"We did not meet him — we have not passed him — how long ago?" +were her next rapid words. + +"My master left Carleton as early as five o'clock; he gave +orders to drive as fast as possible." + +"Then he had gone through Hollonby an hour before we left it," +said Mrs. Carleton, looking again to her companion; "but he +will hear of us at Carstairs — we stopped there yesterday +afternoon — he will be back again in a few hours, I am sure. +Then we have been expected?" + +"Yes Ma'am — my master gave orders that you should be +expected." + +"Is all well, Popham?" + +"All is well, Madam." + +"Is Lady Peterborough here?" + +"His Lordship and Lady Peterborough arrived the day before +yesterday," was the succinct reply. + +Drawing Fleda's arm within hers, and giving kind recognition +to the rest who stood around, Mrs. Carleton led her to the +stairs and mounted them, repeating in a whisper, "He will be +here presently again." They went to Mrs. Carleton's dressing- +room, Fleda wondering in an internal fever, whether "orders +had been given" to expect her also? — from the old butler's +benign look at her, as he said, "All is well!" she could not +help thinking it. If she maintained her outward quiet, it was +the merest external crust of seeming; there was nothing like +quiet beneath it; and Mrs. Carleton's kiss and fond words of +welcome were hardly composing. + +Mrs. Carleton made her sit down, and with very gentle hands +was busy arranging her hair, when the housekeeper came in to +pay her more particular respects, and to offer her services. +Fleda hardly ventured a glance to see whether _she_ looked +benign. She was a dignified elderly person, as stately and +near as handsome as Mrs. Carleton herself. + +"My dear Fleda," said the latter, when she had finished the +hair, "I am going to see my sister; will you let Mrs. +Fothergill help you in anything you want, and take you then to +the library — you will find no one, and I will come to you +there. Mrs. Fothergill, I recommend you to the particular care +of this lady." + +The recommendation was not needed, Fleda thought, or was very +effectual; the housekeeper served her with most assiduous +care, and in absolute silence. Fleda hurried the finishing of +her toilet. + +"Are the people quiet in the country?" she forced herself to +say. + +"Perfectly quiet, Ma'am. It needed only that my master should +be at home to make them so." + +"How is that?" + +"He has their love and their ear, Ma'am, and so it is that he +can just do his pleasure with them." + +"How is it in the neighbouring country?" + +"They're quiet, Ma'am, I believe — mostly — there's been some +little disturbance in one place and another, and more fear of +it, as well as I can make out, but it's well got over, as it +appears. The noblemen and gentlemen in the country around were +very glad, all of them, I am told, of Mr. Carleton's return. +Is there nothing more I can do for you, Ma'am?" + +The last question was put with an indefinable touch of +kindliness which had not softened the respect of her first +words. Fleda begged her to show the way to the library, which +Mrs. Fothergill immediately did, remarking, as she ushered her +in, that "those were Mr. Carleton's favourite rooms." + +Fleda did not need to be told that; she put the remark and the +benignity together, and drew a nervous inference. But Mrs. +Fothergill was gone, and she was alone. Nobody was there, as +Mrs. Carleton had said. + +Fleda stood still in the middle of the floor, looking around +her, in a bewildered effort to realize the past and the +present; with all the mind in the world to cry, but there was +too great a pressure of excitement, and too much strangeness +of feeling at work. Nothing before her, in the dimly familiar +place, served at all to lessen this feeling, and, recovering +from her maze, she went to one of the glazed doors, which +stood open, and turned her back upon the room with its +oppressive recollections. Her eye lighted upon nothing that +was not quiet now. A secluded piece of smooth green, partially +bordered with evergreens, and set with light shrubbery of rare +kinds, exquisitely kept; over against her a sweetbriar that +seemed to have run wild, indicating, Fleda was sure, the +entrance of the path to the rose garden, that her memory alone +would hardly have helped her to find. All this in the bright +early summer morning, and the sweet aromatic smell of firs and +flowers coming with every breath. There were draughts of +refreshment in the air. It composed her, and drinking it in +delightedly, Fleda stood with folded arms in the doorway, half +forgetting herself and her position, and going in fancy from +the firs and the roses, over a very wide field of meditation +indeed. So lost that she started fearfully on suddenly +becoming aware that a figure had come just beside her. + +It was an elderly and most gentlemanly-looking man, as a +glance made her know. Fleda was reassured and ashamed in a +breath. The gentleman did not notice her confusion, however, +otherwise than by a very pleasant and well-bred smile, and +immediately entered into some light remarks on the morning, +the place, and the improvements Mr. Carleton had made in the +latter. Though he said the place was one of those which could +bear very well to want improvement; but Carleton was always +finding something to do which excited his admiration. + +"Landscape gardening is one of the pleasantest of amusements," +said Fleda. + +"I have just knowledge enough in the matter to admire; to +originate any ideas is beyond me; I have to depend for them +upon my gardener and my wife, and so I lose a pleasure, I +suppose; but every man has his own particular hobby. Carleton, +however, has more than his share — he has half a dozen, I +think." + +"Half a dozen hobbies!" said Fleda. + +"Perhaps I should not call them hobbies, for he manages to +ride them all skilfully; and a hobby-horse, I believe, always +runs away with a man." + +Fleda could hardly return his smile. She thought people were +possessed with an unhappy choice of subjects in talking to her +that morning. But fancying that she had very ill kept up her +part in the conversation, and must have looked like a +simpleton, she forced herself to break the silence which +followed the last remark, and asked the same question she had +asked Mrs. Fothergill — if the country was quiet? + +"Outwardly quiet," he said; "O yes — there is no more +difficulty — that is, none which cannot easily be handled. +There was some danger a few months ago, but it is blown over; +all was quiet on Carleton's estates so soon as he was at home, +and that, of course, had great influence on the neighbourhood. +No, there is nothing to be apprehended. He has the hearts of +his people completely, and one who has their hearts can do +what he pleases with their heads, you know. Well, he deserves +it — he has done a great deal for them." + +Fleda was afraid to ask in what way; but perhaps he read the +question in her eyes. + +"That's one of his hobbies — ameliorating the condition of the +poorer classes on his estates. He has given himself to it for +some years back; he has accomplished a great deal for them — a +vast deal indeed! He has changed the face of things, mentally +and morally, in several places, with his adult schools, and +agricultural systems, and I know not what; but the most +powerful means, I think, after all, has been the weight of his +personal influence, by which he can introduce and carry +through any measure; neither ignorance, nor prejudice, nor +obstinacy, seem to make head against him. It requires a +peculiar combination of qualities, I think — very peculiar and +rare — to deal successfully with the mind of the masses." + +"I should think so, indeed," said Fleda. + +"He has it — I don't comprehend it — and I have not studied +his machinery enough to understand that; but I have seen the +effects. Never should have thought he was the kind of man +either — but there it is — I don't comprehend him. There is +only one fault to be found with him, though." + +"What is that?" said Fleda, smiling. + +"He has built a fine Dissenting chapel down here towards +Hollonby," he said, gravely, looking her in the face — "and, +what is yet worse, his uncle tells me, he goes there half the +time himself." + +Fleda could not help laughing, nor colouring, at his manner. + +"I thought it was always considered a meritorious action to +build a church," she said. + +"Indubitably. — But you see, this was a chapel." + +The laugh and the colour both grew more unequivocal — Fleda +could not help it. + +"I beg your pardon, Sir — I have not learned such nice +distinctions. Perhaps a chapel was wanted just in that place." + +"That is presumable. But _he_ might be wanted somewhere else. +However," said the gentleman, with a good-humoured smile — +"his uncle forgives him; and if his mother cannot influence +him, I am afraid nobody else will. There is no help for it. +And I should be very sorry to stand ill with him. I have given +you the dark side of his character." + +"What is the other side in the contrast?" said Fleda, +wondering at herself for her daring. + +"It is not for me to say," he answered, with a slight shrug of +the shoulders and an amused glance at her; "I suppose it +depends upon people's vision — but if you will permit me, I +will instance a bright spot that was shown to me the other +day, that I confess, when I look at it, dazzles my eyes a +little." + +Fleda only bowed; she dared not speak again. + +"There was a poor fellow — the son of one of Mr. Carleton's +old tenants down here at Enchapel — who was under sentence of +death, lying in prison at Carstairs. The father, I am told, is +an excellent man, and a good tenant; the son had been a +miserable scapegrace, and now for some crime — I forget what — +had at last been brought to justice. The evidence against him +was perfect, and the offence was not trifling; there was not +the most remote chance of a pardon, but it seemed the poor +wretch had been building up his dependence upon that hope, and +was resting on it; and, consequently, was altogether +indisposed and unfit to give his attention to the subjects +that his situation rendered proper for him. + +"The gentleman who gave me this story was requested by a +brother clergyman to go with him to visit the prisoner. They +found him quite stupid — unmovable by all that could be urged, +or rather, perhaps, the style of the address, as it was +described to me, was fitted to confound find bewilder the man +rather than enlighten him. In the midst of all this, Mr. +Carleton came in — he was just then on the wing for America, +and he had heard of the poor creature's condition in a visit +to his father. He came — my informant said — like a being of a +different planet. He took the man's hand — he was chained foot +and wrist — 'My poor friend,' he said, 'I have been thinking +of you here, shut out from the light of the sun, and I thought +you might like to see the face of a friend;' — with that +singular charm of manner which he knows how to adapt to +everybody and every occasion. The man was melted at once — at +his feet, as it were — he could do anything with him. Carleton +began then, quietly, to set before him the links in the chain +of evidence which had condemned him — one by one — in such a +way as to prove to him, by degrees, but irresistibly, that he +had no hope in this world. The man was perfectly subdued — sat +listening and looking into those powerful eyes that perhaps +you know — taking in all his words, and completely in his +hand. And then Carleton went on to bring before him the +considerations that he thought should affect him in such a +case, in a way that this gentleman said was indescribably +effective and winning; till that hardened creature was broken +down — sobbing like a child — actually sobbing!" + +Fleda did her best, but she was obliged to hide her face in +her hands, let what would be thought of her. + +"It was the finest exhibition of eloquence, this gentleman +said, he had ever listened to. For me it was an exhibition of +another kind. I would have believed such an account of few +men, but of all the men I know I would least have believed it +of Guy Carleton a few years ago; even now I can hardly believe +it. But it is a thing that would do honour to any man." + +Fleda felt that the tears were making their way between her +fingers, but she could not help it; and she presently knew +that her companion had gone, and she was left alone again. Who +was this gentleman? and how much did he know about her? More +than that she was a stranger, Fleda was sure; and dreading his +return, or that somebody else might come and find her with the +tokens of tears upon her face, she stepped out upon the +greensward, and made for the flaunting sweet-briar that seemed +to beckon her to visit its relations. + +The entrance of a green path was there, or a grassy glade, +more or less wide, leading through a beautiful growth of firs +and larches. No roses, nor any other ornamental shrubs — only +the soft well-kept footway through the woodland. Fleda went +gently on and on, admiring where the trees sometimes swept +back, leaving an opening, and at other places stretched their +graceful branches over her head. The perfect condition of +everything to the eye — the rich coloured vegetation — of +varying colour above and below — the absolute retirement, and +the strong pleasant smell of the evergreens, had a kind of +charmed effect upon senses and mind too. It was a fairyland +sort of place. The presence of its master seemed everywhere — +it was like him, and Fleda pressed on to see yet livelier +marks of his character and fancy beyond. By degrees the wood +began to thin on one side — then at once the glade opened into +a bright little lawn, rich with roses in full bloom. Fleda was +stopped short at the sudden vision of loveliness. There was +the least possible appearance of design — no dry beds were to +be seen — the luxuriant clumps of Provence and white roses, +with the varieties of the latter seemed to have chosen their +own places, only to have chosen them very happily. One hardly +imagined that they had submitted to dictation, if it were not +that Queen Flora never was known to make so effective a +disposition of her forces without help. The screen of trees +was very thin on the border of this opening — so thin that the +light from beyond came through. On a slight rocky elevation, +which formed the further side of it, sat an exquisite little +Gothic chapel, about which, and the face of the rock below, +some noisette and multiflora climbers were vying with each +other, and just at the entrance of the further path a white +dog-rose had thrown itself over the way, covering the lower +branches of the trees with its blossoms. + +Fleda stood spell-bound a good while, with a breath oppressed +with pleasure. But what she had seen excited her to see more, +and a dim recollection of the sea-view from somewhere in the +walk drew her on. Roses met her now frequently. Now and then a +climber, all alone, seemed to have sought protection in a tree +by the path-side, and to have displayed itself thence in the +very wantonness of security, hanging out its flowery wreaths, +fearless of hand or knife. Clusters of noisettes, or of French +or damask roses, where the ground was open enough, stood +without a rival, and needing no foil other than the beautiful +surrounding of dark evergreen foliage. But the distance was +not long before she came out upon a wider opening, and found +what she was seeking — the sight of the sea. The glade here +was upon the brow of high ground, and the wood disappearing +entirely for a space, left the eye free to go over the lower +tree-tops, and the country beyond to the distant shore and +sea-line. Roses were here too — the air was full of the +sweetness of damask and Bourbon varieties — and a few +beautiful banksias, happily placed, contrasted without +interfering with them. It was very still — it was very perfect +— the distant country was fresh-coloured with the yet early +light which streamed between the trees, and laid lines of +enchantment upon the green turf; and the air came up from the +sea-board, and bore the breath of the roses to Fleda every now +and then with a gentle puff of sweetness. Such light — she had +seen none such light since she was a child. Was it the burst +of mental sunshine that had made it so bright? — or was she +going to be really a happy child again? No — no — not that, +and yet something very like it — so like it, that she almost +startled at herself. She went no further. She could not have +borne, just then, to see any more; and feeling her heart too +full, she stood even there, with hands crossed upon her bosom, +looking away from the roses to the distant sea-line. + +That said something very different. That was very sobering; if +she had needed sobering, which she did not. But it helped her +to arrange the scattered thoughts which had been pressing +confusedly upon her brain. "Look away from the roses," indeed, +she could not, for the same range of vision took in the sea +and them — and the same range of thought. These might stand +for an emblem of the present; that, of the future — grave, +far-off, impenetrable; and passing, as it were, the roses of +time, Fleda fixed upon that image of eternity; and weighing +the one against the other, felt, never in her life more +keenly, how wild it would be to forget in smelling the roses +her preparations for that distant voyage that must be made +from the shores where they grow. With one eye upon this +brightest bit of earth before her, the other mentally was upon +Hugh's grave. The roses could not be sweeter to any one; but, +in view of the launching away in to that distant sea-line, in +view of the issues on the other shore, in view of the welcome +that might be had there — the roses might fade and wither, but +her happiness could not go with their breath. They were +something to be loved, to be used, to be thankful for — but +not to live upon; something too that whispered of an increased +burden of responsibility, and never more deeply than at that +moment did Fleda remember her mother's prayer — never more +simply recognised that happiness could not be made of these +things. She might be as happy at Queechy as here. It depended +on the sun-light of undying hopes, which indeed would give +wonderful colour to the flowers that might be in her way; on +the possession of resources the spring of which would never +dry; on the peace which secures the continual feast of a merry +heart, Fleda could take her new honours and advantages very +meekly, and very soberly, with all her appreciation of them. +The same work of life was to be done here as at Queechy. To +fulfil the trust committed to her, larger here — to keep her +hope for the future — undeceived by the sunshine of earth, to +plant her roses where they would bloom everlastingly. + +The weight of these things bowed Fleda to the ground and made +her bury her face in her hands. But there was one item of +happiness from which her thoughts never even in imagination +dissevered themselves, and round it they gathered now in their +weakness. A strong mind and heart to uphold hers — a strong +hand for hers to rest in — that was a blessing; and Fleda +would have cried heartily, but that her feelings were too +high-wrought. They made her deaf to the light sound of +footsteps coming over the grass, till two hands gently touched +hers and lifted her up, and then Fleda was at home. But, +surprised and startled, she could hardly lift up her face. Mr. +Carleton's greeting was as grave and gentle as if she had been +a stray child. + +"Do not fancy I am going to thank you for the grace you have +shown me," said he, lightly. "I know you would never have done +it if circumstances had not been hard pleaders in my cause. I +will thank you presently when you have answered one or two +questions for me." + +"Questions?" said Fleda, looking up. But she blushed the next +instant at her own simplicity. + +He was leading her back on the path she had come. No further, +however, than to the first opening where the climbing dog-rose +hung over the way. There he turned aside, crossing the little +plot of greensward, and they ascended some steps cut in the +rock to the chapel Fleda had looked at from a distance. + +It stood high enough to command the same sea-view. On that +side it was entirely open, and of very light construction on +the others. + +Several people were there; Fleda could hardly tell how many; +and when Lord Peterborough was presented to her, she did not +find out that he was her morning's acquaintance. Her eye only +took in besides that there were one or two ladies, and a +clergyman in the dress of the Church of England; she could not +distinguish. Yet she stood beside Mr. Carleton with all her +usual quiet dignity, though her eye did not leave the ground, +and her words were in no higher key than was necessary, and +though she could hardly bear the unchanged easy tone of his. +The birds were in a perfect ecstasy all about them; the soft +breeze came through the trees, gently waving the branches and +stirring the spray wreaths of the roses, the very fluttering +of summer's drapery; some roses looked in at the lattice, and +those which could not be there sent in their congratulations +on the breath of the wind, while the words were spoken that +bound them together. + +Mr. Carleton then dismissing his guests to the house, went +with Fleda again the other way. He had felt the extreme +trembling of the hand which he took, and would not go in till +it was quieted. He led her back to the very rose-bush where he +had found her, and in his own way presently brought her spirit +home from its trembling and made it rest; and then suffered +her to stand a few minutes quite silent, looking out again +over the fair rich spread of country that lay between them and +the sea. + +"Now tell me, Elfie," said he, softly, drawing back, with the +same old caressing and tranquillizing touch, the hair that +hung over her brow, "what you were thinking about when I found +you here — in the very luxury of seclusion — behind a rose- +bush." + +Fleda looked a quick look, smiled, and hesitated, and then +said it was rather a confusion of thoughts. + +"It will be a confusion no longer when you have disentangled +them for me." + +"I don't know" — said Fleda. And she was silent, but so was +he, quietly waiting for her to go on. + +"Perhaps you will wonder at me, Mr. Carleton," she said, +hesitating and colouring. + +"Perhaps," he said, smiling; — "but if I do, I will not keep +you in ignorance, Elfie." + +"I was almost bewildered, in the first place, with beauty — +and then —" + +"Do you like the rose garden?" + +"Like it! — I cannot speak of it!" + +"I don't want you to speak of it," said he, smiling at her. +"What followed upon liking it, Elfie?" + +"I was thinking," said Fleda, looking resolutely away from +him, "in the midst of all this — that it is not these things +which make people happy." + +"There is no question of that," he replied. "I have realized +it thoroughly for a few months past." + +"No, but seriously, I mean," said Fleda, pleadingly. + +"And, seriously, you are quite right, dear Elfie. What then?" + +"I was thinking," said Fleda, speaking with some difficulty — +"of Hugh's grave — and of the comparative value of things; +and, afraid, I believe — especially — here —" + +"Of making a wrong estimate?" + +"Yes; and of not doing and being just what I ought." + +Mr. Carleton was silent for a minute, considering the brow +from which his fingers drew off the light screen. + +"Will you trust me to watch over and tell you?" + +Fleda did not trust her voice to tell him, but her eyes did +it. + +"As to the estimate — the remedy is to 'keep ourselves in the +love of God;' and then these things are the gifts of our +Father's hand, and will never be put in competition with him. +And they are never so sweet as when taken so." + +"Oh, I know that!" + +"This is a danger I share with you. We will watch over each +other." + +Fleda was silent with filling eyes. + +"We do not seek our happiness in these things," he said, +tenderly. "I never found it in them. For years, whatever +others may have judged, I have felt myself a poor man; because +I had not in the world a friend in whom I could have entire +sympathy. And if I am rich now, it is not in any treasure that +I look to enjoy in this world alone." + +"Oh, do not, Mr. Carleton!" exclaimed Fleda, bowing her head +in distress, and giving his hand an earnest entreaty. + +"What shall I not do?" said he, half laughing and half gently, +bringing her face near enough for his lips to try another kind +of eloquence. "You shall not do this, Elfie, for any so light +occasion. Was this the whole burden of those grave thoughts?" + +"Not quite — entirely" — she said, stammering. "But grave +thoughts are not always unhappy." + +"Not always. I want to know what gave yours a tinge of that +colour this morning." + +"It was hardly that. You know what Foster says about 'power to +its very last particle being duty.' — I believe it frightened +me a little." + +"If you feel that as strongly as I do, Elfie, it will act as a +strong corrective to the danger of false estimates." + +"I do feel it," said Fleda. "One of my fears was that I should +not feel it enough." + +"One of my cares will be that you do not act upon it too +fiercely," said he, smiling. "The power being limited, so is +the duty. But you shall have power enough, Elfie, and work +enough. I have precisely what I have needed — my good sprite +back again." + +"With a slight difference." + +"What difference?" + +"She is to act under direction now." + +"Not at all — only under safe control," he said, laughing. + +"I am very glad of the difference, Mr. Carleton," said Fleda, +with a grave and grateful remembrance of it. + +"If you think the sprite's old office is gone, you are +mistaken," said he. "What were your other fears? — one was +that you should not feel enough your responsibility, and the +other that you might forget it." + +"I don't know that there were any other particular fears," +said Fleda; — "I had been thinking of all these things —" + +"And what else?" + +Her colour and her silence begged him not to ask. He said no +more, and let her stand still again, looking off through the +roses, while her mind more quietly and lightly went over the +same train of thoughts that had moved it before; gradually +calmed; came back from being a stranger to being at home, at +least in one presence; and ended, her action even before her +look told him where, as her other hand unconsciously was +joined to the one already on his arm. A mute expression of +feeling, the full import of which he read, even before her +eye, coming back from its musings, was raised to him, perhaps +unconsciously, too, with all the mind in it; its timidity was +not more apparent than its simplicity of clinging affection +and dependence. Mr. Carleton's answer was in three words, but +in the tone and manner that accompanied them there was a +response to every part of her appeal — so perfect that Fleda +was confused at her own frankness. + +They began to move towards the house, but Fleda was in a maze +again and could hardly realize anything. "His wife!" — was she +that? — had so marvellous a change really been wrought in her? +— the little asparagus-cutter of Queechy transformed into the +mistress of all this domain, and of the stately mansion of +which they caught glimpses now and then, as they drew near it +by another approach into which Mr. Carleton had diverged. And +his wife! — that was the hardest to realise of all. + +She was as far from realising it when she got into the house. +They entered now at once into the breakfast-room, where the +same party were gathered whom she had met once before that +morning. Mr. Carleton the elder, and Lord Peterborough and +Lady Peterborough, she had met without seeing. But Fleda could +look at them now; and if her colour came and went as frankly +as when she was a child, she could speak to them and meet +their advances with the same free and sweet self-possession as +then — the rare dignity a little wood-flower, that is moved by +a breath, but recovers as easily and instantly its quiet +standing. There were one or two who looked a little curiously +at first to see whether this new member of the family were +worthy of her place and would fill it to satisfy them. Not Mr. +Carleton; he never sought to ascertain the value of anything +that belonged to him by a popular vote; and his own judgment +always stood carelessly alone. But Mrs. Carleton was less sure +of her own ground, or of others. For five minutes she noted +Fleda's motions and words, her blushes and smiles, as she +stood talking to one and another — for five minutes, and then, +with a little smile at her sister, Mrs. Carleton moved off to +the breakfast-table, well pleased that Lady Peterborough was +too engaged to answer her. Fleda had won them all. Mr. +Carleton's intervening shield of grace and kindness was only +needed here against the too much attention or attraction that +might distress her. He was again, now they were in presence of +others, exactly what he had been to her when she was a child — +the same cool and efficient friend and protector. Nobody in +the room showed less thought of her, _except_ in action; a great +many little things done for her pleasure or comfort, so +quietly that nobody knew it but one person, and she hardly +noticed it at the time. All could not have the same tact. + +There was an uninterrupted easy flow of talk at the table, +which Fleda heard just enough to join in where it was +necessary; the rest of the time she sat in a kind of +abstraction, dipping enormous strawberries one by one into +white sugar, with a curious want of recognition between them +and the ends of her fingers; it never occurred to her that +they had picked baskets full. + +"I have done something for which you will hardly thank me, Mr. +Carleton," said Lord Peterborough. "I have driven this lady to +tears within the first hour of her being in the house." + +"If she will forgive you, I will, my lord," Mr. Carleton +answered, carelessly. + +"I will confess myself, though," continued his lordship, +looking at the face that was so intent over the strawberries, +"I was under the impression, when I first saw a figure in the +window, that it was Lady Peterborough. I own, as soon as I +found it was a stranger, I had my suspicions, which did not +lack confirmation in the course of the interview. I trust I am +forgiven the means I used." + +"It seems you had your curiosity, too, my lord," said Mr. +Carleton, the uncle. + +"Which ought, in all justice, to have lacked gratification," +said Lady Peterborough. "I hope Fleda will not be too ready to +forgive you." + +"I expect forgiveness, nevertheless," said he, looking at +Fleda. "Must I wait for it?" + +"I am much obliged to you, Sir." + +And then she gave him a very frank smile and blush, as she +added, "I beg pardon — you know my tongue is American." + +"I don't like that," said his lordship, gravely. + +"Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh," said +the elder Carleton. "The heart being English, we may hope the +tongue will become so too." + +"I will not assure you of that, Sir," Fleda said, laughing, +though her cheeks showed the conversation was not carried on +without effort. Oddly enough, nobody saw it with any +dissatisfaction. + +"Of what, Madam?" said Lord Peterborough. + +"That I will not always keep a rag of the stars and stripes +flying somewhere." + +But that little speech had almost been too much for her +equanimity. + +"Like Queen Elizabeth, who retained the crucifix when she gave +up the profession of Popery." + +"Very unlike indeed!" said Fleda, endeavouring to understand +what Mr. Carleton was saying to her about wood strawberries +and _hautbois_. + +"Will you allow that, Carleton?" + +"What, my lord?" + +"A rival banner to float alongside of St. George's?" + +"The flags are friendly, my lord." + +"Hum — just now — they may seem so. Has your little standard- +bearer anything of a rebellious disposition." + +"Not against any lawful authority, I hope," said Fleda. + +"Then there is hope for you, Mr. Carleton, that you will be +able to prevent the introduction of mischievous doctrines." + +"For shame, Lord Peterborough!' said his wife — "what +atrocious suppositions you are making! I am blushing, I am +sure, for your want of discernment." + +"Why — yes" — said his lordship, looking at another face whose +blushes were more unequivocal — "it may seem so — there is no +appearance of anything untoward, but she is a woman after all. +I will try her. Mrs. Carleton, don't you think with my Lady +Peterborough that in the present nineteenth century women +ought to stand more on that independent footing from which +lordly monopoly has excluded them?" + +The first name Fleda thought belonged to another person, and +her downcast eyelids prevented her seeing to whom it was +addressed. It was no matter, for any answer was anticipated. + +"The boast of independence is not engrossed by the boldest +footing, my lord." + +"She has never considered the subject," said Lady +Peterborough. + +"It is no matter," said his lordship. "I must respectfully beg +an answer to my question." + +The silence made Fleda look up. + +"Don't you think that the rights of the weak ought to be on a +perfect equality with those of the strong?" + +"The rights of the weak _as such_ — yes, my lord." + +The gentlemen smiled; the ladies looked rather puzzled. + +"I have no more to say, Mr. Carleton," said his lordship, "but +that we must make an Englishwoman of her!" + +"I am afraid she will never be a perfect cure," said Mr. +Carleton, smiling. + +"I conceive it might require peculiar qualities in the +physician — but I do not despair. I was telling her of some of +your doings this morning, and happy to see that they met with +her entire disapproval." + +Mr. Carleton did not even glance towards Fleda, and made no +answer, but carelessly gave the conversation another turn; for +which she thanked him unspeakably. + +There was no other interruption of any consequence to the +well-bred flow of talk and kindliness of manner on the part of +all the company, that put Fleda as much as possible at her +ease. Still she did not realise anything, and yet she did +realise it so strongly, that her woman's heart could not rest +till it had eased itself in tears. The superbly appointed +table at which she sat — her own, though Mrs. Carleton this +morning presided — the like of which she had not seen since +she was at Carleton before; the beautiful room with its +arrangements, bringing back a troop of recollections of that +old time; all the magnificence about her, instead of +elevating, sobered her spirits to the last degree. It pressed +home upon her that feeling of responsibility, of the change +that come over her; and though beneath it all very happy, +Fleda hardly knew it, she longed so to be alone, and to cry. +One person's eyes, however little seemingly observant of her, +read sufficiently well the unusual shaded air of her brow and +her smile. But a sudden errand of business called him abroad +immediately after breakfast. + +The ladies seized the opportunity to carry Fleda up and +introduce her to her dressing-room, and take account of Lady +Peterborough's commission, and ladies and ladies' maids soon +formed a busy committee of dress and decorations. It did not +enliven Fleda — it wearied her, though she forgave them the +annoyance in gratitude for the pleasure they took in looking +at her. Even the delight her eye had from the first minute she +saw it, in the beautiful room, and her quick sense of the +carefulness with which it had been arranged for her, added to +the feeling with which she was oppressed; she was very passive +in the hands of her friends. + +In the midst of all this the housekeeper was called in and +formally presented, and received by Fleda with a mixture of +frankness and bashfulness that caused Mrs. Fothergill +afterwards to pronounce her "a lady of a very sweet dignity +indeed." + +"She is just such a lady as you might know my master would +have fancied," said Mr. Spenser. + +"And what kind of a lady is that?" said Mrs. Fothergill. + +But Mr. Spenser was too wise to enter into any particulars, +and merely informed Mrs. Fothergill that she would know in a +few days. + +"The first words Mrs. Carleton said when Mr. Carleton got +home," said the old butler — "she put both her hands on his +arms and cried out, 'Guy, I am delighted with her!' " + +"And what did _he_ say?" said Mrs. Fothergill. + +"He!" echoed Mr. Spenser, in a tone of indignant intelligence +— "what should _he_ say! He didn't say anything; only asked +where she was, I believe." + +In the midst of silks, muslins, and jewels, Mr. Carleton found +Fleda still, on his return; looking pale, and even sad, though +nobody but himself, through her gentle and grateful bearing, +would have discerned it. He took her out of the hands of the +committee, and carried her down to the little library, +adjoining the great one, but never thrown open — his room, as +it was called — where more particularly art and taste had +accumulated their wealth of attractions. + +"I remember this very well," said Fleda. "This beautiful +room!" + +"It is as free to you as to me, Elfie; and I never gave the +freedom of it to any one else." + +"I will not abuse it," said Fleda. + +"I hope not, my dear Elfie," said he smiling, "for the room +will want something to me now when you are not in it; and a +gift is abused that is not made free use of." + +A large and deep bay-window in the room looked upon the same +green lawn and fir wood, with the windows of the library. Like +these, this casement stood open, and Mr. Carleton, leading +Fleda there, remained quietly beside her for a moment, +watching her face, which his last words had a little moved +from its outward composure. Then, gently and gravely, as if +she had been a child, putting his arm round her shoulders, and +drawing her to him, he whispered — + +"My dear Elfie — you need not fear being misunderstood —" + +Fleda started, and looked up to see what he meant. But his +face said it so plainly, in its perfect intelligence and +sympathy with her, that her barrier of self-command and +reserve was all broken down; and hiding her head in her hands +upon his breast, she let the pent-up burden upon her heart +come forth in a flood of unrestrained tears. She could not +help herself. And when she would fain have checked them after +the first burst, and bidden them, according to her habit, to +wait another time, it was out of her power; for the same +kindness and tenderness that had set them a-flowing, perhaps +witting of her intent, effectually hindered its execution. He +did not say a single word, but now and then a soft touch of +his hand, or of his lips upon her brow, in its expressive +tenderness, would unnerve all her resolution, and oblige her +to have no reserve that time, at least in letting her secret +thoughts and feelings be known, as far as tears could tell +them. She wept, at first in spite of herself, and afterwards +in the very luxury of indulged feeling; till she was as quiet +as a child, and the weight of oppression was all gone. Mr. +Carleton did not move, nor speak, till she did. + +"I never knew before how good you were, Mr. Carleton," said +Fleda, raising her head, at length, as soon as she dared, but +still held fast by that kind arm. + +"What new light have you got on the subject?" said he, +smiling. + +"Why," said Fleda, trying as hard as ever did sunshine to +scatter the remnants of a cloud — it was a bright cloud too, +by this time — "I have always heard that men cannot endure the +sight of a woman's tears." + +"You shall give me a reward, then, Elfie." + +"What reward?" said Elfie. + +"Promise me that you will shed them nowhere else." + +"Nowhere else?" + +"But here — in my arms." + +"I don't feel like crying any more now," said Fleda, +evasively; "at least," — for drops were falling rather fast +again — "not sorrowfully." + +"Promise me, Elfie," said Mr. Carleton, after a pause. + +But Fleda hesitated still, and looked dubious. + +"Come!" he said, smiling — "you know you promised a little +while ago that you would have a particular regard to my +wishes." + +Fleda's cheeks answered that appeal with sufficient +brightness, but she looked down, and said, demurely — + +"I am sure one of your wishes is, that I should not say +anything rashly." + +"Well?" + +"One cannot answer for such wilful things as tears." + +"And for such wilful things as men?" said he, smiling. + +But Fleda was silent. + +"Then I will alter the form of my demand. Promise me that no +shadow of anything shall come over your spirit that you do not +let me either share or remove." + +There was no trifling in the tone, full of gentleness as it +was; there could be no evading its requisition. But the +promise demanded was a grave one. Fleda was half afraid to +make it. She looked up, in the very way he had seen her do +when a child, to find a warrant for her words before she +uttered them. But the full, clear, steadfast eye into which +she looked for two seconds, authorised as well as required the +promise; and hiding her face again on his breast, Fleda gave +it, amid a gush of tears, every one of which was illumined +with heart-sunshine. + + +THE END. + + + + +PRINTING OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHER. + + + +Typographical errors : + + +Chapter 1 : =biding her tears= silently corrected as =hiding her +tears= + + +Chapter 1 : =fox within.= silently corrected as =fox within."= + + +Chapter 5 : =Conque de Venus= silently corrected as =Conque de +Vénus= + + +Chapter 7 : =said Fleda; "to give= silently corrected as =said +Fleda, "to give= + + +Chapter 7 : =drily; stroking= silently corrected as =drily, +stroking= + + +Chapter 7 : =sure so do I,= silently corrected as =sure so do I,"= + + +Chapter 7 : =throwing stones.= silently corrected as =throwing +stones."= + + +Chapter 10 : =at Mrs. Evelyn's.'= silently corrected as =at +Mrs.Evelyn's."= + + +Chapter 10 : =breakfast, to morrow= silently corrected as +=breakfast, to-morrow= + + +Chapter 12 : =at the hills; They= silently corrected as =at the +hills? They= + + +Chapter 12 : ="trembling even= silently corrected as =trembling +even= + + +Chapter 12 : =following her= silently corrected as =following +her.= + + +Chapter 15 : =Fleda. Don't you= silently corrected as =Fleda. +"Don't you= + + +Chapter 19 : =prescription.= silently corrected as +=prescription."= + + +Chapter 19 : =doubt about that= silently corrected as =doubt +about that,= + + +Chapter 19 : =anybody else.= silently corrected as =anybody +else."= + + +Chapter 20 : =How far are we!= silently corrected as =How far are +we?= + + +Chapter 23 : =latter and more= silently corrected as =later and +more= + + +Chapter 25 : =Daughhter, they seem= silently corrected as +="Daughter, they seem= + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK QUEECHY, VOLUME II*** + + +******* This file should be named 18691-8.txt or 18691-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/8/6/9/18691 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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