COLLECTION

OF

BRITISH AUTHORS

TAUCHNITZ EDITION. 

VOL. 311

QUEECHY. BY ELIZABETH WETHERELL . 

IN TWO VOLUMES. 

VOL. I. 

TAUCHNITZ EDITION

by the same author, THE WIDE WIDE WORLD 1 vol. 

THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC 2 vols. 

SAY AND SEAL 2 vols. 

THE OLD HELMET 2 vols. 

QUEECHY. 

BY

ELIZABETH WETHERELL

AUTHOR OF "THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD. "

IN TWO VOLUMES. 

_AUTHOR'S EDITION_. 

IN TWO VOLUMES

VOL. I

LEIPZIG

BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ

1854

"I hope I may speak of woman without offence to the ladies. "

THE GUARDIAN. 

CONTENTS

OF VOLUME I. 

Chapter I. Curtain rises at Queechy

II. Things loom out dimly through the smoke

III. You amuse me and I'll amuse you

IV. Aunt Miriam

V. As to whether a flower can grow in the woods

VI. Queechy at dinner

VII. The curtain falls upon one scene

VIII. The fairy leaves the house

IX. How Mr. Carleton happened to be not at home

X. The fairy and the Englishman

XI. A little candle

XII. Spars below

XIII. The fairy peeps into an English house, but does not stay there

XIV. Two Bibles in Paris

XV. Very literary

XVI Dissolving view, ending with a saw-mill in the distance

XVII. Rain and water-cresses for breakfast

XVIII. Mr. Rossitur's wits sharpened upon a ploughshare

XIX. Fleda goes after help and finds Dr. Quackenboss

XX. Society in Queechy

XXI. "The sweetness of a man's friend by hearty counsel"

XXII. Wherein a great many people pay their respects, in form andsubstance

XXIII. The Captain out-generalled by the fairy

XXIV. A breath of the world at Queechy

XXV. "As good a boy as you need to have"

XXVI. Pine knots

XXVII. Sweet — in its consequences

QUEECHY. 

VOL. I

CHAPTER I. 

A single cloud on a sunny day, When all the rest of heaven is clear, A frown upon the atmosphere, That hath no business to appear, When skies are blue and earth is gay. BYRON. 

"Come, dear grandpa! — the old mare and the wagon are at thegate — all ready. "

"Well, dear! — responded a cheerful hearty voice, "they mustwait a bit; I haven't got my hat yet. "

"O, I'll get that. "

And the little speaker, a girl of some ten or eleven yearsold, dashed past the old gentleman, and running along thenarrow passage which led to his room soon returned with thehat in her hand. 

"Yes, dear, — but that ain't all. I must put on my great-coat— and I must look and see if I can find any money —"

"O yes — for the post-office. It's a beautiful day, grandpa. Cynthy! — wont you come and help grandpa on with his great-coat? — And I'll go out and keep watch of the old mare tillyou're ready. "

A needless caution. For the old mare, though spirited enoughfor her years, had seen some fourteen or fifteen of them, andwas in no sort of danger of running away. She stood in whatwas called the back meadow, just without the little palingfence that enclosed a small courtyard round the house. Aroundthis courtyard rich pasture-fields lay on every side, the highroad cutting through them not more than a hundred or two feetfrom the house. 

The little girl planted herself on the outside of the paling, and setting her back to it, eyed the old mare with greatcontentment; for besides other grounds for security as to herquiet behaviour, one of the men employed about the farm, whohad harnessed the equipage, was at the moment busied inputting some clean straw in the bottom of the vehicle. 

"Watkins, " said the child presently to this person, "here is astrap that is just ready to come unbuckled. "

"What do you know about straps and buckles?" said the manrather grumly. But he came round, however, to see what shemeant; and while he drew the one and fastened the other, tookspecial good care not to let Fleda know that her watchful eyeshad probably saved the whole riding party from ruin; as theloosing of the strap would of necessity have brought on atrial of the old mare's nerves, which not all her philosophycould have been expected to meet. Fleda was satisfied to seethe buckle made fast, and that Watkins, roused by her hint, orby the cause of it, afterwards took a somewhat careful lookover the whole establishment. In high glee then she climbed toher seat in the little wagon, and her grandfather coming outcoated and hatted, with some difficulty mounted to his placebeside her. 

"I think Watkins might have taken the trouble to wash thewagon, without hurting himself, " said Fleda; "it is allspeckled with mud since last time. "

"Ha'n't he washed it!" said the old gentleman in a tone ofdispleasure. "Watkins!""

"Well. "

"Why didn't you wash the wagon as I told you?"

"I did. "

"It's all over slosh. "

"That's Mr. Didenhover's work — he had it out day 'foreyesterday; and if you want it cleaned, Mr. Ringgan, you mustspeak to him about it. Mr. Didenhover may file his own doings;it's more than I'm a going to. "

The old gentleman made no answer, except to acquaint the marewith the fact of his being in readiness to set out. A shade ofannoyance and displeasure for a moment was upon his face; butthe gate opening from the meadow upon the high road had hardlyswung back upon its hinges after letting them out, when herecovered the calm sweetness of demeanour that was habitualwith him, and seemed as well as his little granddaughter tohave given care the go-by for the time. Fleda had before thisfound out another fault in the harness, or rather in Mr. Didenhover, which like a wise little child she kept toherself. A broken place which her grandfather had ordered tobe properly mended, was still tied up with the piece of ropewhich had offended her eyes the last time they had driven out. But she said not a word of it, because "it would only worrygrandpa for nothing;" and forgetting it almost immediately, she moved on with him in a state of joyous happiness that nomud-stained wagon nor untidy rope-bound harness could stir foran instant. Her spirit was like a clear still-running stream, which quietly and surely deposits every defiling and obscuringadmixture it may receive from its contact with the grosserelements around; the stream might for a moment be clouded; buta little while, and it would run as clear as ever. NeitherFleda nor her grandfather cared a jot for the want ofelegancies which one despised, and the other, if she had everknown, had well nigh forgotten. What mattered it to her thatthe little old green wagon was rusty and worn, or that yearsand service had robbed the old mare of all the jauntiness shehad ever possessed, so long as the sun shone and the birdssang? And Mr. Ringgan, in any imaginary comparison, might bepardoned for thinking that he was the proud man, and that hispoor little equipage carried such a treasure as many a coachand four went without. 

"Where are we going first, grandpa? to the post-office?"

"Just there!"

"How pleasant it is to go there always, isn't it, grandpa? Youhave the paper to get, and I — I don't very often get aletter, but I have always the _hope_ of getting one; and that'ssomething. May be I'll have one to-day, grandpa?"

"We'll see. It's time those cousins of yours wrote to you. "

"O _they_ don't write to me — it's only Aunt Lucy; I never had aletter from a single one of them, except once from littleHugh, — don't you remember, grandpa? I should think he must bea very nice little boy, shouldn't you?"

"Little boy? why I guess he is about as big as you are, Fleda— he is eleven years old, ain't he?"

"Yes, but I am past eleven, you know, grandpa, and I am alittle girl. "

This reasoning being unanswerable, Mr. Ringgan only bade theold mare trot on. 

It was a pleasant day in autumn. Fleda thought it particularlypleasant for riding, for the sun was veiled with thin, hazyclouds. The air was mild and still, and the woods, like bravemen, putting the best face upon falling fortunes. Some treeswere already dropping their leaves; the greater part standingin all the varied splendour which the late frosts had giventhem. The road, an excellent one, sloped gently up and downacross a wide arable country, in a state of high cultivation, and now showing all the rich variety of autumn. The reddishbuckwheat patches, and fine wood-tints of the fields whereother grain had been; the bright green of young rye or winterwheat, then soberer-coloured pasture or meadow lands, and everand anon a tuft of gay woods crowning a rising ground, or aknot of the everlasting pines looking sedately and steadfastlyupon the fleeting glories of the world around them; these weremingled and interchanged, and succeeded each other in ever-varying fresh combinations. With its high picturesque beauty, the whole scene had a look of thrift, and plenty, and promise, which made it eminently cheerful. So Mr. Ringgan and hislittle granddaughter both felt it to be. For some distance, the grounds on either hand the road were part of the oldgentleman's farm; and many a remark was exchanged between himand Fleda, as to the excellence or hopefulness of this or thatcrop or piece of soil; Fleda entering into all his enthusiasm, and reasoning of clover leys and cockle, and the properharvesting of Indian corn, and other like matters, with nolack of interest or intelligence. 

"O grandpa, " she exclaimed, suddenly, "wont you stop a minuteand let me get out. I want to get some of that beautifulbittersweet. "

"What do you want that for?" said he. "You can't get out verywell. "

"O yes, I can — please, grandpa! I want some of it very much —just one minute!'

He stopped, and Fleda got out and went to the roadside, wherea bittersweet vine had climbed into a young pine tree, andhung it, as it were, with red coral. But her one minute was atleast four before she had succeeded in breaking off as much asshe could carry of the splendid creeper; for not until thencould Fleda persuade herself to leave it. She came back, andworked her way up into the wagon with one hand full as itcould hold of her brilliant trophies. 

"Now, what good 'll that do you?" inquired Mr. Ringgan, good-humouredly, as he lent Fleda what help he could to her seat. 

"Why, grandpa, I want it to put with cedar and pine in a jarat home; it will keep for ever so long, and look beautiful. Isn't that handsome? — only it was a pity to break it. "

"Why, yes, it's handsome enough, " said Mr. Ringgan, "butyou've got something just by the front door there, at home, that would do just as well — what do you call it — thatflaming thing there?"

"What, my burning bush? O grandpa! I wouldn't cut that foranything in the world! It's the only pretty thing about thehouse; and, besides, " said Fleda, looking up with a softenedmien, "you said that it was planted by my mother. O grandpa! Iwouldn't cut that for anything. "

Mr. Ringgan laughed a pleased laugh. "Well, dear!" said he, "it shall grow till it's as big as the house, if it will. "

"It wont do that, " said Fleda. "But I am very glad I have gotthis bittersweet; this is just what I wanted. Now, if I canonly find some holly —"

"We'll come across some, I guess, by and by, " said Mr. Ringgan; and Fleda settled herself again to enjoy the trees, the fields, the roads, and all the small handiwork of nature, for which her eyes had a curious intelligence. But this wasnot fated to be a ride of unbroken pleasure. 

"Why, what are those bars down for?" she said, as they came upwith a field of winter grain. "Somebody's been in here with awagon. O grandpa! Mr. Didenhover has let the Shakers have mybutternuts! — the butternuts that you told him they mustn'thave. "

The old gentleman drew up his horse. "So he has!" said he. 

Their eyes were upon the far end of the deep lot, where, atthe edge of one of the pieces of woodland spoken of, apicturesque group of men and boys, in frocks and broad-brimmedwhite hats, were busied in filling their wagon under a clumpof the now thin and yellow-leaved butternut trees. 

"The scoundrel!" said Mr. Ringgan, under his breath. 

"Would it be any use, grandpa, for me to jump down and run andtell them you don't want them to take the butternuts? — Ishall have so few". 

"No, dear — no, " said her grandfather; "they have got ’emabout all by this time; the mischief's done. Didenhover meantto let 'em have 'em unknown to me, and pocket the pay himselfGet up!"

Fleda drew a long breath, and gave a hard look at the distantwagon, where her butternuts were going in by handfuls. Shesaid no more. 

It was but a few fields further on, that the old gentlemancame to a sudden stop again. 

"Ain't there some of my sheep over yonder there, Fleda — alongwith Squire Thornton's?"

"I don't know, grandpa, " said Fleda; "I can't see — yes, I dosee — yes, they are, grandpa; I see the mark. "

"I thought so!" said Mr. Ringgan, bitterly; "I toldDidenhover, only three days ago, that if he didn't make upthat fence the sheep would be out, or Squire Thornton's wouldbe in; — only three days ago! Ah, well!" said he, shaking thereins to make the mare move on again, — "it's all of a piece. Everything goes — I can't help it. "

"Why do you keep him, grandpa, if he don't behave right?"Fleda ventured to ask, gently. 

" 'Cause I can't get rid of him, dear, " Mr. Ringgan answered, rather shortly. 

And till they got to the post-office, he seemed in adisagreeable kind of muse, which Fleda did not choose to breakin upon. So the mile and a half was driven in sober silence. 

"Shall I get out and go in, grandpa?" said Fleda, when he drewup before the house. 

"No, deary, " said he, in his usual kind tone; "you sit still. Holloa, there! — Good-day, Mr. Sampion — have you got anythingfor me?"

The man disappeared and came out again. 

"There's your paper, grandpa, " said Fleda. 

"Ay, and something else, " said Mr. Ringgan: "I declare! —'Miss Fleda Ringgan — care of E. Ringgan, Esq. ' —There, dear, there it is. "

"Paris!" exclaimed Fleda, as she clasped the letter and bothher hands together. The butternuts and Mr. Didenhover wereforgotten at last. The letter could not be read in the joltingof the wagon, but, as Fleda said, it was all the pleasanter, for she had the expectation of it the whole way home. 

"Where are we going now, grandpa?"

"To Queechy Run. "

"That will give us a nice long ride. I am very glad. This hasbeen a good day. With my letter and my bittersweet I have gotenough, haven't I, grandpa?"

Queechy Run was a little village, a very little village, abouthalf a mile from Mr. Ringgan's house. It boasted, however, adecent brick church of some size, a school-house, a lawyer'soffice, a grocery store, a dozen or two of dwelling-houses, and a post-office; though for some reason or other Mr. Ringganalways chose to have his letters come through theSattlersville post-office, a mile and a half further off Atthe door of the lawyer's office Mr. Ringgan again stopped, andagain shouted "Holloa!" —

"Good-day, Sir. Is Mr. Jolly within?"

"He is, Sir. "

"Will you ask him to be so good as to step here a moment? Icannot very well get out. "

Mr. Jolly was a comfortable-looking little man, smooth andsleek, pleasant and plausible, reasonable honest, too, as theworld goes; a nice man to have to do with; the world went soeasy with his affairs that you were sure he would make nounnecessary rubs in your own. He came now fresh and brisk tothe side of the wagon, with that uncommon hilarity whichpeople sometimes assume when they have a disagreeable matteron hand that must be spoken of. 

"Good-morning, Sir! Fine day, Mr. Jolly. "

"Beautiful day, Sir! Splendid season! How do you do, Mr. Ringgan?"

"Why, Sir, I never was better in my life, barring thislameness, that disables me very much. I can't go about and seeto things any more as I used to. However — we must expectevils at my time of life. I don't complain. I have a greatdeal to be thankful for. "

"Yes, Sir, — we have a great deal to be thankful for, " saidMr. Jolly, rather abstractedly, and patting the old mare withkind attention. 

"Have you seen that fellow, McGowan?" said Mr. Ringgan, abruptly, and in a lower tone. 

"I have seen him, " said Mr. Jolly, coming back from the oldmare to business. 

"He's a hard customer, I guess, aint he?"

"He's as ugly a cur as ever was whelped!"

"What does he say?"

"Says he must have it. "

"Did you tell him what I told you?"

"I told him, Sir, that you had not got the returns from yourfarm that you expected this year, owing to one thing and'nother; and that you couldn't make up the cash for him all atonce; and that he would have to wait a spell, but that he'd besure to get it in the long run. Nobody ever suffered by Mr. Ringgan yet, as I told him. "

"Well?"

"Well, Sir, — he was altogether refractible; he's as pig-headed a fellow as I ever see. "

"What did he say?"

"He gave me names, and swore he wouldn't wait a day longer —said he'd waited already six months. "

"He has so. I couldn't meet the last payment. There's a year'srent due now. I can't help it. There needn't have been anhour, if I could go about and attend to things myself. I havebeen altogether disappointed in that Didenhover. "

"I expect you have. "

"What do you suppose he'll do, Mr. Jolly? — McGowan, I mean. "

"I expect he'll do what the law 'll let him, Mr. Ringgan; Idon't know what 'll hinder him. "

"It's a worse turn than I thought my infirmities would everplay me, " said the old gentleman after a short pause — "firstto lose the property altogether, and then not to be permittedto wear out what is left of life in the old place — there wontbe much. "

"So I told him, Mr. Ringgan. I put it to him. Says I, 'Mr. McGowan, it's a cruel hard business; there ain't a man in townthat wouldn't leave Mr. Ringgan the shelter of his own roof aslong as he wants any, and think it a pleasure, if the rent wasanyhow. ' "

"Well — well!" said the old gentleman, with a mixture ofdignity and bitterness, — "it doesn't much matter. My headwill find a shelter somehow, above ground or under it. — TheLord will provide. — Whey! stand still, can't ye! What ailsthe fool? The creature's seen years enough to be steady, " headded, with a miserable attempt at his usual cheerful laugh. 

Fleda had turned away her head and tried not to hear when thelowered tones of the speakers seemed to say that she was onetoo many in the company. But she could not help catching a fewbits of the conversation, and a few bits were generally enoughfor Fleda's wit to work upon; she had a singular knack atputting loose ends of talk together. If more had been wanting, the tones of her grandfather's voice would have filled upevery gap in the meaning of the scattered words that came toher ear. Her heart sank fast as the dialogue went on; and sheneeded no commentary or explanation to interpret the bitterlittle laugh with which it closed. It was a chill upon all therosy joys and hopes of a most joyful and hopeful littlenature. 

The old mare was in motion again, but Fleda no longer cared orhad the curiosity to ask where they were going. Thebittersweet lay listlessly in her lap; her letter, clasped toher breast, was not thought of; and tears were quietly runningone after the other down her cheeks and falling on her sleeve;she dared not lift her handkerchief nor turn her face towardsher grandfather lest they should catch his eye. Hergrandfather? — could it be possible that he must be turned outof his old home in his old age? could it be possible? Mr. Jolly seemed to think it might be, and her grandfather seemedto think it must. Leave the old house! But where would he go?— Son or daughter he had none left; resources he could havenone, or this need not happen. Work he could not; be dependentupon the charity of any kin or friend she knew he would never;she remembered hearing him once say he could better bear to goto the almshouse than do any such thing. And then, if theywent, he would have his pleasant room no more where the sunshone in so cheerfully, and they must leave the dear oldkitchen where they had been so happy; and the meadows andhills would belong to somebody else, and she would gather herstores of butternuts and chestnuts under the loved old treesnever again. But these things were nothing, though the imageof them made the tears come hot and fast, these were nothingin her mind to the knowledge or the dread of the effect thechange would have upon Mr. Ringgan. Fleda knew him, and knewit would not be slight. Whiter his head could not be, morebowed it well might; and her own bowed in anticipation as herchildish fears and imaginings ran on into the possible future. Of McGowan's tender mercies she had no hope. She had seen himonce, and being unconsciously even more of a physiognomistthan most children are, that one sight of him was enough toverify all Mr. Jolly had said. The remembrance of his hard, sinister face sealed her fears. Nothing but evil could come ofhaving to do with such a man. It was, however, still not somuch any foreboding of the future that moved Fleda's tears asthe sense of her grandfather's present pain, — the quickanswer of her gentle nature to every sorrow that touched him. His griefs were doubly hers. Both from his openness ofcharacter and her penetration, they could rarely be felt un-shared; and she shared them always in more than due measure. 

In beautiful harmony, while the child had forgotten herself inkeen sympathy with her grandfather's sorrows, he, on the otherhand, had half lost sight of them in caring for her. Again, and this time not before any house but in a wild piece ofwoodland, the little wagon came to a stop. 

"Aint there some holly berries that I see yonder?" said Mr. Ringgan, — "there, through those white birch stems? That'swhat you were wanting, Fleda, aint it? Give your bittersweetto me while you go get some, — and here, take this knife, dear, you can't break it. Don't cut yourself. "

Fleda's eyes were too dim to see white birch or holly, and shehad no longer the least desire to have the latter; but withthat infallible tact which assuredly is the gift of nature andno other, she answered, in a voice that she forced to beclear, "O yes! thank you, Grandpapa;" — and stealthily dashingaway the tears, clambered down from the rickety little wagon, and plunged with a _cheerful_ step at least, through trees andunderbrush to the clump of holly. But if anybody had seenFleda's face! — while she seemed to be busied in cutting aslarge a quantity as possible of the rich shining leaves andbright berries. Her grandfather's kindness, and her effort tomeet it had wrung her heart; she hardly knew what she wasdoing, as she cut off sprig after sprig, and threw them downat her feet; she was crying sadly, with even audible sobs. Shemade a long job of her bunch of holly. But when at last itmust come to an end, she choked back her tears, smoothed herface, and came back to Mr. Ringgan smiling and springing overthe stones and shrubs in her way, and exclaiming at the beautyof her vegetable stores. If her cheeks were red, he thought itwas the flush of pleasure and exercise, and she did not lethim get a good look at her eyes. 

"Why, you've got enough to dress up the front room chimney, "said he. "That'll be the best thing you can do with 'em, wontit?"

"The front room chimney! No, indeed I wont, Grandpa. I don'twant 'em where nobody can see them, and you know we are neverin there now it is cold weather. "

"Well, dear! anyhow you like to have it. But you ha'n't a jarin the house big enough for them, have you?"

"O, I'll manage — I've got an old broken pitcher without ahandle, Grandpa, that'll do very well. "

"A broken pitcher! that isn't a very elegant vase, " said he. 

"O you wouldn't know it is a pitcher when I have fixed it. I'll cover up all the broken part with green you know. Are wegoing home now, Grandpa?"

"No, I want to stop a minute at uncle Joshua's. "

Uncle Joshua was a brother-in-law of Mr. Ringgan, asubstantial farmer, and very well to do in the world. He wasfound not in the house, but abroad in the field with his men, loading an enormous basket wagon with corn-stalks. At Mr. Ringgan's shout he got over the fence, and came to the wagon-side. His face showed sense and shrewdness, but nothing of theopen nobility of mien which nature had stamped upon that ofhis brother. 

"Fine morning, eh?" said he. "I'm getting in my corn-stalks. "

"So I see, " said Mr. Ringgan. "How do you find the new way ofcuring them answer?"

"Fine as ever you see. Sweet as a nut. The cattle are madafter them. How are you going to be off for fodder thiswinter?"

"It's more than I can tell you, " said Mr. Ringgan. "Thereought to be more than plenty; but Didenhover contrives tobring everything out at the wrong end. I wish I was rid ofhim. "

"He'll never get a berth with me, I can tell you, " said uncleJoshua, laughing. 

"Brother, " said Mr. Ringgan, lowering his tone again, "haveyou any loose cash you could let me have for six months orso?"

Uncle Joshua took a meditative look down the road, turned aquid of tobacco in his cheek, and finally brought his eyesagain to Mr. Ringgan and answered. 

"Well, I don't see as I can, " said he. "You see, Josh is justa going to set up for himself at Kenton, and he'll want somehelp of me; and I expect that'll be about as much as I canmanage to lay my hands on. "

"Do you know who has any that he would be likely to lend?"said Mr. Ringgan. 

"No, I don't. Money is rather scarce. For your rent, eh?"

"Yes, for my rent! The farm brings me in nothing but myliving. That Didenhover is ruining me, brother Joshua. "

"He's feathering his own nest, I reckon. "

"You may swear to that. There wa'n't as many bushels of grain, by one fourth, when they were threshed out last year, as I hadcalculated there would be in the field. I don't know what onearth he could have done with it. I suppose it'll be the samething over this year. "

"May be he has served you as Deacon Travis was served by oneof his help last season — the rascal bored holes in thegranary floor and let out the corn so, and Travis couldn'tcontrive how his grain went till the floor was empty nextspring, and then he see how it was. "

"Ha! — did he catch the fellow?"

"Not he — he had made tracks before that. A word in your ear —I wouldn't let Didenhover see much of his salary till you knowhow he will come out at the end. "

"He has got it already!" said Mr. Ringgan, with a nervoustwitch at the old mare's head; "he wheedled me out of severallittle sums on one pretence and another, — he had a brother inNew York that he wanted to send some to, and goods that hewanted to get out of pawn, and so on, — and I let him have it!and then there was one of those fatting steers that heproposed to me to let him have on account, and I thought itwas as good a way of paying him as any; and that made uppretty near the half of what was due to him. "

"I warrant you his'n was the fattest of the whole lot. Well, keep a tight hold of the other half, brother Elzevir, that'smy advice to you. "

"The other half he was to make upon shares. "

"Whew! — well — I wish you well rid of him; and don't makesuch another bargain again. Good-day to ye!"

It was with a keen pang that little Fleda saw the down-heartedlook of her grandfather as again he gave the old mare noticeto move on. A few minutes passed in deep thought on bothsides. 

"Grandpa, " said Fleda, "wouldn't Mr. Jolly perhaps know ofsomebody that might have some money to lend?"

"I declare!" said the old gentleman, after a moment, "that'snot a bad thought. I wonder I didn't have it myself. "

They turned about, and without any more words measured backtheir way to Queechy Run. Mr. Jolly came out again, brisk andalert as ever; but after seeming to rack his brains in searchof any actual or possible money-lender, was obliged to confessthat it was in vain; he could not think of one. 

"But I'll tell you what, Mr. Ringgan, " he concluded, "I'llturn it over in my mind to-night and see if I can think ofanything that'll do, and if I can I'll let you know. If wehadn't such a nether millstone to deal with, it would be easyenough to work it somehow. "

So they set forth homewards again. 

"Cheer up, dear!" said the old gentleman, heartily, laying onehand on his little granddaughter's lap; "it will be arrangedsomehow. Don't you worry your little head with business. Godwill take care of us. "

"Yes, grandpa!" said the little girl, looking up with aninstant sense of relief at these words; and then looking downagain immediately to burst into tears. 

CHAPTER II. 

Have you seen but a bright lily grow, Before rude hands have touched it?Ha' you mark'd but the fall o' the snow, Before the soil hath smutch'd it?BEN JONSON. 

Where a ray of light can enter the future, a child's hope canfind a way — a way that nothing less airy and spiritual cantravel. By the time they reached their own door Fleda'sspirits were at par again. 

"I am very glad we have got home, aren't you, grandpa?" shesaid, as she jumped down; "I'm so hungry. I guess we are bothof us ready for supper, don't you think so?"

She hurried up stairs to take off her wrappings, and then camedown to the kitchen, where, standing on the broad hearth andwarming herself at the blaze, with all the old associations ofcomfort settling upon her heart, it occurred to her thatfoundations so established could not be shaken. The blazingfire seemed to welcome her home, and bid her dismiss fear; thekettle singing on its accustomed hook, looked as if quietlyridiculing the idea that they could be parted company; hergrandfather was in his cushioned chair at the corner of thehearth, reading the newspaper, as she had seen him a thousandtimes; just in the same position, with that collected air ofgrave enjoyment, one leg crossed over the other, settled backin his chair but upright, and scanning the columns with anintent but most un-careful face. A face it was that always hada rare union of fineness and placidness. The table stoodspread in the usual place, warmth and comfort filled everycorner of the room, and Fleda began to feel as if she had beenin an uncomfortable dream, which was very absurd, but fromwhich she was very glad she had awoke. 

"What have you got in this pitcher, Cynthy?" said she. "Muffins! — O let me bake them, will you? I'll bake them. "

"Now, Flidda, " said Cynthy, "just you be quiet. There ain't noplace where you call bake 'em. I'm just going to clap 'em inthe reflector — that's the shortest way I can take to do 'em. You keep yourself out o' muss. "

"They wont be muffins if you bake 'em in the reflector, Cynthy; they aren't half so good. Ah, do let me! I wont make abit of muss. "

"Where'll you do 'em? "

"In grandpa's room — if you'll just clean off the top of thestove for me; now do, Cynthy! I'll do 'em beautifully, and youwont have a bit of trouble. — Come!"

"It'll make an awful smoke, Flidda; you'll fill your grandpa'sroom with the smoke, and he wont like that, I guess. "

"O, he wont mind it, " said Fleda. "Will you, grandpa?"

"What, dear?" said Mr. Ringgan, looking up at her from hispaper, with a relaxing face which indeed promised to takenothing amiss that she might do. 

"Will you mind if I fill your room with smoke?"

"No, dear!" said he, the strong heartiness of his acquiescencealmost reaching a laugh; "no, dear! — fill it with anythingyou like!"

There was nothing more to be said; and while Fleda in triumphput on an apron and made her preparations, Cynthy on her part, and with a very good grace, went to get ready the stove;which, being a wood stove, made of sheet iron, with a smooth, even top, afforded, in Fleda's opinion, the very best possiblefield for muffins to come to their perfection. Now Fleda caredlittle in comparison for the eating part of the business; herdelight was, by the help of her own skill and the stove-top, to bring the muffins to this state of perfection; her greatestpleasure in them was over when they were baked. 

A little while had passed. Mr. Ringgan was still busy with hisnewspaper, Miss Cynthia Gall going in and out on variouserrands, Fleda shut up in the distant room with the muffinsand the smoke; when there came a knock at the door, and Mr. Ringgan's "Come in!" was followed by the entrance of twostrangers, young, welldressed, and comely. They wore the usualbadges of seekers after game, but their guns were leftoutside. 

The old gentleman's look of grave expectancy told his want ofenlightening. 

"I fear you do not remember me, Mr. Ringgan, " said theforemost of the two, coming up to him, —"my name is Rossitur —Charlton Rossitur — a cousin of your little granddaughter. Ihave only" —

"O, I know you now!" said Mr. Ringgan, rising and grasping hishand heartily, — "you are very welcome, Sir. How do you do? Irecollect you perfectly, but you took me by surprise. — How doyou do, Sir? Sit down — sit down. "

And the old gentleman had extended his frank welcome to thesecond of his visitors, almost before the first had time toutter, "My friend, Mr. Carleton. "

"I couldn't imagine what was coming upon me, "said Mr. Ringgan, cheerfully, "for you weren't anywhere very near mythoughts; and I don't often see much of the gay world that ispassing by me. You have grown since I saw you last, Mr. Rossitur. You are studying at West Point, I believe. "

"No, Sir; I was studying there, but I had the pleasure ofbringing that to an end last June. "

"Ah! — Well, what are you now? not a cadet any longer, Isuppose. "

"No, Sir; we hatch out of that shell lieutenants. "

"Hum; and do you intend to remain in the army?"

"Certainly, Sir, that is my purpose and hope. "

"Your mother would not like that, I should judge. I do notunderstand how she ever made up her mind to let you becomethat thing which hatches out into a lieutenant. Gentlecreatures she and her sister both were; how was it, Mr. Rossitur? were you a wild young gentleman that wantedtraining?"

"I have had it, Sir, whether I wanted it or no. "

"Hum! How is he, Mr. Carleton? — sober enough to command men?"

"I have not seen him tried, Sir, " said this gentleman, smiling; "but from the inconsistency of the orders he issuesto his dogs, I doubt it exceedingly. "

"Why, Carleton would have no orders issued to them at all, Ibelieve, " said young Rossitur; "he has been saying 'hush' tome all day. "

The old gentleman laughed in a way that indicated intelligencewith one of the speakers, — which, appeared not. 

"So you've been following the dogs to-day, " said he. "Beensuccessful?"

"Not a bit of it, " said Rossitur. "Whether we got on the wronggrounds, or didn't get on the right ones, or the dogs didn'tmind their business, or there was nothing to fire at, I don'tknow; but we lost our patience, and got nothing in exchange. "

"Speak for yourself, " said the other. "I assure you I wassensible of no ground of impatience while going over such asuperb country as this. "

"It is a fine country, " said Mr. Ringgan — "all this tract —and I ought to know it, for I have hunted every mile of it formany a mile around. There used to be more game than partridgesin these hills, when I was a young man; bears and wolves, anddeer, and now and then a panther, to say nothing ofrattlesnakes. "

"That last-mentioned is an irregular sort or game, is it not. "said Mr. Carleton, smiling. 

"Well, game is what you choose to make it, " said the oldgentleman. "I have seen worse days' sport than I saw once whenwe were out after rattlesnakes, and nothing else. There was acave, Sir, down under a mountain, a few miles to the south ofthis, right at the foot of a bluff some four or five hundredfeet sheer down; it was known to be a resort of thosecreatures, and a party of us went out — it's many years ago, now — to see if we couldn't destroy the nest; exterminate thewhole horde. We had one dog with us, a little dog, a kind ofspaniel, a little white and yellow fellow, and he did thework! Well, Sir, how many of those vermin do you guess thatlittle creature made a finish of that day? of large and small, Sir, there were two hundred and twelve. "

"He must have been a gallant little fellow. "

"You never saw a creature, Sir, take to a sport better; hejust dashed in among them, from one to another, he would catcha snake by the neck and give it a shake, and throw it down andrush at another; poor fellow, it was his last day's sport, hedied almost as soon as it was over; he must have received agreat many bites. The place is known as the rattlesnakes' dento this day, though there are none there now, I believe. "

"My little cousin is well, I hope, " said Mr. Rossitur. 

"She? yes, bless her! she is always well. Where is she? Fairy, where are you? Cynthy, just call Elfleda here. "

"She's just in the thick of the muffins, Mr. Ringgan. "

"Let the muffins burn! Call her. "

Miss Cynthia accordingly opened a little way the door of thepassage, from which a blue stifling smoke immediately made itsway into the room, and called out to Fleda, whose little voicewas heard faintly responding from the distance. 

"It's a wonder she can hear through all that smoke, " remarkedCynthia. 

"She, " said Mr. Ringgan, laughing; "she's playing cook orhousekeeper in yonder, getting something ready for tea. She'sa busy little spirit, if ever there was one. Ah! there she is. Come here, Fleda — here's your cousin Rossitur from WestPoint, and Mr. Carleton. "

Fleda made her appearance flushed with the heat of the stoveand the excitement of turning the muffins, and the little ironspatula she used for that purpose still in her hand; and afresh and larger puff of the unsavoury blue smoke accompaniedher entrance. She came forward, however, gravely, and withoutthe slightest embarrassment, to receive her cousin's somewhatunceremonious "How do, Fleda?" and, keeping the spatula stillin one hand, shook hands with him with the other. But at thevery different manner in which Mr. Carleton _rose_ and greetedher, the flush on Fleda's cheek deepened, and she cast downher eyes and stepped back to her grandfather's side with thedemureness of a young lady just undergoing the ceremony ofpresentation. 

"You come upon us out of a cloud, Fleda, " said her cousin. "Isthat the way you have acquired a right to the name of Fairy?"

"I am sure, no, " said Mr. Carleton. 

Fleda did not lift up her eyes, but her mounting colour showedthat she understood both speeches. 

"Because, if you are in general such a misty personage, " Mr. Rossitur went on, half laughing, "I would humbly recommend achoice of incense. "

"O, I forgot to open the windows!" exclaimed Fleda, ingenuously. "Cynthy, wont you, please, go and do it! And takethis with you, " said she, holding out the spatula. 

" She is as good a fairy as _I_ want to see, " said hergrandfather, passing his arm fondly round her. "She carries aray of sunshine in her right hand; and that's as magic-workinga wand as any fairy ever wielded — hey, Mr. Carleton?"

Mr. Carleton bowed. But whether the sunshine of affection inFleda's glance and smile at her grandfather, made him feelthat she was above a compliment, or whether it put the wordsout of his head, certain it is that he uttered none. 

"So you've had bad success to-day, " continued Mr. Ringgan, "Where have you been? and what after? partridges?"

"No, Sir, " said Mr. Carleton, "my friend Rossitur promised mea rare bag of woodcock, which I understand to be the best ofAmerican feathered game; and, in pursuance of his promise, ledme over a large extent of meadow and swamp land, this morning, with which, in the course of several hours, I became extremelyfamiliar, without flushing a single bird. "

"Meadow and swamp land!" said the old gentleman. "Whereabouts?"

"A mile or more beyond the little village over here, where weleft our horses, " said Rossitur. "We beat the ground well, butthere were no signs of them even. "

"We had not the right kind of dog, " said Mr. Carleton. 

"We had the kind that is always used here, " said Rossitur;"nobody knows anything about a Cocker in America. "

"Ah, it was too wet, " said Mr. Ringgan. "I could have told youthat. There has been too much rain. You wouldn't find awoodcock in that swamp, after such a day as we had a few daysago. But speaking of game, Mr. Rossitur, I don't know anythingin America equal to the grouse. It is far before woodcock. Iremember, many years back, going a grouse shooting, I and afriend, down in Pennsylvania; we went two or three daysrunning, and the birds we got were worth a whole season ofwoodcock. But, gentlemen, if you are not discouraged with yourday's experience, and want to try again, _I'll_ put you in a wayto get as many woodcock as will satisfy you — if you'll comehere to-morrow morning. I'll go out with you far enough toshow you the way to the best ground _I_ know for shooting thatgame in all this country; you'll have a good chance forpartridges, too, in the course of the day; and that aint badeating, when you can't get better — is it, Fairy?" he said, with a sudden smiling appeal to the little girl at his side. Her answer again was only an intelligent glance. 

The young sportsmen both thanked him and promised to takeadvantage of his kind offer. Fleda seized the opportunity tosteal another look at the strangers; but meeting Mr. Carleton's eyes fixed on her with a remarkably soft and gentleexpression, she withdrew her own again as fast as possible, and came to the conclusion that the only safe place for themwas the floor. 

"I wish I was a little younger, and I'd take my gun and goalong with you myself, " said the old gentleman, pleasantly;"but, " he added, sighing, "there is a time for everything, andmy time for sporting is past. "

"You have no right to complain, Sir, " said Mr. Carleton, witha meaning glance and smile, which the old gentleman took inexcellent good part. 

"Well, " said he, looking half proudly, half tenderly, upon thelittle demure figure at his side, "I don't say that I have. Ihope I thank God for his mercies, and am happy. But in thisworld, Mr. Carleton, there is hardly a blessing but what drawsa care after it. Well — well — these things will all bearranged for us!"

It was plain, however, even to a stranger, that there was somesubject of care, not vague nor undefined pressing upon Mr. Ringgan's mind as he said this. 

"Have you heard from my mother lately, Fleda?" said hercousin. 

"Why, yes, " said Mr. Ringgan, — "she had a letter from heronly to-day. You ha'n't read it yet, have you, Fleda?"

"No, grandpa, " said the little girl; "you know I've beenbusy. "

"Ay, " said the old gentleman; "why couldn't you let Cynthiabake the cakes, and not roast yourself over the stove tillyou're as red as a turkey-cock?"

"This morning I was like a chicken, " said Fleda, laughing, "and now like a turkey-cock. "

"Shall I tell mamma, Fleda, " said young Rossitur, "that youput off reading her letter to bake muffins?"

Fleda answered without looking up, "Yes, if he pleased. "

"What do you suppose she will think?"

"I don't know. "

"She will think that you love muffins better than her. "

"No, " said Fleda, quietly, but firmly, — "she will not thinkthat, because it isn't true. "

The gentlemen laughed, but Mr. Carleton declared that Fleda'sreasoning was unanswerable. 

"Well, I will see you to-morrow, " said Mr. Rossitur, "afteryou have read the letter, for I suppose you will read it sometime. You should have had it before, — it came enclosed to me, — but I forgot unaccountably to mail it to you till a few daysago. "

"It will be just as good now, Sir, " said Mr. Ringgan. 

"There is a matter in it, though, " said Rossitur, "about whichmy mother has given me a charge. We will see you to-morrow. Itwas for that partly we turned out of our way this evening. "

"I am very glad you did, " said Mr. Ringgan. "I hope your waywill bring you here often. Wont you stay and try some of thesesame muffins before you go?"

But this was declined, and the gentlemen departed; Fleda, itmust be confessed, seeing nothing in the whole leave-takingbut Mr. Carleton's look and smile. The muffins were a verytame affair after it. 

When supper was over, she sat down fairly to her letter, andread it twice through before she folded it up. By this timethe room was clear both of the tea equipage and of Cynthia'spresence, and Fleda and her grandfather were alone in thedarkening twilight with the blazing wood fire; he in his usualplace at the side, and she on the hearth directly before it;both silent, both thinking, for some time. At length Mr. Ringgan spoke, breaking as it were the silence and hisseriousness with the same effort. 

"Well, dear!" said he, cheerfully, — "what does she say?"

"O, she says a great many things, grandpa; shall I read youthe letter?"

"No, dear, I don't care to hear it; only tell me what shesays. "

"She says they are going to stay in Paris yet a good whilelonger. "

"Hum!" — said Mr. Ringgan. "Well — that aint the wisest thingI should like to hear of her doing. "

"Oh, but it's because uncle Rossitur likes to stay there, Isuppose, isn't it, grandpa?"

"I don't know, dear. Maybe your aunt's caught the Frenchfever. She used to be a good sensible woman; but when peoplewill go into a whirligig, I think some of their wits get blownaway before they come out. Well — what else?"

"I am sure she is very kind, " said Fleda. "She wants to haveme go out there and live with her very much. She says I shallhave everything I like, and do just as I please, and she willmake a pet of me, and give me all sorts of pleasant things. She says she will take as good care of me as ever I took ofthe kittens. And there's a long piece to you about it, thatI'll give you to read as soon as we have a light. It is verygood of her, isn't it, grandpa? I love aunt Lucy very much. "

"Well, " said Mr. Ringgan, after a pause, "how does she proposeto get you there?"

"Why, " said Fleda, — "isn't it curious? — she says there is aMrs. Carleton here, who is a friend of hers, and she is goingto Paris in a little while, and aunt Lucy asked her if shewouldn't bring me, if you would let me go, and she said shewould with great pleasure, and aunt Lucy wants me to come outwith her. "

"Carleton! — Hum —" said Mr. Ringgan; " that must be thisyoung man's mother?'"

"Yes, aunt Lucy says she is here with her son, — at least shesays they were coming. "

"A very gentlemanly young man, indeed, " said Mr. Ringgan. 

There was a grave silence. The old gentleman sat looking onthe floor; Fleda sat looking into the fire with all her might. 

"Well, " said Mr. Ringgan after a little, "how would you likeit, Fleda?"

"What, grandpa?"

"To go out to Paris to your aunt, with this Mrs. Carleton?"

"I shouldn't like it at all, " said Fleda, smiling and lettingher eyes go back to the fire. But looking, after the pause ofa minute or two, again to her grandfather's face, she wasstruck with its expression of stern anxiety. She roseinstantly, and coming to him, and laying one hand gently onhis knee, said in tones that fell as light on the ear as thetouch of a moonbeam on the water, "_You_ do not want me to go, do you, grandpa?"

"No, dear!" said the old gentleman, letting his hand fall uponhers, — "no, dear! — that is the last thing I want!"

But Fleda's keen ear discerned not only the deep affection, but something of _regret_ in the voice, which troubled her. Shestood, anxious and fearing while her grandfather lifting hishand again and again, let it fall gently upon hers; and amidall the fondness of the action, Fleda somehow seemed to feelin it the same regret. 

"You'll not let aunt Lucy, nor anybody else, take me away fromyou, will you, grandpa?" said she after a little, leaning botharms affectionately on his knee, and looking up into his face. 

"No, indeed, dear!" said he, with an attempt at his usualheartiness, — "not as long as I have a place to keep you. While I have a roof to put my head under, it shall coveryours. "

To Fleda's hope that would have said enough; but hergrandfather's face was so moved from its wonted expression ofcalm dignity, that it was plain _his_ hope was tasting bitterthings. Fleda watched in silent grief and amazement thewatering eye and unnerved lip; till her grandfather, indignantly dashing away a tear or two, drew her close to hisbreast and kissed her. But she well guessed that the reasonwhy he did not for a minute or two say anything, was becausehe could not. Neither could she. She was fighting with herwoman's nature to keep it down, — learning the lesson early!

"Ah well, " — said Mr. Ringgan at length, in a kind of tonethat might indicate the giving up a struggle which he had nomeans of carrying on, or the endeavour to conceal it from thetoo keen-wrought feelings of his little grand-daughter, —"there will be a way opened for us somehow. We must let ourHeavenly Father take care of us. "

"And he will, grandpa, " whispered Fleda. 

"Yes, dear! We are selfish creatures. Your father's and yourmother's child will not be forgotten. "

"Nor you either, dear grandpa, " said the little girl, layingher soft cheek alongside of his, and speaking by dint of agreat effort. 

"No, " said he, clasping her more tenderly, — "no — it would bewicked in me to doubt it. He has blessed me all my life longwith a great many more blessings than I deserved; and if hechooses to take away the sunshine of my last days, I will bowmy head to his will, and believe that he does all things well, though I cannot see it. "

"Don't, dear grandpa, " said Fleda, stealing her other armround his neck and hiding her face there, — "please don't!"

He very much regretted that he had said too much. He did not, however, know exactly how to mend it. He kissed her, andstroked her soft hair, but that and the manner of it only madeit more difficult for Fleda to recover herself, which she wasstruggling to do; and when he tried to speak in accents ofcheering, his voice trembled. Fleda's heart was breaking, butshe felt that she was making matters worse, and she hadalready concluded, on a mature review of circumstances, thatit was her duty to be cheerful. So, after a few very heartfelttears which she could not help, she raised her head andsmiled, even while she wiped the traces of them away. 

"After all, grandpa, " said she, "perhaps Mr. Jolly will comehere in the morning with some good news, and then we should betroubling ourselves just for nothing. "

"Perhaps he will, " said Mr. Ringgan, in a way that soundedmuch more like "Perhaps he wont!" But Fleda was determined nownot to _seem_ discouraged again. She thought the best way was tochange the conversation. 

"It is very kind in aunt Lucy, isn't it, grandpa, what she haswritten to me?"

"Why, no, " said Mr. Ringgan, decidedly; "I can't say I thinkit is any very extraordinary manifestation of kindness inanybody to want you. "

Fleda smiled her thanks for this compliment. 

"It might be a kindness in me to give you to her. "

"It wouldn't be a kindness to me, grandpa. "

"I don't know about that, " said he, gravely. They were gettingback to the old subject. Fleda made another great effort at adiversion. 

"Grandpa, was my father like my uncle Rossitur in anything?"

The diversion was effected. 

"Not he, dear!" said Mr. Ringgan. "Your father had ten timesthe man in him that ever your uncle was. "

"Why, what kind of a man is uncle Rossitur, grandpa?"

"Ho dear! I can't tell. I ha'n't seen much of him. I wouldn'tjudge a man without knowing more of him than I do of Mr. Rossitur. He seemed an amiable kind of man. But no one wouldever have thought of looking at him, no more than at a shadow, when your father was by. "

The diversion took effect on Fleda herself now. She looked uppleased. 

"You remember your father, Fleda. "

"Yes, grandpa, but not very well always. I remember a greatmany things about him, but I can't remember exactly how helooked, except once or twice. "

"Ay, and he wa'n't well the last time you remember him. But hewas a noble-looking man — in form and face too — and his lookswere the worst part of him. He seemed made of different stufffrom all the people around, " said Mr. Ringgan, sighing, "andthey felt it too, I used to notice, without knowing it. Whenhis cousins were 'Sam, ' and 'Johnny, ' and 'Bill, ' he wasalways, that is after he grew up, '_Mr. Walter_. ' I believe theywere a little afeard of him. And with all his bravery and firehe could be as gentle as a woman. "

"I know that, " said Fleda, whose eyes were dropping soft tearsand glittering at the same time with gratified feeling. "Whatmade him be a soldier, grandpa? "

"Oh, I don't know, dear! — he was too good to make a farmer of— or his high spirit wanted to rise in the world — he couldn'trest without trying to be something more than other folks. Idon't know whether people are any happier for it. "

"Did _he_ go to West Point, grandpa?"

"No, dear! — he started without having so much of a push asthat; but he was one of those that don't need any pushing; hewould have worked his way up, put him anywhere you would, andhe did, — over the heads of West Pointers and all, and wouldhave gone to the top, I verily believe, if he had lived longenough. He was as fine a fellow as there was in all the army. _I_ don't believe there's the like of him left in it. "

"He had been a major a good while, hadn't be, grandpa?"

"Yes. It was just after he was made captain that he went toAlbany, and there he saw your mother. She and her sister, youraunt Lucy, were wards of the patroon. I was in Albany, in thelegislature, that winter, and I knew them both very well; butyour aunt Lucy had been married some years before. She wasstaying there that winter without her husband — he was abroadsomewhere. "

Fleda was no stranger to these details, and had learned longago what was meant by "wards" and "the patroon. "

"Your father was made a major some years afterwards, " Mr. Ringgan went on, "for his fine behaviour out here at the West— what's the name of the place? — I forget it just now —fighting the Indians. There never was anything finer done. "

"He was brave, wasn't he, grandpa?"

"Brave! — he had a heart of iron sometimes, for as soft as itwas at others. And he had an eye, when he was roused, that Inever saw anything that would stand against. But your fatherhad a better sort of courage than the common sort — he hadenough of _that_ — but this is a rarer thing — he never wasafraid to do what in his conscience he thought was right. Moral courage I call it, and it is one of the very noblestqualities a man can have. "

"That's a kind of courage a woman may have, " raid Fleda. 

"Yes — you may have that; and I guess it's the only kind ofcourage you'll ever be troubled with, " said her grandfather, looking laughingly at her. "However, any man may walk up tothe cannon's mouth, but it is only one here and there thatwill walk out against men's opinions because he thinks it isright. That was one of the things I admired most in yourfather. "

"Didn't my mother have it too?" said Fleda. 

"I don't know — she had about everything that was good. Asweet pretty creature she was as ever I saw. "

"Was she like aunt Lucy?"

"No, not much. She was a deal handsomer than your aunt is orever could have been. She was the handsomest woman, I think, that ever I set eyes upon; and a sweet, gentle, lovelycreature. _You_'ll never match her, " said Mr. Ringgan, with acurious twist of his head and sly laughing twist of his eyesat Fleda; — "you may be as _good_ as she was, but you'll neverbe as good-looking. "

Fleda laughed, nowise displeased. 

"You've got her hazel eyes though, " remarked Mr. Ringgan, after a minute or two, viewing his little grand-daughter witha sufficiently satisfied expression of countenance. 

"Grandpa, " said she, "don't you think Mr. Carleton hashandsome eyes?"

"Mr. Carleton? — hum — I don't know; I didn't look at hiseyes. A very well-looking young man though — very gentlemanlytoo. "

Fleda had heard all this and much more about her parents somedozens of times before; but she and her grandfather were nevertired of going it over. If the conversation that recalled hislost treasures had of necessity a character of sadness andtenderness, it yet bespoke not more regret that he had lostthem than exulting pride and delight in what they had been, —perhaps not so much. And Fleda delighted to go back and feedher imagination with stories of the mother whom she could notremember, and of the father whose fair bright image stood inher memory as the embodiment of all that is high and noble andpure. A kind of guardian angel that image was to little Fleda. These ideal likenesses of her father and mother, the one drawnfrom history and recollection, the other from history only, had been her preservative from all the untoward influences andunfortunate examples which had surrounded her since herfather's death, some three or four years before, had left heralmost alone in her grandfather's house. They had created inher mind a standard of the true and beautiful in character, which nothing she saw around her, after, of course, hergrandfather and one other exception, seemed at all to meet;and partly from her own innate fineness of nature, and partlyfrom this pure ideal always present with her, she had shrunkalmost instinctively from the few varieties of human naturethe country-side presented to her, and was in fact a veryisolated little being, living in a world of her own, andclinging with all her strong out-goings of affection to hergrandfather only; granting to but one other person anyconsiderable share in her regard or esteem. Little Fleda wasnot in the least misanthropical; she gave her kindlysympathies to all who came in her way on whom they couldpossibly be bestowed; but these people were nothing to her;her spirit fell off from them, even in their presence; therewas no affinity. She was in truth what her grandfather hadaffirmed of her father, made of different stuff from the restof the world. There was no tincture of pride in all this;there was no conscious feeling of superiority; she couldmerely have told you that she did not care to hear thesepeople talk, that she did not love to be with them; though she_would_ have said so to no earthly creature but her grandfather, if even to him. 

"It must be pleasant, " said Fleda, after looking for someminutes thoughtfully into the fire, — "it must be a pleasantthing to have a father and mother. "

"Yes, dear!" said her grandfather, sighing, — "you have lost agreat deal! But there is your aunt Lucy — you are notdependent altogether on me. "

"Oh, grandpa!" said the little girl, laying one hand againpleadingly on his knee; — "I didn't mean — I mean — I wasspeaking in general — I wasn't thinking of myself inparticular. "

"I know, dear!" said he, as before taking the little hand inhis own, and moving it softly up and down on his knee. But theaction was sad, and there was the same look of sorrowful sternanxiety. Fleda got up and put her arm over his shoulder, speaking from a heart filled too full. 

"I don't want aunt Lucy — I don't care about aunt Lucy, Idon't want anything but you, grandpa. I wish you wouldn't talkso. "

"Ah well, dear, " said he, without looking at her, — hecouldn't bear to look at her, — "it's well it is so. I sha'n'tlast a great while — it isn't likely — and I am glad to knowthere is some one you can fall back upon when I am gone. "

Fleda's next words were scarce audible, but they contained areproach to him for speaking so. 

"We may as well look at it, dear, " said he, gravely; "it mustcome to that —- sooner or later — but you mustn't distressyourself about it beforehand. Don't cry — don't dear!" saidhe, tenderly kissing her. "I didn't mean to trouble you so. There — there — look up, dear — let's take the good we haveand be thankful for it. God will arrange the rest, in his owngood way. Fleda! — I wouldn't have said a word if I hadthought it would have worried you so. "

He would not indeed. But he had spoken as men so often speak, out of the depths of their own passion or bitterness, forgetting that they are wringing the chords of a delicateharp, and not knowing what mischief they have done till theyfind the instrument all out of tune, — more often not knowingit ever. It is pity, — for how frequently a discord is leftthat jars all life long; and how much more frequently stillthe harp, though retaining its sweetness and truth of tone tothe end, is gradually unstrung. 

Poor Fleda could hardly hold up her head for a long time, andrecalling bitterly her unlucky innocent remark which had ledto all this trouble, she almost made up her mind, with acertain heroine of Miss Edgeworth's, that "it is best never tomention things". Mr. Ringgan, now thoroughly alive to thewounds he had been inflicting, held his little pet in hisarms, pillowed her head on his breast, and by every tender andsoothing action and word endeavoured to undo what he had done. And after a while the agony was over, the wet eyelashes werelifted up, and the meek sorrowful little face lay quietly uponMr. Ringgan's breast, gazing out into the fire as gravely asif the panorama of life were there. She little heeded at firsther grandfather's cheering talk, she knew it was for apurpose. 

"Aint it most time for you to go to bed?" whispered Mr. Ringgan, when he thought the purpose was effected. 

"Shall I tell Cynthy to get you your milk, grandpa?" said thelittle girl, rousing herself. 

"Yes dear. — Stop, — what if you and me were to have someroast apples? — wouldn't you like it?"

"Well — yes, I should, grandpa, " said Fleda, understandingperfectly why he wished it, and wishing it herself for thatsame reason and no other. 

"Cynthy, let's have some of those roast apples, " said Mr. Ringgan, "and a couple of bowls of milk here. "

"No, I'll get the apples myself, Cynthy, " said Fleda. 

"And you needn't take any of the cream off, Cynthy, " added Mr. Ringgan. 

One corner of the kitchen table was hauled up to the fire, tobe comfortable, Fleda said, and she and her grandfather satdown on the opposite sides of it to do honour to the applesand milk; each with the simple intent of keeping upappearances and cheating the other into cheerfulness. Thereis, however, deny it who can, an exhilarating effect in goodwholesome food taken when one is in some need of it; and Fledaat least found the supper relish exceeding well. Every onefurthermore knows the relief of a hearty flow of tears when asecret weight has been pressing on the mind. She was justready for anything reviving. After the third mouthful shebegan to talk, and before the bottom of the bowls was reached, she had smiled more than once. So her grandfather thought noharm was done, and went to bed quite comforted; and Fledaclimbed the steep stairs that led from his door to her littlechamber just over his head. It was small and mean, immediatelyunder the roof, with only one window. There were plenty ofbetter rooms in the house, but Fleda liked this because itkept her near her grandfather; and indeed she had always hadit ever since her father's death, and never thought of takingany other. 

She had a fashion, this child, in whom the simplicity ofpractical life and the poetry of imaginative life werecuriously blended, — she had a fashion of going to her windowevery night when the moon or stars were shining, to look outfor a minute or two before she went to bed; and sometimes theminutes were more than any good grandmother or aunt would haveconsidered wholesome for little Fleda in the fresh night air. But there was no one to watch or reprimand; and whatever itwas that Fleda read in earth or sky, the charm which held herone bright night was sure to bring her to her window the next. This evening a faint young moon lighted up but dimly themeadow and what was called the "east-hill, " over against whichthe window in question looked. The air was calm and mild;there was no frost to-night; the stillness was entire, and thestars shone in a cloudless sky. Fleda set open the window, andlooked out with a face that again bore tokens of theexperiences of that day. She wanted the soothing speech ofnature's voice; and child as she was, she could hear it. Shedid not know, in her simplicity, what it was that comfortedand soothed her, but she stood at her window enjoying. 

It was so perfectly still, her fancy presently went to allthose people who had hushed their various work and were nowresting, or soon would be, in the unconsciousness and thehelplessness of sleep. The _helplessness_, — and then that Eyethat never sleeps; that Hand that keeps them all, that isnever idle, that is the safety and the strength alike of allthe earth, and of them that wake or sleep upon it, —

"And if he takes care of them all, will he not take care ofpoor little me?" thought Fleda. "Oh, how glad I am I knowthere is a God! — How glad I am I know he is such a God! andthat I can trust in him; and he will make everything go right. How I forget this sometimes! But Jesus does not forget hischildren. Oh, I am a happy little girl! — Grandpa's sayingwhat he did don't make it so — perhaps I shall die the first —but I hope not, for what would become of him! — But this andeverything will all be arranged right, and I have nothing todo with it but to obey God and please him, and he will takecare of the rest. He has forbidden _us_ to be careful about ittoo. "

With grateful tears of relief Fleda shut the window and beganto undress herself, her heart so lightened of its burden, thather thoughts presently took leave to go out again uponpleasure excursions in various directions; and one of the lastthings in Fleda's mind before sleep surprised her was, what anice thing it was for any one to bow and smile so as Mr. Carleton did!

CHAPTER III. 

I know each lane, and every alley green, Dingle or bushy dell of this wild wood, And every bosky bourne from side to side;My daily walks and ancient neighbourhood. MILTON. 

Fleda and her grandfather had but just risen from a tolerablyearly breakfast the next morning, when the two young sportsmenentered the room. 

"Ha!" said Mr. Ringgan, "I declare! you're stirring betimes. Come five or six miles this morning a'ready. Well — that's thestuff to make sportsmen of. Off for the woodcock, hey? And Iwas to go with you and show you the ground? I declare I don'tknow how in the world I can do it this morning, I'm so verystiff — ten times as bad as I was yesterday. I had a windowopen in my room last night, I expect that must have been thecause. I don't see how I could have overlooked it; but I nevergave it a thought, till this morning I found myself so lame Icould hardly get out of bed. I am very sorry, upon my word!"

"I am very sorry we must lose your company, Sir, " said theyoung Englishman, "and for such a cause; but as to the rest, Idare say your directions will guide us sufficiently. "

"I don't know about that, " said the old gentleman. " It ispretty hard to steer by a chart that is only laid down in theimagination. I set out once to go in New York from one side ofthe city over into the other, and the first thing I knew Ifound myself travelling along half a mile out of town. I hadto get in a stage and ride back, and take a fresh start. Outat the West they say, when you are in the woods you can tellwhich is north by the moss growing on that side of the trees;but if you're lost, you'll be pretty apt to find the mossgrows on _all_ sides of the trees. I couldn't make out anywaymarks at all, in such a labyrinth of brick corners. Well, let us see — if I tell you now it is so easy to mistake onehill for another — Fleda, child, you put on your sun-bonnet, and take these gentlemen back to the twenty-acre lot, and fromthere you can tell 'em how to go, so I guess they wont mistakeit. "

"By no means!" said Mr. Carleton; "we cannot give her so muchtrouble; it would be buying our pleasure at much too dear arate. "

"Tut, tut, " said the old gentleman; "she thinks nothing oftrouble, and the walk 'll do her good. She'd like to be outall day, I believe, if she had any one to go along with; butI'm rather a stupid companion for such a spry little pair offeet. Fleda, look here; when they get to the lot, they canfind their own way after that. You know where the place is —where your cousin Seth shot so many woodcock last year, overin Mr. Hurlbut's land; when you get to the big lot you musttell these gentlemen to go straight over the hill, not SquireThornton's hill, but mine, at the back of the lot. They mustgo straight over it, till they come to cleared land on theother side; then they must keep along by the edge of the wood, to the right, till they come to the brook; they must _cross thebrook_, and follow up the opposite bank, and they'll know theground when they come to it; or they don't deserve to. Do youunderstand? Now run and get your hat, for they ought to beoff. "

Fleda went, but neither her step nor her look showed any greatwillingness to the business. 

"I am sure, Mr. Ringgan, " said Mr. Carleton, "your littlegranddaughter has some reason for not wishing to take such along walk this morning. Pray allow us to go without her. "

"Pho, pho, " said the old gentleman, "she wants to go. "

"I guess she's skeered o' the guns, " said Cynthy, happy to geta chance to edge in a word before such company; "it's thatails her. "

"Well, well; she must get used to it, " said Mr. Ringgan. "Hereshe is!"

Fleda had it in her mind to whisper to him a word of hopeabout Mr. Jolly; but she recollected that it was at best anuncertain hope, and that if her grandfather's thoughts wereoff the subject it was better to leave them so. She onlykissed him for good-by, and went out with the two gentlemen. 

As they took up their guns, Mr. Carleton caught the timidshunning glance her eye gave at them. 

"Do you dislike the company of these noisy friends of ours, Miss Fleda?" said he. 

Fleda hesitated, and finally said, "she didn't much like to bevery near them when they were fired. "

"Put that fear away then, " said he, " for they shall keep arespectful silence so long as they have the honour to be inyour company. If the woodcock come about us as tame as quailsour guns shall not be provoked to say anything till yourdeparture gives them leave. "

Fleda smiled her thanks, and set forward, privately muchconfirmed in her opinion that Mr. Carleton had handsome eyes. 

At a little distance from the house Fleda left the meadow foran old apple-orchard at the left, lying on a steep side hill. Up this hill-side they toiled; and then found themselves on aridge of tableland, stretching back for some distance alongthe edge of a little valley or bottom of perfectly flat smoothpasture-ground. The valley was very narrow, only divided intofields by fences running from side to side. The table-landmight be a hundred feet or more above the level of the bottom, with a steep face towards it. A little way back from the edgethe woods began; between them and the brow of the hill theground was smooth and green, planted as if by art withflourishing young silver pines, and once in a while a hemlock, some standing in all their luxuriance alone, and some ingroups. With now and then a smooth grey rock, or largeboulderstone, which had somehow inexplicably stopped on thebrow of the hill instead of rolling down into what at someformer time no doubt was a bed of water, — all this open stripof the table-land might have stood with very little coaxingfor a piece of a gentleman's pleasure-ground. On the oppositeside of the little valley was a low rocky height, covered withwood, now in the splendour of varied red and green and purpleand brown and gold; between, at their feet, lay the soft quietgreen meadow; and off to the left, beyond the far end of thevalley, was the glory of the autumn woods again, softened inthe distance. A true October sky seemed to pervade all, mildlyblue, transparently pure, with that clearness of atmospherethat no other month gives us; a sky that would have conferreda patent of nobility on any landscape. The scene was certainlycontracted and nowise remarkable in any of its features, butNature had shaken out all her colours over the land, and drawna veil from the sky, and breathed through the woods and overthe hill-side the very breath of health, enjoyment, andvigour. 

When they were about over-against the middle of the valley, Mr. Carleton suddenly made a pause and stood for some minutessilently looking. His two companions came to a halt on eitherside of him, one not a little pleased, the other a littleimpatient. 

"Beautiful!" Mr. Carleton said, at length. 

"Yes, " said Fleda, gravely, "I think it's a pretty place. Ilike it up here. "

"We sha'n't catch many woodcock among these pines, " said youngRossitur. 

"I wonder, " said Mr. Carleton, presently, "how any one shouldhave called these 'melancholy days. ' "

"Who has?" said Rossitur. 

"A countryman of yours, " said his friend, glancing at him. "Ifhe had been a countryman of mine there would have been lessmarvel. But here is none of the sadness of decay — none of thewithering — if the tokens of old age are seen at all it is inthe majestic honours that crown a glorious life — the gracesof a matured and ripened character. This has nothing incommon, Rossitur, with those dull moralists who are alwaysdinning decay and death into one's ears; this speaks of Life. Instead of freezing all one's hopes and energies, it quickensthe pulse with the desire to _do_. — 'The saddest of the year' —Bryant was wrong. "

"Bryant? — oh!" — said young Rossitur; "I didn't know who youwere speaking of. "

"I believe, now I think of it, he was writing of a somewhatlater time of the year, — I don't know how all this will lookin November. "

"I think it is very pleasant in November, " said little Fleda, sedately. 

"Don't you know Bryant's 'Death of the Flowers, ' Rossitur?"said his friend, smiling. "What have you been doing all yourlife?"

"Not studying the fine arts at West Point, Mr. Carleton. "

"Then sit down here, and let me mend that place in youreducation. Sit down! and I'll give you something better thanwoodcock. You keep a game-bag for thoughts, don't you?"

Mr. Rossitur wished Mr. Carleton didn't. But he sat down, however, and listened with an unedified face; while hisfriend, more to please himself, it must be confessed, than forany other reason, and perhaps with half a notion to try Fleda, repeated the beautiful words. He presently saw they were notlost upon one of his hearers; she listened intently. 

"It is very pretty, " said Rossitur, when he had done. "Ibelieve I have seen it before somewhere. "

"There is no 'smoky light' to-day, " said Fleda. 

"No, " said Mr. Carleton, smiling to himself. "Nothing but thatcould improve the beauty of all this, Miss Fleda. "

"_I_ like it better as it is, " said Fleda. 

"I am surprised at that, " said young Rossitur. "I thought youlived on smoke. "

There was nothing in the words, but the tone was not exactlypolite. Fleda granted him neither smile nor look. 

"I am glad you like it up here, " she went on, gravely doingthe honours of the place. "I came this way because weshouldn't have so many fences to climb. "

"You are the best little guide possible, and I have no doubtwould always lead one the right way, " said Mr. Carleton. 

Again the same gentle, kind, _appreciating_ look. Fledaunconsciously drew a step nearer. There was a certainundefined confidence established between them. 

"There's a little brook down there in spring, " said she, pointing to a small, grass-grown water-course in the meadow, hardly discernible from the height, — "but there's no water init now. It runs quite full for a while after the snow breaksup; but it dries away by June or July. "

"What are those trees so beautifully tinged with red andorange, down there by the fence in the meadow?"

"I am not woodsman enough to inform you, " replied Rossitur. 

"Those are maples, " said Fleda — "sugar maples. The one allorange is a hickory. "

"How do you know?" said Mr. Carleton, turning to her. "By yourwit as a fairy?"

"I know by the colour, " said Fleda, modestly; "and by theshape too. "

"Fairy, " said Mr. Rossitur, "if you have any of the stuffabout you, I wish you would knock this gentleman over the headwith your wand, and put the spirit of moving into him. He isgoing to sit dreaming here all day. "

"Not at all, " said his friend, springing up; "I am ready foryou; but I want other game than woodcock just now, I confess. "

They walked along in silence, and had near reached theextremity of the table-land, which, towards the end of thevalley, descended into ground of a lower level covered withwoods; when Mr. Carleton, who was a little ahead, was startledby Fleda's voice, exclaiming, in a tone of distress, "Oh, notthe robins!" and turning about, perceived Mr. Rossiturstanding still with levelled gun, and just in the act toshoot. Fleda had stopped her ears. In the same instant, Mr. Carleton had thrown up the gun, demanding of Rossitur, with asingular change of expression — "what he meant!"

"Mean?" said the young gentleman, meeting with an astonishedface the indignant fire of his companion's eyes — "why, I meannot to meddle with other people's guns, Mr. Carleton. What do_you_ mean?"

"Nothing, but to protect myself. "

"Protect yourself!" said Rossitur, heating as the other cooled— "from what, in the name of wonder?"

"Only from having my word blown away by your fire, " saidCarleton, smiling. "Come, Rossitur, recollect yourself —remember our compact. "

"Compact! one isn't bound to keep compacts with unearthlypersonages, " said Rossitur, half sulkily and half angrily;"and besides, I made none. "

Mr. Carleton turned from him very coolly, and walked on. 

They left the table-land and the wood, entered the valleyagain, and passed through a large orchard, the last of thesuccession of fields which stretched along it. Beyond thisorchard the ground rose suddenly, and on the steep hill-sidethere had been a large plantation of Indian corn. The corn washarvested, but the ground was still covered with numberlesslittle stacks of the cornstalks. Halfway up the hill stoodthree ancient chestnut-trees; veritable patriarchs of the nuttribe they were, and respected and esteemed as patriarchsshould be. 

"There are no 'dropping nuts' to-day, either, " said Fleda, towhom the sight of her forest friends in the distance probablysuggested the thought, for she had not spoken for some time. "I suppose there hasn't been frost enough yet. "

"Why, you have a good memory, Fairy, " said Mr. Carleton. "Doyou give the nuts leave to fall of themselves?"

"Oh, sometimes grandpa and I go a nutting, " said the littlegirl, getting lightly over the fence — "but we haven't beenthis year. "

"Then it is a pleasure to come yet?"

"No, " said Fleda, quietly; "the trees near the house have beenstripped; and the only other nice place there is for us to goto, Mr. Didenhover let the Shakers have the nuts. I sha'n'tget any this year. "

"Live in the woods and not get any nuts! that wont do, Fairy. Here are some fine chestnuts we are coming to — what shouldhinder our reaping a good harvest from these?"

"I don't think there will be any on them, " said Fleda; "Mr. Didenhover has been here lately with the men getting in thecorn; I guess they have cleared the trees. "

"Who is Mr. Didenhover?"

"He is grandpa's man. "

"Why didn't you bid Mr. Didenhover let the nuts alone?"

"Oh, he wouldn't mind if he was told, " said Fleda. "He doeseverything just as he has a mind to, and nobody can hinderhim. Yes, they've cleared the trees — I thought so. "

"Don't you know of any other trees that are out of this Mr. Didenhover's way?"

"Yes, " said Fleda; "I know a place where there used to bebeautiful hickory trees, and some chestnuts too, I think; butit is too far off for grandpa, and I couldn't go there alone. This is the twenty-acre lot, " said she, looking, though shedid not say it, "Here I leave you. "

"I am glad to hear it, " said her cousin. "Now give us ourdirections, Fleda, and thank you for your services. "

"Stop a minute, " said Mr. Carleton. "What if you and I shouldtry to find those same hickory-trees, Miss Fleda? Will youtake me with you — or is it too long a walk?"

"For me? — oh no!" said Fleda, with a face of awakening hope;"but, " she added, timidly, "you were going a shooting, Sir?"

"What on earth are you thinking of, Carleton?" said youngRossitur. " Let the nuts and Fleda alone, do!"

"By your leave, Mr. Rossitur, " said Carleton. "My murderousintents have all left me, Miss Fleda; I suppose your wand hasbeen playing about me, and I should like nothing better thanto go with you over the hills this morning. I have been anutting many a time in my own woods at home, and I want to tryit for once in the New World. Will you take me?"

"Oh, thank you, Sir!" said Fleda; " but we have passed theturning a long way; we must go back ever so far the same waywe came to get to the place where we turn off to go up themountain. "

"I don't wish for a prettier way — if it isn't so far as totire you, Fairy?"

"Oh, it wont tire me!" said Fleda, overjoyed. 

"Carleton!" exclaimed young Rossitur. "Can you be so absurd!Lose this splendid day for the woodcock, when we may not haveanother while we are here!"

"You are not a true sportsman, Mr. Rossitur, " said the other, coolly, "or you would know what it is to have some sympathywith the sports of others. But _you_ will have the day for thewoodcock, and bring us home a great many, I hope. Miss Fleda, suppose we give this impatient young gentleman his orders anddespatch him. "

"I thought you were more of a sportsman, " said the vexed WestPointer, — "or your sympathy would be with me. "

"I tell you the sporting mania was never stronger on me, " saidthe other, carelessly. "Something less than a rifle, however, will do to bring down the game I am after. We will rendezvousat the little village over yonder, unless I go home beforeyou, which I think is more probable. Au revoir!"

With careless gracefulness he saluted his disconcertedcompanion, who moved off with ungraceful displeasure. Fledaand Mr. Carleton then began to follow back the road they hadcome, in the highest good humour both. Her sparkling face toldhim with even greater emphasis than her words, "I am so much obliged to you, Sir. "

"How you go over fences!" said he, — "like a sprite, as youare. "

"Oh, I have climbed a great many, " said Fleda, accepting, however, again with that infallible instinct, the help whichshe did not need. — "I shall be so glad to get some nuts, forI thought I wasn't going to have any this year; and it is sopleasant to have them to crack in the long winter evenings. "

"You must find them long evenings indeed, I should think. "

"Oh no, we don't, " said Fleda. "I didn't mean they were longin _that_ way. Grandpa cracks the nuts, and I pick them out, andhe tells me stories; and then you know he likes to go to bedearly. The evenings never seem long. "

"But you are not always cracking nuts. "

"Oh no, to be sure not; but there are plenty of other pleasantthings to do. I dare say grandpa would have bought some nuts, but I had a great deal rather have those we get ourselves, andthen the fun of getting them, besides, is the best part. "

Fleda was tramping over the ground at a furious rate. 

"How many do you count upon securing to-day?" said Mr. Carleton, gravely. 

"I don't know, " said Fleda, with a business face, — "there area good many trees, and fine large ones, and I don't believeanybody has found them out — they are so far out of the way;there ought to be a good parcel of nuts. "

"But, " said Mr. Carleton, with perfect gravity, "if we shouldbe lucky enough to find a supply for your winter's store, itwould be too much for you and me to bring home, Miss Fleda, unless you have a broomstick in the service of fairydom. "

"A broomstick!" said Fleda. 

"Yes, — did you never hear of the man who had a broomstickthat would fetch pails of water at his bidding?"

"No, " said Fleda, laughing. "What a convenient broomstick! Iwish we had one. But I know what I can do, Mr. Carleton, — ifthere should be too many nuts for us to bring home, I can takeCynthy afterwards and get the rest of them. Cynthy and I couldgo — grandpa couldn't, even if he was as well as usual, forthe trees are in a hollow away over on the other side of themountain. It's a beautiful place. "

"Well, " said Mr. Carleton, smiling curiously to himself, "inthat case I shall be even of more use than I had hoped. Butshan't we want a basket, Miss Fleda?"

"Yes, indeed, " said Fleda, — "a good large one — I am going torun down to the house for it as soon as we get to the turning-off place, if you'll be so good as to sit down and wait forme, Sir, — I wont be long after it. "

"No, " said he; "I will walk with you and leave my gun in safequarters. You had better not travel so fast, or I am afraidyou will never reach the hickory-trees. "

Fleda smiled, and said there was no danger, but she slackenedher pace, and they proceeded at a more reasonable rate tillthey reached the house. 

Mr. Carleton would not go in, placing his gun in an outershelter. Fleda dashed into the kitchen, and after a fewminutes' delay came out again with a huge basket, which Mr. Carleton took from her without suffering his inward amusementto reach his face, and a little tin pail which she kept underher own guardianship. In vain Mr. Carleton offered to take itwith the basket, or even to put it in the basket, where heshowed her it would go very well; it must go nowhere but inFleda's own hand. 

Fleda was in restless haste till they had passed over thealready twice-trodden ground and entered upon the mountainroad. It was hardly a road; in some places a beaten track wasvisible, in others Mr. Carleton wondered how his littlecompanion found her way, where nothing but fresh-fallen leavesand scattered rocks and stones could be seen, covering thewhole surface. But her foot never faltered, her eye read way-marks where he saw none; she went on, he did not doubtunerringly, over the leaf-strewn and rock-strewn way, overridge and hollow, with a steady light swiftness that he couldnot help admiring. Once they came to a little brawling streamof spring water, hardly three inches deep anywhere, but makingquite a wide bed for itself in its bright way to the lowlands. Mr. Carleton was considering how he should contrive to get hislittle guide over it in safety, when quick, — over the littleround stones which lifted their heads above the surface of thewater, on the tips of her toes, Fleda tripped across before hehad done thinking about it. He told her he had no doubt nowthat she was a fairy, and had powers of walking that did notbelong to other people. Fleda laughed, and on her littledemure figure went picking out the way, always with thatlittle tin pail hanging at her side, like — Mr. Carletonbusied himself in finding out similes for her. It wasn't veryeasy. 

For a long distance their way was through a thick woodland, clear of underbrush and very pleasant walking, but permittingno look at the distant country. They wound about, now up hilland now down, till at last they began to ascend in goodearnest; the road became better marked, and Mr. Carleton cameup with his guide again. Both were obliged to walk moreslowly. He had overcome a good deal of Fleda's reserve, andshe talked to him now quite freely, without however losing thegrace of a most exquisite modesty in everything she said ordid. 

"What do you suppose I have been amusing myself with all thiswhile, Miss Fleda?" said he, after walking for some timealongside of her in silence. "I have been trying to fancy whatyou looked like as you travelled on before me with thatmysterious tin pail. "

"Well, what _did_ I look like?" said Fleda, laughing. 

"Little Red Riding-Hood, the first thing, carrying hergrandmother the pot of butter. "

"Ah, but I haven't got any butter in this, as it happens, "said Fleda; "and I hope you are not anything like the wolf, Mr. Carleton?"

"I hope not, " said he, laughing. "Well, then, I thought youmight be one of those young ladies the fairy-stories tell of, who set out over the world to seek their fortune. That mighthold, you know, a little provision to last for a day or twotill you found it. "

"No, " said Fleda, — "I should never go to seek my fortune. "

"Why not, pray?"

"I don't think I should find it any the sooner. "

Mr. Carleton looked at her, and could not make up his mindwhether or not she spoke wittingly. 

Well, but after all, are we not seeking our fortune?" said he. "We are doing something very like it. Now up here on themountain-top perhaps we shall find only empty trees — perhapstrees with a harvest of nuts on them. "

"Yes, but that wouldn't be like finding a fortune, " saidFleda; — "if we were to come to a great heap of nuts allpicked out ready for us to carry away, _that_ would be afortune; but now if we find the trees full, we have got toknock them down, and gather them up, and shuck them. "

"Make our own fortunes, eh?" said Mr. Carleton, smiling. 

"Well! people do say those are the sweetest nuts. I don't knowhow it may be. Ha! that is fine. What an atmosphere!"

They had reached a height of the mountain that cleared them aview, and over the tops of the trees they looked abroad to avery wide extent of country undulating with hill and vale, —hill and valley alike far below at their feet. Fair and rich, — the gently swelling hills, one beyond another, in thepatchwork dress of their many-coloured fields, — the gay huesof the woodland softened and melted into a rich autumn glow, —and far away, beyond even where this glow was sobered and lostin the distance, the faint blue line of the Catskill — faint, but clear and distinct, through the transparent air. Such asky! — of such etherialized purity as if made for spirits totravel in, and tempting them to rise and free themselves fromthe soil; and the stillness, — like nature's hand laid uponthe soul, bidding it think. In view of all that vastness andgrandeur, man's littleness does bespeak itself. And yet, forevery one, the voice of the scene is not more humbling topride than rousing to all that is really noble and strong incharacter. Not only "What thou art, " — but "What thou mayestbe!" What place thou oughtest to fill — what work thou hast todo, — in this magnificent world. A very extended landscape, however genial, is also sober in its effect on the mind. Oneseems to emerge from the narrowness of individual existence, and take a larger view of Life as well as of Creation. 

Perhaps Mr. Carleton felt it so, for, after his firstexpression of pleasure, he stood silently and gravely lookingfor a long time. Little Fleda's eye loved it too, but shelooked her fill, and then sat down on a stone to await hercompanion's pleasure, glancing now and then up at his face, which gave her no encouragement to interrupt him. It wasgravely, and even gloomily thoughtful. He stood so longwithout stirring, that poor Fleda began to have sad thoughtsof the possibility of gathering all the nuts from the hickory-trees, and she heaved a very gentle sigh once or twice; butthe dark blue eye which she with reason admired, remainedfixed on the broad scene below, as if it were reading, ortrying to read there a difficult lesson. And when at last heturned and began to go up the path again, he kept the sameface, and went moodily swinging his arm up and down, as if indisturbed thought. Fleda was too happy to be moving to carefor her companion's silence; she would have compounded for nomore conversation, so they might but reach the nut-trees. Butbefore they had got quite so far, Mr. Carleton broke thesilence, speaking in precisely the same tone and manner he hadused the last time. 

"Look here, Fairy, " said he, pointing to a small heap ofchestnut burs piled at the foot of a tree — "here's a littlefortune for you already. "

"That's a squirrel!" said Fleda, looking at the place veryattentively. "There has been nobody else here. He has put themtogether, ready to be carried off to his nest. "

"We'll save him that trouble, " said Mr. Carleton. "Littlerascal! he's a Didenhover in miniature. "

"Oh, no!" said Fleda; "he had as good a right to the nuts, Iam sure, as we have, poor fellow. — Mr. Carleton —"

Mr. Carleton was throwing the nuts into the basket. At theanxious and undecided tone in which his name was pronounced, he stopped, and looked up at a very wistful face. 

"Mightn't we leave these nuts till we come back? If we findthe trees over here full, we shan't want them; and if wedon't, these would be only a handful —"

"And the squirrel would be disappointed?" said Mr. Carleton, smiling. "You would rather we should leave them to him!"

Fleda said yes, with a relieved face, and Mr. Carleton, stillsmiling, emptied his basket of the few nuts he had put in, andthey walked on. 

In a hollow, rather a deep hollow, behind the crest of thehill, as Fleda had said, they came at last to a noble group oflarge hickory-trees, with one or two chestnuts standing inattendance on the outskirts. And, also, as Fleda had said, orhoped, the place was so far from convenient access, thatnobody had visited them; they were thick hung with fruit. Ifthe spirit of the game had been wanting or failing in Mr. Carleton, it must have roused again into full life at thejoyous heartiness of Fleda's exclamations. At any rate, no boycould have taken to the business better. He cut, with herpermission, a stout long pole in the woods; and swinginghimself lightly into one of the trees, showed that he was amaster in the art of whipping them. Fleda was delighted, butnot surprised; for, from the first moment of Mr. Carleton'sproposing to go with her, she had been privately sure that hewould not prove an inactive or inefficient ally. By whateverslight tokens she might read this, in whatsoever finecharacters of the eye, or speech, or manner, she knew it; andknew it just as well before they reached the hickory-trees asshe did afterwards. 

When one of the trees was well stripped, the young gentlemanmounted into another, while Fleda set herself to hull andgather up the nuts under the one first beaten. She could makebut little headway, however, compared with her companion; thenuts fell a great deal faster than she could put them in herbasket. The trees were heavy laden, and Mr. Carleton seemeddetermined to have the whole crop; from the second tree hewent to the third. Fleda was bewildered with her happiness;this was doing business in style. She tried to calculate whatthe whole quantity would be, but it went beyond her; onebasketful would not take it, nor two, nor three, — it wouldn't_begin to_, Fleda said to herself. She went on hulling andgathering with all possible industry. 

After the third tree was finished, Mr. Carleton threw down hispole, and resting himself upon the ground at the foot, toldFleda he would wait a few moments before he began again.. Fleda thereupon left off her work too, and going for herlittle tin pail, presently offered it to him temptinglystocked with pieces of apple-pie. When he had smilingly takenone, she next brought him a sheet of white paper, with slicesof young cheese. 

"No, thank you, " said he. 

"Cheese is very good with apple-pie, " said Fleda, competently. 

"Is it?" said he laughing. "Well — upon that — I think youwould teach me a good many things, Miss Fleda, if I were tostay here long enough. "

"I wish you would stay and try, Sir, " said Fleda, who did notknow exactly what to make of the shade of seriousness whichcrossed his face. It was gone almost instantly. 

"I think anything is better eaten out in the woods than it isat home, " said Fleda. 

"Well, I don't know, " said her friend. "I have no doubt thatis the case with cheese and apple-pie, and especially underhickory trees which one has been contending with prettysharply. If a touch of your wand, Fairy, could transform oneof these shells into a goblet of Lafitte, or Amontillado, weshould have nothing to wish for. "

'Amontillado' was Hebrew to Fleda, but 'goblet' wasintelligible. 

"I am sorry!" she said; "I don't know where there is anyspring up here, but we shall come to one going down themountain. "

"Do you know where all the springs are?"

"No, not all, I suppose, " said Fleda; "but I know a good many. I have gone about through the woods so much, and I always lookfor the springs. "

"And who roams about through the woods with you?"

"Oh, nobody but grandpa, " said Fleda. "He used to be out withme a great deal, but he can't go much now — this year or two. "

"Don't you go to school?"

"O no!" said Fleda, smiling. 

"Then your grandfather teaches you at home?"

"No, " said Fleda; father used to teach me; grandpa doesn'tteach me much. "

"What do you do with yourself all day long?"

"O, plenty of things, " said Fleda, smiling again. "I read, andtalk to grandpa, and go riding, and do a great many things. "

"Has your home always been here, Fairy?" said Mr. Carleton, after a few minutes' pause. 

Fleda said, "No, Sir, " and there stopped; and then seeming tothink that politeness called upon her to say more, she added —

"I have lived with grandpa ever since father left me here, when he was going away among the Indians; I used to be alwayswith him before. "

"And how long ago is that?"

"It is — four years, Sir; more, I believe. He was sick when hecame back, and we never went away from Queechy again. "

Mr. Carleton looked again silently at the child, who had givenhim these pieces of information with a singular, gravepropriety of manner; and even as it were reluctantly. 

"And what do you read, Fairy?" he said, after a minute. "Stories of fairy-land?"

"No, " said Fleda; "I haven't any. We haven't a great manybooks — there are only a few up in the cupboard, and theEncyclopaedia; father had some books, but they are locked upin a chest. But there is a great deal in the Encyclopaedia. "

"The Encyclopaedia!" said Mr. Carleton; — "what do you read inthat? what can you find to like there?"

"I like all about the insects, and birds, and animals; andabout flowers, — and lives of people, and curious things. There are a great many in it. "

"And what are the other books in the cupboard, which youread?"

"There's Quentin Durward, " said Fleda, — "and Rob Roy, and GuyMannering in two little bits of volumes; and theKnickerbocker, and the Christian's Magazine, and an odd volumeof Redgauntlet, and the Beauties of Scotland. "

"And have you read all these, Miss Fleda?" said her companion, commanding his countenance with difficulty. 

"I haven't read quite all of the Christian's Magazine, nor allof the Beauties of Scotland. "

"All the rest. "

"O yes, " said Fleda, — "and two or three times over. And thereare three great red volumes besides, Robertson's History ofsomething, I believe. I haven't read that either. "

"And which of them all do you like the best?"

"I don't know, " said Fleda, — "I don't know but I like to readthe Encyclopaedia as well as any of them. And then I have thenewspapers to read too. "

"I think, Miss Fleda, " said Mr. Carleton, a minute after, "youhad better let me take you with my mother over the sea, whenwe go back again, — to Paris. "

"Why, Sir?"

"You know, " said he, half smiling, "your aunt wants you, andhas engaged my mother to bring you with her, if she can. "

"I know it, " said Fleda. "But I am not going. "

It was spoken not rudely, but in a tone of quietdetermination. 

"Aren't you too tired, Sir?" said she gently, when she saw Mr. Carleton preparing to launch into the remaining hickory trees. 

"Not I!" said he. "I am not tired till I have done, Fairy. Andbesides, cheese is working man's fare, you know, isn't it?"

"No, " said Fleda, gravely, — "I don't think it is. "

"What then?" said Mr. Carleton, stopping as he was about tospring into the tree, and looking at her with a face ofcomical amusement. 

"It isn't what our men live on, " said Fleda, demurely eyeingthe fallen nuts, with a head full of business. 

They set both to work again with renewed energy, and restednot till the treasures of the trees had been all brought tothe ground, and as large a portion of them as could be coaxedand shaken into Fleda's basket, had been cleared from thehulls and bestowed there. But there remained a vast quantity. These with a good deal of labour, Mr. Carleton and Fledagathered into a large heap in rather a sheltered place by theside of a rock, and took what measures they might to concealthem. This was entirely at Fleda's instance

"You and your maid Cynthia will have to make a good manyjourneys, Miss Fleda, to get all these home, unless you canmuster a larger basket. "

"O _that_'s nothing, " said Fleda. "It will be all fun. I don'tcare how many times we have to come. You are _very_ good, Mr. Carleton. "

"Do you think so?" said he. "I wish I did. I wish you wouldmake your wand rest on me, Fairy. "

"My wand?" said Fleda. 

"Yes — you know your grandfather says you are a fairy, andcarry a wand. What does he say that for, Miss Fleda?"

Fleda said she supposed it was because he loved her so much;but the rosy smile with which she said it would have let herhearer, if he had needed enlightening, far more into thesecret than she was herself. And if the simplicity in her facehad not been equal to the wit, Mr. Carleton would never haveventured the look of admiration he bestowed on her. He knew itwas safe. _Approbation_ she saw, and it made her smile therosier; but the admiration was a step beyond her; Fleda couldmake nothing of it. 

They descended the mountain now with a hasty step, for the daywas wearing well on. At the spot where he had stood so longwhen they went up, Mr. Carleton paused again for a minute. Inmountain scenery every hour makes a change. The sun was lowernow, the lights and shadows more strongly contrasted, the skyof a yet calmer blue, cool and clear towards the horizon. Thescene said still the same that it had said a few hours before, with a touch more of sadness; it seemed to whisper, "Allthings have an end — thy time may not be for ever — do whatthou wouldest do — 'while ye have light, believe in the light, that ye may be children of the light. ' "

Whether Mr. Carleton read it so or not, he stood for a minutemotionless, and went down the mountain looking so grave, thatFleda did not venture to speak to him till they reached theneighbourhood of the spring. 

"What are you searching for, Miss Fleda?" said her friend. 

She was making a busy quest here and there by the side of thelittle stream. 

"I was looking to see if I could find a mullein leaf, " saidFleda. 

"A mullein leaf? what do you want it for?"

"I want it — to make a drinking-cup of, " said Fleda, herintent bright eyes peering keenly about in every direction. 

"A mullein leaf! that is too rough; one of these golden leaves— what are they? — will do better, wont it?"

"That is hickory, " said Fleda. " No; the mullein leaf is thebest because it holds the water so nicely. — Here it is. "

And folding up one of the largest leaves into a most artist-like cup, she presented it to Mr. Carleton. 

"For me was all that trouble?" said he. "I don't deserve it. "

"You wanted something, Sir, " said Fleda. "The water is verycold and nice. "

He stooped to the bright little stream, and filled his ruralgoblet several times. 

"I never knew what it was to have a fairy for my cup-bearerbefore, " said he. "That was better than anything Bordeaux orXeres ever sent forth. "

He seemed to have swallowed his seriousness, or thrown it awaywith the mullein leaf. It was quite gone. 

"This is the best spring in all grandpa's ground, " said Fleda. "The water is as good as can be. "

How come you to be such a wood and water spirit? you must liveout of doors. Do the trees ever talk to you? I sometimes thinkthey do to me. "

"I don't know — I think _I_ talk to _them_, " said Fleda. 

"It's the same thing, " said her companion, smiling. "Suchbeautiful woods!"

"Were you never in the country before in the fall, Sir?"

"Not here — in my own country often enough; but the woods inEngland do not put on such a gay face, Miss Fleda, when theyare going to be stripped of their summer dress — they looksober upon it — the leaves wither and grow brown, and thewoods have a dull russet colour. Your trees are true Yankees —they 'never say die. ' "

"Why are the Americans more obstinate than the English?" saidFleda. 

"It is difficult to compare unknown quantities, " said Mr. Carleton laughing, and shaking his head. "I see you have goodears for the key-note of patriotism. "

Fleda looked a little hard at him, but he did not explain; andindeed they were hurrying along too much for talking; leapingfrom stone to stone, and running down the smooth orchardslope. When they reached the last fence, but a little way fromthe house, Fleda made a resolute pause. 

"Mr. Carleton, " — said she. 

Mr. Carleton put down his basket, and looked in some surpriseat the hesitating anxious little face that looked up at him. 

"Wont you please not say anything to grandpa about my goingaway?"

"Why not, Fairy?" said he, kindly. 

"Because I don't think I ought to go. "

"But may it not be possible, " said he, "that your grandfathercan judge better in the matter than you can do?"

"No, " said Fleda, "I don't think he can. He would do anythinghe thought would be most for my happiness; but it wouldn't befor my happiness, " she said, with an unsteady lip, — "I don'tknow what he would do if I went!"

"You think he would have no sunshine if your wand didn't touchhim?" said Mr. Carleton, smiling. 

"No, Sir, " said Fleda, gravely, "I don't think that, — butwont you please, Mr. Carleton, not to speak about it?"

"But are you sure, " he said, sitting down on a stone hard by, and taking one of her hands, — "are you sure that you wouldnot like to go with us? I wish you would change your mindabout it. My mother will love you very much, and I will takethe especial charge of you till we give you to your aunt inParis; — if the wind blows a little too rough I will alwaysput myself between it and you, " he added, smiling. 

Fleda smiled faintly, but immediately begged Mr. Carleton "notto say anything to put it into her grandfather's head. "

"It must be there already, I think, Miss Fleda; but at anyrate you know my mother must perform her promise to your auntMrs. Rossitur; and she would not do that without letting yourgrandfather know how glad she would be to take you. "

Fleda stood silent a moment, and then with a touching look ofwaiting patience in her sweet face suffered Mr. Carleton tohelp her over the fence; and they went home. 

To Fleda's unspeakable surprise it was found to be past fouro'clock, and Cynthy had supper ready. Mr. Ringgan with greatcordiality invited Mr. Carleton to stay with them, but hecould not; his mother would expect him to dinner. 

"Where is your mother?"

"At Montepoole, Sir; we have been to Niagara, and came thisway on our return, partly that my mother might fulfil thepromise she made Mrs. Rossitur — to let you know, Sir, withhow much pleasure she will take charge of your littlegranddaughter, and convey her to her friends in Paris, if youcan think it best to let her go. "

"Hum! — she is very kind, " said Mr. Ringgan, with a look ofgrave and not unmoved consideration which Fleda did not in theleast like; — "How long will you stay at Montepoole Sir?"

"It might be several days, " Mr. Carleton said. 

"Hum — You have given up this day to Fleda, Mr. Carleton, —suppose you take to-morrow for the game, and come here and tryour country fare when you have got through shooting? — you andyoung Mr. Rossitur? — and I'll think over this question andlet you know about it. "

Fleda was delighted to see that her friend accepted thisinvitation with apparent pleasure. 

"You will be kind enough to give my respects to your mother, "Mr. Ringgan went on, "and thanks for her kind offer. I mayperhaps — I don't know — avail myself of it. If anythingshould bring Mrs. Carleton this way we should like to see her. I am glad to see my friends, " he said, shaking the younggentleman's hand, — "as long as I have a house to ask 'em to!"

"That will be for many years, I trust, " said Mr. Carleton, respectfully, struck with something in the old gentleman'smanner. 

"I don't know, Sir!" said Mr. Ringgan, with again thedignified look of trouble: — " it may not be! — I wish yougood day, Sir. "

CHAPTER IV. 

A mind that in a calm angelic moodOf happy wisdom, meditating good, Beholds, of all from her high powers required, Much done, and much designed, and more desired. —WORDSWORTH. 

"I've had such a delicious day, dear grandpa, " said littleFleda, as they sat at supper; "you can't think how kind Mr. Carleton has been. "

"Has he? Well, dear, I'm glad on't; he seems a very nice youngman. "

"He's a smart-looking feller, " said Cynthy, who was pouringout the tea. 

"And we have got the greatest quantity of nuts!" Fleda wenton; "enough for all winter. Cynthy and I will have to makeever so many journeys to fetch 'em all; and they are splendidbig ones. Don't you say anything to Mr. Didenhover, Cynthy. "

"I don't desire to meddle with Mr. Didenhover unless I've gotto, " said Cynthy, with an expression of considerable disgust. "You needn't give no charges to me. "

"But you'll go with me, Cynthy?"

"I s'pose I'll have to, " said Miss Gall, drily, after a shortinterval of sipping tea and helping herself to sweet-meats. 

This lady had a pervading acidity of face and temper, but itwas no more. To take her name as standing for a fair settingforth of her character would be highly injurious to a reallyrespectable composition, which the world's neglect (there wasno other imaginable cause) had soured a little. 

Almost Fleda's first thought on coming home had been about Mr. Jolly. But she knew very well, without asking, that he had notbeen there; she would not touch the subject. 

"I haven't had such a fine day of nutting in a great while, grandpa, " she said again; "and you never saw such a good handas Mr. Carleton is at whipping the trees. "

"How came he to go with you?"

"I don't know; I suppose it was to please me, in the firstplace; but I am sure he enjoyed it himself; and he liked thepie and cheese, too, Cynthy. "

"Where did your cousin go?"

"O, he went off after the woodcock. I hope he didn't findany. "

"What do you think of those two young men, Fairy?"

"In what way, grandpa?"

"I mean, which of them do you like the best?"

"Mr. Carleton. "

"But t'other one's your cousin, " said Mr. Ringgan, bendingforward and examining his little granddaughter's face with acurious, pleased look, as he often did when expecting ananswer from her. 

"Yes, " said Fleda; "but he isn't so much of a gentleman. "

"How do you know that?"

"I don't think he is, " said Fleda, quietly. 

"But why, Fairy?"

"He doesn't know how to keep his word as well, grandpa. "

"Ay, ay? let's hear about that, " said Mr. Ringgan. 

A little reluctantly, for Cynthia was present, Fleda told thestory of the robins, and how Mr. Carleton would not let thegun be fired. 

"Wa'n't your cousin a little put out by that?"

"They were both put out, " said Fleda; "Mr. Carleton was veryangry for a minute, and then Mr. Rossitur was angry, but Ithink he could have been angrier if he had chosen. "

Mr. Ringgan laughed, and then seemed in a sort of amusedtriumph about something. 

"Well, dear!" he remarked after a while; "you'll never buywooden nutmegs, I expect. "

Fleda laughed, and hoped not, and asked him why he said so. But he didn't tell her. 

"Mr. Ringgan, " said Cynthy, "hadn't I better run up the hillafter supper, and ask Mis' Plumfield to come down and help to-morrow? I s'pose you'll want considerable of a set-out; and ifboth them young men comes, you'll want some more help toentertain 'em than I can give you, it's likely. "

"Do so — do so, " said the old gentleman. "Tell her who Iexpect, and ask her if she can come and help you, and me too. "

"O, and I'll go with you, Cynthy, " said Fleda. "I'll get auntMiriam to come, I know. "

"I should think you'd be run off your legs already, Flidda, "said Miss Cynthia; " what ails you to want to be going again?"

But this remonstrance availed nothing. Supper was hurriedthrough, and leaving the table standing, Cynthia and Fleda setoff to "run up the hill. "

They were hardly a few steps from the gate when they heard theclatter of horses' hoofs behind them, and the two younggentlemen came riding hurriedly past, having joined companyand taken their horses at Queechy Run. Rossitur did not seemto see his little cousin and her companion; but the doffed capand low inclination of the other rider as they flew by calledup a smile and blush of pleasure to Fleda's face; and thesound of their horses' hoofs had died away in the distance, before the light had faded from her cheeks, or she was quiteat home to Cynthia's observations. She was possessed with thefeeling, what a delightful thing it was to have people dothings in such a manner. 

"That was your cousin, wa'n't it?" said Cynthy, when the spellwas off. 

"No, " said Fleda, "the other one was my cousin. "

"Well — I mean one of them fellers that went by. He's asoldier, ain't he?"

"An officer, " said Fleda. 

"Well, it does give a man an elegant look to be in themilitie, don't it? I should admire to have a cousin like that. It's dreadful becoming to have that — what is it they call it?— to let the beard grow over the mouth. I s'pose they can't dothat without they be in the army, can they?"

"I don't know, " said Fleda. "I hope not. I think it is veryugly. "

"Do you? Oh! I admire it. It makes a man look so spry!"

A few hundred yards from Mr. Ringgan's gate the road began towind up a very long heavy hill. Just at the hill's foot, itcrossed by a rude bridge the bed of a noisy brook that cameroaring down from the higher grounds turning sundry mill andfactory wheels in its way. About half-way up the hill one ofthese was placed, belonging to a mill for sawing boards. Thelittle building stood alone, no other in sight, with a darkbackground of wood rising behind it on the other side of thebrook; the stream itself running smoothly for a small spaceabove the mill, and leaping down madly below, as if itdisdained its bed, and would clear at a bound every impedimentin its way to the sea. When the mill was not going, thequantity of water that found its way down the hill was indeedvery small, enough only to keep up a pleasant chattering withthe stones; but as soon as the stream was allowed to gatherall its force and run free, its loquacity was such that itwould prevent a traveller from suspecting his approach to themill, until, very near, the monotonous hum of its saw could beheard. This was a place Fleda dearly loved. The wild sound ofthe waters, and the lonely keeping of the scene, with thedelicious smell of the new-sawn boards, and the fascination ofseeing the great logs of wood walk up to the relentless, tireless, up-and-down-going steel; as the generations of menin turn present themselves to the course of those sharp eventswhich are the teeth of Time's saw; until all of a sudden themaster spirit, the man regulator of this machinery, wouldperform some conjuration on lever and wheel, and at once, asat the touch of an enchanter, the log would be still and thesaw stay its work; the business of life came to a stand, andthe romance of the little brook sprang up again. Fleda nevertired of it — never. She would watch the saw play and stop, and go on again; she would have her ears dinned with thehoarse clang of the machinery, and then listen to the laugh ofthe mill-stream; she would see with untiring patience oneboard after another cut and cast aside, and log succeed tolog; and never turned weary away from that mysterious image ofTime's doings. Fleda had, besides, without knowing it, the eyeof a painter. In the lonely hill-side, the odd-shaped littlemill, with its accompaniments of wood and water, and the greatlogs of timber lying about the ground in all directions andvarieties of position, there was a picturesque charm for her, where the country people saw nothing but business and a placefit for it. Their hands grew hard where her mind was refining. Where they made dollars and cents, she was growing rich instores of thought and associations of beauty. How manypurposes the same thing serves!

"That had ought to be your grandpa's mill this minute, "observed Cynthy. 

"I wish it was!" sighed Fleda. "Who's got it now, Cynthy?"

"O, it's that chap McGowan, I expect; he's got pretty much thehull of everything. I told Mr. Ringgan I wouldn't let him haveit if it was me, at the time. Your grandpa 'd be glad to getit back now, I guess. "

Fleda guessed so too; but also guessed that Miss Gall wasprobably very far from being possessed of the whole rationaleof the matter. So she made her no answer. 

After reaching the brow of the hill, the road continued on avery gentle ascent towards a little settlement half a quarterof a mile off; passing, now and then, a few scatteredcottages, or an occasional mill or turner's shop. Severalmills and factories, with a store and a very few dwelling-houses, were all the settlement; not enough to entitle it tothe name of a village. Beyond these and the millponds, ofwhich in the course of the road there were three or four, andwith a brief intervening space of cultivated fields, a singlefarmhouse stood alone; just upon the borders of a large andvery fair sheet of water, from which all the others had theirsupply; so large and fair, that nobody cavilled at its takingthe style of a lake, and giving its own pretty name ofDeepwater both to the settlement and the farm that halfembraced it. This farm was Seth Plumfield's. 

At the garden gate Fleda quitted Cynthy, and rushed forward tomeet her aunt, whom she saw coming round the corner of thehouse, with her gown pinned up behind her, from attending tosome domestic concern among the pigs, the cows, or thepoultry. 

"O, aunt Miriam, " said Fleda, eagerly, "we are going to havecompany to tea to-morrow — wont you come and help us?"

Aunt Miriam laid her hands upon Fleda's shoulders, and lookedat Cynthy. 

"I came up to see if you wouldn't come down to-morrow, Mis'Plumfield, " said that personage, with her usual dry, businesstone, always a little on the wrong side of sweet; "yourbrother has taken a notion to ask two young fellers from thePool to supper, and they're grand folks, I s'pose, and havegot to have a fuss made for 'em. I don't know what Mr. Ringganwas thinkin' of, or whether he thinks I have got anything todo or not; but anyhow, they're a comin', I s'pose, and musthave somethin' to eat; and I thought the best thing I could dowould be to come and get you into the works, if I could. Ishould feel a little queer to have nobody but me to saynothin' to them at the table. "

"Ah, do come, aunt Miriam!" said Fleda; "it will be twice aspleasant if you do; and besides, we want to have everythingvery nice, you know. "

Aunt Miriam smiled at Fleda, and inquired of Miss Gall whatshe had in the house. 

"Why, I don't know, Mis' Plumfield, " said the lady, whileFleda threw her arms round her aunt, and thanked her; "thereain't nothin' particler — pork and beef, and the old story. I've got some first-rate pickles. I calculated to make somesort o' cake in the morning. "

"Any of those small hams left?"

"Not a bone of 'em, these six weeks. _I_ don't see how they'vegone, for my part. I'd lay any wager there were two in thesmoke-house when I took the last one out. If Mr. Didenhoverwas a little more like a weasel I should think he'd been in. "

"Have you cooked that roaster I sent down. "

"No, Mis' Plumfield, I ha'n't; it's such a plaguy sight oftrouble!" said Cynthy, with a little apologetic giggle; "I waskeepin' it for some day when I hadn't much to do. "

"I'll take the trouble of it. L'll be down bright and early inthe morning, and we'll see what's best to do. How's your lastchurning, Cynthy?"

"Well, I guess it's pretty middlin', Mis' Plumfield. "

" 'T isn't anything very remarkable, aunt Miriam, " said Fleda, shaking her head. 

"Well, well, " said Mrs. Plumfield, smiling; "run away downhome now, and I'll come to-morrow, and I guess we'll fix it. But who is it that grandpa has asked?"

Fleda and Cynthy both opened at once. 

"One of them is my cousin, aunt Miriam, that was at WestPoint, and the other is the nicest English gentleman you eversaw; you will like him very much; he has been with me gettingnuts all to-day. "

"They're a smart enough couple of chaps, " said Cynthia; "theylook as if they lived where money was plenty. "

"Well, I'll come to-morrow, " repeated Mrs. Plumfield, "andwe'll see about it. Good night, dear!"

She took Fleda's head in both her hands, and gave her a mostaffectionate kiss; and the two petitioners set off homewardsagain. 

Aunt Miriam was not at all like her brother, in feature, though the moral characteristics suited the relationshipsufficiently well. There was the expression of strong senseand great benevolence; the unbending uprightness of mind andbody at once; and the dignity of an essentially noblecharacter, not the same as Mr. Ringgan's, but such as wellbecame his sister. She had been brought up among the Quakers, and though now, and for many years, a staunch Presbyterian, she still retained a tincture of the calm efficient gentlenessof mind and manner that belongs so inexplicably to them. Morewomanly sweetness than was in Mr. Ringgan's blue eye, a womanneed not wish to have; and perhaps his sister's had not somuch. There was no want of it in her heart, nor in her manner, but the many and singular excellences of her character were alittle overshadowed by super-excellent housekeeping. Not ataint of the littleness that sometimes grows therefrom, — nota trace of the narrowness of mind that over-attention to suchpursuits is too apt to bring; — on every important occasionaunt Miriam would come out, free and unshackled, from all thecobweb entanglements of housewifery; she would have tossedhousewifery to the winds, if need were, (but it never was, forin a new sense she always contrived to make both ends meet). It was only in the unbroken everyday course of affairs thataunt Miriam's face showed any tokens of that incessant trainof _small cares_ which had never left their impertinentfootprints upon the broad high brow of her brother. Mr. Ringgan had no affinity with small cares; deep serious mattersreceived his deep and serious consideration; but he had asdignified a disdain of trifling annoyances or concernments asany great mastiff or Newfoundlander ever had for the yelpingof a little cur. 

CHAPTER V. 

Ynne London citye was I borne, Of parents of grete note;My fadre dydd a nobile armsEmblazon onne hys cote. CHATTERTON. 

In the snuggest and best private room of the House atMontepoole, a party of ladies and gentlemen were gathered, awaiting the return of the sportsmen. The room had been madeas comfortable as any place could be in a house built for "theseason, " after the season was past. A splendid fire of hickorylogs was burning brilliantly and making amends for manydeficiencies; the closed wooden shutters gave the reality ifnot the look of warmth, for though the days might be fine andmild, the mornings and evenings were always very cool up thereamong the mountains; and a table stood at the last point ofreadiness for having dinner served. They only waited for thelingering woodcock hunters. 

It was rather an elderly party, with the exception of oneyoung man whose age might match that of the absent two. He waswalking up and down the room with somewhat the air of havingnothing to do with himself. Another gentleman, much older, stood warming his back at the fire, feeling about his jaws andchin with one hand, and looking at the dinner-table in a sortof expectant reverie. The rest, three ladies, sat quietlychatting. All these persons were extremely different from oneanother in individual characteristics, and all had theunmistakable mark of the habit of good society; as difficultto locate, and as easy to recognise, as the sense of _freshness_which some ladies have the secret of diffusing aroundthemselves; — no definable sweetness, nothing in particular, but making a very agreeable impression. 

One of these ladies, the mother of the perambulating youngofficer, (he was a class-mate of Rossitur's, ) was extremelyplain in feature, even more than _ordinary_. This plainness wasnot, however, devoid of sense, and it was relieved by anuncommon amount of good-nature and kindness of heart. In herson the sense deepened into acuteness, and the kindness ofheart retreated, it is to be hoped, into some hidden recess ofhis nature; for it very rarely showed itself in openexpression; that is, to an eye keen in reading the naturalsigns of emotion; for it cannot be said that his manner hadany want of amenity or politeness. 

The second lady, the wife of the gentleman on the hearth-rug, or rather on the spot where the hearth-rug should have been, was a strong contrast to this mother and son; remarkablypretty, delicate, and even lovely; with a black eye, however, that though in general soft, could show a mischievous sparkleupon occasion; still young, and one of those women who alwayswere and always will be pretty and delicate at any age. 

The third had been very handsome, and was still a very elegantwoman, but her face had seen more of the world's wear andtear. It had never known placidity of expression, beyond whatthe habitual command of good-breeding imposed. She lookedexactly what she was, a perfect woman of the world. A verygood specimen, — for Mrs. Carleton had sense and cultivation, and even feeling enough, to play the part very gracefully; yether mind was bound in the shackles of "the world's" tyrannicalforging, and had never been free; and her heart bowedsubmissively to the same authority. 

"Here they are! Welcome home, " exclaimed this lady, as her sonand his friend at length made their appearance; — "Welcomehome — we are all famishing; and I don't know why in the worldwe waited for you, for I am sure you don't deserve it. Whatsuccess? What success, Mr. Rossitur?"

"Faith, Ma'am, there's little enough to boast of, as far as Iam concerned. Mr. Carleton may speak for himself. "

"I am very sorry, Ma'am, you waited for me, " said thatgentleman. "I am a delinquent, I acknowledge. The day came toan end before I was at all aware of it. "

"It would not do to flatter you so far as to tell you why wewaited, " said Mrs. Evelyn's soft voice. And then perceivingthat the gentleman at whom she was looking gave her no answer, she turned to the other. "How many woodcock, Mr. Rossitur?"

"Nothing to show, Ma'am, " he replied. "Didn't see a solitaryone. I heard some partridges, but I didn't mean to have roomin my bag for them. "

"Did you find the right ground, Rossitur?"

"I had a confounded long tramp after it if I didn't, " said thediscomfited sportsman, who did not seem to have yet recoveredhis good humour. 

"Were you not together?" said Mrs. Carleton. - "Where wereyou, Guy?"

"Following the sport another way, Ma'am; I had very goodsuccess, too. "

"What's the total?" said Mr. Evelyn. "How much game did youbag?"

"Really, Sir, I didn't count. I can only answer for a bagful. "

"Ladies and gentlemen!" cried Rossitur, bursting forth, —"What will you say when I tell you that Mr. Carleton desertedme and the sport in a most unceremonious manner, and that he, — the cynical philosopher, the reserved English gentleman, thegay man of the world, — you are all of 'em by turns, aren'tyou, Carleton? — _he!_ — has gone and made a very cavalieroservente of himself to a piece of rusticity, and spent all to-day in helping a little girl pick up chestnuts. "

"Mr. Carleton would be a better man if he were to spend a goodmany more days in the same manner, " said that gentleman, drilyenough. But the entrance of dinner put a stop to both laughterand questioning for a time, all of the party being welldisposed to their meat. 

When the pickerel from the lakes, and the poultry and half-kept joints had had their share of attention, and a pair offine wild ducks were set on the table, the tongues of theparty found something to do besides eating. 

"We have had a very satisfactory day among the Shakers, Guy, "said Mrs. Carleton; "and we have arranged to drive to Kentonto-morrow — I suppose you will go with us?"

"With pleasure, mother, but that I am engaged to dinner aboutfive or six miles in the opposite direction. "

"Engaged to dinner! — what with this old gentleman where youwent last night? And you too, Mr. Rossitur?"

"I have made no promise, Ma'am; but I take it I must go. "

"Vexatious! Is the little girl going with us, Guy?"

"I don't know yet — I half apprehend, yes; there seems to be adoubt in her grandfather's mind, not whether he can let hergo, but whether he can keep her, and that looks like it. "

"Is it your little cousin who proved the successful rival ofthe woodcock to-day, Charlton?" said Mrs. Evelyn. "What isshe?"

"I don't know, Ma'am, upon my word. I presume Carleton willtell you she is something uncommon and quite remarkable. "

"Is she, Mr. Carleton?"

"What, Ma'am?"

"Uncommon?"

"Very. "

"Come? That _is_ something, from _you_, " said Rossitur's brotherofficer, Lieut. Thorn. 

"What's the uncommonness?" said Mrs. Thorn, addressing herselfrather to Mr. Rossitur as she saw Mr. Carleton's averted eye;— "Is she handsome, Mr. Rossitur?"

"I can't tell you, I am sure, Ma'am. I saw nothing but a nicechild enough, in a calico frock, just such as one would see inany farm-house. She rushed into the room when she was firstcalled to see us, from somewhere in distant regions, with animmense iron ladle a foot and a half long in her hand, withwhich she had been performing unknown feats of housewifery;and they had left her head still encircled with a halo ofkitchen smoke. If, as they say, 'coming events cast theirshadows before, ' she was the shadow of supper. "

"O, Charlton, Charlton!" said Mrs. Evelyn, but in a tone ofvery gentle and laughing reproof, — "for shame! What apicture! and of your cousin!"

"Is she a pretty child, Guy?" said Mrs. Carleton, who did notrelish her son's grave face. 

"No, Ma'am —something more than that. "

"How old?"

"About ten or eleven. "

"That's an ugly age. "

"She will never be at an ugly age. "

"What style of beauty?"

"The highest — that degree of mould and finish which belongsonly to the finest material. "

"That is hardly the kind of beauty one would expect to see insuch a place, " said Mrs. Carleton. "From one side of herfamily, to be sure, she has a right to it. "

"I have seen very few examples of it anywhere, " said her son. 

"Who were her parents?" said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"Her mother was Mrs. Rossitur's sister — her father" —

"Amy Charlton!" exclaimed Mrs. Evelyn, — "Oh, I knew her! WasAmy Charlton her mother? O, I didn't know whom you weretalking of. She was one of my dearest friends. Her daughtermay well be handsome — she was one of the most lovely personsI ever knew; in body and mind both. O, I loved Amy Charltonvery much. I must see this child. "

"I don't know who her father was, " Mrs. Carleton went on. 

"Oh, her father was Major Ringgan, " said Mrs. Evelyn. "I neversaw him, but I have heard him spoken of in very high terms. Ialways heard that Amy married very well. "

"Major Ringgan!" said Mrs. Thorn; "his name is very wellknown; he was very distinguished. "

"He was a self-made man, entirely, " said Mrs. Evelyn, in atone that conveyed a good deal more than the simple fact. 

"Yes, he was a self-made man, " said Mrs. Thorn, "but I shouldnever think of that where a man distinguishes himself so much;he was very distinguished. "

"Yes, and for more than officer-like qualities, " said Mrs. Evelyn. "I have heard his personal accomplishments as agentleman highly praised. "

"So that little Miss Ringgan's right to be a beauty may beconsidered clearly made out, " said Mr. Thorn. 

"It is one of those singular cases, " said Mr. Carleton, "wherepurity of blood proves itself, and one has no need to go backto past generations to make any inquiry concerning it. "

"Hear him!" cried Rossitur; "and for the life of me I couldsee nothing of all this wonder. Her face is not at allstriking. "

"The wonder is not so much in what it is, as in what itindicates, " said Mr. Carleton. 

"What does it indicate?" said his mother. 

"Suppose you were to ask me to count the shades of colour in arainbow, " answered he. 

"Hear him!" cried Thorn, again. 

"Well, I hope she will go with us, and we shall have a chanceof seeing her, " said Mrs. Carleton. 

"If she were only a few years older, it is my belief you wouldsee enough of her, Ma'am, " said young Rossitur. 

The haughty coldness of Mr. Carleton's look, at this speech, could not be surpassed. 

"But she has beauty of feature, too, has she not?" Mrs. Carleton asked again of her son. 

"Yes, in very high degree. The contour of the eye and brow Inever saw finer. "

"It is a little odd, " said Mrs. Evelyn, with the slightesttouch of a piqued air, (she had some daughters at home) —"that is a kind of beauty one is apt to associate with highbreeding, and certainly you very rarely see it anywhere else;and Major Ringgan, however distinguished and estimable, as Ihave no doubt he was, — and this child must have been broughtup with no advantages, here in the country. "

"My dear madam, " said Mr. Carleton, smiling a little, "thishigh breeding is a very fine thing, but it can neither begiven nor bequeathed; and we cannot entail it. "

"But it can be taught, can't it?"

"If it could be taught, it is to be hoped it would be oftenerlearned, " said the young man, drily. 

"But what do we mean, then, when we talk of the high breedingof certain classes — and families? and why are we notdisappointed when we look to find it in connection withcertain names and positions in society?"

"I do not know, " said Mr. Carleton. 

"You don't mean to say, I suppose, Mr. Carleton, " said Thorn, bridling a little, "that it is a thing independent ofcircumstances, and that there is no value in blood?"

"Very nearly — answering the question as you understand it. "

"May I ask how you understand it?"

"As you do, Sir. "

"Is there no high breeding then in the world?" asked good-natured Mrs. Thorn, who could be touched on this point offamily. 

"There is very little of it. What is commonly current underthe name, is merely counterfeit notes which pass from hand tohand of those who are bankrupt in the article. "

"And to what serve, then, " said Mrs. Evelyn, colouring, "thelong lists of good old names which even you, Mr. Carleton, Iknow, do not disdain?"

"To endorse the counterfeit notes, " said Mr. Carleton, smiling. 

"Guy, you are absurd!" said his mother. "I will not sit at thetable and listen to you if you talk such stuff. What do youmean?"

"I beg your pardon, mother, you have misunderstood me, " saidhe, seriously. "Mind, I have been talking, not of ordinaryconformity to what the world requires, but of that fineperfection of mental and moral constitution, which, in its ownnatural necessary acting, leaves nothing to be desired, inevery occasion or circumstance of life. It is the pure gold, and it knows no tarnish; it is the true coin, and it giveswhat it proffers to give; it is the living plant everblossoming, and not the cut and art-arranged flowers. It is athing of the mind altogether; and where nature has notcuriously prepared the soil, it is in vain to try to make itgrow. _This_ is not very often met with!"

"No, indeed, " said Mrs. Carleton; " but you are sofastidiously nice in all your notions! — at this rate nothingwill ever satisfy you. "

"I don't think it is so very uncommon, " said Mrs. Thorn. "Itseems to me one sees as much of it as can be expected, Mr. Carleton. "

Mr. Carleton pared his apple with an engrossed air. 

"O no, Mrs. Thorn, " said Mrs. Evelyn, "I don't agree with you— I don't think you often see such a combination as Mr. Carleton has been speaking of — very rarely! But, Mr. Carleton, don't you think it is generally found in that classof society where the habits of life are constantly the mostpolished and refined?"

"Possibly, " answered he, diving into the core of his apple. 

"No, but tell me; I want to know what you think. "

"Cultivation and refinement have taught people to recognizeand analyze and imitate it; the counterfeits are most currentin that society; but as to the reality, I don't know; it isnature's work, and she is a little freaky about it. "

"But, Guy!" said his mother, impatiently, "this is not sellingbut giving away one's birthright. Where is the advantage ofbirth if breeding is not supposed to go along with it? Wherethe parents have had intelligence and refinement, do we notconstantly see them inherited by the children? and in anincreasing degree from generation to generation?"

"Very extraordinary!" said Mrs. Thorn. 

"I do not undervalue the blessings of inheritance, mother, believe me, nor deny the general doctrine; though intelligencedoes not always descend, and manners die out, and thatinvaluable legacy, a name, may be thrown away. But thisdelicate thing we are speaking of is not intelligence norrefinement, but comes rather from a happy combination ofqualities, together with a peculiarly fine nervousconstitution; the _essence_ of it may consist with an omission, even with an awkwardness, and with a sad ignorance ofconventionalities. "

"But even if that be so, do you think it can ever reach itsfull development but in the circumstances that are favourableto it?" said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"Probably not often; the diamond in some instances wants thegraver; — but it is the diamond. Nature seems now and then tohave taken a princess's child and dropped it in some oddcorner of the kingdom, while she has left the clown in thepalace. "

"From all which I understand, " said Mr. Thorn, "that thislittle chestnut girl is a princess in disguise. "

"Really, Carleton!" — Rossitur began. 

Mrs. Evelyn leaned back in her chair, and quietly eating apiece of apple, eyed Mr. Carleton with a look half amused andhalf discontented, and behind all that, keenly attentive. 

"Take for example those two miniatures you were looking atlast night, Mrs. Evelyn, " the young man went on; — "Louis XVI. And Marie Antoinette — what would you have more unrefined, more heavy, more _animal_, than the face of that descendant of aline of kings?"

Mrs. Evelyn bowed her head acquiescingly, and seemed to enjoyher apple. 

"_He_ had a pretty bad lot of an inheritance, sure enough, takeit all together, " said Rossitur. 

"Well, " said Thorn, — "is this little stray princess as well-looking as t'other miniature?"

"Better, in some respects, " said Mr. Carleton, coolly. 

"Better!" cried Mrs. Carleton. 

"Not in the brilliancy of her beauty, but in some of itscharacteristics; — better in its promise. "

"Make yourself intelligible, for the sake of my nerves, Guy, "said his mother. "Better looking than Marie Antoinette!"

"My unhappy cousin is said to be a fairy, Ma'am, " said Mr. Rossitur; "and I presume all this may be referred toenchantment. "

"That face of Marie Antoinette's, " said Mr. Carleton, smiling, "is an undisciplined one — uneducated. "

"Uneducated!" exclaimed Mrs. Carleton. 

"Don't mistake me, mother, — I do not mean that it shows anywant of reading or writing, but it does indicate an untrainedcharacter — a mind unprepared for the exigencies of life. "

"She met those exigencies indifferently well, too, " observedMr. Thorn. 

"Ay — but pride, and the dignity of rank, and undoubtedly someof the finer qualities of a woman's nature, might suffice forthat, and yet leave her utterly unfitted to play wisely andgracefully a part in ordinary life. "

"Well, she had no such part to play, " said Mrs. Carleton. 

"Certainly, mother — but I am comparing faces. "

"Well — the other face?"

"It has the same style of refined beauty of feature, but — tocompare them in a word, Marie Antoinette looks to me like asuperb exotic that has come to its brilliant perfection ofbloom in a hothouse — it would lose its beauty in the strongfree air — it would change and droop if it lacked carefulwaiting upon and constant artificial excitement; — the other, "said Mr. Carleton, musingly, — "is a flower of the woods, raising its head above frost and snow and the rugged soilwhere fortune has placed it, with an air of quiet patientendurance; a storm wind may bring it to the ground, easily, —but if its gentle nature be not broken, it will look up again, unchanged, and bide its time in unrequited beauty andsweetness to the end. "

"The exotic for me!" cried Rossitur, — "if I only had a placefor her. I don't like pale elegancies. "

"I'd make a piece of poetry of that if I was you, Carleton, "said Mr. Thorn. 

"Mr. Carleton has done that already, " said Mrs. Evelyn, smoothly. 

"I never heard you talk so before, Guy, " said his mother, looking at him. His eyes had grown dark with intensity ofexpression while he was speaking, gazing at visionary flowersor beauties through the dinner-table mahogany. He looked upand laughed as she addressed him, and rising, turned offlightly with his usual air. 

"I congratulate you, Mrs. Carleton, " Mrs. Evelyn whispered asthey went from the table, "that this little beauty is not afew years older. "

"Why?" said Mrs. Carleton, "If she is all that Guy says, Iwould give anything in the world to see him married. "

"Time enough, " said Mrs. Evelyn, with a knowing smile. 

"I don't know, " said Mrs. Carleton, — "I think he would behappier. He is a restless spirit — nothing satisfies him. —nothing fixes him. He cannot rest at home — he abhors politics— he flits away from country to country and doesn't remainlong anywhere. "

"And you with him. "

"And I with him. I should like to see if a wife could notpersuade him to stay at home. "

"I guess you have petted him too much, " said Mrs. Evelyn, slyly. 

"I cannot have petted him too much, for he has neverdisappointed me. "

"No, of course not; but it seems you find it difficult to leadhim. "

"No one ever succeeded in doing that, " said Mrs. Carleton, with a smile, that was anything but an ungratified one. "Henever wanted driving, and to lead him is impossible. You maytry it; and while you think you are going to gain your end, ifhe thinks it worth while, you will suddenly find that he isleading you. It is so with everybody — in some inexplicableway. "

Mrs. Evelyn thought the mystery was very easily explicable, asfar as the mother was concerned; and changed the conversation. 

CHAPTER VI. 

To them life was a simple artOf duties to be done, A game where each man took his part, A race where all must run;A battle whose great scheme and scopeThey little cared to know, Content, as men-at-arms, to copeEach with his fronting foe. MILNES. 

On so great and uncommon an occasion as Mr. Ringgan's giving adinner-party, the disused front parlour was opened and set inorder; the women-folks, as he called them, wanting the wholeback part of the house for their operations. So when thevisitors arrived, in good time, they were ushered into a largesquare, bare-looking room — a strong contrast even to theirdining-room at the Pool — which gave them nothing of thewelcome of the pleasant farm-house kitchen, and where nothingof the comfort of the kitchen found its way but a very strongsmell of roast pig. There was the cheerless air of a placewhere nobody lives, or thinks of living. The very chairslooked as if they had made up their minds to be forsaken for aterm of months; it was impossible to imagine that a cheerfulsupper had ever been laid upon the stiff, cold-looking table, that stood with its leaves down so primly against the wall. All that a blazing fire could do to make amends fordeficiencies, it did; but the wintry wind that swept round thehouse shook the paper window-shades in a remorseless way; andthe utmost efforts of said fire could not prevent it fromcoming in, and giving disagreeable, impertinent whispers atthe ears of everybody. 

Mr. Ringgan's welcome, however, was, and would have been thesame thing anywhere — genial, frank, and dignified; neither henor it could be changed by circumstances. Mr. Carleton admiredanew, as he came forward, the fine presence and noble look ofhis old host; a look that it was plain had never needed toseek the ground; a brow that in large or small things hadnever been crossed by a shadow of shame. And to a discerningeye the face was not a surer index of a lofty than of apeaceful and pure mind; too peace-loving and pure, perhaps, for the best good of his affairs in the conflict with aselfish and unscrupulous world. At least, now, in the time ofhis old age and infirmity; in former days, his straightforwardwisdom, backed by an indomitable courage and strength, hadmade Mr. Ringgan no safe subject for either braving or over-reaching. 

Fleda's keen-sighted affection was heartily gratified by themanner in which her grandfather was greeted by at least one ofhis guests, and that the one about whose opinion she cared themost. Mr. Carleton seemed as little sensible of the cold roomas Mr. Ringgan himself. Fleda felt sure that her grandfatherwas appreciated; and she would have sat delightedly listeningto what the one and the other were presently saying, if shehad not taken notice that her cousin looked _astray_. He waseyeing the fire with a profound air, and she fancied hethought it poor amusement. Little as Fleda in secret reallycared about that, with an instant sacrifice of her ownpleasure, she quietly changed her position for one from whichshe could more readily bring to bear upon Mr. Rossitur'sdistraction the very light artillery of her conversation; andattacked him on the subject of the game he had brought home. Her motive and her manner both must have been lost upon theyoung gentleman. He forthwith set about amusing himself in away his little entertainer had not counted upon, namely, withgiving a chase to her wits; partly to pass away the time, andpartly to gratify his curiosity, as he said, "to see whatFleda was made of. " By a curious system of involved, startling, or absurd questions, he endeavoured to puzzle, orconfound, or entrap her. Fleda, however, steadily presented agrave front to the enemy, and would every now and thensurprise him with an unexpected turn or clever doubling, andsometimes when he thought he had her in a corner, jump overthe fence and laugh at him from the other side. Mr. Rossitur'srespect for his little adversary gradually increased, andfinding that she had rather the best of the game, he at lastgave it up, just as Mr. Ringgan was asking Mr. Carleton if hewas a judge of stock? Mr. Carleton saying with a smile, "No, but he hoped Mr. Ringgan would give him his first lesson, " —the old gentleman immediately arose with that alacrity ofmanner he always wore when he had a visitor that pleased him, and taking his hat and cane led the way out; choosing, with aman's true carelessness of housewifery etiquette, the kitchenroute, of all others. Not even admonished by the sight of thebright Dutch oven before the fire, that he was introducing hisvisitors somewhat too early to the pig, he led the whole partythrough, Cynthia scuttling away in haste across the kitchenwith something that must not be seen, while aunt Miriam lookedout at the company through the crack of the pantry door, atwhich Fleda ventured a sly glance of intelligence. 

It was a fine though a windy and cold afternoon; the lightsand shadows were driving across the broad upland and meadows. 

"This is a fine arable country, " remarked Mr. Carleton. 

"Capital, Sir, capital, for many miles round, if we were notso far from a market. I was one of the first that broke groundin this township, — one of the very first settlers — I've seenthe rough and the smooth of it, and I never had but one mindabout it from the first. All this — as far as you can see — Icleared myself; most of it with my own hand. "

"That recollection must attach you strongly to the place, Ishould think, Sir. "

"Hum, perhaps I cared too much for it, " he replied, "for it istaken away from me. Well, it don't matter now. "

"It is not yours?"

"No, Sir! it was mine a great many years; but I was obliged topart with it, two years ago, to a scoundrel of a fellow —McGowan, up here — he got an advantage over me. I can't takecare of myself any more as I used to do, and I don't find thatother people deal by me just as I could wish —"

He was silent for a moment and then went on —

"Yes, Sir! when I first set myself down here, or a littlefurther that way, my first house was, — a pretty rough house, too, — there wa'n't two settlers beside within something liketen miles round. — I've seen the whole of it cleared, from thecutting of the first forest trees till this day. "

"You have seen the nation itself spring up within that time, "remarked his guest. 

"Not exactly — that question of our nationality was settled alittle before I came here. I was born rather too late to seethe whole of that play — I saw the best of it, though — boyswere men in those days. My father was in the thick of it frombeginning to end. "

"In the army, was he?"

"Ho, yes, Sir! he and every child he had that wasn't a girl —there wasn't a man of the name that wa'n't on the right side. I was in the army myself when I was fifteen. I was nothing buta fifer — but I tell you, Sir! there wasn't a general officerin the country that played his part with a prouder heart thanI did mine!"

"And was that the general spirit of the ranks?"

"Not altogether, " replied the old gentleman, passing his handseveral times abstractedly over his white hair, a favouritegesture with him, — "not exactly that — there was a good dealof mixture of different materials, especially in this state;and where the feeling wasn't pretty strong, it was no wonderif it got tired out; but the real stuff, the true Yankeeblood, was pretty firm! Ay, and some of the rest! There was agood deal to try men in those days. Sir, I have seen many atime when I had nothing to dine upon but my fife, and it wasmore than that could do to keep me from feeling very empty!"

"But was this a common case? did this happen often?" said Mr. Carleton. 

"Pretty often — pretty often, sometimes, " answered the oldgentleman. "Things were very much out of order, you see, andin some parts of the country it was almost impossible to getthe supplies the men needed. Nothing would have kept themtogether, — nothing under heaven — but the love and confidencethey had in one name. Their love of right and independencewouldn't have been strong enough, and besides a good many ofthem got disheartened. A hungry stomach is a pretty stoutarguer against abstract questions. I have seen my fathercrying like a child for the wants and sufferings he wasobliged to see, and couldn't relieve. "

"And then you used to relieve yourselves, grandpa, " saidFleda. 

"How was that, Fairy?"

Fleda looked at her grandfather, who gave a little preparatorylaugh, and passed his hand over his head again. 

"Why, yes, " said he, — "we used to think the tories, KingGeorge's men, you know, were fair game; and when we happenedto be in the neighbourhood of some of them that we knew weregiving all the help they could to the enemy, we used to letthem cook our dinners for us once in a while. "

"How did you manage that, Sir?"

"Why, they used to have little bake-ovens to cook their meatsand so on, standing some way out from the house, — did younever see one of them? — raised on four little heaps of stone;the bottom of the oven is one large flat stone, and the archbuilt over it; — they look like a great beehive. Well — weused to watch till we saw the good woman of the house get heroven cleverly heated, and put in her batch of bread, or hermeat-pie, or her pumpkin and apple pies! — whichever it was —there didn't any of 'em come much amiss — and when we guessedthey were pretty nigh done, three or four of us would creep inand whip off the whole — oven and all! — to a safe place. Itell you, " said he, with a knowing nod of his head at thelaughing Fleda, — "those were first-rate pies!"

"And then did you put the oven back again afterwards, grandpa?"

"I guess not often, dear!" replied the old gentleman. 

"What do you think of such lawless proceedings, Miss Fleda?"said Mr. Carleton, laughing at or with her. 

"O, I like it, " said Fleda. "You liked those pies all thebetter, didn't you, grandpa, because you had got them from thetories?"

"That we did! If we hadn't got them, maybe King George's menwould, in some shape. But we weren't always so lucky as to gethold of an oven full. I remember one time several of us hadbeen out on a foraging expedition — there, Sir, what do youthink of that for a two-and-a-half year old?"

They had come up with the chief favourite of his barnyard, afine deep-coloured Devon bull. 

"I don't know what one might see in Devonshire, " he remarked, presently, "but I know _this_ county can't show the like ofhim?"

A discussion followed of the various beauties and excellenciesof the animal; a discussion in which Mr. Carleton certainlytook little part, while Mr. Ringgan descanted enthusiasticallyupon "hide" and "brisket" and "bone, " and Rossitur stood in anabstraction — it might be scornful, it might be mazed. LittleFleda quietly listening and looking at the beautiful creature, which from being such a treasure to her grandfather was in asort one to her, more than half understood them all; but Mr. Ringgan was too well satisfied with the attention of one ofhis guests to miss that of the other. 

"That fellow don't look as if _he_ had ever known shortcommons, " was Rossitur's single remark as they turned away. 

"You did not give us the result of your foraging expedition, Sir, " said Mr. Carleton, in a different manner. 

"Do, grandpa, " said Fleda, softly. 

"Ha! — Oh, it is not worth telling, " said the old gentleman, looking gratified; — "Fleda has heard my stories till sheknows them by heart — she could tell it as well herself. Whatwas it? — about the pig? — We had been out, several of us, oneafternoon, to try to get up a supper — or a dinner, for we hadhad none — and we had caught a pig. It happened that I was theonly one of the party that had a cloak, and so the pig wasgiven to me to carry home, because I could hide it the best. Well, Sir! — we were coming home, and had set our mouths for aprime supper, when just as we were within a few rods of ourshanty, who should come along but our captain! My heart sankas it never has done at the thought of a supper before orsince, I believe! I held my cloak together as well as I could, and kept myself back a little, so that if the pig showed acloven foot behind me, the captain might not see it. But Ialmost gave up all for lost when I saw the captain going intothe hut with us. There was a kind of a rude bedstead standingthere; and I set myself down upon the side of it, and gentlyworked and eased my pig off under my cloak till I got him toroll down behind the bed. I knew, " said Mr. Ringgan, laughing, "I knew by the captain's eye, as well as I knew anything, thathe smelt a rat; but he kept our counsel, as well as his own;and when he was gone we took the pig out into the woods behindthe shanty and roasted him finely, and we sent and asked Capt. Sears to supper; and he came and helped us eat the pig with agreat deal of appetite, and never asked no questions how wecame by him!"

"I wonder your stout-heartedness did not fail, in the courseof so long a time, " said Mr. Carleton

"Never, Sir!'" said the old gentleman. "I never doubted for amoment what the end would be. My father never doubted for amoment. We trusted in God and in Washington!"

"Did you see actual service yourself?"

"No, Sir — I never did. I wish I had. I should like to havehad the honour of striking one blow at the rascals. However, they were hit pretty well. I ought to be contented. My fathersaw enough of fighting — he was colonel of a regiment — he wasat the affair of Burgoyne. _That_ gave us a lift in good time. What rejoicing there was everywhere when that news came! Icould have fifed all day upon an empty stomach and feltsatisfied. People reckoned everywhere that the matter wassettled when that great piece of good fortune was given us. And so it was! — wa'n't it, dear?" said the old gentleman, with one of those fond, pleased, sympathetic looks to Fledawith which he often brought up what he was saying. 

"General Gates commanded there?" said Mr. Carleton. 

"Yes, Sir. Gates was a poor stick — I never thought much ofhim. That fellow Arnold distinguished himself in the actionsbefore Burgoyne's surrender. He fought like a brave man. Itseems strange that so mean a scamp should have had so muchblood in him!"

"Why; are great fighters generally good men, grandpa?" saidFleda. 

Not exactly, dear!" replied her grandfather; — "but suchlittle-minded rascality is not just the vice one would expectto find in a gallant soldier. "

"Those were times that made men, " said Mr. Carleton, musingly. 

"Yes, " answered the old gentleman, gravely, — "they were timesthat called for men, and God raised them up. But Washingtonwas the soul of the country, Sir!"

"Well, the time made him, " said Mr. Carleton. 

"I beg your pardon, " said the old gentleman, with a verydecided little turn of his head. — "I think he made the time. I don't know what it would have been, Sir, or what it wouldhave come to, but for him. After all, it is rather that thethings which try people show what is in them; — I hope thereare men enough in the country yet, though they haven't as gooda chance to show what they are. "

"Either way, " said his guest, smiling, "it is a happiness, Mr. Ringgan, to have lived at a time when there was somethingworth living for. "

"Well — I don't know —" said the old gentleman; — "those timeswould make the prettiest figure in a story or a romance, Isuppose; but I've tried both, and on the whole, " said he, withanother of his looks at Fleda, "I think I like these times thebest!"

Fleda smiled her acquiescence. His guest could not helpthinking to himself that however pacific might be Mr. Ringgan's temper, no man in those days that tried men couldhave brought to the issue more stern inflexibility and gallantfortitude of bearing. His frame bore evidence of greatpersonal strength, and his eye, with all its mildness, had anunflinching dignity that _could_ never have quailed before dutyor danger. And now, while he was recalling with greatanimation and pleasure the scenes of his more active life, andhis blue eye was shining with the fire of other days, hismanner had the self-possession and quiet sedateness of triumphthat bespeak a man always more ready to do than to say. Perhaps the contemplation of the noble Roman-like old figurebefore him did not tend to lessen the feeling, even the sigh, of regret with which the young man said, "There was something then for a man to do!"

"There is always that, " said the old gentleman, quietly. "Godhas given every man his work to do; and 'tain't difficult forhim to find out what. No man is put here to be idle. "

"But, " said his companion, with a look in which not a littlehaughty reserve was mingled with a desire to speak out histhoughts, "half the world are busy about humdrum concerns, andthe other half doing nothing, or worse. "

"I don't know about that, " said Mr. Ringgan; — "that dependsupon the way you take things. 'Tain't always the men that makethe most noise that are the most good in the world. Humdrumaffairs needn't be humdrum in the doing of 'em. It is mymaxim, " said the old gentleman, looking at his companion witha singularly open, pleasant smile, — "that a man may be greatabout a'most anything — chopping wood, if he happens to be inthat line. I used to go upon that plan, Sir. Whatever I haveset my hand to do, I have done it as well as I knew how to;and if you follow that rule out you'll not be idle nor humdrumneither. Many's the time that I have mowed what would be aday's work for another man, before breakfast. "

Rossitur's smile was not meant to be seen. But Mr. Carleton's, to the credit of his politeness and his understanding both, was frank as the old gentleman's own, as he answered, with agood-humoured shake of his head, "I can readily believe it, Sir; and honour both your maxim andyour practice. But I am not exactly in that line. "

"Why don't you try the army?" said Mr. Ringgan, with a look ofinterest. 

"There is not a cause worth fighting for, " said the young man, his brow changing again. "It is only to add weight to theoppressor's hand, or throw away life in the vain endeavour toavert it. I will do neither. "

"But all the world is open before such a young man as you, "said Mr. Ringgan. 

"A large world, " said Mr. Carleton, with his former mixture ofexpression, — "but there isn't much in it. "

"Politics?" said Mr. Ringgan. 

"It is to lose oneself in a seething-pot, where the scum isthe most apparent thing. "

"But there is society?" said Rossitur. 

"Nothing better or more noble than the succession of motesthat flit through a sunbeam into oblivion. "

"Well, why not, then, sit down quietly on one's estates andenjoy them, one who has enough?"

"And be a worm in the heart of an apple. "

"Well, then, " said Rossitur, laughing, though not knowingexactly how far he might venture, "there is nothing left foryou, as I don't suppose you would take to any of the learnedprofessions, but to strike out some new path for yourself —hit upon some grand invention for benefiting the human raceand distinguishing your own name at once. "

But while he spoke, his companion's face had gone back to itsusual look of imperturbable coolness; the dark eye was evenhaughtily unmoved, till it met Fleda's inquiring and somewhatanxious glance. He smiled. 

"The nearest approach I ever made to that, " said he, "was whenI went chestnuting the other day. Can't you find some morework for me, Fairy?"

Taking Fleda's hand with his wonted graceful lightness ofmanner, he walked on with her, leaving the other two to followtogether. 

"You would like to know, perhaps, "observed Mr. Rossitur, inrather a low tone, "that Mr. Carleton is an Englishman. "

"Ay, ay?" said Mr. Ringgan. "An Englishman, is he? Well, Sir, what is it that I would like to know?"

"_That_, " said Rossitur. "I would have told you before if Icould. I supposed you might not choose to speak quite sofreely, perhaps, on American affairs before him. "

"I haven't two ways of speaking, Sir, on anything, " said theold gentleman, a little dryly. "Is your friend very tender onthat chapter?"

"O, not that I know of at all, " said Rossitur; "but you knowthere is a great deal of feeling still among the English aboutit — they have never forgiven us heartily for whipping them;and I know Carleton is related to the nobility, and all that, you know; so I thought —"

"Ah, well!" said the old gentleman — "we don't know much aboutnobility and such gimcracks in this country. I'm not much of acourtier. I am pretty much accustomed to speak my mind as Ithink it. He's wealthy, I suppose?"

"He's more than that, Sir. Enormous estates! He's the finestfellow in the world — one of the first young men in England. "

"You have been there yourself, and know?" said Mr. Ringgan, glancing at his companion. 

"If I have not, Sir, others have told me that do. "

"Ah, well, " said Mr. Ringgan, placidly; "we sha'n't quarrel, Iguess. What did he come out here for — eh?"

"Only to amuse himself. They are going back again in a fewweeks, and I intend accompanying them to join my mother inParis. Will my little cousin be of the party?"

They were sauntering along towards the house. A loud callingof her name the minute before, had summoned Fleda thither atthe top of her speed; and Mr. Carleton turned to repeat thesame question. 

The old gentleman stopped, and striking his stick two or threetimes against the ground, looked sorrowfully undetermined. 

"Well, I don't know!" he said, at last — "It's a pretty hardmatter — she'd break her heart about it, I suppose —"

"I dare urge nothing, Sir, " said Mr. Carleton. "I will onlyassure you that if you entrust your treasure to us, she shallbe cherished as you would wish, till we place her in the handsof her aunt. "

"I know that, Sir, — I do not doubt it, " said Mr. Ringgan;"but, I'll tell you by and by what I conclude upon, " he said, with evident relief of manner, as Fleda came bounding back tothem. "Mr. Rossitur, have you made your peace with Fleda?"

"I was not aware that I had any to make, Sir, " replied theyoung gentleman. "I will do it with pleasure, if my littlecousin will tell me how. But she looks as if she neededenlightening as much as myself. "

"She has something against you, I can tell you, " said the oldgentleman, looking amused, and speaking as if Fleda were acurious little piece of human mechanism which could hear itsperformances talked of with all the insensibility of any othertoy. "She gives it as her judgment that Mr. Carleton is themost of a gentleman, because he keeps his promise. "

"Oh, grandpa!"

Poor Fleda's cheek was hot with a distressful blush. Rossiturcoloured with anger. Mr. Carleton's smile had a very differentexpression. 

"If Fleda will have the goodness to recollect, " said Rossitur, "I cannot be charged with breaking a promise, for I madenone. "

"But Mr. Carleton did, " said Fleda. 

"She is right, Mr. Rossitur, she is right, " said thatgentleman; "a fallacy might as well elude Ithuriel's spear asthe sense of a pure spirit — there is no need of writtencodes. Make your apologies, man, and confess yourself in thewrong. "

"Pho, pho, " said the old gentleman, — "she don't take it verymuch to heart, I guess _I_ ought to be the one to make theapologies, " he added, looking at Fleda's face. 

But Fleda commanded herself, with difficulty, and announcedthat dinner was ready. 

"Mr. Rossitur tells me, Mr. Carleton, you are an Englishman, "said his host. "I have some notion of that's passing throughmy head before, but somehow I had entirely lost sight of itwhen I was speaking so freely to you a little while ago, aboutour national quarrel — I know some of your countrymen owe us agrudge yet. "

"Not I, I assure you, " said the young Englishman. "I amashamed of them for it. I congratulate you on beingWashington's countryman, and a sharer in his grand strugglefor the right against the wrong. "

Mr. Ringgan shook his guest's hand, looking very much pleased;and having by this time arrived at the house, the younggentlemen were formally introduced at once to the kitchen, their dinner, and aunt Miriam. 

It is not too much to say that the entertainment gave perfectsatisfaction to everybody — better fate than attends mostentertainments. Even Mr. Rossitur's ruffled spirit felt thesoothing influence of good cheer, to which he happened to bepeculiarly sensible, and came back to its average condition ofamenity. 

Doubtless that was a most informal table, spread according tono rules that, for many generations at least, have been knownin the refined world; an anomaly in the eyes of certainly oneof the company. Yet the board had a character of its own, veryfar removed from vulgarity, and suiting remarkably well withthe condition and demeanour of those who presided over it — acomfortable, well-to-do, substantial look, that could affordto dispense with minor graces; a self-respect that was notafraid of criticism. Aunt Miriam's successful efforts deserveto be celebrated. 

In the middle of the table, the polished amber of the pig'sarched back elevated itself — a striking object — but worthyof the place he filled, as the honours paid him by everybodyabundantly testified. Aunt Miriam had sent down a basket ofher own bread, made out of the new flour, brown and white, both as sweet and fine as it is possible for bread to be; thepiled-up slices were really beautiful. The superb butter hadcome from aunt Miriam's dairy, too, for on such an occasionshe would not trust to the very doubtful excellence of MissCynthia's doings. Every spare place on the table was filledwith dishes of potatoes, and pickles, and sweetmeats, thatleft nothing to be desired in their respective kinds; the cakewas a delicious presentment of the finest of material; and thepies, pumpkin pies, such as only aunt Miriam could make, richcompounds of everything _but_ pumpkin, with enough of that togive them a name; Fleda smiled to think how pleased auntMiriam must secretly be to see the homage paid her throughthem. And most happily Mrs. Plumfield had discovered that thelast tea Mr. Ringgan had brought from the little Queechy storewas not very good, and there was no time to send up on "thehill" for more, so she made coffee. Verily, it was not Mocha, but the thick yellow cream with which the cups were filled, really made up the difference. The most curious palate foundno want. 

Everybody was in a high state of satisfaction, even to MissCynthia Gall; who, having some lurking suspicion that Mrs. Plumfield might design to cut her out of her post of tea-making, had slipped herself into her usual chair behind thetea-tray, before anybody else was ready to sit down. No one attable bestowed a thought upon Miss Cynthia, but as she thoughtof nothing else, she may be said to have had her fair share ofattention. The most unqualified satisfaction, however, was nodoubt little Fleda's. Forgetting, with a child's happyreadiness, the fears and doubts which had lately troubled her, she was full of the present, enjoying, with a most unselfishenjoyment, everything that pleased anybody else. She was gladthat the supper was a fine one, and so approved, because itwas her grandfather's hospitality, and her aunt Miriam'shousekeeping; little beside was her care for pies or coffee. She saw with secret glee the expression of both her aunt's andMr. Ringgan's face; partly from pure sympathy, and partlybecause, as she knew, the cause of it was Mr. Carleton, whom, privately, Fleda liked very much. And after all, perhaps, hehad directly more to do with her enjoyment than all othercauses together. 

Certainly that was true of him with respect to the rest of thedinner-table. None at that dinner-table had ever seen thelike. With all the graceful charm of manner with which hewould have delighted a courtly circle, he came out from hisreserve and was brilliant, gay, sensible, entertaining, andwitty, to a degree that assuredly has very rarely been thrownaway upon an old farmer in the country and his unpolitesister. They appreciated him though, as well as any courtlycircle could have done, and he knew it. In aunt Miriam'sstrong sensible face, when not full of some hospitable care, he could see the reflection of every play of his own; thegrave practical eye twinkled and brightened, giving a readyanswer to every turn of sense or humour in what he was saying. Mr. Ringgan, as much of a child for the moment as Fledaherself, had lost everything disagreeable, and was in the fullgenial enjoyment of talk, rather listening than talking, withhis cheeks in a perpetual dimple of gratification, and a lowlaugh of hearty amusement now and then rewarding theconversational and kind efforts of his guest with a completetriumph. Even the subtle charm which they could not quiterecognise wrought fascination. Miss Cynthia declaredafterwards, half admiring and half vexed, that he spoiled hersupper, for she forgot to think how it tasted. Rossitur — hisgood humour was entirely restored; but whether even Mr. Carleton's power could have achieved that without the perfectseasoning of the pig and the smooth persuasion of the richly-creamed coffee, it may perhaps be doubted. He stared, mentally, for he had never known his friend condescend tobring himself out in the same manner before; and he wonderedwhat he could see in the present occasion to make it worthwhile. 

But Mr. Carleton did not think his efforts thrown away. Heunderstood and admired his fine old host and hostess; and withall their ignorance of conventionalities and absence of whatis called _polish_ of manner, he could enjoy the sterling sense, the good feeling, the true, hearty hospitality, and thedignified courtesy, which both of them showed. No matter ofthe outside; this was in the grain. If mind had lacked muchopportunity, it had also made good use of a little; his host, Mr. Carleton found, had been a great leader, was wellacquainted with history, and a very intelligent reasoner uponit; and both he and his sister showed a strong and quickaptitude for intellectual subjects of conversation. No doubtaunt Miriam's courtesy had not been taught by a dancing-master, and her brown satin gown had seen many a fashion comeand go since it was made, but a _lady_ was in both; and whileRossitur covertly smiled, Mr. Carleton paid his sincererespect where he felt it was due. Little Fleda's quick eyehardly saw, but more than half felt, the difference. Mr. Carleton had no more eager listener now than she, and perhapsnone whose unaffected interest and sympathy gave him morepleasure. 

When they rose from the table Mr. Ringgan would not be_insinuated_ into the cold front room again. 

"No, no, " said he, "what's the matter? the table? Push thetable back, and let it take care of itself, — come, gentlemen, sit down — draw up your chairs round the fire, and a fig forceremony! Comfort, sister Miriam, against politeness, any dayin the year; don't you say so too, Fairy? Come here by me. "

"Miss Fleda, " said Mr. Carleton, "will you take a ride with meto Montepoole to-morrow? I should like to make you acquaintedwith my mother. "

Fleda coloured, and looked at her grandfather. 

"What do you say, deary?" he inquired fondly; "will you go? —I believe, Sir, your proposal will prove a very acceptableone. You will go, wont you, Fleda?"

Fleda would very much rather not! But she was alwaysexceedingly afraid of hurting people's feelings; she could notbear that Mr. Carleton should think she disliked to go withhim, so she answered yes, in her usual sober manner. 

Just then the door opened, and a man unceremoniously walkedin, his entrance immediately following a little sullen knockthat had made a mockery of asking permission. An ill-lookingman, in the worst sense; his face being a mixture of cunning, meanness, and insolence. He shut the door, and came with aslow, leisurely step into the middle of the room, withoutspeaking a word. Mr. Carleton saw the blank change in Fleda'sface. She knew him. 

"Do you wish to see me, Mr. McGowan?" said Mr. Ringgan, notwithout something of the same change. 

"I guess I ha'n't come here for nothing, " was the gruffretort. 

"Wouldn't another time answer as well?"

"I don't mean to find you here another time, " said the man, chuckling; "I have given you notice to quit, and now I havecome to tell you you'll clear out. I ain't a going to be keptout of my property for ever. If I can't get my money from you, Elzevir Ringgan, I'll see you don't get no more of it in yourhands. "

"Very well, Sir, " said the old gentleman. "You have said allthat is necessary. "

"You have got to hear a little more, though, " returned theother; "I've an idee that there's a satisfaction in speakingone's mind. I'll have that much out of you! Mr. Ringgan, a manhadn't ought to make an agreement to pay what he doesn't _mean_to pay; and what he has made an agreement to pay, he ought tomeet and be up to, if he sold his soul for it! You callyourself a Christian, do you, to stay in another man's house, month after month, when you know you ha'n't got the means togive him the rent for it! That's what _I_ call stealing; andit's what I'd live in the County House before I'd demeanmyself to do! and so ought you. "

"Well, well! neighbour, " said Mr. Ringgan, with patientdignity; "it's no use calling names. You know as well as I dohow all this came about. I hoped to be able to pay you, but Ihaven't been able to make it out, without having more time. "

"Time!" said the other. "Time to cheat me out of a little morehouseroom. If I was agoing to live on charity, Mr. Ringgan, I'd come out and say so, and not put my hand in a man's pocketthis way. You'll quit the house by the day after to-morrow, orif you don't I'll let you hear a little more of me that youwont like. "

He stalked out, shutting the door after him with a bang. Mr. Carleton had quitted the room a moment before him. 

Nobody moved or spoke at first, when the man was gone, exceptMiss Cynthia, who, as she was taking something from the tableto the pantry, remarked, probably for Mr. Rossitur's benefit, that "Mr. Ringgan had to have that man punished for somethinghe did a few years ago, when he was justice of the peace, andshe guessed likely that was the reason he had a grudge aginhim ever since. " Beyond this piece of dubious informationnothing was said. Little Fleda stood beside her grandfather, with a face of quiet distress; the tears silently running overher flushed cheeks, and her eyes fixed upon Mr. Ringgan with atender, touching look of sympathy, most pure from self-recollection. 

Mr. Carleton presently came in to take leave of the disturbedfamily. The old gentleman rose, and returned his shake of thehand with even a degree more than usual of his manly dignity, or Mr. Carleton thought so. 

"Good day to you, Sir!" he said, heartily. "We have had agreat deal of pleasure in your society, and I shall always bevery happy to see you — wherever I am. " And then following himto the door, and wringing his hand with a force he was not atall aware of, the old gentleman added in a lower tone, "Ishall let her go with you. "

Mr. Carleton read his whole story in the stern self-command ofbrow, and the slight convulsion of feature, which all theself-command could not prevent. He returned warmly the graspof the hand, answering merely, "I will see you again. "

Fleda wound her arms round her grandfather's neck when theywere gone, and did her best to comfort him, assuring him that"they would be just as happy somewhere else. " And aunt Miriamearnestly proffered her own home. But Fleda knew that hergrandfather was not comforted. He stroked her head, with thesame look of stern gravity and troubled emotion which hadgrieved her so much the other day. She could not win him to asmile, and went to bed at last, feeling desolate. She had noheart to look out at the night. The wind was sweeping by inwintry gusts; and Fleda cried herself to sleep, thinking howit would whistle round the dear old house when their earswould not be there to hear it. 

CHAPTER VII. 

He from his old hereditary nookMust part; the summons came, — our final leave we took. WORDSWORTH. 

Mr. Carleton came the next day, but not early, to take Fledato Montepoole. She had told her grandfather that she did notthink he would come, because after last night he must knowthat she would not want to go. About twelve o'clock, however, he was there, with a little wagon, and Fleda was fain to gether sunbonnet and let him put her in. Happily it was her maximnever to trust to uncertainties, so she was quite ready whenhe came, and they had not to wait a minute. 

Though Fleda had a little dread of being introduced to a partyof strangers, and was a good deal disappointed at beingobliged to keep her promise, she very soon began to be glad. She found her fear gradually falling away before Mr. Carleton's quiet kind reassuring manner; he took such nicecare of her; and she presently made up her mind that he wouldmanage the matter so that it would not be awkward. They had somuch pleasant talk, too. Fleda had found before that she couldtalk to Mr. Carleton, nay, she could not help talking to him;and she forgot to think about it. And besides, it was apleasant day, and they drove fast, and Fleda's particulardelight was driving; and though the horse was a little gay shehad a kind of intuitive perception that Mr. Carleton knew howto manage him. So she gave up every care and was very happy. 

When Mr. Carleton asked after her grandfather, Fleda answeredwith great animation, "O, he's very well! and such a happything. You heard what that man said last night, Mr. Carleton, didn't you?"

"Yes. "

"Well, it is all arranged; — this morning Mr. Jolly — he's afriend of grandpa's that lives over at Queechy Run and knewabout all this — he's a lawyer — he came this morning and toldgrandpa that he had found some one that could lend him themoney he wanted, and there was no trouble about it; and we areso happy, for we thought we should have to go away from wherewe live now, and I know grandpa would have felt it dreadfully. If it hadn't been for that, — I mean, for Mr. Jolly's coming, — I couldn't have gone to Montepoole to-day. "

"Then I am very glad Mr. Jolly made his appearance, " said Mr. Carleton. 

"So am I, " said Fleda; — "but I think it was a little strangethat Mr. Jolly wouldn't tell us who it was that he had got themoney from. Grandpa said he never saw Mr. Jolly so curious. "

When they got to the Pool, Fleda's nervousness returned alittle; but she went through the dreaded introduction withgreat demureness and perfect propriety. And throughout the dayMr. Carleton had no reason to fear rebuke for the judgmentwhich he had pronounced upon his little paragon. All theflattering attention which was shown her, and it was a gooddeal, could not draw Fleda a line beyond the dignifiedsimplicity which seemed natural to her; any more than thewitty attempts at raillery and endeavours to amuse themselvesat her expense, in which some of the gentlemen showed theirwisdom, could move her from her modest self-possession. _Very_quiet, _very_ modest, as she invariably was, awkwardness couldnot fasten upon her; her colour might come and her timid eyefall — it often did; but Fleda's wits were always in theirplace and within a call. She would shrink from a stranger'seye, and yet when spoken to her answers were as ready andacute as they were marked for simplicity and gentleness. Shewas kept to dinner; and though the arrangement and manner ofthe service must have been strange to little Fleda, it wasimpossible to guess from word or look that it was the firsttime within her recollection that she had ever seen the like. Her native instincts took it all as quietly as any oldliberalized traveller looks upon the customs of a new country. Mr. Carleton smiled as he now and then saw a glance ofintelligence or admiration pass between one and another of thecompany; and a little knowing nod from Mrs. Evelyn, and many alook from his mother, confessed he had been quite right. 

Those two, Mrs. Evelyn and Mrs. Carleton, were by far the mostkind and eager in their attention to Fleda. Mrs. Thorn didlittle else but look at her. The gentlemen amused themselveswith her. But Mr. Carleton, true to the hopes Fleda hadfounded upon his good-nature, had stood her friend all theday, coming to her help if she needed any, and placing himselfeasily and quietly between her and anything that threatened totry or annoy her too much. Fleda felt it with gratefuladmiration. Yet she noticed, too, that he was a very differentperson at this dinner-table from what he had been the otherday at her grandfather's. Easy and graceful always, he filledhis own place, but did not seem to care to do more; there waseven something bordering on haughtiness in his air of gravereserve. He was not the life of the company here; he contentedhimself with being all that the company could possibly requireof him. 

On the whole Fleda was exceedingly well pleased with her day, and thought all the people in general very kind. It was quitelate before she set out to go home again; and then Mrs. Evelynand Mrs. Carleton were extremely afraid lest she should takecold; and Mr. Carleton, without saying one word about it, wrapped her up so very nicely after she got into the wagon, ina warm cloak of his mother's. The drive home, through thegathering shades of twilight, was to little Fleda thoroughlycharming. It was almost in perfect silence, but she likedthat; and all the way home her mind was full of a shadowybeautiful world that seemed to lie before and around her. 

It was a happy child that Mr. Carleton lifted from the wagonwhen they reached Queechy. He read it in the utterlightheartedness of brow and voice, and the spring to theground which hardly needed the help of his hands. 

"Thank you, Mr. Carleton, " she said, when she had reached herown door; (he would not go in) "I have had a very nice time!"

He smiled. 

"Good night, " said he. "Tell your grandfather I will come to-morrow to see him about some business. "

Fleda ran gaily into the kitchen. Only Cynthia was there. 

"Where is grandpa, Cynthy?"

"He went off into his room a half an hour ago. I believe he'slayin' down. He ain't right well, I s'pect. What's made you solate?"

"O, they kept me, " said Fleda. Her gayety suddenly sobered, she took off her bonnet and coat, and throwing them down inthe kitchen, stole softly along the passage to hergrandfather's room. She stopped a minute at the door, and heldher breath to see if she could hear any movement which mighttell her he was not asleep. It was all still, and pulling theiron latch with her gentlest hand, Fleda went on tiptoe intothe room. He was lying on the bed, but awake, for she had madeno noise, and the blue eyes opened and looked upon her as shecame near. 

"Are you not well, dear grandpa?" said the little girl. 

Nothing made of flesh and blood ever spoke words of morespirit-like sweetness, — not the beauty of a fine organ, butsuch as the sweetness of angel-speech might be; a whisper oflove and tenderness that was hushed by its own intensity. Hedid not answer, or did not notice her first question; sherepeated it. 

"Don't you feel well?"

"Not exactly, dear!" he replied. 

There was the shadow of somewhat in his tone, that fell uponhis little granddaughter's heart and brow at once. Her voicenext time, though not suffered to be anything but clear andcheerful still, had in part the clearness of apprehension. 

"What is the matter?"

"Oh — I don't know, dear!"

She felt the shadow again, and he seemed to say that timewould show her the meaning of it. She put her little hand inone of his which lay outside the coverlets, and stood lookingat him; and presently said, but in a very different key fromthe same speech to Mr. Carleton, —

"I have had a very nice time, dear grandpa. "

Her grandfather made her no answer. He brought the dear littlehand to his lips and kissed it twice, so earnestly that it wasalmost passionately; then laid it on the side of the bedagain, with his own upon it, and patted it slowly and fondly, and with an inexpressible kind of sadness in the manner. Fleda's lip trembled, and her heart was fluttering, but shestood so that he could not see her face in the dusk, and keptstill till the rebel features were calm again, and she hadschooled the heart to be silent. 

Mr. Ringgan had closed his eyes, and perhaps was asleep, andhis little granddaughter sat quietly down on a chair by thebedside to watch by him, in that gentle sorrowful patiencewhich women often know, but which hardly belongs to childhood. Her eye and thoughts, as she sat there in the dusky twilight, fell upon the hand of her grandfather which still fondly heldone of her own; and fancy travelled fast and far, from what itwas to what it had been. Rough, discoloured, stiff, as it laythere now, she thought how it had once had the hue, and thefreshness, and the grace of youth, when it had been, theinstrument of uncommon strength, and wielded an authority thatnone could stand against. Her fancy wandered over the scenesit had known; when it had felled trees in the wild forest; andthose fingers, then supple and slight, had played the fife tothe struggling men of the Revolution; how its activity hadoutdone the activity of all other hands in clearing andcultivating those very fields where her feet loved to run;how, in its pride of strength, it had handled the scythe, andthe sickle, and the flail, with a grace and efficiency that noother could attain; and how, in happy manhood, that stronghand had fondled, and sheltered, and led, the little childrenthat now had grown up and were gone! — Strength and activity, ay, and the fruits of them, were passed away; — his childrenwere dead; his race was run; — the shock of corn was in fullseason, ready to be gathered. Poor little Fleda! her thoughthad travelled but a very little way before the sense of thesethings entirely overcame her, her head bowed on her knees, andshe wept tears that all the fine springs of her nature weremoving to feed — many, many, — but poured forth as quietly asbitterly; she smothered every sound. That beautiful shadowyworld with which she had been so busy a little while ago, —alas! she had left the fair outlines and the dreamy light, andhad been tracking one solitary path through the wilderness, and she saw how the traveller, foot-sore and weather-beaten, comes to the end of his way. And, after all, he comes to _theend_. ''Yes, and I must travel through life, and come to theend, too, " thought little Fleda; "life is but a passingthrough the world; my hand must wither and grow old too, if Ilive long enough; and whether or no, I must come to _the end_. Oh, there is only one thing that ought to be very much mindedin this world!"

That thought, sober though it was, brought sweet consolation. Fleda's tears, if they fell as fast, grew brighter, as sheremembered, with singular tender joy, that her mother and herfather had been ready to see the end of their journey, andwere not afraid of it; that her grandfather and her auntMiriam were happy in the same quiet confidence, and shebelieved she herself was a lamb of the Good Shepherd's flock. "And he will let none of his lambs be lost, " she thought. "Howhappy I am! How happy we all are!"

Her grandfather still lay quiet, as if asleep, and gentlydrawing her hand from under his, Fleda went and got a candleand sat down by him again to read, carefully shading the lightso that it might not awake him. 

He presently spoke to her, and more cheerfully. 

"Are you reading, dear?"

"Yes, grandpa!" said the little girl, looking up brightly. "Does the candle disturb you?"

"No, dear! — What have you got there'?

"I just took up this volume of Newton that has the hymns init. "

"Read out. "

Fleda read Mr. Newton's long beautiful hymn, "The Lord willprovide;" but with her late thoughts fresh in her mind it washard to get through the last verses; —

'No strength of our own, Or goodness we claim;But since we have knownThe Saviour's great name, In this, our strong tower, For safety we hide;The Lord is our power, The Lord will provide. 

'When life sinks apace, And death is in view, This word of his graceShall comfort us through. No fearing nor doubting, —With Christ on our side, We hope to die shouting, The Lord will provide !'

The little reader's voice changed, almost broke, but shestruggled through, and then was quietly crying behind herhand. 

"Read it again, " said the old gentleman, after a pause. 

There is no "cannot" in the vocabulary of affection. Fledawaited a minute or two to rally her forces, and then wentthrough it again, more steadily than the first time. 

"Yes, " said Mr. Ringgan, calmly, folding his hands, "that willdo! That trust wont fail, for it is founded upon a rock. 'Heis a rock; and he knoweth them that put their trust in him!' Ihave been a fool to doubt ever that he would make all thingswork well — 'The Lord will provide!"

"Grandpa, " said Fleda, but in an unsteady voice, and shadingher face with her hand still, "I can remember reading thishymn to my mother once when I was so little that 'suggestions'was a hard word to me. "

"Ay, ay — I dare say, " said the old gentleman; "your motherknew that Rock, and rested her hope upon it, — where minestands now. If ever there was a creature that might havetrusted to her own doings, I believe she was one, for I neversaw her do anything wrong, as I know. But she knew Christ wasall. Will you follow him, as she did, dear?"

Fleda tried in vain to give an answer. 

"Do you know what her last prayer for you was, Fleda?"

"No, grandpa. "

"It was that you might be kept 'unspotted from the world. ' Iheard her make that prayer myself. " And stretching out hishand, the old gentleman laid it tenderly upon Fleda's bowedhead, saying with strong earnestness and affection, even hisvoice somewhat shaken, "God grant that prayer! — whatever elsehe do with her, keep my child from the evil! — and bring herto join her father and mother in heaven! — and me!"

He said no more; but Fleda's sobs said a great deal. And whenthe sobs were hushed, she still sat shedding quiet tears, sorrowed and disturbed by her grandfather's manner. She hadnever known it so grave, so solemn; but there was that shadowof something else in it besides, and she would have feared ifshe had known what to fear. He told her at last that she hadbetter go to bed, and to say to Cynthy that he wanted to seeher. She was going, and had near reached the door, when hesaid, "Elfleda!"

She hastened back to the bedside. 

"Kiss me. "

He let her do so twice, without moving, and then holding herto his breast he pressed one long earnest passionate kiss uponher lips, and released her. 

Fleda told Cynthy that her grandfather wished her to come tohim, and then mounted the stairs, to her little bedroom. Shewent to the window, and opening it, looked out at the softmoonlit sky; the weather was mild again, and a little hazy, and the landscape was beautiful. But little Fleda was tastingrealities, and she could not go off upon dream-journeys toseek the light food of fancy through the air. She did notthink to-night about the people the moon was shining on; sheonly thought of one little sad anxious heart, — and of anotherdown stairs, more sad and anxious still, she feared; whatcould it be about? Now that Mr. Jolly had settled all thattroublesome business with McGowan?

As she stood there at the window, gazing out aimlessly intothe still night, — it was very quiet, — she heard Cynthy atthe back of the house, calling out, but as if she were afraidof making too much noise, "Watkins! Watkins!"

The sound had business, if not anxiety, in it. Fledainstinctively held her breath to listen. Presently she heardWatkins reply; but they were round the corner, she could noteasily make out what they said. It was only by straining herears that she caught the words. 

"Watkins, Mr. Ringgan wants you to go right up on the hill toMis' Plumfield's, and tell her he wants her to come right down— he thinks" — the voice of the speaker fell, and Fleda couldonly make out the last words — "Dr. James. " More was said, butso thick and low that she could understand nothing. 

She had heard enough. She shut the window, trembling, andfastened again the parts of her dress she had loosened; andsoftly and hastily went down the stairs into the kitchen. 

"Cynthy! — what is the matter with grandpa!"

"Why aint you in bed, Flidda?" said Cynthy, with somesharpness. "That's what you had ought to be. I am sure yourgrandpa wants you to be abed. "

"But tell me, " said Fleda, anxiously. 

"I don't know as there's anything the matter with him, " saidCynthy. "Nothing much, I suppose. What makes you thinkanything is the matter?"

"Because I heard you telling Watkins to go for aunt Miriam. "Fleda could not say, —- "and the doctor. "

"Well, your grandpa thought he'd like to have her come down, and he don't feel right well, — so I sent Watkins up; butyou'd better go to bed, Flidda; you'll catch cold if you situp o' night. "

Fleda was unsatisfied, the more because Cynthy would not meetthe keen searching look with which the little girl tried toread her face. She was not to be sent to bed, and all Cynthy'sendeavours to make her change her mind were of no avail. Fledasaw in them but fresh reason for staying, and saw besides, what Cynthy could not hide, a somewhat of wandering anduneasiness in her manner which strengthened her resolution. She sat down in the chimney corner, resolved to wait till heraunt Miriam came; there would be satisfaction in her, for auntMiriam always told the truth, the whole truth, and nothing butthe truth. 

It was a miserable three quarters of an hour. The kitchenseemed to wear a strange desolate look, though seen in itswonted bright light of fire and candles, and in itself niceand cheerful as usual. Fleda looked at it also through thatvague fear which casts its own lurid colour upon everything. The very flickering of the candle blaze seemed of ill omen, and her grandfather's empty chair stood a signal of pain tolittle Fleda whenever she looked at it. She sat still, insubmissive patience, her cheek pale with the working of aheart too big for that little body. Cynthia was going in andout of her grandfather's room, but Fleda would not ask her anymore questions, to be disappointed with word-answers; shewaited, but the minutes seemed very long, — and very sad. 

The characteristic outward calm which Fleda had kept, andwhich belonged to a nature uncommonly moulded to patience andfortitude, had yet perhaps heightened the pressure of excitedfear within. When at last she saw the cloak and hood of auntMiriam coming through the moonlight to the kitchen door, sherushed to open it, and quite overcome for the moment, threwher arms around her and was speechless. Aunt Miriam's tenderand quiet voice comforted her. 

"You up yet, Fleda! Hadn't you better go to bed? 'Tisn't goodfor you. "

"That's what I've been a-telling her, " said Cynthy, "but shewa'n't a mind to listen to me. "

But the two little arms embraced aunt Miriam's cloak andwrappers, and the little face was hid there still, and Fleda'sanswer was a half smothered ejaculation. 

"I am _so_ glad you are come, dear aunt Miriam!"

Aunt Miriam kissed her again, and again repeated her request. 

"O no — I can't go to bed, " said Fleda, crying; — "I can'ttill I know — I am sure something is the matter, or Cynthywouldn't look so. _Do_ tell me, aunt Miriam!"

"I can't tell you anything, dear, except that grandpa is notwell — that is all I know — I am going in to see him. I willtell you in the morning how he is. "

"No, " said Fleda, "I will wait here till you come out. Icouldn't sleep. "

Mrs. Plumfield made no more efforts to persuade her, but ridherself of cloak and hood and went into Mr. Ringgan's room. Fleda placed herself again in her chimney corner. Burying herface in her hands, she sat waiting more quietly; and Cynthy, having finished all her business, took a chair on the hearthopposite to her. Both were silent and motionless, except whenCynthy once in a while got up to readjust the sticks of woodon the fire. They sat there waiting so long that Fleda'sanxiety began to quicken again. 

"Don't you think the doctor is a long time coming, Cynthy?"said she, raising her head at last. Her question, breakingthat forced silence, sounded fearful. 

"It seems kind o' long, " said Cynthy. "I guess Watkins ha'n'tfound him to hum. "

Watkins indeed presently came in and reported as much, andthat the wind was changing and it was coming off cold; andthen his heavy boots were heard going up the stairs to hisroom overhead; but Fleda listened in vain for the sound of thelatch of her grandfather's door, or aunt Miriam's quiet foot-fall in the passage; listened and longed, till the minutesseemed like the links of a heavy chain which she was obligedto pass over from hand to hand, and the last link could not befound. The noise of Watkins' feet ceased overhead, and nothingstirred or moved but the crackling flames and Cynthia'selbows, which took turns each in resting upon the oppositearm, and now and then a tell-tale gust of wind in the trees. If Mr. Ringgan was asleep, why did not aunt Miriam come outand see them, — if he was better, why not come and tell themso. He had been asleep when she first went into his room, andshe had come back for a minute then to try again to get Fledato bed; why could she not come out for a minute once more. Twohours of watching and trouble had quite changed little Fleda;the dark ring of anxiety had come under each eye in her littlepale face; she looked herself almost ill. 

Aunt Miriam's grave step was heard coming out of the room atlast, — it did not sound cheerfully in Fleda's ears. She camein, and stopping to give some direction to Cynthy, walked upto Fleda. Her face encouraged no questions. She took thechild's head tenderly in both her hands, and told her gently, but it was in vain that she tried to make her voice quite asusual, that she had better go to bed — that she would be sick. 

Fleda looked up anxiously in her face. 

"How is he?"

But her next word was the wailing cry of sorrow, — "Ohgrandpa!"

The old lady took the little child in her arms, and they bothsat there by the fire until the morning dawned. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Patience and sorrow stroveWho should express her goodliest. KING LEAR. 

When Mr. Carleton knocked at the front door the next day, about two o'clock, it was opened to him by Cynthy. He askedfor his late host. 

"Mr. Ringgan is dead. "

"Dead!" exclaimed the young man, much shocked; — "when — how?"

"Wont you come in, Sir?" said Cynthy; — "maybe you'll see Mis'Plumfield. "

"No, certainly, " replied the visitor. "Only tell me about Mr. Ringgan. "

"He died last night. "

"What was the matter with him?"

"I don't know, " said Cynthy in a business-like tone of voice, — "I s'pose the doctor knows, but he didn't say nothing aboutit. He died very sudden. "

"Was he alone?"

"No — his sister was with him; he had been complaining all theevening that he didn't feel right, but I didn't think nothingof it, and I didn't know as he did; and towards evening hewent and laid down, and Flidda was with him a spell, talkingto him; and at last he sent her to bed, and called me in andsaid he felt mighty strange, and he didn't know what it wasgoing to be, and that he had as lieve I should send up and askMis' Plumfield to come down, and perhaps I might as well sendfor the doctor, too. And I sent right off, but the doctorwa'n't to hum, and didn't get here till long after. Mis'Plumfield, she come; and Mr. Ringgan was asleep then, and Ididn't know as it was going to be anything more after all thanjust a turn, such as anybody might take; and Mis' Plumfieldwent in and sot by him; and there wa'n't no one else in theroom; and after a while he come to, and talked to her, shesaid, a spell; but he seemed to think it was something morethan common ailed him; and all of a sudden he just riz up halfway in bed, and then fell back and died, — with no morewarning than that. "

"And how is the little girl?"

"Why, " said Cynthy, looking off at right angles from hervisitor, "she's middling now, I s'pose, but she wont be beforelong, or else she must be harder to make sick than otherfolks. We can't get her out of the room, " she added, bringingher eyes to bear, for an instant, upon the young gentleman, —"she stays in there the hull time since morning, — I've tried, and Mis' Plumfield's tried, and everybody has tried, and therecan't none of us manage it; she will stay in there, and it'san awful cold room when there aint no fire. "

Cynthy and her visitor were both taking the benefit of thechill blast which rushed in at the open door. 

"_The room?_" said Mr. Carleton. "The room where the body lies?"

"Yes — it's dreadful chill in there when the stove aintheated, and she sits there the hull time. And she ha'n't gotmuch to boast of now; she looks as if a feather would blow heraway. "

The door at the further end of the hall opened about twoinches, and a voice called out through the crack, "Cynthy! — Mis' Plumfield wants to know if that is Mr. Carleton?"

"Yes. "

"Well, she'd like to see him. Ask him to walk into the frontroom, she says. "

Cynthy upon this showed the way, and Mr. Carleton walked intothe same room where a very few days before he had been sokindly welcomed by his fine old host. Cold indeed it was now, as was the welcome he would have given. There was no fire inthe chimney, and even all the signs of the fire of the otherday had been carefully cleared away; the clean empty fireplacelooked a mournful assurance that its cheerfulness would notsoon come back again. It was a raw disagreeable day; the paperwindow-shades fluttered uncomfortably in the wind, which hadits way now; and the very chairs and tables seemed as if theyhad taken leave of life and society for ever. Mr. Carletonwalked slowly up and down, his thoughts running perhapssomewhat in the train where poor little Fleda's had been sobusy last night; and wrapped up in broadcloth as he was to thechin, he shivered when he heard the chill wind moaning roundthe house and rustling the paper hangings, and thought oflittle Fleda's delicate frame, exposed as Cynthia haddescribed it. He made up his mind it must not be. 

Mrs. Plumfield presently came in, and met him with the calmdignity of that sorrow which needs no parade, and that truthand meekness of character which can make none. Yet there wasnothing like stoicism, no affected or proud repression offeeling; her manner was simply the dictate of good sense, borne out by a firm and quiet spirit. Mr. Carleton was struckwith it; it was a display of character different from any hehad ever before met with; it was something he could not quiteunderstand. For he wanted the key. But all the high respect hehad felt for this lady from the first was confirmed andstrengthened. 

After quietly receiving Mr. Carleton's silent grasp of thehand, aunt Miriam said, "I troubled you to stop, Sir, that I might ask you how muchlonger you expect to stop at Montepoole. "

Not more than two or three days, he said. 

"I understood, " said aunt Miriam, after a minute's pause, "that Mrs. Carleton was so kind as to say she would take careof Elfleda to France, and put her in the hands of her aunt. "

"She would have great pleasure in doing it, " said Mr. Carleton. "I can promise for your little niece that she shallhave a mother's care so long as my mother can render it. "

Aunt Miriam was silent, and he saw her eyes fill. 

"You should not have had the pain of seeing me to-day, " saidhe gently, "if I could have known it would give you any; butsince I am here, may I ask, whether it is your determinationthat Fleda shall go with us?"

"It was my brother's, " said aunt Miriam, sighing; — "he toldme — last night — that he wished her to go with Mrs. Carleton— if she would still be so good as to take her. "

"I have just heard about her from the housekeeper, " said Mr. Carleton, "what has disturbed me a good deal. Will you forgiveme, if I venture to propose that she should come to us atonce. Of course we will not leave the place for several days —till you are ready to part with her. "

Aunt Miriam hesitated, and again the tears flushed to hereyes. 

"I believe it would be best, " she said, — "since it must be —I cannot get the child away from her grandfather — I am afraidI want firmness to do it — and she ought not to be there — sheis a tender little creature —"

For once self-command failed her, — she was obliged to coverher face. 

"A stranger's hands cannot be more tender of her than ourswill be, " said Mr. Carleton, his warm pressure of auntMiriam's hand repeating the promise. "My mother will bring acarriage for her this afternoon, if you will permit. "

"If you please, Sir, —since it must be, it does not matter aday sooner or later, " repeated aunt Miriam — "if she can begot away — I don't know whether it will be possible. "

Mr. Carleton had his own private opinion on that point. Hemerely promised to be there again in a few hours, and took hisleave. 

He came, with his mother, about five o'clock in the afternoon. They were shown this time into the kitchen, where they foundtwo or three neighbours and friends with aunt Miriam andCynthy. The former received them with the same calm simplicitythat Mr. Carleton had admired in the morning, but said she wasafraid their coming would be in vain; she had talked withFleda about the proposed plan, and could not get her to listento it. She doubted whether it would be possible to persuadeher. And yet —

Aunt Miriam's self-possession seemed to be shaken when shethought of Fleda; she could not speak of her without wateringeyes. 

"She's fixing to be sick as fast as ever she can, " remarkedCynthia, dryly in a kind of aside meant for the audience; —"there wa'n't a grain of colour in her face when I went in totry to get her out a little while ago; and Mis' Plumfieldha'n't the heart to do anything with her, nor nobody else. "

"Mother, will you see what you can do?" said Mr. Carleton. 

Mrs. Carleton went, with all expression of face that her son, nobody else, knew meant that she thought it a particularlydisagreeable piece of business. She came back after the lapseof a few minutes, in tears. 

"I can do nothing with her, " she said hurriedly; "I don't knowwhat to say to her, and she looks like death. Go yourself, Guy; you can manage her, if any one can. "

Mr. Carleton went immediately. 

The room into which a short passage admitted him was cheerlessindeed. On a fair afternoon the sun's rays came in therepleasantly, but this was a true November day; a grey sky and achill raw wind that found its way in between the loose window-sashes and frames. One corner of the room was sadly tenantedby the bed which held the remains of its late master andowner. At a little table between the windows, with her backturned towards the bed, Fleda was sitting, her face bowed inher hands upon the old quarto bible that lay there open; ashawl round her shoulders. 

Mr. Carleton went up to the side of the table and softly spokeher name. Fleda looked up at him for an instant, and thenburied her face in her hands on the book as before. That lookmight have staggered him, but that Mr. Carleton rarely wasstaggered in any purpose when he had once made up his mind. Itdid move him — so much that he was obliged to wait a minute ortwo before he could muster firmness to speak to her again. Such a look, so pitiful in its sorrow, so appealing in itshelplessness, so imposing in its purity, — he had never seen, and it absolutely awed him. Many a child's face is lovely tolook upon for its innocent purity, but more commonly it is notlike this; it is the purity of snow, unsullied, but notunsulliable; there is another kind more ethereal, like that oflight, which you feel is from another sphere and will not knowsoil. But there were other signs in the face that would havenerved Mr. Carleton's resolution if he had needed it. Twenty-four hours had wrought a sad change. The child looked as ifshe had been ill for weeks. Her cheeks were colourless; thedelicate brow would have seemed pencilled on marble but forthe dark lines which weeping and watching, and still moresorrow, had drawn underneath; and the beautiful moulding ofthe features showed under the transparent skin like the workof the sculptor. She was not crying then, but the open pagesof the great bible had been wet with very many tears since herhead had rested there. 

"Fleda, " said Mr. Carleton, after a moment, "you must comewith me. "

The words were gently and tenderly spoken, yet they had thattone which young and old instinctively know it is vain todispute. Fleda glanced up again, a touching imploring look itwas very difficult to bear, and her "Oh no — I cannot, " wentto his heart. It was not resistance, but entreaty; and all thearguments she would have urged seemed to lie in the mere toneof her voice. She had no power of urging them in any otherway, for even as she spoke her head went down again on thebible with a burst of sorrow. Mr. Carleton was moved, but notshaken in his purpose. He was silent a moment, drawing backthe hair that fell over Fleda's forehead with a gentlecaressing touch; and then he said, still lower and moretenderly than before, but without flinching, "You must comewith me, Fleda. "

"Mayn't I stay, " said Fleda, sobbing, while he could see inthe tension of the muscles a violent effort at self-controlwhich he did not like to see, — "mayn't I stay till — till —the day after to-morrow?"

"No, dear Fleda, " said he, still stroking her head kindly, "Iwill bring you back, but you must go with me now. Your auntwishes it, and we all think it is best. I will bring youback. "

She sobbed bitterly for a few minutes. Then she begged, insmothered words, that he would leave her alone a little while. He went immediately. 

She checked her sobs when she heard the door close upon him, or as soon as she could, and rising went and knelt down by theside of the bed. It was not to cry, though what she did couldnot be done without many tears, — it was to repeat with equalearnestness and solemnity her mother's prayer, that she mightbe kept pure from the world's contact. There, beside theremains of her last dear earthly friend, as it were beforegoing out of his sight for ever, little Fleda knelt down toset the seal of faith and hope to his wishes, and to lay theconstraining hand of Memory upon her conscience. It was soondone; and then there was but one thing more to do. But, oh, the tears that fell as she stood there! before she could goon; how the little hands were pressed to the bowed face, as if_they_ would have borne up the load they could not reach; theconvulsive struggle, before the last look could be taken, thelast good-by said! But the sobs were forced back, the handswiped off the tears, the quivering features were bidden intosome degree of calmness; and she leaned forward, over theloved face that in death had kept all its wonted look ofmildness and placid dignity. It was in vain to try to lookthrough Fleda's blinded eyes; the hot tears dropped fast, while her trembling lips kissed, and kissed, those cold andsilent that could make no return; and then feeling that it wasthe last, that the parting was over, she stood again by theside of the bed as she had done a few minutes before, in aconvulsion of grief, her face bowed down and her little frameracked with feeling too strong for it; shaken visibly, as iftoo frail to bear the trial to which it was put. 

Mr. Carleton had waited and waited, as he thought, longenough, and now at last came in again, guessing how it waswith her. He put his arm round the child and gently drew heraway, and sitting down took her on his knee; and endeavouredrather with actions than with words to soothe and comfort her;for he did not know what to say. But his gentle delicate way, the soft touch with which he again stroked back her hair ortook her hand, speaking kindness and sympathy, the lovingpressure of his lips once or twice to her brow, the low tonesin which he told her that she was making herself sick; thatshe must not do so; that she must let him take care of her;were powerful to soothe or quiet a sensitive mind, and Fledafelt them. It was a very difficult task, and if undertaken byany one else, would have been more likely to disgust anddistress her. But his spirit had taken the measure of hers, and he knew precisely how to temper every word and tone so asjust to meet the nice sensibilities of her nature. He had saidhardly any thing, but she had understood all he meant to say, and when he told her at last, softly, that it was gettinglate, and she must let him take her away, she made no moredifficulty, rose up, and let him lead her out of the roomwithout once turning her head to look back. 

Mrs. Carleton looked relieved that there was a prospect ofgetting away, and rose up with a happy adjusting of her shawlround her shoulders. Aunt Miriam came forward to say good-by, but it was very quietly said. Fleda clasped her round the neckconvulsively for an instant, kissed her as if a kiss couldspeak a whole heartful, and then turned submissively to Mr. Carleton, and let him lead her to the carriage. 

There was no fault to be found with Mrs. Carleton's kindnesswhen they were on the way. She held the forlorn little childtenderly in her arm, and told her how glad she was to have herwith them, how glad she should be if she were going to keepher always; but her saying so only made Fleda cry, and shesoon thought it best to say nothing. All the rest of the wayFleda was a picture of resignation; transparently pale, meekand pure, and fragile seemingly as the delicatest wood-flowerthat grows. Mr. Carleton looked grieved, and leaning forwardhe took one of her hands in his own and held itaffectionately, till they got to the end of their journey. Itmarked Fleda's feeling towards him that she let it lie therewithout making a motion to draw it away. She was so still forthe last few miles, that her friends thought she had fallenasleep; but when the carriage stopped and the light of thelantern was flung inside, they saw the grave hazel eyes broadopen and gazing intently out of the window. 

"You will order tea for us in your dressing-room, mother?"said Mr. Carleton. 

"_Us_ — who is _us?_"

"Fleda and me, unless you will please to make one of theparty. "

"Certainly I will, but perhaps Fleda might like it better downstairs. Wouldn't you, dear?"

"If you please, Ma'am, " said Fleda. "Wherever you please. "

"But which would you rather, Fleda?" said Mr. Carleton. 

"I would _rather_ have it up-stairs, " said Fleda, gently, "butit's no matter. "

"We will have it up-stairs, " said Mrs. Carleton. "We will be anice little party up there by ourselves. You shall not comedown till you like. "

"You are hardly able to walk up, " said Mr. Carleton, tenderly. "Shall I carry you?"

The tears rushed to Fleda's eyes, but she said no, and managedto mount the stairs, though it was evidently an exertion. Mrs. Carleton's dressing-room, as her son had called it, lookedvery pleasant when they got there. It was well lighted andwarmed, and something answering to curtains had been summonedfrom its obscurity in storeroom or garret and hung up at thewindows, — "them air fussy English folks had made such a pintof it, " the landlord said. Truth was, that Mr. Carleton aswell as his mother wanted this room as a retreat for the quietand privacy which travelling in company as they did they couldhave nowhere else. Everything the hotel could furnish in theshape of comfort had been drawn together to give this room aslittle the look of a public-house as possible. Easy chairs, asMrs. Carleton remarked with a disgusted face, one could notexpect to find in a country inn; there were instead as many ashalf-a-dozen of "those miserable substitutes", as she calledrocking-chairs, and sundry fashions of couches and sofas, invarious degrees of elegance and convenience. The best ofthese, a great chintz-covered thing, full of pillows, stoodinvitingly near the bright fire. There Mr. Carleton placedlittle Fleda, took off her bonnet and things, and piled thecushions about her just in the way that would make her mosteasy and comfortable. He said little, and she nothing, but hereyes watered again at the kind tenderness of his manner. Andthen he left her in peace till the tea came. 

The tea was made in that room for those three alone. Fledaknew that Mr. And Mrs. Carleton stayed up there only for hersake, and it troubled her, but she could not help it. Neithercould she be very sorry so far as one of them was concerned. Mr. Carleton was too good to be wished away. All that eveninghis care of her never ceased. At tea, which the poor childwould hardly have shared but for him — and after tea, when inthe absence of bustle she had leisure to feel more fully herstrange circumstances and position, he hardly permitted her tofeel either, doing everything for her ease and pleasure, andquietly managing at the same time to keep back his mother'smore forward and less happily adapted tokens of kind feeling. Though she knew he was constantly occupied with her, Fledacould not feel oppressed; his kindness was as pervading and asunobtrusive as the summer air itself; she felt as if she wasin somebody's hands that knew her wants before she did, andquietly supplied or prevented them, in a way she could nottell how. It was very rarely that she even got a chance toutter the quiet and touching "thank you, " which invariablyanswered every token of kindness or thoughtfulness thatpermitted an answer. How greatly that harsh and sad day wassoftened to little Fleda's heart by the good feeling and finebreeding of one person. She thought when she went to bed thatnight, thought seriously and gratefully, that since she mustgo over the ocean and take that long journey to her aunt, howglad she was, how thankful she ought to be, that she had sovery kind and pleasant people to go with. Kind and pleasantshe counted them both; but what more she thought of a Mr. Carleton it would be hard to say. Her admiration of him wasvery high, appreciating as she did to the full all that charmof manner which she could neither analyze nor describe. 

Her last words to him that night, spoken with a most wistfulanxious glance into his face, were, "You will take me back again, Mr. Carleton?"

He knew what she meant. 

"Certainly I will. I promised you, Fleda. "

"Whatever Guy promises you may be very sure he will do, " saidhis mother, with a smile. 

Fleda believed it. But the next morning it was very plain thatthis promise he would not be called upon to perform; Fledawould not be well enough to go to the funeral. She was ableindeed to get up, but she lay all day upon the sofa in thedressing-room. Mr. Carleton had bargained for no company lastnight; to-day female curiosity could stand it no longer, andMrs. Thorn and Mrs. Evelyn came up to look and gossip openly, and to admire and comment privately, when they had a chance. Fleda lay perfectly quiet and still, seeming not much tonotice or care for their presence; they thought she wastolerably easy in body and mind, perhaps tired and sleepy, andlike to do well enough after a few days. How little they knew!How little they could imagine the assembly of Thought whichwas holding in that child's mind; how little they deemed ofthe deep, sad, serious look into life which that little spiritwas taking. How far they were from fancying while they werediscussing all manner of trifles before her, sometimes whenthey thought her sleeping, that in the intervals betweensadder and weightier things her nice instincts were taking thegauge of all their characters — unconsciously, but surely; howthey might have been ashamed if they had known that while theywere busy with all affairs in the universe but those whichmost nearly concerned them, the little child at their side, whom they had almost forgotten, was secretly looking up to herFather in heaven, and asking to be kept pure from the world!"Not unto the wise and prudent;" — how strange it may seem inone view of the subject, — in another, how natural, howbeautiful, how reasonable. 

Fleda did not ask again to be taken to Queechy. But as theafternoon drew on she turned her face away from the companyand shielded it from view among the cushions, and lay in thatutterly motionless state of body which betrays a concentratedmovement of the spirits in some hidden direction. To hercompanions it betrayed nothing. They only lowered their tonesa little lest they should disturb her. 

It had grown dark, and she was sitting up again, leaningagainst the pillows, and in her usual quietude, when Mr. Carleton came in. They had not seen him since before dinner. He came to her side, and taking her hand made some gentleinquiry how she was. 

"She has had a fine rest, " said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"She has been sleeping all the afternoon, " said Mrs. Carleton, — "she lay as quiet as a mouse, without stirring; — you weresleeping, weren't you, dear?"

Fleda's lips hardly formed the word "no, " and her featureswere quivering sadly. Mr. Carleton's were impenetrable. 

"Dear Fleda, " said he, stooping down and speaking with equalgravity and kindliness of manner, — "you were not able to go. "

Fleda's shake of the head gave a meek acquiescence. But herface was covered, and the gay talkers around her were silencedand sobered by the heaving of her little frame with sobs thatshe could not keep back. Mr. Carleton secured the permanenceof their silence for that evening. He dismissed them the roomagain, and would have nobody there but himself and his mother. 

Instead of being better the next day Fleda was not able to getup; she was somewhat feverish and exceedingly weak. She laylike a baby, Mrs. Carleton said, and gave as little trouble. Gentle and patient always, she made no complaint, and evenuttered no wish, and whatever they did made no objection. Though many a tear that day and the following paid itsfaithful tribute to the memory of what she had lost, no oneknew it; she was never seen to weep; and the very gravecomposure of her face, and her passive unconcern as to whatwas done or doing around her, alone gave her friends reason tosuspect that the mind was not as quiet as the body. Mr. Carleton was the only one who saw deeper; the only one thatguessed why the little hand often covered the eyes socarefully, and read the very, very grave lines of the mouththat it could not hide. 

As soon as she could bear it he had her brought out to thedressing-room again, and laid on the sofa; and it was severaldays before she could be got any further. But there he couldbe more with her, and devote himself more to her pleasure; andit was not long before he had made himself necessary to thepoor child's comfort in a way beyond what he was aware of. 

He was not the only one who showed her kindness. Unweariedcare and most affectionate attention were lavished upon her byhis mother and both her friends; they all thought they couldnot do enough to mark their feeling and regard for her. Mrs. Carleton and Mrs. Evelyn nursed her by night and by day. Mrs. Evelyn read to her. Mrs. Thorn would come often to look andsmile at her and say a few words of heartfelt pity andsympathy. Yet Fleda could not feel quite at home with any oneof them. They did not see it. Her manner was affectionate andgrateful, to the utmost of their wish; her simple naturalpoliteness, her nice sense of propriety, were at every call;she seemed after a few days to be as cheerful and to enter asmuch into what was going on about her as they had any reasonto expect she could; and they were satisfied. But while movingthus smoothly among her new companions, in secret her spiritstood aloof; there was not one of them that could touch her, that could understand her, that could meet the want of hernature. Mrs. Carleton was incapacitated for it by education;Mrs. Evelyn by character; Mrs. Thorn by natural constitution. Of them all, though by far the least winning and agreeable inpersonal qualifications, Fleda would soonest have relied onMrs. Thorn, could soonest have loved her. Her homely sympathyand kindness made their way to the child's heart; Fleda feltthem and trusted them. But there were too few points ofcontact. Fleda thanked her, and did not wish to see her again. With Mrs. Carleton Fleda had almost nothing at all in common. And that notwithstanding all this lady's politeness, intelligence, cultivation, and real kindness towards herself. Fleda would readily have given her credit for them all; andyet, the nautilus may as soon compare notes with thenavigator, the canary might as well study Mδlzel's metronome, as a child of nature and a woman of the world comprehend andsuit each other. The nature of the one must change or the twomust remain the world wide apart. Fleda felt it, she did notknow why. Mrs. Carleton was very kind, and perfectly polite;but Fleda had no pleasure in her kindness, no trust in herpoliteness; or if that be saying too much, at least she feltthat for some inexplicable reason both were unsatisfactory. Even the tact which each possessed in an exquisite degree wasnot the same in each; in one it was the self-graduating powerof a clever machine, — in the other, the delicateness of thesensitive-plant. Mrs. Carleton herself was not without somesense of this distinction; she confessed, secretly, that therewas something in Fleda out of the reach of her discernment, and consequently beyond the walk of her skill; and felt, rather uneasily, that more delicate hands were needed to guideso delicate a nature. Mrs. Evelyn came nearer the point. Shewas very pleasant, and she knew how to do things in a charmingway; and there were times, frequently, when Fleda thought shewas everything lovely. But yet, now and then a mere word, orlook, would contradict this fair promise, a something of_hardness_ which Fleda could not reconcile with the softgentleness of other times; and on the whole Mrs. Evelyn wasunsure ground to her; she could not adventure her confidencethere. 

With Mr. Carleton alone Fleda felt at home. He only, she knew, completely understood and appreciated her. Yet she saw alsothat with others he was not the same as with her. Whethergrave or gay there was about him an air of cool indifference, very often reserved, and not seldom haughty; and the eye whichcould melt and glow when turned upon her, was sometimes asbright and cold as a winter sky. Fleda felt sure, however, that she might trust him entirely, so far as she herself wasconcerned; of the rest she stood in doubt. She was quite rightin both cases. Whatever else there might be in that blue eye, there was truth in it when it met hers; she gave that truthher full confidence and was willing to honour every draughtmade upon her charity for the other parts of his character. 

He never seemed to lose sight of her. He was always doingsomething for which Fleda loved him; but so quietly andhappily that she could neither help his taking the trouble, nor thank him for it. It might have been matter of surprisethat a gay young man of fashion should concern himself like abrother about the wants of a little child; the young gentlemendown stairs who were not of the society in the dressing-room, did make themselves very merry upon the subject, and ralliedMr. Carleton with the common amount of wit and wisdom abouthis little sweetheart; a raillery which met the most flintyindifference. But none of those who saw Fleda ever thoughtstrange of anything that was done for her; and Mrs. Carletonwas rejoiced to have her son take up the task she was fain tolay down. So he really, more than any one else, had themanagement of her; and Fleda invariably greeted his entranceinto the room with a faint smile, which even the ladies whosaw agreed was well worth working for. 

CHAPTER IX. 

"If large possessions, pompous titles, honourable charges, andprofitable commissions, could have made this proud man happy, there would have been nothing wanting. "L'ESTRANGE. 

Several days had passed. Fleda's cheeks had gained no colour, but she had grown a little stronger, and it was thought theparty might proceed on their way without any more tarrying;trusting that change and the motion of travelling would dobetter things for Fleda than could be hoped from any furtherstay at Montepoole. The matter was talked over in an eveningconsultation in the dressing-room, and it was decided thatthey would set off on the second day thereafter. 

Fleda was lying quietly on her sofa, with her eyes closed, having had nothing to say during the discussion. They thoughtshe had perhaps not heard it. Mr. Carleton's sharper eyes, however, saw that one or two tears were glimmering just underthe eyelash. He bent down over her and whispered, —

"I know what you are thinking of Fleda, do I not?"

"I was thinking of aunt Miriam, " Fleda said in an answeringwhisper, without opening her eyes. 

"I will take care of that. "

Fleda looked up and smiled most expressively her thanks, andin five minutes was asleep. Mr. Carleton stood watching her, querying how long those clear eyes would have nothing to hide, — how long that bright purity could resist the corrosion ofthe world's breath; and half thinking that it would be betterfor the spirit to pass away, with its lustre upon it, thanstay till self-interest should sharpen the eye, and the linesof diplomacy write themselves on that fair brow. "Better so, —better so. "

"What are you thinking of so gloomily, Guy?" said his mother. 

"That is a tender little creature to struggle with a roughworld. "

"She wont have to struggle with it, " said Mrs. Carleton. 

"She will do very well, " said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"I don't think she'd find it a rough world, where you were, Mr. Carleton, " said Mrs. Thorn. 

"Thank you, Ma'am, " he said, smiling. "But unhappily, my powerreaches very little way. "

"Perhaps, " said Mrs. Evelyn, with a sly smile, "that might bearranged differently; Mrs. Rossitur, I have no doubt, woulddesire nothing better than a smooth world for her littleniece, and Mr. Carleton's power might be unlimited in itsextent. "

There was no answer, and the absolute repose of all the linesof the young gentleman's face bordered too nearly on contemptto encourage the lady to pursue her jest any further. 

The next day Fleda was well enough to bear moving. Mr. Carleton had her carefully bundled up, and then carried herdown stairs and placed her in the little light wagon which hadonce before brought her to the Pool. Luckily it was a mildday, for no close carriage was to be had for love or money. The stage-coach in which Fleda had been fetched from hergrandfather's was in use, away somewhere. Mr. Carleton droveher down to aunt Miriam's, and leaving her there he went offagain; and whatever he did with himself it was a good twohours before he came back. All too little yet they were forthe tears and the sympathy which went to so many things bothin the past and in the future. Aunt Miriam had not said halfshe wished to say, when the wagon was at the gate again, andMr. Carleton came to take his little charge away. 

He found her sitting happily in aunt Miriam's lap. Fleda wasvery grateful to him for leaving her such a nice long time, and welcomed him with even a brighter smile than usual. Buther head rested wistfully on her aunt's bosom after that; andwhen he asked her if she was almost ready to go, she hid herface there and put her arms about her neck. The old lady heldher close for a few minutes, in silence. 

"Elfleda, " said aunt Miriam gravely, and tenderly, — "do youknow what was your mother's prayer for you?"

"Yes, " — she whispered. 

"What was it?"

"That I — might be kept —"

"Unspotted from the world!" repeated aunt Miriam, in a tone oftender and deep feeling. "My sweet blossom! — how wilt thoukeep so? Will you remember always your mother's prayer?"

"I will try. "

"How will you try, Fleda?"

"I will pray. "

Aunt Miriam kissed her again and again, fondly repeating, "TheLord hear thee! — the Lord bless thee! — the Lord keep thee! —as a lily among thorns, my precious little babe; — though inthe world, not of it. "

"Do you think that is possible?" said Mr. Carleton, significantly when a few moments after they had risen and wereabout to separate. Aunt Miriam looked at him in surprise, andasked, —

"What, Sir? "

"To live in the world and not be like the world?"

She cast her eyes upon Fleda, fondly smoothing down her softhair with both hands for a minute or two before she answered, —

"By the help of one thing, Sir, yes!"

"And what is that?" said he, quickly. 

"The blessing of God, with whom all things are possible. "

His eyes fell, and there was a kind of incredulous sadness inhis half smile which aunt Miriam understood better than hedid. She sighed as she folded Fleda again to her breast, andwhisperingly bade her "Remember!" But Fleda knew nothing ofit; and when she had finally parted from aunt Miriam, and wasseated in the little wagon on her way home, to her fancy thebest friend she had in the world was sitting beside her. 

Neither was her judgment wrong, so far as it went. She sawtrue where she saw at all. But there was a great deal shecould not see. 

Mr. Carleton was an unbeliever. Not maliciously, — notwilfully, — not stupidly; — rather the fool of circumstance. His scepticism might be traced to the joint workings of a veryfine nature and a very bad education — that is, education inthe broad sense of the term; of course none of the means andappliances of mental culture had been wanting to him. 

He was an uncommonly fine example of what nature alone can dofor a man. A character of nature's building is at best a veryragged affair, without religion's finishing hand; at theutmost a fine ruin — no more. And if that be the _utmost_ ofnature's handiwork, what is at the other end of the scale? —alas! the rubble stones of the ruin; what of good and fairnature had reared there was not strong enough to stand alone. But religion cannot work alike on every foundation; and thevarieties are as many as the individuals. Sometimes she mustbuild the whole, from the very ground; and there are caseswhere nature's work stands so strong and fair that religion'sstrength may be expended in perfecting and enriching andcarrying it to an uncommon height of grace and beauty, anddedicating the fair temple to a new use. 

Of religion, Mr. Carleton had nothing at all; and a trueChristian character had never crossed his path near enough forhim to become acquainted with it. His mother was a woman ofthe world; his father had been a man of the world; and what ismore, so deepdyed a politician, that to all intents andpurposes, except as to bare natural affection, he was nothingto his son, and his son was nothing to him. Both mother andfather thought the son a piece of perfection, and mothers andfathers have very often indeed thought so on less grounds. Mr. Carleton saw, whenever he took time to look at him, that Guyhad no lack either of quick wit or manly bearing; that he hadpride enough to keep him from low company and make him abhorlow pursuits; if anything more than pride and better thanpride mingled with it, the father's discernment could notreach so far. He had a love for knowledge too, that from achild made him eager in seeking it, in ways both regular anddesultory; and tastes which his mother laughingly said wouldgive him all the elegance of a woman, joined to the strongmanly character which no one ever doubted he possessed. _She_looked mostly at the outside, willing, if that pleased her, totake everything else upon trust; and the grace of manner whicha warm heart and fine sensibilities, and a mind entirely frankand above-board, had given him, from his earliest years, hadmore than met all her wishes. No one suspected thestubbornness and energy of will which was in fact the back-bone of his character. Nothing tried it. His father's deathearly left little Guy to his mother's guardianship. Contradicting him was the last thing she thought of, and ofcourse it was attempted by no one else. 

If she would ever have allowed that he had a fault, which shenever would, it was one that grew out of his greatest virtue, an unmanageable truth of character; and if she everunwillingly recognised its companion virtue, firmness of will, it was when she endeavoured to combat certain troublesomedemonstrations of the other. In spite of all the grace andcharm of manner in which he was allowed to be a model, andwhich was as natural to him as it was universal, if ever theinterests of truth came in conflict with the dictates ofsociety, he flung minor considerations behind his back, andcame out with some startling piece of bluntness at which hismother was utterly confounded. These occasions were very rare;he never sought them. Always where it was possible he choseeither to speak or be silent in an unexceptionable manner. Butsometimes the barrier of conventionalities, or his mother'sunwise policy, pressed too hard upon his integrity or hisindignation; and he would then free the barrier and presentthe shut-out truth in its full size and proportions before hismother's shocked eyes. It was in vain to try to coax or blindhim; a marble statue is not more unruffled by the soft airs ofsummer; and Mrs. Carleton was fain to console herself with thereflection that Guy's very next act after one of these breakswould be one of such happy fascination that the former wouldbe forgotten; and that in this world of discordances it wasimpossible, on the whole, for any one to come nearerperfection. And if there was inconvenience, there were alsogreat comforts about this character of truthfulness. 

So nearly up to the time of his leaving the University, theyoung heir lived a life of as free and uncontrolled enjoymentas the deer on his grounds, happily led by his own fineinstincts to seek that enjoyment in pure and natural sources. His tutor was proud of his success; his dependants loved hisfrank and high bearing; his mother rejoiced in his personalaccomplishments, and was secretly well pleased that his tastesled him another way from the more common and less safeindulgences of other young men. He had not escaped thetemptations of opportunity and example. But gambling was notintellectual enough, jockeying was too undignified, anddrinking too coarse a pleasure for him. Even hunting andcoursing charmed him but for a few times; when he found hecould out-ride and out-leap all his companions, he hunted nomore; telling his mother, when she attacked him on thesubject, that he thought the hare the worthier animal of thetwo upon a chase; and that the fox deserved an easier death. His friends twitted him with his want of spirit and want ofmanliness; but such light shafts bounded back from the buffsuit of cool indifference in which their object was cased; andhis companions very soon gave over the attempt either topersuade or annoy him, with the conclusion that "nothing couldbe done with Carleton. "

The same wants that had displeased him in the sports soon ledhim to decline the company of those who indulged in them. Fromthe low-minded, from the uncultivated, from the unrefined inmind and manner, — and such there are in the highest class ofsociety, as well as in the less favoured, — he shrank away insecret disgust or weariness. There was no affinity. To hisbooks, to his grounds, which he took endless delight inoverseeing, to the fine arts in general, for which he had agreat love, and for one or two of them a great talent, — hewent with restless energy and no want of companionship; and atone or the other, always pushing eagerly forward after somepoint of excellence, or some new attainment not yet reached, and which sprang up after one another as fast as ever "Alpson Alps, " he was happily and constantly busy. Too solitary, his mother thought, — caring less for society than she wishedto see him. ; but that, she trusted, would mend itself. Hewould be through the University, and come of age, and go intothe world, as a matter of necessity. 

But years brought a change — not the change his mother lookedfor. That restless active energy which had made the years ofhis youth so happy, became, in connection with one or twoother qualities, a troublesome companion, when he had reachedthe age of manhood, and, obeying manhood's law, had "put awaychildish things. " On what should it spend itself? It had lostnone of its strength; while his fastidious notions ofexcellence, and a far-reaching clear-sightedness, whichbelonged to his truth of nature, greatly narrowed the sphereof its possible action. He could not delude himself into thebelief that the oversight of his plantations, and theperfecting his park scenery, could be a worthy end ofexistence; or that painting and music were meant to be thestamina of life; or even that books were their own finalcause. These things had refined and enriched him; — they mightgo on doing so to the end of his days; — but _for what?_ Forwhat?

It is said that everybody has his niche, failing to find whichnobody fills his place or acts his part in society. Mr. Carleton could not find his niche, and he consequently grewdissatisfied everywhere. His mother's hopes from theUniversity and the World were sadly disappointed. 

At the University he had not lost his time. The pride ofcharacter, which, joined with less estimable pride of birth, was a marked feature in his composition, made him look withscorn upon the ephemeral pursuits of one set of young men;while his strong intellectual tastes drew him in the otherdirection; and the energetic activity which drove him to doeverything well that he once took in hand, carried him to highdistinction. Being there he would have disdained to beanywhere but at the top of the tree. But out of theUniversity, and in possession of his estates, what should hedo with himself and them?

A question easy to settle by most young men! very easy tosettle by Guy, if he had had the clue of Christian truth toguide him through the labyrinth. But the clue was wanting, andthe world seemed to him a world of confusion. 

A certain clearness of judgment is apt to be the blessed hand-maid of uncommon truth of character; the mind that knows notwhat it is to play tricks upon its neighbours is rewarded by acomparative freedom from self-deception. Guy could not sitdown upon his estates and lead an insect-life like thatrecommended by Rossitur. His energies wanted room to expendthemselves. But the world offered no sphere that would satisfyhim; even had his circumstances and position laid all equallyopen. It was a busy world; but to him people seemed to be busyupon trifles, or working in a circle, or working mischief; andhis nice notions of what _ought to be_ were shocked by what hesaw was, in every direction around him. He was disgusted withwhat he called the drivelling of some unhappy specimens of theChurch which had come in his way; he disbelieved the truth ofwhat such men professed. If there had been truth in it, hethought they would deserve to be drummed out of theprofession. He detested the crooked involvements and double-dealing of the law. He despised the butterfly life of asoldier; and as to the other side of a soldier's life, againhe thought, what is it for? — to humour the arrogance of theproud, — to pamper the appetite of the full, — to tighten thegrip of the iron hand of power; and though it be sometimes forbetter ends, yet the soldier cannot choose what letters of thealphabet of obedience he will learn. Politics was the veryshaking of the government sieve, where, if there were anysolid result, it was accompanied with a very great flyingabout of chaff indeed. Society was nothing but whip syllabub, — a mere conglomeration of bubbles, — as hollow and asunsatisfying. And in lower departments of human life, as faras he knew, he saw evils yet more deplorable. The Churchplayed at shuttlecock with men's credulousness; the law, withtheir purses; the medical profession, with their lives; themilitary, with their liberties and hopes. He acknowledged thatin all these lines of action there was much talent, much goodintention, much admirable diligence and acuteness brought out— but to what great general end? He saw, in short, that themachinery of the human mind, both at large and in particular, was out of order. He did not know what was the broken wheel, the want of which set all the rest to running wrong. 

This was a strange train of thought for a very young man; butGuy had lived much alone, and in solitude one is like a personwho has climbed a high mountain; the air is purer about him, his vision is freer; the eye goes straight and clear to thedistant view which below on the plain a thousand things wouldcome between to intercept. But there was some morbidness aboutit too. Disappointment, in two or three instances, where hehad given his full confidence and been obliged to take itback, had quickened him to generalize unfavourably upon humancharacter, both in the mass and in individuals. And a restlessdissatisfaction with himself and the world did not tend to ahealthy view of things. Yet, truth was at the bottom; truthrarely arrived at without the help of revelation. He discerneda want he did not know how to supply. His fine perceptionsfelt the jar of the machinery which other men are too busy ortoo deaf to hear. It seemed to him hopelessly disordered. 

This habit of thinking wrought a change very unlike what hismother had looked for. He mingled more in society, but Mrs. Carleton saw that the eye with which he looked upon it was yetcolder than it wont to be. A cloud came over the light, gayspirited manner he had used to wear. The charm of his addresswas as great as ever where he pleased to show it, but muchmore generally now he contented himself with a cool reserve, as impossible to disturb as to find fault with. His tempersuffered the same eclipse. It was naturally excellent. Hispassions were not hastily moved. He had never been easy tooffend; his careless good-humour, and an unbounded proud self-respect, made him look rather with contempt than anger uponthe things that fire most men; though when once moved todispleasure, it was stern and abiding in proportion to thedepth of his character. The same good-humour and cool self-respect forbade him even then to be eager in showingresentment; the offender fell off from his esteem, andapparently from the sphere of his notice, as easily as a dropof water from a duck's wing, and could with as much easeregain his lost lodgment; but unless there were wrong to berighted, or truth to be vindicated, he was in general safefrom any further tokens of displeasure. In those cases, Mr. Carleton was an adversary to be dreaded. As cool, asunwavering, as persevering there as in other things, he there, as in other things, no more failed of his end. And at bottomthese characteristics remained the same; it was rather hishumour than his temper that suffered a change. That grew moregloomy and less gentle. He was more easily irritated, andwould show it more freely than in the old happy times had everbeen. 

Mrs. Carleton would have been glad to have those times backagain. It could not be. Guy could not be content any longer inthe Happy Valley of Amhara. Life had something for him to dobeyond his park palings. He had carried manly exercises andpersonal accomplishments to an uncommon point of perfection;he knew his library well, and his grounds thoroughly, and hadmade excellent improvement of both; it was in vain to try topersuade him that seed-time and harvest were the same thing, and that he had nothing to do but to rest in what he had done;show his bright colours and flutter like a moth in thesunshine, or sit down like a degenerate bee in the summer timeand eat his own honey. The power of action which he knew inhimself could not rest without something to act upon. Itlonged to be doing. 

But what?

Conscience is often morbidly far-sighted. Mr. Carleton had avery large tenantry around him and depending upon him, inbettering whose condition, if he had but known it, all thoseenergies might have found full play. It never entered into hishead. He abhorred _business_, — the detail of business; and. Hisfastidious tastes especially shrank from having anything to doamong those whose business was literally their life. The eye, sensitively fond of elegance, the extreme of elegance, ineverything, and permitting no other around or about him, couldnot bear the tokens of mental and bodily wretchedness amongthe ignorant poor; he escaped from them as soon as possible;thought that poverty was one of the irregularities of thiswrong-working machine of a world, and something utterly beyondhis power to do away or alleviate; and left to his steward allthe responsibility that of right rested on his own shoulders. 

And at last, unable to content himself in the old routine ofthings, he quitted home and England, even before he was ofage, and roved from place to place, trying, and trying invain, to soothe the vague restlessness that called for a verydifferent remedy. 

"On change de ciel, — l'on ne change point de sol. "

CHAPTER X

Faire Christabelle, that ladye bright, Was had forth of the towre:But ever she droopeth in her minde, As, nipt by an ungentle winde, Doth some faire lillye flowre. SYR CAULINE. 

That evening, the last of their stay at Montepoole, Fleda wasthought well enough to take her tea in company. So Mr. Carleton carried her down, though she could have walked, andplaced her on the sofa in the parlour. 

Whatever disposition the young officers might have felt torenew their pleasantry on the occasion, it was shamed intosilence. There was a pure dignity about that little pale facewhich protected itself. They were quite struck, and Fleda hadno reason to complain of want of attention from any of theparty. Mr. Evelyn kissed her. Mr. Thorn brought a little tableto the side of the sofa for her cup of tea to stand on, andhanded her the toast most dutifully; and her cousin Rossiturwent back and forth between her and the tea-urn. All of theladies seemed to take immense satisfaction in looking at her, they did it so much; standing about the hearth-rug with theircups in their hands, sipping their tea. Fleda was quitetouched with everybody's kindness, but somebody at the back ofthe sofa, whom she did not see, was the greatest comfort ofall. 

"You must let me carry you upstairs when you go, Fleda, " saidher cousin. "I shall grow quite jealous of your friend, Mr. Carleton. "

"No, " said Fleda, smiling a little, — "I shall not let any onebut him carry me up, — if he will. "

"We shall all grow jealous of Mr. Carleton, " said Thorn. "Hemeans to monopolize you, keeping you shut up there, upstairs. "

"He didn't keep me shut up, " said Fleda. 

Mr. Carleton was welcome to monopolize her, if it depended onher vote. 

"Not fair play, Carleton, " continued the young officer, wiselyshaking his head, — "all start alike, or there's no fun in therace. You've fairly distanced us — left us nowhere. "

He might have talked Chinese, and been as intelligible toFleda, — and as interesting to Guy, for all that appeared. 

"How are we going to proceed to-morrow, Mr. Evelyn?" said Mrs. Carleton. "Has the missing stage-coach returned yet? or willit be forthcoming in the morning?"

"Promised, Mrs. Carleton. The landlord's faith stands pledgedfor it. "

"Then it wont disappoint us, of course. What a dismal way oftravelling!"

"This young country hasn't grown up to post-coaches yet, " saidMrs. Evelyn. 

"How many will it hold?" inquired Mrs. Carleton. 

"Hum! — nine inside, I suppose. "

"And we number ten, with the servants. "

"Just take us, " said Mr. Evelyn. "There's room on the box forone. "

"It will not take me, " said Mr. Carleton. 

"How will you go? ride?" said his mother. "I should think youwould, since you have found a horse you like so well. "

"By George! I wish there was another that _I_ liked, " saidRossitur, "and I'd go on horseback too. Such weather! Thelandlord says it's the beginning of Indian summer. "

"It's too early for that, " said Thorn. 

"Well, eight inside will do very well for one day, " said Mrs. Carleton. "That will give little Fleda a little more space tolie at her ease. "

"You may put Fleda out of your calculations, too, mother, "said Mr. Carleton. "I will take care of her. "

"How in the world, " exclaimed his mother, — "if you are onhorseback?"

And Fleda twisted herself round so as to give a look of brightinquiry at his face. She got no answer beyond a smile, which, however, completely satisfied her. As to the rest, he told hismother that he had arranged it, and they should see in themorning. Mrs. Carleton was far from being at ease on thesubject of his arrangements, but she let the matter drop. 

Fleda was secretly very much pleased. She thought she would agreat deal rather go with Mr. Carleton in the little wagonthan in the stage-coach with the rest of the people. Privatelyshe did not at all admire Mr. Thorn or her cousin Rossitur. They amused her though; and feeling very much better andstronger in body, and at least quiet in mind, she sat intolerable comfort on her sofa, looking and listening to thepeople who were gaily talking around her. 

In the gaps of talk she sometimes thought she heard adistressed sound in the hall. The buzz of tongues covered itup, — then again she heard it, — and she was sure at last thatit was the voice of a dog. Never came an appeal in vain fromany four-footed creature to Fleda's heart. All the rest beingbusy with their own affairs she quietly got up and opened thedoor and looked out, and finding that she was right, wentsoftly into the hall. In one corner lay her cousin Rossitur'sbeautiful black pointer, which she well remembered, and hadgreatly admired several times. The poor creature was every nowand then uttering short cries, in a manner as if he would notbut they were forced from him. 

"What is the matter with him?" asked Fleda, steppingfearfully towards the dog, and speaking to Mr. Carleton, whohad come out to look after her. As she spoke, the dog rose, and came crouching and wagging his tail to meet them. 

"Oh, Mr. Carleton!" Fleda almost screamed, — "look at him!Oh, what is the matter with him! he's all over bloody! Poorcreature!" —

"You must ask your cousin, Fleda, " said Mr. Carleton, with asmuch cold disgust in his countenance as it often expressed;and that is saying a good deal. 

Fleda could speak in the cause of a dog, where she would havebeen silent in her own. She went back to the parlour, andbegged her cousin, with a face of distress, to come out intothe hall, — she did not say for what. Both he and Thornfollowed her. Rossitur's face darkened as Fleda repeated herenquiry, her heart so full by this time, as hardly to allowher to make any. 

"Why, the dog didn't do his duty, and has been punished, " hesaid, gloomily. 

"Punished!" said Fleda. 

"Shot, " said Mr. Carleton, coolly. 

"Shot!" exclaimed Fleda, bursting into heartwrung tears —"shot! Oh, how _could_ any one do it! Oh, how could you, howcould you, cousin Charlton!"

It was a picture. The child was crying bitterly, her fingersstroking the poor dog's head with a touch in which lay, ohwhat tender healing, if the will had but had magnetic power!Carleton's eye glanced significantly from her to the youngofficers. Rossitur looked at Thorn. 

"It was not Charlton — it was I, Miss Fleda, " said the latter. "Charlton lent him to me to-day, and he disobeyed me, and so Iwas angry with him, and punished him a little severely; buthe'll soon get over it. "

But all Fleda's answer was, "I am very sorry! — I am verysorry! — poor dog!" — and to weep such tears as made the younggentlemen for once ashamed of themselves. It almost did thechild a mischief. She did not get over it all the evening. Andshe never got over it, as far as Mr. Thorn was concerned. 

Mrs. Carleton hoped, faintly, that Guy would come to reason bythe next morning, and let Fleda go in the stage-coach with therest of the people. But he was as unreasonable as ever, andstuck to his purpose. She had supposed, however, with Fleda, that the difference would be only an open vehicle and hiscompany instead of a covered one and her own. Both of themwere sadly discomfited when on coming to the hall door to taketheir carriages, it was found that Mr. Carleton's meaning wasno less than to take Fleda before him on horseback. He wasbusy even then in arranging a cushion on the pommel of thesaddle for her to sit upon. Mrs. Carleton burst into indignantremonstrances; Fleda silently trembled. 

But Mr. Carleton had his own notions on the subject, and theywere not moved by anything his mother could say. He quietlywent on with his preparations; taking very slight notice ofthe raillery of the young officers, answering Mrs. Evelyn withpolite words, and silencing his mother as he came up with oneof those looks out of his dark eyes to which she alwaysforgave the wilfulness for the sake of the beauty and thewinning power. She was completely conquered, and stepped backwith even a smile. 

"But, Carleton!" cried Rossitur, impatiently; "you can't rideso! you'll find it deucedly inconvenient. "

"Possibly, " said Mr. Carleton. 

"Fleda would be a great deal better off in the stage-coach. "

"Have you studied medicine, Mr. Rossitur?" said the young man. "Because I am persuaded of the contrary. "

"I don't believe your horse will like it, " said Thorn. 

"My horse is always of my mind, Sir; or if he be not, Igenerally succeed in convincing him. "

"But there is somebody else that deserves to be consulted, "said Mrs. Thorn. "I wonder how little Fleda will like it. "

"I will ask her when we get to our first stopping-place, " saidMr. Carleton, smiling. "Come, Fleda!"

Fleda would hardly have said a word if his purpose had been toput her under the horse's feet instead of on his back. But shecame forward with great unwillingness, and a very tremulouslittle heart. He must have understood the want of alacrity inher face and manner, though he took no notice of it otherwisethan by the gentle kindness with which he led her to thehorse-block, and placed her upon it. Then mounting, and ridingthe horse up close to the block, he took Fleda in both hands, and bidding her spring, in a moment she was safely seatedbefore him. 

At first it seemed dreadful to Fleda to have that greathorse's head so near her, and she was afraid that her feettouching him would excite his most serious disapprobation. However, a minute or so went by, and she could not see thathis tranquillity seemed to be at all ruffled, or even that hewas sensible of her being upon his shoulders. They waited tosee the stage-coach off, and then gently set forward. Fledafeared very much again when she felt the horse moving underher, easy as his gait was, and looking after the stage-coachin the distance, now beyond call, she felt a little as if shewas a great way from help and dry land — cast away on ahorse's back. But Mr. Carleton's arm was gently passed roundher, and she knew it held her safely, and would not let herfall; and he bent down his face to her, and asked her sokindly and tenderly, and with such a look too, that seemed tolaugh at her fears, whether she felt afraid? and with such akind little pressure of his arm that promised to take care ofher, that Fleda's courage mounted twenty degrees at once. Andit rose higher every minute; the horse went very easily, andMr. Carleton held her so that she could not be tired, and madeher lean against him; and before they had gone a mile Fledabegan to be delighted. Such a charming way of travelling! Sucha free view of the country! and in this pleasant weather, too, neither hot nor cold, and when all nature's features weresoftened by the light veil of haze that hung over them, andkept off the sun's glare, Mr. Carleton was right. In thestage-coach Fleda would have sat quiet in a corner, and mopedthe time sadly away; now she was roused, excited, interested, even cheerful; forgetting herself, which was the very thing ofall others to be desired for her. She lost her fears; she waswilling to have the horse trot or canter as fast as his riderpleased; but the trotting was too rough for her, so theycantered or paced along most of the time, when the hills didnot oblige them to walk quietly up and down, which happenedpretty often. For several miles the country was not veryfamiliar to Fleda. It was, however, extremely picturesque; andshe sat silently and gravely looking at it, her head lyingupon Mr. Carleton's breast, her little mind very full ofthoughts and musings, curious, deep, sometimes sorrowful, butnot unhappy. 

"I am afraid I tire you, Mr. Carleton!" said she, in a suddenfit of recollection, starting up. 

His look answered her, and his arm drew her back to her placeagain. 

"Are _you_ not tired, Elfie?"

"Oh no! — You have got a new name for me, Mr. Carleton, " saidshe, a moment after, looking up and smiling. 

"Do you like it?"

"Yes. "

"You are my good genius, " said he, "so I must a peculiar titlefor you, different from what other people know you by. "

"What is a genius, Sir?" said Fleda. 

"Well, a sprite, then, " said he, smiling. 

"A sprite?" said Fleda. 

"I have read a story of a lady, Elfie, who had a great manylittle unearthly creatures, a kind of sprites, to attend uponher. Some sat in the ringlets of her hair, and took charge ofthem; some hid in the folds of her dress and made them liegracefully; another lodged in a dimple in her cheek, andanother perched on her eyebrows, and so on. "

"To take care of her eyebrows?" said Fleda, laughing. 

"Yes; to smooth out all the ill-humoured wrinkles and frowns, I suppose. "

"But am I such a sprite?" said Fleda. 

"Something like it. "

"Why, what do I do?" said Fleda, rousing herself in a mixtureof gratification and amusement that was pleasant to behold. 

"What office would you choose, Elfie? what good would you liketo do me?"

It was a curious wistful look with which Fleda answered thisquestion, an innocent look, in which Mr. Carleton readperfectly that she felt something was wanting in him, and didnot know exactly what. His smile almost made her think she hadbeen mistaken. 

"You are just the sprite you would wish to be, Elfie, " hesaid. 

Fleda's head took its former position, and she sat for sometime musing over his question and answer, till a familiarwaymark put all such thoughts to flight. They were passingDeepwater Lake, and would presently be at aunt Miriam's. Fledalooked now with a beating heart. Every foot of ground wasknown to her. She was seeing it, perhaps, for the last time. It was with even an intensity of eagerness that she watchedevery point and turn of the landscape, endeavouring to losenothing in her farewell view, to give her farewell look atevery favourite clump of trees and old rock, and at the verymill-wheels, which for years, whether working or at rest, hadhad such interest for her. If tears came to bid their good-bytoo, they were hastily thrown off, or suffered to roll quietlydown; _they_ might bide their time; but eyes must look now ornever. How pleasant, how pleasant, the quiet old countryseemed to Fleda as they went along! — in that most quiet lightand colouring; the brightness of the autumn glory gone, andthe sober warm hue which the hills still wore seen under thathazy veil. All the home-like peace of the place was spread outto make it hard going away. Would she ever see any other sopleasant again? Those dear old hills and fields, among whichshe had been so happy; they were not to be her home any more;would she ever have the same sweet happiness anywhere else?"The Lord will provide!" thought little Fleda with swimmingeyes. 

It was hard to go by aunt Miriam's. Fleda eagerly looked, aswell as she could, but no one was to be seen about the house. It was just as well. A sad gush of tears must come, then, butshe got rid of them as soon as possible, that she might notlose the rest of the way, promising them another time. Thelittle settlement on "the hill" was passed, the factories, andmills, and mill-ponds, one after the other; they made Fledafeel very badly, for here she remembered going with hergrandfather to see the work, and there she had stopped withhim at the turner's shop to get a wooden bowl turned, andthere she had been with Cynthy when she went to visit anacquaintance; and there never was a happier little girl thanFleda had been in those old times. All gone! It was no usetrying to help it; Fleda put her two hands to her face andcried, at last, a silent but not the less bitter, leave-taking, of the shadows of the past. 

She forced herself into quiet again, resolved to look to thelast. As they were going down the hill, past the saw-mill, Mr. Carleton noticed that her head was stretched out to look backat it, with an expression of face he could not withstand. Hewheeled about immediately, and went back and stood opposite toit. The mill was not working today. The saw was standingstill, though there were plenty of huge trunks of trees lyingabout in all directions, waiting to be cut up. There was adesolate look of the place. No one was there; the littlebrook, most of its waters cut off, did not go roaring andlaughing down the hill, but trickled softly and plaintivelyover the stones. It seemed exceeding sad to Fleda. 

"Thank you, Mr. Carleton, " she said, after a little earnestfond-looking at her old haunt; "you needn't stay any longer. "

But as soon as they had crossed the little rude bridge at thefoot of the hill, they could see the poplar trees whichskirted the courtyard fence before her grandfather's house. Poor Fleda's eyes could hardly serve her. She managed to keepthem open till the horse had made a few steps more and she hadcaught the well-known face of the old house looking at herthrough the poplars. Her fortitude failed, and bowing herlittle head, she wept so exceedingly, that Mr. Carleton wasfain to draw bridle, and try to comfort her. 

"My dear Elfie! do not weep so, " he said, tenderly. "Is thereanything you would like? Can I do anything for you?"

He had to wait a little. He repeated his first query. 

"Oh, it's no matter, " said Fleda, striving to conquer hertears, which found their way again; "if I only could have goneinto the house once more! — but it's no matter — you needn'twait, Mr. Carleton —"

The horse, however, remained motionless. 

"Do you think you would feel better, Elfie, if you had seen itagain?"

"Oh, yes! — But never mind, Mr. Carleton, you may go on. "

Mr. Carleton ordered his servant to open the gate, and rode upto the back of the house. 

"I am afraid there is nobody here, Elfie, " he said; "the houseseems all shut up. "

"I know how I can get in, " said Fleda; "there's a window downstairs — I don't believe it is fastened; if you wouldn't mindwaiting, Mr. Carleton; I wont keep you long. "

The child had dried her tears, and there was the eagerness ofsomething like hope in her face. Mr. Carleton dismounted andtook her off. 

"I must find a way to get in too, Elfie; I cannot let you goalone. "

"Oh, I can open the door when I get in, " said Fleda. 

"But you have not the key. "

"There's no key, it's only bolted on the inside, that door. Ican open it. "

She found the window unfastened as she had expected: Mr. Carleton held it open while she crawled in, and then she undidthe door for him. He more than half questioned the wisdom ofhis proceeding. The house had a dismal look; cold, empty, deserted; it was a dreary reminder of Fleda's loss, and hefeared the effect of it would be anything but good. Hefollowed and watched her, as with an eager business step shewent through the hall and up the stairs, putting her head intoevery room and giving an earnest wistful look all round it. Here and there she went in and stood a moment, whereassociations were more thick and strong; sometimes taking alook out of a particular window, and even opening a cupboarddoor, to give that same kind and sorrowful glance ofrecognition at the old often-resorted-to hiding-place of herown or her grandfather's treasures and trumpery. Those oldcorners seemed to touch Fleda more than all the rest; and sheturned away from one of them with a face of such extremesorrow, that Mr. Carleton very much regretted he had broughther into the house. For her sake, for his own, it was acurious show of character. Though tears were sometimesstreaming, she made no delay, and gave him no trouble; withthe calm steadiness of a woman she went regularly through thehouse, leaving no place unvisited, but never obliging him tohasten her away. She said not a word during the whole time;her very crying was still; the light tread of her little feetwas the only sound in the silent empty rooms; and the noise oftheir footsteps in the halls, and of the opening and shuttingdoors echoed mournfully through the house. 

She had left her grandfather's room for the last. Mr. Carletondid not follow her in there, guessing that she would rather bealone. But she did not come back, and he was forced to go tofetch her. 

The chill desolateness of that room had been too much for poorlittle Fleda. The empty bedstead, the cold stove, the tablebare of books, only one or two lay upon the old Bible; theforlorn order of the place that bespoke the master far away;the very sunbeams that stole in at the little windows, and metnow no answering look of gladness or gratitude; it had struckthe child's heart too heavily, and she was standing crying bythe window. A second time in that room Mr. Carleton sat downand drew his little charge to his breast; and spoke words ofsoothing and sympathy. 

"I am very sorry I brought you here, dear Elfie, " he saidkindly. "It was too hard for you. "

"Oh, no!" even through her tears, Fleda said, "she was veryglad!"

"Hadn't we better try to overtake our friends?" he whispered, after another pause. 

She immediately, almost immediately, put away her tears, andwith a quiet obedience that touched him, went with him fromthe room, fastened the door, and got out again at the littlewindow. 

"Oh, Mr. Carleton!" she said, with great earnestness, whenthey had almost reached the horses, "wont you wait for me oneminute more? I just want a piece of the burning bush. "

Drawing her hand from him she rushed round to the front of thehouse. A little more slowly Mr. Carleton followed, and foundher under the burning bush, tugging furiously at a branch, beyond her strength to break off. 

"That's too much for you, Elfie, " said he, gently taking herhand from the tree; "let my hand try. "

She stood back and watched, tears running down her face, whilehe got a knife from his pocket and cut off the piece she hadbeen trying for, nicely, and gave it to her. The firstmovement of Fleda's head was down, bent over the pretty sprayof red berries; but by the time she stood at the horse's sideshe looked up at Mr. Carleton and thanked him with a face ofmore than thankfulness. 

She was crying, however, constantly, till they had goneseveral miles on their way again, and Mr. Carleton doubted hehad done wrong. It passed away, and she had been sitting quitepeacefully for some time, when he told her they were near theplace where they were to stop and join their friends. Shelooked up most gratefully in his face. 

"I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Carleton, for what youdid!"

"I was afraid I had made a mistake, Elfie. "

"Oh, no, you didn't. "

"Do you think you feel any easier after it, Elfie?"

"Oh, yes! — indeed I do, " said she, looking up again, — "thankyou, Mr. Carleton. "

A gentle kind pressure of his arm answered her thanks. 

"I ought to be a good sprite to you, Mr. Carleton, " Fledasaid, after musing a little while, — "you are so very good tome!"

Perhaps Mr. Carleton felt too much pleasure at this speech tomake any answer, for he made none. 

"It is only selfishness, Elfie, " said he, presently, lookingdown to the quiet sweet little face which seemed to him, andwas, more pure than anything of earth's mould he had everseen. — "You know I must take care of you for my own sake. "

Fleda laughed a little. 

"But what will you do when we get to Paris?"

"I don't know. I should like to have you always, Elfie. "

"You'll have to get aunt Lucy to give me to you, " said Fleda. 

"Mr. Carleton, " said she, a few minutes after, — "is thatstory in a book?"

"What story ?"

"About the lady and the little sprites that waited on her. "

"Yes, it is in a book; you shall see it, Elfie. — Here weare!"

And here it was proposed to stay till the next day, lest Fledamight not be able to bear so much travelling at first. But thecountry inn was not found inviting; the dinner was bad, andthe rooms were worse; uninhabitable, the ladies said; andabout the middle of the afternoon they began to cast about forthe means of reaching Albany that night. None very comfortablecould be had; however, it was thought better to push on at anyrate than wear out the night in such a place. The weather wasvery mild; the moon at the full. 

"How is Fleda to go this afternoon, " said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"She shall decide herself, " said Mrs. Carleton. "How will yougo, my sweet Fleda?"

Fleda was lying upon a sort of rude couch which had beenspread for her, where she had been sleeping incessantly eversince she arrived, the hour of dinner alone excepted. Mrs. Carleton repeated her question. 

"I am afraid Mr. Carleton must be tired, " said Fleda, withoutopening her eyes. 

"That means that you are, don't it?" said Rossitur. 

"No, " said Fleda, gently. 

Mr. Carleton smiled, and went out to press forward thearrangements. In spite of good words and good money there wassome delay. It was rather late before the cavalcade left theinn; and a journey of several hours was before them. Mr. Carleton rode rather slowly, too, for Fleda's sake, so theevening had fallen while they were yet a mile or two from thecity. 

His little charge had borne the fatigue well, thanks partly tohis admirable care, and partly to her quiet pleasure in beingwith him. She had been so perfectly still for some distance, that he thought she had dropped asleep. Looking down closer, however, to make sure about it, he saw her thoughtful cleareyes most unsleepily fixed upon the sky. 

"What are you gazing at, Elfie?"

The look of thought changed to a look of affection as the eyeswere brought to bear upon him, and she answered with a smile, "Nothing, — I was looking at the stars. "

"What are you dreaming about?"

"I wasn't dreaming, " said Fleda, — "I was thinking. "

"Thinking of what?"

"Oh, of pleasant things. "

"Mayn't I know them? — I like to hear of pleasant things. "

"I was thinking, —" said Fleda, looking up again at the stars, which shone with no purer ray than those grave eyes sent backto them, — "I was thinking — of being ready to die. "

The words, and the calm thoughtful manner in which they weresaid, thrilled upon Mr. Carleton with a disagreeable shock. 

"How came you to think of such a thing?" said he, lightly. 

"I don't know, " — said Fleda, still looking at the stars, " — Isuppose — I was thinking —"

"What?" said Mr. Carleton, inexpressibly curious to get at theworkings of the child's mind, which was not easy, for Fledawas never very forward to talk of herself; — "what were youthinking? I want to know how you could get such a thing intoyour head. "

"It wasn't very strange, " said Fleda. "The stars made me thinkof heaven, and grandpa's being there, and then I thought howhe was ready to go there, and that made him ready to die —"

"I wouldn't think of such things, Elfie, " said Mr. Carleton, after a few minutes. 

"Why not, Sir?" said Fleda, quickly. 

"I don't think they are good for you. "

"But, Mr. Carleton, " said Fleda, gently, — "if I don't thinkabout it, how shall I ever be ready to die?"

"It is not fit for you, " said he, evading the question, — "itis not necessary now, — there's time enough. You are a littlebody, and should have none but gay thoughts. "

"But, Mr. Carleton, " said Fleda, with timid earnestness, —"don't you think one could have gay thoughts better if oneknew one was ready to die?"

"What makes a person ready to die, Elfie?" said her friend, disliking to ask the question, but yet more unable to answerhers, and curious to hear what she would say. 

"Oh, to be a Christian, " said Fleda. 

"But I have seen Christians, " said Mr. Carleton, "who were nomore ready to die than other people. "

"Then they were make-believe Christians, " said Fleda, decidedly. 

"What makes you think so?" said her friend, carefully guardinghis countenance from anything like a smile. 

"Because, " said Fleda, "grandpa was ready, and my father wasready, and my mother, too; and I know it was because they wereChristians. "

"Perhaps your kind of Christians are different from my kind, "said Mr. Carleton, carrying on the conversation half in spiteof himself. "What do you mean by a Christian, Elfie?"

"Why, what the Bible means, " said Fleda, looking at him withinnocent earnestness. 

Mr. Carleton was ashamed to tell her he did not know what thatwas, or he was unwilling to say what he felt would trouble thehappy confidence she had in him. He was silent; but as theyrode on, a bitter wish crossed his mind that he could have thesimple purity of the little child in his arms; and he thoughthe would give his broad acres, supposing it possible thatreligion could be true, — in exchange for that free happyspirit that looks up to all its possessions in heaven. 

CHAPTER XI. 

Starres are poore books, and oftentimes do misse;This book of starres lights to eternall blisse. GEORGE HERBERT. 

The voyage across the Atlantic was not, in itself, at allnotable. The first half of the passage was extremely unquiet, and most of the passengers uncomfortable to match. Then theweather cleared; and the rest of the way, though lengthenedout a good deal by the tricks of the wind, was very fair andpleasant. 

Fifteen days of tossing and sea-sickness had brought littleFleda to look like the ghost of herself. So soon as theweather changed, and sky and sea were looking gentle again, Mr. Carleton had a mattress and cushions laid in a shelteredcorner of the deck for her, and carried her up. She had hardlyany more strength than a baby. 

"What are you looking at me so for, Mr. Carleton?" said she, alittle while after he had carried her up, with a sweet serioussmile that seemed to know the answer to her question. 

He stooped down and clasped her little thin hand, asreverentially as if she really had not belonged to the earth. 

"You are more like a sprite than I like to see you just now, "said he, unconsciously fastening the child's heart to himselfwith the magnetism of those deep eyes. — "I must get some ofthe sailors' salt beef and sea-biscuit for you — they say thatis the best thing to make people well. "

"Oh, I feel better already, " said Fleda; and settling herlittle face upon the cushion and closing her eyes, she added, "thank you, Mr. Carleton!"

The fresh air began to restore her immediately; she was nomore sick; her appetite came back; and from that time, withoutthe help of beef and sea-biscuit, she mended rapidly. Mr. Carleton proved himself as good a nurse on the sea as on land. She seemed to be never far from his thoughts. He wasconstantly finding out something that would do her good orplease her; and Fleda could not discover that he took anytrouble about it; she could not feel that she was a burden tohim; the things seemed to come as a matter of course. Mrs. Carleton was not wanting in any show of kindness or care, andyet, when Fleda looked back upon the day, it somehow was Guythat had done everything for her; she thought little ofthanking anybody but him. 

There were other passengers that petted her a great deal, orwould have done so, if Fleda's very timid, retiring nature hadnot stood in the way. She was never bashful, nor awkward; butyet it was only a very peculiar sympathetic style of addressthat could get within the wall of reserve which, in general, hid her from other people. Hid what it could: for through thatreserve a singular modesty, sweetness, and gracefulness ofspirit would show themselves. But there was much more behind. There were no eyes, however, on board, that did not lookkindly on little Fleda, excepting only two pair. The Captainshowed her a great deal of flattering attention, and said shewas a pattern of a passenger; even the sailors noticed andspoke of her, and let slip no occasion of showing the respectand interest she had raised. But there were two pair of eyes, and one of them Fleda thought most remarkably ugly, that werean exception to the rest; these belonged to her cousinRossitur and Lieutenant Thorn. Rossitur had never forgiven herremarks upon his character as a gentleman, and declaredpreference of Mr. Carleton in that capacity; and Thorn wasmortified at the invincible childish reserve which she opposedto all his advances; and both, absurd as it seems, werejealous of the young Englishman's advantage over them. Bothnot the less, because their sole reason for making her aperson of consequence was that he had thought fit to do so. Fleda would permit neither of them to do anything for her thatshe could help. 

They took their revenge in raillery, which was not alwaysgood-natured. Mr. Carleton never answered it in any other waythan by his look of cold disdain, — not always by that; littleFleda could not be quite so unmoved. Many a time her nicesense of delicacy confessed itself hurt, by the deep andabiding colour her cheeks would wear after one of their ill-mannered flings at her. She bore them with a grave dignitypeculiar to herself, but the same nice delicacy forbade her tomention the subject to any one; and the young gentlemencontrived to give the little child in the course of the voyagea good deal of pain. She shunned them at last as she would theplague. As to the rest, Fleda liked her life on board shipamazingly. In her quiet way she took al the good that offeredand seemed not to recognise the ill. 

Mr. Carleton had bought for her a copy of The Rape of theLock, and Bryant's poems. With these, sitting or lying amongher cushions, Fleda amused herself a great deal; and it was anespecial pleasure when he would sit down by her and read andtalk about them. Still a greater was to watch the sea, in itschanges of colour and varieties of agitation, and to get fromMr. Carleton, bit by bit, all the pieces of knowledgeconcerning it that he had ever made his own. Even when Fledafeared it she was fascinated; and while the fear went off thefascination grew deeper. Daintily nestling among her cushions, she watched with charmed eyes the long rollers that came up indetachments of three to attack the good ship, that like aslandered character rode patiently over them; or the crestedgreen billows, or sometimes the little rippling waves thatshowed old Ocean's placidest face; while with ears as charmedas if he had been delivering a fairy tale, she listened to allMr. Carleton could tell her of the green water where thewhales feed, or the blue water where Neptune sits in his ownsolitude, the furthest from land, and the pavement under hisfeet outdoes the very canopy overhead in its deep colouring;of the transparent seas where the curious mysterious marineplants and animals may be clearly seen many feet down, and inthe North where hundreds of feet of depth do not hide thebottom; of the icebergs; and whirling great fields of ice, between which, if a ship get, she had as good be an almond ina pair of strong nut-crackers. How the water grows colder andmurkier as it is nearer the shore; how the mountain waves arepiled together; and how old Ocean, like a wise man, . Howeverroughened and tumbled outwardly by the currents of life, isalways calm at heart. Of the signs of the weather; the out-riders of the winds, and the use the seaman makes of thetidings they bring, and before Mr. Carleton knew where he was, he found himself deep in the science of navigation, and makinga star-gazer of little Fleda. Sometimes kneeling beside him ashe sat on her mattress, with her hand leaning on his shoulder, Fleda asked, listened, and looked; as engaged, as rapt, asinterested, as another child would be in Robinson Crusoe, gravely drinking in knowledge with a fresh healthy taste forit that never had enough. Mr. Carleton was about as amused andas interested as she. There is a second taste of knowledgethat some minds get in imparting it, almost as sweet as thefirst relish. At any rate, Fleda never felt that she had anyreason to fear tiring him; and his mother, complaining of hiswant of sociableness, said she believed Guy did not like totalk to any-body but that little pet of his, and one or two ofthe old sailors. If left to her own resources, Fleda was neverat a loss; she amused herself with her books, or watching thesailors, or watching the sea, or with some fancifulmanufacture she had learned from one of the ladies on board, or with what the company about her were saying and doing. 

One evening she had been some time alone, looking out upon therestless little waves that were tossing and tumbling in everydirection. She had been afraid of them at first, and they werestill rather fearful to her imagination. This evening, as heirmusing eye watched them rise and fall, her childish fancylikened them to the up-springing chances of life, — uncertain, unstable, alike too much for her skill and her strength tomanage. She was not more helpless before the attacks of theone than of the other. But then — that calm blue heaven thathung over the sea. It was like the heaven of power and loveabove her destinies; only this was far higher, and more pureand abiding. "He knoweth them that trust in him. " "There shallnot a hair of your head perish. "

Not these words, perhaps, but something like the sense ofthem, was in little Fleda's head. Mr. Carleton coming up, sawher gazing out upon the water, with an eye that seemed to seenothing. 

"Elfie! — Are you looking into futurity!"

"No, — yes — not exactly!" said Fleda, smiling. 

"No, yes, and not exactly!" said he, throwing himself downbeside her. "What does all that mean?"

"I wasn't exactly looking into futurity, " said Fleda. 

"What then? — Don't tell me you were 'thinking;' I know thatalready. What?"

Fleda was always rather shy of opening her cabinet ofthoughts. She glanced at him, and hesitated, and then yieldedto a fascination of eye and smile that rarely failed of itsend. Looking off to the sea again as if she had left herthoughts there, she said, "I was only thinking of that beautiful hymn of Mr. Newton's. "

"What hymn?"

"That long one, 'The Lord will provide. ' "

"Do you know it? Tell it to me, Elfie; let us see whether Ishall think it beautiful. "

Fleda knew the whole, and repeated it. 

"Though troubles assail, And dangers affright, Though friends should all fail, And foes all unite;Yet one thing secures usWhatever betide, The Scripture assures us'The Lord will provide. '

"The birds without barnOr storehouse are fed;From them let us learnTo trust for our bread. His saints what is fittingShall ne'er be denied, So long as 'tis written, 'The Lord will provide. '

"His call we obey, Like Abraham of old, Not knowing our way, But faith makes us bold. And though we are strangers, We have a good guide, And trust in all dangers'The Lord will provide. '

"We may like the shipsIn tempests be tossedOn perilous deeps, But cannot be lost. Though Satan enragesThe wind and the tide, The promise engages'The Lord will provide. '

"When Satan appearsTo stop up our path, And fills us with fears, We triumph by faith. He cannot take from us, Though oft he has tried, This heart-cheering promise, 'The Lord will provide. '

"He tells us we're weak, Our hope is in vain, The good that we seekWe ne'er shall obtain;But when such suggestionsOur spirits have tried, This answers all questions, 'The Lord will provide. '

"No strength of our own, Or goodness we claim;But since we have knownThe Saviour's great name, In this, our strong tower, For safety we hide;The Lord is our power!'The Lord will provide. '

"When life sinks apace, And death is in view, This word of his graceShall comfort us through. No fearing nor doubting, With Christ on our side, We hope to die shouting'The Lord will provide!' "

Guy listened very attentively to the whole. He was very farfrom understanding the meaning of several of the verses, butthe bounding expression of confidence and hope he didunderstand, and did feel. 

"Happy to be so deluded!" he thought. "I almost wish I couldshare the delusion!"

He was gloomily silent when she had done, and little Fleda'seyes were so full that it was a little while before she couldlook towards him, and ask in her gentle way, "Do you like it, Mr. Carleton?"

She was gratified by his grave "Yes!"

"But Elfie, " said he, smiling again, "you have not told meyour thoughts yet. What had these verses to do with the seayou were looking at so hard?"

"Nothing; I was thinking, " said Fleda, slowly, "that the seaseemed something like the world — I don't mean it was like, but it made me think of it; and I thought how pleasant it isto know that God takes care of his people. "

"Don't he take care of everybody?"

"Yes, in one sort of way, " said Fleda; "but then it is onlyhis children that he has promised to keep from everything thatwill hurt them. "

"I don't see how that promise is kept, Elfie. I think thosewho call themselves so meet with as many troubles as the restof the world, and perhaps more. "

"Yes, " said Fleda, quickly, "they have troubles, but then Godwont let the troubles do them any harm. "

A subtle evasion, thought Mr. Carleton. "Where did you learnthat, Elfie?"

"The Bible says so, " said Fleda. 

"Well, how do you know it from that?" said Mr. Carleton, impelled, he hardly knew whether by his bad or his good angel, to carry on the conversation. 

"Why, " said Fleda, looking as if it were a very simplequestion, and Mr. Carleton were catechising her, "you know, Mr. Carleton, the Bible was written by men who were taught byGod exactly what to say, so there could be nothing in it thatis not true. "

"How do you know those men were so taught?"

"The Bible says so. "

A child's answer! but with a child's wisdom in it, not learntof the schools. "He that is of God heareth God's words. " Tolittle Fleda, as to every simple and humble intelligence, theBible proved itself; she had no need to go further. 

Mr. Carleton did not smile, for nothing would have tempted himto hurt her feelings; but he said, though conscience did notlet him do it without a twinge, —

"But don't you know, Elfie, there are some people who do notbelieve the Bible?"

"Ah, but those are bad people, " replied Fleda, quickly; "allgood people believe it. "

A child's reason again, but hitting the mark this time. Unconsciously, little Fleda had brought forward a strongargument for her cause. Mr. Carleton felt it, and rising up, that he might not be obliged to say anything more, he began topace slowly up and down the deck, turning the matter over. 

Was it so? that there were hardly any good men (he thoughtthere might be a few), who did not believe in the Bible anduphold its authority? and that all the worst portion ofsociety was comprehended in the other class? — and if so, howhad he overlooked it? He had reasoned most unphilosophically, from a few solitary instances that had come under his own eye;but applying the broad principle of induction, it could not bedoubted that the Bible was on the side of all that is sound, healthful, and hopeful, in this disordered world. And whatevermight be the character of a few exceptions, it was notsupposable that a wide system of hypocrisy should telluniversally for the best interests of mankind. Summoninghistory to produce her witnesses, as he went on with his walkup and down, he saw with increasing interest, what he hadnever seen before, that the Bible had come like the breath ofspring upon the moral waste of mind; that the ice-boundintellect and cold heart of the world had waked into lifeunder its kindly influence, and that all the rich growth ofthe one and the other had come forth at its bidding. Andexcept in that sun-lightened tract, the world was and had beena waste indeed. Doubtless, in that waste, intellect had atdifferent times put forth sundry barren shoots, such as avigorous plant can make in the absence of the sun, but alsolike them immature, unsound, and groping vainly after thelight in which alone they could expand and perfect themselves;ripening no seed for a future and richer growth. And flowersthe wilderness had none. The affections were stunted andovergrown. 

All this was so — how had he overlooked it? His unbelief hadcome from a thoughtless, ignorant, one-sided view of life andhuman things. The disorder and ruin which he saw, where he didnot also see the adjusting hand at work, had led him to refusehis credit to the Supreme Fabricator. He thought the wastewould never be reclaimed, and did not know how much it alreadyowed to the sun of revelation; but what was the waste wherethat light had not been! Mr. Carleton was staggered. He didnot know what to think. He began to think he had been a fool. 

Poor little Fleda was meditating less agreeably the while. With the sure tact of truth, she had discerned that there wasmore than jest in the questions that had been put to her. Shealmost feared that Mr. Carleton shared himself the doubts hehad so lightly spoken of, and the thought gave her greatdistress. However, when he came to take her down to tea, withall his usual manner, Fleda's earnest look at him ended in theconviction that there was. Nothing very wrong under that face. 

For several days, Mr. Carleton pondered the matter of thisevening's conversation, characteristically restless till hehad made up his mind. He wished very much to draw Fleda tospeak further upon the subject, but it was not easy; she neverled to it. He sought in vain an opportunity to bring it ineasily, and at last resolved to make one.. 

"Elfie, " said he, one morning, when all the rest of thepassengers were happily engaged at a distance with the letter-bags — "I wish you would let me hear that favourite hymn ofyours again; l like it very much. "

Fleda was much gratified, and immediately with greatsatisfaction repeated the hymn. Its peculiar beauty struck himyet more the second time than the first. 

"Do you understand those two last verses?" said he, when shehad done. 

Fleda said "Yes!" rather surprised. 

"I do not, " he said, gravely. 

Fleda paused a minute or two, and then finding that itdepended on her to enlighten him, said in her modest way, —

"Why, it means that we have no goodness of our own, and onlyexpect to be forgiven, and taken to heaven, for the Saviour'ssake. "

Mr. Carleton asked, "How _for his sake?_"

"Why, you know, Mr. Carleton, we don't deserve to go there, and if we are forgiven at all, it must be for what He hasdone. "

"And what is that, Elfie?"

"He died for us, " said Fleda, with a look of some anxiety intoMr. Carleton's face. 

"Died for us! — And what end was that to serve, Elfie?" saidhe, partly willing to hear the full statement of the matter, and partly willing to see how far her intelligence could giveit. 

"Because we are sinners, " said Fleda, "and God has said thatsinners shall die. "

"Then how can he keep his word, and forgive at all?"

"Because Christ has died _for us_, " said Fleda, eagerly —"instead of us. "

"Do you understand the justice of letting one take the placeof others?"

"He was willing, Mr. Carleton, " said Fleda, with a singularwistful expression, that touched him. 

"Still, Elfie, " said he, after a minute's silence, "how couldthe ends of justice be answered by the death of one man in theplace of millions?"

"No, Mr. Carleton, but He was God as well as man, " Fleda said, with a sparkle in her eye which perhaps delayed hercompanion's rejoinder. 

"What should induce him, Elfie, " he said, gently, "to do sucha thing for people who had displeased him?"

"Because he loved us, Mr. Carleton. "

She answered with so evident a strong and clear appreciationof what she was saying, that it half made its way into Mr. Carleton's mind by the force of sheer sympathy. Her words camealmost as something new. 

Certainly Mr. Carleton had heard these things before; thoughperhaps never in a way that appealed so directly to hisintelligence and his candour. He was again silent an instant, pondering, and so was Fleda. 

"Do you know, Elfie, " said Mr. Carleton, "there are somepeople who do not believe that the Saviour was anything morethan a man?"

"Yes, I know it, " said Fleda; — "it is very strange!"

"Why is it strange?"

"Because the Bible says it so plainly. "

"But those people hold, I believe, that the Bible does not sayit. "

"I don't see how they could have read the Bible, " said Fleda. "Why, he said so himself. "

"Who said so?"

"Jesus Christ. Don't you believe it, Mr. Carleton?"

She saw he did not, and the shade that had come over her facewas reflected in his before he said "No. "

"But perhaps I shall believe it yet, Elfie, " he said, kindly. "Can you show me the place in your Bible where Jesus says thisof himself?"

Fleda looked in despair. She hastily turned over the leaves ofher Bible to find the passages he had asked for, and Mr. Carleton was cut to the heart to see that she twice wasobliged to turn her face from him, and brush her hand over hereyes, before she could find them. She turned to Matt. Xxvi. 63-65, and, without speaking, gave him the book, pointing tothe passage. He read it with great care, and several timesover. 

"You are right, Elfie, " he said. "I do not see how those whohonour the authority of the Bible, and the character of JesusChrist, can deny the truth of His own declaration. If that isfalse, so must those be. "

Fleda took the Bible, and hurriedly sought out anotherpassage. 

"Grandpa showed me these places, " she said, "once when we weretalking about Mr. Didenhover — _he_ didn't believe that. Thereare a great many other places, grandpa said; but one! isenough. " —

She gave him the latter part of the 20th chapter of John. 

"You see, Mr. Carleton, he let Thomas fall down and worshiphim, and call him God; and if he had _not_ been, you know — Godis more displeased with that than with anything. "

"With what, Elfie?"

"With men's worshipping any other than himself. He says he'will not give his glory to another. ' "

"Where is that?"

"I am afraid I can't find it, " said Fleda — "it is somewherein Isaiah, I know" —

She tried in vain; and failing, then looked up in Mr. Carleton's face to see what impression had been made. 

"You see Thomas believed when he _saw_, " said he, answering her;— "I will believe, too, when I see. "

"Ah! if you wait for that" — said Fleda. 

Her voice suddenly checked: she bent her face down again toher little Bible, and there was a moment's struggle withherself. 

"Are you looking for something more to show me?" said Mr. Carleton, kindly, stooping his face down to hers. 

"Not much, " said Fleda, hurriedly; and then making a greateffort, she raised her head, and gave him the book again. 

"Look here, Mr. Carleton — Jesus said, 'Blessed are they thathave not seen, and yet have believed. ' "

Mr. Carleton was profoundly struck, and the thought recurredto him afterwards, and was dwelt upon. "Blessed are they thathave _not_ seen, and yet have believed. " It was strange atfirst, and then he wondered that it should ever have been so. His was a mind peculiarly open to conviction, peculiarlyaccessible to truth; and his attention being called to it, hesaw faintly now what he had never seen before, the beauty ofthe principle of _faith_ — how natural, how reasonable, how_necessary_, how honourable to the Supreme Being, how happy evenfor man, that the grounds of his trust in God beingestablished, his acceptance of many other things should reston that trust alone. 

Mr. Carleton now became more reserved and unsociable thanever. He wearied himself with thinking. If he could have gotat the books, he would have spent his days and nights instudying the evidences of Christianity; but the ship was bareof any such books, and he never thought of turning to the mostobvious of all, the Bible itself. His unbelief was shaken; itwas within an ace of falling in pieces to the very foundation;or, rather, he began to suspect how foundationless it hadbeen. It came at last to one point with him — If there were aGod, he would not have left the world without a revelation —no more would he have suffered that revelation to defeat itsown end by becoming corrupted or alloyed; if there was such arevelation, it could be no other than the Bible; and hisacceptance of the whole scheme of Christianity now hung uponthe turn of a hair. Yet he could not resolve himself. Hebalanced the counter doubts and arguments on one side and onthe other, and strained his mind to the task; he could notweigh them nicely enough. He was in a maze; and seeking toclear and calm his judgment that he might see the way out, itwas in vain that he tried to shake his dizzied head from theeffect of the turns it had made. By dint of anxiety to findthe right path, reason had lost herself in the wilderness. 

Fleda was not, as Mr. Carleton had feared she would be, at allalienated from him by the discovery that had given her so muchpain. It wrought in another way, rather to add a touch oftender and anxious interest to the affection she had for him. It gave her, however, much more pain than he thought. If hehad seen the secret tears that fell on his account, he wouldhave been grieved; and if he had known of the many petitionsthat little heart made for him, he could hardly have loved hermore than he did. 

One evening Mr. Carleton had been a long while pacing up anddown the deck in front of little Fleda's nest, thinking andthinking, without coming to any end. It was a most fairevening, near sunset, the sky without a cloud, except two orthree little dainty strips which set off its blue. The oceanwas very quiet, only broken into cheerful mites of waves thatseemed to have nothing to do but sparkle. The sun's rays werealmost level now, and a long path of glory across the sea ledoff towards his sinking disk. Fleda sat watching and enjoyingit all in her happy fashion, which always made the most ofeverything good, and was especially quick in catching any formof natural beauty. 

Mr. Carleton's thoughts were elsewhere — too busy to take noteof things around him. Fleda looked now and then as he passedat his gloomy brow, wondering what he was thinking of, andwishing that he could have the same reason to be happy thatshe had. In one of his turns his eye met her gentle glance;and, vexed and bewildered as he was with study, there wassomething in that calm bright face that impelled himirresistibly to ask the little child to set the proud scholarright. Placing himself beside her, he said, —

"Elfie, how do you know there is a God? what reason have youfor thinking so, out of the Bible?"

It was a strange look little Fleda gave him. He felt it at thetime, and he never forgot it. Such a look of reproach, sorrow, and _pity_, he afterwards thought, as an angel's face might haveworn. The _question_ did not seem to occupy her a moment. Afterthis answering look she suddenly pointed to the sinking sun, and said —

"Who made that, Mr. Carleton?"

Mr. Carleton's eyes, following the direction of hers, met thelong, bright rays, whose still witness-bearing was almost toopowerful to be borne. The sun was just dipping majesticallyinto the sea, and its calm self-assertion seemed to him atthat instant hardly stronger than its vindication of itsAuthor. 

A slight arrow may find the joint in the armour before whichmany weightier shafts have fallen powerless. Mr. Carleton wasan unbeliever no more from that time. 

CHAPTER XII. 

"He borrowed a box of the ear of the Englishman, and swore hewould pay him again when he was able. — _Merchant of Venice_. 

One other incident alone in the course of the voyage deservesto be mentioned; both because it served to bring out thecharacters of several people, and because it was not — whatis? — without its lingering consequences. 

Thorn and Rossitur had kept up indefatigably the game ofteasing Fleda about her "English admirer, " as they sometimestyled him. Poor Fleda grew more and more sore on the subject. She thought it was very strange that two grown men could notfind enough to do to amuse themselves without making sport ofthe comfort of a little child. She wondered they could takepleasure in what gave her so much pain; but so it was; andthey had it up so often that, at last, others caught it fromthem, and, though not in malevolence, yet in thoughtlessfolly, many a light remark was made and question asked of herthat set little Fleda's sensitive nerves a-quivering. She wasonly too happy that they were never said before Mr. Carleton —that would have been a thousand times worse. As it was, hergentle nature was constantly suffering from the pain or thefear of these attacks. 

"Where's Mr. Carleton?" said her cousin, coming up one day. 

"I don't know, " said Fleda; "I don't know but he is gone upinto one of the tops. "

"Your humble servant leaves you to yourself a great while thismorning, it seems to me. He is growing very inattentive. "

"I wouldn't permit it. Miss Fleda, if I were you, " said Thorn, maliciously. "You let him have his own way too much. "

"I wish you wouldn't talk so, cousin Charlton!" said Fleda. 

"But seriously, " said Charlton, "I think you had better callhim to account. He is very suspicious lately. I have observedhim walking by himself, and looking very glum indeed. I amafraid he has taken some fancy into his head that would notsuit you. I advise you to inquire into it. "

"I wouldn't give myself any concern about it, " said Thorn, lightly, enjoying the child's confusion and his own fancifulstyle of backbiting; "I'd let him go if he has a mind to, MissFleda. He's no such great catch. He's neither lord nor knight— nothing in the world but a private gentleman, with plenty ofmoney, I dare say, but you don't care for that; and there's asgood fish in the sea as ever came out of it. I don't thinkmuch of him. "

"He is wonderfully better than _you_, " thought Fleda, as shelooked in the young gentleman's face for a second, but shesaid nothing. 

"Why, Fleda, " said Charlton, laughing, "it wouldn't be akilling affair, would it? How has this English admirer ofyours got so far in your fancy? praising your pretty eyes, eh?— eh?" he repeated, as Fleda kept a dignified silence. 

"No, " said Fleda, in displeasure; "he never says such things. "

"No?" said Charlton. "What then! What does he say? I wouldn'tlet him make a fool of me, if I were you. Fleda — did he everask you for a kiss?"

"No!" exclaimed Fleda, half beside herself, and bursting intotears: " I wish you wouldn't talk so! How can you!"

They had carried the game pretty far that time, and thoughtbest to leave it. Fleda stopped crying as soon as she could, lest somebody should see her; and was sitting quietly again, alone as before, when one of the sailors whom she had neverspoken to, came by, and leaning over towards her with a leeras he passed, said —

"Is this the young English gentleman's little sweet-heart?"

Poor Fleda! She had got more than she could bear. She jumpedup, and ran down into the cabin; and in her berth Mrs. Carleton found her some time afterwards, quietly crying, andmost sorry to be discovered. She was exceeding unwilling totell what had troubled her. Mrs. Carleton, really distressed, tried coaxing, soothing, reasoning, promising, in a way themost gentle and kind that she could use. 

"Oh, it's nothing — it's nothing, " Fleda said, at last, eagerly; "it's because I am foolish — it's only something theysaid to me. "

"Who, love?"

Again was Fleda most unwilling to answer, and it was afterrepeated urging that she at last said —

"Cousin Charlton and Mr. Thorn. "

"Charlton and Mr. Thorn! What did they say? What did they say, darling Fleda?"

"Oh, it's only that they tease me, " said Fleda, trying hard toput an end to the tears which caused all this questioning, andto speak as if they were about a trifle. But Mrs. Carletonpersisted. 

"What do they say to tease you, love? What is it about? Guy, come in here, and help me to find out what is the matter withFleda. "

Fleda hid her face in Mrs. Carleton's neck, resolved to keepher lips sealed. Mr. Carleton came in, but to her great reliefhis question was directed not to her but his mother. 

"Fleda has been annoyed by something those young men, hercousin and Mr. Thorn, have said to her; they tease her, shesays, and she will not tell me what it is. "

Mr. Carleton did not ask, and he presently left the state-room. 

"Oh, I am afraid he will speak to them!" exclaimed Fleda, assoon as he was gone. "Oh, I oughtn't to have said that!"

Mrs. Carleton tried to soothe her, and asked what she wasafraid of. But Fleda would not say any more. Her anxious fearthat she had done mischief helped to dry her tears, and shesorrowfully resolved she would keep her griefs to herself nexttime. 

Rossitur and Thorn were in company with a brother officer, andfriend of the latter, when Mr. Carleton approached them. 

"Mr. Rossitur and Mr. Thorn, " said he, "you have indulgedyourselves in a style of conversation extremely displeasing tothe little girl under my mother's care. You will oblige me byabandoning it for the future. "

There was certainly in Mr. Carleton's manner a sufficientdegree of the cold haughtiness with which he usuallyexpressed. Displeasure, though his words gave no other causeof offence. Thorn retorted rather insolently. 

"I shall oblige myself in the matter, and do as I thinkproper. "

"I have a right to speak as I please to my own cousin, " saidRossitur, sulkily, "without asking anybody's leave. I don'tsee what you have to do with it. "

"Simply that she is under my protection, and that I will notpermit her to be annoyed. "

"I don't see how she is under your protection, " said Rossitur. 

"And I do not see how the potency of it will avail in thiscase, " said his companion. 

"Neither position is to be made out in words, " said Mr. Carleton, calmly. "You see that I desire there be norepetition of the offence, the rest I will endeavour to makeclear, if I am compelled to it. "

"Stop, Sir!" said Thorn, as the young Englishman was turningaway, adding with an oath —"I wont bear this! You shall answerthis to me, Sir!"

"Easily, " said the other. 

"And me, too, " said Rossitur. "You have an account to settlewith me, Carleton. "

"I will answer what you please, " said Carleton, carelessly;"and as soon as we get to land, provided you do not, in themeantime, induce me to refuse you the honour. "

However incensed, the young men endeavoured to carry it offwith the same coolness that their adversary showed. No morewords passed; but Mrs. Carleton, possibly quickened by Fleda'sfears, was not satisfied with the carriage of all parties, andresolved to sound her son, happy in knowing that nothing buttruth was to be had from him. She found an opportunity thatvery afternoon, when he was sitting alone on the deck. Theneighbourhood of little Fleda she hardly noticed. Fleda wascurled up among her cushions, luxuriously bending over alittle old black Bible, which was very often in her hand attimes when she was quiet and had no observation to fear. 

"Reading! always reading!" said Mrs. Carleton, as she came upand took a place by her son. 

"By no means!" he said, closing his book with a smile; — "notenough to tire any one's eyes on this voyage, mother. "

"I wish you liked intercourse with living society, " said Mrs. Carleton, leaning her arm on his shoulder and looking at himrather wistfully. 

"You need not wish that — when it suits me, " he answered. 

"But none suits you. Is there any on board?"

"A small proportion, " he said, with the slight play of featurewhich always effected a diversion of his mother's thoughts, nomatter in what channel they had been flowing. 

"But those young men, " she said, returning to the charge, "youhold yourself very much aloof from them?"

He did not answer, even by a look, but to his mother theperfectly quiet composure of his face was sufficientlyexpressive. 

"I know what you think; but, Guy, you always had the sameopinion of them?"

"I have never shown any other. "

"Guy, " she said, speaking low and rather anxiously, "have yougot into trouble with those young men?"

"I am in no trouble, mother, " he answered, somewhat haughtily;"I cannot speak for them. "

Mrs. Carleton waited a moment. 

"You have done something to displease them, have you not?"

"They have displeased me, which is somewhat more to thepurpose. "

"But their folly is nothing to you?"

"No — not their folly. "

"Guy, " said his mother, again pausing a minute, and pressingher hand more heavily upon his shoulder, "you will not sufferthis to alter the friendly terms you have been on? — whateverit be, let it pass. "

"Certainly; if they choose to apologize, and behavethemselves. "

"What — about Fleda?"

"Yes. "

"I have no idea they meant to trouble her; I suppose they didno at all know what they were doing — thoughtless nonsense —and they could have had no design to offend you. Promise methat you will not take any further notice of this. "

He shook off the beseeching hand as he rose up, and answeredhaughtily, and not without something like an oath, that he_would_. 

Mrs. Carleton knew him better than to press the matter anyfurther; and her fondness easily forgave the offence againstherself, especially as her son almost immediately resumed hisordinary manner. 

It had well nigh passed from the minds of both parties, whenin the middle of the next day, Mr. Carleton asked what hadbecome of Fleda? — he had not seen her except at thebreakfast-table. Mrs. Carleton said she was not well. 

"What's the matter?"

"She complained of some headache — I think she made herselfsick yesterday — she was crying all the afternoon, and I couldnot get her to tell me what for. I tried every means I couldthink of, but she would not give me the least clue — she said'No' to everything I guessed — I can't bear to see her do so —it makes it all the worse she does it so quietly — it was onlyby a mere chance I found she was crying at all, but I thinkshe cried herself ill before she stopped. She could not eat amouthful of breakfast. "

Mr. Carleton said nothing, and, with a changed countenance, went directly down to the cabin. The stewardess whom he sentin to see how she was, brought back word that Fleda was notasleep, but was too ill to speak to her. Mr. Carleton wentimmediately into the little crib of a state-room. There hefound his little charge, sitting bolt upright, her feet on therung of a chair, and her hands grasping the top to supportherself. Her eyes were closed, her face without a particle ofcolour, except the dark shade round the eyes which bespokeillness and pain. She made no attempt to answer his shockedquestions and words of tender concern, not even by the raisingof an eyelid, and he saw that the intensity of pain at themoment was such as to render breathing itself difficult. Hesent off the stewardess with all despatch after iced water andvinegar and brandy, and himself went on an earnest quest ofrestoratives among the lady passengers in the cabin, whichresulted in sundry supplies of salts and cologne, and alsooffers of service, in greater plenty still, which he allrefused. Most tenderly and judiciously he himself appliedvarious remedies to the suffering child, who could not directhim otherwise than by gently putting away the things which shefelt would not avail her. Several were in vain. But there wasone bottle of strong aromatic vinegar which was destined toimmortalize its owner in Fleda's remembrance. Before she hadtaken three whiffs of it, her colour changed. Mr. Carletonwatched the effect of a few whiffs more, and then bade thestewardess take away all the other things, and bring him a cupof fresh strong coffee. By the time it came Fleda was readyfor it; and by the time Mr. Carleton had administered thecoffee, he saw it would do to throw his mother's shawl roundher, and carry her up on deck, which he did without asking anyquestions. All this while Fleda had not spoken a word, exceptonce when he asked her if she felt better. But she had givenhim, on finishing the coffee, a full look and half smile ofsuch pure affectionate gratitude, that the young gentleman'stongue was tied for some time after. 

With happy skill, when he had safely bestowed Fleda among hercushions on deck, Mr. Carleton managed to keep off the crowdof busy inquirers after her well-doing, and even presently toturn his mother's attention another way, leaving Fleda toenjoy all the comfort of quiet and fresh air at once. Hehimself seeming occupied with other things, did no more butkeep watch over her, till he saw that she was able to bearconversation again. Then he seated himself beside her, andsaid softly —

"Elfie, what were you crying about all yesterday afternoon?"

Fleda changed colour, for, soft and gentle as the tone was, she heard in it a determination to have the answer; andlooking up beseechingly into his face, she saw in the steadyfull blue eye, that it was a determination she could notescape from. Her answer was an imploring request that he wouldnot ask her. But taking one of her little hands and carryingit to his lips, he in the same tone repeated his question. Fleda snatched away her hand, and burst into very frank tears;Mr. Carleton was silent, but she knew through his silence thathe was only quietly waiting for her to answer him. 

"I wish you wouldn't ask me, Sir, " said poor Fleda, who stillcould not turn her face to meet his eye — "It was onlysomething that happened yesterday. "

"What was it, Elfie? — You need not be afraid to tell me. "

"It was only — what you said to Mrs. Carleton yesterday — whenshe was talking —"

"About my difficulty with those gentlemen!"

"Yes, " said Fleda, with a new gush of tears, as if her griefstirred afresh at the thought. 

Mr. Carleton was silent a moment; and when he spoke, there wasno displeasure, and more tenderness than usual, in his voice. 

"What troubled you in that, Elfie? tell me the whole. "

"I was sorry, because it wasn't right, " said Fleda, with agrave truthfulness which yet lacked none of her universalgentleness and modesty. 

"What wasn't right?"

"To speak — I am afraid you wont like me to say it, Mr. Carleton. "

"I will, Elfie for I ask you. "

"To speak to Mrs. Carleton, so; and, besides, you know whatyou said, Mr. Carleton"

"It was _not_ right, " said he, after a minute, "and I veryseldom use such an expression, but you know one cannot alwaysbe on one's guard, Elfie. "

"But, " said Fleda, with gentle persistence, "one can always dowhat is right. "

"The deuce one can!" thought Mr. Carleton to himself. 

"Elfie, was this all that troubled you? that I had said whatwas not right?"

"It wasn't quite that only, " said Fleda, hesitating. 

"What else?"

She stooped her face from his sight, and he could but justunderstand her words. 

"I was disappointed —"

"What, in me?"

Her tears gave the answer; she could add to them nothing butan assenting nod of her head. 

They would have flowed in double measure if she had guessedthe pain she had given. Her questioner heard her with a keenpang, which did not leave him. For days. There was some hurtpride in it, though other and more generous feelings had a farlarger share. He, who had been admired, lauded, followed, cited, and envied, by all ranks of his countrymen andcountrywomen; in whom nobody found a fault that could be dweltupon, amid the lustre of his perfections and advantages — oneof the first young men in England, thought so by himself, aswell as by others — this little pure being had been_disappointed_ in him. He could not get over it. He reckoned theone judgment worth all the others. Those whose direct orindirect flatteries had been poured at his feet, were theproud, the worldly, the ambitious, the interested, thecorrupted; their praise was given to what they esteemed, andthat, his candour said, was the least estimable part of him. Beneath all that, this truth-loving, truth-discerning littlespirit had found enough to weep for. She was right, and theywere wrong. The sense of this was so keen upon him, that itwas ten or fifteen minutes before he could recover himself tospeak to his little reprover. He paced up and down the deck, while Fleda wept more and more from the fear of havingoffended or grieved him. But she was soon reassured on theformer point. She was just wiping away her tears, with thequiet expression of patience her face often wore, when Mr. Carleton sat down beside her and took one of her hands. 

"Elfie, " said he, "I promise you I will never say such a thingagain. "

He might well call her his good angel, for it was an angeliclook the child gave him; so purely humble, grateful, glad; sorosy with joyful hope; the eyes were absolutely sparklingthrough tears. But when she saw that his were not dry, her ownoverflowed. She clasped her other hand to his hand, andbending down her face affectionately upon it, she wept — ifever angels weep — such tears as they. 

"Elfie, " said Mr. Carleton, as soon as he could, "I want youto go down stairs with me; so dry those eyes, or my motherwill be asking all sorts of difficult questions. "

Happiness is a quick restorative. Elfie was soon ready to gowhere he would. 

They found Mrs. Carleton fortunately wrapped up in a newnovel, some distance apart from the other persons in thecabin. The novel was immediately laid aside to take Fleda onher lap, and praise Guy's nursing. 

"But she looks more like a wax figure yet than anything else;don't she, Guy?"

"Not like any that ever I saw, " said Mr. Carleton, gravely. "Hardly substantial enough. Mother, I have come to tell you Iam ashamed of myself for having given you such cause ofoffence yesterday. "

Mrs. Carleton's quick look, as she laid her hand on her son'sarm, said sufficiently well that she would have excused himfrom making any apology, rather than have him humble himselfin the presence of a third person. 

"Fleda heard me yesterday, " said he; "it was right she shouldhear me to-day. "

"Then, my dear Guy, " said his mother, with a secret eagernesswhich she did not allow to appear, "if I may make a conditionfor my forgiveness, which you had before you asked for it, will you grant me one favour?"

"Certainly, mother, if I can. "

"You promise me?"

"As well in one word as in two. "

"Promise me that you will never, by any circumstances, allowyourself to be drawn into — what is called an _affair ofhonour_. "

Mr. Carleton's brow changed, and without making any reply, perhaps to avoid his mother's questioning gaze, he rose up andwalked two or three times the length of the cabin. His motherand Fleda watched him doubtfully. 

"Do you see how you have got me into trouble, Elfie?" said he, stopping before them. 

Fleda looked wonderingly, and Mrs. Carleton exclaimed —

"What trouble!"

"Elfie, " said he, without immediately answering his mother, "what would your conscience do with two promises, both ofwhich cannot be kept?"

"What such promises have you made?" said Mrs. Carleton, eagerly. 

"Let me hear first what Fleda says to my question. "

"Why, " said Fleda, looking a little bewildered, "I would keepthe right one. "

"Not the one first made?" said he, smiling. 

"No, " said Fleda; "not unless it was the right one. "

"But don't you think one ought to keep one's word, in anyevent?"

"I don't think anything can make it right to do wrong, " Fledasaid, gravely, and not without a secret tremblingconsciousness to what point she was speaking. 

He left them, and again took several turns up and down thecabin before he sat down. 

"You have not given me your promise yet, Guy, " said hismother, whose eye had not once quitted him. "You said youwould. "

"I said, if I could. "

"Well, you can?"

"I have two honourable meetings of the proscribed kind now onhand, to which I stand pledged. "

Fleda hid her face in an agony. Mrs. Carleton's agony was inevery line of hers as she grasped her son's wrist, exclaiming, "Guy, promise me!" She had words for nothing else. Hehesitated still a moment, and then meeting his mother's look, he said gravely and steadily —

"I promise you, mother, I never will. "

His mother threw herself upon his breast, and hid her facethere, too much excited to have any thought of her customaryregard to appearances, sobbing out thanks and blessings evenaudibly. Fleda's gentle head was bowed in almost equalagitation; and Mr. Carleton at that moment had no doubt thathe had chosen well which promise to keep. 

There remained, however, a less agreeable part of the businessto manage. After seeing his mother and Fleda quite happyagain, though without satisfying in any degree the curiosityof the former, Guy went in search of the two young West Pointofficers. They were together, but without Thorn's friendCaptain Beebee. Him Carleton next sought, and brought to theforward deck, where the others were enjoying their cigars; orrather, Charlton Rossitur was enjoying his with the happyself-satisfaction of a pair of epaulettes, off duty. Thorn hadtoo busy a brain to be much of a smoker. Now, however, when itwas plain that Mr. Carleton had something to say to them, Charlton's cigar gave way to his attention; it was displacedfrom his mouth, and held in abeyance, while Thorn puffed awaymore intently than ever. 

"Gentlemen, " Carleton began, "I gave you, yesterday, reason toexpect that so soon as circumstances permitted, you shouldhave the opportunity which offended honour desires of tryingsounder arguments than those of reason upon the offender. Ihave to tell you to-day that I will not give it you. I havethought further of it. "

"Is it a new insult that you mean by this, Sir?" exclaimedRossitur, in astonishment. Thorn's cigar did not stir. 

"Neither new nor old. I mean, simply, that I have changed mymind. "

"But this is very extraordinary!" said Rossitur. "What reasondo you give?"

"I give none, Sir. "

"In that case, " said Captain Beebee, "perhaps Mr. Carletonwill not object to explain or unsay the things which gaveoffence yesterday. "

"I apprehend there is nothing to explain, Sir — I think I musthave been understood; and I never take back my words, for I amin the habit of speaking the truth. "

"Then we are to consider this as a further unprovokedunmitigated insult, for which you will give neither reason norsatisfaction!" cried Rossitur. 

"I have already disclaimed that, Mr. Rossitur. "

"Are we, on mature deliberation, considered unworthy of thehonour you so condescendingly awarded to us yesterday?"

"My reasons have nothing to do with you, Sir, nor with yourfriend; they are entirely personal to myself. "

"Mr. Carleton must be aware, " said Captain Beebee, "that hisconduct, if unexplained, will bear a very strangeconstruction. "

Mr. Carleton was coldly silent. 

"It never was heard of, " the Captain went on, "that agentleman declined both to explain and to give satisfactionfor any part of his conduct which had called for it. "

"It never was heard that a _gentleman_ did, " said Thorn, removing his cigar a moment, for the purpose of supplying theemphasis, which his friend had carefully omitted to make. 

"Will you say, Mr. Carleton, " said Rossitur, "that you did notmean to offend us yesterday, in what you said?"

"No, Mr. Rossitur. "

"You will not!" cried the Captain. 

"No Sir; for your friends had given me, as I conceived, justcause of displeasure; and I was, and am, careless of offendingthose who have done so. "

"You consider yourself aggrieved, then, in the first place?"said Beebee. 

"I have said so, Sir. "

"Then, " said the Captain, after a puzzled look out to sea, "supposing that my friends disclaim all intention to offendyou, in that case —"

"In that case I should be glad, Captain Beebee, that they hadchanged their line of tactics — there is nothing to change inmy own. "

"Then what are we to understand by this strange refusal of ameeting, Mr. Carleton? what does it mean?"

"It means one thing in my own mind, Sir, and probably anotherin yours; but the outward expression I choose to give it is, that I will not reward uncalled-for rudeness with anopportunity of self-vindication. "

"You are, " said Thorn, sneeringly, "probably careless as tothe figure your own name will cut in connection with thisstory?"

"Entirely so, " said Mr. Carleton, eyeing him steadily. 

"You are aware that your character is at our mercy. "

A slight bow seemed to leave at their disposal the very smallportion of his character he conceived to lie in thatpredicament. 

"You will expect to hear yourself spoken of in terms thatbefit a man who has cowed out of an engagement he dared notfulfil?"

"Of course, " said Carleton, haughtily; "by my present refusalI give you leave to say all that, and as much more as youringenuity can furnish in the same style; but not in myhearing, Sir. "

"You can't help yourself, " said Thorn, with the same sneer. "You have rid yourself of a gentleman's means of protection, —what others will you use?"

"I will leave that to the suggestion of the moment — I do notdoubt it will be found fruitful. "

Nobody doubted it who looked just then on his steady sparklingeye. 

"I consider the championship of yesterday given up, ofcourse, " Thorn went on in a kind of aside, not looking atanybody, and striking his cigar against the guards to clear itof ashes; — "the champion has quitted the field, and thelittle princess but lately so walled in with defences must nowlisten to whatever knight and squire may please to address toher. Nothing remains to be seen of her defender but hisspurs. "

"They may serve for the heels of whoever is disposed to annoyher, " said Mr. Carleton. "He will need them. "

He left the group with the same air of imperturbable self-possession which he had maintained during the conference. Butpresently, Rossitur, who had his private reasons for wishingto keep friends with an acquaintance who might be of servicein more ways than one, followed him, and declared himself tohave been, in all his nonsense to Fleda, most undesirous ofgiving displeasure to her temporary guardian, and sorry thatit had fallen out so. He spoke frankly, and Mr. Carleton, withthe same cool gracefulness with which he had carried on thequarrel, waived his displeasure, and admitted the younggentleman apparently to stand as before in his favour. Theirreconciliation was not an hour old when Captain Beebee joinedthem. 

"I am sorry I must trouble you with a word more on thisdisagreeable subject, Mr. Carleton, " he began, after aceremonious salutation, "My friend, Lieutenant Thorn, considers himself greatly outraged by your determination notto meet him. He begs to ask, by me, whether it is your purposeto abide by it at all hazards?"

"Yes, Sir. "

"There is some misunderstanding here, which I greatly regret. I hope you will see and excuse the disagreeable necessity Iam. Under of delivering the rest of my friend's message. "

"Say on, Sir. "

"Mr. Thorn declares that if you deny him the common courtesywhich no gentleman refuses to another, he will proclaim yourname with the most opprobrious adjuncts to all the world; and, in place of his former regard, he will hold you in the mostunlimited contempt, which he will have no scruple aboutshowing on all occasions. "

Mr. Carleton coloured a little, but replied, coolly —

"I have not lived in Mr. Thorn's favour. As to the rest, Iforgive him! — except indeed, he provoke me to measures forwhich I never will forgive him. "

"Measures!" said the Captain. 

"I hope not! for my own self-respect would be more grievouslyhurt than his. But there is an unruly spring somewhere aboutmy composition, that when it gets wound up, is once in a whiletoo much for me. "

"But, " said Rossitur, "pardon me, — have you no regard to theeffect of his misrepresentations?"

"You are mistaken, Mr. Rossitur, " said Carleton, slightly, "this is but the blast of a bellows — not the simoon. "

"Then what answer shall I have the honour of carrying back tomy friend?" said Captain Beebee, after a sort of astoundedpause of a few minutes. 

"None, of my sending, Sir. "

Captain Beebee touched his cap, and went back to Mr. Thorn, towhom he reported that the young Englishman was thoroughlyimpracticable, and that there was nothing to be gained bydealing with him; and the vexed conclusion of Thorn's ownmind, in the end, was in favour of the wisdom of letting himalone. 

In a very different mood, saddened and disgusted, Mr. Carletonshook himself free of Rossitur, and went and stood alone bythe guards, looking out upon the sea. He did not at all regrethis promise to his mother, nor wish to take other ground thanthat he had taken. Both the theory and the practice ofduelling he heartily despised, and he was not weak enough tofancy that he had brought any discredit upon either his senseor his honour by refusing to comply with an unwarrantable andbarbarous custom. And he valued mankind too little to be atall concerned about their judgment in the matter. His ownopinion was at all times enough for him. But the miserablefolly and puerility of such an altercation as that in which hehad just been engaged, the poor display of human character, the little, low passions which had been called up, even inhimself, alike destitute of worthy cause and aim, and whichhad, perhaps, but just missed ending in the death of some, andthe living death of others — it all wrought to bring him backto his old wearying of human nature and despondent eyeing ofthe every-where jarrings, confusions, and discordances in themoral world. The fresh sea-breeze that swept by the ship, roughening the play of the waves, and brushing his own cheekwith its health-bearing wing, brought with. It a sad feelingof contrast. Free, and pure, and steadily directed, it sped onits way, to do its work. And, like it, all the rest of thenatural world, faithful to the law of its Maker was stampedwith the same signet of perfection. Only man, in all theuniverse, seemed to be at cross purposes with the end of hisbeing. Only man, of all animate or inanimate things, lived anaimless, fruitless, broken life — or fruitful only in evil. How was this? and whence? and when would be the end? and wouldthis confused mass of warring elements ever be at peace? wouldthis disordered machinery ever work smoothly, without let orstop any more, and work out the beautiful. Something for whichsure it was designed? And could any hand but its first Makermend the broken wheel, or supply the spring that was wanting?

Has not the Desire of all nations been often sought of eyesthat were never taught where to look for Him?

Mr. Carleton was standing still by the guards, lookingthoughtfully out to windward to meet the fresh breeze, as ifthe spirit of the wilderness were in it, and could teach himthe truth that the spirit of the world knew not and had not togive, when he became sensible of something close beside him;and, looking down; met little Fleda's upturned face, with sucha look of purity, freshness, and peace, it said as plainly asever the dial-plate of a clock that _that_ little piece ofmachinery was working right. There was a sunlight upon it, too, of happy confidence and affection. Mr. Carleton's mindexperienced a sudden revulsion. Fleda might see the reflectionof her own light in his face as he helped her up to a standwhere she could be more on a level with him, putting his armround her to guard against any sudden roll of the ship. 

"What makes you wear such a happy face?" said he, with anexpression half envious, half regretful. 

"I don't know!" said Fleda, innocently. "You I suppose. "

He looked as bright as she did, for a minute. 

"Were you ever angry, Elfie?"

"I don't know " said Fleda. " I don't know but I have. "

He smiled to see that, although evidently her memory could notbring the charge, her modesty would not deny it. 

"Were you not angry yesterday with your cousin and thatunmannerly friend of his?"

"No, " said Fleda, a shade crossing her face — "I was not _angry_—"

And as she spoke, her hand was softly put upon Mr. Carleton's, as if partly in the fear of what might have grown out of _his_anger, and partly in thankfulness to him that he had renderedit unnecessary. There was a singular delicate timidity andtenderness in the action. 

"I wish I had your secret, Elfie, " said Mr. Carleton, lookingwistfully into the clear eyes that met his. 

"What secret?" said Fleda, smiling. 

"You say one can always do right — is that the reason you arehappy? — because you follow that out?"

"No, " said Fleda, seriously. "But I think it is a great dealpleasanter. "

"I have no doubt at all of that — neither, I dare say, havethe rest of the world; only, somehow, when it comes to thepoint, they find it is easier to do wrong. What's your secret, Elfie?"

"I haven't any secret, " said Fleda. But presently seeming tobethink herself, she added gently and gravely —

"Aunt Miriam says —

"What?"

"She says that when we love Jesus Christ, it is easy to pleasehim. "

"And do you love him, Elfie?" Mr. Carleton asked, after aminute. 

Her answer was a very quiet and sober "yes. "

He doubted still whether she were not unconsciously using aform of speech, the spirit of which she did not quite realize. That one might "not see and yet believe, " he could understand;but for _affection_ to go forth towards an unseen object wasanother matter. His question was grave and acute. 

"By what do you judge that you do, Elfie?"

"Why, Mr. Carleton, " said Fleda, with an instant look ofappeal, "who else _should_ I love?"

"If not him" — her eye and her voice made sufficiently plain. Mr. Carleton was obliged to confess to himself that she spokeintelligently, with deeper intelligence than he could follow. He asked no more questions. Yet truth shines by its own light, like the sun. He had not perfectly comprehended her answers, but they struck him as something that deserved to beunderstood, and he resolved to make the truth of them his own. 

The rest of the voyage was perfectly quiet. Following theearnest advice of his friend, Captain Beebee, Thorn had givenup trying to push Mr. Carleton to extremity; who, on his part, did not seem conscious of Thorn's existence. 

CHAPTER XIII

"There the most daintie paradise on groundItselfe doth offer to his sober eye —— The painted flowers, the trees upshooting hye, The dales for shade, the hills for breathing space, The trembling groves, the christall running by;And that, which all faire works doth most aggrace, The art which all that wrought appeared in no place. "FAERY QUEENE. 

They had taken ship for London, as Mr. And Mrs. Carletonwished to visit home for a day or two before going on toParis. So leaving Charlton to carry news of them to the Frenchcapital, so soon as he could persuade himself to leave theEnglish one, they with little Fleda in company posted down toCarleton, in — shire. 

It was a time of great delight to Fleda, that is, as soon asMr. Carleton had made her feel at home in England; and, somehow, he had contrived to do that, and to scatter someclouds of remembrance that seemed to gather about her, beforethey had reached the end of their first day's journey. To beout of the ship was itself a comfort, and to be along withkind friends was much more. With great joy Fleda put hercousin Charlton and Mr. Thorn at once out of sight and out ofmind, and gave herself with even more than her usual happyreadiness, to everything the way and the end of the way hadfor her. Those days were to be painted days in Fleda's memory. 

She thought Carleton was a very odd place — that is, thehouse, not the village, which went by the same name. If themanner of her two companions had not been such as to put herentirely at her ease, she would have felt strange and shy. Asit was, she felt half afraid of losing herself in the house;to Fleda's unaccustomed eyes, it was a labyrinth of halls andstaircases, set with the most unaccountable number and varietyof rooms — old and new, quaint and comfortable, gloomy andmagnificent; some with stern old-fashioned massiveness ofstyle and garniture, others absolutely bewitching (to Fleda'seyes and understanding) in the rich beauty and luxuriousnessof their arrangements. Mr. Carleton's own particular hauntswere of these; his private room (the little library as it wascalled), the library, and the music-room, which was, indeed, rather a gallery of the fine arts, so many treasures of artwere gathered there. To an older and nice-judging person, these rooms would have given no slight indications of theirowner's mind — it had been at work on every corner of them. Noparticular fashion had been followed in anything, nor anymodel consulted, but that which fancy had built to the mind'sorder. The wealth of years had drawn together an enormousassemblage of matters, great and small, every one of which wasfitted either to excite fancy, or suggest thought, or tosatisfy the eye by its nice adaptation. And if pride had hadthe ordering of them, all these might have been but a costlymuseum, a literary alphabet that its possessor could not puttogether, an ungainly confession of ignorance on the part ofthe intellect that could do nothing with this rich heap ofmaterial. But pride was not the genius of the place. A mostrefined taste and curious fastidiousness had arranged andharmonized all the heterogeneous items; the mentalhieroglyphics had been ordered by one to whom the reading ofthem was no mystery. Nothing struck a stranger at firstentering, except the very rich effect and faultless air of thewhole, and perhaps the delicious facilities for every kind ofintellectual cultivation which appeared on every hand —facilities which, it must be allowed, do seem in general notto facilitate the work they are meant to speed. In this case, however, it was different. The mind that wanted them hadbrought them together to satisfy its own craving. 

These rooms were Guy's peculiar domain. In other parts of thehouse, where his mother reigned conjointly with him, theirjoint tastes had struck out another style of adornment, whichmight be called a style of superb elegance. Not superb alone, for taste had not permitted so heavy a characteristic to bepredominant; not merely elegant, for the fineness of all thedetails would warrant an ampler word. A larger part of thehouse than both these together had been left as generationspast had left it, in various stages of refinement, comfort, and comeliness. It was a day or two before Fleda found outthat it was all one; she thought at first that it was acollection of several houses that had somehow inexplicably satdown there with their backs to each other; it was sostraggling and irregular a pile of building, covering so muchground, and looking so very unlike the different parts to eachother. One portion was quite old; the other parts rangedvariously between the present and the far past. After she onceunderstood this, it was a piece of delicious wonderment, andmusing, and great admiration to Fleda; she never grew weary ofwandering round it, and thinking about it — for, from a child, fanciful meditation was one of her delights. Within doors, shebest liked Mr. Carleton's favourite rooms. Their richcolouring and moderated light, and endless stores of beautyand curiosity, made them a place of fascination. 

Out of doors she found still more to delight her. Morning, noon, and night, she might be seen near the house gazing, taking in pictures of natural beauty, which were for everafter to hang in Fleda's memory as standards of excellence inthat sort. Nature's hand had been very kind to the place, moulding the ground in beautiful style. Art had made happy useof the advantage thus given her; and now what appeared wasneither art nor nature, but a perfection that can only springfrom the hands of both. Fleda's eyes were bewitched. She stoodwatching the rolling slopes of green turf, so soft and lovely, and the magnificent trees, that had kept their ground forages, and seen generations rise and fall before their growingstrength and grandeur. They were scattered here and there onthe lawn; and further back stood on the heights, and stretchedalong the ridges of the undulating ground, the outposts of awood of the same growth still beyond them. 

"How do you like it, Elfie?" Mr. Carleton asked her, theevening of the first day, as he saw her for a length of timelooking out gravely and intently from before the hall door. 

"I think it is beautiful!" said Fleda. "The ground is a greatdeal smoother here than it was at home. "

"I'll take you to ride to-morrow, " said he, smiling, "and showyou rough ground enough. "

"As you did when we came from Montepoole?" said Fleda, rathereagerly. 

"Would you like that!"

"Yes, very much — if _you_ would like it, Mr. Carleton. 

"Very well, " said he. "So it shall be. "

And not a day passed during their short stay that he did notgive her one of those rides. He showed her rough ground, according to his promise, but Fleda still thought it did notlook much like the mountains "at home. " And, indeed, unsightlyroughness had been skilfully covered or removed; and though alarge part of the park, which was a very extensive one, waswildly broken, and had apparently been left as nature left it, the hand of taste had been there; and many an unsuspectedtouch, instead of hindering, had heightened both the wild andthe beautiful character. Landscape gardening had long been agreat hobby of its owner. 

"How far does your ground come, Mr. Carleton?" inquired Fledaon one of these rides, when they had travelled a good distancefrom home. 

"Further than you can see, Elfie. "

"Further than I can see! — It must be a very large farm. "

"This is not a farm where we are now, " said he; "did you meanthat? This is the park; we are almost at the edge of it onthis side. "

"What is the difference between a farm and a park?" saidFleda. 

"The grounds of a farm are tilled for profit; a park is anuncultivated enclosure, kept merely for men and women and deerto take pleasure in. "

"_I_ have taken a good deal of pleasure in it, " said Fleda. "Andhave you a farm besides, Mr. Carleton?"

"A good many, Elfie. "

Fleda looked surprised; and then remarked, that it must bevery nice to have such a beautiful piece of ground just forpleasure. 

She enjoyed it to the full during the few days she was there. And one thing more, the grand piano in the music-room. Thefirst evening of their arrival she was drawn by the far-offsounds, and Mrs. Carleton seeing it, went immediately to themusic-room with her. The room had no light, except from themoonbeams that stole in through two glass doors which openedupon a particularly private and cherished part of the grounds, in summer-time full of flowers; for, in the very refinement ofluxury, delights had been crowded about this favouriteapartment. Mr. Carleton was at the instrument, playing. Fledasat down quietly in one corner, and listened — in a rapture ofpleasure she had hardly ever known from any like source. Shedid not think it could be greater; till, after a time, in apause of the music, Mrs. Carleton asked her son to sing aparticular ballad; and that one was followed by two or threemore. Fleda left her corner — she could not contain herself, and, favoured by the darkness, came forward; and stood quitenear; and if the performer had had light to see by, he wouldhave been gratified with the tribute paid to his power by theunfeigned tears that ran down her cheeks. This pleasure wasalso repeated from evening to evening. 

"Do you know we set off for Paris to-morrow?" said Mrs. Carleton the last evening of their stay, as Fleda came up tothe door after a prolonged ramble in the park, leaving Mr. Carleton with one or two gardeners at a little distance. 

"Yes!" said Fleda, with a sigh that was more than halfaudible. 

"Are you sorry?" said Mrs. Carleton, smiling. 

"I cannot be glad, " said Fleda, giving a sober look over thelawn. 

"Then you like Carleton?"

"Very much! — it is a prettier place than Queechy. "

"But we shall have you here again, dear Fleda, " said Mrs. Carleton, restraining her smile at this, to her, very moderatecompliment. 

"Perhaps not, " said Fleda quietly. "Mr. Carleton said, " sheadded, a minute after, with more animation, "that a park was aplace for men and women and deer to take pleasure in. I amsure it is for children too!"

"Did you have a pleasant ride this morning?"

"Oh, very! — I always do. There isn't anything I like sowell. "

"What, as to ride on horseback with Guy?" said Mrs. Carleton, looking exceedingly benignant. 

"Yes — unless —"

"Unless what, my dear Fleda?"

"Unless, perhaps — I don't know, — I was going to say, unlessperhaps to hear him sing. "

Mrs. Carleton's delight was unequivocally expressed; and shepromised Fleda that she should have both rides and songs therein plenty another time — a promise upon which Fleda built notrust at all. 

The short journey to Paris was soon made. The next morningMrs. Carleton, making an excuse of her fatigue, left Guy toend the care he had rather taken upon himself, by deliveringhis little charge into the hands of her friends. So they droveto the Hτtel —, Rue —, where Mr. Rossitur had apartments invery handsome style. They found him alone in the saloon. 

"Ha! Carleton — come back again. Just in time — very glad tosee you. And who is this? — Ah, another little daughter foraunt Lucy. "

Mr. Rossitur, who gave them this greeting very cordially, wasrather a fine-looking man — decidedly agreeable both in personand manner. Fleda was pleasantly disappointed after what hergrandfather had led her to expect. There might be something ofsternness in his expression; people gave him credit for aperemptory, not to say imperious, temper; but, if truly, itcould not often meet with opposition. The sense andgentlemanly character which marked his face and bearing had anair of smooth politeness which seemed habitual. There was nowant of kindness nor even of tenderness in the way he drewFleda within his arm and held her there, while he went ontalking to Mr. Carleton — now and then stooping his face tolook in at her bonnet and kiss her, which was his onlywelcome. He said nothing to her after his first question. 

He was too busy talking to Guy. He seemed to have a great dealto tell him. There was this for him to see, and that for himto hear, and charming new things which had been done or doingsince Mr. Carleton left Paris. The impression upon Fleda'smind after listening awhile was, that the French capital was agreat gallery of the fine arts, with a magnified likeness ofMr. Carleton's music-room at one end of' it. She thought heruncle must be most extraordinarily fond of pictures and worksof art in general, and must have a great love for seeingcompany, and hearing people sing. This latter taste, Fleda wasdisposed to allow, might be a very reasonable one. Mr. Carleton, she observed, seemed much more cool on the wholesubject. But, meanwhile, where was aunt Lucy? — and had Mr. Rossitur forgotten the little armful that he held so fast andso perseveringly? No, for here was another kiss, and anotherlook into her face, so kind, that Fleda gave him a piece ofher heart from that time. 

"Hugh!" said Mr. Rossitur suddenly to somebody she had notseen before — "Hugh! here is your little cousin. Take her offto your mother. "

A child came forward at this bidding, hardly larger thanherself. He was a slender, graceful little figure, withnothing of the boy in his face or manner; delicate as a girl, and with something almost melancholy in the gentle sweetnessof his countenance. Fleda's confidence was given to it on theinstant, which had not been the case with anything in heruncle, and she yielded without reluctance the hand he took toobey his father's command. Before two steps had been taken, however, she suddenly broke away from him, and springing toMr. Carleton's side, silently laid her hand in his. She madeno answer whatever to a light word or two of kindness that hespoke just for her ear. She listened with downcast eyes and alip that he saw was too unsteady to be trusted, and then aftera moment more, without looking, pulled away her hand, andfollowed her cousin. Hugh did not once get a sight of her faceon the way to his mother's room, but owing to her exceedingefforts; and quiet generalship, he never guessed the cause. There was nothing in her face to raise suspicion, when hereached the door, and opening it, announced her with —

"Mother, here's cousin Fleda come. "

Fleda had seen her aunt before, though several years back, andnot long enough to get acquainted with her. But no matter — itwas her mother's sister sitting there, whose face gave her solovely a welcome at that speech of Hugh's, whose arms werestretched out so eagerly towards her: and springing to them asto a very haven of rest, Fleda wept on her bosom thosedelicious tears that are only shed where the heart is at home. And even before they were dried the ties were knit that boundher to her new sphere. 

"Who came with you, dear Fleda?" said Mrs. Rossitur then. "IsMrs. Carleton here? I must go and thank her for bringing youto me. "

"_Mr. _ Carleton is here. " said Hugh. 

"I must go and thank him, then. Jump down, dear Fleda — I'llbe back in a minute. "

Fleda got off her lap, and stood looking in a kind ofenchanted maze, while her aunt hastily arranged her hair atthe glass; — looking, while fancy and memory were makingstrong the net in which her heart was caught. She was tryingto see something of her mother in one who had shared her bloodand her affection so nearly. A miniature of that mother wasleft to Fleda, and she had studied it till she could hardlypersuade herself that she had not some recollection of theoriginal; and now she thought she caught a precious shadow ofsomething like it in her aunt Lucy. Not in those pretty brighteyes which had looked through kind tears so lovingly upon her, but in the graceful ringlets about the temples, the delicatecontour of the face, and a something — Fleda could only havesaid it was "a something" — about the mouth when at rest, theshadow of her mother's image rejoiced her heart. Rather thatfaint shadow of the loved lost one for little Fleda, than anyother form or combination of beauty on earth. As she stoodfascinated, watching the movements of her aunt's light figure, Fleda drew a long breath with which went off the whole burdenof doubt and anxiety that had lain upon her mind ever sincethe journey began. She had not known it was there, but shefelt it go, yet even when that sigh of relief was breathed, and while fancy and feeling were weaving their rich embroideryinto the very tissue of Fleda's happiness, most persons wouldhave seen merely that the child looked very sober, and havethought, probably, that she felt very tired and strange. Perhaps Mrs. Rossitur thought so, for, again tenderly kissingher before she left the room, she told Hugh to take off herthings and make her feel at home. 

Hugh upon this made Fleda sit down, and proceeded to untie hertippet-strings and take off her coat, with an air of delicatetenderness which showed he had great pleasure in his task, andwhich made Fleda take a good deal of pleasure in it too. 

"Are you tired, cousin Fleda?" said he, gently. 

"No, " said Fleda — "O no!"

"Charlton said you were tired on board ship. "

"I wasn't tired, " said Fleda, in not a little surprise; "Iliked it very much. "

"Then maybe I mistook. I know Charlton said _he_ was tired, andI thought he said you were too. You know my brother Charlton, don't you?"

"Yes. "

" Are you glad to come to Paris?"

"I am glad, now, " said Fleda. "I wasn't glad before. "

"I am very glad, " said Hugh. "I think you will like it. Wedidn't know you were coming till two or three days ago, whenCharlton got here. Do you like to take walks?"

"Yes, very much. "

"Father and mother will take us delightful walks in theTuileries — the gardens, you know — and the Champs Elysιes, and Versailles, and the Boulevards, and ever so many places, and it will be a great deal pleasanter now you are here. Doyou know French?"

"No. "

"Then you'll have to learn. I'll help you if you will let me. It is very easy. Did you get my last letter?"

"I don't know, " said Fleda; "the last one I had came with oneof aunt Lucy's telling me about Mrs. Carleton — I got it justbefore —"

Alas! before what? Fleda suddenly remembered, and was stoppedshort. From all the strange scenes and interests which latelyhad whirled her along, her spirit leapt back with strongyearning recollection to her old home and her old ties; andsuch a rain of tears witnessed the dearness of what she hadlost, and the tenderness of the memory that had let them slipfor a moment, that Hugh was as much distressed as startled. With great tenderness and touching delicacy, he tried tosoothe her, and at the same time, though guessing, to find outwhat was the matter, lest he should make a mistake. 

"Just before what?" said he, laying his hand caressingly onhis little cousin's shoulder. "Don't grieve so, dear Fleda!"

"It was only just before grandpa died, " said Fleda. 

Hugh had known of that before, though like her he hadforgotten it for a moment. A little while his feeling was toostrong to permit any further attempt at condolence; but as hesaw Fleda grow quiet, he took courage to speak again. 

"Was he a good man?" he asked softly. 

"O yes!"

"Then, " said Hugh, "you know he is happy now, Fleda. If heloved Jesus Christ, he is gone to be with him. That ought tomake you glad as well as sorry. "

Fleda looked up, though tears were streaming yet, to give thatfull happy answer of the eye that no words could do. This wasconsolation, and sympathy. The two children had a perfectunderstanding of each other from that time forward, — afellowship that never knew a break nor a weakening. 

Mrs. Rossitur found on her return that Hugh had obeyed hercharge to the letter. He had made Fleda feel at home. Theywere sitting close together, Hugh's hand affectionatelyclasping hers, and he was holding forth on some subject with agracious politeness that many of his elders might have copied, while Fleda listened and assented with entire satisfaction. The rest of the morning she passed in her aunt's arms, drinking draughts of pleasure from those dear bright eyes, taking in the balm of gentlest words of love and soft kisses, every one of which was felt at the bottom of Fleda's heart, and the pleasure of talking over her young sorrows with onewho could feel them all, and answer with tears as well aswords of sympathy. And Hugh stood by the while, looking at hislittle orphan cousin as if she might have dropped from theclouds into his mother's lap, a rare jewel or delicate flower, but much more delicate and precious than they or any otherpossible gift. 

Hugh and Fleda dined alone: for, as he informed her, hisfather never would have children at the dinner-table when hehad company, and Mr. And Mrs. Carleton, and other people wereto be there to-day. Fleda made no remark on the subject, byword or look, but she thought none the less. She thought itwas a very mean fashion. _She_ not come to the table whenstrangers were there! And who would enjoy them more? When Mr. Rossitur and Mr. Carleton had dined with her grandfather, hadshe not taken as much pleasure in their society, and in thewhole thing, as any other one of the party? And at Carletonhad she not several times dined with a tableful, and beenunspeakably amused to watch the different manners andcharacteristics of people who were strange to her? However, Mr. Rossitur had other notions. So she and Hugh had theirdinner in aunt Lucy's dressing-room by themselves; and a verynice dinner it was, Fleda thought, and Rosaline, Mrs. Rossitur's French maid, was well affected and took admirablecare of them. Indeed, before the close of the day, Rosalineprivately informed her mistress, "qu'elle serait entκtιesϋrement de cet enfant dans trois jours;" and "que son regardvraiment lui serrait le coeur. " And Hugh was excellentcompany, failing all other, and did the honours of the tablewith the utmost thoughtfulness, and amused Fleda the wholetime with accounts of Paris, and what they would do, and whatshe should see; and how his sister Marion was at school at aconvent, and what kind of a place a convent was; and how hehimself always stayed at home and learned of his mother andhis father; "or by himself, " he said, "just as it happened, "and he hoped they would keep Fleda at home too. So Fleda hopedexceedingly, but this stern rule about the dining had made herfeel a little shy of her uncle; she thought perhaps he was notkind and indulgent to children, like her aunt Lucy, and if hesaid she must go to a convent, she would not dare to ask himto let her stay. The next time she saw him, however, she wasobliged to change her opinion again, in part; for he was verykind and indulgent, both to her and Hugh, and, more than that, he was very amusing. He showed her pictures, and told her newand interesting things, and finding that she listened eagerly, he seemed pleased to prolong her pleasure, even at the expenseof a good deal of his own time. 

Mr. Rossitur was a man of cultivated mind and very refined andfastidious taste. He lived for the pleasures of art andliterature, and the society where these are valued. For this, and not without some secret love of display, he lived inParis; not extravagant in his pleasures, nor silly in hisostentation, but leading, like a gentleman, as worthy andrational a life as a man can lead who lives only to himself, with no further thought than to enjoy the passing hours. Mr. Rossitur enjoyed them elegantly, and, for a man of the world, moderately; bestowing, however, few of those precious hoursupon his children. It was his maxim, that they should be keptout of the way whenever their presence might by any chanceinterfere with the amusements of their elders; and this maxim, a good one certainly in some hands, was, in his reading of it, a very broad one. Still, when he did take time to give hisfamily, he was a delightful companion to those of them whocould understand him. If they showed no taste for sensiblepleasure, he had no patience with them, nor desire of theircompany. Report had done him no wrong in giving him a sterntemper; but this almost never came out in actual exercise;Fleda knew it only from in occasional hint now and then, andby her childish intuitive reading of the lines it had drawnround the mouth and brow. It had no disagreeable bearing onhis everyday life and manner; and the quiet fact probablyserved but to heighten the love and reverence in which hisfamily held him very high. 

Mr. Rossitur did once moot the question, whether Fleda shouldnot join Marion at her convent. But his wife looked verygrave, and said that she was too tender and delicate a littlething to be trusted to the hands of strangers. Hugh pleaded, and argued that she might share all his lessons; and Fleda'sown face pleaded more powerfully. There was somethingappealing in its extreme delicacy and purity which seemed tocall for shelter and protection from every rough breath of theworld; and Mr. Rossitur was easily persuaded to let her remainin the stronghold of home. Hugh had never quitted it. Neitherfather nor mother ever thought of such a thing. He was thecherished idol of the whole family. Always a delicate child, always blameless in life and behaviour, his loveliness of mindand person, his affectionateness, the winning sweetness thatwas about him like a halo, and the slight tenure by which theyseemed to hold him, had wrought to bind the hearts of fatherand mother to this child, as it were, with the very life-strings of both. Not his mother was more gentle with Hugh thanhis much sterner father. And now little Fleda, sharingsomewhat of Hugh's peculiar claims upon their tenderness, andadding another of her own, was admitted, not to the same placein their hearts — that could not be — but, to their honour beit spoken, to the same place in all outward show of thoughtand feeling. Hugh had nothing that Fleda did not have, even tothe time, care, and caresses of his parents. And not Hughrendered them a more faithful return of devoted affection. 

Once made easy on the question of school, which was neverseriously stirred again, Fleda's life became very happy. Itwas easy to make her happy; affection and sympathy would havedone it almost anywhere; but in Paris she had much more; andafter time had softened the sorrow she brought with her, nobird ever found existence less of a burden, nor sang morelight-heartedly along its life. In her aunt she had all butthe name of a mother; in her uncle with kindness andaffection, she had amusement, interest, and improvement; inHugh, everything — love, confidence, sympathy, society, help;their tastes, opinions, pursuits, went hand in hand. The twochildren were always together. Fleda's spirits were brighterthan Hugh's, and her intellectual tastes stronger and moreuniversal. That might be as much from difference of physicalas of mental constitution. Hugh's temperament led him somewhatto melancholy, and to those studies and pleasures which bestside with subdued feeling and delicate nerves. Fleda's nervoussystem was of the finest too, but, in short, she was as like abird as possible. Perfect health, which yet a slight thing wasenough to shake to the foundation; joyous spirits, which alook could quell; happy energies, which a harsh hand mighteasily crush for ever. Well for little Fleda that so tender aplant was permitted to unfold in so nicely tempered anatmosphere. A cold wind would soon have killed it. Besides allthis, there were charming studies to be gone through every daywith Hugh — some for aunt Lucy to hear, some for masters andmistresses. There were amusing walks in the Boulevards, anddelicious pleasure-taking in the gardens of Paris, and a newworld of people, and manners, and things, and histories, forthe little American. And despite her early rustic experience, Fleda had from nature an indefeasible taste for the elegancesof life; it suited her well, to see all about her, in dress, in furniture, in various appliances, as commodious andtasteful as wealth and refinement could contrive it; and shevery soon knew what was right in each kind. There were, nowand then, most gleeful excursions in the environs of Paris, when she and Hugh found in earth and air a world of delightsmore than they could tell anybody but each other. And at home, what peaceful times they two had — what endless conversations, discussions, schemes, air journeys of memory and fancy, backward and forward! — what sociable dinners alone, anddelightful evenings with Mr. And Mrs. Rossitur in the saloon, when nobody, or only a very few people, were there, howpleasantly in those evenings the foundations were laid of astrong and enduring love for the works of art, painted, sculptured, or engraven; what a multitude of curious andexcellent bits of knowledge Fleda's ears picked up from thetalk of different people. They were capital ears; what theycaught they never let fall. In the course of the year hergleanings amounted to more than many another person's harvest. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

"Heav'n bless thee;Thou hast the sweetest face I ever look'd on. "SHAKESPEARE. 

One of the greatest of Fleda's pleasures was when Mr. Carletoncame to take her out with him. He did that often. Fleda onlywished he would have taken Hugh too, but somehow he never did. Nothing but that was wanting to make the pleasure of thosetimes perfect. Knowing that she saw the _common things_ in othercompany, Guy was at the pains to vary the amusement when shewent with him. Instead of going to Versailles or St. Cloud, hewould take her long delightful drives into the country, andshow her some old or interesting place that nobody else wentto see. Often there was a history belonging to the spot, whichFleda listened to with the delight of eye and fancy at once. In the city, where they more frequently walked, still heshowed her what she would perhaps have seen under no otherguidance. He made it his business to give her pleasure; andunderstanding the inquisitive active little spirit he had todo with, he went where his own tastes would hardly have ledhim. The Quai aux Fleurs was often visited, but also the Halleaux Blιs, the great Halle aux Vins, the Jardin des Plantes, and the Marchι des Innocens. Guy even took the trouble, morefor her sake than his own, to go to the latter place once veryearly in the morning, when the market bell had not two hourssounded, while the interest and prettiness of the scene wereyet in their full life. Hugh was in company this time, and thedelight of both children was beyond words, as it would havebeen beyond anybody's patience, that had not a strong motiveto back it. They never discovered that Mr. Carleton was in ahurry, as indeed he was not. They bargained for fruit with anynumber of people, upon all sorts of inducements, and to anextent of which they had no competent notion; but Hugh had hismother's purse, and Fleda was skilfully commissioned topurchase what she pleased for Mrs. Carleton. Verily the twochildren that morning bought pleasure, not peaches. Fancy andBenevolence held the purse-strings, and Economy did not evenlook on. They revelled too, Fleda especially, amidst thebright pictures of the odd, the new, and the picturesque, andthe varieties of character and incident that were displayedaround them, even till the country people began to go away, and the scene to lose its charm. It never lost it in memory;and many a time in after life, Hugh and Fleda recurred tosomething that was seen or done "that morning when we boughtfruit at the Innocens. "

Besides these scenes of everyday life, which interested andamused Fleda to the last degree, Mr. Carleton showed her manyan obscure part of Paris, where deeds of daring and of bloodhad been, and thrilled the little listener's ear withhistories of the past. He judged her rightly. She would ratherat any time have gone to walk with him than with anybody elseto see any show that could be devised. His object in all thiswas, in the first place, to give her pleasure; and, in thesecond place, to draw out her mind into free communion withhis own, which he knew could only be done by talking sense toher. He succeeded as he wished. Lost in the interest of thescenes he presented to her eye and mind, she forgot everythingelse, and showed him herself — precisely what he wanted tosee. 

It was strange that a young man, an admired man of fashion, aflattered favourite of the gay and great world, and, furthermore, a reserved and proud repeller of almost all whosought his intimacy, should seek and delight in the society ofa little child. His mother would have wondered if she hadknown it. Mrs. Rossitur did marvel that even Fleda should haveso won upon the cold and haughty young Englishman; and herhusband said he probably chose to have Fleda with him becausehe could make up his mind to like nobody else; a remark whichperhaps arose from the utter failure of every attempt to drawhim and Charlton nearer together. But Mr. Rossitur was onlyhalf right. The reason lay deeper. 

Mr. Carleton had admitted the truth of Christianity, upon whathe considered sufficient grounds, and would now have steadilyfought for it, as he would for anything else that he believedto be truth. But there he stopped. He had not discovered, nortried to discover, whether the truth of Christianity imposedany obligation upon him. He had cast off his unbelief, andlooked upon it now as a singular folly. But his belief wasalmost as vague and as fruitless as his infidelity had been. Perhaps, a little, his bitter dissatisfaction with the worldand human things, or rather his despondent view of them, wasmitigated. If there was, as he now held, a Supreme Orderer ofevents, it might be, and it was rational to suppose therewould be, in the issues of time, an entire change wrought inthe disordered and dishonoured state of his handiwork. Theremight be a remedial system somewhere — nay, it might be in theBible, — he meant to look some day. But that _he_ had anythingto do with that change; that the working of the remedialsystem called for hands; that _his_ had any charge in thematter, had never entered into his imagination nor stirred hisconscience. He was living his old life at Paris, with his olddissatisfaction — perhaps a trifle less bitter. He was seekingpleasure in whatever art, learning, literature, refinement, and luxury can do for a man who has them all at command; butthere was something within him that spurned this ignobleexistence, and called for higher aims and worthier exertion. He was not vicious, he never had been vicious, or, as somebodyelse said, his vices were all refined vices; but a life ofmere self-indulgence, although pursued without self-satisfaction, is constantly lowering the standard andweakening the forces of virtue — lessening the whole man. Hefelt it so; and to leave his ordinary scenes and occupations, and lose a morning with little Fleda, was a freshening of hisbetter nature; it was like breathing pure air after the fever-heat of a sick-room; it was like hearing the birds sing afterthe meaningless jabber of Bedlam. Mr. Carleton, indeed, didnot put the matter quite so strongly to himself. He calledFleda his good angel. He did not exactly know that the officethis good angel performed was simply to hold a candle to hisconscience; for conscience was not by any means dead in him, it only wanted light to see by. When he turned from the gayand corrupt world in which he lived, where the changes wererung incessantly upon self-interest, falsehood, pride, and thevarious, more or less refined forms of sensuality; and when helooked upon that pure bright little face, so free fromselfishness, those clear eyes so innocent of evil, thepeaceful brow under which a thought of double-dealing hadnever hid, Mr. Carleton felt himself in a healthier region. Here, as elsewhere, he honoured and loved the image of truth, in the broad sense of truth, — that which suits the perfectstandard of right. But his pleasure in this case wasinvariably mixed with a slight feeling of self-reproach; andit was this hardly recognised stir of his better nature, thisclearing of his mental eyesight under the light of a brightexample, that made him call the little torch-bearer his goodangel. If this were truth, this purity, uprightness, andsingleness of mind, as conscience said it was, where was he?how far wandering from his beloved idol?

One other feeling saddened the pleasure he had in her society, — a belief that the ground of it could not last. "If she couldgrow up so!" he said to himself. "But it is impossible. A veryfew years, and all that clear sunshine of the mind will beovercast, — there is not a cloud now!"

Under the working of these thoughts, Mr. Carleton sometimesforgot to talk to his little charge, and would walk for alength of way by her side, wrapped up in sombre musings. Fledanever disturbed him then, but waited contentedly and patientlyfor him to come out of them, with her old feeling, wonderingwhat he could be thinking of, and wishing he were as happy asshe. But he never left her very long. He was sure to wave hisown humour and give her all the graceful kind attention whichnobody else could bestow so well. Nobody understood andappreciated it better than Fleda. 

One day, some months after they had been in Paris, they weresitting in the Place de la Concorde. Mr. Carleton was in oneof these thinking fits. He had been giving Fleda a long detailof the scenes that had taken place in that spot; a history ofit from the time when it had lain an unsightly waste, — such agraphic lively account as he knew well how to give. Theabsorbed interest with which she had lost everything else inwhat he was saying, had given him at once reward and motiveenough as he went on. Standing by his side, with one littlehand confidingly resting on his knee, she gazed alternatelyinto his face and towards the broad highly-adorned square bythe side of which they had placed themselves, and where it washard to realize that the ground had once been soaked in blood, while madness and death filled the air; and her changing face, like a mirror, gave him back the reflection of the times heheld up to her view. And still standing there in the sameattitude after he had done, she had been looking out towardsthe square in a fit of deep meditation. Mr. Carleton hadforgotten her for a while in his own thoughts, and then thesight of the little gloved hand upon his knee brought him backagain. 

"What are you musing about, Elfie, dear?" he said, cheerfully, taking the hand in one of his. 

Fleda gave a swift glance into his face, as if to see whetherit would be safe for her to answer his question, — a kind ofexploring look, in which her eyes often acted as scouts forher tongue. Those she met pledged their faith for hersecurity; yet Fleda's look went back to the square and thenagain to his face in silence. 

"How do you like living in Paris?" said he. "You should knowby this time. "

"I like it very much indeed, " said Fleda. 

"I thought you would. "

"I like Queechy better, though, " she went on, gravely, hereyes turning again to the square. 

"Like Queechy better! Were you thinking of Queechy just nowwhen I spoke to you?"

"O no!" — with a smile. 

"Were you going over all those horrors I have been distressingyou with?"

"No, " said Fleda; "I was thinking of them, a while ago. "

"What then?" said he pleasantly. "You were looking so sober, Ishould like to know how near your thoughts were to mine. "

"I was thinking, " said Fleda, gravely, and a littleunwillingly, but Guy's manner was not to be withstood — "I waswishing I could be like the disciple whom Jesus loved. "

Mr. Carleton let her see none of the surprise he felt at thisanswer. 

"Was there one more loved than the rest?"

"Yes — the Bible calls him 'the disciple whom Jesus loved. 'That was John. "

"Why was he preferred above the others?"

"I don't know. I suppose he was more gentle and good than theothers, and loved Jesus more. I think Aunt Miriam said so whenI asked her once. "

Mr. Carleton thought Fleda had not far to seek for thefulfilment of her wish. 

"But how in the world, Elfie, did you work round to thisgentle and good disciple from those scenes of blood you setout with?"

"Why, " said Elfie, "I was thinking how unhappy and bad peopleare, especially people here, I think; and how much must bedone before they will all be brought right; and then I wasthinking of the work Jesus gave his disciples to do; and so Iwished I could be like that disciple. Hugh and I were talkingabout it this morning. "

"What is the work he gave them to do?'" said Mr. Carleton, more and more interested. 

"Why, " said Fleda, lifting her gentle wistful eyes to his, andthen looking away, "to bring everybody to be good and happy. "

"And how in the world are they to do that?" said Mr. Carleton, astonished to see his own problem quietly handled by thischild. 

"By telling them about Jesus Christ, and getting them tobelieve and love him, " said Fleda, glancing at him again, "andliving so beautifully that people cannot help believing them. "

"That last is an important clause, " said Mr. Carleton, thoughtfully. "But suppose people will not hear when they arespoken to, Elfie?"

"Some will, at any rate, " said Fleda, "and by and by everybodywill. "

"How do you know?"

"Because the Bible says so. "

"Are you sure of that, Elfie?"

"Why, yes, Mr. Carleton, — God has promised that the worldshall be full of good people, and then they will be all happy. _I_ wish it was now. "

"But if that be so, Elfie, God can make them all good withoutour help. "

"Yes, but I suppose he wishes to do it with our help, Mr. Carleton, " said Fleda, with equal naοvetι and gravity. 

"But is not this you speak of, " said he, half smiling, "ratherthe business of clergymen? you have nothing to do with it?"

"No, " said Fleda, "everybody has something to do with it — theBible says so; ministers must do it in their way, and otherpeople in other ways; everybody has his own work. Don't youremember the parable of the ten talents, Mr. Carleton?"

Mr. Carleton was silent for a minute. 

"I do not know the Bible quite as well as you do, Elfie, " hesaid then, "nor as I ought to do. "

Elfie's only answer was by a look somewhat like that he wellremembered on shipboard he had thought was angel-like, — alook of gentle sorrowful wistfulness, which she did notventure to put into words. It had not for that the less power. But he did not choose to prolong the conversation. They roseup and began to walk homeward, Elfie thinking with all thewarmth of her little heart that she wished very much Mr. Carleton knew the Bible better; divided between him and "thatdisciple" whom she and Hugh had been talking about. 

"I suppose you are very busy now, Elfie, " observed hercompanion, when they had walked the length of several squaresin silence. 

"O yes!" said Fleda. " Hugh and I are as busy as we can be. Weare busy every minute. "

"Except when you are on some chase after pleasure?"

"Well, " said Fleda, laughing, "that is a kind of business; andall the business is pleasure too. I didn't mean that we werealways busy about work. Oh, Mr. Carleton, we had such a nicetime the day before yesterday!" — And she went on to give himthe history of a very successful chase after pleasure whichthey had made to St. Cloud. 

"And yet you like Queechy better?"

"Yes, " said Fleda, with a gentle steadiness peculiar toherself — "if I had aunt Lucy, and Hugh, and uncle Rolf there, and everybody that I care for, I should like it a great dealbetter. "

" 'Unspotted' yet, " he thought. 

"Mr. Carleton, " said Fleda, presently — "do you play and singevery day here in Paris?"

"Yes, " said he, smiling, — "about every day. Why?"

"I was thinking how pleasant it was at your house in England. "

"Has Carleton the honour of rivalling Queechy in your liking?"

"I haven't lived there so long, you know, " said Fleda, "I daresay it would if I had. I think it is quite as pretty a place. "

Mr. Carleton smiled with a very pleased expression. Truth andpoliteness had joined hands in her answer with a child'sgrace. 

He brought Fleda to her own door, and there was leaving her. 

"Stop! Oh, Mr. Carleton, " cried Fleda, "come in, just for oneminute — I want to show you something. "

He made no resistance to that. She led him to the saloon, where it happened that nobody was, and repeating, "Oneminute!" — rushed out of the room. In less than that time, shecame running back with a beautiful half-blown bud of a monthlyrose in her hand, and in her face such a bloom of pleasure andeagerness as more than rivalled it. The rose was fairlyeclipsed. She put the bud quietly, but with a most satisfiedair of affection, into Mr. Carleton's hand. It had come from alittle tree which he had given her on one of' their firstvisits to the Quai aux Fleurs. She had had the choice of whatshe liked best, and had characteristically taken a flourishinglittle rose-bush, that as yet showed nothing but leaves andgreen buds, partly, because she would have the pleasure ofseeing its beauties come forward, and partly, because shethought having no flowers, it would not cost much. The formerreason, however, was all that she had given to Mr. Carleton'sremonstrances. 

"What is all this, Elfie?" said he. "Have you been robbingyour rose-tree?"

"No, " said Elfie, "there are plenty more buds! Isn't itlovely? This is the first one. They've been a great whilecoming out. "

His eye went from the rose to her; he thought the one was amere emblem of the other. Fleda was usually very quiet in herdemonstrations; it was as if a little green bud had suddenlyburst into a flush of loveliness; and he saw, it was as plainas possible, that goodwill to him had been the moving power. He was so much struck and moved, that his thanks, though asusual perfect in their kind, were far shorter and graver thanhe would have given if he had felt less. He turned away fromthe house, his mind full of the bright unsullied purity andsingle-hearted goodwill that had looked out of that beaminglittle face; he seemed to see them again in the flower he heldin his hand, and he saw nothing else as he went. 

Mr. Carleton preached to himself all the way home, and histext was a rose. 

Laugh who will. To many it may seem ridiculous; and to mostminds it would have been impossible; but to a nature veryfinely wrought and highly trained, many a voice that grossersenses cannot hear, comes with an utterance as clear as it issweet-spoken; many a touch that coarser nerves cannot heed, reaches the springs of the deeper life; many a truth thatduller eyes have no skill to see, shows its fair features, hidaway among the petals of a rose, or peering out between thewings of a butterfly, or reflected in a bright drop of dew. The material is but a veil for the spiritual; but, then, eyesmust be quickened, or the veil becomes an impassable cloud. 

That particular rose was to Mr. Carleton's eye a most perfectemblem and representative of its little giver. He traced outthe points of resemblance as he went along. The delicacy andcharacter of refinement for which that kind of rose isremarkable above many of its more superb kindred; a refinementessential and unalterable by decay or otherwise, as true acharacteristic of the child as of the flower; a delicacy thatcalled for gentle handling and tender cherishing; thesweetness, rare indeed, but asserting itself as it weretimidly, at least with equally rare modesty; the very style ofthe beauty that, with all its loveliness, would not startlenor even catch the eye among its more showy neighbours; andthe breath of purity that seemed to own no kindred with earth, nor liability to infection. 

As he went on with his musing, and drawing out this faircharacter from the type before him, the feeling of contrastthat he had known before pressed upon Mr. Carleton's mind; thefeeling of self-reproach, and the bitter wish that he could beagain what he once had been — something like this. How changednow he seemed to himself — not a point of likeness left. Howmuch less honourable, how much less worth, how much lessdignified, than that fair innocent child! How much better apart she was acting in life — what an influence she wasexerting, — as pure, as sweet-breathed, and as unobtrusive, asthe very rose in his hand! And he — doing no good to anearthly creature, and losing himself by inches. 

He reached his room, put the flower in a glass on the table, and walked up and down before it. It had come to a strugglebetween the sense of what was and the passionate wish for whatmight have been. 

"It is late, Sir, " said his servant, opening the door — "andyou were —"

"I am not going out. "

"This evening, Sir?"

"No — not at all to-day. Spenser, I don't wish to see anybody— let no one come near me. "

The servant retired, and Guy went on with his walk and hismeditations — looking back over his life, and reviewing, witha wiser ken now, the steps by which he had come. He comparedthe selfish disgust with which he had cast off the world withthe very different spirit of little Fleda's look upon it thatmorning; the useless, self-pleasing, vain life he was leading, with her wish to be like the beloved disciple, and dosomething to heal the troubles of those less happy thanherself. He did not very well comprehend the grounds of herfeeling or reasoning, but he began to see, mistily, that hisown had been mistaken and wild. 

His step grew slower, his eye more intent, his brow quiet. 

"She is right, and I am wrong, " he thought. "She is by far thenobler creature — worth many such as I. Like her I cannot be —I cannot regain what I have lost — I cannot undo what yearshave done. But I can be something other than I am! If there bea system of remedy, as there well may, it may as well takeeffect on myself first. She says everybody has his work; Ibelieve her. It must, in the nature of things, be so. I willmake it my business to find out what mine is; and when I havemade that sure, I will give myself to the doing of it. An All-wise Governor must look for service of me. He shall have it. Whatever my life be, it shall be to some end. If not what Iwould, what I can. If not the purity of the rose, that oftempered steel!"

Mr. Carleton walked his room for three hours; then rung forhis servant, and ordered him to prepare everything for leavingParis the second day thereafter. 

The next morning over theirs coffee he told his mother of hispurpose. 

"Leave Paris! To-morrow! My dear Guy, that is rather a suddennotice. "

"No, mother; for I am going alone. "

His mother immediately bent an anxious and somewhat terrifiedlook upon him. The frank smile she met put half her suspicionsout of her head at once. 

"What is the matter?"

"Nothing at all — if by 'matter' you mean mischief. "

"You are not in difficulty with those young men again?"

"No, mother, " said he, coolly. "I am in difficulty with no onebut myself. "

"With yourself! But why will you not let me go with you?"

"My business will go on better if I am quite alone. "

"What business?''

"Only to settle this question with myself, " said he, smiling. 

"But, Guy! you are enigmatical this morning. Is it thequestion that of all others I wish to see settled?"

"No, mother, " said he, laughing, and colouring a little; "Idon't want another half to take care of till I have this oneunder management. "

"I don't understand you, " said Mrs. Carleton. "There is nohidden reason under all this that you are keeping from me?"

"I wont say that. But there is none that need give you theleast uneasiness. There are one or two matters I want to studyout; I cannot do it here, so I am going where I shall befree. "

"Where?"

"I think I shall pass the summer between Switzerland andGermany. "

"And when and where shall I meet you again?"

"I think, at home; I cannot say when. "

"At home!" said his mother with a brightening face. "Then youare beginning to be tired of wandering at last?"

"Not precisely, mother, " — rather out of humour. 

"I shall be glad of anything, " said his mother, gazing at himadmiringly, "that brings you home again, Guy. "

"Brings me home a better man, I hope, mother, " said he, kissing her as he left the room. "I will see you again by andby. "

" 'A better man!' " thought Mrs. Carleton, as she sat withfull eyes, the image of her son filling the place where hispresence had been; "I would be willing never to see himbetter, and be sure of his never being worse. "

Mr. Carleton's farewell visit found Mr. And Mrs. Rossitur notat home. They had driven out early into the country to fetchMarion from her convent for some holiday. Fleda came aloneinto the saloon to receive him. 

"I have your rose in safe keeping, Elfie, " he said. "It hasdone me more good than ever a rose did before. "

Fleda smiled an innocently pleased smile. But her look changedwhen he added —

"I have come to tell you so, and to bid you good-bye. "

"Are you going away, Mr. Carleton?"

"Yes. "

"But you will be back soon?"

"No, Elfie — I do not know that I shall ever come back. "

He spoke gravely, more gravely than he was used, and Fleda'sacuteness saw that there was some solid reason for this suddendetermination. Her face changed sadly, but she was silent, hereyes never wavering from those that read hers with such gentleintelligence. 

"You will be satisfied to have me go, Elfie, when I tell youthat I am going on business which I believe to be duty. Nothing else takes me away. I am going to try to do right, "said he, smiling. 

Elfie could not answer the smile. She wanted to ask whethershe should never see him again, and there was another thoughtupon her tongue too; but her lip trembled, and she saidnothing. 

"I shall miss my good fairy, " Mr. Carleton went on, lightly;"I don't know how I shall do without her. If your wand waslong enough to reach so far I would ask you to touch me nowand then, Elfie. "

Poor Elfie could not stand it. Heir head sank. She knew shehad a wand that could touch him, and well and gratefully sheresolved that its light blessing should "now and then" rest onhis head; but he did not understand that; he was talking, whether lightly or seriously — and Elfie knew it was a littleof both — he was talking of wanting her help, and was ignorantof the help that alone could avail him. "O that he knew butthat!" What with this feeling and sorrow together, the child'sdistress was exceeding great; and the tokens of grief in oneso accustomed to hide them were the more painful to see. Mr. Carleton drew the sorrowing little creature within his arm, and endeavoured with a mixture of kindness and lightness inhis tone to cheer her. 

"I shall often remember you, dear Elfie, " he said; "I shallkeep your rose always, and take it with me wherever I go. Youmust not make it too hard for me to quit Paris — you are gladto have me go on such an errand, are you not?"

She presently commanded herself, bade her tears wait tillanother time as usual, and trying to get rid of those thatcovered her face, asked him "What errand?"

He hesitated. 

"I have been thinking of what we were talking of yesterday, Elfie, " he said at length. "I am going to try to discover myduty, and then to do it. "

But Fleda at that clasped his hand, and squeezing it in bothhers, bent down her little head over it to hide her face andthe tears that streamed again. He hardly knew how tounderstand, or what to say to her. He half suspected thatthere were depths in that childish mind beyond his fathoming. He was not, however, left to wait long. Fleda, though shemight now and then be surprised into showing it, never allowedher sorrow of any kind to press upon the notice or the time ofothers. She again checked herself and dried her face. 

"There is nobody else in Paris that will be so sorry for myleaving it, " said Mr. Carleton, half tenderly and halfpleasantly. 

"There is nobody else that has so much cause, " said Elfie, near bursting out again, but she restrained herself. 

"And you will not come here again;, Mr. Carleton?" she said, after a few minutes. 

"I do not say that — it is possible — if I do, it will be tosee you, Elfie. "

A shadow of a smile passed over her face at that. It was goneinstantly. 

"My mother will not leave Paris yet, " he went on — you willsee her often. "

But he saw that Fleda was thinking of something else; shescarce seemed to hear him. She was thinking of something thattroubled her. 

"Mr. Carleton, " she began, and her colour changed. 

"Speak, Elfie. "

Her colour changed again. "Mr. Carleton, will you bedispleased if I say something?"

"Don't you know me better than to ask me that, Elfie?" hesaid, gently. 

"I want to ask you something — if you wont mind my saying it?"

"What is it?" said he, reading in her face that a request wasbehind. "I will do it. "

Her eyes sparkled, but she seemed to have some difficulty ingoing on. 

"I will do it whatever it is, " he said, watching her. 

"Will you wait for me one moment, Mr. Carleton?"

"Half an hour. "

She sprang away, her face absolutely flashing pleasure throughher tears. It was much soberer, and again doubtful andchanging colour, when a few minutes afterwards she came backwith a book in her hand. With a striking mixture of timidity, modesty, and eagerness in her countenance, she came forward, and putting the little volume, which was her own Bible, intoMr. Carleton's hands, said, under her breath, "Please readit. " She did not venture to look up. 

He saw what the book was; and then taking the gentle handwhich had given it, he kissed it two or three times — if ithad been a princess's he could not with more respect. 

"You have my promise, Elfie, " he said; "I need not repeat it. "

She raised her eves and gave him a look so grateful, soloving, so happy, that it dwelt for ever in his remembrance. Amoment after it had faded, and she stood still where he hadleft her listening to his footsteps as they went down thestairs. She heard the last of them, and then sank upon herknees by a chair, and burst into a passion of tears. Theirtime was now, and she let them come. It was not only thelosing a loved and pleasant friend, it was not only thestirring of sudden and disagreeable excitement — poor Elfiewas crying for her Bible. It had been her father's own — itwas filled with his marks — it was precious to her above price— and Elfie cried with all her heart for the loss of it. Shehad done what she had on the spur of the emergency — she wassatisfied she had done right; she would not take it back ifshe could; but not the less her Bible was gone, and the pagesthat loved eyes had looked upon were for hers to look upon nomore. Her very heart was wrung that she should have partedwith it; and yet, what could she do? It was as bad as theparting with Mr. Carleton. 

That agony was over, and even that was shortened, for "Hughwould find out that she had been crying. " Hours had passed, and the tears were dried, and the little face was bending overthe wonted tasks, with a shadow upon its wonted cheerfulness, when Rosaline came to tell her that Victor said there wassomebody in the passage who wanted to see her and would notcome in. 

It was Mr. Carleton himself. He gave her a parcel, smiled ather without saying a word, kissed her hand earnestly, and wasgone again. Fleda ran to her own room, and took the wrappersoff such a beauty of a Bible as she had never seen — bound inblue velvet, with clasps of gold, and her initials in lettersof gold upon the cover. Fleda hardly knew whether to be mostpleased or sorry; for to have its place so supplied seemed toput her lost treasure further away than ever. The result wasanother flood of very tender tears; in the very shedding ofwhich, however, the new little Bible was bound to her heartwith cords of association as bright and as incorruptible asits gold mountings. 

CHAPTER XV. 

"Her sports were such as carried riches of knowledge upon thestream of delight. "SIDNEY. 

Fleda had not been a year in Paris, when her uncle suddenlymade up his mind to quit it and go home. Some trouble in moneyaffairs, felt or feared, brought him to this step, which amonth before he had no definite purpose of ever taking. Therewas cloudy weather in the financial world of New York, and hewisely judged it best that his own eyes should be on the spotto see to his own interests. Nobody was sorry for thisdetermination. Mrs. Rossitur always liked what her husbandliked, but she had at the same time a decided predilection forhome. Marion was glad to leave her convent for the gay world, which her parents promised she should immediately enter. AndHugh and Fleda had too lively a spring of happiness withinthemselves to care where its outgoings should be. 

So home they came, in good mood, bringing with them all mannerof Parisian delights that Paris could part with — furniture, that at home at least they might forget where they were;dresses, that, at home or abroad, nobody might forget wherethey had been; pictures, and statuary, and engravings, andbooks, to satisfy a taste really strong and well cultivated. And, indeed, the other items were quite as much for thispurpose as for any other. A French cook for Mr. Rossitur, andeven Rosaline for his wife, who declared she was worth all therest of Paris. Hugh cared little for any of these things; hebrought home a treasure of books and a flute, to which he wasdevoted. Fleda cared for them all, even Monsieur Emile andRosaline, for her uncle's and aunt's sake; but her special joywas a beautiful little King Charles, which had been sent herby Mr. Carleton a few weeks before. It came with the kindestof letters, saying, that some matters had made it inexpedientfor him to pass through Paris on his way home, but that hehoped, nevertheless, to see her soon. That intimation was theonly thing that made Fleda sorry to leave Paris. The littledog was a beauty, allowed to be so not only by his mistressbut by every one else, of the true black and tan colours; andFleda's dearly loved and constant companion. 

The life she and Hugh led was little changed by the change ofplace. They went out and came in as they had done in Paris, and took the same quiet but intense happiness in the samequiet occupations and pleasures; only the Tuileries and ChampsElysιes had a miserable substitute in the Battery, and nosubstitute at all anywhere else. And the pleasant drives inthe environs of Paris were missed too, and had nothing in NewYork to supply their place. Mrs. Rossitur always said it wasimpossible to get out of New York by land, and not worth thetrouble to do it by water. But, then, in the house Fledathought there was a great gain. The dirty Parisian hotel waswell exchanged for the bright, clean, well-appointed house inState street. And if Broadway was disagreeable, and the Park aweariness to the eyes, after the dressed gardens of the Frenchcapital, Hugh and Fleda made it up in the delights of theluxuriously furnished library, and the dear at-home feeling ofhaving the whole house their own. 

They were left, those two children, quite as much tothemselves as ever. Marion was going into company, and she andher mother were swallowed up in the consequent necessary callsupon their time. Marion never had been anything to Fleda. Shewas a fine, handsome girl, outwardly, but seemed to have moreof her father than her mother in her composition, thoughcolder-natured, and more wrapped up in self than Mr. Rossiturwould be called by anybody that knew him. She had never doneanything to draw Fleda towards her, and even Hugh had verylittle of her attention. They did not miss it. They wereeverything to each other. 

Everything — for now morning and night there was a sort ofwhirlwind in the house which carried the mother and daughterround and round, and permitted no rest; and Mr. Rossiturhimself was drawn in. It was worse than it had been in Paris. There, with Marion in her convent, there were often eveningswhen they did not go abroad nor receive company, and spent thetime quietly and happily in each other's society. No suchevenings now: if by chance there were an unoccupied one, Mrs. Rossitur and her daughter were sure to be tired, and Mr. Rossitur busy. 

Hugh and Fleda in those bustling times retreated to thelibrary; Mr. Rossitur would rarely have that invaded; andwhile the net was so eagerly cast for pleasure among the gaycompany below, pleasure had often slipped away, and hidherself among the things on the library table, and was dancingon every page of Hugh's book, and minding each stroke ofFleda's pencil, and cocking the spaniel's ears whenever hismistress looked at him. King, the spaniel, lay on a silkcushion on the library table, his nose just touching Fleda'sfingers. Fleda's drawing was mere amusement; she and Hugh werenot so burdened with studies that they had not always theirevenings free, and, to tell truth, much more than theirevenings. Masters, indeed, they had; but the heads of thehouse were busy with the interests of their grown-up child, and, perhaps, with other interests, and took it for grantedthat all was going right with the young ones. 

"Haven't we a great deal better time than they have downstairs, Fleda?" said Hugh, one of these evenings. 

"Hum — yes" — answered Fleda, abstractedly, stroking intoorder some old man in her drawing with great intentness. "King! you rascal — keep back and be quiet, Sir!"

Nothing could be conceived more gentle and loving than Fleda'stone of fault-finding, and her repulse only fell short of acaress. 

"What's he doing?"

"Wants to get into my lap. "

"Why don't you let him?"

"Because I don't choose to — a silk cushion is good enough forhis majesty. King!" (laying her soft cheek against the littledog's soft head, and forsaking her drawing for the purpose. )

"How you do love that dog!" said Hugh. 

"Very well — why shouldn't I? — provided he steals no lovefrom anybody else, " said Fleda, still caressing him. 

"What a noise somebody is making down stairs!" said Hugh. " Idon't think I should ever want to go to large parties, Fleda;do you?"

"I don't know, " said Fleda, whose natural taste for societywas strongly developed; "it would depend upon what kind ofparties they were. "

"I shouldn't like them, I know, of whatever kind, " said Hugh. "What are you smiling at?"

"Only Mr. Pickwick's face, that I am drawing here. "

Hugh came round to look and laugh, and then began again. 

"I can't think of anything pleasanter than this room as we arenow. "

"You should have seen Mr. Carleton's library, " said Fleda, ina musing tone, going on with her drawing. 

"Was it so much better than this?"

Fleda's eyes gave a slight glance at the room, and then lookeddown again with a little shake of her head sufficientlyexpressive. 

"Well, " said Hugh, "you and I do not want any better thanthis; do we, Fleda?"

Fleda's smile — a most satisfactory one — was divided betweenhim and King. 

"I don't believe, " said Hugh, "you would have loved that dognear so well if anybody else had given him to you. "

"I don't believe I should! — not a quarter, " said Fleda, withsufficient distinctness. 

"I never liked that Mr. Carleton as well as you did. "

"That is because you did not know him, " said Fleda, quietly. 

"Do you think he was a good man, Fleda?"

"He was very good to me, " said Fleda, "always. What rides Idid have on that great black horse of his!" —

"A black horse?"

"Yes, a great black horse, strong, but so gentle, and he wentso delightfully. His name was Harold. Oh, I should like to seethat horse! When I wasn't with him, Mr. Carleton used to rideanother, the greatest beauty of a horse, Hugh — a brownArabian — so slender and delicate — her name was Zephyr, andshe used to go like the wind, to be sure. Mr. Carleton said hewouldn't trust me on such a fly-away thing. "

"But you didn't use to ride alone?" said Hugh. 

"O no! — and I wouldn't have been afraid if he had chosen totake me on any one. "

"But do you think, Fleda, he was a good man — as I mean?"

"I am sure he was better than a great many others, " answeredFleda, evasively — "the worst of him was infinitely betterthan the best of half the people down stairs — Mr. Swedenincluded. "

"Sweden! — you don't call his name right. "

"The worse it is called the better, in my opinion, " saidFleda. 

"Well, I don't like him; but what makes you dislike him somuch?"

"I don't know — partly because Uncle Rolf and Marion like himso much, I believe — I don't think there is any moralexpression in his face. "

"I wonder why they like him, " said Hugh. 

It was a somewhat irregular and desultory education that thetwo children gathered under this system of things. The mastersthey had were rather for accomplishments and languages thanfor anything solid — the rest they worked out for themselves. Fortunately they both loved books, and rational books; andhours and hours, when Mrs. Rossitur and her daughter werepaying or receiving visits, they, always together, were stowedaway behind the book-cases or in the library window, poringpatiently over pages of various complexion — the soft turningof the leaves, or Fleda's frequent attentions to King, theonly sound in the room. They walked together, talking of whatthey had read, though, indeed, they ranged beyond that intonameless and numberless fields of speculation, where, if theysometimes found fruit, they as often lost their way. However, the habit of ranging was something. Then when they joined therest of the family at the dinner-table, especially if otherswere present, and most especially if a certain Germangentleman happened to be there, who, the second winter aftertheir return, Fleda thought came very often, she and Hughwould be sure to find the strange talk of the world that wasgoing on unsuited and wearisome to them, and they would maketheir escape up-stairs again to handle the pencil, and to playthe flute, and to read, and to draw plans for the future, while King crept upon the skirts of his mistress's gown, andlaid his little head on her feet. Nobody ever thought ofsending them to school. Hugh was a child of frail health, andthough not often very ill, was often near it; and as forFleda, she and Hugh were inseparable, and besides, by thistime her uncle and aunt would almost as soon have thought oftaking the mats off their delicate shrubs in winter, as ofexposing her to any atmosphere less genial than that of home. 

For Fleda, this doubtful course of mental training wroughtsingularly well. An uncommonly quick eye, and strong memory, and clear head, which she had even in childhood, passed overno field of truth or fancy without making their quietgleanings; and the stores thus gathered, though somewhatmiscellaneous and unarranged, were both rich and uncommon, andmore than any one or she herself knew. Perhaps such a mindthus left to itself knew a more free and luxuriant growth thancould ever have flourished within the confinement of rules —perhaps a plant at once so strong and so delicate was safestwithout the hand of the dresser — at all events it waspermitted to spring and to put forth all its nativegracefulness alike unhindered and unknown. Cherished as littleFleda dearly was, her mind kept company with no one butherself — and Hugh. As to externals; music was uncommonlyloved by both the children, and by both cultivated with greatsuccess. So much came under Mrs. Rossitur's knowledge; alsoevery foreign Signor and Madame that came into the house toteach them spoke with enthusiasm of the apt minds and flexibletongues that honoured their instructions. In private and inpublic, the gentle, docile, and affectionate children answeredevery wish, both of taste and judgment. And perhaps, in aworld where education is not understood, their guardians mightbe pardoned for taking it for granted that all was right wherenothing appeared that was wrong — certainly they took no painsto make sure of the fact. In this case, one of a thousand, their neglect was not punished with disappointment. They neverfound out that Hugh's mind wanted the strengthening that earlyskilful training might have given it. His intellectual tasteswere not so strong as Fleda's — his reading was moresuperficial — his gleanings not so sound, and in far fewerfields, and they went rather to nourish sentiment and fancythan to stimulate thought, or lay up food for it. But hisparents saw nothing of this. 

The third winter had not passed, when Fleda's discernment sawthat Mr. Sweden, as she called him, the German gentleman, would not cease coming to the house till he had carried offMarion with him. Her opinion on the subject was delivered tono one but Hugh. 

That winter introduced them to a better acquaintance. Oneevening Dr. Gregory, an uncle of Mrs. Rossitur's, had beendining with her, and was in the drawing-room. Mr. Schwiden hadbeen there too, and he and Marion, and one or two other youngpeople, had gone out to some popular entertainment. Thechildren knew little of Dr. Gregory, but that he was a veryrespectable-looking elderly gentleman, a little rough in hismanners. The doctor had not long been returned from a stay ofsome years in Europe, where he had been collecting rare booksfor a fine public library, the charge of which was nowentrusted to him. After talking some time with Mr. And Mrs. Rossitur, the doctor pushed round his chair to take a look atthe children. 

"So that's Amy's child, " said he. "Come here, Amy. "

"That is not my name, " said the little girl, coming forward. 

"Isn't it? It ought to be. What is, then?"

"Elfleda. "

"Elfleda! where in the name of all that is auricular did youget such an outlandish name?"

"My father gave it to me, Sir, " said Fleda, with a dignifiedsobriety which amused the old gentleman. 

"Your father! — hum — I understand. And couldn't your fatherfind a cap that fitted you without going back to the old-fashioned days of King Alfred?"

"Yes, Sir; it was my grandmother's cap. "

"I am afraid your grandmother's cap isn't all of her that'scome down to you, " said he, tapping his snuff-box, and lookingat her with a curious twinkle in his eyes. "What do you callyourself? Haven't you some variations of this tongue-twistingappellative to serve for every day, and save trouble?"

"They call me Fleda, " said the little girl, who could not helplaughing. 

"Nothing better than that?"

Fleda remembered two prettier nicknames which had been her's;but one had been given by dear lips long ago, and she was notgoing to have it profaned by common use; and "Elfie" belongedto Mr. Carleton. She would own to nothing but Fleda. 

"Well, Miss Fleda, " said the doctor, "are you going toschool?"

"No, Sir. "

"You intend to live without such a vulgar thing as learning?"

"No, Sir. Hugh and I have our lessons at home. "

"Teaching each other, I suppose?"

"O no, Sir, " said Fleda, laughing; "Mme. Lascelles and Mr. Schweppenhesser, and Signor Barytone come to teach us, besidesour music masters. "

"Do you ever talk German with this Mr. What's-his-name, whohas just gone out with your cousin Marion!"

"I never talk to him at all, Sir. "

"Don't you? Why not? Don't you like him?"

Fleda said, "Not particularly, " and seemed to wish to let thesubject pass, but the doctor was amused, and pressed it. 

"Why, why don't you like him?" said he; "I am sure he's afine-looking dashing gentleman; — dresses as well as anybody, and talks as much as most people — why don't you like him?Isn't he a handsome fellow — eh?"

"I dare say he is, to many people, " said Fleda. 

"She said she didn't think there was any moral expression inhis face, " said Hugh, by way of settling the matter. 

"Moral expression!" cried the doctor, "moral expression! andwhat if there isn't, you Elf! — what if there isn't?"

"I shouldn't care what other kind of expression it had, " saidFleda, colouring a little. 

Mr. Rossitur "pished" rather impatiently. The doctor glancedat his niece, and changed the subject. 

"Well, who teaches you English, Miss Fleda? you haven't toldme that yet. "

"Oh, that we teach ourselves, " said Fleda, smiling, as if itwas a very innocent question. 

"Hum! — you do! Pray how do you teach yourselves?"

"By reading, Sir. "

"Reading! And what do you read? what have you read in the lasttwelve months, now?"

"I don't think I could remember all exactly, " said Fleda. 

"But you have got a list of them all, " said Hugh, who chancedto have been looking over said list a day or two before, andfelt quite proud of it. 

"Let's have it, let's have it, " said the doctor. And Mrs. Rossitur, laughing, said, "Let's have it;" and even herhusband commanded Hugh to go and fetch it; so poor Fleda, though not a little unwilling, was obliged to let the list beforthcoming. Hugh brought it, in a neat little book coveredwith pink blotting paper. 

"Now for it!" said the doctor; "let us see what this Englishamounts to. Can you stand fire, Elfleda?"

" 'Jan. 1. Robinson Crusoe. ' * [* A true list made by a childof that age. ]

"Hum — that sounds reasonable, at all events. "

"I had it for a New Year's present, " remarked Fleda, who stoodby with downcast eyes, like a person undergoing anexamination. 

" 'Jan. 2. Histoire de France. '

"What History of France is this?"

Fleda hesitated, and then said it was by Lacretelle. 

"Lacretelle? — what? of the Revolution?"

"No, Sir; it is before that; it is in five or six largevolumes. "

"What, Louis XV. 's time, " said the doctor, muttering tohimself. 

" 'Jan. 27. 2 ditto, ditto. '

" 'Two' means the second volume, I suppose?"

"Yes, Sir. "

"Hum — if you were a mouse, you would gnaw through the wall intime, at that rate. This is in the original?"

"Yes Sir. "

" 'Feb. 3. Paris. L. E. K. '

"What do these hieroglyphics mean?"

"That stands for the 'Library of Entertaining Knowledge, ' "said Fleda. 

"But how is this? do you go hop, skip, and jump through thesebooks, or read a little, and then throw them away'? Here it isonly seven days since you began the second volume ofLacretelle — not time enough to get through it. "

"Oh no, Sir, " said Fleda, smiling: "I like to have severalbooks that I am reading in at once; I mean at the same time, you know; and then if I am not in the mood of one I take upanother. "

"She reads them all through, " said Hugh, "always, though shereads them very quick. "

"Hum — I understand, " said the old doctor, with a humorousexpression, going on with the list. 

" 'March 3. 3 Hist. De France. '

"But you finish one of these volumes, I suppose, before youbegin another; or do you dip into different parts of the samework at once?"

"Oh no, Sir; of course not!"

" 'Mar. 5. Modern Egyptians. L. E. K. Ap. 13. '

"What are these dates on the right, as well as on the left?"

"Those on the right show when I finished the volume. "

"Well, I wonder what you were cut out for!" said the doctor. "A Quaker! you aren't a Quaker, are you?"

"No, Sir, " said Fleda, laughing. 

"You look like it, " said he. 

" 'Feb. 24. Five Penny Magazines, finished Mar. 4. '

"They are in paper numbers, you know, Sir. "

" 'April 4. 4 Hist. De. F. '

"Let us see — the third volume was finished, March 29 — Ideclare you keep it up pretty well. "

" 'Ap. 19. Incidents of Travel. '

"Whose is that?"

"It is by Mr. Stephens. "

"How did you like it?"

"Oh, very much, indeed. "

"Ay, I see you did; you finished it by the first of May. 'Tourto the Hebrides' — what, Johnson's?"

"Yes Sir. "

"Read it all fairly through?"

"Yes, Sir; certainly. "

He smiled, and went on. 

" 'May 12. Peter Simple. '"

There was quite a shout at the heterogeneous character ofFleda's reading, which she, not knowing exactly what to makeof it, heard rather abashed. 

" 'Peter Simple!' " said the doctor, settling himself to go onwith his list; "well, let us see. 'World without Souls. ' Why, you Elf! read in two days. "

"It is very short, you know, Sir. "

"What did you think of it?"

"I liked parts of it very much. "

He went on, still smiling. 

" 'June 15. Goldsmith's Animated Nature. '

" 'June I8. 1 Life of Washington. '

"What Life of Washington?"

"Marshall's. "

"Hum. — 'July 9. 2 Goldsmith's An. Na. ' As I live, begun thevery day the first volume was finished! Did you read the wholeof that?"

"Oh yes, Sir. I liked that book very much. "

" 'July 12. 5 Hist. De France. '

"Two histories on hand at once! Out of all rule, Miss Fleda!We must look after you. "

"Yes Sir; sometimes I wanted to read one, and sometimes Iwanted to read the other. "

"And you always do what you want to do, I suppose?"

"I think the reading does me more good in that way. "

" 'July 15. Paley's Natural Theology!' "

There was another shout. Poor Fleda's eyes filled with tears. 

"What in the world put that book into your head, or beforeyour eyes?" said the doctor. 

"I don't know, Sir — I thought I should like to read it, " saidFleda, drooping her eyelids, that the bright drops under themmight not be seen. 

"And finished in eleven days, as I live!" said the doctor, wagging his head. " 'July 19. 3 Goldsmith's A. N. '

" 'Aug. 6. 4 Do. Do. ' "

"That is one of Fleda's favourite books, " put in Hugh. 

"So it seems. '6 Hist. De France. ' — What does this littlecross mean?"

"That shows when the book is finished, " said Fleda, looking onthe page — "the last volume, I mean. "

" 'Retrospect of Western Travel' — 'Goldsmith's A. N. , lastvol. ' — 'Mιmoires de Sully' — in the French ?"

"Yes, Sir. "

" 'Life of Newton' — What's this? — 'Sep. 8. 1 Fairy Queen!' —not Spenser's?"

"Yes, Sir, I believe so — the Fairy Queen, in five volumes. "

The doctor looked up comically at his niece and her husband, who were both sitting or standing close by. 

" 'Sep. 10. Paolo e Virginia' — in what language?"

"Italian, Sir; I was just beginning, and I haven't finished ityet. "

" 'Sep. 16. Milner's Church History!' —What the deuce! — 'Vol. 2. Fairy Queen. ' — Why, this must have been a favourite book, too. "

"That's one of the books Fleda loves best, " said Hugh; — "shewent through that very fast. "

"Over it, you mean, I reckon; how much did you skip, Fleda?"

"I didn't skip at all, " said Fleda; "I read every word of it. "

" ' Sep. 20. 2 Mιm. De Sully. ' Well, you're an industriousmouse, I'll say that for you. What's this? — 'Don Quixote!' —'Life of Howard. ' — 'Nov. 17. 3 Fairy Queen. ' — 'Nov. 29. 4Fairy Queen. ' — 'Dec. 8. 1 Goldsmith's England. ' — Well, ifthis list of books is a fair exhibit of your taste andcapacity, you have a most happily proportioned set ofintellectuals. Let us see — history, fun, facts, nature, theology, poetry and divinity! — upon my soul! — and poetryand history the leading features! — a little fun — as much asyou could lay your hand on, I'll warrant, by that pinch in thecorner of your eye. And here, the eleventh of December, youfinished the Fairy Queen; and ever since, I suppose, you havebeen imagining yourself the 'faire Una, ' with Hugh standingfor Prince Arthur or the Red-cross Knight — haven't you?"

"No, Sir. I didn't imagine anything about it. "

"Don't tell me. What did you read it for?"

"Only because I liked it, Sir. I liked it better than anyother book I read last year. "

"You did! Well, the year ends, I see, with another volume ofSully. I wont enter upon this year's list. Pray, how much ofall these volumes do you suppose you remember? I'll try andfind out next time I come to see you. I can give a guess, ifyou study with that little pug in your lap. "

"He is not a pug!" said Fleda, in whose arms King was lyingluxuriously — "and he never gets into my lap, besides. "

"Don't he! Why not?"

"Because I don't like it, Sir. I don't like to see dogs inlaps. "

"But all the ladies in the land do it, you little Saxon! it isuniversally considered a mark of distinction. "

"I can't help what all the ladies in the land do, " said Fleda. "That wont alter my liking; and I don't think a lady's lap isa place for a dog. "

"I wish you were my daughter!' said the old doctor, shakinghis head at her with a comic fierce expression of countenance, which Fleda perfectly understood and laughed at accordingly. Then as the two children with the dog went off into the otherroom, he said, turning to his niece and Mr. Rossitur —

"If that girl ever takes a wrong turn with the bit in herteeth, you'll be puzzled to hold her. What stuff will you makethe reins of?"

"I don't think she ever will take a wrong turn, " said Mr. Rossitur. 

"A look is enough to manage her, if she did, " said his wife. "Hugh is not more gentle. "

"I should be inclined rather to fear her not having stabilityof character enough, " said Mr. Rossitur. "She is so very meekand yielding, I almost doubt whether anything would give hercourage to take ground of her own, and keep it. "

"Hum — well, well!" said the old doctor, walking off after thechildren. "Prince Arthur, will you bring this damsel up to myden some of these days? — the 'faire Una' is safe from thewild beasts, you know; — and I'll show her books enough tobuild herself a house with, if she likes. "

The acceptance of this invitation led to some of thepleasantest hours of Fleda's city life. The visits to thegreat library became very frequent. Dr. Gregory and thechildren were little while in growing fond of each other; heloved to see them, and taught them to come at such times asthe library was free of visitors and his hands of engagements. Then he delighted himself with giving them pleasure, especially Fleda, whose quick curiosity and intelligence werea constant amusement to him. He would establish the childrenin some corner of the large apartments, out of the way behinda screen of books and tables; and there, shut out from theworld, they would enjoy a kind of fairyland pleasure over somevolume or set of engravings that they could not see at home. Hours and hours were spent so. Fleda would stand clasping herhands before Audubon, or rapt over a finely illustrated bookof travels, or going through and through, with Hugh, the worksof the best masters of the pencil and the graver. The doctorfound he could trust them, and then all the treasures of thelibrary were at their disposal. Very often he put chosenpieces of reading into their hands; and it was pleasantest ofall when he was not busy and came and sat down with them; forwith all his odd manner he was extremely kind, and could anddid put them in the way to profit greatly by theiropportunities. The doctor and the children had nice timesthere together. 

They lasted for many months, and grew more and more worth. Mr. Schwiden carried off Marion, as Fleda had foreseen he would, before the end of spring; and after she was gone, somethinglike the old pleasant Paris life was taken up again. They hadno more company now than was agreeable, and it was picked notto suit Marion's taste, but her father's — a very differentmatter. Fleda and Hugh were not forbidden the dinner-table, and so had the good of hearing much useful conversation, fromwhich the former, according to custom, made her steady, precious gleanings. The pleasant evenings in the family werestill better enjoyed than they used to be. Fleda was older;and the snug, handsome American house had a home-feeling toher that the wide Parisian saloons never knew. She had becomebound to her uncle and aunt by all but the ties of blood;nobody in the house ever remembered that she was not borntheir daughter; except, indeed, Fleda herself, who rememberedeverything, and with whom the forming of any new affections orrelations somehow never blotted out or even faded the registerof the old. It lived in all its brightness; the writing ofpast loves and friendships was as plain as ever in her heart;and often, often the eye and the kiss of memory fell upon it. In the secret of her heart's core; for still, as at the first, no one had a suspicion of the movings of thought that werebeneath that childish brow. No one guessed how clear ajudgment weighed and decided upon many things. No one dreamed, amid their busy, bustling, thoughtless life, how often, in thestreet, in her bed, in company and alone, her mother's lastprayer was in Fleda's heart; well cherished; never forgotten. 

Her education and Hugh's meanwhile went on after the oldfashion. If Mr. Rossitur had more time, he seemed to have nomore thought for the matter; and Mrs. Rossitur, fine-naturedas she was, had never been trained to self-exertion, and, ofcourse, was entirely out of the way of training others. Herchildren were pieces of perfection, and needed no oversight;her house was a piece of perfection too. If either had notbeen, Mrs. Rossitur would have been utterly at a loss how tomend matters, — except in the latter instance, by getting anew housekeeper; and as Mrs. Renney, the good woman who heldthat station, was in everybody's opinion another treasure, Mrs. Rossitur's mind was uncrossed by the shadow of such adilemma. With Mrs. Renney, as with every one else, Fleda washeld in highest regard — always welcome to her premises, andto those mysteries of her trade which were sacred from otherintrusion. Fleda's natural inquisitiveness carried her oftento the housekeeper's room, and made her there the same curiousand careful observer that she had been in the library or atthe Louvre. 

"Come, " said Hugh, one day when he had sought and found her inMrs. Renney's precincts — "come away, Fleda! What do you wantto stand here and see Mrs. Renney roll butter and sugar for?"

"My dear Mr. Rossitur, " said Fleda, "you don't understandquelquechoses. How do you know but I may have to get my livingby making them, some day?"

"By making what?" said Hugh. 

"Quelquechoses — Anglice, kickshaws — alias, sweet trifles, denominated merrings. "

"Pshaw, Fleda!"

"Miss. Fleda is more likely to get her living by eating them, Mr. Hugh, isn't she?" said the housekeeper. 

"I hope to decline both lines of life, " said Fleda, laughingly, as she followed Hugh out of the room. But herchance remark had grazed the truth sufficiently near. 

Those years in New York were a happy time for little Fleda — atime when mind and body flourished under the sun ofprosperity. Luxury did not spoil her; and any one that saw herin the soft furs of her winter wrappings, would have said thatdelicate cheek and frame were never made to know theunkindliness of harsher things. 

CHAPTER XVI

"Whereunto is money good?Who has it not wants hardihood. Who has it has much trouble and care, Who once has had it has despair. "LONGFELLOW. _From the German_. 

It was the middle of winter. One day Hugh and Fleda had comehome from their walk. They dashed into the parlour, complaining that it was bitterly cold, and began unrobingbefore the glowing grate, which was a mass of living fire fromend to end. Mrs. Rossitur was there in an easy chair, alone, and doing nothing. That was not a thing absolutely unheard of, but Fleda had not pulled off her second glove before she bentdown towards her, and in a changed tone tenderly asked if shedid not feel well. 

Mrs. Rossitur looked up in her face a minute, and then drawingher down, kissed the blooming cheeks, one and the other, several times. But as she looked off to the fire again, Fledasaw that it was through watering eyes. She dropped on herknees by the side of the easy chair, that she might have abetter sight of that face, and tried to read it as she askedagain what was the matter; and Hugh, coming to the other side, repeated her question. His mother passed an arm round each, looking wistfully from one to the other, and kissing themearnestly, but she said only, with a very heart-felt emphasis, "Poor children!"

Fleda was now afraid to speak, but Hugh pressed his inquiry. 

"Why 'poor', Mamma? what makes you say so?"

"Because you are poor really, dear Hugh. We have losteverything we have in the world. "

"Mamma! What do you mean?"

"Your father has failed. "

"Failed! — But, Mamma, I thought he wasn't in business?"

"So I thought, " said Mrs. Rossitur; "I didn't know peoplecould fail that were not in business; but it seems they can. He was a partner in some concern or other, and it's all brokento pieces, and your father with it, he says!"

Mrs. Rossitur's face was distressful. They were all silent fora little, Hugh kissing his mother's wet cheeks. Fleda hadsoftly nestled her head in her bosom. But Mrs. Rossitur soonrecovered herself. 

"How bad is it, mother?" said Hugh. 

"As bad as can possibly be. "

"Is everything gone?"

"Everything!" —

"You don't mean the house, Mamma?"

"The house, and all that is in it. "

The children's hearts were struck, and they were silent again, only a trembling touch of Fleda's lips spoke sympathy andpatience, if ever a kiss did. 

"But, Mamma, " said Hugh, after he had gathered breath for it, "do you mean to say that everything, literally everything, isgone? Is there nothing left?"

"Nothing in the world — not a sou. "

"Then what are we going to do?"

Mrs. Rossitur shook her head, and had no words. 

Fleda looked across to Hugh to ask no more, and putting herarms around her aunt's neck, and laying cheek to cheek, shespoke what comfort she could. 

"Don't, dear aunt Lucy! — there will be some way — thingsalways turn out better than at first, I dare say we shall findout it isn't so bad by and by. Don't you mind it, and then wewont. We can be happy anywhere together. "

If there was not much in the reasoning, there was something inthe tone of the words, to bid Mrs. Rossitur bear herself well. Its tremulous sweetness, its anxious love, was without a taintof self-recollection; its sorrow was for her. Mrs. Rossiturfelt that she must not show herself overcome. She again kissedand blessed, and pressed closer in her arms, her littlecomforter, while her other hand was given to Hugh. 

"I have only heard about it this morning. Your uncle was heretelling me just now — a little while before you came in. Don'tsay anything about it before him. "

Why not? The words struck Fleda disagreeably. 

"What will be done with the house, Mamma?" said Hugh. 

"Sold — sold, and everything in it. "

"Papa's books, Mamma! and all the things in the library!"exclaimed Hugh, looking terrified. 

Mrs. Rossitur's face gave the answer; do it in words she couldnot. 

The children were a long time silent, trying hard to swallowthis bitter pill; and still Hugh's hand was in his mother's, and Fleda's head lay on her bosom. Thought was busy, going upand down, and breaking the companionship they had so long heldwith the pleasant drawing-room, and the tasteful arrangementsamong which Fleda was so much at home; the easy chairs inwhose comfortable arms she had had so many an hour of nicereading; the soft rug, where, in the very wantonness offrolic, she had stretched herself to play with King; that veryluxurious bright grateful of fire, which had given her sooften the same warm welcome home — an apt introduction to theother stores of comfort which awaited her above and belowstairs; the rich-coloured curtains and carpet, the beauty ofwhich had been such a constant gratification to Fleda's eye;and the exquisite French table and lamps they had brought outwith them, in which her uncle and aunt had so much pride, andwhich could nowhere be matched for elegance — they must all besaid "good-bye" to; and as yet fancy had nothing to furnishthe future with; it looked very bare. 

King had come in, and wagged himself up close to his mistress, but even he could obtain nothing but the touch of mostabstracted finger-ends. Yet, though keenly recognised, thesethoughts were only passing compared with the anxious andsorrowful ones that went to her aunt and uncle; for Hugh andher, she judged, it was less matter. And Mrs. Rossitur's carewas most for her husband; and Hugh's was for them all. Hisassociations were less quick, and his tastes less keen, thanFleda's, and less a part of himself. Hugh lived in hisaffections; with a salvo to them he could bear to loseanything and go anywhere. 

"Mamma, " said he, after a long time — "will anything be donewith Fleda's books?"

A question that had been in Fleda's mind before, but which shehad patiently forborne just then to ask. 

"No, indeed!" said Mrs. Rossitur, pressing Fleda more closely, and kissing in a kind of rapture the sweet, thoughtful face —"not yours, my darling; they can't touch anything that belongsto you — I wish it was more — and I don't suppose they willtake anything of mine either. "

"Ah, well!" said Fleda, raising her head, "you have got quitea parcel of books, aunt Lucy, and I have a good many — howwell it is I have had so many given me since I have been here!That will make quite a nice little library, both together, andHugh has some; I thought perhaps we shouldn't have one at allleft, and that would have been rather bad. "

"Rather bad!" Mrs. Rossitur looked at her, and was dumb. 

"Only don't you wear a sad face for anything!" Fleda went onearnestly; "we shall be perfectly happy if you and uncle Rolfonly will be. "

"My dear children!" said Mrs. Rossitur, wiping her eyes, "itis for you I am unhappy — you and your uncle; I do not thinkof myself. "

"And we do not think of ourselves, Mamma, " said Hugh. 

"I know it; but having good children don't make one care lessabout them, " said Mrs. Rossitur, the tears fairly raining overher fingers. 

Hugh pulled the fingers down and again tried the efficacy ofhis lips. 

"And you know Papa thinks most of you, Mamma. "

"Ah, your father!" said Mrs. Rossitur shaking her head; "I amafraid it will go hard with him! But I will be happy as longas I have you two, or else I should be a very wicked woman. Itonly grieves me to think of your education and prospects" —

"Fleda's piano, Mamma!" said Hugh, with sudden dismay. 

Mrs. Rossitur shook her head again and covered her eyes, whileFleda stretching across to Hugh, gave him, by look and touch, an earnest admonition to let that subject alone. And then, with a sweetness and gentleness like nothing but the breath ofthe south wind, she wooed her aunt to hope and resignation. Hugh held back, feeling or thinking that Fleda could do itbetter than he, and watching her progress, as Mrs. Rossiturtook her hand from her face and smiled, at first mournfully, and then really mirthfully, in Fleda's face, at some sallythat nobody but a nice observer would have seen was got up forthe occasion; and it was hardly that, so completely had thechild forgotten her own sorrow in ministering to that ofanother. "Blessed are the peacemakers!" It is always so. 

"You are a witch or a fairy, " said Mrs. Rossitur, catching heragain in her arms — "nothing else! You must try your powers ofcharming upon your uncle. "

Fleda laughed without any effort; but as to trying her slightwand upon Mr. Rossitur, she had serious doubts. And the doubtsbecame certainty when they met at dinner; he looked so gravethat she dared not attack him. It was a gloomy meal, for theface that should have lighted the whole table cast a shadowthere. 

Without at all comprehending the whole of her husband'scharacter, the sure magnetism of affection had enabled Mrs. Rossitur to divine his thoughts. Pride was his ruling passion;not such pride as Mr. Carleton's, which was rather likeexaggerated self-respect, but wider and more indiscriminate inits choice of objects. It was pride in his family name; pridein his own talents, which were considerable; pride in hisfamily, wife, and children, and all of which he thought didhim honour — if they had not, his love for them assuredlywould have known some diminishing; pride in his wealth, and inthe attractions with which it surrounded him; and, lastly, pride in the skill, taste, and connoisseurship which enabledhim to bring those attractions together. Furthermore, his lovefor both literature and art was true and strong; and for manyyears he had accustomed himself to lead a life of greatluxuriousness, catering for body and mind in every taste thatcould be elegantly enjoyed; and again proud of the elegance ofevery enjoyment. The change of circumstances which touched hispride, wounded him at every point where he was vulnerable atall. 

Fleda had never felt so afraid of him. She was glad to see Dr. Gregory come in to tea. Mr. Rossitur was not there. The Doctordid not touch upon affairs, if he had heard of theirmisfortune; he went on as usual in a rambling cheerful way alltea-time, talking mostly to Fleda and Hugh. But after tea hetalked no more, but sat still and waited till the master ofthe house came in. 

Fleda thought Mr. Rossitur did not look glad to see him. Buthow could he look glad about anything? He did not sit down, and for a few minutes there was a kind of meaning silence. Fleda sat in the corner with the heartache, to see her uncle'sgloomy tramp up and down the rich apartment, and her auntLucy's gaze at him. 

"Humph! — well! — So!" said the Doctor, at last, "You've allgone overboard with a smash, I understand?"

The walker gave him no regard. 

"True, is it?" said the doctor. 

Mr. Rossitur made no answer, unless a smothered grunt might betaken for one. 

"How came it about?"

"Folly and devilry. "

"Humph! — bad capital to work upon. I hope the principal isgone with the interest. What's the amount of your loss?"

"Ruin. "

"Humph! French ruin, or American ruin? because there's adifference. What do you mean?"

"I am not so happy as to understand you, Sir; but we shall notpay seventy cents, on the dollar. "

The old gentleman got up, and stood before the fire, with hisback to Mr. Rossitur, saying, "That was rather bad. "

"What are you going to do?"

Mr. Rossitur hesitated a few moments for an answer, and thensaid —

"Pay the seventy cents, and begin the world anew withnothing. "

"Of course, " said the doctor. "I understand that; but whereand how? What end of the world will you take up first?. "

Mr. Rossitur writhed in impatience or disgust, and after againhesitating, answered drily, that he had not determined. 

"Have you thought of anything in particular?"

"Zounds! no, Sir, nothing except my misfortune. That's enoughfor one day. "

"And too much, " said the old doctor, "unless you can mix someother thought with it. That's what I came for. Will you gointo business?"

Fleda was startled by the vehemence with which her uncle said, "No, never!" and he presently added, "I'll do nothing here. "

"Well, well, " said the doctor to himself; "will you go intothe country?"

"Yes! — anywhere! the further the better. "

Mrs. Rossitur startled, but her husband's face did notencourage her to open her lips. 

"Ay; but on a farm, I mean?"

"On anything, that will give me a standing. "

"I thought that, too, " said Dr. Gregory, now whirling about. "I have a fine piece of land that wants a tenant. You may takeit at an easy rate, and pay me when the crops come in. Ishouldn't expect so young a farmer, you know, to keep anycloser terms. "

"How far is it?"

"Far enough — up in Wyandot County. "

"How large?"

"A matter of two or three hundred acres of so. It is veryfine, they say. It came into a fellow's hands that owed mewhat I thought was a bad debt: so, for fear he would never payme, I thought best to take it and pay him; whether the placewill ever fill my pockets again remains to be seen — doubtful, I think. "

"I'll take it, Dr. Gregory, and see if I cannot bring thatabout. "

"Pooh, pooh! fill your own. I am not careful about it; theless money one has the more it jingles, unless it gets toolow, indeed. "

"I will take it, Dr. Gregory, and feel myself under obligationto you. "

"No, I told you, not till the crops come in. No obligation isbinding till the term is up. Well, I'll see you further aboutit. "

"But Rolf!" said Mrs. Rossitur, "stop a minute; uncle, don'tgo yet; Rolf don't know anything in the world about themanagement of a farm; neither do I. "

"The 'faire Una' can enlighten you, " said the doctor, wavinghis hand towards his little favourite in the corner. — "But Iforgot! Well, if you don't know, the crops wont come in;that's all the difference. "

But Mrs. Rossitur looked anxiously at her husband. "Do youknow exactly what you are undertaking, Rolf!" she said. 

"If I do not, I presume I shall discover in time. "

"But it may be too late, " said Mrs. Rossitur, in the tone ofsad remonstrance that had gone all the length it dared. 

"It can not be too late!" said her husband, impatiently. "If Ido not know what I am taking up, I know very well what I amlaying down; and it does not signify a straw what comes after— if it was a snail-shell, that would cover my head!"

"Hum —" said the old doctor, — "the snail is very well in hisway, but I have no idea that he was ever cut out for afarmer. "

"Do you think you will find it a business you would like, Mr. Rossitur?" said his wife, timidly. 

"I tell you, " said he, facing about, "it is not a question ofliking. I will like anything that will bury me out of theworld. "

Poor Mrs. Rossitur! She had not yet come to wishing herselfburied alive, and she had small faith in the permanence of herhusband's taste for it. She looked desponding. 

"You don't suppose, " said Mr. Rossitur, stopping again in themiddle of the floor, after another turn and a half — "you donot suppose that I am going to take the labouring of the farmupon myself? I shall employ some one, of course, whounderstands the matter, to take all that off my hands. "

The doctor thought of the old proverb, and the alternative theplough presents to those who would thrive by it; Fleda thoughtof Mr. Didenhover; Mrs. Rossitur would fain have suggestedthat such an important person must be well paid; but neitherof them spoke. 

"Of course, " said Mr. Rossitur, haughtily, as he went on withhis walk, "I do not expect, any more than you, to live in theback woods the life we have been leading here. That is at anend. "

"Is it a very wild country?" asked Mrs. Rossitur of thedoctor. 

"No wild beasts, my dear, if that is your meaning — and I donot suppose there are even many snakes left by this time. "

"No, but, dear uncle, I mean, is it in all unsettled state?"

"No, my dear, not at all — perfectly quiet. "

"Ah! but do not play with me, " exclaimed poor Mrs. Rossitur, between laughing and crying; — "I mean, is it far from anytown, and not among neighbours?"

"Far enough to be out of the way of morning calls, " said thedoctor; "and when your neighbours come to see you, they willexpect tea by four o'clock. There are not a great many nearby, but they don't mind coming from five or six miles off. "

Mrs. Rossitur looked chilled, and horrified. To her he haddescribed a very wild country indeed. Fleda would have laughedif it had not been for her aunt's face; but that settled downinto a doubtful anxious look that pained her. It pained theold doctor too. 

"Come, " said he, touching her pretty chin with his fore-finger— "what are you thinking of? folks may be good folks, and yethave tea at four o'clock, mayn't they?"

"When do they have dinner!" said Mrs. Rossitur. 

"I really don't know. When you get settled up there, I'll comeand see. "

"Hardly, " said Mrs. Rossitur. "I don't believe it would bepossible for Emile to get dinner before the tea-time; and I amsure I shouldn't like to propose such a thing to Mrs. Renney. "

The doctor fidgeted about a little on the hearth-rug, andlooked comical, perfectly understood by one acute observer inthe corner. 

"Are you wise enough to imagine, Lucy, " said Mr. Rossitur, sternly, "that you can carry your whole establishment withyou? What do you suppose Emile and Mrs. Renney would do in afarmhouse?"

"I can do without whatever you can, " said Mrs. Rossitur, meekly. "I did not know that you would be willing to part withEmile, and I do not think Mrs. Renney would like to leave us. "

"I told you before, it is no more a question of liking, "answered he. 

"And if it were, " said the doctor, "I have no idea thatMonsieur Emile and Madame Renney would be satisfied with thestyle of a country kitchen, or think the interior ofYankeeland a hopeful sphere for their energies. "

"What sort of a house is it?" said Mrs. Rossitur. 

"A wooden-frame house, I believe. "

"No, but, dear uncle, do tell me. "

"What sort of a house? — Humph — large enough, I am told. Itwill accommodate you in one way. "

"Comfortable?"

"I don't know, " said the doctor, shaking his head — "dependson who's in it. No house is that per se. But I reckon thereisn't much plate glass. I suppose you'll find the doors allpainted blue, and every fireplace with a crane in it. "

"A crane!" said Mrs. Rossitur, to whose imagination the wordsuggested nothing but a large water-bird with a long neck. 

"Ay!" said the doctor. "But it's just as well. You wont wanthanging lamps there — and candelabra would hardly be in placeeither, to hold tallow candles. "

"Tallow candles!" exclaimed Mrs. Rossitur. Her husband winced, but said nothing. 

"Ay, " said the doctor, again — "and make them yourself, if youare a good housewife. Come, Lucy, " said he, taking her hand, "do you know how the wild fowl do on the Chesapeake? — duckand swim under water till they can show their heads withsafety. 'T wont spoil your eyes to see by a tallow candle. "

Mrs. Rossitur half smiled, but looked anxiously towards herhusband. 

"Pooh, pooh! Rolf wont care what the light burns that lightshim to independence — and when you get there, you mayilluminate with a whole whale if you like. By the way, Rolf, there is a fine water power up yonder, and a saw-mill in goodorder, they tell me, but a short way from the house. Hughmight learn to manage it, and it would be fine employment forhim. "

"Hugh!" said his mother, disconsolately. Mr. Rossitur neitherspoke nor looked an answer. Fleda sprang forward. 

"A saw-mill! — Uncle Orrin! — where is it?"

"Just a little way from the house, they say. You can't manageit, fair Saxon! — though you look as if you would undertakeall the mills in creation, for a trifle. "

"No, but the place, uncle Orrin; — where is the place?"

"The place? Hum — why it's up in Wyandot County — some five orsix miles from the Montepoole Spring — what's this they callit? — Queechy! — By the way!" said he, reading Fleda'scountenance, "it is the very place where your father was born!— it is! I didn't think of that before. "

Fleda's hands were clasped. 

"Oh, I am very glad!" she said. "It's my old home. It is themost lovely place, aunt Lucy! — most lovely — and we shallhave some good neighbours there too. Oh, I am very glad! — Thedear old saw-mill! —"

"Dear old saw-mill!" said the doctor, looking at her. "Rolf, I'll tell you what, you shall give me this girl. I want her. Ican take better care of her, perhaps, now, than you can. Lether come to me when you leave the city — it will be better forher than to help work the saw-mill; and I have as good a rightto her as anybody, for Amy before her was like my own child. "

The doctor spoke not with his usual light jesting manner, butvery seriously. Hugh's lips parted — Mrs. Rossitur looked witha sad thoughtful look at Fleda — Mr. Rossitur walked up anddown looking at nobody. Fleda watched him. 

"What does Fleda herself say?" said he, stopping shortsuddenly. His face softened, and his eye changed as it fellupon her, for the first time that day. Fleda saw her opening;she came to him, within his arms, and laid her head upon hisbreast. 

"What does Fleda say?" said he, softly kissing her. 

Fleda's tears said a good deal, that needed no interpreter. She felt her uncle's hand passed more and more tenderly overher head — so tenderly that it made it all the more difficultfor her to govern herself and stop her tears. But she did stopthem, and looked up at him then with such a face — so glowingthrough smiles and tears — it was like a very rainbow of hopeupon the cloud of their prospects. Mr. Rossitur felt the powerof the sunbeam wand; it reached his heart; it was even with asmile that he said, as he looked at her —

"Will you go to your uncle Orrin, Fleda?"

"Not if uncle Rolf will keep me. "

"Keep you!" said Mr. Rossitur; "I should like to see whowouldn't keep you! There, Dr. Gregory, you have your answer. "

"Hum! — I might have known, " said the doctor, "that the 'faireUna' would abjure cities. Come here, you Elf!" — and hewrapped her in his arms so tight she could not stir — "I havea spite against you for this. What amends will you make me forsuch an affront?"

"Let me take breath, " said Fleda, laughing, "and I'll tellyou. You don't want any amends, uncle Orrin. "

"Well, " said he, gazing with more feeling than he cared toshow into that sweet face, so innocent of apology-making — youshall promise me that you will not forget uncle Orrin, and theold house in Bleecker Street. "

Fleda's eyes grew more wistful. 

"And will you promise me that if ever you want anything, youwill come, or send straight there?"

"If ever I want anything I can't get nor do without, " saidFleda. 

"Pshaw!" said the doctor, letting her go, but laughing at thesame time. " Mind my words, Mr. And Mrs. Rossitur — if everthat girl takes the wrong bit in her mouth — Well, well! I'llgo home. "

Home he went. The rest drew together particularly near, roundthe fire — Hugh at his father's shoulder, and Fleda kneelingon the rug, between her uncle and aunt, with a hand on each;and there was not one of them whose gloom was not lightened byher bright face and cheerful words of hope, that, in the newscenes they were going to, "they would all be so happy. "

The days that followed were gloomy, but Fleda's ministry wasunceasing. Hugh seconded her well, though more passively. Feeling less pain himself, he perhaps for that very reason wasless acutely alive to it in others — not so quick to foreseeand ward off, not so skilful to allay it. Fleda seemed to haveintuition for the one and a charm for the other. To her therewas pain in every parting; her sympathies clung to whateverwore the livery of habit. There was hardly any piece offurniture, there was no book or marble or picture, that shecould take leave of without a pang. But it was kept toherself; her sorrowful good-byes were said in secret; beforeothers, in all those weeks, she was a very Euphrosyne — light, bright, cheerful of eye, and foot, and hand — a shield betweenher aunt and every annoyance that she could take instead — agood little fairy, that sent her sunbeam wand, quick as aflash, where any eye rested gloomily. People did not alwaysfind out where the light came from, but it was her witchery. 

The creditors would touch none of Mrs. Rossitur's things, herhusband's honourable behaviour had been so thorough. They evenpresented him with one or two pictures, which he sold for aconsiderable sum; and to Mrs. Rossitur they gave up all theplate in daily use, a matter of great rejoicing to Fleda, whoknew well how sorely it would have been missed. She and heraunt had quite a little library, too, of their own privatestore; a little one it was indeed, but the worth of everyvolume was now trebled in her eyes. Their furniture was allleft behind; and in its stead went some of neat light paintedwood, which looked to Fleda deliciously countrified. Apromising cook and housemaid were engaged to go with them tothe wilds, and about the first of April they turned theirbacks upon the city. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

"The thresher's weary flinging-treeThe lee-lang day had tired me:And whan the day had closed his e'e, Far i' the west, Ben i' the spence, right pensivelie, I gaed to rest. "BURNS. 

Queechy was reached at night. Fleda had promised herself to beoff almost with the dawn of light the next morning to see auntMiriam, but a heavy rain kept her fast at home the whole day. It was very well; she was wanted there. 

Despite the rain and her disappointment it was impossible forFleda to lie abed from the time the first grey light began tobreak in at her windows — those old windows that had rattledtheir welcome to her all night. She was up and dressed, andhad had a long consultation with herself over matters andprospects before anybody else had thought of leaving theindubitable comfort of a feather bed for the doubtfulcontingency of happiness that awaited them down stairs. Fledatook in the whole length and breadth of it, half wittingly andhalf through some finer sense than that of the understanding. 

The first view of things could not strike them pleasantly; itwas not to be looked for. The doors did not happen to bepainted blue; they were a deep chocolate colour — doors andwainscot. The fire-places were not all furnished with cranes, but they were all uncouthly wide and deep. Nobody would havethought them so indeed in the winter, when piled up withblazing hickory logs; but in summer they yawned uncomfortablyupon the eye. The ceilings were low; the walls rough paperedor rougher whitewashed; the sashes not hung; the rooms, otherwise well enough proportioned, stuck with littlecupboards, in recesses and corners, and out-of-the-way places, in a style impertinently suggestive of housekeeping, andfitted to shock any symmetrical set of nerves. The old househad undergone a thorough putting in order, it is true; thechocolate paint was just dry, and the paper-hangings freshlyput up; and the bulk of the new furniture had been sent onbefore and unpacked, though not a single article of it was inits right place. The house was clean and tight — that is, astight as it ever was. But the colour had been unfortunatelychosen — perhaps there was no help for that; the paper wasvery coarse and countrified; the big windows were startling, they looked so bare, without any manner of drapery; and thelong reaches of wall were unbroken by mirror or picture-frame. And this to eyes trained to eschew ungracefulness and thatabhorred a vacuum as much as nature is said to do! Even Fledafelt there was something disagreeable in the change, though itreached her more through the channel of other people'ssensitiveness than her own. To her it was the dear old housestill, though her eyes had seen better things since they lovedit. No corner or recess could have a pleasanter filling, toher fancy, than the old brown cupboard or shelves which hadalways been there. But what would her uncle say to them! andto that dismal paper! and what would aunt Lucy think of thoserattling window sashes! this cool raw day, too, for the first!—

Think as she might, Fleda did not stand still to think. Shehad gone softly all over the house, taking a strange look atthe old places and the images with which memory filled them, thinking of the last time, and many a time before that — andshe had at last come back to the sitting-room, long beforeanybody else was down stairs; the two tired servants were justrubbing their eyes open in the kitchen, and speculatingthemselves awake. Leaving them, at their peril, to get ready adecent breakfast (by the way she grudged them the oldkitchen), Fleda set about trying what her wand could dotowards brightening the face of affairs in the other part ofthe house. It was quite cold enough for a fire, luckily. Sheordered one to be made, and meanwhile busied herself with thevarious stray packages and articles of wearing apparel thatlay scattered about, giving the whole place a look ofdiscomfort. Fleda gathered them up, and bestowed them in oneor two of the impertinent cupboards, and then undertook thelabour of carrying out all the wrong furniture that had gotinto the breakfast-room, and bringing in that which reallybelonged there from the hall and the parlour beyond, movinglike a mouse that she might not disturb the people up stairs. A quarter of an hour was spent in arranging to the bestadvantage these various pieces of furniture in the room; itwas the very same in which Mr. Carleton and Charlton Rossiturhad been received the memorable day of the roast-pig dinner, but that was not the uppermost association in Fleda's mind. Satisfied at last that a happier effect could not be producedwith the given materials, and well pleased too, with hersuccess, Fleda turned to the fire. It was made, but not by anymeans doing its part to encourage the other portions of theroom to look their best. Fleda knew something of wood firesfrom old times; she laid hold of the tongs, and touched andloosened and coaxed a stick here and there, with a delicatehand, till, seeing the very opening it had wanted — withoutwhich neither fire nor hope can keep its activity — the blazesprang up energetically, crackling through all the piled oakand hickory, and driving the smoke clean out of sight. Fledahad done her work. It would have been a misanthropical personindeed that could have come into the room then, and not felthis face brighten. One other thing remained — setting thebreakfast-table; and Fleda would let no hands but hers do itthis morning; she was curious about the setting of tables. Howshe remembered or divined where everything had been stowed;how quietly and efficiently her little fingers unfastenedhampers and pried into baskets, without making any noise; tillall the breakfast paraphernalia of silver, china, and table-linen was found, gathered from various receptacles, and laidin most exquisite order on the table. State Street never sawbetter. Fleda stood and looked at it then, in immensesatisfaction, seeing that her uncle's eye would miss nothingof its accustomed gratification. To her the old room, shiningwith firelight and new furniture, was perfectly charming. Ifthose great windows were staringly bright, health andcheerfulness seemed to look in at them. And what other imagesof association, with "nods and becks and wreathed smiles, "looked at her out of the curling flames in the old wide fire-place! And one other angel stood there unseen — the one whoseerrand it is to see fulfilled the promise, "Give, and it shallbe given to you; full measure, and pressed down, and heapedup, and running over. "

A little while Fleda sat contentedly eyeing her work; then anew idea struck her and she sprang up. In the next meadow, only one fence between, a little spring of purest water ranthrough from the woodland; water-cresses used to grow there. Uncle Rolf was very fond of them. It was pouring with rain;but no matter. Her heart beating between haste and delight, Fleda slipped her feet into galoches, and put an old cloak ofHugh's over her head, and ran out through the kitchen, the oldaccustomed way. The servants exclaimed and entreated, butFleda only flashed a bright look at them from under her cloakas she opened the door, and ran off, over the wet grass, underthe fence, and over half the meadow, till she came to thestream. She was getting a delicious taste of old times; andthough the spring water was very cold, and with it and therain one-half of each sleeve was soon thoroughly wetted, shegathered her cresses, and scampered back with a pair of eyesand cheeks that might have struck any city belle chill withenvy. 

"Then, but that's a sweet girl!" said Mary the cook to Janethe housemaid. 

"A lovely countenance she has, " answered Jane, who was refinedin her speech. 

"Take her away, and you've taken the best of the house, I'm athinking. "

"Mrs. Rossitur is a lady, " said Jane, in a low voice. 

"Ay, and a very proper behaved one she is, and him the same, that is, for a gentleman I mean; but Jane; I say, I'm thinkinghe'll have eat too much sour bread lately! I wish I knowed howthey'd have their eggs boiled till I'd have them ready. "

"Sure it's on the table itself they'll do 'em, " said Jane. "They've an elegant little fixture in there for the purpose. "

"Is that it!"

Nobody found out how busy Fleda's wand had been in the oldbreakfast-room. But she was not disappointed; she had notworked for praise. Her cresses were appreciated; that wasenough. She enjoyed her breakfast — the only one of the partythat did. Mr. Rossitur looked moody; his wife looked anxious;and Hugh's face was the reflection of theirs. If Fleda's facereflected anything, it was the sunlight of heaven. 

"How sweet the air is after New York!" said she. 

They looked at her. There was a fresh sweetness of anotherkind about that breakfast-table. They all felt it, andbreathed more freely. 

"Delicious cresses!' said Mrs. Rossitur. 

"Yes; I wonder where they came from, " said her husband. "Whogot them?"

"I guess Fleda knows, " said Hugh. 

"They grow in a little stream of spring water over here in themeadow, " said Fleda, demurely. 

"Yes, but you don't answer my question, " said her uncle, putting his hand under her chin, and smiling at the blushingface he brought round to view. "Who got them?"

"I did. "

"You have been out in the rain?"

"Oh, Queechy rain don't hurt me, uncle Rolf. "

"And don't it wet you either?"

"Yes, Sir — a little. "

"How much?"

"My sleeves — oh, I dried them long ago. "

"Don't you repeat that experiment, Fleda, " said he, seriously, but with a look that was a good reward to her, nevertheless. 

"It is a raw day!" said Mrs. Rossitur, drawing her shoulderstogether, as an ill-disposed window-sash gave one of itsadmonitory shakes. 

"What little panes of glass for such big windows!" said Hugh. 

"But what a pleasant prospect through them, " said Fleda —"look, Hugh! — worth all the Batteries and Parks in theworld. "

"In the world! in New York, you mean, " said her uncle. "Notbetter than the Champs Elysιes?"

"Better to me, " said Fleda. 

"For to-day I must attend to the prospect in-doors, " said Mrs. Rossitur. 

"Now, aunt Lucy, " said Fleda, "you are just going to putyourself down in the corner, in the rocking-chair there, withyour book, and make yourself comfortable; and Hugh and I willsee to all these things. Hugh and I and Mary and Jane — thatmakes quite an army of us, and we can do everything withoutyou, and you must just keep quiet. I'll build you up a finefire, and then, when I don't know what to do, I will come toyou for orders. Uncle Rolf, would you be so good as just toopen that box of books in the hall, because I am afraid Hughisn't strong enough. I'll take care of you, aunt Lucy. "

Fleda's plans were not entirely carried out, but she contrivedpretty well to take the brunt of the business on her ownshoulders. She was as busy as a bee the whole day. To her allthe ins and outs of the house, its advantages anddisadvantages, were much better known than to anybody else;nothing could be done but by her advice; and, more than that, she contrived by some sweet management to baffle Mrs. Rossitur's desire to spare her, and to bear the larger half ofevery burden that should have come upon her aunt. What she haddone in the breakfast-room, she did or helped to do in theother parts of the house; she unpacked boxes and put awayclothes and linen, in which Hugh was her excellent helper; shearranged her uncle's dressing-table with a scrupulosity thatleft nothing uncared-for; and the last thing before tea sheand Hugh dived into the book-box to get out some favouritevolumes to lay upon the table in the evening, that the roommight not look to her uncle quite so dismally bare. He hadbeen abroad, notwithstanding the rain, near the whole day. 

It was a weary party that gathered round the supper-table thatnight — weary, it seemed, as much in mind as in body; and themeal exerted its cheering influence over only two of them; Mr. And Mrs. Rossitur sipped their cups of tea abstractedly. 

"I don't believe that fellow, Donohan, knows much about hisbusiness, " remarked the former at length. 

"Why don't you get somebody else, then?" said his wife. 

"I happen to have engaged him, unfortunately. "

A pause. 

"What doesn't he know?"

Mr. Rossitur laughed, not a pleasant laugh. 

"It would take too long to enumerate. If you had asked me whatpart of his business he does understand, I could have told youshortly that I don't know. "

"But you do not understand it very well yourself. Are yousure?"

"Am I sure of what?"

"That this man does not know his business?"

"No further sure than I can have confidence in my own commonsense. "

"What will you do?" said Mrs. Rossitur, after a moment. 

A question men are not fond of answering, especially when theyhave not made up their minds. Mr. Rossitur was silent, and hiswife too, after that. 

"If I could get some long-headed Yankee to go along with him, "he remarked again, balancing his spoon on the edge of his cup, in curious illustration of his own mental position at themoment — Donohan being the only fixed point, and all the restwavering in uncertainty. There were a few silent minutesbefore anybody answered. 

"If you want one, and don't know of one, uncle Rolf, " saidFleda, "I dare say cousin Seth might. "

That gentle modest speech brought his attention round uponher. His face softened. 

"Cousin Seth? who is cousin Seth?"

"He is aunt Miriam's son, " said Fleda. "Seth Plumfield. He's avery good farmer, I know; grandpa used to say he was; and heknows everybody. "

"Mrs. Plumfield, " said Mrs. Rossitur, as her husband's eyeswent inquiringly to her — "Mrs. Plumfield was Mr. Ringgan'ssister, you remember. This is her son. "

"Cousin Seth, eh?" said Mr. Rossitur, dubiously. " Well — Why, Fleda, your sweet air don't seem to agree with you, as far asI see; I have not known you look so — so triste — since weleft Paris. What have you been doing, my child?"

"She has been doing everything, father, " said Hugh. 

"Oh! it's nothing, " said Fleda, answering Mr. Rossitur's lookand tone of affection with a bright smile. " I'm a littletired, that's all!"

"A little tired!' She went to sleep on the sofa directly aftersupper, and slept like a baby all the evening; but her powerdid not sleep with her; for that quiet, sweet, tired face, tired in their service, seemed to bear witness against theindulgence of anything harsh or unlovely in the sameatmosphere. A gentle witness-bearing, but strong in itsgentleness. They sat close together round the fire, talkedsoftly, and from time to time cast loving glances at the quietlittle sleeper by their side. They did not know that she was afairy, and that though her wand had fallen out of her hand itwas still resting upon them. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

"_Gon_. Here is everything advantageous to life. _Ant_. True; save means to live. "TEMPEST. 

Fleda's fatigue did not prevent her being up before sunrisethe next day. Fatigue was forgotten, for the light of a fairspring morning was shining in at her windows, and she meant tosee aunt Miriam before breakfast. She ran out to find Hugh, and her merry shout reached him before she did, and broughthim to meet her. 

"Come, Hugh! I'm going off up to aunt Miriam's, and I wantyou. Come! Isn't this delicious?"

"Hush!" said Hugh. " Father's just here in the barn. I can'tgo, Fleda. "

Fleda's countenance clouded. 

"Can't go! what's the matter? can't you go, Hugh?"

He shook his head, and went off into the barn. 

A chill came upon Fleda. She turned away with a very soberstep. What if her uncle was in the barn, why should she hush?He never had been a check upon her merriment — never; what wascoming now? Hugh, too, looked disturbed. It was a springmorning no longer. Fleda forgot the glittering wet grass thathad set her own eyes a-sparkling but a minute ago; she walkedalong, cogitating, swinging her bonnet by the strings inthoughtful vibration, till, by the help of sunlight and sweetair, and the loved scenes, her spirits again made head andswept over the sudden hindrance they had met. There were theblessed old sugar maples, seven in number, that fringed theside of the road — how well Fleda knew them! Only skeletonsnow, but she remembered how beautiful they looked after theOctober frosts; and presently they would be putting out theirnew green leaves, and be beautiful in another way. Howdifferent in their free-born luxuriance from the dusty andcity-prisoned elms and willows she had left! She came to thebridge then, and stopped with a thrill of pleasure and pain tolook and listen. Unchanged! — all but herself. The mill wasnot going; the little brook went by quietly chattering toitself, just as it had done the last time she saw it, when sherode past on Mr. Carleton's horse. Four and a half years ago!And now how strange that she had come to live there again. 

Drawing a long breath, and swinging her bonnet again, Fledasoftly went on up the hill, past the saw-mill, the ponds, thefactories, the houses of the settlement. The same, and not thesame! Bright with the morning sun, and yet, somehow, a littlebrowner and homelier than of old they used to be. Fleda didnot care for that — she would hardly acknowledge it to herself— her affection never made any discount for infirmity. Leavingthe little settlement behind her thoughts as behind her back, she ran on now towards aunt Miriam's, breathlessly, till fieldafter field was passed, and her eye caught a bit of the smoothlake, and the old farm-house in its old place. Very brown itlooked, but Fleda dashed on, through the garden, and in at thefront door. 

Nobody at all was in the entrance-room, the common sitting-room of the family. With trembling delight, Fleda opened thewell-known door, and stole noiselessly through the littlepassage-way to the kitchen. The door of that was only on thelatch, and a gentle movement of it gave to Fleda's eye thetall figure of aunt Miriam, just before her, stooping down tolook in at the open mouth of the oven, which she was at thatmoment engaged in supplying with more work to do. It was ahuge one, and, beyond her aunt's head, Fleda could see in thefar end the great loaves of bread, half baked, and more near aperfect squad of pies and pans of gingerbread just going in totake the benefit of the oven's milder mood. Fleda saw allthis, as it were, without seeing it; she stood still as amouse and breathless, till her aunt turned, and then — aspring and a half shout of joy, and she had clasped her in herarms, and was crying with her whole heart. Aunt Miriam wastaken all aback — she could do nothing but sit down and crytoo, and forgot her oven-door. "

"Aint breakfast ready yet, mother?" said a manly voice comingin. "I must be off to see after them ploughs. Hollo — why, mother!"

The first exclamation was uttered as the speaker put the doorto the oven's mouth; the second as he turned in quest of thehand that should have done it. He stood wondering, while hismother and Fleda, between laughing and crying, tried to rousethemselves and look up. 

"What is all this?"

"Don't you see, Seth?"

"I see somebody that had like to have spoiled your wholebaking — I don't know who it is yet. "

"Don't you now, cousin Seth?" said Fleda, shaking away hertears and getting up. 

"I ha'n't quite lost my recollection. Cousin, you must give mea kiss. How do you do! You ha'n't forgot how to colour, I see, for all you've been so long among the pale city folks. "

"I hav'n't forgotten anything, cousin Seth, " said Fleda, blushing indeed, but laughing and shaking his hand with ashearty good-will. 

"I don't believe you have — anything that is good, " said he. "Where have you been all this while?"

"Oh, part of the time in New York, and part of the time inParis, and some other places. "

"Well, you ha'n't seen anything better than Queechy, orQueechy bread and butter, have you?"

"No, indeed!"

"Come, you shall give me another kiss for that, " said he, suiting the action to the word; "and now sit down and eat asmuch bread and butter as you can. It's just as good as it usedto be. Come, mother, I guess breakfast is ready by the looksof that coffee-pot. "

"Breakfast ready!" said Fleda. 

"Ay indeed; it's a good half-hour since it ought to ha' beenready. If it aint, I can't stop for it. Them boys will berunning their furrows like sarpents if I aint there to startthem. "

"Which like sarpents, " said Fleda, — "the furrows or the men?"

"Well, I was thinking of the furrows, " said he, glancing ather. "I guess there aint cunning enough in the others totrouble them. Come, sit down, and let me see whether you haveforgot a Queechy appetite. "

"I don't know, " said Fleda, doubtfully; "they will expect meat home. "

"I don't care who expects you — sit down! you aint going toeat any bread and butter this morning but my mother's — youhaven't got any like it at your house. Mother, give her a cupof coffee, will you, and set her to work. "

Fleda was too willing to comply with the invitation, were itonly for the charm of old times. She had not seen such a tablefor years, and little as the conventionalities of delicatetaste were known there, it was not without a comeliness of itsown in its air of wholesome abundance and the extreme purityof all its arrangements. If but a piece of cold pork were onaunt Miriam's table, it was served with a nicety that wouldnot have offended the most fastidious; and amid irregularitiesthat the fastidious would scorn, there was a sound excellenceof material and preparation that they very often fail to know. Fleda made up her mind she would be wanted at home; all therather, perhaps, for Hugh's mysterious "hush;" and there wassomething in the hearty kindness and truth of these friendsthat she felt particularly genial. And if there was a lack ofsilver at the board, its place was more than filled with thepure gold of association. They sat down to table, but auntMiriam's eyes devoured Fleda. Mr. Plumfield set about his morematerial breakfast with all despatch. 

"So Mr. Rossitur has left the city for good?" said auntMiriam. "How does he like it?"

"He hasn't been here but a day, you know, aunt Miriam, " saidFleda evasively. 

"Is he anything of a farmer?" asked her cousin. 

"Not much, " said Fleda. 

"Is he going to work the farm himself?"

"How do you mean?"

"I mean, is he going to work the farm himself, or hire it out, or let somebody else work it on shares?"

"I don't know, " said Fleda — "I think he is going to have afarmer, and oversee things himself. "

"He'll get sick o' that, " said Seth; "unless he's the luck toget hold of just the right hand. "

"Has he hired anybody yet?" said aunt Miriam, after a littleinterval of supplying Fleda with "bread and butter. "

"Yes, Ma'am, I believe so. "

"What's his name?"

"Donohan — an Irishman, I believe; uncle Rolf hired him in NewYork. "

"For his head man?" said Seth, with a sufficientlyintelligible look. 

"Yes, " said Fleda. "Why?"

But he did not immediately answer her. 

"The land's in poor heart now, " said he, "a good deal of it;it has been wasted; it wants first-rate management to bring itin order, and make much of it for two or three years to come. I never see an Irishman's head yet that was worth more than ajoke. Their hands are all of 'em that's good for anything. "

"I believe uncle Rolf wants to have an American to go withthis man, " said Fleda. 

Seth said nothing; but Fleda understood the shake of his headas he reached over after a pickle. 

"Are you going to keep a dairy, Fleda?" said her aunt. 

"I don't know, Ma'am — I haven't heard anything about it. "

"Does Mrs. Rossitur know anything about country affairs?"

"No — nothing, " Fleda said, her heart sinking perceptibly withevery new question. 

"She hasn't any cows yet?"

She? — any cows! — But Fleda only said they had not come; shebelieved they were coming. 

"What help has she got?"

"Two women — Irishwomen, " said Fleda. 

"Mother, you'll have to take hold and learn her, " said Mr. Plumfield. 

"Teach her?" cried Fleda, repelling the idea — "aunt Lucy? shecannot do anything — she isn't strong enough; not anything ofthat kind. "

"What did she come here for?" said Seth. 

"You know, " said his mother, "that Mr. Rossitur'scircumstances obliged him to quit New York. "

"Ay, but that aint my question. A man had better keep hisfingers off anything he can't live by. A farm's one thing ort'other, just as it's worked. The land wont grow specie — itmust be fetched out of it. Is Mr. Rossitur a smart man?"

"Very, " Fleda said, "about everything but farming. "

"Well, if he'll put himself to school, maybe he'll learn, "Seth concluded, as he finished his breakfast and went off. Fleda rose too, and was standing thoughtfully by the fire, when aunt Miriam came up and put her arms round her. Fleda'seyes sparkled again. 

"You're not changed — you're the same little Fleda, " she said. 

"Not quite so little, " said Fleda, smiling. 

"Not quite so little, but my own darling. The world hasn'tspoiled thee yet. "

"I hope not, aunt Miriam. "

"You have remembered your mother's prayer, Fleda?"

"Always!"

How tenderly aunt Miriam's hand was passed over the bowed head— how fondly she pressed her! And Fleda's answer was as fond. 

"I wanted to bring Hugh up to see you, aunt Miriam, with me, but he couldn't come. You will like Hugh. He is so good!"

"I will come down and see him, " said aunt Miriam; and then shewent to look after her oven's doings. Fleda stood by, amusedto see the quantities of nice things that were rummaged out ofit. They did not look like Mrs. Renney's work, but she knewfrom old experience that they were good. 

"How early you must have been up to put these things in, " saidFleda. 

"Put them in! yes, and make them. These were all made thismorning, Fleda. "

"This morning! — before breakfast! Why, the sun was only justrising when I set out to come up the hill, and I wasn't longcoming, aunt Miriam. "

"To be sure; that's the way to get things done. Beforebreakfast! — What time do you breakfast, Fleda?"

"Not till eight or nine o'clock. "

"Eight or nine! — Here?"

"There hasn't been any change made yet, and I don't supposethere will be. Uncle Rolf is always up early, but he can'tbear to have breakfast early. "

Aunt Miriam's face showed what she thought; and Fleda wentaway with all its gravity and doubt settled like lead upon herheart. Though she had one of the identical apple pies in herhands, which aunt Miriam had quietly said was for "her andHugh, " and though a pleasant savour of old times was about it, Fleda could not get up again the bright feeling with which shehad come up the hill. There was a miserable misgiving atheart. It would work off in time. 

It had begun to work off, when, at the foot of the hill, shemet her uncle. He was coming after her to ask Mr. Plumfieldabout the desideratum of a Yankee. Fleda put her pie in safetybehind a rock, and turned back with him, and aunt Miriam toldthem the way to Seth's ploughing ground. 

A pleasant word or two had set Fleda's spirits a-boundingagain, and the walk was delightful. Truly the leaves were noton the trees, but it was April, and they soon would be; therewas promise in the light, and hope in the air, and everythingsmelt of the country and spring-time. The soft tread of thesod, that her foot had not felt for so long, the fresh look ofthe newly-turned earth; here and there the brilliance of afield of winter grain, and that nameless beauty of the buddingtrees, that the full luxuriance of summer can never equal —Fleda's heart was springing for sympathy. And to her, withwhom association was everywhere so strong, there was in it alla shadowy presence of her grandfather, with whom she had sooften seen the spring-time bless those same hills and fieldslong ago. She walked on in silence, as her manner commonly waswhen deeply pleased; there were hardly two persons to whom shewould speak her mind freely then. Mr. Rossitur had his ownthoughts. 

"Can anything equal the spring-time?" she burst forth atlength. 

Her uncle looked at her and smiled. "Perhaps not; but it isone thing, " said he, sighing, "for taste to enjoy, and anotherthing for calculation to improve. "

"But one can do both, can't one?" said Fleda, brightly. 

"I don't know, " said he, sighing again. "Hardly. "

Fleda knew he was mistaken, and thought the sighs out ofplace. But they reached her; and she had hardly condemned thembefore they set her off upon a long train of excuses for him, and she had wrought herself into quite a fit of tenderness bythe time they reached her cousin. 

They found him on a gentle side-hill, with two other men andteams, both of whom were stepping away in different parts ofthe field. Mr. Plumfield was just about setting off to workhis way to the other side of the lot, when they came up withhim. 

Fleda was not ashamed of her aunt Miriam's son, even beforesuch critical eyes as those of her uncle. Farmer-like as werehis dress and air, they showed him, nevertheless, a well-built, fine-looking man, with the independent bearing of onewho has never recognised any but mental or moral superiority. His face might have been called handsome; there was at leastmanliness in every line of it; and his excellent dark eyeshowed an equal mingling of kindness and acute common sense. Let Mr. Plumfield wear what clothes he would, one felt obligedto follow Burns' notable example, and pay respect to the manthat was in them. 

"A fine day, Sir, " he remarked to Mr. Rossitur, after they hadshaken hands. 

"Yes, and I will not interrupt you but a minute. Mr. Plumfield, I am in want of hands — hands for this verybusiness you are about, ploughing — and Fleda says you knoweverybody; so I have come to ask if you can direct me. "

" Heads or hands, do you want?" said Seth, clearing his boot-sole from some superfluous soil upon the share of his plough. 

"Why both, to tell you the truth. I want bands and teams, forthat matter, for I have only two, and I suppose there is notime to be lost. And I want very much to get a personthoroughly acquainted with the business to go along with myman. He is an Irishman, and I am afraid not very wellaccustomed to the ways of doing things here. "

"Like enough, " said Seth; " and the worst of 'em is, you can'tlearn 'em. "

"Well! — can you help me?"

"Mr. Douglass!" said Seth, raising his voice to speak to oneof his assistants who was approaching them — "Mr. Douglass!you're holding that 'ere plough a little too obleekly for mygrounds. "

"Very good, Mr. Plumfield!" said the person called upon, witha quick accent that intimated, "If you don't know what isbest, it is not my affair!" — the voice very peculiar, seemingto come from no lower than the top of his throat, with aguttural roll of the words. 

"Is that Earl Douglass?" said Fleda. 

"You remember him?" said her cousin, smiling. "He's just wherehe was, and his wife too. Well, Mr. Rossitur, 'tain't veryeasy to find what you want just at this season, when mostfolks have their hands full, and help is all taken up. I'llsee if I can't come down and give you a lift myself with theploughing, for a day or two, as I'm pretty beforehand with thespring, but you'll want more than that. I ain't sure — Ihaven't more hands than I'll want myself, but I think it ispossible Squire Springer may spare you one of his'n. He ainttaking in any new land this year, and he's got things prettysnug; I guess he don't care to do any more than common, —anyhow, you might try. You know where uncle Joshua lives, Fleda? Well, Philetus — what now?"

They had been slowly walking along the fence towards thefurthest of Mr. Plumfield's coadjutors, upon whom his eye hadbeen curiously fixed as he was speaking — a young man who wasan excellent sample of what is called "the raw material. " Hehad just come to a sudden stop in the midst of the furrow whenhis employer called to him; and he answered, somewhat lack-a-daisically —

"Why, I've broke this here clavis: I ha'n't touched anythingnor nothing, and it broke right in teu!"

"What do you 'spose 'll be done now?" said Mr. Plumfield, gravely, going up to examine the fracture. 

"Well, 't wa'n't none of my doings, " said the young man. "Iha'n't touched anything nor nothing, and the mean thing brokeright in teu. 'Tain't so handy as the old kind o' plough, by along jump. "

"You go 'long down to the house and ask my mother for a newclavis; and talk about ploughs when you know how to hold 'em, "said Mr. Plumfield. 

"It don't look so difficult a matter, " said Mr. Rossitur, —"but I am a novice myself. What is the principal thing to beattended to in ploughing, Mr. Plumfield?"

There was a twinkle in Seth's eye, as he looked down upon apiece of straw he was breaking to bits, which Fleda, who couldsee, interpreted thoroughly. 

"Well, " said he, looking up — "the breadth of the stitches andthe width and depth of the furrow must be regulated accordingto the nature of the soil and the lay of the ground, and whatyou're ploughing for. There's stubble-ploughing, and breakingup old leys, and ploughing for fallow crops, and ribbing, where the land has been some years in grass, and so on; andthe plough must be geared accordingly, and so as not to taketoo much land nor go out of the land; and after that the bestpart of the work is to guide the plough right, and run thefurrows straight and even. "

He spoke with the most impenetrable gravity, while Mr. Rossitur looked blank and puzzled. Fleda could hardly keep hercountenance. 

"That row of poles, " said Mr. Rossitur, presently, "are theyto guide you in running the furrow straight?"

"Yes, Sir, they are to mark out the crown of the stitch. Ikeep 'em right between the horses, and plough 'em down oneafter another. It's a kind of way country-folks play at nine-pins, " said Seth, with a glance half inquisitive, half sly, athis questioner. 

Mr. Rossitur asked no more. Fleda felt a little uneasy again. It was rather a longish walk to uncle Joshua's, and hardly aword spoken on either side. 

The old gentleman was "to hum;" and while Fleda went back intosome remote part of the house to see "aunt Syra, " Mr. Rossiturset forth his errand. 

"Well, and so you're looking for help — eh?" said uncleJoshua, when he had heard him through. 

"Yes, Sir — I want help. "

"And a team too?"

"So I have said, Sir, " Mr. Rossitur answered rather shortly. "Can you supply me?"

"Well, I don't know as I can, " said the old man, rubbing hishands slowly over his knees. "You ha'n't got much done yet, Is'pose?"

"Nothing. I came the day before yesterday. "

"Land's in rather poor condition in some parts, aint it?"

"I really am not able to say, Sir, — till I have seen it. "

"It ought to be, " said the old gentleman, shaking his head, —"the fellow that was there last didn't do right by it. Heworked the land too hard, and didn't put on it anywhere nearwhat he had ought to; I guess you'll find it pretty poor insome places. He was trying to get all he could out of it, Is'pose. There's a good deal of fencing to be done too, aintthere?"

"All that there was, Sir, — I have done none since I came. "

"Seth Plumfield got through ploughing yet?"

"We found him at it. "

"Ay, he's a smart man. What are you going to do, Mr. Rossitur, with that piece of marsh land that lies off to the south eastof the barn, beyond the meadow, between the hills? I had justsich another, and I —"

"Before I do anything with the wet land, Mr. — I am so unhappyas to have forgotten your name —"

"Springer, Sir, " said the old gentleman, — "Springer — JoshuaSpringer. That is my name, Sir. "

"Mr. Springer, before I do anything with the wet land, Ishould like to have something growing on the dry; and as thatis the present matter in hand, will you be so good as to letme know whether I can have your assistance. "

"Well, I don't know, " said the old gentleman; "there aintanybody to send but my boy Lucas, and I don't know whether hewould make up his mind to go or not. "

"Well, Sir!" said Mr. Rossitur, rising, "in that case, I willbid you good morning. I am sorry to have given you thetrouble. "

"Stop, " said the old man, "stop a bit. Just sit down. I'll goin and see about it. "

Mr. Rossitur sat down, and uncle Joshua left him to go intothe kitchen and consult his wife, without whose counsel, oflate years especially, he rarely did anything. They nevervaried in opinion, but aunt Syra's wits supplied the steeledge to his heavy metal. 

"I don't know but Lucas would as lieve go as not, " the oldgentleman remarked on coming back from this sharpeningprocess, — "and I can make out to spare him, I guess. Youcalculate to keep him, I s'pose?"

"Until this press is over; and perhaps longer, if I find hecan do what I want. "

"You'll find him pretty handy at a'most anything, but I mean —I s'pose he'll get his victuals with you?"

"I have made no arrangement of the kind, " said Mr. Rossitur, controlling with some effort his rebelling muscles. "Donohanis boarded somewhere else, and for the present it will be bestfor all in my employ to follow the same plan. "

"Very good, " said uncle Joshua; "it makes no difference —only, of course, in that case it is worth more, when a man hasto find himself and his team. "

"Whatever it is worth, I am quite ready to pay, Sir. "

"Very good. You and Lucas can agree about that. He'll be alongin the morning. "

So they parted; and Fleda understood the impatient quick stepwith which her uncle got over the ground. 

"Is that man a brother of your grandfather?"

"No, Sir — Oh no! only his brother-in-law. My grandmother washis sister, but they weren't in the least like each other. "

"I should think they could not, " said Mr. Rossitur. 

"Oh, they were not!" Fleda repeated. "I have always heardthat. "

After paying her respects to aunt Syra in the kitchen, she hadcome back time enough to hear the end of the discourse in theparlour, and had felt its full teaching. Doubts returned, andher spirits were sobered again. Not another word was spokentill they reached home; when Fleda seized upon Hugh, and wentoff to the rock after her forsaken pie. 

"Have you succeeded?" asked Mrs. Rossitur, while they weregone. 

"Yes — that is, a cousin has kindly consented to come and helpme. "

"A cousin!" said Mrs. Rossitur. 

"Ay — we're in a nest of cousins. "

"In a what, Mr. Rossitur?"

"In a nest of cousins; and I had rather be in a nest of rooks. I wonder if I shall be expected to ask my ploughmen to dinner!Every second man is a cousin, and the rest are uncles. "

CHAPTER XIX. 

"Whilst skies are blue and bright, Whilst flowers are gay, Whilst eyes that change ere nightMake glad the day;Whilst yet the calm hours creep, Dream thou — and from thy sleepThen wake to weep. "SHELLEY. 

The days of summer flew by, for the most part lightly, overthe heads of Hugh and Fleda. The farm was little to them but aplace of pretty and picturesque doings, and the scene ofnameless delights by wood and stream, in all which, all thatsummer, Fleda rejoiced; pulling Hugh along with her, even whensometimes he would rather have been poring over his books athome. She laughingly said it was good for him, and one half, at least, of every fine day their feet were abroad. They knewnothing, practically, of the dairy, but that it was aninexhaustible source of the sweetest milk and butter, and, indirectly, of the richest custards and syllabubs. The flockof sheep that now and then came in sight, running over thehill-side, were to them only an image of pastoral beauty, anda soft link with the beauty of the past. The two children tookthe very cream of country life. The books they had left wereread with greater eagerness than ever. When the weather was"too lovely to stay in the house, " Shakespeare, or Massillon, or Sully, or the "Curiosities of Literature, " or "Corinne, " orMilner's Church History — for Fleda's reading was asmiscellaneous as ever — was enjoyed under the flutter ofleaves and along with the rippling of the mountain spring;whilst King curled himself up on the skirt of his mistress'sgown, and slept for company; hardly more thoughtless andfearless of harm than his two companions. Now and then Fledaopened her eyes to see that her uncle was moody and not likehimself, and that her aunt's gentle face was clouded inconsequence; and she could not sometimes help the suspicionthat he was not making a farmer of himself; but the nextsummer-wind would blow these thoughts away, or the next lookof her flowers would put them out of her head. The wholecourtyard in front of the house had been given up to herpeculiar use as a flower garden, and there she and Hugh madethemselves very busy. 

But the summer-time came to an end. 

It was a November morning, and Fleda had been doing some ofthe last jobs in her flower-beds. She was coming in withspirits as bright as her cheeks, when her aunt's attitude andlook, more than usually spiritless, suddenly checked them. Fleda gave her a hopeful kiss, and asked for the explanation. 

"How bright you look, darling!" said her aunt, stroking hercheek. 

"Yes, but you don't, aunt Lucy. What has happened?"

"Mary and Jane are going away. "

"Going away! — What for?"

"They are tired of the place — don't like it, I suppose. "

"Very foolish of them! Well, aunt Lucy, what matter? we canget plenty more in their room. "

"Not from the city — not possible; they would not come at thistime of year. "

"Sure? — Well, then, here we can, at any rate. "

"Here! But what sort of persons shall we get here? And youruncle — just think!" —

"Oh, but I think we can manage, " said Fleda. "When do Mary andJane want to go?"

"Immediately! — to-morrow; they are not willing to wait tillwe can get somebody. Think of it!"

"Well, let them go, " said Fleda; "the sooner the better. "

"Yes: and I am sure I don't want to keep them; but" — and Mrs. Rossitur wrung her hands — "I haven't money enough to pay themquite — and they wont go without it. "

Fleda felt shocked; so much that she could not help lookingit. 

"But can't uncle Rolf give it you?"

Mrs. Rossitur shook her head. "I have asked him. "

"How much is wanting?"

"Twenty-five. Think of his not being able to give me that!" —Mrs. Rossitur burst into tears. 

"Now don't, aunt Lucy!" said Fleda, guarding well her owncomposure; "you know he has had a great deal to spend upon thefarm, and paying men, and all, and it is no wonder that heshould be a little short just now — now, cheer up! — we canget along with this, anyhow. "

"I asked him, " said Mrs. Rossitur, through her tears, "when hewould be able to give it to me; and he told me he didn'tknow!"

Fleda ventured no reply, but some of the tenderest caressesthat lips and arms could give; and then sprang away, and inthree minutes was at her aunt's side again. 

"Look here, aunt Lucy, " said she, gently, "here is twentydollars, if you can manage the five. "

"Where did you get this?" Mrs. Rossitur exclaimed. 

"I got it honestly. It is mine, aunt Lucy, " said Fleda, smiling. "Uncle Orrin gave me some money, just before we cameaway, to do what I liked with; and I haven't wanted to doanything with it till now. "

But this seemed to hurt Mrs. Rossitur more than all the rest. Leaning her head forward upon Fleda's breast, and clasping herarms about her, she cried worse tears than Fleda had seen hershed. If it had not been for the emergency, Fleda would havebroken down utterly too. 

"That it should have come to this! — I can't take it, dearFleda! —"

"Yes, you must, aunt Lucy, " said Fleda, soothingly. "Icouldn't do anything else with it that would give me so muchpleasure. I don't want it; it would lie in my drawer till Idon't know when. We'll let these people be off as soon as theyplease. Don't take it so; uncle Rolf will have money again —only just now he is out, I suppose — and we'll get somebodyelse in the kitchen that will do nicely; you see if we don't. "

Mrs. Rossitur's embrace said what words were powerless to say. 

"But I don't know how we're to find any one here in thecountry — I don't know who'll go to look — I am sure youruncle wont want to; and Hugh wouldn't know —"

"I'll go, " said Fleda, cheerfully — "Hugh and I. We can dofamously, if you'll trust me. I wont promise to bring home aFrench cook. "

"No, indeed; we must take what we can get. But you can get noone to-day, and they will be off by the morning's coach; whatshall we do to-morrow — for dinner? — your uncle —"

"I'll get dinner, " said Fleda, caressing her; "I'll take allthat on myself. It sha'n't be a bad dinner either. Uncle Rolfwill like what I do for him, I dare say. Now, cheer up, auntLucy; do; that's all I ask of you. Wont you — for me?"

She longed to speak a word of that quiet hope with which inevery trouble she secretly comforted herself — she wanted towhisper the words that were that moment in her own mind, "Truly, I know that it shall be well with them that fear God;"but her natural reserve and timidity kept her lips shut to hergrief. 

The women were paid off and dismissed, and departed in thenext day's coach from Montepoole. Fleda stood at the frontdoor to see them go, with a curious sense that there was anempty house at her back, and indeed upon her back. And inspite of all the cheeriness of her tone to her aunt, she wasnot without some shadowy feeling that soberer times might becoming upon them. 

"What is to be done now?" said Hugh, close beside her. 

"Oh, we are going to get somebody else, " said Fleda. 

"Where?"

"I don't know! You and I are going to find out. "

"You and I!"

"Yes. We are going out after dinner, Hugh, dear, " said she, turning her bright merry face towards him — "to pick upsomebody. "

Linking her arm within his, she went back to the desertedkitchen premises, to see how her promise about talking Mary'splace was to be fulfilled. 

"Do you know where to look?" said Hugh. 

"I've a notion; but the first thing is dinner, that uncle Rolfmayn't think the world is turning topsy-turvy. There isnothing at all here, Hugh — nothing in the world but bread —it's a blessing there is that. Uncle Rolf will have to besatisfied with a coffee dinner to-day, and I'll make him themost superb omelette that my skill is equal to! Hugh, dear, you shall set the table. — You don't know how? — then youshall make the toast, and I will set it the first thing ofall. You perceive it is well to know how to do everything, Mr. Hugh Rossitur. "

"Where did you learn to make omelettes?" said Hugh, withlaughing admiration, as Fleda bared two pretty arms, and ranabout, the very impersonation of good-humoured activity. Thetable was set — the coffee was making — and she had himestablished at the fire with two great plates, a pile ofslices of bread, and the toasting-iron. 

"Where? oh, don't you remember the days of Mrs. Renney? I haveseen Emile make them. And by dint of trying to teach Mary thissummer, I have taught myself. There is no knowing, you see, what a person may come to. "

"I wonder what father would say, if he knew you had made allthe coffee this summer?"

"That is an unnecessary speculation, my dear Hugh, as I haveno intention of telling him. But see! that is the way withspeculators! 'while they go on refining, ' the toast burns!"

The coffee, and the omelette, and the toast, and Mr. Rossitur's favourite French salad, were served with beautifulaccuracy; and he was quite satisfied. But aunt Lucy lookedsadly at Fleda's flushed face, and saw that her appetiteseemed to have gone off in the steam of her preparations. Fleda had a kind of heart-feast, however, which answered aswell. 

Hugh harnessed the little wagon, for no one was at hand to doit, and he and Fleda set off as early as possible afterdinner. Fleda's thoughts had turned to her old acquaintance, Cynthia Gall, who she knew was out of employment, and stayingat home somewhere near Montepoole. They got the exactdirection from aunt Miriam, who approved of her plan. 

It was a pleasant, peaceful drive they had. They never werealone together, they two, but vexations seemed to lose theirpower, or be forgotten; and an atmosphere of quietness gatherabout them, the natural element of both hearts. It mightrefuse its presence to one, but the attraction of bothtogether was too strong to be resisted. 

Miss Cynthia's present abode was in an out-of-the-way place, and a good distance off; they were some time in reaching it. The barest-looking and dingiest of houses, set plump in agreen field, without one softening or home-like touch from anyhome-feeling within; not a flower, not a shrub, not an out-house, not a tree near. One would have thought it a desertedhouse, but that a thin wreath of smoke lazily stole up fromone of the brown chimneys; and graceful as that was, it tooknothing from the hard, stern barrenness below, which told of aworse poverty than that of paint and glazing. 

"Can this be the place?" said Hugh. 

"It must be. You stay here with the horse, and I'll go in andseek my fortune. — Don't promise much, " said Fleda, shakingher head. 

The house stood back from the road. Fleda picked her way to italong a little footpath which seemed to be the equal propertyof the geese. Her knock brought an invitation to "come in. "

An elderly woman was sitting there, whose appearance did notmend the general impression. She had the same dull andunhopeful look that her house had. 

"Does Mrs. Gall live here?"

"I do, " said this person. 

"Is Cynthia at home?"

The woman, upon this, raised her voice, and directed it at aninner door. 

"Lucindy!" said she, in a diversity of tones; "Lucindy! tellCynthy here's somebody wants to see her. " But no one answered;and throwing the work from her lap, the woman muttered shewould go and see, and left Fleda, with a cold invitation tosit down. 

Dismal work! Fleda wished herself out of it. The house did notlook poverty-stricken within, but poverty must have struck tothe very heart, Fleda thought, where there was no apparentcherishing of anything. There was no absolute distressvisible, neither was there a sign of real comfort, or of ahappy home. She could not fancy it was one. 

She waited so long, that she was sure Cynthia did not holdherself in readiness to see company. And when the lady at lastcame in, it was with very evident marks of "smarting up" abouther. 

"Why, it's Flidda Ringgan!" said Miss Gall, after a dubiouslook or two at her visitor. "How do you do? I didn't 'spect tosee you. How much you have growed!"

She looked really pleased, and gave Fleda's hand a very stronggrasp as she shook it. 

"There aint no fire here to-day, " pursued Cynthy, paying herattentions to the fire-place; "we let it go down on account ofour being all busy out at the back of the house. I guessyou're cold, aint you. "

Fleda said, "No;" and remembered that the woman she had firstseen was certainly not busy at the back of the house, noranywhere else but in that very room, where she had found herdeep in a pile of patchwork. 

"I heerd you had come to the old place. Were you glad to beback again?" Cynthy asked, with a smile that might be taken toexpress some doubt upon the subject. 

"I was very glad to see it again. "

"I ha'n't seen it in a great while. I've been staying to humthis year or two. I got tired o' going out, " Cynthy remarked, with again a smile very peculiar, and, Fleda thought, a littlesardonical. She did not know how to answer. 

"Well, how do you come along down yonder?" Cynthy went on, making a great fuss with the shovel and tongs to very littlepurpose. "Ha' you come all the way from Queechy?"

"Yes. I came on purpose to see you, Cynthy. "

Without staying to ask what for, Miss Gall now went out to"the back of the house, " and came running in again with a livebrand pinched in the tongs, and a long tail of smoke runningafter it. Fleda would have compounded for no fire and nochoking. The choking was only useful to give her time tothink. She was uncertain how to bring in her errand. 

"And how is Mis' Plumfield?" said Cynthy, in an interval ofblowing the brand. 

"She is quite well; but, Cynthy, you need not have taken allthat trouble for me. I cannot stay but a few minutes. "

"There is wood enough!" Cynthia remarked, with one of her grimsmiles — an assertion Fleda could not help doubting. Indeed, she thought Miss Gall had grown altogether more disagreeablethan she used to be in old times. Why, she could not divine, unless the souring effect had gone on with the years. 

"And what's become of Earl Douglass and Mis' Douglass? Ihain't heerd nothin' of 'em this great while. I always toldyour grandpa he'd ha' saved himself a great deal o' trouble ifhe'd ha' let Earl Douglass take hold of things. You han't gotMr. Didenhover into the works again, I guess, have you? He wasthere a good spell after your grandpa died. ''

"I haven't seen Mrs. Douglass, " said Fleda. "But, Cynthy, whatdo you think I have come here for?"

"I don't know, " said Cynthy, with another of her peculiarlooks directed at the fire. "I s'pose you want someh'n notherof me. "

"I have come to see if you wouldn't come and live with myaunt, Mrs. Rossitur. We are left alone, and want somebody verymuch; and I thought I would find you out and see if wecouldn't have you, first of all, before I looked for anybodyelse. "

Cynthy was absolutely silent. She sat before the fire, herfeet stretched out towards it as far as they would go, and herarms crossed, and not moving her steady gaze at the smokingwood, or the chimney-back, whichever it might be; but therewas in the corners of her mouth the threatening of a smilethat Fleda did not at all like. 

"What do you say to it, Cynthy?"

"I reckon you'd best get somebody else, " said Miss Gall, witha kind of condescending dryness, and the smile showing alittle more. 

"Why?" said Fleda. "I would a great deal rather have an oldfriend than a stranger. "

"Be you the housekeeper?" said Cynthy, a little abruptly. 

"Oh, I am a little of everything, " said Fleda — "cook andhousekeeper, and whatever comes first. I want you to come andbe housekeeper, Cynthy. "

"I reckon Mis' Rossitur don't have much to do with her help, does she?" said Cynthy, after a pause, during which thecorners of her mouth never changed. The tone of piquedindependence let some light into Fleda's mind. 

"She is not strong enough to do much herself, and she wantssome one that will take all the trouble from her. You'd havethe field all to yourself, Cynthy. "

"Your aunt sets two tables, I calculate, don't she?"

"Yes; my uncle doesn't like to have any but his own familyaround him. "

"I guess I shouldn't suit!" said Miss Gall, after anotherlittle pause, and stooping very diligently to pick up somescattered shreds from the floor. But Fleda could see theflushed face, and the smile which pride and a touch ofspiteful pleasure in the revenge she was taking madeparticularly hateful. She needed no more convincing that MissGall "wouldn't suit;" but she was sorry, at the same time, forthe perverseness that had so needlessly disappointed her; andwent rather pensively back again down the little footpath tothe waiting wagon. 

"This is hardly the romance of life, dear Hugh, " she said, asshe seated herself. 

"Haven't you succeeded?"

Fleda shook her head. 

"What's the matter?"

"Oh — pride — injured pride of station! The wrong of notcoming to our table and putting her knife into our butter. "

"And living in such a place!" said Hugh. 

"You don't know what a place. They are rniserably poor, I amsure; and yet — I suppose that the less people have to beproud of, the more they make of what is left. Poor people!" —

"Poor Fleda!" said Hugh, looking at her. "What will you donow?"

"Oh, we'll do somehow, " said she, cheerfully. "Perhaps it isjust as well, after all; for Cynthy isn't the smartest womanin the world. I remember grandpa used to say he didn't believeshe could get a bean into the middle of her bread. "

"A bean into the middle of her bread!" said Hugh. 

But Fleda's sobriety was quite banished by his mystified look, and her laugh rang along over the fields before she answeredhim. 

That laugh had blown away all the vapours, for the present atleast, and they jogged on again very sociably. 

"Do you know, " said Fleda, after a while of silent enjoymentin the changes of scene and the mild autumn weather — "I amnot sure that it wasn't very well for me that we came awayfrom New York. "

"I dare say it was, " said Hugh — "since we came; but whatmakes you say so?"

"I don't mean that it was for anybody else, but for me. Ithink I was a little proud of our nice things there. "

"You, Fleda!" said Hugh, with a look of appreciatingaffection. 

"Yes, I was, a little. It didn't make the greatest part of mylove for them, I am sure; but I think I had a little undefinedsort of pleasure in the feeling that they were better andprettier than other people had. "

"You are sure you are not proud of your little King Charlesnow?" said Hugh. 

"I don't know but I am, " said Fleda, laughing. "But how muchpleasanter it is here on almost every account! Look at thebeautiful sweep of the ground off among those hills — isn'tit? What an exquisite horizon line, Hugh!"

"And what a sky over it!"

"Yes — I love these fall skies. Oh, I would a great dealrather be here than in any city that ever was built!"

"So would I, " said Hugh. "But the thing is —"

Fleda knew quite well what the thing was, and did not answer. 

"But, my dear Hugh, " she said, presently — "I don't rememberthat sweep of hills when we were coming?"

"You were going the other way, " said Hugh. 

"Yes, but Hugh — I am sure we did not pass these grain fields. We must have got into the wrong road. "

Hugh drew the reins, and looked and doubted. 

"There is a house yonder, " said Fleda — we had better driveon, and ask. "

"There is no house —"

"Yes, there is — behind that piece of wood. Look over it;don't you see a light curl of blue smoke against the sky? — Wenever passed that house and wood, I am certain. We ought tomake haste, for the afternoons are short now, and you willplease to recollect there is nobody at home to get tea. "

"I hope Lucas will get upon one of his everlasting talks withfather, " said Hugh. 

"And that it will hold till we get home, " said Fleda. "It willbe the happiest use Lucas has made of his tongue in a goodwhile. "

Just as they stopped before a substantial-looking farm-house, a man came from the other way and stopped there too, with hishand upon the gate. 

"How far are we from Queechy, Sir?" said Hugh. 

"You're not from it at all, Sir, " said the man, politely. "You're in Queechy, Sir, at present. "

"Is this the right road from Montepoole to Queechy village?"

"It is not, Sir. It is a very tortuous direction, indeed. HaveI not the pleasure of speaking to Mr. Rossitur's younggentleman?"

Mr. Rossitur's young gentleman acknowledged his relationship, and begged the favour of being set in the right way home. 

"With much pleasure! You have been showing Miss Rossitur thepicturesque country about Montepoole?"

"My cousin and I have been there on business, and lost our waycoming back. "

"Ah, I dare say! Very easy. First time you have been there?"

"Yes, Sir; and we are in a hurry to get home. "

"Well, Sir — you know the road by Deacon Patterson's? — comesout just above the lake. "

Hugh did not remember. 

"Well — you keep this road straight on, — I'm sorry you are ina hurry, — you keep on till — do you know when you strike Mr. Harris's ground?"

No, Hugh knew nothing about it, nor Fleda. 

"Well, I'll tell you now how it is, " said the stranger, "ifyou'll permit me. You and your — a — cousin — come in and dous the pleasure of taking some refreshment. I know my sister'll have her table set out by this time — and I'll do myselfthe honour of introducing you to — a — these strange roads, afterwards. "

"Thank you, Sir, but that trouble is unnecessary — cannot youdirect us?"

"No trouble — indeed, Sir, I assure you, I should esteem it afavour — very highly. I — I am Dr. Quackenboss, Sir; you mayhave heard —"

"Thank you, Dr. Quackenboss, but we have no time thisafternoon — we are very anxious to reach home as soon aspossible, if you would be so good as to put us in the way. "

"I — really, Sir, I am afraid — to a person ignorant of thevarious localities — you will lose no time — I will just hitchyour horse here, and I'll have mine ready by the time thisyoung lady has rested. Miss — a — wont you join with me? Iassure you I will not put you to the expense of a minute. Thank you, Mr. Harden! — just clap the saddle on to Lollypop, and have him up here in three seconds. Thank you! — My dearMiss — a — wont you take my arm? I am gratified, I assureyou. "

Yielding to the apparent impossibility of getting anything outof Dr. Quackenboss, except civility, and to the realdifficulty of disappointing such very earnest good will, Fledaand Hugh did what older persons would not have done — alightedand walked up to the house. 

"This is quite a fortuitous occurrence, " the doctor went on. "I have often had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Rossitur's familyin church — in the little church at Queechy Run — and thatenabled me to recognise your cousin, as soon as I saw him inthe wagon. Perhaps, Miss — a — you may have possibly heard ofmy name? — Quackenboss — I don't know that you understood —"

"I have heard it, Sir. "

"My Irishmen, Miss — a — my Irish labourers, can't get hold ofbut one end of it — they call me Boss — ha, ha, ha!"

Fleda hoped his patients did not get hold of the other end ofit, and trembled, visibly. 

"Hard to pull a man's name to pieces before his face — ha, ha!but I am — a — not one thing myself — a kind of heterogynous —I am a piece of a physician, and a little in the agriculturalline also; so it's all fair. "

"The Irish treat my name as hardly, Dr. Quackenboss — theycall me nothing but Miss Ring-again. "

And then Fleda could laugh — and laugh she did — so heartily, that the doctor was delighted. 

"Ring-again! ha, ha! — very good! Well, Miss — a — I shouldn'tthink that anybody in your service would ever — a — ever letyou put your name in practice. "

But Fleda's delight at the excessive gallantry and awkwardnessof this speech was almost too much; or, as the doctorpleasantly remarked, her nerves were too many for her; andevery one of them was dancing by the time they reached thehall door. The doctor's flourishes lost not a bit of theirangularity from his tall, ungainly figure, and a lantern-jawedface, the lower member of which had now and then a somewhatlateral play when he was speaking, which curiously aided thequaint effect of his words. He ushered his guests into thehouse, seeming in a flow of self-gratulation. 

The supper-table was spread, sure enough, and hovering aboutit was the doctor's sister; a lady in whom Fleda only saw aDutch face, with eyes that made no impression, disagreeablefair hair, and a string of gilt beads round her neck. Apainted yellow floor under foot, a room that lookedexcessively _wooden_ and smelt of cheese, bare walls, and awell-filled table, was all that she took in besides. 

"I have the honour of presenting you to my sister, " said thedoctor, with suavity. "Flora, the Irish domestics of thisyoung lady call her name Miss Ring-again — if she will let usknow how it ought to be called, we shall be happy to beinformed. "

Dr. Quackenboss was made happy. 

"Miss _Ringgan_ — and this young gentleman is young Mr. Rossitur— the gentleman that has taken Squire Ringgan's old place. Wewere so fortunate as to have them lose their way thisafternoon, coming from the Pool, and they have just stepped into see if you can't find 'em a mouthful of something they caneat, while Lollypop is a-getting ready to see them home. "

Poor Miss Flora immediately disappeared into the kitchen, toorder a bit of superior cheese, and to have some slices of hamput on the gridiron, and then, coming back to the common room, went rummaging about, from cupboard to cupboard, in search ofcake and sweetmeats. Fleda protested and begged in vain. 

"She was so sorry she hadn't knowed, " Miss Flora said — "she'dha' had some cakes made that maybe they could have eaten, butthe bread was dry; and the cheese wa'n't as good somehow asthe last one they cut; maybe Miss Ringgan would prefer a pieceof newer made, if she liked it; and she hadn't had good luckwith her preserves last summer — the most of 'em had fomented— she thought it was the damp weather; but there was somestewed pears that maybe she would be so good as to approve —and there was some ham! whatever else it was, it was hot!" —

It was impossible — it was impossible, to do dishonour to allthis hospitality and kindness and pride that was brought outfor them. Early or late, they must eat, in mere gratitude. Thedifficulty was to avoid eating everything. Hugh and Fledamanaged to compound the matter with each other, one taking thecake and pears, and the other the ham and cheese. In the midstof all this overflow of goodwill, Fleda bethought her to askif Miss Flora knew of any girl or woman that would go out toservice. Miss Flora took the matter into grave considerationas soon as her anxiety on the subject of their cups of tea hadsubsided. She did not commit herself, but thought it possiblethat one of the Finns might be willing to go out. 

"Where do they live?"

"It's — a — not far from Queechy Run, " said the doctor, whosenow and then hesitation in the midst of his speech was neverfor want of a thought, but simply and merely for the bestwords to clothe it in. 

"Is it in our way to-night?"

He could make it so, the doctor said, with pleasure, for itwould give him permission to gallant them a little further. 

They had several miles yet to go, and the sun went down asthey were passing through Queechy Run. Under that still, cool, clear, autumn sky, Fleda would have enjoyed the ride verymuch, but that her unfulfilled errand was weighing upon her, and she feared her aunt and uncle might want her servicesbefore she could be at home. Still, late as it was, shedetermined to stop for a minute at Mrs. Finn's, and go homewith a clear conscience. At her door, and not till there, thedoctor was prevailed upon to part company, the rest of the waybeing perfectly plain. 

Mrs. Finn's house was a great unprepossessing building, washedand dried by the rain and sun into a dark, dingy colour, theonly one that had ever supplanted the original hue of thefreshsawn boards. This, indeed, was not an uncommon thing inthe country; near all the houses of the Deepwater settlementwere in the same case. Fleda went up a flight of steps to whatseemed the front door, but the girl that answered her knockled her down them again, and round to a lower entrance on theother side. This introduced Fleda to a large ground-floorapartment, probably the common room of the family, with thelarge kitchen fireplace, and flagged hearth, and wallcupboards, and the only furniture, the usual red backedsplinter chairs and wooden table. A woman standing before thefire with a broom in her hand, answered Fleda's inclinationwith a saturnine nod of the head, and, fetching one of thered-backs from the wall, bade her "sit down. "

Poor Fleda's nerves bade her "go away. " The people looked liketheir house. The principal woman, who remained standing, broomin hand, to hear Fleda's business, was, in good truth, a darkpersonage — her head covered with black hair, her person witha dingy black calico, and a sullen cloud lowering over hereye. At the corner of the fireplace was an old woman, laid byin an easy-chair; disabled, it was plain, not from mental butbodily infirmity; for her face had a cast of mischief whichcould not stand with the innocence of second childhood. At theother corner sat an elderly woman sewing, with tokens of hertrade for yards on the floor around her. Back at the far sideof the room, a young man was eating his supper at the table, alone; and under the table, on the floor, the enormous familybread-trough was unwontedly filled with the sewing-woman'schild, which had with superhuman efforts crawled into it, andlay kicking and crowing in delight at its new cradle. Fledadid not know how to enter upon her business. 

"I have been looking, " she began, "for a person who is willingto go out to work. Miss Flora Quackenboss told me perhaps Imight find somebody here. "

"Somebody to help?" said the woman, beginning to use her broomupon the hearth. "Who wants 'em?"

"Mrs. Rossitur — my aunt. "

"Mrs. Rossitur? — what, down to old Squire Ringgan's place?"

"Yes. We are left alone, and want somebody very much. "

"Do you want her only a few days, or do you calculate to haveher stop longer? because you know it wouldn't be worth thewhile to put oneself out for a week. "

"Oh, we want her to stay; if we suit each other. "

"Well, I don't know, " said the woman, going on with hersweeping. "I could let you have Hannah, but I 'spect I'll wanther to hum. What does Mis' Rossitur calculate to give?"

"I don't know — anything that's reasonable. "

"Hannah kin go — just as good as not, " said the old woman inthe corner, rubbing her hands up and down her lap — "Hannahkin go, — just as good as not!"

"Hannah ain't a-going, " said the first speaker, answeringwithout looking at her. "Hannah 'll be wanted to hum; and sheaint a well girl neither; she's kind o' weak in her muscles;and I calculate you'll want somebody that call take holdlively. There's Lucy, if she took a notion, she could go — butshe'd please herself about it. She wont do nothing without shehas a notion. "

This was inconclusive, and desiring to bring matters to apoint, Fleda, after a pause, asked if this lady thought Lucywould have a notion to go. 

"Well, I can't say — she ain't to hum, or you could ask her. She's down to Mis' Douglass's, working for her to-day. Do youknow Mis' Douglass? — Earl Douglass's wife?"

"O yes, I knew her long ago, " said Fleda, thinking it might beas well to throw in a spice of ingratiation. "I am FledaRinggan. I used to live here with my grandfather. "

"Don't say! Well, I thought you had a kind o' look — the oldSquire's granddarter, ain't you?"

"She looks like her father, " said the sewing-woman, layingdown her needle, which indeed had been little hindrance to heradmiration since Fleda came in. 

"She's a real pretty gal, " said the old woman in the corner. 

"He was as smart a looking man as there was in Queechytownship, or Montepoole either, " the sewing-woman went on, "Doyou mind him, Flidda?"

"Anastasy, " said the old woman aside, "let Hannah go!"

"Hannah's a-going to keep to hum — Well, about Lucy, " shesaid, as Fleda rose to go — "I can't just say — suppos'n youcome here to-morrow afternoon — there's a few coming to quilt— and Lucy 'll be to hum then. I should admire to have you, and then you and Lucy can agree what you'll fix upon. You canget somebody to bring you, can't you?"

Fleda inwardly shrank, but managed to get off with thanks, andwithout making a positive promise, which Miss Anastasia wouldfain have had. She was glad to be out of the house, anddriving off with Hugh. 

"How delicious the open air feels!"

"What has this visit produced?" said Hugh. 

"An invitation to a party, and a slight possibility that atthe party I may find what I want. "

"A party, " said Hugh. Fleda laughed and explained. 

"And do you intend to go?"

"Not I — at least I think not. But, Hugh, don't say anythingabout all this to aunt Lucy. She would be troubled. "

Fleda had certainly, when she came away, no notion ofimproving her acquaintance with Miss Anastasia; but thesupper, and the breakfast and the dinner of the next day, withall the nameless and almost numberless duties of house workthat filled up the time between, wrought her to a very strongsense of the necessity of having some kind of "help" soon. Mrs. Rossitur wearied herself excessively with doing verylittle, and then looked so sad to see Fleda working on, thatit was more disheartening and harder to bear than the fatigue. Hugh was a most faithful and invaluable coadjutor, and hislack of strength was, like her own, made up by energy of will;but neither of them could bear the strain long; and when thefinal clearing away of the dinner-dishes gave her a breathing-time, she resolved to dress herself, and put her thimble inher pocket, and go over to Miss Finn's quilting. Miss Lucymight not be like Miss Anastasia; and if she were, anythingthat had hands and feet to move instead of her own, would bewelcome. 

Hugh went with her to the door, and was to come for her atsunset. 

CHAPTER XX. 

"With superfluity of breedingFirst makes you sick, and then with feeding. "JENYNS. 

Miss Anastasia was a little surprised and a good dealgratified, Fleda saw, by her coming, and played the hostesswith great benignity. The quilting-frame was stretched in anupper room, not in the long kitchen, to Fleda's joy; most ofthe company were already seated at it, and she had to gothrough a long string of introductions before she waspermitted to take her place. First of all, Earl Douglass'swife, who rose up, and taking both Fleda's hands, squeezed andshook them heartily, giving her, with eye and lip, a mostgenial welcome. This lady had every look of being a veryclever woman — "a manager, " she was said to be; and, indeed, her very nose had a little pinch, which prepared one fornothing superfluous about her. Even her dress could not havewanted another breadth from the skirt, and had no fullness tospare about the body — neat as a pin, though; and a well-to-dolook through it all. Miss Quackenboss Fleda recognised as anold friend, gilt beads and all. Catherine Douglass had grownup to a pretty girl during the five years since Fleda had leftQueechy, and gave her a greeting, half-smiling, half-shy. There was a little more affluence about the flow of herdrapery, and the pink ribbon round her neck was confined by alittle dainty Jew's-harp of a brooch; she had her mother'spinch of the nose too. Then there were two other young ladies— Miss Letitia Ann Thornton, a tall-grown girl in pantalettes, evidently a would-be aristocrat, from the air of her head andlip, with a well-looking face, and looking well knowing of thesame, and sporting neat little white cuffs at her wrists — theonly one who bore such a distinction. The third of thesedamsels, Jessie Healy, impressed Fleda with having beenbrought up upon coarse meat, and having grown heavy inconsequence; the other two were extremely fair and delicate, both in complexion and feature. Her aunt Syra, Fledarecognised without particular pleasure, and managed to seatherself at the quilt with the sewing-woman and Miss Hannahbetween them. Miss Lucy Finn she found seated at her righthand, but after all the civilities she had just gone through, Fleda had not courage just then to dash into business withher, and Miss Lucy herself stitched away, and was dumb. 

So were the rest of the party — rather. The presence of thenew comer seemed to have the effect of a spell. Fleda couldnot think they had been as silent before her joining them, asthey were for some time afterwards. The young ladies wereabsolutely mute, and conversation seemed to flag even amongthe elder ones; and if Fleda ever raised her eyes from thequilt to look at somebody, she was sure to see somebody's eyeslooking at her, with a curiosity well enough defined, andmixed with a more or less amount of benevolence and pleasure. Fleda was growing very industrious and feeling her cheeks growwarm, when the checked stream of conversation began to takerevenge by turning its tide upon her. 

"Are you glad to be back to Queechy, Fleda?" said Mrs. Douglass, from the opposite far end of the quilt. 

"Yes Ma'am, " said Fleda, smiling back her answer — "on someaccounts. "

"Ain't she growed like her father, Mis' Douglass?" said thesewing-woman. "Do you recollect Walter Ringgan? What ahandsome feller he was!"

The two opposite girls immediately found something to say toeach other. 

"She aint a bit more like him than she is like her mother, "said Mrs. Douglass, biting off the end of her threadenergetically. "Amy Ringgan was a sweet good woman as ever wasin this town. "

Again her daughter's glance and smile went over to thespeaker. 

"You stay in Queechy, and live like Queechy folks do, " Mrs. Douglass added, nodding encouragingly, "and you'll beat bothon 'em. "

But this speech jarred, and Fleda wished it had not beenspoken. 

"How does your uncle like farming?" said aunt Syra. 

A home thrust, which Fleda parried by saying he had hardly gotaccustomed to it yet. 

"What's been his business? what has he been doing all his lifetill now?" said the sewing-woman. 

Fleda replied that he had had no business; and after the mindsof the company had had time to entertain this statement, shewas startled by Miss Lucy's voice at her elbow. 

"It seems kind o' curious, don't it, that a man should live tobe forty or fifty years old, and not know anything of theearth he gets his bread from?"

"What makes you think he don't?" said Miss Thornton, rathertartly. 

"She wa'n't speaking o' nobody, " said aunt Syra. 

"I was — I was speaking of man — I was speaking abstractly, "said Fleda's right-hand neighbour. 

"What's abstractly?" said Miss Anastasia, scornfully. 

"Where do you get hold of such hard words, Lucy?" said Mrs. Douglass. 

"I don't know, Mis' Douglass, they come to me; it's practice, I suppose. I had no intention of being obscure. "

"One kind o' word 's as easy as another, I suppose, whenyou're used to it, aint it?" said the sewing-woman. 

"What's abstractly?" said the mistress of the house, again. 

"Look in the dictionary, if you want to know, " said hersister. 

"I don't want to know — I only want you to tell. "

"When do you get time for it, Lucy? ha'n't you nothing else topractise?" pursued Mrs. Douglass. 

"Yes, Mis' Douglass; but then there are times for exertion, and other times less disposable; and when I feel thoughtful orlow, I commonly retire to my room, and contemplate the stars, or write a composition. "

The sewing-woman greeted this speech with an unqualified ha!ha! and Fleda involuntarily raised her head to look at thelast speaker; but there was nothing to be noticed about her, except that she was in rather nicer order than the rest of theFinn family. 

"Did you get home safe last night?" inquired Miss Quackenboss, bending forward over the quilt to look down to Fleda. 

Fleda thanked her, and replied that they had been overturned, and had several ribs broken. 

"And where have you been, Fleda, all this while?" said Mrs. Douglass. 

Fleda told, upon which all the quilting party raised theirheads simultaneously, to take another review of her. 

"Your uncle's wife aint a Frenchwoman, be she?" asked thesewing-woman. 

Fleda said, "Oh, no!" and Miss Quackenboss remarked, that "shethought she wa'n't;" whereby Fleda perceived it had been asubject of discussion. 

"She lives like one, don't she?" said aunt Syra. 

Which imputation Fleda also refuted to the best of her power. 

"Well, don't she have dinner in the middle of the afternoon?"pursued aunt Syra. 

Fleda was obliged to admit that. 

"And she can't eat without she has a fresh piece of roast meaton table every day, can she?"

"It is not always roast, " said Fleda, half vexed and halflaughing. 

"I'd rather have a good dish o' bread and 'lasses, than thehull on't, " observed old Mrs. Finn, from the corner where shesat, manifestly turning up her nose at the far-off joints onMrs. Rossitur's dinner-table. 

The girls on the other side of the quilt again held counseltogether, deep and low. 

"Well, didn't she pick up all them notions in that placeyonder? — where you say she has been?" aunt Syra went on. 

"No, " said Fleda; "everybody does so in New York. "

"I want to know what kind of a place New York is, now, " saidold Mrs. Finn, drawlingly. "I s'pose it's pretty big, aintit?"

Fleda replied that it was. 

"I shouldn't wonder if it was a'most as far as from here toQueechy Run, now; aint it?"

The distance mentioned being somewhere about one-eighth of NewYork's longest diameter, Fleda answered that it was quite asfar. 

"I s'pose there's plenty o' mighty rich folks there, aintthere?"

"Plenty, I believe, " said Fleda. 

"I should hate to live in it awfully, " was the old woman'sconclusion. 

"I should admire to travel in many countries, " said Miss Lucy, for the first time seeming to intend her words particularlyfor Fleda's ear. "I think nothing makes people more genteel. Ihave observed it frequently. "

Fleda said it was very pleasant; but though encouraged by thisopening, could not muster enough courage to ask if Miss Lucyhad a "notion" to come and prove their gentility. Her nextquestion was startling — if Fleda had ever studiedmathematics. 

"No, " said Fleda. "Have you?"

"O my, yes! There was a lot of us concluded we would learn it;and we commenced to study it a long time ago. I think it's amost elevating —"

The discussion was suddenly broken off, for the sewing-womanexclaimed, as the other sister came in and took her seat —

"Why, Hannah! you ha'n't been makin' bread with that clock onyour hands!"

"Well, Mis' Barnes!" said the girl; "I've washed 'em, and I'vemade bread with 'em, and even that did not take it off!"

"Do you look at the stars, too, Hannah?" said Mrs. Douglass. 

Amidst a small hubbub of laugh and talk which now becamegeneral, poor Fleda fell back upon one single thought, onewish — that Hugh would come to fetch her home before tea-time. But it was a vain hope. Hugh was not to be there till sundown, and supper was announced long before that. They all fileddown, and Fleda with them, to the great kitchen below stairs;and she found herself placed in the seat of honour indeed, butan honour she would gladly have escaped, at Miss Anastasia'sright hand. 

A temporary locked-jaw would have been felt a blessing. Fledadared hardly even look about her; but under the eye of herhostess the instinct of good breeding was found sufficient toswallow everything, literally and figuratively. There was agood deal to swallow. The usual variety of cakes, sweetmeats, beef, cheese, biscuits, and pies, was set out with somepeculiarity of arrangement which Fleda had never seen before, and which left that of Miss Quackenboss elegant by comparison. Down each side of the table ran an advanced guard of littlesauces in Indian file, but in companies of three, the fileleader of each being a saucer of custard, its follower a dittoof preserves, and the third keeping a sharp look-out in theshape of pickles; and to Fleda's unspeakable horror, shediscovered that the guests were expected to help themselves atwill from these several stores with their own spoons, transferring what they took either to their own plates, or atonce to its final destination, which last mode several of thecompany preferred. The advantage of this plan was thenecessary great display of the new silver tea-spoons, whichMrs. Douglass slily hinted to aunt Syra were the moving causeof the tea-party. But aunt Syra swallowed sweetmeats, andwould not give heed. 

There was no relief for poor Fleda. Aunt Syra was her nextneighbour, and opposite to her, at Miss Anastasia's left hand, was the disagreeable countenance and peering eyes of the oldcrone, her mother. Fleda kept her own eyes fixed upon herplate, and endeavoured to see nothing but that. 

"Why, here's Fleda aint eating anything, " said Mrs. Douglass. "Wont you have some preserves? take some custard, do!Anastasy, she ha'n't a spoon — no wonder!"

Fleda had secretly conveyed hers under cover. 

"There was one, " said Miss Anastasia, looking about where oneshould have been. I'll get another as soon as I give Mis'Springer her tea. "

"Ha'n't you got enough to go round?" said the old woman, plucking at her daughter's sleeve. "Anastasy! ha'n't you gotenough to go round?"

This speech, which was spoken with a most spiteful simplicity, Miss Anastasia answered with superb silence, and presentlyproduced spoons enough to satisfy herself and the company. ButFleda! No earthly persuasion could prevail upon her to touchpickles, sweetmeats, or custard that evening; and even in thebread and cakes she had a vision of hands before her that tookaway her appetite. She endeavoured to make a show with hungbeef and cups of tea, which indeed was not Pouchong; but hersupper came suddenly to an end upon a remark of her hostess, addressed to the whole table, that they needn't be surprisedif they found any bits of pudding in the gingerbread, for itwas made from the molasses the children left the other day. Who "the children" were Fleda did not know, neither was itmaterial. 

It was sundown, but Hugh had not come when they went to theupper rooms again. Two were open now, for they were small, andthe company promised not to be such. Fathers and brothers, andhusbands began to come, and loud talking, and laughing andjoking took place of the quilting chit-chat. Fleda would fainhave absorbed herself in the work again, but though the framestill stood there, the minds of the company were plainlyturned aside from their duty, or perhaps they thought thatMiss Anastasia had had admiration enough to dispense withservice. Nobody showed a thimble but one or two old ladies;and as numbers and spirits gathered strength, a kind ofromping game was set on foot, in which a vast deal of kissingseemed to be the grand wit of the matter. Fleda shrank awayout of sight behind the open door of communication between thetwo rooms, pleading, with great truth, that she was tired, andwould like to keep perfectly quiet; and she had soon thesatisfaction of being apparently forgotten. 

In the other room, some of the older people were enjoyingthemselves more soberly. Fleda's ear was too near the crack ofthe door, not to have the benefit of more of theirconversation than she cared for. It soon put quiet of mind outof the question. 

"He'll twist himself up pretty short — that's my sense of it;and he wont take long to do it, nother, " said Earl Douglass'svoice. 

Fleda would have known it anywhere, from its extremepeculiarity. It never either rose or fell much from a certainpitch; and at that level the words gurgled forth, seeminglyfrom an everbrimming fountain; he never wanted one; and thestream had neither let nor stay till his modicum of sense hadfairly run out. People thought he had not a greater stock ofthat than some of his neighbours; but he issued an amount ofword-currency sufficient for the use of the county. 

"He'll run himself agin a post pretty quick, " said uncleJoshua, in a confirmatory tone of voice. 

Fleda had a confused idea that somebody was going to hanghimself. 

"He aint a-workin' things right, " said Douglass; "he aint a-workin' things right; he's takin' hold o' everything by thetail end. He aint studied the business; he doesn't know whenthings is right, and he doesn't know when things is wrong; andif they're wrong, he don't know how to set 'em right. He's gota feller there that aint no more fit to be there, than I am tobe Vice-President of the United States; and I aint a-going tosay what I think I am fit for, but I ha'n't studied for thatplace, and I shouldn't like to stand an examination for't; anda man hadn't ought to be a farmer no more if he ha'n'tqualified himself. That's my idee. I like to see a thing donewell, if it's to be done at all; and there aint a stitch o'land been laid right on the hull farm, nor a furrow driv' asit had ought to be, since he came on to it; and I say, SquireSpringer, a man aint going to get along in that way, and hehadn't ought to. I work hard myself, and I calculate to workhard, and I make a livin' by't; and I'm content to work hard. When I see a man with his hands in his pockets, I think he'llhave nothin' else in 'em soon. I don't believe he's done ahand's turn himself on the land the hull season!"

And upon this Mr. Douglass brought up. 

"My son, Lucas, has been workin' with him, off and on, prettymuch the hull time since he come; and he says he ha'n't begunto know how to spell farmer yet. "

"Ay, ay! My wife — she's a little harder on folks than I be —I think it aint worth while to say nothin' of a man without Ican say some good of him — that's my idee; and it don't do noharm, nother; but my wife, she says he's got to let down hisnotions a peg or two afore they'll hitch just in the rightplace; and I wont say but what I think she aint, maybe, furfrom right. If a man's above his business, he stands a prettyfair chance to be below it some day. I wont say myself, for Ihaven't any acquaintance with him, and a man oughtn't to speakbut of what he's knowing to; but I have heerd say, that hewa'n't as conversationable as it would ha' been handsome inhim to be, all things considerin. ' There seems to be a goodmany things said of him, somehow, and l always think men don'ttalk of a man if he don't give 'em occasion; but, anyhow, I'vebeen past the farm pretty often myself this summer, workingwith Seth Plumfield; and I've took notice of things myself;and I know he's been makin' beds o' sparrowgrass when he hadought to ha' been makin' fences, and he's been helpin' thatlittle girl o' his'n set her flowers, when he would ha' beenbetter sot to work lookin' after his Irishman. But I don'tknow as it made much matter, nother; for if he went wrong, Mr. Rossitur wouldn't know how to set him right, and if he was a-going right, Mr. Rossitur would ha' been just as likely to ha'set him wrong. Well, I'm sorry for him!"

"Mr. Rossitur is a most gentlemanlike man, " said the voice ofDr. Quackenboss. 

"Ay — I dare say he is, " Earl responded, in precisely the sametone. "I was down to his house one day last summer to see him. He wa'n't to hum, though. "

"It would be strange if harm come to a man with such aguardian angel in the house as that man has in his'n. " saidDr. Quackenboss. 

"Well she's a pretty creetur!" said Douglass, looking up withsome animation. "I wouldn't blame any man that sot a good dealby her. I will say I think she's as handsome as my own darter;and a man can't go no furder than that, I suppose. "

"She wont help his farming much, I guess, " said uncle Joshua, "nor his wife nother. "

Fleda heard Dr. Quackenboss coming through the doorway, andstarted from her corner, for fear he might find her out there, and know what she had heard. 

He very soon found her out in the new place she had chosen, and came up to pay his compliments. Fleda was in a mood foranything but laughing, yet the mixture of the ludicrous whichthe doctor administered set her nerves a-twitching. Bringinghis chair down sideways at one angle and his person atanother, so as to meet at the moment of the chair's touchingthe floor, and with a look and smile, slanting to match, thedoctor said —

"Well, Miss Ringgan, has — a — Mrs. Rossitur — does she feelherself reconciled yet?"

"Reconciled, Sir?' said Fleda. 

"Yes — a — to Queechy?"

"She never quarrelled with it, Sir, " said Fleda, quite unableto keep from laughing. 

"Yes — I mean — a — she feels that she can sustain her spiritsin different situations?"

"She is very well, Sir, thank you. "

"It must have been a great change to her — and to you all —coming to this place. "

"Yes, Sir; the country is very different from the city. "

"In what part of New York was Mr. Rossitur's formerresidence?"

" In State-street, Sir. "

"State-street — that is somewhere in the direction of thePark?"

"No, Sir, not exactly. "

"Was Mrs. Rossitur a native of the city?"

"Not of New York. Oh, Hugh! my dear Hugh!" exclaimed Fleda, inanother tone — "what have you been thinking of?"

"Father wanted me, " said Hugh. "I could not help it, Fleda. "

"You are not going to have the cruelty to take your — a —cousin away, Mr. Rossitur?" said the doctor. 

But Fleda was for once happy to be cruel; she would hear noremonstrances. Though her desire for Miss Lucy's "help" hadconsiderably lessened, she thought she could not in politenessavoid speaking on the subject, after being invited there onpurpose. But Miss Lucy said she "calculated to stay at homethis winter, " unless she went to live with somebody at Kenton, for the purpose of attending a course of philosophy lecturesthat she heard were to be given there. So that matter wassettled; and, clasping Hugh's arm, Fleda turned away from thehouse with a step and heart both lightened by the joy of beingout of it. 

"I coudn't come sooner, Fleda, " said Hugh. 

"No matter — Oh, I'm so glad to be away! Walk a little faster, dear Hugh. Have you missed me at home?"

"Do you want me to say no or yes?" said Hugh, smiling. "We didvery well — mother and I — and I have left everything ready tohave tea the minute you get home. What sort of a time have youhad?"

In answer to which Fleda gave him a long history, and thenthey walked on a while in silence. The evening was still, andwould have been dark but for the extreme brilliancy of thestars through the keen, clear atmosphere. Fleda looked up atthem, and drew large draughts of bodily and mental refreshmentwith the bracing air. 

"Do you know to-morrow will be Thanksgiving-day?"

"Yes; what made you think of it?"

"They were talking about it; they make a great fuss hereThanksgiving-day. "

"I don't think we shall make much of a fuss, " said Hugh. 

"I don't think we shall. I wonder what I shall do — I amafraid uncle Rolf will get tired of coffee and omelettes inthe course of time; and my list of receipts is very limited. "

"It is a pity you didn't beg one of Mrs. Renney's books, " saidHugh, laughing. "If you had only known —"

" 'Tisn't too late!" said Fleda, quickly. "I'll send to NewYork for one. I will! I'll ask uncle Orrin to get it for me. That's the best thought!"

"But, Fleda, you're not going to turn cook in that fashion?"

"It would be no harm to have the book, " said Fleda. "I cantell you, we mustn't expect to get anybody here that can makean omelette, or even coffee, that uncle Rolf will drink. Oh, Hugh! —"

"What?"

"I don't know where we are going to get anybody! But don't sayanything to aunt Lucy about it. "

"Well, we can keep Thanksgiving-day, Fleda, without a dinner, "said Hugh, cheerfully. 

"Yes, indeed — I am sure I can — after being among thesepeople to-night. How much I have that they want! Look at theGreat Bear over there! Isn't that better than New York?"

"The Great Bear hangs over New York, too, " Hugh said, with asmile. 

"Ah! but it isn't the same thing. Heaven hasn't the same eyesfor the city and the country. "

As Hugh and Fleda went quick up to the kitchen-door, theyovertook a dark figure, at whom looking narrowly as shepassed, Fleda recognised Seth Plumfield. He was joyfully letinto the kitchen, and there proved to be the bearer of a hugedish, carefully covered with a napkin. 

"Mother guessed you hadn't any Thanksgiving ready, " he said, "and she wanted to send this down to you; so I thought I wouldcome and fetch it myself. "

"Oh, thank her! and thank you, cousin Seth; how good you are!"

"Mother ha'n't lost her old trick at 'em, " said he; "so I hopethat's good. "

"Oh, I know it is, " said Fleda. "I remember aunt Miriam'sThanksgiving chicken-pies. Now, cousin Seth, you must come in, and see aunt Lucy. "

"No, " said he, quietly: "I've got my farm boots on. I guess Iwont see anybody but you. "

But Fleda would not suffer that; and finding she could notmove him, she brought her aunt out into the kitchen. Mrs. Rossitur's manner of speaking, and thanking him, quite charmedSeth, and he went away with a kindly feeling towards thosegentle, bright eves, which he never forgot. 

"Now, we've something for to-morrow, Hugh !" said Fleda; "andsuch a chicken-pie, I can tell you, as you never saw. Hugh, isn't it odd, how different a thing is in differentcircumstances? You don't know how glad I was when I put myhands upon that warm pie-dish, and knew what it was; and whendid I ever care in New York about Emile's doings?"

"Except the almond gauffres, " said Hugh, smiling. 

"I never thought to be so glad of a chicken-pie, " said Fleda, shaking her head. 

Aunt Miriam's dish bore out Fleda's praise, in the opinion ofall that tasted it; for such fowls, such butter, and suchcream, as went to its composition, could hardly be known butin an unsophisticated state of society. But one pie could notlast for ever; and as soon as the signs of dinner were got ridof, Thanksgiving-day though it was, poor Fleda was fain to goup the hill, to consult aunt Miriam about the possibility ofgetting "help. "

"I don't know, dear Fleda, " said she; "if you cannot get LucyFlinn, I don't know who else there is you can get. Mrs. Toleswants both her daughters at home, I know, this winter, becauseshe is sick; and Marietta Winchel is working at aunt Syra's. Idon't know — do you remember Barby Elster, that used to livewith me?"

"O yes!"

"She might go — she has been staying at home these two years, to take care of her old mother, that's the reason she left me;but she has another sister come home now — Hetty, thatmarried, and went to Montepoole; she's lost her husband andcome home to live; so perhaps Barby would go out again. But Idon't know — how do you think your aunt Lucy would get alongwith her?"

"Dear aunt Miriam, you know we must do as we can. We must havesomebody. "

"Barby is a little quick, " said Mrs. Plumfield, "but I thinkshe is good-hearted, and she is thorough and faithful as theday is long. If your aunt and uncle can put up with her ways. "

"I am sure we can, aunt Miriam. Aunt Lucy's the easiest personin the world to please; and I'll try and keep her away fromuncle Rolf. I think we can get along. I know Barby used tolike me. "

"But then Barby knows nothing about French cooking, my child;she can do nothing but the common, country things. What willyour uncle and aunt say to that?"

"I don't know, " said Fleda, "but anything is better thannothing. I must try and do what she can't do. I'll come up andget you to teach me, aunt Miriam. "

Aunt Miriam hugged and kissed her before speaking. 

"I'll teach you what I know, my darling: — and now we'll goright off and see Barby — we shall catch her just in a goodtime. "

It was a poor little unpainted house, standing back from theroad, and with a double row of' boards laid down to serve as apath to it. But this board walk was scrubbed perfectly clean. They went in without knocking. There was nobody there but anold woman seated before the fire, shaking all over with theSt. Vitus's Dance. She gave them no salutation, callinginstead on "Barby!" — who presently made her appearance fromthe inner door. 

"Barby! who's this?"

"That's Mis' Plumfield, mother, " said the daughter, speakingloud as to a deaf person. 

The old lady immediately got up and dropped a very quick andwhat was meant to be a very respect-showing courtesy, sayingat the same time, with much deference, and with one of herinvoluntary twitches, "I ' 'maun ' to know!" The sense of theludicrous and the feeling of pity together, were painfullyoppressive. Fleda turned away to the daughter, who cameforward and shook hands with a frank look of pleasure at thesight of her elder visitor. 

"Barby, " said Mrs. Plumfield, "this is little Fleda Ringgan —do you remember her?"

"I 'mind to know!" said Barby, transferring her hand toFleda's, and giving it a good squeeze. "She's growed a finegal, Mis' Plumfield. You ha'n't lost none of your good looks —- ha' you kept all your old goodness along with 'em?"

Fleda laughed at this abrupt question, and said she didn'tknow. 

"If you ha'n't, I wouldn't give much for your eyes, " saidBarby, letting go her hand. 

Mrs. Plumfield laughed too at Barby's equivocal mode ofcomplimenting. 

"Who's that young gal, Barby?" inquired Mrs. Elster. 

"That's Mis' Plumfield's niece, mother. "

"She's a handsome little creetur, aint she?"

They all laughed at that, and Fleda's cheeks growing crimson, Mrs. Plumfield stepped forward to ask after the old lady'shealth; and while she talked and listened, Fleda's eyes notedthe spotless condition of the room — the white table, the nicerag-carpet, the bright many-coloured patchwork counterpane onthe bed, the brilliant cleanliness of the floor, where thesmall carpet left the boards bare, the tidy look of the twowomen; and she made up her mind that she could get along withMiss Barbara very well. Barby was rather tall, and in facedecidedly a fine-looking woman, though her figure had theusual scantling proportions which nature or fashion assigns tothe hard-working dwellers in the country. A handsome, quick, gray eye, and the mouth, were sufficiently expressive ofcharacter, and perhaps of temper, but there were no lines ofanything sinister or surly; you could imagine a flash, but nota cloud. 

"Barby, you are not tied at home any longer, are you?" said. Mrs. Plumfield, coming back from the old lady and speakingrather low; — "now that Hetty is here, can't your mother spareyou?"

"Well, I reckon she could, Mis' Plumfield, if I could work itso that she'd be more comfortable by my being away. "

"Then you'd have no objection to go out again?"

"Where to?"

"Fleda's uncle, you know, has taken my brother's old place, and they have no help. They want somebody to take the wholemanagement — just you, Barby. Mrs. Rossitur isn't strong. "

"Nor don't want to be, does she? I've heerd tell of her, Mis'Plumfield — I should despise to have as many legs and arms asother folks, and not be able to help myself!"

"But you wouldn't despise to help other folks, I hope, " saidMrs. Plumfield, smiling. 

"People that want you very much, too, " said Fleda; for shequite longed to have that strong hand and healthy eye to relyupon at home. Barby looked at her with a relaxed face, and, after a little consideration, said she guessed "she'd try. "

"Mis' Plumfield, " cried the old lady, as they were moving —"Mis' Plumfield, you said you'd send me a piece of pork. "

"I haven't forgotten it, Mrs. Elster — you shall have it. "

"Well, you get it out for me yourself, " said the old woman, speaking very energetically — "don't you send no one else tothe barrel for't, because I know you'll give me the biggestpiece. "

Mrs. Plumfield laughed and promised. 

"I'll come up and work it out some odd day, " said thedaughter, nodding intelligently, as she followed them to thedoor. 

"We'll talk about that, " said Mrs. Plumfield. 

"She was wonderful pleased with the pie, " said Barby, "and sowas Hetty; she ha'n't seen anything so good, she says, sinceshe quit Queechy. "

"Well, Barby, " said Mrs. Plumfield, as she turned and graspedher hand, "did you remember your thanksgiving over it?"

"Yes, Mis' Plumfield, " and the fine grey eyes fell to thefloor; "but I minded it only because it had come from you. Iseemed to hear you saying just that out of every bone Ipicked. "

"You minded my message, " said the other, gently. 

"Well, I don't mind the things I had ought to most, " saidBarby, in a subdued voice — "never! — 'cept mother — I aintvery apt to forget her. "

Mrs. Plumfield saw a tell-tale glittering beneath the droopingeyelid. She added no more but a sympathetic strong squeeze ofthe hand she held, and turned to follow Fleda who had gone onahead. 

"Mis' Plumfield, " said Barby, before they had reached thestile that led into the road, where Fleda was standing, "willI be sure of having the money regular down yonder? You know, Ihadn't ought to go otherways, on account of mother. "

"Yes, it will be sure, " said Mrs. Plumfield, "and regular;"adding quietly, "I'll make it so. "

There was a bond for the whole amount in aunt Miriam's eyes;and, quite satisfied, Barby went back to the house. 

"Will she expect to come to our table, aunt Miriam'? saidFleda, when they had walked a little way. 

"No, she will not expect that; but Barby will want a differentkind of managing from those Irish women of yours. She wontbear to be spoken to in a way that don't suit her notions ofwhat she thinks she deserves; and perhaps your aunt and unclewill think her notions rather high — I don't know. "

"There is no difficulty with aunt Lucy, " said Fleda; "and Iguess I can manage uncle Rolf — I'll try. _I_ like her verymuch. "

"Barby is very poor, " said Mrs. Plumfield; "she has nothingbut her own earnings to support herself and her old mother, and now, I suppose, her sister and her child; for Hetty is apoor thing — never did much, and now I suppose does nothing. "

"Are those Finns poor, aunt Miriam?"

"O no — not at all — they are very well off. "

"So I thought — they seemed to have plenty of everything, andsilver spoons and all. But why then do they go out to work?"

"They are a little too fond of getting money, I expect, " saidaunt Miriam. "And they are a queer sort of people rather — themother is queer, and the children are queer — they aint likeother folks exactly — never were. "

"I am very glad we are to have Barby, instead of that LucyFinn, " said Fleda. "Oh, aunt Miriam! you can't think how mucheasier my heart feels. "

"Poor child!" said aunt Miriam, looking at her. "But it isn'tbest, Fleda, to have things work too smooth in this world. "

"No, I suppose not, " said Fleda, sighing. "Isn't it verystrange, aunt Miriam, that it should make people worse insteadof better to have everything go pleasantly with them?"

"It is because they are apt then to be so full of the present, that they forget the care of the future. "

"Yes, and forget there is anything better than the present, Isuppose, " said Fleda. 

"So we mustn't fret at the ways our Father takes to keep usfrom hurting ourselves, " said aunt Miriam, cheerfully. 

"O no!" said Fleda, looking up brightly, in answer to thetender manner in which these words were spoken; — "and Ididn't mean that _this_ is much of a trouble — only I am veryglad to think that somebody is coming to-morrow. "

Aunt Miriam thought that gentle unfretful face could not standin need of much discipline. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

"Wise men alwayAffyrme and say, That best is for a manDiligently, For to apply, The business that he can. " — MORE

Fleda waited for Barby's coming the next day with a littleanxiety. The introduction and installation, however, werehappily got over. Mrs. Rossitur, as Fleda knew, was mosteasily pleased, and Barby Elster's quick eye was satisfiedwith the unaffected and universal gentleness and politeness ofher new employer. She made herself at home in half an hour;and Mrs. Rossitur and Fleda were comforted to perceive, byunmistakable signs, that their presence was not needed in thekitchen, and they might retire to their own premises andforget there was another part of the house. Fleda hadforgotten it utterly, and deliciously enjoying the rest ofmind and body, she was stretched upon the sofa, luxuriatingover some volume from her remnant of a library, when the innerdoor was suddenly pushed open far enough to admit of theentrance of Miss Elster's head. 

"Where's the soft soap?"

Fleda's book went down, and her heart jumped to her mouth, forher uncle was sitting over by the window. Mrs. Rossitur lookedup in amaze, and waited for the question to be repeated. 

"I say, where's the soft soap?"

"Soft soap!" said Mrs. Rossitur — "I don't know whether thereis any — Fleda, do you know?"

"I was trying to think, aunt Lucy — I don't believe there isany. "

"_Where_ is it?" said Barby. 

"There is none, I believe, " said Mrs. Rossitur

"Where _was_ it, then?"

"Nowhere — there has not been any in the house, " said Fleda, raising herself up to see over the back of her sofa. 

"There ha'n't been none!" said Miss Elster, in a tone moresignificant than her words, and shutting the door as abruptlyas she had opened it. 

"What upon earth does the woman mean?" exclaimed Mr. Rossitur, springing up and advancing towards the kitchen door. Fledathrew herself before him. 

"Nothing at all, uncle Rolf — she doesn't mean anything at all— she doesn't know any better. "

"I will improve her knowledge — get out of the way, Fleda. "

"But, uncle Rolf, just hear me one moment — please don't! —she didn't mean any harm — these people don't know any manners— just let me speak to her, please, uncle Rolf!" said Fleda, laying both hands upon her uncle's arms — "I'll manage her. "

Mr. Rossitur's wrath was high, and he would have run over orknocked down anything less gentle that had stood in his way;hut even the harshness of strength shuns to set itself inarray against the meekness that does not _oppose;_ if the touchof those hands had been a whit less light, or the glance ofher eye less submissively appealing, it would have availednothing. As it was, he stopped and looked at her, at firstscowling, but then with a smile. 

"_You_ manage her!" said he. 

"Yes, " said Fleda, laughing, and now exerting her force, shegently pushed him back towards the seat he had quitted — "yes, uncle Rolf, you've enough else to manage, don't undertake our'help. ' Deliver over all your displeasure upon me whenanything goes wrong — I will be the conductor to carry it offsafely into the kitchen, and discharge it just at that pointwhere I think it will do most execution. Now, will you, uncleRolf? — Because we have got a new-fashioned piece of fire-armsin the other room, that I am afraid will go off unexpectedlyif it is meddled with by an unskilful hand; and that wouldleave us without arms, you see, or with only aunt Lucy's andmine, which are not reliable. "

"You saucy girl!" said her uncle, who was laughing partly atand partly with her, "I don't know what you deserve exactly. Well, keep this precious new operative of yours out of my way, and I'll take care to keep out of hers. But mind, you mustmanage not to have your piece snapping in my face in thisfashion, for I wont stand it. "

And so, quieted, Mr. Rossitur sat down to his book again; andFleda, leaving hers open, went to attend upon Barby. 

"There ain't much yallow soap neither, " said this personage, "if this is all. There's one thing — if we ha'n't got it, wecan make it. I must get Mis' Rossitur to have a leach-tub sotup right away. I'm a dreadful hand for havin' plenty o' soap. "

"What is a leach-tub?" said Fleda. 

"Why, a leach-tub, for to leach ashes in. That's easy enough. I'll fix it, afore we're any on us much older. If Mr. Rossitur'll keep me in good hard wood, I sha'n't cost him hardlyanything for potash. "

"I'll see about it, " said Fleda; "and I will see about havingthe leach-tub, or whatever it is, put up for you. And, Barby, whenever you want anything, will you just speak to me aboutit? — and if I am in the other room, ask me to come out here;because my aunt is not strong, and does not know where thingsare as well as I do; and when my uncle is in there, hesometimes does not like to be disturbed with hearing any suchtalk. If you'll tell me, I'll see and have everything done foryou. "

"Well — you get me a leach sot up — that's all I'll ask of youjust now, " said Barby, good-humouredly, "and help me to findthe soap-grease, if there is any. As to the rest, I don't wantto see nothin' o' him in the kitchen, so I'll relieve him ifhe don't want to see much o' me in the parlour. I shouldn'twonder if there wa'n't a speck of it in the house. "

Not a speck was there to be found. 

"Your uncle's pockets must ha' had a good hole in 'em by thistime, " remarked Barby, as they came back from the cellar. "However, there never was a crock so empty it couldn't befilled. You get me a leach-tub sot up, and I'll find work forit. "

From that time, Fleda had no more trouble with her uncle andBarby. Each seemed to have a wholesome appreciation of theother's combative qualities, and to shun them. With Mrs. Rossitur, Barby was soon all-powerful. It was enough that shewanted a thing, if Mrs. Rossitur's own resources could compassit. For Fleda, to say that Barby had presently a perfectunderstanding with her, and joined to that, a mostaffectionate, careful regard, is not, perhaps, saying much;for it was true of every one, without exception, with whomFleda had much to do. Barby was to all of them a very greatcomfort and stand-by. 

It was well for them that they had her within doors to keepthings, as she called it, "right and tight;" for abroad theonly system in vogue was one of fluctuation and uncertainty. Mr. Rossitur's Irishman, Donohan, staid his year out, doing aslittle good, and as much, at least, negative harm, as he wellcould; and then went, leaving them a good deal poorer than hefound them. Dr. Gregory's generosity had added to Mr. Rossitur's own small stock of ready money, giving him themeans to make some needed outlays on the farm. But the outlay, ill-applied, had been greater than the income; a scarcity of'money began to be more and more felt; and the comfort of thefamily accordingly drew within more and more narrow bounds. The temper of the head of the family suffered in at leastequal degree. 

From the first of Barby's coming, poor Fleda had done herutmost to prevent the want of Mons. Emile from being felt. Mr. Rossitur's table was always set by her careful hand, and allthe delicacies that came upon it were, unknown to him, of herproviding — even the bread. One day, at breakfast, Mr. Rossitur had expressed his impatient displeasure at that ofMiss Elster's manufacture. Fleda saw the distressed shade thatcame over her aunt's face, and took her resolution. It was thelast time. She had followed her plan of sending for thereceipts, and she studied them diligently, both at home andunder aunt Miriam. Natural quickness of eye and hand came inaid of her affectionate zeal, and it was not long before shecould trust herself to undertake any operation in the wholerange of her cookery-book. But, meanwhile, materials weregrowing scarce, and hard to come by. The delicate French rollswhich were now always ready for her uncle's plate in themorning, had sometimes nothing to back them, unless theunfailing water-cress from the good little spring in themeadow. Fleda could not spare her eggs, for, perhaps, theymight have nothing else to depend upon for dinner. It was noburden to her to do these things; she had a sufficient rewardin seeing that her aunt and Hugh ate the better, and that heruncle's brow was clear; but it was a burden when her handswere tied by the lack of means, for she knew the failure ofthe usual supply was bitterly felt, not for the actual want, but for that other want which it implied and prefigured. 

On the first dismissal of Donohan, Fleda hoped for a good turnof affairs. But Mr. Rossitur, disgusted with his firstexperiment, resolved this season to be his own head man; andappointed Lucas Springer the second in command, with a possιof labourers to execute his decrees. It did not work well. Mr. Rossitur found he had a very tough prime minister, who wouldhave every one of his plans to go through a kind of winnowingprocess by being tossed about in an argument. The argumentswere interminable, until Mr. Rossitur not unfrequently quitthe field with, "Well, do what you like about it!" — notconquered, but wearied. The labourers, either from want ofready money, or of what they called "manners" in theiremployer, fell off at the wrong times, just when they weremost wanted. Hugh threw himself then into the breach andwrought beyond his strength; and that tried Fleda worst ofall. She was glad to see haying and harvest pass over; but thechange of seasons seemed to bring only a change ofdisagreeableness, and she could not find that hope had anybetter breathing-time in the short days of winter than in thelong days of summer. Her gentle face grew more gentle thanever, for under the shade of sorrowful patience, which wasalways there, now its meekness had no eclipse. 

Mrs. Rossitur was struck with it one morning. She was comingdown from her room and saw Fleda standing on the landing-placegazing out of the window. It was before breakfast one coldmorning in winter. Mrs. Rossitur put her arms round her softlyand kissed her. 

"What are you thinking about, dear Fleda? — you ought not tobe standing here. "

"I was looking at Hugh, " said Fleda, and her eye went back tothe window. Mrs. Rossitur's followed it. The window gave thema view of the ground behind the house; and there was Hugh, just coming in with a large armful of heavy wood which he hadbeen sawing. 

"He isn't strong enough to do that, aunt Lucy, " said Fleda, softly. 

"I know it, " said his mother, in a subdued tone, and notmoving her eye, though Hugh had disappeared. 

"It is too cold for him; he is too thinly clad to bear thisexposure, " said Fleda, anxiously. 

"I know it, " said his mother, again. 

"Can't you tell uncle Rolf? can't you get him to do it? I amafraid Hugh will hurt himself, aunt Lucy. "

"I did tell him the other day — I did speak to him about it, "said Mrs. Rossitur; "but he said there was no reason why Hughshould do it — there were plenty of other people —"

"But how can he say so when he knows we never can ask Lucas todo anything of the kind, and that other man always contrivesto be out of the way when he is wanted? Oh, what is hethinking of?" said Fleda, bitterly, as she saw Hugh again athis work. 

It was so rarely that Fleda was seen to shed tears, that theyalways were a signal of dismay to any of the household. Therewas even agony in Mrs. Rossitur's voice as she implored hernot to give way to them. But, notwithstanding that, Fleda'stears came this time from too deep a spring to be stopped atonce. 

"It makes me feel as if all was lost, Fleda, when I see you doso. "

Fleda put her arms about her neck, and whispered that "shewould not" — that "she should not —"

Yet it was a little while before she could say any more. 

"But, aunt Lucy, he doesn't know what he is doing. "

"No; and I can't make him know. I cannot say anything more, Fleda — it would do no good. I don't know what is the matter —he is entirely changed from what he used to be. "

"I know what is the matter, " said Fleda, now turning comforterin her turn, as her aunt's tears fell more quietly, becausemore despairingly, than her own — "I know what it is — he isnot happy; — that is all. He has not succeeded well in thesefarm doings, and he wants money, and he is worried — it is nowonder if he don't seem exactly as he used to. "

"And oh, that troubles me most of all!" said Mrs. Rossitur. "The farm is bringing in nothing, I know — he don't know howto get along with it — I was afraid it would be so; — and weare paying nothing to uncle Orrin — and it is just a deadweight on his hands; — and I can't bear to think of it! Andwhat will it come to?"

Mrs. Rossitur was now in her turn surprised into showing thestrength of her sorrows and apprehensions. Fleda was fain toput her own out of sight, and bend her utmost powers to sootheand compose her aunt, till they could both go down to thebreakfast-table. She had got ready a nice little dish that heruncle was very fond of; but her pleasure in it was all gone;and indeed it seemed to be thrown away upon the whole table. Half the meal was over before anybody said a word. 

"I am going to wash my hands of these miserable farm affairs, "said Mr. Rossitur. 

"Are you?" said his wife. 

"Yes — of all personal concern in them; that is, I am weariedto death with the perpetual annoyances and vexations, andpetty calls upon my time — life is not worth having at such arate! I'll have done with it. "

"You will give up the entire charge to Lucas?" said Mrs. Rossitur. 

"Lucas! — No! — I wouldn't undergo that man's tongue foranother year if he would take out his wages in talking. Icould not have more of it in that case than I have had thelast six months. After money, the thing that man loves best iscertainly the sound of his own voice; — and a mostinsufferable egotist! No — I have been talking with a man whowants to take the whole farm for two years upon shares — thatwill clear me of all trouble. "

There was sober silence for a few minutes, and then Mrs. Rossitur asked who it was. 

"His name is Didenhover. "

"Oh, uncle Rolf, don't have anything to do with him!"exclaimed Fleda. 

"Why not?"

"Because he lived with grandpa a great while ago, and behavedvery ill. Grandpa had a great deal of trouble with him. "

"How old were you then?"

"I was young to be sure, " said Fleda, hanging her head, "but Iremember very well how it was. "

"You may have occasion to remember it a second time, " said Mr. Rossitur, drily, "for the thing is done. I have engaged him. "

Not another word was spoken. 

Mr. Rossitur went out after breakfast, and Mrs. Rossiturbusied herself with the breakfast cups and a tub of hot water— a work she never would let Fleda share with her, and whichlasted in consequence long enough, Barby said, to cook and eatthree breakfasts. Fleda and Hugh sat looking at the floor andthe fire respectively. 

"I am going up the hill to get a sight of aunt Miriam, " saidFleda, bringing her eyes from the fire upon her aunt. 

"Well, dear, do. You have been shut up long enough by thesnow. Wrap yourself up well, and put on my snow-boots. "

"No, indeed!" said Fleda. "I shall just draw on another pairof stockings over my shoes, within my India-rubbers — I willtake a pair of Hugh's woollen ones. "

"What has become of your own?" said Hugh. 

"My own what? Stockings?"

"Snow-boots. "

"Worn out, Mr. Rossitur! I have run them to death, poorthings! Is that a slight intimation that you are afraid of thesame fate for your socks?"

"No, " said Hugh, smiling in spite of himself, at her manner —"I will lend you anything I have got, Fleda. "

His tone put Fleda in mind of the very doubtful pretensions ofthe socks in question to be comprehended under the term — shewas silent a minute. 

"Will you go with me, Hugh?"

"No, dear, I can't; I must get a little ahead with the woodwhile I can; it looks as if it would snow again, and Barbyisn't provided for more than a day or two. "

"And how for this fire?"

Hugh shook his head, and rose up to go forth into the kitchen. Fleda went too, linking her arm in his, and bearingaffectionately upon it; a sort of tacit saying, that theywould sink or swim together. Hugh understood it perfectly. 

"I am very sorry you have to do it, dear Hugh; oh, thatwoodshed! If it had only been made —"

"Never mind — can't help it now — we shall get through thewinter by and by. "

"Can't you get uncle Rolf to help you a little?" whisperedFleda; "It would do him good. "

But Hugh only shook his head. 

"What are we going to do for dinner, Barby?" said Fleda, stillholding Hugh there before the fire. 

"Aint much choice, " said Barby. "It would puzzle anybody tospell much more out of it than pork and ham. There's plenty ofthem. _I_ sha'n't starve this some time. "

"But we had ham yesterday, and pork the day before yesterday, and ham Monday, " said Fleda. "There is plenty of vegetables, thanks to you and me, Hugh, " she said, with a little remindingsqueeze of his arm. "I could make soups nicely, if I hadanything to make them of!"

"There's enough to be had for the catching, " said Barby. "If Ihadn't a man-mountain of work upon me, I'd start out and shootor steal something. "

"_You_ shoot, Barby!" said Fleda, laughing. 

"I guess I can do most anything I set my hand to. If Icouldn't, I'd shoot myself. It wont do to kill no more o' themchickens. "

"O no, — now they are laying so finely. Well, I am going upthe hill, and when I come home I'll try and make up something, Barby. "

"Earl Douglass 'll go out in the woods now and then, of a day, when he ha'n't no work particular to do, and fetch hum as manypigeons and woodchucks as you could shake a stick at. "

"Hugh, my dear, " said Fleda, laughing, "it's a pity you aren'ta hunter — I would shake a stick at you with great pleasure. Well, Barby, we will see when I come home. "

"I was just a-thinkin', " said Barby; — "Mis' Douglass sentround to know if Mis' Rossitur would like a piece of freshmeat — Earl's been killing a sheep — there's a nice quarter, she says, if she'd like to have it. "

"A quarter of mutton!" said Fleda, — "I don't know — no, Ithink not, Barby; I don't know when we should be able to payit back again. And yet, Hugh — do you think uncle Rolf willkill another sheep this winter?"

"I am sure he will not, " said Hugh; "there have so many died. "

"If he only knowed it, that is a reason for killing more, "said Barby — "and have the good of them while he can. "

"Tell Mrs. Douglass we are obliged to her, but we do not wantthe mutton, Barby. "

Hugh went to his chopping, and Fleda set out upon her walk —the lines of her face settling into a most fixed gravity sosoon as she turned away from the house. It was what might becalled a fine winter's day — cold and still, and the skycovered with one uniform grey cloud. The snow lay inuncompromising whiteness, thick over all the world — a kindlyshelter for the young grain and covering for the soil; butFleda's spirits, just then in another mood, saw in it only thecold refusal to hope, and the barren check to exertion. Thewind had cleared the snow from the trees and fences, and theystood in all their unsoftened blackness and nakedness, bleakand stern. The high grey sky threatened a fresh fall of snowin a few hours; it was just now a lull between two storms; andFleda's spirits, that sometimes would have laughed in the faceof nature's soberness, to-day sank to its own quiet. Her paceneither slackened nor quickened till she reached aunt Miriam'shouse, and entered the kitchen. 

Aunt Miriam was in high tide of business over a pot of boilinglard, and the enormous bread-tray by the side of the fire washalf-full of very tempting light-brown cruller, which, however, were little more than a kind of sweet bread for theworkmen. In the bustle of putting in and taking out, auntMiriam could give her visitor but a word and a look. Fledapulled off her hood, and sitting down, watched in unusualsilence the old lady's operations. 

"And how are they all at your house to-day?" aunt Miriamasked, as she was carefully draining her cruller out of thekettle. 

Fleda answered that they were as well as usual, but a slighthesitation and the tell-tale tone of her voice made the oldlady look at her more narrowly. She came near and kissed thatgentle brow, and looking in her eyes, asked her what thematter was?

"I don't know; " said Fleda, eyes and voice wavering alike —"I am foolish, I believe —"

Aunt Miriam tenderly put aside the hair from her forehead, andkissed it again, but the cruller was burning, and she wentback to the kettle. 

"I got down-hearted somehow this morning, " Fleda went on, trying to steady her voice and school herself. 

"_You_ down-hearted, dear! About what?"

There was a world of sympathy in these words, in the warmth ofwhich Fleda's shut-up heart unfolded itself at once. 

"It's nothing new, aunt Miriam — only somehow I felt itparticularly this morning — I have been kept in the house solong by this snow, I have got dumpish, I suppose —"

Aunt Miriam looked anxiously at the tears which seemed to comeinvoluntarily, but she said nothing. 

"We are not getting along well at home. "

"I supposed that, " said Mrs. Plumfield, quietly. "But anythingnew?"

"Yes — uncle Rolf has let the farm — only think of it! — hehas let the farm to that Didenhover. "

"Didenhover!"

"For two years. "

"Did you tell him what you knew about him?"

"Yes, but it was too late — the mischief was done. "

Aunt Miriam went on skimming out her cruller with a very graveface. 

"How came your uncle to do so without learning about himfirst?"

"Oh, I don't know! — he was in a hurry to do anything thatwould take the trouble of the farm off his hands; he don'tlike it. "

"On what terms has he let him have it?"

"On shares — and I know, I know under that Didenhover it willbring us in nothing, and it has brought us in nothing all thetime we have been here; and I don't know what we are going tolive upon —"

"Has your uncle nor your aunt no property at all left?"

"Not a bit — except some waste lands in Michigan? I believe, that were left to aunt Lucy a year or two ago; but they are asgood as nothing. "

"Has he let Didenhover have the saw-mill too?"

"I don't know — he didn't say — if he has, there will benothing at all left for us to live upon. I expect nothing fromDidenhover, — his face is enough. I should have thought itmight have been for uncle Rolf. Oh, if it wasn't for aunt Lucyand Hugh, I shouldn't care!" —

"What has your uncle been doing all this year past?"

"I don't know, aunt Miriam — he can't bear the business, andhe has left the most of it to Lucas, and I think Lucas is moreof a talker than a doer. Almost nothing has gone right. Thecrops have been ill-managed — I do not know a great deal aboutit, but I know enough for that; and uncle Rolf did not knowanything about it but what he got from books. And the sheepare dying off — Barby says it is because they were in suchpoor condition at the beginning of winter, and I dare say sheis right. "

"He ought to have had a thorough good man at the beginning, toget along well. "

"O yes! — but he hadn't, you see, and so we have just beengrowing poorer every month. And now, aunt Miriam, I reallydon't know from day to day what to do to get dinner. You know, for a good while after we came we used to have our marketingbrought every few days from Albany, but we have run up such abill there already at the butcher's as I don't know when inthe world will get paid, and aunt Lucy and I will do anythingbefore we will send for any more; and if it wasn't for her andHugh I wouldn't care, but they haven't much appetite, and Iknow that all this takes what little they have away — this, and seeing the effect it has upon uncle Rolf —"

"Does he think so much more of eating than of anything else?"said aunt Miriam. 

"O no, it is not that, " said Fleda, earnestly, "it is not thatat all — he is not a great eater — but he can't bear to havethings different from what they used to be, and from what theyought to be — O no, don't think that! I don't know whether Iought to have said what I have said, but I couldn't help it —"

Fleda's voice was lost for a little while. 

"He is changed from what he used to be — a little thing vexeshim now, and I know it is because he is not happy; — he usedto be so kind and pleasant, and he is still sometimes; butaunt Lucy's face — Oh, aunt Miriam!"

"Why, dear?" said aunt Miriam, tenderly. 

"It is so changed from what it used to be!"

Poor Fleda covered her own, and aunt Miriam came to her sideto give softer and gentler expression to sympathy than wordscould do, till the bowed face was raised again and hid in herneck. 

"I can't see thee do so, my child — my dear child! Hope forbrighter days, dear Fleda. "

"I could bear it, " said Fleda, after a little interval, "if itwasn't for aunt Lucy and Hugh — oh, that is the worst!"

"What about Hugh?" said aunt Miriam, soothingly. 

"Oh, he does what he ought not to do, aunt Miriam, and thereis no help for it — and he did last summer, when we wantedmen; and in the hot haying-time he used to work, I know, beyond his strength, and aunt Lucy and I did not know what todo with ourselves. "

Fleda's head, which had been raised, sunk again and moreheavily. 

"Where was his father?" said Mrs. Plumfield. 

"Oh, he was in the house — he didn't know it — he didn't thinkabout it. "

"Didn't think about it?"

"No — oh, he didn't think Hugh was hurting himself, but hewas; he showed it for weeks afterward. I have said what Iought not now, " said Fleda, looking up, and seeming to checkher tears, and the spring of them at once. 

"So much security any woman has in a man without religion, "said aunt Miriam, going back to her work. Fleda would havesaid something if she could; she was silent; she stood lookinginto the fire, while the tears seemed to come as it were bystealth, and ran down her face unregarded. 

"Is Hugh not well?"

"I don't know, " said Fleda, faintly; "he is not ill, but henever was very strong, and he exposes himself now, I know, ina way he ought not. I am sorry I have just come and troubledyou with all this now, aunt Miriam, " she said, after a littlepause; "I shall feel better by and by — I don't very often getsuch a fit. "

"My dear little Fleda!" — and there was unspeakable tendernessin the old lady's voice, as she came up, and drew Fleda's headagain to rest upon her — "I would not let a rough wind touchthee if I had the holding of it. But we may be glad thearranging of things is not in my hand — I should be a poorfriend after all, for I do not know what is best. Canst thoutrust Him who does know, my child?"

"I do, aunt Miriam — oh, I do, " said Fleda, burying her facein her bosom — "I don't often feel so as I did to-day. "

"There comes not a cloud that its shadow is not wanted, " saidaunt Miriam. "I cannot see why, but it is that thou mayestbloom the brighter, my dear one. "

"I know it" — Fleda's words were hardly audible — "I willtry. " —

"Remember his own message to every one under a cloud — 'Castall thy care upon him, for he careth for thee;' — thou mayestkeep none of it; and then the peace that passeth understandingshall keep thee. — 'So he giveth his beloved sleep. ' "

Fleda wept for a minute on the old lady's neck, and then shelooked up, dried her tears, and sat down with a face greatlyquieted and lightened of its burden, while aunt Miriam oncemore went back to her work. The one wrought and the otherlooked on in silence. 

The cruller were all done at last — the great bread-trough wasfilled and set away — the remnant of the fat was carefullydisposed of, and aunt Miriam's handmaid was called in to "takethe watch. " She herself and her visitor adjourned to thesitting-room. 

"Well, " said Fleda. , in a tone again steady and clear, "I mustgo home to see about getting up a dinner. I am the greatesthand at making something out of nothing, aunt Miriam, thatever you saw. There is nothing like practice. I only wish theman uncle Orrin talks about would come along once in a while. "

"Who was that?" said aunt Miriam. 

"A man that used to go about from house to house, " said Fleda, laughing, "when the cottagers were making soup, with a ham-bone to give it a relish, and he used to charge them so muchfor a dip, and so much for a wallop. "

"Come, come, I can do as much for you as that, " said auntMiriam, proceeding to her store pantry — "see here — wouldn'tthis be as good as a ham-bone?" said she, bringing out of it afat fowl; "how would a wallop of this do?"

"Admirably! — only — the ham-bone used to come out again, andI am confident this never would. "

"Well, I guess I'll stand that, " said aunt Miriam, smiling —"you wouldn't mind carrying this under your cloak, would you?"

"I have no doubt I shall go home lighter with it than withoutit, Ma'am, — thank you, dear aunty! —dear aunt Miriam!"

There was a change of tone, and of eye, as Fleda sealed eachthank with a kiss. 

"But how is it? — does all the charge of the house come uponyou, dear?"

"Oh, this kind of thing, because aunt Lucy doesn't understandit, and can't get along with it so well. She likes better tosew, and I had quite as lief do this. "

"And don't you sew, too?"

"Oh, a little. She does as much as she can, " said Fleda, gravely. 

"Where is your other cousin?" said Mrs. Plumfield, abruptly. 

"Marion? — she is in England, I believe — we don't hear fromher very often. "

"No, no — I mean the one who is in the army?"

"Charlton! — Oh, he is just ordered off to Mexico, " saidFleda, sadly, "and that is another great trouble to aunt Lucy. This miserable war!"

"Does he never come home?"

"Only once since we came from Paris — while we were in NewYork. He has been stationed away off at the West. "

"He has a captain's pay now, hasn't he?"

"Yes, but he doesn't know at all how things are at home; hehasn't an idea of it — and he will not have. Well, good-bye, dear aunt Miriam — I must run home to take care of mychicken. "

She ran away; and if her eyes many a time on the way down thehill filled and overflowed, they were not bitter nor darktears; they were the gushings of high and pure and generousaffections, weeping for fullness, not for want. 

That chicken was not wasted in soup; it was converted into thenicest possible little fricassee, because the toast would makeso much more of it; and to Fleda's own dinner, little wentbeside the toast, that a greater portion of the rest might befor her aunt and Hugh. 

That same evening, Seth Plumfield came into the kitchen, whileFleda was there. 

"Here is something belongs to you, I believe, " said he, with acovert smile, bringing out from under his cloak the mate toFleda's fowl — "mother said somethin' had run away witht'other one, and she didn't know what to do with this onealone. Your uncle at home?"

The next news that Fleda heard was, that Seth had taken alease of the saw-mill for two years. 

Mr. Didenhover did not disappoint Fleda's expectations. Verylittle could be got from him, or the farm under him, beyondthe immediate supply wanted for the use of the family; andthat in kind, not in cash. Mrs. Rossitur was comforted byknowing, that some portion of rent had also gone to Dr. Gregory — how large or how small a portion, she could not findout. But this left the family in increasing straits, whichnarrowed and narrowed during the whole first summer and winterof Didenhover's administration. Very straitened they wouldhave been, but for the means of relief adopted by the two_children_, as they were always called. Hugh, as soon as thespring opened, had a quiet hint through Fleda, that if he hada mind to take the working of the saw-mill he might, for aconsideration merely nominal. This offer was immediately andgratefully closed with; and Hugh's earnings were thenceforwardvery important at home. Fleda had her own ways and means. Mr. Rossitur, more low-spirited and gloomy than ever, seemed tohave no heart to anything. He would have worked, perhaps, ifhe could have done it alone; but to join Didenhover and hismen, or any other gang of workmen, was too much for hismagnanimity. He helped nobody but Fleda. For her he would doanything, at any time; and in the garden, and among herflowers in the flowery courtyard, he might often be seen atwork with her. But nowhere else. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

"Some bring a capon, some a rurall cake, Some nuts, some apples; some that thinke they makeThe better cheeses, bring 'hem; or else sendBy their ripe daughters, whom they would commendThis way to husbands; and whose baskets beareAn embleme of themselves in plum or pears. "BEN JOHNSON. 

So the time walked away — for this family was not now of those"whom time runneth withal" — to the second summer of Mr. Didenhover's term. 

One morning Mrs. Rossitur was seated in the breakfast-room ather usual employment, mending and patching — no sinecure now. Fleda opened the kitchen door and came in, folding up a calicoapron she had just taken off. 

"You are tired, dear, " said Mrs. Rossitur, sorrowfully; — youlook pale. "

"Do I?" said Fleda, sitting down. "I am a little tired!"

"Why do you do so?"

"Oh, it's nothing, " said Fleda, cheerfully; "I haven't hurtmyself. I shall be rested again in a few minutes. "

"What have you been doing?"

"Oh, I tired myself a little before breakfast in the garden, Isuppose. Aunt Lucy, don't you think I had almost a bushel ofpease? — and there was a little over a half bushel last-time, so I shall call it a bushel. Isn't that fine?"

"You didn't pick them all yourself?"

"Hugh helped me a little while; but he had the horse to getready, and I was out before him this morning — poor fellow, hewas tired from yesterday, I dare say. "

Mrs. Rossitur looked at her, a look between remonstrance andreproach, and cast her eves down without saying a word, swallowing a whole heartful of thoughts and feelings. Fledastooped forward till her own forehead softly touched Mrs. Rossitur's, as gentle a chiding of despondency as a verysunbeam could have given. 

"Now, aunt Lucy! — what do you mean? Don't you know it's goodfor me? — And do you know, Mr. Sweet will give me fourshillings a bushel? and, aunt Lucy, I sent three dozen headsof lettuce this morning besides. Isn't that doing well? and Isent two dozen day before yesterday. It is time they weregone, for they are running up to seed, this set; I have gotanother fine set almost ready. "

Mrs. Rossitur looked at her again, as if she had been a sortof terrestrial angel. 

"And how much will you get for them?"

"I don't know exactly — threepence, or sixpence, perhaps — Iguess not so much — they are so easily raised; though I don'tbelieve there are so fine as mine to be seen in this region. If I only had somebody to water the strawberries! — we shouldhave a great many. Aunt Lucy, I am going to send as many as Ican without robbing uncle Rolf — he sha'n't miss them; but therest of us don't mind eating rather fewer than usual? I shallmake a good deal by them. And I think these morning rides doHugh good; don't you think so?"

"And what have you been busy about ever since breakfast, Fleda?"

"Oh — two or three things, " said Fleda, lightly. 

"What?"

"I had bread to make — and then I thought, while my hands werein, I would make a custard for uncle Rolf. "

"You needn't have done that, dear, it was not necessary. "

"Yes it was, because, you know, we have only fried pork fordinner to-day; and while we have the milk and eggs, it doesn'tcost much — the sugar is almost nothing. He will like itbetter, and so will Hugh. As for you, " said Fleda, gentlytouching her forehead again, "you know it is of noconsequence!"

"I wish you would think yourself of some consequence, " saidMrs. Rossitur. 

"Don't I think myself of consequence?" said Fleda, affectionately. "I don't know how you'd all get on without me. What do you think I have a mind to do now, by way of restingmyself?"

"Well?" said Mrs. Rossitur, thinking of something else. 

"It is the day for making presents to the minister, you know?"

"The minister? —"

"Yes, the new minister — they expect him to-day; you haveheard of it; the things are all to be carried to his house to-day. I have a great notion to go and see the fun — If I onlyhad anything in the world I could possibly take with me —"

"Aren't you too tired, dear?"

"No — it would rest me; it is early yet; if I only hadsomething to take! I couldn't go without taking something —"

"A basket of eggs?" said Mrs. Rossitur. 

"Can't, aunt Lucy — I can't spare them; so many of the hensare setting now. A basket of strawberries! — that's the thing!I've got enough picked for that and to-night too. That willdo!"

Fleda's preparations were soon made, and with her basket onher arm she was ready to set forth. 

"If pride had not been a little put down in me, " she said, smiling, "I suppose I should rather stay at home than go withsuch a petty offering. And no doubt every one that sees it orhears of it will lay it to anything but the right reason. Somuch the world knows about the people it judges! It is too badto leave you all alone, aunt Lucy. "

Mrs. Rossitur pulled her down for a kiss — a kiss in which howmuch was said on both sides! — and Fleda set forth, choosing, as she very commonly did, the old-time way through thekitchen. 

"Off again?" said Barby, who was on her knees scrubbing thegreat flag-stones of the hearth. 

"Yes, I am going up to see the donation party. "

"Has the minister come?"

"No, but he is coming to-day, I understand. "

"He ha'n't preached for 'em yet, has he?"

"Not yet; I suppose he will next Sunday. "

"They are in a mighty hurry to give him a donation party!"said Barby. "I'd a' waited till he was here first. I don'tbelieve they'd be quite so spry with their donations if theyhad paid the last man up as they ought. I'd rather give a manwhat belongs to him, and make him presents afterwards. "

"Why, so I hope they will, Barby, " said Fleda, laughing. ButBarby said no more. 

The parsonage-house was about a quarter of a mile, a littlemore, from the saw-mill, in a line at right angles with themain road. Fleda took Hugh from his work, to see her safethere. The road ran north, keeping near the level of the mid-hill, where it branched off a little below the saw-mill; andas the ground continued rising towards the east, and was wellclothed with woods, the way, at this hour, was stillpleasantly shady. To the left, the same slope of groundcarried down to the foot of the hill gave them anuninterrupted view over a wide plain or bottom, edged in thedistance with a circle of gently swelling hills. Close againstthe hills, in the far corner of the plain, lay the littlevillage of Queechy Run, hid from sight by a slight interveningrise of ground. Not a chimney showed itself in the wholespread of country. A sunny landscape just now; but rich inpicturesque associations of hay-cocks and win-rows, spottingit near and far; and close by below them was a field of mowersat work; they could distinctly hear the measured rush of thescythes through the grass, and then the soft clink of therifles would seem to play some old delicious tune of childishdays. Fleda made Hugh stand still to listen. It was a warmday, but "the sweet south that breathes upon a bank ofviolets" could hardly be more sweet than the air which, comingto them over the whole breadth of the valley, had been chargedby the new-made hay. 

"How good it is, Hugh, " said Fleda, "that one can get out ofdoors, and forget everything that ever happened or ever willhappen within four walls!"

"Do you?" said Hugh, rather soberly. 

"Yes, I do — even in my flower-patch, right before the house-door; but here" — said Fleda, turning away, and swinging herbasket of strawberries as she went, "I have no idea I ever didsuch a thing as make bread, — and how clothes get mended I donot comprehend in the least!"

"And have you forgotten the pease and the asparagus too?"

"I am afraid you haven't, dear Hugh, " said Fleda, linking herarm within his. "Hugh — I must find some way to make money. "

"More money!" said Hugh, smiling. 

"Yes — this garden business is all very well, but it doesn'tcome to any very great things after all, if you are aware ofit; and Hugh, I want to get aunt Lucy a new dress. I can'tbear to see her in that old merino, and it isn't good for her. Why, Hugh, she couldn't possibly see anybody, if anybodyshould come to the house. "

"Who is there to come?" said Hugh. 

"Why, nobody; but still, she ought not to be so. "

"What more can you do, dear Fleda? You work a great deal toohard already, " said Hugh, sighing. "You should have seen theway father and mother looked at you last night when you wereasleep on the sofa. "

Fleda stifled her sigh, and went on. 

"I am sure there are things that might be done — things forthe booksellers — translating, or copying, or something — Idon't know exactly — I have heard of people's doing suchthings. I mean to write to uncle Orrin, and ask him. I am surehe can manage it for me. "

"What were you writing the other night?" said Hugh, suddenly. 

"When!"

"The other night — when you were writing by the fire-light? Isaw your pencil scribbling away at a furious rate over thepaper, and you kept your hand up carefully between me and yourface, but I could see it was something very interesting. Ha!"— said Hugh, laughingly trying to get another view of Fleda'sface which was again kept from him. "Send that to uncle Orrin, Fleda; — or show it to me first, and then I will tell you. "

Fleda made no answer; and at the parsonage-door Hugh left her. 

Two or three wagons were standing there, but nobody to beseen. Fleda went up the steps and crossed the broad piazza, brown and unpainted, but picturesque still, and guided by thesound of tongues turned to the right, where she found a largelow room, the very centre of the stir. But the stir had not byany means reached the height yet. Not more than a dozen peoplewere gathered. Here were aunt Syra and Mrs. Douglass, appointed a committee to receive and dispose the offerings asthey were brought in. 

"Why, there is not much to be seen yet, " said Fleda. "I didnot know I was so early. "

"Time enough, " said Mrs. Douglass. "They'll come the thickerwhen they do come. Good morning, Dr. Quackenboss! I hopeyou're a-going to give us something else besides a bow? and Iwont take none of your physic neither. "

"I humbly submit, " said the doctor, graciously, "that nothingought to be expected of gentlemen that — a — are so unhappy asto be alone; for they really — a — have nothing to give — butthemselves. "

There was a shout of merriment. 

"And suppos'n that's a gift that nobody wants?" said Mrs. Douglass's sharp eye and voice at once. 

"In that case, " said the doctor, "I really — Miss Ringgan, mayI — a — may I relieve your hand of this fair burden?"

"It is not a very fair burden, Sir, " said Fleda, laughing, andrelinquishing her strawberries. 

"Ah, but, fair, you know, I mean — we speak — in that sense —Mrs. Douglass, here is by far the most elegant offering thatyour hands will have the honour of receiving this day. "

"I hope so, " said Mrs. Douglass, "or there wont be much to eatfor the minister. Did you never take notice how elegant thingssomehow made folks grow poor?"

"I guess he'd as lieve see something a little substantial, "said aunt Syra. 

"Well, now, " said the doctor, "here is Miss Ringgan, who isunquestionably — a —elegant! — and I am sure nobody will saythat she — looks poor. "

In one sense, surely not! There could not be two opinions. Butwith all the fairness of health, and the flush which two orthree feelings had brought to her cheeks, there was a look asif the workings of the mind had refined away a little of thestrength of the physical frame, and as if growing poor in Mrs. Douglass's sense — that is, thin, might easily be the nextstep. 

"What's your uncle going to give us, Fleda?" said aunt Syra. 

But Fleda was saved replying; for Mrs. Douglass, who, if shewas sharp, could be good-natured too, and had watched to seehow Fleda took the double fire upon elegance and poverty, could bear no more trial of that sweet gentle face. Withoutgiving her time to answer, she carried her off to see thethings already stored in the closet, bidding the doctor, overher shoulder, "be off after his goods, whether he had got 'emor no. "

There was certainly a promising beginning made for the futureminister's comfort. One shelf was already completely stockedwith pies, and another showed a quantity of cake, and biscuitsenough to last a good-sized family for several meals. 

"That is always the way, " said Mrs. Douglass; "it's thestrangest thing that folks has no sense! Now, one half o' thempies 'll be dried up afore they can eat the rest; 't aint muchloss, for Mis' Prin sent 'em down, and if they are worthanything, it's the first time anything ever come out of herhouse that was. Now look at them biscuit!"

"How many are coming to eat them?" said Fleda. 

"How?"

"How large a family has the minister?"

"He ha'n't a bit of a family! He ain't married. "

"Not!"

At the grave way in which Mrs. Douglass faced round upon herand answered, and at the idea of a single mouth devoted to allthat closetful Fleda's gravity gave place to mostuncontrollable merriment. 

"No, " said Mrs. Douglass, with a curious twist of her mouth, but commanding herself, — "he aint, to be sure, not yet. Heha'n't any family but himself and some sort of a housekeeper, I suppose; they'll divide the house between 'em. "

"And the biscuits, I hope, " said Fleda. "But what will he dowith all the other things, Mrs. Douglass?"

"Sell 'em if he don't want 'em, " said Mrs. Douglass, quizzically. "Shut up, Fleda, I forget who sent them biscuit —somebody that calculated to make a show for a little, Ireckon. My sakes! I believe it was Mis' Springer herself! shedidn't hear me though, " said Mrs. Douglass, peeping out of thehalf-open door. "It's a good thing the world aint all alike;there's Mis' Plumfield — stop now, and I'll tell you all shesent; that big jar of lard, there's as good as eighteen ortwenty pound — and that basket of eggs, I don't know how manythere is — and that cheese, a real fine one, I'll be bound, she wouldn't pick out the worst in her dairy; and Seth fetcheddown a hundred weight of corn meal, and another of rye flour;now, that's what I call doing things something like; ifeverybody else would keep up their end as well as they keep uptheir'n, the world wouldn't be quite so one-sided as it is. Inever see the time yet when I couldn't tell where to find Mis'Plumfield. "

"No, nor anybody else, " said Fleda, looking happy. 

"There's Mis' Silbert couldn't find nothing better to sendthan a kag of soap, " Mrs. Douglass went on, seeming very muchamused; "I _was_ beat when I saw that walk in! I should thinkshe'd feel streaked to come here by and by, and see it a-standing between Mis' Plumfield's lard and Mis' Clavering'spork — that's a handsome kag of pork, aint it? What's that mandone with your strawberries? I'll put 'em up here, aforesomebody takes a notion to 'em. I'll let the minister know whohe's got to thank for 'em, " said she, winking at Fleda. "Where's Dr. Quackenboss?"

"Coming, Ma'am!" sounded from the hall, and forthwith, at theopen door, entered the doctor's head, simultaneously with alarge cheese, which he was rolling before him, the rest of thedoctor's person being thrown into the background inconsequence — a curious natural representation of awheelbarrow, the wheel being the only artificial part. 

"Oh! that's you, doctor, is it?" said Mrs. Douglass. 

"This is me, Ma'am, " said the doctor, rolling up to the closetdoor; "this has the honour to be — a — myself, — bringing myservice to the feet of Miss Ringgan. "

" 'Tain't very elegant, " said the sharp lady. 

Fleda thought if his service was at her feet, her feet shouldbe somewhere else, and accordingly stepped quietly out of theway, and went to one of the windows, from whence she couldhave a view both of the comers and the come; and by this time, thoroughly in the spirit of the thing, she used her eyes uponboth with great amusement. People were constantly arrivingnow, in wagons and on foot; and stores of all kinds were mostliterally pouring in. Bags, and even barrels of meal, flour, pork, and potatoes; strings of dried apples, salt, hams, andbeef; hops, pickles, vinegar, maple-sugar and molasses; rollsof fresh butter, cheese, and eggs; cake, bread, and pies, without end. Mr. Penny, the storekeeper, sent a box of tea. Mr. Winegar, the carpenter, a new ox-sled. Earl Douglassbrought a handsome axe-helve of his own fashioning; his wife, a quantity of rolls of wool. Zan Finn carted a load of woodinto the wood-shed, and Squire Thornton another. Home-madecandles, custards, preserves, and smoked liver, came in abatch from two or three miles off, up on the mountain. Half-a-dozen chairs from the factory-man; half-a-dozen brooms fromthe other storekeeper at the Deepwater settlement; a carpetfor the best room from the ladies of the township, who hadclubbed forces to furnish it — and a home-made concern it was, from the shears to the loom. 

The room was full now, for every one, after depositing hisgift, turned aside to see what others had brought and werebringing; and men and women, the young and old, had theirseveral circles of gossip in various parts of the crowd. Apartfrom them all Fleda sat in her window, probably voted"elegant" by others than the doctor, for they vouchsafed herno more than a transitory attention, and sheered off to findsomething more congenial. She sat watching the people, smilingvery often as some odd figure, or look, or some peculiar turnof expression or tone of voice, caught her ear or her eye. 

Both ear and eye were fastened by a young countryman, with aparticularly fresh face, whom she saw approaching the house. He came up on foot, carrying a single fowl slung at his backby a stick thrown across his shoulder, and, without stirringhat or stick, he came into the room, and made his way throughthe crowd of people, looking to the one hand and the other, evidently in a maze of doubt to whom he should deliver himselfand his chicken, till brought up by Mrs. Douglass's sharpvoice. 

"Well, Philetus, what are you looking for?"

"Do, Mis' Douglass!" — it is impossible to express theabortive attempt at a bow which accompanied this salutation —"I want to know if the minister 'll be in town to-day. "

"What do you want of him?"

"I don't want nothin' of him. I want to know if he'll be intown to-day?"

"Yes; I expect he'll be along directly. Why, what then?"

" 'Cause I've got teu chickens for him here, and mother saidthey hadn't ought to be kept no longer, and if he wan't tohum, I were to fetch 'em back, straight. "

"Well, he'll be here, so let's have 'em, " said Mrs. Douglass, biting her lips. 

"What's become o' t'other one?" said Earl, as the young man'sstick was brought round to the table: "I guess you've lost it, ha'n't you?"

"My gracious!" was all Philetus's powers were equal to. Mrs. Douglass went off into fits, which rendered her incapable ofspeaking, and left the unlucky chicken-bearer to tell hisstory his own way, but all he brought forth was, "Du tell! — I_am_ beat!"

"Where's t'other one?" said Mrs. Douglass, between paroxysms. 

"Why, I ha'n't done nothin' to it, " said Philetus, dismally;"there was teu on 'em afore I started, and I took and tied 'emtogether, and hitched 'em onto the stick, and that one mustha' loosened itself off some way — I believe the darned thingdid it o' purpose. "

"I guess your mother knowed that one wouldn't keep till it gothere, " said Mrs. Douglass. 

The room was now all one shout, in the midst of which poorPhiletus took himself off as speedily as possible. BeforeFleda had dried her eyes, her attention was taken by a ladyand gentleman who had just got out of a vehicle of more thanthe ordinary pretension, and were coming up to the door. Thegentleman was young — the lady was not; both had aparticularly amiable and pleasant appearance; but about thelady there was something that moved Fleda singularly, and, somehow, touched the spring of old memories, which she feltstirring at the sight of her. As they neared the house shelost them; then they entered the room and came through itslowly, looking about them with an air of good-humouredamusement. Fleda's eye was fixed, but her mind puzzled itselfin vain to recover what, in her experience, had been connectedwith that fair and lady-like physiognomy, and the bland smilethat was overlooked by those acute eyes. The eyes met hers, and then seemed to reflect her doubt, for they remained asfixed as her own, while the lady, quickening her steps, cameup to her. 

"I am sure, " she said, holding out her hand, and with a gentlegraciousness that was very agreeable, "I am sure you aresomebody I know. What is your name?"

"Fleda Ringgan. "

"I thought so!" said the lady, now shaking her hand warmly, and kissing her; "I knew nobody could have been your motherbut Amy Charlton! How like her you look! Don't you know me?don't you remember Mrs. Evelyn?"

"Mrs. Evelyn!" said Fleda, the whole coming back to her atonce. 

"You remember me now? — How well I recollect you! and all thatold time at Montepoole. Poor little creature that you were!and dear little creature, as I am sure you have been eversince! And how is your dear aunt Lucy?"

Fleda answered that she was well. 

"I used to love her very much — that was before I knew you —before she went abroad. We have just got home — this spring;and now we are staying at Montepoole for a few days. I shallcome and see her to-morrow — I knew you were somewhere in thisregion, but I did not know exactly where to find you; that wasone reason why I came here to-day, I thought I might hearsomething of you. And where are your aunt Lucy's children? andhow are they?"

"Hugh is at home, " said Fleda, "and rather delicate — Charltonis in the army. "

"In the army! In Mexico! —"

"In Mexico he has been —"

"Your poor aunt Lucy!"

"— In Mexico he has been, but he is just coming home now — hehas been wounded, and he is coming home to spend a longfurlough. "

"Coming home. That will make you all very happy. And Hugh isdelicate; and how are you, love? you hardly look like acountry-girl. Mr. Olmney!" said Mrs. Evelyn, looking round forher companion, who was standing quietly a few steps off, surveying the scene. "Mr. Olmney! I am going to do you afavour, Sir, in introducing you to Miss Ringgan, a very oldfriend of mine. Mr. Olmney, these are not exactly the apple-cheeks and _robustious_ demonstrations we are taught to look forin country-land. "

This was said with a kind of sly funny enjoyment, which tookaway everything disagreeable from the appeal; but Fledaconceived a favourable opinion of the person to whom it wasmade from the fact that he paid her no compliment, and made noanswer beyond a very pleasant smile. 

"What is Mrs. Evelyn's definition of a _very old_ friend?" saidhe, with another smile, as that lady moved off to take a moreparticular view of what she had come to see. "To judge by thespecimen before me, I should consider it very equivocal. "

"Perhaps Mrs. Evelyn counts friendships by inheritance, " saidFleda. "I think they ought to be counted so. "

" 'Thine own friend, and thy father's friend, forsake not, ' "said the young man. 

Fleda looked up and smiled a pleased answer. 

"There is something very lovely in the faithfulness of triedfriendship, and very uncommon. "

"I know that it is uncommon only by hearsay, " said Fleda. "Ihave so many good friends. "

He was silent for an instant, possibly thinking there might bea reason for that, unknown only to Fleda herself. 

"Perhaps one must be in peculiar circumstances to realize it, "he said, sighing; — "circumstances that leave one of noimportance to any one in the world. But it is a kind lesson, —one learns to depend more on the one friendship that can neverdisappoint. "

Fleda's eyes again gave an answer of sympathy; for she thoughtfrom the shade that had come upon his face, that thesecircumstances had probably been known to himself. 

"This is rather an amusing scene, " he remarked presently, in alow tone. 

"Very, " said Fleda. "I have never seen such a one before. "

"Nor I, " said he. "It is a pleasant scene, too; it is pleasantto see so many evidences of kindness and good feeling on thepart of all these people. "

"There is all the more show of it, I suppose, to-day, " saidFleda, "because we have a new minister coming; they want tomake a favourable impression. "

"Does the old proverb of the 'new broom' hold good here too?"said he, smiling. "What's the name of your new minister?"

"I am not certain, " said Fleda; "there were two talked of; thelast I heard was, that it was an old Mr. Carey; but from whatI hear this morning, I suppose it must be the other — a Mr. Ollum, or some such queer name, I believe. "

Fleda thought her hearer looked very much amused, and followedhis eye into the room, where Mrs. Evelyn was going about inall quarters looking at everything, and finding occasion toenter into conversation with at least a quarter of the peoplewho were present. Whatever she was saying, it seemed at thatmoment to have something to do with them, for sundry eyesturned in their direction; and presently Dr. Quackenboss cameup, with even more than common suavity of manner. 

"I trust Miss Ringgan will do me the favour of making meacquainted with — a — with our future pastor!" said thedoctor, looking, however, not at all at Miss Ringgan, butstraight at the pastor in question. "I have great pleasure ingiving you the first welcome, Sir — or, I should say, ratherthe second; since, no doubt, Miss Ringgan has been in advanceof me. It is not un — a — appropriate, Sir, for I may say we —a — divide the town between us. You are, I am sure, a worthyrepresentative of Peter and Paul; and I am — a — a pupil ofEsculapius, Sir! You are the intellectual physician, and I amthe external. "

"I hope we shall both prove ourselves good workmen, Sir, " saidthe young minister, shaking the doctor's hand heartily. 

"This is Dr. Quackenboss; Mr. Olmney, " said Fleda, making atremendous effort. But though she could see correspondingindications about her companion's eyes and mouth, she admiredthe kindness and self-command with which he listened to thedoctor's civilities and answered them; expressing his gratefulsense of the favours received, not only from him, but fromothers. 

"Oh — a little to begin with, " said the doctor, looking roundupon the room, which would certainly have furnished _that_ forfifty people; "I hope we aint done yet by considerable — Buthere is Miss Ringgan, Mr. — a — Ummin, that has brought yousome of the fruits of her own garden, with her own fair hands— a basket of fine strawberries, which, I am sure — a — willmake you forget everything else!"

Mr. Olmney had the good-breeding not to look at Fleda, as heanswered, "I am sure the spirit of kindness was the same inall, Dr. Quackenboss, and I trust not to forget that readily. "

Others now came up; and Mr. Olmney was walked off to be "madeacquainted" with all, or with all the chief of hisparishioners then and there assembled. Fleda watched him goingabout, shaking hands, talking and smiling, in all directions, with about as much freedom of locomotion as a fly in aspider's web; till, at Mrs. Evelyn's approach, the others felloff a little, and taking him by the arm, she rescued him. 

"My dear Mr. Olmney, " she whispered, with an intensely amusedface, "I shall have a vision of you every day for a month tocome, sitting down to dinner, with a rueful face, to awhortleberry pie; for there are so many of them, yourconscience will not let you have anything else cooked, — youcannot manage more than one a day. "

"Pies!" said the young gentleman, as Mrs. Evelyn left talking, to indulge her feelings in ecstatic quiet laughing — "I have ahorror of pies!"

"Yes, yes, " said Mrs. Evelyn, nodding her head delightedly, asshe drew him towards the pantry — "I know! — Come and see whatis in store for you. You are to do penance for a month to comewith tin pans of blackberry jam, fringed with pie crust — no, they can't be blackberries, they must be raspberries, theblackberries are not ripe yet. And you may sup upon cake andcustards, unless you give the custards for the little pig outthere, he will want something. "

"A pig!" said Mr. Olmney, in amaze — Mrs. Evelyn again givingout in distress. "A pig!" said Mr. Olmney. 

"Yes, a pig — a very little one, " said Mrs. Evelyn, convulsively. "I am sure he is hungry now. "

They had reached the pantry, and Mr. Olmney's face was allthat was wanting to Mrs. Evelyn's delight. How she smotheredit, so that it should go no further than to distress his self-command, is a mystery known only to the initiated. Mrs. Douglass was forthwith called into council. 

"Mrs. Douglass, " said Mr. Olmney, "I feel very much inclinedto play the host, and beg my friends to share with me some ofthese good things they have been so bountifully providing. "

"He would enjoy them much more than he would alone, Mrs. Douglass, " said Mrs. Evelyn, who still had hold of Mr. Olmney's arm, looking round to the lady with a most benignface. 

"I reckon some of 'em would be past enjoying by the time hegot to 'em, wouldn't they?" said the lady. "Well, they'll haveto take 'em in their fingers, for our crockery ha'n't come yet— I shall have to jog Mr. Flatt's elbow; but hungry folks aintcurious. "

"In their fingers, or any way, provided you have only a knifeto cut them with, " said Mr. Olmney, while Mrs. Evelyn squeezedhis arm in secret mischief; "and pray, if we can muster twoknives, let us cut one of these cheeses, Mrs. Douglass. "

And presently Fleda saw pieces of pie walking about in alldirections, supported by pieces of cheese. And then Mrs. Evelyn and Mr. Olmney came out from the pantry and cametowards her, the latter bringing her, with his own hands, aportion in a tin pan. The two ladies sat down in the windowtogether to eat and be amused. 

"My dear Fleda, I hope you are hungry, " said Mrs. Evelyn, biting her pie, Fleda could not help thinking, with an air ofgood-humoured condescension. 

"I am, Ma'am, " she said, laughing. 

"You look just as you used to do, " Mrs. Evelyn went on, earnestly. 

"Do I?" said Fleda, privately thinking that the lady must havegood eyes for features of resemblance. 

"Except that you have more colour in your cheeks and moresparkles in your eyes. Dear little creature that you were; Iwant to make you know my children. Do you remember that Mr. And Mrs. Carleton that took such care of you at Montepoole?"

"Certainly I do! — very well. "

"We saw them last winter; we were down at their country placein — shire. They have a magnificent place there — everythingyou can think of to make life pleasant. We spent a week withthem. My dear Fleda, I wish I could show you that place! younever saw anything like it. "

Fleda ate her pie. 

"We have nothing like it in this country; of course, cannothave. One of those superb English country seats is beyond eventhe imagination of an American. "

"Nature has been as kind to us, hasn't she?" said Fleda. 

"O yes; but such fortunes, you know. Mr. Olmney, what do youthink of those overgrown fortunes? I was speaking to MissRinggan just now of a gentleman who has forty thousand poundsa year income — sterling, Sir; forty thousand pounds a yearsterling. Somebody says, you know, that 'he who has more thanenough is a thief of the rights of his brother' — what do youthink?"

But Mr. Olmney's attention was at the moment forcibly calledoff by the "income" of a parishioner. 

"I suppose, " said Fleda, "his thievish character must dependentirely on the use he makes of what he has. "

"I don't know, " said Mrs. Evelyn, shaking her head; "I thinkthe possession of great wealth is very hardening. "

"To a fine nature?" said Fleda. 

Mrs. Evelyn shook her head again, but did not seem to think itworth while to reply; and Fleda was trying the question in herown mind whether wealth or poverty might be the most hardeningin its effects; when Mr. Olmney, having succeeded in gettingfree again, came and took his station beside them, and theyhad a particularly pleasant talk, which Fleda, who had seennobody in a great while, enjoyed very much. They had severalsuch talks in the course of the day; for though thedistractions caused by Mr. Olmney's other friends were manyand engrossing, he generally contrived in time to find his wayback to their window. Meanwhile, Mrs. Evelyn had a great dealto say to Fleda, and to hear from her; and left her at lastunder an engagement to spend the next day at the Pool. 

Upon Mr. Olmney's departure with Mrs. Evelyn, the attractionwhich had held the company together was broken, and theyscattered fast. Fleda presently finding herself in theminority, was glad to set out with Miss Anastasia Finn, andher sister Lucy, who would leave her but very little way fromher own door. But she had more company than she bargained for. Dr. Quackenboss was pleased to attach himself to their party, though his own shortest road certainly lay in anotherdirection; and Fleda wondered what he had done with his wagon, which, beyond a question, must have brought the cheese in themorning. She edged herself out of the conversation as much aspossible, and hoped it would prove so agreeable that he wouldnot think of attending her home. In vain. When they made astand at the cross roads the doctor stood on her side. 

"I hope now you've made a commencement, you will come to seeus again, Fleda, " said Miss Lucy. 

"What's the use of asking?" said her sister, abruptly. "If shehas a mind to, she will, and if she ha'n't, I am sure we don'twant her. "

They turned off. 

"Those are excellent people, " said the doctor, when they werebeyond hearing; "really respectable!"

"Are they?" said Fleda. 

"But your goodness does not look, I am sure, to find — a —Parisian graces in so remote a circle?"

"Certainly not, " said Fleda. 

"We have had a genial day!" said the doctor, quitting theFinns. 

"I don't know, " said Fleda, permitting a little of her inwardmerriment to work off; "I think it has been rather too hot. "

"Yes, " said the doctor, "the sun has been ardent; but Ireferred rather to the — a — to the warming of affections, andthe pleasant exchange of intercourse on all sides which hastaken place. How do you like our — a — the stranger?"

"Who, Sir?"

"The new-comer — this young Mr. Ummin?"

Fleda answered, but she hardly knew what, for she was musingwhether the doctor would go away or come in. They reached thedoor, and Fleda invited him, with terrible effort after hervoice; the doctor having just blandly offered an opinion uponthe decided polish of Mr. Olmney's manners. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

"Labour is light, where love (quoth I) doth pay;(Saith he) light burthens heavy, if far borne. "DRAYTON. 

Fleda pushed open the parlour door, and preceded her convoy, in a kind of tip-toe state of spirits. The first thing thatmet her eyes was her aunt, in one of the few handsome silkswhich were almost her sole relic of past wardrobe prosperity, and with a face uncommonly happy and pretty; and the nextinstant she saw the explanation of this appearance in hercousin Charlton, a little palish, but looking better than shehad ever seen him, and another gentleman, of whom her eye tookin only the general outlines of fashion and comfortablecircumstances, now too strange to it to go unnoted. In Fleda'susual mood her next movement would have been made with ademureness that would have looked like bashfulness. But theamusement and pleasure of the day just passed had for themoment set her spirits free from the burden that generallybound them down; and they were as elastic as her step, as shecame forward and presented to her aunt "Dr. Quackenboss, " andthen turned to shake her cousin's hand. 

"Charlton! — Where did you come from? We didn't expect you sosoon. "

"You are not sorry to see me, I hope?"

"Not at all — very glad;" — and then as her eye glancedtowards the other new-comer, Charlton presented to her "Mr. Thorn, " and Fleda's fancy made a sudden quick leap on theinstant to the old hall at Montepoole, and the shot dog. Andthen Dr. Quackenboss was presented, an introduction whichCaptain Rossitur received coldly, and Mr. Thorn with somethingmore than frigidity. 

The doctor's elasticity, however, defied depression, especially in the presence of a silk dress and a militarycoat. Fleda presently saw that he was agonizing her uncle. Mrs. Rossitur had drawn close to her son. Fleda was left totake care of the other visitor. The young men had both seemedmore struck at the vision presented to them than she had beenon her part. She thought neither of them was very ready tospeak to her. 

"I did not know, " said Mr. Thorn, softly, "what reason I hadto thank Rossitur for bringing me home with him to-night — hepromised me a supper and a welcome — but I find he did nottell me the half of my entertainment. "

"That was wise in him, " said Fleda; "the half that is notexpected is always worth a great deal more than the other. "

"In this case, most assuredly, " said Thorn, bowing, and, Fledawas sure, not knowing what to make of her. 

"Have you been in Mexico, too, Mr. Thorn?"

"Not I! — that's an entertainment I beg to decline. I neverfelt inclined to barter an arm for a shoulder-knot, or toabridge my usual means of locomotion for the privilege ofriding on parade — or selling one's-self for a name. PeterSchlemil's selling his shadow I can understand; but this isreally lessening one's-self that one's shadow may grow thelarger. "

"But you were in the army?" said Fleda. 

"Yes, it wasn't my doing. There is a time, you know, when onemust please the old folks — I grew old enough and wise enoughto cut loose from the army before I had gained or lost much byit. "

He did not understand the displeased gravity of Fleda's face, and went on insinuatingly —

"Unless I have lost what Charlton has gained — something I didnot know hung upon the decision — Perhaps you think a man istaller for having iron heels to his boots?"

"I do not measure a man by his inches, " said Fleda. 

"Then you have no particular predilection for shooting-men?"

"I have no predilection for shooting anything, Sir?"

"Then I am safe!" said he, with an arrogant little air ofsatisfaction. "I was born under an indolent star, but Iconfess to you, privately, of the two I would rather gather myharvests with the sickle than the sword. How does your unclefind it?"

"Find what, Sir?"

"The worship of Ceres? — I remember he used to be devoted toApollo and the Muses. "

"Are they rival deities?"

"Why — I have been rather of the opinion that they were toomany for one house to hold, " said Thorn, glancing at Mr. Rossitur. "But perhaps the Graces manage to reconcile them. "

"Did you ever hear of the Graces getting supper?" said Fleda. "Because Ceres sometimes sets them at that work. Uncle Rolf, "she added as she passed him — "Mr. Thorn is inquiring afterApollo — will you set him right, while I do the same for thetablecloth?"

Her uncle looked from her sparkling eyes to the rather puzzledexpression of his guest's face. 

"I was only asking your lovely niece, " said Mr. Thorn, comingdown from his stilts, "how you liked this country life. "

Dr. Quackenboss bowed, probably in approbation of the epithet. 

"Well, Sir, what information did she give you on the subject?"

"Left me in the dark, Sir, with a vague hope that you wouldenlighten me. "

"I trust Mr. Rossitur can give a favourable report?" said thedoctor, benignly. 

But Mr. Rossitur's frowning brow looked very little like it. 

"What do you say to our country life, Sir?"

"It's a confounded life, Sir, " said Mr. Rossitur, taking apamphlet from the table to fold and twist as he spoke; "it isa confounded life; for the head and the hands must either liveseparate, or the head must do no other work but wait upon thehands. It is an alternative of loss and waste, Sir. "

"The alternative seems to be of — a — limited application, "said the doctor, as Fleda, having found that Hugh and Barbyhad been beforehand with her, now came back to the company. "Iam sure this lady would not give such a testimony. "

"About what?" said Fleda, colouring under the fire of so manyeyes. 

"The blighting influence of Ceres' sceptre, " said Mr. Thorn. 

"This country life, " said her uncle — "do you like it, Fleda?"

"You know, uncle, " said she, cheerfully, "I was always of theold Douglass's mind — I like better to hear the lark sing thanthe mouse squeak. "

"Is that one of Earl Douglass's sayings, " said the doctor. 

"Yes, Sir, " said Fleda with quivering lips, "but not the oneyou know — an older man. "

"Ah!" said the doctor, intelligently, "Mr. Rossitur — speakingof hands — I have employed the Irish very much of late years —they are as good as one can have, if you do not want a head. "

"That is to say — if you have a head, " said Thorn. 

"Exactly!" said the doctor, all abroad — "and when there arenot too many of them together. I had enough of that, Sir, someyears ago, when a multitude of them were employed on thepublic works. The Irish were in a state of mutilation, Sir, all through the country. "

"Ah!" said Thorn, "had the military been at work upon them?"

"No, Sir, but I wish they had, I am sure; it would have beenfor the peace of the town. There were hundreds of them. Wewere in want of an army. "

"Of surgeons, I should think, " said Thorn. 

Fleda saw the doctor's dubious air and her uncle's compressedlips; and, commanding herself, with even a look of somethinglike displeasure, she quitted her seat by Mr. Thorn, andcalled the doctor to the window to look at a cluster of roseacacias just then in their glory. He admired, and sheexpatiated, till she hoped everybody but herself had forgottenwhat they had been talking about. But they had no soonerreturned to their seats than Thorn began again. 

"The Irish in your town are not in the same mutilated statenow, I suppose, Sir?"

"No, Sir, no, " said the doctor: "there are much fewer of themto break each other's bones. It was all among themselves, Sir. "

"The country is full of foreigners, " said Mr. Rossitur, withpraiseworthy gravity. 

"Yes, Sir, " said Dr. Quackenboss, thoughtfully, "we shall havenone of our ancestors left in a short time, if they go on asthey are doing. "

Fleda was beaten from the field, and, rushing into thebreakfast-room, astonished Hugh by seizing hold of him andindulging in a most prolonged and unbounded laugh. She did notshow herself again till the company came in to supper; butthen she was found as grave as Minerva. She devoted herselfparticularly to the care and entertainment of Dr. Quackenbosstill he took leave; nor could Thorn get another chance to talkto her through all the evening. 

When he and Rossitur were at last in their rooms, Fleda toldher story. 

"You don't know how pleasant it was, aunt Lucy — how much Ienjoyed it — seeing and talking to somebody again. Mrs. Evelynwas so very kind. "

"I a very glad, my darling, " said Mrs. Rossitur, stroking awaythe hair from the forehead that was bent down towards her — "Iam glad you had it to-day, and I am glad you will have itagain to-morrow. "

"You will have it too, aunt Lucy. Mrs. Evelyn will be here inthe morning — she said so. "

"I shall not see her. "

"Why? Now, aunt Lucy! — you will. "

"I have nothing in the world to see her in — I cannot. "

"You have this?"

"For the morning? A rich French silk? — It would be absurd. No, no — it would be better to wear my old merino than that. "

"But you will have to dress in the morning for Mr. Thorn? — hewill be here to breakfast. "

"I shall not come down to breakfast. Don't look so, love! — Ican't help it. "

"Why was that calico got for me and not for you!" said Fleda, bitterly. 

"A sixpenny calico!" said Mrs. Rossitur, smiling — "it wouldbe hard if you could not have so much as that, love. "

"And you will not see Mrs. Evelyn and her daughters at all! —and I was thinking that it would do you so much good!"

Mrs. Rossitur drew her face a little nearer and kissed it, over and over. 

"It will do you good, my darling — that is what I care formuch more. "

"It will not do me half as much, " said Fleda, sighing. 

Her spirits were in their old place again; no more a tiptoeto-night. The short light of pleasure was overcast. She wentto bed feeling very quiet indeed; and received Mrs. Evelyn andexcused her aunt the next day, almost wishing the lady had notbeen as good as her word. But though in the same mood she setoff with her to drive to Montepoole, it could not stand thebright influences with which she found herself surrounded. Shecame home again at night with dancing spirits. 

It was some days before Captain Rossitur began at all tocomprehend the change which had come upon his family. Onemorning Fleda and Hugh, having finished their morning's work, were in the breakfast-room waiting for the rest of the family, when Charlton made his appearance, with the cloud on his browwhich had been lately gathering. 

"Where is the paper?" said he. "I haven't seen a paper since Ihave been here. "

"You mustn't expect to find Mexican luxuries in Queechy, Captain Rossitur, " said Fleda pleasantly. — "Look at theseroses, and don't ask me for papers!"

He did look a minute at the dish of flowers she was arrangingfor the breakfast table, and at the rival freshness andsweetness of the face that hung over them. 

"You don't mean to say you live without a paper?"

"Well, it's astonishing how many things people can livewithout, " said Fleda, rather dreamily, intent upon settling anuneasy rose that would topple over. 

"I wish you'd answer me really, " said Charlton. "Don't youtake a paper here?"

"We would take one, thankfully, if it would be so good as tocome; but, seriously, Charlton, we haven't any, " she said, changing her tone. 

"And have you done without one all through the war?"

"No — we used to borrow one from a kind neighbour once in awhile, to make sure, as Mr. Thorn says, that you had notbartered an arm for a shoulder-knot. "

"You never looked to see whether I was killed in themeanwhile, I suppose?"

"No — never, " said Fleda, gravely, as she took her place on alow seat in the corner — "I always knew you were safe before Itouched the paper. "

"What do you mean?"

"I am not an enemy, Charlton, " said Fleda, laughing. "I meanthat I used to make aunt Miriam look over the accounts beforeI did. "

Charlton walked up and down the room for a little while insullen silence; and then brought up before Fleda. 

"What are you doing?"

Fleda looked up — a glance that, as sweetly and brightly aspossible, half asked, half bade him be silent and ask noquestions. 

"What are you doing?" he repeated. 

"I am putting a patch on my shoe. "

His look expressed more indignation than anything else. 

"What do you mean?"

"Just what I say, " said Fleda, going on with her work. 

"What in the name of all the cobblers in the land do you do itfor?"

"Because I prefer it to having a hole in my shoe; which wouldgive me the additional trouble of mending my stockings. "

Charlton muttered an impatient sentence, of which Fleda onlyunderstood that "the devil" was in it, and then desired toknow if whole shoes would not answer the purpose as well aseither holes or patches. 

"Quite — if I had them, " said Fleda, giving him anotherglance, which, with all its gravity and sweetness, carriedalso a little gentle reproach. 

"But do you know, " said he, after standing still a minutelooking at her, "that any cobbler in the country would do whatyou are doing much better for sixpence?"

"I am quite aware of that, " said Fleda, stitching away. 

"Your hands are not strong enough for that work. "

Fleda again smiled at him, in the very dint of giving a hardpush to her needle — a smile that would have witched him intogood humour if he had not been determinately in a cloud, andproof against everything. It only admonished him that he couldnot safely remain in the region of sunbeams; and he walked upand down the room furiously again. The sudden ceasing of hisfootsteps presently made her look up. 

"What have you got there? — Oh, Charlton, don't! — please putthat down! — I didn't know I had left them there. They were alittle wet, and I laid them on the chair to dry. "

"What do you call this?" said he, not minding her request. 

"They are only my gardening gloves — I thought I had put themaway. "

"Gloves!" said he, pulling at them disdainfully — "why, hereare two — one within the other — what's that for?"

"It's an old-fashioned way of mending matters — two friendscovering each other's deficiencies. The inner pair are toothin alone, and the outer ones have holes that are pastcobbling. "

"Are we going to have any breakfast to-day?" said he, flingingthe gloves down. "You are very late!"

"No, " said Fleda, quietly — "it is not time for aunt Lucy tobe down yet. "

"Don't you have breakfast before nine o'clock?"

"Yes — by half-past eight generally. "

"Strange way of getting along on a farm! Well, I can't wait, —I promised Thorn I would meet him this morning — Barby! I wishyou would bring me my boots!" —

Fleda made two springs, — one to touch Charlton's mouth, theother to close the door of communication with the kitchen. 

"Well! — what is the matter? — can't I have them?"

"Yes, yes, but ask me for what you want. You mustn't call uponBarby in that fashion. "

"Why not? Is she too good to be spoken to? What is she in thekitchen for?"

"She wouldn't be in the kitchen long if we were to speak toher in that way, " said Fleda. "I suppose she would as soon putyour boots on for you as fetch and carry them. I'll see aboutit. "

"It seems to me Fleda rules the house, " remarked CaptainRossitur, when she had left the room. 

"Well, who should rule it?" said Hugh. 

"Not she!"

"I don't think she does, " said Hugh; "but if she did, I amsure it could not be in better hands. "

"It shouldn't be in her hands at all. But I have noticed sinceI have been here that she takes the arrangement of almosteverything. My mother seems to have nothing to do in her ownfamily. "

"I wonder what the family or anybody in it would do withoutFleda!" said Hugh, his gentle eyes quite firing withindignation. "You had better know more before you speak, Charlton. "

"What is there for me to know?"

"Fleda does everything. "

"So I say — and that is what I don't like. "

"How little you know what you are talking about!" said Hugh. "I can tell you she is the life of the house, almostliterally, we should have had little enough to live upon thissummer if it had not been for her. "

"What do you mean?" — impatiently enough. 

"Fleda — if it had not been for her gardening and management —she has taken care of the garden these two years, and sold Ican't tell you how much from it. Mr. Sweet, the hotelman atthe Pool, takes all we can give him. "

"How much does her 'taking care of the garden' amount to?"

"It amounts to all the planting, and nearly all the otherwork, after the first digging — by far the greater part ofit. "

Charlton walked up and down a few turns in most unsatisfiedsilence. 

"How does she get the things to Montepoole?"

"I take them. "

"You! — When?"

"I ride with them there before breakfast. Fleda is up veryearly to gather them. "

"You have not been there this morning?"

"Yes. "

"With what?"

"Pease and strawberries. "

"And Fleda picked them?"

"Yes — with some help from Barby and me. "

"That glove of hers was wringing wet. "

"Yes, with the pea-vines, and strawberries too; you know theyget so loaded with dew. Oh, Fleda gets more than her gloveswet. But she does not mind anything she does for father andmother. "

"Humph! and does she get enough when all is done to pay forthe trouble?"

"I don't know, " said Hugh, rather sadly. "_She_ thinks so. It isno trifle. "

"Which, the pay or the trouble?"

"Both. But I meant the pay. Why, she made ten dollars lastyear from the asparagus beds alone, and I don't know how muchmore this year. "

"Ten dollars! — The devil!"

"Why?"

"Have you come to counting your dollars by the tens?"

"We have counted our sixpences so a good while, " said Hugh, quietly. 

Charlton strode about the room again in much perturbation. Then came in Fleda, looking as bright as if dollars had beencounted by the thousand, and bearing his boots. 

"What on earth did you do that for?" said he, angrily. "Icould have gone for them myself. "

"No harm done, " said Fleda, lightly; "only I have gotsomething else instead of the thanks I expected. "

"I can't conceive, " said he, sitting down and sulkily drawingon his foot-gear, "why this piece of punctiliousness shouldhave made any more difficulty about bringing me my boots thanabout blacking them. "

A sly glance of intelligence, which Charlton was quick enoughto detect, passed between Fleda and Hugh. His eye carried itsquestion from one to the other. Fleda's gravity gave way. 

"Don't look at me so, Charlton, " said she, laughing; "I can'thelp it, you are so excessively comical! — I recommend thatyou go out upon the grass-plat before the door and turn roundtwo or three times. 

"Will you have the goodness to explain yourself? Who did blackthese boots?"

"Never pry into the secrets of families, " said Fleda. "Hughand I have a couple of convenient little fairies in ourservice that do things _unknownst_. "

"I blacked them, Charlton, " said Hugh. 

Captain Rossitur gave his slippers a fling that carried themclean into the corner of the room. 

"I will see, " he said, rising, "whether some other servicecannot be had more satisfactory than that of fairies!"

"Now, Charlton, " said Fleda, with a sudden change of manner, corning to him and laying her hand most gently on his arm, "please don't speak about these things before uncle Rolf oryour mother — please do not, Charlton. It would only do agreat deal of harm, and do no good. "

She looked up in his face, but he would not meet her pleadingeye, and shook off her hand. 

"I don't need to be instructed how to speak to my father andmother; and I am not one of the household that has submitteditself to your direction. "

Fleda sat down on her bench and was quiet, but with a lip thattrembled a little and eyes that let fall one or two witnessesagainst him. Charlton did not see them, and he knew betterthan to meet Hugh's look of reproach. But for all that, therewas a certain consciousness that hung about the neck of hispurpose and kept it down in spite of him; and it was not tillbreakfast was half over that his ill-humour could make headagainst this gentle thwarting and cast it off. For so long themeal was excessively dull; Hugh and Fleda had their ownthoughts; Charlton was biting his resolution into every sliceof bread-and-butter that occupied him; and Mr. Rossitur's facelooked like anything but encouraging an inquiry into hisaffairs. Since his son's arrival he had been most uncommonlygloomy; and Mrs. Rossitur's face was never in sunshine whenhis was in shade. 

"You'll have a warm day of it at the mill, Hugh, " said Fleda, by way of saying something to break the dismal monotony ofknives and forks. 

"Does that mill make much?" suddenly inquired Charlton. 

"It has made a new bridge to the brook, literally, " said Fledagaily; "for it has sawn out the boards; and you know youmustn't speak evil of what carries you over the water. "

"Does that mill pay for the working?' said Charlton, turningwith the dryest disregard from her interference, andaddressing himself determinately to his father. 

"What do you mean? It does not work gratuitously, " answeredMr. Rossitur, with at least equal dryness. 

"But, I mean, are the profits of it enough to pay for the lossof Hugh's time?"

"If Hugh judges they are not, he is at liberty to let italone. "

"My time is not lost, " said Hugh; "I' don't know what I shoulddo with it. "

"I don't know what we should do without the mill, " said Mrs. Rossitur. 

That gave Charlton an unlucky opening. 

"Has the prospect of farming disappointed you, father?"

"What is the prospect of your company?" said Mr. Rossitur, swallowing half an egg before he replied. 

"A very limited prospect!" said Charlton, "if you mean the onethat went with me. Not a fifth part of them left. "

"What have you done with them?"

"Showed them where the balls were flying, Sir, and did my bestto show them the thickest of it. "

"Is it necessary to show it to us too?" said Fleda. 

"I believe there are not twenty living that followed me intoMexico, " he went on, as if he had not heard her. 

"Was all that havoc made in one engagement?" said Mrs. Rossitur, whose cheek had turned pale. 

"Yes, mother; in the course of a few minutes. "

"I wonder what would pay for _that_ loss, " said Fleda, indignantly. 

"Why, the point was gained! and it did not signify what thecost was, so we did that. My poor boys were a small part ofit. "

"What point do you mean?"

"I mean the point we had in view, which was taking the place. "

"And what was the advantage of gaining the place?"

"Pshaw! the advantage of doing one's duty. "

"But what made it duty?" said Hugh. 

"Orders. "

"I grant you, " said Fleda; "I understand that — but bear withme, Charlton — what was the advantage to the army or thecountry?"

"The advantage of great honour if we succeeded, and avoidingthe shame of failure. "

"Is that all?" said Hugh. 

"All!" said Charlton. 

"Glory must be a precious thing, when other men's lives are socheap to buy it, " said Fleda. 

"We did not risk theirs without our own, " said Charlton, colouring. 

"No; but still theirs were risked for you. "

"Not at all; why, this is absurd! you are saying that thewhole war was for nothing. "

"What better than nothing was the end of it? We paid Mexicofor the territory she yielded to us, didn't we, uncle Rolf?"

"Yes. "

"How much?"

"Twenty millions, I believe. "

"And what do you suppose the war has cost?"

"Hum — I don't know — a hundred. "

"A hundred million! Besides — how much besides! And don't yousuppose, uncle Rolf, that for half of that sum Mexico wouldhave sold us peaceably what she did in the end?"

"It is possible — I think it is very likely. "

"What was the fruit of the war, Captain Rossitur?"

"Why, a great deal of honour to the army and the nation atlarge. "

"Honour again! But granting that the army gained it, whichthey certainly did, for one I do not feel very proud of thenation's share. "

"Why, they are one, " said Charlton, impatiently. 

"In an unjust war?"

"It was _not_ an unjust war. "

"That's what you call a knock-downer, " said Fleda, laughing. "But I confess myself so simple as to have agreed with SethPlumfield, when I heard him and Lucas disputing about it lastwinter, that it was a shame to a great and strong nation likeours to display its might in crushing a weak one. "

"But they drew it upon themselves. _They_ began hostilities. "

"There is a diversity of opinion about that. "

"Not in heads that have two grains of information. "

"I beg your pardon. Mrs. Evelyn and Judge Sensible weretalking over that very question the other day at Montepoole;and he made it quite clear to my mind that we were theaggressors. "

"Judge Sensible is a fool!" said Mr. Rossitur. 

"Very well!" said Fleda, laughing; — "but as I do not wish tobe comprehended in the same class, will you show me how he waswrong, uncle?"

This drew on a discussion of some length, to which Fledalistened with profound attention, long after her aunt hadceased to listen at all, and Hugh was thoughtful, and Charltondisgusted. At the end of it, Mr. Rossitur left the table andthe room, and Fleda subsiding, turned to her cold coffee-cup. 

"I didn't know you ever cared anything about politics before, "said Hugh. 

"Didn't you?" said Fleda, smiling. "You do me injustice. "

Their eyes met for a second, with a most appreciating smile onhis part; and then he too went off to his work. There was afew minutes' silent pause after that. 

"Mother, " said Charlton, looking up and bursting forth, "whatis all this about the mill and the farm? — is not the farmdoing well?"

"I am afraid not very well, " said Mrs. Rossitur, gently. 

"What is the difficulty?"

"Why, your father has let it to a man by the name ofDidenhover, and I am afraid he is not faithful; it does notseem to bring us in what it ought. "

"What did he do that for?"

"He was wearied with the annoyances he had to endure before, and thought it would be better and more profitable to havesomebody else take the whole charge and management. He did notknow Didenhover's character at the time. "

"Engaged him without knowing him!"

Fleda was the only third party present, and Charltonunwittingly allowing himself to meet her eye, received a lookof keen displeasure that he was not prepared for. 

"That is not like him, " he said, in a much moderated tone. "But you must be changed too, mother, or you would not enduresuch anomalous service in your kitchen. "

"There are a great many changes, dear Charlton, " said hismother, looking at him with such a face of sorrowful sweetnessand patience that his mouth was stopped. Fleda left the room. 

"And have you really nothing to depend upon but that child'sstrawberries and Hugh's wood-saw?" he said, in the tone heought to have used from the beginning. 

"Little else. "

Charlton stifled two or three sentences that rose to his lips, and began to walk up and down the room again. His mother satmusing by the tea-board still, softly clinking her spoonagainst the edge of her tea-cup. 

"She has grown up very pretty, " he remarked, after a pause. 

"Pretty!" said Mrs. Rossitur. 

"Why?"

"No one that has seen much of Fleda would ever describe her bythat name. "

Charlton had the candour to think he had seen something of herthat morning. 

"Poor child!" said Mrs. Rossitur, sadly, " I can't bear tothink of her spending her life as she is doing — wearingherself out, I know, sometimes — and buried alive. "

"Buried!" said Charlton, in his turn. 

"Yes; without any of the advantages and opportunities sheought to have. I can't bear to think of it. And yet how shouldI ever live without her" said Mrs. Rossitur, leaning her laceupon her hands. "And if she were known she would not be minelong. But It grieves me to have her go without her music, thatshe is so fond of, and the book she wants; she and Hugh havegone from end to end of every volume there is in the house, Ibelieve, in every language, except Greek. "

"Well, she looks pretty happy and contented, mother. "

"I don't know!'" said Mrs.. Rossitur, shaking her head. 

"Isn't she happy?"

"I don't know, " said Mrs. Rossitur, again; "she has a spiritthat is happy in doing her duty, or anything for those sheloves; but I see her sometimes wearing a look that pains meexceedingly. I am afraid the way she lives, and the changes inour affairs, have worn upon her more than we know of — shefeels doubly everything that touches me, or Hugh, or yourfather. She is a gentle spirit!" —

"She seems to me not to want character, " said Charlton. 

"Character! I don't know who has so much. She has at leastfifty times as much character as I have. And energy. She isadmirable at managing people — she knows how to influence themsomehow, so that everybody does what she wants. "

"And who influences her?" said Charlton. 

"Who influences her? Everybody that she loves. Who has themost influence over her, do you mean? I am sure I don't know —Hugh, if anybody — but she is rather the moving spirit of thehousehold. "

Captain Rossitur resolved that he would be an exception to herrule. 

He forgot, however, for some reason or other, to sound hisfather any more on the subject of mismanagement. His thoughts, indeed, were more pleasantly taken up. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

"My lord Sebastian, The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness, And time to speak it in: you rub the sore, When you should bring the plaster. "_Tempest_. 

The Evelyns spent several weeks at the Pool; and both motherand daughters conceiving a great affection for Fleda, kept herin their company as much as possible. For those weeks Fledahad enough of gaiety. She was constantly spending the day withthem at the Pool, or going on some party of pleasure, ortaking quiet sensible walks and rides with them alone, or withonly one or two more of the most rational and agreeable peoplethat the place could command. And even Mrs. Rossitur waspersuaded, more times than one, to put herself in her plainestremaining French silk, and entertain the whole party, with theaddition of one or two of Charlton's friends, at her Queechyfarm-house. 

Fleda enjoyed it all with the quick spring of a mindhabitually bent to the patient fulfilment of duty, andhabitually under the pressure of rather sobering thoughts. Itwas a needed and very useful refreshment. Charlton's being athome gave her the full good of the opportunity more than wouldelse have been possible. He was her constant attendant, driving her to and from the Pool, and finding as much to callhim there as she had; for, besides the Evelyns, his friendThorn abode there all this time. The only drawback to Fleda'spleasure as she drove off from Queechy would be the leavingHugh plodding away at his saw-mill. She used to nod and waveto him as they went by, and almost feel that she ought not togo on and enjoy herself while he was tending that wearisomemachinery all day long. Still she went on and enjoyed herself;but the mere thought of his patient smile as she passed wouldhave kept her from too much elation of spirits, if there hadbeen any danger. There never was any. 

"That's a lovely little cousin of yours, " said Thorn, oneevening, when he and Rossitur, on horseback, were leisurelymaking their way along the up-and-down road between Montepooleand Queechy. 

"She is not particularly little, " said Rossitur, with adryness that somehow lacked any savour of gratification. 

"She is of a most fair stature, " said Thorn; "I did not meananything against that; but there are characters to which onegives instinctively a softening appellative. "

"Are there?" said Charlton. 

"Yes. She is a lovely little creature. "

"She is not to compare to one of those girls we have leftbehind us at Montepoole, " said Charlton. 

"Hum — well, perhaps you are right; but which girl do youmean? — for I profess I don't know. "

"The second of Mrs. Evelyn's daughters — the auburn-hairedone. "

"Miss Constance, eh?" said Thorn. "In what isn't the other oneto be compared to her?"

"In anything! Nobody would ever think of looking at her in thesame room. "

"Why not?" said Thorn, coolly. 

"I don't know why not, " said Charlton, "except that she hasnot a tithe of her beauty. That's a superb girl!"

For a matter of twenty yards, Mr. Thorn went softly humming atune to himself, and leisurely switching the flies off hishorse. 

"Well, " said he, "there's no accounting for tastes —

'I ask no red and whiteTo make up my delight, No odd becoming graces, Black eyes, or little know-not-what in faces. ' "

"What _do_ you want, then?" said Charlton, half laughing at himthough his friend was perfectly grave. 

"A cool eye, and a mind in it. "

"A cool eye!" said Rossitur. 

"Yes. Those we have left behind us are arrant will-o'-the-wisps — dancing fires — no more. "

"I can tell you, there is fire sometimes in the other eyes, "said Charlton. 

"Very likely, " said his friend, composedly; "I could haveguessed as much; but that is a fire you may warm yourself at;no eternal phosphorescence — it is the leaping up of allinternal fire, that only shows itself upon occasion. "

"I suppose you know what you are talking about, " saidCharlton; "but I can't follow you into the region ofvolcanoes. Constance Evelyn has superb eyes. It is uncommon tosee a light blue so brilliant. "

"I would rather trust a sick head to the handling of thelovely lady than the superb one, at a venture. "

"I thought you never had a sick head, " said Charlton. 

"That is lucky for me, as the hands do not happen to be at myservice. But no imagination could put Miss Constance inDesdemona's place, when Othello complained of his headache —you remember, Charlton, —

"Faith, that's with watching — 'twill away again —Let me but bind this handkerchief about it hard. ' "

Thorn gave the intonation truly and admirably. 

"Fleda never said anything so soft as that, " said Charlton. 

"No?"

"No. "

"You speak — well, but _soft!_ — do you know what you aretalking about there?"

"Not very well, " said Charlton. "I only remember there wasnothing soft about Othello; what you quoted of his wife justnow seemed to me to smack of that quality. "

"I forgive your memory, " said Thorn, "or else I certainlywould not forgive you. If there is a fair creation in allShakespeare, it is Desdemona; and if there is a prettycombination on earth that nearly matches it, I believe it isthat one. "

"What one?"

"Your pretty cousin. "

Charlton was silent. 

"It is generous in me to undertake her defence, " Thorn wenton, "for she bestows as little of her fair countenance upon meas she can well help. But try as she will, she cannot be sorepellent as she is attractive. "

Charlton pushed his horse into a brisker pace not favourableto conversation; and they rode forward in silence, till, indescending the hill below Deepwater, they came within view ofHugh's work-place, the saw-mill. Charlton suddenly drewbridle. 

"There she is. "

"And who is with her?" said Thorn. "As I live! — our friend —what's his name? — who has lost all his ancestors. — And whois the other?"

"My brother, " said Charlton. 

"I don't mean your brother, Captain Rossitur, " said Thorn, throwing himself off his horse. 

He joined the party, who were just leaving the mill to go downtowards the house. Very much at his leisure, Charltondismounted, and came after him. 

"I have brought Charlton safe home, Miss Ringgan, " said Thorn, who, leading his horse, had quietly secured a position at herside. 

"What's the matter?" said Fleda, laughing. "Couldn't he bringhimself home?"

"I don't know what's the matter, but he's been uncommonlydumpish; we've been as near as possible to quarrelling forhalf a dozen miles back. "

"We have been — a — more agreeably employed, " said Dr. Quackenboss, looking round at him with a face that was aconcentration of affability. 

"I make no doubt of it, Sir; I trust we shall bring nounharmonious interruption. If I may change somebody else'swords, " he added more low to Fleda — " 'disdain itself mustconvert to courtesy in your presence. ' "

"I am sorry disdain should live to pay me a compliment, " saidFleda. "Mr. Thorn, may I introduce to you, Mr. Olmney?"

Mr. Thorn honoured the introduction with perfect civility, butthen fell back to his former position and slightly loweredtone. 

"Are you then a sworn foe to compliments?"

"I was never so fiercely attacked by them as to give me anyoccasion. "

"I should be very sorry to furnish the occasion; but what'sthe harm in them, Miss Ringgan?"

"Chiefly a want of agreeableness. "

"Of agreeableness! Pardon me; I hope you will be so good as togive me the rationale of that?"

"I am of Miss Edgeworth's opinion, Sir, " said Fleda, blushing, " that a lady may always judge of the estimation in which sheis held, by the conversation which is addressed to her. "

"And you judge compliments to be a doubtful indication ofesteem!"

"I am sure you do not need information on that point, Sir. "

"As to your opinion, or the matter of fact?" said he, somewhatkeenly. 

"As to the matter of fact, " said Fleda, with a glance bothsimple and acute in its expression. 

"I will not venture to say a word, " said Thorn, smiling. "Protestations would certainly fall flat at the gates where_les douces paroles_ cannot enter. But do you know this ispicking a man's pocket of all his silver pennies, and obliginghim to produce his gold?"

"That _would_ be a hard measure upon a good many people, " saidFleda, laughing. "But they're not driven to that. There'splenty of small change left. "

"You certainly do not deal in the coin you condemn, " saidThorn, bowing. "But you will remember that none call for goldbut those who can exchange it, and the number of them is few. In a world where cowrie passes current, a man may be excusedfor not throwing about his guineas. "

"I wish you'd throw about a few for our entertainment, " saidCharlton, who was close behind. "I haven't seen a yellow-boyin a good while. "

"A proof that your eyes are not jaundiced, " said his friend, without turning his head, "whatever may be the case with youotherwise. Is he out of humour with the country-life you likeso well, Miss Ringgan? or has he left his domestic tastes inMexico? How do you think he likes Queechy?"

"You might as well ask myself, " said Charlton. 

"How do you think he likes Queechy, Miss Ringgan?"

"I am afraid something after the fashion of Touchstone, " saidFleda, laughing; — "he thinks, that 'in respect of itself, itis a good life; but in respect that it is a shepherd's life, it is nought. In respect that it is solitary, he likes it verywell; but in respect that it is private, it is a very vilelife. Now, in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth himwell; but in respect it is not in the court, it is tedious. ' "

"There's a guinea for you, Captain Rossitur, " said his friend. "Do you know out of what mint?"

"It doesn't bear the head of Socrates, " said Charlton. 

" 'Hast no philosophy in thee, ' Charlton?" said Fleda, laughing back at him. 

"Has not Queechy — a — the honour of your approbation, CaptainRossitur?" said the doctor. 

"Certainly, Sir; I have no doubt of its being a very finecountry. "

"Only he has imbibed some doubts whether happiness be anindigenous crop, " said Thorn. 

"Undoubtedly, " said the doctor, blandly; "to one who hasroamed over the plains of Mexico, Queechy must seem rather — a— a rather flat place. "

"If he could lose sight of the hills, " said Thorn. 

"Undoubtedly, Sir, undoubtedly, " said the doctor; "they are amarked feature in the landscape, and do much to relieve — a —the charge of sameness. "

"Luckily, " said Mr. Olmney, smiling, "happiness is not a thingof circumstance; it depends on a man's self. "

"I used to think so, " said Thorn; "that is what I have alwayssubscribed to; but I am afraid I could not live in this regionand find it so long. "

"What an evening!" said Fleda. "Queechy is doing its best todeserve our regards under this light. Mr. Olmney, did you evernotice the beautiful curve of the hills in that hollow wherethe sun sets?"

"I do notice it now, " he said. 

"It is exquisite!" said the doctor. "Captain Rossitur, do youobserve, Sir — in that hollow where the sun sets?"

Captain Rossitur's eye made a very speedy transition from thehills to Fleda, who had fallen back a little to take Hugh'sarm, and placing herself between him and Mr. Olmney, wasgiving her attention undividedly to the latter. And to him shetalked perseveringly of the mountains, the country, and thepeople, till they reached the courtyard gate. Mr. Olmney thenpassed on. So did the doctor, though invited to tarry, averring that the sun had gone down behind the firmament, andhe had something to attend to at home. 

"You will come in, Thorn, " said Charlton. 

"Why, I had intended returning; but the sun has gone downindeed, and as our friend says there is no chance of ourseeing him again, I may as well go in and take what comfort isto be had in the circumstances. Gentle Euphrosyne, doth it notbecome the Graces to laugh?"

"They always ask leave, Sir, " said Fleda, hesitating. 

"A most Grace-ful answer, though it does not smile upon me, "said Thorn. 

"I am sorry, Sir, " said Fleda, smiling now, "that you have somany silver pennies to dispose of — we shall never get at thegold. "

"I will do my very best, " said he. 

So he did, and made himself agreeable that evening to everyone of the circle; though Fleda's sole reason for liking tosee him come in had been, that she was glad of everything thatserved to keep Charlton's attention from home subjects. Shesaw sometimes the threatening of a cloud that troubled her. 

But the Evelyns and Thorn, and everybody else whom they knew, left the Pool at last, before Charlton, who was sufficientlywell again, had near run out his furlough; and then the cloud, which had only showed itself by turns during all those weeks, gathered and settled determinately upon his brow. 

He had long ago supplied the want of a newspaper. One eveningin September, the family were sitting in the room where theyhad had tea, for the benefit of the fire, when Barby pushedopen the kitchen door and came in. 

"Fleda, will you let me have one of the last papers? I've anotion to look at it. "

Fleda rose and went to rummaging in the cupboards. 

"You can have it again in a little while, " said Barby, considerately. 

The paper was found, and Miss Elster went out with it. 

"What an unendurable piece of ill-manners that woman is!" saidCharlton. 

"She has no idea of being ill-mannered, I assure you, " saidFleda, . 

His voice was like a brewing storm — hers was so clear andsoft that it made a lull in spite of him. But he began again. 

"There is no necessity for submitting to impertinence. I neverwould do it. "

"I have no doubt you never will, " said his father. "Unless youcan't help yourself. "

"Is there any good reason, Sir, why you should not have properservants in the house?"

"A very good reason, " said Mr. Rossitur. "Fleda would be indespair. "

"Is there none beside that?" said Charlton, dryly. 

"None — except a trifling one, " Mr. Rossitur answered, in thesame tone. 

"We cannot afford it, dear Charlton, " said his mother, softly. 

There was a silence, during which Fleda moralized on the wayspeople take to make themselves uncomfortable. 

"Does that man — to whom you let the farm — does he do hisduty?"

"I am not the keeper of his conscience. "

" I am afraid it would be a small charge to any one, " saidFleda. 

"But are you the keeper of the gains you ought to have fromhim? Does he deal fairly by you?"

"May I ask first what interest it is of yours?"

"It is my interest, Sir, because I come home and find thefamily living upon the exertions of Hugh and Fleda, and findthem growing thin and pale under it. "

"You, at least, are free from all pains of the kind, CaptainRossitur. "

"Don't listen to him, uncle Rolf!" said Fleda, going round toher uncle, and making, as she passed, a most warningimpression upon Charlton's arm — "don't mind what he says —that young gentleman has been among the Mexican ladies till hehas lost an eye for a really proper complexion. Look at me! —do I look pale and thin? I was paid a most brilliantcompliment the other day upon my roses. Uncle, don't listen tohim! — he hasn't been in a decent humour since the Evelynswent away. "

She knelt down before him and laid her hands upon his, andlooked up in his face to bring all her plea — the plea of mostwinning sweetness of entreaty in features yet flushed andtrembling. His own did not unbend as he gazed at her, but hegave her a silent answer in a pressure of the hands that wentstraight from his heart to hers. Fleda's eye turned toCharlton appealingly. 

"Is it necessary, " he repeated, "that that child and this boyshould spend their days in labour to keep the family alive?"

"If it were, " replied Mr. Rossitur, "I am very willing thattheir exertions should cease. For my own part, I would quiteas lief be out of the world as in it. "

"Charlton! — how can you!" said Fleda, half-beside herself —"you should know of what you speak, or be silent! — Uncle, don't mind him! he is talking wildly — my work does me good. "

"You do not understand yourself, " said Charlton, obstinately;— "it is more than you ought to do, and I know my motherthinks so, too. "

"Well!" said Mr. Rossitur — "it seems there is an agreement inmy own family to bring me to the bar — get up, Fleda, — let ushear all the charges to be brought against me, at once, andthen pass sentence. What have you and your mother agreed upon, Charlton? — go on!"

Mrs. Rossitur, now beyond speech, left the room, weeping evenaloud. Hugh followed her. Fleda wrestled with her agitationfor a minute or two, and than got up and put both arms roundher uncle's neck. 

"Don't talk so, dear uncle Rolf! — you make us very unhappy —aunt Lucy did not mean any such thing — it is only Charlton'snonsense. Do go and tell her you don't think so — you havebroken her heart by what you said; — do go, uncle Rolf! — dogo and make her happy again! Forget it all! — Charlton did notknow what he was saying — wont you go, dear uncle Rolf? —"

The words were spoken between bursts of tears that utterlyovercame her, though they did not hinder the utmostcaressingness of manner. It seemed at first spent upon a rock. Mr. Rossitur stood like a man that did not care what happenedor what became of him — dumb and unrelenting — suffering hersweet words and imploring tears, with no attempt to answer theone or stay the other. But he could not hold out against herbeseeching. He was no match for it. He returned at lastheartily the pressure of her arms, and, unable to give her anyother answer, kissed her two or three times — such kisses asare charged with the heart's whole message; and, disengaginghimself, left the room. 

For a minute after he was gone, Fleda cried excessively; andCharlton, now alone with her, felt as if he had not a particleof self-respect left to stand upon. One such agony would doher more harm than whole weeks of labour and weariness. He wastoo vexed and ashamed of himself to be able to utter a word, but when she recovered a little, and was leaving the room, hestood still by the door in an attitude that seemed to ask herto speak a word to him. 

"I am sure, Charlton, " she said, gently, "you'll be sorry to-morrow for what you have done. "

"I am sorry now, " he said. But she passed out without sayinganything more. 

Captain Rossitur passed the night in unmitigated vexation withhimself. But his repentance could not have been very genuine, since his most painful thought was, what Fleda must think ofhim. 

He was somewhat reassured at breakfast to find no traces ofthe evening's storm; indeed, the moral atmosphere seemedrather clearer and purer than common. His own face was theonly one which had an unusual shade upon it. There was nodifference in anybody's manner towards himself; and there waseven a particularly gentle and kind pleasantness about Fleda, intended, he knew, to soothe and put to rest any movings ofself-reproach he might feel. It somehow missed of its aim, andmade him feel worse; and after, on his part, a very silentmeal, he quitted the house, and took himself and hisdiscontent to the woods. 

Whatever effect they had upon him, it was the middle of themorning before he came back again. He found Fleda alone in thebreakfast-room, sewing; and for the first time noticed thelook his mother had spoken of — a look not of sadness, butrather of settled, patient gravity; the more painful to see, because it could only have been wrought by long-acting causes, and might be as slow to do away as it must have been to bring. Charlton's displeasure with the existing state of things hadrevived as his remorse died away, and that quiet face did nothave a quieting effect upon him. 

"What on earth is going on?" he began, rather abruptly, assoon as he entered the room. "What horrible cookery is onfoot?"

"I venture to recommend that you do not inquire, " said Fleda. "It was set on foot in the kitchen, and it has walked in here. If you open the window, it will walk out. "

"But you will be cold?"

"Never mind — in that case I will walk out too, into thekitchen. "

"Into the thick of it! No — I will try some other way ofrelief. This is unendurable!"

Fleda looked, but made no other remonstrance, and not heedingthe look, Mr. Charlton walked out into the kitchen, shuttingthe door behind him. 

"Barby, " said he, "you have got something cooking here that isvery disagreeable in the other room. "

"Is it?" said Barby. "I reckoned it would all fly up chimney. I guess the draught ain't so strong as I thought it was. "

"But I tell you it fills the house!"

"Well, it'll have to a spell yet, " said Barby, "cause if itdidn't, you see, Captain Rossitur, there'd be nothing to fillFleda's chickens with. "

"Chickens! — where's all the corn in the land?"

"It's some place besides in our barn, " said Barby. "All lastyear's is out, and Mr. Didenhover aint fetched any of thisyear's home; so I made a bargain with 'em, they shouldn'tstarve as long as they'd eat boiled pursley. "

"What do you give them?"

"Most everything — they aint particular now-a-days — chunks o'cabbages, and scarcity, and pun'kin, and that — all the sassthat aint wanted. "

"And do they eat that?"

"Eat it!" said Barby; "they don't know how to thank me for't. "

"But it ought to be done out of doors, " said Charlton, comingblack from a kind of maze in which he had been listening toher. "It is unendurable. "

"Then I guess you'll have to go some place where you wont knowit, " said Barby — "that's the most likely plan I can hit upon;for it'll have to stay on till it's ready. "

Charlton went back into the other room really down-hearted, and stood watching the play of Fleda's fingers. 

"Is it come to this!" he said at length. "Is it possible thatyou are obliged to go without such a trifle as the miserablesupply of food your fowls want?"

"That's a small matter!" said Fleda, speaking lightly thoughshe smothered a sigh. "We have been obliged to do without morethan that. "

"What is the reason?"

"Why, this man Didenhover is a rogue, I suspect, and hemanages to spirit away all the profits that should come touncle Rolf's hands — I don't know how. We have lived almostentirely upon the mill for some time. "

"And has my father been doing nothing all this while?"

"Nothing on the farm. "

"And what of anything else?"

"I don't know, " said Fleda, speaking with evidentunwillingness. "But surely, Charlton, he knows his ownbusiness best. It is not our affair. "

"He is mad!" said Charlton, violently striding up and down thefloor. 

"No, " said Fleda, with equal gentleness and sadness, "he isonly unhappy; I understand it all — he has had no spirit totake hold of anything ever since we came here. "

"Spirit!" said Charlton; "he ought to have worked off hisfingers to their joints before he let you do as you have beendoing!"

"Don't say so!" said Fleda, looking even pale in her eagerness— "don't think so, Charlton! it isn't right. We cannot tellwhat he may have had to trouble him; I know he has suffered, and does suffer a great deal. Do not speak again aboutanything as you did last night! Oh, " said Fleda, now sheddingbitter tears, "this is the worst of growing poor — thedifficulty of keeping up the old kindness, and sympathy, andcare, for each other!"

"I am sure it does not work so upon you, " said Charlton, in analtered voice. 

"Promise me, dear Charlton, " said Fleda, looking up after amoment, and drying her eyes again, "promise me you will notsay any more about these things! I am sure it pains uncle Rolfmore than you think. Say you will not — for your mother'ssake!"

"I will not Fleda for your sake. I would not give you any moretrouble to bear. Promise me that you will be more careful ofyourself in future. "

"Oh there is no danger about me, " said Fleda, with a faintsmile, and taking up her work again!

"Who are you making shirts for?" said Charlton, after apause. "

"Hugh. "

"You do everything for Hugh, don't you?"

"Little enough. Not half so much as he does for me. "

"Is he up at the mill to-day?"

"He is always there, " said Fleda, sighing. 

There was another silence. 

"Charlton, " said Fleda, looking up with a face of theloveliest insinuation — "isn't there something _you_ might do tohelp us a little?"

"I will help you garden, Fleda, with pleasure. "

"I would rather you should help somebody else, " said she, still looking at him. 

"What, Hugh? You would have me go and work at the mill forhim, I suppose?"

"Don't be angry with me, Charlton, for suggesting it, " saidFleda, looking down again. 

"Angry!" said he. "But is that what you would have me do. "

"Not unless you like; I didn't know but you might take hisplace once in a while for a little, to give him a rest —"

"And suppose some of the people from Montepoole, that know me, should come by? — What are you thinking of?" said he, in atone that certainly justified Fleda's deprecation. 

"Well!" said Fleda, in a kind of choked voice — "there is astrange rule of honour in vogue in the world. "

"Why should I help Hugh rather than anybody else?"

"He is killing himself!" said Fleda, letting her work fall, and hardly speaking the words through thick tears. Her headwas down, and they came fast. Charlton stood abashed for aminute. 

"You sha'n't do so, Fleda, " said he gently, endeavouring toraise her — "you have tired yourself with this miserable work!Come to the window — you have got low-spirited, but, I amsure, without reason about Hugh — but you shall set me aboutwhat you will; you are right, I dare say, and I am wrong; butdon't make me think myself a brute, and I will do anything youplease. "

He had raised her up, and made her lean upon him. Fleda wipedher eyes and tried to smile. 

"I will do anything that will please you, Fleda. "

"It is not to please _me_, " she answered, meekly. 

"I would not have spoken a word last night if I had known itwould have grieved you so. "

"I am sorry you should have none but so poor a reason fordoing right, " said Fleda, gently. 

"Upon my word, I think you are about as good reason as anybodyneed have, " said Charlton. 

She put her hand upon his arm, and looked up — such a look ofpure rebuke, as carried to his mind the full force of thewords she did not speak, — "Who art thou that carest for aworm which shall die, and forgettest the Lord thy Maker!"Charlton's eyes fell. Fleda turned gently away, and began tomend the fire. He stood watching her for a little. 

"What do you think of me, Fleda?" he said at length. 

"A little wrong-headed, " answered Fleda, giving him a glanceand a smile. "I don't think you are very bad. "

"If you will go with me, Fleda, you shall make what you pleaseof me. "

He spoke half in jest, half in earnest, and did not himselfknow at the moment which way he wished Fleda to take it. Butshe had no notion of any depth in his words. 

"A hopeless task!" she answered, lightly, shaking her head, asshe got down on her knees to blow the fire; — "I am afraid itis too much for me. I have been trying to mend you ever sinceyou came, and I cannot see the slightest change for thebetter. "

"Where is the bellows?" said Charlton, in another tone. 

"It has expired — its last breath, " said Fleda. "In otherwords, it has lost its nose. "

"Well, look here, " said he, laughing and pulling her away —"you will stand a fair chance of losing your face if you putit in the fire. You sha'n't do it. Come and show me where tofind the scattered parts of that old wind instrument, and Iwill see if it cannot be persuaded to play again. "

CHAPTER XXV. 

"I dinna ken what I should wantIf I could get but a man. "SCOTCH BALLAD. 

Captain Rossitur did no work at the saw-mill. But Fleda'swords had not fallen to the ground. He began to show care forhis fellow-creatures in getting the bellows mended; his nextstep was to look to his gun; and from that time, so long as hestayed, the table was plentifully supplied with all kinds ofgame the season and the country could furnish. Wild ducks andpartridges banished pork and bacon even from memory; and Fledajoyfully declared she would not see another omelette againtill she was in distress. 

While Charlton was still at home came a very urgent invitationfrom Mrs. Evelyn, that Fleda should pay them a long visit inNew York, bidding her care for no want of preparation, butcome and make it there. Fleda demurred, however, on that veryscore. But before her answer was written another missive camefrom Dr. Gregory, not asking so much as demanding herpresence, and enclosing a fifty dollar bill, for which he saidhe would hold her responsible till she had paid him with, nother own hands, but her own lips. There was no withstanding themanner of this entreaty. Fleda packed up some of Mrs. Rossitur's laid-by silks, to be refreshed with an air offashion, and set off with Charlton at the end of his furlough. 

To her simple spirit of enjoyment the weeks ran fast; and allmanner of novelties and kindnesses helped them on. It was atime of cloudless pleasure. But those she had left thought itlong. She wrote them how delightfully she kept house for theold doctor, whose wife had long been dead, and how joyouslyshe and the Evelyns made time fly And every pleasure she feltawoke almost as strong a throb in the hearts at home. But theymissed her, as Barby said, "dreadfully;" and she was mostdearly welcomed when she came back. It was just before NewYear. 

For half an hour there was most gladsome use of eyes andtongues. Fleda had a great deal to tell them. 

"How well — how well you are looking, dear Fleda!" said heraunt, for the third or fourth time. 

"That's more than I can say for you and Hugh, aunt Lucy. Whathave you been doing to yourselves?"

"Nothing new, " they said, as her eye went from one to theother. 

"I guess you have wanted me!" said Fleda, shaking her head, asshe kissed them both again. 

"I guess we have, " said Hugh, "but don't fancy we have grownthin upon the want. "

"But where's uncle Rolf? you didn't tell me. "

"He is gone to look after those lands in Michigan. "

"In Michigan! — When did he go?"

"Very soon after you. "

"And you didn't let me know! — Oh, why didn't you? How lonelyyou must have been!"

"Let you know, indeed!" said Mrs. Rossitur, wrapping her inher arms again; — "Hugh and I counted every week that youstayed, with more pleasure each one. "

"I understand!" said Fleda, laughing under her aunt's kisses. "Well, I am glad I am at home again to take care of you. I seeyou can't get along without me. "

"People have been very kind, Fleda, " said Hugh. 

"Have they?"

"Yes — thinking we were desolate, I suppose. There has been noend to aunt Miriam's goodness and pleasantness. "

"Oh, aunt Miriam, always!" said Fleda. "And Seth. "

"Catherine Douglass has been up twice to ask if her mothercould do anything for us; and Mrs. Douglass sent us once arabbit, and once a quantity of wild pigeons that Earl hadshot. Mother and I lived upon pigeons for I don't know howlong. Barby wouldn't eat 'em — she said she liked pork better;but I believe she did it on purpose. "

"Like enough, " said Fleda, smiling, from her aunt's arms whereshe still lay. 

"And Seth has sent you plenty of your favourite hickory nuts, very fine ones; and I gathered butternuts enough for you nearhome. "

"Everything is for me, " said Fleda. "Well, the first thing Ido shall be to make some butternut candy for _you_. You wontdespise that Mr. Hugh?"

Hugh smiled at her, and went on. 

"And your friend Mr. Olmney has sent us a corn-basket fill ofthe superbest apples you ever saw. He has one tree of thefinest in Queechy, he says. "

"_My_ friend!" said Fleda, colouring a little. 

"Well, I don't know whose he is, if he isn't yours, " saidHugh. "And even the Finns sent us some fish that their brotherhad caught, because, they said, they had more than theywanted. And Dr. Quackenboss sent us a goose and a turkey. Wedidn't like to keep them, but we were afraid, if we sent themback, it would not be understood. "

"Send them back!" said Fleda. "That would never do! AllQueechy would have rung with it. "

"Well, we didn't, " said Hugh. "But so we sent one of them toBarby's old mother, for Christmas. "

"Poor Dr. Quackenboss!" said Fleda. "That man has as near aspossible killed me two or three times. As for the others, theyare certainly the oddest of all the finny tribes. I must goout and see Barby for a minute. "

It was a good many minutes, however, before she could get freeto do any such thing. 

"You han't lost no flesh, " said Barby, shaking hands with heranew. "What did they think of Queechy keep, down in York?"

"I don't know — I didn't ask them, " said Fleda. "How goes theworld with you, Barby?"

"I'm mighty glad you are come home, Fleda, " said Barby, lowering her voice. 

"Why?" said Fleda, in a like tone. 

"I guess I aint all that's glad of it, " Miss Elster went on, with a glance of her bright eye. 

"I guess not, " said Fleda, reddening a little — "but what isthe matter?"

"There's two of our friends ha'n't made us but one visitapiece since — oh, ever since some time in October!"

"Well, never mind the people, " said Fleda. "Tell me what youwere going to say. "

"And Mr. Olmney, " said Barby, not minding her, "he's took andsent us a great basket chock full of apples. Now, wa'n't thatsmart of him, when he knowed there wa'n't no one here thatcared about 'em ?"

"They are a particularly fine kind, " said Fleda. 

"Did you hear about the goose and turkey?"

"Yes, " said Fleda, laughing. 

"The doctor thinks he has done the thing just about right, this time, I 'spect. He had ought to take out a patent rightfor his invention. He'd feel spry if he knowed who ate one on'em. "

"Never mind the doctor, Barby. Was this what you wanted to seeme for?"

"No, " said Barby, changing her tone. "I'd give something itwas. I've been all but at my wit's end; for you know, Mis'Rossitur aint no hand about anything — I couldn't say a wordto her; and ever since he went away, we have been just windingourselves up. I thought I should clear out, when Mis' Rossitursaid, maybe you wa'n't a-coming till next week. "

"But what is it, Barby? what is wrong?"

"There ha'n't been anything right, to my notions, for a longspell, " said Barby, wringing out her dish-cloth hard, andflinging it down, to give herself uninterruptedly to talk;"but now you see, Didenhover, nor none of the men, never comesnear the house to do a chore; and there aint wood to lastthree days; and Hugh aint fit to cut it if it was piled up inthe yard; and there aint the first stick of it out of thewoods yet. "

Fleda sat down, and looked very thoughtfully into the fire. 

"He had ought to ha' seen to it afore he went away; but heha'n't done it, and there it is. "

"Why, who takes care of the cows?" said Fleda. 

"Oh, never mind the cows, " said Barby, "they aint suffering —I wish we was as well off as they be; but I guess, when hewent away, he made a hole in our pockets for to mend his'n. Idon't say he hadn't ought to ha' done it, but we've beenpretty short ever sen, Fleda — we're in the last bushel offlour, and there aint but a handful of corn meal, and mightylittle sugar, white or brown. I did say something to Mis'Rossitur, but all the good it did was to spoil her appetite, Is'pose; and if there's grain in the floor, there aint nobodyto carry it to mill — nor to thrash it — nor a team to drawit, fur's I know. "

"Hugh cannot cut wood, " said Fleda, "nor drive to mill either, in this weather. "

"I could go to mill, " said Barby, "now you're to hum; butthat's only the beginning, and it's no use to try to doeverything — flesh and blood must stop somewhere. "

"No, indeed!" said Fleda. "We must have somebody immediately. "

"That's what I had fixed upon, " said Barby. "If you could gethold o' some young feller that wa'n't sot up with an idee thathe was a grown man and too big to be told, I'd just clap toand fix that little room up-stairs for him, and give him hisvictuals here, and we'd have some good of him; instead o'having him streaking off just at the minute when he'd ought tobe along. "

"Who is there we could get, Barby?"

"I don't know, " said Barby; "but they say there is never anick that there aint a jog some place; so I guess it can bemade out. I asked Mis' Plumfield, but she didn't know anybodythat was out of work; nor Seth Plumfield. I'll tell you whodoes — that is, if there is anybody — Mis' Douglass. She keepshold. Of one end of most everybody's affairs, I tell her. Anyhow, she's a good hand to go to. "

"I'll go there at once, " said Fleda. "Do you know anythingabout making maple sugar, Barby?"

"That's the very thing, " exclaimed Barby, ecstatically. "There's lots o' sugar-maples on the farm, and it's murder tolet them go to loss; and they ha'n't done us a speck o' goodever since I come here. And in your grandfather's time, theyused to make barrels and barrels. You and me and Hugh, andsomebody else we'll have, we could clap to and make as muchsugar and molasses in a week as would last us till spring comeround again. There's no sense into it All we'd want would beto borrow a team some place. I had all that in my head longago. If we could see the last of that man, Didenhover, oncet, I'd take hold of the plough myself, and see if I couldn't makea living out of it. I don't believe the world would go now, Fleda, if it wa'n't for women. I never see three men, yet, that didn't try me more than they were worth. "

"Patience, Barby!" said Fleda, smiling. "Let us take thingsquietly. "

"Well, I declare, I'm beat, to see how you take 'em, " saidBarby, looking at her lovingly. 

"Don't you know why, Barby?"

"I s'pose I do, " said Barby, her face softening still more —"or I can guess. "

"Because I know that all these troublesome things will bemanaged in the best way, and by my best Friend, and I knowthat He will let none of them hurt me. I am sure of it — isn'tthat enough to keep me quiet?"

Fleda's eyes were filling, and Barby looked away from them. 

"Well, it beats me, " she said, taking up her dish-cloth again, "why you should have anything to trouble you. I can understandwicked folks being plagued, but I can't see the sense of thegood ones. "

"Troubles are to make good people better, Barby. "

"Well, " said Barby, with a very odd mixture of real feelingand seeming want of it, "it's a wonder I never got religion, for I will say that all the decent people I ever see were ofthat kind, — Mis' Rossitur aint, though, is she?"

"No, " said Fleda, a pang crossing her at the thought that allher aunt's loveliness must tell directly and heavily in thiscase to lighten religion's testimony. It was that thought, andno other, which saddened her brow as she went back into theother room. 

"Troubles already!" said Mrs. Rossitur. "You will be sorry youhave come back to them, dear. "

"No, indeed, " said Fleda, brightly; "I am very glad I havecome home. We will try and manage the troubles, aunt Lucy. "

There was no doing anything that day, but the very nextafternoon Fleda and Hugh walked down through the snow to Mrs. Douglass's. It was a long walk and a cold one, and the snowwas heavy; but the pleasure of being together made up for itall. It was a bright walk, too, in spite of everything. 

In a most thrifty-looking well-painted farm-house, lived Mrs. Douglass. 

"Why, 'taint you, is it'?" she said, when she opened the door— "Catharine said it was, and I said I guessed it wa'n't, forI reckoned you had made up your mind not to come and see me atall. How do you do?"

The last sentence in the tone of hearty and earnesthospitality. Fleda made her excuses. 

"Ay, ay — I can understand all that just as well as if yousaid it. I know how much it means, too. Take off your hat. "

Fleda said she could not stay, and explained her business. 

"So you ha'n't come to see me, after all? Well, now, take offyour hat 'cause I wont have anything to say to you till youdo. I'll give you supper right away. "

"But I have left my aunt alone, Mrs. Douglass; and theafternoons are so short now, it would be dark before we couldget home. "

"Serve her right for not coming along! and you sha'n't walkhome in the dark, for Earl will harness the team, and carryyou home like a streak — the horses have nothing to do. Come, you sha'n't go. "

And as Mrs. Douglass laid violent hands on her bonnet, Fledathought best to submit. She was presently rewarded with thepromise of the very person she wanted — a boy, or young man, then in Earl Douglass's employ; but his wife said, "sheguessed he'd give him up to her;" and what his wife said, Fleda knew Earl Douglass was in the habit of making good. 

"There aint enough to do to keep him busy, " said Mrs. Douglass. "I told Earl he made me more work than he saved; buthe's hung on till now. "

"What sort of a boy is he, Mrs. Douglass. "

"He aint a steel-trap, I tell you beforehand, " said the lady, with one of her sharp intelligent glances; "he don't knowwhich way to go till you show him; but he's a clever enoughkind of a chap — he don't mean no harm. I guess he'll do forwhat you want. "

"Is he to be trusted?"

"Trust him with anything but a knife and fork, " said she, withanother look and shake of the head. "He has no idee but whateverything on the supper-table is meant to be eaten straightoff. I would keep two such men as my husband as soon as Iwould Philetus. "

"Philetus!" said Fleda — "the person that brought the chicken, and thought he had brought two?"

"You've hit it, " said Mrs. Douglass. "Now you know him. How doyou like our new minister?"

"We are all very much pleased with him. "

"He's very good-looking, don't you think so?"

"A very pleasant face. "

"I ha'n't seen him much yet except in church; but those thatknow, say he is very agreeable in the house. "

"Truly, I dare say, " answered Fleda, for Mrs. Douglass's facelooked for her testimony. 

"But I think he looks as if he was beating his brains outthere among his books. I tell him he is getting the blues, living in that big house by himself. "

"Do you manage to do all your work without help, Mrs. Douglass?" said Fleda, knowing that the question was in"order, " and that the affirmative answer was not counted athing to he ashamed of. 

"Well, I guess I'll know good reason, " said Mrs. Douglass, complacently, "before I'll have any help to spoil _my_ work. Come along, and I'll let you see whether I want one. "

Fleda went, very willingly, to be shown all Mrs. Douglass'shousehold arrangements and clever contrivances, of her own orher husband's devising, for lessening or facilitating labour. The lady was proud, and had some reason to be, of the verysuperb order and neatness of each part and detail. No corneror closet that might not be laid open fearlessly to avisitor's inspection. Miss Catharine was then directed to openher piano, and amuse Fleda with it while her mother performedher promise of getting an early supper — a command grateful toone or two of the party, for Catharine had been carrying onall this while a most stately tκte-ΰ-tκte with Hugh, whichneither had any wish to prolong. So Fleda filled up the timegood naturedly with thrumming over the two or three bits ofher childish music that she could recall, till Mr. Douglasscame in, and they were summoned to sit down to supper; whichMrs. Douglass introduced by telling her guests "they must takewhat they could get, for she had made fresh bread and cake andpies for them two or three times, and she wasn't a-going to doit again. "

Her table was abundantly spread, however, and with mostexquisite neatness; and everything was of excellent quality, saving only certain matters which call for a free hand in theuse of material. Fleda thought the pumpkin pies must have beenmade from that vaunted stock which is said to want no eggs norsugar, and the cakes, she told Mrs. Rossitur afterwards, wouldhave been good if half the flour had been left out, and theother ingredients doubled, The deficiency in one kind, however, was made up by superabundance in another; the tablewas stocked with such wealth of crockery that one could notimagine any poverty in what was to go upon it. Fleda hardlyknew how to marshal the confusion of plates which groupedthemselves around her cup and saucer, and none of them mightbe dispensed with. There was one set of little glass dishesfor one kind of sweetmeat, another set of ditto for anotherkind; an army of tiny plates to receive and shield thetablecloth from the dislodged cups of tea, saucers being theconventional drinking vessels; and there were the standardbread and butter plates, which, besides their proper charge ofbread and butter, and beef, and cheese, were expected, Fledaknew, to receive a portion of every kind of cake that mighthappen to be on the table. It was a very different thing, however, from Miss Anastasia's tea-table, or that of MissFlora Quackenboss. Fleda enjoyed the whole time withoutdifficulty. 

Mr. Douglass readily agreed to the transfer of Philetus'sservices. 

"He's a good boy!" said Earl — he's a good boy; he's as good akind of a boy as you need to have. He wants tellin'; most boyswant tellin'; but he'll do when he is told, and he means to doright. "

"How long do you expect your uncle will be gone?" said Mrs. Douglass. 

"I do not know, " said Fleda. 

"Have you heard from him since he left?"

"Not since I came home, " said Fleda. "Mr. Douglass, what isthe first thing to be done about the maple-trees in the sugarseason?"

"Why, you calculate to try makin' sugar in the spring?"

"Perhaps — at any rate I should like to know about it. "

"Well, I should think you would, " said Earl, "and it's easydone — there aint nothin' easier, when you know the right wayto set to work about it; and there's a fine lot of sugar treeson the old farm — I recollect of them sugar trees as long agoas when I was a boy — I've helped to work them afore now, butthere's a good many years since — has made me a leetle older;but the first thing you want is a man and a team, to go aboutand empty the buckets — the buckets must be emptied every day— and then carry it down to the house. "

"Yes, I know, " said Fleda; "but what is the first thing to bedone to the trees?"

"Why, la! 'tain't much to do to the trees — all you've got todo is to take an axe and chip a bit out, and stick a chip aleetle way into the cut for to dreen the sap, and set a troughunder, and then go on to the next one, and so on; — you maymake one or two cuts in the south side of the tree, and one ortwo cuts in the north side, if the tree's big enough, and ifit aint, only make one or two cuts in the south side of thetree; and for the sap to run good, it had ought to be thatkind o' weather when it freezes in the day and thaws by night;I would say! — when it friz in the night and thaws in the day;the sap runs more bountifully in that kind o' weather. "

It needed little from Fleda to keep Mr. Douglass at the maple-trees till supper was ended; and then, as it was alreadysundown, he went to harness the sleigh. 

It was a comfortable one, and the horses, if not very handsomenor bright-curried, were well fed and had good heart to theirwork. A two-mile drive was before them, and with notroublesome tongues or eyes to claim her attention, Fledaenjoyed it fully. In the soft clear winter twilight, whenheaven and earth mingle so gently, and the stars look forthbrighter and cheerfuller than ever at another time, they slidalong over the fine roads, too swiftly, towards home; andFleda's thoughts as easily and swiftly slipped away from Mr. Douglass, and maple-sugar, and Philetus, and an unfilledwoodyard, and an empty flour-barrel, and revelled in the pureether. A dark rising ground covered with wood sometimes rosebetween her and the western horizon; and then a long stretchof snow, only less pure, would leave free view of itsunearthly white light, dimmed by no exhalation, a gentle, mute, but not the less eloquent, witness to earth of whatheaven must be. 

But the sleigh stopped at the gate, and Fleda's musings camehome. 

"Good night!" said Earl, in reply to their thanks and adieus;— " 'taint anything to thank a body for — let me know whenyou're a-goin' into the sugar-making, and I'll come and helpyou. "

"How sweet a pleasant message may make an unmusical tongue!"said Fleda, as she and Hugh made their way up to the house. 

"We had a stupid enough afternoon, " said Hugh. 

"But the ride home was worth it all!"

CHAPTER XXVI. 

" 'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good green wood, So blithe Lady Alice is singing;On the beech's pride, and the oak's brown side, Lord Richard's axe is ringing. "LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Philetus came, and was inducted into office and the littleroom immediately; and Fleda felt herself eased of a burden. Barby reported him stout and willing, and he proved it by whatseemed a perverted inclination for bearing the most enormouslogs of wood he could find into the kitchen. 

"He will hurt himself!" said Fleda. 

"I'll protect him! — against anything but buckwheat batter, "said Barby, with a grave shake of her head. "Lazy folks takesthe most pains, I tell him. But it would be good to have somemore ground, Fleda, for Philetus says he don't care for nodinner when he has griddles to breakfast, and there aintanything much cheaper than that. "

"Aunt Lucy, have you any change in the house?" said Fleda, that same day. 

"There isn't but three and sixpence, " said Mrs. Rossitur, witha pained, conscious look. "What is wanting, dear?"

"Only candles — Barby has suddenly found we are out, and shewont have any more made before to-morrow. Never mind. "

"There is only that, " repeated Mrs. Rossitur. "Hugh has alittle money due to him from last summer, but he hasn't beenable to get it yet. You may take that, dear. "

"No, " said Fleda, "we mustn't. We might want it more. "

"We can sit in the dark for once, said Hugh, "and try to makean uncommon display of what Dr. Quackenboss calls 'sociality!'"

"No, " said Fleda, who had stood busily thinking, "I am goingto send Philetus down to the post-office for the paper, andwhen it comes, I am not to be balked of reading it; I've madeup my mind. We'll go right off into the woods and get somepine knots, Hugh — come! They make a lovely light. You get usa couple of baskets and the hatchet; I wish we had two; andI'll be ready in no time. That'll do!"

It is to be noticed, that Charlton had provided against anyfuture deficiency of news in his family. Fleda skipped away, and in five minutes returned arrayed for the expedition, inher usual out-of-door working trim, namely, an old dark merinocloak, almost black, the effect of which was continued by theedge of an old dark mousseline below, and rendered decidedlystriking by the contrast of a large whitish yarn shawl wornover it; the whole crowned with a little close-fitting hoodmade of some old silver-grey silk, shaped tight to the head, without any bow or furbelow to break the outline. But such aface within side of it! She came almost dancing into the room. 

"This is Miss Ringgan! as she appeared when she was going tosee the pine-trees. Hugh, don't you wish you had a picture ofme?"

"I have got a tolerable picture of you, somewhere, " said Hugh. 

"This is somebody very different from the Miss Ringgan thatwent to see Mrs. Evelyn, I can tell you, " Fleda went on, gaily. "Do you know, aunt Lucy, I have made up my mind that myvisit to New York was a dream, and the dream is nicely foldedaway with my silk dresses. Now, I must go tell that preciousPhiletus about the post-office; I am so comforted, aunt Lucy, whenever I see that fellow staggering into the house under agreat log of wood! I have not heard anything in a long time sopleasant as the ringing strokes of his axe in the yard. Isn'tlife made up of little things?"

"Why don't you put a better pair of shoes on?"

"Can't afford it, Mrs. Rossitur. You are extravagant. "

"Go and put on my India-rubbers. "

"No, Ma'am — the rocks would cut them to pieces. I havebrought my mind down to — my shoes. "

"It isn't safe, Fleda; you might see somebody. "

"Well, Ma'am! But I tell you I am not going to see anybody butthe chick-a-dees and the snow-birds, and there is greatsimplicity of manners prevailing among them. "

The shoes were changed, and Hugh and Fleda set forth, lingering a while, however, to give a new edge to theirhatchet — Fleda turning the grindstone. They mounted then theapple-orchard hill, and went a little distance along the edgeof the table-land, before striking off into the woods. Theyhad stood still a minute to look over the little white valleyto the snow-dressed woodland beyond. 

"This is better than New York, Hugh, " said Fleda. 

"I am very glad to hear you say that, " said another voice. Fleda turned, and started a little to see Mr. Olmney at herside, and congratulated herself instantly on her shoes. 

"Mrs. Rossitur told me where you had gone, and gave mepermission to follow you, but I hardly hoped to overtake youso soon. "

"We stopped to sharpen our tools, " said Fleda. "We are out ona foraging expedition. "

"Will you let me help you?"

"Certainly — if you understand the business. Do you know apine-knot when you see it?"

He laughed, and shook his head, but avowed a wish to learn. 

"Well, it would be a charity to teach you anything wholesome, "said Fleda; "for I heard one of Mr. Olmney's friends latelysaying that he looked like a person who was in danger ofcommitting suicide. "

"Suicide! One of my friends!" he exclaimed, in the utmostastonishment. 

"Yes, " said Fleda, laughing; "and there is nothing like theopen air for clearing away vapours. "

"You cannot have known that by experience, " said he, lookingat her. 

Fleda shook her head, and, advising him to take nothing forgranted, set off into the woods. 

They were in a beautiful state. A light snow, but an inch ortwo deep, had fallen the night before; the air had beenperfectly still during the day; and though the sun was out, bright and mild, it had done little but glitter on the earth'swhite capping. The light dry flakes of snow had not stirredfrom their first resting-place. The long branches of the largepines were just tipped with snow at the ends; on the smallerevergreens every leaf and tuft had its separate crest. Stonesand rocks were smoothly rounded over, little shrubs and spraysthat lay along the ground were all doubled in white; and thehemlock branches, bending with their feathery burden, stoopedto the foreheads of the party, and gave them the freshest ofsalutations as they brushed by. The whole wood-scene wasparticularly fair and graceful. A light veil of purity, nomore, thrown over the wilderness of stones, and stumps, andbare ground — like the blessing of charity, covering allroughnesses and unsightlinesses — like the innocent, unsulliednature that places its light shield between the eye andwhatever is unequal, unkindly, and unlovely in the world. 

"What do you think of this for a misanthropical man, Mr. Olmney? there's a better tonic to be found in the woods thanin any remedies of man's devising. "

"Better than books?" said he. 

"Certainly! — No comparison. "

"I have to learn that yet. "

"So I suppose, " said Fleda. "The very danger to beapprehended, as I hear, Sir, is from your running a tilt intosome of those thick folios of yours, head foremost. There's nopitch there, Hugh — you may leave it alone. We must go on —there are more yellow pines higher up. "

"But who could give such a strange character of me to you?"said Mr. Olmney. 

"I am sure your wisdom would not advise me to tell you that, Sir. You will find nothing there, Mr. Olmney. "

They went gaily on, careering about in all directions, andbearing down upon every promising stump or dead pine-tree theysaw in the distance. Hugh and Mr. Olmney took turns in thelabour of hewing out the fat pine knots, and splitting downthe old stumps to get at the pitchy heart of the wood; and thebaskets began to grow heavy. The whole party were in excellentspirits, and as happy as the birds that filled the woods, andwhose cheery "chick-a-dee-dee-dee" was heard whenever theypaused to rest, and let the hatchet be still. 

"How one sees everything in the colour of one's ownspectacles!" said Fleda. 

"May I ask what colour yours are to-day?" said Mr. Olmney. 

"Rose, I think, " said Hugh. 

"No, " said Fleda, "they are better than that — they are noworse colour than the snow's own — they show me everythingjust as it is. It could not be lovelier. "

"Then we may conclude, may we not, " said Mr. Olmney, "that youare not sorry to find yourself in Queechy again?"

"I am not sorry to find myself in the woods again. That is notpitch, Mr. Olmney. "

"It has the same colour — and weight. "

"No, it is only wet — see this, and smell of it — do you seethe difference? Isn't it pleasant?"

"Everything is pleasant to-day, " said he, smiling. 

"I shall report you a cure. Come, I want to go a little higherand show you a view. Leave that, Hugh — we have got enough. "

But Hugh chose to finish an obstinate stump, and hiscompanions went on without him. It was not very far up themountain, and they came to a fine look-out point — the samewhere Fleda and Mr. Carleton had paused long before on theirquest after nuts. The wide spread of country was a white wastenow; the delicate beauties of the snow were lost in the farview; and the distant Catskill showed wintrily against thefair blue sky. The air was gentle enough to invite them tostand still, after the exercise they had taken; and as theyboth looked in silence, Mr. Olmney observed that hiscompanion's face settled into a gravity rather at variancewith the expression it had worn. 

"I should hardly think, " said he, softly, "that you werelooking through white spectacles, if you had not told us so. "

"Oh — a shade may come over what one is looking at, you know, "said Fleda. But seeing that he still watched her inquiringly, she added —

"I do not think a very wide landscape is ever gay in itseffect upon the mind — do you?"

"Perhaps — I do not know, " said he, his eyes turning to itagain, as if to try what the effect was. 

"My thoughts had gone back, " said Fleda, "to a time a goodwhile ago, when I was a child, and stood here in summerweather — and I was thinking that the change in the landscapeis something like that which years make in the mind. "

"But you have not, for a long time at least, known any veryacute sorrow?"

"No, " said Fleda, "but that is not necessary. There is agentle kind of discipline which does its work, I think, moresurely. "

"Thank God for _gentle_ discipline!" said Mr. Olmney; "if you donot know what those griefs are that break down mind and bodytogether. "

"I am not unthankful, I hope, for anything, " said Fleda, gently; "but I have been apt to think that, after a crushingsorrow, the mind may rise up again, but that a long-continuedthough much lesser pressure in time breaks the spring. "

He looked at her again with a mixture of incredulous andtender interest, but her face did not belie her words, strangeas they sounded from so young and in general so bright-seeminga creature. 

"There shall no evil happen to the just, " he said, presently, and with great sympathy. 

Fleda flashed a look of gratitude at him — it was no more, forshe felt her eyes watering, and turned them away. 

"You have not, I trust, heard any bad news?"

"No, Sir — not at all. "

"I beg pardon for asking, but Mrs. Rossitur seemed to be inless good spirits than usual. " He had some reason to say so, having found her in a violent fit of weeping. 

"You do not need to be told, " he went on, "of the need thereis that a cloud should now and then come over this lower scene— the danger that, if it did not, our eyes would look nowhereelse?"

There is something very touching in hearing a kind voice saywhat one has often struggled to say to one's-self. 

"I know it, Sir, " said Fleda, her words a little choked — "andone may not wish the cloud away — but it does not the lesscast a shade upon the face. I guess Hugh has worked his wayinto the middle of that stump by this time, Mr. Olmney. "

They rejoined him; and the baskets being now sufficientlyheavy, and arms pretty well tired, they left the furtherriches of the pine woods unexplored, and walked sagelyhomewards. At the brow of the table-land, Mr. Olmney left themto take a shorter cut to the high road, having a visit to makewhich the shortening day warned him not to defer. 

"Put down your basket, and rest a minute, Hugh, " said Fleda. "I had a world of things to talk to you about, and thisblessed man has driven them all out of my head. "

"But you are not sorry he came along with us?"

"O no. We had a very good time. How lovely it is, Hugh! Lookat the snow down there — without a track; and the woods havebeen dressed by the fairies. Oh, look how the sun is glintingon the west side of that hillock!"

"It is twice as bright since you have come home, " said Hugh. 

"The snow is too beautiful to-day. Oh, I was right! One maygrow morbid over books, but I defy anybody, in the company ofthose chick-a-dees. I should think it would be hard to keepquite sound in the city. "

"You are glad to be here again, aren't you?" said Hugh. 

"Very! O, Hugh! — it is better to be poor, and have one's feeton these hills, than to be rich, and shut up to brick walls!"

"It is best as it is, " said Hugh, quietly. 

"Once, " Fleda went on — "one fair day, when I was out drivingin New York, it did come over me with a kind of pang, howpleasant it would be to have plenty of money again, and be atease; and then, as I was looking off over that pretty northriver to the other shore, I bethought me — 'A little that arighteous man hath is better than the riches of many wicked. '"

Hugh did not answer, for the face she turned to him, in itshalf-tearful, half-bright submission, took away his speech. 

"Why, you cannot have enjoyed yourself as much as we thought, Fleda, if you dislike the city so much. "

"Yes, I did. Oh, I enjoyed a great many things. I enjoyedbeing with the Evelyns. You don't know how much they made ofme — every one of them — father and mother, and all the threedaughters — and uncle Orrin. I have been well petted, I cantell you, since I have been gone. "

"I am glad they showed so much discrimination, " said Hugh;"they would be puzzled to make too much of you. "

"I must have been in a remarkably discriminating society, "said Fleda, "for everybody was very kind. "

"How do you like the Evelyns, on a nearer view?"

"Very much, indeed; and I believe they really love me. Nothingcould possibly be kinder, in all ways of showing kindness. Ishall never forget it. "

"Who were you driving with that day?" said Hugh. 

"Mr. Thorn. "

"Did you see much of him?"

"Quite as much as I wished. Hugh, I took your advice. "

"About what?" said Hugh. 

"I carried down some of my scribblings, and sent them to amagazine. "

"Did you!" said Hugh, looking delighted. "And will theypublish them?"

"I don't know, " said Fleda; "that's another matter. I sentthem, or uncle Orrin did, when I first went down; and I haveheard nothing of them yet. "

"You showed them to uncle Orrin?"

"Couldn't help it, you know. I had to. "

"And what did he say to them?"

"Come! — I'm not going to be cross-questioned, " said Fleda, laughing. "He did not prevent my sending them. "

"And if they take them, do you expect they will give anythingfor them — the magazine people?"

"I am sure, if they don't, they shall have no more; that is myonly possible inducement to let them be printed. For my ownpleasure, I would far rather not. "

"Did you sign with your own name?"

"My own name! — Yes, and desired it to be printed in largecapitals. What are you thinking of? No! — I hope you'llforgive me, — but I signed myself what our friend the doctorcalls 'Yugh. ' "

"I'll forgive you, if you'll do one thing for me. "

"What?"

"Show me all you have in your portfolio — Do, Fleda! — to-night, by the light of the pitch-pine knots. Why shouldn't yougive me that pleasure? And, besides, you know Moliθre had anold woman?"

"Well, " said Fleda, with a face that to Hugh was extremelysatisfactory, "we'll see — I suppose you might as well read myproductions in manuscript as in print. But they are in aterribly scratchy condition — they go sometimes for weeks inmy head before I find time to put them down — you may guess, polishing is pretty well out of the question. Suppose we tryto get home with these baskets. "

Which they did. 

"Has Philetus got home?" was Fleda's first question. 

"No, " said Mrs. Rossitur, "but Dr. Quackenboss has been here, and brought the paper; he was at the post-office this morning, he says. Did you see Mr. Olmney?"

"Yes, Ma'am, and I feel he has saved me from a lame arm —those pine-knots are so heavy. "

"He is a lovely young man!" said Mrs. Rossitur, with uncommonemphasis. 

"I should have been blind to the fact, aunt Lucy, if you hadnot made me change my shoes. At present, no disparagement tohim, I feel as if a cup of tea would be rather more lovelythan anything else. "

"He sat with me some time, " said Mrs. Rossitur; "I was afraidhe would not overtake you. "

Tea was ready, and only waiting for Mrs. Rossitur to come downstairs, when Fleda, whose eye was carelessly running along thecolumns of the paper, uttered a sudden shout, and covered herface with it. Hugh looked up in astonishment, but Fleda wasbeyond anything but exclamations, laughing and flushing to thevery roots of her hair. 

"What is the matter, Fleda?"

"Why, " said Fleda, "how comical! — I was just looking over thelist of articles in the January number of the _Excelsior_" —

"The _Excelsior!_" said Hugh. 

"Yes — the magazine I sent my things to — I was running overtheir advertisement here, where they give a special puff ofthe publication in general, and of several things inparticular, and I saw — here they speak of 'A tale ofthrilling interest, by Mrs. Eliza Lothbury, unsurpassed, ' andso forth, and so forth; 'another valuable communication fromMr. Charleston, whose first acute and discriminating paper allour leaders will remember; the beginning of a new tale fromthe infallibly graceful pen of Miss Delia Lawriston: we aresure it will be so and so; '_The Wind's Voices_, ' _by our newcorrespondent_, '_Hugh_, ' _has a delicate sweetness that would dono discredit to some of our most honoured names!_' What do youthink of that?"

What Hugh thought he did not say, but he looked delighted, andcame to read the grateful words for himself. 

"I did not know but they had declined it utterly, " said Fleda;"it was so long since I had sent it, and they had taken nonotice of it; but it seems they kept it for the beginning of anew volume. "

" 'Would do no discredit to some of our most honoured names!'" said Hugh. "Dear Fleda, I am very glad! But it is no morethan I expected. "

"Expected!" said Fleda. "When you had not seen a line! Hush, my dear Hugh, aren't you hungry?"

The tea, with this spice to their appetites, was wonderfullyrelished; and Hugh and Fleda kept making despatches of secretpleasure and sympathy to each other's eyes; though Fleda'sface, after the first flush had faded, was perhaps ratherquieter than usual. Hugh's was illuminated. 

"Mr. Skillcorn is a smart man, " said Barby, coming in with apackage; "he has made out to go two miles in two hours, andget back again safe. "

"More from the post-office!" exclaimed Fleda, pouncing uponit. — "O yes, there has been another mail. A letter for you, aunt Lucy, from uncle Rolf. We'll forgive him, Barby — andhere's a letter for me, from uncle Orrin, and — yes — the_Excelsior_. Hugh, uncle Orrin said he would send it. Now forthose blessed pineknots. Aunt Lucy, you shall be honoured withthe one whole candle the house contains. "

The table soon cleared away, the basket of fat fuel wasbrought in; and one or two splinters being delicatelyinsinuated between the sticks on the fire, a very brilliantillumination sprang out. Fleda sent a congratulatory look overto Hugh on the other side of the fireplace, as she cosilyestablished herself on her little bench at one corner with herletter: he had the magazine. Mrs. Rossitur between them at thetable, with her one candle, was already insensible to alloutward things. 

And soon the other two were as delightfully absorbed. Thebright light of the fire shone upon three motionless and raptfigures, and getting no greeting from them, went off anddanced on the old cupboard doors and paper-hangings, in akindly hearty joviality, that would have put any number ofstately wax candles out of countenance. There was no povertyin the room that night. But the people were too busy to knowhow cosy they were, till Fleda was ready to look up from hernote, and Hugh had gone twice carefully over the new poem —when there was a sudden giving out of the pine splinters. Newones were supplied in eager haste and silence, and Hugh wasbeginning "The Wind's Voices, " for the third time, when asoft-whispered "Hugh!" across the fire, made him look over toFleda's corner. She was holding up, with both hands, a five-dollar bank note, and just showing him her eyes over it. 

"What's that?" said Hugh, in an energetic whisper. 

"I don't know!" said Fleda, shaking her head comically; "I amtold 'The Wind's Voices' have blown it here, but, privately, Iam afraid it is a windfall of another kind. "

"What?" said Hugh, laughing. 

"Uncle Orrin says it is the first-fruits of what I sent to the_Excelsior_, and that more will come; but I do not feel at allsure that it is entirely the growth of that soil. "

"I dare say it is, " said Hugh; "I am sure it is worth morethan that. Dear Fleda, I like it so much!"

Fleda gave him such a smile of grateful affection — not at allas if she deserved his praise, but as if it was very pleasantto have. 

"What put it into your head? anything in particular?"

"No — nothing — I was looking out of the window one day, andseeing the willow-tree blow; and that looked over my shoulder;as you know Hans Andersen says his stories did. "

"It is just like you! — exactly as it can be. "

"Things put themselves in my head, " said Fleda, tuckinganother splinter into the fire. "Isn't this better than achandelier?"

"Ten times!"

"And so much pleasanter for having got it ourselves. What anice time we had, Hugh!"

"Very. Now for the portfolio, Fleda — come — mother is fast;she wont see or hear anything. What does father say, mother?"

In answer to this they had the letter read, which, indeed, contained nothing remarkable beyond its strong expressions ofaffection to each one of the little family — a cordial whichMrs. Rossitur drank and grew strong upon in the very act ofreading. It is pity the medicine of kind words is not moreused in the world — it has so much power. Then, having foldedup her treasure and talked a little while about it, Mrs. Rossitur caught up the magazine like a person who had beenfamished in that kind; and soon she and it and her tallowcandle formed a trio apart from all the world again. Fleda andHugh were safe to pass most mysterious-looking little papersfrom hand to hand right before her, though they had the careto read them behind newspapers, and exchanges of thought andfeeling went on more swiftly still, and softly, across thefire. Looks, and smiles, and whispers, and tears too, undercover of a _Tribune_ and an _Express_. And the blaze would diedown just when Hugh had got to the last verse of something, and then while impatiently waiting for the new pine splintersto catch, he would tell Fleda how much he liked it, or howbeautiful he thought it, and whisper inquiries and criticalquestions; till the fire reached the fat vein, and leaped upin defiant emulation of gas-lights unknown, and then he wouldfall to again with renewed gusto. And Fleda hunted out in herportfolio what bits to give him first, and bade him, as shegave them, remember this and understand that, which wasnecessary to be borne in mind in the reading. And through allthe brightening and fading blaze, and all the whispering, congratulating, explaining, and rejoicing going on at herside, Mrs. Rossitur and her tallow candle were devoted to eachother, happily and engrossingly. At last, however, she flungthe magazine from her, and turning from the table sat lookinginto the fire with a rather uncommonly careful and unsatisfiedbrow. 

"What did you think of the second piece of poetry there, mother?" said Hugh — "that ballad? — 'The Wind's Voices, ' itis called. "

" 'The Wind's Voices?' — I don't know — I didn't read it, Ibelieve. "

"Why, mother! I liked it very much. Do read it — read italoud. "

Mrs. Rossitur took up the magazine again abstractedly, andread

" 'Mamma, what makes your face so sad?The sound of the wind makes me feel glad;But whenever it blows, as grave you lookAs if you were reading a sorrowful book. '

" 'A sorrowful book I am reading, dear —A book of weeping, and pain, and fear —A book deep printed on my heart, Which I cannot read but the tears will start. 

" 'That breeze to my ear was soft and mild, Just so, when I was a little child;But now I hear in its freshening breathThe voices of those that sleep in death. '

" 'Mamma, ' said the child, with shaded brow, What is this book you are reading now?And why do you read what makes you cry?''My child, it comes up before my eye;

" ' 'Tis the memory, love, of a far-off day, When my life's best friend was taken away; —Of the weeks and months that my eyes were dim, Watching for tidings — watching for him. 

" 'Many a year has come and pass'dSince a ship sailed over the ocean fast, Bound for a port on England's shore —She sail'd — but was never heard of more. '

" 'Mamma' — and she closer press'd her side —'Was that the time when my father died? —Is it his ship you think you see? —Dearest mamma — wont you speak to me?'

"The lady paused, but then calmly said —Yes, Lucy — the sea was his dying bed!And now, whenever I hear the blast, I think again of that storm long past. 

" 'The winds' fierce howlings hurt not me, But I think how they beat on the pathless sea —Of the breaking mast — of the parting rope —Of the anxious strife, and the failing hope. '

" 'Mamma, ' said the child, with streaming eyes, My father has gone above the skies;And you tell me this world is mean and baseCompared with heaven — that blessed place. '

" 'My daughter, I know — I believe it all —I would not his spirit to earth recal. The bless'd one he — his storm was brief —Mine, a long tempest of tears and grief. 

" 'I have you, my darling — I should not sigh —I have one star more in my cloudy sky —The hope that we both shall join him there, In that perfect rest from weeping and care. ' "

"Well, mother; how do you like it?" said Hugh, whose eyes gavetender witness to his liking for it. 

"It is pretty" — said Mrs. Rossitur. 

Hugh exclaimed, and Fleda, laughing, took it out of her hand. 

"Why, mother, " said Hugh — "it is Fleda's!"

"Fleda's!" exclaimed Mrs. Rossitur, snatching the magazineagain. "My dear child, I was not thinking in the least of whatI was reading. Fleda's!" —

She read it over anew, with swimming eyes this time, and thenclasped Fleda in her arms, and gave her, not words, but thebetter reward of kisses and tears. They remained so a longtime, even till Hugh left them; and then Fleda, released fromher aunt's embrace, still crouched by her side with one arm inher lap. 

They both sat thoughtfully looking into the fire till it hadburnt itself out, and nothing but a glowing bed of coalsremained. 

"That is an excellent young man, " said Mrs. Rossitur. 

"Who?"

"Mr. Olmney. He sat with me some time after you had gone. "

"So you said before, " said Fleda, wondering at the troubledexpression of her aunt's face. 

"He made me wish, " said Mrs. Rossitur, hesitating, "that Icould be something different from what I am — I believe Ishould be a great deal happier. "

The last word was hardly spoken. Fleda rose to her knees, andputting both arms about her aunt, pressed face to face, with aclinging sympathy that told how very near her spirit was, while tears from the eyes of both fell without measure. 

"Dear aunt Lucy — _dear_ aunt Lucy — I wish you would — I amsure you would be a great deal happier —"

But the mixture of feelings was too much for Fleda; her headsank lower on her aunt's bosom, and she wept aloud. 

"But I don't know anything about it, " said Mrs. Rossitur, aswell as she could speak — "I am as ignorant as a child!"

"Dear aunty! that is nothing — God will teach you, if you askhim — he has promised. Oh, ask him, aunt Lucy! I know youwould be happier. I know it is better — a million times — tobe a child of God, than to have everything in the world. Ifthey only brought us that, I would be very glad of all ourtroubles — indeed I would. "

"But I don't think I ever did anything right in my life, " saidpoor Mrs. Rossitur. 

"Dear aunt Lucy!" said Fleda, straining her closer, and withher very heart gushing out at these words — "_dear_ aunty, Christ came for just such sinners — for just such as you andI. "

"_You_, " said Mrs. Rossitur, but speech failed utterly, and witha muttered prayer that Fleda would help her she sunk her headupon her shoulder, and sobbed herself into quietness, or intoexhaustion. The glow of the fire-light faded away till only afaint sparkle was left in the chimney. 

There was not another word spoken, but when they rose up, withsuch kisses as gave and took unuttered affection, counsel, andsympathy, they bade each other good-night. 

Fleda went to her window, for the moon rode high, and herchildish habit had never been forgotten. But surely the facethat looked out that night was as the face of an angel. In allthe pouring moonbeams that filled the air, she could seenothing but the flood of God's goodness on a dark world. Andher heart that night had nothing but an unbounded andunqualified thanksgiving for all the "gentle discipline" theyhad felt — for every sorrow, and weariness, anddisappointment; except, besides, the prayer, almost too deepto be put into words, that its due and hoped-for fruit mightbe brought forth unto perfection. 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

"If I become not a cart as well as another man, a plague on mybringing up. "SHAKESPEARE. 

Every day could not be as bright as the last, even by the helpof pitch pine knots. They blazed, indeed, many a time, but theblaze shone upon faces that it could not sometimes light up. Matters drew gradually within a smaller and smaller compass. Another five dollars came from uncle Orrin, and the hope ofmore; but these were carefully laid by to pay Philetus; andfor all other wants of the household excepting those the farmsupplied, the family were dependent on mere driblets of sums. None came from Mr. Rossitur. Hugh managed to collect a verylittle. That kept them from absolute distress — that, andFleda's delicate instrumentality. Regular dinners were givenup, fresh meat being now unheard of, unless when a kindneighbour made them a present; and appetite would have laggedsadly but for Fleda's untiring care. She thought no time norpains ill bestowed which could prevent her aunt and Hugh fromfeeling the want of old comforts; and her nicest skill wasdisplayed in varying the combinations of their very few andsimple stores. The diversity and deliciousness of her bread-stuffs, Barby said, was "beyond everything!" and a cup of richcoffee was found to cover all deficiencies of removes and_entremets;_ and this was always served, Barby said further, asif the President of the United States was expected. Fledanever permitted the least slackness in the manner of doingthis or anything else that she could control. 

Mr. Plumfield had sent down an opportune present of a fineporker. One cold day in the beginning of February, Fleda wasbusy in the kitchen, making something. For dinner, and Hugh atanother table was vigorously chopping sausage-meat. 

"I should like to have some cake again, " said Fleda. 

"Well, why don't you?" said Hugh, chopping away. 

"No eggs, Mr. Rossitur — and can't afford 'em at two shillingsa dozen. I believe I am getting discontented — I have a greatdesire to do something to distinguish myself — I would make aplumpudding if I had raisins, but there is not one in thehouse. "

"You can get 'em up to Mr. Hemps's for six pence a pound, "said Barby. 

But Fleda shook her head at the sixpence, and went on mouldingout her biscuits diligently. 

"I wish Philetus would make his appearance with the cows — itis a very odd thing they should be gone since yesterdaymorning, and no news of them. "

"I only hope the snow aint so bright it'll blind his eyes, "said Barby. 

"There he is this minute, " said Hugh. "It is impossible totell from his countenance whether successful or not. "

"Well, where are the cows, Mr. Skillcorn?" said Barby, as hecame in. 

"I have went all over town, " said the person addressed, "andthey aint no place. "

"Have you asked news of them, Philetus?"

"I have asked the hull town, and I have went all over, 'till Iwas a'most beat out with the cold — and I ha'n't seen thefirst sight of 'em yet!"

Fleda and Hugh exchanged looks, while Barby and Mr. Skillcornentered into an animated discussion of probabilities andimpossibilities. 

"If we should be driven from our coffee dinners to tea with nomilk in it!" said Hugh, softly, in mock dismay. 

"Wouldn't!" said Fled. "We'd beat up an egg and put it in thecoffee. "

"We couldn't afford it, " said Hugh, smiling. 

"Could! — cheaper than to keep the cows. I'll have some sugarat any rate, I'm determined. — Philetus!"

"Marm!"

"I wish, when you have got a good pile of wood chopped, youwould make some troughs to put under the maple trees — youknow how to make them, don't you?"

"I do. "

"I wish you would make some — you have pine logs out therelarge enough, haven't you?"

"They hadn't ought to want much of it — there's some 'gregiousbig ones!"

"I don't know how many we shall want, but a hundred or two, atany rate; and the sooner the better. Do you know how muchsugar they make from one tree?"

"Waul, I don't, " said Mr. Skillcorn, with the air of a personwho was at fault on no other point; "the big trees gives morethan the little ones —"

Fleda's eyes flashed at Hugh, who took to chopping in sheerdesperation; and the muscles of both gave them full occupationfor five minutes. Philetus stood comfortably warming himselfat the fire, looking first at one and then at the other, as ifthey were a show, and he had paid for it. Barby grewimpatient. 

"I guess this cold weather makes lazy people of me!' she said, bustling about her fire with an amount of energy that wassignificant. It seemed to signify nothing to Philetus; he onlymoved a little out of the way. 

"Didenhover's cleared out, " he burst forth, at length, abruptly. 

"What!" said Fleda and Barby at once, the broom and thebiscuits standing still. 

"Mr. Didenhover. "

"What of him?"

"He has tuk himself off out o' town. "

"Where to?"

"I can't tell where teu — he aint coming back, tain't likely. "

"How do you know?"

" 'Cause he's tuk all his traps and went, and he said farmingdidn't pay, and he wa'n't a-going to have nothin' more to deuwith it; — he telled Mis' Simpson so — he lived to Mis'Simpson's; and she telled Mr. Ten Eyck. "

"Are you sure, Philetus?"

"Sure as 'lection! — he telled Mis' Simpson so, and she telledMr. Ten Eyck; and he's cleared out. "

Fleda and Hugh again looked at each other. Mr. Skillcornhaving now delivered himself of his news, went out to thewoodyard. 

"I hope he ha'n't carried off our cows along with him, " saidBarby, as she, too, went out to some other part of herpremises. 

"He was to have made us quite a payment on the first ofMarch, " said Fleda. 

"Yes, and that was to have gone to uncle Orrin, " said Hugh. 

"We shall not see a cent of it. And we wanted a little of itfor ourselves. I have that money from the _Excelsior_, but Ican't touch a penny of it, for it must go to Philetus's wages. What Barby does without hers, I do not know; she has had butone five dollars in six months. Why she stays I cannotimagine; unless it is for pure love. "

"As soon as the spring opens, I can go to the mill again, "said Hugh, after a little pause. Fleda looked at himsorrowfully, and shook her head as she withdrew her eyes. 

"I wish father would give up the farm, " Hugh went on, underhis breath. "I cannot bear to live upon uncle Orrin so. "

Fleda's answer was to clasp her hands. Her only words were, "Don't say anything to aunt Lucy. "

"It is of no use to say anything to anybody, " said Hugh. "Butit weighs me to the ground, Fleda. "

"If uncle Rolf doesn't come home by spring — I hope, I hope hewill! but if he does not, I will take desperate measures. Iwill try farming myself, Hugh. I have thought of it, and Icertainly will. I will get Earl Douglass, or somebody else, toplay second fiddle, but I will have but one head on the farm, and I will try what mine is worth. "

"You could not do it, Fleda. "

"One can do anything! with a strong enough motive. "

"I'm afraid you'd soon be tired, Fleda. "

"Not if I succeeded — not so tired as I am now. "

"Poor Fleda! I dare say you are tired!"

"It wasn't _that_ I meant, " said Fleda, slightly drawing herbreath; "I meant this feeling of everything going wrong, anduncle Orrin, and all. "

"But you _are_ weary, " said Hugh, affectionately. "I see it inyour face. "

"Not so much body as mind, after all. Oh, Hugh! this is theworst part of being poor — the constant occupation of one'smind on a miserable succession of trifles. I am so wearysometimes! If I only had a nice book to rest myself for awhile, and forget all these things, I would give so much forit! —"

"Dear Fleda, I wish you had!"

"That was one delight of being in New York; I forgot all aboutmoney, from one end of it to the other; I put all that away;and not having to think of meals till I came to eat them. Youcan't think how tired I get of ringing the changes on pork andflour, and Indian meal, and eggs, and vegetables!"

Fleda looked tired, and pale; and Hugh looked sadly consciousof it. 

"Don't tell aunt Lucy I have said all this!" she exclaimed, after a moment, rousing herself; "I don't always feel so; onlyonce in a while I get such a fit. And now, I have justtroubled you by speaking of it. "

"You don't trouble any one in that way very often, dearFleda, " said Hugh, kissing her. 

"I ought not at all — you have enough else to think of; but itis a kind of relief sometimes. I like to do these things ingeneral — only now and then I get tired, as I was just now, Isuppose, and then one sees everything through a differentmedium. "

"I am afraid it would tire you more to have the charge of EarlDouglass and the farm upon your mind; and mother could be nohelp to you, — nor I, if I am at the mill. "

"But there's Seth Plumfield. Oh, I've thought of it all. Youdon't know what I am up to, Mr. Rossitur. You shall see how Iwill manage — unless uncle Rolf comes home, in which case Iwill very gladly forego all my honours and responsibilitiestogether. "

"I hope he will come!" said Hugh. 

But this hope was to be disappointed. Mr. Rossitur wrote againabout the first of March, saying, that he hoped to makesomething of his lands in Michigan, and that he had theprospect of being engaged in some land agencies, which wouldmake it worth his while to spend the summer there. He bade hiswife let anybody take the farm that could manage it, and wouldpay; and to remit to Dr. Gregory whatever she should receive, and could spare. He hoped to do something where he was. 

It was just then the beginning of the sugar season, and Mrs. Douglass having renewed and urged Earl's offer of help, Fledasent Philetus down to ask him to come the next day with histeam. Seth Plumfield's, which had drawn the wood in thewinter, was now busy in his own sugar business. On EarlDouglass's ground there happened to be no maple-trees. Hislands were of moderate extent, and almost entirely cultivatedas a sheep farm; and Mr. Douglass himself, though in verycomfortable circumstances, was in the habit of assisting, onadvantageous terms, all. The farmers in the neighbourhood. 

Philetus came back again in a remarkably short time; andannounced that he had met Dr. Quackenboss in the way, who hadoffered to come with his team for the desired service. 

"Then you have not been to Mr. Douglass's?"

"I have not, " said Philetus — "I thought likely you wouldn'tcalculate to want him teu. "

"How came the doctor to know what you were going for?"

"I told him. "

"But how came you to tell him?''

"Waul, I guess he had a mind to know, " said Philetus; "so Ididn't keep it no closer than I had teu. "

"Well, " said Fleda, biting her lips, "you will have to go downto Mr. Douglass's, nevertheless, Philetus, and tell him thedoctor is coming to-morrow, but I should be very much obligedto him if he will be here next day. Will you?"

"Yes, marm!"

"Now, dear Hugh, will you make me those little spouts for thetrees? — of some dry wood : you can get plenty out here. Youwant to split them, up with a hollow chisel, about a quarterof an inch thick, and a little more than half an inch broad. Have you got a hollow chisel?"

"No, but I can get one up the hill. Why must it be hollow?"

"To make little spouts, you know, for the sap to run in. Andthen, my dear Hugh, they must be sharpened at one end so as tofit where the chisel goes in. I am afraid I have given you aday's work of it. How sorry I am you must go to-morrow to themill! — and yet I am glad too. "

"Why need you go round yourself with these people?" said Hugh. "I don't see the sense of it. "

"They don't know where the trees are, " said Fleda. 

"I am sure I do not. Do you?"

"Perfectly well. And besides, " said Fleda, laughing, "I shouldhave great doubts of the discreetness of Philetus's auger ifit were left to his simple direction. I have no notion thetrees would yield their sap as kindly to him as to me. But Ididn't bargain for Dr. Quackenboss. "

Dr. Quackenboss arrived punctually the next morning with hisoxen and sled; and, by the time it was loaded with the sap-troughs, Fleda, in her black cloak, yarn shawl, and greylittle hood, came out of the house to the wood-yard. EarlDouglass was there, too, not with his team, but merely to seehow matters stood, and give advice. 

"Good day, Mr. Douglass!" said the doctor. "You see I'm sofortunate as to have got the start of you. "

"Very good, " said Earl, contentedly; "you may have it: thestart's one thing, and the pull's another. I'm willin' anybodyshould have the start, but it takes a pull to know whether aman's got stuff in him or no. "

"What do you mean?" said the doctor. 

"I don't mean nothin' at all. You make a start to-day, andI'll come ahint and take the pull to-morrow. Ha' you gotanythin' to boil down in, Fleda? There's a potash kittlesomewheres, aint there? I guess there is. There is in mosthouses. "

"There is a large kettle — I suppose large enough, " saidFleda. 

"That'll do, I guess. Well, what do you calculate to put thesyrup in? Ha' you got a good big cask, or plenty o' tubs andthat? or will you sugar off the hull lot every night, and fixit that way? You must do one thing or t'other, and it's goodto know what you're a-going to do afore you come to do it. "

"I don't know, Mr. Douglass, " said Fleda. "Whichever is thebest way: we have no cask large enough, I am afraid. "

"Well, I tell you what I'll do. I know where there's a tub, and where they aint usin' it, nother, and I reckon I can get'em to let me have it — I reckon I can; and I'll go roundfor't and fetch it here to-morrow mornin' when I come with theteam. 'Twont be much out of my way. It's more handier to leavethe sugarin' off till the next day; and it had ought to have asettlin' besides. Where'll you have your fire built? — indoors or out?"

"Out, I would rather, if we can. But can we?"

"La! 'tain't nothin' easier; it's as easy out as in. Allyou've got to do is to take and roll a couple of pretty sizedbillets for your fireplace, and stick a couple o' crotchedsticks for to hang the kittle over: I'd as lieve have it outas in, and if anythin', a leetle liever. If you'll lend mePhiletus, me and him 'll fix it all ready agin you come back;'tain't no trouble at all; and if the sticks aint here, we'llgo into the woods after 'em, and have it all sot up. "

But Fleda represented that the services of Philetus were justthen in requisition, and that there would be no sap broughthome till to-morrow. 

"Very good!" said Earl, amicably — "_very_ good! it's just aseasy done one day as another — it don't make no difference tome: and if it makes any difference to you, of course, we'llleave it to-day, and there'll be time enough to do it to-morrow. Me and him 'll knock it up in a whistle. What's themlittle shingles for?"

Fleda explained the use and application of Hugh's mimicspouts. He turned one about, whistling, while he listened toher. 

"That's some o' Seth Plumfield's new jigs, aint it? I wonderif he thinks now the sap's a-goin' to run any sweeter out o'that 'ere than it would off the end of a chip that wa'n'tquite so handsome?"

"No, Mr. Douglass, " said Fleda smiling, "he only thinks thatthis will catch a little more. "

"His sugar wont never tell where it come from, " remarked Earl, throwing the spout down. "Well, you shall see more o' me to-morrow. Good-bye, Dr. Quackenboss. "

"Do you contemplate the refining process?" said the doctor, asthey moved off. 

"I have often contemplated the want of it, " said Fleda; "butit is best not to try to do too much. I should like to makesure of something worth refining in the first place. "

"Mr. Douglass and I, " said the doctor — "I hope — a — he's avery good-hearted man, Miss Fleda, but, ha! ha! — he wouldn'tsuffer loss from a little refining himself. Haw! you rascal —where are you going? Haw! I tell ye" —

"I am very sorry, Dr. Quackenboss, " said Fleda, when she hadthe power and the chance to speak again — "I am very sorry youshould have to take this trouble; but, unfortunately, the artof driving oxen is not among Mr. Skillcorn's accomplishments. "

"My dear Miss Ringgan!" said the doctor, "I — I — nothing, Iassure you, could give me greater pleasure than to drive myoxen to any place where you would like to have them go. "

Poor Fleda wished she could have despatched them and him inone direction while she took another; the art of driving oxen_quietly_ was certainly not among the doctor's accomplishments. She was almost deafened. She tried to escape from theimmediate din by running before to show Philetus about tappingthe trees and fixing the little spouts, but it was a longeroperation than she had counted upon, and by the time they wereready to leave the tree the doctor was gee-hawing alongside ofit; and then if the next maple was not within sight she couldnot in decent kindness leave him alone. The oxen went slowly, and though Fleda managed to have no delay longer than to throwdown a trough as the sled came up with each tree which she andPhiletus had tapped, the business promised to make a long dayof it. It might have been a pleasant day in pleasant company;but Fleda's spirits were down to set out with, and DoctorQuackenboss was not the person to give them the needed spring;his long-winded complimentary speeches had not interest enougheven to divert her. She felt that she was entering upon anuntried and most weighty undertaking; charging her time andthoughts with a burden they could well spare. Her energies didnot flag, but the spirit that should have sustained them wasnot strong enough for the task. 

It was a blustering day of early March, with thatuncompromising brightness of sky and land which has no shadowof sympathy with a heart overcast. The snow still lay a footthick over the ground, thawing a little in sunny spots; thetrees quite bare and brown, the buds even of the early mapleshardly showing colour; the blessed evergreens alone doingtheir utmost to redeem the waste, and speaking of patience andfortitude that can brave the blast and outstand the longwaiting, and cheerfully bide the time when "the winter shallbe over and gone. " Poor Fleda thought they were like her intheir circumstances, but she feared she was not like them intheir strong endurance. She looked at the pines and hemlocksas she passed, as if they were curious preachers to her; andwhen she had a chance, she prayed quietly that she might standfaithfully like them to cheer a desolation far worse, and shefeared far more abiding than snows could make or melt away. She thought of Hugh, alone in his mill-work that rough chillyday, when the wind stalked through the woods and over thecountry as if it had been the personification of March justcome of age and taking possession of his domains. She thoughtof her uncle, doing what? — in Michigan — leaving them tofight with difficulties as they might — why? — why? and hergentle aunt at home sad and alone, pining for the want of themall, but most of him, and fading with their fortunes. AndFleda's thoughts travelled about from one to the other, anddwelt with them all by turns till she was heart-sick; andtears, tears fell hot on the snow many a time when her eyeshad a moment's shield from the doctor and his somewhat moreobtuse coadjutor. She felt half superstitiously, as if withher taking the farm were beginning the last stage of theirfalling prospects, which would leave them with none of hope'scolouring. Not that in the least she doubted her own abilityand success; but her uncle did not deserve to have his affairsprosper under such a system, and she had no faith that theywould. 

"It is most grateful, " said the doctor, with that sidewaytwist of his jaw and his head at once, in harmony — "it is amost grateful thing to see such a young lady — Haw! there now!— what are you about? — haw — haw? then! It is a most gratefulthing to see —"

But Fleda was not at his side — she had bounded away and wasstanding under a great maple-tree a little a-head, making surethat Philetus screwed his auger _up_ into the tree instead of_down_, which he had several times shown an unreasonable desireto do. The doctor had steered his oxen by her little grey hoodand black cloak all the day. He made for it now. 

"Have we arrived at the termination of our — a — adventure?"said he, as he came up and threw down the last trough. 

"Why, no, Sir, " said Fleda, "for we have yet to get homeagain. "

" 'Tain't so fur going that way as it were this'n, " saidPhiletus. "My! aint I glad?"

"Glad of what?" said the doctor. "Here's Miss Ringgan's walkedthe whole way, and she a lady — aint you ashamed to speak ofbeing tired?"

"I ha'n't said the first word o' being tired!" said Philetus, in an injured tone of voice — "but a man ha'n't no right tokill hisself, if he aint a gal!"

"I'll qualify to your being safe enough, " said the doctor. "But, Miss Ringgan, my dear, you are — a — you have lostsomething since you came out —"

"What?" said Fleda, laughing. "Not my patience?"

"No, " said the doctor, "no — you're — a — you're an angel! butyour cheeks, my dear Miss Ringgan, show that you have exceededyour — a —"

"Not my intentions, doctor, " said Fleda, lightly. "I am verywell satisfied with our day's work, and with my share of it, and a cup of coffee will make me quite up again. Don't look atmy cheeks till then. "

"I shall disobey you constantly, " said the doctor; "but, mydear Miss Fleda, we must give you some felicities for reachinghome, or Mrs. Rossitur will be — a — distressed when she seesthem. Might I propose — that you should just bear your weighton this wood-sled, and let my oxen and me have the honour —The cup of coffee, I am confident, would be at your lipsconsiderably earlier —"

"The sun wont be a great haighth by the time we get there, "said Philetus, in a cynical manner; "and I ha'n't took thefirst thing to-day!"

"Well, who has?" said the doctor; "you aint the only one. Follow your nose down hill, Mr. Skillcorn, and it'll smellsupper directly. Now, my dear Miss Ringgan, will you?"

Fleda hesitated, but her relaxed energies warned her not todespise a homely mode of relief. The wood-sled was prettyclean, and the road decently good over the snow. So Fledagathered her cloak about her, and sat down flat on the bottomof her rustic vehicle — too grateful for the rest to care ifthere had been a dozen people to laugh at her — but the doctorwas only delighted, and Philetus regarded every socialphenomenon as coolly, and in the same business light, as hewould the butter to his bread, or any other infallible every-day matter. 

Fleda was very glad presently that she had taken this plan, for, besides the rest of body, she was happily relieved fromall necessity of speaking. The doctor, though but a few pacesoff, was perfectly given up to the care of his team, in theintense anxiety to show his skill and gallantry in saving herharmless from every ugly place in the road that threatened ajar or a plunge. Why his oxen didn't go distracted was aquestion; but the very vehemence and iteration of his cries atlast drowned itself in Fleda's ear, and she could hear it likethe wind's roaring, without thinking of it. She presentlysubsided to that. With a weary frame, and with that peculiarquietness of spirits that comes upon the ending of a day'swork in which mind and body have both been busily engaged, andthe sudden ceasing of any call upon either, fancy asked noleave, and dreamily roved hither and thither between thematerial and the spirit world; the will too subdued to stir. Days gone by came marshalling their scenes and their actorsbefore her; again she saw herself a little child under thosesame trees that stretched their great black arms over herhead, and, swaying their tops in the wind, seemed to beckonher back to the past. They talked of their old owner, whosesteps had so often passed beneath them with her own lighttread — light now, but how dancing then! — by his side; and ofher father, whose hand perhaps had long ago tapped those verytrees where she had noticed the old closed-up scars of theaxe. At any rate, his boyhood had rejoiced there, and shecould look back to one time at least in his manhood when shehad taken a pleasant walk with him in summer weather amongthose same woods — in that very ox-track she believed. Gone —two generations that she had known there; hopes and fears anddisappointments, akin to her own, at rest, — as hers would be;and how sedately the old trees stood telling her of it, andwaving their arms in grave and gentle commenting on the follyof anxieties that came and went with the wind. Fleda agreed toit all; she heard all they said; and her own spirit was assober and quiet as their quaint moralizing. She felt as if itwould never dance again. 

The wind had greatly abated of its violence; as if satisfiedwith the show of strength it had given in the morning, itseemed willing to make no more commotion that day. The sun wasfar on his way to the horizon, and many a broad hill-sideslope was in shadow; the snow had blown or melted from off thestones and rocks, leaving all their roughness and barenessunveiled; and the white crust of snow that lay between themlooked a cheerless waste in the shade of the wood and thehill. But there were other spots where the sunbeams struck, and bright streams of light ran between the trees, smiling andmaking them smile. And as Fleda's eye rested there, anothervoice seemed to say — "At evening time it shall be light, " and"Sorrow may endure for a night, but joy cometh in themorning. " She could have cried, but spirits were tooabsolutely at an ebb. She knew this was partly physical, because she was tired and faint, but it could not the betterbe overcome. Yet those streaks of sunlight were pleasantcompany, and Fleda watched them, thinking how bright they usedto be once; till the oxen and sled came out from the woods, and she could see the evening colours on the hill-tops beyondthe village, lighting up the whole landscape with promise ofthe morrow. She thought her day had seen its brightest; butshe thought too that if she must know sorrows, it was a verygreat blessing to know them at Queechy. 

The smoke of the chimney-tops came in sight, and fancy wenthome — a few minutes before her. 

"I wonder what you'll take and do to yourself next, " saidBarby, in extreme vexation, when she saw her come in. "You'reas white as the wall, and as cold, aint you? I'd ha' letPhiletus cut all the trees, and drink all the sap afterwards. I wonder which you think is the worst, the want o' you, or thewant o' sugar. "

A day's headache was pretty sure to visit Fleda after anyoverexertion or exhaustion, and the next day justified Barby'sfears. She was the quiet prisoner of pain. But Earl Douglassand Mr. Skillcorn could now do without her in the woods; andher own part of the trouble Fleda always took with speechlesspatience. She had the mixed comfort that love could bestow —Hugh's sorrowful kiss and look before setting off for themill, Mrs. Rossitur's caressing care, and Barby's softenedvoice, and sympathizing hand on her brow, and hearty heart-speaking kiss; and poor little King lay all day with his headin her lap, casting grave wistful glances up at his mistress'sface, and licking her hand with intense affection when even inher distress it stole to his head to reward and comfort him. He never would budge from her side, or her feet, till shecould move herself, and he knew that she was well. As sure asKing came trotting into the kitchen, Barby used to look intothe other room, and say, "So you're better, aint you, Fleda? Iknowed it. "

After hours of suffering, the fit was at last over; and in theevening, though looking and feeling racked, Fleda would go outto see the sap-boilers. Earl Douglass and Philetus had had avery good day of it, and now were in full blast with theevening part of the work. The weather was mild, and having thestay of Hugh's arm, Fleda grew too amused to leave them. 

It was a very pretty scene. The sap-boilers had plantedthemselves near the cellar door on the other side of the housefrom the kitchen door and the woodyard — the casks and tubsfor syrup being under cover there; and there they had made amost picturesque work-place. Two strong crotched sticks werestuck in the ground some six or eight feet apart, and a polelaid upon them, to which by the help of some very rustic hookstwo enormous iron kettles were slung. Under them a fine fireof smallish split sticks was doing duty, kept in order by acouple of huge logs which walled it in on the one side and onthe other. It was a dark night, and the fire painted all thisin strong lights and. Shadows threw a faint, fading, Aurora-like light over the snow, beyond the shade of its logbarriers; glimmered by turns upon the paling of the gardenfence, whenever the dark figures that were passing andrepassing between gave it a chance; and invested the cellar-opening and the outstanding corner of the house with strikingand unwonted dignity, in a light that revealed nothing exceptto the imagination. Nothing was more fancifully dignified, ormore quaintly travestied by that light than the figures aroundit, busy and flitting about, and showing themselves in everynovel variety of grouping and colouring. There was EarlDouglass, not a hair different from what he was every day inreality, but with his dark skin and eyes, and a hat that, likeits master, had concluded to abjure all fashions; and perhaps, for the same reason, he looked now like any bandit, and now, in a more pacific view, could pass for nothing less than aSpanish shepherd at least, with an iron ladle in lieu ofcrook. There was Dr. Quackenboss, who had come too, determined, as Earl said, "to keep his eend up, " excessivelybland, and busy, and important; the fire would throw his one-sidedness of feature into such aspects of gravity or sternnessthat Fleda could make nothing of him but a poor clergyman or apoor schoolmaster alternately. Philetus, who was kept handingabout a bucket of sap, or trudging off for wood, defied allcomparison — he was Philetus still; but when Barby came onceor twice and peered into the kettle, her strong features, withthe handkerchief she always wore about her head, were lit upinto a very handsome gipsy. Fleda stood some time unseen inthe shadow of the house to enjoy the sight, and then wentforward on the same principle that a sovereign princess showsherself to her army, to grace and reward the labours of herservants. The doctor was profuse in inquiries after herhealth, and Earl informed her of the success of the day. 

"We've had first-rate weather, " he said; — "I don't want tosee no better weather for sugar-makin'; it's as good kind o'weather as you need to have. It friz everythin' up tight inthe night, and it thew in the sun this morning as soon as thesun was anywhere; the trees couldn't do no better than theyhave done. I guess we ha'n't got much this side o' two hundredgallon — I aint sure about it, but that's what I think;there's nigh two hundred gallon we've fetched down; I'llqualify to better than a hundred and fifty, or a hundred andsixty either. We should ha' had more yet if Mr. Skillcornhadn't managed to spill over one cask of it — I reckon hewanted it for sass for his chicken. "

"Now, Mr. Douglass!" said Philetus, in a comical tone ofdeprecation. 

"It is an uncommonly fine lot of sugar trees, " said thedoctor; "and they stand so on the ground as to give greatfelicities to the oxen. "

"Now, Fleda, " Earl went on, busy all the while with his ironladle in dipping the boiling sap from one kettle into theother — "you know how this is fixed when we've done all we'vegot to do with it? — it must be strained out o' this bilerinto a cask or a tub, or somethin' nother — anythin' that'llhold it — and stand a day or so; — you may strain it through acotton cloth, or through a woollen cloth, or through any kindof a cloth, — and let it stand to settle; and then when it'sbiled down — Barby knows about bilin' down — you can tell whenit's comin' to the sugar when the yellow blobbers rises thickto the top and puffs off; and then it's time to try it in coldwater — it's best to be a leetle the right side o' the sugarand stop afore it's done too much, for the molasses will dreenoff afterwards" —

"It must be clarified in the commencement, " put in the doctor. 

"O' course it must be clarified, " said Earl — "Barby knowsabout clarifyin' — that's when you first put it on — you hadought to throw in a teeny drop o' milk fur to clear it —milk's as good as a'most anything — or, if you can get it, calf's blood's better" —

"Eggs would be a more preferable ingredient on the presentoccasion, I presume, " said the doctor. "Miss Ringgan'sdelicacy would be — a — would shrink from — a — and thealbumen of eggs will answer all the same purpose. "

"Well, anyhow you like to fix it, " said Earl, — "eggs orcalf's blood — I wont quarrel with you about the eggs, thoughI never heerd o' blue ones afore, 'cept the robin's andbluebird's — and I've heerd say the swamp blackbird lays ahandsome blue egg, but I never happened to see the nestmyself; — and there's the chippin' sparrow; but you'd want torob all the bird's nests in creation to get enough of 'em, andthey aint here in sugar time, nother; but, anyhow, any eggs'll do, I s'pose, if you can get 'em — or milk 'll do, if youha'n't nothin' else — and after it is turned out into thebarrel, you just let it stand still a spell, till it begins tograin and look clean on top" —

"May I suggest an improvement?" said the doctor. "Many personsare of the opinion that if you take and stir it up well fromthe bottom for a length of time, it will help the coagulationof the particles. I believe that is the practice of Mr. Plumfield and others. "

" 'Taint the practice of as good men as him, and as good sugarbilers besides, " said Earl; "though I don't mean to saynothin' agin' Seth Plumfield nor agin' his sugar, for the bothis as good as you'd need to have; he's a good man and he's agood farmer — there aint no better man in town than SethPlumfield, nor no better farmer, nor no better sugar nother;but I hope there's as good; and I've seen as handsome sugarthat wa'n't stirred as I'd want to see or eat either. "

"It would lame a man's arms the worst kind, " said Philetus. 

Fleda stood listening to the discussion and smiling, whenHugh, suddenly wheeling about, brought her face to face withMr. Olmney. 

"I have been sitting some time with Mrs. Rossitur, " he said, "and she rewarded me with permission to come and look at you. I mean — not that I wanted a reward, for I certainly did not —"

"Ah, Mr. Olmney!" said Fleda, laughing, "you are served right. You see how dangerous it is to meddle with such equivocalthings as compliments. But we are worth looking at, aren't we?I have been standing here this half hour. "

He did not say this time what he thought. 

"Pretty, isn't it?" said Fleda. "Stand a little further back, Mr. Olmney; isn't it quite a wild looking scene, in thatpeculiar light, and with the snowy background? Look atPhiletus now, with that bundle of sticks. Hugh, isn't heexactly like some of the figures in the old pictures of themartyrdoms, bringing billets to feed the fire? that oldmartyrdom of St. Lawrence — whose was it — Spagnoletto! — atMrs. Decatur's — don't you recollect? It is fine, isn't it, Mr. Olmney?"

"I am afraid, " said he, shaking his head a little, "my eyewants training. I have not been once in your company, Ibelieve, without your showing me something I could not see. "

"That young lady, Sir, " said Dr. Quackenboss, from the farside of the fire, where he was busy giving it more wood; "thatyoung lady, Sir, is a patron to her — a — to all youngladies. "

"A patron!" said Mr. Olmney. 

"Passively, not actively, the doctor means, " said Fleda, softly. 

"Well, I wont say but she's a good girl, " said Mr. Douglass, in an abstracted manner, busy with his iron ladle: "she meansto be a good girl, she's as clever a girl as you need tohave. "

Nobody's gravity stood this, excepting Philetus, in whom theprinciple of fun seemed not to be developed. 

"Miss Ringgan, Sir, " Dr. Quackenboss went on, with a mostbenign expression of countenance — "Miss Ringgan, Sir, Mr. Olmney, sets an example to all ladies who — a — have hadelegant advantages. She gives her patronage to theagricultural interest in society. "

"Not exclusively, I hope?" said Mr. Olmney, smiling, andmaking the question with his eye of Fleda. But she did notmeet it. 

"You know, " she said, rather quickly, and drawing back fromthe fire, "I am of an agricultural turn, perforce; in uncleRolf's absence, I am going to be a farmer myself. "

"So I have heard— so Mrs. Rossitur told me; but I fear, pardonme, you do not look fit to grapple with such a burden ofcare. "

Hugh sighed, and Fleda's eyes gave Mr. Olmney a hint to besilent. 

"I am not going to grapple with any thing, Sir; I intend totake things easily. "

"I wish I could take an agricultural turn, too, " said he, smiling, "and be of some service to you. "

"Oh, I shall have no lack of service, " said Fleda, gaily; "Iam not going unprovided into the business. There is my cousinSeth Plumfield who has engaged himself to be my counsellor andinstructor in general; I could not have a better; and Mr. Douglass is to be my right hand, I occupying only the quietand unassuming post of the will, to convey the orders of thehead to the hand. And for the rest, Sir, there is Philetus!"

Mr. Olmney looked, half laughing, at Mr. Skillcorn, who was atthat moment standing with his hands on his sides, eyeing withconcentrated gravity the movements of Earl Douglass and thedoctor. 

"Don't shake your head at him!" said Fleda. "I wish you hadcome an hour earlier, Mr. Olmney. "

"Why?"

"I was just thinking of coming out here, " said Fleda, her eyesflashing with hidden fun; "and Hugh and I were both standingin the kitchen, when we heard a tremendous shout from thewoodyard. Don't laugh, or I can't go on. We all ran outtowards the lantern which we saw standing there, and so soonas we got near we heard Philetus singing out, 'Ho, MissElster! I'm dreadfully on't!' — Why he called upon Barby Idon't know, unless from some notion of her general efficiency, though, to be sure, he was nearer her than the sap-boilers, and perhaps thought her aid would come quickest. And he was ina hurry, for the cries came thick, — 'Miss Elster! — here! —I'm dreadfully on't' —"

"I don't understand —"

"No, " said Fleda, whose amusement seemed to be increased bythe gentleman's want of understanding, "and neither did wetill we came up to him. The silly fellow had been sent up formore wood, and, splitting a log, he had put his hand in tokeep the cleft, instead of a wedge, and when he took out theaxe the wood pinched him; and he had the fate of Milo beforehis eyes, I suppose, and could do nothing but roar. You shouldhave seen the supreme indignation with which Barby took theaxe and released him, with, 'You're a smart man, Mr. Skillcorn!' "

"What was the fate of Milo?" said Mr. Olmney, presently.. 

"Don't you remember the famous wrestler that, in his old age, trying to break open a tree, found himself not strong enough?and the wood closing upon his hands held him fast till thewild beasts came and made an end of him. The figure of ourunfortunate wood-cutter, though, was hardly so dignified asthat of the old athlete in the statue. Dr. Quackenboss, andMr. Douglass, you will come in and see us when thistroublesome business is done?"

"It'll be a pretty spell yet, " said Earl; "but the doctor, hecan go in, he ha'n't nothin' to do. It don't take more'n halfa dozen men to keep one pot a-bilin'. "

"Aint there teu on 'em, Mr. Douglass?" said Philetus. 

END OF VOL. I. 

Typographical errors:

Chapter 1 : =go in, grandpa?'= silently corrected as =go in, grandpa?"=

Chapter 2 : =read it sometime= silently corrected as =read itsome time=

Chapter 3 : =Carleton, said at length= silently corrected as=Carleton said, at length=

Chapter 7 : =ain't tright well= silently corrected as =ain'tright well=

Chapter 7 : =trust in him!= Silently corrected as =trust in him!'=

Chapter 8 : =hand, aunt Miriam said. = silently corrected as=hand, aunt Miriam said, =

Chapter 9 : =If large possessions= silently corrected as ="Iflarge possessions=

Chapter 11 : =these places;= silently corrected as =these places, =

Chapter 14 : =were to mine. = silently corrected as =were tomine. "=

Chapter 14 : =said he. Smiling= silently corrected as =said he, smiling=

Chapter 15 : =Memoires de Sully' — in French= silently correctedas =Mιmoires de Sully' — in French=

Chapter 15 : =Newton' — 'what's= silently corrected as =Newton' —what's=

Chapter 15 : =Mem. De Sully= silently corrected as =Mιm. De Sully=

Chapter 16 : =that Monsieur Emilie= silently corrected as =thatMonsieur Emile=

Chapter 19 : =other people had. = silently corrected as =otherpeople had. "=

Chapter 19 : =down to Mis' Douglases= silently corrected as =downto Mis' Douglass's=

Chapter 20 : =hull on't;= silently corrected as =hull on't, =

Chapter 21 : =nowork particular= silently corrected as =no workparticular=

Chapter 21 : =well, god-bye= silently corrected as =well, good-bye=

Chapter 22 : =came in. Folding= silently corrected as =came in, folding=

Cbapter 22 : =This is me, Ma'am, = said silently corrected as=This is me, Ma'am, "=

Chapter 22 : =in the army. = silently corrected as =in the army. "=

Chapter 23 : =taking the place. = silently corrected as =takingthe place. "=

Chapter 23 : =house, a believe= silently corrected as =house, Ibelieve=

Chapter 25 : =he's took= silently corrected as ="he's took=

Chapter 26 : =as a child!= silently corrected as =as a child!"=

Chapter 26 : =entremκts= silently corrected as =entremets=

Chapter 27 : =tired, Fleda. = silently corrected as =tired, Fleda. "=

Chapter 27 : =on't' —= silently corrected as =on't' —"=