tome 2

COLLECTION

OF

BRITISH AUTHORS

TAUCHNITZ EDITION. 

VOL. 312

QUEECHY. BY ELIZABETH WETHERELL . 

IN TWO VOLUMES. 

VOL. II. 

TAUCHNITZ EDITION

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

THE HILLS OF THE SHATEMUC 2 vols. 

SAY AND SEAL 2 vols. 

THE OLD HELMET 2 vols. 

QUEECHY. 

BY

ELIZABETH WETHERELL

AUTHOR OF "THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD. "

IN TWO VOLUMES. 

_AUTHOR'S EDITION_. 

IN TWO VOLUMES

VOL. II

LEIPZIG

BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ

1854

CONTENTS

OF VOLUME II. 

Chapter I. The Brook's old Song, and the new

II. Flighty and unsatisfactory

III. Disclosures by Mr. Skillcorn

IV. Mr. Olmney's cause argued

V. Sometimes inconvenient, "from the loop-hole of retreat, topeep at such a world"

VI. Fleda's white Muslin

VII. How the Fairy engaged two Englishmen

VIII. Fleda forgets herself

IX. The Roses and the Gentlemen

X. "An unseen enemy round the corner"

XI. The Fairy at her work again

XII. A Night of uncertain length

XIII. A Thorn enters

XIV. Dealings with the Press

XV. Ends with soft music

XVI. How Fleda was watched by blue eyes

XVII. What pleasant people one meets in Society

XVIII. How much trouble one may have about a note

XIX. Aromatic vinegar

XX. The fur-cloak on a journey

XXI. Quarrenton to Queechy

XXII. Montepoole becomes a point of interest

XXIII. The house on "the hill" once more

XXIV. The first one that left Queechy

XXV. The last Sunset there

XXVI. Fleda alone on an Isthmus

XXVII. The Gothic chapel before breakfast

QUEECHY. 

VOL. II. 

CHAPTER I. 

"He that has light within his own clear breast, May sit i' th' centre and enjoy bright day. "MILTON. 

The farming plan succeeded beyond Fleda's hopes — thanks notmore to her wisdom than to the nice tact with which the wisdomwas brought into play. The one was eked out with SethPlumfield's; the other was all her own. Seth was indefatigablykind and faithful. After his own day's work was done, he usedto walk down to see Fleda, go with her often to view theparticular field or work just then in question, and give herthe best counsel dictated by great sagacity and greatexperience. It was given, too, with equal frankness andintelligence, so that Fleda knew the steps she took, and couldmaintain them against the. Prejudice or the ignorance of hersubordinates. But Fleda's delicate handling stood her yet morein stead than her strength. Earl Douglass was sometimesunmanageable, and held out in favour of an old custom or aprevailing opinion in spite of all the weight of testimony andlight of discovery that could be brought to bear upon him. Fleda would let the thing go. But seizing her opportunityanother time, she would ask him to try the experiment on apiece of the ground, so pleasantly and skilfully, that Earlcould do nothing but shut his mouth and obey, like an animalfairly stroked into good humour. And as Fleda always forgot toremind him that she had been right and he wrong, he forgot ittoo, and presently took to the new way kindly. In othermatters he could be depended on, and the seed-time and harvestprospered well. There was hope of making a good payment to Dr. Gregory in the course of a few months. 

As the spring came forward, Fleda took care that her gardenshould — both gardens, indeed. There she and Philetus had thegame in their own hands, and beautifully it was managed. Hughhad full occupation at the mill. Many a dollar this summer wasearned by the loads of fine fruits and vegetables whichPhiletus carried to Montepoole; and accident opened a newsource of revenue. When the courtyard was in the full blaze ofits beauty, one day an admiring passer-by modestly inquired ifa few of those exquisite flowers might be had for money. Theywere given him most cheerfully that time; but the demandreturned, accompanied by the offer, and Fleda obliged herselfnot to decline it. A trial it was, to cut her roses andjessamines for anything but her own or her friends' pleasure, but, according to custom, she bore it without hesitation. Theplace became a resort for all the flower-lovers who happenedto be staying at the Pool; and rose-leaves were changed intosilver pennies as fast as in a fairy-tale. 

But the delicate mainspring that kept all this machinery inorder suffered from too severe a strain. There was too muchrunning, too much considering, too much watchfulness. In thegarden, pulling peas, and seeing that Philetus weeded thecarrots right — in the field or the wood-yard, consulting andarranging, or maybe debating, with Earl Douglass, who acquiredby degrees an unwonted and concentrated respect for womankindin her proper person; breakfast waiting for her often beforeshe came in; — in the house, her old housewifery concerns, hershare in Barby's cares or difficulties, her sweetcountenancing and cheering of her aunt, her dinner, her work;— then when evening came, budding her roses, or tying hercarnations, or weeding, or raking the ground between them(where Philetus could do nothing), or training her multifloraand sweet-brier branches; and then often, after all, walkingup to the mill to give Hugh a little earlier a home smile, andmake his way down pleasant. No wonder if the energies whichowed much of their strength to love's nerving, should at lastgive out, and Fleda's evening be passed in wearied slumbers. No wonder if many a day was given up to the forced quietude ofa headache, the more grievous to Fleda, because she knew thather aunt and Hugh always found the day dark that was notlightened by her sun-beam. How brightly it shone out themoment the cloud of pain was removed, winning the shadow fromtheir faces and a smile to their lips, though solitude alwayssaw her own settle into a gravity as fixed as it was soft. 

"You have been doing too much, Fleda, " said Mrs. Rossitur, onemorning when she came in from the garden. 

"I didn't know it would take me so long, " said Fleda, drawinga long breath: "but I couldn't help it. I had those celeryplants to prick out — and then I was helping Philetus to plantanother patch of corn. "

"He might have done that without help, I should think. "

"But it must be put in to-day, and he had other things to do. "

"And then you were at your flowers?" —

"Oh, well! — budding a few roses — that's only play. It wastime they were done. But I am tired; and I am going up to seeHugh — it will rest me and him too. "

The gardening frock and gloves were exchanged for those ofordinary wear, and Fleda set off slowly to go up to the saw-mill. 

She stopped a moment when she came upon the bridge, to lookoff to the right where the waters of the little run camehurrying along through a narrow wooded chasm in the hill, murmuring to her of the time when a little child's feet hadpaused there, and a child's heart danced to its music. Thefreshness of its song was unchanged, the glad rush of itswaters was as joyous as ever, but the spirits were quietedthat used to answer it with sweeter freshness and lighterjoyousness. Its faint echo of the old-time laugh was blendednow in Fleda's ear with a gentle wail for the rushing days andswifter-fleeing delights of human life; — gentle, faint, butclear — she could hear it very well. Taking up her walk again, with a step yet slower, and a brow yet more quiet, she went ontill she came in sight of the little mill; and presently, above the noise of the brook, could hear the saw going. To herchildish ears what a signal of pleasure that had always been!— and now — she sighed, and stopping at a little distance, looked for Hugh. He was there; she saw him in a moment goingforward to stop the machinery, the piece of timber in handhaving walked its utmost length up to the saw; she saw himthrowing aside the new-cut board, and adjusting what was lefttill it was ready for another march up to head-quarters. Whenit stopped the second time, Fleda went forward. Hugh must havebeen busy in his own thoughts, for he did not see her until hehad again adjusted the log, and set the noisy works in motion. She stood still. Several huge timbers lay close by, ready forthe saw; and on one of them where he had been sitting, Fledasaw his Bible lying open. As her eye went from it to him, itstruck her heart with a pang that he looked tired, and thatthere was a something of delicacy, even of fragility, in theair of face and figure both. 

He came to meet her, and welcomed her with a smile, thatcoming upon this feeling set Fleda's heart a-quivering. Hugh'ssmile was always one of very great sweetness, though neverunshadowed; there was often something ethereal in its puregentleness. This time it seemed even sweeter than usual; butthough not sadder, perhaps less sad, Fleda could hardlycommand herself to reply to it. She could not at the momentspeak; her eye glanced at his open book. 

"Yes, it rests me, " he said, answering her. 

"Rests you, dear Hugh!" —

He smiled again. "Here is somebody else that wants resting, Iam afraid, " said he, placing her gently on the log; and beforeshe had found anything to say, he went off again to hismachinery. Fleda sat looking at him, and trying to clear herbosom of its thick breathing. 

"What has brought you up here through the hot sun?" said he, coming back after he had stopped the saw, and sitting downbeside her. 

Fleda's lip moved nervously, and her eye shunned meeting his. Softly pushing back the wet hair from his temples, she said —

"I had one of my fits of doing nothing at home — I didn't feelvery bright, and thought perhaps you didn't — so, on theprinciple that two negatives make an affirmative —"

"I feel bright, " said Hugh, gently. 

Fleda's eye came down to his, which was steady and clear asthe reflection of the sky in Deepwater lake — and then hersfell lower. 

"Why don't you, dear Fleda?"

"I believe I am a little tired, " Fleda said, trying, but invain, to command herself and look up — "and there are statesof body when anything almost is enough to depress one. "

"And what depresses you now?" said he, very steadily andquietly. 

"Oh — I was feeling a little down about things in general, "said Fleda, in a choked voice, trying to throw off her loadwith a long breath; "it's because I am tired, I suppose —"

"I felt so too, a little while ago, " said Hugh. "But I haveconcluded to give all that up, Fleda. "

Fleda looked at him. Her eyes were swimming full, but his wereclear and gentle as ever, only glistening a little in sympathywith hers. 

"I thought all was going wrong with us, " he went on. "But Ifound it was only I that was wrong; and since that, I havebeen quite happy, Fleda. "

Fleda could not speak to him; his words made her pain worse. 

"I told you this rested me, " said he, reaching across her forhis book; "and now I am never weary long. Shall I rest youwith it? What have you been troubling yourself about to-day?"

She did not answer while he was turning over the leaves, andhe then said, —

"Do you remember this, Fleda — '_Truly God is good to Israel, even to them that are of a clean heart_. ' "

Fleda bent her head down upon her hands. 

"I was moody and restless the other day, " said Hugh;"desponding of everything; and I came upon this psalm; and itmade me ashamed of myself. I had been disbelieving it; andbecause I could not see how things were going to work good, Ithought they were going to work evil. I thought we werewearing out our lives alone here in a wearisome way, and Iforgot that it must be the very straightest way that we couldget home. I am sure we shall not want anything that will do usgood; and the rest I am willing to want — and so are you, Fleda?"

Fleda squeezed his hand — that was all. For a minute he wassilent, and then went on, without any change of tone. 

"I had a notion, awhile ago, that I should like if it werepossible for me to go to college; but I am quite satisfiednow. I have good time and opportunity to furnish myself with abetter kind of knowledge, that I shall want where collegelearning wouldn't be of much use to me; and I can do it, Idare say, better here in this mill, than if we had stayed inNew York, and I had lived in our favourite library. "

"But, dear Hugh, " said Fleda, who did not like this speech inany sense of it; "the two things do not clash! The better man, the better Christian always, other things being equal. Themore precious kind of knowledge should not make one undervaluethe less?"

"No, " he said; but the extreme quietness and simplicity of hisreply smote Fleda's fears; it answered her words and waved herthought. She dared not press him further. She sat looking overthe road with an aching heart. 

"You haven't taken enough of my medicine, " said Hugh, smiling. "Listen, Fleda — '_All the paths of the Lord are mercy andtruth unto such as keep his covenant and his testimonies_. ' "

But that made Fleda cry again. 

" 'All his paths, ' Fleda; then, whatever may happen to you, and whatever may happen to me, or to any of us, I can trusthim. I am willing any one should have the world, if I may havewhat Abraham had — '_fear not; I am thy shield and thyexceeding great reward;_' — and I believe I shall, Fleda; forit is not the hungry that he has threatened to send emptyaway. "

Fleda could say nothing, and Hugh just then said no more. Fora little while, near and busy as thoughts might be, tongueswere silent. Fleda was crying quietly, the utmost she could dobeing to keep it quiet; Hugh, more quietly, was consideringagain the strong pillars on which he had laid his hope, andtrying their strength and beauty, till all other things wereto him as the mist rolling off from he valley is to the manplanted on a watch-tower. 

His meditations were interrupted by the tramp of horse; and aparty of riders, male and female, came past them up the hill. Hugh looked on as they went by; Fleda's head was not raised. 

"There are some people enjoying themselves, " said Hugh. "Afterall, dear Fleda, we should be very sorry to change places withthose gay riders. I would not, for a thousand worlds, give myhope and treasure for all other they can possibly have inpossession or prospect. "

"No, indeed!" said Fleda, energetically, and trying to rouseherself, — "and, besides that, Hugh, we have, as it is, agreat deal more to enjoy than most other people. We are sohappy —"

In each other, she was going to say, but the words choked her. 

"Those people looked very hard at us, or at one of us, " saidHugh. "It must have been you, I think, Fleda. "

"They are welcome, " said Fleda; "they couldn't have made muchout of the back of my sun-bonnet. "

"Well, dear Fleda, I must content myself with little more thanlooking at you now, for Mr. Winegar is in a hurry for histimber to be sawn, and I must set this noisy concern a-goingagain. "

Fleda sat and watched him, with rising and falling hopes andfears, forcing her lips to a smile when he came near her, andhiding her tears at other times; till the shadows stretchingwell to the east of the meridian, admonished her she had beenthere long enough; and she left him still going backward andforward tending the saw. 

As she went down the hill, she pressed involuntarily her handsupon her heart, for the dull heavy pain there. But that was noplaster for it; and when she got to the bridge the softsinging of the little brook was just enough to shake herspirits from the doubtful poise they had kept. Giving onehasty glance along the road and up the hill, to make sure thatno one was near, she sat down on a stone in the edge of thewoods, and indulged in such weeping as her gentle eyes rarelyknew; for the habit of patience so cultivated for others' sakeconstantly rewarded her own life with its sweet fruits. Butdeep and bitter in proportion was the flow of the fountainonce broken up. She struggled to remind herself that"Providence runneth not on broken wheels;" she struggled torepeat to herself what she did not doubt, that, "_all_ the waysof the Lord are mercy and truth" to his people; — in vain. Theslight check for a moment to the torrent of grief but gave itgreater head to sweep over the barrier; and the self-reproachthat blamed its violence and needlessness only made the floodmore bitter. Nature fought against patience for awhile; butwhen the loaded heart had partly relieved itself, patiencecame in again, and she rose up to go home. It startled herexceedingly to find Mr. Olmney standing before her, andlooking so sorrowful that Fleda's eyes could not bear it. 

"My dear Miss Ringgan! — forgive me — I hope you will forgiveme — but I could not leave you in such distress. I knew thatin you it could only be from some very serious cause ofgrief. "

"I cannot say it is from anything new, Mr. Olmney — except tomy apprehensions. "

"You are all _well?_" he said, inquiringly, after they hadwalked a few steps in silence. 

"Well? — yes, Sir, " said Fleda, hesitatingly; "but I do notthink that Hugh looks very well. "

The trembling of her voice told him her thought. But heremained silent. 

"You have noticed it?" she said, hastily looking up. 

"I think you have told me he always was delicate?"

"And you have noticed him looking so, lately, Mr. Olmney!"

"I have thought so — but you say he always was that. If youwill permit me to say so, I have thought the same of you, MissFleda. "

Fleda was silent: her heart ached again. 

"We would gladly save each other from every threateningtrouble, " said Mr. Olmney again, after a pause; — "but itought to content us that we do not know how. Hugh is in goodhands, my dear Miss Ringgan. "

"I know it, Sir, " said Fleda, unable quite to keep back hertears; "and I know very well this thread of our life will notbear the strain always — and I know that the strands must, inall probability, part unevenly — and I know it is in the powerof no blind fate — but that —"

"Does not lessen our clinging to each other. O no! — it growsbut the tenderer and the stronger for the knowledge. "

Fleda could but cry. 

"And yet, " said he, very kindly, "we who are Christians mayand ought to learn to take troubles hopefully, for'tribulation worketh patience, and patience, ' that is, quietwaiting on God, 'works experience' of his goodness andfaithfulness; and 'experience worketh hope, ' and that 'hope, 'we know, 'maketh not ashamed. ' "

"I know it, " said Fleda; "but, Mr. Olmney, how easily thebrunt of a new affliction breaks down all that chain ofreasoning!"

"Yes!" he said, sadly and thoughtfully; "but, my dear MissFleda, you know the way to build it up again. I would be veryglad to bear all need for it away from you. "

They had reached the gate. Fleda could not look up to thankhim; the hand she held out was grasped, more than kindly, andhe turned away. 

Fleda's tears came hot again as she went up the walk; she heldher head down to hide them, and went round the back way. 

CHAPTER II. 

"Now the melancholy god protect thee: and the tailor make thydoublet of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is a very opal. "TWELFTH NIGHT. 

"Well, what did you come home for?" was Barby's salutation;"here's company been waiting for you till they're tired, and Iam sure I be. "

"Company!" said Fleda. 

"Yes, and it's ungrateful in you to say so, " said Barby; "forshe's been in a wonderful hurry to see you, or to getsomethin' to eat — I don't know which; a little o' both, Ihope in charity. "

"Why didn't you give her something to eat? Who is it?"

"I don't know who it is! It's one of your highfliers, that'sall I can make out. She 'a'n't a hat a bit better than a man'sbeaver; one 'ud think she had stole her little brother's for aspree, if the rest of her was like common folks; but she's gota tail to her dress as long as from here to Queechy Run, andshe's been tiddling in and out here, with it puckered up underher arm, sixty times. I guess she belongs to some company offemale militie, for the body of it is all thick with braid andbuttons. I believe she ha'n't sot still five minutes since shecome into the house, till I don't know whether I am on my heador my heels. "

"But why didn't you give her something to eat?" said Fleda, who was hastily throwing off her gloves, and smoothing herdisordered hair with her hands into something of composure. 

"Did!" said Barby; "I give her some o' them cold biscuit andbutter and cheese, and a pitcher of milk — sot a good enoughmeal for anybody; but she didn't take but a crumb, and sheturned up her nose at that. Come, go! you've slicked upenough; you're handsome enough to show yourself to her anytime o' day, for all her jig-em bobs. "

"Where is aunt Lucy?"

"She's up stairs; there's been nobody to see to her but me. She's had the hull lower part of the house to herself, kitchenand all, and she's done nothing but go out of one room intoanother ever since she come. She'll be in here again directly, if you aint spry. "

Fleda went in, round to the west room, and there found herselfin the arms of the second Miss Evelyn, who jumped to meet her, and half-stifled her with caresses. 

"You wicked little creature! what have you been doing? Herehave I been growing melancholy over the tokens of yourabsence, and watching the decline of the sun, with distractedfeelings these six hours. "

"Six hours!" said Fleda, smiling. 

"My dear little Fleda! it's so delicious to see you again!"said Miss Evelyn, with another prolonged hug and kiss. 

"My dear Constance! I am very glad! but where are the rest?"

"It's unkind of you to ask after anybody but me, when I camehere this morning on purpose to talk the whole day to you. Now, dear little Fleda, " said Miss Constance, executing animpatient little persuasive caper round her, — "won't you goout and order dinner? for I'm raging. Your woman did give mesomething, but I found the want of you had taken away all myappetite; and now the delight of seeing you has exhausted me, and I feel that nature is sinking. The stimulus of gratifiedaffection is too much for me. "

"You absurd child!" said Fleda; "you haven't mended a bit. ButI told Barby to put on the tea-kettle, and I will administer acomposing draught as soon as it can be got ready; we don'tindulge in dinners here in the wilderness. Meanwhile, supposethat exhausted nature try the support of this easy-chair. "

She put her visitor gently into it, and, seating herself uponthe arm, held her hand, and looked at her with a smiling face, and yet with eyes that were almost too gentle in theirwelcoming. 

"My dear little Fleda! you're as lovely as you can be! Are youglad to see me?"

"Very. "

"Why don't you ask after somebody else?"

"I was afraid of overtasking your exhausted energies. "

"Come, and sit down here upon my lap! — You shall, or I won'tsay another word to you. Fleda! you've grown thin! what haveyou been doing to yourself?"

"Nothing, with that particular purpose. "

"I don't care — you've done something. You have been insanelyimagining that it is necessary for you to be in three or fourplaces at the same time; and in the distracted effort afterubiquity, you are in imminent danger of being nowhere; there'snothing left of you!"

"I don't wonder you were overcome at the sight of me, " saidFleda. 

"But you are looking charmingly for all that, " Constance wenton; "so charmingly, that I feel a morbid sensation creepingall over me while I sit regarding you. Really, when you cometo us next winter, if you persist in being — by way of showingyour superiority to ordinary human nature — a rose without athorn, the rest of the flowers may all shut up at once. Andthe rose reddens in my very face, to spite me!"

"Is 'ordinary human nature' typified by a thorn? You give itrather a poor character. "

"I never heard of a thorn that didn't bear an excellentcharacter, " said Constance, gravely. 

"Hush!" said Fleda, laughing; "I don't want to hear about Mr. Thorn. Tell me of somebody else. "

"I haven't said a word about Mr. Thorn!" said Constance, ecstatically; "but since you ask about him, I will tell you. He has not acted like himself since you disappeared from ourhorizon — that is, he has ceased to be at all pointed in hisattentions to me; his conversation has lost all the acutenessfor which I remember you admired it; he has walked Broadway ina moody state of mind all winter, and grown as dull as isconsistent with the essential sharpness of his nature. I oughtto except our last interview, though, for his entreaties toMamma that she would bring you home with her were piercing. "

Fleda was unable, in spite of herself, to keep from laughing;but entreated that Constance would tell her of somebody else. 

"My respected parents are at Montepoole, with all theiroffspring — that is, Florence and Edith; I am at presentanxiously inquired after, being nobody knows where, and to befetched by Mamma this evening. Wasn't I good, little Fleda, torun away from Mr. Carleton, to come and spend a whole day insocial converse with you!"

"Carleton!" said Fleda. 

"Yes? Oh, you don't know who he is! he's a new attraction;there's been nothing like him this great while, and all NewYork is topsy-turvy about him; the mothers are dying withanxiety, and the daughters with admiration; and it's toodelightful to see the cool superiority with which he takes itall; like a new star that all the people are pointing theirtelescopes at, as Thorn said, spitefully, the other day. Oh, he has turned my head! I have looked till I cannot look atanything else. I can just manage to see a rose, but my dazzledpowers of vision are equal to nothing more. "

"My dear Constance!"

"It's perfectly true! Why, as soon as we knew he was coming toMontepoole, I wouldn't let Mamma rest till we all made a rushafter him; and when we got here first, and I was afraid hewasn't coming, nothing can express the state of my feelings!But he appeared the next morning, and then I was quite happy, "said Constance, rising and falling in her chair, on what musthave been ecstatic springs, for wire ones it had none. 

"Constance, " said Fleda, with a miserable attempt at rebuke, "how can you talk so!"

"And so we were all riding round here this morning, and I hadthe self-denial to stop to see you, and leave Florence and theMarlboroughs to monopolize him all the way home. You ought tolove me for ever for it. My dear Fleda!" said Constance, clasping her hands, and elevating her eyes in mock ecstasy, "if you had ever seen Mr. Carleton!"

"I dare say I have seen somebody as good, " said Fleda, quietly. 

"My dear Fleda!" said Constance, a little scornfully thistime; "you haven't the least idea what you are talking about!I tell you, he is an Englishman; he's of one of the bestfamilies in England: not such as you ever see here but once inan age; he's rich enough to count Mr. Thorn over, I don't knowhow many times. "

"I don't like anybody the better for being an Englishman, "said Fleda; "and it must be a small man whose purse will holdhis measure. "

Constance made an impatient gesture. 

"But I tell you it isn't! We knew him when we were abroad; andwe know what he is; and we know his mother very well. When wewere in England, we were a week with them down at theirbeautiful place in — shire — the loveliest time! You see, shewas over here with Mr. Carleton once before, a good while ago;and mamma and papa were polite to them, and so they showed usa great deal of attention when we were in England. We had theloveliest time down there you can possibly conceive. And, mydear Fleda, he wears such a fur cloak! — lined with the mostexquisite black fox. "

"But, Constance!" said Fleda, a little vexed, though laughing— "any man may wear a fur cloak; the thing is, what is insideof it. "

"It is perfectly indifferent to me what is inside of it, " saidConstance, ecstatically. "I can see nothing but the edges ofthe black fox, especially when it is worn so very gracefully. "

"But, in some cases, there might be a white fox within. "

"There is nothing of the fox about Mr. Carleton, " saidConstance, impatiently. "If it had been anybody else, I shouldhave said he was a bear two or three times; but he wearseverything as he does his cloak, and makes you take what hepleases from him — what I wouldn't take from any- body else, Iknow. "

"With a fox lining, " said Fleda, laughing. 

"Then foxes haven't got their true character, that's all. NowI'll just tell you an instance — it was at a party somewhere —it was at that tiresome Mrs. Swinburne's, where the eveningsare always so stupid, and there was nothing worth going orstaying for but the supper — except Mr. Carleton — and henever stays five minutes, except at two or three places; andit drives me crazy, because they are places I don't go to veryoften —"

"Suppose you keep your wits, and tell me your story. "

"Well — don't interrupt me — he was there, and he had taken meinto the supper-room, when mamma came along, and took it intoher head to tell me not to take something — I forget what —punch, I believe — because I had not been well in the morning. Now, you know, it was absurd. I was perfectly well then, and Itold her I shouldn't mind her; but do you believe, Mr. Carleton wouldn't give it to me? — absolutely told me hewouldn't, and told me why, as coolly as possible, and gave mea glass of water, and made me drink it; and if it had beenanybody else, I do assure you I would have flung it in hisface, and never spoken to him again; and I have been in lovewith him ever since. Now, is that tea going to be ready?"

"Presently. How long have you been here?"

"Oh, a day or two — and it has poured with rain every singleday since we came, till this one; and just think, " saidConstance with a ludicrously scared face — "I must make haste, and be back again. You see, I came away on principle, that Imay strike with the effect of novelty when I appear again; butif I stay _too_ long, you know — there is a point —"

"On the principle of the ice-boats, " said Fleda, "that back alittle to give a better blow to the ice, where they find ittough?"

"Tough!" said Constance. 

"Does Florence like this paragon of yours as well as you do?"

"I don't know — she don't talk so much about him, but thatproves nothing; she's too happy to talk _to_ him. I expect ourfamily concord will be shattered by and by, " said Constance, shaking her head. 

"You seem to take the prospect philosophically, " said Fleda, looking amused. "How long are you going to stay at the Pool?"

Constance gave an expressive shrug, intimating that thedeciding of that question did not rest with her. 

"That is to say, you are here to watch the transit of thisstar over the meridian of Queechy?"

"Of Queechy! — of Montepoole. "

"Very well — of Montepoole. I don't wonder that nature isexhausted. I will go and see after this refection. "

The prettiest little meal in the world was presently forth forthe two. Fleda knew her aunt would not come down, and Hugh wasyet at the mill; so she led her visitor into the breakfast-room alone — Constance, by the way, again fondly embracingher, and repeating, "My dear little Fleda, how glad I am tosee you!"

The lady was apparently hungry, for there was a minute ofsilence while the refection begun, and then Constance claimed, perhaps with a sudden appreciation of the delicious bread andbutter, and cream and strawberries —

"What a lovely old room this is — and what lovely times youhave here, don't you, Fleda?"

"Yes — sometimes, " Fleda said, with a sigh. 

"But I shall tell mamma you are growing thin, and the firstminute we get home I shall send for you to come us. Mrs. Thornwill be amazingly glad to see you. "

"Has she got back from Europe?" said Fleda. 

"Ages! — and she's been entertaining the world as hard as shecould ever since. I have no doubt Lewis has confided to thematernal bosom all his distresses; and there never wasanything like the rush that I expect will be made to ourgreenhouse next winter. Oh, Fleda, you should see Mr. Carleton's greenhouses!"

"Should I?" said Fleda. 

"Dear me! I hope mamma will come!" said Constance, with acomical, fidgety shake of herself; "when I think of thosegreenhouses I lose my self-command. And the park! — Fleda, it's the loveliest thing you ever saw in your life; and it'sall that delightful man's doing; only he wont have a geometricflower-garden, as I did everything I could think of topersuade him. I pity the woman that will be his wife — shewont have her own way in a single thing; but then he willfascinate her into thinking that his way is the best — so itwill do just as well, I suppose. Do you know, I can't conceivewhat he has come over here for. He has been here before, youknow, and he don't seem to me to know exactly what he means todo; at least, I can't find out, and I have tried. "

"How long has he been here?"

"Oh, a month or two — since the beginning of April, I believe. He came over with some friends of his — a Sir George Egertonand his family; — he is going to Canada, to be established insome post there, I forget what; and they are spending part ofthe summer here before they fix themselves at the North. It iseasy to see what _they_ are here for — they are strangers, andamusing themselves; but Mr. Carleton is at home, and _not_amusing himself, at least, he don't seem to be. He goes aboutwith the Egertons, but that is just for his friendship forthem; and he puzzles me. He don't know whether he is going toNiagara — he has been once already — and 'perhaps' he may goto Canada — and 'possibly' he will make a journey to the West— and I can't find out that he wants anything in particular. "

"Perhaps he don't mean that you shall, " said Fleda. 

"Perhaps he don't; but you see that aggravates my state ofmind to a distressing degree. And then I'm afraid he will gosomewhere where I can't keep watch of him!"

Fleda could not help laughing. 

"Perhaps he was tired of home, and came for mere weariness. "

"Weariness! it's my opinion he has no idea there is such aword in the language — I am certain, if he heard it, he wouldcall for a dictionary the next minute. Why, at Carleton, itseems to me he was half the time on horseback, flying aboutfrom one end of the country to the other; and, when he is inthe house, he is always at work at something; it's a piece ofcondescension to get him to attend to you at all; only when hedoes, my dear Fleda! — he is so enchanting that you live in astate of delight till next time. And yet, I never could gethim to pay me a compliment to this minute — I tried two orthree times, and he rewarded me with some very rude speeches. "

"Rude!" said Fleda. 

"Yes — that is, they were the most graceful and fascinatingthings possible, but they would have been rudeness in anybodyelse. Where is mamma?" said Constance, with another comiccounterfeit of distress. "My dear Fleda, it's the mostcaptivating thing to breakfast at Carleton!"

"I have no idea the bread and butter is sweeter there than insome other parts of the world, " said Fleda. 

"I don't know about the bread and butter, " said Constance, "but those exquisite little sugar-dishes! My dear Fleda, everyone has his own sugar-dish and cream-ewer — the loveliestlittle things!"

"I have heard of such things before, " said Fleda. 

"I don't care about the bread and butter, " — said Constance —"eating is immaterial, with those perfect little things rightopposite to me. They weren't like any you ever saw, Fleda —the sugar-bowl was just a little, plain, oval box, with thelid on a hinge, and not a bit of chasing, only the arms on thecover — like nothing I ever saw but a old-fashioned silvertea-caddy; and the cream-jug, a little, straight, up-and-downthing to match. Mamma said they were clumsy, but theybewitched me!"

"I think everything bewitched you, " said Fleda, smiling. "Can't your head stand a sugar-dish and milk-cup?"

"My dear Fleda, I never had your superiority to the ordinaryweaknesses of human nature — I can stand _one_ sugar-bowl, but Iconfess myself overcome by a dozen. How we have all wanted tosee you, Fleda! and papa — you have captivated papa! — and hesays —"

"Never mind; don't tell me what he says, " said Fleda. 

"There! — that's your modesty that everybody rave about: Iwish I could catch it. Fleda, where did you get that littleBible? While I was waiting for you I tried to soothe myrestless anticipations with examining all the things in allthe rooms. Where did you get it?"

"It was given me a long while ago, " said Fleda. 

"But it is real gold on the outside — the clasps and all. Doyou know it? it is not washed. "

"I know it, " said Fleda, smiling; "and it is better than goldinside. "

"Wasn't that mamma's favourite, Mr. Olmney, that parted fromyou at the gate?" said Constance, after a minute's silence. 

"Yes. "

"Is he a favourite of yours, too?"

"You must define what you mean by a favourite, " said Fleda, gravely. 

"Well, how do you like him?"

"I believe everybody likes him, " said Fleda, colouring, andvexed at herself that she could not help it. The bright eyesopposite her took note of the fact with a sufficiently wide-awake glance. 

"He's very good!" said Constance, hugging herself, and takinga fresh supply of butter; "but don't let him know I have beento see you, or he'll tell you all sorts of evil things aboutme, for fear you should innocently be contaminated. Don't youlike to be taken care of?"

"Very much, " said Fleda, smiling, "by people that know how. "

"I can't bear it!" said Constance, apparently with greatsincerity; "I think it is the most impertinent thing in theworld people can do; I can't endure it, except from — ! Oh, mydear Fleda, it is perfect luxury to have him put a shawl roundyour shoulders!"

"Fleda, " said Earl Douglass, putting his head in from thekitchen, and before he said any more, bobbing it frankly atMiss Evelyn, half in acknowledgment of her presence, and half, as it seemed, in apology for his own; "Fleda, will you letBarby pack up somethin' 'nother for the men's lunch? — my wifewould ha' done it, as she had ought to, if she wa'n't downwith the teethache, and Catherine's away on a jig to Kenton, and the men wont do so much work on nothin', and I can't saynothin' to 'em if they don't; and I'd like to get that 'ereclover-field down afore night: it's goin' to be a fine spello' weather. I was a-goin' to try to get along without it, butI believe we can't. "

"Very well, " said Fleda. "But, Mr. Douglass, you'll try theexperiment of curing it in cocks?"

"Well, I don't know, " said Earl, in a tone of verydiscontented acquiescence; "I don't see how anythin' should beas sweet as the sun for dryin' hay; I know folks says it is, and I've heerd 'em say it is, and they'll stand to it, and youcan't beat 'em off the notion it is, but somehow or 'nother Ican't seem to come into it. I know the sun makes sweet hay, and I think the sun was meant to make hay, and I don't want tosee no sweeter hay than the sun makes; it's as good hay as youneed to have. "

"But you wouldn't mind trying it for once, Mr. Douglass, justfor me?"

"I'll do just what you please, " said he, with a littleexculpatory shake of his head; " 'tain't my concern — it's noconcern of mine; the gain or the loss 'll be your'n, and it'sfair you should have the gain or the loss, whichever on 'emyou choose to have. I'll put it in cocks: how much heft shouldbe in 'em?"

"About a hundred pounds; and you don't want to cut any morethan you can put up to-night, Mr. Douglass. We'll try it. "

"Very good! And you'll send along somethin' for the men. Barbyknows, " said Earl, bobbing his head again intelligently atFleda; "there's four on 'em, and it takes somethin' to feed'em: workin' men 'll put away a good deal o' meat. "

He withdrew his head and closed the door, happily forConstance, who went off into a succession of ecstaticconvulsions. 

"What time of day do your eccentric hay-makers prefer for therest of their meals, if they lunch at three o'clock? I neverheard anything so original in my life. "

"This is lunch number two, " said Fleda, smiling; "lunch numberone is about ten in the morning, and dinner at twelve. "

"And do they gladden their families with their presence at theother ordinary convivial occasions?"

"Certainly. "

"And what do they have for lunch?"

"Varieties. Bread and cheese, and pies, and Quirl-cakes; atevery other meal they have meat. "

"Horrid creatures!"

"It is only during haying and harvesting. "

"And you have to see to all this, poor little Fleda! Ideclare, if I was you, I'd do something —"

"No, " said Fleda, quietly, "Mrs. Douglass and Barby manage thelunch between them. I am not at all desperate. "

"But to have to talk to these people!"

"Earl Douglass is not a very polished specimen, " said Fleda, smiling; "but I assure you, in some of 'these people' there isan amount of goodness and wit, and shrewd practical sense andjudgment, that would utterly distance many of those that wouldcall them bears. "

Constance looked a good deal more than she said. 

"My dear little Fleda! you're too sensible for anything; butas I don't like sense from anybody but Mr. Carleton, I wouldrather look at you in the capacity of a rose, smiling a gentlerebuke upon me while I talk nonsense. "

And she did talk, and Fleda did smile and laugh, in spite ofherself, till Mrs. Evelyn and her other daughters made theirappearance. 

Then Barby said she thought they'd have talked the house down;and she expected there'd be nothing left of Fleda after allthe kissing she got. But it was not too much for Fleda'spleasure. Mrs. Evelyn was so tenderly kind, and Miss Evelyn ascaressing as her sister had been, and Edith, who was but achild, so joyously delighted, that Fleda's eyes were swimmingin happiness as she looked from one to the other, and shecould hardly answer kisses and questions fast enough. 

"Them is good-looking enough girls, " said Barby, as Fleda cameback to the house after seeing them to their carriage, if theyknowed how to dress themselves. I never see this fly-away oneafore. I knowed the old one as soon as I clapped my eyes ontoher. Be they stopping at the Pool again?"

"Yes. "

"Well, when are you going up there to see 'em?"

"I don't know, " said Fleda, quietly. And then, sighing as thethought of her aunt came into her head, she went off to findher and bring her down. 

Fleda's brow was sobered, and her spirits were in a flutterthat was not all of happiness, and that threatened not tosettle down quietly. But as she went slowly up the stairs, faith's hand was laid, even as her own grasped the balusters, on the promise —

"All the paths of the Lord are mercy and truth unto such askeep His covenant and His testimonies. "

She set faith's foot down on those sure stepping-stones; andshe opened her aunt's door and looked in with a face that wasneither troubled nor afraid. 

CHAPTER III. 

"_Ant_. He misses not much. _Seb_. No, he doth but mistake the truth totally. "TEMPEST. 

It was the very next morning that several ladies and gentlemenwere gathered on the piazza of the hotel at Montepoole, tobrace minds or appetites with the sweet mountain air whilewaiting for breakfast. As they stood there, a young countrymancame by bearing on his hip a large basket of fruit andvegetables. 

"Oh, look at those lovely strawberries!" exclaimed ConstanceEvelyn, running down the steps. "Stop, if you please — whereare you going with these?"

"Marm!" responded the somewhat startled carrier. 

"What are you going to do with them?"

"I aint going to do nothin' with 'em. "

"Whose are they? Are they for sale?"

"Well, 'twon't deu no harm, as I know, " said the young man, making a virtue of necessity, for the fingers of Constancewere already hovering over the dainty little leaf-strewnbaskets, and her eyes complacently searching for the mostpromising; "I ha'n't got nothin' to deu with 'ern. "

"Constance!" said Mrs. Evelyn, from the piazza, "don't takethat. I dare say they are for Mr. Sweet. "

"Well, Mamma, " said Constance, with great equanimity, "Mr. Sweet gets them for me, and I only save him the trouble ofspoiling them. My taste leads me to prefer the simplicity ofprimitive arrangements this morning. "

"Young man!" called out the landlady's reproving voice, "wontyou never recollect to bring that basket round the back way!"

" 't aint no handier than this way, " said Philetus, with somuch belligerent demonstration, that the landlady thoughtbest, in presence of her guests, to give over the question. 

"Where do you get them?" said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"How?" said Philetus. 

"Where do they come from? Are they fresh picked?"

"Just afore I started. "

"Started from where?" said a gentleman, standing by Mrs. Evelyn. 

"From Mr. Rossitur's, down to Queechy. "

"Mr. Rossitur's!" said Mrs. Evelyn. "Does he send them here?"

"He doos not, " said Philetus — "he doosn't keep to hum for along spell. "

"Who does send them, then?" said Constance. 

"Who doos? It's Miss Fliddy Ringgan. "

"Mamma!" exclaimed Constance, looking up. 

"What does she have to do with it?" said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"There don't nobody else have nothin' to deu with it — I guessshe's pretty much the hull, " said her coadjutor. "Her and mewas a-picking 'em afore sunrise. "

"All that basketful?"

" 't aint all strawberries — there's garden sass up to thetop. "

"And does she send that, too?"

"She sends that teu, " said Philetus, succinctly. 

"But hasn't she any help in taking care of the garden?" saidConstance. 

"Yes, Marm — I calculate to help considerable in the backgarden — she wont let no one into the front where she growsher posies. "

"But where is Mr. Hugh?"

"He's to hum. "

"But has he nothing to do with all this? Does he leave it allto his cousin?"

"He's to the mill. "

"And Miss Ringgan manages farm, and garden, and all?" saidMrs. Evelyn. 

"She doos, " said Philetus. 

And receiving a gratuity, which he accepted withoutdemonstration of any kind whatever, the basket-bearer, atlength released, moved off. 

"Poor Fleda!" said Miss Evelyn, as he disappeared with hisload. 

"She's a very clever girl, " said Mrs. Evelyn, dismissing thesubject. 

"She's too lovely for anything!" said Constance. "Mr. Carleton, if you will just imagine we are in China, andintroduct a pair of familiar chopsticks into this basket, Ishall be repaid for the loss of a strawberry by the expressionof ecstasy which will immediately spread itself over yourfeatures. I intend to patronize the natural mode of eating infuture. I find the ends of my fingers decidedly odoriferous. "

He smiled a little as he complied with the young lady'sinvitation, but the expression of ecstasy did not come. 

"Are Mr. Rossitur's circumstances so much reduced?" he said, drawing nearer to Mrs. Evelyn. 

"Do you know them?" exclaimed both the daughters at once. 

"I knew Mrs. Rossitur very well some years ago, when she wasin Paris. "

"They are all broken to pieces, " said Mrs. Evelyn, as Mr. Carleton's eye went back to her for his answer; "Mr. Rossiturfailed and lost everything — bankrupt — a year or two afterthey came home. "

"And what has he been doing since?"

"I don't know — trying to farm it here; but I am afraid he hasnot succeeded well — I am afraid not. They don't look like it. Mrs. Rossitur will not see anybody, and I don't believe theyhave done any more than struggle for a living since they camehere. "

"Where is Mr. Rossitur now?"

"He is at the West, somewhere — Fleda tells me he is engagedin some agencies there; but I doubt, " said Mrs. Evelyn, shaking her head, compassionately, "there is more in the nameof it than anything else. He has gone down hill sadly sincehis misfortunes. I am very sorry for them. "

"And his niece takes care of his farm in the meantime?"

"Do you know her?" asked both the Miss Evelyns again. 

"I can hardly say that, " he replied. "I had such a pleasureformerly. Do I understand that she is the person to fill Mr. Rossitur's place when he is away?"

"So she says. "

"And so she acts, " said Constance. "I wish you had heard heryesterday. It was beyond everything. We were conversing veryamicably, regarding each other through a friendly vista formedby the sugar-bowl and tea-pot, when a horrid man, that lookedas if he had slept all his life in a haycock, and only wakedup to turn it over, stuck his head in, and immediatelyintroduced a clover-field; and Fleda and he went to tumblingabout the cocks till, I do assure you, I was deluded into amomentary belief that hay-making was the principal end ofhuman nature, and looked upon myself as a burden to society;and after I had recovered my locality, and ventured upon asentence of gentle commiseration for her sufferings, Fledawent off into a eulogium upon the intelligence of hay-makersin general, and the strength of mind barbarians areuniversally known to possess. "

The manner, still more than the matter of this speech, wasbeyond the withstanding of any good-natured muscles, thoughthe gentleman's smile was a grave one, and quickly lost ingravity. Mrs. Evelyn laughed and reproved in a breath, but thelaugh was admiring, and the reproof was stimulative. Thebright eye of Constance danced in return with the mischievousdelight of a horse that has slipped his bridle and knows youcan't catch him. 

"And this has been her life ever since Mr. Rossitur lost hisproperty?"

"Entirely, — sacrificed!" said Mrs. Evelyn, with acompassionately resigned air; — education, advantages, andeverything given up, and set down here, where she has seennobody from year's end to year's end but the country peopleabout — very good people — but not the kind of people sheought to have been brought up among. "

"Oh, Mamma!" said the eldest Miss Evelyn, in a deprecatorytone, "you shouldn't talk so — it isn't right — I am sure sheis very nice — nicer now than anybody else I know, and clevertoo. "

"Nice!" said Edith. "I wish I had such a sister. "

"She is a good girl— a very good girl, " said Mrs. Evelyn, in atone which would have deterred any one from wishing to makeher acquaintance. 

"And happy, Mamma — Fleda don't look miserable — she seemsperfectly happy and contented. "

"Yes, " said Mrs. Evelyn, "she has got accustomed to this stateof things — it's her life — she makes delicious bread andpuddings for her aunt, and raises vegetables for market, andoversees her uncle's farmers; and it isn't a hardship to her —she finds her happiness in it. She is a very good girl, butshe might have been made something much better than a farmer'swife. "

"You may set your mind at rest on that subject, Mamma, " saidConstance, still using her chopsticks with great complacency;"it's my opinion that the farmer is not in existence who isblessed with such a conjugal futurity. I think Fleda's strongpastoral tastes are likely to develop themselves in a newdirection. "

Mrs. Evelyn looked, with a partial smile, at the prettyfeatures which the business of eating the strawberriesdisplayed in sundry novel and picturesque points of view, andasked what she meant?

"I don't know, " said Constance, intent upon her basket; "Ifeel a friend's distress for Mr. Thorn — it's all your doing, Mamma — you wont be able to look him in the face when we haveFleda next fall. I am sure I shall not want to look at his. He'll be too savage for anything. "

"Mr. Thorn!" said Mr. Carleton. 

"Yes, " said Mrs. Evelyn, in an indulgent tone — "he was veryattentive to her last winter when she was with us, but shewent away before anything was decided. I don't think he hasforgotten her. "

"I shouldn't think anybody could forget her, " said Edith. 

"I am confident he would be here at this moment, " saidConstance, "if he wasn't in London. "

"But what is 'all mamma's doing, ' Constance?" inquired hersister. 

"The destruction of the peace of the whole family of Thorns; Ishouldn't sleep sound in my bed if I were she, with such areflection. I look forward to heart-rending scenes, with avery disturbed state of mind. "

"But what have I done, my child?" said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"Didn't you introduce your favourite, Mr. Olmney, to MissRinggan, last summer? I don't know" — her native delicacyshrunk from making any disclosures, and, of course, the tongueof friendship is silent — "but they were out ages yesterdaywhile I was waiting for her, and their parting at the gate was— I feel myself unequal to the task of describing it, " saidConstance, ecstatically; "and she was in the most elevatedtone of mind during our whole interview afterwards, and tookall my brilliant remarks with as much coolness as if they hadbeen drops of rain — more, I presume, considering that it washay-time. "

"Did you see him?" said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"Only at that impracticable distance, Mamma; but I introducedhis name afterwards, in my usual happy manner, and I foundthat Miss Ringgan's cheeks were by no means indifferent to it. I didn't dare go any further. "

"I am very glad of it. I hope it is so, " said Mrs. Evelyn, energetically. "It would be a most excellent match. He is acharming young man, and would make her very happy. "

"You are exciting gloomy feelings in Mr. Carleton's mind, Mamma, by your felicitous suggestions. Mr. Carleton, did yourears receive a faint announcement of ham and eggs, which wentquite through and through mine just now?"

He bowed, and handed the young lady in; but Constancedeclared, that though he sat beside her, and took care of herat breakfast, he had on one of his intangible fits, whichdrove her to the last extreme of impatience and captivation. 

The sun was not much more than two hours high the nextmorning, when a rider was slowly approaching Mr. Rossitur'shouse from the bridge, walking his horse, like a man whowished to look well at all he was passing. He paused behind aclump of locusts and rose-acacias, in the corner of the court-yard, as a figure, bonneted and gloved, came out of the house, and began to be busy among the rose-bushes. Another figurepresently appeared at the hall door, and called out —

"Fleda!"

"Well, Barby —"

This second voice was hardly raised, but it came from so muchnearer that the words could be distinctly heard. 

"Mr. Skillcorn wants to know if you're going to fix theflowers for him to carry?"

"They're not ready, and it wont do for him to wait — Mr. Sweetmust send for them if he wants them. Philetus must make hasteback, for you know Mr. Douglass wants him to help in the barnmeadow. Lucas wont be here, and now the weather is so fine, Iwant to make haste with the hay. "

"Well, will you have the samp for breakfast?"

"No — we'll keep that for dinner. I'll come in and poach someeggs, Barby, — if you'll make me some thin pieces of toast —and call me when it's time. Thin, Barby. "

The gentleman turned his horse, and galloped back toMontepoole. 

Some disappointment was created among a portion of Mr. Sweet'sguests that afternoon, by the intelligence that Mr. Carletonpurposed setting off the next morning to join his Englishfriends at Saratoga, on their way to the Falls and Canada. Which purpose was duly carried into effect. 

CHAPTER IV. 

"With your leave, Sir, an' there were no more men living uponthe face of the earth, I should not fancy him, by St. George. "EVERY MAN OUT OF HIS HUMOUR. 

October had come, and a fair season and a fine harvest, hadenabled Fleda to ease her mind by sending a good remittance toDr. Gregory. The family were still living upon her and Hugh'senergies. Mr. Rossitur talked of coming home, that was all. 

It sometimes happened that a pause in the urgency of businesspermitted Hugh to take a day's holiday. One of these fallingsoon after the frosts had opened the burrs of the chestnut-trees, and the shells of the hickories, Fleda seized upon itfor a nutting frolic. They took Philetus, and went up to thefine group of trees on the mountain, the most difficult toreach, and the best worth reaching of all their nut wood. Thesport was very fine; and after spoiling the trees, Philetuswas left to "shuck" and bring home a load of the fruit, whileFleda and Hugh took their way slowly down the mountain. Shestopped him, as usual, on the old look-out place. The leaveswere just then in their richest colouring, and the Octobersky, in its strong vitality, seemed to fill all inanimatenature with the breath of life. If ever, then on that day, tothe fancy, "the little hills rejoiced on every side. " Thewoods stood thick with honours, and earth lay smiling underthe tokens of the summer's harvest, and the promise for thecoming year; and the wind came in gusts over the lower countryand up the hill-side, with a hearty good-will that blew awayall vapours, physical and mental, from its path, biddingeverything follow its example and be up and doing. Fleda drewa long breath or two that seemed to recognise its fresheningpower. 

"How long it seems, " she said — "how very long — since I washere with Mr. Carleton; — just nine years ago. How changedeverything is! I was a little child then. It seems such an ageago!" —

"It is very odd he didn't come to see us, " said Hugh. 

"He did — don't you know? — the very next day after we heardhe was here — when, most unluckily, I was up at auntMiriam's. "

"I should think he might have come again, considering whatfriends you used to be. "

"I dare say he would, if he had not left Montepoole so soon. But, dear Hugh, I was a mere child — how could he remember memuch?"

"You remember him, " said Hugh. 

"Ah, but I have good reason. Besides, I never forget anything. I would have given a great deal to see him — if I had it. "

"I wish the Evelyns had staid longer, " said Hugh. "I think youhave wanted something to brighten you up. They did you a greatdeal of good last year. I am afraid all this taking care ofPhiletus and Earl Douglass is too much for you. "

Fleda gave him a very bright smile, half affection, half fun. 

"Don't you admire my management?" said she. "Because I do. Philetus is firmly persuaded that he is an invaluableassistant to me in the mystery of gardening; and the origin ofEarl Douglass's new ideas is so enveloped in mist, that hedoes not himself know where they come from. It was rich tohear him the other day descanting to Lucas upon the evileffects of earthing up corn, and the advantages of curing hayin cocks, as to both which matters Lucas is a thoroughunbeliever, and Earl was a year ago. "

"But that doesn't hinder your looking pale and thin, and agreat deal soberer than I like to see you, " said Hugh. "Youwant a change, I know. I don't know how you are to get it. Iwish they would send for you to New York again. "

"I don't know that I should want to go, if they did, " saidFleda. "They don't raise my spirits, Hugh. I am amusedsometimes — I can't help that — but such excessive gaietyrather makes me shrink within myself; I am, too, out of tonewith it. I never feel more absolutely quiet than sometimeswhen I am laughing at Constance Evelyn's mad sallies — andsometimes I cannot laugh at them. I do not know what they mustthink of me; it is what they can have no means ofunderstanding. "

"I wish you didn't understand it, either, Fleda. "

"But you shouldn't say that. I am happier than they are, now, Hugh — now that you are better — with all their means ofhappiness. They know nothing of our quiet enjoyments; theymust live in a whirl, or they would think they are not livingat all; and I do not believe that all New York can give themthe real pleasure that I have in such a day as this. Theywould see almost nothing in all this beauty that my eyes'drink in, ' as Cowper says; and they would be certain toquarrel with the wind, that to me is like the shake of an oldfriend's hand. Delicious!" said Fleda, as the wind rewardedthis eulogium with a very hearty shake indeed. 

"I believe you would make friends with everything, Fleda, saidHugh, laughing. 

"The wind is always that to me, " said Fleda; "not always insuch a cheerful mood as to-day, though. It talks to me oftenof a thousand old-time things, and sighs over them with me, amost sympathizing friend! but to-day he invites me to a waltz— Come!"

And pulling Hugh after her, away she went down the rocky path, with a step too light to care for the stones; the little feetcapering down the mountain with a disdain of the ground thatmade Hugh smile to see her; and eyes dancing for company, tillthey reached the lower woodland. 

"A most spirited waltz!" said Hugh. 

"And a most slack partner. Why didn't you keep me company?"

"I never was made for waltzing, " said Hugh, shaking his head. 

"Not to the tune of the north wind? That has done me good, Hugh. "

"So I should judge, by your cheeks. "

"Poverty need not always make people poor, " said Fleda, talking breath and his arm together. "You and I are rich, Hugh. "

"And our riches cannot take to themselves wings and fly away, "said Hugh. 

"No, but besides those riches, there are the pleasures of theeye and the mind, that one may enjoy everywhere — everywherein the country at least — unless poverty bear one down veryhard; and they are some of the purest and most satisfying ofany. Oh, the blessing of a good education! how it makes oneindependent of circumstances!"

"And circumstances are education, too, " said Hugh, smiling. "Idare say we should not appreciate our mountains and woods sowell, if we had had our old plenty of everything else. "

"I always loved them, " said Fleda. "But what good company theyhave been to us for years past, Hugh! — to me especially; Ihave more reason to love them. "

They walked on quietly and soberly to the brow of the table-land, where they parted; Hugh being obliged to go home, andFleda wishing to pay a visit to her aunt Miriam. 

She turned off alone to take the way to the high road, andwent softly on, no longer, certainly, in the momentary spiritswith which she had shaken hands with the wind, and skippeddown the mountain; but feeling, and thankful that she felt, acheerful patience to tread the dusty highway of life. 

The old lady had been rather ailing, and from one or twoexpressions she had let fall, Fleda could not help thinkingthat she looked upon her ailments with a much more serious eyethan anybody else thought was called for. It did not, however, appear to-day. She was not worse, and Fleda's slight anxiousfeeling could find nothing to justify it, if it were not thevery calm and quietly happy face and manner of the old lady;and that, if it had something to alarm, did much more tosoothe. Fleda had sat with her a long time, patience andcheerfulness all the while unconsciously growing in hercompany; when, catching up her bonnet with a sudden haste veryunlike her usual collectedness of manner, Fleda kissed heraunt and was rushing away. 

"But stop! where are you going, Fleda?"

"Home, aunt Miriam; I must, don't keep me. "

"But what are you going that way for? you can't go home thatway?"

"Yes, I can. "

"How?"

"I can cross the blackberry hill behind the barn, and thenover the east hill, and then there's nothing but the water-cress meadow. "

"I sha'n't let you go that way alone; sit down and tell mewhat you mean — what is this desperate hurry?"

But, with equal precipitation, Fleda had cast her bonnet outof sight behind the table, and the next moment turned, withthe utmost possible quietness, to shake hands with Mr. Olmney. Aunt Miriam had presence of mind enough to make no remark, andreceive the young gentleman with her usual dignity andkindness. 

He stayed some time, but Fleda's hurry seemed to have forsakenher. She had seized upon an interminable long gray stockingher aunt was knitting, and sat in the corner working at itmost diligently, without raising her eyes unless spoken to. 

"Do you give yourself no rest, at home or abroad, Miss Fleda?"said the gentleman. 

"Put that stocking down, Fleda, " said her aunt; "it is in nohurry. "

"I like to do it, aunt Miriam. "

But she felt, with warming cheeks, that she did not like to doit with two people sitting still and looking at her. Thegentleman presently rose. 

"Don't go till we have had tea, Mr. Olmney, " said Mrs. Plumfield. 

"Thank you, Ma'am; I cannot stay, I believe, unless Miss Fledawill let me take care of her down the hill by and by. "

"Thank you, Mr. Olmney, " said Fleda, "but I am not going homebefore night, unless they send for me. "

"I am afraid, " said he, looking at her, "that the agriculturalturn has proved an overmatch for your energies. "

"The farm don't complain of me, does it?" said Fleda, lookingup at him with a comic, grave expression of countenance. 

"No, " said he, laughing, "certainly not; but, if you willforgive me for saying so, I think you complain of it, tacitly— and that will raise a good many complaints in otherquarters, if you do not take care of yourself. "

He shook hands and left them; and Mrs. Plumfield sat silentlylooking at Fleda, who, on her part, looked at nothing but thegray stocking. 

"What is all this, Fleda?"

"What is what, aunt Miriam?" said Fleda, picking up a stitchwith desperate diligence. 

"Why did you want to run away from Mr. Olmney?"

"I didn't wish to be delayed, — I wanted to get home. "

"Then, why wouldn't you let him go home with you?"

"I liked better to go alone, aunt Miriam. "

"Don't you like him, Fleda?"

"Certainly, aunt Miriam; very much. "

"I think he likes you Fleda, " said her aunt, smiling. 

"I am very sorry for it, " said Fleda, with great gravity. 

Mrs. Plumfield looked at her for a few minutes in silence, andthen said —

"Fleda, love, come over here and sit by me, and tell me whatyou mean. Why are you sorry? It has given me a great deal ofpleasure to think of it. "

But Fleda did not budge from her seat or her stocking, andseemed tongue-tied. Mrs. Plumfield pressed for an answer. 

"Because, aunt Miriam, " said Fleda, with the prettiest redcheeks in the world, but speaking very clearly and steadily, "my liking only goes to a point which, I am afraid, will notsatisfy either him or you. "

"But why? — it will go further. "

"No, Ma'am. "

"Why not? — why do you say so?"

"Because I must, if you ask me. "

"But what can be more excellent and estimable, Fleda? — whocould be more worth liking? I should have thought he wouldjust please you. He is one of the most lovely young men I haveever seen. "

"Dear aunt Miriam, " said Fleda, looking up beseechingly, "whyshould we talk about it?"

"Because I want to understand you, Fleda, and to be sure thatyou understand yourself. "

"I do, " said Fleda, quietly, and with a quivering lip. 

"What is there that you dislike about Mr. Olmney?"

"Nothing in the world, aunt Miriam. "

"Then, what is the reason you cannot like him enough?"

"Because, aunt Miriam, " said Fleda, speaking in desperation, "there isn't enough of him. He is very good and excellent inevery way, nobody feels that more than I do; I don't want tosay a word against him, but I do not think he has a verystrong mind, and he isn't cultivated enough. "

"But you cannot have everything, Fleda. "

"No, Ma'am, I don't expect it. "

"I am afraid you have set up too high a standard foryourself, " said Mrs. Plumfield, looking rather troubled. 

"I don't think that is possible, aunt Miriam. "

"But I am afraid it will prevent your ever liking anybody. "

"It will not prevent my liking the friends I have already; itmay prevent my leaving them for somebody else, " said Fleda, with a gravity that was touching in its expression. 

"But Mr. Olmney is sensible, and well educated. "

"Yes, but his tastes are not. He could not at all enter into agreat many things that give me the most pleasure. I do notthink he quite understands above half of what I say to him. "

"Are you sure? I know he admires you, Fleda. "

"Ah, but that is only half enough, you see, aunt Miriam, unless I could admire him too. "

Mrs. Plumfield looked at her in some difficulty; Mr. Olmneywas not the only one, clearly, whose powers of comprehensionwere not equal to the subject. 

"Fleda, " said her aunt, inquiringly, "is there anybody elsethat has put Mr. Olmney out of your head?"

"Nobody in the world!" exclaimed Fleda, with a frank look andtone of astonishment at the question, and cheeks colouring aspromptly. "How could you ask? — but he never was in my head, aunt Miriam. "

"Mr. Thorn?" said Mrs. Plumfield. 

"Mr. Thorn!" said Fleda, indignantly. "Don't you know mebetter than that, aunt Miriam? But you do not know him. "

"I believe I know you, dear Fleda; but I heard he had paid youa great deal of attention last year; and you would not havebeen the first unsuspecting nature that has been mistaken. "

Fleda was silent, flushed, and disturbed; and Mrs. Plumfieldwas silent and meditating; when Hugh came in. He came to fetchFleda home. Dr. Gregory had arrived. In haste again, Fledasought her bonnet, and exchanging a more than usually wistfuland affectionate kiss and embrace with her aunt, set off withHugh down the hill. 

Hugh had a great deal to say to her all the way home, of whichFleda's ears alone took the benefit, for her understandingreceived none of it; and when she at last came into thebreakfast-room where the doctor was sitting, the fact of hisbeing there was the only one which had entered her mind. 

"Here she is, I declare!" said the doctor, holding her back tolook at her after the first greetings had passed. "I'll behanged if you aint handsome. Now, what's the use of pinkingyour cheeks any more at that, as if you didn't know it before?— eh?"

"I will always do my best to deserve your good opinion, Sir, "said Fleda, laughing. 

"Well, sit down now, " said he, shaking his head, "and pour meout a cup of tea — your mother can't make it right. "

And sipping his tea for some time, the old doctor satlistening to Mrs. Rossitur, and eating bread and butter, saying little, but casting a very frequent glance at thefigure opposite him, behind the tea-board. 

"I am afraid, " said he, after a while, "that your care for mygood opinion wont outlast an occasion. Is _that_ the way youlook for every day?"

The colour came with the smile; but the old doctor looked ather in a way that made the tears come too. He turned his eyesto Mrs. Rossitur for an explanation. 

"She is well, " said Mrs. Rossitur, fondly — "she has been verywell — except her old headaches now and then; I think she hasgrown rather thin, lately. "

"Thin!" said the old doctor — "etherealized to a mere abstractof herself; only that is a very bad figure, for an abstractshould have all the bone and muscle of the subject; and Ishould say you had little left but pure spirit. You are thebest proof I ever saw of the principle of the homeopaths — Isee now, that though a little corn may fatten a man, a greatdeal may be the death of him. "

"But I have tried it both ways, uncle Orrin, " said Fleda, laughing. "I ought to be a happy medium between plethora andstarvation. I am pretty substantial, what there is of me. "

"Substantial!" said the doctor; "you look as substantial apersonage as your old friend, the 'faire Una' — just about. Well, prepare yourself, gentle Saxon, to ride home with me theday after to-morrow. I'll try a little humanizing regimen withyou. "

"I don't think that is possible, uncle Orrin, " said Fleda, gently. 

"We'll talk about the possibility afterwards — at present, allyou have to do is to get ready. If you raise difficulties, youwill find me a very Hercules to clear them away — I'msubstantial enough, I can tell you — so it's just as well tospare yourself and me the trouble. "

"There are no difficulties, " Mrs. Rossitur and Hugh said, bothat once. 

"I knew there weren't. Put a pair or two of clean stockings inyour trunk — that's all you want — Mrs. Pritchard and I willfind the rest. There's the people in Fourteenth street wantyou the first of November, and I want you all the time tillthen, and longer too. Stop — I've got a missive of some sorthere for you. "

He foisted out of his breast-pocket a little package of notes— one from Mrs. Evelyn, and one from Florence, begging Fledato come to them at the time the doctor had named; the thirdfrom Constance:

"MY DARLING LITTLE FLEDA, "I am dying to see you — so pack up and come down with Dr. Gregory, if the least spark of regard for me is slumbering inyour breast. Mamma and Florence are writing to beg you — butthough an insignificant member of the family, considering thatinstead of being 'next to head', only little Edith prevents mybeing at the less dignified end of this branch of the socialsystem, I could not prevail upon myself to let therepresentations of my respected elders go unsupported by mine— especially as I felt persuaded of the superior efficacy ofthe motives I had it in my power to present to your trulyphilanthropical mind. 

"I am in a state of mind that baffles description — Mr. Carleton is going home! —

"I have not worn ear-rings in my ears for a fortnight; mypersonal appearance is become a matter of indifference to me;any description of mental exertion is excruciating; I sitconstantly listening for the ringing of the door-bell, andwhen it sounds, I rush frantically to the head of thestaircase, and look over to see who it is; the mere sight ofpen and ink excites delirious ideas — judge what I suffer inwriting to you. 

"To make the matter worse (if it could be), I have beeninformed privately, that he is going home to crown at thealtar of Hymen an old attachment to one of the loveliest ofall England's daughters. Conceive the complication of myfeelings! —

"Nothing is left me but the resources of friendship — so come, darling Fleda, before a barrier of ice interposes itselfbetween my chilled heart and your sympathy. 

"Mr. Thorn's state would move my pity if I were capable ofbeing moved by anything — by this you will comprehend he isreturned. He has been informed by somebody, that there is awolf in sheep's clothing prowling about Queechy, and his headis filled with the idea that you have fallen a victim, ofwhich, in my calmer moments, I have in vain endeavoured todispossess him. Every morning we are wakened up at anunseasonable hour by a furious ringing at the door-bell — JoeManton pulls off his nightcap, and slowly descending thestairs, opens the door, and finds Mr. Thorn, who inquiresdistractedly whether Miss Ringgan has arrived; and beinganswered in the negative, gloomily walks off towards the Eastriver. The state of anxiety in which his mother is therebykept is rapidly depriving her of all her flesh — but we havedirected Joe lately to reply, 'No, Sir, but she is expected' —upon which Mr. Thorn regularly smiles faintly, and rewards the'fowling-piece' with a quarter dollar —

"So make haste, dear Fleda, or I shall feel that we are actingthe part of innocent swindlers. 

C. E. "

There was but one voice at home on the point whether Fledashould go. So she went. 

CHAPTER V. 

_Host_. Now, my young guest! methinks you're allycholy; I prayyou why is it?_Jul_. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be merry. TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 

Some nights after their arrival, the doctor and Fleda wereseated at tea in the little snug old-fashioned back parlour, where the doctor's nicest of housekeepers, Mrs. Pritchard, hadmade it ready for them. In general, Mrs. Pritchard herselfpoured it out for the doctor, but she descended mostcheerfully from her post of elevation, whenever Fleda wasthere to fill it. 

The doctor and Fleda sat cozily looking at each other acrossthe toast and chipped beef, their glances grazing the tea-urn, which was just on one side of their range of vision. Acomfortable Liverpool-coal fire in a state of repletion burnedaway indolently, and gave everything else in the room somewhatof its own look of sonsy independence — except, perhaps, thedelicate creature at whom the doctor, between sips of his tea, took rather wistful observations. 

"When are you going to Mrs. Evelyn?" he said, breaking thesilence. 

"They say next week, Sir. "

"I shall be glad of it!" said the doctor. 

"Glad of it?" said Fleda, smiling. "Do you want to get rid ofme, uncle Orrin?"

"Yes!" said he. "This isn't the right place for you. You aretoo much alone. "

"No, indeed, Sir. I have been reading voraciously, andenjoying myself as much as possible. I would quite as lieve behere as there, putting you out of the question. "

"I wouldn't as lieve have you, " said he, shaking his head. 

"What were you musing about before tea? your face gave me theheartache. "

"My face!" said Fleda, smiling, while an instant flush of theeyes answered him; "what was the matter with my face?"

"That is the very thing I want to know. "

"Before tea? — I was only thinking, " said Fleda, her lookgoing back to the fire from association — "thinking ofdifferent things — not disagreeably; taking a kind of bird's-eye view of things, as one does sometimes. "

"I don't believe you ever take other than a bird's-eye view ofanything, " said her uncle. "But what were you viewing justthen, my little Saxon?"

"I was thinking of them at home, " said Fleda, smiling, thoughtfully; "and I somehow had perched myself on a point ofobservation, and was taking one of those wider views which arealways rather sobering. "

"Views of what?"

"Of life, Sir. "

"As how?" said the doctor. 

"How near the end is to the beginning, and how short the spacebetween, and how little the ups and downs of it will matter ifwe take the right road and get home. "

"Pshaw!" said the doctor. 

But Fleda knew him too well to take his interjection otherwisethan most kindly. And, indeed, though he whirled round and atehis toast at the fire discontentedly, his look came back toher after a little, with even more than its usual gentleappreciation. 

"What do you suppose you have come to New York for?" said he. 

"To see you, Sir, in the first place, and the Evelyns in thesecond. "

"And who in the third?"

"I am afraid the third place is vacant, " said Fleda, smiling. 

"You are, eh? Well — I don't know — but I know that I havebeen inquired of by two several and distinct people as to yourcoming. Ah! you needn't open your bright eyes at me, because Ishall not tell you. Only let me ask — you have no notion offencing off, my Queechy rose, with a hedge of blackthorn, oranything of that kind, have you?"

"I have no notion of any fences at all, except invisible ones, Sir, " said Fleda, laughing, and colouring very prettily. 

"Well, those are not American fences, " said the doctor; "so, Isuppose, I am safe enough. Whom did I see you out riding withyesterday?"

"I was with Mrs. Evelyn, " said Fleda. "I didn't want to go, but I couldn't very well help myself. "

"Mrs. Evelyn! Mrs. Evelyn wasn't driving, was she?"

"No, Sir; Mr. Thorn was driving. "

"I thought so. Have you seen your old friend, Mr. Carleton, yet?"

"Do you know him, uncle Orrin?"

"Why shouldn't I? What's the difficulty of knowing people?Have you seen him?"

"But how did you know that he was an old friend of mine?"

"Question!" said the doctor. "Hum — well, I won't tell you; sothere's the answer. Now, will you answer me?"

"I have not seen him, Sir. "

"Haven't met him, in all the times you have been to Mrs. Evelyn's?"

"No, Sir. I have been there but once in the evening, uncleOrrin. He is just about sailing for England. "

"Well, you're going there to-night, aren't you? Run, andbundle yourself up, and I'll take you there before I begin mywork. "

There was a small party that evening at Mrs. Evelyn's. Fledawas very early. She ran up to the first floor — rooms lightedand open, but nobody there. 

"Fleda Ringgan, " called out the voice of Constance from overthe stairs, "is that you?"

"No, " said Fleda. 

"Well, just wait till I come down to you. My darling littleFleda, it's delicious of you to come so early. Now, just tellme, am I captivating?"

"Well, I retain self-possession, " said Fleda. "I cannot tellabout the strength of head of other people. "

"You wretched little creature! Fleda, don't you admire myhair? it's new style, my dear — just come out; the Delancysbrought it out with them; Eloise Delancy taught it us; isn'tit graceful? Nobody in New York has it yet, except theDelancys and we. "

"How do you know but they have taught somebody else?" saidFleda. 

"I won't talk to you! Don't you like it?"

"I am not sure that I do not like you in your ordinary waybetter. "

Constance made a gesture of impatience, and then pulled Fledaafter her into the drawing-rooms. 

"Come in here; I wont waste the elegancies of my toilet uponyour dull perceptions; come here and let me show you someflowers — aren't those lovely? This bunch came to-day, 'forMiss Evelyn', so Florence will have it it is hers, and it'svery mean of her, for I am perfectly certain it is mine; it'scome from somebody who wasn't enlightened on the subject of myfamily circle, and has innocently imagined that two MissEvelyns could not belong to the same one! I know the floralrepresentatives of all Florence's dear friends and admirers, and this isn't from any of them. I have been distractedlyendeavouring all day to find who it came from, for if I don't, I can't take the least comfort in it. "

"But you might enjoy the flowers for their own sake, I shouldthink, " said Fleda, breathing the sweetness of myrtle andheliotrope. 

"No, I can't, for I have all the time the association of somehorrid creature they might have come from, you know; but itwill do just as well to humbug people: I shall make CorneliaSchenck believe that this came from my dear Mr. Carleton!"

"No, you wont, Constance, " said Fleda, gently. 

"My dear little Fleda, I shock you, don't I? but I sha'n'ttell any lies; I shall merely expressively indicate aparticular specimen, and say, 'My dear Cornelia, do youperceive that this is an English rose?' and then it's none ofmy business, you know, what she believes; and she will bedying with curiosity and despair all the rest of the evening. "

"I shouldn't think there would be much pleasure in that, Iconfess, " said Fleda, gravely. "How very ungracefully andstiffly those are made up!"

"My dear little Queechy rose, " said Constance, impatiently, "you are, pardon me, as fresh as possible. They can't cut theflowers with long stems, you know; the gardeners would beruined. That is perfectly elegant; it must have cost at leastten dollars. My dear little Fleda!" said Constance, caperingoff before the long pier-glass, "I am afraid I am notcaptivating! Do you think it would be an improvement if I putdrops in my ears? — or one curl behind them? I don't knowwhich Mr. Carleton likes best!" —

And with her head first on one side and then on the other, shestood before the glass looking at herself and Fleda by turnswith such a comic expression of mock doubt and anxiety, thatno gravity but her own could stand it. 

"She is a silly girl, Fleda, isn't she?" said Mrs. Evelyn, coming up behind them. 

"Mamma! am I captivating?" cried Constance, wheeling round. 

The mother's smile said "Very!"

"Fleda is wishing she were out of the sphere of my influence, Mamma. Wasn't Mr. Olmney afraid of my corrupting you?" shesaid, with a sudden pull-up in front of Fleda. "My blessedstars! there's somebody's voice I know. Well, I believe it istrue that a rose without thorns is a desideratum. Mamma, isMrs. Thorn's turban to be an invariable _pendant_ to your_coiffure_ all the while Miss Ringgan is here?"

"Hush!"

With the entrance of company came Constance's return fromextravaganzas to a sufficiently graceful every-day manner, only enough touched with high spirits and lawlessness to freeit from the charge of commonplace. But the contrast of thesehigh spirits with her own rather made Fleda's mood more quiet, and it needed no quieting. Of the sundry people that she knewamong those presently assembled there were none that shewanted to talk to; the rooms were hot, and she felt nervousand fluttered, partly from encounters already sustained, andpartly from a little anxious expecting of Mr. Carleton'sappearance. The Evelyns had not said he was to be there, butshe had rather gathered it; and the remembrance of old timeswas strong enough to make her very earnestly wish to see him, and dread to be disappointed. She swung clear of Mr. Thorn, with some difficulty, and ensconced herself under the shadowof a large cabinet, between that and a young lady who was verygood society, for she wanted no help in carrying on thebusiness of it. All Fleda had to do was to sit still andlisten, or not listen, which she generally preferred. MissTomlinson discoursed upon varieties, with great sociablenessand satisfaction; while poor Fleda's mind, letting all hersense and nonsense go, was again taking a somewhat bird's-eyeview of things, and from the little centre of her post in Mrs. Evelyn's drawing-room, casting curious glances over thepanorama of her life — England, France, New York, and Queechy!— half coming to the conclusion that her place henceforth wasonly at the last, and that the world and she had nothing to dowith each other. The tide of life and gaiety seemed to havethrown her on one side, as something that could not swim withit, and to be rushing past too strongly and swiftly for herslight bark ever to launch upon it again. Perhaps the shoremight be the safest and happiest place; but it was sober inthe comparison; and, as a stranded bark might look upon thewhite sails flying by, Fleda saw the gay faces and heard thelight tones with which her own could so little keep company. But as little they with her. Their enjoyment was not moreforeign to her than the causes which moved it were strange. Merry? — she might like to be merry, but she could soonerlaugh with the north wind than with one of those vapid faces, or with any face that she could not trust. Conversation mightbe pleasant, but it must be something different from the noisycross-fire of nonsense that was going on in one quarter, orthe profitless barter of nothings that was kept up on theother side of her. Rather Queechy and silence, by far, thanNew York and _this!_

And through it all, Miss Tomlinson talked on and was happy. 

"My dear Fleda! what are you back here for?" said Florence, coming up to her. 

"I was glad to be at a safe distance from the fire. "

"Take a screen — here! Miss Tomlinson, your conversation istoo exciting for Miss Ringgan; look at her cheeks! I mustcarry you off; I want to show you a delightful contrivance fortransparencies that I learned the other day. "

The seat beside her was vacated, and, not casting so much as alook towards any quarter whence a possible successor to MissTomlinson might be arriving, Fleda sprang up and took a placein the far corner of the room by Mrs. Thorn, happily notanother vacant chair in the neighbourhood. Mrs. Thorn hadshown a very great fancy for her, and was almost as goodcompany as Miss Tomlinson — not quite, for it was necessarysometimes to answer, and therefore necessary always to hear. But Fleda liked her; she was thoroughly amiable, sensible, andgood-hearted; and Mrs. Thorn, very much gratified at Fleda'schoice of a seat, talked to her with a benignity which Fledacould not help answering with grateful pleasure. 

"Little Queechy, what has driven you into the corner?" saidConstance, pausing a moment before her. 

"It must have been a retiring spirit, " said Fleda. 

"Mrs. Thorn, isn't she lovely?"

Mrs. Thorn's smile at Fleda might almost have been calledthat, it was so full of benevolent pleasure. But she spoiledit by her answer. "I don't believe I am the first one to findit out. ". 

"But what are you looking so sober for?" Constance went on, taking Fleda's screen from her hand and fanning her diligentlywith it — "you don't talk. The gravity of Miss Ringgan's facecasts a gloom over the brightness of the evening. I couldn'tconceive what made me feel chilly in the other room till Ilooked about and found that the shade came from this corner;and Mr. Thorn's teeth, I saw, were chattering. "

"Constance, " said Fleda, laughing and vexed, and making thereproof more strongly with her eyes — "how can you talk so?"

"Mrs. Thorn, isn't it true?"

Mrs. Thorn's look at Fleda was the essence of good humour. 

"Will you let Lewis come and take you a good long ride to-morrow?"

"No, Mrs. Thorn, I believe not — I intend to stayperseveringly at home to-morrow, and see if it is possible tobe quiet a day in New York. "

"But you will go with me to the concert to-morrow night? —both of you — and hear Truffi; — come to my house and taketea, and go from there? will you, Constance?"

"My dear Mrs. Thorn, " said Constance, "I shall be inecstasies, and Miss Ringgan was privately imploring me lastnight to find some way of getting her to it. We regard suchmaterial pleasures as tea and muffins with great indifference, but when you look up after swallowing your last cup you willsee Miss Ringgan and Miss Evelyn, cloaked and hooded, anxiously awaiting your next movement. My dear Fleda, there isa ring!" —

And giving her the benefit of a most comic and expressivearching of her eyebrows, Constance flung back the screen intoFleda's lap, and skimmed away. 

Fleda was too vexed for a few minutes to understand more ofMrs. Thorn's talk than that she was first enlarging upon theconcert, and afterwards detailing to her a long shoppingexpedition in search of something which had been a morning'sannoyance. She almost thought Constance was unkind, becauseshe wanted to go to the concert herself, to lug her in sounceremoniously, and wished herself back in her uncle's snug, little, quiet parlour, unless M. Carleton would come. 

And there he is, said a quick beat of her heart, as hisentrance explained Constance's "ring. "

Such a rush of associations came over Fleda that she was inimminent danger of losing Mrs. Thorn altogether. She managed, however, by some sort of instinct, to disprove the assertionthat the mind cannot attend to two things at once, and carriedon a double conversation with herself and with Mrs. Thorn forsome time very vigorously. 

"Just the same! — he has not altered a jot, " she said toherself as he came forward to Mrs. Evelyn; — "it is himself! —his very self — he doesn't look a day older — I'm very glad! —(Yes, Ma'am, it's extremely tiresome —). How exactly as whenhe left me in Paris, — and how much pleasanter than anybodyelse! — more pleasant than ever, it seems, to me, but that isbecause I have not seen him in so long; he only wanted onething. That same grave eye — but quieter, isn't it than itused to be? — I think so — (It's the best store in town, Ithink, Mrs. Thorn, by far — yes, Ma'am —). Those eyes arecertainly the finest I ever saw. How I have seen him stand andlook just so when he was talking to his workmen — without thatair of consciousness that all these people have, comparatively— what a difference! (I know very little about it, Ma'am; — Iam not learned in laces — I never bought any —). I wish hewould look this way — I wonder if Mrs. Evelyn does not mean tobring him to see me — she must remember; — now there is thatcurious old smile and looking down! how much better I knowwhat it means than Mrs. Evelyn does! — (Yes, Ma'am, Iunderstand — I mean! — it is very convenient — I never goanywhere else to get anything — at least, I should not if Ilived here —). She does not know whom she is talking to. Sheis going to walk him off into the other room! How very muchmore gracefully he does everything than anybody else — itcomes from that entire high-mindedness and frankness, I think— not altogether, a fine person must aid the effect, and thatcomplete independence of other people — I wonder if Mrs. Evelyn has forgotten my existence? — he has not, I am sure — Ithink she is a little odd — (Yes, Ma'am, my face is flushed —the room is very warm —. )"

"But the fire has gone down — it will be cooler now, " saidMrs. Thorn. 

Which were the first words that fairly entered Fleda'sunderstanding. She was glad to use the screen to hide her facenow, not the fire. 

Apparently the gentleman and lady found nothing to detain themin the other room, for, after sauntering off to it, theysauntered back again, and placed themselves to talk justopposite her. Fleda had an additional screen now in the personof Miss Tomlinson, who had sought her corner, and was earnesttalking across her to Mrs. Thorn, so that she was sure, evenif Mr. Carleton's eyes should chance to wander that way, theywould see nothing but the unremarkable skirt of her green silkdress, most unlikely to detain them. 

The trade in nothings going on over the said green silk wasvery brisk indeed; but, disregarding the buzz of tongues nearat hand, Fleda's quick ears were able to free the barrier, andcatch every one of the quiet tones beyond. 

"And you leave us the day after to-morrow?" said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"No, Mrs. Evelyn, I shall wait another steamer. "

The lady's brow instantly revealed to Fleda a trap settingbeneath to catch his reason. 

"I'm very glad!" exclaimed little Edith, who, in defiance ofconventionalities and proprieties, made good her claim to bein the drawing-room on all occasions — "then you will take meanother ride, wont you, Mr. Carleton?"

"You do not flatter us with a very long stay, " pursued Mrs. Evelyn. 

"Quite as long as I expected — longer than I meant it to be, "he answered, rather thoughtfully. 

"Mr. Carleton, " said Constance, sidling up in front of him. "Ihave been in distress to ask you a question, and I am afraid —"

"Of what are you afraid, Miss Constance?"

"That you would reward me with one of your severe looks, whichwould petrify me; and then, I am afraid I should feeluncomfortable" —

"I hope he will!" said Mrs. Evelyn, settling herself back inthe corner of the sofa, and with a look at her daughter whichwas complacency itself — "I hope Mr. Carleton will, if you areguilty of any impertinence. "

"What is the question, Miss Constance?"

"I want to know what brought you out here?"

"Fie, Constance, " said her mother. "I am ashamed of you. Donot answer her, Mr. Carleton. "

"Mr. Carleton will answer me, Mamma — he looks benevolentlyupon my faults, which are entirely those of education. Whatwas it, Mr. Carleton?"

"I suppose, " said he, smiling, "it might be traced more orless remotely to the restlessness incident to human nature. "

"But you are not restless, Mr. Carleton, " said Florence, witha glance which might be taken as complimentary. 

"And knowing that I am, " said Constance, in comic impatience, "you are maliciously prolonging my agonies. It is not what Iexpected of you, Mr. Carleton. "

"My dear, " said her father, "Mr. Carleton, I am sure, willfulfil all reasonable expectations. What is the matter?"

"I asked him where a certain tribe of Indians was to be found, Papa, and he told me they were supposed originally to havecome across Behring's Strait, one cold winter. "

Mr. Evelyn looked a little doubtfully, and Constance with sounhesitating gravity, that the gravity of nobody else wasworth talking about. 

"But it is so uncommon, " said Mrs. Evelyn, when they had donelaughing, "to see an Englishman of your class here at all, that when he comes a second time we may be forgiven forwondering what has procured us such an honour. "

"Women may always be forgiven for wondering, my dear, " saidMr. Evelyn, "or the rest of mankind must live at odds withthem. "

"Your principal object was to visit our western prairies, wasn't it, Mr. Carleton?" said Florence. 

"No, " he replied, quietly, "I cannot say that. I should chooseto give a less romantic explanation of my movements. From, some knowledge growing out of my former visit to this country, I thought there were certain negotiations I might enter intohere with advantage; and it was for the purpose of attendingto these, Miss Constance, that I came. "

"And have you succeeded?" said Mrs. Evelyn, with an expressionof benevolent interest. 

"No, Ma'am — my information had not been sufficient. "

"Very likely, " said Mr. Evelyn. "There isn't one man in ahundred whose representations on such a matter are to betrusted at a distance. "

"On such a matter, " repeated his wife, funnily; "you don'tknow what the matter was, Mr. Evelyn — you don't know what youare talking about. "

"Business, my dear — business — I take only what Mr. Carletonsaid; it doesn't signify a straw what business. A man mustalways see with his own eyes. "

Whether Mr. Carleton had seen or had not seen, or whether evenhe had his faculty of hearing in present exercise, a glance athis face was incompetent to discover. 

"I never should have imagined, " said Constance, eyeing himkeenly, "that Mr. Carleton's errand to this country was one ofbusiness, and not of romance. I believe it's a humbug!"

For an instant this was answered by one of those looks ofabsolute composure, in every muscle and feature, which put aneffectual bar to all further attempts from without, orrevelations from within — a look Fleda remembered well, andfelt even in her corner. But it presently relaxed, and he saidwith his usual manner, "You cannot understand, then, Miss Constance, that thereshould be any romance about business?"

"I cannot understand, " said Mrs. Evelyn, "why romance shouldnot come after business. Mr. Carleton, Sir, you have seenAmerican scenery this summer; isn't American beauty worthstaying a little while longer for?"

"My dear, " said Mr. Evelyn, "Mr. Carleton is too much of aphilosopher to care about beauty — every man of sense is. "

"I am sure he is not, " said Mrs. Evelyn, smoothly. "Mr. Carleton, you are an admirer of beauty, are you not, Sir ?"

"I hope so, Mrs. Evelyn, " he said smiling; "but perhaps, Ishall shock you by adding — not of beauties. "

"That sounds very odd, " said Florence. 

"But let us understand, " said Mrs. Evelyn, with the air of aperson solving a problem; "I suppose we are to infer that yourtaste in beauty is of a peculiar kind?"

"That may be a fair inference, " he said. 

"What is it, then?" said Constance, eagerly. 

"Yes — what is it you look for in a face?" said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"Let us hear whether America has any chance, " said Mr. Thorn, who had joined the group, and placed himself precisely so asto hinder Fleda's view. 

"My fancy has no stamp of nationality, in this, at least, " hesaid, pleasantly. 

"Now, for instance, the Miss Delancys — don't you call themhandsome, Mr. Carleton?" said Florence. 

"Yes, " he said, half smiling. 

"But not beautiful? Now, what is it they want?"

"I do not wish, if I could, to make the want visible to othereyes than my own. "

"Well, Cornelia Schenck — how do you like her face?"

"It is very pretty-featured. "

"Pretty-featured! Why, she is called beautiful! She has abeautiful smile, Mr. Carleton!"

"She has only one. "

"Only one! and how many smiles ought the same person to have?"cried Florence, impatiently. But that which instantly answeredher said forcibly, that a plurality of them was possible. 

"I have seen one face, " he said, gravely, and his eye seekingthe floor, "that had, I think, a thousand. "

"Different smiles!" said Mrs. Evelyn, in a constrained voice. 

"If they were not all absolutely that, they had so much offreshness and variety that they all seemed new. "

"Was the mouth so beautiful?" said Florence. 

"Perhaps it would not have been remarked for beauty when itwas perfectly at rest, but it could not move with the leastplay of feeling, grave or gay, that it did not become so in avery high degree. I think there was no touch or shade ofsentiment in the mind that the lips did not give with singularnicety; and the mind was one of the most finely wrought I haveever known. "

"And what other features went with this mouth?" said Florence. 

"The usual complement, I suppose, " said Thorn. " '_Item_, twolips indifferent red; _item_, two gray eyes, with lids to them;_item_, one neck, one chin, and so forth. "

"Mr. Carleton, Sir, " said Mrs. Evelyn, blandly, " as Mr. Evelynsays, women may be forgiven for wondering, wont you answerFlorence's question?"

"Mr. Thorn has done it, Mrs. Evelyn, for me. "

"But I have great doubts of the correctness of Mr. Thorn'sdescription, Sir; wont you indulge us with yours?"

"Word-painting is a difficult matter, Mrs. Evelyn, in someinstances; if I must do it, I will borrow my colours. Ingeneral, 'that which made her fairness much the fairer was, that it was but an ambassador of a most fair mind. ' "

"A most exquisite picture!" said Thorn; "and the originalsdon't stand so thick that one is in any danger of mistakingthem. Is the painter Shakespeare? — I don't recollect. "

"I think Sidney, Sir; I am not sure. "

"But still, Mr. Carleton, " said Mrs. Evelyn, "this is only ingeneral — I want very much to know the particulars; what styleof features belonged to this face?"

"The fairest, I think, I have ever known, " said Mr. Carleton. "You asked me, Miss Evelyn, what was my notion of beauty; thisface was a good illustration of it. Not perfection of outline, though it had that, too, in very uncommon degree; but theloveliness of mind and character to which these features wereonly an index; the thoughts were invariably telegraphedthrough eye and mouth more faithfully than words could givethem. "

"What kind of eyes?" said Florence. 

His own grew dark as he answered —

"Clear and pure as one might imagine an angel's — throughwhich I am sure my good angel many a time looked at me. "

Good angels were at a premium among the eyes that wereexchanging glances just then. 

"And Mr. Carleton, " said Mrs. Evelyn, "is it fair to ask —this paragon — is she living, still?"

"I hope so, " he answered, with his old light smile, dismissingthe subject. 

"You spoke so much in the past tense, " said Mrs. Evelyn, apologetically. 

"Yes; I have not seen it since it was a child's. "

"A child's face! Oh, " said Florence, "I think you see a greatmany children's faces with that kind of look. "

"I never saw but the one, " said Mr. Carleton, drily. 

So far Fleda listened, with cheeks that would certainly haveexcited Mrs. Thorn's alarm, if she had not been happilyengrossed with Miss Tomlinson's affairs; though up to the lasttwo minutes the idea of herself had not entered Fleda's headin connection with the subject of conversation. But then, feeling it impossible to make her appearance in public thatevening, she quietly slipped out of the open window close by, which led into a little greenhouse on the piazza, and byanother door gained the hall and the dressing-room. 

When Dr. Gregory came to Mrs. Evelyn's an hour or two after, afigure all cloaked and hooded ran down the stairs and met himin the hall. 

"Ready!" said the doctor, in surprise. 

"I have been ready some time, Sir, " said Fleda. 

"Well, " said he, "then we'll go straight home, for I've notdone my work yet. "

"Dear uncle Orrin, " said Fleda, "if I had known you had workto do, I wouldn't have come. "

"Yes, you would, " said he, decidedly. 

She clasped her uncle's arm, and walked with him briskly homethrough the frosty air, looking at the silent lights andshadows on the walls of the street, and feeling a great desireto cry. 

"Did you have a pleasant evening?" said the doctor, when theywere about half way. 

"Not particularly, Sir, " said Fleda, hesitating. 

He said not another word till they got home, and Fleda went upto her room. But the habit of patience overcame the wish tocry; and though the outside of her little gold-clasped bibleawoke it again, a few words of the inside were enough to layit quietly to sleep. 

"Well, " said the doctor, as they sat at breakfast the nextmorning, "where are you going next?"

"To the concert, I must, to-night, " said Fleda. "I couldn'thelp myself. "

"Why should you want to help yourself?" said the doctor. "Andto Mrs. Thorn's to-morrow night?"

"No, Sir; I believe not. "

"I believe you will, " said he, looking at her. 

"I am sure I should enjoy myself more at home, uncle Orrin. There is very little rational pleasure to be had in theseassemblages. "

"Rational pleasure!" said he. "Didn't you have any rationalpleasure last night?"

"I didn't hear a single word spoken, Sir, that was worthlistening to; at least, that was spoken to me; and the hollowkind of rattle that one hears from every tongue, makes me moretired than anything else, I believe. I am out of tune with it, somehow. "

"Out of tune!" said the old doctor, giving her a look made upof humourous vexation and real sadness; "I wish I knew theright tuning-key to take hold of you!"

"I become harmonious rapidly, uncle Orrin, when I am in thispleasant little room alone with you. "

"That wont do!" said he, shaking his head at the smile withwhich this was said — "there is too much tension upon thestrings. So that was the reason you were all ready waiting forme last night? Well, you must tune up, my little piece ofdiscordance, and go with me to Mrs. Thorn's to-morrow night —I wont let you off. "

"With you, Sir!" said Fleda. 

"Yes, " he said. "I'll go along and take care of you, lest youget drawn into something else you don't like. "

"But, dear uncle Orrin, there is another difficulty — it is tobe a large party, and I have not a dress exactly fit. "

"What have you got?" said he, with a comic kind of fierceness. 

"I have silks, but they are none of them proper for thisoccasion — they are ever so little old-fashioned. "

"What do you want?"

"Nothing, Sir, " said Fleda; "for I don't want to go. "

"You mend a pair of stockings to put on, " said he, nodding ather, "and I'll see to the rest. "

"Apparently you place great importance in stockings, " saidFleda, laughing, "for you always mention them first. But, please don't get anything for me, uncle Orrin — please don't!I have plenty for common occasions, and I don't care to go toMrs. Thorn's. "

"I don't care either, " said the doctor, working himself intohis great coat. "By the by, do you want to invoke the aid ofSt. Crispin?"

He went off, and Fleda did not know whether to cry or to laughat the vigorous way in which he trod through the hall, andslammed the front door after him. Her spirits just kept themedium, and did neither. But they were in the same doubtfulmood still an hour after, when he came back with a paperparcel he had brought home under his arm, and unrolled a fineembroidered muslin; her eyes were very unsteady in carryingtheir brief messages of thankfulness, as if they feared sayingtoo much. The doctor, however, was in the mood for doing, nottalking, by looks or otherwise. Mrs. Pritchard was called intoconsultation, and with great pride and delight engaged to havethe dress and all things else in due order by the followingnight; her eyes saying all manner of gratulatory things asthey went from the muslin to Fleda, and from Fleda to Dr. Gregory. 

The rest of the day was, not books, but needlefuls of thread;and from the confusion of laces and draperies, Fleda wasalmost glad to escape, and go to the concert — but for oneitem; that spoiled it. 

They were in their seats early. Fleda managed successfully toplace the two Evelyns between her and Mr. Thorn, and thenprepared herself to wear out the evening with patience. 

"My dear Fleda!" whispered Constance, after some time spent inrestless reconnoitring of everything — "I don't see my Englishrose anywhere!"

"Hush!" said Fleda, smiling. "That happened not to be anEnglish rose, Constance. "

"What was it?"

"American, unfortunately; it was a Noisette; the variety, Ithink, that they call 'Conque de Vιnus. ' "

"My dear little Fleda, you're too wise for anything!" saidConstance, with a rather significant arching of her eye-brows. "You mustn't expect other people to be as rural in theiracquirements as yourself. I don't pretend to know any rose bysight but the Queechy, " she said, with a change of expression, meant to cover the former one. 

Fleda's face, however, did not call for any apology. It wasperfectly quiet. 

"But what has become of him?" said Constance, with her comicimpatience. "My dear Fleda! if my eyes cannot rest upon thatdevelopment of elegance, the parterre is become a wildernessto me!"

"Hush, Constance!" Fleda whispered earnestly — "you are notsafe — he may be near you. "

"Safe!" ejaculated Constance; but a half backward hasty glanceof her eye brought home so strong an impression that theperson in question was seated a little behind her, that shedared not venture another look, and became straightwayextremely well-behave. 

He was there; and being presently convinced that he was in theneighbourhood of his little friend of former days, he resolvedwith his own excellent eyes to test the truth of the opinionhe had formed as to the natural and inevitable effect ofcircumstances upon her character; whether it could bypossibility have retained its great delicacy and refinement, under the rough handling and unkindly bearing of thingsseemingly foreign to both. He had thought not. 

Truffi did not sing, and the entertainment was of a verysecondary quality. This seemed to give no uneasiness to theMiss Evelyns, for if they pouted, they laughed and talked inthe same breath, and that incessantly. It was nothing to Mr. Carleton, for his mind was bent on something else. And with alittle surprise, he saw that it was nothing to the subject ofhis thoughts, either because her own were elsewhere, too, orbecause they were in league with a nice taste, that permittedthem to take no interest in what was going on. Even her eyes, trained as they had been to recluse habits, were far less busythan those of her companions; indeed, they were not busy atall; for the greater part of the time, one hand was upon thebrow, shielding them from the glare of the gas-lights. Ostensibly — but the very quiet air of the face led him toguess that the mind was glad of a shield too. It relaxedsometimes. Constance, and Florence, and Mr. Thorn, and Mr. Thorn's mother, were every now and then making demands uponher, and they were met always with an intelligent well-bredeye, and often with a smile of equal gentleness and character;but her observer noticed that though the smile came readily, it went as readily, and the lines of the face quickly settledagain into what seemed to be an habitual composure. There werethe same outlines, the same characters, he remembered verywell; yet there was a difference; not grief had changed them, but life had. The brow had all its fine chiselling and highpurity of expression; but now there sat there a hopelessness, or rather a want of hopefulness, that a child's face neverknows. The mouth was sweet and pliable as ever, but now oftenpatience and endurance did not quit their seat upon the lipeven when it smiled. The eye, with all its old clearness andtruthfulness, had a shade upon it that, nine years ago, onlyfell at the bidding of sorrow; and in every line of the facethere was a quiet gravity that went to the heart of the personwho was studying it. Whatever causes had been at work, he wasvery sure, had done no harm to the character; its oldsimplicity had suffered no change, as every look and movementproved; the very unstudied careless position of the fingersover the eyes showed that the thoughts had nothing to dothere. 

On one half of his doubt Mr. Carleton's mind was entirely madeup; but education? the training and storing of the mind — howhad that fared? He would know!

Perhaps he would have made some attempt that very eveningtowards satisfying himself; but noticing that, in coming out, Thorn permitted the Evelyns to pass him, and attached himselfdeterminately to Fleda, he drew back, and resolved to make hisobservations indirectly, and on more than one point, before heshould seem to make them at all. 

CHAPTER VI. 

"Hark: I hear the sound of coaches, The hour of attack approaches. "GAY. 

Mrs. Pritchard had arrayed Fleda in the white muslin, with anamount of satisfaction and admiration that all the lines ofher face were insufficient to express. 

"Now, " she said, "you must just run down and let the doctorsee you, afore you take the shine off, or he wont be able tolook at anything else when you get to the place. "

"That would be unfortunate!" said Fleda, and she ran down, laughing, into the room where the doctor was waiting for her;but her astonished eyes encountering the figure of Dr. Quackenboss, she stopped short, with an air that no woman ofthe world could have bettered. The physician of Queechy, onhis part, was at least equally taken aback. 

"Dr. Quackenboss!" said Fleda. 

"I — I was going to say, Miss Ringgan!" said the doctor, witha most unaffected obeisance, "but — a — I am afraid, Sir, itis a deceptive influence!"

"I hope not, " said Dr. Gregory, smiling; one corner of hismouth for his guest and the other for his niece. "Real enoughto do real execution, or I am mistaken, Sir. "

"Upon my word, Sir, " said Dr. Quackenboss, bowing again, "Ihope — a — Miss Ringgan — will remember the acts of herexecutive power at home, and return in time to prevent anunfortunate termination!"

Dr. Gregory laughed heartily now, while Fleda's cheeksrelieved her dress to admiration. 

"Who will complain of her if she don't?" said the doctor. "Whowill complain of her if she don't?"

But Fleda put in her question. 

"How are you all at home, Dr. Quackenboss?"

"All Queechy, Sir, " answered the doctor, politely, on theprinciple of 'first come, first served' — "and individuals — Ishouldn't like to specify" —

"How are you all in Queechy, Dr. Quackenboss?" said Fleda. 

"I — have the pleasure to say — we are coming along as usual, "replied the doctor, who seemed to have lost his power ofstanding up straight. "My sister Flora enjoys but poor healthlately — they are all holding their heads up at your house. Mr. Rossitur has come home. "

"Uncle Rolf! Has he?" exclaimed Fleda, the colour of joy quitesupplanting the other. "Oh, I'm very glad!"

"Yes, " said the doctor — "he's been home now — I guess, goingon four days. "

"I am very glad!" repeated Fleda. "But wont you come and seeme another time, Dr. Quackenboss? — I am obliged to go out. "

The doctor professed his great willingness, adding that he hadonly come down to the city to do two or three chores, andthought she might perhaps like to take the opportunity — whichwould afford him such very great gratification. 

"No, indeed, faire Una, " said Dr. Gregory, when they were ontheir way to Mrs. Thorn's — "they've got your uncle at homenow, and we've got you; and I mean to keep you till I'msatisfied. So you may bring home that eye that has beensquinting at Queechy ever since you have been here, and makeup your mind to enjoy yourself; I shan't let you go till youdo. "

"I ought to enjoy myself, uncle Orrin, " said Fleda, squeezinghis arm gratefully. 

"See you do, " said he. 

The pleasant news from home had given Fleda's spirits theneeded spur, which the quick walk to Mrs. Thorn's did not takeoff. 

"Did you ever see Fleda look so well, Mamma?" said Florence, as the former entered the drawing-room. 

"That is the loveliest and best face in the room, " said Mr. Evelyn; "and she looks like herself to-night. "

"There is a matchless simplicity about her, " said a gentleman, standing by. 

"Her dress is becoming, " said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"Why, where did you ever see her, Mr. Stackpole, except at ourhouse?" said Constance. 

"At Mrs. Decatur's — I have had that pleasure — and once ather uncle's. "

"I didn't know you ever noticed ladies' faces, Mr. Stackpole, "said Florence. 

"How Mrs. Thorn does look at her!" said Constance, under herbreath. "It is too much. "

It was almost too much for Fleda's equanimity, for the colourbegan to come. 

"And there goes Mr. Carleton!" said Constance. "I expectmomentarily to hear the company strike up, 'Sparkling andBright. ' "

"They should have done that some time ago, Miss Constance, "said the gentleman. 

Which compliment, however, Constance received with hardlydisguised scorn, and turned her attention again to Mr. Carleton. 

"I trust I do not need presentation, " said his voice and hissmile at once, as he presented himself to Fleda. 

How little he needed it, the flash of feeling which met hiseyes said sufficiently well. But apparently the feeling was alittle too deep, for the colour mounted, and the eyes fell, and the smile suddenly died on the lips. Mr. Thorn came up tothem, and releasing her hand, Mr. Carleton stepped back andpermitted him to lead her away. 

"What do think of _that_ face?" said Constance, finding herselfa few moments after at his side. 

" 'That' must define itself, " said he, "or I can hardly give asafe answer. "

"What face? Why, I mean, of course, the one Mr. Thorn carriedoff just now. "

"You are her friend, Miss . Constance, " he said, coolly. "May Iask for your judgment upon it before I give mine?"

"Mine? why, I expected every minute that Mr. Thorn would makethe musicians play 'Sparkling and Bright, ' and tell MissRinggan that to save trouble he had directed them to expresswhat he was sure were the sentiments of the whole company inone burst. "

He smiled a little, but in a way that Constance could notunderstand, and did not like. 

"Those are common epithets, " he said. 

"Must I use uncommon?" said Constance, significantly. 

"No; but these may say one thing or another. "

"I have said one thing, " said Constance; "and now you may saythe other. "

"Pardon me — you have said nothing. These epithets aredeserved by a great many faces, but on very different grounds;and the praise is a different thing, accordingly. "

"Well, what is the difference?" said Constance. 

"On what do you think this lady's title to it rests?"

"On what? — why, on that bewitching little air of the eyes andmouth, I suppose. "

"Bewitching is a very vague term, " said he, smiling again, more quietly. "But you have had an opportunity of knowing itmuch better of late than I — to which class of bright faceswould you refer this one? Where does the light come from?"

"I never studied faces in a class, " said Constance, a littlescornfully. "Come from? — a region of mist and clouds, Ishould say, for it is sometimes pretty well covered up. "

"There are some eyes whose sparkling is nothing more than theplay of light upon a bright bead of glass. "

"It is not that, " said Constance, answering in spite ofherself, after delaying as long as she dared. 

"There is the brightness that is only the reflection ofoutward circumstances, and passes away with them. "

"It isn't that in Fleda Ringgan, " said Constance, "for heroutward circumstances have no brightness, I should think, thatreflection would not utterly absorb. "

She would fain have turned the conversation, but the questionswere put so lightly and quietly that it could not begracefully done. She longed to cut it short, but her hand wasupon Mr. Carleton's arm, and they were slowly sauntering downthe rooms — too pleasant a state of things to be relinquishedfor a trifle. 

"There is the broad day-light of mere animal spirits, " he wenton, seeming rather to be suggesting these things for herconsideration than eager to set forth any opinions of his own— "there is the sparkling of mischief, and the fire of hiddenpassions — there is the passing brilliance of wit, assatisfactory and resting as these gaslights — and there is nowand then the light of refined affections out of a heartunspotted from the world, as pure and abiding as the stars, and, like them, throwing its soft ray especially upon theshadows of life. "

"I have always understood, " said Constance, "that cat's eyesare brightest in the dark. "

"They do not love the light, I believe, " said Mr. Carleton, calmly. 

"Well, " said Constance, not relishing the expression of hercompanion's eye, which, from glowing, had suddenly be comecool and bright — "where would you put me, Mr. Carleton, amongall these illuminators of the social system?"

"You may put yourself — where you please, Miss Constance, " hesaid, again turning upon her an eye so deep and full in itsmeaning, that her own and her humour fell before it; for amoment she looked most unlike the gay scene around her. 

"Is not that the best brightness, " he said speaking low, "thatwill last forever? — and is not that lightness of heart bestworth having which does not depend on circumstances, and willfind its perfection just when all other kinds of happinessfail utterly?"

"I can't conceive, " said Constance, presently rallying, ortrying to rally herself — "what you and I have to do in aplace where people are enjoying themselves at this moment, Mr. Carleton!"

He smiled at that, and led her out of it into theconservatory, close to which they found themselves. It was alarge and fine one, terminating the suite of rooms in thisdirection. Few people were there; but, at the far end stood agroup, among whom Fleda and Mr. Thorn were conspicuous. He wasbusying himself in putting together a quantity of flowers forher; and Mrs. Evelyn and old Mr. Thorn stood looking on; withMr. Stackpole. Mr. Stackpole was an Englishman, of certainlynot very prepossessing exterior, but somewhat noted as anauthor, and a good deal sought after in consequence. Atpresent he was engaged by Mrs. Evelyn. Mr. Carleton andConstance sauntered up towards them, and paused at a littledistance to look at some curious plants. 

"Don't try for that, Mr. Thorn, " said Fleda, as the gentlemanwas making rather ticklish efforts to reach a superb fuchsiathat hung high. "You are endangering sundry things besidesyourself. "

"I have learned, Miss Fleda, " said Thorn, as with much ado hegrasped the beautiful cluster, "that what we take the mostpains for is apt to be reckoned the best prize — a truth Ishould never think of putting into a lady's head if I believedit possible that a single one of them was ignorant of itspractical value. "

"I have this same rose in my garden at home, " said Fleda. 

"You are a great gardener, Miss Fleda, I hear, " said the oldgentleman. "My son says you are an adept in it. "

"I am very fond of it, Sir, " said Fleda, answering him with anentirely different face. 

"I thought the delicacy of American ladies was beyond such amasculine employment as gardening, " said Mr. Stackpole, edgingaway from Mrs. Evelyn. 

"I guess this young lady is an exception to the rule, " saidold Mr. Thorn. 

"I guess she is an exception to most rules that you have gotin your note-book, Mr. Stackpole, " said the younger man. "Butthere is no guessing about the garden, for I have with my owneyes seen these gentle hands at one end of a spade, and herfoot at the other — a sight that, I declare, I don't knowwhether I was most filled with astonishment or admiration. "

"Yes, " said Fleda, half laughing and colouring, "and heingenuously confessed in his surprise that he didn't knowwhether politeness ought to oblige him to stop and shakehands, or to pass by without seeing me; evidently showing thathe thought I was about something equivocal. "

The laugh was now turned against Mr. Thorn, but he went oncutting his geraniums with a grave face. 

"Well, " said he at length, "I think it is something of veryequivocal utility. Why should such gentle hands and feet spendtheir strength in clod-breaking, when rough ones are atcommand?"

There was nothing equivocal about Fleda's merriment this time. 

"I have learned, Mr. Thorn, by sad experience, that the roughhands break more than the clods. One day I set Philetus towork among my flowers; and the first thing I knew, he hadpulled up a fine passion-flower which didn't make much showabove ground, and was displaying it to me with the gravecommentary, 'Well! that root did grow to a great haigth!' "

"Some mental clod-breaking to be done up there, isn't there?"said Thorn, in a kind of aside. "I cannot express myadmiration at the idea of your dealing with those boors, as ithas been described to me. "

"They do not deserve the name, Mr. Thorn, " said Fleda. "Theyare many of them most sensible and excellent people, andfriends that I value very highly. "

"Ah! your goodness would make friends of everything. "

"Not of boors, I hope, " said Fleda, coolly. "Besides, what doyou mean by the name?"

"Anybody incapable of appreciating that of which you aloneshould be unconscious, " he said, softly. 

Fleda stood impatiently tapping her flowers against her lefthand. 

"I doubt their power of appreciation reaches a point thatwould surprise you, Sir. "

"It does indeed — if I am mistaken in my supposition, " hesaid, with a glance which Fleda refused to acknowledge. 

"What proportion, do you suppose, " she went on, "of all theseroomfuls of people behind us — without saying anythinguncharitable — what proportion of them, if compelled to amusethemselves for two hours at a bookcase, would pitch uponMacaulay's Essays, or anything like them, to spend the time?"

"Hum — really, Miss Fleda, " said Thorn, "I should want tobrush up my Algebra considerably before I could hope to findx, y, and z in such a confusion of the alphabet. "

"Or extract the small sensible root of such a quantity oflight matter, " said Mr. Stackpole. 

"Will you bear with my vindication of my country friends? —Hugh and I sent for a carpenter to make some new arrangementof shelves in a cupboard where we kept our books; he was oneof these boors, Mr. Thorn, in no respect above the rest. Theright stuff for his work was wanting, and while it was sentfor, he took up one of the volumes that were lying about, andread perseveringly until the messenger returned. It was avolume of Macaulay's Miscellanies; and afterwards he borrowedthe book of me. "

"And you lent it to him?" said Constance. 

"Most assuredly; and with a great deal of pleasure. "

"And is this no more than a common instance, Miss Ringgan?"said Mr. Carleton. 

"No, I think not, " said Fleda; the quick blood in her cheeksagain answering the familiar voice and old associations; — "Iknow several of the farmers' daughters around us that havestudied Latin and Greek; and philosophy is a common thing; andI am sure there is more sense —"

She suddenly checked herself, and her eye which had beensparkling grew quiet. 

"It is very absurd!" said Mr. Stackpole. 

"Why, Sir?"

"Oh, these people have nothing to do with such things — dothem nothing but harm!"

"May I ask again, what harm?" said Fleda, gently. 

"Unfit them for the duties of their station, and make themdiscontented with it. "

"By making it pleasanter?"

"No, no — not by making it pleasanter. "

"By what then, Mr. Stackpole?" said Thorn, to draw him on, andto draw her out, Fleda was sure. 

"By lifting them out of it. "

"And what objection to lifting them out of it?" said Thorn. 

"You can't lift every body out of it, " said the gentleman, with a little irritation in his manner — "that station must befilled — there must always be poor people. "

"And what degree of poverty ought to debar a man from thepleasures of education and a cultivated taste, such as he canattain?"

"No, no, not that, " said Mr. Stackpole; "but it all goes tofill them with absurd notions about their place in society, inconsistent with proper subordination. "

Fleda looked at him, but shook her head slightly, and wassilent. 

"Things are in very different order on our side the water, "said Mr. Stackpole, hugging himself. 

"Are they?" said Fleda. 

"Yes — we understand how to keep things in their places alittle better. "

"I did not know, " said Fleda, quietly, "that it was by _design_of the rulers of England that so many of her lower class arein the intellectual condition of our slaves. "

"Mr. Carleton, " said Mrs. Evelyn, laughing, "what do you sayto that, Sir?"

Fleda's face turned suddenly to him with a quick look ofapology, which she immediately knew was not needed. 

"But this kind of thing don't make the people any happier, "pursued Mr. Stackpole; — "only serves to give them uppish anddissatisfied longings that cannot be gratified. "

"Somebody says, " observed Thorn, "that 'under a despotism allare contented, because none can get on, and in a republic, none are contented, because all can get on. ' "

"Precisely, " said Mr. Stackpole. 

"That might do very well if the world were in a state ofperfection, " said Fleda. "As it is, commend me to discontentand getting on. And the uppishness, I am afraid, is a nationalfault, Sir; you know our state motto is 'Excelsior. ' "

"We are at liberty to suppose, " said Thorn, "that Miss Ringganhas followed the example of her friends, the farmers'daughters? — or led them in it?"

"It is dangerous to make surmises, " said Fleda, colouring. 

"It is a pleasant way of running into danger, " said Mr. Thorn, who was leisurely pruning the prickles from the stem of arose. 

"I was talking to a gentleman once, " said Fleda, "about thebirds and flowers we find in our wilds; and he told meafterwards gravely, that he was afraid I was studying too manythings at once! — when I was innocent of all ornithology butwhat my eyes and ears had picked up in the wood, except somechildish reminiscences of Audubon. "

"That is just the right sort of learning for a lady, " said Mr. Stackpole, smiling at her, however; "women have nothing to dowith books. "

"What do you say to that, Miss Fleda?" said Thorn. 

"Nothing, Sir; it is one of those positions that areunanswerable. "

"But, Mr. Stackpole, " said Mrs. Evelyn, "I don't like thatdoctrine, Sir. I do not believe in it at all. "

"That is unfortunate — for my doctrine, " said the gentleman. 

"But I do not believe it is yours. Why must women have nothingto do with books? what harm do they do, Mr. Stackpole?"

"Not needed, Ma'am; a woman, as somebody says, knowsintuitively all that is really worth knowing. "

"Of what use is a mine that is never worked?" said Mr. Carleton. 

"It is worked, " said Mr. Stackpole. "Domestic life is the truetraining for the female mind. One woman will learn more wisdomfrom the child on her breast than another will learn from tenthousand volumes. "

"It is very doubtful how much wisdom the child will ever learnfrom her, " said Mr. Carleton, smiling. 

"A woman who never saw a book, " pursued Mr. Stackpole, unconsciously quoting his author, "may be infinitely superior, even in all those matters of which books treat, to the womanwho has read, and read intelligently, a whole library. "

"Unquestionably; and it is, likewise, beyond question, that asilver sixpence may be worth more than a washed guinea. "

"But a woman's true sphere is in her family — in her homeduties, which furnish the best and most appropriate trainingfor her faculties — pointed out by nature itself. "

"Yes!" said Mr. Carleton — "and for those duties, some of thevery highest and noblest that are entrusted to human agency, the fine machinery that is to perform them should be wroughtto its last point of perfectness. The wealth of a woman'smind, instead of lying in the rough, should be richly broughtout and fashioned for its various ends, while yet those endsare in the future, or it will never meet the demand. And, forher own happiness, all the more because her sphere is at home, her home stores should be exhaustless — the stores she cannotgo abroad to seek. I would add to strength beauty, and tobeauty grace, in the intellectual proportions, so far aspossible. It were ungenerous in man to condemn the _best_ halfof human intellect to insignificance, merely because it is nothis own. "

Mrs. Evelyn wore a smile of admiration that nobody saw, butFleda's face was a study while Mr. Carleton was saying this. Her look was fixed upon him with such intent satisfaction andeagerness, that it was not till he had finished that shebecame aware that those dark eyes were going very deep intohers, and suddenly put a stop to the inquisition. 

"Very pleasant doctrine to the ears that have an interest init, " said Mr. Stackpole, rather discontentedly. 

"The man knows little of his own interest, " said Mr. Carleton, "who would leave that ground waste, or would cultivate it onlyin the narrow spirit of a utilitarian. He needs an influencein his family not more refreshing than rectifying; and no manwill seek that in one greatly his inferior. He is to be pitiedwho cannot fall back upon his home with the assurance that hehas there something better than himself. "

"Why, Mr. Carleton, Sir, " said Mrs. Evelyn, with every line ofher mouth saying funny things — "I am afraid you have sadlyneglected your own interest — have you anything at Carletonbetter than yourself?"

Suddenly cool again, he laughed, and said, "You were there, Mrs. Evelyn. "

"But, Mr. Carleton, " pursued the lady, with a mixture ofinsinuation and fun — "why were you never married?"

"Circumstances have always forbade it, " he answered, with asmile, which Constance declared was the most fascinating thingshe ever saw in her life. 

Fleda was arranging her flowers, with the help of some veryunnecessary suggestions from the donor. 

"Mr. Lewis, " said Constance, with a kind of insinuation verydifferent from her mother's, made up of fun and dating, — "Mr. Carleton has been giving me a long lecture on botany, while myattention was distracted by listening to your _spirituel_conversation. "

"Well, Miss Constance?"

"And I am morally certain I sha'n't recollect a word of it ifI don't carry away some specimens to refresh my memory, and inthat case he would never give me another. "

It was impossible to help laughing at the distressful positionof the young lady's eyebrows, and, with at least some measureof outward grace, Mr. Thorn set about complying with herrequest. Fleda again stood tapping her left hand with herflowers, wondering a little that somebody else did not comeand speak to her, but he was talking to Mrs. Evelyn and Mr. Stackpole. Fleda did not wish to join them, and nothing betteroccurred to her than to arrange her flowers over again; so, throwing them all down before her on a marble slab, she beganto pick them up one by one, and put them together, with, itmust be confessed, a very indistinct realization of thedifference between myrtle and lemon blossoms; and as sheseemed to be laying acacia to rose, and disposing some sprigsof beautiful heath behind them, in reality she was layingkindness alongside of kindness, and looking at the yearsbeyond years where their place had been. It was with a littlestart that she suddenly found the person of her thoughtsstanding at her elbow, and talking to her in bodily presence. But while he spoke with all the ease and simplicity of oldtimes, almost making Fleda think it was but last week they hadbeen strolling through the Place de la Concorde together, there was a constraint upon her that she could not get rid of, and that bound eye and tongue. It might have worn off, but hisattention was presently claimed again by Mrs. Evelyn, andFleda thought best, while yet Constance's bouquet wasunfinished, to join another party, and make her escape intothe drawing-rooms. 

CHAPTER VII. 

"Have you observed a sitting hare, List'ning, and, fearful of the stormOf horns and hounds, clap back her ear, Afraid to keep or leave her form?PRIOR. 

By the Evelyns' own desire, Fleda's going to them was delayedfor a week, because, they said, a furnace was to be broughtinto the house, and they would be all topsy-turvy till thatfuss was over. Fleda kept herself very quiet in the meantime, seeing almost nobody but the person whom it was her especialobject to shun. Do her best, she could not quite escape him, and was even drawn into two or three walks and rides, in spiteof denying herself utterly to gentlemen at home, and losing, in consequence, a visit from her old friend. She was glad atlast to go to the Evelyns, and see company again, hoping thatMr. Thorn would be merged in a crowd. 

But she could not merge him, and sometimes was almost inclinedto suspect that his constant prominence in the picture must beowing to some mysterious and wilful conjuration going on inthe background. She was at a loss to conceive how else ithappened that, despite her utmost endeavours to the contrary, she was so often thrown upon his care, and obliged to take upwith his company. It was very disagreeable. Mr. Carleton shesaw almost as constantly, but, though frequently near, she hadnever much to do with him. There seemed to be a dividingatmosphere always in the way, and whenever he did speak toher, she felt miserably constrained, and unable to appear likeherself. Why was it? she asked herself, in a very vexed stateof mind. No doubt, partly from the remembrance of thatoverheard conversation which she could not help applying, butmuch more from an indefinable sense that at these times therewere always eyes upon her. She tried to charge the feelingupon her consciousness of their having heard that same talk, but it would not the more go off. And it had no chance to wearoff, for somehow, the occasions never lasted long — somethingwas sure to break them up — while an unfortunate combinationof circumstances, or of connivers, seemed to give Mr. Thornunlimited facilities in the same kind. Fleda was quick-wittedand skilful enough to work herself out of them once in awhile; more often the combination was too much for hersimplicity and straightforwardness. 

She was a little disappointed and a little surprised at Mr. Carleton's coolness. He was quite equal to withstand or out-general the schemes of any set of manoeuvrers; therefore itwas plain he did not care for the society of his little friendand companion of old time. Fleda felt it, especially as shenow and then heard him in delightful talk with somebody else, making himself so interesting that, when Fleda could get achance to listen, she was quite ready to forgive his nottalking to her for the pleasure of hearing him talk at all. But at other times she said, sorrowfully to herself, "He willbe going home presently, and I shall not have seen him. "

One day she had successfully defended herself against taking adrive which Mr. Thorn came to propose, though the propositionhad been laughingly backed by Mrs. Evelyn. Raillery was muchharder to withstand than persuasion, but Fleda's quietresolution had proved a match for both. The better to coverher ground, she declined to go out at all, and remained athome, the only one of the family, that fine day. 

In the afternoon Mr. Carleton was there. Fleda sat a littleapart from the rest, industriously bending over a complicatedpiece of embroidery belonging to Constance, and in which thatyoung lady had made a great blunder, which she declared herpatience unequal to the task of rectifying. The conversationwent gaily forward among the others, Fleda taking no part init beyond an involuntary one. Mr. Carleton's part was ratherreserved and grave, according to his manner in ordinarysociety. 

"What do you keep bothering yourself with that for?" saidEdith, coming to Fleda's side. 

"One must be doing something, you know, " said Fleda, lightly. 

"No, you mustn't — not when you're tired — and I know you are. I'd let Constance pick out her own work. "

"I promised her I would do it, " said Fleda. 

"Well, you didn't promise her when. Come! — everybody's beenout but you, and you have sat here over this the whole day. Why don't you come over there and talk with the rest? I knowyou want to, for I've watched your mouth going. "

"Going! — how!"

"Going — off at the corners. I've seen it! Come. "

But Fleda said she could listen and work at once, and wouldnot budge. Edith stood looking at her a little while in a kindof admiring sympathy, and then went back to the group. 

"Mr. Carleton, " said the young lady, who was treading withlaudable success in the steps of her sister Constance — "whathas become of that ride you promised to give me?"

"I do not know, Miss Edith, " said Mr. Carleton, smiling, "formy conscience never had the keeping of it. "

"Hush, Edith!" said her mother; "do you think Mr. Carleton hasnothing to do but to take you riding?"

"I don't believe he has much to do, " said Edith, securely. "But, Mr. Carleton, you did promise, for I asked you, and yousaid nothing; and I always have been told that silence givesconsent; so what is to become of it?"

"Will you go now, Miss Edith?"

"Now? — O, yes! And will you go out to Manhattanville, Mr. Carleton — along by the river?"

"If you like. But, Miss Edith, the carriage will hold another— cannot you persuade one of these ladies to go with us?"

"Fleda!" said Edith, springing off to her with extravagantcapers of joy — "Fleda, you shall go! you haven't been out to-day. "

"And I cannot go out to-day, " said Fleda, gently. 

"The air is very fine, " said Mr. Carleton, approaching hertable, with no want of alacrity in step or tone, her earsknew; "and this weather makes everything beautiful. Has thatpiece of canvas any claims upon you that cannot be put asidefor a little?"

"No, Sir, " said Fleda, "but, I am sorry I have a strongerreason that must keep me at home. "

"She knows how the weather looks, " said Edith; "Mr. Thorntakes her out every other day. It's no use to talk to her, Mr. Carleton — when she says she wont, she wont. "

"Every other day!" said Fleda. 

"No, no, " said Mrs. Evelyn, coming up, and with that smilewhich Fleda had never liked so little as at that minute — "not_every other_ day, Edith; what are you talking of? Go, and don'tkeep Mr. Carleton waiting. "

Fleda worked on, feeling a little aggrieved. Mr. Carletonstood still by her table, watching her, while his companionswere getting themselves ready; but he said no more, and Fledadid not raise her head till the party were off. Florence hadtaken her resigned place. 

"I dare say the weather will be quite as fine to-morrow, dearFleda, " said Mrs. Evelyn, softly. 

"I hope it will, " said Fleda, in a tone of resolutesimplicity. 

"I only hope it will not bring too great a throng of carriagesto the door, " Mrs. Evelyn went on, in a tone of great internalamusement; "I never used to mind it, but I have lately anervous fear of collisions. "

"To-morrow is not your reception-day?" said Fleda. 

"No, not mine, " said Mrs. Evelyn, softly — "but that doesn'tsignify — it may be one of my neighbours. "

Fleda pulled away at her threads of worsted, and wouldn't knowanything else. 

"I have read of the servants of Lot and the servants ofAbraham quarrelling, " Mrs. Evelyn went on, in the sameundertone of delight — "because the land was too strait forthem — I should be very sorry to have anything of the sorthappen again, for I cannot imagine where Lot would go to finda plain that would suit him. "

"Lot and Abraham, Mamma, " said Constance, from the sofa —"what on earth are you talking about?"

"None of your business, " said Mrs. Evelyn; "I was talking ofsome country friends of mine that you don't know. "

Constance knew her mother's laugh very well, but Mrs. Evelynwas impenetrable. 

The next day Fleda ran away, and spent a good part of themorning with her uncle in the library, looking over new books, among which she found herself quite a stranger, so many hadmade their appearance since the time when she had much to dowith libraries or book stores. Living friends, male andfemale, were happily forgotten in the delighted acquaintance-making with those quiet companions, which, whatever theirdeficiencies in other respects, are at least never importunatenor variable. Fleda had come home rather late, and wasdressing for dinner, with Constance's company and help, whenMrs. Evelyn came into her room. 

"My dear Fleda, " said the lady, her face and voice as full aspossible of fun, "Mr. Carleton wants to know if you will ridewith him this afternoon. I told him I believed you were, ingeneral, shy of gentlemen that drove their own horses; that Ithought I had noticed you were; but I would come up and see. "

"Mrs. Evelyn! — you did not tell him that?"

"He said he was sorry to see you looked pale yesterday when hewas asking you; and he was afraid that embroidery is not goodfor you. He thinks you are a very charming girl —"

And Mrs. Evelyn went off into little fits of laughter, whichunstrung all Fleda's nerves. She stood absolutely trembling. 

"Mamma, don't plague her!" said Constance. "He didn't say so. "

"He did! — upon my word!" said Mrs. Evelyn, speaking withgreat difficulty — "he said she was very charming, and itmight be dangerous to see too much of her. "

"You made him say that, Mrs. Evelyn, " said Fleda, reproachfully. 

"Well, I did ask him if you were not very charming, but heanswered — without hesitation, " said the lady — "I am only soafraid that Lot will make his appearance —"

Fleda turned round to the glass, and went on arranging herhair, with a quivering lip. 

"Lot! Mamma, " said Constance, somewhat indignantly. 

"Yes, " said Mrs. Evelyn, in ecstasies; "because the land willnot bear both of them. But Mr. Carleton is very much inearnest for his answer, Fleda, my dear — what shall I tell ithim? You need be under no apprehensions about going — he willperhaps tell you that you are charming, but I don't I think hewill say anything more. You know, he is a kind of patriarch;and when I asked him if he didn't think it might be dangerousto see too much of you, he said he thought it might to somepeople, so, you see, you are safe. "

"Mrs. Evelyn, how could you use my name so?" said Fleda, witha voice that carried a good deal of reproach. 

"My dear Fleda, shall I tell him you will go? You need not beafraid to go riding, only you must not let yourself be seenwalking with him. "

"I shall not go, Ma'am, " said Fleda, quietly. 

"I wanted to send Edith with you, thinking it would bepleasanter; but I knew Mr. Carleton's carriage would hold buttwo to-day. So what shall I tell him?"

"I am not going, Ma'am, " repeated Fleda. 

"But what shall I tell him? I must give him some reason. ShallI say that you think a sea-breeze is blowing, and you don'tlike it? or shall I say that prospects are a matter ofindifference to you?"

Fleda was quite silent, and went on dressing herself withtrembling fingers. 

"My dear Fleda, " said the lady, bringing her face a littleinto order, "wont you go? I am very sorry —"

"So am I sorry, " said Fleda. "I can't go, Mrs. Evelyn. "

"I will tell Mr. Carleton you are very sorry, " said Mrs. Evelyn, every line of her face drawing again — "that willconsole him; and let him hope that you will not mind sea-breezes by and by, after you have been a little longer in theneighbourhood of them. I will tell him you are a goodrepublican, and have an objection, at present, to an Englishequipage, but I have no doubt that is a prejudice which willwear off. "

She stopped to laugh, while Fleda had the greatest difficultynot to cry. The lady did not seem to see her disturbed brow;but recovering herself after a little, though not readily, shebent forward and touched her lips to it in kind fashion. Fledadid not look up, and saying again, "I will tell him, dearFleda, " Mrs. Evelyn left the room. 

Constance, after a little laughing and condoling, neither ofwhich Fleda attempted to answer, ran off, too, to dressherself; and Fleda, after finishing her own toilette, lockedher door, sat down, and cried heartily. She thought Mrs. Evelyn had been, perhaps unconsciously, very unkind; and tosay that unkindness has not been meant, is but to shift thecharge from one to another vital point in the character of afriend, and one, perhaps, sometimes not less grave. A moment'spassionate wrong may consist with the endurance of afriendship worth having, better than the thoughtlessness ofobtuse wits that can never know how to be kind. Fleda's wholeframe was still in a tremor from disagreeable excitement, andshe had serious causes of sorrow to cry for. She was sorry shehad lost what would have been a great pleasure in the ride —and her great pleasures were not often — but nothing wouldhave been more impossible than for her to go after what Mrs. Evelyn had said. She was sorry Mr. Carleton should have askedher twice in vain — what must he think? — she was exceedingsorry that a thought should have been put into her head thatnever before had visited the most distant dreams of herimagination, so needlessly, so gratuitously — she was verysorry, for she could not be free of it again, and she felt itwould make her miserably hampered and constrained, in mind andmanner both, in any future intercourse with the person inquestion. And then again, what would he think of that? PoorFleda came to the conclusion that her best place was at home, and made up her mind to take the first good opportunity ofgetting there. 

She went down to dinner with no traces of either tears orunkindness on her sweet face, but her nerves were quiveringall the afternoon — she could not tell whether Mrs. Evelyn andher daughters found it out; and it was impossible for her toget back even her old degree of freedom of manner beforeeither Mr. Carleton or Mr. Thorn, all the more, because Mrs. Evelyn was every now and then bringing out some sly allusion, which afforded herself intense delight, and wrought Fleda tothe last degree of quietness. Unkind — Fleda thought now itwas but half from ignorance of the mischief she was doing, andthe other half from the mere desire of selfish gratification. The times and ways in which Lot and Abraham were walked intothe conversation were incalculable, and unintelligible, exceptto the person who understood it only too well. On oneoccasion, Mrs. Evelyn went on with a long rigmarole to Mr. Thorn about sea-breezes, with a face of most exquisite delightat his mystification and her own hidden fun, till Fleda wasabsolutely trembling. Fleda shunned both the gentlemen, atlength, with a kind of nervous horror. 

One steamer had left New York, and another, and still Mr. Carleton did not leave it. Why he staid, Constance was as muchin a puzzle as ever, for no mortal could guess. Clearly, shesaid, he did not delight in New York society, for he honouredit as slightly and partially as might be; and it was equallyclear, if he had a particular reason for staying, he didn'tmean anybody should know it. 

"If he don't mean it, you wont find it out, Constance, " saidFleda. 

"But it is that very consideration, you see, which inflames myimpatience to a most dreadful degree. I think our house isdistinguished with his regards, though I am sure I can'timagine why, for he never condescends to anything beyondgeneral benevolence when he is here, and not always to that. He has no taste for embroidery, or Miss Ringgan's crewelswould receive more of his notice — he listens to my spiritedconversation with a self-possession which invariably deprivesme of mine! —and his ear is evidently dull to musicalsensibilities, or Florence's harp would have greater charms. Ihope there is a web weaving somewhere that will catch him — atpresent he stands in an attitude of provoking independence ofall the rest of the world. It is curious, " said Constance, with an indescribable face — "I feel that the independence ofanother is rapidly making a slave of me!" —

"What do you mean, Constance?' said Edith, indignantly. Butthe others could do nothing but laugh. 

Fleda did not wonder that Mr. Carleton made no more efforts toget her to ride, for the very next day after his last failurehe had met her driving with Mr. Thorn. Fleda had been asked byMr. Thorn's mother, in such a way as made it impossible to getoff; but it caused her to set a fresh seal of unkindness toMrs. Evelyn's behaviour. 

One evening, when there was no other company at Mrs. Evelyn'sMr. Stackpole was entertaining himself with a longdissertation upon the affairs of America, past, present, andfuture. It was a favourite subject; Mr. Stackpole alwaysseemed to have more complacent enjoyment of his easy chairwhen he could succeed in making every American in the room situncomfortably. And this time, without any one to thwart him, he went on to his heart's content disposing of the subject asone would strip a rose of its petals, with as much seeming_nonchalance_ and ease, and with precisely the same design, tomake a rose no rose. Leaf after leaf fell under Mr. Stackpole's touch, as if it had been a black frost. TheAmerican government was a rickety experiment — go to piecespresently; American institutions an alternative betweenfallacy and absurdity, the fruit of raw minds and precocioustheories; American liberty a contradiction; American charactera compound of quackery and pretension; American society(except at Mrs. Evelyn's) an anomaly; American destiny thesame with that of a cactus, or a volcano — a period of restfollowed by a period of excitement; not, however, like theformer, making successive shoots towards perfection, but, likethe latter, grounding every new face of things upon thedemolition of that which went before. Smoothly and pleasantlyMr. Stackpole went on compounding this cup of entertainmentfor himself and his hearers, smacking his lips over it, andall the more, Fleda thought, when they made wry faces;throwing in a little truth, a good deal of fallacy, a greatdeal of perversion and misrepresentation; while Mrs. Evelynlistened and smiled, and half parried and half assented to hispositions; and Fleda sat impatiently drumming upon her elbowwith the fingers of her other hand, in the sheer necessity ofgiving some expression to her feelings. Mr. Stackpole at lastgot his finger upon the sore spot of American slavery, andpressed it hard. 

"This is the land of the stars and the stripes!" said thegentleman, in a little fit of virtuous indignation; — "this isthe land where all are brothers! where 'All men are born freeand equal!' "

"Mr. Stackpole, " said Fleda, in a tone that called hisattention; "are you well acquainted with the popular proverbsof your country?"

"Not particularly, " he said. He had never made it a branch ofstudy. 

"I am a great admirer of them. "

He bowed, and begged to be excused for remarking that hedidn't see the point yet. 

"Do you remember this one, Sir, " said Fleda, colouring alittle; " 'Those that live in glass houses shouldn't throwstones?' "

"I have heard it; but, pardon me, though your remark seems toimply the contrary, I am in the dark yet. What unfortunatepoints of vitrification have I laid open to your fire?"

"I thought they were probably forgotten by you, Sir. "

"I shall be exceedingly obliged to you if you will put me incondition to defend myself. "

"I think nothing could do that, Mr. Stackpole. Under whoseauspices and fostering care was this curse of slavery laidupon America?"

"Why, of course — but you will observe, Miss Ringgan, that atthat day the world was unenlightened on a great many points;since then, we have cast off the wrong which we then sharedwith the rest of mankind. "

"Ay, Sir, but not until we had first repudiated it, andEnglishmen had desired to force it back upon us at the pointof the sword. Four times —"

"But, my dear Fleda, " interrupted Mrs. Evelyn, "the Englishnation have no slaves, nor slave-trade; they have put an endto slavery entirely, everywhere under their flag. "

"They were very slow about it, " said Fleda. "Four times thegovernment of Massachusetts abolished the slave-trade undertheir control, and four times the English government thrust itback upon them. Do you remember what Burke says about that, inhis speech on Conciliation with America?"

"It don't signify what Burke says about it, " said Mr. Stackpole, rubbing his chin — "Burke is not the firstauthority; but, Miss Ringgan, it is undeniable that slavery, and the slave-trade too, does at this moment exist in theinterior of your own country. "

"I will never excuse what is wrong, Sir; but I think itbecomes an Englishman to be very moderate in putting forththat charge. "

"Why?" said he, hastily: "we have done away with it entirelyin our own dominions — wiped that stain clean off. Not a slavecan touch British ground but he breathes free air from thatminute. "

"Yes, Sir; but candour will allow that we are not in acondition in this country to decide the question by a _tour deforce_. "

"What is to decide it, then!" said he, a little arrogantly. 

"The progress of truth in public opinion. "

"And why not the government, as well as our government!"

"It has not the power, you know, Sir. "

"Not the power! well, that speaks for itself. "

"Nothing against us, on a fair construction, " said Fleda, patiently. "It is well known, to those who understand thesubject" —

"Where did you learn so much about it, Fleda?" said Mrs. Evelyn, humourously. 

"As the birds pick up their supplies, Ma'am — here and there. It is well known, Mr. Stackpole, that our constitution nevercould have been agreed upon, if that question of slavery hadnot been, by common consent, left where it was — with theseparate state governments. "

"The separate state governments! — well, why do not _they_ putan end to it? The disgrace is only shifted. "

"Of course, they must first have the consent of the publicmind of those states. "

"Ah! their consent! and why is their consent wanting?"

"We cannot defend ourselves there, " said Mrs. Evelyn. "I wishwe could. "

"The disgrace, at least, is shifted from the whole to a part. But will you permit me, " said Fleda, "to give anotherquotation from my despised authority, and remind you of anEnglishman's testimony, that beyond a doubt that point ofemancipation would never have been carried in parliament hadthe interests of even a part of the electors been concerned init!"

"It was done, however, and done at the expense of twentymillions of money. "

"And I am sure that was very noble, " said Florence. 

"It was what no nation but the English would ever have done, "said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"I do not wish to dispute it, " said Fleda; "but still it wasdoing what did not touch the sensitive point of their ownwell-being. "

"_We_ think there is a little national honour concerned in it, "said Mr. Stackpole, drily, stroking his chin again. 

"So does every right-minded person, " said Mrs. Evelyn. "I amsure I do. "

"And I am sure so do I, " said Fleda; "but I think the honourof a piece of generosity is considerably lessened by the factthat it is done at the expense of another. "

"Generosity!" said Mr. Stackpole; "it was not generosity, itwas justice — there was no generosity about it. "

"Then it deserves no honour at all, " said Fleda, "if it wasmerely that; the tardy execution of justice is but the removalof a reproach. "

"We Englishmen are of opinion, however, " said Mr. Stackpole, contentedly, "that the removers of a reproach are entitled tosome honour, which those who persist in retaining it cannotclaim. "

"Yes, " said Fleda, drawing rather a long breath, "Iacknowledge that; but I think that, while some of these sameEnglishmen have shown themselves so unwilling to have thecondition of their own factory slaves ameliorated, they shouldbe very gentle in speaking of wrongs which we have far lessability to rectify. "

"Ah! I like consistency, " said Mr. Stackpole. "Americashouldn't dress up poles with liberty caps, till all who walkunder are free to wear them. She cannot boast that the breathof her air and the breath of freedom are one. "

"Can England?" said Fleda, gently — "when her own citizens arenot free from the horrors of impressment?"

"Pshaw!" said Mr. Stackpole, half in a pet and half laughing;"why where did you get such a fury against England? you arethe first _fair_ antagonist I have met on this side of thewater. "

"I wish I was a better one, Sir, " said Fleda, laughing. 

"Miss Ringgan has been prejudiced by an acquaintance with oneor two unfortunate specimens, " said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"Ay!" said Mr. Stackpole, a little bitterly; "America is thenatural birthplace of prejudice — always was. "

"Displayed, first, in maintaining the rights against theswords of Englishmen; latterly, how, Mr. Stackpole?"

"It isn't necessary to enlighten _you_ on any part of thesubject, " said he, a little pointedly. 

"Fleda, my dear, you are answered, " said Mrs. Evelyn, apparently with great internal amusement. 

"Yet you will indulge me so far as to indicate what part ofthe subject you are upon?" said Fleda, quietly. 

"You must grant so much as that to so gentle a requisition, Mr. Stackpole, " said the older lady. 

"I venture to assume that you do not say that on your ownaccount, Mrs. Evelyn?"

"Not at all — I agree with you, that Americans are prejudiced;but I think it will pass off, Mr. Stackpole, as they learn toknow themselves and other countries better. "

"But how do they deserve such a charge and such a defence? orhow have they deserved it?" said Fleda. 

"Tell her, Mr. Stackpole, " said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"Why, " said Mr. Stackpole, "in their absurd opposition to allthe old and tried forms of things, and rancorous dislike ofthose who uphold them; and in their pertinacity on every pointwhere they might be set right, and impatience of hearing thetruth. "

"Are they singular in that last item?" said Fleda. 

"Now, " said Mr. Stackpole, not heeding her, "there's yourtreatment of the aborigines of this country — what do callthat, for a _free_ people?"

"A powder magazine, communicating with a great one of your ownsomewhere else; so, if you are a good subject, Sir, you willnot carry a lighted candle into it. "

"One of our own — where?" said he. 

"In India, " said Fleda with a glance — "and there are I don'tknow how many trains leading to it — so, better hands off, Sir. "

"Where did you pick up such a spite against us?" said Mr. Stackpole, drawing a little back and eyeing her as one would abelligerent mouse or cricket. "Will you tell me now thatAmericans are not prejudiced?"

"What do you call prejudice?" said Fleda, smiling. 

"Oh, there is a great deal of it, no doubt, here, Mr. Stackpole, " said Mrs. Evelyn, blandly; "but we shall grow outof it in time; it is only the premature wisdom of a youngpeople. "

"And young people never like to hear their wisdom rebuked, "said. Mr. Stackpole, bowing. 

"Fleda, my dear, what for is that little significant shake ofyour head?" said Mrs. Evelyn, in her amused voice. 

"A trifle, Ma'am. "

"Covers a hidden rebuke, Mrs. Evelyn, I have no doubt, forboth our last remarks. What is it, Miss Fleda? — I dare say wecan bear it. "

"I was thinking, Sir, that none would trouble themselves muchabout our foolscap if we had not once made them wear it. "

"Mr. Stackpole, you are worsted! — I only wish Mr. Carletonhad been here!" said Mrs. Evelyn, with a face of excessivedelight. 

"I wish he had, " said Fleda, "for then I need not have spokena word. "

"Why, " said Mr. Stackpole, a little irritated, "you suppose hewould have fought for you against me?"

"I suppose he would have fought for truth against anybody, Sir, " said Fleda. 

"Even against his own interests?"

"If I am not mistaken in him, " said Fleda, "he reckons his ownand those of truth identical. "

The shout that was raised at this by all the ladies of thefamily made her look up in wonderment. 

"Mr. Carleton, " said Mrs. Evelyn, "what do you say to that, Sir?"

The direction of the lady's eye made Fleda spring up and faceabout. The gentleman in question was standing quietly at theback of her chair — too quietly, she saw, to leave any doubtof his having been there some time. Mr. Stackpole uttered anejaculation, but Fleda stood absolutely motionless, andnothing could be prettier than her colour. 

"What do you say to what you have heard, Mr. Carleton?" saidMrs. Evelyn. 

Fleda's eyes were on the floor, but she thoroughly appreciatedthe tone of the question. 

"I hardly know whether I have listened with most pleasure orpain, Mrs. Evelyn. "

"Pleasure!" said Constance. 

"Pain!" said Mr. Stackpole. 

"I am certain Miss Ringgan was pure from any intention ofgiving pain, " said Mrs. Evelyn, with her voice of containedfun. "She has no national antipathies, I am sure — unless inthe case of the Jews — she is too charming a girl for that. "

"Miss Ringgan cannot regret less than I a word that she hasspoken, " said Mr. Carleton, looking keenly at her as she drewback and took a seat a little off from the rest. 

"Then why was the pain?" said Mr. Stackpole. 

"That there should have been any occasion for them, Sir. "

"Well, I wasn't sensible of the occasion, so I didn't feel thepain, " said Mr. Stackpole, drily — for the other gentleman'stone was almost haughtily significant. "But if I had, thepleasure of such sparkling eyes would have made me forget it. Good evening, Mrs. Evelyn — good evening, my gentle antagonist— it seems to me you have learned, if it is permissible toalter one of your favourite proverbs, that it is possible to_break two windows_ with one stone. However, I don't feel that Igo away with any of mine shattered. "

"Fleda, my dear, " said Mrs. Evelyn, laughing, "what do you sayto that?"

"As he is not here, I will say nothing to it, Mrs. Evelyn, "said Fleda, quietly drawing off to the table with her work, and again in a tremor from head to foot. 

"Why, didn't you see Mr. Carleton come in?" said Edith, following her; "I did — he came in long before you had donetalking, and mamma held up her finger and made him stop; andhe stood at the back of your chair the whole time listening. Mr. Stackpole didn't know he was there either. But what's thematter with you?"

"Nothing, " said Fleda; but she made her escape out of the roomthe next instant. 

"Mamma, " said Edith, "what ails Fleda?"

"I don't know, my love, " said Mrs. Evelyn. "Nothing, I hope. "

"There does, though, " said Edith, decidedly. 

"Come here, Edith, " said Constance, "and don't meddle withmatters above your comprehension. Miss Ringgan has probablyhurt her hand with throwing stones. "

"Hurt her hand!" said Edith. But she was taken possession ofby her eldest sister. 

"That is a lovely girl, Mr. Carleton, " said Mrs. Evelyn, withan indescribable look — outwardly benign, but beneath thatmost keen in its scrutiny. 

He bowed rather abstractedly. 

"She will make a charming little farmer's wife — don't youthink so?"

"Is that her lot, Mrs. Evelyn?" he said, with a somewhatincredulous smile. 

"Why, no — not precisely, " said the lady; "you know, in thecountry, or you do not know, the ministers are half farmers, but I suppose not more than half; just such a mixture as willsuit Fleda, I should think. She has not told me in so manywords, but it is easy to read so ingenuous a nature as hers, and I have discovered that there is a most deserving youngfriend of mine settled at Queechy that she is by no meansindifferent to. I take it for granted that will be the end ofit, " said Mrs. Evelyn, pinching her sofa cushion in a greatmany successive places, with a most composed and satisfiedair. 

But Mr. Carleton did not seem at all interested in thesubject, and presently introduced another. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

"It is a hard matter for friends to meet: but mountains may beremoved with earthquakes, and so encounter. "AS YOU LIKE IT. 

"What have we to do to-night?" said Florence, at breakfast thenext morning. 

"You have no engagement, have you?" said her mother. 

"No, Mamma, " said Constance, arching her eyebrows — "we are totaste the sweets of domestic life — you, as head of thefamily, will go to sleep in the _dormeuse_, and Florence and Ishall take turns in yawning by your side. "

"And what will Fleda do?" said Mrs. Evelyn, laughing. 

"Fleda, Mamma, will be wrapped in remorseful recollections ofhaving enacted a mob last evening, and have enough occupationin considering how she shall repair damages. "

"Fleda, my dear, she is very saucy, " said Mrs. Evelyn, sipping her tea with great comfort. 

"Why should we yawn to-night any more than last night?" saidFleda — a question which Edith would certainly have asked ifshe had not been away at school. The breakfast was too latefor both her and her father. 

"Last night, my dear, your fractious disposition kept us uponhalf breath; there wasn't time to yawn. I meant to have easedmy breast by laughing afterwards, but that expectation wasstifled. "

"What stifled it?"

"I was afraid!" said Constance, with a little flutter of herperson up and down in her chair. 

"Afraid of what?"

"And besides, you know, we can't have our drawing-rooms filledwith distinguished foreigners every evening we are not athome. I shall direct the fowling-piece to be severe in hisexecution of orders to-night, and let nobody in. I forgot!"exclaimed Constance, with another flutter — "it is Mr. Thorn'snight! My dearest mamma, will you consent to have the dormeusewheeled round with its back to the fire? — and Florence and Iwill take the opportunity to hear little Edith's lessons inthe next room, unless Mr. Decatur comes. I must endeavour tomake the Manton comprehend what he has to do. "

"But what is to become of Mr. Evelyn?" said Fleda; "you makeMrs. Evelyn the head of the family very unceremoniously. "

"Mr. Evelyn, my dear, " said Constance, gravely, "makes afutile attempt semi-weekly to beat his brains out with a club;and every successive failure encourages him to try again; theonly effect being a temporary decapitation of his family; andI believe this is the night on which he periodically turns afrigid eye upon their destitution. "

"You are too absurd!" said Florence, reaching over for asausage. 

"Dear Constance!" said Fleda, half laughing, "why do you talkso?"

"Constance, behave yourself, " said her mother. 

"Mamma, " said the young lady, "I am actuated by a benevolentdesire to effect a diversion of Miss Ringgan's mind from itsgloomy meditations, by presenting to her some more realsubjects of distress. "

"I wonder if you ever looked at such a thing, " said Fleda. 

"What 'such a thing'?"

"As a real subject of distress. "

"Yes; I have one incessantly before me in your seriouscountenance. Why in the world, Fleda, don't you look likeother people?"

"I suppose, because I don't feel like them. "

"And why don't you? I am sure you ought to be as happy as mostpeople. "

"I think I am a great deal happier, " said Fleda. 

"Than I am?" said the young lady, with arched eyebrows. Butthey went down, and her look softened in spite of herself, atthe eye and smile which answered her. 

"I should be very glad, dear Constance, to know you were ashappy as I. "

"Why do you think I am not?" said the young lady, a littletartly. 

"Because no happiness would satisfy me that cannot last. "

"And why can't it last?"

"It is not built upon lasting things. "

"Pshaw!" said Constance, "I wouldn't have such a dismal kindof happiness as yours, Fleda, for anything. "

"Dismal!" said Fleda, smiling; "because it can neverdisappoint me? or because it isn't noisy?"

"My dear little Fleda, " said Constance, in her usual manner, "you have lived up there among the solitudes till you have gotmorbid ideas of life, which it makes me melancholy to observe. I am very much afraid they verge towards stagnation. "

"No, indeed!" said Fleda, laughing; "but, if you please, withme the stream of life has flowed so quietly, that I havelooked quite to the bottom, and know how shallow it is, andgrowing shallower; I could not venture my bark of happinessthere; but with you it is like a spring torrent — the foam andthe roar hinder your looking deep into it. "

Constance gave her a significant glance; a strong contrast tothe earnest simplicity of Fleda's face, and presently inquiredif she ever wrote poetry. 

"Shall I have the pleasure, some day, of discovering youruncommon signature in the secular corner of some religiousnewspaper?"

"I hope not, " said Fleda, quietly. 

Joe Manton just then brought in a bouquet for Miss Evelyn, avery common enlivener of the breakfast-table, all the morewhen, as in the present case, the sisters could not divinewhere it came from. It moved Fleda's wonder to see how verylittle the flowers were valued for their own sake; theprobable cost, the probable giver, the probable _ιclat_, werepoints enthusiastically discussed and thoroughly appreciated;but the sweet messengers themselves were carelessly set by forother eyes, and seemed to have no attraction for those theywere destined to. Fleda enjoyed them at a distance, and couldnot help thinking that Heaven sends almonds to those that haveno teeth. 

"This camellia will just do for my hair to-morrow night!" saidFlorence; "just what I want with my white muslin. "

"I think I will go with you to-morrow, Florence, " said Fleda;"Mrs. Decatur has asked me so often. "

"Well, my dear, I shall be made happy by your company, " saidFlorence abstractedly, examining her bouquet. "I am afraid ithasn't stem enough, Constance; never mind — I'll fix it —where is the end of this myrtle? I shall be very glad, ofcourse, Fleda, my dear, but" — picking her bouquet to pieces —"I think it right to tell you, privately, I am afraid you willfind it very stupid. "

"Oh, I dare say she will not, " said Mrs. Evelyn; "she can goand try, at any rate; she would find it very stupid with mehere alone, and Constance at the concert; I dare say she willfind some one there whom she knows. "

"But the thing is, Mamma, you see, at these _conversaziones_they never talk anything but French and German — I don't know— _of course_ I should be delighted to have Fleda with me, and Ihave no doubt Mrs. Decatur would be very glad to have her; butI am afraid she wont enjoy herself. "

"I do not want to go where I shall not enjoy myself, " saidFleda, quietly; "that is certain. "

"Of course, you know, dear, I would a great deal rather haveyou than not; I only speak for what I think would be for yourpleasure. "

"I would do just as I felt inclined, Fleda, " said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"I shall let her encounter the dullness alone, Ma'am, " saidFleda, lightly. 

But it was not in a light mood that she put on her bonnetafter dinner, and set out to pay a visit to her uncle at thelibrary; she had resolved that she would not be near the_dormeuse_ in whatsoever relative position that evening. Very, very quiet she was; her grave little face walked through thecrowd of busy, bustling, anxious people, as if she had nothingin common with them; and Fleda felt that she had very little. Half unconsciously, as she passed along the streets, her eyescanned the countenances of that moving panorama; and thereport it brought back made her draw closer within herself. 

She wondered that her feet had ever tripped lightly up thoselibrary stairs. 

"Ha! my fair Saxon, " said the doctor, "what has brought youdown here to-day?"

"I felt in want of something fresh, uncle Orrin, so I thoughtI would come and see you. "

"Fresh!" said he. "Ah! you are pining for green fields, Iknow. But, you little piece of simplicity, there are no greenfields now at Queechy, they are two feet deep with snow bythis time. "

"Well, I am sure _that_ is fresh, " said Fleda, smiling. 

The doctor was turning over great volumes one after another ina delightful confusion of business. 

"When do you think you shall go north, uncle Orrin?"

"North?" said he — "what do you want to know about the north?"

"You said, you know, Sir, that you would go a little out ofyour way to leave me at home. "

"I wont go out of my way for anybody. If I leave you there, itwill be in my way. Why, you are not getting home-sick?"

"No Sir, not exactly; but I think I will go with you when yougo. "

"That wont be yet awhile; I thought those people wanted you tostay till January. "

"Ay, but suppose I want to do something else?"

He looked at her with a comical kind of indecision, and said —

"You don't know what you want; I thought when you came in youneedn't go further than the glass to see something fresh; butI believe the sea-breezes haven't had enough of you yet. Whichpart of you wants freshening?" he said, in his mock-fierceway. 

Fleda laughed, and said she didn't know. 

"Out of humour, I guess, " said the doctor. "I'll talk to you. Take this and amuse yourself awhile with something that isn'tfresh till I get through, and then you shall go home with me. "

Fleda carried the large volume into one of the reading-rooms, where there was nobody, and sat down at the baize-coveredtable. But the book was not of the right kind, or her mood wasnot, for it failed to interest her. She sat nonchalantlyturning over the leaves; but mentally she was busy turningover other leaves, which had by far most of her attention. Thepages that memory read — the record of the old times passed inthat very room, and the old childish light-hearted feelingsthat were, she thought, as much beyond recall. Those pleasanttimes, when the world was all bright and friends all fair, andthe light heart had never been borne down by the pressure ofcare, nor sobered by disappointment, nor chilled byexperience. The spirit will not spring elastic again fromunder that weight; and the flower that has closed upon its ownsweetness will not open a second time to the world's breath. Thoughtfully, softly, she was touching and feeling of thebands that years had fastened about her heart — they would notbe undone — though so quietly and almost stealthily they hadbeen bound there. She was remembering the shadows that, oneafter another, had been cast upon her life, till now one softveil of a cloud covered the whole; no storm-cloud certainly, but also there was nothing left of the glad sunlight that heryoung eyes rejoiced in. At Queechy the first shadow hadfallen; it was a good while before the next one, but then theycame thick. There was the loss of some old comforts andadvantages, that could have been borne; then, consequent uponthat, the annoyances and difficulties that had wrought such achange in her uncle, till Fleda could hardly look back and. Believe that he was the same person. Once manly, frank, busy, happy and making his family so — now reserved, gloomy, irritable, unfaithful to his duty, and selfishly throwing downthe burden they must take up, but were far less able to bear. And so Hugh was changed too; not in loveliness of characterand demeanour, nor even much in the always gentle and tenderexpression of countenance; but the animal spirits and frame, that should have had all the strong cherishing and bracingthat affection and wisdom together could have applied, hadbeen left to wear themselves out under trials his father hadshrunk from, and other trials his father had made. And Mrs. Rossitur— it was hard for Fleda to remember the face she woreat Paris — the bright eye and joyous corners of the mouth, that now were so utterly changed. All by his fault — that madeit so hard to bear. Fleda had thought all this a hundredtimes; she went over it now as one looks at a thing one iswell accustomed to; not with new sorrow, only in a subduedmood of mind just fit to make the most of it. The familiarplace took her back to the time when it became familiar; shecompared herself sitting there, and feeling the whole world ablank, except for the two or three at home, with the child whohad sat there years before in that happy time "when thefeelings were young and the world was new. "

Then the Evelyns — why should they trouble one so inoffensive, and so easily troubled as her poor little self? They did notknow all they were doing; but if they had eyes, they must seea little of it. Why could she not have been allowed to keepher old free, simple feeling with everybody, instead of beinghampered, and constrained, and miserable, from thispertinacious putting of thoughts in her head that ought not tobe there? It had made her unlike herself, she knew, in thecompany of several people. And perhaps _they_ might be sharp-sighted enough to read it; but, even if not, how it hadhindered her enjoyment! She had taken so much pleasure in theEvelyns last year, and in her visit; well, she would go homeand forget it, and maybe they would come to their right mindsby the next time she saw them. 

"What pleasant times we used to have here once, uncle Orrin!"she said, with half a sigh, the other half quite made up bythe tone in which she spoke. But it was not, as she thought, uncle Orrin that was standing by her side, and looking up asshe finished speaking — Fleda saw, with a start, that it wasMr. Carleton. There was such a degree of life and pleasantnessin his eyes, that, in spite of the start, her own quitebrightened. 

"That is a pleasure one may always command, " he said, answering part of her speech. 

"Ay, provided one has one's mind always under command, " saidFleda. "It is possible to sit down to a feast with a want ofappetite. "

"In such a case, what is the best tonic?"

His manner, even in those two minutes, had put Fleda perfectlyat her ease, ill-bred eyes and ears being absent. She lookedup and answered, with such entire trust in him, as made herforget that she had ever had any cause to distrust herself. 

"For me, " she said, "as a general rule, nothing is better thanto go out of doors — into the woods or the garden — they arethe best fresheners I know of. I can do myself good there attimes when books are a nuisance. "

"You are not changed from your old self, " he said. 

The wish was strong upon Fleda to know whether _he_ was, but itwas not till she saw the answer in his face that she knew howplainly hers had asked the question. And then she was soconfused that she did not know what the answer had been. 

"I find it so, too, " he said. "The influences of pure natureare the best thing I know for some moods — after the companyof a good horse. "

"And you on his back, I suppose?"

"That was my meaning. What is the doubt thereupon?" said he, laughing. 

"Did I express any doubt?"

"Or my eyes were mistaken. "

"I remember they never used to be that, " said Fleda. 

"What was it?"

"Why, " said Fleda, thinking that Mr. Carleton had probablyretained more than one of his old habits, for she wasanswering with her old obedience — "I was doubting what theinfluence is in that case — worth analyzing, I think. I amafraid the good horse's company has little to do with it. "

"What, then, do you suppose?" said he, smiling. 

"Why, " said Fleda — "it might be — but I beg your pardon, Mr. Carleton! I am astonished at my own presumption. "

"Go on, and let me know why, " he said, with that happiness ofmanner which was never resisted. Fleda went on, reassuring hercourage now and then with a glance. 

"The relief _might_ spring, Sir, from the gratification of aproud feeling of independence — or from a dignified sense ofisolation — or an imaginary riding down of opposition — or theconsciousness of being master of what you have in hand. "

She would have added to the general category, "the runningaway from one's-self;" but the eye and bearing of the personbefore her forbade even such a thought as connected with him. He laughed, but shook his head. 

"Perhaps, then, " said Fleda, "it may be nothing worse than theworking off of a surplus of energy or impatience that leavesbehind no more than can be managed. "

"You have learned something of human nature since I had thepleasure of knowing you, " he said, with a look at once amusedand penetrating. 

"I wish I hadn't, " said Fleda. 

Her countenance absolutely fell. 

"I sometimes think, " said he, turning over the leaves of herbook, "that these are the best companionship one can have —the world at large is very unsatisfactory. "

"O, how much!" said Fleda, with a long breath. "The onlypleasant thing that my eyes rested upon as I came through thestreets this afternoon, was a huge bunch of violets thatsomebody was carrying. I walked behind them as long as Icould. "

"Is your old love for Queechy in full force?" said Mr. Carleton, still turning over the leaves, and smiling. 

"I believe so — I should be very sorry to live here long — athome I can always go out and find society that refreshes me. "

"You have set yourself a high standard, " he said, with nodispleased expression of the lips. 

"I have been charged with that, " said Fleda; "but is itpossible to set too high a standard, Mr. Carleton?"

"One may leave one's-self almost alone in the world. "

"Well, even then, " said Fleda, "I would rather have only theimage of excellence than be contented with inferiority. "

"Isn't it possible to do both?" said he, smiling again. 

"I don't know, " said Fleda; "perhaps I am too easilydissatisfied — I believe I have grown fastidious, living alone— I have sometimes almost a disgust at the world andeverything in it. "

"I have often felt so, " he said; "but I am not sure that it isa mood to be indulged in — likely to further our own good orthat of others. "

"I am sure it is not, " said Fleda; "I often feel vexed withmyself for it; but what can one do, Mr. Carleton?"

"Don't your friends the flowers help you in this?"

"Not a bit, " said Fleda — "they draw the other way; theirsociety is so very pure and satisfying, that one is all theless inclined to take up with the other. "

She could not tell quite what to make of the smile with whichhe began to speak; it half abashed her. 

"When I spoke, a little while ago, " said he, "of the best curefor an ill mood, I was speaking of secondary means simply —the only really humanizing, rectifying, peace-giving thing Iever tried, was looking at time in the light of eternity, andshaming or melting my coldness away in the rays of the Sun ofRighteousness. "

Fleda's eyes, which had fallen on her book, were raised againwith such a flash of feeling that it quite prevented herseeing what was in his. But the feeling was a little toostrong — the eyes went down, lower than ever, and the featuresshowed that the utmost efforts of self-command were needed tocontrol them. 

"There is no other cure, " he went on in the same tone; — "butdisgust and weariness and selfishness shrink away and hidethemselves before a word or a look of the Redeemer of men. When we hear him say, 'I have bought thee — thou art mine, ' itis like one of those old words of healing, 'Thou art loosedfrom thine infirmity' — 'Be thou clean' — and the mind takessweetly the grace and the command together, 'That he wholoveth God love his brother also. ' Only the preparation of thegospel of peace can make our feet go softly over theroughnesses of the way. "

Fleda did not move, unless her twinkling eyelashes might seemto contradict that. 

"I need not tell you, " Mr. Carleton went on, a little lower, "where this medicine is to be sought. "

"It is strange, " said Fleda, presently, "how well one mayknow, and how well one may forget. But I think the body has agreat deal to do with it sometimes — these states of feeling, I mean. "

"No doubt it has; and in these cases the cure is a morecomplicated matter. I should think the roses would be usefulthere?"

Fleda's mind was crossed by an indistinct vision of peas, asparagus, and sweet corn; she said nothing. 

"An indirect remedy is sometimes the very best that can beemployed. However, it is always true that the more our eyesare fixed upon the source of light, the less we notice theshadows that things we are passing fling across our way. "

Fleda did not know how to talk for a little while; she was toohappy. Whatever kept Mr. Carleton from talking, he was silentalso. Perhaps it was the understanding of her mood. 

"Mr. Carleton, " said Fleda, after a little time, "did you evercarry out that plan of a rose-garden that you were talking ofa long while ago?"

"You remember it?" said he, with a pleased look. "Yes, thatwas one of the first things I set about, after I went home —but I did not follow the regular fashion of arrangement thatone of your friends is so fond of. "

"I should not like that for anything, " said Fleda, "and leastof all for roses. "

"Do you remember the little shrubbery path that opened just infront of the library windows —leading, at the distance of halfa mile, to a long, narrow, winding glen?"

"Perfectly well, " said Fleda, — "through the wood ofevergreens — Oh, I remember the glen very well. "

"About half way from the house, " said he, smiling at her eyes, "a glade opens, which merges at last in the head of the glen —I planted my roses there — the circumstances of the groundwere very happy for disposing them according to my wish. "

"And how far?"

"The roses? — Oh, all the way, and some distance down theglen. Not a continuous thicket of them, " he added, smilingagain — "I wished each kind to stand so that its peculiarbeauty should be fully relieved and appreciated; and thatwould have been lost in a crowd. "

"Yes, I know it, " said Fleda; "one's eye rests upon the chiefobjects of attraction, and the others are hardly seen — theydo not even serve as foils. And they must show beautifullyagainst that dark background of firs and larches!"

"Yes; and the windings of the ground gave me every sort ofsituation and exposure. I wanted room, too, for the differenteffects of masses of the same kind growing together, and offine individuals or groups standing alone, where they couldshow the full graceful development of their nature. "

"What a pleasure! — What a beauty it must be!"

"The ground is very happy — many varieties of soil andexposure were needed for the plants of different habits, and Ifound or made them all. The rocky beginnings of the glen evenfurnished me with south walls for the little tea-roses, andthe Macartneys, and musk roses; the banksias I kept nearerhome. "

"Do you know them all, Mr. Carleton?"

"Not quite, " said he, smiling at her. 

"I have seen one banksia — the Macartney is a name that tellsme nothing. "

"They are evergreens — with large white flowers — veryabundant and late in the season, but they need the shelter ofa wall with us. "

"I should think you would say 'with me, ' " said Fleda. "Icannot conceive that the head-quarters of the rose tribeshould be anywhere else. "

"One of the queens of the tribe is there, in the neighbourhoodof the Macartneys — the difficult _rosa sulphurea_ — it findsitself so well accommodated, that it condescends to play itspart to perfection. Do you know that?"

"Not at all. "

"It is one of the most beautiful of all, though not myfavourite — it has large double yellow flowers, shaped likethe Provence — very superb, but as wilful as any queen of themall. "

"Which is your favourite, Mr. Carleton?"

"Not that which shows itself most splendid to the eye, butwhich offers fairest indications to the fancy. "

Fleda looked a little wistfully, for there was a smile ratherof the eye than of the lips, which said there was a hiddenthought beneath. 

"Don't you assign characters to your flowers?" said he, gravely. 

"Always. "

"That _rosa sulphurea_ is a haughty high-bred beauty, thatdisdains even to show herself beautiful, unless she is pleased— I love better what comes nearer home to the charities andwants of every-day life. "

He had not answered her, Fleda knew; she thought of what hehad said to Mrs. Evelyn about liking beauty, but not _beauties_. 

"Then. " said he, smiling again in that hidden way, "the headof the glen gave me the soil I needed for the Bourbons andFrench roses. "

"Bourbons?" said Fleda. 

"Those are exceeding fine — a hybrid between the Chinese andthe _rose-ΰ-quatre-saisons_ — I have not confined them all tothe head of the glen; many of them are in richer soil, graftedon standards. "

"I like standard roses, " said Fleda, "better than any. "

"Not better than climbers?"

"Better than any climbers I ever saw — except the banksia. "

"There is hardly a more elegant variety than that, though itis not strictly a climber; and, indeed, when I spoke, I wasthinking as much of the training roses. Many of the _noisettes_are very fine. But I have the climbers all over — in someparts nothing else, where the wood closes in upon the path —there the evergreen roses or the Ayrshire, cover the groundunder the trees, or are trained up the trunks, and allowed tofind their own way through the branches down again — the_multiflora_ in the same manner. I have made the _boursault_ coversome unsightly rocks that were in my way. Then in wider partsof the glade, nearer home, are your favourite standards — thedamask, and Provence, and moss, which, you know, are varietiesof the _centifolia_, and the _noisette_ standards — some of themare very fine, and the Chinese roses, and countless hybridsand varieties of all these, with many Bourbons; and yourbeautiful American yellow rose, and the Austrian briar andeglantine, and the Scotch, and white and dog roses, in theirinnumerable varieties, change admirably well with the others, and relieve the eye very happily. "

"Relieve the eye!" said Fleda; "my imagination wantsrelieving! Isn't there — I have a fancy that there is — a viewof the sea from some parts of that walk, Mr. Carleton?"

"Yes — you have a good memory, " said he, smiling. "On one sidethe wood is rather dense, and in some parts of the other side;but elsewhere the trees are thinned off towards the south-west, and in one or two points the descent of the ground andsome cutting have given free access to the air and free rangeto the eye, bounded only by the sea-line in the distance; if, indeed, that can be said to bound anything. "

"I haven't seen it since I was a child, " said Fleda. "And forhow long a time in the year is this literally a garden ofroses, Mr. Carleton?"

"The perpetual roses are in bloom for eight months — thedamask and the Chinese, and some of their varieties; theProvence roses are in blossom all the summer. "

"Ah! we can do nothing like that in this country, " said Fleda, shaking her head; "our winters are unmanageable. "

She was silent a minute, turning over the leaves of her bookin an abstracted manner. 

"You have struck out upon a grave path of reflection, " saidMr. Carleton, gently, "and left me bewildered among theroses. "

"I was thinking, " said Fleda, looking up and laughing, "I wasmoralizing to myself upon the curious equalization ofhappiness in the world; I just sheered off from a feeling ofenvy, and comfortably reflected that one measures happiness bywhat one knows — not by what one does not know; and so, thatin all probability I have had near as much enjoyment in thelittle number of plants that I have brought up and cherished, and know intimately, as you, Sir, in your superb walk throughfairy-land. "

"Do you suppose, " said he, laughing, "that I leave the wholecare of fairy-land to my gardener? No, you are mistaken; whenthe roses are to act as my correctors, I find I must becometheirs. I seldom go among them without a pruning knife, andnever without wishing for one. And you are certainly right sofar — that the plants on which I bestow most pains give me themost pleasure. There are some that no hand but mine evertouches, and those are by far the best loved of my eye. "

A discussion followed — partly natural, partly moral — on themanner of pruning various roses, and on the curious connectionbetween care and complacency, and the philosophy of the same. 

"The rules of the library are to shut up at sundown, Sir, "said one the bookmen, who had come into the room. 

"Sundown!" exclaimed Fleda, jumping up; "is my uncle not here, Mr. Frost?"

"He has been gone half an hour, Ma'am. "

"And I was to have gone home with him; I have forgottenmyself. "

"If that is at all the fault of my roses, " said Mr. Carleton, smiling, "I will do my best to repair it. "

"I am not disposed to call it a fault, " said Fleda, tying herbonnet-strings; "it is rather an agreeable thing once in awhile. I shall dream of those roses, Mr. Carleton. "

"That would be doing them too much honour. "

Very happily she had forgotten herself; and during all thewalk home her mind was too full of one great piece of joy, and, indeed, too much engaged with conversation to take up herown subject again. Her only wish was that they might not meetany of the Evelyns; Mr. Thorn, whom they did meet, was amatter of entire indifference. 

The door was opened by Dr. Gregory himself. To Fleda's utterastonishment, Mr. Carleton accepted his invitation to come in. She went up stairs to take off her things, in a kind of maze. 

"I thought he would go away without my seeing him; and now, what a nice time I have had — in spite of Mrs. Evelyn!"

That thought slipped in without Fleda's knowledge, but shecould not get it out again. 

"I don't know how much it has been her fault either, but onething is certain — I never could have had it at her house. Howvery glad I am! — how _very_ glad I am! — that I have seen him, and heard all this from his own lips. But how very funny thathe will be here to tea!"

"Well!" said the doctor, when she came down, "you _do_ lookfreshened up, I declare. Here is this girl, Sir, was coming tome a little while ago, complaining that she wanted something_fresh_, and begging me to take her back to Queechy, forsooth, to find it with two feet of snow on the ground. Who wants tosee you at Queechy?" he said, facing round upon her with alook half fierce, half quizzical. 

Fleda laughed, but was vexed to feel that she could not helpcolouring, and colouring exceedingly, partly from theconsciousness of his meaning, and partly from a vague notionthat somebody else was conscious of it, too. Dr. Gregory, however, dashed right off into the thick of conversation withhis guest, and kept him busily engaged till tea-time. Fledasat still on the sofa, looking and listening with simplepleasure — memory served her up a rich entertainment enough. Yet she thought her uncle was the most heartily interested ofthe two in the conversation; there was a shade more upon Mr. Carleton, not than he often wore, but than he had worn alittle while ago. Dr. Gregory was a great bibliopole, and inthe course of the hour hauled out, and made his guestoverhaul, no less than several musty old folios, and Fledacould not help fancying that he did it with an access ofgravity greater even than the occasion called for. The graceof his manner, however, was unaltered; and at tea, she did notknow whether she had been right or not. Demurely as she satthere behind the tea-urn — for Dr. Gregory still engrossed allthe attention of his guest, as far as talking was concerned —Fleda was again inwardly smiling to herself at the oddity andthe pleasantness of the chance that had brought those threetogether in such a quiet way, after all the weeks she had beenseeing Mr. Carleton at a distance. And she enjoyed theconversation, too; for though Dr. Gregory was a little fond ofhis hobby, it was still conversation worthy the name. 

"I have been so unfortunate in the matter of the drives, " Mr. Carleton said, when he was about to take leave, and standingbefore Fleda, "that I am half afraid to mention it again. "

"I could not help it both those times, Mr. Carleton, " saidFleda, earnestly. 

"Both the last? — or both the first?" said he, smiling. 

"The last!" said Fleda. 

"I have had the honour of making such an attempt twice withinthe last ten days — to my disappointment. "

"It was not by my fault then, either, Sir, " Fleda said, quietly. 

But he knew very well from the expression of her face a momentbefore, where to put the emphasis her tongue would not make. 

"Dare I ask you to go with me, to-morrow?"

"I don't know, " said Fleda, with the old childish sparkle ofher eye; "but if you ask me, Sir, I will go. "

He sat down beside her immediately, and Fleda knew, by hischange of eye, that her former thought had been right. 

"Shall I see you at Mrs. Decatur's, to-morrow?"

"No, Sir. "

"I thought I understood, " said he, in an explanatory tone, "from your friends, the Miss Evelyns, that they were going. "

"I believe they are, and I did think of it; but I have changedmy mind, and shall stay at home with Mrs. Evelyn. "

After some further conversation, the hour for the drive wasappointed, and Mr. Carleton took leave. 

"Come for me twice, and Mrs. Evelyn refused without consultingme!" thought Fleda. "What could make her do so? How very rudehe must have thought me! And how glad I am I have had anopportunity of setting that right!"

So, quitting Mrs. Evelyn, her thoughts went off upon a longtrain of wandering over the afternoon's talk. 

"Wake up!" said the doctor, laying his hand kindly upon hershoulder; "you'll want something fresh again presently. Whatmine of profundity are you digging into now?"

Fleda looked up, and came back from her profundity with aglance and smile as simple as a child's. 

"Dear uncle Orrin, how came you to leave me alone in thelibrary?"

"Was that what you were trying to discover?"

"Oh no, Sir! But why did you, uncle Orrin? I might have beenleft utterly alone. "

"Why, " said the doctor, "I was going out, and a friend, that Ithought I could confide in, promised to take care of you. "

"A friend! — Nobody came near me, " said Fleda. 

"Then I'll never trust anybody again, " said the doctor. "Butwhat were you hammering at, mentally, just now? — Come, youshall tell me. "

"O nothing, uncle Orrin, " said Fleda, looking grave again, however; "I was thinking that I had been talking too much to-day. "

"Talking too much? — why, whom have you been talking to?"

"Oh, nobody but Mr. Carleton. "

"Mr. Carleton! Why, you didn't say six and a quarter wordswhile he was here. "

"No, but I mean in the library, and walking home. "

"Talking too much! I guess you did, " said the doctor; — "yourtongue is like

'the music of the spheres, So loud it deafens human ears. '

How came you to talk too much? I thought you were too shy totalk at all in company. "

"No, Sir, I am not; I am not at all shy unless people frightenme. It takes almost nothing to do that; but I am very bold ifI am not frightened. "

"Were you frightened this afternoon?"

"No, Sir?"

"Well, if you weren't frightened, I guess nobody else was, "said the doctor. 

CHAPTER IX. 

"Whence came this?This is some token from a newer friend. "SHAKESPEARE. 

The snow-flakes were falling softly and thick when Fleda gotup the next morning. 

"No ride for me to-day — but how very glad I am that I had achance of setting that matter right. What could Mrs. Evelynhave been thinking of? Very false kindness! if I had dislikedto go ever so much, she ought to have made me, for my ownsake, rather than let me seem so rude — it is true she didn'tknow _how_ rude. O snow-flakes, how much purer and prettier youare than most things in this place!"

No one was in the breakfast-parlour when Fleda came down, soshe took her book and the _dormeuse_, and had an hour ofluxurious quiet before anybody appeared. Not a footfall in thehouse, nor even one outside to be heard, for the softcarpeting of snow which was laid over the streets. The gentlebreathing of the fire the only sound in the room, while thevery light came subdued through the falling snow and the thinmuslin curtains, and gave an air of softer luxury to theapartment. "Money is pleasant, " thought Fleda, as she took alittle complacent review of all this before opening her book. "And yet how unspeakably happier one may be without it, thananother with it. Happiness never was locked up in a purse vet. I am sure Hugh and I — They must want me at home!" —

There was a little sober consideration of the lumps of coaland the contented-looking blaze in the grate, a mostessentially home-like thing — and then Fleda went to her book, and for the space of an hour turned over her pages withoutinterruption. At the end of the hour "the fowling-piece, "certainly the noisiest of his kind, put his head in, butseeing none of his ladies, took it and himself away again, andleft Fleda in peace for another half-hour. Then appeared Mrs. Evelyn in her morning wrapper, and only stopping at the bell-handle, came up to the _dormeuse_, and stooping down, kissedFleda's forehead with so much tenderness that it won a look ofmost affectionate gratitude in reply. 

"Fleda, my dear, we set you a sad example. But you won't copyit. Joe, breakfast. Has Mr. Evelyn gone down town?"

"Yes, Ma'am, two hours ago. "

"Did it ever occur to you, Fleda, my dear, " said Mrs. Evelyn, breaking the lumps of coal with the poker, in a very leisurelysatisfied kind of a way — "Did it ever occur to you to rejoicethat you were not born a business man? What a life —"

"I wonder how it compares with that of a business woman, " saidFleda, laughing. "There is an uncompromising old proverb whichsays —

'Man's work is from sun to sun —But a woman's work is never done. ' "

A saying which, she instantly reflected, was entirely beyondthe comprehension of the person to whose consideration she hadoffered it. 

And then came in Florence, rubbing her hands and knitting hereyebrows. 

"Why, you don't look as bright as the rest of the world thismorning, " said Fleda. 

"What a wretched storm!"

"Wretched! This beautiful snow! Here have I been enjoying itfor this hour. "

But Florence rubbed her hands, and looked as if Fleda were norule for other people. 

"How horrid it will make the going out to-night, if it snowsall day!"

"Then you, can stay at home, " said her mother, composedly. 

"Indeed I shall not, Mamma. "

"Mamma, " said Constance, now coming in with Edith, "isn'tbreakfast ready? It strikes me that the fowling-piece wantspolishing up. I have an indistinct impression that the sunwould be upon the meridian, if he was anywhere. "

"Not quite so bad as that, " said Fleda, smiling; "it is onlyan hour and a half since I came down stairs. "

"You horrid little creature! — Mamma, I consider it an act ofinhospitality to permit studious habits on the part of yourguests. And I am surprised your ordinary sagacity has notdiscovered that it is the greatest impolicy towards theobjects of your maternal care. We are labouring under growingdisadvantages; for when we have brought the enemy to, at longshot, there is a mean little craft that comes in and unmanshim, in a close fight, before we can get our speaking-trumpetsup. "

"Constance! — do hush!" said her sister. "You are too absurd. "

"Fact, " said Constance, gravely. "Captain Lewiston was tellingme the other night how the thing is managed; and I recognisedit immediately, and told him I had often seen it done. "

"Hold your tongue, Constance, " said her mother, smiling, "andcome to breakfast. "

Half, and but half, of the mandate the young lady had any ideaof obeying. 

"I can't imagine what you are talking about, Constance, " saidEdith. 

"And then, being a friend, you see, " pursued Constance, "wecan do nothing but fire a salute, instead of demolishing her. "

"Can't you!" said Fleda. "I am sure many a time I have felt asif you had left me nothing but my colours. "

"Except your prizes, my dear. I am sure I don't know aboutyour being a friend, either, for I have observed that youengage English and American alike. "

"She is getting up her colours now, " said Mrs. Evelyn, in mockgravity — "you call tell what she is. "

"Blood-red!" said Constance. "A pirate! — I thought so, " sheexclaimed, with an ecstatic gesture. "I shall make it mybusiness to warn everybody. "

"Oh, Constance!" said Fleda, burying her face in her hands. But they all laughed. 

"Fleda, my dear, I would box her ears, " said Mrs. Evelyn, commanding herself. It is a mere envious insinuation — I havealways understood those were the most successful colourscarried. "

"Dear Mrs. Evelyn!" —

"My dear Fleda, that is not a hot roll — you shan't eat it —take this. Florence, give her a piece of the bacon — Fleda, mydear, it is good for the digestion — you must try it. Constance was quite mistaken in supposing yours were thoseobnoxious colours — there is too much white with the red — itis more like a very different flag. "

"Like what, then, Mamma!" said Constance; "a good Americanwould have blue in it. "

"You may keep the American yourself, " said her mother. 

"Only, " said Fleda, trying to recover herself, "there is aslight irregularity; with you the stars are blue and theground white. "

"My dear little Fleda, " exclaimed Constance, jumping up, andcapering round the table to kiss her, "you are too deliciousfor anything; and in future I will be blind to your colours, which is a piece of self-denial I am sure nobody else willpractise. "

"Mamma, " said Edith, "what _are_ you all talking about? Can'tConstance sit down and let Fleda eat her breakfast?"

"Sit down, Constance, and eat your breakfast. "

"I will do it, Mamma, out of consideration for the bacon. Nothing else would move me. "

"Are you going to Mrs. Decatur's to-night, Fleda?"

"No, Edith, I believe not. "

"I'm very glad; then there'll be somebody at home. But whydon't you?"

"I think, on the whole, I had rather not. "

"Mamma, " said Constance, "you have done very wrong inpermitting such a thing. I know just how it will be. Mr. Thornand Mr. Stackpole will make indefinite voyages of discoveryround Mrs. Decatur's rooms, and then, having a glimmeringperception that the light of Miss Ringgan's eyes is in anotherdirection, they will sheer off; and you will presently seethem come sailing blandly in, one after the other, and castanchor for the evening; when, to your extreme delight, Mr. Stackpole and Miss Ringgan will immediately commence fighting. I shall stay at home to see!" exclaimed Constance, with littlebounds of delight up and down upon her chair, which this timeafforded her the additional elasticity of springs; "I will notgo. I am persuaded how it will be, and I would not miss it foranything. "

"Dear Constance, " said Fleda, unable to help laughing throughall her vexation, "please do not talk so. You know very wellMr. Stackpole only comes to see your mother. "

"He was here last night, " said Constance, in an extreme stateof delight, "with all the rest of your admirers, ranged in thehall, with their hats in a pile at the foot of the staircase, as a token of their determination not to go till you camehome; and, as they could not be induced to come up to thedrawing-room, Mr. Evelyn was obliged to go down, and with somedifficulty persuaded them to disperse. "

Fleda was by this time in a state of indecision betwixt cryingand laughing, assiduously attentive to her breakfast. 

"Mr. Carleton asked me if you would go to ride with him againthe other day, Fleda, " said Mrs. Evelyn, with her face ofdelighted mischief, "and I excused you, for I thought youwould thank me for it. "

"Mamma, " said Constance, "the mention of that name rouses allthe bitter feelings I am capable of. My dear Fleda, we havebeen friends; but if I see you abstracting my English rose —"

"Look at those roses behind you!" said Fleda. 

The young lady turned and sprang at the word, followed by bothher sisters; and for some moments nothing but a hubbub ofexclamations filled the air. 

"Joe, you are enchanting! But did you ever see such flowers?Oh, those rose-buds!"

"And these camellias, " said Edith; "look, Florence, how theyare cut — with such splendid long stems!"

"And the roses, too — all of them — see, Mamma, just cut fromthe bushes, with the buds all left on, and immensely longstems! Mamma, these must have cost an immensity!"

"That is what I call a bouquet, " said Fleda, fain to leave thetable, too, and draw near the tempting show in Florence'shand. 

"This is the handsomest you have had all winter, Florence, "said Edith. 

"Handsomest! I never saw anything like it. I shall wear someof these to-night, Mamma. "

"You are in a great hurry to appropriate it, " said Constance;"how do you know but it is mine?"

"Which of us is it for, Joe?"

"Say it is mine, Joe, and I will vote you — the best articleof your kind, " said Constance, with an inexpressible glance atFleda. 

"Who brought it, Joe?" said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"Yes, Joe, who brought it? where did it come from, Joe?" Joehad hardly a chance to answer. 

"I really couldn't say, Miss Florence; the man wasn't known tome. "

"But did he say it was for Florence or for me?"

"No, Ma'am — he —"

"_Which_ did he say it was for?"

"He didn't say it was either for Miss Florence or for you, Miss Constance; he —"

"But didn't he say who sent it?"

"No, Ma'am. It's —"

"Mamma, here is a white moss that is beyond everything! withtwo of the most lovely buds. Oh!" said Constance, clasping herhands, and whirling about the room in comic ecstasy, "Isha'n't survive it if I cannot find out where it is from. "

"How delicious the scent of these tea-roses is!" said Fleda. "You ought not to mind the snow-storm to-day, after this, Florence. I should think you would be perfectly happy. "

"I shall be, if I can contrive to keep them fresh to wear to-night. Mamma, how sweetly they would dress me!"

"They're a great deal too good to be wasted so, " said Mrs. Evelyn; "I sha'n't let you do it. "

"Mamma! it wouldn't take any of them at all for my hair, andthe _bouquet de corsage_, too; there'd be thousands left. Well, Joe, what are you waiting for?"

"I didn't say, " said Joe, looking a good deal blank and alittle afraid — "I should have said — that the bouquet — is —"

"What is it?"

"It is — I believe, Ma'am — the man said it was for MissRinggan. "

"For me!" exclaimed Fleda, her cheeks forming instantly themost exquisite commentary on the gift that the giver couldhave desired. She took in her hand the superb bunch of flowersfrom which the fingers of Florence unclosed as if it had beenan icicle. 

"Why didn't you say so before?" she inquired sharply; but the"fowling-piece" had wisely disappeared. 

"I am very glad!" exclaimed Edith. "They have had plenty allwinter, and you haven't had one. I am very glad it is yours, Fleda. "

But such a shadow had come upon every other face that Fleda'spleasure was completely overclouded. She smelled at her roses, just ready to burst into tears, and wishing sincerely thatthey had never come. 

"I am afraid, my dear Fleda, " said Mrs. Evelyn, quietly goingon with her breakfast, "that there is a thorn somewhere amongthose flowers. "

Fleda was too sure of it; but not by any means the one Mrs. Evelyn intended. 

"He never could have got half those from his own green-house, Mamma, " said Florence, "if he had cut every rose that was init; and he isn't very free with his knife, either. "

"I said nothing about anybody's greenhouse, " said Mrs. Evelyn, "though I don't suppose there is more than one Lot in the citythey could have come from. "

"Well, " said Constance, settling herself back in her chair andclosing her eyes, "I feel extinguished! Mamma, do you supposeit possible that a hot cup of tea might revive me? I amsuffering from a universal sense of unappreciated merit, andnobody can tell what the pain is that hasn't felt it. "

"I think you are extremely foolish, Constance, " said Edith. "Fleda hasn't had a single flower sent her since she has beenhere, and you have had them every other day. I think Florenceis the only one that has a right to be disappointed. "

"Dear Florence, " said Fleda, earnestly, "you shall have asmany of them as you please, to dress yourself — and welcome!"

"Oh, no — of course not!" Florence said; "it's of no sort ofconsequence — I don't want them in the least, my dear. Iwonder what somebody would think to see his flowers in myhead!"

Fleda secretly had mooted the same question, and was very wellpleased not to have it put to the proof. She took the flowersup stairs after breakfast, resolving that they should not bean eyesore to her friends; placed them in water, and sat downto enjoy and muse over them in a very sorrowful mood. Sheagain thought she would take the first opportunity of goinghome. How strange! — out of their abundance of tributaryflowers, to grudge her this one bunch! To be sure, it was amagnificent one. The flowers were mostly roses, of the rarerkinds, with a very few fine camellias; all of them cut with afreedom that evidently had known no constraint but that oftaste, and put together with an exquisite skill that Fledafelt sure was never possessed by any gardener. She knew thatonly one hand had had anything to do with them, and that thehand that had bought, not the one that had sold; and "How verykind!" presently quite supplanted "How very strange!" "Howexactly like him! and how singular that Mrs. Evelyn and herdaughters should have supposed they could have come from Mr. Thorn!" It was a moral impossibility that _he_ should have putsuch a bunch of flowers together; while to Fleda's eye they sobore the impress of another person's character, that she hadabsolutely been glad to get them out of sight for fear theymight betray him. She hung over their varied loveliness, tasted and studied it, till the soft breath of the roses hadwafted away every cloud of disagreeable feeling, and she wasdrinking in pure and strong pleasure from. Each leaf and bud. What a very apt emblem of kindness and friendship she thoughtthem; when their gentle preaching and silent sympathy couldalone so nearly do friendship's work; for to Fleda there wasboth counsel and consolation in flowers. So she found it thismorning. An hour's talk with them had done her a great deal ofgood; and, when she dressed herself and went down to thedrawing-room, her grave little face was not less placid thanthe roses she had left; she would not wear even one of themdown to be a disagreeable reminder. And she thought that stillsnowy day was one of the very pleasantest she had had in NewYork. 

Florence went to Mrs. Decatur's; but Constance, according toher avowed determination, remained at home to see the fun. Fleda hoped most sincerely there would be none for her to see. 

But, a good deal to her astonishment, early in the evening, Mr. Carleton walked in, followed very soon by Mr. Thorn. Constance and Mrs. Evelyn were forthwith in a perfecteffervescence of delight, which as they could not very wellgive it full play, promised to last the evening; and Fleda, all her nervous trembling awakened again, took her work to thetable, and endeavoured to bury herself in it. But ears couldnot be fastened as well as eyes; and the mere sound of Mrs. Evelyn's voice sometimes sent a thrill over her. 

"Mr. Thorn, " said the lady, in her smoothest manner, "are youa lover of floriculture, Sir?"

"Can't say that I am, Mrs. Evelyn — except as practised byothers. "

"Then you are not a _connoisseur_ in roses? Miss Ringgan's happylot — sent her a most exquisite collection this morning, andshe has been wanting to apply to somebody who could tell herwhat they are — I thought you might know. Oh, they are nothere, " said Mrs. Evelyn, as she noticed the gentleman's lookround the room; "Miss Ringgan judges them too precious for anyeyes but her own. Fleda, my dear, wont you bring down yourroses to let Mr. Thorn tell us their names?"

"I am sure Mr. Thorn will excuse me, Mrs. Evelyn — I believehe would find it a puzzling task. "

"The surest way, Mrs. Evelyn, would be to apply at thefountain head for information, " said Thorn, drily. 

"If I could get at it, " said Mrs. Evelyn (Fleda knew, withquivering lips) — "but it seems to me I might as well try tofind the Dead Sea!"

"Perhaps Mr. Carleton might serve your purpose, " said Thorn. 

That gentleman was at the moment talking to Constance. 

"Mr. Carleton, " said Mrs. Evelyn, "are you a judge, Sir?"

"Of what, Mrs. Evelyn? — I beg your pardon. "

The lady's tone somewhat lowered. 

"Are you a judge of roses, Mr. Carleton?"

"So far as to know a rose when I see it, " he answered, smiling, and with an imperturbable coolness that it quietedFleda to hear. 

"Ay, but the thing is, " said Constance, "do you know twentyroses when you see them?"

"Miss Ringgan, Mr. Carleton, " said Mrs. Evelyn, "has receiveda most beautiful supply this morning; but, like a true woman, she is not satisfied to enjoy unless she can enjoyintelligently — they are strangers to us all, and she wouldlike to know what name to give them; Mr. Thorn suggested thatperhaps you might help us out of our difficulty. "

"With great pleasure, so far as I am able — if my judgment maybe exercised by day-light. I cannot answer for shades of greenin the night-time. "

But he spoke with an ease and simplicity that left no mortalable to guess whether he had ever heard of a particular bunchof roses in his life before. 

"You give me more of Eve in my character, Mrs. Evelyn, than Ithink belongs to me, " said Fleda, from her work at the farcentre-table, which certainly did not get its name from itsplace in the room. "My enjoyment to-day has not been in theleast troubled by curiosity. "

Which none of the rest of the family could have affirmed. 

"Do you mean to say, Mr. Carleton, " said Constance, "that itis necessary to distinguish between shades of green in judgingof roses?"

"It is necessary to make shades of distinction in judging ofalmost anything, Miss Constance. The difference betweenvarieties of the same flower is often extremely nice. "

"I have read of magicians, " said Thorn, softly, bending downtowards Fleda's work — "who did not need to see things toanswer questions respecting them. "

Fleda thought that was a kind of magic remarkably common inthe world; but even her displeasure could not give her courageto speak. It gave her courage to be silent, however; and Mr. Thorn's best efforts, in a conversation of some length, couldgain nothing but very uninterested rejoinders. A sudden pinchfrom Constance then made her look up, and almost destroyed herself-possession, as she saw Mr. Stackpole male his way intothe room. 

"I hope I find my fair enemy in a mollified humour, " he said, approaching them. 

"I suppose you have repaired damages, Mr. Stackpole, " saidConstance, "since you venture into the region of brokenwindows again. "

"Mr. Stackpole declared there were none to repair, " said Mrs. Evelyn, from the sofa. 

"More than I knew of, " said the gentleman, laughing — "therewere more than I knew of; but you see I court the danger, having rashly concluded that I might as well know all my weakpoints at once. "

"Miss Ringgan will break nothing to-night, Mr. Stackpole — shepromised me she would not. "

"Not even her silence?" said the gentleman. 

"Is she always so desperately industrious?" said Mr. Thorn. 

"Miss Ringgan, Mr. Stackpole, " said Constance, "is subject tooccasional fits of misanthropy, in which cases her retreatingwith her work to the solitude of the centre-table issignificant of her desire to avoid conversation — as Mr. Thornhas been experiencing. "

"I am happy to see that the malady is not catching, MissConstance. "

"Mr. Stackpole, " said Constance, "I am in a morose state ofmind! — Miss Ringgan, this morning, received a magnificentbouquet of roses, which, in the first place, I rashlyappropriated to myself; and ever since I discovered mymistake, I have been meditating the renouncing of society — ithas excited more bad feelings than I thought had existence inmy nature. "

"Mr. Stackpole, " said Mrs. Evelyn, "would you ever havesupposed that roses could be a cause of discord?"

Mr. Stackpole looked as if he did not exactly know what theladies were driving at. 

"There have five thousand emigrants arrived at this portwithin a week!" said he, as if that were something worthtalking about. 

"Poor creatures! where will they all go?" said Mrs. Evelyn, comfortably. 

"Country's large enough, " said Thorn. 

"Yes — but such a stream of immigration will reach thePacific, and come back again before long; and then there willbe a meeting of the waters! This tide of German and Irish willsweep over everything. "

"I suppose, if the land will not bear both, one party willhave to seek other quarters, " said Mrs. Evelyn, with anexquisite satisfaction, which Fleda could hear in her voice. "You remember the story of Lot and Abraham, Mr. Stackpole —when a quarrel arose between them? — not about roses. "

Mr. Stackpole looked as if women were — to say the least —incomprehensible. 

"Five thousand a week!" he repeated. 

"I wish there was a Dead Sea for them all to sheer off into!"said Thorn. 

"If you had seen the look of grave rebuke that speech calledforth, Mr. Thorn, " said Constance, "your feelings would havebeen penetrated — if you have any. "

"I had forgotten, " he said, looking round with a bland changeof manner, "what gentle charities were so near me. "

"Mamma!" said Constance, with a most comic show ofindignation, "Mr. Thorn thought that with Miss Ringgan he hadforgotten all the gentle charities in the room! — I am of nofurther use to society! — I will trouble you to ring thatbell, Mr. Thorn, if you please. I shall request candles, andretire to the privacy of my own apartment. "

"Not till you have permitted me to expiate my fault, " said Mr. Thorn, laughing. 

"It cannot be expiated! — My worth will be known at somefuture day. Mr. Carleton, will you have the goodness to summonour domestic attendant?"

"If you will permit me to give the order, " he said, smiling, with his hand on the bell. "I am afraid you are hardly fit tobe trusted alone. "

"Why?"

"May I delay obeying you long enough to give my reasons?"

"Yes. "

"Because, " said he, coming up to her, "when people turn awayfrom the world in disgust, they generally find worse companyin themselves. "

"Mr. Carleton! — I would not sit still another minute, ifcuriosity didn't keep me. I thought solitude was said to besuch a corrector!"

"Like a clear atmosphere — an excellent medium if your objectis to take an observation of your position; worse than lost ifyou mean to shut up the windows and burn sickly lights of yourown. "

"Then, according to that, one shouldn't seek solitude unlessone doesn't want it. "

"No, " said Mr. Carleton, with that eye of deep meaning towhich Constance always rendered involuntary homage — "everyone wants, it; if we do not daily take an observation to findwhere we are, we are sailing about wildly, and do not knowwhither we are going. "

"An observation?" said Constance, understanding part, andimpatient of not catching the whole of his meaning. 

"Yes, " he said, with a smile of singular fascination — "Imean, consulting the unerring guides of the way to know wherewe are, and if we are sailing safely and happily in the rightdirection — otherwise we are in danger of striking upon somerock, or of never making the harbour; and in either case, allis lost. "

The power of eye and smile was too much for Constance, as ithad happened more than once before; her own eyes fell, and fora moment she wore a look of unwonted sadness and sweetness, atwhat from any other person would have roused her mockery. 

"Mr. Carleton, " said she, trying to rally herself, but stillnot daring to look up, knowing that would put it out of herpower, "I can't understand how you ever came to be such agrave person. "

"What is your idea of gravity?" said he smiling. "To have amind so at rest about the future, as to be able to enjoythoroughly all that is worth enjoying in the present?"

"But I can't imagine how _you_ ever came to take up suchnotions. "

"May I ask again, why not I?"

"Oh, you know, you have so much to make you otherwise. "

"What degree of present contentment ought to make onesatisfied to leave that of the limitless future an uncertainthing?"

"Do you think it can be made certain?"

"Undoubtedly! — why not? the tickets are free — the only thingis, to make sure that ours has the true signature. Do youthink the possession of that ticket makes life a sadder thing?The very handwriting of it is more precious to me, by far, Miss Constance, than everything else I have. "

"But you are a very uncommon instance, " said Constance, stillunable to look up, and speaking without any of her usualattempt at jocularity. 

"No, I hope not, " he said, quietly. 

"I mean, " said Constance, "that it is very uncommon languageto hear from a person like you. "

"I suppose I know your meaning, " he said, after a minute'spause; "but, Miss Constance, there is hardly a graver thoughtto me, than that power and responsibility go hand in hand. "

"It don't generally work so, " said Constance, rather uneasily. 

"What are you talking about, Constance?" said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"Mr. Carleton, Mamma, has been making me melancholy. "

"Mr. Carleton, " said Mrs. Evelyn, "I am going to petition thatyou will turn your efforts in another direction. I have feltoppressed all the afternoon, from the effects of that funeralservice I was attending — I am only just getting over it. Thepreacher seemed to delight in putting together all the gloomythoughts he could think of. "

"Yes, " said Mr. Stackpole, putting his hands in his pockets, "it is the particular enjoyment of some of them, I believe, todo their best to make other people miserable. "

Mr. Thorn said nothing, being warned by the impatient littlehammering of Fleda's worsted needle upon the marble, while hereye was no longer considering her work, and her face restedanxiously upon her hand. 

"There wasn't a thing, " the lady went on, "in anything hesaid; in his prayer or his speech, there wasn't a singlecheering or elevating consideration — all he talked and prayedfor was, that the people there might be filled with a sense oftheir wickedness —"

"It's their trade, Ma'am, " said Mr. Stackpole — "it's theirtrade! I wonder if it ever occurs to them to includethemselves in that petition. "

"There wasn't the slightest effort made, in anything he said, or prayed for — and one would have thought that would havebeen so natural; there was not the least endeavour to do awaywith that superstitious fear of death which is so common — andone would think it was the very occasion to do it; he neveronce asked that we might be led to look upon it rationally andcalmly. It's so unreasonable, Mr. Stackpole — it is sodissonant with our views of a benevolent Supreme Being — as ifit could be according to _his_ will that his creatures shouldlive lives of tormenting themselves — it so shows a want oftrust in his goodness. "

"It's a relic of barbarism, Ma'am, " said Mr. Stackpole — it'sa popular delusion, and it is like to be, till you can get mento embrace wider and more liberal views of things. "

"What do you suppose it proceeds from?" said Mr. Carleton, asif the question had just occurred to him. 

"I suppose from false notions received from education, Sir. "

"Hardly, " said Mr. Carleton; "it is too universal. You find iteverywhere; and to ascribe it everywhere to education would bebut shifting the question back one generation. "

"It is a root of barbarous ages, " said Mr. Stackpole — "apiece of superstition handed down from father to son — a setof false ideas which men are bred up and almost born with, andthat they can hardly get rid of. "

"How can that be a root of barbarism, which the utmost degreeof intelligence and cultivation has no power to do away, noreven to lessen, however it may afford motive to control? Menmay often put a brave face upon it, and show none of theirthoughts to the world; but I think, no one, capable ofreflection, has not at times felt the influence of thatdread. "

"Men have often sought death, of purpose and choice, " said Mr. Stackpole, drily, and rubbing his chin. 

"Not from the absence of this feeling, but from the greatermomentary pressure of some other. "

"Of course, " said Mr. Stackpole, rubbing his chin still, "there is a natural love of life — the world could not get onif there was not. "

"If the love of life is natural, the fear of death must be so, by the same reason. "

"Undoubtedly, " said Mrs. Evelyn, "it is natural — it is partof the constitution of our nature. "

"Yes, " said Mr. Stackpole, settling himself again in hischair, with his hands in his pockets — "it is not unnatural, Isuppose — but then that is the first view of the subject — itis the business of reason to correct many impressions andprejudices that are, as we say, natural. "

"And there was where my clergyman of to-day failed utterly, "said Mrs. Evelyn — "he aimed at strengthening that feeling, and driving it down as hard as he could into everybody's mind— not a single lisp of anything to do it away, or lessen thegloom with which we are, naturally, as you say, disposed toinvest the subject. "

"I dare say he has held it up as a bugbear till it has becomeone to himself, " said Mr. Stackpole. 

"Is it nothing more than the mere natural dread ofdissolution?" said Mr. Carleton. 

"I think it is that, " said Mrs. Evelyn — "I think that is theprincipal thing. "

"Is there not, besides, an undefined fear of what lies beyond— an uneasy misgiving, that there may be issues which thespirit is not prepared to meet?"

"I suppose there is, " said Mrs. Evelyn — "but, Sir —"

"Why, that is the very thing, " said Mr. Stackpole — "that isthe mischief of education I was speaking of — men are broughtup to it. "

"You cannot dispose of it so, Sir, for this feeling is quiteas universal as the other, and so strong, that men have notonly been willing to render life miserable, but even to enduredeath itself, with all the aggravation of torture, to smooththeir way in that unknown region beyond. "

"It is one of the maladies of human nature, " said Mr. Stackpole, "that it remains for the progress of enlightenedreason to dispel. "

"What is the cure for the malady?" said Mr. Carleton, quietly. 

"Why, Sir, the looking upon death as a necessary step in thecourse of our existence, which simply introduces us from alower to a higher sphere — from a comparatively narrow to awider and nobler range of feeling and intellect. "

"Ay, but how shall we be sure that it is so?"

"Why, Mr. Carleton, Sir, " said Mrs. Evelyn, "do you doubtthat? Do you suppose it possible, for a moment, that abenevolent being would make creatures to be anything buthappy?"

"You believe the Bible, Mrs. Evelyn?" he said, smilingslightly. 

"Certainly, Sir; but, Mr. Carleton, the Bible, I am sure, holds out the same views, of the goodness and glory of theCreator — you cannot open it but you find them on every page. If I could take such views of things as some people have, "said Mrs. Evelyn, getting up to punch the fire in herextremity — "I don't know what I should do! Mr. Carleton, Ithink I would rather never have been born, Sir!"

"Every one runs to the Bible!" said Mr. Stackpole. "It is thegeneral armoury, and all parties draw from it to fight eachother. "

"True, " said Mr. Carleton, "but only while they drawpartially. No man can fight the battle of truth but in thewhole panoply, and no man so armed can fight any other. "

"What do you mean, Sir?"

"I mean that the Bible is not a riddle, neither inconsistentwith itself; but if you take off one leg of a pair ofcompasses, the measuring power is gone. "

"But, Mr. Carleton, Sir, " said Mrs. Evelyn — "do you thinkthat reading the Bible is calculated to give one gloomy ideasof the future?"

"By no means, " he said, with one of those meaning-fraughtsmiles; "but is it safe, Mrs. Evelyn, in such a matter, toventure a single grasp of hope without the direct warrant ofGod's Word?"

"Well, Sir?"

"Well, Ma'am, that says, 'The soul that sinneth, it shalldie. ' "

"That disposes of the whole matter comfortably at once, " saidMr. Stackpole. 

"But, Sir, " said Mrs. Evelyn — "that doesn't stand alone — theBible everywhere speaks of the fulness and freeness ofChrist's salvation!"

"Full and free as it can possibly be, " he answered, withsomething of a sad expression of countenance; "but, Mrs. Evelyn, _never offered but with conditions_. "

"What conditions?" said Mr. Stackpole, hastily. 

"I recommend you to look for them, Sir, " answered Mr. Carleton, gravely; — "they should not be unknown to a wiseman. "

"Then you would leave mankind ridden by this nightmare offear? — or what is your remedy?"

"There is a remedy, Sir, " said Mr. Carleton, with thatdilating and darkening eye which showed him deeply engaged inwhat he was thinking about; "it is not mine. When men feelthemselves lost, and are willing to be saved in God's way, then the breach is made up — then hope can look across the gapand see its best home and its best friend on the other side —then faith lays hold on forgiveness, and trembling is done —then, sin being pardoned, the sting of death is taken away andthe fear of death is no more, for it is swallowed up invictory. But men will not apply to a physician while theythink themselves well; and people will not seek the sweet wayof safety by Christ till they know there is no other; and so, do you see, Mrs. Evelyn, that when the gentleman you werespeaking of sought to-day to persuade his hearers that theywere poorer than they thought they were, he was but taking thesurest way to bring them to be made richer than they everdreamed. "

There was a power of gentle earnestness in his eye that Mrs. Evelyn could not answer; her look fell as that of Constancehad done, and there was a moment's silence. 

Thorn had kept quiet, for two reasons — that he might notdisplease Fleda, and that he might watch her. She had left herwork and turning half round from the table, had listenedintently to the conversation, towards the last, very forgetfulthat there might be anybody to observe her — with eyes fixedand cheeks flushing, and the corners of the mouth justindicating delight — till the silence fell; and then sheturned round to the table and took up her worsted-work. Butthe lips were quite grave now, and Thorn's keen eyes discernedthat upon one or two of the artificial roses there lay two orthree very natural drops. 

"Mr. Carleton, " said Edith, "what makes you talk such soberthings? — you have set Miss Ringgan to crying. "

"Mr. Carleton could not be better pleased than at such atribute to his eloquence, " said Mr. Thorn, with a saturnineexpression. 

"Smiles are common things, " said Mr. Stackpole, a littlemaliciously; "but any man may be flattered to find his wordsdrop diamonds. "

"Fleda, my dear, " said Mrs. Evelyn, with that trembling toneof concealed ecstasy which always set every one of Fleda'snerves a-jarring — "you may tell the gentlemen that they donot always know when they are making an unfelicitouscompliment — I never read what poets say about 'briny drops'and 'salt tears', without imagining the heroine immediately tobe something like Lot's wife. "

"Nobody said anything about briny drops, Mamma, " said Edith;"why, there's Florence!"

Her entrance made a little bustle, which Fleda was very gladof. Unkind! — She was trembling again in every finger. Shebent down over her canvas and worked away as hard as shecould. That did not hinder her becoming aware presently thatMr. Carleton was standing close beside her. 

"Are you not trying your eyes?" said he. 

The words were nothing, but the tone was a great deal; therewas a kind of quiet intelligence in it. Fleda looked up, andsomething in the clear steady self-reliant eye she met wroughtan instant change in her feeling. She met it a moment, andthen looked at her work again with nerves quieted. 

"Cannot I persuade them to be of my mind?" said Mr. Carleton, bending down a little nearer to their sphere of action. 

"Mr. Carleton is unreasonable to require more testimony ofthat this evening, " said Mr. Thorn; "his own must have beenill employed. "

Fleda did not look up, but the absolute quietness of Mr. Carleton's manner could be felt; she felt it, almost withsympathetic pain. Thorn immediately left them, and took leave. 

"What are you searching for in the papers, Mr. Carleton?" saidMrs. Evelyn, presently coming up to them. 

"I was looking for the steamers, Mrs. Evelyn. "

"How soon do you think of bidding us good-bye?"

"I do not know, Ma'am, " he answered, coolly; "I expect mymother. "

Mrs. Evelyn walked back to her sofa. 

But in the space of two minutes she came over to the centre-table again, with an open magazine in her hand. 

"Mr. Carleton, " said the lady, "you must read this for me, andtell me what you think of it, will you, Sir? I have beenshowing it to Mr. Stackpole, and he can't see any beauty init; and I tell him it is his fault, and there is some seriouswant in his composition. Now, I want to know what you will sayto it. "

"An arbiter, Mrs. Evelyn, should be chosen by both parties. "

"Read it and tell me what you think!" repeated the lady, walking away, to leave him opportunity. Mr. Carleton looked itover. 

"That is something pretty, " he said, putting it before Fleda. Mrs. Evelyn was still at a distance. 

"What do you think of that print for trying the eyes?" saidFleda, laughing as she took it. But he noticed that her colourrose a little. 

"How do you like it?"

"I like it pretty well, " said Fleda, rather hesitatingly. 

"You have seen it before?"

"Why?" Fleda said, with a look up at him, at once a littlestartled and a little curious — "what makes you say so?"

"Because — pardon me — you did not read it. "

"Oh, " said Fleda, laughing, but colouring at the same timevery frankly, "I can tell how I like some things withoutreading them very carefully. "

Mr. Carleton looked at her, and then took the magazine again. 

"What have you there, Mr. Carleton?" said Florence. 

"A piece of English, on which I was asking this lady'sopinion, Miss Evelyn. "

"Now, Mr. Carleton, " exclaimed Constance, jumping up — "I amgoing to ask you to decide a quarrel between Fleda and meabout a point of English —"

"Hush, Constance!" said her mother — "I want to speak to Mr. Carleton. Mr. Carleton, how do you like it?"

"Like what, Mamma?" said Florence. 

"A piece I gave Mr. Carleton to read. Mr. Carleton, tell mehow you like it, Sir. "

"But what is it, Mamma!"

"A piece of poetry in an old _Excelsior_ — 'The Spirit of theFireside. ' Mr. Carleton, wont you read it aloud, and let usall hear? but tell me, first, what you think of it. "

"It has pleased me particularly, Mrs. Evelyn. "

"Mr. Stackpole says he does not understand it, Sir. "

"Fanciful, " said Mr. Stackpole; "it's a little fanciful — andI can't quite make out what the fancy is. "

"It has been the misfortune of many good things before, not tobe prized, Mr. Stackpole, " said the lady, funnily. 

"True, Ma'am, " said that gentleman, rubbing his chin, "and theconverse is also true, unfortunately, and with a much widerapplication. "

"There is a peculiarity of mental development or training, "said Mr. Carleton, "which must fail of pleasing many minds, because of their wanting the corresponding key of nature orexperience. Some literature has a hidden free-masonry of itsown. "

"Very hidden, indeed!" said Mr. Stackpole; "the cloud is sothick that I can't see the electricity. "

"Mr. Carleton, " said Mrs. Evelyn, laughing, "I take thatremark as a compliment, Sir; I have always appreciated thatwriter's pieces; I enjoy them very much. "

"Well, wont you, please, read it, Mr. Carleton?" saidFlorence, "and let us know what we are talking about. "

Mr. Carleton obeyed, standing where he was, by the centre-table. 

"By the old hearthstone a Spirit dwells, The child of bygone years —He lieth hid the stones amid, And liveth on smiles and tears. 

"But when the night is drawing on, And the fire burns clear and bright, He cometh out and walketh aboutIn the pleasant grave twilight. 

"He goeth round on tiptoe soft, And scanneth close each face;If one in the room be sunk in gloom, By him he taketh his place. 

"And then with fingers cool and soft(Their touch who does not know?)With water brought from the well of thought, That was dug long years ago, "He layeth his hand on the weary eyes —They are closed and quiet now; —And he wipeth away the dust of the dayWhich had settled on the brow. 

"And gently then he walketh awayAnd sits in the corner chair;And the closed eyes swim — it seemeth to himThe form that once sat there. 

"And whisper'd words of comfort and loveFall sweet on the ear of sorrow; —'Why weepest thou? — thou art troubled now, But there cometh a bright to-morrow. 

" 'We, too, have pass'd over life's wild streamIn a frail and shatter'd boat, But the pilot was sure — and we sail'd secureWhen we seem'd but scarce afloat. 

" 'Though toss'd by the rage of waves and wind, The bark held together still, One arm was strong — it bore us along, And has saved from every ill. '

"The Spirit returns to his hiding-place, But his words have been like balm. The big tears start, but the fluttering heartIs sooth'd, and soften'd, and calm. "

"I remember that, " said Florence; "it is beautiful. "

"Who's the writer?" said Mr. Stackpole. 

"I don't know, " said Mrs. Evelyn, "it is signed 'Hugh'. Therehave been a good many of his pieces in the _Excelsior_, for ayear past, and all of them pretty. "

"Hugh!" exclaimed Edith, springing forward, "that's the onethat wrote the Chestnuts! Fleda, wont you read Mr. Carletonthe Chestnuts?"

"Why, no, Edith; I think not. "

"Ah, do! I like it so much, and I want him to hear it; and youknow Mamma says they're all pretty. Wont you?"

"My dear Edith, you have heard it once already to-day"

"But I want you to read it for me again. "

"Let me have it, Miss Edith, " said Mr. Carleton, smiling. "Iwill read it for you. "

"Ah, but it would be twice as good if you could hear her readit, " said Edith, fluttering over the leaves of the magazine, "she reads it so well. It's so funny — about the coffee andbuckwheat cakes. "

"What is that, Edith?" said her mother. 

"Something Mr. Carleton is going to read for me, Mamma. "

"Don't you trouble Mr. Carleton. "

"It won't trouble him, Mamma; he promised of his own accord. "

"Let us all have the benefit of it, Mr. Carleton, " said thelady. 

It is worthy of remark that Fleda's politeness utterlydeserted her during the reading of both this piece and thelast. She as near as possible turned her back upon the reader. 

"Merrily sang the crickets forthOne fair October night;And the stars look'd down, and the northern crownGave its strange fantastic light. 

"A nipping frost was in the air, On flowers and grass it fell;And the leaves were still on the eastern hill, As if touched by a fairy spell. 

"To the very top of the tall nut-treesThe frost-king seemed to ride;With his wand he stirs the chestnut burrs, And straight they are open'd wide. 

"And squirrels and children together dreamOf the coming winter's hoard;And many, I ween, are the chestnuts seenIn hole or in garret stored. 

"The children are sleeping in feather-beds —Poor Bun in his mossy nest;_He_ courts repose with his tail on his nose, On the others warm blankets rest. 

"Late in the morning the sun gets upFrom behind the village spire;And the children dream that the first red gleamIs the chestnut-trees on fire!

"The squirrel had on when he first awoke, All the clothing he could command;And his breakfast was light — he just took a biteOf an acorn that lay at hand:

"And then he was off to the trees to work:While the children some time it takesTo dress and to eat what _they_ think meetOf coffee and buckwheat cakes. 

"The sparkling frost, when they first go out, Lies thick upon all around;And earth and grass, as they onward pass, Give a pleasant crackling sound. 

"Oh, there is a heap of chestnuts, see!'Cried the youngest of the train;For they came to a stone where the squirrel had thrownWhat he meant to pick up again. 

"And two bright eyes, from the tree o'er head, Look'd down at the open bagWhere the nuts went in — and so to begin, Almost made his courage flag. 

"Away on the hill, outside the wood, Three giant trees there stand:And the chestnuts bright, that hang in sight, Are eyed by the youthful band. 

"And one of their number climbs the tree, And passes from bough to bough —And the children run — for with pelting funThe nuts fall thickly now. 

"Some of the burrs are still shut tight —Some open with chestnuts three, And some nuts fall with no burrs at all —Smooth, shiny, as nuts should be. 

"Oh, who can tell what fun it wasTo see the prickly shower:To feel what a whack on head or backWas within a chestnut's power!

"To run beneath the shaking tree, And then to scamper away;And with laughing shout to dance aboutThe grass where the chestnuts lay. 

"With flowing dresses, and blowing hair, And eyes that no shadow knew, Like the growing light of a morning bright —The dawn of the summer blue!

"The work was ended — the trees were stripped —The children were 'tired of play:'And they forgot (but the squirrel did not)The wrong they had done that day. "

Whether it was from the reader's enjoyment or good giving ofthese lines, or from Edith's delight in them, he wasfrequently interrupted with bursts of laughter. 

"I can understand _that_, " said Mr. Stackpole, "without anydifficulty. "

"You are not lost in the mysteries of chestnutting in opendaylight, " said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"Mr. Carleton, " said Edith, "wouldn't you have taken thesquirrel's chestnuts?"

"I believe I should, Miss Edith, if I had not been hindered. "

"But what would have hindered you? don't you think it wasright?"

"Ask your friend, Miss Ringgan, what she thinks of it, " saidhe, smiling. 

"Now, Mr. Carleton, " said Constance, as he threw down themagazine, "will you decide that point of English between MissRinggan and me?"

"I should like to hear the pleadings on both sides, MissConstance. "

"Well, Fleda, will you agree to submit it to Mr. Carleton?"

"I must know by what standards Mr. Carleton will be guided, before I agree to any such thing, " said Fleda. 

"Standards! but aren't you going to trust anybody in anything, without knowing what standards they go by ?"

"Would that be a safe rule to follow in general?" said Fleda, smiling. 

"You wont be a true woman if you don't follow it, sooner orlater, my dear Fleda, " said Mrs. Evelyn. "Every woman must. "

"The later the better, Ma'am, I cannot help thinking. "

"You will change your mind, " said Mrs. Evelyn, complacently. 

"Mamma's notions, Mr. Stackpole, would satisfy any man'spride, when she is expatiating upon the subject of woman'sdependence, " said Florence. 

"The dependence of affection, " said Mrs. Evelyn. "Of course!It's their lot. Affection always leads a true woman to mergeher separate judgment, on anything, in the judgment of thebeloved object. "

"Ay, " said Fleda, laughing, "suppose her affection is wastedon an object that has none?"

"My dear Fleda!" said Mrs. Evelyn, with a funny expression, "that can never be, you know; don't you remember what yourfavourite, Longfellow, says, — 'Affection never is wasted'? —Florence, my love, just hand me 'Evangeline, ' there — I wantyou to listen to it, Mr. Stackpole, here it is —

'Talk not of wasted affection: affection never was wasted:If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters returningBack to their springs, shall fill them full of refreshment. That which the fountain sends forth returns again to thefountain. ' "

"How very plain it is that was written by a man, " said Fleda. 

"Why?" said Mr. Carleton, laughing. 

"I always thought it was so exquisite!" said Florence. 

"_I_ was so struck with it, " said Constance, "that I have beenlooking ever since for an object to waste _my_ affections upon. "

"Hush, Constance!" said her mother. "Don't you like it, Mr. Carleton?"

"I should like to hear Miss Ringgan's commentary, " said Mr. Stackpole; "I can't anticipate it. I should have said thesentiment was quite soft and tender enough for a woman. "

"Don't you agree with it, Mr. Carleton?" repeated Mrs. Evelyn. 

"I beg leave to second Mr. Stackpole's motion, " he said, smiling. 

"Fleda, my dear, you must explain yourself; the gentlemen areat a stand. "

"I believe, Mrs. Evelyn, " said Fleda, smiling and blushing —"I am of the mind of the old woman who couldn't bear to seeanything wasted. "

"But the assertion is, that it _isn't_ wasted, " said Mr. Stackpole. 

" 'That which the fountain sends forth returns again to thefountain, ' " said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"Yes, to flood and lay waste the fair growth of nature, " saidFleda, with a little energy, though her colour rose and rosehigher. "Did it never occur to you, Mrs. Evelyn, that thestreams which fertilize as they flow, do but desolate if theircourse be checked?"

"But your objection lies only against the author's figure, "said Mr. Stackpole — "come to the fact. "

"I was speaking as he did, Sir, of the fact under the figure —I did not mean to separate them. "

Both the gentlemen were smiling, though with very differentexpression. 

"Perhaps, " said Mr. Carleton, "the writer was thinking of agentler and more diffusive flow of kind feeling, which, however it may meet with barren ground and raise no fruitthere, is sure, in due time, to come back, heaven-refined, torefresh and replenish its source. "

"Perhaps so, " said Fleda, with a very pleased answering look —"I do not recollect how it is brought in — I may have answeredrather Mrs. Evelyn than Mr. Longfellow. "

"But granting that it is an error, " said Mr. Stackpole, "asyou understood it — what shows it to have been made by a man?"

"Its utter ignorance of the subject, Sir. "

"You think _they_ never waste their affections?" said he. 

"By no means! but I think they rarely waste so much in any onedirection as to leave them quite impoverished. "

"Mr. Carleton, how do you bear that, Sir?" said Mrs. Evelyn. "Will you let such an assertion pass unchecked?"

"I would not, if I could help it, Mrs. Evelyn. "

"That isn't saying much for yourself, " said Constance; "butFleda, my dear, where did you get such an experience of wasteand desolation?"

"Oh, 'man is a microcosm, ' you know, " said Fleda, lightly. 

"But you make it out that only one-half of mankind canappropriate that axiom, " said Mr. Stackpole. "How can a womanknow _men's_ hearts so well?"

"On the principle that the whole is greater than a part?' saidMr. Carleton, smiling. 

"I'll sleep upon that, before I give my opinion, " said Mr. Stackpole. "Mrs. Evelyn, good evening!" —

"Well, Mr. Carleton!" said Constance, "you have said a greatdeal for women's minds. "

"Some women's minds, " he said, with a smile. 

"And some men's minds, " said Fleda. "I was speaking only inthe general. "

Her eye half unconsciously reiterated her meaning as she shookhands with Mr. Carleton. And without speaking a word for otherpeople to hear, his look and smile in return were more than ananswer. Fleda sat for some time after he was gone, trying tothink what it was in eye and lip which had given her so muchpleasure. She could not make out anything but approbation —the look of loving approbation that one gives to a good child;but she thought it had also something of that quietintelligence — a silent communication of sympathy which theothers in company could not share. 

She was roused from her reverie by Mrs. Evelyn. 

"Fleda, my dear, I am writing to your aunt Lucy — have you anymessage to send?"

"No, Mrs. Evelyn — I wrote myself to-day. "

And she went back to her musings. 

"I am writing about you, Fleda, " said Mrs. Evelyn again, in afew minutes. 

"Giving a good account, I hope, ma'am, " said Fleda, smiling. 

"I shall tell her I think sea-breezes have an unfavourableeffect upon you, " said Mrs. Evelyn — "that I am afraid you aregrowing pale; and that you have clearly expressed yourself infavour of a garden at Queechy, rather than any lot in the city— or anywhere else — so she had better send for you homeimmediately. "

Fleda tried to find out what the lady really meant; but Mrs. Evelyn's delighted amusement did not consist with making thematter very plain. Fleda's questions did nothing but aggravatethe cause of them, to her own annoyance; so she was fain atlast to take her light and go to her own. 

She looked at her flowers again with a renewal of the firstpleasure and of the quieting influence the giver of them hadexercised over her that evening; thought again how very kindit was of him to send them, and to choose them so; howstrikingly he differed from other people; how glad she was tohave seen him again, and how more than glad that he was sohappily changed from his old self. And then from that changeand the cause of it, to those higher, more tranquillizing, andsweetening influences that own no kindred with earth's dust, and descend like the dew of heaven to lay and fertilize it. And when she laid herself down to sleep, it was with a spiritgrave, but simply happy; every annoyance and unkindness asunfelt now as ever the parching heat of a few hours beforewhen the stars are abroad. 

CHAPTER X. 

"A snake bedded himself under the threshold of a countryhouse. "L'ESTRANGE. 

To Fleda's very great satisfaction Mr. Thorn was not seenagain for several days. It would have been to her very greatcomfort, too, if he could have been permitted to die out ofmind as well as out of sight; but he was brought up before her"lots of times, " till poor Fleda almost felt as if she wasreally in the moral neighbourhood of the Dead Sea, everynatural growth of pleasure was so withered under the barrenspirit of raillery. Sea-breezes were never so disagreeablesince winds blew; and nervous and fidgety again whenever Mr. Carleton was present, Fleda retreated to her work and thetable, and withdrew herself as much as she could from noticeand conversation; feeling humbled — feeling sorry, and vexed, and ashamed, that such ideas should have been put into herhead, the absurdity of which, she thought, was only equalledby their needlessness. "As much as she could" she withdrew;but that was not entirely; now and then interest made herforget herself, and quitting her needle she would give eyesand attention to the principal speaker as frankly as he couldhave desired. Bad weather and bad roads for those days putriding out of the question. 

One morning she was called down to see a gentleman, and cameeschewing in advance the expected image of Mr. Thorn. It was avery different person. 

"Charlton Rossitur! My dear Charlton, how do you do? Where didyou come from?"

"You had better ask me what I have come for, " he said, laughing, as he shook hands with her. 

"What have you come for?"

"To carry you home. "

"Home?" said Fleda. 

"I am going up there for a day or two, and mamma wrote me Ihad better act as your escort, which, of course, I am mostwilling to do. See what mamma says to you. "

"When are you going, Charlton?" said Fleda, as she broke theseal of the note he gave her. 

"To-morrow morning. "

"That is too sudden a notice, Captain Rossitur, " said Mrs. Evelyn. "Fleda will hurry herself out of her colour, and thenyour mother will say there is something in sea-breezes thatisn't good for her; and then she will never trust her withinreach of them again — which I am sure Miss Ringgan would besorry for. "

Fleda took her note to the window, half angry with herselfthat a kind of banter, in which certainly there was verylittle wit, should have power enough to disturb her. Butthough the shaft might be a slight one, it was winged with awill; the intensity of Mrs. Evelyn's enjoyment in her ownmischief gave it all the force that was wanting. Fleda's headwas in confusion; she read her aunt's note three times overbefore she had made up her mind on any point respecting it. 

"MY DEAREST FLEDA, "Charlton is coming home for a day or two — hadn't you bettertake the opportunity to return with him? I feel as if you hadbeen long away, my dear child — don't you feel so too? Youruncle is very desirous of seeing you; and as for Hugh and me, we are but half ourselves. I would not still say a word aboutyour coming home if it were for your good to stay; but I fancyfrom something in Mrs. Evelyn's letter, that Queechy air willby this time do you good again; and opportunities of makingthe journey are very uncertain. My heart has grown lightersince I gave it leave to expect you. — Yours, my darling, R. 

"P. S. — I will write to Mrs. E. Soon. "

"What string has pulled these wires that are twitching mehome?" thought Fleda, as her eyes went over and over the wordswhich the feeling of the lines of her face would alone havetold her were unwelcome. And why unwelcome? — "One likes to bemoved by fair means and not by foul, " was the immediateanswer. "And, besides, it is very disagreeable to be taken bysurprise. Whenever in any matter of my staying or going, didaunt Lucy have any wish but my pleasure?" Fleda mused a littlewhile; and then, with a perfect understanding of the machinerythat had been at work, though an extremely vague and repulsednotion of the spring that had moved it, she came quietly outfrom her window and told Charlton she would go with him. 

"But not to-morrow?" said Mrs. Evelyn, composedly. "You willnot hurry her off so soon as that Captain Rossitur?"

"Furloughs are the stubbornest things in the world, Mrs. Evelyn; there is no spirit of accommodation about them. Minelies between to-morrow morning, and one other morning some twodays thereafter; and you might as soon persuade Atlas tochange his place. Will you be ready, coz?"

"I will be ready, " said Fleda; and her cousin departed. 

"Now, my dear Fleda, "' said Mrs. Evelyn, but it was with thatfunny face, as she saw Fleda standing thoughtfully before thefire; "you must be very careful in getting your thingstogether —"

"Why, Mrs. Evelyn?"

"I am afraid you will leave something behind you, my love. "

"I will take care of that, Ma'am, and that I may, I will goand see about it at once. "

Very busy till dinner-time; she would not let herself stop tothink about anything. At dinner, Mr. Evelyn openly expressedhis regrets for her going, and his earnest wishes that shewould at least stay till the holidays were over. 

"Don't you know Fleda better, Papa, " said Florence, "than totry to make her alter her mind? When she says a thing isdetermined upon, I know there is nothing to do but to submitwith as good a grace as you can. "

"I tried to make Captain Rossitur leave her a little longer, "said Mrs. Evelyn; "but he says furloughs are immovable, andhis begins to-morrow morning — so he was immovable too. Ishould keep her notwithstanding, though, if her aunt Lucyhadn't sent for her. "

"Well, see what she wants, and come back again, " said Mr. Evelyn. 

"Thank you, Sir, " said Fleda, smiling gratefully; "I think notthis winter. "

"There are two or three of my friends that will beconfoundedly taken aback, " said Mr. Evelyn, carefully helpinghimself to gravy. 

"I expect that an immediate depopulation of New York willcommence, " said Constance, "and go on till the heights aboutQueechy are all thickly settled with elegant country seats, which is the conventional term for a species of mouse-trap. "

"Hush, you baggage, " said her father. "Fleda, I wish you couldspare her a little of your common sense, to go through theworld with. "

"Papa thinks, you see, my dear, that you have _more thanenough_, which is not, perhaps, precisely the compliment heintended. "

"I take the full benefit of his and yours, " said Fleda, smiling. 

After dinner, she had just time to run down to the library tobid Dr. Gregory good-bye — her last walk in the city. Itwasn't a walk she enjoyed much. 

"Going to-morrow!" said he. "Why, I am going to Boston in aweek, you had better stay, and go with me. "

"I can't now, uncle Orrin, I am dislodged, and you know thereis nothing to do then but to go. "

"Come and stay with me till next week. "

But Fleda said it was best not, and went home to finish herpreparations. 

She had no chance till late, for several gentlemen spent heevening with them. Mr. Carleton was there part of the time, but he was one of the first to go; and Fleda could not find anopportunity to say that she should not see him again. Hertimidity would not allow her to make one. But it grieved her. 

At last she escaped to her own room, where most of her packingwas still to do. By the time half the floor and all the bedwas strewn with neat-looking piles of things — the varietiesof her modest wardrobe — Florence and Constance came in to seeand talk with her, and sat down on the floor too; partly, perhaps, because the chairs were all bespoken in the serviceof boxes and baskets, and partly to follow what seemed to bethe prevailing style of things. 

"What do you suppose has become of Mr. Thorn?" said Constance. "I have a presentiment that you will find him cracking nutssociably with Mr. Rossitur, or drinking one of aunt Lucy'sexcellent cups of coffee, in comfortable expectation of yourreturn. "

"If I thought that, I should stay here, " said Fleda. "My dear, those were my cups of coffee. "

"I wish I could make you think it, then, " said Constance. 

"But you are glad to go home, aren't you, Fleda?" saidFlorence. 

"She isn't, " said her sister. "She knows Mamma contemplatesmaking a grand entertainment of all the Jews, as soon as sheis gone. What _does_ mamma mean by that, Fleda? I observe youcomprehend her with most invariable quickness. "

"I should be puzzled to explain all that your mother means, "said Fleda, gently, as she went on bestowing her things in thetrunk. "No, I am not particularly glad to go home, but I fancyit is time. I am afraid I have grown too accustomed to yourluxury of life, and want knocking about to harden me alittle. "

"Harden you!" said Constance. "My dear Fleda, you are under adelusion. Why should any one go through an indurating process?Will you inform me?"

"I don't say that every one should, " said Fleda; "but isn't itwell for those whose lot does not lie among soft things?"

There was extreme sweetness, and a touching insinuation in hermanner, and both the young ladies were silent for some timethereafter, watching somewhat wistfully the gentle hands andface that were so quietly busy, till the room was clearedagain, and looked remarkably empty, with Fleda's trunkstanding in the middle of it. And then, reminding them thatshe wanted some sleep to fit her for the hardening process, and must therefore send them away, she was left alone. 

One thing Fleda had put off till then — the care of her bunchof flowers. They were beautiful still. They had given her avery great deal of pleasure; and she was determined theyshould be left to no servant's hands to be flung into thestreet. If it had been summer, she was sure she could have gotbuds from them; as it was, perhaps she might strike somecuttings; at all events, they should go home with her. So, carefully taking them out of the water, and wrapping the endsin some fresh earth she had got that very afternoon from heruncle's garden, Fleda bestowed them in the corner of her trunkthat she had left for them, and went to bed, feeling weary inbody, and in mind to the last degree quiet. 

In the same mind and mood she reached Queechy the nextafternoon. It was a little before January — just the same timethat she had come home last year. As then, it was a brightday, and the country was again covered thick with theunspotted snow; but Fleda forgot to think how bright and freshit was. Somehow she did not feel this time quite so glad tofind herself there. It had never occurred to her so stronglybefore, that Queechy could want anything. 

This feeling flew away before the first glimpse of her aunt'ssmile, and, for half an hour after, Fleda would have certifiedthat Queechy wanted nothing. At the end of that time came inMr. Rossitur. His greeting of Charlton was sufficientlyunmarked; but eye and lip wakened when he turned to Fleda. 

"My dear child, " he said, holding her face in both his hands, "how lovely you have grown!"

"That's only because you have forgotten her, father, " saidHugh, laughing. 

It was a very lovely face just then. Mr. Rossitur gazed intoit a moment, and again kissed first one cheek and then theother, and then suddenly withdrew his hands and turned away, with an air — Fleda could not tell what to make of it — an airthat struck her with an immediate feeling of pain; somewhat asif for some cause or other he had nothing to do with her orher loveliness. And she needed not to see him walk the roomfor three minutes to know that Michigan agencies had donenothing to lighten his brow, or uncloud his character. If thishad wanted confirmation, Fleda would have found it in heraunt's face. She soon discovered, even in the course of thepleasant talkative hours before supper, that it was notbrightened, as she had expected to find it, by her uncle'scoming home; and her ears now caught painfully the occasionallong breath, but half smothered, which told of a burden uponthe heart but half concealed. Fleda supposed that Mr. Rossitur's business affairs at the West must have disappointedhim; and resolved not to remember that Michigan was in the mapof North America. 

Still they talked on, through the afternoon and evening, allof them except him: he was moody and silent. Fleda felt thecloud overshadow sadly her own gaiety; but Mrs. Rossitur andHugh were accustomed to it, and Charlton was much too tall alight to come under any external obscuration whatever. He wasdescanting brilliantly upon the doings and prospects at FortHamilton, where he was stationed, much to the entertainment ofhis mother and brother. Fleda could not listen to him, whilehis father was sitting lost in something not half so pleasantas sleep, in the corner of the sofa. Her eyes watched himstealthily, till she could not bear it any longer. Sheresolved to bring the power of her sunbeam to bear, and, goinground, seated herself on the sofa close by him, and laid herhand on his arm. He felt it immediately. The arm was instantlydrawn away to be put round her, and Fleda was pressed nearerto his side, while the other hand took hers; and his lips wereagain on her forehead. 

"And how do you like me for a farmer, uncle Rolf?" she said, looking up at him, laughingly, and then fearing immediatelythat she had chosen her subject ill. Not from any change inhis countenance, however — that decidedly brightened up. Hedid not answer at once. 

"My child, you make me ashamed of mankind!"

"Of the dominant half of them, Sir, do you mean?" saidCharlton — "or is your observation a sweeping one?"

"It would sweep the greatest part of the world into thebackground, Sir, " answered his father, drily, "if its sensewere the general rule. "

"And what has Fleda done to be such a besom of desolation?"

Fleda's laugh set everybody else a-going, and there wasimmediately more life and common feeling in the society thanhad been all day. They all seemed willing to shake off aweight, and even Fleda, in the endeavour to chase the gloomthat hung over others, as it had often happened, lost half ofher own. 

"But still I am not answered, " said Charlton, when they weregrave again. "What has Fleda done to put such a libel uponmankind?"

"You should call it a _label_, as Dr. Quackenboss does, " saidFleda, in a fresh burst; "he says he never would stand beinglabelled!"

"But come back to the point, " said Charlton; "I want to knowwhat is the label in this case, that Fleda's doings put uponthose of other people?"

"Insignificance, " said his father, drily. 

"I should like to know how bestowed, " said Charlton. 

"Don't enlighten him, uncle Rolf, " said Fleda, laughing; "letmy doings remain in safe obscurity, please. "

"I stand as a representative of mankind, " said Charlton, "andI demand an explanation. "

"Look at what this slight frame and delicate nerves have beenfound equal to, and then tell me if the broad shoulders of allyour mess would have borne half the burden, or their unitedheads accomplished a quarter the results. "

He spoke with sufficient depth of meaning, though now with nounpleasant expression. But Charlton, notwithstanding, rathergathered himself up. 

"Oh, uncle Rolf, " said Fleda, gently, "nerves and muscleshaven't much to do with it; after all, you know, I have justserved the place of a mouthpiece. Seth was the head, and goodEarl Douglass the hand. "

"I am ashamed of myself and of mankind, " Mr. Rossiturrepeated, "when I see what mere weakness can do, and howproudly valueless strength is contended to be. You arelooking, Captain Rossitur; but, after all, a cap and plumereally makes a man taller only to the eye. "

"When I have flung my plume in anybody's face, Sir, " saidCharlton, rather hotly, "it will be time enough to throw itback again. "

Mrs. Rossitur put her. Hand on his arm, and looked herremonstrance. 

"Are you glad to be home again, dear Fleda?" she said, turningto her. 

But Fleda was making some smiling communications to her uncle, and did not seem to hear. 

"Fleda, does it seem pleasant to be here again?"

"Very pleasant, dear aunt Lucy, though I have had a verypleasant visit too. "

"On the whole, you do not wish you were at this moment drivingout of town in Mr. Thorn's cabriolet?" said her cousin. 

"Not in the least, " said Fleda, coolly. How did you know Iever did such a thing?"

"I wonder what should bring Mr. Thorn to Queechy at this timeof year, " said Hugh. 

Fleda started at this confirmation of Constance's words; and, what was very odd, she could not get rid of the impressionthat Mr. Rossitur had started too. Perhaps it was only her ownnerves, but he had certainly taken away the arm that was roundher. 

"I suppose he has followed Miss Ringgan, " said Charlton, gravely. 

"No, " said Hugh, "he has been here some little time. "

"Then he preceded her, I suppose, to see and get the sleighsin order. "

"He did not know I was coming, " said Fleda. 

"Didn't!"

"No, I have not seen him for several days. "

"My dear little cousin, " said Charlton, laughing, "you are nota witch in your own affairs, whatever you may be in those ofother people. "

"Why, Charlton?"

"You are no adept in the art of concealment. "

"I have nothing to conceal, " said Fleda. "How do you know heis here, Hugh?"

"I was anxiously asked the other day, " said Hugh, with aslight smile, "whether you had come home, and then told thatMr. Thorn was in Queechy. There is no mistake about it, for myinformant had actually seen him, and given him the directionsto Mr. Plumfield's, for which he was inquiring. "

"The direction to Mr. Plumfield's!" said Fleda. 

"What's your old friend, Mr. Carleton, doing in New York?"said Charlton. 

"Is he there still?" said Mrs. Rossitur. 

"Large as life, " answered her son. 

"Which, though you might not suppose it, aunt Lucy, is aboutthe height of Captain Rossitur, with — I should judge — atrifle less weight. "

"Your eyes are observant!" said Charlton. 

"Of a good many things, " said Fleda, lightly. 

"He is _not_ my height by half an inch!" said Charlton; "I amjust six feet without my boots. "

"An excellent height!" said Fleda — " 'your six feet was everthe only height. ' "

"Who said that?" said Charlton. 

"Isn't it enough that I say it?"

"What's he staying here for?"

"I don't know really, " said Fleda. "It's very difficult totell what people do things for. "

"Have you seen much of him?" said Mrs. Rossitur. 

"Yes, Ma'am, a good deal — he was often at Mrs. Evelyn's. "

"Is he going to marry one of her daughters?"

"Oh, no!" said Fleda, smiling; "he isn't thinking of such athing; — not in America — I don't know what he may do inEngland. "

"No!" said Charlton, "I suppose he would think himselfcontaminated by matching with any blood in this hemisphere. "

"You do him injustice" said Fleda, colouring; — "you do notknow him, Charlton. "

"You do?"

"Much better than that. "

"And he is not one of the most touch-me-not pieces of Englishbirth and wealth that ever stood upon their own dignity?"

"Not at all, " said Fleda, — "How people may be misunderstood!— he is one of the most gentle and kind persons I ever saw. "

"To you!"

"To everybody that deserves it. "

"Humph! — And not proud?"

"No, not as you understand it, " — and she felt it was verydifficult to make him understand it, as the discovery involveda very offensive implication; — "he is too fine a character tobe proud. "

"That _is_ arguing in a circle with a vengeance!" said Charlton. 

"I know what you are thinking of, " said Fleda, "and I supposeit passes for pride with a great many people who cannotcomprehend it — he has a singular power of quietly rebukingwrong, and keeping impertinence at a distance — where, CaptainRossitur, for instance, I suppose, would throw his cap in aman's face, Mr. Carleton's mere silence would make theoffender doff his and ask pardon. "

The manner in which this was said precluded all takingoffence. 

"Well, " said Charlton, shrugging his shoulders "then I don'tknow what pride is — that's all!"

"Take care, Captain Rossitur, " said Fleda, laughing — "I haveheard of such a thing as American pride before now. "

"Certainly!" said Charlton; "and I'm quite willing — but itnever reaches quite such a towering height on our side thewater. "

"I am sure I don't know how that may be, " said Fleda; "but Iknow I have heard a lady, an enlightened, gentle-temperedAmerican lady, so called — I have heard her talk to a poorIrishwoman with whom she had nothing in the world to do, in astyle that moved my indignation — it stirred my blood! — andthere was nothing whatever to call it out. 'All the blood ofall the Howards, ' I hope, would not have disgraced itself so. "

"What business have you to 'hope' anything about it?"

"None — except from the natural desire to find what one has aright to look for. But, indeed, I wouldn't take the blood ofall the Howards for any security: pride, as well as high-breeding, is a thing of natural not adventitious growth: itbelongs to character, not circumstance. "

"Do you know that your favourite, Mr. Carleton, is nearlyconnected with those same Howards, and quarters their armswith his own?"

"I have a very vague idea of the dignity implied in thatexpression of 'quartering arms, ' which comes so roundly out ofyour mouth, Charlton, " said Fleda, laughing. "No, I didn'tknow it. But, in general, I am apt to think that pride is athing which reverses the usual rules of architecture, andbuilds highest on the narrowest foundations. "

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind, " said Fleda; "if a meaning isn't plain, it isn'tworth looking after. But it will not do to measure pride byits supposed materials. It does not depend on them, but on theindividual. You everywhere see people assert that most ofwhich they feel least sure, and then it is easy for them toconclude that where there is so much more of the reality, there must be proportionably more of the assertion. I wishsome of our gentlemen and ladies, who talk of pride where theysee, and can see nothing but the habit of wealth; I wish theycould see the universal politeness with which Mr. Carletonreturns the salutes of his inferiors. Not more respectfullythey lift their hats to him than he lifts his to them — unlesswhen he speaks. "

"You have seen it?"

"Often. "

"Where?"

"In England, at his own place, among his own servants anddependents. I remember very well, it struck even my childisheyes. "

"Well, after all, that is nothing still but a refined kind ofhaughtiness. "

"It is a kind that I wish some of our Americans would copy, "said Fleda. 

"But, dear Fleda, " said Mrs. Rossitur, "all Americans are notlike that lady you were talking of — it would be very unfairto make her a sample. I don't think I ever heard any one speakso in my life — you never heard me speak so. "

"Dear aunt Lucy! — no — I was only giving instance forinstance. I have no idea that Mr. Carleton is a type ofEnglishmen in general — I wish he were. But I think it is thevery people that cry out against superiority, who are the mosthappy to assert their own where they can; the same jealousfeeling that repines on the one hand, revenges itself on theother. "

"Superiority of what kind?" said Charlton, stiffly. 

"Of any kind — superiority of wealth, or refinement, or name, or standing. Now, it does not follow that an Englishman isproud because he keeps liveried servants, and it by no meansfollows that an American lacks the essence of haughtinessbecause he finds fault with him for doing so. "

"I dare say some of our neighbours think we are proud, " saidHugh, "because we use silver forks instead of steel. "

"Because we're _too good for steel forks_, you ought to say, "said Fleda. "I am sure they think so. I have been given tounderstand as much. Barby, I believe, has a good opinion ofus, and charitably concludes that we mean right; but someother of our country friends would think I was far gone inuppishness if they knew that I never touch fish with a steelknife; and it wouldn't mend the matter much to tell them thatthe combination of flavours is disagreeable to me — it hardlysuits the doctrine of liberty and equality that my palateshould be so much nicer than theirs. "

"Absurd!" said Charlton. 

"Very, " said Fleda; "but on which side, in all probability, isthe pride?"

"It wasn't for liveried servants that I charged Mr. Carleton, "said her cousin. "How do the Evelyns like this paragon ofyours?"

"Oh, everybody likes him, " said Fleda, smiling, "except youand your friend, Mr. Thorn. "

"Thorn don't like him, eh?"

"I think not. "

"What do you suppose is the reason?" said Charlton, gravely. 

"I don't think Mr. Thorn is particularly apt to like anybody, "said Fleda, who knew very well the original cause of bothexceptions, but did not like to advert to it. 

"Apparently you don't like Mr. Thorn?" said Mr. Rossitur, speaking for the first time. 

"I don't know who does, Sir, much — except his mother. "

"What is he?"

"A man not wanting in parts, Sir, and with considerable forceof character — but I am afraid more for ill than good. Ishould be very sorry to trust him with anything dear to me. "

"How long were you in forming that opinion?" said Charlton, looking at her curiously. 

"It was formed, substantially, the first evening I saw him, and I have never seen cause to alter it since. "

The several members of the family therewith fell into ageneral muse, with the single exception of Hugh, whose eyesand thoughts seemed to be occupied with Fleda's livingpresence. Mr. Rossitur then requested that breakfast might beready very early — at six o'clock. 

"Six o'clock!" exclaimed Mrs. Rossitur. 

"I have to take a long ride, on business, which must be doneearly in the day. "

"When will you be back?"

"Not before nightfall. "

"But going on _another_ business journey!" said Mrs. Rossitur. "You have but just these few hours come home from one. "

"Cannot breakfast be ready?"

"Yes, uncle Rolf, " said Fleda, bringing her bright face beforehim — "ready at half-past five, if you like — now that _I_ am tothe fore, you know. "

He clasped her to his breast and kissed her again, but with aface so very grave that Fleda was glad nobody else saw it. 

Then Charlton went, averring that he wanted at least a nightand a half of sleep between two such journeys as the one ofthat day and the one before him on the next — especially as hemust resign himself to going without anything to eat. Him alsoFleda laughingly promised that, precisely half an hour beforethe stage time, a cup of coffee and a roll should be smokingon the table, with whatever substantial appendages might bewithin the bounds of possibility, or the house. 

"I will pay you for that beforehand with a kiss, " said he. 

"You will do nothing of the kind, " said Fleda, stepping back;"a kiss is a favour taken, not given — and I am entirelyignorant what you have done to deserve it. "

"You make a curious difference between me and Hugh, " saidCharlton, half in jest, half in earnest. 

"Hugh is my brother, Captain Rossitur, " said Fleda, smiling —"and that is an honour you never made any pretensions to. "

"Come, you shall not say that any more, " said he, taking thekiss that Fleda had no mind to give him. 

Half laughing, but with eyes that were all too ready forsomething else, she turned again to Hugh, when his brother hadleft the room, and looked wistfully in his face, stroking backthe hair from his temples with a caressing hand. 

"You are just as you were when I left you!" she said, withlips that seemed too unsteady to say more, and remainedparted. 

"I am afraid so are you, " he replied; "not a bit fatter. Ihoped you would be. "

"What have you been smiling at so this evening?"

"I was thinking how well you talked. "

"Why, Hugh! you should have helped me — I talked too much. "

"I would much rather listen, " said Hugh. "Dear Fleda, what adifferent thing the house is with you in it!"

Fleda said nothing, except an inexplicable little shake of herhead, which said a great many things; and then she and heraunt were left alone. Mrs. Rossitur drew her to her bosom, with a look so exceeding fond that its sadness was hardlydiscernible. It was mingled, however, with an expression ofsome doubt. 

"What has made you keep so thin?"

"I have been very well, aunt Lucy — thinness agrees with me. "

"Are you glad to be home again, dear Fleda?"

"I am very glad to be with you, dear aunt Lucy!"

"But not glad to be home?"

"Yes, I am, " said Fleda; "but somehow — I don't know — Ibelieve I have got a little spoiled — it is time I was athome, I am sure. I shall be quite glad after a day or two, when I have got into the works again. I am glad now, auntLucy. "

Mrs. Rossitur seemed unsatisfied, and stroked the hair fromFleda's forehead, with an absent look. 

"What was there in New York, that you were so sorry to leave?"

"Nothing, Ma'am, in particular, " said Fleda, brightly; "and Iam not sorry, aunt Lucy — I tell you, I am a little spoiledwith company and easy living — I am glad to be with youagain. "

Mrs. Rossitur was silent. 

"Don't you get up to uncle Rolf's breakfast, to-morrow, auntLucy. "

"Nor you. "

"I sha'n't, unless I want to; but there'll be nothing for youto do; and you must just lie still. We will all have ourbreakfast together when Charlton has his. "

"You are the veriest sunbeam that ever came into a house, "said her aunt, kissing her. 

CHAPTER XI. 

"My flagging soul flies under her own pitch. "DRYDEN. 

Fleda mused as she went up stairs, whether the sun were aluminous body to himself or no, feeling herself at that momentdull enough. Bright was she, to others? nothing seemed brightto her. Every old shadow was darker than ever. Her uncle'sunchanged gloom — her aunt's unrested face — Hugh's unaltered, delicate, sweet look, which always, to her fancy, seemed towrite upon his face, "Passing away!" — and the thickeningprospects whence sprang the miasm that infected the wholemoral atmosphere — alas, yes! — "Money is a good thing, "thought Fleda; "and poverty need not be a bad thing, if peoplecan take it right; but if they take it wrong!"

With a very drooping heart, indeed, she went to the window. Her old childish habit had never been forgotten; whenever themoon or the stars were abroad, Fleda rarely failed to have atalk with them from her window. She stood there, now, lookingout into the cold, still night, with eyes just dimmed withtears — not that she lacked sadness enough, but she did lackspirit enough to cry. It was very still; after the rattle andconfusion of the city streets, that extent of snow-coveredcountry, where the very shadows were motionless — the entireabsence of soil and of disturbance — the rest of nature — thebreathlessness of the very wind — all preached a quaint kindof sermon to Fleda. By the force of contrast, they told herwhat should be; and there was more yet — she thought that bythe force of example, they showed what might be. Her eyes hadnot long travelled over the familiar old fields and fencesbefore she came to the conclusion that she was home in goodtime — she thought she had been growing selfish, or in dangerof it; and she made up her mind she was glad to be back againamong the rough things of life, where she could do so much tosmooth them for others, and her own spirit might grow to apolish it would never gain in the regions of ease andpleasure. " To do life's work!" thought Fleda, clasping herhands — "no matter where — and mine is here. I am glad I am inmy place again — I was forgetting I had one. "

It was a face of strange purity and gravity that the moonshone upon, with no power to brighten as in past days; theshadows of life were upon the child's brow. But nothing tobrighten it from within! One sweet, strong ray of other lightsuddenly found its way through the shadows, and entered herheart. "The Lord reigneth! let the earth be glad!" and thenthe moonbeams, pouring down with equal ray upon all theunevenness of this little world, seemed to say the same thingover and over. Even so! Not less equally his providencetouches all — not less impartially his faithfulness guides. "The Lord reigneth! let the earth be glad!" There wasbrightness in the moonbeams now that Fleda could read this inthem; she went to sleep, a very child again, with these wordsfor her pillow. 

It was not six, and darkness yet filled the world, when Mr. Rossitur came down stairs, and softly opened the sitting-roomdoor. But the home fairy had been at work; he was greeted withsuch a blaze of cheerfulness as seemed to say what a darkplace the world was everywhere but at home; his breakfast-table was standing ready, well set and well supplied; and evenas he entered by one door, Fleda pushed open the other, andcame in from the kitchen, looking as if she had some strangespirit-like kindred with the cheery, hearty glow which filledboth rooms. 

"Fleda! — you up at this hour!"

"Yes, uncle Rolf, " she said, coming forward to put her handsupon his; "you are not sorry to see me, I hope. "

But he did not say he was glad; and he did not speak at all;he busied himself gravely with some little matters ofpreparation for his journey. Evidently, the gloom of lastnight was upon him yet. But Fleda had not wrought for praise, and could work without encouragement; neither step nor handslackened, till all she and Barby had made ready was in niceorder on the table, and she was pouring out a cup of smokingcoffee. 

"You are not fit to be up, " said Mr. Rossitur, looking at her;"you are pale, now. Put yourself in that arm-chair, Fleda, andgo to sleep; I will do this for myself. "

"No, indeed, uncle Rolf, " she answered, brightly: "l haveenjoyed getting breakfast very much at this out-of-the-wayhour, and now I am going to have the pleasure of seeing youeat it. Suppose you were to take a cup of coffee instead of myshoulder!"

He took it and sat down; but Fleda found that the pleasure ofseeing him was to be a very qualified thing. He ate like abusiness man, in unbroken silence and gravity; and hercheerful words and looks got no return. It became an effort atlength to keep either bright. Mr. Rossitur's sole remarksduring breakfast were, to ask if Charlton was going back thatday, and if Philetus was getting the horse ready?

Mr. Skillcorn had been called in good time by Barby, atFleda's suggestion, and coming down stairs had opineddiscontentedly that "a man hadn't no right to be took out ofbed in the morning afore he could see himself. " But this, andBarby's spirited reply, that "there was no chance of his doing_that_ at any time of day, so it was no use to wait, " Fleda didnot repeat. Her uncle was in no humour to be amused. 

She expected almost that he would go off without speaking toher. But he came up kindly to where she stood watching him. 

"You must bid me good-bye for all the family, uncle Rolf, as Iam the only one here, " she said, laughing. 

But she was sure that the embrace and kiss which followed werevery exclusively for her. They made her face almost as soberas his own. 

"There will be a blessing for you, " said he, "if there is ablessing anywhere!"

"_If_, uncle Rolf, " said Fleda, her heart swelling to her eyes. 

He turned away, without answering her. 

Fleda sat down in the easy chair, then, and cried, but thatlasted very few minutes; she soon left crying for herself topray for him, that he might have the blessing he did not know. That did not stop tears. She remembered the poor man sick ofthe palsy, who was brought in by friends to be healed, andthat "Jesus seeing _their_ faith, said unto the sick of thepalsy, 'Son, thy sins be forgiven thee. ' " It was a handlethat faith took hold of and held fast, while love made itspetition. It was all she could do, she thought; _she_ nevercould venture to speak to her uncle on the subject. 

Weary and tired, tears and longing at length lost themselvesin sleep. When she awaked, she found the daylight broadlycome, little King in her lap, the fire, instead of being burntout, in perfect preservation, and Barby standing before it, and looking at her. 

"You ha'n't got one speck o' good by _this_ journey to NewYork, " was Miss Elster's vexed salutation. 

"Do you think so?" said Fleda, rousing herself. "I wouldn'tventure to say as much as that, Barby. "

"If you have, 'tain't in your cheeks, " said Barby, decidedly. "You look just as if you was made of anything that wouldn'tstand wear, and that isn't the way you used to look. "

"I have been up a good while without breakfast — my cheekswill be a better colour when I have had that, Barby — theyfeel pale. "

The second breakfast was a cheerfuller thing. But when thesecond traveller was despatched, and the rest fell back upontheir old numbers, Fleda was very quiet again. It vexed her tobe so, but she could not change her mood. She felt as if shehad been whirled along in a dream, and was now just openingher eyes to daylight and reality. And reality — she could nothelp it — looked rather dull after dream-land. She thought itwas very well she was waked up; but it cost her some effort toappear so. And then she charged herself with ingratitude, heraunt and Hugh were so exceedingly happy in her company. 

"Earl Douglass is quite delighted with the clover hay, Fleda. Said Hugh, as the three sat at an early dinner. 

"Is he?" said Fleda. 

"Yes — you know he was very unwilling to cure it in your way, and he thinks there never was anything like it now. "

"Did you ever see finer ham, Fleda?" inquired her aunt. "Mr. Plumfield says it could not be better. "

"Very good!" said Fleda, whose thoughts had somehow got uponMr. Carleton's notions about female education, and were verybusy with them. 

"I expected you would have remarked upon our potatoes beforenow, " said Hugh. "These are the Elephants — have you seenanything like them in New York?"

"There cannot be more beautiful potatoes, " said Mrs. Rossitur. "We had not tried any of them before you went away, Fleda, hadwe?"

"I don't know, aunt Lucy — no, I think not. "

"You needn't talk to Fleda, mother, " said Hugh, laughing —"she is quite beyond attending to all such ordinary matters;her thoughts have learned to take a higher flight since shehas been in New York. "

"It is time they were brought down, then, said Fleda, smiling;"but they have not learned to fly out of sight of home, Hugh. "

"Where were they, dear Fleda?" said her aunt. 

"I was thinking, a minute ago, of something I heard talkedabout in New York, aunt Lucy; and, afterwards, I was trying tofind out by what possible or imaginable road I had got roundto it. "

"Could you tell?"

Fleda said, "No, " and tried to bear her part in theconversation. But she did not know whether to blame thesubjects which had been brought forward, or herself, for herutter want of interest in them. She went into the kitchen, feeling dissatisfied with both. 

"Did you ever see potatoes that would beat them Elephants?"said Barby. 

"Never, certainly, " said Fleda, with a most involuntary smile. 

"I never did, " said Barby. "They beat all, for bigness andgoodness both. I can't keep 'em together. There's thousands of'em, and I mean to make Philetus eat 'em for supper — suchpotatoes and milk is good enough for him, or anybody. The cowhas gained on her milk wonderful, Fleda, since she begun tohave them roots fed out to her. "

"Which cow?" said Fleda. 

"Which cow? — why — the blue cow — there aint none of theothers that's giving any, to speak of, " said Barby, looking ather. "Don't you know — the cow you said them carrots should bekept for?"

Fleda half laughed, as there began to rise up before her thevarious magazines of vegetables, grain, hay, and fodder, thatfor many weeks had been deliciously distant from herimagination. 

"I made butter for four weeks, I guess, after you went away, "Barby went on; — "just come in here and see — and the carrotsmakes it as yellow and sweet as June — I churned as long as Ihad anything to churn, and longer; and now we live on cream —you can make some cheesecakes just as soon as you're a mind to— see! aint that doing pretty well? — and fine it is — putyour nose down to it —"

"Bravely, Barby — and it is very sweet. "

"You ha'n't left nothing behind you in New York, have you?"said Barby, when they returned to the kitchen. 

"Left anything! no — what do you think I have left?"

"I didn't know but you might have forgotten to pack up yourmemory, " said Barby, drily. 

Fleda laughed, and then in walked Mr. Douglass. 

"How d'ye do?" said he. "Got back again. I heerd you was hum, and so I thought I'd just step up and see. Been getting alongpretty well?"

Fleda answered, smiling internally at the wide distancebetween her "getting along, " and his idea of it. 

"Well, the hay's first rate!" said Earl, taking off his hat, and sitting down in the nearest chair —"I've been feedin' itout now for a good spell, and I know what to think about it. We've been feedin' it out ever since some time this side o'the middle o' November — I never see nothin' sweeter, and Idon't want to see nothin' sweeter than it is! and the cattleeats it liked May roses — they don't know how to thank youenough for it. "

"To thank _you_, Mr. Douglass, " said Fleda, smiling. 

"No, " said he, in a decided manner — "I don't want no thanksfor it, and I don't deserve none! 'Twa'n't thanks to none or_my_ foresightedness that the clover wa'n't served the old way. I didn't like new notions, and I never did like new notions, and I never see much good of 'em; but I suppose there's someon 'em that aint moonshine — my woman says there is, and Isuppose there is, and after this clover hay I'm willin' toallow that there is. It's as sweet as a posie if you smell toit — and all of it's cured alike; and I think, Fleda, there'sa quarter more weight of it. I ha'n't proved it nor weighedit, but I've an eye and a hand as good as most folks, and I'llqualify to there being a fourth part more weight of it — andit's a beautiful colour. The critters is as fond of it as youand I be of strawberries. "

"Well, that is satisfactory, Mr. Douglass, " said Fleda. "Howis Mrs. Douglass and Catherine?"

"I ha'n't heerd 'em sayin' nothin' about it, " he said; "and ifthere was anythin' the matter, I suppose they'd let me know. There don't much go wrong in a man's house without his hearin'tell of it. So I think. Maybe 'tan't the same in other men'shouses. That's the way it is in mine. "

"Mrs. Douglass would not thank you, " said Fleda, wholly unableto keep from laughing. Earl's mouth gave way a very little, and then he went on. 

"How be you?" he said. "You ha'n't gained much, as I see. Idon't see but you're as poor as when you went away. "

"I am very well, Mr. Douglass. "

"I guess New York aint the place to grow fat. Well, Fleda, there ha'n't been seen in the hull country, or by any man init, the like of the crop of corn we took off that 'ere twenty-acre lot — they're all beat to hear tell of it — they wontbelieve me — Seth Plumfield ha'n't showed as much himself; hesays you're the best farmer in the state. "

"I hope he gives you part of the credit, Mr. Douglass — howmuch was there?"

"I'll take my share of credit whenever I can get it, " saidEarl, "and I think it's right to take it, as long as youha'n't nothing to be ashamed of; but I wont take no more thanmy share; and I will say I thought we was a-goin' to choke thecorn to death, when we seeded the field in that way. Well, there's better than two thousand bushel — more or less — andas handsome corn as I want to see — there never was handsomercorn. Would you let it go for five shillings? — there's a manI've heerd of wants the hull of it. "

"Is that a good price, Mr. Douglass? Why don't you ask Mr. Rossitur?"

"Do you s'pose Mr. Rossitur knows much about it?" inquiredEarl, with a curious turn of feature, between sly andcontemptuous. "The less he has to do with that heap of corn, the bigger it'll be — that's my idee. I aint a-goin' to askhim nothin' — you may ask him what you like to ask him — but Idon't think he'll tell you much that'll make you and me wiserin the matter o' farmin'. "

"But now that he is at home, Mr. Douglass, I certainly cannotdecide without speaking to him. "

"Very good, " said Earl, uneasily — " 'taint no affair of nine— as you like to have it, so you'll have it — just as youplease! But now, Fleda, there's another thing I want to speakto you about — I want you to let me take hold of that 'erepiece of swamp land and bring it in. I knew a man that fixed apiece of land like that, and cleared nigh a thousand dollarsoff it the first year. "

"Which piece?" said Fleda. 

"Why, you know which 'tis — just the other side of the treesover there between them two little hills. There's six or sevenacres of it — nothin' in the world but mud and briers — willyou let me take hold of it. I'll do the hull job if you'llgive me half the profits for one year. Come over and look atit, and I'll tell you — come! — the walk wont hurt you, and itaint fur. "

All Fleda's inclinations said no, but she thought it was notbest to indulge them. She put on her hood and went off withhim; and was treated to a long and most implicated detail ofways and means, from which she at length disentangled the_rationale_ of the matter, and gave Mr. Douglass the consent heasked for, promising to gain that of her uncle. 

The day was fair and mild, and in spite of weariness of body, a certain weariness of mind prompted Fleda, when she had gotrid of Earl Douglass, to go and see her aunt Miriam. She went, questioning with herself all the way, for her want of goodwillto these matters. True, they were not pleasant mind-work; butshe tried to school herself into taking them patiently as goodlife-work. She had had too much pleasant company, and enjoyedtoo much conversation she said. It had unfitted her for homeduties. 

Mrs. Plumfield, she knew, was no better. But her eye found nochange for the worse. The old lady was very glad to see her, and very cheerful and kind as usual. 

"Well, are you glad to be home again?" said aunt Miriam, aftera pause in the conversation. 

"Everybody asks me that question, " said Fleda, smiling. 

"Perhaps for the same reason I did — because they thought youdidn't look very glad. "

"I am glad, " said Fleda, "but I believe not so glad as I waslast year. "

"Why not?"

"I suppose I had a pleasanter time. I have got a littlespoiled, I believe, aunt Miriam, " Fleda said, with glisteningeyes and an altering voice — "I don't take up my old cares andduties kindly at first — I shall be myself again in a fewdays. "

Aunt Miriam looked at her with that fond, wistful, benevolentlook which made Fleda turn away. 

"What has spoiled you, love?"

"Oh! — easy living and pleasure, I suppose, " Fleda said, butsaid with difficulty. 

"Pleasure?" said aunt Miriam, putting one arm gently roundher. Fleda struggled with herself. 

"It is so pleasant, aunt Miriam, to forget these money cares!— to lift one's eyes from the ground, and feel free to stretchout one's hand — not to be obliged to think about spendingsixpences, and to have one's mind at liberty for a great manythings that I haven't time for here. And Hugh — and aunt Lucy— somehow things seem sad to me. " —

Nothing could be more sympathizingly kind than the way inwhich aunt Miriam brought Fleda closer to her side, andwrapped her in her arms. 

"I am very foolish, " Fleda whispered. "I am very wrong — Ishall get over it. "

"I am afraid, dear Fleda, " Mrs. Plumfield said, after a pause, "it isn't best for us always to be without sad things — thoughI cannot bear to see your dear little face look sad — but itwouldn't fit us for the work we have to do — it wouldn't fitus to stand where I stand now, and look forward happily. "

"Where you stand?" said Fleda, raising her head. 

"Yes, and I would not be without a sorrow I have ever known. They are bitter now, when they are present — but the sweetfruit comes after. "

"But what do you mean by 'where you stand?' "

"On the edge of life. "

"You do not think so, aunt Miriam!" Fleda said, with aterrified look. "You are not worse?"

"I don't expect ever to be better, " said Mrs. Plumfield, witha smile. "Nay, my love, " she said, as Fleda's head went downon her bosom again — "not so! I do not wish it either, Fleda. I do not expect to leave you soon, but I would not prolong thetime by a day. I would not have spoken of it now if I hadrecollected myself; but I am so accustomed to think and speakof it, that it came out before I knew it. My darling child, itis nothing to cry for. "

"I know it, aunt Miriam. "

"Then don't cry, " whispered aunt Miriam, when she had strokedFleda's head for five minutes. 

"I am crying for myself, aunt Miriam, " said Fleda. "I shall beleft alone. "

"Alone, my dear child?"

"Yes — there is nobody but you that I feel I can talk to. "

She would have added that she dared not say a word to Hugh, for fear of troubling him. But that pain at her heart stoppedher, and pressing her hands together, she burst into bitterweeping. 

"Nobody to talk to but me?" said Mrs. Plumfield, after againsoothing her for some time — "what do you mean, dear?"

"Oh, I can't say anything to them at home, " said Fleda, with aforced effort after voice; "and you are the only one I canlook to for help — Hugh never says anything — almost never —anything of that kind; he would rather others should counselhim. "

"There is One friend to whom you may always tell everything, with no fear of wearying Him — of whom you may at all timesask counsel, without any danger of being denied — more dear, more precious, more rejoiced in, the more he is sought unto. Thou mayest lose friend after friend, and gain more than thoulosest — in that one. "

"I know it, " said Fleda; "but dear aunt Miriam, don't youthink human nature longs for some human sympathy and helptoo?"

"My sweet blossom! yes, " said Mrs. Plumfield, caressingly, stroking her bowed head; "but let Him do what he will; he hathsaid, 'I will never leave thee nor forsake thee. ' "

"I know that too, " said Fleda, weeping. "How do people bearlife that do not know it?"

"Or that cannot take the comfort of it. Thou art not poor noralone while thou hast him to go to, little Fleda. And you arenot losing me yet, my child; you will have time, I think, togrow as well satisfied as I with the prospect. "

"Is that possible, for _others?_" said Fleda. 

The mother sighed as her son entered the room. 

He looked uncommonly grave, Fleda thought. That did notsurprise her, but it seemed that it did his mother, for sheasked an explanation, which, however, he did not give. 

"So you've got back from New York, " said he. 

"Just got back yesterday, " said Fleda. 

"Why didn't you stay longer?"

"I thought my friends at home would be glad to see me, " saidFleda. "Was I mistaken?"

He made no answer for a minute, and then said —

"Is your uncle at home?"

"No, " said Fleda; "he went away this morning on business, andwe do not expect him home before nightfall. Do you want to seehim?"

"No, " said Seth, very decidedly. "I wish he had staid inMichigan, or gone further west — anywhere that Queechy'd neverhave heard of him. "

"Why, what has he done?" said Fleda, looking up, halflaughing, and half amazed at her cousin. But his face wasdisagreeably dark, though she could not make out that theexpression was one of displeasure. It did not encourage her totalk. 

"Do you know a man in New York by the name of Thorn?" he said, after standing still a minute or two. 

"I know two men of that name, " said Fleda, colouring andwondering. 

"Is either on 'em a friend of your'n?"

"No"

"He aint?" said Mr. Plumfield, giving the forestick on thefire an energetic kick, which Fleda could not help thinkingwas mentally aimed at the said New Yorker. 

"No, certainly, what makes you ask?"

"Oh, " said Seth, drily, "folks' tongues will find work to do;I heerd say something like that; I thought you must take tohim more than I do. "

"Why what do you know of him?"

"He's been here a spell lately, " said Seth, "poking round;more for ill than for good, I reckon. "

He turned, and quitted the room abruptly; and Fleda bethoughther that she must go home while she had light enough. 

CHAPTER XII. 

"Nothing could be more obliging and respectful than the lion'sletter was, in appearance; but there was death in the trueintent. "L'ESTRANGE. 

The landscape had grown more dark since Fleda came up thehill, or else the eyes that looked at it. Both, probably. Itwas just after sundown, and that is a very sober time of dayin winter, especially in some states of the weather. The sunhad left no largesses behind him; the scenery was deserted toall the coming poverty of night, and looked grim andthreadbare already. Not one of the colours of prosperity left. The land was in mourning dress; all the ground, and even theice on the little mill-ponds, a uniform spread of white, whilethe hills were draperied with black stems, here just veilingthe snow, and there on a side view making a thick fold ofblack. Every little unpainted workshop or mill showeduncompromisingly all its forbidding sharpness of angle andoutline darkening against the twilight. In better days, perhaps, some friendly tree had hung over it, shielding partof its faults, and redeeming the rest. Now nothing but thegaunt skeleton of a friend stood there — doubtless to budforth again as fairly as ever, should the season smile. Stilland quiet, all was, as Fleda's spirit, and in too good harmonywith it; she resolved to choose the morning to go out infuture. There was as little of the light of spring or summerin her own mind as on the hills, and it was desirable to catchat least a cheering reflection. She could rouse herself to nobright thoughts, try as she would; the happy voices of naturethat used to speak to her were all hushed, or her ear wasdeaf; and her eye met nothing that did not immediately fall inwith the train of sad images that were passing through hermind, and swell the procession. She was fain to fall back andstay herself upon these words, the only stand-by she could layhold of: —

"TO THEM WHO, BY PATIENT CONTINUANCE IN WELL-DOING SEEK FORGLORY, AND HONOUR, AND IMMORTALITY, ETERNAL LIFE!"

They toned with the scene and with her spirit exactly; theysuited the darkening sky and the coming night; for "glory, honour, and immortality" are not now. They filled Fleda's mindafter they had once entered, and then nature's sympathy wasagain as readily given; each barren, stern-looking hill in itsguise of present desolation and calm expectancy seemed to echosoftly, "patient continuance in well-doing. " And the tearstrembled then in Fleda's eyes; she had set her face, as theold Scotchman says, "in the right airth. "* [* Quarter, direction. ] "How sweet is the wind that bloweth out of theairth where Christ is!"

"Well, " said Hugh, who entered the kitchen with her, "you havebeen late enough. Did you have a pleasant walk? You are pale, Fleda. "

"Yes, it was pleasant, " said Fleda, with one of her winningsmiles — "a kind of pleasant. But have you looked at thehills? They are exactly as if they had put on mourning —nothing but white and black — a crape-like dressing of blacktree-stems upon the snowy face of the ground, and on everyslope and edge of the hills the crape lies in folds. Do lookat it when you go out! It has a most curious effect. "

"Not pleasant, I should think?" said Hugh. 

"You'll see it is just as I have described it. No; notpleasant, exactly; the landscape wants the sun to light it upjust now — it is cold and wilderness-looking. I think I'lltake the morning in future. Whither are you bound?"

"I must go over to Queechy Run for a minute, on business —I'll be home before supper — I should have been back by thistime, but Philetus has gone to bed with a headache, and I hadto take care of the cows. "

"Three times and out, " said Barby. "I wont try again. [ didn'tknow as anything would be too powerful for his head; but Ifind, as sure as he has apple dumplin' for dinner, he goes tobed for his supper, and leaves the cows without none. And thenHugh has to take it. It has saved so many Elephants — that'sone thing. "

Hugh went out by one door, and Fleda by another entered thebreakfast-room, the one generally used in winter for allpurposes. Mrs. Rossitur sat there alone in an easy-chair; andFleda no sooner caught the outline of her figure than herheart sank at once to an unknown depth — unknown before andunfathomable now. She was cowering over the fire — her headsunk in her hands, so crouching, that the line of neck andshoulders instantly conveyed to Fleda the idea of fancied orfelt degradation — there was no escaping it — how, whence, what, was all wild confusion. But the language of mereattitude was so unmistakable — the expression of crushing painwas so strong, that, after Fleda had fearfully made her way upbeside her, she could do no more. She stood there tongue-tied, spell-bound, present to nothing but a nameless chill of fearand heart-sinking. She was afraid to speak — afraid to touchher aunt, and abode motionless in the grasp of that dread forminutes. But Mrs. Rossitur did not stir a hair, and the terrorof that stillness grew to be less endurable than any other. 

Fleda spoke to her — it did not win the shadow of a reply —again and again. She laid her hand then upon Mrs. Rossitur'sshoulder, but the very significant answer to that, was ashrinking gesture of the shoulder and neck away from the hand. Fleda, growing desperate, then implored an answer in words —prayed for an explanation — with an intensity of distress invoice and manner, that no one whose ears were not stopped witha stronger feeling could have been deaf to; but Mrs. Rossiturwould not raise her head, nor slacken in the least the claspof the fingers that supported it; that of themselves in theirrelentless tension spoke what no words could. Fleda'strembling prayers were in vain — in vain. Poor nature at lastsought a woman's relief in tears — but they were heart-breaking, not heart-relieving tears — racking both mind andbody more than they ought to bear, but bringing no cure. Mrs. Rossitur seemed as unconscious of her niece's mute agony asshe had been of her agony of words; and it was from Fleda'sown self-recollection alone that she fought off pain, androused herself above weakness to do what the time called for. 

"Aunt Lucy, " she said, laying her hand upon her shoulder, andthis time the voice was steady, and the hand would not beshaken off — "Aunt Lucy, Hugh will be in presently — hadn'tyou better rouse yourself and go up stairs — for awhile? —till you are better? — and not let him see you so?" —

How the voice was broken and quivering before it got through?

The answer this time was a low long-drawn moan, so exceedingplaintive and full of pain that it made Fleda shake like anaspen. But after a moment she spoke again, bearing moreheavily with her hand to mark her words. 

"I am afraid he will be in presently — he ought not to see younow. Aunt Lucy, I am afraid it might do him an injury he mightnot get over" —

She spoke with the strength of desperation; her nerves wereunstrung by fear, and every joint weakened, so that she couldhardly support herself. She had not, however, spoken in vain;one or two convulsive shudders passed over her aunt, and thenMrs. Rossitur suddenly rose, turning her face from Fleda;neither would she permit her to follow her. But Fleda thoughtshe had seen that one or two unfolded letters or papers ofsome kind — they looked like letters — were in her lap whenshe raised her head. 

Left alone, Fleda sat down on the floor by the easy chair, andrested her head there, waiting — she could do nothing else —till her extreme excitement of body and mind should havequieted itself. She had a kind of vague hope that time woulddo something for her before Hugh came in. Perhaps it did; forthough she lay in a kind of stupor, and was conscious of nochange whatever she was able, when she heard him coming, toget up and sit in the chair in an ordinary attitude. But shelooked like the wraith of herself an hour ago. 

"Fleda!" Hugh exclaimed, as soon as he looked from the fire toher face; "what is the matter? — what is the matter with you?"

"I am not very well — I don't feel very well, " said Fleda, speaking almost mechanically; "I shall have a headache to-morrow. " —

"Headache! But you look shockingly: what has happened to you?what is the matter, Fleda?"

"I am not ill — I shall be better by and by. There is nothingthe matter with me that need trouble you, dear Hugh. "

"Nothing the matter with you, " said he, and Fleda might seehow she looked in the reflection of his face; "where'smother?"

"She is up stairs — you mustn't go to her, Hugh!" said Fleda, laying a detaining hand upon him with more strength than shethought she had; "I don't want anything. "

"Why mustn't I go to her?"

"I don't think she wants to be disturbed" —

"I must disturb her" —

"You mustn't! — I know she don't — she isn't well — somethinghas happened to trouble her" —

"What?"

"I don't know. "

"And is that what has troubled you, too?" said Hugh, hiscountenance changing as he gained more light on the subject;"what is it, dear Fleda?"

"I don't know, " repeated Fleda, bursting into tears. Hugh wasquiet enough now, and sat down beside her, subdued and still, without even desiring to ask a question. Fleda's tears flowedviolently for a minute, then she checked them for his sake, and they sat motionless, without speaking to one another, looking into the fire, and letting it die out before them intoembers and ashes, neither stirring to put a hand to it. As thefire died, the moonlight streamed in : how very dismal theroom looked!

"What do you think about having tea?" said Barby, opening thedoor of the kitchen. 

Neither felt it possible to answer her. 

"Mr. Rossitur aint come home, is he?"

"No, " said Fleda, shuddering. 

"So I thought, and so I told Seth Plumfield, just now — he wasasking for him. My stars! ha'n't you no fire here? what didyou let it go out for?"

Barby came in and began to build it up. 

"It's growing cold, I can tell you, so you may as well havesomething in the chimney to look at. You'll want it shortly, if you don't now. "

"Was Mr. Plumfield here, did you say, Barby?"

"Yes. "

"Why didn't he come in!"

"I s'pose he hadn't a mind to, " said Barby. " 'Twa'n't forwant of being asked. I did the civil thing by him if he didn'tby me; but he said he didn't want to see anybody but Mr. Rossitur. "

Did not want to see anybody but Mr. Rossitur, when he haddistinctly said he did not wish to see him! Fleda felt sick, merely from the mysterious dread which could fasten uponnothing, and therefore took in everything. 

"Well, what about tea?" concluded Barby, when the fire wasgoing according to her wishes. "Will you have it, or will youwait longer?"

"No, we wont wait; we will have it now, Barby, " said Fleda, forcing herself to make the exertion; and she went to thewindow to put down the hangings. 

The moonlight was very bright, and Fleda's eye was caught inthe very act of letting down the curtain, by a figure in theroad slowly passing before the courtyard fence. It paused amoment by the horse-gate, and turning, paced slowly back tillit was hid behind the rose-acacias. There was a clump ofshrubbery in that corner thick enough even in winter to servefor a screen. Fleda stood with the curtain in her hand, halflet down, unable to move, and feeling almost as if the verycurrents of life within her were standing still, too. Shethought, she was almost sure, she knew the figure; it was onher tongue to ask Hugh to come and look, but she checked that. The form appeared again from behind the acacias, moving withthe same leisurely pace the other way towards the horse-gate. Fleda let down the curtain, then the other two, quietly, andthen left the room, and stole, noiselessly, out at the frontdoor, leaving it open, that the sound of it might not warnHugh what she was about; and stepping like a cat down thesteps, ran, breathlessly, over the snow to the courtyard gate;there waited, shivering in the cold, but not feeling it forthe cold within, while the person she was watching stood stilla few moments by the horse-gate, and came again, withleisurely steps towards her. 

"Seth Plumfield!" said Fleda, almost as much frightened at thesound of her own voice as he was. He stopped immediately, witha start, and came up to the little gate behind which she wasstanding, but said nothing. 

"What are you doing here?"

"You oughtn't to be out without anything on, " said he —"you're fixing to take your death. "

He had good reason to say so. But she gave him no more heedthan the wind. 

"What are you waiting here for? What do you want?"

"I have nothing better to do with my time, " said he; "Ithought I'd walk up and down here a little. You go in!"

"Are you waiting to see uncle Rolf?" she said, with teethchattering. 

"You mustn't stay out here, " said he, earnestly; "you're likenothing but a spook this minute — I'd rather see one, or ahull army of 'em. Go in, go in!"

"Tell me if you want to see him, Seth. "

"No, I don't — I told you I didn't. "

"Then why are you waiting for him?"

"I thought I'd see if he was coming home to-night — I had aword to say if I could catch him before he got into thehouse. "

"_Is_ he coming home to-night?" said Fleda. 

"I don't know!" said he, looking at her. "Do you!"

Fleda burst open the gate between them, and putting her handson his, implored him to tell her what was the matter. Helooked singularly disturbed; his fine eye twinkled withcompassion; but his face, never a weak one, showed no signs ofyielding now. 

"The matter is, " said he, pressing hard both her hands, "thatyou are fixing to be down sick in your bed by to-morrow. Youmustn't stay another second. "

"Come in, then. "

"No — not to-night. "

"You wont tell me?"

"There is nothing I can tell you — maybe there'll be nothingto tell — run in, run in, and keep quiet. "

Fleda hurried back to the house, feeling that she had gone tothe limit of risk already. Not daring to show herself to Hughin her chilled state of body and mind, she went into thekitchen. 

"Why, what on earth's come over you!" was Barby's terrifiedejaculation, when she saw her. 

"I have been out and got myself cold —"

"Cold!" said Barby — "you're looking dreadful! What on earthails you, Fleda?"

"Don't ask me, Barby, " said Fleda, hiding her face in herhands, and shivering; "I made myself very cold just now — AuntLucy doesn't feel very well, and I got frightened, " she added, presently. 

"What's the matter with her?"

"I don't know — if you'll make me a cup of tea, I'll take itup to her, Barby. "

"You put yourself down there, " said Barby, placing her withgentle force in a chair; "you'll do no such a thing till I seeyou look as if there was some blood in you. I'll take it upmyself. "

But Fleda held her, though with a hand much too feeble indeedfor any but moral suasion. It was enough. Barby stoodsilently, and very anxiously watching her, till the fire hadremoved the outward chill at least. But even that took long todo, and before it was well done, Fleda again asked for the cupof tea. Barby made it without a word, and Fleda went to heraunt with it, taking her strength from the sheer emergency. Her knees trembled under her as she mounted the stairs, andonce a glimpse of those words flitted across her mind —"patient continuance in well-doing. " It was like a lightningflash in a dark night showing the way one must go. She couldlay hold of no other stay. Her mind was full of one intensepurpose — to end the suspense. 

She gently tried the door of her aunt's room; it wasunfastened, and she went in. Mrs. Rossitur was lying on thebed; but her first mood had changed, for at Fleda's soft wordand touch she half rose up, and, putting both arms round herwaist, laid her face against her. There were no tears still, only a succession of low moans, so inexpressibly weak andplaintive, that Fleda's nature could hardly bear them withoutgiving way. A more fragile support was never clung to. Yet hertrembling fingers, in their agony, moved caressingly among heraunt's hair and over her brow, as she begged her — when shecould, she was not able at first — to let her know the causethat was grieving her. The straitened clasp of Mrs. Rossitur'sarms, and her increased moaning, gave only an answer of pain. But Fleda repeated the question. Mrs. Rossitur stillneglecting it, then made her sit down upon the bed, so thatshe could lay her head higher on Fleda's bosom; where she hidit, with a mingling of fondness given and asked — a poorseeking for comfort and rest, that wrung her niece's heart. 

They sat so for a little time; Fleda hoping that her auntwould by degrees come to the point herself. The tea stoodcooling on the table, not even offered; not wanted there. 

"Wouldn't you feel better if you told me, dear aunt Lucy?"said Fleda, when they had been for a little while perfectlystill. Even the moaning had ceased. 

"Is your uncle come home?" whispered Mrs. Rossitur, but so lowthat Fleda could but half catch the words. 

"Not yet. "

"What o'clock is it?"

"I don't know — not early — it must be near eight. — Why?"

"You have not heard anything of him?"

"No — nothing. "

There was silence again for a little, and then Mrs. Rossitursaid in a low, fearful whisper —

"Have you seen anybody round the house?"

Fleda's thoughts flew to Seth, with that nameless fear towhich she could give neither shape nor direction, and after amoment's hesitation she said —

"What do you mean?"

"Have you?" said Mrs. Rossitur, with more energy. 

"Seth Plumfield was here a little while ago. "

Her aunt had the clue that she had not, for with a halfscream, half exclamation, she quitted Fleda's arms, and fellback upon the pillows, turning from her and hiding her facethere. Fleda prayed again for her confidence, as well as theweakness and the strength of fear could do; and Mrs. Rossiturpresently grasping a paper that lay on the bed, held it out toher, saying only, as Fleda was about quitting the room, "Bringme a light. "

Fleda left the letter there and went down to fetch one. Shecommanded herself under the excitement and necessity of themoment — all but her face; that terrified Barby exceedingly. But she spoke with a strange degree of calmness; told her Mrs. Rossitur was not alarmingly ill; that she did not need Barby'sservices, and wished to see nobody but herself, and didn'twant a fire. As she was passing through the hall again, Hughcame out of the sitting-room to ask after his mother. Fledakept the light from her face. 

"She does not want to be disturbed — I hope she will be betterto-morrow. "

"What is the matter, Fleda?"

"I don't know yet. "

"And you are ill yourself, Fleda? — you are ill?" —

"No — I shall do very well — never mind me. Hugh, take sometea — I will be down by and by. "

He went back, and Fleda went up stairs. Mrs. Rossitur had notmoved. Fleda set down the light, and herself beside it, withthe paper her aunt had given her. It was a letter. 

"Queechy, Thursday. 

"It gives me great concern, my dear Madam, to be the means ofbringing to you a piece of painful information — but it cannotbe long kept from your knowledge, and you may perhaps learn itbetter from me than by any other channel. May I entreat younot to be too much alarmed, since I am confident the causewill be of short duration?

"Pardon me for what I am about to say. 

"There are proceedings entered into against Mr. Rossitur —there are writs out against him — on the charge of having, some years ago, endorsed my father's name upon a note of hisown giving. Why it has lain so long I cannot explain. Thereis, unhappily, no doubt of the fact. 

"I was in Queechy some days ago, on business of my own, when Ibecame aware that this was going on — my father had made nomention of it to me. I immediately took strict measures, I amhappy to say, I believe with complete success — to have thematter kept a profound secret. I then made my way as fastpossible to New York to confer on the subject with theoriginal mover of it — unfortunately I was disappointed. Myfather had left for a neighbouring city, to be absent severaldays. Finding myself too late to prevent, as I had hoped todo, any open steps from being taken at Queechy, I returnedhither immediately to enforce secrecy of proceedings and toassure you, Madam, that my utmost exertions shall not bewanting to bring the whole matter to a speedy and satisfactorytermination. I entertain no doubt of being able to succeedentirely — even to the point of having the whole transactionremain unknown and unsuspected by the world. It is so entirelyas yet, with the exception of one or two law officers, whosesilence I have means of procuring. 

"May I confess that I am not entirely disinterested? May theselfishness of human nature ask its reward, and own its movingspring! May I own that my zeal in this cause is quickened bythe unspeakable excellencies of Mr. Rossitur's lovely niece —which I have learned to appreciate with my whole heart — andbe forgiven? And may I hope for the kind offices andintercession of the lady I have the honour of addressing, withher niece, Miss Ringgan, that my reward — the single word ofencouragement I ask for — may be given me? Having that, I willpromise anything — I will guarantee the success of anyenterprise, however difficult, to which she may impel me — andI will undertake that the matter which furnishes the painfultheme of this letter shall never more be spoken or thought ofby the world, or my father, or by Mrs. Rossitur's obliged, grateful, and faithful servant, LEWIS THORN. "

Fleda felt, as she read, as if icicles were gathering abouther heart. The whirlwind of fear and distress of a littlewhile ago, which could take no definite direction, seemed tohave died away and given place to a dead frost — the steadybearing down of disgrace and misery, inevitable, unmitigable, unchangeable; no lessening, no softening of that blastingpower, no, nor ever any rising up from under it; the landscapecould never be made to smile again. It was the fall of abright star from their home constellation, but alas! the starwas fallen long ago, and the failure of light which they haddeplored was all too easily accounted for; yet now they knewthat no restoration was to be hoped. And the mother and son —what would become of them? And the father — what would becomeof him? what further distress was in store? — Public disgrace?— and Fleda bowed her head forward on her clasped hands withthe mechanical, vain endeavour to seek rest or shelter fromthought. She made nothing of Mr. Thorn's professions, she tookonly the facts of his letter; the rest her eye had glancedover as if she had no concern with it, and it hardly occurredto her that she had any. But the sense of his words she hadtaken in, and knew, better perhaps than her aunt, that therewas nothing to look for from his kind offices. The weight onher heart was too great just then for her to suspect, as shedid afterwards, that he was the sole mover of the wholeaffair. 

As the first confusion of thought cleared away, two images ofdistress loomed up and filled the view — her aunt, brokenunder the news, and Hugh still unknowing to them; her ownseparate existence Fleda was hardly conscious of. Hughespecially — how was he to be told, and how could he bear tohear, with his most sensitive conformation of both physicaland moral nature? And if an arrest should take place therethat night! — Fleda shuddered, and, unable to go on thinking, rose up and went to her aunt's bedside. It had not entered hermind till the moment she read Mr. Thorn's letter that SethPlumfield was sheriff for the county. She was shaking againfrom head to foot with fear. She could not say anything — thetouch of her lips to the throbbing temples, soft and tender assympathy itself, was all she ventured. 

"Have you heard anything of him?" Mrs. Rossitur whispered. 

"No — I doubt if we do at all to-night. "

There was a half breathed "Oh!" — of indescribable pain andlonging; and with a restless change of position Mrs. Rossiturgathered herself up on the bed and sat with her head leaningon her knees. Fleda brought a large cloak and put it roundher. 

"I am in no danger, " she said — "I wish I were!"

Again Fleda's lips softly, tremblingly touched her cheek. 

Mrs. Rossitur put her arm round her and drew her down to herside, upon the bed, and wrapped half of the big cloak abouther; and they sat there still in each other's arms, withoutspeaking or weeping, while quarter after quarter of an hourpassed away — nobody knew how many. And the cold brightmoonlight streamed in on the floor, mocking them. 

"Go!" whispered Mrs. Rossitur, at last — "go down stairs, andtake care of yourself — and Hugh. "

"Wont you come?"

Mrs. Rossitur shook her head. 

"Mayn't I bring you something? — do let me. "

But Mrs. Rossitur's shake of the head was decisive. Fledacrawled off the bed, feeling as if a month's illness had beenmaking its ravages upon her frame and strength. She stood amoment to collect her thoughts; but alas, thinking wasimpossible; there was a palsy upon her mind. She went into herown room, and for a minute kneeled down — not to form apetition in words — she was as much beyond that; it was onlythe mute attitude of appeal, the pitiful outward token of themind's bearing, that could not be forborne — a silent utteringof the plea she had made her own in happy days. There wassomething of comfort in the mere feeling of doing it; andthere was more in one or two words that even in that blankcame to her mind — "_Like as a father pitieth his children, sothe Lord pitieth them that fear him;_" and she againrecollected that "Providence runneth not upon broken wheels. "Nothing could be darker than the prospect before her, andthese things did not bring light; but they gave her a surestay to hold on by and keep her feet — a bit of strength topreserve from utterly fainting. Ah! the store-house must befilled, and the mind well familiarized with what is stored init while yet the days are bright, or it will never be able tofind what it wants in the dark. 

Fleda first went into the kitchen to tell Barby to fasten thedoors, and not sit up. 

"I don't believe uncle Rolf will be home to-night; but if hecomes, I will let him in. "

Barby looked at her with absolutely a face of distress; butnot daring to ask, and not knowing how to propose anything, she looked in silence. 

"It must be nine o'clock now, " Fleda went on. 

"And how long be you going to sit up?" said Barby. 

"I don't know — a while yet. "

"You look proper for it!" said Barby, half sorrowfully andhalf indignantly; "you look as if a straw would knock you downthis minute. There's sense into everything. You catch me a-going to bed, and leaving you up! It wont do me no hurt to sithere the hull night; and I'm the only one in the house that'sfit for it, with the exception of Philetus, and the little withe has by day seems to forsake him at night. All the lightthat ever gets into his head, _I_ believe, comes from theoutside; as soon as ever that's gone, he shuts up hisshutters. He's been snoozing a'ready now this hour and a half. Go yourself off to bed, Fleda, " she added, with a mixture ofreproach and kindness, "and leave me alone to take care ofmyself and the house too. "

Fleda did not remonstrate, for Barby was as determined in herway as it was possible for anything to be. She went into theother room without a particle of notion what she should say ordo. 

Hugh was walking up and down the floor — a most unusual signof perturbation with him. He met and stopped her as she camein. 

"Fleda, I cannot bear it. What is the matter? Do you know?" hesaid, as her eyes fell. 

"Yes —"

"What is it?"

She was silent, and tried to pass on to the fire. But hestayed her. 

"What is it?" he repeated. 

"Oh, I wish I could keep it from you!" said Fleda, burstinginto tears. 

He was still a moment; and then, bringing her to the arm-chair, made her sit down, and stood himself before her, silently waiting, perhaps because he could not speak, perhapsfrom the accustomed gentle endurance of his nature. But Fledawas speechless too. 

"You are keeping me in distress, " he said, at length. 

"I cannot end the distress, dear Hugh, " said Fleda. 

She saw him change colour, and he stood motionless still. 

"Do you remember, " said Fleda, trembling even to her voice, "what Rutherford says about Providence 'not running on brokenwheels?' "

He gave her no answer but the intent look of expectation. Itsintentness paralysed Fleda. She did not know how to go on. Sherose from her chair and hung upon his shoulder. 

"Believe it now, if you can; for oh, dear Hugh! we havesomething to try it. "

"It is strange my father don't come home, " said he, supportingher with tenderness, which had very little strength to helpit; "we want him very much. "

Whether or not any unacknowledged feeling prompted thisremark, some slight involuntary movement of Fleda's made himask, suddenly —

"Is it about him?"

He had grown deadly pale, and Fleda answered, eagerly —

"Nothing that has happened to-day — it is not anything thathas happened to-day: he is perfectly well, I trust andbelieve. "

"But it is about him?"

Fleda's head sank, and she burst into such an agony of tearsthat Hugh's distress was for a time divided. 

"When did it happen, Fleda?"

"Years ago. "

"And what?"

Fleda hesitated still, and then said —

"It was something he did, Hugh. "

"What?"

"He put another person's name on the back of a note he gave. "

She did not look up, and Hugh was silent for a moment. 

"How do you know?"

"Mr. Thorn wrote it to aunt Lucy; it was Mr. Thorn's father. "

Hugh sat down and leaned his head on the table. A long, long, time passed — unmeasured by the wild coursing of thought toand fro. Then Fleda came and knelt down at the table besidehim, and put her arm round his neck. 

"Dear Hugh, " she said — and if ever love, and tenderness, andsympathy could be distilled in tones, such drops were thosethat fell upon the mind's ear — "can't you look up at me?"

He did then, but he did not give her a chance to look at him. He locked his arms about her, bringing her close to hisbreast; and for a few minutes, in utter silence, they knewwhat strange sweetness pure affection can mingle, even in thecommunion of sorrow. There were tears shed in those minutesthat, bitter as they seemed at the time, memory knew had beenlargely qualified with another admixture. 

"Dear Hugh, " said Fleda, "let us keep what we can. Wont you goto bed and rest?"

He looked dreadfully as if he needed it; but the usualcalmness and sweetness of his face was not altered; it wasonly deepened to very great sadness. Mentally, Fleda thought, he had borne the shock better than his mother; for the bodilyframe she trembled. He had not answered, and she spoke again. 

"You need it worse than I, poor Fleda. "

"I will go, too, presently: I do not think anybody will behere to-night. "

"Is — are there — is this what has taken him away?" said Hugh. 

Her silence and her look told him; and then, laying her cheekagain alongside of his, she whispered (how unsteadily!) —

"We have only one help, dear Hugh. "

They were still and quiet again for minutes, counting thepulses of pain, till Fleda came back to her poor wish "to keepwhat they could. " She mixed a restorative of wine and water, which, however little desired, she felt was necessary for bothof them, and Hugh went up stairs. She staid a few minutes toprepare another glass, with particular care, for her aunt. Itwas just finished, and, taking her candle, she had bid Barbygood night, when there came a loud rap at the front door. Fleda set down candle and glass, from the quick inability tohold them, as well as for other reasons, and she and Barbystood and looked at each other, in such a confusion of doubtand dread, that some little time had passed before eitherstirred even her eyes. Barby then threw down the tongs, withwhich she had begun to make preparations for covering up thefire, and set off to the front. 

"You mustn't open the door, Barby, " cried Fleda, followingher. "Come in here, and let us look out of one of thewindows. "

Before this could be reached, however, there was anotherprolonged repetition of the first thundering burst. It wentthrough Fleda's heart, because of the two up stairs who musthear it. 

Barby threw up the sash. 

"Who's there?"

"Is this Mr. Rossitur's place?" inquired a gruff voice. 

"Yes, it is. "

"Well will you come round and open the door?"

"Who wants it open?"

"A lady wants it open. "

"A lady! — what lady?"

"Down yonder, in the carriage. "

"What lady? — who is she?"

"I don't know who she is: she wanted to come to Mr. Rossitur'splace. Will you open the door for her?"

Barby and Fleda both now saw a carriage standing in the road. 

"We must see who it is first, " whispered Fleda. 

"When the lady comes, I'll open the door, " was Barby'sultimatum. 

The man withdrew to the carriage, and, after a few moments ofintense watching, Fleda and Barby certainly saw something infemale apparel enter the little gate of the court-yard, andcome up over the bright, moonlit snow towards the house, accompanied by a child; while the man with whom they had hadthe interview came behind, transformed into an unmistakablebaggage-carrier. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

"Zeal was the spring whence flowed her hardiment. "FAIRFAX. 

Barby undid bolt and lock, and Fleda met the traveller in thehall. She was a lady; her air and dress showed that, thoughthe latter was very plain. 

"Does Mr. Rossitur live here?" was her first word. 

Fleda answered it, and brought her visitor into the sitting-room. But the light falling upon a form and face that had seenmore wear and tear than time, gave her no clue as to the whoor what of the person before her. The stranger's hurried lookaround the room seemed to expect something. 

"Are they all gone to bed?"

"All but me, " said Fleda. 

"We have been delayed — we took a wrong road — we've beenriding for hours to find the place — hadn't the rightdirection. " Then, looking keenly at Fleda, from whose visionan electric spark of intelligence had scattered the clouds, she said —

"I am Marion Rossitur. "

"I knew it!" said Fleda, with lips and eyes that gave heralready a sister's welcome; and they were folded in eachother's arms almost as tenderly and affectionately, on thepart of one at least, as if there had really been therelationship between them. But more than surprise andaffection struck Fleda's heart. 

"And where are they all, Fleda? Can't I see them?"

"You must wait till I have prepared them; Hugh and aunt Lucyare not very well. I don't know that it will do for you to seethem at all to-night, Marion. "

"Not to-night! They are not ill?"

"No — only enough to be taken care of — not ill. But it wouldbe better to wait. "

"And my father?"

"He is not at home. "

Marion exclaimed in sorrow, and Fleda, to hide the look thatshe felt was on her face, stooped down to kiss the child. Hewas a remarkably fine-looking, manly boy. 

"That is your cousin Fleda, " said his mother. 

"No — _aunt_ Fleda, " said the person thus introduced — "don'tput me off into cousindom, Marion. I am uncle Hugh's sister —and so I am your aunt Fleda. Who are you?"

"Rolf Rossitur Schwiden. "

Alas, how wide are the ramifications of evil! How was whatmight have been very pure pleasure utterly poisoned and turnedinto bitterness! It went through Fleda's heart with a keenpang, when she heard that name and looked on the very fairbrow that owned it, and thought of the ineffaceable stain thathad come upon both. She dared look at nobody but the child. Healready understood the melting eyes that were makingacquaintance with his, and half felt the pain that gave somuch tenderness to her kiss, and looked at her with a graveface of awakening wonder and sympathy. Fleda was glad to havebusiness to call her into the kitchen. 

"Who is it?" was Barby's immediate question. 

"Aunt Lucy's daughter. "

"She don't look much like her!" said Barby, intelligently. 

"They will want something to eat, Barby. "

"I'll put the kettle on. It'll boil directly. I'll go in thereand fix up the fire. "

A word or two more, and then Fleda ran up to speak to her auntand Hugh. 

Her aunt she found in a state of agitation that was frightful. Even Fleda's assurances, with all the soothing arts she couldbring to bear, were some minutes before they could in anymeasure tranquillize her. Fleda's own nerves were in nocondition to stand another shock, when she left her and wentto Hugh's door. But she could get no answer from him, thoughshe spoke repeatedly. 

She did not return to her aunt's room. She went down stairs, and brought up Barby and a light from thence. 

Hugh was lying senseless and white — not whiter than hisadopted sister, as she stood by his side. Her eye went to hercompanion. 

"Not a bit of it!" said Barby, — "he's in nothing but a faint— just run down stairs and get the vinegar-bottle, Fleda — thepepper vinegar. Is there any water here?" —

Fleda obeyed, and watched — she could little more — theefforts of Barby, who indeed needed no help, with the coldwater, the vinegar, and rubbing of the limbs. They were forsome time unsuccessful — the fit was a severe one, and Fledawas exceedingly terrified before any signs of returning lifecame to reassure her. 

"Now, you go down stairs and keep quiet!" said Barby, whenHugh was fairly restored, and had smiled a faint answer toFleda's kiss and explanations — "Go, Fleda! you aint fit tostand. Go and sit down some place, and I'll be along directlyand see how the fire burns. Don't you s'pose Mis' Rossiturcould come in, and sit in this easy-chair a spell withouthurting herself?"

It occurred to Fleda immediately, that it might do more goodthan harm to her aunt if her attention were diverted even byanother cause of anxiety. She gently summoned her, telling herno more than was necessary to fit her for being Hugh's nurse, and, in a very few minutes, she and Barby were at liberty toattend to other claims upon them. But it sank into her heart, "Hugh will not get over this!" — and when she entered thesitting-room, what Mr. Carleton, years before, had said of thewood-flower, was come true in its fullest extent — "A storm-wind had beaten it to the ground. "

She was able, literally, to do no more than Barby had said —sit down and keep herself quiet. Miss Elster was in herbriskest mood, flew in and out, made up the fire in thesitting-room, and put on the kettle in the kitchen, which shehad been just about doing when called to see Hugh. The much-needed supper of the travellers must be still waited for; butthe fire was burning now, the room was cozily warm and bright, and Marion drew up her chair with a look of thoughtfulcontentment. Fleda felt as if some conjurer had been at workthere for the last few hours — the room looked so like andfelt so unlike itself. 

"Are you going to be ill too, Fleda?" said Marion, suddenly. "You are looking — very far from well!"

"I shall have a headache to-morrow, " said Fleda, quietly, — "Igenerally know the day beforehand. "

"Does it always make you look so?"

"Not always — I am somewhat tired. "

"Where is my father gone?"

"I don't know. Rolf, dear, " said Fleda, bending forward to thelittle fellow, who was giving expression to some very fidgetyimpatience — "what is the matter? — what do you want?"

The child's voice fell a little from its querulousness towardsthe sweet key in which the questions had been put, but he gaveutterance to a very decided wish for "bread and butter. "

"Come here, " said Fleda, reaching out a hand and drawing him, certainly with no force but that of attraction, towards hereasy-chair — "come here and rest yourself in this nice placeby me — see, there is plenty of room for you — and you shallhave bread and butter and tea, and something else, too, Iguess, just as soon as Barby can get it ready. "

"Who is Barby?" was the next question, in a mostuncompromising tone of voice. 

"You saw the woman that came in to put wood on the fire — thatwas Barby — she is very good and kind, and will do anythingfor you if you behave yourself. "

The child muttered, but so low as to show some unwillingnessthat his words should reach the ears that were nearest him, that "he wasn't going to behave himself. "

Fleda did not choose to hear, and went on with composingobservations, till the fair little face she had drawn to herside was as bright as the sun, and returned her smile withinterest. 

"You have an admirable talent at moral suasion, Fleda, " saidthe mother, half smiling — "I wish I had it. "

"You don't need it so much here. "

"Why not?"

"It may do very well for me, but I think, not so well foryou. "

"Why? — what do you mean? I think it is the only way in theworld to bring up children — the only way fit for rationalbeings to be guided. "

Fleda smiled, though the faintest indication that lips couldgive, and shook her head — ever so little. 

"Why do you do that? — tell me. "

"Because, in my limited experience, " said Fleda, as she passedher fingers through the boy's dark locks of hair — "in everyhousehold where 'moral suasion' has been the law, the childrenhave been the administrators of it. Where is your husband?"

"I have lost him — years ago" — said Marion, with a quickexpressive glance towards the child. "I never lost what I atfirst thought I had, for I never had it. Do you understand?"

Fleda's eyes gave a sufficient answer. 

"I am a widow — these five years — in all but what the lawwould require, " Marion went on. "I have been alone since then— except my child. He was two years old then; and since then Ihave lived such a life, Fleda!"

"Why didn't you come home?"

"Couldn't — the most absolute reason in the world. Think ofit! — Come home! It was as much as I could do to stay there!"

Those sympathizing eyes were enough to make her go on. 

"I have wanted everything — except trouble. I have doneeverything — except ask alms. I have learned, Fleda, thatdeath is not the worst form in which distress can come. "

Fleda felt stung, and bent down her head to touch her lips tothe brow of little Rolf. 

"Death would have been a trifle!" said Marion. "I mean — notthat _I_ should have wished to leave Rolf alone in the world;but if I had been left — I mean I would rather wear outsidethan inside mourning. "

Fleda looked up again, and at her. 

"Oh, I was so mistaken, Fleda!" she said, clasping her hands —"so mistaken! — in everything; — so disappointed — in all myhopes. And the loss of my fortune was the cause of it all. "

Nay, verily! thought Fleda, but she said nothing; she hung herhead again; and Marion, after a pause, went on to question herabout an endless string of matters concerning themselves andother people, past doings and present prospects, till littleRolf, soothed by the uninteresting soft murmur of voices, fairly forgot bread and butter and himself in a sound sleep, his head resting upon Fleda. 

"Here is one comfort for you, Marion, " she said, looking downat the dark eyelashes which lay on a cheek rosy and healthy asever seven years old knew; " he is a beautiful child, and I amsure, a fine one. "

"It is thanks to his beauty that I have ever seen home again, "said his mother. 

Fleda had no heart this evening to speak words that were notnecessary; her eyes asked Marion to explain herself. 

"He was in Hyde Park one day — I had a miserable lodging notfar from it, and I used to let him go in there, because hemust go somewhere, you know — I couldn't go with him —"

"Why not?"

"Couldn't! — Oh Fleda! — I have seen changes! — He was thereone afternoon, alone, and had got into difficulty with somebigger boys — a little fellow, you know — he stood his groundmanfully, but his strength wasn't equal to his spirit, andthey were tyrannizing over him after the fashion of boys, whoare, I do think, the ugliest creatures in creation!" said Mme. Schwiden, not apparently reckoning her own to be of the samegender — "and a gentleman, who was riding by, stopped andinterfered, and took him out of their hands, and then askedhim his name — struck, I suppose, with his appearance. Verykind, wasn't it? men so seldom bother themselves about whatbecomes of children. I suppose there were thousands of othersriding by at the same time. "

"Very kind, " Fleda said. 

"When he heard what his name was, he gave his horse to hisservant, and walked home with Rolf; and the next day he sentme a note, speaking of having known my father and mother, andasking permission to call upon me. I never was so mortified, Ithink, in my life, " said Marion, after a moment's hesitation. 

"Why?" said Fleda, not a little at a loss to follow out thechain of her cousin's reasoning. 

"Why, I was in such a sort of a place, you don't know, Fleda;I was working then for a fancy storekeeper, to support myself— living in a miserable little two rooms. If it had been astranger, I wouldn't have cared so much, but somebody that hadknown us in different times. I hadn't a thing in the world toanswer the note upon but a half-sheet of letter paper. "

Fleda's lips sought Rolf's forehead again, with a curious rushof tears and smiles at once. Perhaps Marion had caught theexpression of her countenance, for she added, with a littleenergy —

"It is nothing to be surprised at — you would have felt justthe same; for I knew by his note, the whole style of it, whatsort of a person it must be. "

"My pride has been a good deal chastened, " Fleda said, gently. 

"I never want _mine_ to be, beyond minding everything, " saidMarion; "and I don't believe yours is. I don't know why in theworld I did not refuse to see him — I had fifty minds to — buthe had won Rolf's heart, and I was a little curious, and itwas something strange to see the face of a friend, any betterone than my old landlady, so I let him come. "

"Was _she_ a friend?" said Fleda. 

"If she hadn't been, I should not have lived to be here; thebest soul that ever was; but still, you know, she could donothing for me but be as kind as she could live; this wassomething different. So I let him come, and he came the nextday. "

Fleda was silent, a little wondering that Marion should be sofrank with her, beyond what she had ever been in former years;but, as she guessed, Mme. Schwiden's heart was a little openedby the joy of finding herself at home, and the absolutenecessity of talking to somebody; and there was a furtherreason, which Fleda could not judge of, in her own face andmanner. Marion needed no questions, and went on again, afterstopping a moment. 

"I was so glad, in five minutes — I can't tell you, Fleda —that I had let him come. I forgot entirely about how I looked, and the wretched place I was in. He was all that I hadsupposed, and a great deal more; but, somehow, he hadn't beenin the room three minutes before I didn't care at all for allthe things I had thought would trouble me. Isn't it strangewhat a witchery some people have to make you forget everythingbut themselves!"

"The reason is, I think, because that is the only thing theyforget, " said Fleda, whose imagination, however, was entirelybusy with the _singular_ number. 

"I shall never forget him, " said Marion. "He was very kind tome — I cannot tell how kind — though I never realized it tillafterwards; at the time, it always seemed only a sort ofelegant politeness which he could not help. I never saw soelegant a person. He came two or three times to see me, and hetook Rolf out with him, I don't know how often, to drive; andhe sent me fruit — such fruit! and game, and flowers; and Ihad not had anything of the kind, not even seen it, for solong; I can't tell you what it was to me. He said he had knownmy father and mother well when they were abroad. "

"What was his name?" said Fleda, quickly. 

"I don't know — he never told me — and I never could ask him. Don't you know, there are some people you can't do anythingwith, but just what they please? There wasn't the least thinglike stiffness; you never saw anybody less stiff; but I neverdreamed of asking him questions, except when he was out ofsight. Why, do you know him?" she said, suddenly. 

"When you tell me who he was, I'll tell you, " said Fleda, smiling. 

"Have you ever heard this story before?"

"Certainly not!"

"He is somebody that knows us very well, " said Marion, "for heasked after every one of the family in particular. "

"But what had all this to do with your getting home?"

"I don't wonder you ask. The day after his last visit, came anote, saying, that he owed a debt in my family, which it hadnever been in his power to repay; that he could not give theenclosure to my father, who would not recognise theobligation; and that if I would permit him to place it in myhands, I should confer a singular favour upon him. "

"And what was the enclosure?"

"Five hundred pounds. "

Fleda's head went down again, and tears dropped fast uponlittle Rolf's shoulder. 

"I suppose my pride has been a little broken, too, " Marionwent on, "or I shouldn't have kept it. But then, if you sawthe person, and the whole manner of it — I don't know how Icould ever have sent it back. Literally I couldn't, though, for I hadn't the least clue. I never saw or heard from himafterwards. "

"When was this, Marion?"

"Last spring. "

"Last spring! — then what kept you so long?"

"Because of the arrival of eyes that I was afraid of. I darednot make the least move that would show I could move. I cameoff the very first packet after I was free. "

"How glad you must be!" said Fleda. 

"Glad!" —

"Glad of what, Mamma?" said Rolf, . Whose dreams the entranceof Barby had probably disturbed. 

"Glad of bread and butter, " said his mother; wake up — here itis. "

The young gentleman declared, rubbing his eyes, that he didnot want it now; but, however, Fleda contrived to dispel thatillusion, and bread and butter was found to have the samedulcifying properties at Queechy that it owns in all the restof the world. Little Rolf was completely mollified after ahearty meal, and was put with his mother to enjoy mostunbroken slumbers in Fleda's room. Fleda herself, after a lookat Hugh, crept to her aunt's bed; whither Barby very soondespatched Mrs. Rossitur, taking in her place the arm-chairand the watch with most invincible good-will anddetermination; and sleep at last took the joys and sorrows ofthat disturbed household into its kind custody. 

Fleda was the first one awake, and was thinking how she shouldbreak the last news to her aunt, when Mrs. Rossitur put herarms round her, and, after a most affectionate look and kiss, spoke to what she supposed had been her niece's purpose. 

"You want taking care of more than I do, poor Fleda!"

"It was not for that I came, " said Fleda; "I had to give up myroom to the travellers. "

"Travellers!" —

A very few words more brought out the whole, and Mrs. Rossitursprang out of bed, and rushed to her daughter's room. 

Fleda hid her face in the bed to cry — for a moment'spassionate indulgence in weeping while no one could see. But amoment was all. There was work to do, and she must not disableherself. She slowly got up, feeling thankful that her headachedid not announce itself with the dawn, and that she would beable to attend to the morning affairs and the breakfast, whichwas something more of a circumstance now with the newadditions to the family. More than that, she knew, from suresigns, she would not be able to accomplish. 

It was all done, and done well, though with what secretflagging of mind and body nobody knew or suspected. Thebusiness of the day was arranged, Barby's course made clear, Hugh visited and smiled upon; and then Fleda set herself downin the breakfast-room to wear out the rest of the day inpatient suffering. Her little spaniel, who seemed tounderstand her languid step and faint tones, and know what wascoming, crept into her lap and looked up at her with a face ofequal truth and affection; and after a few gentleacknowledging touches from the loved hand, laid his head onher knees, and silently avowed his determination of abidingher fortunes for the remainder of the day. 

They had been there for some hours. Mrs. Rossitur and herdaughter were gathered in Hugh's room; whither Rolf also, after sundry expressions of sympathy for Fleda's headache, finding it a dull companion, had departed. Pain of body, rising above pain of mind, had obliged, as far as possible, even thought to be still; when a loud lap at the front doorbrought the blood in a sudden flush of pain to Fleda's face. She knew instinctively what it meant. 

She heard Barby's distinct accents saying that somebody was"not well. " The other voice was more smothered. But in amoment the door of the breakfast-room opened, and Mr. Thornwalked in. 

The intensity of the pain she was suffering effectuallyprecluded Fleda from discovering emotion of any kind. Shecould not move. Only King lifted up his head and looked at theintruder, who seemed shocked, and well he might. Fleda was inher old headache position — bolt upright on the sofa, her feeton the rung of a chair, while her hands supported her by theirgrasp upon the back of it. The flush had passed away, leavingthe deadly paleness of pain, which the dark rings under hereyes showed to be well seated. 

"Miss Ringgan!" said the gentleman, coming up softly, as tosomething that frightened him — "my dear Miss Fleda! I amdistressed! You are very ill. Can nothing be done to relieveyou?"

Fleda's lips rather than her voice said, "Nothing. "

"I would not have come in on any account to disturb you if Ihad known — I did not understand you were more than a trifleill. "

Fleda wished he would mend his . Mistake, as his understandingcertainly by this time was mended. But that did not seem to behis conclusion of the best thing to do. 

"Since I am here, can you bear to hear me say three words, without too much pain? I do not ask you to speak. "

A faint whispered "yes" gave him leave to go on. She had neverlooked at him. She sat like a statue; to answer by a motion ofher head was more than could be risked. 

He drew up a chair and sat down, while King looked at him witheyes of suspicious indignation. 

"I am not surprised, " he said gently, "to find you suffering. I knew how your sensibilities must feel the shock ofyesterday. I would fain have spared it you. I will spare youall further pain on the same score, if possible. Dear MissRinggan, since I am here, and time is precious, may I say oneword before I cease troubling you? I take it for granted thatyou were made acquainted with the contents of my letter toMrs. Rossitur? — with _all_ the contents? — were you?"

Again Fleda's lips almost voicelessly gave the answer. 

"Will you give me what I ventured to ask for?" said he, gently, "the permission to work _for you?_ Do not trouble thoseprecious lips to speak — the answer of these fingers will beas sure a warrant to me as all words that could be spoken, that you do not deny my request. "

He had taken one of her hands in his own. But the fingers laywith unanswering coldness and lifelessness for a second in hisclasp, and then were drawn away, and took determinate hold ofthe chair-back. Again the flush came to Fleda's cheeks, brought by a sharp pain — oh, bodily and mental too! — and, after a moment's pause, with a distinctness of utterance thatlet him know every word, she said, —

"A generous man would not ask it, Sir. "

Thorn sprang up, and several times paced the length of theroom, up and down, before he said anything more. He looked atFleda, but the flush was gone again, and nothing could seemless conscious of his presence. Pain and patience were inevery line of her face, but he could read nothing more, excepta calmness as unmistakably written. Thorn gave that facerepeated glances as he walked, then stood still and read it atleisure. Then he came to her side again, and spoke in adifferent voice. 

"You are so unlike anybody else, " he said, "that you shallmake me unlike myself. I will do freely what I hoped to dowith the light of your smile before me. You shall hear no moreof this affair, neither you nor the world — I have the matterperfectly in my own hands — it shall never raise a whisperagain. I will move heaven and earth rather than fail — butthere is no danger of my failing. I will try to prove myselfworthy of your esteem, even where a man is most excusable forbeing selfish. "

He took one of her cold hands again — Fleda could not help itwithout more force than she cared to use, and, indeed, painwould by this time almost have swallowed up other sensation ifevery word and touch had not sent it ill a stronger throb toher very finger-ends. Thorn bent his lips to her hand, twicekissed it fervently, and then left her, much to King'ssatisfaction, who thereupon resigned himself to quietslumbers. 

His mistress knew no such relief. Excitement had dreadfullyaggravated her disorder, at a time when it was needful tobanish even thought as far as possible. Pain effectuallybanished it now, and Barby, coming in a little after Mr. Thornhad gone, found her quite unable to speak, and scarce able tobreathe, from agony. Barby's energies and fainting remedieswere again put in use, but pain reigned triumphant for hours;and when its hard rule was at last abated, Fleda was able todo nothing but sleep like a child for hours more. 

Towards a late tea-time she was at last awake, and carrying ona very one-sided conversation with Rolf, her own lips beingcalled upon for little more than a smile now and then. King, not able to be in her lap, had curled himself up upon a pieceof his mistress's dress, and as close within the circle of herarms as possible, where Fleda's hand and his head were onterms of mutual satisfaction. 

"I thought you wouldn't permit a dog to lie in your lap, " saidMarion. 

Do you remember that?" said Fleda, with a smile. "Ah, I havegrown tender-hearted, Marion, since I have known what it wasto want comfort myself. I have come to the conclusion that itis best to let everything have all the enjoyment it can in thecircumstances. King crawled into my lap one day when I had notspirits enough to turn him out, and he has kept the place eversince. Little King!" —

In answer to which word of intelligence, King looked in herface and wagged his tail, and then earnestly endeavoured tolick all her fingers, which, however, was a piece of comfortshe would not give him. 

"Fleda, " said Barby, putting her head in, "I wish you'd juststep out here and tell me which cheese you'd like to havecut. "

"What a fool !" said Marion. "Let her cut them all if shelikes. "

"She is no fool, " said Fleda. She thought Barby'spunctiliousness, however, a little ill-timed, as she rose fromher sofa, and went into the kitchen. 

"Well, you _do_ look as if you wa'n't good for nothing but to betaken care of, " said Barby. "I wouldn't have riz you up if ithadn't been just tea-time, and I knowed you couldn't stayquiet much longer;" and, with a look which explained hertactics, she put into Fleda's hand a letter, directed to heraunt. 

"Philetus give it to me, " she said, without a glance atFleda's face; "he said it was give to him by a spry littleshaver, who wa'n't a mind to tell nothin' about himself. "

"Thank you, Barby!" was Fleda's most grateful return, andsummoning her aunt up stairs, she took her into her own room, and locked the door before she gave her the letter, whichBarby's shrewdness and delicacy had taken such care should notreach its owner in a wrong way. Fleda watched her as her eyeran over the paper, and caught it as it fell from her fingers. 

"My dear wife, "That villain Thorn has got a handle of me which he will notfail to use — you know it all, I suppose, by this time. It istrue that in an evil hour, long ago, when greatly pressed, Idid what I thought I should surely undo in a few days. Thetime never came — I don't know why he has let it lie so long, but he has taken it up now, and he will push it to theextreme. There is but one thing left for me — I shall not seeyou again. The rascal would never let me rest, I know, in anyspot that calls itself American ground. 

"You will do better without me than with me. 

"R. R. "

Fleda mused over the letter for several minutes, and thentouched her aunt, who had fallen on a chair, with her headsunk in her hands. 

"What does he mean?" said Mrs. Rossitur, looking up with aperfectly colourless face. 

"To leave the country. "

"Are you sure? Is that it?" said Mrs. Rossitur, rising andlooking over the words again. "He would do anything, Fleda. "

"That is what he means, aunt Lucy; don't you see he says hecould not be safe anywhere in America?"

Mrs. Rossitur stood eyeing with intense eagerness, for aminute or two, the note in her niece's hand. 

"Then he is gone! now that it is all settled! — And we don'tknow where — and we can't get word to him!"

Her cheek, which had a little brightened, became perfectlywhite again. 

"He isn't gone yet — he can't be — he cannot have left Queechytill to-day — he will be in New York for several days yet, probably. "

"New York? — it may be Boston!"

"No, he would be more likely to go to New York — I am sure hewould — he is accustomed to it. "

"We might write to both places, " said poor Mrs. Rossitur. "Iwill do it, and send them off at once. "

"But he might not get the letters, " said Fleda, thoughtfully;"he might not dare to ask at the post-office. "

His wife looked at that possibility, and then wrung her hands. 

"Oh, why didn't he give us a clue?"

Fleda put an arm round her affectionately, and stood thinking;stood trembling, might as well be said, for she was too weakto be standing at all. 

"What can we do, dear Fleda?" said Mrs. Rossitur, in greatdistress, "Once out of New York, and we can get nothing tohim. If he only knew that there is no need, and that it is allover!"

"We must do everything, aunt Lucy, " said Fleda, thoughtfully;"and I hope we shall succeed yet. We will write, but I thinkthe most hopeful other thing we could do, would be to putadvertisements in the newspapers — he would be very likely tosee them. "

"Advertisements! But you couldn't — what would you put in?"

"Something that would catch his eye, and nobody's else; thatis easy, aunt Lucy. "

"But there is nobody to put them in, Fleda; you said uncleOrrin was going to Boston?"

"He wasn't going there till next week, but he was to be inPhiladelphia a few days before that; the letter might misshim. "

"Mr. Plumfield! — couldn't he?"

But Fleda shook her head. 

"Wouldn't do, aunt Lucy: he would do all he could, but hedon't know New York, nor the papers; he wouldn't know how tomanage it; he don't know uncle Rolf; I shouldn't like to trustit to him. "

"Who, then? There isn't a creature we could ask. "

Fleda laid her cheek to her poor aunt's, and said, —

"I'll do it. "

"But you must be in New York to do it, dear Fleda — you can'tdo it here. "

"I will go to New York. "

"When?"

"To-morrow morning. "

"But, dear Fleda, you can't go alone! I can't let you, andyou're not fit to go at all, my poor child!" and betweenconflicting feelings Mrs. Rossitur sat down and wept withoutmeasure. 

"Listen, aunt Lucy, " said Fleda, pressing a hand on hershoulder; "listen, and don't cry so. I'll go and make allright, if efforts can do it. I am not going alone — I'll getSeth to go with me, and I can sleep in the cars, and restnicely in the steamboat. I shall feel happy and well when Iknow that I am leaving you easier, and doing all that can bedone to bring uncle Rolf home. Leave me to manage, and don'tsay anything to Marion — it is one blessed thing that she neednot know anything about all this. I shall feel better than ifI were at home, and had trusted this business to any otherhands. "

"You are the blessing of my life, " said Mrs. Rossitur. 

"Cheer up, and come down and let us have some tea, " saidFleda, kissing her; "I feel as if that would make me up alittle; and then I'll write the letters. I sha'n't want butvery little baggage; there'll be nothing to pack up. "

Philetus was sent up the hill with a note to Seth Plumfield, and brought home a favourable answer. Fleda thought, as shewent to rest, that it was well the mind's strength couldsometimes act independently of its servant, the body, — hersfelt so very shattered and unsubstantial. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

"I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had as liefhave been myself alone. "AS YOU LIKE IT. 

The first thing next morning, Seth Plumfield came down to saythat he had seen Dr. Quackenboss the night before, and hadchanced to find out that he was going to New York, too, thisvery day; and knowing that the doctor would be just as safe anescort as himself, Seth had made over the charge of his cousinto him; "calculating, " he said, "that it would make nodifference to Fleda, and that he had better stay at home withhis mother. "

Fleda said nothing, and looked as little as possible of herdisappointment, and her cousin went away wholly unsuspectingof it. 

"Seth Plumfield ha'n't done a smarter thing than that in agood while, " Barby remarked, satirically, as he was shuttingthe door. "I should think he'd ha' hurt himself. "

"I dare say the doctor will take good care of me, " said Fleda;"as good as he knows how. "

"Men beat all!" said Barby, impatiently. "The little sensethere is into them. "

Fleda's sinking heart was almost ready to echo the sentiment;but nobody knew it. 

Coffee was swallowed, her little travelling-bag and bonnet onthe sofa — all ready. Then came the doctor. 

"My dear Miss Ringgan, I am most happy of this delightfulopportunity — I had supposed you were located at home for thewinter. This is a sudden start. "

"Is it sudden to you, Dr. Quackenboss?" said Fleda. 

"Why — a — not disagreeably so, " said the doctor, smiling;"nothing could be that in the present circumstances — but I —a — I hadn't calculated upon it for much of a spellbeforehand. "

Fleda was vexed, and looked — only unconversable. 

"I suppose, " said the doctor, after a pause, "that we have notmuch time to waste — a — in idle moments. Which route do youintend to travel?"

"I was thinking to go by the North River, Sir. "

"But the ice has collected, I am afraid. "

"At Albany, I know; but when I came up, there was a boat everyother day, and we could get there in time by the stage — thisis her day. "

"But we have had some pretty tight weather since, if youremember, " said the doctor; "and the boats have ceased toconnect with the stage. We shall have to go to Greenfield totake the Housatonic, which will land us at Bridgeport on theSound. "

"Have we time to reach Greenfield this morning?"

"Oceans of time, " said the doctor, delightedly; "I've got myteam here, and they're jumping out of their skins with havingnothing to do, and the weather — they'll carry us there asspry as grasshoppers — now, if you're ready, my dear MissRinggan. "

There was nothing more but to give and receive thosespeechless lip-messages that are out of the reach of words, and Mrs. Rossitur's half-spoken last charge, to take care ofherself; and with these seals upon her mission, Fleda setforth and joined the doctor, thankful for one foil tocuriosity in the shape of a veil, and only wishing that therewere any invented screen that she could place between her andhearing. 

"I hope your attire is of a very warm description, " said thedoctor, as he helped her into the wagon; "it friz pretty hardlast night, and I don't think it has got out of the notionyet. If I had been consulted in any other— a — form, than thatof a friend, I should have disapprobated, if you'll excuse me, Miss Ringgan's travelling again before her 'Rose of Cassius'there was in blow. I hope you have heard no evil tidings? Dr. — a — Gregory, I hope, is not taken ill?"

"I hope not, Sir, " said Fleda. 

"He didn't look like it. A very hearty old gentleman. Not veryold either, I should judge. Was he the brother of your motheror your father?"

"Neither, Sir. "

"Ah! — I misunderstood — I thought, but of course I wasmistaken — I thought I heard you speak to him under the titleof uncle. But that is a title we sometimes give to elderlypeople as a term of familiarity; there is an old fellow thatworks for me, he has been a long time in our family, and wealways call him 'uncle Jenk. ' "

Fleda was ready to laugh, cry, and be angry, in a breath. Shelooked straight before her, and was mum. 

"That 'Rose of Cassius' is a most exquisite thing, " said thedoctor, recurring to the cluster of bare bushy stems in thecorner of the garden. "Did Mr. Rossitur bring it with him whenhe came to his present residence?"

"Yes, Sir. "

"Where is Mr. Rossitur now?"

Fleda replied, with a jump of her heart, that business affairshad obliged him to be away for a few days. 

"And when does he expect to return?" said the doctor. 

"I hope he will be home as soon as I am, " said Fleda. 

"Then you do not expect to remain long in the city this time?"

"I shall not have much of a winter at home if I do, " saidFleda. "We are almost at January. "

"Because, " said the doctor, "in that case I should have nohigher gratification than in attending upon your motions. I —a — beg you to believe, my dear Miss Ringgan, that it wouldafford me the — a — most particular — it would be mostparticularly grateful to me to wait upon you to — a — theconfines of the world. "

Fleda hastened to assure her officious friend that the time ofher return was altogether uncertain, resolving rather to abidea guest with Mrs. Pritchard than to have Dr. Quackenbosshanging upon her motions every day of her being there. But, inthe meantime, the doctor got upon Captain Rossitur's subject, then came to Mr. Thorn, and then wanted to know the exactnature of Mr. Rossitur's business affairs in Michigan, throughall which matters poor Fleda had to run the gauntlet ofquestions, interspersed with gracious speeches which she couldbear even less well. She was extremely glad to reach the cars, and take refuge in seeming sleep from the mongrel attentions, which, if for the most part prompted by admiration, owned solarge a share of curiosity. Her weary head and heart wouldfain have courted the reality of sleep, as a refuge from morepainful thoughts, and a feeling of exhaustion that couldscarcely support itself; but the restless roar and jumble ofthe rail-cars put it beyond her power. How long the hours were— how hard to wear out, with no possibility of a change ofposition that would give rest! Fleda would not even raise herhead when they stopped, for fear of being talked to; howtrying that endless noise to her racked nerves! It came to anend at last, though Fleda would not move for fear they mightbe only taking in wood and water. 

"Miss Ringgan!" said the doctor in her ear, "my dear MissRinggan, we are here" —

"Are we?" said Fleda, looking up; "what other name has theplace, doctor?"

"Why, Bridgeport, " said the doctor; "we're at Bridgeport. Nowwe have leave to exchange conveyances. A man feels constrainedafter a prolonged length of time in a place. How have youenjoyed the ride?"

"Not very well — it has seemed long. I am glad we are at theend of it. "

But as she rose and threw back her veil, the doctor lookedstartled. 

"My dear Miss Ringgan, are you faint?"

"No, Sir. "

"You are not well, indeed! — I am very sorry — the ride hasbeen — Take my arm! — Ma'am, " said the doctor, touching ablack satin cloak which filled the passage-way, "will you havethe goodness to give this lady a passport?"

But the black satin cloak preferred a straightforward mannerof doing this, so their egress was somewhat delayed. Happilyfaintness was not the matter. 

"My dear Miss Ringgan, " said the doctor, as they reached theground and the outer air, "what was it? — the stove toopowerful? You are looking — you are of a dreadfully delicateappearance!"

"I had a headache yesterday, " said Fleda; "it always leaves mewith a disagreeable reminder the next day. I am not ill. "

But he looked frightened, and hurried her, as fast as hedared, to the steamboat; and there proposed half a dozenrestoratives, the simplest of which Fleda took, and thensought delicious rest from him and from herself on thecushions of a settee. Delicious! — though she was alone, inthe cabin of a steamboat, with strange forms and noisy tonguesaround her, the closed eyelids shut it out all; and she hadtime but for one resting thought of "patient continuance inwell-doing, " and one happy heart-look up to Him who has saidthat he cares for his children, a look that laid her anxietiesdown there — when past misery and future difficulty faded awaybefore a sleep that lasted till the vessel reached hermoorings and was made fast. 

She was too weary and faint even to think during the longdrive up to Bleecker Street. She was fain to let it all go —the work she had to do, and the way she must set about it, andrest in the assurance that nothing could be done that night. She did not so much as hear Dr. Quackenboss's observations, though she answered a few of them, till, at the door, she wasconscious of his promising to see her to-morrow, and of herinstant conclusion to take measures to see nobody. 

How strange everything seemed! She walked through the familiarhall, feeling as if her acquaintance with every old thing wasbroken. There was no light in the back parlour, but acomfortable fire. 

"Is my — is Dr. Gregory at home?" she asked of the girl whohad let her in. 

"No, Ma'am; he hasn't got back from Philadelphia. "

"Tell Mrs. Pritchard a lady wants to see her. "

Good Mrs. Pritchard was much more frightened than Dr. Quackenboss had been when she came into the back parlour tosee "a lady, " and found Fleda in. The great arm-chair, takingoff her things. She poured out questions, wonderings, andlamentings, not "in a breath, " but in a great many; quiteforgot to be glad to see her, she looked so dreadfully; and"what had been the matter?" Fleda answered her — told ofyesterday's illness and to-day's journey; and met all hershocked inquiries with so composed a face, and such a calmsmile and bearing, that Mrs. Pritchard was almost persuadednot to believe her eyes. 

"My uncle is not at home?"

"O no, Miss Fleda! I suppose he's in Philadelphy — but hismotions is so little to be depended on, that I never know whenI have him; maybe he'll stop going through to Boston, andmaybe no, and I don't know when; so anyhow I had to have afire made, and this room all ready; and aint it lucky it wasready for you to-night? — and now he aint here, you can havethe great chair all to yourself, and make yourself comfortable— we can keep warmer here, I guess, than you can in thecountry, " said the good housekeeper, giving some skilfuladmonishing touches to the fire; — "and you must just sitthere and read and rest, and see if you can't get back yourold looks again. If I thought it was _that_ you came for, I'd behappy. I never did see such a change in any one in five days. "

She stood looking down at her guest with a face of veryserious concern, evidently thinking much more than she choseto give utterance to. 

"I am tired, Mrs. Pritchard, " said Fleda, smiling up at her. 

"I wish you had somebody to take care of you, Miss Fleda, thatwouldn't let you tire yourself. It's a sin to throw yourstrength away so — and you don't care for looks, nor nothingelse when it's for other people. You're looking just ashandsome, too, for all, " she said, her mouth giving way alittle, as she stooped down to take off Fleda's overshoes;"but that's only because you can't help it. Now, what is thereyou'd like to have for supper? — just say, and you shall haveit — whatever would seem best — because I mightn't hit theright thing. "

Fleda declared her indifference to everything but a cup oftea, and her hostess bustled away to get that, and tax her owningenuity and kindness for the rest. And, leaning her wearyhead back in the lounge, Fleda tried to think — but it was nottime yet; she could only feel — feel what a sad change hadcome over her since she had sat there last — shut her eyes andwish she could sleep again. 

But Mrs. Pritchard's hospitality must be gone through withfirst. 

The nicest of suppers was served in the bright little parlour, and her hostess was a compound of care and good-will; nothingwas wanting to the feast but a merry heart. Fleda could notbring that, so her performance was unsatisfactory, and Mrs. Pritchard was distressed. Fleda went to her own room, promising better doings to-morrow. 

She awoke in the morning to the full burden of care and sorrowwhich sheer weakness and weariness the day before had in partlaid down — to a quicker sense of the state of things than shehad had yet. The blasting evil that had fallen upon them —Fleda writhed on her bed when she thought of it. The sternest, cruellest, most inflexible grasp of distress. Poverty may beborne, death may be sweetened, even to the survivors; but_disgrace_ — Fleda hid her head, as if she would shut the ideaout with the light. And the ruin it had wrought! Affectionkilled at the root — her aunt's happiness withered for thisworld — Hugh's life threatened — the fair name of his familygone — the wear and weariness of her own spirit — but that hadhardly a thought. Himself! — oh! no one could tell what apossible wreck, now that self-respect and the esteem of others— those two safeguards of character — were lost to him. "Somuch security has any woman in a man without religion;" sheremembered those words of her aunt Miriam now; and shethought, if Mr. Thorn had sought an ill wind to blow, upon hispretensions, he could not have pitched them better. Whatfairer promise, without religion, could be than her uncle hadgiven! Reproach had never breathed against his name, and noone less than those who knew him best could fancy that he hadever given it occasion. And who could have more at stake? —and the stake was lost — that was the summing up thought. 

No, it was not — for Fleda's mind presently sprang beyond — tothe remedy; and after a little swift and earnest flittingabout of thought over feasibilities and contingencies, shejumped up, and dressed herself with a prompt energy whichshowed a mind made up to its course. And yet when she camedown to the parlour, though bending herself with nervousintentness to the work she had to do, her fingers and herheart were only stayed in their trembling by some of the happyassurances she had been fleeing to —

"COMMIT THY WORKS UNTO THE LORD, AND ALL THY THOUGHTS SHALL BEESTABLISHED. "

"IN ALL THY WAYS ACKNOWLEDGE HIM: HE SHALL DIRECT THY PATHS. "

— Assurances, not, indeed, that her plans should meet withsuccess, but that they should have the issue best for them. 

She was early, but the room was warm, and in order, and theservant had left it. Fleda sought out paper and pencil, andsat down to fashion the form of an advertisement — the firstthing to be done. She had no notion how difficult a thing, till she came to do it. 

"_R. R. Is entreated to communicate with his niece at the oldplace in Bleecker Street, on business of the greatestimportance_. "

"It will not do, " said Fleda, to herself, as she sat andlooked at it — "there is not enough to catch his eye, andthere is _too much_, if it caught anybody else's eye — 'R. R. ', and 'his niece, ' and 'Bleecker Street, ' — that would tellplain enough. "

"_Dear uncle, F. Has followed you here on business of thegreatest importance. Pray let her see you; she is at the oldplace_. "

"It will not do, " thought Fleda, again — "there is still lessto catch his eye — I cannot trust it. And if I were to put'Queechy' over it, that would give the clue to the Evelyns, and everybody. But I had better risk anything rather than hisseeing it. "

The miserable needlessness of the whole thing, the pitifulweighing of sorrow against sorrow, and shame against shame, overcame her for a little; and then, dashing away the tearsshe had no time for, and locking up the strong-box of herheart, she took her pencil again. 

"_Queechy_. "_Let me see you at the old place. I have come here on urgentbusiness for you. Do not deny me, for H—'s sake!_"

With a trifle of alteration, she thought this would do; andwent on to make a number of fair copies of it for so manypapers. This was done, and all traces of it out of the waybefore Mrs. Pritchard came in and the breakfast; and afterbracing herself with coffee, though the good housekeeper wasstill sadly dissatisfied with her indifference to some moresubstantial brace in the shape of chickens and ham, Fledaprepared herself inwardly and outwardly to brave the wind andthe newspaper offices, and set forth. It was a bright, keenday; she was sorry; she would it had been cloudy. It seemed asif she could not hope to escape some eyes in such anatmosphere. 

She went to the library first, and there requested thelibrarian, whom she knew, to bring her from the reading-roomthe files of morning and evening papers. They were many morethan she had supposed; she had not near advertisements enough. Paper and ink were at hand, however, and making carefully herlist of the various offices, morning and evening separate, shewrote out a copy of the notice for each of them. 

The morning was well on by the time she could leave thelibrary. It was yet far from the fashionable hour, however, and sedulously shunning the recognition of anybody, in hopesthat it would be one step towards her escaping theirs, shemade her way down the bright thoroughfare as far as the CityHall, and then crossed over the Park and plunged into a regionwhere it was very little likely she would see a face that sheknew. She saw nothing else either that she knew; in spite ofhaving studied the map of the city in the library, she wasforced several times to ask her way, as she visited officeafter office, of the evening papers first, till she had placedher notice with each one of them. Her courage almost failedher — her heart did quite, after two or three. It was a trialfrom which her whole nature shrank, to go among the people, toface the eyes, to exchange talk with the lips that were athome in those purlieus; look at them she did not. Making herslow way through the choked narrow streets, where the mereconfusion of business was bewildering — very, to any one comefrom Queechy; among crowds, of what mixed and doubtfulcharacter, hurrying along and brushing with little ceremonypast her; edging by loitering groups that filled the wholesidewalk, or perhaps edging through them — groups whosegeneral type of character was sufficiently plain and _un_mixed;entering into parley with clerk after clerk, who looked atsuch a visitor as an anomaly — poor Fleda almost thought sotoo, and shrank within herself; venturing hardly her eyesbeyond her thick veil, and shutting her ears resolutely as faras possible to all the dissonant rough voices that helped toassure her she was where she ought not to be. Sometimes shefelt that it was _impossible_ to go on and finish her task; buta thought or two nerved her again to plunge into anotheruntried quarter, or make good her entrance to some new officethrough a host of loungers and waiting newsboys collectedround the door. Sometimes, in utter discouragement, she wenton and walked to a distance and came back, in the hope of abetter opportunity. It was a long business; and she often hadto wait. The end of her list was reached at last, and thepaper was thrown away; but she did not draw free breath tillshe had got to the west side of Broadway again, and turned herback upon them all. 

It was late then, and the street was thinned of a part of itsgay throng. Completely worn in body as well as mind, with slowfaltering steps, Fleda moved on among those still left;looking upon them with a curious eye, as if they and shebelonged to different classes of beings; so very far hersobered and saddened spirit seemed to herself from their stirof business and gaiety; if they had been a train of lady-fliesor black ants, Fleda would hardly have felt that she had lessin common with them. It was a weary, long way up to BleeckerStreet, as she was forced to travel it. 

The relief was unspeakable to find herself within her uncle'sdoor, with the sense that her dreaded duty was done, and welland thoroughly. Now her part was to be still and wait. Butwith the relief came also a reaction from the strain of themorning. Before her weary feet had well mounted the stairs, her heart gave up its control; and she locked herself in herroom to yield to a helpless outpouring of tears which she wasutterly unable to restrain, though conscious that long timecould not pass before she would be called to dinner. Dinnerhad to wait. 

"Miss Fleda, " said the housekeeper, in a vexed tone, when themeal was half over — "I didn't know you ever did anythingwrong. "

"You were sadly mistaken, Mrs. Pritchard, " said Fleda, halflightly, half sadly. 

"You're looking not a bit better than last night, and, ifanything, rather worse, " Mrs. Pritchard went on. "It isn'tright, Miss Fleda. You oughtn't to ha' set the first step outof doors, I know you oughtn't, this blessed day; and you'vebeen on your feet these seven hours — and you show it! You'rejust ready to drop. "

"I will rest to-morrow, " said Fleda, "or try to. "

"You are fit for nothing but bed, " said the housekeeper — "andyou've been using yourself, Miss Fleda, as if you had thestrength of an elephant. Now, do you think you've been doingright?"

Fleda would have made some cheerful answer, but she was notequal to it; she had lost all command of herself, and shedropped knife and fork to burst into a flood of exceedingtears. Mrs. Pritchard, equally astonished and mystified, hurried questions, apologies, and consolations, one uponanother; and made up her mind that there was somethingmysterious on foot, about which she had better ask noquestions. Neither did she from that time. She sealed up hermouth, and contented herself with taking the best care of herguest that she possibly could. Needed enough, but all oflittle avail. 

The reaction did not cease with that day. The next Sunday wasspent on the sofa, in a state of utter prostration. With thenecessity for exertion the power had died. Fleda could onlylie upon the cushions and sleep helplessly, while Mrs. Pritchard sat by, anxiously watching her; curiosity reallyswallowed up in kind feeling. Monday was little better; buttowards the after part of the day, the stimulant of anxietybegan to work again, and Fleda sat up to watch for a word fromher uncle. But none came, and Tuesday morning distressed Mrs. Pritchard with its want of amendment. It was not to be hopedfor, Fleda knew, while this fearful watching lasted. Her unclemight not have seen the advertisement — he might not have gother letter — he might be even then setting sail to quit homefor ever. And she could do nothing but wait. Her nerves werealive to every stir; every touch of the bell made her tremble;it was impossible to read, to lie down, to be quiet or stillanywhere. She had set the glass of expectancy, for one thing, in the distance: and all things else were a blur or a blank. 

They had sat down to dinner that Tuesday, when a ring at thedoor, which had made her heart jump, was followed — yes, itwas — by the entrance of the maid-servant holding a folded bitof paper in her hand. Fleda did not wait to ask whose it was —she seized it and saw — and sprang away up stairs. It was asealed scrap of paper, that had been the back of a letter, containing two lines without signature. 

"I will meet you _at Dinah's_ — if you come there alone aboutsundown. "

Enough! Dinah was an old black woman who once had been a veryattached servant in Mr. Rossitur's family, and, having marriedand become a widow years ago, had set up for herself in thetrade of a washerwoman, occupying an obscure little tenementout towards Chelsea. Fleda had rather a shadowy idea of thelocality, though remembering very well sundry journeys ofkindness she and Hugh had made to it in days gone by. But sherecollected it was in Sloman Street, and she knew she couldfind it; and dropping upon her knees, poured out thanks toodeep to be uttered, and too strong to be even thought, withouta convulsion of tears. Her dinner after that was but a mentalthanksgiving — she was hardly conscious of anything beside —and a thankful rejoicing for all her weary labours. Theirweariness was sweet to her now. Let her but see him — the restwas sure. 

CHAPTER XV. 

"How well appaid she was her bird to find!"SIDNEY. 

Fleda counted the minutes till it wanted an hour of sundown, and then, avoiding Mrs. Pritchard, made her escape out of thehouse. A long walk was before her, and the latter part of itthrough a region which she wished to pass while the light wasgood. And she was utterly unable to travel at any but a verygentle rate; so she gave herself plenty of time. 

It was a very bright afternoon, and all the world was astir. Fleda shielded herself with a thick veil, and went up one ofthe narrow streets, not daring to venture into Broadway, andpassing Waverly Place, which was almost as bright, turned downEighth Street. A few blocks now, and she would be out of alldanger of meeting any one that knew her. She drew her veilclose, and hurried on. But the proverb saith, "A miss is asgood as a mile, " and with reason; for if fate wills, thechances make nothing. As Fleda set her foot down to crossFifth Avenue, she saw Mr. Carleton on the other side coming upfrom Waverly Place. She went as slowly as she dared, hopingthat he would pass without looking her way, or be unable torecognize her through her thick wrapper. In vain — she soonsaw that she was known — he was waiting for her, and she mustput up her veil and speak to him. 

"Why, I thought you had left New York, " said he — "I was toldso. "

"I had left it — I have left it, Sir, " said Fleda — "I haveonly come back for a day or two. " —

"Have you been ill?" he said, with a sudden change of tone, the light in his eye, and smile, giving place to a very markedgravity. 

Fleda would have answered with a half smile, but such asickness of heart came over her, that speech failed, and shewas very near bursting into tears. Mr. Carleton looked at herearnestly a moment, and then put the hand which Fleda hadforgotten he still held upon his arm, and began to walkforward gently with her. Something in the grave tendernesswith which this was done, reminded Fleda irresistibly of thetimes when she had been a child under his care; and, somehow, her thoughts went off on a tangent back to the further days ofher mother, and father, and grandfather, the other friendsfrom whom she had had the same gentle protection, which nowthere was no one in the world to give her. And their imagesdid never seem more winning fair than just then — when theirplace was left most especially empty. Her uncle she had neverlooked up to in the same way, and whatever stay he had beenwas cut down. Her aunt leaned upon _her;_ and Hugh had alwaysbeen more of a younger than an elder brother. The quickcontrast of those old happy childish days was too strong; theglance back at what she had had, made her feel the want. Fledablamed herself, reasoned and fought with herself; but she wasweak in mind and body, her nerves were unsteady yet, herspirits unprepared for any encounter or reminder of pleasure;and though vexed and ashamed, she _could_ not hold her head up, and she could not prevent tear after tear from falling as theywent along; she could only hope that nobody saw them. 

Nobody spoke of them. But then nobody said anything; and thesilence at last frightened her into rousing herself. Shechecked her tears and raised her head; she ventured no more;she dared not turn her face towards her companion. He lookedat her once or twice, as if in doubt whether to speak or not. 

"Are you not going beyond your strength?" he said at length, gently. 

Fleda said, "No, " although in a tone that half confessed hissuspicion. He was silent again, however, and she cast about invain for something to speak of; it seemed to her that allsubjects of conversation in general had been packed up forexportation; neither eye nor memory could light upon a singleone. Block after block was passed, the pace at which hewalked, and the manner of his care for her, alone showing thathe knew what a very light hand was resting upon his arm. 

"How pretty the curl of blue smoke is from that chimney, " hesaid. 

It was said with a tone so carelessly easy, that Fleda's heartjumped for one instant in the persuasion that he had seen andnoticed nothing peculiar about her. 

"I know it, " she said, eagerly — "I have often thought of it —especially here in the city —"

"Why is it? what is it?"

Fleda's eye gave one of its exploratory looks at his, such ashe remembered from years ago, before she spoke. 

"Isn't it contrast? — or at least I think that helps theeffect here. "

"What do you make the contrast?" he said, quietly. 

"Isn't it, " said Fleda, with another glance, "the contrast ofsomething pure and free and upward-tending, with what is belowit? I did not mean the mere painter's contrast. In thecountry, smoke is more picturesque, but in the city I think ithas more character. "

"To how many people do you suppose it ever occurred that smokehad a character?" said he, smiling. 

"You are laughing at me, Mr. Carleton; perhaps I deserve it. "

"You do not think that, " said he, with a look that forbade herto think it. "But I see you are of Lavater's mind, thateverything has a physiognomy?"

"I think he was perfectly right, " said Fleda. "Don't you, Mr. Carleton?"

"To some people, yes! — But the expression is so subtle, thatonly very nice sensibilities, with fine training, can hope tocatch it; therefore, to the mass of the world Lavater wouldtalk nonsense. "

"That is a gentle hint to me. But if I talk nonsense, I wishyou would set me right, Mr. Carleton; I am very apt to amusemyself with tracing out fancied analogies in almosteverything, and I may carry it too far — too far to be spokenof wisely. I think it enlarges the field of pleasure verymuch. Where one eye is stopped, another is but invited on. "

"So, " said Mr. Carleton, "while that puff of smoke would leadone person's imagination only down the chimney to the kitchenfire, it would take another's — where did yours go?" said he, suddenly turning round upon her. 

Fleda met his eye again, without speaking; but her look had, perhaps, more than half revealed her thought, for she wasanswered with a smile so intelligent and sympathetic, that shewas abashed. 

"How very much religion heightens the enjoyments of life!" Mr. Carleton said, after a while. 

Fleda's heart throbbed an answer — she did not speak. 

"Both in its direct and indirect action. The mind is set freefrom influences that narrowed its range and dimmed its vision, and refined to a keener sensibility, a juster perception, ahigher power of appreciation, by far, than it had before. Andthen, to say nothing of religion's own peculiar sphere ofenjoyment, technically religious — what a field of pleasure itopens to its possessor in the world of moral beauty, mostpartially known to any other — and the fine but exquisiteanalogies of things material with things spiritual — those_harmonies of Nature_, to which, talk as they will, all otherears are deaf. "

"You know, " said Fleda, with full eyes that she dared notshow, "how Henry Martyn said that he found he enjoyed paintingand music so much more after he became a Christian. "

"I remember. It is the substituting a just medium for a falseone — it is putting nature within and nature without in tunewith each other, so that the chords are perfect now which werejarring before. "

"And yet how far people would be from believing you, Mr. Carleton. "

"Yes, they are possessed with the contrary notion. But in allthe creation nothing has a one-sided usefulness. What areflection it would be upon the wisdom of its Author, ifgodliness alone were the exception — if it were not'profitable for the life that now is, as well as for thatwhich is to come!' "

"They make that work the other way, don't they?" said Fleda;"not being able to see how thorough religion should be foranybody's happiness, they make use of your argument toconclude that it is not what the Bible requires. How I haveheard that urged — that God intended his creatures to be happy— as a reason why they should disobey him! They lay hold onthe wrong end of the argument, and work backwards. "

"Precisely. 

" 'God intended his creatures to be happy. " 'Strict obedience would make them unhappy. " 'Therefore, he does not intend them to obey. ' "

"They never put it before them quite so clearly, " said Fleda. 

"They would startle at it a little. But so they would at theright stating of the case. "

"And how would that be, Mr. Carleton?"

"It might be somewhat after this fashion —

" 'God requires nothing that is not for the happiness of hispeople. " 'He requires perfect obedience. " 'Therefore, perfect obedience is for their happiness. '

"But unbelief will not understand that. Did it ever strike youhow much there is in those words, 'Come and see?' All thatargument can do, after all, is but to persuade to that. Onlyfaith will submit to terms, and enter the narrow gate; andonly obedience knows what the prospect is on the other side. "

"But isn't it true, Mr. Carleton, that the world have somecause for their opinion — judging as they do by the outside?The peculiar pleasures of religion, as you say, are out ofsight, and they do not always find in religious people thatenlargement and refinement of which you were speaking. "

"Because they make unequal comparisons. Recollect that, as Godhas declared, the ranks of religion are not for the most partfilled from the wise and the great. In making your estimate, you must measure things equal in other respects. Compare thesame man with himself before he was a Christian, or with hisunchristianized fellows, and you will find invariably therefining, dignifying, ennobling, influence of true religion —the enlarged intelligence, and the greater power ofenjoyment. "

"And besides those causes of pleasure-giving that yourmentioned, " said Fleda, "there is a mind at ease; and how muchthat is, alone! If I may judge others by myself, the mere factof being unpoised, unresting, disables the mind from athousand things that are joyfully relished by one entirely atease. "

"Yes, " said he; "do you remember that word, — 'The stones ofthe field shall be at peace with thee?' "

"I am afraid people would understand you as little as theywould me, Mr. Carleton, " said Fleda, laughing. 

He smiled, rather a prolonged smile, the expression of whichFleda could not make out; she felt that _she_ did not quiteunderstand him. 

"I have thought, " said he, after a pause, "that much of thebeauty we find in many things is owing to a hidden analogy —the harmony they make with some unknown string of the mind'sharp which they have set a-vibrating. But the music of that isso low and soft, that one must listen very closely to find outwhat it is. "

"Why, that is the very theory of which I gave you a smokyillustration a little while ago, " said Fleda. "I thought I wason safe ground, after what you said about the characters offlowers, for that was a little —"

"Fanciful?" said he, smiling. 

"What you please, "' said Fleda, colouring a little — "I amsure it is true. The theory, I mean. I have many a time feltit, though I never put it in words. I shall think of that. "

"Did you ever happen to see the very early dawn of a winter'smorning?" said he. 

But he laughed the next instant at the comical expression ofFleda's face as it was turned to him. 

"Forgive me for supposing you as ignorant as myself. I haveseen it —once. "

"Appreciated it, I hope, that time?" said Fleda. 

"I shall never forget it. "

"And it never wrought in you a desire to see it again?"

"I might see many a dawn, " said he, smiling, "without what Isaw then. It was very early, and a cloudy morning, so thatnight had still almost undisturbed possession of earth andsky; but in the south-eastern quarter, between two clouds, there was a space of fair white promise, hardly making anyimpression upon the darkness, but only set off by it. And uponthis one bright spot in earth or heaven, rode the planet ofthe morning — the sun's forerunner — bright upon thebrightness. All else was dusky, except where overhead theclouds had parted again and showed a faint old moon, glimmering down upon the night it could no longer be said to'rule. ' "

"Beautiful!" said Fleda. "There is hardly any time I like sowell as the dawn of a winter morning, with an old moon in thesky. Summer weather has no beauty like it — in some things. "

"Once, " continued Mr. Carleton, "I should have seen no morethan I have told you — the beauty that every cultivated eyemust take in. But now, methought I saw the dayspring that hascome upon a longer night; and from out of the midst of itthere was the fair face of the morning star looking at me withits sweet reminder and invitation; looking over the world withits aspect of triumphant expectancy: there was its calmassurance of the coming day — its promise that the star ofhope, which now there were only a few watching eyes to see, should presently be followed by the full beams of the Sun ofRighteousness making the kingdoms of the world His own. Yourmemory may bring to you the words that came to mine, thepromise 'to him that overcometh, ' and the beauty of the lipsthat made it: the encouragement to 'patient continuance inwell doing, ' 'till the day break, and the shadows flee away. 'And there, on the other hand, was the substituted light ofearth's wisdom and inventions, dominant yet, but waning, andsoon to be put out for ever. "

Fleda was crying again, and perhaps that was the reason whyMr. Carleton was silent for some time. She was very sorry toshow herself so weak, but she could not help it; part of hiswords had come too close. And when she had recovered again, she was absolutely silent too, for they were nearing Sloman-street, and she could not take him there with her. She did notknow what to say, nor what he would think; and she said notanother word till they came to the corner. There she must stopand speak. 

"I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Carleton, " she said, drawing her hand from his arm, "for taking care of me all thisdisagreeable way; I will not give you any more trouble. "

"You are not going to dismiss me?" said he, looking at herwith a countenance of serious anxiety. 

"I must, " said Fleda, ingenuously — "I have business to attendto here —"

"But you will let me have the pleasure of waiting for you?"

"O no, " said Fleda, hesitating and flushing — "thank you, Mr. Carleton; but pray do not — I don't know at all how long I maybe detained. "

He bowed, she thought gravely, and turned away; and sheentered the little wretched street, with a strange feeling ofpain that she could not analyze. She did not know where itcame from, but she thought if there only had been a hiding-place for her, she could have sat down and wept a wholeheartful. The feeling must be kept back now, and it was soonforgotten in the throbbing of her heart at another thoughtwhich took entire possession. 

The sun was not down — there was time enough — but it was witha step and eye of hurried anxiety that Fleda passed along thelittle street, for fear of missing her quest, or lest Dinahshould have changed her domicile. Yet would her uncle havenamed it for their meeting if he had not been sure of it? Itwas very odd he should have appointed that place at all, andFleda was inclined to think he must have seen Dinah by somechance, or it never would have come into his head. Still hereye passed unheeding over all the varieties of dinginess andmisery in her way, intent only upon finding that particulardingy cellar-way which used to admit her to Dinah's premises. It was found at last, and she went in. 

The old woman, herself most unchanged, did not know the younglady, but well remembered the little girl whom Fleda broughtto her mind. And then she was overjoyed to see her, and askeda multitude of questions, and told a long story of her havingmet Mr. Rossitur in the street the other day, "in the lastplace where she'd have looked to see him;" and how old he hadgrown, and how surprised she had been to see the gray hairs inhis head. Fleda at last gave her to understand that sheexpected him to meet her there, and would like to see himalone; and the good woman immediately took her work intoanother apartment, made up the fire, and set up the chairs, and leaving her, assured Fleda she would lock up the doors, "and not let no one come through. "

It was sundown, and later, Fleda thought, and she felt as ifevery pulse was doing double duty. No matter, if she wereshattered and the work done. But what work! Oh, theneedlessness, the cruelty, the folly of it! And how much ofthe ill consequences she might be unable, after all, to wardoff. She took off her hat, to relieve a nervous smotheredfeeling; and walked, and sat down; and then sat still, fromtrembling inability to do anything else. Dinah's poor littleroom, clean though it was, looked to her the most dismal placein the world, from its association with her errand; she hidher face on her knees, that she might have no disagreeablenessto contend with, but that which could not be shut out. 

It had lain there some time, till a sudden feeling of terrorat the growing lateness made her raise it to look at thewindow. Mr. Rossitur was standings still before her — he musthave come in very softly — and looking — oh, Fleda had notimagined him looking so changed. All was forgotten — thewrong, and the needlessness, and the indignation with whichshe had sometimes thought of it; Fleda remembered nothing butlove and pity, and threw herself upon his neck with such tearsof tenderness and sympathy, such kisses of forgiveness andcomfort-speaking, as might have broken a stouter heart thanMr. Rossitur's. He held her in his arms for a few minutes, passively suffering her caresses, and then gently unloosingher hold, placed her on a seat, sat down a little way off, covered his face and groaned aloud. 

Fleda could not recover herself at once. Then shaking off heragitation, she came and knelt down by his side, and puttingone arm over his shoulders, laid her cheek against hisforehead. Words were beyond reach, but his forehead was wetwith her tears; and kisses, of soft entreaty, of winningassurance, said all she could say. 

"What did you come here for, Fleda?" said Mr. Rossitur, atlength, without changing his position. 

"To bring you home, uncle Rolf. "

"Home!" said he, with an accent between bitterness anddespair. 

"Yes, for it's all over, it's all forgotten — there is no moreto be said about it at all, " said Fleda, getting her words outshe didn't know how. 

What is forgotten?" said he, harshly. 

"All that you would wish, Sir, " replied Fleda, softly andgently; "there is no more to be done about it; and I came totell you, if possible, before it was too late. Oh, I'm soglad!" and her arms and her cheek pressed closer, as freshtears stopped her voice. 

"How do you know, Fleda?" said Mr. Rossitur, raising his head, and bringing hers to his shoulder, while his arms in turnenclosed her. 

Fleda whispered, "He told me so himself. "

"Who?"

"Mr. Thorn. "

The words were but just spoken above her breath. Mr. Rossiturwas silent for some time. 

"Are you sure you understood him?"

"Yes, Sir; it could not have been spoken plainer. "

"Are you quite sure he meant what he said, Fleda?"

"Perfectly sure, uncle Rolf! I know he did. "

"What stipulation did he make beforehand?"

"He did it without any stipulation, Sir. "

"What was his inducement, then? If I know him, he is not a manto act without any. "

Fleda's cheek was dyed, but except that, she gave no otheranswer. 

"Why has it been left so long?" said her uncle, presently. 

"I don't know, Sir — he said nothing about that. He promisedthat neither we nor the world should hear anything more ofit. "

"The world!" said Mr. Rossitur. 

"No, Sir; he said that only one or two persons had any notionof it, and that their secrecy he had the means of securing. "

"Did he tell you anything more?"

"Only that he had the matter entirely under his control, andthat never a whisper of it should be heard again. No promisecould be given more fully and absolutely. "

Mr. Rossitur drew a long breath, speaking to Fleda's ear verygreat relief, and was silent. 

"And what reward is he to have for this, Fleda?" he said, after some musing. 

"All that my hearty thanks and gratitude can give, as far as Iam concerned, Sir. "

"Is that what he expects, Fleda?"

"I cannot help what he expects, " said Fleda, in some distress. 

"What have you engaged yourself to, my child?"

"Nothing in the world, uncle Rolf!" said Fleda, earnestly —"nothing in the world. I haven't engaged myself to anything. The promise was made freely, without any sort of stipulation. "

Mr. Rossitur looked thoughtful and disquieted. Fleda's tearswere pouring again. 

"I will not trust him, " he said; "I will not stay in thecountry!"

"But you will come home, uncle?" said Fleda, terrified. 

"Yes, my dear child — yes, my dear child!" he said, tenderly, putting his arms round Fleda again, and kissing, with anearnestness of acknowledgment that went to her heart, her lipsand brow; "you shall do what you will with me; and when I go, we will all go together. "

From Queechy? from America? But she had no time for thatthought now. 

"You said, 'for Hugh's sake, ' " Mr. Rossitur observed, after apause, and with some apparent difficulty; "what of him?"

"He is not well, uncle Rolf, " said Fleda; "and I think thebest medicine will be the sight of you again. "

Mr. Rossitur looked pale, and was silent a moment. 

"And my wife?" he said. 

His face, and the thought of those faces at home, were toomuch for Fleda; she could not help it. "Oh, uncle Rolf, " shesaid, hiding her face, "they only want to see you again now!"

Mr. Rossitur leaned his head in his hands and groaned; andFleda could but cry; she felt there was nothing to say. 

"It was for Marion, " he said at length; "it was when I washard pressed, and I was fearful if it were known that it mightruin her prospects. I wanted that miserable sum — only fourthousand dollars — that fellow Schwiden asked to borrow it ofme for a few days, and to refuse would have been to confessall. I dared not try my credit, and I just madly took thatstep that proved irretrievable. I counted at the moment uponfunds that were coming to me only the next week — sure, Ithought, as possible — but the man cheated me, and ourembarrassments thickened from that time; that thing has been aweight — oh, a weight of deadening power! — round my neck eversince. I have died a living death these six years!"

"I know it, dear uncle — I know it all!" said Fleda, bringingthe sympathizing touch of her cheek to his again. "The goodthat it did has been unspeakably overbalanced by the evil. Even long ago I knew that. "

"The good that it did!" It was no time then to moralize, buthe must know that Marion was at home, or he might incautiouslyreveal to her what happily there was no necessity for her everknowing. And the story must give him great and fresh pain. 

"Dear uncle Rolf, " said Fleda, pressing closer to him "we maybe happier than we have been in a long time, if you will onlytake it so. The cloud upon you has been a cloud upon us. "

"I know it!" he exclaimed — "a cloud that served to show methat my jewels were diamonds!"

"You have an accession to your jewels, uncle Rolf. "

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, " said Fleda, trembling, "that there are two more athome. "

He held her back to look at her. 

"Can't you guess who?"

"No!" said he. "What do you mean?"

"I must tell you, because they know nothing, and needn't know, of all this matter. "

"What are you talking about?"

"Marion is there!"

"Marion!" exclaimed Mr. Rossitur, with quick changes ofexpression — "Marion! At Queechy! — and her husband?"

"No, Sir — a dear little child. "

"Marion! — and her husband — where is he?"

Fleda hesitated. 

"I don't know — I don't know whether she knows. "

"Is he dead?"

"No, Sir. "

Mr. Rossitur put her away, and got up and walked, or strode upand down the little apartment. Fleda dared not look at him, even by the faint glimmer that came from the chimney. 

But abroad it was perfectly dark — the stars were shining, theonly lamps that illumined the poor little street, and for along time there had been no light in the room but that of thetiny wood fire. Dinah never could be persuaded of the superiorcheapness of coal. Fleda came at last to her uncle's side, andputting her arm within his, said —

"How soon will you set off for home, uncle Rolf?"

"To-morrow morning. "

"You must take the boat to Bridgeport now — you know the riveris fast. "

"Yes, I know. "

"Then I will meet you at the wharf, uncle Rolf — at whato'clock?"

"My dear child, " said he, stopping and passing his handtenderly over her cheek, "are you fit for it to-morrow? Youhad better stay where you are quietly for a few days — youwant rest. "

"No, I will go home with you, " said Fleda, "and rest there. But hadn't we better let Dinah in, and bid her good-bye? for Iought to be somewhere else to get ready. "

Dinah was called, and a few kind words spoken, and with a moresubstantial remembrance, or reward, from Fleda's hand, theyleft her. 

Fleda had the support of her uncle's arm till they came withinsight of the house, and then he stood and watched her whileshe went the rest of the way alone. 

Anything more white and spirit-looking, and more spirit-like, in its purity and peacefulness surely did not walk that night. There was music in her ear, and abroad in the star-light, moreethereal than Ariel's; but she knew where it came from — itwas the chimes of her heart that were ringing; and never ahappier peal, nor ever had the mental atmosphere been moreclear for their sounding. Thankfulness — that was the oftenestnote — swelling thankfulness for her success — joy for herselfand for the dear ones at home — generous delight at havingbeen the instrument of their relief — the harmonies of pureaffections, without any grating now — the hope, well groundedshe thought, of improvement in her uncle, and better times forthem all — a childlike peace that was at rest with itself andthe world — these were mingling and interchanging their music, and again and again, in the midst of it all, faith rang thelast chime in heaven. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

"As some lone bird at day's departing hourSings in the sunbeam of the transient shower, Forgetful though its wings are wet the while. "BOWLES. 

Happily possessed with the notion that there was some hiddenmystery in Fleda's movements, Mrs. Pritchard said not a wordabout her having gone out, and only spoke in looks her pain atthe imprudence of which she had been guilty. But when Fledaasked to have a carriage ordered to take her to the boat inthe morning, the good housekeeper could not hold any longer. 

"Miss Fleda, " said she, with a look of very seriousremonstrance — "I don't know what you're thinking of, but _I_know you're fixing to kill yourself. You are no more fit to goto Queechy to-morrow than you were to be out till seveno'clock this evening; and if you saw yourself, you wouldn'twant me to say any more. There is not the least morsel ofcolour in your face, and you look as if you had a mind to getrid of your body altogether as fast as you can! You want to bein bed for two days running, now this minute. "

"Thank you, dear Mrs. Pritchard, " said Fleda, smiling — "youare very careful of me, but I must go home to-morrow, and goto bed afterwards. "

The housekeeper looked at her a minute in silence, and thensaid, "Don't, dear Miss Fleda!" with an energy of entreaty, which brought the tears into Fleda's eyes. But she persistedin desiring the carriage, and Mrs. Pritchard was silenced, observing, however, that she shouldn't wonder if she wasn'table to go, after all. Fleda herself was not without a doubton the subject before the evening was over. The reaction, complete now, began to make itself felt, and morning settledthe question. She was not able even to rise from her bed. 

The housekeeper was, in a sort, delighted; and Fleda was intoo passive a mood of body and mind to have any care on thesubject. The agitation of the past days had given way to anabsolute quiet, that seemed as if nothing could ever ruffle itagain, and this feeling was seconded by the extremeprostration of body. She was a mere child in the hands of hernurse, and had, Mrs. Pritchard said, "if she wouldn't mind hertelling — the sweetest baby-face that ever had so much sensebelonging to it. "

The morning was half spent in dozing slumbers, when Fledaheard a rush of footsteps, much lighter and sprightlier thangood Mrs. Pritchard's, coming up the stairs, and patteringalong the entry to her room, and, with little ceremony, inrushed Florence and Constance Evelyn. They almost smotheredFleda with their delighted caresses, and ran so hard theirquestions about her looks and her illness, that she was wellnigh spared the trouble of answering. 

"You horrid little creature!" said Constance, "why didn't youcome straight to our house? Just think of the injurioussuspicions you have exposed us to! — to say nothing of theextent of fiction we have found ourselves obliged to execute. I didn't expect it of you, little Queechy. "

Fleda kept her pale face quiet on the pillow, and only smiledher incredulous curiosity. 

"But when did you come back, Fleda?" said Miss Evelyn. 

"We should never have known a breath about your being here, "Constance went on. "We were sitting last night, in peacefulunconsciousness of there being any neglected calls upon ourfriendship in the vicinity, when Mr. Carleton came in andasked for you. Imagine our horror! We said you had gone outearly in the afternoon, and had not returned. "

"You didn't say that!" said Fleda, colouring. 

"And he remarked at some length, " said Constance, "upon theimportance of young ladies having some attendance when theyare out late in the evening, and that you in particular wereone of those persons — he didn't say, but he intimated, of aslightly volatile disposition — whom their friends ought notto lose sight of. "

"But what brought you to town again, Fleda " said the eldersister. 

"What makes you talk so, Constance?" said Fleda. 

"I haven't told you the half!" said Constance, demurely. "Andthen mamma excused herself as well as she could, and Mr. Carleton said, very seriously, that he knew there was a greatelement of headstrongness in your character; he had remarkedit, he said, when you were arguing with Mr. Stackpole. "

"Constance, be quiet!" said her sister. "_Will_ you tell me, Fleda, what you have come to town for? I am dying withcuriosity. "

"Then it's inordinate curiosity, and ought to be checked, mydear, " said Fleda, smiling. 

"Tell me. "

"I came to take care of some business that could not very wellbe attended to at a distance. "

"Who did you come with?"

"One of our Queechy neighbours that I heard was coming to NewYork. "

"Wasn't your uncle at home?"

"Of course not. If he had been, there would have been no needof my stirring. "

"But was there nobody else to do it but you?"

"Uncle Orrin away, you know; and Charlton down at his post —Fort Hamilton, is it? — I forget which fort — he is fastthere. "

"He is not so very fast, " said Constance, "for I see him everynow and then in Broadway, shouldering Mr. Thorn instead of amusket; and he has taken up the distressing idea that it ispart of his duty to oversee the progress of Florence'sworsted-work — (I've made over that horrid thing to her, Fleda) — or else his precision has been struck with theanomaly of blue stars on a white ground, and he is studyingthat — I don't know which; and so every few nights he rushesover from Governor's Island, or somewhere, to prosecuteinquiries. Mamma is quite concerned about him; she says he iswearing himself out. "

The mixture of amusement, admiration, and affection, withwhich the other sister looked at her, and laughed with her wasa pretty thing to see. 

"But where is your other cousin — Hugh?" said Florence. 

"He was not well. "

"Where is your uncle?"

"He will be at home to-day, I expect; and so should I havebeen — I meant to be there as soon as he was, but I found thismorning that I was not well enough — to my sorrow. "

"You were not going alone!"

"Oh, no! — a friend of ours was going to-day. "

"I never saw anybody with so many friends, said Florence. "Butyou are coming to us now, Fleda. How soon are you going to getup?"

"Oh, by to-morrow, " said Fleda, smiling; "but I had betterstay where I am the little while I shall be here. I must gohome the first minute I can find an opportunity. "

"But you sha'n't find an opportunity till we've had you, " saidConstance. "I'm going to bring a carriage for you thisafternoon. I could bear the loss of your friendship, my dear, but not the peril of my own reputation. Mr. Carleton is underthe impression that you are suffering from a momentarysuccession of fainting fits; and if we were to leave you herein an empty house, to come out of them at your leisure, whatwould he think of us?"

What would he think? Oh, world! Is this it?

But Fleda was not able to be moved in the afternoon; and itsoon appeared that nature would take more revenge than a day'ssleep for the rough handling she had had the past week. Fledacould not rise from her bed the next morning; and instead ofthat, a kind of nondescript nervous fever set in, nowisedangerous, but very wearying. She was, nevertheless, extremelyglad of it, for it would serve to explain to all her friendsthe change of look which had astonished them. They would makeit now the token of coming, not of past, evil. The rest shetook with her accustomed patience and quietness, thankful foreverything, after the anxiety and the relief she had justbefore known. 

Dr. Gregory came home from Philadelphia in the height of herattack, and aggravated it for a day or two with the fear ofhis questioning. But Fleda was surprised at his want ofcuriosity. He asked her, indeed, what she had come to townfor, but her whispered answer of "business, " seemed to satisfyhim, for he did not inquire what the business was. He did askher, furthermore, what had made her get sick; but this time hewas satisfied more easily still, with a very curious, sweetsmile, which was the utmost reply Fleda's wits, at the moment, could frame. "Well, get well, " said he, kissing her heartilyonce or twice, "and I wont quarrel with you about it. "

The getting well, however, promised to be a leisurely affair. Dr. Gregory staid two or three days, and then went on toBoston, leaving Fleda in no want of him. 

Mrs. Pritchard was the tenderest and carefullest of nurses. The Evelyns did everything but nurse her. They sat by her, talked to her, made her laugh, and not seldom made her looksober too, with their wild tales of the world and the world'sdoings. But they were indeed very affectionate and kind, andFleda loved them for it. If they wearied her sometimes withtheir talk, it was a change from the weariness of fever andsilence that on the whole was useful. 

She was quieting herself one morning, as well as she could, inthe midst of both, lying with shut eyes against her pillow, and trying to fix her mind on pleasant things, when she heardMrs. Pritchard open the door and come in. She knew it was Mrs. Pritchard, so she didn't move nor look. But, in a moment, theknowledge that Mrs. Pritchard's feet had stopped just by thebed, and a strange sensation of something delicious salutingher, made her open her eyes; when they lighted upon a hugebunch of violets just before them, and in most friendlyneighbourhood to her nose. Fleda started up, and her "Oh!"fairly made the housekeeper laugh; it was the veryquintessence of gratification. 

"Where did you get them?"

"I didn't get them, indeed, Miss Fleda, " said the housekeeper, gravely, with an immense amount of delighted satisfaction. 

"Delicious! — Where did they come from?"

"Well, they must have come from a greenhouse, or hothouse, orsomething of that kind, Miss Fleda — these things don't grownowhere out o' doors at this time. "

Mrs. Pritchard guessed Fleda had got the clue, from her quickchange of colour and falling eye. There was a quick littlesmile too; and "How kind!" was upon the end of Fleda's tongue, but it never got any further. Her energies, so far asexpression was concerned, seemed to be concentrated in the actof smelling. Mrs. Pritchard stood by. 

"They must be put in water, " said Fleda — "I must have a dishfor them — Dear Mrs. Pritchard, will you get me one?"

The housekeeper went, smiling to herself. The dish wasbrought, the violets placed in it, and a little table, atFleda's request, was set by the side of the bed, close to herpillow, for them to stand upon; and Fleda lay on her pillowand looked at them. 

There never were purer-breathed flowers than those. All thepleasant associations of Fleda's life seemed to hang aboutthem, from the time when her childish eyes had first madeacquaintance with violets, to the conversation in the librarya few days ago; and painful things stood aloof — they had nopart. The freshness of youth, and the sweetness of spring-time, and all the kindly influences which had ever joined withboth to bless her, came back with their blessing in theviolets' reminding breath. Fleda shut her eyes and she feltit; she opened her eyes, and the little, double blue thingssmiled at her good-humouredly, and said, "Here we are — youmay shut them again. " And it was curious how often Fleda gavethem a smile back as she did so. 

Mrs. Pritchard thought Fleda lived upon the violets that dayrather than upon food and medicine; or, at least, she said, they agreed remarkably well together. And the next day it wasmuch the same. 

"What will you do when they are withered?" she said, thatevening. "I shall have to see and get some more for you. "

"Oh, they will last a great while, " said Fleda, smiling. 

But the next morning Mrs. Pritchard came into her room with agreat bunch of roses, the very like of the one Fleda had hadat the Evelyns'. She delivered them with a sort of silenttriumph, and then, as before, stood by to enjoy Fleda and theflowers together. But the degree of Fleda's wonderment, pleasure, and gratitude, made her reception of them, outwardlyat least, this time rather grave. 

"You may throw the others away now, Miss Fleda, " said thehousekeeper, smiling. 

"Indeed, I shall not!"

"The violets, I suppose, is all gone, " Mrs. Pritchard went on;"but I never did see such a bunch of roses as that since Ilived anywhere. They have made a rose of you, Miss Fleda. "

"How beautiful!" was Fleda's answer. 

"Somebody — he didn't say who — desired to know particularlyhow Miss Ringgan was to-day. "

"Somebody is _very_ kind!" said Fleda, from the bottom of herheart. "But, dear Mrs. Pritchard, I shall want another dish. "

Somebody was kind, she thought more and more; for there cameevery day or two the most delicious bouquets, every daydifferent. They were _at least_ equal in their soothing andrefreshing influences, to all the efforts of all the Evelynsand Mrs. Pritchard put together. There never came any namewith them, and there never was any need. Those bunches offlowers certainly had a physiognomy; and to Fleda were (notthe flowers, but the choosing, cutting, and putting of themtogether) the embodiment of an amount of grace, refinedfeeling, generosity, and kindness, that her imagination neverthought of in connection with but one person. And his kindnesswas answered, perhaps Mrs. Pritchard better than Fleda guessedhow well, from the delighted colour and sparkle of the eyewith which every fresh arrival was greeted as it walked intoher room. By Fleda's order, the bouquets were invariably putout of sight before the Evelyns made their first visit in themorning, and not brought out again till all danger of seeingthem any more for the day was past. The regular coming ofthese floral messengers confirmed Mrs. Pritchard in hermysterious surmises about Fleda, which were still furtherstrengthened by this incomprehensible order; and at last shegot so into the spirit of the thing, that if she heard anuntimely ring at the door, she would catch up a glass offlowers and run as if they had been contraband, without a wordfrom anybody. 

The Evelyns wrote to Mrs. Rossitur, by Fleda's desire, so asnot to alarm her; merely saying that Fleda was not quite well, and that they meant to keep her a little while to recruitherself; and that Mrs. Rossitur must send her some clothes. This last clause was the particular addition of Constance. 

The fever lasted a fortnight, and then went off by degrees, leaving her with a very small portion of her ordinarystrength. Fleda was to go to the Evelyns' as soon as she couldbear it; at present she was only able to come down to thelittle back parlour, and sit in the doctor's arm-chair, andeat jelly, and sleep, and look at Constance, and, whenConstance was not there, look at her flowers. She could hardlybear a book as yet. She hadn't a bit of colour in her face, Mrs. Pritchard said, but she looked better than when she cameto town; and to herself the good housekeeper added, that shelooked happier too. No doubt that was true. Fleda's principalfeeling, ever since she lay down in her bed, had beenthankfulness; and now that the ease of returning health wasjoined to this feeling, her face, with all its subduedgravity, was as untroubled in its expression as the faces ofher flowers. 

She was disagreeably surprised one day, after she had been twoor three days down stairs, by a visit from Mrs. Thorn. In herwell-grounded dread of seeing one person, Fleda had givenstrict orders that no _gentleman_ should be admitted; she hadnot counted upon this invasion. Mrs. Thorn had always beenextremely kind to her, but though Fleda gave her credit forthorough good-heartedness, and a true liking for herself, shecould not disconnect her attentions from another thought, andtherefore always wished them away; and never had her kind facebeen more thoroughly disagreeable to Fleda than when it madeits appearance in the doctor's little back parlour on thisoccasion. With even more than her usual fondness, or Fleda'sexcited imagination fancied so, Mrs. Thorn lavished caressesupon her, and finally besought her to go out and take the airin her carriage. Fleda tried most earnestly to get rid of thisinvitation, and was gently unpersuadable, till the lady atlast was brought to promise that she should see no creatureduring the drive but herself. An ominous promise! but Fledadid not know any longer how to refuse without hurting a personfor whom she had really a grateful regard. So she went, anddoubted afterwards exceedingly whether she had done well. 

She took special good care to see nobody again till she wentto the Evelyns'. But then precautions were at an end. It wasno longer possible to keep herself shut up. She had cause, poor child, the very first night of her coming, to wishherself back again. 

This first evening she would fain have pleaded weakness as herexcuse, and gone to her room, but Constance laid violent handson her, and insisted that she should stay at least a littlewhile with them. And she seemed fated to see all her friendsin a bevy. First came Charlton; then followed the Decaturs, whom she knew and liked very well, and engrossed her, happilybefore her cousin had time to make any inquiries; then cameMr. Carleton; then Mr. Stackpole. Then Mr. Thorn, inexpectation of whom Fleda's breath had been coming and goingpainfully all the evening. She could not meet him without astrange mixture of embarrassment and confusion with thegratitude she wished to express, an embarrassment not at alllessened by the air of happy confidence with which he cameforward to her. It carried an intimation that almost took awaythe little strength she had. And if anything could have madehis presence more intolerable, it was the feeling she couldnot get rid of, that it was the cause why Mr. Carleton did notcome near her again, though she prolonged her stay in thedrawing-room in the hope that he would. It proved to be forMr. Thorn's benefit alone. 

"Well, you staid all the evening, after all, " said Constance, as they were going up stairs. 

"Yes — I wish I hadn't, " said Fleda. "I wonder when I shall belikely to find a chance of getting back to Queechy?"

"You're not fit yet, so you needn't trouble yourself aboutit, " said Constance. "We'll find you plenty of chances. "

Fleda could not think of Mr. Thorn without trembling. Hismanner meant — so much more than it had any right, or than shehad counted upon. He seemed — she pressed her hands upon herface to get rid of the impression — he seemed to take forgranted precisely that which she had refused to admit; heseemed to reckon as paid for that which she had declined toset a price upon. Her uncle's words and manner came up in hermemory. She could see nothing best to do but to get home asfast as possible. She had no one here to fall back upon. Againthat vision of father and mother, and grandfather, flittedacross her fancy; and though Fleda's heart ended by restingdown on that foundation to which it always recurred, it restedwith a great many tears. 

For several days she denied herself absolutely to morningvisitors of every kind. But she could not entirely absentherself from the drawing-room in the evening; and whenever thefamily were at home there was a regular levee. Mr. Thorn couldnot be avoided then. He was always there, and always with thatsame look and manner of satisfied confidence. Fleda was asgrave, as silent, as reserved, as she could possibly be, andnot be rude; but he seemed to take it in excellent good part, as being half indisposition and half timidity. Fleda set herface earnestly towards home, and pressed Mrs. Evelyn to findher an opportunity, weak or strong, of going there; but forthose days as yet none presented itself. 

Mr. Carleton was at the house almost as often as Mr. Thorn, seldom staying so long, however, and never having any more todo with Fleda than he had that first evening. Whenever he didcome in contact with her, he was, she thought, as grave as hewas graceful. That was, to be sure, his common manner incompany, yet she could not help thinking there was somedifference since the walk they had taken together — and itgrieved her. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

"The best-laid schemes o' mice and menGang aft ajee. "

After a few days, Charlton verified what Constance had saidabout his not being very fast at Fort Hamilton, by comingagain to see them one morning. Fleda asked him if he could notget another furlough to go with her home, but he declared hewas just spending one which was near out; and he could nothope for a third in some time; he must be back at his post bythe day after to-morrow. 

"When do you want to go, coz?"

"I would to-morrow, if I had anybody to go with me, " saidFleda, sighing. 

"No, you wouldn't, " said Constance; "you are well enough to goout now, and you forget we are all to make Mrs. Thorn happyto-morrow night. "

"I am not, " said Fleda. 

"Not? you can't help yourself — you must; you said you would. "

"I did not, indeed. "

"Well, then, I said it for you, and that will do just as well. Why, my dear, if you don't — just think! — the Thorns will bein a state — I should prefer to go through a hedge of anydescription rather than meet the trying demonstrations whichwill encounter me on every side. "

"I am going to Mrs. Decatur's, " said Fleda; "she invited mefirst, and I owe it to her; she has asked me so often and sokindly. "

"I shouldn't think you'd enjoy yourself there, " said Florence;"they don't talk a bit of English these nights. If I wasgoing, my dear, I would act as your interpreter, but mydestiny lies in another direction. "

"If I cannot make anybody understand my French, I will getsomebody to condescend to my English, " said Fleda. 

"Why, do you talk French?" was the instant question from bothmouths. 

"Unless she has forgotten herself strangely, " said Charlton. "Talk! she will talk to anybody's satisfaction — that happensto differ from her; and I think her tongue cares very littlewhich language it wags in. There is no danger about Fleda'senjoying herself, where people are talking. "

Fleda laughed at him, and the Evelyns rather stared at themboth. 

"But we are all going to Mrs. Thorn's? you can't go alone?"

"I will make Charlton take me, " said Fleda; "or rather I willtake him, if he will let me. Will you, Charlton? will you takecare of me to Mrs. Decatur's to-morrow night?"

"With the greatest pleasure, my dear coz; but I have anotherengagement in the course of the evening. "

"Oh, that is nothing, " said Fleda; "if you will only go withme, that is all I care for. You needn't stay but ten minutes. And you can call for me, " she added, turning to the Evelyns, "as you come back from Mrs. Thorn's. "

To this no objection could be made, and the ensuing railleryFleda bore with steadiness at least, if not with coolness; forCharlton heard it, and she was distressed. 

She went to Mrs. Decatur's the next evening in greater elationof spirits than she had known since she left her uncle's;delighted to be missing from the party at Mrs. Thorn's, andhoping that Mr. Lewis would be satisfied with this very plainhint of her mind. A little pleased, too, to feel quite free, alone from too friendly eyes, and ears that had too lively aconcern in her sayings and doings. She did not in the leastcare about going to Mrs. Decatur's; her joy was that she wasnot at the other place. But there never was elation sooutwardly quiet. Nobody would have suspected its existence. 

The evening was near half over when Mr. Carleton came in. Fleda had half hoped he would be there, and now immediatelyhoped she might have a chance to see him alone, and to thankhim for his flowers; she had not been able to do that yet. Hepresently came up to speak to her, just as Charlton, who hadfound attraction enough to keep him so long, came to tell herhe was going. 

"You are looking better, " said the former, as gravely as ever, but with an eye of serious interest that made the wordssomething. 

"I am better, " said Fleda, gratefully. 

"So much better that she is in a hurry to make herself worse, "said her cousin. "Mr. Carleton, you are a professor ofmedicine, I believe. I have an indistinct impression of yourhaving once prescribed a ride on horseback for somebody;wouldn't you recommend some measure of prudence to herconsideration?"

"In general, " Mr. Carleton answered, gravely; "but in thepresent case I could not venture upon any specialprescription, Captain Rossitur. "

"As, for instance, that she should remain in New York till sheis fit to leave it. By the way, what brought you here again insuch a hurry, Fleda? I haven't heard that yet. "

The question was rather sudden. Fleda was a little taken bysurprise. Her face showed some pain and confusion both. Mr. Carleton prevented her answer, she could not tell whether withdesign. 

"What imprudence do you charge your cousin with, CaptainRossitur?"

"Why, she is in a great hurry to get back to Queechy, beforeshe is able to go anywhere — begging me to find an escort forher. It is lucky I can't. I didn't know I ever should be gladto be 'posted up' in this fashion, but I am. "

"You have not sought very far, Captain Rossitur, " said thevoice of Thorn behind him. "Here is one that will be veryhappy to attend Miss Fleda, whenever she pleases. "

Fleda's shocked start and change of countenance was seen bymore eyes than one pair. Thorn's fell, and a shade crossed hiscountenance, too, for an instant, that Fleda's vision was toodazzled to see. Mr. Carleton moved away. 

"Why are _you_ going to Queechy?" said Charlton, astonished. 

His friend was silent a moment, perhaps for want of power tospeak. Fleda dared not look at him. 

"It is not impossible — unless this lady forbid me. I am not afixture. "

"But what brought you here, man, to offer your services?" saidCharlton; "most ungallantly leaving so many pairs of brighteyes to shine upon your absence. "

"Mr. Thorn will not find himself in darkness here, CaptainRossitur, " said Mrs. Decatur. 

"It's my opinion he ought, Ma'am, " said Charlton. 

"It is my opinion every man ought, who makes his dependance ongleams of sunshine, " said Mr. Thorn, rather cynically. "Icannot say I was thinking of brightness, before or behind me. "

"I should think not, " said Charlton; "you don't look as if youhad seen any in a good while. "

"A light goes out every now and then, " said Thorn; "and ittakes one's eyes some time to get accustomed to it. What asingular world we live in, Mrs. Decatur!"

"That is so new an idea, " said the lady, laughing, "that Imust request an explanation. "

"What new experience of its singularity has your wisdom made?"said his friend. "I thought you and the world knew eachother's faces pretty well before. "

"Then you have not heard the news?"

"What news?"

"Hum — I suppose it is not about, yet, " said Thorn, composedly. "No — you haven't heard it. "

"But what, man?" said Charlton; "let's hear your news, for Imust be off. "

"Why — but it is no more than rumour yet — but it is said thatstrange things are coming to light about a name that used tobe held in very high respect. "

"In this city?"

"In this city? — yes; it is said proceedings are afoot againstone of our oldest citizens, on charge of a very graveoffence. "

"Who — and what offence? what do you mean?"

"Is it a secret, Mr. Thorn?" said Mrs. Decatur. 

"If you have not heard, perhaps it is as well not to mentionnames too soon; if it comes out, it will be all over directly;possibly the family may hush it up, and, in that case, theless said the better; but those have it in hand that will notlet it slip through their fingers. "

Mrs. Decatur turned away, saying, "How shocking such thingswere!" and Thorn, with a smile which did not, however, lightup his face, said —

"You may be off, Charlton, with no concern for the bright eyesyou leave behind you; I will endeavour to atone for mynegligence elsewhere, by my mindfulness of them. "

"Don't excuse you, " said Charlton; but his eye catching at themoment another attraction opposite in the form of man orwoman, instead of quitting the room, he leisurely crossed itto speak to the new-comer; and Thorn, with an entire change oflook and manner, pressed forward, and offered his arm toFleda, who was looking perfectly white. If his words hadneeded any commentary, it was given by his eye as it met hers, in speaking the last sentence to Mrs. Decatur. No one was nearwhom she knew, and Mr. Thorn led her out to a little back roomwhere the gentlemen had thrown off their cloaks, where the airwas fresher, and placing her on a seat, stood waiting beforeher till she could speak to him. 

"What do you mean, Mr. Thorn?" Fleda looked as much as said, when she could meet his face. 

"I may rather ask you what _you_ mean, Miss Fleda, " he answered, gravely. 

Fleda drew breath painfully. 

"I mean nothing, " she said, lowering her head again; "I havedone nothing. "

"Did you think I meant nothing when I agreed to do all youwished?"

"I thought you said you would do it freely, " she said, with atone of voice that might have touched anybody, there was sucha sinking of heart in it. 

"Didn't you understand me?"

"And is it all over now?" said Fleda, after a pause. 

"Not yet; but it soon may be. A weak hand may stop it now — itwill soon be beyond the power of the strongest. "

"And what becomes of your promise that it should no more beheard of?" said Fleda, looking up at him with a colourlessface, but eyes that put the question forcibly, nevertheless. 

"Is any promise bound to stand without its conditions?"

"I made no conditions, " said Fleda, quickly. 

"Forgive me! but did you not permit me to understand them?"

"No! or if I did, I could not help it. "

"Did you say that you wished to help it?" said he, gently. 

"I must say so now, then, Mr. Thorn, " said Fleda, withdrawingthe hand he had taken; "I did not mean or wish you to thinkso, but I was too ill to speak — almost to know what I did. Itwas not my fault. "

"You do not make it mine, that I chose such a time, selfishly, I grant, to draw from your lips the words that are more to methan life?"

"Cannot you be generous ?" _for once_, she was very near saying. 

"Where you are concerned, I do not know how. "

Fleda was silent a moment, and then bowed her face in herhands. 

"May I not ask that question of you?" said he, bending downand endeavouring to remove them; "will you not say — or look —that word that will make others happy beside me?"

"I cannot, Sir. "

"Not for their sakes?" he said, calmly. 

"Can you ask me to do for theirs, what I would not for myown?"

"Yes — for mine, " he said, with a meaning deliberateness. 

Fleda was silent, with a face of white determination. 

"It will be beyond _eluding_, as beyond recal, the second time. I may seem selfish — I am selfish — but, dear Miss Ringgan, you do not see all — you, who make me so, can make me anythingelse with a touch of your hand — it is selfishness that wouldbe bound to your happiness, if you did but entrust it to me. "

Fleda neither spoke nor looked at him, and rose up from herchair. 

"Is this _your_ generosity?" he said, pointedly, though gently. 

"That is not the question now, Sir, " said Fleda, who wastrembling painfully. "I cannot do evil that good may come. "

"But _evil?_" said he, detaining her — "what evil do I ask ofyou? to _remove_ evil, I do. "

Fleda clasped her hands, but answered calmly —

"I cannot make any pretences, Sir; I cannot promise to givewhat is not in my power. "

"In whose power, then?" said he, quickly. 

A feeling of indignation came to Fleda's aid, and she turnedaway. But he stopped her still. 

"Do you think I do not understand?" he said, with a covertsneer, that had the keenness, and hardness, and the brightnessof steel. 

"_I_ do not, Sir, " said Fleda. 

"Do you think I do not know whom you came here to meet?"

Fleda's glance of reproach was a most innocent one, but it didnot check him. 

"Has that fellow renewed his old admiration of you?" he wenton, in the same tone. 

"Do not make me desire his old protection, " said Fleda, hergentle face roused to a flush of displeasure. 

"Protection!" said Charlton, coming in, "who wants protection?here it is — protection from what? my old friend Lewis? whatthe deuce does this lady want of protection, Mr. Thorn?"

It was plain enough that Fleda wanted it, from the way she wasdrooping upon his arm. 

"You may ask the lady herself, " said Thorn, in the same tonehe had before used; — "I have not the honour to be herspokesman. "

"She don't need one, " said Charlton; "I addressed myself toyou — speak for yourself, man. "

"I am not sure that it would be her pleasure I should, " saidThorn. "Shall I tell this gentleman, Miss Ringgan, who needsprotection, and from what?"

Fleda raised her head, and, putting her hand on his arm, looked a concentration of entreaty — lips were sealed. 

"Will you give me, " said he, gently taking the hand in hisown, "your sign-manual for Captain Rossitur's security? It isnot too late. Ask it of her, Sir. "

"What does this mean?" said Charlton, looking from his cousinto his friend. 

"You shall have the pleasure of knowing, Sir, just so soon asI find it convenient. "

"I will have a few words with you on this subject, my finefellow, " said Captain Rossitur, as the other was preparing toleave the room. 

"You had better speak to somebody else, " said Thorn. "But I amready. "

Charlton muttered an imprecation upon his absurdity, andturned his attention to Fleda, who needed it, and yet desiredanything else. For a moment she had an excuse for notanswering his questions in her inability; and then, opportunely, Mrs. Decatur came in to look after her; and shewas followed by her daughter. Fleda roused all her powers toconceal and command her feelings; rallied herself; said shehad been a little weak and faint; drank water, and declaredherself able to go back into the drawing-room. To go homewould have been her utmost desire, but at the instant herenergies were all bent to the one point of putting backthought, and keeping off suspicion. And in the first hurry andbewilderment of distress, the dread of finding herself alonewith Charlton, till she had had time to collect her thoughts, would of itself have been enough to prevent her accepting theproposal. 

She entered the drawing-room again on Mrs. Decatur's arm, andhad stood a few minutes talking or listening, with that sameconcentration of all her faculties upon the effort to bear upoutwardly, when Charlton came up to ask if he should leaveher. Fleda made no objection, and he was out of her sight, farenough to be beyond reach or recal, when it suddenly struckher that she ought not to have let him go without speaking tohim — without entreating him to see her in the morning beforehe saw Thorn. The sickness of this new apprehension was toomuch for poor Fleda's power of keeping up. She quietly drewher arm from Mrs. Decatur's, saying that she would sit down;and sought out a place for herself, apart from the rest, by anengraving-stand, where for a little while, not to seemunoccupied, she turned over print after print, that she didnot see. Even that effort failed at last; and she sat gazingat one of Sir Thomas Lawrence's bright-faced children, andfeeling as if in herself the tides of life were setting backupon their fountain preparatory to being still for ever. Shebecame sensible that some one was standing beside theengravings, and looked up at Mr. Carleton. 

"Are. You ill?" he said, very gently and tenderly. 

The answer was a quick motion of Fleda's hand to her head, speaking sudden pain, and perhaps sudden difficulty of self-command. She did not speak. 

"Will you have anything?"

A whispered "No. "

"Would you like to return to Mrs. Evelyn's? — I have acarriage here. "

With a look of relief that seemed to welcome him as her goodangel, Fleda instantly rose up, and took the arm he offeredher. She would have hastened from the room then, but he gentlychecked her pace; and Fleda was immediately grateful for thequiet and perfect shielding from observation that his mannersecured her. He went with her up the stairs, and to the verydoor of the dressing-room. There Fleda hurried on her shoesand mufflers in trembling fear that some one might come andfind her, gained Mr. Carleton's arm again, and was placed inthe carriage. 

The drive was in perfect silence, and Fleda's agony deepenedand strengthened with every minute. She had freedom to think, and thought did but carry a torch into chamber after chamberof misery. There seemed nothing to be done. She could not gethold of Charlton; and if she could? — Nothing could be lessamenable than his passions to her gentle restraints. Mr. Thornwas still less approachable or manageable, except in one way —that she did not even think of. His insinuations about Mr. Carleton did not leave even a tinge of embarrassment upon hermind; they were cast from her as insulting absurdities, whichshe could not think of a second time without shame. 

The carriage rolled on with them a long time without a wordbeing said. Mr. Carleton knew that she was not weeping norfaint. But as the light of the lamps was now and then castwithin the carriage, he saw that her face looked ghastly; andhe saw too, that its expression was not of a quiet sinkingunder sorrow, nor of an endeavour to bear up against it, but awild searching gaze into the darkness of _possibilities_. Theyhad near reached Mrs. Evelyn's. 

"I cannot see you so, " he said, gently touching the hand whichlay listlessly beside him. "You are ill!"

Again the same motion of the other hand to her face, the quicktoken of great pain suddenly stirred. 

"For the sake of old times, let me ask, " said he — "cannothing be done?"

Those very gentle and delicate tones of sympathy and kindnesswere too much to bear. The hand was snatched away to bepressed to her face. O that those old times were back again, and she a child that could ask his protection! — no one togive it now. 

He was silent a moment. Fleda's head bowed beneath the mentalpressure. 

"Has Dr. Gregory returned?"

The negative answer was followed by a half-uttered exclamationof longing — checked midway, but sufficiently expressive ofher want. 

"Do you trust me?" he said, after another second of pausing. 

"Perfectly!" said Fleda, amidst her tears, too much excited toknow what she was saying, and in her simplicity halfforgetting that she was not a child still; — "more than anyone in the world!"

The few words he had spoken, and the manner of them, hadcuriously borne her back years in a minute; she seemed to beunder his care more than for the drive home. He did not speakagain for a minute; when he did, his tone was very quiet, andlower than before. 

"Give me what a friend can have in charge to do for you, andit shall be done. "

Fleda raised her head, and looked out of the window, in asilence of doubt. The carriage stopped at Mrs. Evelyn's. 

"Not now, " said Mr. Carleton, as the servant was about to openthe door — "drive round the square — till I speak to you. "

Fleda was motionless and almost breathless with uncertainty. If Charlton could be hindered from meeting Mr. Thorn — but howcould Mr. Carleton effect it? But there was that in him or inhis manner, which invariably created confidence in hisability, or fear of it, even in strangers; and how much morein her who had a childish but very clear recollection ofseveral points in his character which confirmed the feeling. And might not something be done, through his means, tofacilitate her uncle's escape? of whom she seemed to herselfnow the betrayer. But to tell him the story! — a person of hishigh nice notions of character — what a distance it would puteven between his friendship and her — but that thought wasbanished instantly, with one glance at Mr. Thorn's imputationof ungenerousness. To sacrifice herself to _him_ would not havebeen generosity — to lower herself in the esteem of adifferent character, she felt, called for it. There was timeeven then, too, for one swift thought of the needlessness andbitter fruits of wrong-doing. But here they were — should shemake them known, and trouble Mr. Carleton, friend though hewere, with these miserable matters in which he had no concern?She sat with a beating heart and a very troubled brow, but abrow as easy to read as a child's. It was the trouble ofanxious questioning. Mr. Carleton watched it for a littlewhile — undecided as ever, and more pained. 

"You said you trusted me, " he said quietly, taking her handagain. 

"But — I don't know what you could do, Mr. Carleton, " Fledasaid, with a trembling voice. 

"Will you let me be the judge of that?"

"I cannot bear to trouble you with these miserable things —"

"You cannot, " said he, with that same quiet tone, "but bythinking and saying so. I can have no greater pleasure than totake pains for you. "

Fleda heard these words precisely, and with the samesimplicity as a child would have heard them, and answered witha very frank burst of tears — soon, as soon as possible, according to her custom, driven back, though even in the actof quieting herself, they broke forth again as uncontrollablyas at first. But Mr. Carleton had not long to wait. She raisedher head again after a short struggle, with the wonted look ofpatience sitting upon her brow, and wiping away her tears, paused merely for breath and voice. He was perfectly silent. 

"Mr. Carleton, I will tell you, " she began; "I hardly knowwhether I ought or ought not" — and her hand went to herforehead for a moment — "but I cannot think to-night — and Ihave not a friend to apply to" —

She hesitated; and then went on, with a voice that trembledand quavered sadly. 

"Mr. Thorn has a secret — of my uncle's — in his power — whichhe promised — without conditions — to keep faithfully; and nowinsists that he will not — but upon conditions" —

"And cannot the conditions be met?"

"No — and, oh, I may as well tell you at once!" said Fleda inbitter sorrow; "it is a crime that he committed" —

"Mr. Thorn?"

"No — O no!" said Fleda, weeping bitterly, "not he" —

Her agitation was excessive for a moment; then she threw itoff, and spoke more collectedly, though with exceedingdepression of manner. 

"It was long ago — when he was in trouble — he put Mr. Thorn'sname to a note, and never was able to take it up; and nothingwas ever heard about it till lately; and last week he wasgoing to leave the country, and Mr. Thorn promised that theproceedings should be entirely given up; and that was why Icame to town, to find uncle Rolf, and bring him home; and Idid, and he is gone; and now Mr. Thorn says, it is all goingon again, and that he will not escape this time; and I havedone it!" —

Fleda writhed again in distress. 

"Thorn promised without conditions?"

"Certainly — he promised freely — and now he insists uponthem; and you see uncle Rolf would have been safe out of thecountry now, if it hadn't been for me" —

"I think I can undo this snarl, " said Mr. Carleton, calmly. 

"But that is not all, " said Fleda, a little quieted; "Charltoncame in this evening when we were talking, and he wassurprised to find me so, and Mr. Thorn was in a very illhumour, and some words passed between them, and Charltonthreatened to see him again; and oh, if he does!" said poorFleda — "that will finish our difficulties! — for Charlton isvery hot, and I know how it will end — how it must end" —

"Where is your cousin to be found?"

"I don't know where he lodges when he is in town. "

"You did not leave him at Mrs. Decatur's. Do you know where heis this evening?"

"Yes!" said Fleda, wondering that she should have heard andremembered; "he said he was going to meet a party of hisbrother officers at Mme. Fouchι's — a sister-in-law of hisColonel, I believe. "

"I know her. This note — was it the name of the young Mr. Thorn, or of his father that was used?"

"Of his father. "

"Has _he_ appeared at all in this business?"

"No, " said Fleda, feeling for the first time that there wassomething notable about it. 

"What sort of person do you take him to be?"

"Very kind — very pleasant, always, he has been to me, and Ishould think to everybody — very unlike the son. "

Mr. Carleton had ordered the coachman back to Mrs. Evelyn's. 

"Do you know the amount of the note? It may be desirable thatI should not appear uninformed. "

"It was for four thousand dollars, " Fleda said, in the lowvoice of shame. 

"And when given?"

"I don't know exactly — but six years ago — some time in thewinter of '43, it must have been. "

He said no more till the carriage stopped; and then, beforehanding her out of it, lifted her hand to his lips. Thatcarried all the promise Fleda wanted, from him. How oddly —how curiously, her hand kept the feeling of that kiss upon itall night!

CHAPTER XVIII. 

"Heat not a furnace for your friend so hotThat it may singe yourself. "SHAKESPEARE. 

Mr. Carleton went to Madame Fouchι's, who received mostgraciously, as any lady would, his apology for introducinghimself unlooked-for, and begged that he would commit the samefault often. As soon as practicable, he made his way toCharlton, and invited him to breakfast with him the nextmorning. 

Mrs. Carleton always said it never was known that Guy wasrefused anything he had a mind to ask. Charlton, though takenby surprise, and certainly not too much prepossessed in hisfavour, was won by an influence that, where its owner chose toexert it, was generally found irresistible; and not onlyaccepted the invitation, but was conscious to himself of doingit with a good deal of pleasure. Even when Mr. Carleton madethe further request that Captain Rossitur would, in themeantime, see no one on business of any kind, intimating thatthe reason would then be given, Charlton, though startling alittle at this restraint upon his freedom of motion, could dono other than give the desired promise, and with the utmostreadiness. Guy then went to Mr. Thorn's. It was, by this time, not early. 

"Mr. Lewis Thorn — is he at home?"

"He is, Sir, " said the servant, admitting him ratherhesitatingly. 

"I wish to see him a few moments on business. "

"It is no hour for business, " said the voice of Mr. Lewis fromover the balusters — "I can't see anybody to-night. "

"I ask but a few minutes, " said Mr. Carleton. "It isimportant. "

"It may be anything!" said Thorn. "I wont do business aftertwelve o'clock. "

Mr. Carleton desired the servant to carry his card, with thesame request, to Mr. Thorn the elder. 

"What's that?" said Thorn, as the man came up stairs — "myfather? — Pshaw! _he_ can't attend to it. Well, walk up, Sir, ifyou please! — may as well have it over and done with it. "

Mr. Carleton mounted the stairs and followed the younggentleman into an apartment, to which he rapidly led the way. 

"You've no objection to this, I suppose?" Thorn remarked, ashe locked the door behind them. 

"Certainly not, " said Mr. Carleton, coolly, taking out the keyand putting it in his pocket — "my business is private — itneeds no witnesses. "

"Especially as it so nearly concerns yourself, " said Thorn, sneeringly. 

"Which part of it, Sir?" said Mr. Carleton, with admirablebreeding. It vexed, at the same time that it constrainedThorn. 

"I'll let you know, presently!" he said, hurriedly proceedingto the lower end of the room, where some cabinets stood, andunlocking door after door in mad haste. 

The place had somewhat the air of a study — perhaps Thorn'sprivate room. A long table stood in the middle of the floor, with materials for writing, and a good many books were aboutthe room, in cases and on the tables, with maps, andengravings, and portfolio's, and a nameless collection ofarticles — the miscellaneous gathering of a man of leisure andsome literary taste. 

Their owner presently came back from the cabinets with tokensof a very different kind about him. 

"There, Sir!" he said, offering to his guest a brace of mostinhospitable-looking pistols — "take one, and take your stand, as soon as you please — nothing like coming to the point atonce!"

He was heated and excited even more than his manner indicated. Mr. Carleton glanced at him, and stood quietly examining thepistol he had taken. It was already loaded. 

"This is a business that comes upon me by surprise, " he said, calmly. "I don't know what I have to do with this, Mr. Thorn. "

"Well, I do, " said Thorn, "and that's enough. Take your place, Sir! You escaped me once, but " — and he gave his wordsdreadful emphasis — "you wont do it the second time!"

"You do not mean, " said the other, "that your recollection ofsuch an offence has lived out so many years?"

"No, Sir! No Sir!" said Thorn — "it is not that. I despise it, as I do the offender. You have touched me more nearly. "

"Let me know ill what, " said Mr. Carleton, turning hispistol's mouth down upon the table, and leaning on it. 

"You know already — what do you ask me for?" said Thorn, whowas foaming; "if you say you don't, you lie heartily. I'lltell you nothing but out of _this_. "

"I have not knowingly injured you, Sir — in a whit. "

"Then a Carleton may be a liar, " said Thorn, "and you are one— I dare say not the first. Put yourself there, Sir, willyou?"

"Well, " said Guy, carelessly, "if it is decreed that I am tofight, of course there's no help for it; but as I havebusiness on hand that might not be so well done afterwards, Imust beg your attention to that in the first place. "

"No, Sir, " said Thorn, "I'll attend to nothing — I'll hearnothing from you. I know you! I'll not hear a word. I'll seeto the business! Take your stand. "

"I will not have anything to do with pistols, " said Mr. Carleton, coolly, laying his out of his hand; "they make toomuch noise. "

"Who cares for the noise?" said Thorn. "It wont hurt you; andthe door is locked. "

"But people's ears are not, " said Guy. 

Neither tone, nor attitude, nor look, had changed in the leastits calm gracefulness. It began to act upon Thorn. 

"Well, in the devil's name, have your own way, " said he, throwing down his pistol too, and going back to the cabinetsat the lower end of the room — "there are rapiers here, if youlike them better — _I_ don't — the shortest the best for me —but here they are — take your choice. "

Guy examined them carefully for a few minutes, and then laidthem both, with a firm hand upon them, on the table. 

"I will choose neither, Mr. Thorn, till you have heard me. Icame here to see you on the part of others — I should be arecreant to my charge if I allowed you or myself to draw meinto anything that might prevent my fulfilling it. That mustbe done first. "

Thorn looked with a lowering brow on the indications of hisopponent's eye and attitude; they left him plainly but onecourse to take. 

"Well, speak and have done, " he said, as in spite of himself;"but I know it already. "

"I am here as a friend of Mr. Rossitur. "

"Why don't you say a friend of somebody else, and come nearerthe truth?" said Thorn. 

There was an intensity of expression in his sneer, but painwas there as well as anger; and it was with even a feeling ofpity that Mr. Carleton answered —

"The truth will be best reached, Sir, if I am allowed tochoose my own words. "

There was no haughtiness in the steady gravity of this speech, whatever there was in the quiet silence he permitted tofollow. Thorn did not break it. 

"I am informed of the particulars concerning this prosecutionof Mr. Rossitur — I am come here to know if no terms can beobtained. "

"No!" said Thorn — "no terms — I wont speak of terms. Thematter will be followed up now till the fellow is lodged injail, where he deserves to be. "

"Are you aware, Sir, that this, if done, will be the cause ofvery great distress to a family who have not deserved it?"

"That can't be helped, " said Thorn. "Of course, it must causedistress, but you can't act upon that. Of course, when a manturns rogue, he ruins his family — that's part of hispunishment — and a just one. "

"The law is just, " said Mr. Carleton, "but a friend may bemerciful. "

"I don't pretend to be a friend, " said Thorn, viciously, "andI have no cause to be merciful. I like to bring a man topublic shame when he has forfeited his title to anything else;and I intend that Mr. Rossitur shall become intimatelyacquainted with the interior of the State's prison. "

"Did it ever occur to you that public shame _might_ fall uponother than Mr. Rossitur, and without the State prison?"

Thorn fixed a somewhat startled look upon the steady powerfuleye of his opponent, and did not like its meaning. 

"You must explain yourself, Sir, " he said, haughtily. 

"I am acquainted with _all_ the particulars of this proceeding, Mr. Thorn. If it goes abroad, so surely will they. "

"She told you, did she?" said Thorn, in a sudden flash offury. 

Mr. Carleton was silent, with his air of imperturbablereserve, telling and expressing nothing but a coolindependence that put the world at a distance. 

"Ha!" said Thorn, "it is easy to see why our brave Englishmancomes here to solicit 'terms' for his honest friend Rossitur —he would not like the scandal of franking letters to SingSing. Come, Sir!" he said, snatching up the pistol, "ourbusiness is ended — come, I say, or I wont wait for you. "

But the pistol was struck from his hand. 

"Not yet, " said Mr. Carleton, calmly, "you shall have yourturn at these — mind, I promise you; but my business must bedone first — till then, let them alone. "

"Well, what is it?" said Thorn, impatiently. "Rossitur will bea convict, I tell you; so you'll have to give up all thoughtsof his niece, or pocket her shame along with her. What morehave you got to say? that's all your business, I take it. "

"You are mistaken, Mr. Thorn, " said Mr. Carleton, gravely. 

"Am I? In what ?"

"In every position of your last speech. "

"It don't affect your plans and views, I suppose, personally, whether this prosecution is continued or not?"

"It does not in the least. "

"It is indifferent to you, I suppose, what sort of a queenconsort you carry to your little throne of a provincialitydown yonder?"

"I will reply to you, Sir, when you come back to the subject, "said Mr. Carleton, coldly. 

"You mean to say that your pretensions have not been in theway of mine?"

"I have made none, Sir. "

"Doesn't she like you?"

"I have never asked her. "

"Then, what possessed her to tell you all this to-night?"

"Simply because I was an old friend, and the only one at hand, I presume. "

"And you do not look for any reward of your services, ofcourse?"

"I wish for none, Sir, but her relief. "

"Well, it don't signify, " said Thorn, with a mixture ofexpressions in his face — "if I believed you, which I don't —it don't signify a hair what you do, when once this matter isknown. I should never think of advancing my pretensions into afelon's family. "

"You know that the lady in whose welfare you take so muchinterest will in that case suffer aggravated distress ashaving been the means of hindering Mr. Rossitur's escape. "

"Can't help it, " said Thorn, beating the table with a ruler;"so she has; she must suffer for it. It isn't my fault. "

"You are willing, then, to abide the consequences of a fulldisclosure of all the circumstances? — for part will not comeout without the whole. "

"There is happily nobody to tell them, " said Thorn, with asneer. 

"Pardon me — they will not only be told, but known thoroughlyin all the circles in this country that know Mr. Thorn'sname. "

"_The lady_, " said Thorn, in the same tone, "would hardly relishsuch a publication of _her_ name — _her welfare_ would be scantilyadvantaged by it. "

"I will take the risk of that upon myself, " said Mr. Carleton, quietly; "and the charge of the other. "

"You dare not !" said Thorn. "You shall not go alive out ofthis room to do it! Let me have it, Sir! You said you would. "

His passion was at a fearful height, for the family pridewhich had been appealed to, felt a touch of fear, and hisother thoughts were confirmed again, besides the dim vision ofa possible thwarting of all his plans. Desire almostconcentred itself upon revenge against the object thatthreatened them. He had thrown himself again towards theweapons which lay beyond his reach, but was met, and forciblywithheld from them. 

"Stand back!" said Mr. Carleton. "I said I would, but I am notready — finish this business first. "

"What is there to finish?" said Thorn, furiously — "you willnever live to do anything out of these doors again — you aremocking yourself. "

"My life is not in your hands, Sir, and I will settle thismatter before I put it in peril. If not with you, with Mr. Thorn, your father, to whom it more properly belongs. "

"You cannot leave the room to see him, " said Thorn, sneeringly. 

"That is at my pleasure, " said the other, "unless hindered bymeans I do not think you will use. "

Thorn was silent. 

"Will you yield anything of justice, once more, in favour ofthis distressed family?"

"That is, yield the whole, and let the guilty go free?"

"When the punishment of the offender would involve that of somany unoffending, who, in this case, would feel it withpeculiar severity. "

"He deserves it, if it was only for the money he has kept meout of; he ought to be made to refund what he has stolen, ifit took the skin off his back!"

"That part of his obligation, " said Mr. Carleton, "I amauthorised to discharge, on condition of having the note givenup. I have a cheque with me which I am commissioned to fillup, from one of the best names here. I need only the date ofthe note, which the giver of the cheque did not know. "

Thorn hesitated, again tapping the table with the ruler in atroubled manner. He knew, by the calm erect figure before himand the steady eye he did not care to meet, that the threat ofdisclosure would be kept. He was not prepared to brave it, incase his revenge should fail; and if it did not —

"It is deuced folly, " he said, at length, with a half laugh, "for I shall have it back again in five minutes, if my eyedon't play me a trick; however, if you will have it so, Idon't care. There are chances in all things. "

He went again to the cabinets, and presently brought theendorsed note. Mr. Carleton gave it a cool and carefulexamination, to satisfy himself of its being the true one, andthen delivered him the cheque — the blank duly filled up. 

"There are chances in nothing, Sir, " he said, as he proceededto burn the note effectually in the candle. 

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that there is a Supreme Disposer of all things, who, among the rest, has our lives in his hand. And now, Sir, Iwill give you that chance at my life for which you have beenso eagerly wishing. "

"Well, take your place, " said Thorn, seizing his pistol, "andtake your arms, put yourself at the end of the table, nevermind the noise!"

"I shall stand here, " said Mr. Carleton, quietly folding hisarms; "you may take your place where you please. "

"But you are not armed, " said Thorn, impatiently: "why don'tyou get ready? what are you waiting for?"

"I have nothing to do with arms, " said Mr. Carleton, smiling;"I have no wish to hurt you, Mr. Thorn; I bear you no ill-will. But you may do what you please with me. "

"But you promised!" said Thorn, in desperation. 

"I abide by my promise, Sir. "

Thorn's pistol hand fell — he looked _dreadfully_. There was asilence of several minutes. 

"Well?" said Mr. Carleton, looking up and smiling. 

"I can do nothing, unless you will, " said Thorn, hoarsely, andlooking hurriedly away. 

"I am at your pleasure, Sir! But, on my own part, I have noneto gratify. "

There was silence again, during which Thorn's face waspitiable in its darkness. He did not stir. 

"I did not come here in enmity, Mr. Thorn, " said Guy, after alittle, approaching him — "I have none now. If you believe me, you will throw away the remains of yours, and take my hand inpledge of it. "

Thorn was ashamed and confounded, in the midst of passionsthat made him at the moment a mere wreck of himself. Heinwardly drew back exceedingly from the proposal. But thegrace with which the words were said wrought upon all thegentlemanly character that belonged to him, and made itimpossible not to comply. The pistol was exchanged for Mr. Carleton's hand. 

"I need not assure you, " said the latter, "that nothing ofwhat we have talked of to-night shall ever be known orsuspected, in any quarter, unless by your means. "

Thorn's answer was merely a bow, and Mr. Carleton withdrew, his quondam antagonist lighting him ceremoniously to the door. 

It was easy for Mr. Carleton the next morning to deal with hisguest at the breakfast-table. 

The appointments of the service were such as of themselves toput Charlton in a good humour, if he had not come alreadyprovided with that happy qualification; and the powers ofmanner and conversation which his entertainer brought intoplay, not only put them into the back-ground of CaptainRossitur's perceptions, but even made him merge certain otherthings in fascination, and lose all thought of what probablyhad called him there. Once before, he had known Mr. Carletoncome out in a like manner, but this time he forgot to besurprised. 

The meal was two-thirds over before the business that haddrawn them together was alluded to. 

"I made an odd request of you last night, Captain Rossitur, "said his host; "you haven't asked for an explanation. "

"I had forgotten all about it, " said Rossitur, candidly. "I aminconsιquent enough myself not to think everything odd thatrequires an explanation. "

"Then I hope you will pardon me if mine seem to touch uponwhat is not my concern. You had some cause to be displeasedwith Mr. Thorn's behaviour last night?"

Who told you as much? — was in Rossitur's open eyes, and uponhis tongue; but few ever asked naughty questions of Mr. Carleton. Charlton's eyes came back, not indeed to theirformer dimensions, but to his plate, in silence. 

"He was incomprehensible, " he said, after a minute: "anddidn't act like himself; I don't know what was the matter. Ishall call him to account for it. "

"Captain Rossitur, I am going to ask you a favour. "

"I will grant it with the greatest pleasure, " said Charlton —"if it lie within my power. "

"A wise man's addition, " said Mr. Carleton; "but I trust youwill not think me extravagant. I will hold myself much obligedto you, if you will let Mr. Thorn's folly, or impertinence, gothis time without notice. "

Charlton absolutely laid down his knife in astonishment; whileat the same moment this slight let to the assertion of hisdignity roused it to uncommon pugnaciousness. 

"Sir — Mr. Carleton" — he stammered — "I would be very happyto grant anything in my power —but this, Sir — really goesbeyond it. "

"Permit me to say, " said Mr. Carleton, "that I have myselfseen Thorn upon the business that occasioned his discomposure, and that it has been satisfactorily arranged; so that nothingmore is to be gained or desired from a second interview. "

Who gave you authority to do any such thing? was again inCharlton's eyes, and an odd twinge crossed his mind; but, asbefore, his thoughts were silent. 

"_My_ part of the business cannot have been arranged, " he said, "for it lies in a question or two that I must put to thegentleman myself. "

"What will that question or two probably end in?" said Mr. Carleton, significantly. 

"I can't tell!" said Rossitur; "depends on himself, it willend according to his answers. "

"Is his offence so great that it cannot be forgiven upon myentreaty?"

"Mr. Carleton!" said Rossitur — "I would gladly pleasure you, Sir; but, you see, this is a thing a man owes to himself. "

"What thing, Sir?"

"Why, not to suffer impertinence to be offered him withimpunity. "

"Even though the punishment extend to hearts at home that mustfeel it far more heavily than the offender?"

"Would you suffer yourself to be insulted, Mr. Carleton?" saidRossitur, by way of a mouth-stopper. 

"Not if I could help it, " said Mr. Carleton, smiling; "but, ifsuch a misfortune happened, I don't know how it would berepaired by being made a matter of life and death. "

"But honour might, " said Rossitur. 

"Honour is not reached, Captain Rossitur. Honour dwells in astrong citadel, and a squib against the walls does in no wiseaffect their security. "

"But, also, it is not consistent with honour to sit still andsuffer it. "

"Question. The firing of a cracker, I think, hardly warrants asally. "

"It calls for chastisement, though, " said Rossitur, a littleshortly. 

"I don't know that, " said Mr. Carleton, gravely. "We have iton the highest authority that it is the glory of man to _passby_ a transgression. "

"But you can't go by that, " said Charlton, a little fidgeted;"the world wouldn't get along so; men must take care ofthemselves. "

"Certainly. But what part of themselves is cared for in thisresenting of injuries?"

"Why, their good name!"

"As how affected? — pardon me. "

"By the world's opinion, " said Rossitur; "which stamps everyman with something worse than infamy who cannot protect hisown standing. "

"That is to say, " said Mr. Carleton, seriously, "that CaptainRossitur will punish a fool's words with death, or visit thelast extremity of distress upon those who are dearest to him, rather than leave the world in any doubt of his prowess. "

"Mr. Carleton!" said Rossitur, colouring — "what do you meanby speaking so, Sir?"

"Not to displease you, Captain Rossitur. "

"Then you count the world's opinion for nothing?"

"For less than nothing — compared with the regards I havenamed. "

"You would brave it without scruple?"

"I do not call him a brave man who would not, Sir. "

"I remember, " said Charlton, half laughing — "you did ityourself once; and I must confess I believe nobody thought youlost anything by it. "

"But forgive me for asking, " said Mr. Carleton — "is thisterrible world a party to _this_ matter? In the request which Imade — and which I have not given up, Sir — do I presume uponany more than the sacrifice of a little private feeling?"

"Why, yes, " said Charlton, looking somewhat puzzled, "for Ipromised the fellow I would see to it, and I must keep myword. "

"And you know how that will of necessity issue. "

"I can't consider that, Sir; that is a secondary matter. Imust do what I told him I would. "

"At all hazards?" said Mr. Carleton. 

"What hazards?"

"Not hazard, but certainty — of incurring a reckoning far lesseasy to deal with. "

"What, do you mean with yourself?" said Rossitur. 

"No, Sir, said Mr. Carleton, a shade of even sorrowfulexpression crossing his face; "I mean with one whosedispleasure is a more weighty matter; one who has declaredvery distinctly, 'Thou shalt not kill. ' "

"I am sorry for it, " said Rossitur, after a disturbed pause ofsome minutes — "I wish you had asked me anything else; but wecan't take this thing in the light you do, Sir. I wish Thornhad been in any spot of the world but at Mrs. Decatur's, lastnight, or that Fleda hadn't taken me there; but since he was, there is no help for it — I must make him account for hisbehaviour, to her as well as to me. I really don't know how tohelp it, Sir. "

"Let me beg you to reconsider that, " Mr. Carleton said, with asmile which disarmed offence — "for, if you will not help it, I must. "

Charlton looked in doubt for a moment, and then asked how hewould help it. 

"In that case, I shall think it my duty to have you bound overto keep the peace. "

He spoke gravely now, and with that quiet tone which alwayscarries conviction. Charlton stared unmistakably, and insilence. 

"You are not in earnest?" he then said. 

"I trust you will permit me to leave you for ever in doubt onthat point, " said Mr. Carleton, with again a slight giving wayof the muscles of his face. 

"I cannot, indeed, " said Rossitur. "Do you mean what you saidjust now?"

"Entirely. "

"But, Mr. Carleton, " said Rossitur, flushing, and not knowingexactly how to take him up — "is this the manner of onegentleman towards another?"

He had not chosen right, for he received no answer but anabsolute quietness which needed no interpretation. Charltonwas vexed and confused, but, somehow, it did not come into hishead to pick a quarrel with his host, in spite of hisirritation. That was, perhaps, because he felt it to beimpossible. 

"I beg your pardon, " he said, most unconsciously verifyingFleda's words in his own person — "but, Mr. Carleton, do methe favour to say that I have misunderstood your words. Theyare incomprehensible to me, Sir. "

"I must abide by them nevertheless, Captain Rossitur, " Mr. Carleton answered, with a smile. "I will not permit this thingto be done, while, as I believe, I have the power to preventit. You see, " he said, smiling again, "I put in practice myown theory. "

Charlton looked exceedingly disturbed, and maintained a vexedand irresolute silence for several minutes, realizing theextreme disagreeableness of having more than his match to dealwith. 

"Come, Captain Rossitur, " said the other, turning suddenlyround upon him — "say that you forgive me what you know wasmeant in no disrespect to you. "

"I certainly should not, " said Rossitur, yielding, however, with a half laugh, "if it were not for the truth of theproverb, that it takes two to make a quarrel. "

"Give me your hand upon that. And now that the question ofhonour is taken out of your hands, grant, not to me, but tothose for whom I ask it, your promise to forgive this man. "

Charlton hesitated, but it was difficult to resist therequest, backed as it was with weight of character and graceof manner, along with its intrinsic reasonableness; and he sawno other way so expedient of getting out of his dilemma. 

"I ought to be angry with somebody, " he said, half laughing, and a little ashamed; — "if you will point out any substitutefor Thorn, I will let him go, since I cannot help myself, withpleasure. "

"I will bear it, " said Mr. Carleton, lightly. "Give me yourpromise for Thorn, and hold me your debtor in what amount youplease. "

"Very well — I forgive him, " said Rossitur; — "and now, Mr. Carleton I shall have a reckoning with you some day for this. "

"I will meet it. When you are next in England, you shall comedown to — shire, and I will give you any satisfaction youplease. "

They parted in high good-humour; but Charlton looked grave ashe went down the staircase; and, very oddly, all the way downto Whitehall his head was running upon the variousexcellencies and perfections of his cousin Fleda. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

"There is a fortune comingTowards you, dainty, that will take thee thus, And set thee aloft. "BEN JONSON. 

That day was spent by Fleda in the never-failing headachewhich was sure to visit her after any extraordinary nervousagitation, or too great mental or bodily trial. It was severethis time, not only from the anxiety of the preceding night, but from the uncertainty that weighed upon her all day long. The person who could have removed the uncertainty came, indeed, to the house, but she was too ill to see anybody. 

The extremity of pain wore itself off with the day, and atevening she was able to leave her room and come down stairs. But she was ill yet, and could do nothing but sit in thecorner of the sofa, with her hair unbound, and Florence gentlybathing her head with cologne. Anxiety as well as pain had, insome measure, given place to exhaustion, and she looked awhite embodiment of endurance, which gave a shock to herfriends' sympathy. Visitors were denied, and Constance andEdith devoted their eyes and tongues at least to her service, if they could do no more. 

It happened that Joe Manton was out of the way, holding animportant conference with a brother usher next door, — aconference that he had no notion would be so important when hebegan it, when a ring on his own premises summoned one of themaid-servants to the door. She knew nothing about "not athome, " and unceremoniously desired the gentleman to "walk up, "— "the ladies were in the drawing-room. "

The door had been set wide open for the heat, and Fleda wasclose in the corner behind it, gratefully permittingFlorence's efforts with the _cologne_, which yet she knew couldavail nothing but the kind feelings of the operator; forherself — patiently waiting her enemy's time. Constance wassitting on the floor looking at her. 

"I can't conceive how you can bear so much, " she said, atlength. 

Fleda thought how little she knew what was borne!

"Why, you could bear it, I suppose, if you had to, " saidEdith, philosophically. 

"She knows she looks most beautiful, " said Florence, softlypassing her cologned hands down over the smooth hair — "sheknows

' Il faut souffrir pour κtre belle. ' "

"La migraine ne se guιrit avec les douceurs, " said Mr. Carleton, entering — "try something sharp, Miss Evelyn. "

"Where are we to get it?" said Constance, springing up, andadding, in a most lack-a-daisical aside to her mother —"Mamma! — the fowling-piece! — Our last vinegar hardly comesunder the appellation; and you don't expect to find anythingvolatile in this house, Mr. Carleton?"

He smiled. 

"Have you none for grave occasions, Miss Constance?"

"I wont retort the question about 'something sharp, ' " saidConstance, arching her eyebrows, "because it is against myprinciples to make people uncomfortable; but you havecertainly brought in some medicine with you, for MissRinggan's cheeks, a little while ago, were as pure as her mind— from a tinge of any sort — and now, you see —"

"My dear Constance, " said her mother, "Miss Ringgan's cheekswill stand a much better chance if you come away and leave herin peace. How can she get well with such a chatter in herears?"

"Mr. Carleton and I, Mamma, are conferring upon measures ofrelief, and Miss Ringgan gives token of improvement already. "

"For which I am very little to be thanked, " said Mr. Carleton. "But I am not a bringer of bad news, that she should look paleat the sight of me. "

"Are you a bringer of any news?" said Constance, "Oh, do letus have them, Mr. Carleton! — I am dying for news — I haven'theard a bit to-day. "

"What is the news, Mr. Carleton?" said her mother's voice, from the more distant region of the fire. 

"I believe there are no general news, Mrs. Evelyn. "

"Are there any particular news?" said Constance. "I likeparticular news infinitely the best. "

"I am sorry, Miss Constance, I have none for you. But, willthis headache yield to nothing?"

"Fleda prophesied that it would to time, " said Florence; "shewould not let us try much beside. "

"And I must confess there has been no volatile agency employedat all, " said Constance; "I never knew time have less of it, and Fleda seemed to prefer him for her physician. "

"He hasn't been a good one to-day, " said Edith, nestlingaffectionately to her side. "Isn't it better, Fleda?" for shehad covered her eyes with her hand. 

"Not just now, " said Fleda, softly. 

"It is fair to change physicians if the first fails, " said Mr. Carleton. "I have had a slight experience in headache-curing;if you will permit me, Miss Constance, I will supersede timeand try a different prescription. "

He went out to seek it, and Fleda leaned her head in her hand, and tried to quiet the throbbing heart, every pulsation ofwhich was felt so keenly at the seat of pain. She knew, fromMr. Carleton's voice and manner — she _thought_ she knew — thathe had exceeding good tidings for her; once assured of that, she would soon be better; but she was worse now. 

"Where is Mr. Carleton gone?" said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"I haven't the least idea, Mamma — he has ventured upon anextraordinary undertaking, and has gone off to qualifyhimself, I suppose. I can't conceive why he didn't ask MissRinggan's permission to change her physician instead of mine. "

"I suppose he knew there was no doubt about that, " said Edith, hitting the precise answer of Fleda's thoughts. 

"And what should make him think there was any doubt aboutmine?" said Constance, tartly. 

"Oh, you know, " said her sister, "you are so odd, nobody cantell what you will take a fancy to. "

"You are extremely liberal in your expressions, at least, MissEvelyn, I must say, " said Constance, with a glance of nodoubtful meaning. "Joe — did you let Mr. Carleton in?"

"No, Ma'am. "

"Well, let him in next time, and don't let in anybody else. "

Whereafter the party relapsed into silent expectation. 

It was not many minutes before Mr. Carleton returned. 

"Tell your friend, Miss Constance, " he said, putting anexquisite little vinaigrette into her hand, "that I havenothing worse for her than that. "

"Worse than this!" said Constance, examining it. "Mr. Carleton, I doubt exceedingly whether smelling this willafford Miss Ringgan any benefit. "

"Why, Miss Constance?"

"Because it has made me sick only to look at it!"

"There will be no danger for her, " he said, smiling. 

"Wont there? Well, Fleda, my dear, here, take it, " said theyoung lady; "I hope you are differently constituted from me, for I feel a sudden pain since I saw it; but as you keep youreyes shut, and so escape the sight of this lovely goldchasing, perhaps it will do you no mischief. "

"It will do her all the more good for that, " said Mrs. Evelyn. 

The only ears that took the benefit of this speech wereEdith's and Mr. Carleton's; Fleda's were deafened by the rushof feeling. She very little knew what she was holding. Mr. Carleton stood with rather significant gravity, watching theeffect of his prescription, while Edith beset her mother toknow why the outside of the vinaigrette, being of gold, shouldmake it do Fleda any more good; the disposing of whichquestion effectually occupied Mrs. Evelyn's attention for sometime. 

"And, pray, how long is it since you took up the trade of aphysician, Mr. Carleton?" said Constance. 

"It is just about nine years, Miss Constance, " he answered, gravely. 

But that little reminder, slight as it was, overcame the smallremnant of Fleda's self-command — the vinaigrette fell fromher hands, and her face was hid in them; whatever became ofpain, tears must flow. 

"Forgive me, " said Mr. Carleton, gently, bending down towardsher, "for speaking when I should have been silent — MissEvelyn, and Miss Constance, will you permit me to order thatmy patient be left in quiet. "

And he took them away to Mrs. Evelyn's quarter, and kept themall three engaged in conversation, too busily to trouble Fledawith any attention, till she had had ample time to try theeffect of the quiet and of the vinegar both. Then he wenthimself to look after her. 

"Are you better?" said he, bending down, and speaking low. 

Fleda opened her eyes and gave him, what a look! — of gratefulfeeling. She did not know the half that was in it; but he did. That she was better, was a very small item. 

"Ready for the coffee?" said he, smiling. 

"Oh, no, " whispered Fleda — "It don't matter about that —never mind the coffee!"

But he went back with his usual calmness to Mrs. Evelyn, andbegged that she would have the goodness to order a cup ofrather strong coffee to be made. 

"But, Mr. Carleton, Sir, " said that lady, "I am not at allsure that it would be the best thing for Miss Ringgan — if sheis better — I think it would do her far more good to go torest, and let sleep finish her cure, before taking somethingthat will make sleep impossible. "

"Did you ever hear of a physician, Mrs. Evelyn, " he said, smiling, "'that allowed his prescriptions to be interferedwith? I must beg you will do me this favour. "

"I doubt very much whether it will be a favour to MissRinggan, " said Mrs. Evelyn — "however —"

And she rang the bell, and gave the desired order, with asomewhat disconcerted face. But Mr. Carleton again left Fledato herself, and devoted his attention to the other ladies, with so much success, though with his usual absence of effortthat good humour was served long before the coffee. 

Then, indeed, he played the physician's part again — made thecoffee himself, and saw it taken, according to his ownpleasure — skilfully, however, seeming all the while, exceptto Fleda, to be occupied with everything else. The groupgathered round her anew; she was well enough to bear theirtalk by this time — by the time the coffee was drunk, quitewell. 

"Is it quite gone?" asked Edith. 

"The headache? — yes. "

"You will owe your physician a great many thanks, my dearFleda, " said Mrs. Evelyn. 

Fleda's only answer to this, however, was by a very slightsmile; and she presently left the room, to go up stairs andarrange her yet disarranged hair. 

"That is a very fine girl, " remarked Mrs. Evelyn, preparinghalf a cup of coffee for herself in a kind of amusedabstraction. "My friend Mr. Thorn will have an excellent wifeof her. "

"Provided she marries him, " said Constance, somewhat shortly. 

"I am sure I hope she wont, " said Edith; "and I don't believeshe will. "

"What do you think of his chances of success, Mr. Carleton?"

"Your manner of speech would seem to imply that they are verygood, Mrs. Evelyn, " he answered, coolly. 

"Well, don't you think so?" said Mrs. Evelyn, coming back toher seat with her coffee-cup, and apparently dividing herattention between it and her subject. "It's a great chance forher — most girls in her circumstances would not refuse it — _I_think he's pretty sure of his ground. "

"So I think, " said Florence. 

"It don't prove anything, if he is, " said Constance, drily. "Ihate people who are always sure of their ground. "

"What do you think, Mr. Carleton?" said Mrs. Evelyn, takinglittle satisfied sips of her coffee. 

"May I ask, first, what is meant by the 'chance, ' and what bythe 'circumstances. ' "

"Why, Mr. Thorn has a fine fortune, you know, and he is of anexcellent family — there is not a better family in the city —and very few young men of such pretensions would think of agirl that has no name nor standing. "

"Unless she had qualities that would command them, " said Mr. Carleton. 

"But, Mr. Carleton, Sir, " said the lady, "Do you think thatcan be? do you think a woman can fill, gracefully, a highplace in society, if she has had disadvantages in early lifeto contend with, that were calculated to unfit her for it?"

"But, mamma, " said Constance, "Fleda don't show any suchthing. "

"No, she don't show it, " said Mrs. Evelyn, "but I am nottalking of Fleda — I am talking of the effect of earlydisadvantages. What do you think, Mr. Carleton?"

"Disadvantages of what kind, Mrs. Evelyn?"

"Why, for instance — the strange habits of intercourse, onfamiliar terms, with rough and uncultivated people — suchintercourse, for years — in all sorts of ways — in the fieldand in the house — mingling with them as one of them — itseems to me, it must leave its traces on the mind, and on thehabits of acting and thinking. "

"There is no doubt it does, " he answered, with an extremelyunconcerned face. 

"And then, there's the actual want of cultivation, " said Mrs. Evelyn, warming — "time taken up with other things, you know —usefully and properly, but still taken up — so as to make muchintellectual acquirement and accomplishments impossible; itcan't be otherwise, you know — neither opportunity norinstructors; and I don't think anything can supply the want inafter life. It isn't the mere things themselves which may beacquired — the mind should grow up in the atmosphere of them —don't you think so, Mr. Carleton?"

He bowed. 

"Music, for instance, and languages, and converse withsociety, and a great many things, are put completely beyondreach — Edith, my dear, you are not to touch the coffee — norConstance either — no, I will not let you — And there couldnot be even much reading, for want of books, if for nothingelse. Perhaps I am wrong, but I confess I don't see how it ispossible in such a case" —

She checked herself suddenly, for Fleda, with the slow, noiseless step that weakness imposed, had come in again, andstood by the centre-table. 

"We are discussing a knotty question, Miss Ringgan, " said Mr. Carleton, with a smile, as he brought a _bergθre_ for her; "Ishould like to have your voice on it. "

There was no seconding of his motion. He waited till she hadseated herself, and then went on. 

"What, in your opinion, is the best preparation for wearingprosperity well?"

A glance at Mrs. Evelyn's face, which was opposite her, and atone or two others, which had, undeniably, the air of being_arrested_, was enough for Fleda's quick apprehension. She knewthey had been talking of her. Her eye stopped short of Mr. Carleton's, and she coloured, and hesitated. No one spoke. 

"By prosperity, you mean —"

"Rank and fortune, " said Florence, without looking up. 

"Marrying a rich man, for instance, " said Edith, "and havingone's hands full. "

This peculiar statement of the case occasioned a laugh allround, but the silence which followed seemed still to waitupon Fleda's reply. 

"Am I expected to give a serious answer to that question?" shesaid, a little doubtfully. 

"Expectations are not stringent things, " said her firstquestioner, smiling. "That waits upon your choice. "

"They are horridly stringent, _I_ think, " said Constance. 

"We shall all be disappointed, if you don't, Fleda, my dear. "

"By wearing it 'well, ' you mean making a good use of it?"

"And gracefully, " said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"I think I should say, then, " said Fleda, after some little. Hesitation, and speaking with evident difficulty — "such an aexperience as might teach one both the worth and theworthlessness of money. "

Mr. Carleton's smile was a sufficiently satisfied one; butMrs. Evelyn retorted —

"The _worth_ and the _worthlessness!_ — Fleda, my dear, I don'tunderstand —"

"And what experience teaches one the worth, and what theworthlessness of money?" said Constance; "mamma is morbidlypersuaded that I do not understand the first — of the second Ihave an indefinite idea, from never being able to do more thanhalf that I want with it. "

Fleda smiled and hesitated again, in a way that showed shewould willingly be excused, but the silence left her no choicebut to speak. 

"I think, '' she said, modestly, "that a person can hardlyunderstand the true worth of money — the ends it can bestsubserve — that has not been taught it by his own experienceof the want; and" —

"What follows?" said Mr. Carleton. 

"I was going to say, Sir, that there is danger, especiallywhen people have not been accustomed to it, that they willgreatly overvalue and misplace the real worth of prosperity;unless the mind has been steadied by another kind ofexperience, and has learnt to measure things by a higherscale. "

"And how when they _have_ been accustomed to it?" said Florence. 

"The same danger, without the 'especially, ' " said Fleda, witha look that disclaimed any assuming. 

"One thing is certain, " said Constance, "you hardly ever see_les nouveaux riches_ make a graceful use of anything. Fleda, mydear, I am seconding all of your last speech that Iunderstand. Mamma, I perceive, is at work upon the rest. "

"I think we ought all to be at work upon it, " said Mrs. Evelyn, "for Miss Ringgan has made it out that there is hardlyanybody here that is qualified to wear prosperity well. "

"I was just thinking so, " said Florence. 

Fleda said nothing, and perhaps her colour rose a little. 

"I will take lessons of her, " said Constance, with eyebrowsjust raised enough to neutralize the composed gravity of theother features, "as soon as I have an amount of prosperitythat will make it worth while. "

"But I don't think, " said Florence, "that a graceful use ofthings is consistent with such a careful valuation andconsidering of the exact worth of everything — it's not myidea of grace. "

"Yet _propriety_ is an essential element of gracefulness, MissEvelyn. "

"Well, " said Florence, "certainly; but what then?"

"Is it attainable, in the use of means, without a niceknowledge of their true value?"

"But, Mr. Carleton, I am sure I have seen improper things —things improper in a way — gracefully done?"

"No doubt; but, Miss Evelyn, " said he, smiling, "theimpropriety did not in those cases, I presume, attach itselfto the other quality. The graceful _manner_ was strictly properto its ends, was it not, however the ends might be false?"

"I don't know, " said Florence, "you have gone too deep for me. But do you think that close calculation, and all that sort ofthing, is likely to make people use money, or anything else, gracefully? I never thought it did. "

"Not close calculation alone, " said Mr. Carleton. 

"But do you think it is _consistent_ with gracefulness?"

"The largest and grandest views of material things that manhas ever taken, Miss Evelyn, stand upon a basis of the closestcalculation. "

Florence worked at her worsted, and looked very dissatisfied. 

"Oh, Mr. Carleton, " said Constance, as he was going, "don'tleave your vinaigrette — there it is — on the table. "

He made no motion to take it up. 

"Don't you know, Miss Constance, that physicians seldom liketo have anything to do with their own prescriptions. "

"It's very suspicious of them, " said Constance; "but you musttake it Mr. Carleton, if you please, for I shouldn't like theresponsibility of its being left here; and I am afraid itwould be dangerous to our peace of mind, besides. "

"I shall risk that, " he said, laughing. "Its work is notdone. "

"And then, Mr. Carleton, " said Mrs. Evelyn, and Fleda knewwith what a look, "you know physicians are accustomed to bepaid when their prescriptions are taken. "

But the answer to this was only a bow, so expressive in itsair of haughty coldness, that any further efforts of Mrs. Evelyn's wit were chilled for some minutes after he had gone. 

Fleda had not seen this. She had taken up the vinaigrette, andwas thinking with acute pleasure that Mr. Carleton's mannerlast night and to-night had returned to all the familiarkindness of old times. Not as it had been during the rest ofher stay in the city. She could be quite contented now to havehim go back to England, with this pleasant remembrance lefther. She sat turning over the vinaigrette, which to her fancywas covered with hieroglyphics that no one else could read; ofher uncle's affair, of Charlton's danger, of her own distress, and the kindness which had wrought its relief, morepenetrating and pleasant than even the fine aromatic scentwhich fairly typified it. Constance's voice broke in upon hermusings. 

"Isn't it awkward?" she said, as she saw Fleda handling andlooking at the pretty toy — "Isn't it awkward? I sha'n't havea bit of rest now for fear something will happen to that. Ihate to have people do such things. "

"Fleda, my dear, " said Mrs. Evelyn, "I wouldn't handle it, mylove; you may depend there is some charm in it — somemischievous, hidden influence — and if you have much to dowith it, I am afraid you will find a gradual coldness stealingover you, and a strange forgetfulness of Queechy, and you willperhaps lose your desire ever to go back there any more. "

The vinaigrette dropped from Fleda's fingers, but beyond aheightened colour and a little tremulous gravity about thelip, she gave no other sign of emotion. 

"Mamma, " said Florence, laughing, "you are too bad !"

"Mamma, " said Constance, "I wonder how any tender sentimentfor you can continue to exist in Fleda's breast! By the way, Fleda, my dear, do you know that we have heard of two escortsfor you? but I only tell you because I know you'll not be fitto travel this age. "

"I should not be able to travel to-morrow, " said Fleda. 

"They are not going to-morrow, " said Mrs. Evelyn, quietly. 

"Who are they ?"

"Excellent ones, " said Mrs. Evelyn. "One of them is your oldfriend, Mr. Olmney. "

"Mr. Olmney!" said Fleda. "What has brought him to New York?"

"Really, " said Mrs. Evelyn, laughing, "I do not know. Whatshould keep him away? I was very glad to see him, for my part. Maybe he has come to take you home. "

"Who is the other?" said Fleda. 

"That's another old friend of yours — Mrs. Renney. "

"Mrs. Renney? who is she?" said Fleda. 

"Why, don't you know? Mrs. Renney — she used to live with youraunt Lucy, in some capacity — years ago, when she was in NewYork — housekeeper, I think; don't you remember her?"

"Perfectly now, " said Fleda. "Mrs. Renney!" —

"She has been housekeeper for Mrs. Schenck these severalyears, and she is going somewhere out West to some relation, her brother, I believe, to take care of his family; and herroad leads her your way. "

"When do they go, Mrs. Evelyn?"

"Both the same day, and both the day after to-morrow. Mr. Olmney takes the morning train, he says, unless you wouldprefer some other. I told him you were very anxious to go; andMrs. Renney goes in the afternoon. So there's a choice foryou. "

"Mamma, " said Constance, "Fleda is not fit to go at all, either time. "

"I don't think she is, " said Mrs. Evelyn. "But she knows bestwhat she likes to do. "

Thoughts and resolutions come swiftly one after another intoFleda's mind, and were decided upon in as quick succession. First, that she must go the day after to-morrow at all events;second, that it should not be with Mr. Olmney; third, that toprevent that, she must not see him in the meantime — and, therefore — yes, no help for it — must refuse to see any onethat called the next day; there was to be a party in theevening, so then she would be safe. No doubt Mr. Carletonwould come, to give her a more particular account of what hehad done, and she wished unspeakably to hear it; but it wasnot possible that she should make an exception in his favourand admit him alone. That could not be. If friends would onlybe simple, and straightforward, and kind, one could afford tobe straightforward too; but as it was, she must not do whatshe longed to do, and they would be sure to misunderstand. There was, indeed, the morning of the day following left her, if Mr. Olmney did not take it into his head to stay. And itmight issue in her not seeing Mr. Carleton at all, to bidgood-bye and thank him? He would not think her ungrateful, heknew better than that, but still — Well! so much for kindness!—

"What _are_ you looking so grave about? said Constance. 

"Considering ways and means, " Fleda said, with a slight smile. 

"Ways and means of what?"

"Going. "

"You don't mean to go the day after to-morrow?"

"Yes. "

"It's too absurd for anything! You sha'n't do it. "

"I must, indeed. "

"Mamma, " said Constance, "if you permit such a thing, I shallhope that memory will be a fingerboard of remorse to you, "pointing to Miss Ringgan's pale cheeks. 

"I shall charge it entirely upon Miss Ringgan's ownfingerboard, " said Mrs. Evelyn, with her complacently amusedface. "Fleda, my dear, shall I request Mr. Olmney to delay hisjourney for a day or two, my love, till you are stronger?"

"Not at all, Mrs. Evelyn! I shall go then; — if I am not readyin the morning, I will take Mrs. Renney in the afternoon — Iwould quite as lief go with her. "

"Then I will make Mr. Olmney keep to his first purpose, " saidMrs. Evelyn. 

Poor Fleda, though with a very sorrowful heart, kept herresolutions, and for very forlornness and weariness, sleptaway a great part of the next day. Neither would she appear inthe evening, for fear of more people than one. It wasimpossible to tell whether Mrs. Evelyn's love of mischiefwould not bring Mr. Olmney there, and the Thorns, she knew, were invited. Mr. Lewis would probably absent himself, butFleda could not endure even the chance of seeing his mother. She wanted to know, but dared not ask, whether Mr. Carletonhad been to see her. What if to-morrow morning should passwithout her seeing him? Fleda pondered this uncertainty alittle, and then jumped out of bed, and wrote him theheartiest little note of thanks and remembrance that tearswould let her write; sealed it, and carried it herself to thenearest branch of the despatch post the first thing nextmorning. 

She took a long look that same morning at the littlevinaigrette, which still lay on the centre-table, wishing verymuch to take it up stairs and pack it away among her things. It was meant for her, she knew, and she wanted it as a verypleasant relic from the kind hands that had given it; andbesides, he might think it odd, if she should slight hisintention. But how odd it would seem to him if he knew thatthe Evelyns had half appropriated it. And appropriate it anew, in another direction, she could not. She could not, withouttheir knowledge, and they would put their own absurdconstruction on what was a simple matter of kindness; shecould not brave it. 

The morning — a long one it was — had passed away; Fleda hadjust finished packing her trunk, and was sitting with a faint-hearted feeling of body and mind, trying to rest before beingcalled to her early dinner, when Florence came to tell her itwas ready. 

"Mr. Carleton was here a while ago, " she said, "and he askedfor you; but mamma said you were busy; she knew you had enoughto tire you without coming down stairs to see him. He askedwhen you thought of going. "

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him, 'Oh, you were not gone yet!' — it's such a plagueto be bidding people good-bye — _I_ always want to get rid ofit. Was I right?"

Fleda said nothing, but in her heart she wondered whatpossible concern it could be of her friends if Mr. Carletonwanted to see her before she went away. She felt it was unkind— they did not know how unkind, for they did not understandthat he was a very particular friend, and an old friend — theycould not tell what reason there was for her wishing to bidhim good-bye. She thought she should have liked to do it, verymuch. 

CHAPTER XX. 

"Methought I was — there is no man can tell what. Methought Iwas, and methought I had — But man is but a patched fool, ifhe will offer to say what methought I had. "MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. 

Mrs. Evelyn drove down to the boat with Fleda, and did notleave her till she was safely put in charge of Mrs. Renney. Fleda immediately retreated to the. Innermost depths of theladies' cabin, hoping to find some rest for the body at least, if not forgetfulness for the mind. 

The latter was not to be. Mrs. Renney was exceeding glad tosee her, and bent upon knowing what had become of her sincethose days when they used to know each other. 

"You're just the same, Miss Fleda, that you used to be —you're very little altered — I can see that — though you'relooking a good-deal more thin and pale; you had very prettyroses in your cheeks in those times. Yes, I know, I understoodMrs. Evelyn to say you had not been well; but, allowing forthat, I can see you are just yourself still — I'm glad of it. Do you recollect, Miss Fleda, what a little thing you wasthen?"

"I recollect, very well, " said Fleda. 

"I'm sure of another thing — you're just as good as you usedto be, " said the housekeeper, looking at her complacently. "Doyou remember how you used to come into my room to see me makejelly? I see it as well as if it was yesterday; and you usedto beg me to let you squeeze the lemons; and I never couldrefuse you, because you never did anything I didn't want youto. And do you mind how I used to tie you up in a big towel, for fear you would stain your dress with the acid, and I'dstand and watch to see you putting all your strength tosqueeze 'em clean, and be afraid that Mrs. Rossitur would beangry with me for letting you spoil your hands; but you usedto look up and smile at me so, I couldn't help myself, but letyou do just whatever you had a mind? You don't look quite solight and bright as you did in those times; — but, to be sure, you aint feeling well! See here — just let me pull some ofthese things onto this settee, and you put yourself down thereand rest — pillows — let's have another pillow — there, how'sthat?"

Oh, if Fleda might have silenced her! She thought it wasrather hard that she should have two talkative companions onthis journey of all others. The housekeeper paused no longerthan to arrange her couch and see her comfortably laid down. 

"And then Mr. Hugh would come in to find you and carry youaway — he never could bear to be long from you. How is Mr. Hugh, Miss Fleda? he used to be always a very delicate-lookingchild. I remember you and him used to be always together — hewas a very sweet boy! I have often said I never saw suchanother pair of children. How does Mr. Hugh have his health, Miss Fleda?"

"Not very well, just now, " said Fleda, gently, and shuttingher eyes that they might reveal less. 

There was need; for the housekeeper went on to askparticularly after every member of the family, and where theyhad been living, and as much as she conveniently could abouthow they had been living. She was very kind through it all, orshe tried to be; but Fleda felt there was a difference sincethe time when her aunt kept house in State Street, and Mrs. Renney made jellies for her. When her neighbours' affairs wereexhausted, Mrs. Renney fell back upon her own, and gave Fledaa very circumstantial account of the occurrences that weredrawing her westward; how so many years ago her brother hadmarried and removed thither; how lately his wife had died;what, in general, was the character of his wife, and what, inparticular, the story of her decease; how many children wereleft without care, and the state of her brother's business, which demanded a great deal; and how, finally, she, Mrs. Renney, had received and accepted an invitation to go on toBelle Riviθre, and be housekeeper de son chef. And as Fleda'spale worn face had for some time given her no sign ofattention, the housekeeper then hoped she was asleep, anplaced herself so as to screen her, and have herself a goodview of everything that was going on in the cabin. 

But poor Fleda was not asleep, much as she rejoiced in beingthought so. Mind and body could get no repose, sadly as thecondition of both called for it. Too worn to sleep, perhaps; —too down-hearted to rest. She blamed herself for it, and toldover to herself the causes, the recent causes, she had of joyand gratitude; but it would not do. Grateful she could be andwas; but tears that were not the distillation of joy came withher gratitude; came from under the closed eyelid in spite ofher; the pillow was wet with them. She excused herself, ortried to, with thinking that she was weak and not very well, and that her nerves had gone through so much for a few dayspast, it was no wonder if a reaction left her without herusual strength of mind. And she could not help thinking, therehad been a want of kindness in the Evelyns to let her comeaway to-day to make such a journey, at such a season, undersuch guardianship. But it was not all that; she knew it wasnot. The journey was a small matter; only a little piece ofdisagreeableness that was well in keeping with her othermeditations. She was going home, and home had lost all itsfair-seeming; its honours were withered. It would be pleasantindeed to be there again to nurse Hugh; but nurse him forwhat? — life or death? — she did not like to think; and beyondthat she could fix upon nothing at all that looked bright inthe prospect; she almost thought herself wicked, but she couldnot. If she might hope that her uncle would take hold of hisfarm like a man, and redeem his character and his family'shappiness on the old place — that would have been something;but he had declared a different purpose, and Fleda knew himtoo well to hope that he would be better than his word. Thenthey must leave the old homestead, where at least theassociations of happiness clung, and go to a strange land. Itlooked desolate to Fleda, wherever it might be. Leave Queechy!— that she loved unspeakably beyond any other place in theworld; where the very hills had been the friends of herchildhood, and where she had seen the maples grow green andgrow red, through as many coloured changes of her ownfortunes; the woods where the shade of her grandfather walkedwith her, and where the presence even of her father could bebrought back by memory; where the air was sweeter and thesunlight brighter; by far, than in any other place — for bothhad some strange kindred with the sunny days of long ago. PoorFleda turned her face from Mrs. Renney, and leaving doubtfulprospects and withering comforts for a while, as it were, outof sight, she wept the fair outlines and the red maples ofQueechy, as if they had been all she had to regret. They hadnever disappointed her. Their countenance had comforted hermany a time, under many a sorrow. After all, it was only fancychoosing at which shrine the whole offering of sorrow shouldbe made. She knew that many of the tears that fell were due tosome other. It was in vain to tell herself they were selfish;mind and body were in no condition to struggle with anything. 

It had fallen dark some time, and she had wept and sorrowedherself into a half-dozing state, when a few words spoken neararoused her. 

"It is snowing, " was said by several voices. 

"Going very slow, aint we?" said Fleda's friend, in asuppressed voice. 

"Yes, 'cause it's so dark, you see; the Captain durstn't lether run. "

Some poor witticism followed from a third party about the"Butterfly's" having run herself off her legs the first timeshe ever ran at all; and then Mrs. Renney went on. 

"Is the storm so bad, Hannah?"

"Pretty thick — can't see far ahead — I hope we'll make out tofind our way in — that's all I care for. "

"How far are we?"

"Not half way yet — I don't know — depends on what headway wemake, you know; — there aint much wind yet, that's a goodthing. "

"There aint any danger, is there?"

This, of course, the chambermaid denied, and a whisperedcolloquy followed, which Fleda did not try to catch. A newfeeling came upon her weary heart — a feeling of fear. Therewas a sad twinge of a wish that she were out of the boat, andsafe back again with the Evelyns; and a fresh sense of theunkindness of letting her come away that afternoon soattended. And then, with that sickness of heart, the forlornfeeling of being alone, of wanting some one at hand to dependupon, to look to. It is true, that, in case of real danger, none such could be a real protection; and yet lot so neither, for strength and decision can live and make live, where amoment's faltering will kill; and weakness must often falterof necessity. "All the ways of the Lord are mercy and truth"to his people; she thought of that, and yet she feared — forhis ways are often what we do not like. A few moments of sick-heartedness and trembling — and then Fleda mentally folded herarms about a few other words of the Bible, and laid her headdown in quiet again. — "_The Lord is my refuge and my fortress:my God: in him will I trust_. "

And then what comes after —

"_He shall cover thee with his feathers; and under his wingsshalt thou trust; his truth shall be thy shield and buckler_. "

Fleda lay quiet till she was called to tea. 

"Bless me, how pale you are?" said the housekeeper, as Fledaraised herself up at this summons; "do you feel very bad, MissFleda?"

Fleda said "No. "

"Are you frighted?" said the housekeeper — "there's no need ofthat — Hannah says there's no need — we'll be in by and by. "

"No, Mrs. Renney, " said Fleda, smiling. "I believe I am notvery strong yet. "

The housekeeper and Hannah both looked at her with strangelytouched faces, and again begged her to try the refreshment oftea. But Fleda would not go down, so they served her up there, with great zeal and tenderness. And then she waited patientlyand watched the people in the cabin, as they sat gossiping ingroups, or stupefying in solitude; and thought how miserable athing is existence where religion and refinement have nottaught the mind to live in somewhat beyond and above itsevery-day concerns. 

Late at night the boat arrived safe at Bridgeport. Mrs. Renneyand Fleda had resolved to stay on board till morning, when theformer promised to take her to the house of a sister she hadliving in the town; as the cars would not leave the place tillnear eleven o'clock. Rest was not to be hoped for meantime inthe boat, on the miserable couch which was the best the cabincould furnish; but Fleda was so thankful to have finished thevoyage in safety, that she took thankfully everything else, even lying awake. It was a wild night. The wind rose soonafter they reached Bridgeport, and swept furiously over theboat, rattling the tiller chains, and making Fleda sonervously alive to possibilities that she got up two or threetimes to see if the boat were fast to her moorings. It wasvery dark, and only by a fortunately-placed lantern, she couldsee a bit of the dark wharf and one of the posts belonging toit, from which the lantern never budged; so, at last quieted, or tired-out, nature had her rights, and she slept. 

It was not refreshing rest after all, and Fleda was very gladthat Mrs. Renney's impatience for something comfortable madeher willing to be astir as early as there was any chance offinding people up in the town. Few were abroad when they leftthe boat, they two. Not a foot had printed the deep layer ofsnow that covered the wharf. It had fallen thick during thenight. Just then it was not snowing; the clouds seemed to havetaken a recess, for they hung threatening yet; one uniformleaden canopy was over the whole horizon. 

"The snow aint done yet, " said Mrs. Renney. 

"No, but the worst of our journey is over, " said Fleda. "I amglad to be on the land. "

"I hope we'll get something to eat here, " said Mrs. Renney, asthey stepped along over the wharf. "They ought to be ashamedto give people such a mess, when it's just as easy to havethings decent. My! how it has snowed! I declare, if I'd ha'known, I'd ha' waited till somebody had tracked a path for us. But I guess it's just as well we didn't; you look as like aghost as you can, Miss Fleda. You'll be better when you getsome breakfast. You'd better catch on to my arm — I'll wakenup the seven sleepers but what I'll have something to put lifeinto you directly. "

Fleda thanked her, but declined the proffered accommodation, and followed her companion in the narrow beaten path a fewtravellers had made in the street, feeling enough like aghost, if want of flesh and blood reality were enough. Itseemed a dream that she was walking through the grey light, and the empty streets of the little town; everything lookedand felt so wild and strange. 

If it was a dream, she was soon waked out of it. In the house, where they were presently received and established insufficient comfort, there was such a little specimen ofmasculine humanity as never showed his face in dream-land yet— a little bit of reality, enough to bring any dreamer to hissenses. He seemed to have been brought up on stove heat, forhe was all glowing yet from a very warm bed he had justtumbled out of somewhere, and he looked at the pale thinstranger by his mother's fire-place, as if she were an anomalyin the comfortable world. If he could have contented himselfwith looking! — but he planted himself firmly on the rug, justtwo feet from Fleda, and, with a laudable and most persistentdesire to examine into the causes of what he could notunderstand, he commenced inquiring —

"Are you cold? — say! Are you cold? — say!" in a tone mostprovokingly made up of wonder and dulness. In vain Fledaanswered him, that she was not very cold, and would soon notbe cold at all by that good fire — the question came again, apparently in all its freshness, from the interrogator's mind—

"Are you cold? — say !" —

And silence and words, looking grave and laughing, were alikethrown away. Fleda shut her eyes at length, and used the smallremnant of her patience to keep herself quiet till she wascalled to breakfast. After breakfast she accepted the offer ofher hostess to go up stairs and lie down till the cars wereready; and there got some real and much needed refreshment ofsleep and rest. 

It lasted longer than she had counted upon. For the cars werenot ready at eleven o'clock — the snow last night hadoccasioned some perplexing delays. It was not till near threeo'clock, that the often-despatched messenger to the depτtbrought back word that they might go as soon as they pleased. It pleased Mrs. Renney to be in a great hurry, for her baggagewas in the cars, she said, and it would be dreadful if she andit went different ways; so Fleda and her companion hasteneddown to the station-house and chose their places some timebefore anybody else thought of coming. They had a long, verytiresome waiting to go through, and room for some uneasyspeculations about being belated and a night-journey. ButFleda was stronger now, and bore it all with her usual patientsubmission At length, by degrees, the people dropped in andfilled the cars, and they set off. 

"How early do you suppose we shall reach Greenfield?" saidFleda. 

"Why, we ought to get there between nine and ten o'clock, Ishould think, " said her companion. "I hope the snow will holdup till we get there. "

Fleda thought it a hope very unlikely to be fulfilled. Therewere as yet no snow-flakes to be seen near by, but, at alittle distance, the low clouds seemed already to enshroudevery clump of trees, and put a mist about every hill. Theysurely would descend more palpably soon. 

It was pleasant to be moving swiftly on again towards the endof their journey, if Fleda could have rid herself of somequalms about the possible storm and the certain darkness; theymight not reach Greenfield by ten o'clock; and she dislikedtravelling in the night at any time. But she could do nothing, and she resigned herself anew to the comfort and trust she hadbuilt upon last night. She had the seat next the window, andwith a very sober kind of pleasure watched the prettylandscape they were flitting by — misty as her own prospects —darkening as they? — no, she would not allow that thought. "'Surely I know that it shall be well with them that fear God;'and I can trust Him. " And she found a strange sweetness inthat naked trust and clinging of faith, that faith never triednever knows. But the breath of daylight was already gone, though the universal spread of snow gave the eye a fair rangeyet, white, white, as far as the view could reach, with thatlight misty drapery round everything in the distance, andmerging into the soft grey sky; and every now and then, as thewind served, a thick wreath of white vapour came by from theengine and hid all, eddying past the windows, and thenskimming off away over the snowy ground from which it wouldnot lift; a more palpable veil for a moment of the distantthings — and then broken, scattered, fragmentary, lovely inits frailty, and evanishing. It was a pretty afternoon, but asober; and the bare, black, solitary trees near hand which thecars flew by, looked to Fleda constantly like finger-posts ofthe past; and back, at their bidding, her thoughts and herspirits went, back and forward, comparing, in her own mentalview what had once been so gay and genial with its presentbleak and chill condition. And from this, in sudden contrast, came a strangely fair and bright image of heaven — itsexchange of peace for all this turmoil — of rest for all thisweary bearing up of mind and body against the ills that besetboth — of its quiet home for this unstable strange world, where nothing is at a standstill — of perfect and pure societyfor the unsatisfactory and wearying friendships that the mostare here. The thought came to Fleda like one of thoseunearthly clear north-western skies from which a storm-cloudhas rolled away, that seem almost to mock earth with theirdistance from its defilement and agitations. "Truly I knowthat it shall be well with them that fear God!" She couldremember Hugh — she could not think of the words without him —and yet say them with the full bounding assurance. And in thatweary and uneasy afternoon, her mind rested and delighteditself with two lines of George Herbert, that only a Christiancan well understand —

"Thy power and love, my love and trust, Make one place everywhere. "

But the night fell, and Fleda at last could see nothing butthe dim rail-fences they were flying by, and the reflectionfrom some stationary lantern on the engine, or one of theforward cars, that always threw a bright spot of light on thesnow. Still she kept her eyes fastened out of the window;anything but the view _inboard_. They were going slowly now, andfrequently stopping; for they were out of time, and some othertrains were to be looked-out for. Nervous work; and wheneverthey stopped, the voices which at other times were happilydrowned in the rolling of the car-wheels, rose and jarred indiscords far less endurable. Fleda shut her ears to the words, but it was easy enough without words to understand theindications of coarse and disagreeable natures in whoseneighbourhood she disliked to find herself — of whoseneighbourhood she exceedingly disliked to be reminded. Themuttered oath, the more than muttered jest, the various laughsthat tell so much of head or heart emptiness — the shadowy butsure tokens of that in human nature which one would notrealize, and which one strives to forget; Fleda shrank withinherself, and would gladly have stopped her ears; did sometimescovertly. Oh, if home could be but reached, and she out ofthis atmosphere! how well she resolved that never anothertime, by any motive of delicacy, or otherwise, she would betempted to trust herself in the like again without more thanwomanly protection. The hours rolled wearily on; they heardnothing of Greenfield yet. 

They came at length to a more obstinate stop than usual. Fledatook her hands from her ears to ask what was the matter. 

"I don't know, " said Mrs. Renney. "I hope they won't keep us agreat while waiting here. "

The door swung open, and the red comforter and tarpaulin hatof one of the breakmen showed itself a moment. Presentlyafter, "Can't get on, " was repeated by several voices in thevarious tones of assertion, interrogation, and impatience. Thewomen folks, having nobody to ask questions of, had nothingfor it but to be quiet and use their ears. 

"Can't get on!" said another man, coming in — "there's nothingbut snow out o' doors — track's all foul. "

A number of people instantly rushed out to see. 

"Can't get on any further to-night?" asked a quiet oldgentleman of the news-bringer. 

"Not another inch, Sir; worse off than old Dobbs was in themill-pond — we've got half way, but we can't turn and goback. "

"And what are we going to do?" said an unhappy wight, notquick in drawing conclusions. 

"I s'pose we'll all be stiff by the morning, " answered theother, gravely — "unless the wood holds out, which aintlikely. "

How much there is in even a cheery tone of voice. Fleda wassorry when this man took his away with him. There was a mostuncheering confusion of tongues for a few minutes among thepeople he had left, and then the car was near deserted;everybody went out to bring his own wits to bear upon theobstacles in the way of their progress. Mrs. Renney observedthat she might as well warm her feet while she could, and wentto the stove for the purpose. 

Poor Fleda felt as if she had no heart left. She sat still inher place, and leaned her head upon the back of the desertedchair before her, in utter inability to keep it up. The nightjourney was bad enough, but _this_ was more than she had countedupon. Danger, to be sure, there might be none in standingstill there all night, unless, perhaps, the danger of deathfrom the cold. She had heard of such things; but to sit theretill morning among all those people, and obliged to hear theirunloosed tongues, Fleda felt almost that she could not bear it— a most forlorn feeling, with which came anew a keenreflection upon the Evelyns, for having permitted her to runeven the hazard of such trouble. And in the morning, if wellit came, who would take care of them in all the subsequentannoyance and difficulty of getting out of the snow?

It must have taken very little time for these thoughts to runthrough her head, for half a minute had not flown, when thevacant seat beside her was occupied, and a band softly touchedone of hers which lay in her lap. Fleda started up in terror, to have the hand taken and her eye met by Mr. Carleton. 

"Mr. Carleton! — O Sir, how glad I am to see you!" was said byeye and cheek, as unmistakably as by word. 

"Have you come from the clouds?"

"I might rather ask that question of you, " said he, smiling. "You have been invisible ever since the night when I had thehonour of playing the part of your physician. "

"I could not help it, Sir — I was sure you would believe it. Iwanted exceedingly to see you, and to thank you as well as Icould, but I was obliged to leave it. "

She could hardly say so much. Her swimming eye gave him morethanks than he wanted. But she scolded herself vigorously, andafter a few minutes, was able to look and speak again. 

"I hoped you would not think me ungrateful, Sir, but in caseyou might, I wrote to let you know that you were mistaken. "

"You wrote to me?" said he. 

"Yes, Sir, yesterday morning — at least it put in the postyesterday morning. "

"It was more unnecessary than you are aware of, " he said, witha smile, and turning one of his deep looks away from her. 

"Are we fast here for all night, Mr. Carleton!" she said, presently. 

"I am afraid so — I believe so — I have been out to examine, and the storm is very thick. "

"You need not look so about it for me, " said Fleda — "I don'tcare for it all now. "

And a long-drawn breath half told how much she had cared forit, and what a burden was gone. 

"You look very little like breasting hardships, " said Mr. Carleton, bending on her so exactly the look of affectionatecare that she had often had from him when she was a child, that Fleda was very near overcome again. 

"Oh, you know, " she said, speaking by dint of great force uponherself — "you know the will is everything, and mine is verygood. "

But he looked extremely unconvinced and unsatisfied. 

"I am so comforted to see you sitting there, Sir, " Fleda wenton gratefully, "that I am sure I can bear patiently all therest. "

His eye turned away, and she did not know what to make of hisgravity. But a moment after, he looked again, and spoke withhis usual manner. 

"That business you entrusted to me, " he said, in a lower tone, — "I believe you will have no more trouble with it. "

"So I thought! — so I gathered, the other night, " said Fleda, her heart and her face suddenly full of many things. 

"The note was given up — I saw it burned. "

Fleda's two hands clasped each other mutely. 

"And will he be silent?"

"I think he will choose to be so, for his own sake. "

The only sake that would avail in that quarter, Fleda knew. How had Mr. Carleton ever managed it?

"And Charlton?" she said, after a few minutes' cheerfulmusing. 

"I had the pleasure of Captain Rossitur's company to breakfastthe next morning, and I am happy to report that there is nodanger of any trouble arising there. "

"How shall I ever thank you, Sir!" said Fleda, with tremblinglips. 

His smile was so peculiar, she almost thought he was going totell her. But just then, Mrs. Renney having accomplished thedesirable temperature of her feet, came back to warm her ears, and placed herself on the next seat — happily not the onebehind, but the one before them, where her eyes were thrownaway; and the lines of Mr. Carleton's mouth came back to theirusual quiet expression. 

"You were in particular haste to reach home?" he asked. 

Fleda said no, not in the abstract; it made no differencewhether to-day or to-morrow. 

"You had heard no ill news of your cousin?"

"Not at all, but it is difficult to find an opportunity ofmaking the journey, and I thought I ought to come yesterday. "

He was silent again; and the baffled seekers after ways andmeans, who had gone out to try arguments upon the storm, beganto come pouring back into the car. And bringing with them notonly their loud and coarse voices, with every shade ofdisagreeableness, aggravated by ill-humour, but also anaverage amount of snow upon their hats and shoulders, theplace was soon full of a reeking atmosphere of great-coats. Fleda was trying to put up her window, but Mr. Carleton gentlystopped her, and began bargaining with a neighbouring fellow-traveller for the opening of his. 

"Well, Sir, I'll open it if you wish it, " said the man, civilly, "but they say we sha'n't have nothing to make fireswith more than an hour or two longer; so maybe you'll think wecan't afford to let any too much cold in. "

The gentleman however, persisting in his wish, and the wishbeing moreover backed with those arguments to which everygrade of human reason is accessible, the window was opened. Atfirst the rush of fresh air was a great relief; but it was notvery long before the raw snowy atmosphere, which made its wayin, was felt to be more dangerous, if it was more endurable, than the close pent-up one it displaced. Mr. Carleton orderedthe window closed again; and Fleda's glance of meek gratefulpatience was enough to pay any reasonable man for his share ofthe suffering. _Her_ share of it was another matter. Perhaps Mr. Carleton thought so, for he immediately bent himself to rewardher and to avert the evil, and for that purpose brought intoplay every talent of manner and conversation that couldbeguile the time, and make her forget what she was among. Ifsuccess were his reward he had it. He withdrew her attentioncompletely from all that was around her, and without taskingit; she could not have borne that. He did not seem to taskhimself; but without making any exertion, he held her eye andear, and guarded both from communication with thingsdisagreeable. He knew it. There was not a change in her eye'shappy interest, till, in the course of the conversation, Fledahappened to mention Hugh, and he noticed the saddening of theeye immediately afterwards. 

"Is he ill?" said Mr. Carleton. 

"I don't know, " said Fleda, faltering a little — "he was not —very — but a few weeks ago. "

Her eye explained the broken sentences which there, in theneighbourhood of other ears, she dared not finish. 

"He will be better after he has seen you, " said Mr. Carleton, gently. 

"Yes. "

A very sorrowful and uncertain "yes, " with an "if" in thespeaker's mind, which she did not bring out. 

"Can you sing your old song yet?" said Mr. Carleton, softly —

"Yet one thing secures us, Whatever betide?"

But Fleda burst into tears. 

"Forgive me, " he whispered, earnestly, "for reminding you ofthat — you did not need it, and I have only troubled you. "

"No, Sir, you have not, " said Fleda — "it did not trouble me, and Hugh knows it better than I do. I cannot bear anything to-night I believe" —

"So you have remembered that, Mr. Carleton?" she said, aminute after. 

"Do you remember that?" said he, putting her old little Bibleinto her hand. 

Fleda seized it, but she could hardly bear the throng ofimages that started up around it. The smooth worn coverbrought so back the childish happy days when it had been herconstant companion — the shadows of the Queechy of old, andCynthia and her grandfather, and the very atmosphere of thosetimes when she had led a light-hearted strange wild life allalone with them, reading the Encyclopaedia, and hunting outthe wood-springs. She opened the book and slowly turned overthe leaves where her father's hand had drawn those lines ofremark and affection round many a passage — the very look ofthem she knew; but she could not see it now, for her eyes weredim, and tears were dropping fast into her lap — she hoped Mr. Carleton did not see them, but she could not help it; shecould only keep the book out of the way of being blotted. Andthere were other and later associations she had with it too —how dear! — how tender! — how grateful!

Mr. Carleton was quite silent for a good while — till thetears had ceased; then he bent towards her so as to be heardno further off. 

"It has been for many years my best friend and companion, " hesaid, in a low tone. 

Fleda could make no answer, even by look. 

"At first, " he went on, softly, "I had a strong association ofyou with it; but the time came when I lost that entirely, anditself quite swallowed up the thought of the giver. "

A quick glance and smile told how well Fleda understood, howheartily she was pleased with that. But she instantly lookedaway again. 

"And now, " said Mr. Carleton, after a pause — "for some timepast, I have got the association again; and I do not choose tohave it so. I have come to the resolution to put the book backinto your hands, and not receive it again, unless the giver gowith the gift. "

Fleda looked up, a startled look of wonder, into his face, butthe dark eye left no doubt of the meaning of his words; and inunbounded confusion she turned her own and her attention, ostensibly, to the book in her hand, though sight and sensewere almost equally out of her power. For a few minutes poorFleda felt as if all sensation had retreated to her finger-ends. She turned the leaves over and over, as if willing tocheat herself or her companion into the belief that she hadsomething to think of there, while associations and images ofthe past were gone with a vengeance, swallowed up in atremendous reality of the present; and the book, which aminute ago was her father's Bible, was now, — what was it? —something of Mr. Carleton's, which she must give back to him. But still she held it and looked at it — conscious of no onedistinct idea but that, and a faint one besides, that he mightlike to be repossessed of his property in some reasonable time— time like everything else was in a whirl? the only steadything in creation seemed to be that perfectly still andmoveless figure by her side — till her trembling fingersadmonished her they would not be able to hold anything muchlonger; and gently and slowly, without looking, her hand putthe book back towards Mr. Carleton. That both were detainedtogether she knew, but hardly felt; — the thing was that shehad given it! —

There was no other answer; and there was no further need thatMr. Carleton should make any efforts for diverting her fromthe scene and the circumstances where they were. Probably heknew that, for he made none. He was perfectly silent for along time, and Fleda was deaf to any other voice that could beraised, near or far. She could not even think. 

Mrs. Renney was happily snoring, and most of the other peoplehad descended into their coat collars, or, figurativelyspeaking, had lowered their blinds by tilting over their hatsin some uncomfortable position that signified sleep; andcomparative quiet had blessed the place for some time; aslittle noticed, indeed, by Fleda, as noise would have been. The sole thing that she clearly recognized in connexion withthe exterior world, was that clasp in which one of her handslay. She did not know that the car had grown quiet, and thatonly an occasional grunt of ill-humour or waking-up colloquytestified that it was the unwonted domicile of a number ofhuman beings, who were harbouring there in a disturbed stateof mind. But this state of things could not last. The timecame that had been threatened, when their last supply ofextrinsic warmth was at an end. Despite shut windows, thedarkening of the stove was presently followed by a verysensible and fast-increasing change of temperature; and thisaddition to their causes of discomfort roused every one of thecompany from his temporary lethargy. The growl of dissatisfiedvoices awoke again, more gruff than before; the spirit ofjesting had long languished, and now died outright, and in itsstead came some low, and deep, and bitter-spoken curses. PoorMrs. Renney shook off her somnolency and shook her shoulders, a little business shake, admonitory to herself to keep cool;and Fleda came to the consciousness that some verydisagreeable chills were making their way over her. 

"Are you warm enough?" said Mr. Carleton, suddenly, turning toher. 

"Not quite, " said Fleda, hesitating; "I feel the cold alittle. Please don't, Mr. Carleton!" she added, earnestly, asshe saw him preparing to throw off his cloak, the identicalblack fox which Constance had described, with so muchvivacity; "pray do not. I am not very cold — I can bear alittle — I am not so tender as you think me; I do not need it, and you would feel the want very much after wearing it. Iwon't put it on. "

But he smilingly bade her "stand up, " stooping down and takingone of her hands to enforce his words, and giving her, at thesame time, the benefit of one of those looks of good-humouredwilfulness to which his mother always yielded, and to whichFleda yielded instantly, though with a colour considerablyheightened at the slight touch of peremptoriness in his tone. 

"You are not offended with me, Elfie?" he said, in anothermanner, when she had sat down again, and he was arranging theheavy folds of the cloak. 

Offended! — a glance answered. 

"You shall have everything your own way, " he whispered, gently, as he stooped down to bring the cloak under her feet, "_except yourself_. "

What good care should be taken of that exception was said inthe dark eye at which Fleda hardly ventured half a glance. Shehad much ado to command herself. 

She was shielded again from all the sights and sounds withinreach. She was in a maze. The comfort of the fur-cloak wascuriously mixed with the feeling of something else, of whichthat was an emblem — a surrounding of care and strength whichwould effectually be exerted for her protection — somewhatthat Fleda had not known for many a long day — the making upof the old want. Fleda had it in her heart to cry like a baby. Such a dash of sunlight had fallen at her feet that she hardlydared look at it for fear of being dazzled; but she could notlook anywhere that she did not see the reflection. 

In the mean time the carful of people settled again intosullen quietude. The cold was not found propitious toquarrelling. Those who could subsided again into lethargy;those who could not, gathered in their outposts to make thebest defence they might of the citadel. Most happily it wasnot an extreme night; cold enough to be very disagreeable, andeven (without a fur-cloak) dangerous; but not enough to puteven noses and ears in immediate jeopardy. Mr. Carleton hadcontrived to procure a comfortable wrapper for Mrs. Renney, from a Yankee, who, for the sake of being a "warm man" as tohis pockets, was willing to be cold otherwise for a time. Therest of the great-coats and cloaks, which were so alert anderect a little while ago, were doubled up on every side in allsorts of despondent attitudes. A dull quiet brooded over theassembly, and Mr. Carleton walked up and down the vacantspace. Once he caught an anxious glance from Fleda, and cameimmediately to her side. 

"You need not be troubled about me, " he said, with a mostgenial smile; "I am not suffering — never was farther from itin my life. "

Fleda could neither answer nor look. 

"There are not many hours of the night to wear out, " he said. "Can't you follow your neighbour's example?"

She shook her head. 

"This watching is too hard for you. You will have anotherheadache to-morrow. "

"No, perhaps not, " she said, with a grateful look up. 

"You do not feel the cold now, Elfie?"

"Not at all — not in the least — I am perfectly comfortable —I am doing very well. "

He stood still, and the changing lights and shades on Fleda'scheek grew deeper. 

"Do you know where we are, Mr. Carleton?"

"Somewhere between a town the name of which I have forgotten, and a place called Quarrenton, I think; and Quarrenton, theytell me, is but a few miles from Greenfield. Our difficultieswill vanish, I hope, with the darkness. "

He walked again, and Fleda mused, and wondered at herself inthe black fox. She did not venture another look, though hereye took in nothing very distinctly but the outlines of thatfigure passing up and down through the car. He walkedperseveringly; and weariness at last prevailed over everythingelse with Fleda; she lost herself, with her head leaningagainst the bit of wood between the windows. 

The rousing of the great-coats, and the growing gray light, roused her before her uneasy sleep had lasted an hour. Thelamps were out, the car was again spotted with two long rowsof window-panes, through which the light as yet came butdimly. The morning had dawned at last, and seemed to havebrought with it a fresh accession of cold, for everybody wason the stir. Fleda put up her window to get a breath of freshair, and see how the day looked. 

A change of weather had come with the dawn. It was not fineyet. The snowing had ceased, but the clouds hung overheadstill, though not with the leaden uniformity of yesterday;they were higher, and broken into many a soft, gray fold, thatpromised to roll away from the sky by and by. The snow wasdeep on the ground; every visible thing lapped in a thickwhite covering; a still, very grave, very pretty winterlandscape, but somewhat dreary in its aspect, to a trainful ofpeople fixed in the midst of it, out of sight of humanhabitation. Fleda felt that; but only in the abstract — to herit did not seem dreary; she enjoyed the wild, solitary beautyof the scene very much, with many a grateful thought of whatmight have been. As it was, she left difficulties entirely toothers. 

As soon as it was light, the various inmates of the strangedormitory gathered themselves up, and set out on foot forQuarrenton. By one of them Mr. Carleton sent an order for asleigh, which in as short a time as possible arrived, andtransported him and Fleda, and Mrs. Renney, and one other ill-bestead woman, safely to the little town of Quarrenton. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

"Welcome the sour cup of prosperity! Affliction may one daysmile again, and till then, sit thee down, sorrow!"LOVE'S LABOUR LOST. 

It had been a wild night, and the morning looked scared. Perhaps it was only the particular locality, for if ever aplace showed bleak and winter-stricken, the little town ofQuarrenton was in that condition that morning. The snowoverlaid and enveloped everything, except where the wind hadbeen at work; and the wind and the gray clouds seemed the onlyagencies abroad. Not a ray of sunlight to relieve the uniformsober tints, the universal gray and white, only varied where ablack house-roof, partially cleared, or a blacker bare-branched tree, gave it a sharp interruption. There was not asolitary thing that bore an indication of comfortable life, unless the curls of smoke that went up from the chimneys; andFleda was in no condition to study their physiognomy. 

A little square hotel, perched alone on a rising ground, looked the especial bleak and unpromising spot of the place. It bore, however, the imposing title of the Pocahontas; andthere the sleigh set them down. 

They were ushered upstairs into a little parlour, furnished inthe usual style, with one or two articles a great deal tooshowy for the place, and a general dearth as to the rest. Alumbering mahogany sofa, that showed as much wood and aslittle promise as possible, a marble-topped centre-table, chairs in the minority, and curtains minus, and the hearth-rugprovidently turned bottom upwards. On the centre-table lay apile of Penny Magazines, a volume of' selections of poetryfrom various good authors, and a sufficient complement ofnewspapers. The room was rather cold, but of that the waitergave a reasonable explanation in the fact that the fire hadnot been burning long. 

Furs, however, might be dispensed with, or Fleda thought so;and taking off her bonnet, she endeavoured to rest her wearyhead against the sharp-cut top of the sofa-back, which seemedcontrived expressly to punish and forbid all attempts at ease-seeking. The mere change of position was still comparativeease. But the black fox had not done duty yet. Its ample foldswere laid over the sofa, cushion, back, and all, so as at onceto serve for pillow and mattress; and Fleda being gentlyplaced upon it, laid her face down again upon the soft fur, which gave a very kindly welcome not more to the body than tothe mind. Fleda almost smiled as she felt that. The furs weresomething more than a pillow for her cheek — they were thesoft image of somewhat for her mind to rest on. But entirelyexhausted, too much for smiles or tears, though both werenear, she resigned herself as helplessly as an infant to thefeeling of rest; and, in five minutes, was in a state ofdreamy unconsciousness. 

Mrs. Renney, who had slept a great part of the night, courtedsleep anew in the rocking-chair, till breakfast should beready; the other woman had found quarters in the lower part ofthe house; and Mr. Carleton stood still, with folded arms, toread at his leisure the fair face that rested so confidinglyupon the black fur of his cloak, looking so very fair in thecontrast. It was the same face he had known in time past — thesame, with only an alteration that had added new graces, buthad taken away none of the old. Not one of the soft outlineshad grown hard under Time's discipline: not a curve had lostits grace, or its sweet mobility; and yet the hand of Time hadbeen there; for on brow and lip, and cheek and eyelid, therewas that nameless, grave composure, which said touchingly, that hope had long ago clasped hands with submission. And, perhaps, that if hope's anchor had not been well placed, ay, even where it could not be moved, the storms of life mighthave beaten even hope from her ground, and made a clean sweepof desolation over all she had left. Not the storms of thelast few weeks. Mr. Carleton saw and understood their work inthe perfectly colourless and thin cheek. But these other finerdrawn characters had taken longer to write. He did not knowthe instrument, but he read the handwriting, and came to hisown resolutions therefrom. 

Yet if not untroubled, she had remained unspotted by theworld; that was as clear as the other. The slight eyebrow satwith its wonted calm purity of outline just where it used; theeyelid fell as quietly; the forehead above it was asunruffled; and if the mouth had a subdued gravity that it hadtaken years to teach, it had neither lost any of thesweetness, nor any of the simplicity of childhood. It was astrange picture that Mr. Carleton was looking at — strange forits rareness. In this very matter of simplicity, that theworld will never leave those who belong to it. Half sittingand half reclining, she had given herself to rest with theabandonment and self-forgetfulness of a child; her attitudehad the very grace of a child's unconsciousness; and her faceshowed that, even in placing herself there, she had lost allthought of any other presence or any other eyes than her own;even of what her hand and cheek lay upon, and what itbetokened. It meant something to Mr. Carleton, too; and ifFleda could have opened her eyes, she would have seen in thosethat were fixed upon her a happy promise for her future life. She was beyond making any such observations; and Mrs. Renneygave no interruption to his till the breakfast bell rang. 

Mr. Carleton had desired the meal to be served in a privateroom. But he was met with a speech in which such a confusionof arguments endeavoured to persuade him to be of anothermind, that he had at last given way. It was asserted that theladies would have their breakfast a great deal quicker, and agreat deal hotter, with the rest of the company; and in thesame breath that it would be a very great favour to the houseif the gentleman would not put them to the inconvenience ofsetting a separate table; the reasons of which inconveniencewere set forth in detail, or would have been if the gentlemanwould have heard them; and desirous especially of haste, onFleda's account, Mr. Carleton signified his willingness to letthe house accommodate itself. Following the bell, a waiter nowcame to announce and conduct them to their breakfast. 

Down the stairs, through sundry narrow turning passages, theywent to a long low room at one corner of the house; where atable was spread for a very nondescript company, as it soonproved, many of their last night's companions having foundtheir way thither. The two ladies, however, were given thechief posts at the head, as near as possible to a fiery hotstove, and served with tea and coffee from a neighbouringtable, by a young lady in long ringlets, who was thereprobably for their express honour. But, alas for thebreakfast! They might as good have had the comfort of aprivate room, for there was none other to be had. Of the teaand coffee it might be said, as once it was said of two badroads — "whichever one you take, you will wish you had takenthe other;" the beefsteak was a problem of impracticability;and the chickens — Fleda could not help thinking, that a well-to-do rooster which she saw flapping his wings in the yard, must, in all probability, be at that very moment endeavouringto account for a sudden breach in his social circle; and ifthe oysters had been some very fine ladies, they could hardlyhave retained less recollection of their originalcircumstances. It was in vain to try to eat or to drink; andFleda returned to her sofa with even an increased appetite forrest, the more that her head began to take its revenge for thetrials to which it had been put the past day and night. 

She had closed her eyes again in her old position. Mrs. Renneywas tying her bonnet-strings. Mr. Carleton was pacing up anddown. 

"Aren't you going to get ready, Miss Ringgan?" said theformer. 

"How soon will the cars be here?" exclaimed Fleda, startingup. 

"Presently, " said Mr. Carleton; "but, " said he, coming up toher and taking her hands — "I am going to prescribe for youagain — will you let me?"

Fleda's face gave small promise of opposition. 

"You are not fit to travel now. You need some hours of quietrest before we go any further. "

"But when shall we get home?" said Fleda. 

"In good time — not by the railroad — there is a nearer waythat will take us to Queechy without going through Greenfield. I have ordered a room to be made ready for you — will you tryif it be habitable?"

Fleda submitted; and, indeed, there was in his manner a sortof gentle determination to which few women would have opposedthemselves; besides that, her head threatened to make ajourney a miserable business. 

"You are ill now, " said Mr. Carleton. "Cannot you induce yourcompanion to stay and attend you?"

"I don't want her, " said Fleda. 

Mr. Carleton, however, mooted the question himself with Mrs. Renney, but she represented to him, though with muchdeference, that the care of her property must oblige her to gowhere and when it went. He rang, and ordered the housekeeperto be sent. 

Presently after, a young lady in ringlets entered the room, and first taking a somewhat leisurely survey of the company, walked to the window, and stood there looking out. A dimrecollection of her figure and air made Fleda query whethershe were not the person sent for; but it was several minutesbefore it came into Mr. Carleton's head to ask if she belongedto the house. 

"I do, Sir, " was the dignified answer. 

"Will you show this lady the room prepared for her. And takecare that she wants nothing. "

The owner of the ringlets answered not, but turning the frontview of them full upon Fleda, seemed to intimate that she wasready to act as her guide. She hinted, however, that the roomswere very _airy_ in winter, and that Fleda would stand a betterchance of comfort where she was. But this Fleda would notlisten to, and followed her adviser to the half-warmed, andcertainly very airy apartment which had been got ready forher. It was probably more owing to something in her ownappearance, than to Mr. Carleton's word of admonition on thesubject, that her attendant was really assiduous and kind. 

"Be you of this country?" she said, abruptly, after her goodoffices, as Fleda thought, were ended, and she had just closedher eyes. 

She opened them again, and said "Yes. "

"Well, that aint in the parlour, is he?"

"What?" said Fleda. 

"One of our folks?"

"An American, you mean? — No. "

"I thought he wa'n't — What is he?"

"He is English. "

"Is he your brother?"

"No. "

The young lady gave her a good look out of her large darkeyes, and remarking that "she thought they didn't look muchlike, " left the room. 

The day was spent by poor Fleda between pain and stupor, eachof which acted in some measure to check the other — too muchexhausted for nervous pain, to reach the height it sometimesdid, while yet that was sufficient to prevent stupor fromsinking into sleep. Beyond any power of thought, or evenfancy, with only a dreamy succession of images flitting acrossher mind, the hours passed, she knew not how; that they didpass, she knew from her handmaid in the long curls, who wasevery now and then coming in to look at her, and give herfresh water; it needed no ice. Her handmaid told her that thecars were gone by — that it was near noon — then, that it waspast noon. There was no help for it; she could only lie stilland wait; it was long past noon before she was able to move;and she was looking ill enough yet, when she at last openedthe door of the parlour and slowly presented herself. 

Mr. Carleton was there alone, Mrs. Renney having long sinceaccompanied her baggage. He came forward instantly, and ledFleda to the sofa, with such gentle, grave kindness, that shecould hardly bear it; her nerves had been in an unsteady stateall day. A table was set, and partially spread with evidentlymuch more care than the one of the morning, and Fleda satlooking at it, afraid to trust herself to look anywhere else. For years she had been taking care of others, and now therewas something so strange in this feeling of being cared for, that her heart was full. Whatever Mr. Carleton saw orsuspected of this, it did not appear. On the contrary, hismanner and his talk on different matters was as cool, asquiet, as graceful, as if neither he nor Fleda had anythingparticular to think of; avoiding even an allusion to whatevermight in the least distress her. Fleda thought she had a greatmany reasons to be grateful to him, but she never thanked himfor anything more than at that moment she thanked him for thedelicacy which so regarded her delicacy, and put her in a fewminutes completely at her ease as she could be. 

The refreshments were presently brought, and Fleda was servedwith them in a way that went, as far as possible, towardsmaking them satisfactory; but, though a great improvement uponthe morning, they furnished still but the substitute for ameal. There was a little pause then, after the horses wereordered. 

"I am afraid you have wanted my former prescription to-day, "said Mr. Carleton, after considering the little-improvedcolour of Fleda's face. 

"I have, indeed. "

"Where is it?"

Fleda hesitated, and then, in a little confusion, said, shesupposed it was lying on Mrs. Evelyn's centre-table. 

"How happens that?" said he, smiling. 

"Because I could not help it, Mr. Carleton, " said Fleda, withno little difficulty; "I was foolish, I could not bring itaway. "

He understood and was silent. 

"Are you fit to bear a long ride in the cold?" he said, compassionately, a few minutes after. 

"Oh, yes; it will do me good. "

"You have had a miserable day, have you not?"

"My head has been pretty bad, " said Fleda, a little evasively. 

"Well, what would you have?" said he, lightly; "doesn't thatmake a miserable day of it?"

Fleda hesitated and coloured, and then, conscious that hercheeks were answering for her, coloured so exceedingly, thatshe was fain to put both her hands up to hide what they onlyserved the more plainly to show. No advantage was taken. Mr. Carleton said nothing; she could not see what answer might bein his face. It was only by a peculiar quietness in his tonewhenever he spoke to her afterwards that Fleda knew she hadbeen thoroughly understood. She dared not lift her eyes. 

They had soon employment enough around her. A sleigh andhorses, better than anything else Quarrenton had been known tofurnish, were carrying her rapidly towards home, the weatherhad perfectly cleared off, and in full brightness and fairnessthe sun was shining upon a brilliant world. It was coldindeed, though the only wind was that made by their progress;but Fleda had been again unresistingly wrapped in the furs, and was, for the time, beyond the reach of that or any otherannoyance. She sat silently and quietly enjoying; so quietlythat a stranger might have questioned there being anyenjoyment in the case. It was a very picturesque, brokencountry, fresh covered with snow; and at that hour, late inthe day, the lights and shadows were a constantly varyingcharm to the eye. Clumps of evergreens stood out in fulldisclosure against the white ground; the bare branches ofneighbouring trees in all their barrenness, had a wildprospective or retrospective beauty peculiar to themselves. Onthe wavy white surface of the meadow land, or the steep hill-sides, lay every variety of shadow in blue and neutral tint;where they lay not, the snow was too brilliant to be borne. And afar off, through a heaven, bright and cold enough to holdthe canopy over winter's head, the ruler of the day was gentlypreparing to say good-bye to the world. Fleda's eye seemed tobe new set for all forms of beauty, and roved from one to theother as grave and bright as nature itself. 

For a little way, Mr. Carleton left her to her musings, andwas as silent as she. But then he gently drew her into aconversation that broke up the settled gravity of her face, and obliged her to divide her attention between nature andhim, and his part of it he knew how to manage. But though eyeand smile constantly answered him, he could win neither to astraightforward bearing. 

They were about a mile from Queechy, when Fleda suddenlyexclaimed —

"Oh, Mr. Carleton, please stop the sleigh!"

The horses were stopped. 

"It is only Earl Douglass, our farmer, " Fleda said, inexplanation: "I want to ask how they are at home?"

In answer to her nod of recognition, Mr. Douglass came to theside of the vehicle; but till he was there, close, gave her noother answer by word or sign; when there, broke forth hisaccustomed guttural — "How d'ye do?"

"How d'ye do, Mr. Douglass, " said Fleda. "How are they all athome?"

"Well, there aint nothin' new among 'em, as I've heerd on, "said Earl, diligently though stealthily, at the same timequalifying himself to make a report of Mr. Carleton. "I guessthey'll be glad to see you. _I_ be. "

"Thank you, Mr. Douglass. How is Hugh?"

"He aint nothin' different from what he's been for a spellback — at least I ain't heerd that he was. Maybe he is, but ifhe is, I ha'n't heerd speak of it, and if he was, I think Ishould ha' heerd speak of it. He was pretty bad a spell ago —about when you went away — but he's been better sen. So theysay. I ha'n't seen him. Well Flidda, " he added, with somewhatof a sly gleam in his eye, "do you think you're going to makeup your mind to stay to hum this time?"

"I have no immediate intention of running away, Mr. Douglass, "said Fleda, her pale cheeks turning rose as she saw himlooking curiously up and down the edges of the black fox. Hiseye came back to hers with a good- humoured intelligence thatshe could hardly stand. 

"It's time you was back, " said he. "Your uncle's to hum, buthe don't do me much good, whatever he does to other folks, orhimself nother, as far as the farm goes; there's that corn —"

"Very well, Mr. Douglass, " said Fleda, "I shall be at homenow, and I'll see about it. "

"_Very_ good!" said Earl, as he stepped back, "Queechy can't getalong without you, that's no mistake. "

They drove on a few minutes in silence. 

"Aren't you thinking, Mr. Carleton, " said Fleda, "that mycountrymen are a strange mixture?"

"I was not thinking of them at all at this moment. I believesuch a notion has crossed my mind. "

"It has crossed mine very often, " said Fleda. 

"How do you read them? What is the basis of it?"

"I think, the strong self-respect which springs from thesecurity and importance that republican institutions giveevery man. But, " she added, colouring, "I have seen verylittle of the world, and ought not to judge. "

"I have no doubt you are quite right, " said Mr. Carleton, smiling. "But don't you think an equal degree of self-respectmay consist with giving honour where honour is due?"

"Yes, " said Fleda, a little doubtfully, "where religion andnot republicanism is the spring of it. "

"Humility and not pride, " said he. "Yes, you are right. "

"My countrymen do yield honour where they think it is due, "said Fleda, "especially where it is not claimed. They mustgive it to reality, not to pretension. And, I confess, I wouldrather see them a little rude in their independence, thancringing before mere advantages of external position — evenfor my own personal pleasure. "

"I agree with you, Elfie, putting, perhaps, the last clauseout of the question. "

"Now, that man, " said Fleda, smiling at his look — "I supposehis address must have struck you as very strange; and yetthere was no want of respect under it. I am sure he has a truethorough respect, and even regard for me, and would prove iton any occasion. "

"I have no doubt of that. "

"But it does not satisfy you?"

"Not quite. I confess I should require more from any one undermy control. "

"Oh, nobody is under control here, " said Fleda. "That is, Imean, individual control, unless so far as self-interest comesin. I suppose that is all-powerful here as elsewhere. "

"And the reason it gives less power to individuals is, thatthe greater freedom of resources makes no man's interestdepend so absolutely on one other man. That is a reason youcannot regret. No, your countrymen have the best of it, Elfie. But, do you suppose that this is a fair sample of the wholecountry?"

"I dare not say that, " said Fleda. "I am afraid there is notso much intelligence and cultivation everywhere. But I am surethere are many parts of the land that will bear a faircomparison with it. "

"It is more than I would dare say for my own land. "

"I should think" — Fleda suddenly stopped. 

"What?" — said Mr. Carleton, gently. 

"I beg your pardon, Sir — I was going to say something verypresumptuous. "

"You cannot, " he said in the same tone. 

"I was going to say, " said Fleda, blushing, "that I shouldthink there might be a great deal of pleasure in raising thetone of mind and character among the people, as one could whohad influence over a large neighbourhood. "

His smile was very bright in answer. 

"I have been trying that, Elfie, for the last eight years. "

Fleda's eye looked now eagerly in pleasure and in curiosityfor more. But he was silent. 

"I was thinking a little while ago, " he said, "of the time, once before, when I rode here with you — when you werebeginning to lead me to the problem I have been trying to workout ever since. When I left you in Paris, I went to resolvewith myself the question, What I had to do in the world? Yourlittle Bible was my invaluable help. I had read very little ofit when I threw aside all other books; and my problem was soonsolved. I saw that the life has no honour nor value which isnot spent to the glory of God. I saw the end I was made for —the happiness I was fitted for — the dignity to which even afallen creature may rise, through his dear Redeemer andSurety. "

Fleda's eyes were down now. Mr. Carleton was silent a moment, watching one or two bright witnesses that fell from them. 

"The next conclusion was easy — that my work was at home — Ihave wanted my good fairy, " Mr. Carleton went on, smiling. "But I hope she will be contented to carry the standard ofChristianity, without that of republicanism. "

"But Christianity tends directly to republicanism, Mr. Carleton, " said Fleda, trying to laugh. 

"I know that, " said he, smiling — "and I am willing to knowit. But the leaven of truth is one thing, and the powder trainof the innovator is another. "

Fleda sat thinking that she had very little in common with thelayers of powder trains. She did not know the sleigh waspassing Deepwater lake, till Mr. Carleton said —

"I am glad, my dear Elfie, for your sake, that we are almostat the end of your journey. "

"I should think you might be glad for your own sake, Mr. Carleton. "

"No — my journey is not ended —"

"Not?"

"No — it will not be ended till I get back to New York, orrather till I find myself here again — I shall make verylittle delay there —"

"But you will not go any further to-night?" said Fleda, hereye this time meeting his fully. 

"Yes — I must take the first train to New York. I have somereason to expect my mother by this steamer. "

"Back to New York!" said Fleda. "Then taking care of me hasjust hindered you in your business. "

But even as she spoke, she read the truth in his eye, and herown fell in confusion. 

"My business?" said he, smiling; — "you know it now, Elfie. Iarrived at Mrs. Evelyn's just after you had quitted it, intending to ask you to take the long-talked-of drive; andlearned, to my astonishment, that you had left the city, and, as Edith kindly informed me, under no better guardianship thanthat in which I found you. I was just in time to reach theboat. "

"And you ere in the boat night before last?"

"Certainly. "

"I should have felt a great deal easier if I had known that, "said Fleda. 

"So should I, " said he; "but you were invisible, till Idiscerned you in the midst of a crowd of people before me inthe car. "

Fleda was silent, till the sleigh stopped, and Mr. Carletonhad handed her out. 

"What's going to be done with this here trunk?" said heirdriver, trying a tug at one handle. 

"I will send somebody down to help you with it, " said Fleda. "It is too heavy for one alone. "

"Well, I reckon it is, " said he. "I guess you didn't know Iwas a cousin, did you?"

"No, " said Fleda. 

"I believe I be. "

"Who are you?"

"I am Pierson Barnes. I live to Quarrenton for a year back. Squire Joshua Springer's your uncle, aint he?"

"Yes, my father's uncle. "

"Well, he's mine too. His sister's my mother. "

"I'll send somebody to help you, Mr. Barnes. "

She took Mr. Carleton's arm, and walked half the way up to thehouse without daring to look at him. 

"Another specimen of your countrymen, " he said, smiling. 

There was nothing but quiet amusement in the tone, and therewas not the shadow of anything else in his face. Fleda looked, and thanked him mentally, and drew breath easier. At thehouse-door he made a pause. 

"You are coming in, Mr. Carleton?"

"Not now. "

"It is a long drive to Greenfield, Mr. Carleton; — you mustnot turn away from a country-house till we have shownourselves unworthy to live in it. You will come in and let usgive you something more substantial than those Quarrentonoysters. Do not say no, " she said, earnestly, as she saw arefusal in his eye — "I know what you are thinking of, butthey do not know that you have been told anything — it makesno difference. "

She laid her gentle detaining hand, as irresistible in its wayas most things, upon his arm, and he followed her in. 

Only Hugh was in the sitting-room, and n a great easy-chair bythe fire. It struck to Fleda's heart; but there was no timebut for a flash of thought. He had turned his face and sawher. Fleda meant to have controlled herself and presented Mr. Carleton properly, but Hugh started up; he saw nothing butherself, and one view of the ethereal delicacy of his facemade Fleda for a moment forget everything but him. They werein each other's arms, and then still as death. Hugh wasunconscious that a stranger was there, and though Fleda wasvery conscious that one was there who was no stranger — therewas so much in both hearts, so much of sorrow and joy, andgratitude and tenderness, on the one part and on the other, somuch that even if they had been alone lips could only havesaid silently — that for a little while they kissed each otherand wept in a passionate attempt to speak what their heartswere too full of. 

Fleda at last whispered to Hugh that somebody else was there, and turned to make, as well as she might, the introduction. But Mr. Carleton did not need it, and made his own with thatsingular talent which in all circumstances, wherever he choseto exert it, had absolute power. Fleda saw Hugh's countenancechange, with a kind of pleased surprise, and herself stoodstill under the charm for a minute; then she recollected shemight be dispensed with. She took up her little spaniel, whowas in an agony of gratulation at her feet, and went out intothe kitchen. 

"Well, do you mean to say you are here at last?" said Barby, her gray eyes flashing pleasure as she came forward to takethe half hand which, owing to King's monopoly, was all Fledahad to give her. "Have you come home to stay, Fleda?"

"I am tired enough to be quiet, " said Fleda. "But, dear Barby, what have you got in the house? — I want supper as quickly asit can be had. "

"Well, you do look dreadful bad, " said Barby eyeing her. "Why, there aint much particular, Fleda; nobody's had any heart toeat lately; I thought I might a'most as well save myself thefuss of getting victuals. Hugh lives like a bird, and Mis'Rossitur aint much better, and I think all of 'em have beenkeeping their appetites till you came back; 'cept Philetus andme; we keep it up pretty well. Why, you're come home hungry, aint you?"

"No, not I, " said Fleda; "but there's a gentleman here thatcame with me that must have something before he goes awayagain. What have you, Barby?"

"Who is he?" said Barby. 

"A friend that took care of me on the way — I'll tell youabout it; but, in the meantime, supper, Barby. "

"Is he a New Yorker, that one must be curious for?"

"As curious as you like, " said Fleda, "but he is not a NewYorker. "

"Where _is_ he from, then?" said Barby, who was busily puttingon the tea-kettle. 

"England. "

"England!" said Barby, facing about. "Oh, if he's anEnglishman, I don't care for him, Fleda. "

"But you care for me, " said Fleda, laughing; "and for my sakedon't let our hospitality fail to somebody who has been verykind to me, if he is an Englishman; and he is in haste to beoff. "

"Well, I don't know what we're a-going to give him, " saidBarby, looking at her. "There aint much in the pantry besidescold pork and beans, that Philetus and me made our dinner on —they wouldn't have it in there, and eat nothing but somepickerel the doctor sent down — and cold fish aint good formuch. "

"None of them left uncooked?"

"Yes, there's a couple — he sent a great lot — I guess hethought there was more in the family — but two aint enough togo round; they're little ones. "

"No, but put them down, and I'll make an omelette. Just getthe things ready for me, Barby, will you, while I run up tosee aunt Lucy. The hens have begun to lay?"

"La, yes — Philetus fetches in lots of eggs — he loves 'em, Ireckon — but you aint fit this minute to do a thing but rest, Fleda. "

"I'll rest afterwards. Just get the things ready for me, Barby, and an apron; and the table — I'll be down in a minute. And, Barby, grind some coffee, will you?"

But, as she turned to run upstairs, her uncle stood in herway, and the supper vanished from Fleda's head. His arms wereopen, and she was silently clasped in them, with so muchfeeling on both sides, that thought, and well nigh strength, for anything else on her part was gone. His smothered words ofdeep blessing overcame her. Fleda could do nothing but sob, indistress, till she recollected Barby. Putting her arms roundhis neck, then she whispered to him that Mr. Carleton was inthe other room, and shortly explained how he came to be there, and begged her uncle would go in and see him till suppershould be ready. Enforcing this request with a parting kiss onhis cheek, she ran off up stairs. Mr. Rossitur lookedextremely moody and cloudy for a few minutes, and then went inand joined his guest. Mrs. Rossitur and her daughter could notbe induced to show themselves. 

Little Rolf, however, had no scruples of any kind. Hepresently edged himself into the room to see the stranger, whom he no sooner saw than, with a joyous exclamation, hebounded forward to claim an old friend. 

"Why, Mr. Carleton, " exclaimed Mr. Rossitur, in surprise, "Iwas not aware that this young gentleman had the honour of youracquaintance. "

"But I have, " said Rolf. 

"In London, Sir, I had that pleasure, " said Mr. Carleton. 

"I think it was _I_ had the pleasure, " said Rolf, pounding onehand upon Mr. Carleton's knee. 

"Where is your mother?"

"She wouldn't come down, " said Rolf; "but I guess she willwhen she knows who is here" —

And he was darting away to tell her, when Mr. Carleton, withinwhose arms he stood, quietly restrained him, and told him hewas going away presently, but would come again and see hismother another time. 

"Are you going back to England, Sir?"

"By and by. "

"But you will come here again first?"

"Yes, if Mr. Rossitur will let me. "

"Mr. Carleton knows he commands his own welcome, " said thatgentleman, somewhat stately. "Go and tell your aunt Fleda thattea is ready, Rolf. "

"She knows, " said Rolf. "She was making an omelette — I guessit was for this gentleman. "

Whose name he was not clear of yet. Mr. Rossitur looked vexed, but Hugh laughed, and asked if his aunt gave him leave to tellthat. Rolf entered forthwith into discussion on this subject, while Mr. Carleton, who had not seemed to hear it, engaged Mr. Rossitur busily in another, till the omelette and Fleda camein. Rolf's mind, however, was ill at ease. 

"Aunt Fleda, " said he, as soon as she had fairly taken herplace at the head of the table, "would you mind my tellingthat you made the omelette for this gentleman?"

Fleda cast a confused glance, first at the person in questionand then round the table; but Mr. Carleton, without looking ather, answered instantly —

"Don't you understand, Rolf, that the same kindness which willdo a favour for a friend, will keep him in ignorance of it?"

Rolf pondered a moment, and then burst forth —

"Why, Sir, wouldn't you like it as well for knowing she madeit?"

It was hardly in human gravity to stand this. Fleda herselflaughed, but Mr. Carleton, as unmoved as possible, answeredhim, "Certainly not, " and Rolf was nonplussed. 

The supper was over. Hugh had left the room, and Mr. Rossiturhad before that gone out to give directions about Mr. Carleton's horses. He and Fleda were left alone. 

"I have something against you, fairy, " said he, lightly, taking her hand, and putting it to his lips. "You shall notagain do me such honour as you have done me to-day — I did notdeserve it, Elfie. "

The last words were spoken half reproachfully. Fleda stood amoment motionless, and then by some curious revulsion offeeling, put both her hands to her face and burst into tears. 

She struggled against them, and spoke almost immediately —

"You will think me very foolish, Mr. Carleton — I am ashamedof myself — but I have lived here so long in this way — myspirits have grown so quieted by different things, that itseems, sometimes, as if I could not bear anything — I amafraid" —

"Of what, my dear Elfie?"

But she did not answer, and her tears came again. 

"You are weary and spent, " he said, gently, repossessinghimself of one of her hands. "I will ask you another time whatyou are afraid of, and rebuke all your fears. "

"I deserve nothing but rebuke now, " said Fleda. 

But her hand knew, by the gentle and quiet clasp in which itlay, that there was no disposition to give it. 

"Do not speak to me for a minute, " she said, hastily, as sheheard some one coming. 

She went to the window, and stood there looking out, till Mr. Carleton came to bid her good-bye. 

"Will you permit me to say to Mrs. Evelyn, " he said, in a lowtone, "that you left a piece of your property in her house, and have commissioned me to bring it you?"

"Yes, " said Fleda, hesitating, and looking a little confused;"but — will you let me write a note instead, Mr. Carleton?"

"Certainly! — but what are you thinking of, Elfie? what gravedoubt is lying under your brow?"

All Fleda's shadows rolled away before that clear, bright eye. 

"I have found by experience, " she said, smiling a little, butlooking down, "that whenever I tell my secret thoughts toanybody, I have some reason afterwards to be sorry for it. "

"You shall make me an exception to your rule, however, Elfie. "

Fleda looked up, one of her looks, half questioning, halffearing, and then answered, a little hesitating —

"I was afraid, Sir, that if you went to Mrs. Evelyn's on thaterrand — I was afraid you would show them you weredispleased. "

"And what then?" said he, quietly. 

"Only — that I wanted to spare them what always gives me acold chill. "

"Gives you!" said Mr. Carleton. 

"No, Sir — only by sympathy — I thought my agency would be thegentlest. "

"I see I was right, " she said, looking up, as he did notanswer; "but they don't deserve it — not half so much as youthink. They talk — they don't know what. I am sure they nevermeant half they said — never meant to annoy me with it, I mean— and I am sure they have a true love for me — they have shownit in a great many ways. Constance, especially, never showedme anything else. They have been very kind to me; and as toletting me come away as they did, I suppose they thought I wasin a greater hurry to get home than I really was; and theywould very likely not have minded travelling so themselves; Iam so different from them, that they might in many thingsjudge me by themselves, and yet judge far wrong. "

Fleda was going on, but she suddenly became aware that the eyeto which she was speaking had ceased to look at the Evelyns, even in imagination, and she stopped short. 

"Will you trust me, after this, to see Mrs. Evelyn without thenote?" said he, smiling. 

But Fleda gave him her hand, very demurely, without raisingher eyes again, and he went. 

Barby, who had come in to clear away the table, took her standat the window to watch Mr. Carleton drive off. Fleda hadretreated to the fire. Barby looked in silence till the sleighwas out of sight. 

"Is he going back to England now?" she said, coming back tothe table. 

"No. "

Barby gathered a pile of plates together, and then inquired —

"Is he going to settle in America?"

"Why, no, Barby! What makes you ask such a thing?"

"I thought he looked as if he had dressed himself for a coldclimate, " said Barby, drily. 

Fleda sat down by Hugh's easy-chair, and laid her head on hisbreast. 

"I like your Mr. Carleton very much, " Hugh whispered, after awhile. 

"Do you?" said Fleda, a little wondering at Hugh's choice ofthat particular pronominal adjective. 

"Very much indeed. But he has changed, Fleda. "

"Yes —in some things — some great things. "

"He says he is coming again, " said Hugh. 

Fleda's heart beat. She was silent. 

"I am very glad, " repeated Hugh, "I like him very much. Butyou won't leave me, Fleda, will you?"

"Leave you?" said Fleda, looking at him. 

"Yes, " said Hugh, smiling, and drawing her head down again: "Ialways thought what he came over here for. But you will staywith me while I want you, Fleda?"

"While you want me!" said Fleda, again. 

"Yes — it won't be long. "

"What won't be long?"

"I, " said Hugh, quietly. "Not long. I am very glad I shall notleave you alone, dear Fleda — very glad! — promise me you willnot leave me any more. "

"Don't talk so, dear Hugh!"

"But it is true, Fleda, " said Hugh, gently. "I know it. Isha'n't be here, but a little while. I am so glad you are comehome, dear Fleda! You will not let anybody take you away tillI am gone first?"

Fleda drew her arm close around Hugh's neck, and was still —still even to his ear — for a good while. A hard battle mustbe fought, and she must not be weak, for his sake, and foreverybody's sake. Others of the family had come, or werecoming into the room. Hugh waited till a short breath, butfreer drawn, told him he might speak. 

"Fleda, " he whispered. 

"What?"

"I am very happy. I only want your promise about that. "

"I can't talk to you, Hugh. "

"No; but promise me. "

"What?"

"That you will not let anybody take you away while I wantyou. "

"I am sure he would not ask it, " said Fleda, hiding her cheeksand eyes at once in his breast. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

"Do you think I shall not love a sad Pamela as well as ajoyful!"SIDNEY. 

Mr. Carleton came back without his mother; she had chosen toput off her voyage till spring. He took up his quarters atMontepoole, which, far though it was, was yet the nearestpoint where his notions of ease could have freedom enough. 

One would have thought that saw him — those most nearlyconcerned almost did think — that in his daily coming toQueechy, Mr. Carleton sought everybody's pleasure rather thanhis own. He was Fleda's most gentle and kind assistant intaking care of Hugh, soon dearly valued by the sick one, whowatched for and welcomed his coming as a bright spot in theday; and loved particularly to have Mr. Carleton's hand doanything for him, rather than almost any other. His mother'swas too feeling; Fleda's, Hugh often feared, was weary; andhis father's, though gentle to him as to an infant, yet lackedthe mind's training. And though Marion was his sister inblood, Guy was his brother in better bonds. The deep blue eyethat little Fleda had admired, Hugh learned to love and reston singularly. 

To the rest of the family, Mr. Carleton's influence was moresoothing and cheering than any cause beside. To all but thehead of it. Even Mrs. Rossitur, after she had once made up hermind to see him, could not bear to be absent when he was inthe house. The dreaded contrast with old times gave no pain, either to her or Marion. Mr. Carleton forgot so completelythat there was any difference, that they were charmed intoforgetting it too. But Mr. Rossitur's pride lay deeper, or hadbeen less humbled by sorrow; the recollections that his familylet slip never failed to gall him, when Mr. Carleton waspresent; and if now and then, for a moment, these werebanished by his guest's graces of mind and manner, the nextbreath was a sigh for the circles and the pleasures theyserved to recall, now seeming for ever lost to him. Mr. Carleton perceived that his company gave pain and not pleasureto his host, and for that reason was the less in the house, and made his visits to Hugh at times when Mr. Rossitur was notin the way. Fleda he took out of the house and away with him, for her good and his own. 

To Fleda, the old childish feeling came back, that she was insomebody's hands who had a marvellous happy way of managingthings about her, and even of managing herself. A kind ofgenial atmosphere, that was always doing her good, yet soquietly and so skilfully, that she could only now and then geta chance even to look her thanks. Quietly and efficiently hewas exerting himself to raise the tone of her mind, tobrighten her spirits, to reach those sober lines that years ofpatience had drawn round her eye, and mouth, and charm themaway. So gently, so indirectly, by efforts so wisely andgracefully aimed, he set about it, that Fleda did not knowwhat he was doing; but _he_ knew. He knew when he saw her browunbend, and her eye catch its old light sparkle, that hisconversation and the thoughts and interests with which he wasrousing her mind or fancy, were working and would work all hepleased. And though the next day he might find the old look ofpatient gravity again, he hardly wished it not there, for thepleasure of doing it away. Hugh's anxious question to Fledahad been very uncalled for, and Fleda's assurance was wellgrounded; that subject was never touched upon. 

Fleda's manner with Mr. Carleton was peculiar andcharacteristic. In the house, before others, she was as demureand reserved as though he had been a stranger; she neverplaced herself near him, nor entered into conversation withhim, unless when he obliged her; but when they were alonethere was a frank confidence and simplicity in her manner thatmost happily answered the high-bred delicacy that had calledit out. 

One afternoon of a pleasant day in March, Fleda and Hugh weresitting alone together in the sick-room. Hugh was weaker thanusual but not confined to his bed; he was in his great easy-chair, which had been moved up stairs for him again. Fleda hadbeen repeating hymns. 

"You are tired, " Hugh said. 

"No. "

"There's something about you that isn't strong, " said Hugh, fondly. "I wonder where is Mr. Carleton to-day. It is verypleasant, isn't it?"

"Very pleasant and warm; it is like April; the snow all wentoff yesterday, and the ground is dry except in spots. "

"I wish he would come and give you a good walk. I have noticedhow you always come back looking so much brighter after one ofyour walks or rides with him. "

"What makes you think so, dear Hugh?" said Fleda, a littletroubled. 

"Only my eyes, " said Hugh, smiling. "It does me as much goodas you, Fleda. "

"I _never_ want to go and leave you, Hugh. "

"I am very glad there is somebody to take you. I wish he wouldcome. You want it this minute. "

"I don't think I shall let him take me if he comes. "

"Whither? and whom?" said another voice. 

"I didn't know you were there, Sir, " said Fleda, suddenlyrising. 

"I am but just here — Rolf admitted me as he passed out. "

Coming in between them, and still holding the hand of one, Mr. Carleton bent down towards the other. 

"How is Hugh to-day?"

It was pleasant to see that meeting of eyes — the gravekindliness on the one side, the confident affection on theother. But the wasted features said as plainly as the tone ofHugh's gentle reply, that he was passing away — fast. 

"What shall I do for you?"

"Take Fleda out and give her a good walk. She wants it. "

"I will, presently. You are weary — what shall I do to restyou?"

"Nothing, " said Hugh, closing his eyes with a very placidlook; "unless you will put me in mind of something aboutheaven, Mr. Carleton. "

"Shall I read to you? — Baxter — or something else?"

"No — just give me something to think of while you're gone —as you have done before, Mr. Carleton. "

"I will give you two or three of the Bible bits on thatsubject; they are but hints and indications, you know — ratherrays of light that stream out from the place than anydescription of it; but you have only to follow one of theseindications and see whither it will lead you. The first Irecollect is that one spoken to Abraham, 'Fear not — I am thyshield, and thy exceeding great reward. ' "

"Don't go any further, Mr. Carleton, " said Hugh, with a smile. "Fleda — do you remember?"

They sat all silent, quite silent, all three, for nobody knewhow long. 

"You were going to walk, " said Hugh, without looking at them. 

Fleda, however, did not move till a word or two from Mr. Carleton had backed Hugh's request; then she went. 

"Is she gone?" said Hugh. "Mr. Carleton, will you hand me thatlittle desk?"

It was his own. Mr. Carleton brought it. Hugh opened it, andtook out a folded paper, which he gave to Mr. Carleton, sayingthat he thought he ought to have it. 

"Do you know the handwriting, Sir?"

"No. "

"Ah! she has scratched it so. It is Fleda's. "

Hugh shut his eyes again, and Mr. Carleton seeing that he hadsettled himself to sleep, went to the window with the paper. It hardly told him anything he did not know before, though setin a fresh light. 

"Cold blew the east wind, And thick fell the rain —I look'd for the topsOf the mountains in vain;Twilight was gathering, And dark grew the west, And the wood-fire's cracklingToned well with the rest. 

"Speak fire, and tell me —Thy flickering flameFell on me in years past —Say, am I the same?Has my face the same brightnessIn those days it wore ?My foot the same lightness, As it crosses the floor?

"Methinks there are changes —I am weary to-night —I once was as tirelessAs the bird on her flight:My bark, in full measure, Threw foam from the prow —Not even for pleasureWould I care to move now. 

" 'Tis not the foot onlyThat lieth thus still —I am weary in spirit —I am listless in will. My eye vainly peerethThrough the darkness, to findSome object that cheereth —Some light for the mind. 

"What shadows come o'er me —What things of the past —Bright things of my childhoodThat fled all too fast;The scenes where light roaming, My foot wandered free, Come back through the gloamin' —Come all back to me. 

"The cool autumn evening, The fair summer morn —The dress and the aspectSome dear ones have worn —The sunshiny places —The shady hill side —The words and the facesThat might not abide. 

"Die out, little fire —Ay, blacken and pine! —So have paled many lightsThat were brighter than thine. I can quicker thy embersAgain with a breath, But the others lie coldIn the ashes of death. "

Mr. Carleton had read near through the paper before Fleda camein. 

"I have kept you a long time, Mr. Carleton, " she said, comingup to the window; "I found aunt Lucy wanted me. "

But she saw with a little surprise the deepening eye which mether, and which showed, she knew, the working of strongfeeling. Her own eye went to the paper in search ofexplanation. 

"What have you there? — Oh, Mr. Carleton, " she said, puttingher hand over it — "please to give it to me!"

Fleda's face was very much in earnest. He took the hand, butdid not give her the paper, and looked his refusal. 

"I am ashamed you should see that! Who gave it to you?"

"You shall wreak your displeasure on no one but me, " he said, smiling. 

"But have you read it?"

"Yes. "

"I am very sorry!"

"I am very glad, my dear Elfie. "

"You will think — you will think what wasn't true — it wasjust a mood I used to get into once in a while — I used to beangry with myself for it, but I could not help it — one ofthose listless fits would take me now and then —"

"I understand it, Elfie. "

"I am very sorry you should know I ever felt or wrote so. "

"Why?"

"It is very foolish and wrong —"

"Is that a reason for my not knowing it?"

"No — not a good one. — But you have read it now — wont youlet me have it?"

"No — I shall ask for all the rest of the portfolio, Elfie, "he said, as he put it in a place of security. 

"Pray, do not!" said Fleda, most unaffectedly. 

"Why?"

"Because I remember Mrs. Carleton says you always have whatyou ask for. "

"Give me permission to put on your bonnet, then?" said he, laughingly, taking it from her hand. 

The air was very sweet, he footing pleasant. The first fewsteps of the walk were made by Fleda in silence, with eagerbreath, and a foot that grew lighter as it trod. 

"I don't think it was a right mood of mind I had when I wrotethat, " she said. "It was morbid. But I couldn't help it. Yetif one could keep possession of those words you quoted justnow, I suppose one never would have morbid feelings, Mr. Carleton?"

"Perhaps not; but human nature has a weak hold of anything, and many things may make it weaker. "

"Mine is weak, " said Fleda. "But it is possible to keep firmhold of those words, Mr. Carleton?"

"Yes — by strength that is not human nature's — and, afterall, the firm hold is rather that in which we are held, orours would soon fail. The very hand that makes the promise itsown must be nerved to grasp it. And so it is best, for itkeeps us looking off always to the Author and Finisher of ourfaith. "

"I love those words, " said Fleda. "But, Mr. Carleton, howshall one be sure that one has a right to those other words —those, I mean, that you told to Hugh? One cannot take thecomfort of them unless one is _sure_. "

Her voice trembled. 

"My dear Elfie, the promises have many of them their double —stamped with the very same signet — and if that sealedcounterpart is your own, it is the sure earnest and title tothe whole value of the promise. "

"Well — in this case?" said Fleda, eagerly. 

"In this case, God says, 'I am thy shield, and thy exceedinggreat reward. ' Now, see if your own heart can give thecountersign — '_Thou art my portion, O Lord!_' "

Fleda's head sank instantly, and almost lay upon his arm. 

"If you have the one, my dear Elfie, the other is yours — itis the note of hand of the maker of the promise — sure to behonoured. And if you want proof, here it is — and a threefoldcord is not soon broken — 'Because he hath set his love uponme, therefore will I deliver him: I will set him on high, because he hath known my name. He shall call upon me, and Iwill answer him; I will be with him in trouble; I will deliverhim, and honour him. With long life will I satisfy him, andshow him my salvation. ' "

There was a pause of some length. Fleda had lifted up herhead, but walked along very quietly, not seeming to care tospeak. 

"Have you the countersign, Elfie?"

Fleda flashed a look at him, and only restrained herself fromweeping again. 

"Yes. But so I had then, Mr. Carleton — only sometimes I gotthose fits of feeling — I forgot it, I suppose. "

"When were these verses written?"

"Last fall — uncle Rolf was away, and aunt Lucy unhappy — and, I believe, I was tired. I suppose it was that. "

For a matter of several rods, each was busy with his ownmusings. But Mr. Carleton bethought himself. 

"Where are you, Elfie?"

"Where am I?"

"Yes — Not at Queechy?"

"No, indeed" said Fleda, laughing. "Far enough away. "

"Where?"

"At Paris — at the Marchι des Innocens. "

"How did you get to Paris?"

"I don't know — by a bridge of associations, I suppose, resting one end on last year, and the other on the time when Iwas eleven years old. "

"Very intelligible, " said Mr. Carleton, smiling. 

"Do you remember that morning, Mr. Carleton, when you tookHugh and me to the Marchι des Innocens?"

"Perfectly. "

"I have thanked you a great many times since for getting up soearly that morning. "

"I think I was well paid at the time. I remember I thought Ihad seen one of the prettiest sights I had ever seen inParis. "

"So I thought!" said Fleda. "It has been a pleasant picture inmy imagination ever since. "

There was a curious curl in the corners of Mr. Carleton'smouth, which made Fleda look an inquiry — a look so innocentlywistful, that his gravity gave way. 

"My dear Elfie!" said he, "you are the very child you werethen. "

"Am I?" said Fleda. "I dare say I am, for I feel so. I havethe very same feeling I used to have then, that I am a child, and you taking the care of me into your own hands. "

"One half of that is true, and the other half nearly so. "

"How good you always were to me!" Fleda said, with a sigh. 

"Not necessary to balance the debtor and creditor items onboth sides, " he said, with a smile, "as the account bids fairto run a good while. "

A silence again, during which Fleda is clearly not enjoyingthe landscape nor the fine weather. 

"Elfie — what are you meditating?"

She came back from her meditations with a very frank look. 

"I was thinking — Mr. Carleton — of your notions about femaleeducation. "

"Well?"

They had paused upon a rising ground. Fleda hesitated, andthen looked up in his face. 

"I am afraid you will find me wanting, and when you do, willyou put me in the way of being all you wish me to be?"

Her look was ingenuous and tender, equally. He gave her noanswer, except by the eye of grave intentness that fixed herstill she could meet it no longer, and her own fell. Mr. Carleton recollected himself. 

"My dear Elfie, " said he, and whatever the look had meant, Elfie was at no loss for the tone now — "what do you consideryourself deficient in?"

Fleda spoke with a little difficulty. 

"I am afraid, in a good many things — in general reading — andin what are called accomplishments —"

"You shall read as much as you please, by and by, " said he, "provided you will let me read with you; and, as for the otherwant, Elfie, it is rather a source of gratification to me. "

Elfie very naturally asked "Why?"

"Because, as soon as I have the power, I shall immediatelyconstitute myself your master in the arts of riding anddrawing, and in any other art or acquisition you may take afancy to, and give you lessons diligently. "

"And will there be gratification in that?" said Fleda. 

His answer was by a smile. But he somewhat mischievously askedher, "Will there not?" — and Fleda was quiet. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

"Friends, I sorrow not to leave ye;If this life an exile be, We who leave it do but journeyHomeward to our family. "SPANISH BALLAD. 

The first of April came. 

Mr. Rossitur had made up his mind not to abide at Queechy, which only held him now by the frail thread of Hugh's life. Mr. Carleton knew this, and had even taken some steps towardssecuring for him a situation in the West Indies. But it wasunknown to Fleda; she had not heard her uncle say anything onthe subject since she came home; and though aware that theirstay was a doubtful matter, she still thought it might be aswell to have the garden in order. Philetus could not betrusted to do everything wisely of his own head, and even somedelicate jobs of hand could not be safely left to his skill;if the garden was to make any head-way, Fleda's head and handmust both be there, she knew. So, as the spring opened, sheused to steal away from the house every morning for an hour ortwo, hardly letting her friends know what she was about, tomake sure that peas, and potatoes, and radishes, and lettuce, were in the right places at the right times, and to see thatthe later and more delicate vegetables were preparing for. Shetook care to have this business well over before the time thatMr. Carleton ever arrived from the Pool. 

One morning she was busy in dressing the strawberry beds, forking up the ground between the plants, and filling thevacancies that the severe winter or some irregularities offall dressing had made. Mr. Skillcorn was rendering a somewhatinefficient help, or, perhaps, amusing himself with seeing howshe worked. The little old silver-grey hood was bending downover the strawberries, and the fork was going at a veryenergetic rate. 

"Philetus —"

"Marm!"

"Will you bring me that bunch of strawberry plants that liesat the corner of the beds, in the walk? — and my trowel?"

"I will!" said Mr. Skillcorn. 

It was, another hand, however, that brought them and laid thembeside her; but Fleda, very intent upon her work, and hiddenunder her close hood, did not find it out. She went on busilyputting in the plants as she found room for them, and justconscious, as she thought, that Philetus was still standing ather side, she called upon him from time to time, or merelystretched out her hand, for a fresh plant as she had occasionfor it. 

"Philetus, " she said at length, raising her voice a littlethat it might win to him round the edge of her hood, withoutturning her face — "I wish you would get the ground ready forthat other planting of potatoes — you needn't stay to help meany longer. "

" 'Tain't me, I guess, " said the voice of Philetus, on theother side of her. 

Fleda looked in astonishment to make sure that it really wasMr. Skillcorn proceeding along the garden path in thatquarter, and turning, jumped up and dropped her trowel andfork, to have her hands otherwise occupied. Mr. Skillcornwalked off leisurely towards the potato ground, singing tohimself in a kind of consolatory aside —

"I cock'd up my beaver, and who but I!The lace in my hat was so gallant and so gay, That I flourished like a king in his own countray. "

"There is one of your countrymen that is an odd variety, certainly, " said Mr. Carleton, looking after him with a verycomic expression of eye. 

"Is he not?" said Fleda. "And hardly a common one. There neverwas a line more mathematically straight than the course ofPhiletus's ideas; they never diverge, I think, to the righthand or the left, a jot from his own self-interest. "

"You will be an invaluable help to me, Elfie, if you can readmy English friends as closely. "

"I am afraid you will not let me come as close to them, " saidFleda, laughing. 

"Perhaps not. I shouldn't like to pay too high a premium forthe knowledge. How is Hugh, to-day?"

Fleda answered, with a quick change of look and voice, that hewas much as usual. 

"My mother has written me that she will be here by the'Europa, ' which is due to-morrow. I must set off for New Yorkthis afternoon; therefore I came so early to Queechy. "

Fleda was instinctively pulling off her gardening gloves, asthey walked towards the house. 

"Aunt Miriam wants to see you, Mr. Carleton — she begged Iwould ask you to come there some time —"

"With great pleasure. Shall we go there now, Elfie?"

"I will be ready in five minutes. "

Mrs. Rossitur was alone in the breakfast-room when they wentin. Hugh, she reported, was asleep, and would be just ready tosee Mr. Carleton by the time they got back. They stood a fewminutes talking, and then Fleda went to get ready. 

Both pair of eyes followed her as she left the room, and thenmet with perfect understanding. 

"Will you give your child to me, Mrs. Rossitur?" said thegentleman. 

"With all my heart!" exclaimed Mrs. Rossitur, bursting intotears — "even if I were left alone entirely —"

Her agitation was uncontrolled for a minute; and then shesaid, with feeling seemingly too strong to be kept in —

"If I were only sure of meeting her in heaven, I could becontent to be without her till then!"

"What is in the way, my dear Madam?" said Mr. Carleton, with agentle sympathy that touched the very spring he meant itshould. Mrs. Rossitur waited a minute, but it was only tilltears would let her speak, and then said like a child —

"Oh, it is all darkness!"

"Except this, " said he, gently and clearly, "that Jesus Christis a sun and a shield; and those that put themselves at Hisfeet are safe from all fear, and they who go to Him for lightshall complain of darkness no more. "

"But I do not know how —"

"Ask Him, and He will tell you. "

"But I am unworthy even to look up towards Him, " said Mrs. Rossitur, struggling, it seemed, between doubts and wishes. 

"He knows that, and yet He has bid you come to Him. He knowsthat; and, knowing it, He has taken your responsibility, andpaid your debt, and offers you now a clean discharge, if youwill take it at His hand; and for the other part of thisunworthiness, that blood cannot do away, blood has brought theremedy —

Shall we, who are evil, give good things to our children; andshall not our Father, which is in heaven, give His Holy Spiritto them that ask Him?"

"But must I do nothing?" said Mrs. Rossitur, when she hadremained quiet, with her face in her hands, for a minute ortwo after he had done speaking. 

"Nothing but be willing — be willing to have Christ in all Hisoffices, as your Teacher, your King, and your Redeemer; giveyourself to Him, dear Mrs. Rossitur, and He will take care ofthe rest. "

"I am willing!" she exclaimed. Fresh tears came, and camefreely. Mr. Carleton said no more, till; hearing some noise ofopening and shutting doors above stairs, Mrs. Rossiturhurriedly left the room, and Fleda came in by the otherentrance. 

"May I take you a little out of the way, Mr. Carleton?" shesaid, when they had passed through the Deepwater settlement. "I have a message to carry to Mrs. Elster — a poor woman outhere beyond the Lake. It is not a disagreeable place. "

"And what if it were?"

"I should not, perhaps, have asked you to go with me, " saidFleda, a little doubtfully. 

"You may take me where you will, Elfie, " he said, gently. "Ihope to do as much by you some day. "

Fleda looked up at the piece of elegance beside her, andthought what a change must have come over him if _he_ wouldvisit poor places. He was silent and grave, however, and sowas she, till they arrived at the house they were going to. 

Certainly it was not a disagreeable place. Barb's much lessstrong-minded sister had at least a good share of herpractical nicety. The little board path to the door was cleanand white still, with possibly a trifle less brilliant effect. The room and its old inhabitants were very comfortable andtidy — the patchwork counterpane as gay as ever. Mrs. Elsterwas alone, keeping company with a snug little wood fire, whichwas near as much needed in that early spring weather as it hadbeen during the winter. 

Mr. Carleton had come back from his abstraction, and stood, taking half unconscious note of these things, while Fleda wasdelivering her message to the old woman. Mrs. Elster listenedto her implicitly, with, every now and then, an acquiescingnod or ejaculation; but so soon as Fleda had said her say, sheburst out, with a voice that had never known the mufflings ofdelicacy, and was now pitched entirely beyond its owner's ken. Looking hard at Mr. Carleton —

"Fleda! Is _this_ the gentleman that's to be your — _husband?_"

The last word elevated and brought out with emphaticdistinctness of utterance. 

If the demand had been, whether the gentleman in question wasa follower of Mohammed, it would hardly have been moreimpossible for Fleda to give an affirmative answer; but Mr. Carleton laughed, and, bringing his face a little nearer theold crone, answered —

"So she has promised, Ma'am . "

It was curious to see the lines of the old woman's face relaxas she looked at him. 

"He's worthy of you, as far as looks goes, " she said, in thesame key as before, apostrophising Fleda, who had drawn back, but not stirring her eyes from Mr. Carleton all the time. Andthen she added to him, with a little, satisfied nod, and in avery decided tone of information —

"She will make you a good wife. "

"Because she has made a good friend?" said Mr. Carleton, quietly. "Will you let me be a friend, too?"

He had turned the old lady's thoughts into a golden channel, whence, as she was an American, they had no immediate issue inwords; and Fleda and Mr. Carleton left the house withoutanything more. 

Fleda felt nervous. But Mr. Carleton's first words were ascoolly and as gravely spoken as if they had just come out froma philosophical lecture; and with an immediate spring ofrelief, she enjoyed every step of the way, and every word ofthe conversation, which was kept up with great life till theyreached Mrs. Plumfield's door. 

No one was in the sitting-room. Fleda left Mr. Carleton there, and passed gently into the inner apartment, the door of whichwas standing ajar. 

But her heart absolutely leaped into her mouth, for Dr. Quackenboss and Mr. Olmney were there on either side of heraunt's bed. Fleda came forward and shook hands. 

"This is quite a meeting of friends, " said the doctor, blandly, yet with a perceptible shading of the whilome broadsunshine of his face. "Your — a — aunt, my dear Miss Ringgan, is in a most extraordinary state of mind!"

Fleda was glad to hide her face against her aunt's, and askedher how she did. 

"Dr. Quackenboss thinks it extraordinary, Fleda, " said the oldlady, with her usual cheerful sedateness, "that one who hastrusted God, and had constant experience of His goodness andfaithfulness for forty years, should not doubt Him at the endof it. "

"You have no doubt — of any kind, Mrs. Plumfield?" said theclergyman. 

"Not the shadow of a doubt!" was the hearty, steady reply. 

"You mistake, my dear Madam, " said Dr. Quackenboss, "pardon me— it is not that: I would be understood to say, merely, that Ido not comprehend how such — a — such security — can beattained respecting what seems so — a — elevated — anddifficult to know. "

"Only by believing, " said Mrs. Plumfield, with a very calmsmile. " 'He that believeth on Him shall not be ashamed;' —'shall _not _ be ashamed!' " she repeated, slowly. 

Dr. Quackenboss looked at Fleda, who kept her eyes fixed uponher aunt. 

"But it seems to me — I beg pardon; perhaps I am arrogant" —he said, with a little bow; "but it appears to me almost — ina manner — almost presumptuous, not to be a little doubtful insuch a matter until the time comes. Am I — do you disapproveof me, Mr. Olmney?"

Mr. Olmney silently referred him for his answer to the personhe had first addressed, who had closed her eyes while he wasspeaking. 

"Sir, " she said, opening them, "it can't be presumption toobey God, and He tells me to rejoice. And I do — I do! — 'Letall those that love thee rejoice in thee, and be glad inthee!' But mind!" she added, energetically, fixing her stronggrey eve upon him, "He does not tell you to rejoice — do notthink it — not while you stand aloof from His terms of peace. Take God at His word, and be happy; but if not, you havenothing to do with the song that I sing!"

The doctor stared at her till she had done speaking, and thenslunk out of her range of vision behind the curtains of thebed-post. Not silenced, however. 

"But — a — Mr. Olmney, " said he, hesitating, "don't you thinkthat there is in general — a — a becoming modesty, in — a — inpeople that have done wrong, as we all have — putting offbeing sure until they are so? It seems so to me!"

"Come here, Dr. Quackenboss, " said aunt Miriam. 

She waited till he came to her side, and then taking his hand, and looking at him very kindly, she said —

"Sir, forty years ago I found in the Bible, as you say, that Iwas a sinner, and that drove me to look for something else. Ifound then God's promise, that if I would give my dependenceentirely to the Substitute he had provided for me, and yieldmy heart to his service, he would, for Christ's sake, hold mequit of all my debts, and be my father, and make me his child. And, Sir, I did it. I abhor every other dependence — thethings you count good in me I reckon but filthy rags. At thesame time, I know that ever since that day, forty years ago, Ihave lived in his service, and tried to live to his glory. Andnow, Sir, shall I disbelieve his promise? do you think hewould be pleased if I did?"

The doctor's mouth was stopped, for once, He drew back as soonas he could, and said not another word. 

Before anybody had broken the silence, Seth came in; and aftershaking hands with Fleda, startled her by asking, whether thatwas not Mr. Carleton in the other room. 

"Yes, " Fleda said — "he came to see aunt Miriam. "

"Aint you well enough to see him, mother?"

"Quite — and very happy, " she said. 

Seth immediately went back and invited him in. Fleda dared notlook up while the introductions were passing — of "the Rev. Mr. Olmney, " and of "Dr. Quackenboss, " the former of whom Mr. Carleton took cordially by the hand, while Dr. Quackenboss, conceiving that his hand must be as acceptable, made hissalutations with an indescribable air, at once of attemptedgracefulness and ingratiation. Fleda saw the whole in theadvancing line of the doctor's person, a vision of whichcrossed her downcast eye. She drew back then, for Mr. Carletoncame where she was standing, to take her aunt's hand; Seth hadabsolutely stayed his way before to make the saidintroductions. 

Mrs. Plumfield was little changed by years or disease since hehad seen her. There was somewhat more of a look of bodilyweakness than there used to be; but the dignified, strong-minded expression of the face was even heightened; eye andbrow were more pure and unclouded in their steadfastness. Shelooked very earnestly at her visitor, and then with evidentpleasure from the manner of his look and greeting. Fledawatched her eye softening with a gratified expression, andfixed upon him, as he was gently talking to her. 

Mr. Olmney presently came round to take leave, promising tosee her another time; and passing Fleda, with a frank gravepressure of the hand, which gave her some pain. He and Sethleft the room. Fleda was hardly conscious that Dr. Quackenbosswas still standing at the foot of the bed, making the utmostuse of his powers of observation. He could use little else, for Mr. Carleton and Mrs. Plumfield, after a few words on eachside, had, as it were, by common consent, come to a pause. Thedoctor, when a sufficient time had made him fully sensible ofthis, walked up to Fleda, who wished heartily at the momentthat she could have presented the reverse end of the magnet tohim. Perhaps, however, it was that very thing which, by aperverse sort of attraction, drew him towards her. 

"I suppose — a — we may conclude, " said he, with a some. Whatsaturnine expression of mischief — "that Miss Ringgancontemplates forsaking the agricultural line before a greatwhile?"

"I have not given up my old habits, Sir, " said Fleda, a gooddeal vexed. 

"No — I suppose not — but Queechy air is not so well suitedfor them — other skies will prove more genial, " he said, shecould not help thinking, pleased at her displeasure. 

"What is the fault of Queechy air, Sir?" said Mr. Carleton, approaching them. 

"Sir!" said the doctor, exceedingly taken aback, though thewords had been spoken in the quietest manner possible — "it —a — it has no fault, Sir — that I am particularly aware of —it is perfectly salubrious. Mrs. Plumfield, I will bid yougood-day; — I — a — I hope you will get well again. "

"I hope not, Sir!" said aunt Miriam, in the same clear heartytones which had answered him before. 

The doctor took his departure, and made capital of hisinterview with Mr. Carleton; who, he affirmed, he could tellby what he had seen of him, was a very deciduous character, and not always conciliating in his manners. 

Fleda waited with a little anxiety for what was to follow thedoctor's leave-taking. 

It was with a very softened eye that aunt Miriam looked at thetwo who were left, clasping Fleda's hand again; and it waswith a very softened voice that she next spoke. 

"Do you remember our last meeting, Sir?"

"I remember it well, " he said. 

"Fleda tells me you are a changed man since that time?"

He answered only by a slight and grave bow. 

"Mr. Carleton, " said the old lady — "I am a dying woman — andthis child is the dearest thing in the world to me after myown — and hardly after him. Will you pardon me — will you bearwith me, if, that I may die in peace, I say, Sir, what else itwould not become me to say? — and it is for her sake. "

"Speak to me freely as you would to her, " he said, with a lookthat gave her full permission. 

Fleda had drawn close and hid her face in her aunt's neck. Aunt Miriam's hand moved fondly over her cheek and brow for aminute or two in silence; her eye resting there too. 

"Mr. Carleton, this child is to belong to you — how will youguide her?"

"By the gentlest paths, " he said, with a smile. 

A whispered remonstrance from Fleda to her aunt had no effect. 

"Will her best interests be safe in your hands?"

"How shall I resolve you of that, Mrs. Plumfield?" he said, gravely. 

"Will you help her to mind her mother's prayer, and keepherself unspotted from the world?"

"As I trust she will help me. "

A rogue may answer questions, but an eye that has never knownthe shadow of double-dealing makes no doubtful discoveries ofitself. Mrs. Plumfield read it, and gave it her very thoroughrespect. 

"Mr. Carleton — pardon me, Sir — I do not doubt you — but Iremember hearing long ago that you were rich and great in theworld — it is dangerous for a Christian to be so — can shekeep in your grandeur the simplicity of heart and life she hashad at Queechy?"

"May I remind you of your own words, my dear madam? By theblessing of God all things are possible. These things youspeak of are not in themselves evil; if the mind be set onsomewhat else, they are little beside a larger storehouse ofmaterial to work with — an increased stewardship to accountfor. "

"She has been taking care of others all her life, " said auntMiriam, tenderly; "it is time she was taken care of: and thesefeet are very unfit for rough paths; but I would rather sheshould go on struggling, as she has done, with difficulties, and live and die in poverty, than that the lustre of herheavenly inheritance should be tarnished even a little. Iwould, my darling. "

"But the alternative is not so, " said Mr. Carleton, withgentle grace, touching Fleda's hand, who he saw was a gooddeal disturbed. "Do not make her afraid of me, Mrs. Plumfield. "

"I do not believe I need, " said aunt Miriam, "and I am sure Icould not — but, Sir, you will forgive me?"

"No, Madam — that is not possible. "

"One cannot stand where I do, " said the old lady, "withoutlearning a little the comparative value of things; and I seekmy child's good — that is my excuse. I could not be satisfiedto take her testimony. "

"Take mine, Madam, " said Mr. Carleton. "I have learned thecomparative value of things too; and I will guard her highestinterests as carefully as I will every other — as earnestly asyou can desire. "

"I thank you, Sir, " said the old lady, gratefully. "I am sureof it. I shall leave her in good hands. I wanted thisassurance. And if ever there was a tender plant that was notfitted to grow on the rough side of the world — I think thisis one, " said she, kissing earnestly the face that yet Fledadid not dare to lift up. 

Mr. Carleton did not say what he thought. He presently tookkind leave of the old lady, and went into the next room, whereFleda soon rejoined him, and they set off homewards. 

Fleda was quietly crying all the way down the hill. At thefoot of the hill, Mr. Carleton resolutely slackened his pace. 

"I have one consolation, " he said, "my dear Elfie — you willhave the less to leave for me. "

She put her hand with a quick motion upon his, and rousedherself. 

"She is a beautiful rebuke to unbelief. But she is hardly tobe mourned for, Elfie. "

"Oh, I was not crying for aunt Miriam, " said Fleda. 

"For what then?" he said, gently. 

"Myself. "

"That needs explanation, " he said, in the same tone. "Let mehave it, Elfie. "

"Oh — I was thinking of several things, " said Fleda, notexactly wishing to give the explanation. 

"Too vague, " said Mr. Carleton, smiling. "Trust me with alittle more of your mind, Elfie. "

Fleda glanced up at him, half smiling, and yet with fillingeyes, and then, as usual, yielded to the winning power of thelook that met her. 

"I was thinking, " she said, keeping her head carefully down, "of some of the things you and aunt Miriam were saying justnow — and — how good for nothing I am. "

"In what respect?" said Mr. Carleton, with praiseworthygravity. 

Fleda hesitated, and he pressed the matter no further; but, more unwilling to displease him than herself, she presentlywent on, with some difficulty; wording what she had to saywith as much care as she could. 

"I was thinking, how gratitude — or not gratitude alone — buthow one can be full of the desire to please another — afellow-creature — and find it constantly easy to do or bearanything for that purpose; and how slowly and coldly duty hasto move alone in the direction where it should be the swiftestand warmest. "

She knew he would take her words as simply as she said them;she was not disappointed. He was silent a minute, and thensaid gravely, —

"Is this a late discovery, Elfie?"

"No — only I was realizing it strongly just now. "

"It is a complaint we may all make. The remedy is, not to loveless what we know, but to know better that of which we are inignorance. We will be helps, and not hindrances to each other, Elfie. "

"You have said that before, " said Fleda, still keeping herhead down. 

"What?"

"About my being a help to you!"

"It will not be the first time, " said he, smiling; "nor thesecond. Your little hand first held up a glass to gather thescattered rays of truth that could not warm me, into a centrewhere they must burn. "

"Very innocently, " said Fleda, with a little unsteady feelingof voice. 

"Very innocently!" said Mr. Carleton, smiling. "A veritablelens could hardly have been more unconscious of its work, ormore pure of design. "

"I do not think that was quite so, either, Mr. Carleton, " saidFleda. 

"It was so, my dear Elfie, and your present speech is nothingagainst it. This power of example is always unconsciouslywielded; the medium ceases to be clear so soon as it is madeanything but as medium. The bits of truth you aimed at mewittingly would have been nothing, if they had not comethrough that medium. "

"Then apparently one's prime efforts ought to be directed toone's self. "

"One's first efforts, certainly Your silent example was thefirst thing that moved me. "

"Silent example!" said Fleda, catching her breath a little. "Mine ought to be very good, for I can never do good in anyother way. "

"You used to talk pretty freely to me. "

"It wasn't my fault, I am certain, " said Fleda, half laughing. "Besides, I was sure of my ground. But, in general, I nevercan speak to people about what will do them any good. "

"Yet, whatever be the power of silent example, there are oftentimes when a word is of incalculable importance. "

"I know it, " said Fleda, earnestly; "I have felt it veryoften, and grieved that I could not say it, even at the verymoment when I knew it was wanting. "

"Is that right, Elfie?"

"No, " said Fleda, with quick watering eyes; "it is not rightat all; but it is constitutional with me. I never can talk toother people of what concerns my own thoughts and feelings. "

"But this concerns other people's thoughts and feelings. "

"Yes; but there is an implied revelation of my own. "

"Do you expect to include me in the denomination of 'otherpeople?' "

"I don't know, " said Fleda, laughing. 

"Do you wish it?"

Fleda looked down and up, and coloured, and said she didn'tknow. 

"I will teach you, " said he, smiling. 

The rest of the day, by both, was given to Hugh. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

"O what is life but a sum of love, And death but to lose it all?Weeds be for those that are left behind, And not for those that fall!"MILNES. 

"Here's something come, Fleda, " said Barby, walking into thesick-room one morning, a few days afterwards; "a great bag ofsomething — more than you can eat up in a fortnight; it's forHugh. "

"It's extraordinary that anybody should send me a great bag ofanything eatable, " said Hugh. 

"Where did it come from?" said Fleda. 

"Philetus fetched it — he found it down to Mr. Sampion's, whenhe went with the sheep-skins. "

"How do you know it's for me?" said Hugh. 

" 'Cause it's written on, as plain as a pikestaff. I guessit's a mistake, though. "

"Why?" said Fleda; "and what is it?"

"Oh, I don't much think 'twas meant for him, " said Barby. "It's oysters. "

"Oysters!"

"Yes — come out and look at 'em — you never see such finefellows. I've heerd say, " said Barby, abstractedly, as Fledafollowed her out, and she displayed to view some magnificentOstraceans — "I've heerd say that an English shilling wasworth two American ones; but I never understood it rightly, till now. "

To all intents and purposes those were English oysters, andworth twice as much as any others, Fleda secretly confessed. 

That evening, up in the sick room — it was quite evening, andall the others of the family were taking rest, or keeping Mr. Rossitur company down stairs — Fleda was carefully roastingsome of the same oysters for Hugh's supper. She had spread outa glowing bed of coals on the hearth, and there lay four orfive of the big bivalves, snapping and sputtering inapprobation of their quarters, in a most comfortable manner;and Fleda, standing before the fire, tended them with a doublekind of pleasure. From one friend, and for another, those weremost odorous oysters. Hugh sat watching them and her, the samein happy simplicity that he had been at eleven years old. 

"How pleasant those oysters smell!" said he. "Fleda, theyremind me so of the time when you and I used to roast oystersin Mrs. Renney's room for lunch — do you recollect? — andsometimes in the evening, when everybody was gone out, youknow; and what an airing we used to have to give the dining-room afterwards. How we used to enjoy them, Fleda —you and I, all alone. "

"Yes, " said Fleda, in a tone of doubtful enjoyment. She wasshielding her face with a paper, and making self-sacrificingefforts to persuade a large oyster-shell to stand so on thecoals as to keep the juice. 

"Don't, " said Hugh; "I would rather the oysters should burnthan you. Mr. Carleton wouldn't thank me for letting you doso. "

"Never mind, " said Fleda, arranging the oysters to hersatisfaction; "he isn't here to see. Now, Hugh, my dear, theseare ready as soon as I am. "

"I am ready, " said Hugh. "How long it is since we had a roastoyster, Fleda!"

"They look good, don't they?"

A little stand was brought up between them, with the bread-and-butter and the cups; and Fleda opened oysters and preparedtea for Hugh, with her nicest, gentlest, busiest of handsmaking every bit to be twice as sweet, for her sympathizingeyes and loving smile and pleasant word commenting. She sharedthe meal with him, but her own part was as slender as his, andmuch less thought of. His enjoyment was what she enjoyed, though it was with a sad twinge of alloy, which changed herface whenever it was where he could not see it: when turnedupon him, it was only bright and affectionate, and sometimes alittle too tender; but Fleda was too good a nurse to let thatoften appear. 

"Mr. Carleton did not bargain for your opening his oysters, Fleda. How kind it was of him to send them!"

"Yes. "

"How long will he be gone, Fleda?"

"I don't know — he didn't say. I don't believe many days. "

Hugh was silent a little, while she was putting away the standand the oyster-shells. Then she came and sat down by him. 

"You have burnt yourself over those things, " said he, sorrowfully; "you shouldn't have done it. It is not right. "

"Dear Hugh, " said Fleda, lightly laying her head on hisshoulder. "I like to burn myself for you. "

"That's just the way you have been doing all your life. "

"Hush!" she said, softly. 

"It is true — for me and for everybody else. It is time youwere taken better care of, dear Fleda. "

"Don't, dear Hugh!"

"I am right, though, " said he. "You are pale and worn now withwaiting upon me, and thinking of me. It is time you were gone. But I think it is well I am going too, for what should I do inthe world without you, Fleda?"

Fleda was crying now, intensely, though quietly; but Hugh wenton with feeling, as calm as it was deep. 

"What should I have done all these years — or any of us? Howyou have tired yourself for everybody — in the garden and inthe kitchen, and with Earl Douglass — how we could let you, Idon't know, but I believe we could not help it. "

Fleda put her hand upon his mouth. But he took it away andwent on —

"How often I have seen you sleeping all the evening on thesofa with a pale face, tired out, dear Fleda, " said he, kissing her cheek; "I am glad there's to be an end put to it. And all the day you went about with such a bright face, thatit made mother and me happy to look at you; and I knew then, many a time, it was for our sakes —"

"Why do you cry so, Fleda? I like to think of it, and to talkof it, now that I know you won't do so any more. I know thewhole truth, and it went to the bottom of my heart; but Icould do nothing but love you — I did that! — Don't cry so, Fleda! — you ought not. You have been the sunshine of thehouse. My spirit never was so strong as yours; I should havebeen borne to the ground, I know, in all these years, if ithad not been for you; and mother — you have been her life. "

"You have been tired too, " Fleda whispered. 

"Yes, at the saw-mill. And then you would come up therethrough the sun to look at me, and your smile would make meforget everything sorrowful for the rest of the day — exceptthat I couldn't help you. "

"Oh, you did — you did — you helped me always, Hugh!"

"Not much. I couldn't help you when you were sewing for me andfather till your fingers and eyes were aching, and you neverwould own that you were anything but 'a little' tired — itmade my heart ache. Oh, I knew it all, dear Fleda. I am very, very glad that you will have somebody to take care of you now, that will not let you burn four fingers for him or anybodyelse. It makes me happy!"

"You make me very unhappy, dear Hugh. "

"I don't mean it, " said Hugh, tenderly. "But I don't believethere is anybody else in the world that I could be sosatisfied to leave you with. "

Fleda made no answer to that. She sat up and tried to recoverherself. 

"I hope he will come back in time, " said Hugh, settlinghimself back in the easy-chair with a weary look, and closinghis eyes. 

"In time for what!"

"To see me again. "

"My dear Hugh! — he will, to be sure, I hope. "

"He must make haste, " said Hugh. "But I want to see him againvery much, Fleda. "

"For anything in particular?"

"No — only because I love him. I want to see him once more. "

Hugh slumbered; and Fleda, by his side, wept tears of mixedfeeling till she was tired. 

Hugh was right. But nobody else knew it, and his brother wasnot sent for. 

It was about a week after this, when one night a horse andwaggon came up to the back of the house from the road, thegentleman who had been driving leading the horse. It was late, long past Mr. Skillcorn's usual hour of retiring, but someerrand of business had kept him abroad, and he stood therelooking on. The stars gave light enough. 

"Can you fasten my horse where he may stand a little while, Sir, without taking him out?"

"I guess I can, " replied Philetus, with reasonable confidence, "if there's a rope's end some place. "

And forthwith he went back into the house to seek it; thegentleman patiently holding his horse meanwhile till he cameout. 

"How is Mr. Hugh to-night?"

"Well — he aint just so smart, they say, " responded Philetus, insinuating the rope's end as awkwardly as possible among thehorse's head-gear. "I believe he's dying. "

Instead of going round now to the front of the house, Mr. Carleton knocked gently at the kitchen door, and asked thequestion anew of Barby. 

"He's — come in, Sir, if you please, " she said, opening widethe door for him to enter. "I'll tell 'em you're here. "

"Do not disturb any one for me, " said he. 

"I won't disturb 'em!" said Barby, in a tone a little, thoughunconsciously, significant. 

Mr. Carleton neglected the chair she had placed for him, andremained standing by the mantel-piece, thinking of the scenesof his early introduction to that kitchen. It wore the samelook it had done then; under Barby's rule it was precisely thesame thing it had been under Cynthia's. The passing yearsseemed a dream, and the passing generations of men a vanity, before the old house, more abiding than they. He stoodthinking of the people he had seen gathered by that fire-place, and the little household fairy whose childishministrations had give such a beauty to the scene — when avery light step crossed the painted floor, and she was thereagain before him. She did not speak a word; she stood still amoment trying for words, and then put her hand upon Mr. Carleton's arm, and gently drew him out of the room with her. 

The family were all gathered in the room to which she broughthim. Mr. Rossitur, as soon as he saw Mr. Carleton come in, shrunk back where he could be a little shielded by the bed-post. Marion's face was hid on the foot of the bed. Mrs. Rossitur did not move. Leaving Mr. Carleton on the near sideof the bed, Fleda went round to the place she seemed to haveoccupied before at Hugh's right hand; and they were all still, for he was in a little doze, lying with his eyes closed, andthe face as gently and placidly sweet as it had been in hisboyhood. Perhaps Mr. Rossitur looked at it: but no other didjust then, except Mr. Carleton. His eye rested nowhere else. The breathing of an infant could not be more gentle; the faceof an angel not more peacefully at rest. "So He giveth Hisbeloved sleep, " thought he gentleman, as he gazed on the browfrom which all care, if care there had ever been, seemed tohave taken flight. 

Not yet — not quite yet; for Hugh suddenly opened his eyes, and without seeing anybody else, said —

"Father. "

Mr. Rossitur left the bed-post, and came close to where Fledawas standing, and leaning forward, touched his son's head, butdid not speak. 

"Father, " said Hugh, in a voice so gentle that it seemed as ifstrength must be failing, "what will you do when you come tolie here?"

Mr. Rossitur put his hands to his face. 

"Father — I must speak now if I never did before — once I mustspeak to you — what will you do when you come to lie where Ido? — what will you trust to?"

The person addressed was as motionless as a statue. Hugh didnot move his eyes from him. 

"Father, I will be a living warning and example to you, forknow that I shall live in your memory — you shall rememberwhat I say to you — that Jesus Christ is a dear friend tothose that trust in him, and if he is not yours it will bebecause you will not let him. You shall remember my testimony, that he can make death sweeter than life — in his presence isfulness of joy — at his right hand there are pleasures forevermore. He is better, he is more to me, even than you all, and he will be to you a better friend than the poor child youare losing, though you do not know it now. It is he that hasmade my life in this world happy — only he — and I havenothing to look to but him in the world I am going to. Butwhat will you do in the hour of death, as I am, if he isn'tyour friend, father?"

Mr. Rossitur's frame swayed like a tree that one sees shakenby a distant wind, but he said nothing. 

"Will you remember me happily, father, if you come to diewithout having done as I begged you? Will you think of me inheaven, and not try to come there too? Father, will you be aChristian? — will you not? — for my sake — for _little Hugh's_sake, as you used to call him? — Father. "

Mr. Rossitur knelt down and hid his face in the coverings, buthe did not utter a word. 

Hugh's eye dwelt on him for a moment with unspeakableexpression, and his lip trembled. He said no more — he closedhis eyes, and, for a little time, there was nothing to beheard but the sobs, which could not be restrained, from allbut the two gentlemen. It probably oppressed Hugh, for, aftera while, he said, with a weary sigh, and without opening hiseyes —

"I wish somebody would sing. "

Nobody answered at first. 

"Sing what, dear Hugh?" said Fleda, putting aside her tears, and leaning her face towards him. 

"Something that speaks of my want, " said Hugh. 

"What do you want, dear Hugh?"

"Only Jesus Christ, " he said, with a half smile. 

But they were silent as death. Fleda's face was in her hands, and her utmost efforts after self-control wrought nothing buttears. The stillness had lasted a little while, when, verysoftly and sweetly, the notes of a hymn floated to their ears, and though they floated on and filled the room, the voice wasso nicely modulated, that its waves of sweetness broke gentlyupon the nearest ear. 

"Jesus, the sinner's friend, to Thee, Lost and undone, for aid I flee;Weary of earth, myself, and sin, Open thine arms and take me in. 

"Pity and save my sin-sick soul —'Tis thou alone canst make me whole;Dark, till in me thine image shine, And lost I am, till thou art mine. 

"At length I own it cannot be, That I should fit myself for thee, Here now to thee I all resign —Thine is the work, and only thine. 

"What shall I say thy grace to move?Lord, I am sin, but thou art love!I give up every plea beside —Lord, I am lost — but thou hast died!"

They were still again after the voice had ceased — almostperfectly still — though tears might be pouring, as indeedthey were, from every eye, there was no break to the silence, other than a half-caught sob, now and then, from a kneelingfigure, whose head was in Marion's lap. 

"Who was that?" said Hugh, when the singer had been silent aminute. 

Nobody answered immediately, and then Mr. Carleton, bendingover him, said —

"Don't you know me, dear Hugh?"

"Is it Mr. Carleton?"

Hugh looked pleased, and clasped both of his hands upon Guy's, which he laid upon his breast. For a second he closed his eyesand was silent. 

"Was it you sang?"

"Yes. "

"You never sang for me before, " he remarked. 

He was silent again. 

"Are you going to take Fleda away?"

"By and by, " said Mr. Carleton, gently. 

"Will you take good care of her?"

Mr. Carleton hesitated, and then said, so low that it couldreach but one other person's ear —

"What hand and life can. "

"I know it, " said Hugh. "I am very glad you will have her. Youwill not let her tire herself any more. "

Whatever became of Fleda's tears, she had driven them away, and leaning forward, she touched her cheek to his, saying, with a clearness and sweetness of voice that only intensity offeeling could have given her at the moment —

"I am not tired, dear Hugh. "

Hugh clasped one arm round her neck and kissed her — again andagain, seeming unable to say anything to her in any other way;still keeping his hold of Mr. Carleton's hand. 

"I give all my part of her to you, " he said, at length. "Mr. Carleton, I shall see both of you in heaven?"

"I hope so, " was the answer, in those very calm and cleartones that have a singular effect in quieting emotion, whilethey indicate anything but the want of it. 

"I am the best off of you all, " Hugh said. 

He lay still for awhile with shut eyes. Fleda had withdrawnherself from his arms and stood at his side, with a bowedhead, but perfectly quiet. He still held Mr. Carleton's hand, as something he did not want to part with. 

"Fleda, " said he, "who is that crying? — Mother — come here. "

Mr. Carleton gave place to her. Hugh pulled her down to himtill her face lay upon his, and folded both his arms aroundher. 

"Mother, " he said, softly, "will you meet me in heaven? — sayyes. "

"How can I, dear Hugh?"

"You can, dear mother, " said he, kissing her with exceedingtenderness of expression — "my Saviour will be yours and takeyou there. Say you will give yourself to Christ — dear mother!— sweet mother! — promise me I shall see you again!"

Mrs. Rossitur's weeping it was difficult to hear. But Hugh, hardly shedding a tear, still kissed her, repeating, "Promiseme, dear mother — promise me that you will;" — till Mrs. Rossitur, in an agony, sobbed out the word he wanted, and Hughhid his face then in her neck. 

Mr. Carleton left the room and went down stairs. He found thesitting-room desolate, untenanted and cold for hours; and hewent again into the kitchen. Barby was there for some time, and then she left him alone. 

He had passed a long while in thinking, and walking up anddown, and he was standing musing by the fire, when Fleda againcame in. She came in silently to his side, and putting her armwithin his, laid her face upon it with a simplicity of trustand reliance that went to his heart; and she wept there for along hour They hardly changed their position in all that time;and her tears flowed silently, though incessantly, the onlytokens of his part being such a gentle caressing, smoothing ofher hair, or putting it from her brow as he had used when shewas a child. The bearing of her hand and head upon his arm, intime showed her increasingly weary. Nothing showed him so. 

"Elfie — my dear Elfie, " he said at last, very tenderly, inthe same way that he would have spoken nine years before —"Hugh gave his part of you to me — I must take care of it. "

Fleda tried to rouse herself immediately. 

"This is poor entertainment for you, Mr. Carleton, " she said, raising her head, and wiping away the tears from her face. 

"You are mistaken, " he said, gently. "You never gave me suchpleasure but twice before, Elfie?"

Fleda's head went down again instantly, and this time therewas something almost caressing in the motion. 

"Next to the happiness of having friends on earth, " he saidsoothingly, "is the happiness of having friends in heaven. Don't weep any more to-night, my dear Elfie. "

"He told me to thank you, " said Fleda. But stopping short andclasping with convulsive energy the arm she held, she shedmore violent tears than she had done that night before. Themost gentle soothing, the most tender reproof, availed at lastto quiet her; and she stood clinging to his arm still, andlooking down into the fire. 

"I did not think it would be so soon, " she said. 

"It was not soon to him, Elfie. "

"He told me to thank you for singing. How little while itseems since we were children together — how little while sincebefore that — when I was a little child here — how different!"

"No, the very same, " said he, touching his lips to herforehead — "you are the very same child you were then; but itis time you were my child, for I see you would make yourselfill. No, " said he, softly, taking the hand Fleda raised to herface — "no more to-night — tell me how early I may see you inthe morning — for, Elfie, I must leave you after breakfast. "

Fleda looked up inquiringly. 

"My mother has brought news that determines me to return toEngland immediately. "

"To England!"

"I have been too long from home — I am wanted there. "

Fleda looked down again, and did her best not to show what shefelt. 

"I do not know how to leave you — and now — but I must. Thereare disturbances among the people, and my own are infected. I_must_ be there without delay. "

"Political disturbances?" said Fleda. 

"Somewhat of that nature — but partly local. How early may Icome to you?"

"But you are not going away to-night? It is very late. "

"That is nothing — my horse is here. "

Fleda would have begged in vain, if Barby had not come in andadded her word, to the effect that it would be a mess of workto look for lodgings at that time of night, and that she hadmade the west room ready for Mr. Carleton. She rejected withgreat sincerity any claim to the thanks with which Fleda aswell as Mr. Carleton repaid her; "there wa'n't no troubleabout it, " she said. Mr. Carleton, however, found his roomprepared for him with all the care that Barby's utmost ideasof refinement and exactness could suggest. 

It was still very early the next morning when he left it andcame into the sitting-room, but he was not the first there. The firelight glimmered on the silver and china of thebreakfast table, all set; everything was in absolute order, from the fire to the two cups and saucers which were alone onthe board. A still silent figure was standing by one of thewindows looking out. Not crying; but that Mr. Carleton knewfrom the unmistakeable lines of the face was only becausetears were waiting another time; quiet now, it would not be byand by. He came and stood at the window with her. 

"Do you know, " he said, after a little, "that Mr. Rossiturpurposes to leave Queechy?"

"Does he?" said Fleda, rather starting, but she added notanother word, simply because she felt she could not safely. 

"He has accepted, I believe, a consulship at Jamaica. "

"Jamaica!" said Fleda. "I have heard him speak of the WestIndies — I am not surprised — I knew it was likely he wouldnot stay here. "

How tightly her fingers that were free grasped the edge of thewindow-frame. Mr. Carleton saw it and softly removed them intohis own keeping. 

"He may go before I can be here again. But I shall leave mymother to take care of you, Elfie. "

"Thank you, " said Fleda, faintly. "You are very kind —"

"Kind to myself, " he said, smiling. "I am only taking care ofmy own. I need not say that you will see me again as early asmy duty can make it possible; — but I may be detained, andyour friends may be gone — Elfie — give me the right to sendif I cannot come for you. Let me leave my wife in my mother'scare. "

Fleda looked down, and coloured, and hesitated; but theexpression in her face was not that of doubt. 

"Am I asking too much?" he said, gently. 

"No, Sir, " said Fleda — "and — but —"

"What is in the way?"

But it seemed impossible for Fleda to tell him. 

"May I not know?" he said, gently putting away the hair fromFleda's face, which looked distressed. "Is it only yourfeeling?"

"No, Sir, " said Fleda — "at least — not the feeling you thinkit is — but — I could not do it without giving great pain. "

Mr. Carleton was silent. 

"Not to anybody you know, Mr. Carleton, " said Fleda, suddenlyfearing a wrong interpretation to her words — "I don't meanthat — I mean somebody else — the person — the only person youcould apply to" — she said, covering her face in utterconfusion. 

"Do I understand you?" said he, smiling. "Has this gentlemanany reason to dislike the sight of me?"

"No, Sir, " said Fleda — "but he thinks he has. "

"That only I meant, " said he. "You are quite right, my dearElfie — I, of all men, ought to understand that. "

The subject was dropped; and in a few minutes his gentle skillhad wellnigh made Fleda forget what they had been talkingabout. Himself and his wishes seemed to be put quite out ofhis own view, and out of hers as far as possible, except thatthe very fact made Fleda recognise, with unspeakable gratitudeand admiration, the kindness and grace that were alwaysexerted for her pleasure. If her goodwill could have been putinto the cups of coffee she poured out for him, he might havegone, in the strength of them, all the way to England. Therewas strength of another kind to be gained from her face ofquiet sorrow and quiet self-command, which were her verychildhood's own. 

"You will see me at the earliest possible moment, " he said, when at last taking leave. "I hope to be free in a short time:but it may not be. Elfie, if I should be detained longer thanI hope — if I should not be able to return in a reasonabletime — will you let my mother bring you out? — if I cannotcome to you, will you come to me?"

Fleda coloured a good deal, and said, scarce intelligibly, that she hoped he would be able to come. He did not press thematter. He parted from her, and was leaving the room. Fledasuddenly sprang after him, before he had reached the door, andlaid her hand on his arm. 

"I did not answer your question, Mr. Carleton, " she said, withcheeks that were dyed now — "I will do whatever you please —whatever you think best. "

His thanks were most gratefully, though silently, spoken, andhe went away. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

"Daughter, they seem to say, Peace to thy heart!We too, yes, daughter, Have been as thou art. Hope-lifted, doubt-depress'd, Seeing in part —Tried, troubled, tempted —Sustain'd — as thou art. "UNKNOWN. 

Mr. Rossitur was disposed for no further delay now in leavingQueechy. The office at Jamaica, which Mr. Carleton and Dr. Gregory had secured for him, was immediately accepted, andevery arrangement pressed to hasten his going. On everyaccount, he was impatient to be out of America, and especiallysince his son's death. Marion was of his mind. Mrs. Rossiturhad more of a home feeling, even for the place where home hadnot been to her as happy as it might. 

They were sad weeks of bustle and weariness that followedHugh's death — less sad, perhaps, for the weariness and thebustle. There was little time for musing — no time forlingering regrets. If thought and feeling played their Aeolianmeasures on Fleda's harpstrings, they were listened to only bysnatches, and she rarely sat down and cried to them. 

A very kind note had been received from Mrs. Carleton. 

April gave place to May. One afternoon, Fleda had taken anhour or two to go and look at some of the old places on thefarm that she loved, and that were not too far to reach. Alast look she guessed it might be, for it was weeks since shehad had a spare afternoon, and another she might not be ableto find. It was a doubtful pleasure she sought too, but shemust have it. 

She visited the long meadow and the height that stretchedalong it, and even went so far as the extremity of the valley, at the foot of the twenty-acre lot, and then stood still togather up the ends of memory. There she had gone chestnuttingwith Mr. Ringgan — thither she had guided Mr. Carleton and hercousin Rossitur that day when they were going after woodcock —there she had directed and overseen Earl Douglass's huge cropof corn. How many pieces of her life were connected with it!She stood for a little while looking at the old chestnuttrees, looking and thinking, and turned away soberly with therecollection, "The world passeth away, but the word of our Godshall stand for ever. " And though there was one thought thatwas a continual well of happiness in the depth of Fleda'sheart, her mind passed it now, and echoed with great joy thecountersign of Abraham's privilege, — "Thou art my portion, OLord!" — And in that assurance every past and every hoped-forgood was sweet with added sweetness. She walked home withoutthinking much of the long meadow. 

It was a chill spring afternoon, and Fleda was in her old trim— the black cloak, the white shawl over it, and the hood ofgrey silk. And in that trim she walked into the sitting-room. 

A lady was there, in a travelling dress, a stranger. Fleda'seye took in her outline and feature one moment with a kind ofbewilderment, the next with perfect intelligence. If the ladyhad been in any doubt, Fleda's cheeks alone would haveannounced her identity. But she came forward withouthesitation after the first moment, pulling off her hood, andstood before her visitor, blushing, in a way that perhaps Mrs. Carleton looked at as a novelty in her world. Fleda did notknow how she looked at it, but she had, nevertheless, aninstinctive feeling, even at the moment, that the ladywondered how her son should have fancied particularly anythingthat went about under such a hood. 

Whatever Mrs. Carleton thought, her son's fancies, she knew, were unmanageable; and she had far too much good breeding tolet her thoughts be known — unless to one of those curiousspirit thermometers that can tell a variation of temperaturethrough every sort of medium. There might have been theslightest want of forwardness to do it, but she embraced Fledawith great cordiality. 

"This is for the old time — not for the new, dear Fleda, " shesaid. "Do you remember me?"

"Perfectly! — very well, " said Fleda, giving Mrs. Carleton fora moment a glimpse of her eyes. — "I do not easily forget. "

"Your look promises me an advantage from that, which I do notdeserve, but which I may as well use as another. I want all Ican have, Fleda. "

There was a half look at the speaker that seemed to deny thetruth of that, but Fleda did not otherwise answer. She beggedher visitor to sit down, and throwing off the white shawl andblack cloak, took tongs in hand, and began to mend the fire. Mrs. Carleton sat considering a moment the figure of the fire-maker, not much regardful of the skill she was bringing tobear upon the sticks of wood. 

Fleda turned from the fire to remove her visitor's bonnet andwrappings, but the former was all Mrs. Carleton would giveher. She threw off shawl and tippet on the nearest chair. 

It was the same Mrs. Carleton of old — Fleda saw while thiswas doing — unaltered almost entirely. The fine figure andbearing were the same; time had made no difference; even theface had paid little tribute to the years that had passed byit; and the hair held its own without a change. Bodily andmentally she was the same. Apparently she was thinking thelike of Fleda. 

"I remember you very well, " she said, with kindly accent, whenFleda sat down by her. "I have never forgotten you. A dearlittle creature you were. I always knew that. "

Fleda hoped privately the lady would see no occasion to changeher mind; but for the present she was bankrupt in words. 

"I was in the same room this morning at Montepoole where weused to dine, and it brought back the whole thing to me — thetime when you were sick there with us. I could think ofnothing else. But I don't think I was your favourite, Fleda. "

Such a rush of blood again answered her as moved Mrs. Carleton, in common kindness, to speak of common things. Sheentered into a long story of her journey — of her passage fromEngland — of the steamer that brought her — of her stay in NewYork — all which Fleda heard very indifferently well. She wasmore distinctly conscious of the handsome travelling dress, which seemed all the while to look as its wearer had done, with some want of affinity upon the little grey hood which layon the chair in the corner. Still she listened and respondedas became her, though, for the most part, with eyes that didnot venture from home. The little hood itself could never havekept its place with less presumption, nor with less flutter ofself-distrust. 

Mrs. Carleton came at last to a general account of thecircumstances that had determined Guy to return home sosuddenly, where she was more interesting. She hoped he wouldnot be detained, but it was impossible to tell. It was just asit might happen. 

"Are you acquainted with the commission I have been chargedwith?" she said, when her narrations had at last lapsed intosilence, and Fleda's eyes had returned to the ground. 

"I suppose so, Ma'am, " said Fleda, with a little smile. 

"It is a very pleasant charge" said Mrs. Carleton, softlykissing her cheek. Something in the face itself must havecalled forth that kiss, for this time there were norequisitions of politeness. 

"Do you recognise my commission, Fleda?"

Fleda did not answer. Mrs. Carleton sat a few minutesthoughtfully drawing back the curls from her forehead, Mr. Carleton's very gesture, but not by any means with hisfingers; and musing, perhaps, on the possibility of a hood'shaving very little to do with what it covered. 

"Do you know, " she said, "I have felt as if I were nearer toGuy since I have seen you. "

The quick smile and colour that answered this, both verybright, wrought in Mrs. Carleton an instant recollection thather son was very apt to be right in his judgments, and thatprobably the present case might prove him so. The hand whichhad played with Fleda's hair was put round her waist, veryaffectionately, and Mrs. Carleton drew near her. 

"I am sure we shall love each other, Fleda, " she said. 

It was said like Fleda, not like Mrs. Carleton, and answeredas simply. Fleda had gained her place. Her head was in Mrs. Carleton's neck, and welcomed there. 

"At least I am sure I shall love you, " said the lady, kissingher; "and I don't despair on my own account for somebodyelse's sake. "

"No, " said Fleda, but she was not fluent to-day. She sat upand repeated, "I have not forgotten old times either, Mrs. Carleton. "

"I don't want to think of the old time — I want to think ofthe new, " — she seemed to have a great fancy for stroking backthose curls of hair; "I want to tell you how happy I am, dearFleda. "

Fleda did not say whether she was happy or unhappy, and herlook might have been taken for dubious. She kept her eyes onthe ground, while Mrs. Carleton drew the hair off from herflushing cheeks, and considered the face laid bare to herview; and thought it was a fair face — a very presentable face— delicate and lovely — a face that she would have no reasonto be ashamed of, even by her son's side. Her speech was notprecisely to that effect. 

"You know now why I have come upon you at such a time. I neednot ask pardon. I felt that I should be hardly discharging mycommission if I did not see you till you arrived in New York. My wishes I could have made to wait, but not my trust. So Icame. "

"I am very glad you did. "

She could fain have persuaded the lady to disregardcircumstances, and stay with her, at least till the next day, but Mrs. Carleton was unpersuadable. She would returnimmediately to Montepoole. 

"And how long shall you be here now?" she said. 

"A few days — it will not be more than a week. "

"Do you know how soon Mr. Rossitur intends to sail forJamaica?"

"As soon as possible — he will make his stay in New York veryshort — not more than a fortnight, perhaps; — as short as hecan. "

"And then, my dear Fleda, I am to have the charge of you — fora little while — am I not?"

Fleda hesitated, and began to say, "Thank you, " but it wasfinished with a burst of very hearty tears. 

Mrs. Carleton knew immediately the tender spot she hadtouched. She put her arms about Fleda, and caressed her asgently as her own mother might have done. 

"Forgive me, dear Fleda! — I forgot that so much that is sadto you must come before what is so much pleasure to me. Lookup and tell me that you forgive me. "

Fleda soon looked up, but she looked very sorrowful, and saidnothing. Mrs. Carleton watched her face for a little while, really pained. 

"Have you heard from Guy since he went away?" she whispered. 

"No, Ma'am. "

"I have. "

And therewith she put into Fleda's hand a letter — not Mrs. Carleton's letter, as Fleda's first thought was. It had herown name and the seal was unbroken. But it moved Mrs. Carleton's wonder to see Fleda cry again, and longer thanbefore. She did not understand it. She tried soothing, but sheventured no attempt at consoling, for she did not know whatwas the matter. 

"You will let me go now, I know, " she said, smilingly, whenFleda was again recovered, and standing before the fire with aface not so sorrowful, Mrs. Carleton saw. "But I must saysomething — I shall not hurt you again. "

"O no, you did not hurt me at all — it was not what you said. "

"You will come to me, dear Fleda? I feel that I want you verymuch. "

"Thank you — but there is my uncle Orrin, Mrs. Carleton — Dr. Gregory. "

"Dr. Gregory? He is just on the eve of sailing for Europe; Ithought you knew it. "

"On the eve? so soon?"

"Very soon, he told me. Dear Fleda, shall I remind you of mycommission, and who gave it to me?"

Fleda hesitated still; at least, she stood looking into thefire, and did not answer. 

"You do not own his authority yet, " Mrs. Carleton went on;"but I am sure his wishes do not weigh for nothing with you, and I can plead them. "

Probably it was a source of some gratification to Mrs. Carleton to see those deep spots on Fleda's cheeks. They werea silent tribute to an invisible presence that flattered thelady's affection — or her pride. 

"What do you say, dear Fleda — to him and to me?" she said, smiling and kissing her. 

"I will come, Mrs. Carleton. "

The lady was quite satisfied, and departed on the instant, having got, she said, all she wanted; and Fleda — cried tillher eyes were sore. 

The days were few that remained to them in their old home; notmore than a week, as Fleda had said. It was the first week inMay. 

The evening before they were to leave Queechy, Fleda and Mrs. Rossitur went together to pay their farewell visit to Hugh'sgrave. It was some distance off. They walked there arm in armwithout a word by the way. 

The little country grave-yard lay alone on a hill-side, a goodway from any house, and out of sight even of any but a verydistant one. A sober and quiet place, no tokens of busy lifeimmediately near, the fields around it being used forpasturing sheep, except an instance or two of winter grain nownearing its maturity. A by-road not much travelled led to thegrave-yard, and led off from it over the broken country, following the ups and down of the ground to a long distanceaway, without a moving thing upon it in sight near or far. Nosound of stirring and active humanity. Nothing to touch theperfect repose. But every lesson of the place could be heardmore distinctly amid that silence of all other voices. Except, indeed, Nature's voice; that was not silent: and neither didit jar with the other. The very light of the evening fell moretenderly upon the old grey stones and the thick grass in thatplace. 

Fleda and Mrs. Rossitur went softly to one spot where thegrass was not grown, and where the bright white marble caughtthe eye and spoke of grief, fresh too. O that that were greyand moss-grown like the others! The mother placed herselfwhere the staring black letters of Hugh's name could notremind her so harshly that it no more belonged to the living;and, sitting down on the ground, hid her face, to strugglethrough the parting agony once more, with added bitterness. 

Fleda stood a while sharing it, for with her too it was thelast time in all likelihood. If she had been alone, her griefmight have witnessed itself bitterly and uncontrolled: but theselfish relief was foregone, for the sake of another, that itmight be in her power by and by to minister to a heart yetsorer and weaker than hers. The tears that fell so quietly andso fast upon the foot of Hugh's grave were all the deeperdrawn and richer fraught. 

A while she stood there; and then passed round to a group alittle way off, that had as dear and strong claims upon herlove and memory. These were not fresh, not very; oblivion hadnot come there yet — only Time's softening hand. Was itsoftening? — for Fleda's head was bent down further here, andtears rained faster. It was hard to leave these! The cherishednames that from early years had lived in her child's heart —from this their last earthly abiding-place she was to partcompany. Her mother's and her father's graves were there, sideby side; and never had Fleda's heart so clung to the old greystones, never had the faded lettering seemed so dear — of thedear names and of the words of faith and hope that were theirdying or living testimony. And next to them was hergrandfather's resting-place; and with that sunshiny greenmound came a throng of strangely tender and sweetassociations, more even than with the other two. His gentle, venerable, dignified figure rose before her, and her heartyearned towards it. In imagination Fleda pressed again to herbreast the withered hand that had led her childhood so kindly;and overcome here for a little, she kneeled down upon the sod, and bent her head till the long grass almost touched it, in anagony of human sorrow. Could she leave them? — and for ever inthis world? and be content to see on more these dear memorialstill others like them should be raised for herself, far away?But then stole in consolations not human, nor of man'sdevising — the words that were written upon her mother'stombstone —

"_Them that sleep in Jesus will God bring with him_. "

— It was like the march of angels' feet over the turf. And hermother had been a meek child of faith, and her father andgrandfather, though strong men, had bowed like little childrento the same rule. Fleda's head bent lower yet, and she wept, even aloud, but it was one-half in pure thankfulness and a joythat the world knows nothing of. Doubtless they and she wereone; doubtless, though the grass now covered their graves, theheavenly bond in which they were held would bring themtogether again in light, to a new and more beautiful life thatshould know no severing. Asleep in Jesus; and even as he hadrisen so should they — they and others that she loved — allwhom she loved best. She could leave their graves; and with anunspeakable look of thanks to Him who had brought life andimmortality to light, she did; but not till she had there onceagain remembered her mother's prayer, and her aunt Miriam'swords, and prayed that rather anything might happen to herthan that prosperity and the world's favour should draw herfrom the simplicity and humility of a life above the world. Rather than not meet them in joy at the last, oh, let her wantwhat she most wished for in this world!

If riches have their poisonous snares, Fleda carried away fromthis place a strong antidote. With a spirit strangely simple, pure, and calm, she went back to her aunt. 

Poor Mrs. Rossitur was not quieted, but at Fleda's touch andvoice, gentle and loving as the spirit of love and gentlenesscould make them, she tried to rouse herself; lifted up herweary head, and clasped her arms about her niece. The mannerof it went to Fleda's heart, for there was in it both alooking to her for support and a clinging to her as anotherdear thing she was about to lose. Fleda could not speak forthe heart-ache. 

"It is harder to leave this place than all the rest, " Mrs. Rossitur murmured, after some little time had passed on. 

"He is not here, " said Fleda's soothing voice. It set her auntto crying again. 

"No — I know it, " she said. 

"We shall see him again. Think of that. "

"_You_ will, " said Mrs. Rossitur, very sadly. 

"And so will you, dear aunt Lucy — _dear_ aunt Lucy — youpromised him?"

"Yes" — sobbed Mrs. Rossitur — "I promised him — but I am sucha poor creature. "

"So poor that Jesus cannot save you? — or will not? No, dearaunt Lucy — you do not think that; — only trust him — you dotrust him now, do you not?"

A fresh gush of tears came with the answer, but it was in theaffirmative; and, after a few minutes, Mrs. Rossitur grew morequiet. 

"I wish something were done to this, " she said, looking at thefresh earth beside her; "if we could have planted something —"

"I have thought of it a thousand times, " said Fleda, sighing;— "I would have done it long ago if I could have got here; —but it doesn't matter, aunt Lucy. — I wish I could have doneit. "

"You?" said Mrs. Rossitur; — "my poor child! you have beenwearing yourself out working for me. I never was worthanything!" she said, hiding her face again. 

"When you have been the dearest and best mother to me? Nowthat is not right, aunt Lucy — look up and kiss me. "

The pleading sweet tone of voice was not to be resisted. Mrs. Rossitur looked up and kissed her earnestly enough, but withunabated self-reproach. 

"I don't deserve to kiss you, for I have let you try yourselfbeyond your strength. How you look! Oh, how you look!"

"Never mind how I look, " said Fleda, bringing her face soclose that her aunt could not see it. "You helped me all youcould, aunt Lucy — don't talk so — and I shall look wellenough by and by, I am not so very tired. "

"You always were so!" exclaimed Mrs. Rossitur, clasping her inher arms again: "and now I am going to lose you, too. My dearFleda! that gives me more pleasure than anything else in theworld!"

But it was a pleasure well cried over. 

"We shall all meet again, I hope — I will hope, " said Mrs. Rossitur, meekly, when Fleda had risen from her arms. 

"Dear aunty! but before that — in England — you will come tosee me. Uncle Rolf will bring you. "

Even then, Fleda could not say even that without the bloodmounting to her face. Mrs. Rossitur shook her head, andsighed; but smiled a little, too, as if that delightful chinkof possibility let some light in. 

"I shouldn't like to see Mr. Carleton now, " she said, "for Icould not look him in the face; and I am afraid he wouldn'twant to look in mine, he would be so angry with me. "

The sun was sinking low on that fair May afternoon, and theyhad two miles to walk to get home. Slowly and lingeringly theymoved away. 

The talk with her aunt had shaken Fleda's calmness, and shecould have cried now with all her heart; but she constrainedherself. They stopped a moment at the fence, to look the lastbefore turning their backs upon the place. They lingered, andstill Mrs. Rossitur did not move, and Fleda could not takeaway her eyes. 

It was that prettiest time of nature, which, while it showsindeed the shade side of everything, makes it the occasion ofa fair contrast. The grave-stones cast long shadows over theground, foretokens of night where another night was restingalready; the longest stretched away from the head of Hugh'sgrave. But the rays of the setting sun, softly touching thegrass and the face of the white tombstone, seemed to say —"Thy brother shall rise again!" Light upon the grave! Thepromise kissing the record of death! — It was impossible tolook in calmness. Fleda bowed her head upon the paling, andcried with a straitened heart, for grief and gratitudetogether. 

Mrs. Rossitur had not moved when Fleda looked up again. Thesun was yet lower — the sunbeams, more slant, touched not onlythat bright white stone — they passed on beyond, and carriedthe promise to those other grey ones, a little further off;that she had left — yes, for the last time; and Fleda'sthoughts went forward swiftly to the time of the promise —"_Then_ shall be brought to pass the saying which is written, Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is thy sting?O grave, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin, andthe strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, whichgiveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ. " Andthen, as she looked, the sunbeams might have been a choir ofangels in light, singing, ever so softly, "Glory to God in thehighest, and on earth peace, good will towards men. "

With a full heart Fleda clasped her aunt's arm, and they wentgently down the lane without saying one word to each other, till they had left the grave-yard far behind them and were inthe high road again. 

Fleda internally thanked Mr. Carleton for what he had said toher on a former occasion, for the thought of his words hadgiven her courage, or strength, to go beyond her usual reservein speaking to her aunt; and she thought her words had donegood. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

"Use your pleasure: if your love do not persuade you to come, let not my letter. "MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

On the way home, Mrs. Rossitur and Fleda went a trifle out oftheir road to say good-bye to Mrs. Douglass's family. Fledahad seen her aunt Miriam in the morning, and bid her aconditional farewell; for, as after Mrs. Rossitur's sailingshe would be with Mrs. Carleton, she judged it little likelythat she should see Queechy again. 

They had time for but a minute at Mrs. Douglass's. Mrs. Rossitur had shaken hands, and was leaving the house when Mrs. Douglass pulled Fleda back. 

"Be you going to the West Indies, too, Fleda?"

"No, Mrs. Douglass. "

"Then why don't you stay here?"

"I want to be with my aunt while I can, " said Fleda. 

"And then do you calculate to stop in New York?"

"For a while, " said Fleda, colouring. 

"Oh, go 'long!" said Mrs. Douglass; "I know all about it. Now, do you s'pose you're agoing to be any happier among all thosegreat folks than you would be if you staid among littlefolks?" she added, tartly; while Catherine looked with a kindof incredulous admiration at the future lady of Carleton. 

"I don't suppose that greatness has anything to do withhappiness, Mrs. Douglass, " said Fleda, gently. 

So gently, and so calmly sweet the face was that said it, thatMrs. Douglass's mood was overcome. 

"Well, you aint agoing to forget Queechy?" she said, shakingFleda's hand with a hearty grasp. 

"Never — never!"

"I'll tell you what I think, " said Mrs. Douglass, the tears inher eyes answering those in Fleda's; "it 'll be a happy housethat gets you into it, wherever 't is! I only wish it wa'n'tout o' Queechy. "

Fleda thought on the whole, as she walked home, that she didnot wish any such thing. Queechy seemed dismantled, and shethought she would rather go to a new place now that she hadtaken such a leave of everything here. 

Two things remained, however, to be taken leave of — the houseand Barby. Happily Fleda had little time for the former. Itwas a busy evening, and the morning would be more busy; shecontrived that all the family should go to rest before her, meaning then to have one quiet look at the old rooms byherself — a leave-taking that no other eyes should interferewith. She sat down before the kitchen fire-place, but she hadhardly realized that she was alone when one of the many doorsopened, and Barby's tall figure walked in. 

"Here you be, " she half whispered. "I knowed there wouldn't bea minute's peace to-morrow; so I thought I'd bid you good-byeto-night. "

Fleda gave her a smile and a hand, but did not speak. Barbydrew up a chair beside her, and they sat silent for some time, while quiet tears from the eyes of each said a great manythings. 

"Well, I hope you'll be as happy as you deserve to be, " — wereBarby's first words, in a voice very altered from itsaccustomed firm and spirited accent. 

"Make some better wish for me than that, dear Barby. "

"I wouldn't want any better for myself, " said Barby, determinately. 

"I would for you, " said Fleda. 

She thought of Mr. Carleton's words again, and went on inspite of herself. 

"It is a mistake, Barby. The best of us do not deserveanything good; and if we have the sight of a friend's face, orthe very sweet air we breathe, it is because Christ has boughtit for us. Don't let us forget that, and forget him. "

"I do, always, " said Barby, crying, "forget everything. Fleda, I wish you'd pray for me when you are far away, for I aint asgood as you be. "

"Dear Barby, " said Fleda, touching her shoulderaffectionately, "I haven't waited to be far away to do that. "

Barby sobbed for a few minutes, with the strength of a strongnature that rarely gave way in that manner; and then dashedher tears right and left, not at all as if she were ashamed ofthem, but with a resolution not to be overcome. 

"There won't be nothing good left in Queechy, when you'regone, you and Mis' Plumfield — without I go and look at theplace where Hugh lies —"

"Dear Barby, " said Fleda, with softening eyes, "won't you besomething good yourself?"

Barby put up her hand to shield her face. Fleda was silent, for she saw that strong feeling was at work. 

"I wish't I could, " Barby broke forth at last, "if it was onlyfor your sake. "

"Dear Barby, " said Fleda, "you can do this for me — you can goto church, and hear what Mr. Olmney says. I should go awayhappier if I thought you would, and if I thought you wouldfollow what he says; for, dear Barby, there is a time comingwhen you will wish you were a Christian more then you do now, and not for my sake. "

"I believe there is, Fleda. "

"Then, will you? Won't you give me so much pleasure?"

"I'd do a'most anything to do you a pleasure. "

"Then do it, Barby. "

"Well, I'll go, " said Barby. "But now just think of that, Fleda — how you might have stayed in Queechy all your days, and done what you liked with everybody. I'm glad you aint, though; I guess you'll be better off. "

Fleda was silent upon that. 

"I'd like amazingly to see how you'll be fixed, " said Barby, after a trifle of ruminating. "If 't wa'n't for my old mother, I'd be 'most a mind to pull up sticks, and go after you. "

"I wish you could, Barby; only I am afraid you would not likeit so well there as here. "

"Maybe I wouldn't. I s'pect them English folks has ways oftheir own, from what I've heerd tell; they set up dreadful, don't they?"

"Not all of them, " said Fleda. 

"No, I don't believe but what I could get along with Mr. Carleton well enough; I never see any one that knowed how tobehave himself better. "

Fleda gave her a smiling acknowledgment of this compliment. 

"He's plenty of money, ha'n't he?"

"I believe so. "

"You'll be sot up like a princess, and never have nothing todo no more. "

"Oh, no!" said Fleda, laughing; "I expect to have a great dealto do; if I don't find it, I shall make it. "

"I guess it 'll be pleasant work, " said Barby. "Well, I don'tcare; you've done work enough since you've lived here thatwa'n't pleasant, to play for the rest of your days; and I'mglad on't. I guess he don't hurt himself. You wouldn't standit much longer to do as you have been doing lately. "

"That couldn't be helped, " said Fleda; "but that I may standit to-morrow, I am afraid we must go to bed, Barby. "

Barby bade her good-night, and left her; but Fleda's musingmood was gone. She had no longer the desire to call back thereminiscences of the old walls. All that page of her life, shefelt, was turned over; and, after a few minutes' quiet surveyof the familiar things, without the power of moralizing overthem as she could have done half an hour before, she leftthem, for the next day had no eyes but for business. 

It was a trying week or two before Mr. Rossitur and his familywere fairly on shipboard. Fleda, as usual, and more than usual— with the eagerness of affection that felt its opportunitiesnumbered, and would gladly have concentrated the services ofyears into days — wrought, watched, and toiled, at whatexpense to her own flesh and blood Mrs. Rossitur never knew, and the others were too busy to guess; but Mrs. Carleton sawthe signs of it, and was heartily rejoiced when they werefairly gone and Fleda was committed to her hands. 

For days, almost for weeks, after her aunt was gone, Fledacould do little but rest and sleep — so great was theweariness of mind and body, and the exhaustion of the animalspirits, which had been kept upon a strain to hide herfeelings and support those of others. To the very last momentaffection's sweet work had been done; the eye, the voice, thesmile, to say nothing of the hands, had been tasked and keptin play to put away recollections, to cheer hopes, to softenthe present, to lighten the future; and, hardest of all, to dothe whole by her own living example. As soon as the last lookand wave of the hand were exchanged, and there was no longeranybody to lean upon her for strength and support, Fledashowed how weak she was, and sank into a state of prostrationas gentle and deep almost as an infant's. 

As sweet and lovely as a child, too, Mrs. Carleton declaredher to be — sweet and lovely as she was when a child; andthere was no going beyond that. As neither this lady nor Fledahad changed essentially since the days of their formeracquaintanceship, it followed that there was still as littlein common between them, except, indeed, now the strong groundof affection. Whatever concerned her son concerned Mrs. Carleton in almost equal degree; anything that he valued shevalued; and to have a thorough appreciation of him was a suretitle to her esteem. The consequence of all this was, thatFleda was now the most precious thing in the world to herafter himself; especially since her eyes, sharpened as well asopened by affection, could find in her nothing that shethought unworthy of him. In her, personally; country andblood, Mrs. Carleton might have wished changed; but her desirethat her son should marry — the strongest wish she had knownfor years — had grown so despairing, that her only feeling nowon the subject was joy; she was not in the least inclined toquarrel with his choice. Fleda had from her the tenderest careas well as the utmost delicacy that affection and good-breeding could teach. And Fleda needed both, for she was slowin going back to her old health and strength; and, stripped ona sudden of all her old friends, on this turning-point of herlife, her spirits were in that quiet mood that would have feltany jarring most keenly. 

The weeks of her first languor and weariness were over, andshe was beginning again to feel and look like herself. Theweather was hot and the city disagreeable now, for it was theend of June; but they had pleasant rooms upon the Battery, andFleda's windows looked out upon the waving tops of green treesand the bright waters of the bay. She used to lie gazing outat the coming and going vessels with a curious fantasticinterest in them; they seemed oddly to belong to that piece ofher life, and to be weaving the threads of her future fate asthey flitted about in all directions before her. In a veryquiet, placid mood, not as if she wished to touch one of thethreads, she lay watching the bright sails that seemed tocarry the shuttle of life to and fro, letting Mrs. Carletonarrange and dispose of everything and of her as she pleased. 

She was on her couch as usual, looking out one fair morning, when Mrs. Carleton came in to kiss her and ask how she did. Fleda said, "Better. "

"Better! you always say 'better', " said Mrs. Carleton; "but Idon't see that you get better very fast. And sober — thischeek is too sober, " she added, passing her hand fondly overit; "I don't like to see it so. "

"That is just the way I have been feeling, Ma'am — unable torouse myself. I should be ashamed of it if I could help it. "

"Mrs. Evelyn has been here begging that we would join her in aparty to the Springs — Saratoga. How would you like that?"

"I should like anything that you would like, Ma'am, " saidFleda, with a thought how she would like to read Montepoolefor Saratoga. 

"The city is very hot and dusty just now. "

"Very, and I am sorry to keep you in it, Mrs. Carleton. "

"Keep me, love?" said Mrs. Carleton, bending down her face toher again; "it's a pleasure to be kept anywhere by you. "

Fleda shut her eyes, for she could hardly bear a little wordnow. 

"I don't like to keep _you_ here; it is not myself I am thinkingof. I fancy a change would do you good. "

"You are very kind, Ma'am. "

"Very interested kindness, " said Mrs. Carleton. "I want to seeyou looking a little better before Guy comes; I am afraid hewill look grave at both of us. " But as she paused and strokedFleda's cheek, it came into her mind to doubt the truth of thelast assertion, and she ended off with, "I wish he wouldcome!"

So Fleda wished truly; for now, cut off as she was from herold associations, she longed for the presence of the onefriend that was to take place of them all. 

"I hope we shall hear soon that there is some prospect of hisgetting free, " Mrs. Carleton went on. "He has been gone now —how many weeks? I am looking for a letter to-day. And there itis!"

The maid at this moment entered with the steamer despatches. Mrs. Carleton pounced upon the one she knew, and broke itopen. 

"Here it is! and there is yours, Fleda. "

With kind politeness, she went off to read her own, and leftFleda to study hers at her leisure. An hour after she came inagain. Fleda's face was turned from her. 

"Well, what does he say?" she asked in a lively tone. 

"I suppose, the same he has said to you, Ma'am, " said Fleda. 

"I don't suppose it, indeed, " said Mrs. Carleton, laughing. "He has given me sundry charges, which, if he has given you, it is morally certain we shall never come to anunderstanding. "

"I have received no charges, " said Fleda. 

"I am directed to be very careful to find out your exact wishin the matter, and to let you follow no other. So what is it, my sweet Fleda?"

"I promised, " said Fleda, colouring and turning her letterover. But there she stopped. 

"Whom, and what?" said Mrs. Carleton, after she had waited areasonable time. 

"Mr. Carleton. "

"What did you promise, my dear Fleda?"

"That I would do as he said. "

"But he wishes you to do as you please. "

Fleda brought her eyes quick out of Mrs. Carleton's view, andwas silent. 

"What do you say, dear Fleda?" said the lady, taking her handand bending over her. 

"I am sure we shall be expected, " said Fleda. "I will go. "

"You are a darling girl!" said Mrs. Carleton, kissing heragain and again. "I will love you for ever for that. And I amsure it will be the best thing for you — the sea will do yougood — and _ne vous en dιplaise_, our own home is pleasanterjust now than this dusty town. I will write by this steamerand tell Guy we will be there by the next. He will haveeverything in readiness, I know, at all events; and in half anhour after you get there, my dear Fleda, you will beestablished in all your rights — as well as if it had beendone six months before. Guy will know how to thank you. But, after all, Fleda, you might do him this grace — consideringhow long he has been waiting upon you. "

Something in Fleda's eyes induced Mrs. Carleton to say, laughing —

"What's the matter?"

"He never waited for me, " said Fleda, simply. 

"Didn't he? But, my dear Fleda!" said Mrs. Carleton, in amusedextremity — "how long is it since you knew what he came outhere for?"

"I don't know now, Ma'am, " said Fleda. But she becameangelically rosy the next minute. 

"He never told you?"

"No. "

"And you never asked him?"

"Why, no, Ma'am!"

"He will be well suited in a wife, " said Mrs. Carleton, laughing. "But he can have no objection to your knowing now, Isuppose. He never told me but at the latest. You must know, Fleda, that it has been my wish for a great many years thatGuy would marry — and I almost despaired, he was so difficultto please — his taste in everything is so fastidious; but I amglad of it now, " she added, kissing Fleda's cheek. "Lastspring — not this last, but a year ago — one evening at home Iwas talking to him on this subject; but he met everything Isaid lightly — you know his way — and I saw my words took nohold. I asked him at last in a kind of desperation, if hesupposed there was a woman in the world that could please him;and he laughed, and said, if there was, he was afraid she wasnot in that hemisphere. And a day or two after he told me hewas going to America. "

"Did he say for what?"

"No; but I guessed, as soon as I found he was prolonging hisstay, and I was sure when he wrote me to come out to him. ButI never knew till I landed, Fleda, my dear, any more thanthat. The first question I asked him was who he was going tointroduce to me. "

The interval was short to the next steamer, but also thepreparations were few. A day or two after the foregoingconversation, Constance Evelyn coming into Fleda's room, foundher busy with some light packing. 

"My dear little creature!" she exclaimed ecstatically, "areyou going with us?"

"No, " said Fleda. 

"Where are you going, then?"

"To England. "

"England? — Has — I mean, is there any addition to my list ofacquaintances in the city?"

"Not that I know of, " said Fleda, going on with her work. 

"And you are going to England! Greenhouses will be adesolation to me! —"

"I hope not, " said Fleda, smiling; "you will recover yourself, and your sense of sweetness, in time. "

"It will have nothing to act upon! And you are going toEngland! I think it is very mean of you not to ask me to gotoo, and be your bridesmaid. "

"I don't expect to have such a thing, " said Fleda. 

"Not? — Horrid! I wouldn't be married so, Fleda. You don'tknow the world, little Queechy; the art _de vous faire valoir_, I am afraid, is unknown to you. "

"So it may remain with my good will, " said Fleda. 

"Why?" said Constance. 

"I have never felt the want of it, " said Fleda, simply. 

"When are you going?" said Constance, after a minute's pause. 

"By the 'Europa. ' "

"But this is a very sudden move?"

"Yes; very sudden. "

"I should think you would want a little time to makepreparations. "

"That is all happily taken off my hands, " said Fleda. "Mrs. Carleton has written to her sister in England to take care ofit for me. "

"I didn't know that Mrs. Carleton had a sister. What's hername?"

"Lady Peterborough. "

Constance was silent again. 

"What are you going to do about mourning, Fleda? wear white, Isuppose. As nobody there knows anything about you, you won'tcare. "

"I do not care in the least, " said Fleda, calmly; "my feelingwould quite as soon choose white as black. Mourning so oftengoes alone, that I should think grief might be excused forshunning its company. "

"And as you have not put it on yet, " said Constance, "youwon't feel the change. And then, in reality, after all, he wasonly a cousin. "

Fleda's quiet mood, sober and tender as it was, could go to acertain length of endurance, but this asked too much. Droppingthe things from her hands, she turned from the trunk besidewhich she was kneeling, and hiding her face on a chair, weptsuch tears as cousins never shed for each other. Constance wasstartled and distressed; and Fleda's quick sympathy knew thatshe must be, before she could see it. 

"You needn't mind it at all, dear Constance, " she said, assoon as she could speak — "it's no matter — I am in such amood sometimes that I cannot bear anything. Don't think ofit, " she said, kissing her. 

Constance, however, could not for the remainder of her visitget back her wonted light mood, which indeed had beensingularly wanting to her during the whole interview. 

Mrs. Carleton counted the days to the steamer, and her spiritsrose with each one. Fleda's spirits were quiet to the lastdegree, and passive — too passive, Mrs. Carleton thought. Shedid not know the course of the years that had gone, and couldnot understand how strangely Fleda seemed to herself now tostand alone, broken off from her old friends and her formerlife, on a little piece of time that was like an isthmusjoining two continents. Fleda felt it all exceedingly; feltthat she was changing from one sphere of life to another;never forgot the graves she had left at Queechy, and as littlethe thoughts and prayers that had sprung up beside them. Shefelt, with all Mrs. Carleton's kindness, that she wascompletely alone, with no one on her side the ocean to lookto; and glad to be relieved from taking active part inanything, she made her little Bible her companion for thegreater part of the time. 

"Are you going to carry that sober face all the way toCarleton?" said Mrs. Carleton one day pleasantly. 

"I don't know, Ma'am. "

"What do you suppose Guy will think of it?"

But the thought of what he would think of it, and what hewould say to it, and how fast he would brighten it, made Fledaburst into tears. Mrs. Carleton resolved to talk to her nomore, but to get her home as fast as possible. 

"I have one consolation, " said Charlton Rossitur, as he shookhands with her on board the steamer; "I have receivedpermission, from head-quarters, to come and see you inEngland; and to that I shall look forward constantly from thistime. "

CHAPTER XXVII. 

"The full sum of meIs sum of something; which to term in gross, Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractis'd:Happy in this, she is not yet so oldBut she may learn; and happier than this, She is not bred so dull but she can learn;Happiest of all, is that her gentle spiritCommits itself to yours to be directed, As from her lord, her governor, her king. "MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

They had a very speedy passage to the other side, and partlyin consequence of that Mr. Carleton was _not_ found waiting forthem in Liverpool. Mrs. Carleton would not tarry there, buthastened down at once to the country, thinking to be at homebefore the news of their arrival. 

It was early morning of one fair day in July when they were atlast drawing near the end of their journey. They would havereached it the evening before but for a storm which hadconstrained them to stop and wait over the night at a smalltown about eight miles off. For fear, then, of passing Guy onthe road, his mother sent a servant before, and, making anextraordinary exertion, was actually herself in the carriageby seven o'clock. 

Nothing could be fairer than that early drive, if Fleda mighthave enjoyed it in peace. The sweet morning air was exceedingsweet, and the summer light fell upon a perfect luxuriance ofgreen things. Out of the carriage Fleda's spirits were athome, but not within it; and it was sadly irksome to beobliged to hear and respond to Mrs. Carleton's talk, which waskept up, she knew, in the charitable intent to divert her. Shewas just in a state to listen to nature's talk; to the othershe attended and replied with a patient longing to be leftfree that she might steady and quiet herself. Perhaps Mrs. Carleton's tact discovered this in the matter-of-course anduninterested manner of her rejoinders; for, as they enteredthe park-gates, she became silent, and the long drive fromthem to the house was made without a word on either side. 

For a length of way the road was through a forest of trees ofnoble growth, which in some places closed their arms overhead, and in all sentinelled the path in stately array. The eye hadno scope beyond the ranks of this magnificent body; Carletonpark was celebrated for its trees; but magnificent though theywere, and dearly as Fleda loved every form of forest beautyshe felt oppressed. The eye forbidden to range, so was themind, shut in to itself; and she only felt under the gloom andshadow of those great trees the shadow of the responsibilitiesand of the change that were coming upon her. But after a whilethe ranks began to be thinned and the ground to be broken; thelittle touches of beauty with which the sun had enlivened thewoodland began to grow broader and cheerfuller; and then asthe forest scattered away to the right and left, gay streamsof light came through the glades and touched the surface ofthe rolling ground, where, in the hollows, on the heights, onthe sloping sides of the dingles, knots of trees of yet moreluxuriant and picturesque growth, planted or left by thecultivator's hand long ago, and trained by no hand butnature's, stood so as to distract a painter's eye; and justnow, in the fresh gilding of the morning, and with all thewitchery of the long shadows upon the uneven ground, certainlycharmed Fleda's eye and mind both. Fancy was dancing again, albeit with one hand upon gravity's shoulder, and the dancingwas a little nervous too. But she looked and caught her breathas she looked, while the road led along the very edge of adingle, and then was lost in a kind of enchanted open woodland— it seemed so — and then passing through a thicket came outupon a broad sweep of green turf that wiled the eye by itssmooth facility to the distant screen of oaks and beeches andfirs on its far border. It was all new. Fleda's memory hadretained only an indistinct vision of beauty, like the face ofan angel in a cloud as painters have drawn it; now came outthe beautiful features one after another, as if she had neverseen them. 

So far nature had seemed to stand alone. But now another handappeared; not interfering with nature, but adding to her. Theroad came upon a belt of the shrubbery where the old tenantsof the soil were mingled with lighter and gayer companionship, and in some instances gave it place, though in general themingling was very graceful. There was never any crowding ofeffects; it seemed all nature still, only as if several climeshad joined together to grace one. Then that was past; and oversmooth undulating ground, bearing a lighter growth of foreignwood, with here and there a stately elm or ash that disdainedtheir rivalry, the carriage came under the brown walls andturrets of the house. Fleda's mood had changed again, and, asthe grave outlines rose above her, half remembered, and allthe more for that imposing, she trembled at the thought ofwhat she had come there to do and to be. She felt very nervousand strange and out of place, and longed for the familiar faceand voice that would bid her be at home. Mrs. Carleton, now, was not enough of a stand-by. With all that, Fleda descendedfrom the carriage with her usual quiet demureness; no one thatdid not know her well would have seen in her any other tokenof emotion than a somewhat undue and wavering colour. 

They were welcomed, at least one of them was, with everyappearance of sincerity by the most respectable-lookingpersonage who opened to them, and whom Fleda rememberedinstantly. The array of servants in the hall would almost havestartled her if she had not recollected the same thing on herfirst coming to Carleton. She stepped in with a curious senseof that first time, when she had come there a little child. 

"Where is your master?" was Mrs. Carleton's immediate demand. 

"Mr. Carleton set off this morning for Liverpool. "

Mrs. Carleton gave a quick glance at Fleda, who kept her eyesat home. 

"We did not meet him — we have not passed him — how long ago?"were her next rapid words. 

"My master left Carleton as early as five o'clock; he gaveorders to drive as fast as possible. "

"Then he had gone through Hollonby an hour before we left it, "said Mrs. Carleton, looking again to her companion; "but hewill hear of us at Carstairs — we stopped there yesterdayafternoon — he will be back again in a few hours, I am sure. Then we have been expected?"

"Yes Ma'am — my master gave orders that you should beexpected. "

"Is all well, Popham?"

"All is well, Madam. "

"Is Lady Peterborough here?"

"His Lordship and Lady Peterborough arrived the day beforeyesterday, " was the succinct reply. 

Drawing Fleda's arm within hers, and giving kind recognitionto the rest who stood around, Mrs. Carleton led her to thestairs and mounted them, repeating in a whisper, "He will behere presently again. " They went to Mrs. Carleton's dressing-room, Fleda wondering in an internal fever, whether "ordershad been given" to expect her also? — from the old butler'sbenign look at her, as he said, "All is well!" she could nothelp thinking it. If she maintained her outward quiet, it wasthe merest external crust of seeming; there was nothing likequiet beneath it; and Mrs. Carleton's kiss and fond words ofwelcome were hardly composing. 

Mrs. Carleton made her sit down, and with very gentle handswas busy arranging her hair, when the housekeeper came in topay her more particular respects, and to offer her services. Fleda hardly ventured a glance to see whether _she_ lookedbenign. She was a dignified elderly person, as stately andnear as handsome as Mrs. Carleton herself. 

"My dear Fleda, " said the latter, when she had finished thehair, "I am going to see my sister; will you let Mrs. Fothergill help you in anything you want, and take you then tothe library — you will find no one, and I will come to youthere. Mrs. Fothergill, I recommend you to the particular careof this lady. "

The recommendation was not needed, Fleda thought, or was veryeffectual; the housekeeper served her with most assiduouscare, and in absolute silence. Fleda hurried the finishing ofher toilet. 

"Are the people quiet in the country?" she forced herself tosay. 

"Perfectly quiet, Ma'am. It needed only that my master shouldbe at home to make them so. "

"How is that?"

"He has their love and their ear, Ma'am, and so it is that hecan just do his pleasure with them. "

"How is it in the neighbouring country?"

"They're quiet, Ma'am, I believe — mostly — there's been somelittle disturbance in one place and another, and more fear ofit, as well as I can make out, but it's well got over, as itappears. The noblemen and gentlemen in the country around werevery glad, all of them, I am told, of Mr. Carleton's return. Is there nothing more I can do for you, Ma'am?"

The last question was put with an indefinable touch ofkindliness which had not softened the respect of her firstwords. Fleda begged her to show the way to the library, whichMrs. Fothergill immediately did, remarking, as she ushered herin, that "those were Mr. Carleton's favourite rooms. "

Fleda did not need to be told that; she put the remark and thebenignity together, and drew a nervous inference. But Mrs. Fothergill was gone, and she was alone. Nobody was there, asMrs. Carleton had said. 

Fleda stood still in the middle of the floor, looking aroundher, in a bewildered effort to realize the past and thepresent; with all the mind in the world to cry, but there wastoo great a pressure of excitement, and too much strangenessof feeling at work. Nothing before her, in the dimly familiarplace, served at all to lessen this feeling, and, recoveringfrom her maze, she went to one of the glazed doors, whichstood open, and turned her back upon the room with itsoppressive recollections. Her eye lighted upon nothing thatwas not quiet now. A secluded piece of smooth green, partiallybordered with evergreens, and set with light shrubbery of rarekinds, exquisitely kept; over against her a sweetbriar thatseemed to have run wild, indicating, Fleda was sure, theentrance of the path to the rose garden, that her memory alonewould hardly have helped her to find. All this in the brightearly summer morning, and the sweet aromatic smell of firs andflowers coming with every breath. There were draughts ofrefreshment in the air. It composed her, and drinking it indelightedly, Fleda stood with folded arms in the doorway, halfforgetting herself and her position, and going in fancy fromthe firs and the roses, over a very wide field of meditationindeed. So lost that she started fearfully on suddenlybecoming aware that a figure had come just beside her. 

It was an elderly and most gentlemanly-looking man, as aglance made her know. Fleda was reassured and ashamed in abreath. The gentleman did not notice her confusion, however, otherwise than by a very pleasant and well-bred smile, andimmediately entered into some light remarks on the morning, the place, and the improvements Mr. Carleton had made in thelatter. Though he said the place was one of those which couldbear very well to want improvement; but Carleton was alwaysfinding something to do which excited his admiration. 

"Landscape gardening is one of the pleasantest of amusements, "said Fleda. 

"I have just knowledge enough in the matter to admire; tooriginate any ideas is beyond me; I have to depend for themupon my gardener and my wife, and so I lose a pleasure, Isuppose; but every man has his own particular hobby. Carleton, however, has more than his share — he has half a dozen, Ithink. "

"Half a dozen hobbies!" said Fleda. 

"Perhaps I should not call them hobbies, for he manages toride them all skilfully; and a hobby-horse, I believe, alwaysruns away with a man. "

Fleda could hardly return his smile. She thought people werepossessed with an unhappy choice of subjects in talking to herthat morning. But fancying that she had very ill kept up herpart in the conversation, and must have looked like asimpleton, she forced herself to break the silence whichfollowed the last remark, and asked the same question she hadasked Mrs. Fothergill — if the country was quiet?

"Outwardly quiet, " he said; "O yes — there is no moredifficulty — that is, none which cannot easily be handled. There was some danger a few months ago, but it is blown over;all was quiet on Carleton's estates so soon as he was at home, and that, of course, had great influence on the neighbourhood. No, there is nothing to be apprehended. He has the hearts ofhis people completely, and one who has their hearts can dowhat he pleases with their heads, you know. Well, he deservesit — he has done a great deal for them. "

Fleda was afraid to ask in what way; but perhaps he read thequestion in her eyes. 

"That's one of his hobbies — ameliorating the condition of thepoorer classes on his estates. He has given himself to it forsome years back; he has accomplished a great deal for them — avast deal indeed! He has changed the face of things, mentallyand morally, in several places, with his adult schools, andagricultural systems, and I know not what; but the mostpowerful means, I think, after all, has been the weight of hispersonal influence, by which he can introduce and carrythrough any measure; neither ignorance, nor prejudice, norobstinacy, seem to make head against him. It requires apeculiar combination of qualities, I think — very peculiar andrare — to deal successfully with the mind of the masses. "

"I should think so, indeed, " said Fleda. 

"He has it — I don't comprehend it — and I have not studiedhis machinery enough to understand that; but I have seen theeffects. Never should have thought he was the kind of maneither — but there it is — I don't comprehend him. There isonly one fault to be found with him, though. "

"What is that?" said Fleda, smiling. 

"He has built a fine Dissenting chapel down here towardsHollonby, " he said, gravely, looking her in the face — "and, what is yet worse, his uncle tells me, he goes there half thetime himself. "

Fleda could not help laughing, nor colouring, at his manner. 

"I thought it was always considered a meritorious action tobuild a church, " she said. 

"Indubitably. — But you see, this was a chapel. "

The laugh and the colour both grew more unequivocal — Fledacould not help it. 

"I beg your pardon, Sir — I have not learned such nicedistinctions. Perhaps a chapel was wanted just in that place. "

"That is presumable. But _he_ might be wanted somewhere else. However, " said the gentleman, with a good-humoured smile —"his uncle forgives him; and if his mother cannot influencehim, I am afraid nobody else will. There is no help for it. And I should be very sorry to stand ill with him. I have givenyou the dark side of his character. "

"What is the other side in the contrast?" said Fleda, wondering at herself for her daring. 

"It is not for me to say, " he answered, with a slight shrug ofthe shoulders and an amused glance at her; "I suppose itdepends upon people's vision — but if you will permit me, Iwill instance a bright spot that was shown to me the otherday, that I confess, when I look at it, dazzles my eyes alittle. "

Fleda only bowed; she dared not speak again. 

"There was a poor fellow — the son of one of Mr. Carleton'sold tenants down here at Enchapel — who was under sentence ofdeath, lying in prison at Carstairs. The father, I am told, isan excellent man, and a good tenant; the son had been amiserable scapegrace, and now for some crime — I forget what —had at last been brought to justice. The evidence against himwas perfect, and the offence was not trifling; there was notthe most remote chance of a pardon, but it seemed the poorwretch had been building up his dependence upon that hope, andwas resting on it; and, consequently, was altogetherindisposed and unfit to give his attention to the subjectsthat his situation rendered proper for him. 

"The gentleman who gave me this story was requested by abrother clergyman to go with him to visit the prisoner. Theyfound him quite stupid — unmovable by all that could be urged, or rather, perhaps, the style of the address, as it wasdescribed to me, was fitted to confound find bewilder the manrather than enlighten him. In the midst of all this, Mr. Carleton came in — he was just then on the wing for America, and he had heard of the poor creature's condition in a visitto his father. He came — my informant said — like a being of adifferent planet. He took the man's hand — he was chained footand wrist — 'My poor friend, ' he said, 'I have been thinkingof you here, shut out from the light of the sun, and I thoughtyou might like to see the face of a friend;' — with thatsingular charm of manner which he knows how to adapt toeverybody and every occasion. The man was melted at once — athis feet, as it were — he could do anything with him. Carletonbegan then, quietly, to set before him the links in the chainof evidence which had condemned him — one by one — in such away as to prove to him, by degrees, but irresistibly, that hehad no hope in this world. The man was perfectly subdued — satlistening and looking into those powerful eyes that perhapsyou know — taking in all his words, and completely in hishand. And then Carleton went on to bring before him theconsiderations that he thought should affect him in such acase, in a way that this gentleman said was indescribablyeffective and winning; till that hardened creature was brokendown — sobbing like a child — actually sobbing!"

Fleda did her best, but she was obliged to hide her face inher hands, let what would be thought of her. 

"It was the finest exhibition of eloquence, this gentlemansaid, he had ever listened to. For me it was an exhibition ofanother kind. I would have believed such an account of fewmen, but of all the men I know I would least have believed itof Guy Carleton a few years ago; even now I can hardly believeit. But it is a thing that would do honour to any man. "

Fleda felt that the tears were making their way between herfingers, but she could not help it; and she presently knewthat her companion had gone, and she was left alone again. Whowas this gentleman? and how much did he know about her? Morethan that she was a stranger, Fleda was sure; and dreading hisreturn, or that somebody else might come and find her with thetokens of tears upon her face, she stepped out upon thegreensward, and made for the flaunting sweet-briar that seemedto beckon her to visit its relations. 

The entrance of a green path was there, or a grassy glade, more or less wide, leading through a beautiful growth of firsand larches. No roses, nor any other ornamental shrubs — onlythe soft well-kept footway through the woodland. Fleda wentgently on and on, admiring where the trees sometimes sweptback, leaving an opening, and at other places stretched theirgraceful branches over her head. The perfect condition ofeverything to the eye — the rich coloured vegetation — ofvarying colour above and below — the absolute retirement, andthe strong pleasant smell of the evergreens, had a kind ofcharmed effect upon senses and mind too. It was a fairylandsort of place. The presence of its master seemed everywhere —it was like him, and Fleda pressed on to see yet liveliermarks of his character and fancy beyond. By degrees the woodbegan to thin on one side — then at once the glade opened intoa bright little lawn, rich with roses in full bloom. Fleda wasstopped short at the sudden vision of loveliness. There wasthe least possible appearance of design — no dry beds were tobe seen — the luxuriant clumps of Provence and white roses, with the varieties of the latter seemed to have chosen theirown places, only to have chosen them very happily. One hardlyimagined that they had submitted to dictation, if it were notthat Queen Flora never was known to make so effective adisposition of her forces without help. The screen of treeswas very thin on the border of this opening — so thin that thelight from beyond came through. On a slight rocky elevation, which formed the further side of it, sat an exquisite littleGothic chapel, about which, and the face of the rock below, some noisette and multiflora climbers were vying with eachother, and just at the entrance of the further path a whitedog-rose had thrown itself over the way, covering the lowerbranches of the trees with its blossoms. 

Fleda stood spell-bound a good while, with a breath oppressedwith pleasure. But what she had seen excited her to see more, and a dim recollection of the sea-view from somewhere in thewalk drew her on. Roses met her now frequently. Now and then aclimber, all alone, seemed to have sought protection in a treeby the path-side, and to have displayed itself thence in thevery wantonness of security, hanging out its flowery wreaths, fearless of hand or knife. Clusters of noisettes, or of Frenchor damask roses, where the ground was open enough, stoodwithout a rival, and needing no foil other than the beautifulsurrounding of dark evergreen foliage. But the distance wasnot long before she came out upon a wider opening, and foundwhat she was seeking — the sight of the sea. The glade herewas upon the brow of high ground, and the wood disappearingentirely for a space, left the eye free to go over the lowertree-tops, and the country beyond to the distant shore andsea-line. Roses were here too — the air was full of thesweetness of damask and Bourbon varieties — and a fewbeautiful banksias, happily placed, contrasted withoutinterfering with them. It was very still — it was very perfect— the distant country was fresh-coloured with the yet earlylight which streamed between the trees, and laid lines ofenchantment upon the green turf; and the air came up from thesea-board, and bore the breath of the roses to Fleda every nowand then with a gentle puff of sweetness. Such light — she hadseen none such light since she was a child. Was it the burstof mental sunshine that had made it so bright? — or was shegoing to be really a happy child again? No — no — not that, and yet something very like it — so like it, that she almoststartled at herself. She went no further. She could not haveborne, just then, to see any more; and feeling her heart toofull, she stood even there, with hands crossed upon her bosom, looking away from the roses to the distant sea-line. 

That said something very different. That was very sobering; ifshe had needed sobering, which she did not. But it helped herto arrange the scattered thoughts which had been pressingconfusedly upon her brain. "Look away from the roses, " indeed, she could not, for the same range of vision took in the seaand them — and the same range of thought. These might standfor an emblem of the present; that, of the future — grave, far-off, impenetrable; and passing, as it were, the roses oftime, Fleda fixed upon that image of eternity; and weighingthe one against the other, felt, never in her life morekeenly, how wild it would be to forget in smelling the rosesher preparations for that distant voyage that must be madefrom the shores where they grow. With one eye upon thisbrightest bit of earth before her, the other mentally was uponHugh's grave. The roses could not be sweeter to any one; but, in view of the launching away in to that distant sea-line, inview of the issues on the other shore, in view of the welcomethat might be had there — the roses might fade and wither, buther happiness could not go with their breath. They weresomething to be loved, to be used, to be thankful for — butnot to live upon; something too that whispered of an increasedburden of responsibility, and never more deeply than at thatmoment did Fleda remember her mother's prayer — never moresimply recognised that happiness could not be made of thesethings. She might be as happy at Queechy as here. It dependedon the sun-light of undying hopes, which indeed would givewonderful colour to the flowers that might be in her way; onthe possession of resources the spring of which would neverdry; on the peace which secures the continual feast of a merryheart, Fleda could take her new honours and advantages verymeekly, and very soberly, with all her appreciation of them. The same work of life was to be done here as at Queechy. Tofulfil the trust committed to her, larger here — to keep herhope for the future — undeceived by the sunshine of earth, toplant her roses where they would bloom everlastingly. 

The weight of these things bowed Fleda to the ground and madeher bury her face in her hands. But there was one item ofhappiness from which her thoughts never even in imaginationdissevered themselves, and round it they gathered now in theirweakness. A strong mind and heart to uphold hers — a stronghand for hers to rest in — that was a blessing; and Fledawould have cried heartily, but that her feelings were toohigh-wrought. They made her deaf to the light sound offootsteps coming over the grass, till two hands gently touchedhers and lifted her up, and then Fleda was at home. But, surprised and startled, she could hardly lift up her face. Mr. Carleton's greeting was as grave and gentle as if she had beena stray child. 

"Do not fancy I am going to thank you for the grace you haveshown me, " said he, lightly. "I know you would never have doneit if circumstances had not been hard pleaders in my cause. Iwill thank you presently when you have answered one or twoquestions for me. "

"Questions?" said Fleda, looking up. But she blushed the nextinstant at her own simplicity. 

He was leading her back on the path she had come. No further, however, than to the first opening where the climbing dog-rosehung over the way. There he turned aside, crossing the littleplot of greensward, and they ascended some steps cut in therock to the chapel Fleda had looked at from a distance. 

It stood high enough to command the same sea-view. On thatside it was entirely open, and of very light construction onthe others. 

Several people were there; Fleda could hardly tell how many;and when Lord Peterborough was presented to her, she did notfind out that he was her morning's acquaintance. Her eye onlytook in besides that there were one or two ladies, and aclergyman in the dress of the Church of England; she could notdistinguish. Yet she stood beside Mr. Carleton with all herusual quiet dignity, though her eye did not leave the ground, and her words were in no higher key than was necessary, andthough she could hardly bear the unchanged easy tone of his. The birds were in a perfect ecstasy all about them; the softbreeze came through the trees, gently waving the branches andstirring the spray wreaths of the roses, the very flutteringof summer's drapery; some roses looked in at the lattice, andthose which could not be there sent in their congratulationson the breath of the wind, while the words were spoken thatbound them together. 

Mr. Carleton then dismissing his guests to the house, wentwith Fleda again the other way. He had felt the extremetrembling of the hand which he took, and would not go in tillit was quieted. He led her back to the very rose-bush where hehad found her, and in his own way presently brought her spirithome from its trembling and made it rest; and then sufferedher to stand a few minutes quite silent, looking out againover the fair rich spread of country that lay between them andthe sea. 

"Now tell me, Elfie, " said he, softly, drawing back, with thesame old caressing and tranquillizing touch, the hair thathung over her brow, "what you were thinking about when I foundyou here — in the very luxury of seclusion — behind a rose-bush. "

Fleda looked a quick look, smiled, and hesitated, and thensaid it was rather a confusion of thoughts. 

"It will be a confusion no longer when you have disentangledthem for me. "

"I don't know" — said Fleda. And she was silent, but so washe, quietly waiting for her to go on. 

"Perhaps you will wonder at me, Mr. Carleton, " she said, hesitating and colouring. 

"Perhaps, " he said, smiling; — "but if I do, I will not keepyou in ignorance, Elfie. "

"I was almost bewildered, in the first place, with beauty —and then —"

"Do you like the rose garden?"

"Like it! — I cannot speak of it!"

"I don't want you to speak of it, " said he, smiling at her. "What followed upon liking it, Elfie?"

"I was thinking, " said Fleda, looking resolutely away fromhim, "in the midst of all this — that it is not these thingswhich make people happy. "

"There is no question of that, " he replied. "I have realizedit thoroughly for a few months past. "

"No, but seriously, I mean, " said Fleda, pleadingly. 

"And, seriously, you are quite right, dear Elfie. What then?"

"I was thinking, " said Fleda, speaking with some difficulty —"of Hugh's grave — and of the comparative value of things;and, afraid, I believe — especially — here —"

"Of making a wrong estimate?"

"Yes; and of not doing and being just what I ought. "

Mr. Carleton was silent for a minute, considering the browfrom which his fingers drew off the light screen. 

"Will you trust me to watch over and tell you?"

Fleda did not trust her voice to tell him, but her eyes didit. 

"As to the estimate — the remedy is to 'keep ourselves in thelove of God;' and then these things are the gifts of ourFather's hand, and will never be put in competition with him. And they are never so sweet as when taken so. "

"Oh, I know that!"

"This is a danger I share with you. We will watch over eachother. "

Fleda was silent with filling eyes. 

"We do not seek our happiness in these things, " he said, tenderly. "I never found it in them. For years, whateverothers may have judged, I have felt myself a poor man; becauseI had not in the world a friend in whom I could have entiresympathy. And if I am rich now, it is not in any treasure thatI look to enjoy in this world alone. "

"Oh, do not, Mr. Carleton!" exclaimed Fleda, bowing her headin distress, and giving his hand an earnest entreaty. 

"What shall I not do?" said he, half laughing and half gently, bringing her face near enough for his lips to try another kindof eloquence. "You shall not do this, Elfie, for any so lightoccasion. Was this the whole burden of those grave thoughts?"

"Not quite — entirely" — she said, stammering. "But gravethoughts are not always unhappy. "

"Not always. I want to know what gave yours a tinge of thatcolour this morning. "

"It was hardly that. You know what Foster says about 'power toits very last particle being duty. ' — I believe it frightenedme a little. "

"If you feel that as strongly as I do, Elfie, it will act as astrong corrective to the danger of false estimates. "

"I do feel it, " said Fleda. "One of my fears was that I shouldnot feel it enough. "

"One of my cares will be that you do not act upon it toofiercely, " said he, smiling. "The power being limited, so isthe duty. But you shall have power enough, Elfie, and workenough. I have precisely what I have needed — my good spriteback again. "

"With a slight difference. "

"What difference?"

"She is to act under direction now. "

"Not at all — only under safe control, " he said, laughing. 

"I am very glad of the difference, Mr. Carleton, " said Fleda, with a grave and grateful remembrance of it. 

"If you think the sprite's old office is gone, you aremistaken, " said he. "What were your other fears? — one wasthat you should not feel enough your responsibility, and theother that you might forget it. "

"I don't know that there were any other particular fears, "said Fleda; — "I had been thinking of all these things —"

"And what else?"

Her colour and her silence begged him not to ask. He said nomore, and let her stand still again, looking off through theroses, while her mind more quietly and lightly went over thesame train of thoughts that had moved it before; graduallycalmed; came back from being a stranger to being at home, atleast in one presence; and ended, her action even before herlook told him where, as her other hand unconsciously wasjoined to the one already on his arm. A mute expression offeeling, the full import of which he read, even before hereye, coming back from its musings, was raised to him, perhapsunconsciously, too, with all the mind in it; its timidity wasnot more apparent than its simplicity of clinging affectionand dependence. Mr. Carleton's answer was in three words, butin the tone and manner that accompanied them there was aresponse to every part of her appeal — so perfect that Fledawas confused at her own frankness. 

They began to move towards the house, but Fleda was in a mazeagain and could hardly realize anything. "His wife!" — was shethat? — had so marvellous a change really been wrought in her?— the little asparagus-cutter of Queechy transformed into themistress of all this domain, and of the stately mansion ofwhich they caught glimpses now and then, as they drew near itby another approach into which Mr. Carleton had diverged. Andhis wife! — that was the hardest to realise of all. 

She was as far from realising it when she got into the house. They entered now at once into the breakfast-room, where thesame party were gathered whom she had met once before thatmorning. Mr. Carleton the elder, and Lord Peterborough andLady Peterborough, she had met without seeing. But Fleda couldlook at them now; and if her colour came and went as franklyas when she was a child, she could speak to them and meettheir advances with the same free and sweet self-possession asthen — the rare dignity a little wood-flower, that is moved bya breath, but recovers as easily and instantly its quietstanding. There were one or two who looked a little curiouslyat first to see whether this new member of the family wereworthy of her place and would fill it to satisfy them. Not Mr. Carleton; he never sought to ascertain the value of anythingthat belonged to him by a popular vote; and his own judgmentalways stood carelessly alone. But Mrs. Carleton was less sureof her own ground, or of others. For five minutes she notedFleda's motions and words, her blushes and smiles, as shestood talking to one and another — for five minutes, and then, with a little smile at her sister, Mrs. Carleton moved off tothe breakfast-table, well pleased that Lady Peterborough wastoo engaged to answer her. Fleda had won them all. Mr. Carleton's intervening shield of grace and kindness was onlyneeded here against the too much attention or attraction thatmight distress her. He was again, now they were in presence ofothers, exactly what he had been to her when she was a child —the same cool and efficient friend and protector. Nobody inthe room showed less thought of her, _except_ in action; a greatmany little things done for her pleasure or comfort, soquietly that nobody knew it but one person, and she hardlynoticed it at the time. All could not have the same tact. 

There was an uninterrupted easy flow of talk at the table, which Fleda heard just enough to join in where it wasnecessary; the rest of the time she sat in a kind ofabstraction, dipping enormous strawberries one by one intowhite sugar, with a curious want of recognition between themand the ends of her fingers; it never occurred to her thatthey had picked baskets full. 

"I have done something for which you will hardly thank me, Mr. Carleton, " said Lord Peterborough. "I have driven this lady totears within the first hour of her being in the house. "

"If she will forgive you, I will, my lord, " Mr. Carletonanswered, carelessly. 

"I will confess myself, though, " continued his lordship, looking at the face that was so intent over the strawberries, "I was under the impression, when I first saw a figure in thewindow, that it was Lady Peterborough. I own, as soon as Ifound it was a stranger, I had my suspicions, which did notlack confirmation in the course of the interview. I trust I amforgiven the means I used. "

"It seems you had your curiosity, too, my lord, " said Mr. Carleton, the uncle. 

"Which ought, in all justice, to have lacked gratification, "said Lady Peterborough. "I hope Fleda will not be too ready toforgive you. "

"I expect forgiveness, nevertheless, " said he, looking atFleda. "Must I wait for it?"

"I am much obliged to you, Sir. "

And then she gave him a very frank smile and blush, as sheadded, "I beg pardon — you know my tongue is American. "

"I don't like that, " said his lordship, gravely. 

"Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh, " saidthe elder Carleton. "The heart being English, we may hope thetongue will become so too. "

"I will not assure you of that, Sir, " Fleda said, laughing, though her cheeks showed the conversation was not carried onwithout effort. Oddly enough, nobody saw it with anydissatisfaction. 

"Of what, Madam?" said Lord Peterborough. 

"That I will not always keep a rag of the stars and stripesflying somewhere. "

But that little speech had almost been too much for herequanimity. 

"Like Queen Elizabeth, who retained the crucifix when she gaveup the profession of Popery. "

"Very unlike indeed!" said Fleda, endeavouring to understandwhat Mr. Carleton was saying to her about wood strawberriesand _hautbois_. 

"Will you allow that, Carleton?"

"What, my lord?"

"A rival banner to float alongside of St. George's?"

"The flags are friendly, my lord. "

"Hum — just now — they may seem so. Has your little standard-bearer anything of a rebellious disposition. "

"Not against any lawful authority, I hope, " said Fleda. 

"Then there is hope for you, Mr. Carleton, that you will beable to prevent the introduction of mischievous doctrines. "

"For shame, Lord Peterborough!' said his wife — "whatatrocious suppositions you are making! I am blushing, I amsure, for your want of discernment. "

"Why — yes" — said his lordship, looking at another face whoseblushes were more unequivocal — "it may seem so — there is noappearance of anything untoward, but she is a woman after all. I will try her. Mrs. Carleton, don't you think with my LadyPeterborough that in the present nineteenth century womenought to stand more on that independent footing from whichlordly monopoly has excluded them?"

The first name Fleda thought belonged to another person, andher downcast eyelids prevented her seeing to whom it wasaddressed. It was no matter, for any answer was anticipated. 

"The boast of independence is not engrossed by the boldestfooting, my lord. "

"She has never considered the subject, " said LadyPeterborough. 

"It is no matter, " said his lordship. "I must respectfully began answer to my question. "

The silence made Fleda look up. 

"Don't you think that the rights of the weak ought to be on aperfect equality with those of the strong?"

"The rights of the weak _as such_ — yes, my lord. "

The gentlemen smiled; the ladies looked rather puzzled. 

"I have no more to say, Mr. Carleton, " said his lordship, "butthat we must make an Englishwoman of her!"

"I am afraid she will never be a perfect cure, " said Mr. Carleton, smiling. 

"I conceive it might require peculiar qualities in thephysician — but I do not despair. I was telling her of some ofyour doings this morning, and happy to see that they met withher entire disapproval. "

Mr. Carleton did not even glance towards Fleda, and made noanswer, but carelessly gave the conversation another turn; forwhich she thanked him unspeakably. 

There was no other interruption of any consequence to thewell-bred flow of talk and kindliness of manner on the part ofall the company, that put Fleda as much as possible at herease. Still she did not realise anything, and yet she didrealise it so strongly, that her woman's heart could not resttill it had eased itself in tears. The superbly appointedtable at which she sat — her own, though Mrs. Carleton thismorning presided — the like of which she had not seen sinceshe was at Carleton before; the beautiful room with itsarrangements, bringing back a troop of recollections of thatold time; all the magnificence about her, instead ofelevating, sobered her spirits to the last degree. It pressedhome upon her that feeling of responsibility, of the changethat come over her; and though beneath it all very happy, Fleda hardly knew it, she longed so to be alone, and to cry. One person's eyes, however little seemingly observant of her, read sufficiently well the unusual shaded air of her brow andher smile. But a sudden errand of business called him abroadimmediately after breakfast. 

The ladies seized the opportunity to carry Fleda up andintroduce her to her dressing-room, and take account of LadyPeterborough's commission, and ladies and ladies' maids soonformed a busy committee of dress and decorations. It did notenliven Fleda — it wearied her, though she forgave them theannoyance in gratitude for the pleasure they took in lookingat her. Even the delight her eye had from the first minute shesaw it, in the beautiful room, and her quick sense of thecarefulness with which it had been arranged for her, added tothe feeling with which she was oppressed; she was very passivein the hands of her friends. 

In the midst of all this the housekeeper was called in andformally presented, and received by Fleda with a mixture offrankness and bashfulness that caused Mrs. Fothergillafterwards to pronounce her "a lady of a very sweet dignityindeed. "

"She is just such a lady as you might know my master wouldhave fancied, " said Mr. Spenser. 

"And what kind of a lady is that?" said Mrs. Fothergill. 

But Mr. Spenser was too wise to enter into any particulars, and merely informed Mrs. Fothergill that she would know in afew days. 

"The first words Mrs. Carleton said when Mr. Carleton gothome, " said the old butler — "she put both her hands on hisarms and cried out, 'Guy, I am delighted with her!' "

"And what did _he_ say?" said Mrs. Fothergill. 

"He!" echoed Mr. Spenser, in a tone of indignant intelligence— "what should _he_ say! He didn't say anything; only askedwhere she was, I believe. "

In the midst of silks, muslins, and jewels, Mr. Carleton foundFleda still, on his return; looking pale, and even sad, thoughnobody but himself, through her gentle and grateful bearing, would have discerned it. He took her out of the hands of thecommittee, and carried her down to the little library, adjoining the great one, but never thrown open — his room, asit was called — where more particularly art and taste hadaccumulated their wealth of attractions. 

"I remember this very well, " said Fleda. "This beautifulroom!"

"It is as free to you as to me, Elfie; and I never gave thefreedom of it to any one else. "

"I will not abuse it, " said Fleda. 

"I hope not, my dear Elfie, " said he smiling, "for the roomwill want something to me now when you are not in it; and agift is abused that is not made free use of. "

A large and deep bay-window in the room looked upon the samegreen lawn and fir wood, with the windows of the library. Likethese, this casement stood open, and Mr. Carleton, leadingFleda there, remained quietly beside her for a moment, watching her face, which his last words had a little movedfrom its outward composure. Then, gently and gravely, as ifshe had been a child, putting his arm round her shoulders, anddrawing her to him, he whispered —

"My dear Elfie — you need not fear being misunderstood —"

Fleda started, and looked up to see what he meant. But hisface said it so plainly, in its perfect intelligence andsympathy with her, that her barrier of self-command andreserve was all broken down; and hiding her head in her handsupon his breast, she let the pent-up burden upon her heartcome forth in a flood of unrestrained tears. She could nothelp herself. And when she would fain have checked them afterthe first burst, and bidden them, according to her habit, towait another time, it was out of her power; for the samekindness and tenderness that had set them a-flowing, perhapswitting of her intent, effectually hindered its execution. Hedid not say a single word, but now and then a soft touch ofhis hand, or of his lips upon her brow, in its expressivetenderness, would unnerve all her resolution, and oblige herto have no reserve that time, at least in letting her secretthoughts and feelings be known, as far as tears could tellthem. She wept, at first in spite of herself, and afterwardsin the very luxury of indulged feeling; till she was as quietas a child, and the weight of oppression was all gone. Mr. Carleton did not move, nor speak, till she did. 

"I never knew before how good you were, Mr. Carleton, " saidFleda, raising her head, at length, as soon as she dared, butstill held fast by that kind arm. 

"What new light have you got on the subject?" said he, smiling. 

"Why, " said Fleda, trying as hard as ever did sunshine toscatter the remnants of a cloud — it was a bright cloud too, by this time — "I have always heard that men cannot endure thesight of a woman's tears. "

"You shall give me a reward, then, Elfie. "

"What reward?" said Elfie. 

"Promise me that you will shed them nowhere else. "

"Nowhere else?"

"But here — in my arms. "

"I don't feel like crying any more now, " said Fleda, evasively; "at least, " — for drops were falling rather fastagain — "not sorrowfully. "

"Promise me, Elfie, " said Mr. Carleton, after a pause. 

But Fleda hesitated still, and looked dubious. 

"Come!" he said, smiling — "you know you promised a littlewhile ago that you would have a particular regard to mywishes. "

Fleda's cheeks answered that appeal with sufficientbrightness, but she looked down, and said, demurely —

"I am sure one of your wishes is, that I should not sayanything rashly. "

"Well?"

"One cannot answer for such wilful things as tears. "

"And for such wilful things as men?" said he, smiling. 

But Fleda was silent. 

"Then I will alter the form of my demand. Promise me that noshadow of anything shall come over your spirit that you do notlet me either share or remove. "

There was no trifling in the tone, full of gentleness as itwas; there could be no evading its requisition. But thepromise demanded was a grave one. Fleda was half afraid tomake it. She looked up, in the very way he had seen her dowhen a child, to find a warrant for her words before sheuttered them. But the full, clear, steadfast eye into whichshe looked for two seconds, authorised as well as required thepromise; and hiding her face again on his breast, Fleda gaveit, amid a gush of tears, every one of which was illuminedwith heart-sunshine. 

THE END. 

PRINTING OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHER. 

Typographical errors :

Chapter 1 : =biding her tears= silently corrected as =hiding hertears=

Chapter 1 : =fox within. = silently corrected as =fox within. "=

Chapter 5 : =Conque de Venus= silently corrected as =Conque deVιnus=

Chapter 7 : =said Fleda; "to give= silently corrected as =saidFleda, "to give=

Chapter 7 : =drily; stroking= silently corrected as =drily, stroking=

Chapter 7 : =sure so do I, = silently corrected as =sure so do I, "=

Chapter 7 : =throwing stones. = silently corrected as =throwingstones. "=

Chapter 10 : =at Mrs. Evelyn's. '= silently corrected as =atMrs. Evelyn's. "=

Chapter 10 : =breakfast, to morrow= silently corrected as=breakfast, to-morrow=

Chapter 12 : =at the hills; They= silently corrected as =at thehills? They=

Chapter 12 : ="trembling even= silently corrected as =tremblingeven=

Chapter 12 : =following her= silently corrected as =followingher. =

Chapter 15 : =Fleda. Don't you= silently corrected as =Fleda. "Don't you=

Chapter 19 : =prescription. = silently corrected as=prescription. "=

Chapter 19 : =doubt about that= silently corrected as =doubtabout that, =

Chapter 19 : =anybody else. = silently corrected as =anybodyelse. "=

Chapter 20 : =How far are we!= silently corrected as =How far arewe?=

Chapter 23 : =latter and more= silently corrected as =later andmore=

Chapter 25 : =Daughhter, they seem= silently corrected as="Daughter, they seem=