[Illustration: She stopped a moment when she came upon the bridge. ]

Queechy. 

by

Elizabeth Wetherell. 

Illustrated

By Frederic Dielman. 

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

The Guardian

Contents. 

 I. Curtain Rises at Queechy II. Things Loom Out Dimly Through the Smoke III. You Amuse Me and I'll Amuse You IV. Aunt Miriam V. As to Whether a Flower Can Grow in the Woods VI. Queechy at Dinner VII. The Curtain Falls Upon the Scene VIII. The Fairy Leaves the House IX. How Mr. Carleton Happened To Be Not at Home X. The Fairy and the Englishman XI. A Little Candle XII. Spars Below XIII. The Fairy Peeps into an English House, but Does Not Stay There XIV. Two Bibles in Paris XV. Very Literary XVI. Dissolving View--Ending with a Saw-Mill in the Distance XVII. Rain and Water--Cresses for Breakfast XVIII. Mr. Rossitur's Wits Sharpened upon a Ploughshare XIX. Fleda Goes After Help and Finds Dr. Quackenboss XX. Society in Queechy XXI. "The Sweetness of a Man's Friend by a Hearty Counsel" XXII. Wherein a Great Many People Pay Their Respects in Form and Substance XXIII. The Captain Out-Generalled by the Fairy XXIV. A Breath of the World at Queechy XXV. "As Good a Boy as You Need to Have" XXVI. Pine Knots XXVII. Sweet--In Its Consequences XXVIII. The Brook's Old Song--And the New XXIX. Flighty and Unsatisfactory XXX. Disclosures--By Mr. Skillcorn XXXI. Mr. Olmney's Cause Argued XXXII. Sometimes Inconvenient "From the Loophole of Retreat to Peep at Such a World" XXXIII. Fleda's White Muslin XXXIV. How the Fairy Engaged the Two Englishmen XXXV. Fleda Forgets Herself XXXVI. The Roses and the Gentlemen XXXVII. "An Unseen Enemy Round the Corner"XXXVIII. The Fairy at Her Work Again XXXIX. A Night of Uncertain Length XL. A Thorn Enters XLI. Dealings with the Press XLII. Ends with Sweet Music XLIII. How Fleda Was Watched by Blue Eyes XLIV. What Pleasant People One Meets in Society XLV. How Much Trouble One May Have about a Note XLVI. Aromatic Vinegar XLVII. The Fur Cloak on a Journey XLVIII. Quarrenton to Queechy XLIX. Montepoole Becomes a Point of Interest L. The House on "The Hill" Once More LI. The First One That Left Queechy LII. The Last Sunset There LIII. Fleda Alone on an Isthmus LIV. The Moorish Temple before Breakfast

List of Illustrations. 

She stopped a moment when she came upon the bridge. (_Frontispiece_)She made a long job of her bunch of holly. "I wasn't thinking of myself in particular. ""Who's got it now, Cynthy?"Fleda coloured and looked at her grandfather. Fleda was sitting, her face bowed in her hands. She stood back and watched. Then he seated himself beside her. The children were always together. "He is not a pug. ""They will expect me at home. ""Well, sir, you know the road by Deacon Patterson's?""O uncle Rolf, don't have anything to do with him. ""Look at these roses, and don't ask me for papers!"She knelt down before him. "How lovely it is, Hugh!"Philetus was left to "shuck" and bring home a load of the fruit. "And there goes Mr. Carleton!" said Constance. Fleda saw with a start that it was Mr. Carleton. "I am sure Mr. Thorn will excuse me. ""My dear child, " he said, holding her face in both his hands. Mrs. Rossitur sat there alone. Barby's energies and fainting remedies were again put in use. Then he stood and watched her. "Well, take your place, " said Thorn. "I told him, 'O you were not gone yet!'""How are they all at home?""Is this the gentleman that's to be your husband?"Slowly and lingeringly they moved away. The roses could not be sweeter to any one. 

Queechy. 

Chapter I. 

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

 Byron. 

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

"Well, dear!"--responded a cheerful hearty voice, "they must wait a bit; Ihaven't got my hat yet. "

"O I'll get that. "

And the little speaker, a girl of some ten or eleven years old, dashedpast the old gentleman and running along the narrow passage which led tohis room soon returned with the hat in her hand. 

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

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

A needless caution. For the old mare, though spirited enough for heryears, had seen some fourteen or fifteen of them and was in no sort ofdanger of running away. She stood in what was called the back meadow, justwithout the little paling fence that enclosed a small courtyard round thehouse. Around this courtyard rich pasture-fields lay on every side, thehigh road cutting through them not more than a hundred or two feet fromthe house. 

The little girl planted herself on the outside of the paling and settingher back to it eyed the old mare with great contentment; for besides othergrounds for security as to her quiet behaviour, one of the men employedabout the farm, who had harnessed the equipage, was at the moment busiedin putting some clean straw in the bottom of the vehicle. 

"Watkins, " said the child presently to this person, "here is a strap thatis just ready to come unbuckled. "

"What do you know about straps and buckles?" said the man rather grumly. But he came round however to see what she meant, and while he drew the oneand fastened the other took special good care not to let Fleda know thather watchful eyes had probably saved the whole riding party from ruin; asthe loosing of the strap would of necessity have brought on a trial of theold mare's nerves which not all her philosophy could have been expected tomeet. Fleda was satisfied to see the buckle made fast, and that Watkins, roused by her hint or by the cause of it, afterwards took a somewhatcareful look over the whole establishment. In high glee then she climbedto her seat in the little wagon, and her grandfather coming out coated andhatted with some difficulty mounted to his place beside her. 

"I think Watkins might have taken the trouble to wash the wagon, without hurting himself, " said Fleda; "it is all specked with mud sincelast time. "

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

"Well. "--

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

"I did. "

"It's all over slosh. "

"That's Mr. Didenhover's work--he had it out day 'fore yesterday; and ifyou want it cleaned, Mr. Ringgan, you must speak to him about it. Mr. Didenhover may file his own doings; it's more than I'm a going to. "

The old gentleman made no answer, except to acquaint the mare with thefact of his being in readiness to set out. A shade of annoyance anddispleasure for a moment was upon his face; but the gate opening from themeadow upon the high road had hardly swung back upon its hinges afterletting them out when he recovered the calm sweetness of demeanour thatwas habitual with him, and seemed as well as his little granddaughter tohave given care the go-by for the time. Fleda had before this found outanother fault in the harness, or rather in Mr. Didenhover, which like awise little child she kept to herself. A broken place which hergrandfather had ordered to be properly mended was still tied up with thepiece of rope which had offended her eyes the last time they had drivenout. But she said not a word of it, because "it would only worry grandpafor nothing;" and forgetting it almost immediately she moved on with himin a state of joyous happiness that no mud-stained wagon nor untidyrope-bound harness could stir for an instant. Her spirit was like a clearstill-running stream which quietly and surely deposits every defiling andobscuring admixture it may receive from its contact with the grosserelements around; the stream might for a moment be clouded; but a littlewhile, and it would run as clear as ever. Neither Fleda nor hergrandfather cared a jot for the want of elegancies which one despised, andthe other if she had ever known had well nigh forgotten. What mattered itto her that the little old green wagon was rusty and worn, or that yearsand service had robbed the old mare of all the jauntiness she had everpossessed, so long as the sun shone and the birds sang? And Mr. Ringgan, in any imaginary comparison, might be pardoned for thinking that _he_ wasthe proud man, and that his poor little equipage carried such a treasureas many a coach and four went without. 

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

"Just there!"

"How pleasant it is to go there always, isn't it, grandpa? You have thepaper to get, and I--I don't very often get a letter, but I have alwaysthe _hope_ of getting one; and that's something. Maybe I'll have oneto-day, grandpa?"

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

"O _they_ don't write to me--it's only Aunt Lucy; I never had a letterfrom a single one of them, except once from little Hugh, --don't youremember, grandpa? I should think he must be a very nice little boy, shouldn't you?"

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

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

This reasoning being unanswerable Mr. Ringgan only bade the oldmare trot on. 

It was a pleasant day in autumn. Fleda thought it particularly pleasantfor riding, for the sun was veiled with thin hazy clouds. The air was mildand still, and the woods, like brave men, putting the best face uponfalling fortunes. Some trees were already dropping their leaves; thegreater part standing in all the varied splendour which the late frostshad given them. The road, an excellent one, sloped gently up and downacross a wide arable country, in a state of high cultivation and nowshewing all the rich variety of autumn. The redish buckwheat patches, andfine wood tints of the fields where other grain had been; the bright greenof young rye or winter wheat, then soberer coloured pasture or meadowlands, and ever and anon a tuft of gay woods crowning a rising ground, ora knot of the everlasting pines looking sedately and steadfastly upon thefleeting glories of the world around them, these were mingled andinterchanged and succeeded each other in ever-varying fresh combinations. With its high picturesque beauty the whole scene had a look of thrift andplenty and promise which made it eminently cheerful. So Mr. Ringgan andhis little granddaughter both felt it to be. For some distance the groundson either hand the road were part of the old gentleman's farm; and many aremark was exchanged between him and Fleda as to the excellence orhopefulness of this or that crop or piece of soil; Fleda entering into allhis enthusiasm, and reasoning of clover leys and cockle and the proper, harvesting of Indian corn and other like matters, with no lack of interestor intelligence. 

"O grandpa, " she exclaimed suddenly, "won't you stop a minute and let meget out. I want to get some of that beautiful bittersweet. "

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

"O yes I can--please, grandpa! I want some of it _very_ much--justone minute!"

He stopped, and Fleda got out and went to the roadside, where abittersweet vine had climbed into a young pine tree and hung it as it werewith red coral. But her one minute was at least four before she hadsucceeded in breaking off as much as she could carry of the splendidcreeper; for not until then could Fleda persuade herself to leave it. Shecame back and worked her way up into the wagon with one hand full as itcould hold of her brilliant trophies. 

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

"Why grandpa, I want it to put with cedar and pine in a jar at home--itwill keep for ever so long, and look beautiful. Isn't that handsome?--onlyit was a pity to break it. "

"Why yes, it's handsome enough, " said Mr. Ringgan, "but you've gotsomething just by the front door there at home that would do just aswell--what do you call it?--that naming thing there?"

"What, my burning bush? O grandpa! I wouldn't cut that for any thing inthe world! It's the only pretty thing about the house; and besides, " saidFleda, looking up with a softened mien, "you said that it was planted bymy mother. O grandpa! I wouldn't cut that for any thing. "

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

"It won't do that, " said Fleda. "But I am very glad I have got thisbittersweet--this is just what I wanted. Now if I can only findsome holly--"

"We'll come across some, I guess, by and by, " said Mr. Ringgan; and Fledasettled herself again to enjoy the trees, the fields, the roads, and allthe small handiwork of nature, for which her eyes had a curiousintelligence. But this was not fated to be a ride of unbroken pleasure. 

"Why what are those bars down for?" she said as they came up with a fieldof winter grain. "Somebody's been in here with a wagon. O grandpa! Mr. Didenhover has let the Shakers have my butternuts!--the butternuts thatyou told him they mustn't have. "

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

Their eyes were upon the far end of the deep lot, where at the edge of oneof the pieces of woodland spoken of, a picturesque group of men and boysin frocks and broad-brimmed white hats were busied in filling their wagonunder a clump of the now thin and yellow leaved butternut trees. 

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

"Would it be any use, grandpa, for me to jump down and run and tell themyou don't want them to take the butternuts?--I shall have so few. "

"No, dear, no, " said her grandfather, "they have got 'em about all by thistime; the mischief's done. Didenhover meant to let 'em have 'em unknown tome, and pocket the pay himself. Get up!"

Fleda drew a long breath, and gave a hard look at the distant wagon where_her_ butternuts were going in by handfuls. She said no more. 

It was but a few fields further on that the old gentleman came to a suddenstop again. 

"Ain't there some of my sheep over yonder there, Fleda, --along with SquireThornton's?"

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

"I thought so!" said Mr. Ringgan bitterly; "I told Didenhover, only threedays ago, that if he didn't make up that fence the sheep would be out, orSquire Thornton's would be in;--only three days ago!--Ah well!" said he, shaking the reins to make the mare move on again, --"it's all of apiece. --Every thing goes--I can't help it. "

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

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

And till they got to the post-office he seemed in a disagreeable kind ofmuse, which Fleda did not choose to break in upon. So the mile and a halfwas driven in sober silence. 

"Shall I get out and go in, grandpa?" said Fleda when he drew up beforethe house. 

"No, deary, " said he in his usual kind tone; "you sit still. Holloathere!--Good-day, Mr. Sampion--have you got any thing for me?" The mandisappeared and came out again. 

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

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

"Paris!" exclaimed Fleda, as she clasped the letter and both her handstogether. The butternuts and Mr Didenhover were forgotten at last. Theletter could not be read in the jolting of the wagon, but, as Fledasaid, it was all the pleasanter, for she had the expectation of it thewhole way home. 

"Where are we going now, grandpa?"

"To Queechy Run. "

"That will give us a nice long ride. I am very glad. This has been agood day. With my letter and my bittersweet I have got enough, haven'tI, grandpa?"

Queechy Run was a little village, a very little village, about half a milefrom Mr. Ringgan's house. It boasted however a decent brick church of somesize, a school-house, a lawyer's office, a grocery store, a dozen or twoof dwelling-houses, and a post-office; though for some reason or other Mr. Ringgan always chose to have his letters come through the Sattlersvillepost-office, a mile and a half further off. At the door of the lawyer'soffice Mr. Ringgan again stopped, and again shouted "Holloa!"--

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

"He is, sir. "

"Will you ask him to be so good as to step here a moment? I cannot verywell get out. "

Mr. Jolly was a comfortable-looking little man, smooth and sleek, pleasantand plausible, reasonably honest too, as the world goes; a nice man tohave to do with, the world went so easy with his affairs that you weresure he would make no unnecessary rubs in your own. He came now fresh andbrisk to the side of the wagon, with that uncommon hilarity which peoplesometimes assume when they have a disagreeable matter on hand that must bespoken of. 

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

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

"Why, sir, I never was better in my life, barring this lameness, thatdisables me very much. I can't go about and see to things any more as Iused to. However--we must expect evils at my time of life. I don'tcomplain. I have a great deal to be thankful for. "

"Yes, sir, --we have a great deal to be thankful for, " said Mr. Jollyrather abstractedly, and patting the old mare with kind attention. 

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

"I have seen him, " said Mr. Jolly, coming back from the old mare tobusiness. 

"He's a hard customer I guess, ain't he?"

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

"What does he say?"

"Says he must have it. "

"Did you tell him what I told you?"

"I told him, sir, that you had not got the returns from your farm that youexpected this year, owing to one thing and 'nother; and that you couldn'tmake up the cash for him all at once; and that he would have to wait aspell, but that he'd be sure to get it in the long run. Nobody eversuffered by Mr. Ringgan yet, as I told him. "

"Well?"

"Well, sir, --he was altogether refractible--he's as pig-headed a fellow asI ever see. "

"What did he say?"

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

"He has so. I couldn't meet the last payment. There's a year's rent duenow. I can't help it. There needn't have been an hour, --if I could goabout and attend to things myself. I have been altogether disappointed inthat Didenhover. "

"I expect you have. "

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

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

"It's a worse turn than I thought my infirmities would ever play me, " saidthe old gentleman after a short pause, --"first to lose the propertyaltogether, and then not to be permitted to wear out what is left of lifein the old place--there won't be much. "

"So I told him, Mr. Ringgan. I put it to him. Says I, 'Mr. McGowan, it's acruel hard business; there ain't a man in town that wouldn't leave Mr. Ringgan the shelter of his own roof as long as he wants any, and think ita pleasure, --if the rent was anyhow. '"

"Well--well!" said the old gentleman, with a mixture of dignity andbitterness, --"it doesn't much matter. My head will find a shelter somehow, above ground or under it. The Lord will provide. --Whey! stand still, can'tye! what ails the fool? The creature's seen years enough to be steady, " headded with a miserable attempt at his usual cheerful laugh. 

Fleda had turned away her head and tried not to hear when the loweredtones of the speakers seemed to say that she was one too many in thecompany. But she could not help catching a few bits of the conversation, and a few bits were generally enough for Fleda's wit to work upon; she hada singular knack at putting loose ends of talk together. If more had beenwanting, the tones of her grandfather's voice would have filled up everygap in the meaning of the scattered words that came to her ear. Her heartsank fast as the dialogue went on, and she needed no commentary orexplanation to interpret the bitter little laugh with which it closed. Itwas a chill upon all the rosy joys and hopes of a most joyful and hopefullittle nature. 

The old mare was in motion again, but Fleda no longer cared or had thecuriosity to ask where they were going. The bittersweet lay listlessly inher lap; her letter, clasped to her breast, was not thought of; and tearswere quietly running one after the other down her cheeks and falling onher sleeve; she dared not lift her handkerchief nor turn her face towardsher grandfather lest they should catch his eye. Her grandfather?--could itbe possible that he must be turned out of his old home in his old age?could it be possible? Mr. Jolly seemed to think it might be, and hergrandfather seemed to think it must. Leave the old house! But where wouldhe go?--Son or daughter he had none left; resources be could have none, orthis need not happen. Work he could not; be dependent upon the charity ofany kin or friend she knew he would never; she remembered hearing him oncesay he could better bear to go to the almshouse than do any such thing. And then, if they went, he would have his pleasant room no more where thesun shone in so cheerfully, and they must leave the dear old kitchen wherethey had been so happy, and the meadows and hills would belong to somebodyelse; and she would gather her stores of buttercups and chestnuts underthe loved old trees never again. But these things were nothing, though theimage of them made the tears come hot and fast, these were nothing in hermind to the knowledge or the dread of the effect the change would haveupon Mr. Ringgan. Fleda knew him and knew it would not be slight. Whiterhis head could not be, more bowed it well might, and her own bowed inanticipation as her childish fears and imaginings ran on into the possiblefuture. Of McGowan's tender mercies she had no hope. She had seen himonce, and being unconsciously even more of a physiognomist than mostchildren are, that one sight of him was enough to verify all Mr. Jolly hadsaid. The remembrance of his hard sinister face sealed her fears. Nothingbut evil could come of having to do with such a man. It was however stillnot so much any foreboding of the future that moved Fleda's tears as thesense of her grandfather's present pain, --the quick answer of her gentlenature to every sorrow that touched him. His griefs were doubly hers. Both from his openness of character and her penetration, they could rarelybe felt unshared; and she shared them always in more than due measure. 

In beautiful harmony, while the child had forgotten herself in keensympathy with her grandfather's sorrows, he on the other hand had halflost sight of them in caring for her. Again, and this time not before anyhouse but in a wild piece of woodland, the little wagon came to a stop. 

"Ain't there some holly berries that I see yonder?" said Mr. Ringgan, --"there, through those white birch stems? That's what you werewanting, Fleda, ain't it? Give your bittersweet to me while you go getsome, --and here, take this knife dear, you can't break it. Don't cutyourself. "

Fleda's eyes were too dim to see white birch or holly, and she had nolonger the least desire to have the latter; but with that infallible tactwhich assuredly is the gift of nature and no other, she answered, in avoice that she forced to be clear, "O yes, thank you, grandpa;"--andstealthily dashing away the tears clambered down from the rickety littlewagon and plunged with a cheerful _step_ at least through trees andunderbrush to the clump of holly. But if anybody had seen Fleda'sface!--while she seemed to be busied in cutting as large a quantity aspossible of the rich shining leaves and bright berries. Her grandfather'skindness and her effort to meet it had wrung her heart; she hardly knewwhat she was doing, as she cut off sprig after sprig and threw them downat her feet; she was crying sadly, with even audible sobs. She made a longjob of her bunch of holly. But when at last it must come to an end shechoked back her tears, smoothed her face, and came back to Mr. Ringgansmiling and springing over the stones and shrubs in her way, andexclaiming at the beauty of her vegetable stores. If her cheeks were redhe thought it was the flush of pleasure and exercise, and she did not lethim get a good look at her eyes. 

"Why you've got enough to dress up the front room chimney, " said he. "That'll be the best thing you can do with 'em, won't it?"

"The front room chimney! No, indeed I won't, grandpa. I don't want 'emwhere nobody can see them, and you know we are never in there now it iscold weather. "

"Well, dear! anyhow you like to have it. But you ha'n't a jar in the housebig enough for them, have you?"

"O I'll manage--I've got an old broken pitcher without a handle, grandpa, that'll do very well. "

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

"O you wouldn't know it is a pitcher when I have fixed it. I'll cover upall the broken part with green, you know. Are we going home now, grandpa?"

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

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

[Illustration: She made a long job of her bunch of holly. ]

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

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

"Fine as ever you see. Sweet as a nut. The cattle are mad after them. Howare you going to be off for fodder this winter?"

"It's more than I can tell you, " said Mr. Ringgan. "There ought to bemore than plenty; but Didenhover contrives to bring everything out at thewrong end. I wish I was rid of him. "

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

"Brother, " said Mr. Ringgan, lowering his tone again, "have you any loosecash you could let me have for six months or so?"

Uncle Joshua took a meditative look down the road, turned a quid oftobacco in his cheek, and finally brought his eyes again to Mr. Ringganand answered. 

"Well, I don't see as I can, " said he. "You see Josh is just a going toset up for himself at Kenton, and he'll want some help of me; and I expectthat'll be about as much as I can manage to lay my hands on. "

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

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

"Yes, for my rent! The farm brings me in nothing but my living. ThatDidenhover is ruining me, brother Joshua. "

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

"You may swear to that. There wa'n't as many bushels of grain, byone-fourth, when they were threshed out last year, as I had calculatedthere would be in the field. I don't know what on earth he could have donewith it. I suppose it'll be the same thing over this year. "

"Maybe he has served you as Deacon Travis was served by one of his helplast season--the rascal bored holes in the granary floor and let out thecorn so, and Travis couldn't contrive how his grain went till the floorwas empty next spring, and then he see how it was. "

"Ha!--did he catch the fellow?"

"Not he--he had made tracks before that. A word in your ear--I wouldn'tlet Didenhover see much of his salary till you know how he will come outat the end. "

"He has got it already!" said Mr. Ringgan, with a nervous twitch at theold mare's head; "he wheedled me out of several little sums on onepretence and another, --he had a brother in New York that he wanted to sendsome to, and goods that he wanted to get out of pawn, and so on, --and Ilet him have it! and then there was one of those fatting steers that heproposed to me to let him have on account, and I thought it was as good away of paying him as any; and that made up pretty near the half of whatwas due to him. "

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

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

"Whew I--well--I wish you well rid of him; and don't make such anotherbargain again. Good-day to ye!"

It was with a keen pang that little Fleda saw the down-hearted look of hergrandfather as again he pave the old mare notice to move on. A few minutespassed in deep thought on both sides. 

"Grandpa, " said Fleda, "wouldn't Mr. Jolly perhaps know of somebody thatmight have some money to lend?"

"I declare!" said the old gentleman after a moment, "that's not a badthought. I wonder I didn't have it myself. "

They turned about, and without any more words measured back their way toQueechy Run. Mr. Jolly came out again, brisk and alert as ever; but afterseeming to rack his brains in search of any actual or possiblemoney-lender was obliged to confess that it was in vain; he could notthink of one. 

"But I'll tell you what, Mr. Ringgan, " he concluded, "I'll turn it over inmy mind to-night and see if I can think of any thing that'll do, and if Ican I'll let you know. If we hadn't such a nether millstone to deal with, it would be easy enough to work it somehow. "

So they set forth homewards again. 

"Cheer up, dear!" said the old gentleman heartily, laying one hand on hislittle granddaughter's lap, --"it will be arranged somehow. Don't you worryyour little head with business. God will take care of us. "

"Yes, grandpa!" said the little girl, looking up with an instant sense ofrelief at these words; and then looking down again immediately to burstinto tears. 

Chapter II. 

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

 Ben Jonson. 

Where a ray of light can enter the future, a child's hope can find away--a way that nothing less airy and spiritual can travel. By the timethey reached their own door Fleda's spirits were at par again. 

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

She hurried up stairs to take off her wrappings and then came down to thekitchen, where standing on the broad hearth and warming herself at theblaze, with all the old associations of comfort settling upon her heart, it occurred to her that foundations so established _could not_ be shaken. The blazing fire seemed to welcome her home and bid her dismiss fear; thekettle singing on its accustomed hook looked as if quietly ridiculing theidea that they could be parted company; her grandfather was in hiscushioned chair at the corner of the hearth, reading the newspaper, as shehad seen him a thousand times; just in the same position, with thatcollected air of grave enjoyment, one leg crossed over the other, settledback in his chair but upright, and scanning the columns with an intent butmost un-careful face. A face it was that always had a rare union offineness and placidness. The table stood spread in the usual place, warmthand comfort filled every corner of the room, and Pleda began to feel as ifshe had been in an uncomfortable dream, which was very absurd, but fromwhich she was very glad she had awoke. 

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

"Now Fleda, " said Cynthy, "just you be quiet. There ain't no place whereyou can bake 'em. I'm just going to clap 'em in the reflector--that's theshortest way I can take to do 'em. You keep yourself out o' muss. "

"They won't be muffins if you bake 'em in the reflector, Cynthy; theyaren't half so good. Ah, do let me I I won't make a bit of muss. "

"Where'll you do 'em?"

"In grandpa's room--if you'll just clean off the top of the stove forme--now do, Cynthy! I'll do 'em beautifully and you won't have a bit oftrouble. --Come!"

"It'll make an awful smoke, Flidda; you'll fill your grandpa's room withthe smoke, and he won't like that, I guess. "

"O he won't mind it, " said Fleda. "Will you, grandpa?"

"What, dear?"--said Mr. Ringgan, looking up at her from his paperwith a relaxing face which indeed promised to take nothing amiss thatshe might do. 

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

"No, dear!" said he, the strong heartiness of his acquiescence almostreaching a laugh, --"No, dear!--fill it with anything you like!"

There was nothing more to be said; and while Fleda in triumph put on anapron and made her preparations, Cynthy on her part, and with a very goodgrace, went to get ready the stove; which being a wood stove, made ofsheet iron, with a smooth even top, afforded in Fleda's opinion the verybest possible field for muffins to come to their perfection. Now Fledacared little in comparison for the eating part of the business; herdelight was by the help of her own skill and the stove-top to bring themuffins to this state of perfection; her greatest pleasure in them wasover when they were baked. 

A little while had passed, Mr. Ringgan was still busy with his newspaper, Miss Cynthia Gall going in and out on various errands, Fleda shut up inthe distant room with the muffins and the smoke; when there came a knockat the door, and Mr. Ringgan's "Come in!"--was followed by the entrance oftwo strangers, young, well-dressed, and comely. They wore the usual badgesof seekers after game, but their guns were left outside. 

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

"I fear you do not remember me, Mr. Ringgan, " said the foremost of the twocoming up to him, --"my name is Rossitur--Charlton Rossitur--a cousin ofyour little grand-daughter. I have only"--

"O I know you now!" said Mr. Ringgan, rising and grasping his handheartily, --"you are very welcome, sir. How do you do? I recollect youperfectly, but you took me by surprise. --How do you do, sir? Sitdown--sit down. "

And the old gentleman had extended his frank welcome to the second of hisvisitors almost before the first had time to utter, "My friend Mr. Carleton. "

"I couldn't imagine what was coming upon me, " said Mr. Ringgan, cheerfully, "for you weren't anywhere very near my thoughts; and Idon't often see much of the gay world that is passing by me. You havegrown since I saw you last, Mr. Rossitur. You are studying at WestPoint, I believe. "

"No sir; I _was_ studying there, but I had the pleasure of bringing thatto an end last June. "

"Ah!--Well, what are you now? Not a cadet any longer, I suppose. "

"No sir--we hatch out of that shell lieutenants. "

"Hum. --And do you intend to remain in the army?"

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

"Your mother would not like that, I should judge. I do not understand howshe ever made up her mind to let you become that thing which hatches outinto a lieutenant. Gentle creatures she and her sister both were. --How wasit, Mr. Rossitur? were you a wild young gentleman that wanted training?"

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

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

"I have not seen him tried, sir, " said this gentleman smiling; "but fromtho inconsistency of the orders he issues to his dogs I doubt itexceedingly. "

"Why Carleton would have no orders issued to them at all, I believe, " saidyoung Rossitur; "he has been saying 'hush' to me all day. "

The old gentleman laughed in a way that indicated intelligence with one ofthe speakers, --which, appeared not. 

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

"Not a bit of it, " said Rossitur. "Whether we got on the wrong grounds, ordidn't get on the right ones, or the dogs didn't mind their business, orthere was nothing to fire at, I don't know; but we lost our patience andgot nothing in exchange. "

"Speak for yourself, " said the other. "I assure you I was sensible of noground of impatience while going over such a superb country as this. "

"It _is_ a fine country, " said Mr. Ringgan, --"all this tract; and I oughtto know it, for I have hunted every mile of it for many a mile around. There used to be more game than partridges in these hills when I was ayoung man;--bears and wolves, and deer, and now and then a panther, to saynothing of rattlesnakes. "

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

"Well, game is what you choose to make it, " said the old gentleman. "Ihave seen worse days' sport than I saw once when we were out afterrattlesnakes and nothing else. There was a cave, sir, down under amountain a few miles to the south of this, right at the foot of a bluffsome four or five hundred feet sheer down, --it was known to be a resort ofthose creatures; and a party of us went out, --it's many years ago now, --tosee if we couldn't destroy the nest--exterminate the whole horde. We hadone dog with us, --a little dog, a kind of spaniel; a little white andyellow fellow, --and he did the work! Well, sir, --how many of those vermindo you guess that little creature made a finish of that day?--of large andsmall, sir, there were two hundred and twelve. "

"He must have been a gallant little fellow. "

"You never saw a creature, sir, take to a sport better; he just dashed inamong them, from one to another, --he would catch a snake by the neck andgive it a shake, and throw it down and rush at another;--poor fellow, itwas his last day's sport, --he died almost as soon as it was over; he musthave received a great many bites. The place is known as the rattlesnakes'den to this day, though there are none there now, I believe. "

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

"She? yes, bless her I she is always well. Where is she? Fairy, where areyou?--Cynthy, just call Elfieda here. "

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

"Let the muffins burn! Call her. "

Miss Cynthia accordingly opened a little way the door of the passage, fromwhich a blue stifling smoke immediately made its way into the room, andcalled out to Fleda. Whose little voice was heard faintly responding fromthe distance. 

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

"She, " said Mr. Ringgan, laughing, --"she's playing cook or housekeeper inyonder, getting something ready for tea. She's a busy little spirit, ifever there was one. Ah! there she is. Come here, Fleda--here's your cousinRossitur from West Point--and Mr. Carleton. "

Fleda made her appearance flushed with the heat of the stove and theexcitement of turning the muffins, and the little iron spatula she usedfor that purpose still in her hand; and a fresh and larger puff of theunsavoury blue smoke accompanied her entrance. She came forward howevergravely and without the slightest embarrassment to receive her cousin'ssomewhat unceremonious "How do, Fleda?"--and keeping the spatula still inone hand shook hands with him with the other. But at the very differentmanner in which Mr. Carleton _rose_ and greeted her, the flush on Fleda'scheek deepened, and she cast down her eyes and stepped back to hergrandfather's side with the demureness of a young lady just undergoing theceremony of presentation. 

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

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

Fleda did not lift up her eyes, but her mounting colour shewed that sheunderstood both speeches. 

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

"O I forgot to open the windows!" exclaimed Fleda ingenuously. "Cynthy, won't you please go and do it? And take this with you, " said she, holdingout the spatula. 

"She is as good a fairy as _I_ want to see, " said her grandfather, passinghis arm fondly round her. "She carries a ray of sunshine in her righthand; and that's as magic-working a wand as any fairy ever wielded, --hey, Mr. Carleton?"

Mr. Carleton bowed. But whether the sunshine of affection in Fleda'sglance and smile at her grandfather made him feel that she was above acompliment, or whether it put the words out of his head, certain it isthat he uttered none. 

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

"No sir, " said Mr. Carleton, "my friend Rossitur promised me a rare bagof woodcock, which I understand to be the best of American feathered game;and in pursuance of his promise led me over a large extent of meadow andswamp land this morning, with which in the course of several hours Ibecame extremely familiar, without flushing a single bird. "

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

"A mile or more beyond the little village over here where we left ourhorses, " said Rossitur. "We beat the ground well, but there were no signsof them even. "

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

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

"Ah, it was too wet, " said Mr. Ringgan. "I could have told you that. Therehas been too much rain. You wouldn't find a woodcock in that swamp aftersuch a day as we had a few days ago. But speaking of game, Mr. Rossitur, Idon't know anything in America equal to the grouse. It is far beforewoodcock. I remember, many years back, going a grouse shooting, I and afriend, down in Pennsylvania, --we went two or three days running, and thebirds we got were worth a whole season of woodcock. --But gentlemen, if youare not discouraged with your day's experience and want to try again, _I'll_ put you in a way to get as many woodcock as will satisfy you--ifyou'll come here to-morrow morning I'll go out with you far enough to shewyou the way to the best ground _I_ know for shooting that game in all thiscountry; you'll have a good chance for partridges too in the course of theday; and that ain't bad eating, when you can't get better--is it, Fairy?"he said, with a sudden smiling appeal to the little girl at his side. Heranswer again was only an intelligent glance. 

The young sportsmen both thanked him and promised to take advantage ofhis kind offer. Fleda seized the opportunity to steal another look at thestrangers; but meeting Mr. Carleton's eyes fixed on her with a remarkablysoft and gentle expression she withdrew her own again as fast aspossible, and came to the conclusion that the only safe place for themwas the floor. 

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

"You have no right to complain, sir, " said Mr. Carleton, with a meaningglance and smile which the old gentleman took in excellent good part. 

"Well, " said he, looking half proudly, half tenderly, upon the littledemure figure at his side, "I don't say that I have. I hope I thank Godfor his mercies, and am happy. But in this world, Mr. Carleton, there ishardly a blessing but what draws a care after it. Well--well--these thingswill all be arranged for us!"

It was plain, however, even to a stranger, that there was some subjectof care not vague nor undefined pressing upon Mr. Ringgan's mind as hesaid this. 

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

"Why yes, " said Mr. Ringgan, --"she had a letter from her only to-day. Youha'n't read it yet, have you, Fleda?"

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

"Ay, " said the old gentleman; "why couldn't you let Cynthia bake thecakes, and not roast yourself over the stove till you're as red as aturkey-cock?"

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

"Shall I tell mamma, Fleda, " said young Rossitur, "that you put offreading her letter to bake muffins?"

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

"What do you suppose she will think?"

"I don't know. "

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

"No, " said Fleda, quietly but firmly, --"she will not think that, becauseit isn't true. "

The gentlemen laughed, but Mr. Carleton declared that Fleda's reasoningwas unanswerable. 

"Well, I will see you to-morrow, " said Mr. Rossitur, "after you have readthe letter, for I suppose you will read it sometime. You should have hadit before, --it came enclosed to me, --but I forgot unaccountably to mail itto you till a few days ago. "

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

"There is a matter in it though, " said Rossitur, "about which my motherhas given me a charge. We will see you to-morrow. It was for that partlywe turned out of our way this evening. "

"I am very glad you did, " said Mr. Ringgan. "I hope your way will bringyou here often. Won't you stay and try some of these same muffinsbefore you go?"

But this was declined, and the gentlemen departed; Fleda, it must beconfessed, seeing nothing in the whole leave-taking but Mr. Carleton'slook and smile. The muffins were a very tame affair after it. 

When supper was over she sat down fairly to her letter, and read it twicethrough before she folded it up. By this time the room was clear both ofthe tea equipage and of Cynthia's presence, and Fleda and her grandfatherwere alone in the darkening twilight with the blazing wood fire; he inhis usual place at the side, and she on the hearth directly before it;both silent, both thinking, for some time. At length Mr. Ringgan spoke, breaking as it were the silence and his seriousness with the same effort. 

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

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

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

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

"Hum!"--said Mr. Ringgan. "Well--that ain't the wisest thing I should liketo hear of her doing. "

"Oh but it's because uncle Rossitur likes to stay there, I suppose, isn'tit, grandpa?"

"I don't know, dear. Maybe your aunt's caught the French fever. Sheused to be a good sensible woman; but when people will go into awhirligig, I think some of their wits get blown away before they comeout. Well--what else?"

"I am sure she is very kind, " said Fleda. "She wants to have me go outthere and live with her very much. She says I shall have everything I likeand do just as I please, and she will make a pet of me and give me allsorts of pleasant things. She says she will take as good care of me asever I took of the kittens. And there's a long piece to you about it, thatI'll give you to read as soon as we have a light. It is very good of her, isn't it, grandpa? I love aunt Lucy very much. "

"Well, " said Mr. Ringgan after a pause, "how does she propose to getyou there?"

"Why, " said Fleda, --"isn't it curious?--she says there is a Mrs. Carletonhere who is a friend of hers, and she is going to Paris in a little while, and aunt Lucy asked her if she wouldn't bring me, if you would let me go, and she said she would with great pleasure, and aunt Lucy wants me to comeout with her. "

"Carleton!--Hum--" said Mr. Ringgan; "that must be this young man'smother?"

"Yes, aunt Lucy says she is here with her son, --at least she says theywere coming. "

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

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

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

"What, grandpa?"

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

"I shouldn't like it at all, " said Fleda smiling, and letting her eyes goback to the fire. But looking after the pause of a minute or two again toher grandfather's face, she was struck with its expression of sternanxiety. She rose instantly, and coming to him and laying one hand gentlyon his knee, said in tones that fell as light on the ear as the touch of amoonbeam on the water, "_You_ do not want me to go, do you, grandpa?"

"No dear!" said the old gentleman, letting his hand fall upon hers, --"nodear!--that is the last thing I want!"

But Fleda's keen ear discerned not only the deep affection but somethingof _regret_ in the voice, which troubled her. She stood, anxious andfearing, while her grandfather lifting his hand again and again let itfall gently upon hers; and amid all the fondness of the action Fledasomehow seemed to feel in it the same regret. 

"You'll not let aunt Lucy, nor anybody else, take me away from you, willyou, grandpa?" said she after a little, leaning both arms affectionatelyon his knee and looking up into his face. 

"No indeed, dear!" said he, with an attempt at his usual heartiness, --"notas long as I have a place to keep you. While I have a roof to put my headunder, it shall cover yours. "

To Fleda's hope that would have said enough; but her grandfather's facewas so moved from its wonted expression of calm dignity that it was plain_his_ hope was tasting bitter things. Fleda watched in silent grief andamazement the watering eye and unnerved lip; till her grandfatherindignantly dashing away a tear or two drew her close to his breast andkissed her. But she well guessed that the reason why he did not for aminute or two say anything, was because he could not. Neither could she. She was fighting with her woman's nature to keep it down, --learning thelesson early!

"Ah well, "--said Mr Ringgan at length, in a kind of tone that mightindicate the giving up a struggle which he had no means of carrying on, orthe endeavour to conceal it from the too keen-wrought feelings of hislittle granddaughter, --"there will be a way opened for us somehow. We mustlet our Heavenly Father take care of us. "

"And he will, grandpa, " whispered Fleda. 

"Yes dear!--We are selfish creatures. Your father's and your mother'schild will not be forgotten. "

"Nor you either, dear grandpa, " said the little girl, laying her softcheek alongside of his, and speaking by dint of a great effort. 

"No, " said he, clasping her more tenderly, --"no--it would he wicked in meto doubt it. He has blessed me all my life long with a great many moreblessings than I deserved; and if he chooses to take away the sunshine ofmy last days I will bow my head to his will, and believe that he does allthings well, though I cannot see it. "

"Don't, dear grandpa, " said Fleda, stealing her other arm round his neckand hiding her face there, --"please don't!--"

He very much regretted that he had said too much. He did not however knowexactly how to mend it. He kissed her and stroked her soft hair, but thatand the manner of it only made it more difficult for Fleda to recoverherself, which she was struggling to do; and when he tried to speak inaccents of cheering his voice trembled. Fleda's heart was breaking, butshe felt that she was making matters worse, and she had already concludedon a mature review of circumstances that it was her duty to be cheerful. So after a few very heartfelt tears which she could not help, she raisedher head and smiled, even while she wiped the traces of them away. 

"After all, grandpa, " said she, "perhaps Mr. Jolly will come here in themorning with some good news, and then we should be troubling ourselvesjust for nothing. "

"Perhaps he will, " said Mr. Ringgan, in a way that sounded much more like"Perhaps he won't!" But Fleda was determined now not to _seem_ discouragedagain. She thought the best way was to change the conversation. 

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

"Why no, " said Mr. Ringgan, decidedly, "I can't say I think it is any veryextraordinary manifestation of kindness in anybody to want you. "

Fleda smiled her thanks for this compliment. 

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

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

"I don't know about that, " said he gravely. They were getting back to theold subject. Fleda made another great effort at a diversion. 

"Grandpa, was my father like my uncle Rossitur in any thing?"

The diversion was effected. 

"Not he, dear!" said Mr. Ringgan. "Your father had ten times the man inhim that ever your uncle was. "

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

"Ho dear! I can't tell. I ha'n't seen much of him. I wouldn't judge a manwithout knowing more of him than I do of Mr. Rossitur. He seemed anamiable kind of man. But no one would ever have thought of looking at him, no more than at a shadow, when your father was by. "

The diversion took effect on Fleda herself now. She looked up pleased. 

"You remember your father, Fleda?"

"Yes grandpa, but not very well always;--I remember a great manythings about him, but I can't remember exactly how he looked, --exceptonce or twice. "

"Ay, and he wa'n't well the last time you remember him. But he was anoble-looking man--in form and face too--and his looks were the worst partof him. He seemed made of different stuff from all the people around, "said Mr. Ringgan sighing, "and they felt it too I used to notice, withoutknowing it. When his cousins were 'Sam' and 'Johnny' and 'Bill, ' he wasalways, that is, after he grew up, '_Mr. Walter. _' I believe they were alittle afeard of him. And with all his bravery and fire he could be asgentle as a woman. "

"I know that, " said Fleda, whose eyes were dropping soft tears andglittering at the same time with gratified feeling. "What made him be asoldier, grandpa?"

"Oh I don't know, dear!--he was too good to make a farmer of--or his highspirit wanted to rise in the world--he couldn't rest without trying to besomething more than other folks. I don't know whether people are anyhappier for it. "

"Did _he_ go to West Point, grandpa?"

"No dear!--he started without having so much of a push as that; but he wasone of those that don't need any pushing; he would have worked his way up, put him anywhere you would, and he did, --over the heads of West Pointersand all, and would have gone to the top, I verily believe, if he had livedlong enough. He was as fine a fellow as there was in all the army. _I_don't believe there's the like of him left in it. "

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

"Yes. It was just after he was made captain that he went to Albany, andthere he saw your mother. She and her sister, your aunt Lucy, were wardsof the patroon. I was in Albany, in the legislature, that winter, and Iknew them both very well; but your aunt Lucy had been married some yearsbefore. She was staying there that winter without her husband--he wasabroad somewhere. "

Fleda was no stranger to these details and had learned long ago what wasmeant by 'wards' and 'the patroon. '

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

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

"Brave!--he had a heart of iron sometimes, for as soft as it was atothers. And he had an eye, when he was roused, that I never saw anythingthat would stand against. But your father had a better sort of couragethan the common sort--he had enough of _that_--but this is a rarerthing--he never was afraid to do what in his conscience he thought wasright. Moral courage I call it, and it is one of the very noblestqualities a man can have. "

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

"Yes--you may have that; and I guess it's the only kind of courage_you'll_ ever be troubled with, " said her grandfather looking laughinglyat her. "However, any man may walk up to the cannon's mouth, but it isonly one here and there that will walk out against men's opinionsbecause he thinks it is right. That was one of the things I admired mostin your father. "

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

"I don't know--she had about everything that was good. A gweet, prettycreature she was, as I ever saw. "

"Was she like aunt Lucy?"

"No, not much. She was a deal handsomer than your aunt is or ever couldhave been. She was the handsomest woman, I think, that ever I set eyesupon; and a sweet, gentle, lovely creature. _You_'ll never match her, "said Mr. Ringgan, with a curious twist of his head and sly laughing twistof his eyes at Fleda;--"you may be as _good_ as she was, but you'll neverbe as good-looking. "

Fleda laughed, nowise displeased. 

"You've got her hazel eyes though, " remarked Mr. Ringgan, after a minuteor two, viewing his little granddaughter with a sufficiently satisfiedexpression of countenance. 

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

"Mr. Carleton?--hum--I don't know; I didn't look at his eyes. A verywell-looking young man though--very gentlemanly too. "

Fleda had heard all this and much more about her parents some dozens oftimes before; but she and her grandfather were never tired of going itover. If the conversation that recalled his lost treasures had ofnecessity a character of sadness and tenderness, it yet bespoke not moreregret that he had lost them than exulting pride and delight in what theyhad been, --perhaps not so much. And Fleda delighted to go back and feedher imagination with stories of the mother whom she could not remember, and of the father whose fair bright image stood in her memory as theembodiment of all that is high and noble and pure. A kind of guardianangel that image was to little Fleda. These ideal likenesses of her fatherand mother, the one drawn from history and recollection, the other fromhistory only, had been her preservative from all the untoward influencesand unfortunate examples which had surrounded her since her father's deathsome three or four years before had left her almost alone in hergrandfather's house. They had created in her mind a standard of the trueand beautiful in character, which nothing she saw around her, after ofcourse her grandfather, and one other exception, seemed at all to meet;and partly from her own innate fineness of nature, and partly from thispure ideal always present with her, she had shrunk almost instinctivelyfrom the few varieties of human nature the country-side presented to her, and was in fact a very isolated little being, living in a world of herown, and clinging with all her strong outgoings of affection to hergrandfather only; granting to but one other person any considerable sharein her regard or esteem. Little Fleda was not in the least misanthropical;she gave her kindly sympathies to all who came in her way on whom theycould possibly be bestowed; but these people were nothing to her: herspirit fell off from them, even in their presence; there was no affinity. She was in truth what her grandfather had affirmed of her father, made ofdifferent stuff from the rest of the world. There was no tincture of pridein all this; there was no conscious feeling of superiority; she couldmerely have told you that she did not care to hear these people talk, thatshe did not love to be with them; though she _would_ have said so to noearthly creature but her grandfather, if even to him. 

[Illustration: "I wasn't thinking of myself in particular. "]

"It must be pleasant, " said Fleda, after looking for some minutesthoughtfully into the fire, --"it must be a pleasant thing to have a fatherand mother. "

"Yes dear!" said her grandfather, sighing, --"you have lost a great deal!But there is your aunt Lucy--you are not dependent altogether on me. "

"Oh grandpa!" said the little girl laying one hand again pleadingly on hisknee;--"I didn't mean--I mean--I was speaking in general--I wasn'tthinking of myself in particular. "

"I know, dear!" said he, as before taking the little hand in his own andmoving it softly up and down on his knee. But the action was sad, andthere was the same look of sorrowful stern anxiety. Fleda got up and puther arm over his shoulder, speaking from a heart filled too full. 

"I don't want aunt Lucy--I don't care about aunt Lucy; I don't wantanything but you, grandpa. I wish you wouldn't talk so. "

"Ah well, dear, " said he, without looking at her, --he couldn't bear tolook at her, --"it's well it is so. I sha'n't last a great while--it isn'tlikely--and I am glad to know there is some one you can fall back uponwhen I am gone. "

Pleda's next words were scarcely audible, but they contained a reproach tohim for speaking so. 

"We may as well look at it, dear, " said he gravely; "it must come tothat--sooner or later--but you mustn't distress yourself about itbeforehand. Don't cry--don't, dear!" said he, tenderly kissing her. "Ididn't mean to trouble you so. There--there--look up, dear--let's take thegood we have and be thankful for it. God will arrange the rest, in his owngood way. Fleda!--I wouldn't have said a word if I had thought it wouldhave worried you so. "

He would not indeed. But he had spoken as men so often speak, out of thedepths of their own passion or bitterness, forgetting that they arewringing the cords of a delicate harp, and not knowing what mischiefthey have done till they find the instrument all out of tune, --moreoften not knowing it ever. It is pity, --for how frequently a discord isleft that jars all life long; and how much more frequently still theharp, though retaining its sweetness and truth of tone to the end, isgradually unstrung. 

Poor Fleda could hardly hold up her head for a long time, and recallingbitterly her unlucky innocent remark which had led to all this trouble shealmost made up her mind with a certain heroine of Miss Edgeworth's, that"it is best never to mention things. " Mr. Ringgan, now thoroughly alive tothe wounds he had been inflicting, held his little pet in his arms, pillowed her head on his breast, and by every tender and soothing actionand word endeavoured to undo what he had done. And after a while the agonywas over, the wet eyelashes were lifted up, and the meek sorrowful littleface lay quietly upon Mr. Ringgan's breast, gazing out into the fire asgravely as if the Panorama of life were there. She little heeded at firsther grandfather's cheering talk, she knew it was for a purpose. 

"Ain't it most time for you to go to bed?" whispered Mr. Ringgan when hethought the purpose was effected. 

"Shall I tell Cynthy to get you your milk, grandpa?" said the little girlrousing herself. 

"Yes dear. --Stop, --what if you and me was to have some roastapples?--wouldn't you like it?"

"Well--yes, I should, grandpa, " said Fleda, understanding perfectly why hewished it, and wishing it herself for that same reason and no other. 

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

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

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

One corner of the kitchen table was hauled up to the fire, to becomfortable, Fleda said, and she and her grandfather sat down on theopposite sides of it to do honour to the apples and milk; each with thesimple intent of keeping up appearances and cheating the other intocheerfulness. There is however, deny it who can, an exhilarating effect ingood wholesome food taken when one is in some need of it; and Fleda atleast found the supper relish exceeding well. Every one furthermore knowsthe relief of a hearty flow of tears when a secret weight has beenpressing on the mind. She was just ready for anything reviving. After thethird mouthful she began to talk, and before the bottom of the bowls wasreached she had smiled more than once. So her grandfather thought no harmwas done, and went to bed quite comforted; and Fleda climbed the steepstairs that led from his door to her little chamber just over his head. Itwas small and mean, immediately under the roof, with only one window. There were plenty of better rooms in the house, but Fleda liked thisbecause it kept her near her grandfather; and indeed she had always had itever since her father's death, and never thought of taking any other. 

She had a fashion, this child, in whom the simplicity of practical lifeand the poetry of imaginative life were curiously blended, --she had afashion of going to her window every night when the moon or stars wereshining to look out for a minute or two before she went to bed; andsometimes the minutes were more than any good grandmother or aunt wouldhave considered wholesome for little Fleda in the fresh night air. Butthere was no one to watch or reprimand; and whatever it was that Fledaread in earth or sky, the charm which held her one bright night was sureto bring her to her window the next. This evening a faint young moonlighted up but dimly the meadow and what was called the "east-hill, "over-against which the window in question looked. The air was calm andmild; there was no frost to-night; the stillness was entire, and the starsshone in a cloudless sky. Fleda set open the window and looked out with aface that again bore tokens of the experiences of that day. She wanted thesoothing speech of nature's voice; and child as she was she could hear it. She did not know, in her simplicity, what it was that comforted andsoothed her, but she stood at her window enjoying. 

It was so perfectly still, her fancy presently went to all those peoplewho had hushed their various work and were now resting, or soon would be, in the unconsciousness and the helplessness of sleep. The_helplessness_, --and then that Eye that never sleeps; that Hand that keepsthem all, that is never idle, that is the safety and the strength alike ofall the earth and of them that wake or sleep upon it, --

"And if he takes care of them all, will he not take care of poor littleme?" thought Fleda. "Oh how glad I am I know there is a God!--How glad Iam I know he is such a God! and that I can trust in him; and he will makeeverything go right. How I forget this sometimes! But Jesus does notforget his children. Oh I am a happy little girl!--Grandpa's saying whathe did don't make it so--perhaps I shall die the first--but I hope not, for what would become of him!--But this and everything will all bearranged right, and I have nothing to do with it but to obey God andplease him, and he will take care of the rest. He has forbidden _us_ to becareful about it too. "

With grateful tears of relief Fleda shut the window and began to undressherself, her heart so lightened of its burden that her thoughts presentlytook leave to go out again upon pleasure excursions in variousdirections; and one of the last things in Fleda's mind before sleepsurprised her was, what a nice thing it was for any one to bow and smileso as Mr. Carleton did!

Chapter III. 

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

 Milton. 

Fleda and her grandfather had but just risen from a tolerably earlybreakfast the next morning, when the two young sportsmen entered the room. 

"Ha!" said Mr. Ringgan, --"I declare! you're stirring betimes. Come fiveor six miles this morning a'ready. Well--that's the stuff to makesportsmen of. Off for the woodcock, hey?--And I was to go with you andshew you the ground. --I declare I don't know how in the world I can do itthis morning, I'm so very stiff--ten times as bad as I was yesterday. Ihad a window open in my room last night, I expect that must have been thecause. I don't see how I could have overlooked it, but I never gave it athought, till this morning I found myself so lame I could hardly get outof bed. --I am very sorry, upon my word?"

"I am very sorry we must lose your company, sir, " said the youngEnglishman, "and for such a cause; but as to the rest!--I dare say yourdirections will guide us sufficiently. "

"I don't know about that, " said the old gentleman. "It is pretty hard tosteer by a chart that is only laid down in the imagination. I set out onceto go in New York from one side of the city over into the other, and thefirst thing I knew I found myself travelling along half a mile out oftown. I had to get in a stage and ride back and take a fresh start. Out atthe West they say when you are in the woods you can tell which is north bythe moss growing on that side of the trees; but if you're lost you'll bepretty apt to find the moss grows on _all_ sides of the trees. I couldn'tmake out any waymarks at all, in such a labyrinth of brick corners. Well, let us see--if I tell you now it is so easy to mistake one hill foranother--Fleda, child, you put on your sun-bonnet and take these gentlemenback to the twenty-acre lot, and from there you can tell 'em how to go soI guess they won't mistake it. "

"By no means!" said Mr. Carleton; "we cannot give her so much trouble; itwould be buying our pleasure at much too dear a rate. "

"Tut, tut, " said the old gentleman; "she thinks nothing of trouble, andthe walk'll do her good. She'd like to be out all day, I believe, if shehad any one to go along with, but I'm rather a stupid companion for such aspry little pair of feet. Fleda, look here, --when they get to the lot theycan find their own way after that. You know where the place is--where yourcousin Seth shot so many woodcock last year, over in Mr. Hurlbut'sland, --when you get to the big lot you must tell these gentlemen to gostraight over the hill, not Squire Thornton's hill, but mine, at the backof the lot, --they must go straight over it till they come to cleared landon the other side; then they must keep along by the edge of the wood, tothe right, till they come to the brook; they must _cross the brook_, andfollow up the opposite bank, and they'll know the ground when they come toit, or they don't deserve to. Do you understand?--now run and get your hatfor they ought to be off. "

Fleda went, but neither her step nor her look shewed any great willingnessto the business. 

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

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

"I guess she's skeered o' the guns, " said Cynthy, happy to get a chance toedge in a word before such company;--"it's that ails her. "

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

Fleda had it in her mind to whisper to him a word of hope about Mr. Jolly;but she recollected that it was at best an uncertain hope, and that if hergrandfather's thoughts were off the subject it was better to leave themso. She only kissed him for good-by, and went out with the two gentlemen. 

As they took up their guns Mr. Carleton caught the timid shunning glanceher eye gave at them. 

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

Fleda hesitated, and finally said "she didn't much like to be very nearthem when they were fired. "

"Put that fear away then, " said he, "for they shall keep a respectfulsilence so long as they have the honour to be in your company. If thewoodcock come about us as tame as quails our guns shall not be provoked tosay anything till your departure gives them leave. "

Fleda smiled her thanks and set forward, privately much confirmed in heropinion that Mr. Carleton had handsome eyes. 

At a little distance from the house Fleda left the meadow for an oldapple-orchard at the left, lying on a steep side hill. Up this hill-sidethey toiled; and then found themselves on a ridge of table-land, stretching back for some distance along the edge of a little valley orbottom of perfectly flat smooth pasture-ground. The valley was verynarrow, only divided into fields by fences running from side to side. Thetable-land might be a hundred feet or more above the level of the bottom, with a steep face towards it. A little way back from the edge the woodsbegan; between them and the brow of the hill the ground was smooth andgreen, planted as if by art with flourishing young silver pines and oncein a while a hemlock, some standing in all their luxuriance alone, andsome in groups. With now and then a smooth grey rock, or largeboulder-stone which had somehow inexplicably stopped on the brow of thehill instead of rolling down into what at some former time no doubt was abed of water, --all this open strip of the table-land might have stood withvery little coaxing for a piece of a gentleman's pleasure-ground. On theopposite side of the little valley was a low rocky height, covered withwood, now in the splendour of varied red and green and purple and brownand gold; between, at their feet, lay the soft quiet green meadow; and offto the left, beyond the far end of the valley, was the glory of the autumnwoods again, softened in the distance. A true October sky seemed topervade all, mildly blue, transparently pure, with that clearness ofatmosphere that no other month gives us; a sky that would have conferred apatent of nobility on any landscape. The scene was certainly contractedand nowise remarkable in any of its features, but Nature had shaken outall her colours over the land, and drawn a veil from the sky, and breathedthrough the woods and over the hill-side the very breath of health, enjoyment, and vigour. 

When they were about over-against the middle of the valley, Mr. Carletonsuddenly made a pause and stood for some minutes silently looking. His twocompanions came to a halt on either side of him, one not a little pleased, the other a little impatient. 

"Beautiful!" Mr. Carleton said at length. 

"Yes, " said Fleda gravely, "I think it's a pretty place. I like it uphere. "

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

"I wonder, " said Mr. Carleton presently, "how any one should have calledthese 'melancholy days. '"

"Who has?" said Rossitur. 

"A countryman of yours, " said his friend glancing at him. "If he had beena countryman of mine there would have been less marvel. But here is noneof the sadness of decay--none of the withering--if the tokens of old ageare seen at all it is in the majestic honours that crown a gloriouslife--the graces of a matured and ripened character. This has nothing incommon, Rossitur, with those dull moralists who are always dinning decayand death into one's ears;--this speaks of Life. Instead of freezing allone's hopes and energies, it quickens the pulse with the desire to_do_. --'The saddest of the year'--Bryant was wrong. "

"Bryant?--oh!"--said young Rossitur; "I didn't know who you werespeaking of. "

"I believe, now I think of it, he was writing of a somewhat later time ofthe year, --I don't know, how all this will look in November. "

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

"Don't you know Bryant's 'Death of the Flowers, ' Rossitur?" said hisfriend smiling. "What have you been doing all your life?"

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

"Then sit down here and let me mend that place in your education. Sitdown! and I'll give you something better than woodcock. You keep agame-bag for thoughts, don't you?"

Mr. Rossitur wished Mr. Carleton didn't. But he sat down, however, andlistened with an unedified face; while his friend, more to please himselfit must be confessed than for any other reason, and perhaps with half anotion to try Fleda, repeated the beautiful words. He presently saw theywere not lost upon one of his hearers; she listened intently. 

"It is very pretty, " said Rossitur when he had done. "I believe I haveseen it before somewhere. "

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

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

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

"I am surprised at that, " said young Rossitur. "I thought you livedon smoke. "

There was nothing in the words, but the tone was not exactly polite. Fledagranted him neither smile nor look. 

"I am glad you like it up here, " she went on, gravely doing the honoursof the place. "I came this way because we shouldn't have so many fencesto climb. "

"You are the best little guide possible, and I have no doubt would alwayslead one the right way, " said Mr. Carleton. 

Again the same gentle, kind, _appreciating_ look. Fleda unconsciously drewa step nearer. There was a certain undefined confidence establishedbetween them. 

"There's a little brook down there in spring, " said she pointing to asmall grass grown water-course in the meadow, hardly discernible from theheight, --"but there's no water in it now. It runs quite full for a whileafter the snow breaks up; but it dries away by June or July. "

"What are those trees so beautifully tinged with red and orange?--downthere by the fence in the meadow. "

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

"Those are maples, " said Fleda, "sugar maples. The one all orange isa hickory. "

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

"I know by the colour, " said Fleda modestly, --"and by the shape too. "

"Fairy, " said Mr. Rossitur, "if you have any of the stuff about you, Iwish you would knock this gentleman over the head with your wand and putthe spirit of moving into him. He is going to sit dreaming here all day. "

"Not at all, " said his friend springing up. --"I am ready for you--but Iwant other game than woodcock just now I confess. "

They walked along in silence, and had near reached the extremity of thetable-land, which towards the end of the valley descended into ground of alower level covered with woods; when Mr. Carleton who was a little aheadwas startled by Fleda's voice exclaiming in a tone of distress, "Oh notthe robins!"--and turning about perceived Mr. Rossitur standing still withlevelled gun and just in the act to shoot. Fleda had stopped her ears. Inthe same instant Mr. Carleton had thrown up the gun, demanding of Rossiturwith a singular change of expression--"what he meant!"

"Mean?" said the young gentleman, meeting with an astonished face theindignant fire of his companion's eyes, --"why I mean not to meddle withother people's guns, Mr. Carleton. What do _you_ mean?"

"Nothing but to protect myself. "

"Protect yourself!" said Rossitur, heating as the other cooled, --fromwhat, in the name of wonder?"

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

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

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

They left the table-land and the wood, entered the valley again, andpassed through a large orchard, the last of the succession of fields whichstretched along it. Beyond this orchard the ground rose suddenly, and onthe steep hill-side there had been a large plantation of Indian corn. Thecorn was harvested, but the ground was still covered with numberlesslittle stacks of the corn-stalks. Half way up the hill stood three ancientchestnut trees; veritable patriarchs of the nut tribe they were, andrespected and esteemed as patriarchs should be. 

"There are no 'dropping nuts' to-day, either, " said Fleda, to whom thesight of her forest friends in the distance probably suggested thethought, for she had not spoken for some time. "I suppose there hasn'tbeen frost enough yet. "

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

"Oh sometimes grandpa and I go a nutting, " said the little girl gettinglightly over the fence, --"but we haven't been this year. "

"Then it is a pleasure to come yet?"

"No, " said Fleda quietly, "the trees near the house have been stripped;and the only other nice place there is for us to go to, Mr. Didenhover letthe Shakers have the nuts. I sha'n't get any this year. "

"Live in the woods and not get any nuts! that won't do, Fairy. Here aresome fine chestnuts we are coming to--what would hinder our reaping a goodharvest from them?"

"I don't think there will be any on them, " said Fleda; "Mr. Didenhover hasbeen here lately with the men getting in the coin, --I guess they havecleared the trees. "

"Who is Mr. Didenhover?"

"He is grandpa's man. "

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

"O he wouldn't mind if he was told, " said Fleda. "He does everything justas he has a mind to, and nobody can hinder him. Yes--they've cleared thetrees--I thought so. "

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

"Yes, " said Fleda, --"I know a place where there used to be beautifulhickory trees, and some chestnuts too, I think; but it is too far off forgrandpa, and I couldn't go there alone. This is the twenty-acre lot, " saidshe, looking though she did not say it, "Here I leave you. "

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

"Stop a minute, " said Mr. Carleton. "What if you and I should try to findthose same hickory trees, Miss Fleda? Will you take me with you?--or is ittoo long a walk?"

"For me?--oh no!" said Fleda with a face of awakening hope; "but, " sheadded timidly, "you were going a shooting, sir?"

"What on earth are you thinking of, Carleton?" said young Rossitur. "Letthe nuts and Fleda alone, do!"

"By your leave, Mr. Rossitur, " said Carleton. "My murderous intents haveall left me, Miss Fleda, --I suppose your wand has been playing aboutme--and I should like nothing better than to go with you over the hillsthis morning. I have been a nutting many a time in my own woods at home, and I want to try it for once in the New World. Will you take me?"

"O thank you, sir!" said Fleda, --"but we have passed the turning a longway--we must go back ever so far the same way we came to get to the placewhere we turn off to go up the mountain. "

"I don't wish for a prettier way, --if it isn't so far as to tireyou, Fairy?"

"Oh it won't tire me!" said Fleda overjoyed. 

"Carleton!" exclaimed young Kossitur. "Can you be so absurd! Lose thissplendid day for the woodcock when we may not have another while weare here!"

"You are not a true sportsman, Mr. Rossitur, " said the other coolly, "oryou would know what it is to have some sympathy with the sports of others. But _you_ will have the day for the woodcock, and bring us home a greatmany I hope. Miss Fleda, suppose we give this impatient young gentlemanhis orders and despatch him. "

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

"I tell you the sporting mania was never stronger on me, " said the othercarelessly. "Something less than a rifle however will do to bring down thegame I am after. We will rendezvous at the little village over yonder, unless I go home before you, which I think is more probable. Au revoir!"

With careless gracefulness he saluted his disconcerted companion, whomoved off with ungraceful displeasure. Fleda and Mr. Carleton then beganto follow back the road they had come, in the highest good humour both. Her sparkling face told him with even greater emphasis than her words, "I am so much obliged to you, sir. "

"How you go over fences!" said he, --"like a sprite, as you are. "

"O I have climbed a great many, " said Fleda, accepting however, again withthat infallible instinct, the help which she did not need--"I shall be soglad to get some nuts, for I thought I wasn't going to have any this year;and it is so pleasant to have them to crack in the long winter evenings. "

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

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

"But you are not always cracking nuts. "

"O no, to be sure not; but there are plenty of other pleasant things todo. I dare say grandpa would have bought some nuts, but I had a great dealrather have those we get ourselves, and then the fun of getting them, besides, is the best part. "

Fleda was tramping over the ground at a furious rate. 

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

"I don't know, " said Fleda with a business face, --"there are a goodmany trees, and fine large ones, and I don't believe anybody has foundthem out--they are so far out of the way; there ought to be a goodparcel of nuts. "

"But, " said Mr. Carleton with perfect gravity, "if we should be luckyenough to find a supply for your winter's store, it would be too much foryou and me to bring home, Miss Fleda, unless you have a broomstick in theservice of fairydom. "

"A broomstick!" said Fleda. 

"Yes, --did you never hear of the man who had a broomstick that would fetchpails of water at his bidding?"

"No, " said Fleda laughing. "What a convenient broomstick! I wish we hadone. But I know what I can do, Mr. Carleton, --if there should be too manynuts for us to bring home I can take Cynthy afterwards and get the rest ofthem. Cynthy and I could go--grandpa couldn't even if he was as well asusual, for the trees are in a hollow away over on the other side of themountain. It's a beautiful place. "

"Well, " said Mr. Carleton smiling curiously to himself, "in that case Ishall be even of more use than I had hoped. But sha'n't we want a basket, Miss Fleda?"

"Yes indeed, " said Fleda, --"a good large one--I am going to run down tothe house for it as soon as we get to the turning-off place, if you'll beso good as to sit down and wait for me, sir, --I won't be long after it. "

"No, " said he; "I will walk with you and leave my gun in safe quarters. You had better not travel so fast, or I am afraid you will never reach thehickory trees. "

Fleda smiled and said there was no danger, but she slackened her pace, andthey proceeded at a more reasonable rate till they reached the house. 

Mr. Carleton would not go in, placing his gun in an outer shelter. Fledadashed into the kitchen, and after a few minutes' delay came out againwith a huge basket, which Mr. Carleton took from her without suffering hisinward amusement to reach his face, and a little tin pail which she keptunder her own guardianship. In vain Mr. Carleton offered to take it withthe basket or even to put it in the basket, where he shewed her it wouldgo very well; it must go nowhere but in Fleda's own hand. 

Fleda was in restless haste till they had passed over the already twicetrodden ground and entered upon the mountain road. It was hardly a road;in some places a beaten track was visible, in others Mr. Carleton wonderedhow his little companion found her way, where nothing but fresh-fallenleaves and scattered rocks and stones could be seen, covering the wholesurface. But her foot never faltered, her eye read way-marks where his sawnone, she went on, he did not doubt unerringly, over the leaf-strewn androck-strewn way, over ridge and hollow, with a steady light swiftness thathe could not help admiring. Once they came to a little brawling stream ofspring water, hardly three inches deep anywhere but making quite a widebed for itself in its bright way to the lowlands. Mr. Carleton wasconsidering how he should contrive to get his little guide over it insafety, when quick, --over the little round stones which lifted their headsabove the surface of the water, on the tips of her toes, Fleda trippedacross before he had done thinking about it. He told her he had no doubtnow that she was a fairy and had powers of walking that did not belong toother people. Fleda laughed, and on her little demure figure went pickingout the way always with that little tin pail hanging at her side, like--Mr. Carleton busied himself in finding out similes for her. Itwasn't very easy. 

For a long distance their way was through a thick woodland, clear ofunderbrush and very pleasant walking, but permitting no look at thedistant country. They wound about, now uphill and now down, till at lastthey began to ascend in good earnest; the road became better marked, andMr. Carleton came up with his guide again. Both were obliged to walk moreslowly. He had overcome a good deal of Fleda's reserve and she talked tohim now quite freely, without however losing the grace of a most exquisitemodesty in everything she said or did. 

"What do you suppose I have been amusing myself with all this while, MissFleda?" said he, after walking for some time alongside of her in silence. "I have been trying to fancy what you looked like as you travelled onbefore me with that mysterious tin pail. "

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

"Little Red Riding-Hood, the first thing, carrying her grandmother the potof butter. "

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

"I hope not, " said he laughing. "Well, then I thought you might be one ofthose young ladies the fairy-stories tell of, who set out over the worldto seek their fortune. That might hold, you know, a little provision tolast for a day or two till you found it. "

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

"Why not, pray. "

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

Mr. Carleton looked at her and could not make up his mind! whether or notshe spoke wittingly. 

"Well, but after all are we not seeking our fortune?" said he. "Weare doing something very like it. Now up here on the mountain topperhaps we shall find only empty trees--perhaps trees with a harvestof nuts on them. "

"Yes, but that wouldn't be like finding a fortune, " said Fleda;--"if wewere to come to a great heap of nuts all picked out ready for us to carryaway, _that_ would be a fortune; but now if we find the trees full we havegot to knock them down and gather them up and shuck them. "

"Make our own fortunes, eh?" said Mr. Carleton smiling. "Well people dosay those are the sweetest nuts, I don't know how it may be. Ha! that isfine. What an atmosphere!"

They had reached a height of the mountain that cleared them a view, andover the tops of the trees they looked abroad to a very wide extent ofcountry undulating with hill and vale, --hill and valley alike far below attheir feet. Fair and rich, --the gently swelling hills, one beyond another, in the patchwork dress of their many-coloured fields, --the gay hues of thewoodland softened and melted into a rich autumn glow, --and far away, beyond even where this glow was sobered and lost in the distance, thefaint blue line of the Catskill; faint, but clear and distinct through thetransparent air. Such a sky!--of such etherealized purity as if made forspirits to travel in and tempting them to rise and free themselves fromthe soil; and the stillness, --like nature's hand laid upon the soul, bidding it think. In view of all that vastness and grandeur, man'slittleness does bespeak itself. And yet, for every one, the voice of thescene is not more humbling to pride than rousing to all that is reallynoble and strong in character. Not only "What thou art, "--but "What thoumayest be!" What place thou oughtest to fill, --what work thou hast todo, --in this magnificent world. A very extended landscape however genialis also sober in its effect on the mind. One seems to emerge from thenarrowness of individual existence, and take a larger view of Life as wellas of Creation. 

Perhaps Mr. Carleton felt it so, for after his first expression ofpleasure he stood silently and gravely looking for a long time. LittleFleda's eye loved it too, but she looked her fill and then sat down on astone to await her companion's pleasure, glancing now and then up at hisface which gave her no encouragement to interrupt him. It was gravely andeven gloomily thoughtful. He stood so long without stirring that poorFleda began to have sad thoughts of the possibility of gathering all thenuts from the hickory trees, and she heaved a very gentle sigh once ortwice; but the dark blue eye which she with reason admired remained fixedon the broad scene below, as if it were reading or trying to read there adifficult lesson. And when at last he turned and began to go up the pathagain he kept the same face, and went moodily swinging his arm up anddown, as if in disturbed thought. Fleda was too happy to be moving to carefor her companion's silence; she would have compounded for no moreconversation so they might but reach the nut trees. But before they hadgot quite so far Mr. Carleton broke the silence, speaking in precisely thesame tone and manner he had used the last time. 

"Look here, Fairy, " said he, pointing to a small heap of chestnut burspiled at the foot of a tree, --"here's a little fortune for you already. "

"That's a squirrel!" said Fleda, looking at the place very attentively. 

"There has been nobody else here. He has put them together, ready to becarried off to his nest. "

"We'll save him that trouble, " said Mr. Carleton. "Little rascal! he's aDidenhover in miniature. "

"Oh no!" said Fleda; "he had as good a right to the nuts I am sure as wehave, poor fellow. --Mr. Carleton--"

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

"Mightn't we leave these nuts till we come back? If we find the trees overhere full we sha'n't want them; and if we don't, these would be only ahandful--"

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

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

In a hollow, rather a deep hollow, behind the crest of the hill, as Fledahad said, they came at last to a noble group of large hickory trees, withone or two chestnuts standing in attendance on the outskirts. And also asFleda had said, or hoped, the place was so far from convenient access thatnobody had visited them; they were thick hung with fruit. If the spirit ofthe game had been wanting or failing in Mr. Carleton, it must have rousedagain into full life at the joyous heartiness of Fleda's exclamations. Atany rate no boy could have taken to the business better. He cut, with herpermission, a stout long pole in the woods; and swinging himself lightlyinto one of the trees shewed that he was a master in the art of whippingthem. Fleda was delighted but not surprised; for from the first moment ofMr. Carleton's proposing to go with her she bad been privately sure thathe would not prove an inactive or inefficient ally. By whatever slighttokens she might read this, in whatsoever fine characters of the eye, orspeech, or manner, she knew it; and knew it just as well before theyreached the hickory trees as she did afterwards. 

When one of the trees was well stripped the young gentleman mounted intoanother, while Fleda set herself to hull and gather up the nuts under theone first beaten. She could make but little headway however compared withher companion; the nuts fell a great deal faster than she could put themin her basket. The trees were heavy laden and Mr. Carleton seemeddetermined to have the whole crop; from the second tree he went to thethird. Fleda was bewildered with her happiness; this was doing business instyle. She tried to calculate what the whole quantity would be, but itwent beyond her; one basketful would not take it, nor two, not three, --itwouldn't _begin to_, Fleda said to herself. She went on hulling andgathering with all possible industry. 

After the third tree was finished Mr. Carleton threw down his pole, andresting himself upon the ground at the foot told Fleda he would wait a fewmoments before he began again. Fleda thereupon left off her work too, andgoing for her little tin pail presently offered it to him temptinglystocked with pieces of apple-pie. When he had smilingly taken one, shenext brought him a sheet of white paper with slices of young cheese. 

"No, thank you, " said he. 

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

"Is it?" said he laughing. "Well--upon that--I think you would teach me agood many things, Miss Fleda, if I were to stay here long enough. "

"I wish you would stay and try, sir, " said Fleda, who did not know exactlywhat to make of the shade of seriousness which crossed his face. It wasgone almost instantly. 

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

"Well I don't know, " said her friend. "I have no doubt that is the casewith cheese and apple-pie, and especially under hickory trees which onehas been contending with pretty sharply. If a touch of your wand, Fairy, could transform one of these shells into a goblet of Lafitte orAmontillado we should have nothing to wish for. "

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

"I am sorry!" she said, --"I don't know where there is any spring uphere, --but we shall come to one going down the mountain. "

"Do you know where all the springs are?"

"No, not all, I suppose, " said Fleda, "but I know a good many. I have goneabout through the woods so much, and I always look for the springs. "

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

"Oh nobody but grandpa, " said Fleda. "He used to be out with me a greatdeal, but he can't go much now, --this year or two. "

"Don't you go to school?"

"O no!" said Fleda smiling. 

"Then your grandfather teaches you at home?"

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

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

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

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

Fleda said "No sir, " and there stopped; and then seeming to think thatpoliteness called upon her to say more, she added, "I have lived with grandpa ever since father left me here when he wasgoing away among the Indians, --I used to be always with him before. "

"And how long ago is that?"

"It is--four years, sir;--more, I believe. He was sick when he came back, and we never went away from Queechy again. "

Mr. Carleton looked again silently at the child, who had given him thesepieces of information with a singular grave propriety of manner, and evenas it were reluctantly. 

"And what do you read, Fairy?" he said after a minute;--"stories offairy-land?"

"No, " said Fleda, "I haven't any. We haven't a great many books--there areonly a few up in the cupboard, and the Encyclopćdia; father had somebooks, but they are locked up in a chest. But there is a great deal in theEncyclopćdia. "

"The Encyclopćdia!" said Mr. Carleton;--"what do you read in that? whatcan you find to like there?"

"I like all about the insects, and birds and animals; and aboutflowers, --and lives of people, and curious things. There are a greatmany in it. "

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

"There's Quentin Durward, " said Fleda, --"and Rob Roy, and Guy Mannering intwo little bits of volumes; and the Knickerbocker, and the Christian'sMagazine, and an odd volume of Redgauntlet, and the Beauties of Scotland. "

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

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

"All the rest?"

"O yes, " said Fleda, --"and two or three times over. And there are threegreat red volumes besides, Robertson's history of something, I believe. Ihaven't read that either. "

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

"I don't know, " said Fleda, --"I don't know but I like to read theEncyclopćdia as well as any of them. And then I have the newspapers toread too. "

"I think, Miss Fleda, " said Mr. Carleton a minute after, "you hadbetter let me take you with my mother over the sea, when we go backagain, --to Paris. "

"Why, sir?"

"You know, " said he half smiling, "your aunt wants you, and has engaged mymother to bring you with her if she can. "

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

It was spoken not rudely but in a tone of quiet determination. 

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

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

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

"What then?" said Mr. Carleton, stopping as he was about to spring intothe tree, and looking at her with a face of comical amusement. 

"It isn't what _our_ men live on, " said Fleda, demurely eying the fallennuts, with a head full of business. 

They set both to work again with renewed energy, and rested not till thetreasures of the trees had been all brought to the ground, and as large aportion of them as could be coaxed and shaken into Fleda's basket had beencleared from the hulls and bestowed there. But there remained a vastquantity. These with a good deal of labour Mr. Carleton and Fleda gatheredinto a large heap in rather a sheltered place by the side of a rock, andtook what measures they might to conceal them. This was entirely atFleda's instance. 

"You and your maid Cynthia will have to make a good many journeys, MissFleda, to get all these home, unless you can muster a larger basket. "

"O _that's_ nothing, " said Fleda. "It will be all fun. I don't care howmany times we have to come. You are _very_ good, Mr. Carleton. "

"Do you think so?" said he. "I wish I did. I wish you would make your wandrest on me, Fairy. "

"My wand?" said Fleda. 

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

Fleda said she supposed it was because he loved her so much; but the rosysmile with which she said it would have let her hearer, if he had neededenlightening, far more into the secret than she was herself. And if thesimplicity in her face had not been equal to the wit, Mr. Carleton wouldnever have ventured the look of admiration he bestowed on her. He knew itwas safe. _Approbation_ she saw, and it made her smile the rosier; but theadmiration was a step beyond her; Fleda could make nothing of it. 

They descended the mountain now with a hasty step, for the day was wearingwell on. At the spot where he had stood so long when they went up, Mr. Carleton paused again for a minute. In mountain scenery every hour makes achange. The sun was lower now, the lights and shadows more stronglycontrasted, the sky of a yet calmer blue, cool and clear towards thehorizon. The scene said still the same that it had said a few hoursbefore, with a touch more of sadness; it seemed to whisper, "All thingshave an end--thy time may not be for ever--do what thou wouldestdo--'while ye have light believe in the light that ye may be children ofthe light. '"

Whether Mr. Carleton read it so or not, he stood for a minute motionlessand went down the mountain looking so grave that Fleda did not venture tospeak to him, till they reached the neighbourhood of the spring. 

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

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

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

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

"I want it--to make a drinking cup of, " said Fleda, her intent bright eyespeering keenly about in every direction. 

"A mullein leaf! that is too rough; one of these golden leaves--what arethey?--will do better, won't it?"

"That is hickory, " said Fleda. "No; the mullein leaf is the best becauseit holds the water so nicely. --Here it is!--"

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

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

"You wanted something, sir, " said Fleda. "The water is very coldand nice. "

He stooped to the bright little stream and filled his rural gobletseveral times. 

"I never knew what it was to have a fairy for my cup-bearer before, " saidhe. "That was better than anything Bordeaux or Xeres ever sent forth. "

He seemed to have swallowed his seriousness, or thrown it away with themullein leaf. It was quite gone. 

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

"How came you to be such a wood and water spirit? you must live out ofdoors. Do the trees ever talk to you? I sometimes think they do to me. "

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

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

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

"Not here--in my own country often enough--but the woods in England do notput on such a gay face, Miss Fleda, when they are going to be stripped oftheir summer dress--they look sober upon it--the leaves wither and growbrown and the woods have a dull russet colour. Your trees are trueYankees--they 'never say die!'"

"Why, are the Americans more obstinate than the English?" said Fleda. 

"It is difficult to compare unknown quantities, " said Mr. Carletonlaughing and shaking his head. "I see you have good ears for the key-noteof patriotism. "

Fleda looked a little hard at him, but he did not explain; and indeed theywere hurrying along too much for talking, leaping from stone to stone, andrunning down the smooth orchard slope. When they reached the last fence, but a little way from the house, Fleda made a resolute pause. 

"Mr. Carleton--" said she. 

Mr. Carleton put down his basket, and looked in some surprise at thehesitating anxious little face that looked up at him. 

"Won't you please not say anything to grandpa about my going away?"

"Why not, Fairy?" said he kindly. 

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

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

"No, " said Fleda, "I don't think he can. He would do anything he thoughtwould be most for my happiness; but it wouldn't be for my happiness, " shesaid with an unsteady lip, --"I don't know what he would do if I went!"

"You think he would have no sunshine if your wand didn't touch him?" saidMr. Carleton smiling. 

"No sir, " said Fleda gravely, --"I don't think that, --but won't you please, Mr. Carleton, not to speak about it?"

"But are you sure, " he said, sitting down on a stone hard by and takingone of her hands, "are you sure that you would not like to go with us? Iwish you would change your mind about it. My mother will love you verymuch, and I will take the especial charge of you till we give you to youraunt in Paris;--if the wind blows a little too rough I will always putmyself between it and you, " he added smiling. 

Fleda smiled faintly, but immediately begged Mr. Carleton "not to sayanything to put it into her grandfather's head. "

"It must be there already, I think, Miss Fleda; but at any rate you knowmy mother must perform her promise to your aunt Mrs. Rossitur; and shewould not do that without letting your grandfather know how glad she wouldbe to take you. "

Fleda stood silent a moment, and then with a touching look of waitingpatience in her sweet face suffered Mr. Carleton to help her over thefence; and they went home. 

To Fleda's unspeakable surprise it was found to be past four o'clock, andCynthy had supper ready. Mr. Ringgan with great cordiality invited Mr. Carleton to stay with them, but he could not; his mother would expect himto dinner. 

"Where is your mother?"

"At Montepoole, sir; we have been to Niagara, and came this way on ourreturn; partly that my mother might fulfil the promise she made Mrs. Rossitur--to let you know, sir, with how much pleasure she will takecharge of your little granddaughter and convey her to her friends inParis, if you can think it best to let her go. "

"Hum!--she is very kind. " said Mr. Ringgan, with a look of grave and notunmoved consideration which Fleda did not in the least like;--"How longwill you stay at Montepoole, sir?"

It might be several days, Mr. Carleton said. 

"Hum--You have given up this day to Fleda, Mr. Carleton, --suppose you taketo-morrow for the game, and come here and try our country fare when youhave got through shooting?--you and young Mr. Rossitur?--and I'll thinkover this question and let you know about it. "

Fleda was delighted to see that her friend accepted this invitation withapparent pleasure. 

"You will be kind enough to give my respects to your mother, " Mr. Ringganwent on, "and thanks for her kind offer. I may perhaps--I don'tknow--avail myself of it. If anything should bring Mrs. Carleton this waywe should like to see her. I am glad to see my friends, " he said, shakingthe young gentleman's hand, --"as long as I have a house to ask 'em to!"

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

"I don't know, sir!" said Mr. Ringgan, with again the dignified look oftrouble;--"it may not be!--I wish you good day, sir. "

Chapter IV. 

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

 Wordsworth. 

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

"Has he?--Well dear--I'm glad on't, --he seems a very nice young man. "

"He's a smart-lookin' feller, " said Cynthy, who was pouring out the tea. 

"And we have got the greatest quantity of nuts!" Fleda went on, --"enoughfor all winter. Cynthy and I will have to make ever so many journeys tofetch 'em all; and they are splendid big ones. Don't you say anything toMr. Didenhover, Cynthy. "

"I don't desire to meddle with Mr. Didenhover unless I've got to, " saidCynthy with an expression of considerable disgust. "You needn't give nocharges to me. "

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

"I s'pose I'll have to, " said Miss Gall dryly, after a short interval ofsipping tea and helping herself to sweetmeats. 

This lady had a pervading acidity of face and temper, but it was no more. To take her name as standing for a fair setting forth of her characterwould be highly injurious to a really respectable composition, which theworld's neglect (there was no other imaginable cause) had soured a little. 

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

"I haven't had such a fine day of nutting in a great while, grandpa, " shesaid again; "and you never saw such a good hand as Mr. Carleton is atwhipping the trees. "

"How came he to go with you?"

"I don't know, --I suppose it was to please me, in the first place; but I amsure he enjoyed it himself; and he liked the pie and cheese, too, Cynthy. "

"Where did your cousin go?"

"O he went off after the woodcock. I hope he didn't find any. "

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

"In what way, grandpa?"

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

"Mr. Carleton. "

"But t'other one's your cousin, " said Mr. Ringgan, bending forward andexamining his little granddaughter's face with a curious pleased look, ashe often did when expecting an answer from her. 

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

"How do you know that?"

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

"But why. Fairy?"

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

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

A little reluctantly, for Cynthia was present, Fleda told the story of therobins, and how Mr. Carleton would not let the gun be fired. 

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

"They were both put out, " said Fleda, "Mr. Carleton was very angry for aminute, and then Mr. Rossitur was angry, but I think he could have beenangrier if he had chosen. "

Mr. Ringgan laughed, and then seemed in a sort of amused triumph aboutsomething. 

"Well dear!" he remarked after a while, --"you'll never buy wooden nutmegs, I expect. "

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

"Mr. Ringgan, " said Cynthy, "hadn't I better run up the hill after supper, and ask Mis' Plumfield to come down and help to-morrow? I suppose you'llwant considerable of a set out; and if both them young men comes you'llwant some more help to entertain 'em than I can give you, it's likely?"

"Do so--do so, " said the old gentleman. "Tell her who I expect, and askher if she can come and help you, and me too. "

"O and I'll go with you, Cynthy, " said Fleda. "I'll get aunt Miriam tocome, I know. "

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

But this remonstrance availed nothing. Supper was hurried through, andleaving the table standing Cynthia and Fleda set off to "run up the hill. "

They were hardly a few steps from the gate when they heard the clatter ofhorses' hoofs behind them, and the two young gentlemen came ridinghurriedly past, having joined company and taken their horses at QueechyRun. Rossitur did not seem to see his little cousin and her companion; butthe doffed cap and low inclination of the other rider as they flew bycalled up a smile and blush of pleasure to Fleda's face; and the sound oftheir horses' hoofs had died away in the distance before the light hadfaded from her cheeks or she was quite at home to Cynthia's observations. She was possessed with the feeling, what a delightful thing it was to havepeople do things in such a manner. 

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

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

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

"An officer, " said Fleda. 

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

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

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

A few hundred yards from Mr. Ringgan's gate the road began to wind up avery long heavy hill. Just at the hill's foot it crossed by a rude bridgethe bed of a noisy brook that came roaring down from the higher grounds, turning sundry mill and factory wheels in its way. About half way up thehill one of these was placed, belonging to a mill for sawing boards. Thelittle building stood alone, no other in sight, with a dark background ofwood rising behind it on the other side of the brook; the stream itselfrunning smoothly for a small space above the mill, and leaping down madlybelow, as if it disdained its bed and would clear at a bound everyimpediment in its way to the sea. When the mill was not going the quantityof water that found its way down the hill was indeed very small, enoughonly to keep up a pleasant chattering with the stones; but as soon as thestream was allowed to gather all its force and run free its loquacity wassuch that it would prevent a traveller from suspecting his approach to themill, until, very near, the monotonous hum of its saw could be heard. Thiswas a place Fleda dearly loved. The wild sound of the waters and thelonely keeping of the scene, with the delicious smell of the new-sawnboards, and the fascination of seeing the great logs of wood walk up tothe relentless, tireless up-and-down-going steel; as the generations ofmen in turn present themselves to the course of those sharp events whichare the teeth of Time's saw; until all of a sudden the master spirit, theman-regulator of this machinery, would perform some conjuration on leverand wheel, --and at once, as at the touch of an enchanter, the log would bestill and the saw stay its work;--the business of life came to a stand, and the romance of the little brook sprang up again. Fleda never tired ofit--never. She would watch the saw play and stop, and go on again; shewould have her ears dinned with the hoarse clang of the machinery, andthen listen to the laugh of the mill-stream; she would see with untiringpatience one board after another cut and cast aside, and log succeed tolog; and never turned weary away from that mysterious image of Time'sdoings. Fleda had besides, without knowing it, the eye of a painter. Inthe lonely hillside, the odd-shaped little mill, with its accompanimentsof wood and water, and the great logs of timber lying about the ground inall directions and varieties of position, there was a picturesque charmfor her, where the country people saw nothing but business and a place fitfor it. Their hands grew hard where her mind was refining. Where they madedollars and cents, she was growing rich in stores of thought andassociations of beauty. How many purposes the same thing serves!

[Illustration: "Who's got it now, Cynthy?"]

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

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

"O it's that chap McGowan, I expect;--he's got pretty much the hull ofeverything. I told Mr. Ringgan I wouldn't let him have it if it was me, atthe time. Your grandpa'd be glad to get it back now, I guess. "

Fleda guessed so too; but also guessed that Miss Gall was probably veryfar from being possessed of the whole rationale of the matter. So she madeher no answer. 

After reaching the brow of the hill the road continued on a very gentleascent towards a little settlement half a quarter of a mile off; passingnow and then a few scattered cottages or an occasional mill or turner'sshop. Several mills and factories, with a store and a very fewdwelling-houses were all the settlement; not enough to entitle it to thename of a village. Beyond these and the mill-ponds, of which in the courseof the road there were three or four, and with a brief intervening spaceof cultivated fields, a single farm house stood alone; just upon theborders of a large and very fair sheet of water from which all the othershad their supply. --So large and fair that nobody cavilled at its takingthe style of a lake and giving its own pretty name of Deepwater both tothe settlement and the farm that half embraced it. This farm was SethPlumfield's. 

At the garden gate Fleda quitted Cynthy and rushed forward to meet heraunt, whom she saw coming round the corner of the house with her gownpinned up behind her from attending to some domestic concern among thepigs, the cows, or the poultry. 

"O aunt Miriam, " said Fleda eagerly, "we are going to have company to teato-morrow--won't you come and help us?"

Aunt Miriam laid her hands upon Fleda's shoulders and looked at Cynthy. 

"I came up to see if you wouldn't come down to-morrow, Mis' Plumfield, "said that personage, with her usual dry business tone, always a little onthe wrong side of sweet;--"your brother has taken a notion to ask twoyoung fellers from the Pool to supper, and they're grand folks I s'pose, and have got to have a fuss made for 'em. I don't know what Mr. Ringgan wasthinkin' of, or whether he thinks I have got anything to do or not; butanyhow they're a comin', I s'pose, and must have something to eat; and Ithought the best thing I could do would be to come and get you into theworks, if I could. I should feel a little queer to have nobody but me tosay nothin' to them at the table. "

"Ah do come, aunt Miriam!" said Fleda; "it will be twice as pleasant ifyou do; and besides, we want to have everything very nice, you know. "

Aunt Miriam smiled at Fleda, and inquired of Miss Gall what she had inthe house. 

"Why I don't know, Mis' Plumfield, " said the lady, while Fleda threw herarms round her aunt and thanked her, --"there ain't nothin' particler--porkand beef and the old story. I've got some first-rate pickles. I calculatedto make some sort o' cake in the morning. "

"Any of those small hams left?"

"Not a bone of 'em--these six weeks, _I_ don't see how they've gone, formy part. I'd lay any wager there were two in the smoke-house when I tookthe last one out. If Mr. Didenhover was a little more like a weasel Ishould think he'd been in. "

"Have you cooked that roaster I sent down?"

"No, Mis' Plumfield, I ha'n't--it's such a plaguy sight of trouble!" saidCynthy with a little apologetic giggle;--"I was keepin' it for some daywhen I hadn't much to do. "

"I'll take the trouble of it. I'll be down bright and early in themorning, and we'll see what's best to do. How's your last churning, Cynthy?"

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

"'Tisn't anything very remarkable, aunt Miriam, " said Fleda shaking herhead. 

"Well, well, " said Mrs. Plumfield smiling, "run away down home now, andI'll come to-morrow, and I guess we'll fix it. But who is it that grandpahas asked?"

Fleda and Cynthy both opened at once. 

"One of them is my cousin, aunt Miriam, that was at West Point, and theother is the nicest English gentleman you ever saw--you will like him verymuch--he has been with me getting nuts all to-day. "

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

"Well I'll come to-morrow, " repeated Mrs. Plumfield, "and we'll see aboutit. Good night, dear!"

She took Fleda's head in both her hands and gave her a most affectionatekiss; and the two petitioners set off homewards again. 

Aunt Miriam was not at all like her brother, in feature, though the moralcharacteristics suited the relationship sufficiently well. There was theexpression of strong sense and great benevolence; the unbendinguprightness, of mind and body at once; and the dignity of an essentiallynoble character, not the same as Mr. Ringgan's, but such as well becamehis sister. She had been brought up among the Quakers, and though now andfor many years a staunch Presbyterian, she still retained a tincture ofthe calm efficient gentleness of mind and manner that belongs soinexplicably to them. More womanly sweetness than was in Mr. Ringgan'sblue eye a woman need not wish to have; and perhaps his sister's had notso much. There was no want of it in her heart, nor in her manner, but themany and singular excellencies of her character were a little overshadowedby super-excellent housekeeping. Not a taint of the littleness thatsometimes grows therefrom, --not a trace of the narrowness of mind thatover-attention to such pursuits is too apt to bring;--on every importantoccasion aunt Miriam would come out free and unshackled from all thecobweb entanglements of housewifery; she would have tossed housewifery tothe winds if need were (but it never was, for in a new sense she alwayscontrived to make both ends meet). It was only in the unbroken everydaycourse of affairs that aunt Miriam's face shewed any tokens of thatincessant train of _small cares_ which had never left their impertinentfootprints upon the broad high brow of her brother. Mr. Ringgan had noaffinity with small cares; deep serious matters received his deep andserious consideration; but he had as dignified a disdain of triflingannoyances or concernments as any great mastiff or Newfoundlander ever hadfor the yelping of a little cur. 

Chapter V. 

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

 Chatterton. 

In the snuggest and best private room of the House at Montepoole a partyof ladies and gentlemen were gathered, awaiting the return of thesportsmen. The room had been made as comfortable as any place could be ina house built for "the season, " after the season was past. A splendid fireof hickory logs was burning brilliantly and making amends for manydeficiencies; the closed wooden shutters gave the reality if not the lookof warmth, for though the days might be fine and mild the mornings andevenings were always very cool up there among the mountains; and a tablestood at the last point of readiness for having dinner served. They onlywaited for the lingering woodcock-hunters. 

It was rather an elderly party, with the exception of one young man whoseage might match that of the absent two. He was walking up and down theroom with somewhat the air of having nothing to do with himself. Anothergentleman, much older, stood warming his back at the fire, feeling abouthis jaws and chin with one hand and looking at the dinner-table in a sortof expectant reverie. The rest, three ladies, sat quietly chatting. Allthese persons were extremely different from one another in individualcharacteristics, and all had the unmistakable mark of the habit of goodsociety; as difficult to locate and as easy to recognize as the sense of_freshness_ which some ladies have the secret of diffusing aroundthemselves;--no definable sweetness, nothing in particular, but making avery agreeable impression. 

One of these ladies, the mother of the perambulating young officer (hewas a class-mate of Rossitur's), was extremely plain in feature, even morethan _ordinary_. This plainness was not however devoid of sense, and itwas relieved by an uncommon amount of good-nature and kindness of heart. In her son the sense deepened into acuteness, and the kindness of heartretreated, it is to be hoped, into some hidden recess of his nature; forit very rarely shewed itself in open expression. That is, to an eye keenin reading the natural signs of emotion; for it cannot be said that hismanner had any want of amenity or politeness. 

The second lady, the wife of the gentleman on the hearth-rug, or rather onthe spot where the hearth-rug should have been, was a strong contrast tothis mother and son; remarkably pretty, delicate and even lovely; with ablack eye however that though in general soft could shew a mischievoussparkle upon occasion; still young, and one of those women who always wereand always will be pretty and delicate at any age. 

The third had been very handsome, and was still a very elegant woman, buther face had seen more of the world's wear and tear. It had never knownplacidity of expression beyond what the habitual command of good-breedingimposed. She looked exactly what she was, a perfect woman of the world. Avery good specimen, --for Mrs. Carleton had sense and cultivation and evenfeeling enough to play the part very gracefully; yet her mind was bound inthe shackles of "the world's" tyrannical forging and had never been free;and her heart bowed submissively to the same authority. 

"Here they are! Welcome home, " exclaimed this lady, as her son and hisfriend at length made their appearance;--"Welcome home--we are allfamishing; and I don't know why in the world we waited for you, for I amsure you don't deserve it. What success? What success, Mr. Rossitur?"

"'Faith ma'am, there's little enough to boast of, as far as I amconcerned. Mr. Carleton may speak for himself. "

"I am very sorry, ma'am, you waited for me, " said that gentleman. "I am adelinquent I acknowledge. The day came to an end before I was at allaware of it. "

"It would not do to flatter you so far as to tell you why we waited, " saidMrs. Evelyn's soft voice. And then perceiving that the gentleman at whomshe was looking gave her no answer she turned to the other. "How manywoodcock, Mr. Rossitur?"

"Nothing to shew, ma'am, " he replied. "Didn't see a solitary one. I heardsome partridges, but I didn't mean to have room in my bag for them. "

"Did you find the right ground, Rossitur?"

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

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

"Following the sport another way, ma'am; I had very good success too. "

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

"Really, sir, I didn't count. I can only answer for a bag full. "

"Ladies and gentlemen!" cried Rossitur, bursting forth, --"What will yousay when I tell you that Mr. Carleton deserted me and the sport in a mostunceremonious manner, and that he, --the cynical philosopher, the reservedEnglish gentleman, the gay man of the world, --you are all of 'em by turns, aren't you, Carleton?--_he!_--has gone and made a very cavaliero servanteof himself to a piece of rusticity, and spent all to-day in helping alittle girl pick up chestnuts!"

"Mr. Carleton would be a better man if he were to spend a good many moredays in the same manner, " said that gentleman, dryly enough. But theentrance of dinner put a stop to both laughter and questioning for a time, all of the party being well disposed to their meat. 

When the pickerel from the lakes, and the poultry and half-kept joints hadhad their share of attention, and a pair of fine wild ducks were set onthe table, the tongues of the party found something to do besides eating. 

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

"With pleasure, mother, but that I am engaged to dinner about five or sixmiles in the opposite direction. "

"Engaged to dinner!--what with this old gentleman where you went lastnight? And you too, Mr. Rossitur?"

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

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

"I don't know yet--I half apprehend, yes; there seems to be a doubt in hergrandfather's mind, not whether he can let her go, but whether he can keepher, and that looks like it. "

"Is it your little cousin who proved the successful rival of the woodcockto-day, Carleton?" said Mrs. Evelyn. "What is she?"

"I don't know, ma'am, upon my word. I presume Carleton will tell you sheis something uncommon and quite remarkable. "

"Is she, Mr. Carleton?"

"What, ma'am?"

"Uncommon?"

"Very. "

"Come! That _is_ something, from _you_, " said Rossitur's brother officer, Lieut. Thorn. 

"What's the uncommonness?" said Mrs. Thorn, addressing herself rather toMr. Rossitur as she saw Mr. Carleton's averted eye;--"Is she handsome, Mr. Rossitur?"

"I can't tell you, I am sure, ma'am. I saw nothing but a nice child enoughin a calico frock, just such as one would see in any farm-house. Sherushed into the room when she was first called to see us, from somewherein distant regions, with an immense iron ladle a foot and a half long inher hand with which she had been performing unknown feats of housewifery;and they had left her head still encircled with a halo of kitchen-smoke. If as they say 'coming events cast their shadows before, ' she was theshadow of supper. "

"Oh Carleton, Carleton!" said Mrs. Evelyn, but in a tone of very gentleand laughing reproof, --"for shame! What a picture! and of your cousin!"

"Is she a pretty child, Guy?" said Mrs. Carleton, who did not relish herson's grave face. 

"No ma'am--something more than that. "

"How old?"

"About ten or eleven. "

"That's an ugly age. "

"She will never be at an ugly age. "

"What style of beauty?"

"The highest--that degree of mould and finish which belongs only to thefinest material. "

"That is hardly the kind of beauty one would expect to see in such aplace, " said Mrs. Carleton. "From one side of her family to be sure shehas a right to it. "

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

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

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

"Amy Carleton!" exclaimed Mrs. Evelyn, --"O I knew her! Was Amy Carletonher mother? O I didn't know whom you were talking of. She was one of mydearest friends. Her daughter may well be handsome--she was one of themost lovely persons I ever knew; in body and mind both. O I loved AmyCarleton very much. I must see this child. "

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

"O her father was Major Ringgan, " said Mrs. Evelyn. "I never saw him, butI have heard him spoken of in very high terms. I always heard that Amymarried very well. "

"Major Ringgan!" said Mrs. Thorn;--"his name is very well known; he wasvery distinguished. "

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

"Yes, he was a self made man, " said Mrs. Thorn, "but I should never thinkof that where a man distinguishes himself so much; he was verydistinguished. "

"Yes, and for more than officer-like qualities, " said Mrs. Evelyn. "I haveheard his personal accomplishments as a gentleman highly praised. "

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

"It is one of those singular cases, " said Mr. Carleton, "where purity ofblood proves itself, and one has no need to go back to past generations tomake any inquiry concerning it. "

"Hear him!" cried Rossitur;--"and for the life of me I could see nothingof all this wonder. Her face is not at all striking. "

"The wonder is not so much in what it _is_ as in what it indicates, " saidMr. Carleton. 

"What does it indicate?" said his mother. 

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

"Hear him!" cried Thorn again. 

"Well, I hope she will go with us and we shall have a chance of seeingher, " said Mrs. Carleton. 

"If she were only a few years older it is my belief you would see enoughof her, ma'am, " said young Rossitur. 

The haughty coldness of Mr. Carleton's look at this speech could not besurpassed. 

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

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

"It is a little odd, " said Mrs. Evelyn with the slightest touch of apiqued air, (she had some daughters at home)--"that is a kind of beautyone is apt to associate with high breeding, and certainly you very rarelysee it anywhere else; and Major Ringgan, however distinguished andestimable, as I have no doubt he was, --And this child must have beenbrought up with no advantages, here in the country. "

"My dear madam, " said Mr. Carleton smiling a little, "this high breedingis a very fine thing, but it can neither be given nor bequeathed; and wecannot entail it. "

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

"If it could be taught it is to be hoped it would be oftener learned, "said the young man dryly. 

"But what do we mean, then, when we talk of the high breeding of certainclasses--and families? and why are we not disappointed when we look tofind it in connection with certain names and positions in society?"

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

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

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

"May I ask how you understand it?"

"As you do, sir. "

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

"There is very little of it. What is commonly current under the name ismerely counterfeit notes which pass from hand to hand of those who arebankrupt in the article. "

"And to what serve then, " said Mrs. Evelyn colouring, "the long lists ofgood old names which even you, Mr. Carleton, I know, do not disdain?"

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

"Guy you are absurd!" said his mother. "I will not sit at the table andlisten to you if you talk such stuff. What do you mean?"

"I beg your pardon, mother, you have misunderstood me, " said he seriously. "Mind, I have been talking, not of ordinary conformity to what the worldrequires, but of that fine perfection of mental and moral constitutionwhich in its own natural necessary acting leaves nothing to be desired, inevery occasion or circumstance of life. It is the pure gold, and it knowsno tarnish; it is the true coin, and it gives what it proffers to give; itis the living plant ever-blossoming, and not the cut and art-arrangedflowers. It is a thing of the mind altogether; and where nature has notcuriously prepared the soil it is in vain to try to make it grow. _This_is not very often met with?"

"No indeed, " said Mrs. Carleton;--"but you are so fastidiously nice in allyour notions!--at this rate nothing will ever satisfy you. "

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

Mr. Carleton pared his apple with an engrossed air. 

"O no, Mrs. Thorn, " said Mrs. Evelyn, "I don't agree with you--I don'tthink you often see such a combination as Mr. Carleton has been speakingof--very rarely!--but, Mr. Carleton, don't you think it is generally foundin that class of society where the habits of life are constantly the mostpolished and refined?"

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

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

"Cultivation and refinement have taught people to recognize and analyzeand imitate it; the counterfeits are most current in that society, --but asto the reality I don't know--it is nature's work and she is a littlefreaky about it. "

"But Guy!" said his mother impatiently;--"this is not selling but givingaway one's birthright. Where is the advantage of birth if breeding is notsupposed to go along with it. Where the parents have had intelligence andrefinement do we not constantly see them inherited by the children? and inan increasing degree from generation to generation?"

"Very extraordinary!" said Mrs. Thorn. 

"I do not undervalue the blessings of inheritance, mother, believe me, nordeny the general doctrine; though intelligence does not always descend, and manners die out, and that invaluable legacy, _a name_, may be thrownaway. But this delicate thing we are speaking of is not intelligence norrefinement, but comes rather from a happy combination of qualities, together with a peculiarly fine nervous constitution;--the _essence_ of itmay consist with an omission, even with an awkwardness, and with a sadignorance of conventionalities. "

"But even if that be so, do you think it can ever reach its fulldevelopment but in the circumstances that are favourable to it?" saidMrs. Evelyn. 

"Probably not often; the diamond in some instances wants the graver;--butit is the diamond. Nature seems now and then to have taken a princess'schild and dropped it in some odd corner of the kingdom, while she has leftthe clown in the palace. "

"From all which I understand, " said Mr. Thorn, "that this little chestnutgirl is a princess in disguise. "

"Really, Carleton!"--Rossitur began. 

Mrs. Evelyn leaned back in her chair and quietly eating a piece of appleeyed Mr. Carleton with a look half amused and half discontented, andbehind all that, keenly attentive. 

"Take for example those two miniatures you were looking at last night, Mrs. Evelyn, " the young man went on;--"Louis XVI. And MarieAntoinette--what would you have more unrefined, more heavy, more _animal_, than the face of that descendant of a line of kings?"

Mrs. Evelyn bowed her head acquiescingly and seemed to enjoy her apple. 

"_He_ had a pretty bad lot of an inheritance sure enough, take it alltogether, " said Rossitur. 

"Well, " said Thorn, --"is this little stray princess as well-looking ast'other miniature?"

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

"Better!" cried Mrs. Carleton. 

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

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

"My unhappy cousin is said to be a fairy, ma'am, " said Mr. Rossitur; "andI presume all this may be referred to enchantment. "

"That face of Marie Antoinette's, " said Mr. Carleton smiling, "is anundisciplined one--uneducated. "

"Uneducated!" exclaimed Mrs. Carleton. 

"Don't mistake me, mother, --I do not mean that it shows any want ofreading or writing, but it does indicate an untrained character--a mindunprepared for the exigencies of life. "

"She met those exigencies indifferent well too, " observed Mr. Thorn. 

"Ay--but pride, and the dignity of rank, and undoubtedly some of the finerqualities of a woman's nature, might suffice for that, and yet leave herutterly unfitted to play wisely and gracefully a part in ordinary life. "

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

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

"Well--the other face?"

"It has the same style of refined beauty of feature, but--to comparethem in a word, Marie Antoinette looks to me like a superb exotic thathas come to its brilliant perfection of bloom in a hot-house--it wouldlose its beauty in the strong free air--it would change and droop if itlacked careful waiting upon and constant artificial excitement;--theother, " said Mr. Carleton musingly, --is a flower of the woods, raisingits head above frost and snow and the rugged soil where fortune hasplaced it, with an air of quiet patient endurance;--a storm wind maybring it to the ground, easily--but if its gentle nature be not broken, it will look up again, unchanged, and bide its time in unrequited beautyand sweetness to the end. "

"The exotic for me!" cried Rossitur, --"if I only had a place for her. Idon't like pale elegancies. "

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

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

"I never heard you talk so before, Guy, " said his mother looking at him. His eyes had grown dark with intensity of expression while he wasspeaking, gazing at visionary flowers or beauties through the dinner-tablemahogany. He looked up and laughed as she addressed him, and rising turnedoff lightly with his usual sir. 

"I congratulate you, Mrs. Carleton, " Mrs. Evelyn whispered as they wentfrom the table, "that this little beauty is not a few years older. "

"Why?" said Mrs. Carleton. "If she is all that Guy says, I would giveanything in the world to see him married. "

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

"I don't know, " said Mrs. Carleton, --"I think he would be happier. He is arestless spirit--nothing satisfies him--nothing fixes him. He cannot restat home--he abhors politics--he flits way from country to country anddoesn't remain long anywhere. "

"And you with him. "

"And I with him. I should like to see if a wife could not persuade him tostay at home. "

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

"I cannot have petted him too much, for he has never disappointed me. "

"No--of course not; but it seems you find it difficult to lead him. "

"No one ever succeeded in doing that, " said Mrs. Carleton, with a smilethat was anything but an ungratified one. "He never wanted driving, and tolead him is impossible. You may try it, and while you think you are goingto gain your end, if he thinks it worth while, you will suddenly find thathe is leading you. It is so with everybody--in some inexplicable way. "

Mrs. Evelyn thought the mystery was very easily explicable as far as themother was concerned; and changed the conversation. 

Chapter VI. 

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

 Milnes. 

On so great and uncommon an occasion as Mr. Ringgan's giving adinner-party the disused front parlour was opened and set in order; thewomen-folks, as he called them, wanting the whole back part of the housefor their operations. So when the visitors arrived, in good time, theywere ushered into a large square bare-looking room--a strong contrast evento their dining-room at the Poolwhich gave them nothing of the welcome ofthe pleasant farmhouse kitchen, and where nothing of the comfort of thekitchen found its way but a very strong smell of roast pig. There was thecheerless air of a place where nobody lives, or thinks of living. The verychairs looked as if they had made up their minds to be forsaken for a termof months; it was impossible to imagine that a cheerful supper had everbeen laid upon the stiff cold-looking table that stood with its leavesdown so primly against the wall. All that a blazing fire could do to makeamends for deficiencies, it did; but the wintry wind that swept round thehouse shook the paper window-shades in a remorseless way; and the utmostefforts of said fire could not prevent it from coming in and givingdisagreeable impertinent whispers at the ears of everybody. 

Mr. Ringgan's welcome, however, was and would have been the same thinganywhere--genial, frank, and dignified; neither he nor it could be changedby circumstances. Mr. Carleton admired anew, as he came forward, the finepresence and noble look of his old host; a look that it was plain hadnever needed to seek the ground; a brow that in large or small things hadnever been crossed by a shadow of shame. And to a discerning eye the facewas not a surer index of a lofty than of a peaceful and pure mind; toopeace-loving and pure perhaps for the best good of his affairs in theconflict with a selfish and unscrupulous world. At least now, in the timeof his old age and infirmity; in former days his straightforward wisdombacked by an indomitable courage and strength had made Mr. Ringgan no safesubject for either braving or overreaching. 

Fleda's keen-sighted affection was heartily gratified by the manner inwhich her grandfather was greeted by at least one of his guests, and thatthe one about whose opinion she cared the most. Mr. Carleton seemed aslittle sensible of the cold room as Mr. Ringgan himself. Fleda felt surethat her grandfather was appreciated; and she would have sat delightedlylistening to what the one and the other were presently saying, if she hadnot taken notice that her cousin looked _astray_. He was eying the firewith a profound air and she fancied he thought it poor amusement. Littleas Fleda in secret really cared about that, with an instant sacrifice ofher own pleasure she quietly changed her position for one from which shecould more readily bring to bear upon Mr. Rossitur's distraction the verylight artillery of her conversation; and attacked him on the subject ofthe game he had brought home. Her motive and her manner both must havebeen lost upon the young gentleman. He forthwith set about amusing himselfin a way his little entertainer had not counted upon, namely, with givinga chase to her wits; partly to pass away the time, and partly to gratifyhis curiosity, as he said, "to see what Fleda was made of. " By a curioussystem of involved, startling, or absurd questions, he endeavoured topuzzle or confound or entrap her. Fleda however steadily presented a gravefront to the enemy, and would every now and then surprise him with anunexpected turn or clever doubling, and sometimes, when he thought he hadher in a corner, jump over the fence and laugh at him from the other side. Mr. Rossitur's respect for his little adversary gradually increased, andfinding that she had rather the best of the game he at last gave it up, just as Mr. Ringgan was asking Mr. Carleton if he was a judge of stock?Mr. Carleton saying with a smile "No, but he hoped Mr. Ringgan would givehim his first lesson, "--the old gentleman immediately arose with thatalacrity of manner he always wore when he had a visitor that pleased him, and taking his hat and cane led the way out; choosing, with a man's truecarelessness of housewifery etiquette, the kitchen route, of all others. Not even admonished by the sight of the bright Dutch oven before the firethat he was introducing his visitors somewhat too early to the pig, he ledthe whole party through, Cynthia scuttling away in haste across thekitchen with something that must not be seen, while aunt Miriam looked outat the company through the crack of the pantry door, at which Fledaventured a sly glance of intelligence. 

It was a fine though a windy and cold afternoon; the lights and shadowswere driving across the broad upland and meadows. 

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

"Capital, sir, --capital, for many miles round, if we were not so far froma market. I was one of the first that broke ground in this township, --oneof the very first settlers--I've seen the rough and the smooth of it, andI never had but one mind about it from the first. All this--as far as youcan see--I cleared myself; most of it with my own hand. "

"That recollection must attach you strongly to the place, I shouldthink, sir. "

"Hum--perhaps I cared too much for it, " he replied, "for it is taken awayfrom me. Well--it don't matter now. "

"Is it not yours?"

"No sir!--it _was_ mine, a great many years; but I was obliged to partwith it, two years ago, to a scoundrel of a fellow--McGowan up here--hegot an advantage over me. I can't take care of myself any more as Iused to do, and I don't find that other people deal by me just as Icould wish--"

He was silent for a moment and then went on, --

"Yes sir! when I first set myself down here, or a little further that waymy first house was, --a pretty rough house, too, --there wa'n't two settlersbeside within something like ten miles round. --I've seen the whole of itcleared, from the cutting of the first forest trees till this day. "

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

"Not exactly--that question of our nationality was settled a little beforeI came here. I was born rather too late to see the whole of that play--Isaw the best of it though--boys were men in those days. My father was inthe thick of it from beginning to end. "

"In the army, was he?"

"Ho yes, sir! he and every child he had that wasn't a girl--there wasn't aman of the name that wa'n't on the right side. I was in the army myselfwhen I was fifteen. I was nothing but a fifer--but I tell you sir! therewasn't a general officer in the country that played his part with aprouder heart than I did mine!"

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

"Not altogether, " replied the old gentleman, passing his hand severaltimes abstractedly over his white hair, a favourite gesture withhim, --"not exactly that--there was a good deal of mixture of differentmaterials, especially in this state; and where the feeling wasn't prettystrong it was no wonder if it got tired out; but the real stuff, the trueYankee blood, was pretty firm! Ay, and some of the rest! There was a gooddeal to try men in those days. Sir, I have seen many a time when I hadnothing to dine upon but my fife, and it was more than that could do tokeep me from feeling very empty!"

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

"Pretty often--pretty often, sometimes, " answered the old gentleman. "Things were very much out of order, you see, and in some parts of thecountry it was almost impossible to get the supplies the men needed. Nothing would have kept them together, --nothing under heaven--but the loveand confidence they had in one name. Their love of right and independencewouldn't have been strong enough, and besides a good many of them gotdisheartened. A hungry stomach is a pretty stout arguer against abstractquestions. I have seen my father crying like a child for the wants andsufferings he was obliged to see and couldn't relieve. "

"And then you used to relieve yourselves, grandpa, " said Fleda. 

"How was that, Fairy?"

Fleda looked at her grandfather, who gave a little preparatory laugh andpassed his hand over his head again. 

"Why yes, " said he, --"we used to think the tories, King George's men youknow, were fair game; and when we happened to be in the neighbourhood ofsome of them that we knew were giving all the help they could to theenemy, we used to let them cook our dinners for us once in a while. "

"How did you manage that, sir?"

"Why, they used to have little bake-ovens to cook their meats and so on, standing some way out from the house, --did you never gee one ofthem?--raised on four little heaps of stone; the bottom of the oven is onelarge flat stone, and the arch built over it;--they look like a greatbee-hive. Well--we used to watch till we saw the good woman of the houseget her oven cleverly heated, and put in her batch of bread, or her meatpie, or her pumpkin and apple pies!--whichever it was--there didn't any of'em come much amiss--and when we guessed they were pretty nigh done, threeor four of us would creep in and whip off the whole--oven and all!--to asafe place. I tell you, " said he with a knowing nod of his head at thelaughing Fleda, --"those were first-rate pies!"

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

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

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

"O I like it, " said Fleda. "You liked those pies all the better, didn'tyou, grandpa, because you had got them from the tories?"

"That we did! If we hadn't got them maybe King George's men would, in someshape. But we weren't always so lucky as to get hold of an oven full. Iremember one time several of us had been out on a foraging expedition----there, sir, what do you think of that for a two and a half year old?"

They had come up with the chief favourite of his barn-yard, a finedeep-coloured Devon bull. 

"I don't know what one might see in Devonshire, " he remarked presently, "but I know _this_ country can't shew the like of him!"

A discussion followed of the various beauties and excellencies of theanimal; a discussion in which Mr. Carleton certainly took little part, while Mr. Ringgan descanted enthusiastically upon 'hide' and 'brisket' and'bone, ' and Rossitur stood in an abstraction, it might be scornful, itmight be mazed. Little Fleda quietly listening and looking at thebeautiful creature, which from being such a treasure to her grandfatherwas in a sort one to her, more than half understood them all; but Mr. Ringgan was too well satisfied with the attention of one of his guests tomiss that of the other. 

"That fellow don't look as if _he_ had ever known short commons, " wasRossitur's single remark as they turned away. 

"You did not give us the result of your foraging expedition, sir, " saidMr. Carleton in a different manner. 

"Do, grandpa, " said Fleda softly. 

"Ha!--Oh it is not worth telling, " said the old gentleman, look inggratified;--"Fleda has heard my stories till she knows them by heart--shecould tell it as well herself. What was it?--about the pig?--We had beenout, several of us, one afternoon to try to get up a supper--or a dinner, for we had had none--and we had caught a pig. It happened that I was theonly one of the party that had a cloak, and so the pig was given to me tocarry home, because I could hide it the best. Well sir!--we were cominghome, and had set our mouths for a prime supper, when just as we werewithin a few rods of our shanty who should come along but our captain! Myheart sank as it never has done at the thought of a supper before orsince, I believe! I held my cloak together as well as I could, and keptmyself back a little, so that if the pig shewed a cloven foot behind me, the captain might not see it. But I almost gave up all for lost when I sawthe captain going into the hut with us. There was a kind of a rudebedstead standing there; and I set myself down upon the side of it, andgently worked and eased my pig off under my cloak till I got him to rolldown behind the bed. I knew, " said Mr. Ringgan laughing, "I knew by thecaptain's eye as well as I knew anything, that he smelt a rat; but he keptour counsel, as well as his own; and when he was gone we took the pig outinto the woods behind the shanty and roasted him finely, and we sent andasked Capt. Sears to supper; and he came and helped us eat the pig with agreat deal of appetite, and never asked no questions how we came by him!"

"I wonder your stout-heartedness did not fail, in the course of so long atime, " said Mr. Carleton. 

"Never sir!" said the old gentleman. "I never doubted for a moment whatthe end would be. My father never doubted for a moment. We trusted in Godand in Washington!"

"Did you see actual service yourself?"

"No sir--I never did. I wish I had. I should like to have had the honourof striking one blow at the rascals. However they were hit pretty well. Iought to be contented. My father saw enough of fighting--he was colonel ofa regiment--he was at the affair of Burgoyne. _That_ gave us a lift ingood time. What rejoicing there was everywhere when that news came! Icould have fifed all day upon an empty stomach and felt satisfied. Peoplereckoned everywhere that the matter was settled when that great piece ofgood fortune was given us. And so it was!--wa'n't it, dear?" said the oldgentleman, with one of those fond, pleased, sympathetic looks to Fledawith which he often brought up what he was saying. 

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

"Yes sir--Gates was a poor stick--I never thought much of him. That fellowArnold distinguished himself in the actions before Burgoyne's surrender. He fought like a brave man. It seems strange that so mean a scamp shouldhave had so much blood in him?"

"Why, are great fighters generally good men, grandpa?" said Fleda. 

"Not exactly, dear!" replied her grandfather;--"but suchlittle-minded rascality is not just the vice one would expect to findin a gallant soldier. "

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

"Yes, " answered the old gentleman gravely, --"they were times that calledfor men, and God raised them up. But Washington was the soul of thecountry, sir!"

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

"I beg your pardon, " said the old gentleman with a very decided littleturn of his head, --"I think he made the time. I don't know what it wouldhave been, sir, or what it would have come to, but for him. After all, itis rather that the things which try people shew what is in them;--I hopethere are men enough in the country yet, though they haven't as good achance to shew what they are. "

"Either way, " said his guest smiling; "it is a happiness, Mr. Ringgan, tohave lived at a time when there was something worth living for. "

"Well--I don't know--" said the old gentleman;--"those times would makethe prettiest figure in a story or a romance, I suppose; but I've triedboth, and on the whole, " said he with another of his looks at Fleda, --"Ithink I like these times the best!"

Fleda smiled her acquiescence. His guest could not help thinking tohimself that however pacific might be Mr. Ringgan's temper, no man inthose days that tried men could have brought to the issue more sterninflexibility and gallant fortitude of bearing. His frame bore evidenceof great personal strength, and his eye, with all its mildness, had anunflinching dignity that _could_ never have quailed before danger orduty. And now, while he was recalling with great animation and pleasurethe scenes of his more active life, and his blue eye was shining with thefire of other days, his manner had the self-possession and quietsedateness of triumph that bespeak a man always more ready to do than tosay. Perhaps the contemplation of the noble Roman-like old figure beforehim did not tend to lessen the feeling, even the sigh of regret, withwhich the young man said, "There was something then for a man to do!"

"There is always that, " said the old gentleman quietly. "God has givenevery man his work to do; and 'tain't difficult for him to find out what. No man is put here to be idle. "

"But, " said his companion, with a look in which not a little haughtyreserve was mingled with a desire to speak out his thoughts, "half theworld are busy about hum-drum concerns and the other half doing nothing, or worse. "

"I don't know about that, " said Mr. Ringgan;--"that depends upon the wayyou take things. 'Tain't always the men that make the most noise that arethe most good in the world. Hum-drum affairs needn't be hum-drum in thedoing of 'em. It is my maxim, " said the old gentleman looking at hiscompanion with a singularly open pleasant smile, --"that a man may be greatabout a'most anything--chopping wood, if he happens to be in that line. Iused to go upon that plan, sir. Whatever I have set my hand to do, I havedone it as well as I knew how to; and if you follow that rule out you'llnot be idle, nor hum-drum neither. Many's the time that I have mowed whatwould be a day's work for another man, before breakfast. "

Rossitur's smile was not meant to be seen. But Mr. Carleton's, to thecredit of his politeness and his understanding both, was frank as the oldgentleman's own, as he answered with a good-humoured shake of his head, "I can readily believe it, sir, and honour both your maxim and yourpractice. But I am not exactly in that line. "

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

"There is not a cause worth fighting for, " said the young man, his browchanging again. "It is only to add weight to the oppressor's hand, orthrow away life in the vain endeavour to avert it. I will do neither. "

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

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

"Politics?" said Mr. Ringgan. 

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

"But there is society?" said Rossitur. 

"Nothing better or more noble than the succession of motes that flitthrough a sunbeam into oblivion. "

"Well, why not then sit down quietly on one's estates and enjoy them, onewho has enough?"

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

"Well then, " said Rossitur laughing, though not knowing exactly how far hemight venture, "there is nothing left for you, as I don't suppose youwould take to any of the learned professions, but to strike out some newpath for yourself--hit upon some grand invention for benefiting the humanrace and distinguishing your own name at once. "

But while he spoke his companion's face had gone back to its usual lookof imperturbable coolness; the dark eye was even haughtily unmoved, tillit met Fleda's inquiring and somewhat anxious glance. He smiled. 

"The nearest approach I ever made to that, " said he, "was when I wentchestnuting the other day. Can't you find some more work for me, Fairy?"

Taking Fleda's hand with his wonted graceful lightness of manner he walkedon with her, leaving the other two to follow together. 

"You would like to know, perhaps, " observed Mr. Rossitur in rather a lowtone, --"that Mr. Carleton is an Englishman. "

"Ay, ay?" said Mr. Ringgan. "An Englishman, is he?--Well sir, --what is itthat I would like to know?"

"_That"_ said Rossitur. "I would have told you before if I could. Isupposed you might not choose to speak quite so freely, perhaps, onAmerican affairs before him. "

"I haven't two ways of speaking, sir, on anything, " said the old gentlemana little dryly. "Is your friend very tender on that chapter?"

"O not that I know of at all, " said Rossitur; "but you know there is agreat deal of feeling still among the English about it--they have neverforgiven us heartily for whipping them; and I know Carleton is related tothe nobility and all that, you know; so I thought--"

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

"He's more than that, sir. Enormous estates! He's the finest fellow in theworld--one of the first young men in England. "

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

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

"Ah well, " said Mr. Ringgan placidly, --"we sha'n't quarrel, I guess. Whatdid he come out here for, eh?"

"Only to amuse himself. They are going back again in a few weeks, and Iintend accompanying them to join my mother in Paris. Will my little cousinbe of the party?"

They were sauntering along towards the house. A loud calling of her namethe minute before had summoned Fleda thither at the top of her speed; andMr. Carleton turned to repeat the same question. 

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

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

"I dare urge nothing, sir, " said Mr. Carleton. "I will only assure youthat if you entrust your treasure to us she shall be cherished as youwould wish, till we place her in the hands of her aunt. "

"I know that, sir, --I do not doubt it, " said Mr. Ringgan, "but--I'll tellyou by and by what I conclude upon, " he said with evident relief of manneras Fleda came bounding back to them. "Mr. Rossitur, have you made yourpeace with Fleda?"

"I was not aware that I had any to make, sir, " replied the younggentleman. "I will do it with pleasure if my little cousin will tell mehow. But she looks as if she needed enlightening as much as myself. "

"She has something against you, I can tell you, " said the old gentleman, looking amused, and speaking as if Fleda were a curious little piece ofhuman mechanism which could hear its performances talked of with all theinsensibility of any other toy. "She gives it as her judgment that Mr. Carleton is the most of a gentleman, because he keeps his promise. "

"Oh grandpa!"--

Poor Fleda's cheek was hot with a distressful blush. Rossitur colouredwith anger. Mr. Carleton's smile had a very different expression. 

"If Fleda will have the goodness to recollect, " said Rossitur, "I cannotbe charged with breaking a promise, for I made none. "

"But Mr. Carleton did, " said Fleda. 

"She is right, Mr. Rossitur, she is right, " said that gentleman; "afallacy might as well elude Ithuriel's spear as the sense of a purespirit--there is no need of written codes. Make your apologies, man, andconfess yourself in the wrong. "

"Pho, pho, " said the old gentleman, --"she don't take it very much to heart. I guess _I_ ought to be the one to make the apologies, " he added, lookingat Fleda's face. 

But Fleda commanded herself, with difficulty, and announced that dinnerwas ready. 

"Mr. Rossitur tells me, Mr. Carleton, you are an Englishman, " said hishost. "I have some notion of that's passing through my head before, butsomehow I had entirely lost sight of it when I was speaking so freely toyou a little while ago--about our national quarrel--I know some of yourcountrymen owe us a grudge yet. "

"Not I, I assure you, " said the young Englishman. "I am ashamed of themfor it. I congratulate you on being Washington's countryman and a sharerin his grand struggle for the right against the wrong. "

Mr. Ringgan shook his guest's hand, looking very much pleased; and havingby this time arrived at the house the young gentlemen were formallyintroduced at once to the kitchen, their dinner, and aunt Miriam. 

It is not too much to say that the entertainment gave perfect satisfactionto everybody--better fate than attends most entertainments. Even Mr. Rossitur's ruffled spirit felt the soothing influence of good cheer, towhich he happened to be peculiarly sensible, and came back to its averagecondition of amenity. 

Doubtless that was a most informal table, spread according to no rulesthat for many generations at least have been known in the refined world;an anomaly in the eyes of certainly one of the company. Yet the board hada character of its own, very far removed from vulgarity, and suitingremarkably well with the condition and demeanour of those who presidedover it--a comfortable, well-to-do, substantial look, that could afford todispense with minor graces; a self-respect that was not afraid ofcriticism. Aunt Miriam's successful efforts deserve to be celebrated. 

In the middle of the table the polished amber of the pig's arched backelevated itself, --a striking object, --but worthy of the place he filled, as the honours paid him by everybody abundantly testified. Aunt Miriam hadsent down a basket of her own bread, made out of the new flour, brown andwhite, both as sweet and fine as it is possible for bread to be; thepiled-up slices were really beautiful. The superb butter had come fromaunt Miriam's dairy too, for on such an occasion she would not trust tothe very doubtful excellence of Miss Cynthia's doings. Every spare placeon the table was filled with dishes of potatoes and pickles andsweetmeats, that left nothing to be desired in their respective kinds; thecake was a delicious presentment of the finest of material; and the pies, pumpkin pies, such as only aunt Miriam could make, rich compounds ofeverything _but_ pumpkin, with enough of that to give them a name--Fledasmiled to think how pleased aunt Miriam must secretly be to see the homagepaid her through them. And most happily Mrs. Plumfield had discovered thatthe last tea Mr. Ringgan had brought from the little Queechy store was notvery good, and there was no time to send up on "the hill" for more, so shemade coffee. Verily it was not Mocha, but the thick yellow cream withwhich the cups were filled readily made up the difference. The mostcurious palate found no want. 

Everybody was in a high state of satisfaction, even to Miss Cynthia Grail;who, having some lurking suspicion that Mrs. Plumfield might design to cuther out of her post of tea-making, had slipped herself into her usualchair behind the tea-tray before anybody else was ready to sit down. Noone at table bestowed a thought upon Miss Cynthia, but as she thought ofnothing else she may be said to have had her fair share of attention. Themost unqualified satisfaction however was no doubt little Fleda's. Forgetting with a child's happy readiness the fears and doubts which hadlately troubled her, she was full of the present, enjoying with a mostunselfish enjoyment everything that pleased anybody else. _She_ was gladthat the supper was a fine one, and so approved, because it was hergrandfather's hospitality and her aunt Miriam's housekeeping; littlebeside was her care for pies or coffee. She saw with secret glee theexpression of both her aunt's and Mr. Ringgan's face; partly from puresympathy, and partly because, as she knew, the cause of it was Mr. Carleton, whom privately Fleda liked very much. And after all perhaps hehad directly more to do with her enjoyment than all other causes together. 

Certainly that was true of him with respect to the rest of thedinner-table. None at that dinner-table had ever seen the like. With allthe graceful charm of manner with which he would have delighted a courtlycircle, he came out from his reserve and was brilliant, gay, sensible, entertaining, and witty, to a degree that assuredly has very rarely beenthrown away upon an old farmer in the country and his un-polite sister. They appreciated him though, as well as any courtly circle could havedone, and he knew it. In aunt Miriam's strong sensible face, when not fullof some hospitable care, he could see the reflection of every play of hisown; the grave practical eye twinkled and brightened, giving a readyanswer to every turn of sense or humour in what he was saying. Mr. Ringgan, as much of a child for the moment as Fleda herself, had losteverything disagreeable and was in the full genial enjoyment of talk, rather listening than talking, with his cheeks in a perpetual dimple ofgratification, and a low laugh of hearty amusement now and then rewardingthe conversational and kind efforts of his guest with a complete triumph. Even the subtle charm which they could not quite recognise wroughtfascination. Miss Cynthia declared afterwards, half admiring and halfvexed, that he spoiled her supper, for she forgot to think how it tasted. Rossitur--his good humour was entirely restored; but whether even Mr. Carleton's power could have achieved that without the perfect seasoning ofthe pig and the smooth persuasion of the richly-creamed coffee, it mayperhaps be doubted. He stared, mentally, for he had never known his friendcondescend to bring himself out in the same manner before; and he wonderedwhat he could see in the present occasion to make it worth while. 

But Mr. Carleton did not think his efforts thrown away. He understood andadmired his fine old host and hostess; and with all their ignorance ofconventionalities and absence of what is called _polish_ of manner, hecould enjoy the sterling sense, the good feeling, the true heartyhospitality, and the dignified courtesy which both of them shewed. Nomatter of the outside; this was in the grain. If mind had lacked muchopportunity it had also made good use of a little; his host, Mr. Carletonfound, had been a great reader, was well acquainted with history and avery intelligent reasoner upon it; and both he and his sister shewed astrong and quick aptitude for intellectual subjects of conversation. Nodoubt aunt Miriam's courtesy had not been taught by a dancing master, andher brown-satin gown had seen many a fashion come and go since it wasmade, but a _lady_ was in both; and while Rossitur covertly smiled, Mr. Carleton paid his sincere respect where he felt it was due. Little Fleda'squick eye hardly saw, but more than half felt, the difference. Mr. Carleton had no more eager listener now than she, and perhaps none whoseunaffected interest and sympathy gave him more pleasure. 

[Illustration: Fleda coloured and looked at her grandfather. ]

When they rose from the table Mr. Ringgan would not be _insinuated_ intothe cold front room again. 

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

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

Fleda coloured and looked at her grandfather. 

"What do you say, deary?" he inquired fondly; "will you go?--I believe, sir, your proposal will prove a very acceptable one. You will go, won'tyou, Fleda?"

Fleda would very much rather not! But she was always exceedingly afraidof hurting people's feelings; she could not bear that Mr. Carleton shouldthink she disliked to go with him, so she answered yes, in her usualsober manner. 

Just then the door opened and a man unceremoniously walked in, hisentrance immediately following a little sullen knock that had made amockery of asking permission. An ill-looking man, in the worst sense; hisface being a mixture of cunning, meanness, and insolence. He shut thedoor and came with a slow leisurely step into the middle of the roomwithout speaking a word. Mr. Carleton saw the blank change in Fleda'sface. She knew him. 

"Do you wish to see me, Mr. McGowan?" said Mr. Ringgan, not withoutsomething of the same change. 

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

"Wouldn't another time answer as well?"

"I don't mean to find you here another time, " said the man chuckling, --"Ihave given you notice to quit, and now I have come to tell you you'llclear out. I ain't a going to be kept out of my property for ever. If Ican't get my money from you, Elzevir Ringgan, I'll see you don't get nomore of it in your hands. "

"Very well, sir, " said the old gentleman;--"You have said all that isnecessary. "

"You have got to hear a little more, though, " returned the other, "I've anidea that there's a satisfaction in speaking one's mind. I'll have thatmuch out of you! Mr. Ringgan, a man hadn't ought to make an agreement topay what he doesn't _mean_ to pay, and what he has made an agreement topay he ought to meet and be up to, if he sold his soul for it! You callyourself a Christian, do you, to stay in another man's house, month aftermonth, when you know you ha'n't got the means to give him the rent for it!That's what _I_ call stealing, and it's what I'd live in the County Housebefore I'd demean myself to do I and so ought you. "

"Well, well! neighbour, " said Mr. Ringgan, with patient dignity, --"it's nouse calling names. You know as well as I do how all this came about. Ihoped to be able to pay you, but I haven't been able to make it out, without having more time. "

"Time!" said the other. "Time to cheat me out of a little more houseroom. If I was agoing to live on charity, Mr. Ringgan, I'd come out and say so, and not put my hand in a man's pocket this way. You'll quit the house bythe day after to morrow, or if you don't I'll let you hear a little moreof me that you won't like!"

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

Nobody moved or spoke at first, when the man was gone, except MissCynthia, who as she was taking something from the table to the pantryremarked, probably for Mr. Rossitur's benefit, that "Mr. Ringgan had tohave that man punished for something he did a few years ago when he wasjustice of the peace, and she guessed likely that was the reason he had agrudge agin him ever since. " Beyond this piece of dubious informationnothing was said. Little Fleda stood beside her grandfather with a face ofquiet distress; the tears silently running over her flushed cheeks, andher eyes fixed upon Mr. Ringgan with a tender touching look of sympathy, most pure from self-recollection. 

Mr. Carleton presently came in to take leave of the disturbed family. Theold gentleman rose and returned his shake of the hand with even a degreemore than usual of his manly dignity, or Mr. Carleton thought so. 

"Good day to you, sir!" he said heartily. "We have had a great deal ofpleasure in your society, and I shall always be very happy to seeyou--wherever I am. " And then following him to the door and wringing hishand with a force he was not at all aware of, the old gentleman added in alower tone, "I shall let her go with you!"

Mr. Carleton read his whole story in the stern self-command of brow, andthe slight convulsion of feature which all the self-command could notprevent. He returned warmly the grasp of the hand answering merely, "Iwill see you again. "

Fleda wound her arms round her grandfather's neck when they were gone, anddid her best to comfort him, assuring him that "they would be just ashappy somewhere else. " And aunt Miriam earnestly proffered her own home. But Fleda knew that her grandfather was not comforted. He stroked her headwith the same look of stern gravity and troubled emotion which had grievedher so much the other day. She could not win him to a smile, and went tobed at last feeling desolate. She had no heart to look out at the night. The wind was sweeping by in wintry gusts; and Fleda cried herself to sleepthinking how it would whistle round the dear old house when their earswould not be there to hear it. 

Chapter VII. 

 He from his old hereditary nook Must part; the summons came, --our final leave we took. 

 Wordsworth. 

Mr. Carleton came the next day, but not early, to take Fleda to Montepoole. She had told her grandfather that she did not think he would come, becauseafter last night he must know that she would not want to go. About twelveo'clock however he was there, with a little wagon, and Fleda was fain toget her sun bonnet and let him put her in. Happily it was her maxim neverto trust to uncertainties, so she was quite ready when he came and theyhad not to wait a minute. 

Though Fleda had a little dread of being introduced to a party ofstrangers and was a good deal disappointed at being obliged to keep herpromise, she very soon began to be glad. She found her fear graduallyfalling away before Mr. Carleton's quiet kind reassuring manner; he tooksuch nice care of her; and she presently made up her mind that he wouldmanage the matter so that it would not be awkward. They had so muchpleasant talk too. Fleda had found before that she could talk to Mr. Carleton, nay she could not help talking to him; and she forgot to thinkabout it. And besides, it was a pleasant day, and they drove fast, andFleda's particular delight was driving; and though the horse was a littlegay she had a kind of intuitive perception that Mr. Carleton knew how tomanage him. So she gave up every care and was very happy. 

When Mr. Carleton asked after her grandfather, Fleda answered with greatanimation, "O he's very well! and such a happy thing--You heard what thatman said last night, Mr. Carleton, didn't you?"

"Yes. "

"Well it is all arranged;--this morning Mr. Jolly--he's a friend ofgrandpa's that lives over at Queechy Run and knew about all this--he's alawyer--he came this morning and told grandpa that he had found some onethat could lend him the money he wanted and there was no trouble about it;and we are so happy, for we thought we should have to go away from wherewe live now, and I know grandpa would have felt it dreadfully. If ithadn't been for that, --I mean, for Mr. Jolly's coming--I couldn't havegone to Montepoole to-day. "

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

"So am I, " said Fleda;--"but I think it was a little strange that Mr. Jolly wouldn't tell us who it was that he had got the money from. Grandpasaid he never saw Mr. Jolly so curious. "

When they got to the Pool Fleda's nervousness returned a little; but shewent through the dreaded introduction with great demureness and perfectpropriety. And throughout the day Mr. Carleton had no reason to fearrebuke for the judgment which he had pronounced upon his little paragon. All the flattering attention which was shewn her, and it was a good deal, could not draw Fleda a line beyond the dignified simplicity which seemednatural to her; any more than the witty attempts at raillery andendeavours to amuse themselves at her expense, in which some of thegentlemen shewed their wisdom, could move her from her modestself-possession. _Very_ quiet, _very_ modest, as she invariably was, awkwardness could not fasten upon her; her colour might come and her timideye fall; it often did; but Fleda's wits were always in their place andwithin call. She would shrink from a stranger's eye, and yet when spokento her answers were as ready and acute as they were marked for simplicityand gentleness. She was kept to dinner; and though the arrangement andmanner of the service must have been strange to little Fleda, it wasimpossible to guess from word or look that it was the first time withinher recollection that she had ever seen the like. Her native instinctstook it all as quietly as any old liberalized traveller looks upon thecustoms of a new country. Mr. Carleton smiled as he now and then saw aglance of intelligence or admiration pass between one and another of thecompany; and a little knowing nod from Mrs. Evelyn and many a look fromhis mother confessed he had been quite right. 

Those two, Mrs. Evelyn and Mrs. Carleton, were by far the most kind andeager in their attention to Fleda. Mrs. Thorn did little else but look ather. The gentlemen amused themselves with her. But Mr. Carleton, true tothe hopes Fleda had founded upon his good-nature, had stood her friend allthe day, coming to her help if she needed any, and placing himself easilyand quietly between her and anything that threatened to try or annoy hertoo much. Fleda felt it with grateful admiration. Yet she noticed, too, that he was a very different person at this dinner-table from what he hadbeen the other day at her grandfather's. Easy and graceful, always, hefilled his own place, but did not seem to care to do more; there was evensomething bordering on haughtiness in his air of grave reserve. He was notthe life of the company here; he contented himself with being all that thecompany could possibly require of him. 

On the whole Fleda was exceedingly well pleased with her day, and thoughtall the people in general very kind. It was quite late before she set outto go home again; and then Mrs. Evelyn and Mrs. Carleton were extremelyafraid lest she should take cold, and Mr. Carleton without saying oneword about it wrapped her up so very nicely after she got into the wagon, in a warm cloak of his mother's. The drive home, through the gatheringshades of twilight, was to little Fleda thoroughly charming. It wasalmost in perfect silence, but she liked that; and all the way home hermind was full of a shadowy beautiful world that seemed to lie before andaround her. 

It was a happy child that Mr. Carleton lifted from the wagon when theyreached Queechy. He read it in the utter lightheartedness of brow andvoice, and the spring to the ground which hardly needed the help ofhis hands. 

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

He smiled. 

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

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

"Where is grandpa, Cynthy?"

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

"O they kept me, " said Fleda. Her gayety suddenly sobered, she took offher bonnet and coat and throwing them down in the kitchen stole softlyalong the passage to her grandfather's room. She stopped a minute at thedoor and held her breath to see if she could hear any movement which mighttell her he was not asleep. It was all still, and pulling the iron latchwith her gentlest hand Fleda went on tiptoe into the room. He was lying onthe bed, but awake, for she had made no noise and the blue eyes opened andlooked upon her as she came near. 

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

Nothing made of flesh and blood ever spoke words of more spirit-likesweetness, --not the beauty of a fine organ, but such as the sweetness ofangel-speech might be; a whisper of love and tenderness that was hushed byits own intensity. He did not answer, or did not notice her firstquestion; she repeated it. 

"Don't you feel well?"

"Not exactly, dear!" he replied. 

There was the shadow of somewhat in his tone, that fell upon his littlegranddaughter's heart and brow at once. Her voice next time, though notsuffered to be anything but clear and cheerful still, had in part theclearness of apprehension. 

"What is the matter?"

"Oh--I don't know, dear!"

She felt the shadow again, and he seemed to say that time would shew herthe meaning of it. She put her little hand in one of his which lay outsidethe coverlets, and stood looking at him; and presently said, but in a verydifferent key from the same speech to Mr. Carleton, "I have had a very nice time, dear grandpa. "

Her grandfather made her no answer. He brought the dear little hand tohis lips and kissed it twice, so earnestly that it was almostpassionately; then laid it on the side of the bed again, with his ownupon it, and patted it slowly and fondly and with an inexpressible kindof sadness in the manner. Fleda's lip trembled and her heart wasfluttering, but she stood so that he could not see her face in the dusk, and kept still till the rebel features were calm again and she hadschooled the heart to be silent. 

Mr. Ringgan had closed his eyes, and perhaps was asleep, and his littlegranddaughter sat quietly down on a chair by the bedside to watch by him, in that gentle sorrowful patience which women often know but which hardlybelongs to childhood. Her eye and thoughts, as she sat there in the duskytwilight, fell upon the hand of her grandfather which still fondly heldone of her own; and fancy travelled fast and far, from what it was to whatit had been. Rough, discoloured, stiff, as it lay there now, she thoughthow it had once had the hue and the freshness and the grace of youth, whenit had been the instrument of uncommon strength and wielded an authoritythat none could stand against. Her fancy wandered over the scenes it hadknown; when it had felled trees in the wild forest, and those fingers, then supple and slight, had played the fife to the struggling men of theRevolution; how its activity had outdone the activity of all other handsin clearing and cultivating those very fields where her feet loved to run;how in its pride of strength it had handled the scythe and the sickle andthe flail, with a grace and efficiency that no other could attain; and howin happy manhood that strong hand had fondled and sheltered and led thelittle children that now had grown up and were gone!--Strength andactivity, ay, and the fruits of them, were passed away;--his children weredead;--his race was run;--the shock of corn was in full season, ready tobe gathered. Poor little Fleda! her thought had travelled but a verylittle way before the sense of these things entirely overcame her; herhead bowed on her knees, and she wept tears that all the fine springs ofher nature were moving to feed--many, many, --but poured forth as quietlyas bitterly; she smothered every sound. That beautiful shadowy world withwhich she had been so busy a little while ago, --alas! she had left thefair outlines and the dreamy light and had been tracking one solitary paththrough the wilderness, and she saw how the traveller foot-sore andweather-beaten comes to the end of his way. And after all, he comes to_the end_. --"Yes, and I must travel through life and come to the end, too, " thought little Fleda, --"life is but a passing through the world; myhand must wither and grow old too, if I live long enough, and whether orno, I must come to _the end_. --Oh, there is only one thing that ought tobe very much minded in this world!"

That thought, sober though it was, brought sweet consolation. Fleda'stears, if they fell as fast, grew brighter, as she remembered withsingular tender joy that her mother and her father had been ready to seethe end of their journey, and were not afraid of it, that her grandfatherand her aunt Miriam were happy in the same quiet confidence and shebelieved she herself was a lamb of the Good Shepherd's flock. "And hewill let none of his lambs be lost, " she thought. "How happy I am! Howhappy we all are!"

Her grandfather still lay quiet as if asleep, and gently drawing her handfrom under his, Fleda went and got a candle and sat down by him again toread, carefully shading the light so that it might not awake him. 

He presently spoke to her, and more cheerfully. 

"Are you reading, dear?"

"Yes, grandpa!" said the little girl looking up brightly. "Does the candledisturb you?"

"No, dear!--What have you got there?"

"I just took up this volume of Newton that has the hymns in it. "

"Read out. "

Fleda read Mr. Newton's long beautiful hymn, "The Lord will provide;" butwith her late thoughts fresh in her mind it was hard to get through thelast verses;--

 "No strength of our own, Or goodness we claim; But since we have known The Saviour's great name, In this, our strong tower, For safety we hide: The Lord is our power, The Lord will provide. 

 "When life sinks apace, And death is in view, This word of his grace Shall comfort us through. No fearing nor doubting, -- With Christ on our side, We hope to die shouting, The Lord will provide. "

The little reader's voice changed, almost broke, but she struggledthrough, and then was quietly crying behind her hand. 

"Read it again, " said the old gentleman after a pause. 

There is no 'cannot' in the vocabulary of affection. Fleda waited aminute or two to rally her forces, and then went through it again, moresteadily than the first time. 

"Yes--" said Mr. Ringgan calmly, folding his hands, --"that will do! Thattrust won't fail, for it is founded upon a rock. 'He is a rock; and heknoweth them that put their trust in him!' I have been a fool to doubtever that he would make all things work well--The Lord will provide!"

"Grandpa, " said Fleda, but in an unsteady voice, and shading her face withher hand still, --"I can remember reading this hymn to my mother once whenI was so little that 'suggestions' was a hard word to me. "

"Ay, ay, --I dare say, " said the old gentleman, --"your mother knew thatRock and rested her hope upon it, --where mine stands now. If ever therewas a creature that might have trusted to her own doings, I believe shewas one, for I never saw her do anything wrong, --as I know. But she knewChrist was all. Will you follow him as she did, dear?"

Fleda tried in vain to give an answer. 

"Do you know what her last prayer for you was, Fleda?"

"No, grandpa. "

"It was that you might be kept 'unspotted from the world. ' I heard hermake that prayer myself. " And stretching out his hand the old gentlemanlaid it tenderly upon Fleda's bowed head, saying with strong earnestnessand affection, even _his_ voice somewhat shaken, "God grant thatprayer!--whatever else he do with her, keep my child from the evil!--andbring her to join her father and mother in heaven!--and me!"

He said no more;--but Fleda's sobs said a great deal. And when the sobswere hushed, she still sat shedding quiet tears, sorrowed and disturbed byher grandfather's manner. She had never known it so grave, so solemn; butthere was that shadow of something else in it besides, and she would havefeared if she had known what to fear. He told her at last that she hadbetter go to bed, and to say to Cynthy that he wanted to see her. She wasgoing, and had near reached the door, when he said, "Elfleda!"

She hastened back to the bedside. 

"Kiss me. "

He let her do so twice, without moving, and then holding her to hisbreast he pressed one long earnest passionate kiss upon her lips, andreleased her, Fleda told Cynthy that her grandfather wished her to come to him, and thenmounted the stairs to her little bedroom. She went to the window andopening it looked out at the soft moonlit sky; the weather was mild againand a little hazy, and the landscape was beautiful. But little Fleda wastasting realities, and she could not go off upon dream-journeys to seekthe light food of fancy through the air. She did not think to-night aboutthe people the moon was shining on; she only thought of one little sadanxious heart, --and of another down stairs, more sad and anxious still, she feared;--what could it be about? Now that Mr. Jolly had settled allthat troublesome business with McGowan?--

As she stood there at the window, gazing out aimlessly into the stillnight, --it was very quiet, --she heard Cynthy at the back of the housecalling out, but as if she were afraid of making too much noise, "Watkins!--Watkins!"

The sound had business, if not anxiety, in it. Fleda instinctively heldher breath to listen. Presently she heard Watkins reply; but they wereround the corner, she could not easily make out what they said. It wasonly by straining her ears that she caught the words, "Watkins, Mr. Ringgan wants you to go right up on the hill to Mis'Plumfield's and tell her he wants her to come right down--he thinks"--thevoice of the speaker fell, and Fleda could only make out the lastwords, --"Dr. James. " More was said, but so thick and low that she couldunderstand nothing. 

She had heard enough. She shut the window, trembling, and fastened againthe parts of her dress she had loosened; and softly and hastily went downthe stairs into the kitchen. 

"Cynthy!--what is the matter with grandpa?"

"Why ain't you in bed, Flidda?" said Cynthy with some sharpness. "That'swhat you had ought to be. I am sure your grandpa wants you to be abed. "

"But tell me, " said Fleda anxiously. 

"I don't know as there's anything the matter with him, " said Cynthy. "Nothing much, I suppose. What makes you think anything is the matter?"

"Because I heard you telling Watkins to go for aunt Miriam. " Fleda couldnot say, --"and the doctor. "

"Well your grandpa thought he'd like to have her come down, and he don'tfeet right well, --so I sent Watkins up; but you'd better go to bed, Flidda; you'll catch cold if you sit up o'night. "

Fleda was unsatisfied, the more because Cynthy would not meet the keensearching look with which the little girl tried to read her face. She wasnot to be sent to bed, and all Cynthy's endeavours to make her change hermind were of no avail. Fleda saw in them but fresh reason for staying, andsaw besides, what Cynthy could not hide, a somewhat of wandering anduneasiness in her manner which strengthened her resolution. She sat downin the chimney corner, resolved to wait till her aunt Miriam came; therewould be satisfaction in her, for aunt Miriam always told the truth, thewhole truth, and nothing but the truth. 

It was a miserable three-quarters of an hour. The kitchen seemed to wear astrange desolate look, though seen in its wonted bright light of fire andcandles, and in itself nice and cheerful as usual. Fleda looked at it alsothrough that vague fear which casts its own lurid colour upon everything. The very flickering of the candle blaze seemed of ill omen, and hergrandfather's empty chair stood a signal of pain to little Fleda whenevershe looked at it. She sat still, in submissive patience, her cheek palewith the working of a heart too big for that little body. Cynthia wasgoing in and out of her grandfather's room, but Fleda would not ask herany more questions, to be disappointed with word-answers; she waited, butthe minutes seemed very long, --and very sad. 

The characteristic outward calm which Fleda had kept, and which belongedto a nature uncommonly moulded to patience and fortitude, had yet perhapsheightened the pressure of excited fear within. When at last she saw thecloak and hood of aunt Miriam coming through the moonlight to the kitchendoor, she rushed to open it, and quite overcome for the moment threw herarms around her and was speechless. Aunt Miriam's tender and quiet voicecomforted her. 

"You up yet, Fleda! Hadn't you better go to bed? 'Tisn't good for you. "

"That's what I've been a telling her, " said Cynthy, "but she wa'n't a mindto listen to me. "

But the two little arms embraced aunt Miriam's cloak and wrappers and thelittle face was hid there still, and Fleda's answer was a half smotheredejaculation. 

"I am _so_ glad you are come, dear aunt Miriam!"

Aunt Miriam kissed her again, and again repeated her request. 

"O no--I can't go to bed, " said Fleda crying;--"I can't till I know--I am_sure_ something is the matter, or Cynthy wouldn't look so. _Do_ tell me, aunt Miriam!"

"I can't tell you anything, dear, except that grandpa is not well--thatis all I know--I am going in to see him. I will tell you in the morninghow he is. "

"No, " said Fleda, "I will wait here till you come out. I couldn't sleep. "

Mrs. Plumfield made no more efforts to persuade her, but rid herself ofcloak and hood and went into Mr. Ringgan's room. Fleda placed herselfagain in her chimney corner. Burying her face in her hands, she satwaiting more quietly; and Cynthy, having finished all her business, took achair on the hearth opposite to her. Both were silent and motionless, except when Cynthy once in a while got up to readjust the sticks of woodon the fire. They sat there waiting so long that Fleda's anxiety began toquicken again. 

"Don't you think the doctor is a long time coming, Cynthy?" said sheraising her head at last. Her question, breaking that forced silence, sounded fearful. 

"It seems kind o' long, " said Cynthy. "I guess Watkins ha'n't foundhim to hum. "

Watkins indeed presently came in and reported as much, and that the windwas changing and it was coming off cold; and then his heavy boots wereheard going up the stairs to his room overhead; but Fleda listened in vainfor the sound of the latch of her grandfather's door, or aunt Miriam'squiet foot-fall in the passage; listened and longed, till the minutesseemed like the links of a heavy chain which she was obliged to pass overfrom hand to hand, and the last link could not be found. The noise ofWatkins' feet ceased overhead, and nothing stirred or moved but thecrackling flames and Cynthia's elbows, which took turns each in restingupon the opposite arm, and now and then a tell-tale gust of wind in thetrees. If Mr. Ringgan was asleep, why did not aunt Miriam come out and seethem, --if he was better, why not come and tell them so. He had been asleepwhen she first went into his room, and she had come back for a minute thento try again to get Fleda to bed; why could she not come out for a minuteonce more. Two hours of watching and trouble had quite changed littleFleda; the dark ring of anxiety had come under each eye in her little paleface; she looked herself almost ill. 

Aunt Miriam's grave step was heard coming out of the room at last, --it didnot sound cheerfully in Fleda's ears. She came in, and stopping to givesome direction to Cynthy, walked up to Fleda. Her face encouraged noquestions. She took the child's head tenderly in both her hands, and toldher gently, but it was in vain that she tried to make her voice quite asusual, that she had better go to bed--that she would be sick. 

Fleda looked up anxiously in her face. 

"How is he?"

But her next word was the wailing cry of sorrow, --"Oh grandpa!--"

The old lady took the little child in her arms and they both sat there bythe fire until the morning dawned. 

Chapter VIII. 

 Patience and sorrow strove Who should express her goodliest. 

 King Lear. 

When Mr. Carleton knocked at the front door the next day about two o'clockit was opened to him by Cynthy. He asked for his late host. 

"Mr. Ringgan is dead. "

"Dead!" exclaimed the young man much shocked;--"when? how?"

"Won't you come in, sir?" said Cynthy;--"maybe you'll see Mis' Plumfield. "

"No, certainly, " replied the visitor. "Only tell me about Mr. Ringgan. "

"He died last night. "

"What was the matter with him?"

"I don't know, " said Cynthy in a business-like tone of voice, --"Is'pose the doctor knows, but he didn't say nothing about it. He diedvery sudden. "

"Was he alone?"

"No--his sister was with him; he had been complaining all the eveningthat he didn't feel right, but I didn't think nothing of it and I didn'tknow as he did; and towards evening he went and laid down, and Flidda waswith him a spell, talking to him; and at last he sent her to bed andcalled me in and said he felt mighty strange and he didn't know what itwas going to be, and that he had as lieve I should send up and ask Mis'Plumfield to come down, and perhaps I might as well send for the doctortoo. And I sent right off, but the doctor wa'n't to hum, and didn't gethere till long after. Mis' Plumfield, she come; and Mr. Ringgan wasasleep then, and I didn't know as it was going to be anything more afterall than just a turn, such as anybody might take; and Mis' Plumfield wentin and sot by him; and there wa'n't no one else in the room; and after awhile he come to, and talked to her, she said, a spell; but he seemed tothink it was something more than common ailed him; and all of a sudden hejust riz up half way in bed and then fell back and died, --with no morewarning than that. "

"And how is the little girl?"

"Why, " said Cynthy, looking off at right angles from her visitor, "she'smiddling now, I s'pose, but she won't be before long, or else she must beharder to make sick than other folks. --We can't get her out of the room, "she added, bringing her eyes to bear, for an instant, upon the younggentleman, --"she stays in there the hull time since morning--I've tried, and Mis' Plumfield's tried, and everybody has tried, and there can't noneof us manage it; she will stay in there and it's an awful cold room whenthere ain't no fire. "

Cynthy and her visitor were both taking the benefit of the chill blastwhich rushed in at the open door. 

"_The room_?" said Mr. Carleton. "The room where the body lies?"

"Yes--it's dreadful chill in there when the stove ain't heated, and shesits there the hull time. And she ha'n't 'got much to boast of now: shelooks as if a feather would blow her away. "

The door at the further end of the hall opened about two inches and avoice called out through the crack, "Cynthy!--Mis' Plumfield wants to know if that is Mr. Carleton?"

"Yes. "

"Well she'd like to see him. Ask him to walk into the front room, she says. "

Cynthy upon this shewed the way, and Mr. Carleton walked into the sameroom where a very few days before he had been so kindly welcomed by hisfine old host. Cold indeed it was now, as was the welcome he would havegiven. There was no fire in the chimney, and even all the signs of thefire of the other day had been carefully cleared away; the clean emptyfireplace looked a mournful assurance that its cheerfulness would not sooncome back again. It was a raw disagreeable day, the paper window shadesfluttered uncomfortably in the wind, which had its way now; and the verychairs and tables seemed as if they had taken leave of life and societyfor ever. Mr. Carleton walked slowly up and down, his thoughts runningperhaps somewhat in the train where poor little Fleda's had been so busylast night, and wrapped up in broadcloth as he was to the chin, heshivered when he heard the chill wind moaning round the house and rustlingthe paper hangings and thought of little Fleda's delicate frame, exposedas Cynthia had described it. He made up his mind it must not be. 

Mrs. Plumfield presently came in, and met him with the calm dignity ofthat sorrow which needs no parade and that truth and meekness of characterwhich can make none. Yet there was nothing like stoicism, no affected orproud repression of feeling; her manner was simply the dictate of goodsense borne out by a firm and quiet spirit. Mr. Carleton was struck withit, it was a display of character different from any he had ever beforemet with; it was something he could not quite understand. For he wantedthe key. But all the high respect he had felt for this lady from the firstwas confirmed and strengthened. 

After quietly receiving Mr. Carleton's silent grasp of the hand, auntMiriam said, "I troubled you to stop, sir, that I might ask you how much longer youexpect to stop at Montepoole. "

Not more than two or three days, he said. 

"I understood, " said aunt Miriam after a minute's pause, "that Mrs. Carleton was so kind as to say she would take care of Elfleda to Franceand put her in the hands of her aunt. "

"She would have great pleasure in doing it, " said Mr. Carleton. "I canpromise for your little niece that she shall have a mother's care so longas my mother can render it. "

Aunt Miriam was silent, and he saw her eyes fill. 

"You should not have had the pain of seeing me to-day, " said he gently, "if I could have known it would give you any; but since I am here, may Iask, whether it is your determination that Fleda shall go with us?"

"It was my brother's, " said aunt Miriam, sighing;--"he told me--lastnight--that he wished her to go with Mrs. Carleton--if she would still beso good as to take her. "

"I have just heard about her, from the housekeeper, " said Mr, Carleton, "what has disturbed me a good deal. Will you forgive me, if I venture topropose that she should come to us at once. Of course we will not leavethe place for several days--till you are ready to part with her. "

Aunt Miriam hesitated, and again the tears flushed to her eyes. 

"I believe it would be best, " she said, --"since it must be--I cannot getthe child away from her grandfather--I am afraid I want firmness to doit--and she ought not to be there--she is a tender little creature--"

For once self-command failed her--she was obliged to cover her face. 

"A stranger's hands cannot be more tender of her than ours will be, " saidMr. Carleton, his warm pressure of aunt Miriam's hand repeating thepromise. "My mother will bring a carriage for her this afternoon, if youwill permit. "

"If you please, sir, --since it must be, it does not matter a day sooner orlater, " repeated aunt Miriam, --"if she can be got away. --I don't knowwhether it will be possible. "

Mr. Carleton had his own private opinion on that point. He merely promisedto be there again in a few hours and took his leave. 

He came, with his mother, about five o'clock in the afternoon. They wereshewn this time into the kitchen, where they found two or three neighboursand friends with aunt Miriam and Cynthy. The former received them with thesame calm simplicity that Mr. Carleton had admired in the morning, butsaid she was afraid their coming would be in vain; she had talked withFleda about the proposed plan and could not get her to listen to it. Shedoubted whether it would be possible to persuade her. And yet--

Aunt Miriam's self-possession seemed to be shaken when she thought ofFleda; she could not speak of her without watering eyes. 

"She's fixing to be sick as fast as ever she can, " remarked Cynthia dryly, in a kind of aside meant for the audience;--"there wa'n't a grain ofcolour in her face when I went in to try to get her out a little whileago; and Mis' Plumfield ha'n't the heart to do anything with her, nornobody else. "

"Mother, will you see what you can do?" said Mr. Carleton. 

Mrs. Carleton went, with an expression of face that her son, nobody else, knew meant that she thought it a particularly disagreeable piece ofbusiness. She came back after the lapse of a few minutes, in tears. 

"I can do nothing with her, " she said hurriedly;--"I don't know what tosay to her; and she looks like death. Go yourself, Guy; you can manage herif any one can. "

Mr. Carleton went immediately. 

The room into which a short passage admitted him was cheerless indeed. Ona fair afternoon the sun's rays came in there pleasantly, but this was atrue November day; a grey sky and a chill raw wind that found its way inbetween the loose window-sashes and frames. One corner of the room wassadly tenanted by the bed which held the remains of its late master andowner. At a little table between the windows, with her back turned towardsthe bed, Fleda was sitting, her face bowed in her hands, upon the oldquarto bible that lay there open; a shawl round her shoulders. 

Mr. Carleton went up to the side of the table and softly spoke her name. Fleda looked up at him for an instant, and then buried her face in herhands on the book as before. That look might have staggered him, but thatMr. Carleton rarely was staggered in any purpose when he had once made uphis mind. It did move him, --so much that he was obliged to wait a minuteor two before he could muster firmness to speak to her again. Such alook, --so pitiful in its sorrow, so appealing in its helplessness, soimposing in its purity, --he had never seen, and it absolutely awed him. Many a child's face is lovely to look upon for its innocent purity, butmore commonly it is not like this; it is the purity of snow, unsullied, but not unsullyable; there is another kind more ethereal, like that oflight, which you feel is from another sphere and will not know soil. Butthere were other signs in the face that would have nerved Mr. Carleton'sresolution if he had needed it. Twenty-four hours had wrought a sadchange. The child looked as if she had been ill for weeks. Her cheeks werecolourless; the delicate brow would have seemed pencilled on marble butfor the dark lines which weeping and watching, and still more sorrow, haddrawn underneath; and the beautiful moulding of the features shewed underthe transparent skin like the work of the sculptor. She was not cryingthen, but the open pages of the great bible had been wet with very manytears since her head had rested there. 

[Illustration: Fleda was sitting, her face bowed in her hands. ]

"Fleda, " said Mr. Carleton after a moment, --"you must come with me. "

The words were gently and tenderly spoken, yet they had that tone whichyoung and old instinctively know it is vain to dispute. Fleda glanced upagain, a touching imploring look it was very difficult to bear, and her"Oh no--I cannot, "--went to his heart. It was not resistance but entreaty, and all the arguments she would have urged seemed to lie in the mere toneof her voice. She had no power of urging them in any other way, for evenas she spoke her head went down again on the bible with a burst of sorrow. Mr. Carleton was moved, but not shaken in his purpose. He was silent amoment, drawing back the hair that fell over Fleda's forehead with agentle caressing touch; and then he said, still lower and more tenderlythan before, but without flinching, "You must come with me, Fleda. "

"Mayn't I stay, " said Fleda, sobbing, while he could see in the tension ofthe muscles a violent effort at self-control which he did not like tosee, --"mayn't I stay till--till--the day after to-morrow?"

"No, dear Fleda, " said he, still stroking her head kindly, --"I will bringyou back, but you must go with me now, Your aunt wishes it and we allthink it is best. I will bring you back. "--

She sobbed bitterly for a few minutes. Then she begged in smothered wordsthat he would leave her alone a little while. He went immediately. 

She checked her sobs when she heard the door close upon him, or as soon asshe could, and rising went and knelt down by the side of the bed. It wasnot to cry, though what she did could not be done without many tears, --itwas to repeat with equal earnestness and solemnity her mother's prayer, that she might be kept pure from the world's contact. There beside theremains of her last dear earthly friend, as it were before going out ofhis sight forever, little Fleda knelt down to set the seal of faith andhope to his wishes, and to lay the constraining hand of Memory upon herconscience. It was soon done, --and then there was but one thing more todo. But oh, the tears that fell as she stood there before she could go on;how the little hands were pressed to the bowed face, as if _they_ wouldhave borne up the load they could not reach; the convulsive struggle, before the last look could be taken, the last good-by said! But the sobswere forced back, the hands wiped off the tears, the quivering featureswere bidden into some degree of calmness; and she leaned forward, over theloved face that in death had kept all its wonted look of mildness andplacid dignity. It was in vain to try to look through Fleda's blindedeyes; the hot tears dropped fast, while her trembling lips kissed--andkissed, --those cold and silent that could make no return; and then feelingthat it was the last, that the parting was over, she stood again by theside of the bed as she had done a few minutes before, in a convulsion ofgrief, her face bowed down and her little frame racked with feeling toostrong for it; shaken visibly, as if too frail to bear the trial to whichit was put. 

Mr. Carleton had waited and waited, as he thought long enough, and now atlast came in again, guessing how it was with her. He put his arm round thechild and gently drew her away, and sitting down took her on his knee; andendeavoured rather with actions than with words to soothe and comfort her;for he did not know what to say. But his gentle delicate way, the softtouch with which he again stroked back her hair or took her hand, speakingkindness and sympathy, the loving pressure of his lips once or twice toher brow, the low tones in which he told her that she was making herselfsick, --that she must not do so, --that she must let him take care ofher, --were powerful to soothe or quiet a sensitive mind, and Fleda feltthem. It was a very difficult task, and if undertaken by any one elsewould have been more likely to disgust and distress her. But his spirithad taken the measure of hers, and he knew precisely how to temper everyword and tone so as just to meet the nice sensibilities of her nature. Hehad said hardly anything, but she had understood all he meant to say, andwhen he told her at last, softly, that it was getting late and she mustlet him take her away, she made no more difficulty; rose up and let himlead her out of the room without once turning her head to look back. 

Mrs. Carleton looked relieved that there was a prospect of getting away, and rose up with a happy adjusting of her shawl round her shoulders. AuntMiriam came forward to say good-by, but it was very quietly said. Fledaclasped her round the neck convulsively for an instant, kissed her as if akiss could speak a whole heartful, and then turned submissively to Mr. Carleton and let him lead her to the carriage. 

There was no fault to be found with Mrs. Carleton's kindness when theywere on the way. She held the forlorn little child tenderly in her arm, and told her how glad she was to have her with them, how glad she shouldbe if she were going to keep her always; but her saying so only made Fledacry, and she soon thought it best to say nothing. All the rest of the wayFleda was a picture of resignation; transparently pale, meek and pure, andfragile seemingly, as the delicatest wood-flower that grows. Mr. Carletonlooked grieved, and leaning forward he took one of her hands in his ownand held it affectionately till they got to the end of their journey. Itmarked Fleda's feeling towards him that she let it lie there withoutmaking a motion to draw it away. She was so still for the last few milesthat her friends thought she had fallen asleep; but when the carriagestopped and the light of the lantern was flung inside, they saw the gravehazel eyes broad open and gazing intently out of the window. 

"You will order tea for us in your dressing-room, mother?" said Mr. Carleton. 

"_Us_--who is _us?_"

"Fleda and me, --unless you will please to make one of the party. "

"Certainly I will, but perhaps Fleda might like it better down stairs. Wouldn't you, dear?"

"If you please, ma'am, " said Fleda. "Wherever you please. "

"But which would you rather, Fleda?" said Mr. Carleton. 

"I would _rather_ have it up-stairs, " said Fleda gently, "but it'sno matter. "

"We will have it up-stairs, " said Mrs. Carleton. "We will be a nice littleparty up there by ourselves. You shall not come down till you like. "

"You are hardly able to walk up, " said Mr. Carleton tenderly. "Shall Icarry you?"

The tears rushed to Fleda's eyes, but she said no, and managed to mountthe stairs, though it was evidently an exertion. Mrs. Carleton'sdressing-room, as her son had called it, looked very pleasant when theygot there. It was well lighted and warmed and something answering tocurtains had been summoned from its obscurity in store-room or garret andhung up at the windows, --"them air fussy English folks had made such apint of it, " the landlord said. Truth was, that Mr. Carleton as well ashis mother wanted this room as a retreat for the quiet and privacy whichtravelling in company as they did they could have nowhere else. Everythingthe hotel could furnish in the shape of comfort had been drawn together togive this room as little the look of a public house as possible. Easychairs, as Mrs. Carleton remarked with a disgusted face, one could notexpect to find in a country inn; there were instead as many as half adozen of "those miserable substitutes" as she called rocking-chairs, andsundry fashions of couches and sofas, in various degrees of elegance andconvenience. The best of these, a great chintz-covered thing, full ofpillows, stood invitingly near the bright fire. There Mr. Carleton placedlittle Fleda, took off her bonnet and things, and piled the cushions abouther just in the way that would make her most easy and comfortable. He saidlittle, and she nothing, but her eyes watered again at the kind tendernessof his manner. And then he left her in peace till the tea came. 

The tea was made in that room for those three alone. Fleda knew that Mr. And Mrs. Carleton staid up there only for her sake, and it troubled her, but she could not help it. Neither could she be very sorry so far as oneof them was concerned. Mr. Carleton was too good to be wished away. Allthat evening his care of her never ceased. At tea, which the poor childwould hardly have shared but for him, and after tea, when in the absenceof bustle she had leisure to feel more fully her strange circumstances andposition, he hardly permitted her to feel either, doing everything forher ease and pleasure and quietly managing at the same time to keep backhis mother's more forward and less happily adapted tokens of kind feeling. Though she knew he was constantly occupied with her Fleda could not feeloppressed; his kindness was as pervading and as unobtrusive as the summerair itself; she felt as if she was in somebody's hands that knew her wantsbefore she did, and quietly supplied or prevented them, in a way she couldnot tell how. It was very rarely that she even got a chance to utter thequiet and touching "thank you, " which invariably answered every token ofkindness or thoughtfulness that permitted an answer. How greatly thatharsh and sad day was softened to little Fleda'a heart by the good feelingand fine breeding of one person. She thought when she went to bed thatnight, thought seriously and gratefully, that since she must go over theocean and take that long journey to her aunt, how glad she was, howthankful she ought to be, that she had so very kind and pleasant people togo with. Kind and pleasant she counted them both; but what more shethought of Mr. Carleton it would be hard to say. Her admiration of him wasvery high, appreciating as she did to the full all that charm of mannerwhich she could neither analyze nor describe. 

Her last words to him that night, spoken with a most wistful anxiousglance into his face, were, "You will take me back again, Mr. Carleton?"

He knew what she meant. 

"Certainly I will. I promised you, Fleda. "

"Whatever Guy promises you may be very sure he will do, " said his motherwith a smile. 

Fleda believed it. But the next morning it was very plain that thispromise he would not be called upon to perform; Fleda would not be wellenough to go to the funeral. She was able indeed to get up, but she layall day upon the sofa in the dressing-room. Mr. Carleton had bargained forno company last night; to-day female curiosity could stand it no longer;and Mrs. Thorn and Mrs. Evelyn came up to look and gossip openly and toadmire and comment privately, when they had a chance. Fleda lay perfectlyquiet and still, seeming not much to notice or care for their presence;they thought she was tolerably easy in body and mind, perhaps tired andsleepy, and like to do well enough after a few days. How little they knew!How little they could imagine the assembly of Thought which was holding inthat child's mind; how little they deemed of the deep, sad, serious lookinto life which that little spirit was taking. How far they were fromfancying while they were discussing all manner of trifles before her, sometimes when they thought her sleeping, that in the intervals betweensadder and weighter things her nice instincts were taking the gauge ofall their characters; unconsciously, but surely; how they might have beenashamed if they had known that while they were busy with all affairs inthe universe but those which most nearly concerned them, the little childat their side whom they had almost forgotten was secretly looking up toher Father in heaven, and asking to be kept pure from the world! "Not untothe wise and prudent;"--how strange it may seem in one view of thesubject, --in another, how natural, how beautiful, how reasonable!

Fleda did not ask again to be taken to Queechy. But as the afternoon drewon she turned her face away from the company and shielded it from viewamong the cushions, and lay in that utterly motionless state of body whichbetrays a concentrated movement of the spirits in some hidden direction. To her companions it betrayed nothing. They only lowered their tones alittle lest they should disturb her. 

It had grown dark, and she was sitting up again, leaning against thepillows and in her usual quietude, when Mr. Carleton came in. They had notseen him since before dinner. He came to her side and taking her hand madesome gentle inquiry how she was. 

"She has had a fine rest, " said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"She has been sleeping all the afternoon, " said Mrs. Carleton, --"shelay as quiet as a mouse, without stirring;--you were sleeping, weren'tyou, dear?"

Fleda's lips hardly formed the word "no, " and her features were quiveringsadly. Mr. Carleton's were impenetrable. 

"Dear Fleda, " said he, stooping down and speaking with equal gravity andkindliness of manner, --"you were not able to go. "

Fleda's shake of the head gave a meek acquiescence. But her face wascovered, and the gay talkers around her were silenced and sobered by theheaving of her little frame with sobs that she could not keep back. Mr. Carleton secured the permanence of their silence for that evening. Hedismissed them the room again and would have nobody there but himself andhis mother. 

Instead of being better the next day Fleda was not able to get up; she wassomewhat feverish and exceedingly weak. She lay like a baby, Mrs. Carletonsaid, and gave as little trouble. Gentle and patient always, she made nocomplaint, and even uttered no wish, and whatever they did made noobjection. Though many a tear that day and the following paid its faithfultribute to the memory of what she had lost, no one knew it; she was neverseen to weep; and the very grave composure of her face and her passiveunconcern as to what was done or doing around her alone gave her friendsreason to suspect that the mind was not as quiet as the body. Mr. Carletonwas the only one who saw deeper; the only one that guessed why the littlehand often covered the eyes so carefully, and read the very, very gravelines of the mouth that it could not hide. 

As soon as she could bear it he had her brought out to thedressing-room again, and laid on the sofa; and it was several daysbefore she could be got any further. But there he could be more withher and devote himself more to her pleasure; and it was not long beforehe had made himself necessary to the poor child's comfort in a waybeyond what he was aware of. 

He was not the only one who shewed her kindness. Unwearied care and mostaffectionate attention were lavished upon her by his mother and both herfriends; they all thought they could not do enough to mark their feelingand regard for her. Mrs. Carleton and Mrs. Evelyn nursed her by night andby day. Mrs. Evelyn read to her. Mrs. Thorn would come often to look andsmile at her and say a few words of heart-felt pity and sympathy. YetFleda could not feel quite at home with any one of them. They did not seeit. Her manner was affectionate and grateful, to the utmost of their wish;her simple natural politeness, her nice sense of propriety, were at everycall; she seemed after a few days to be as cheerful and to enter as muchinto what was going on about her as they had any reason to expect shecould; and they were satisfied. But while moving thus smoothly among hernew companions, in secret her spirit stood aloof; there was not one ofthem that could touch her, that could understand her, that could meet thewant of her nature. Mrs. Carleton was incapacitated for it by education;Mrs. Evelyn by character; Mrs. Thorn by natural constitution. Of them all, though by far the least winning and agreeable in personal qualifications, Fleda would soonest have relied on Mrs. Thorn, could soonest have lovedher. Her homely sympathy and kindness made their way to the child's heart;Fleda felt them and trusted them. But there were too few points ofcontact. Fleda thanked her, and did not wish to see her again. With Mrs. Carleton Fleda had almost nothing at all in common. And thatnotwithstanding all this lady's politeness, intelligence, cultivation, andreal kindness towards herself. Fleda would readily have given her creditfor them all; and yet, the nautilus may as soon compare notes with thenavigator, the canary might as well study Maelzel's Metronome, as a childof nature and a woman of the world comprehend and suit each other. Thenature of the one must change or the two must remain the world wide apart. Fleda felt it, she did not know why. Mrs. Carleton was very kind, andperfectly polite; but Fleda had no pleasure in her kindness, no trust inher politeness; or if that be saying too much, at least she felt that forsome inexplicable reason both were unsatisfactory. Even the tact whicheach possessed in an exquisite degree was not the same in each; in one itwas the self-graduating power of a clever machine, --in the other, thedelicateness of the sensitive plant. Mrs. Carleton herself was not withoutsome sense of this distinction; she confessed, secretly, that there wassomething in Fleda out of the reach of her discernment, and consequentlybeyond the walk of her skill; and felt, rather uneasily, that moredelicate hands were needed to guide so delicate a nature. Mrs. Evelyn camenearer the point. She was very pleasant, and she knew how to do things ina charming way; and there were times, frequently, when Fleda thought shewas everything lovely. But yet, now and then a mere word, or look, wouldcontradict this fair promise, a something of _hardness_ which Fleda couldnot reconcile with the soft gentleness of other times; and on the wholeMrs. Evelyn was unsure ground to her; she could not adventure herconfidence there. 

With Mr. Carleton alone Fleda felt at home. He only, she knew, completelyunderstood and appreciated her. Yet she saw also that with others he wasnot the same as with her. Whether grave or gay there was about him an airof cool indifference, very often reserved and not seldom haughty; and theeye which could melt and glow when turned upon her, was sometimes asbright and cold as a winter sky. Fleda felt sure however that she mighttrust him entirely so far as she herself was concerned; of the rest shestood in doubt. She was quite right in both cases. Whatever else theremight be in that blue eye, there was truth in it when it met hers; shegave that truth her full confidence and was willing to honour everydraught made upon her charity for the other parts of his character. 

He never seemed to lose sight of her. He was always doing something forwhich Fleda loved him, but so quietly and happily that she could neitherhelp his taking the trouble nor thank him for it. It might have beenmatter of surprise that a gay young man of fashion should concern himselflike a brother about the wants of a little child; the young gentlemen downstairs who were not of the society in the dressing-room did makethemselves very merry upon the subject, and rallied Mr. Carleton with thecommon amount of wit and wisdom about his little sweetheart; a raillerywhich met the most flinty indifference. But none of those who saw Fledaever thought strange of anything that was done for her; and Mrs. Carletonwas rejoiced to have her son take up the task she was fain to lay down. Sohe really, more than any one else, had the management of her; and Fledainvariably greeted his entrance into the room with a faint smile, whicheven the ladies who saw agreed was well worth working for. 

Chapter IX. 

 If large possessions, pompous titles, honourable charges, and profitable commissions, could have made this proud man happy, there would have been nothing wanting. --L'Estrange. 

Several days had passed. Fleda'a cheeks had gained no colour, but she hadgrown a little stronger, and it was thought the party might proceed ontheir way without any more tarrying; trusting that change and the motionof travelling would do better things for Fleda than could be hoped fromany further stay at Montepoole. The matter was talked over in an eveningconsultation in the dressing-room, and it was decided that they would setoff on the second day thereafter. 

Fleda was lying quietly on her sofa, with her eyes closed, having hadnothing to say during the discussion. They thought she had perhaps notheard it. Mr. Carleton's sharper eyes, however, saw that one or two tearswere glimmering just under the eyelash. He bent down over her andwhispered, "I know what you are thinking of Fleda, do I not?"

"I was thinking of aunt Miriam, " Fleda said in an answering whisper, without opening her eyes. 

"I will take care of that. "

Fleda looked up and smiled most expressively her thanks, and in fiveminutes was asleep. Mr. Carleton stood watching her, querying how longthose clear eyes would have nothing to hide, --how long that bright puritycould resist the corrosion of the world's breath; and half thinking thatit would be better for the spirit to pass away, with its lustre upon it, than stay till self-interest should sharpen the eye, and the lines ofdiplomacy write themselves on that fair brow. "Better so; better so. "

"What are you thinking of so gloomily, Guy?" said his Mother. 

"That is a tender little creature to struggle with a rough world. "

"She won't have to struggle with it, " said Mrs. Carleton. 

"She will do very well, " said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"I don't think she'd find it a rough world, where _you_ were, Mr. Carleton, " said Mrs. Thorn. 

"Thank you ma'am, " he said smiling. "But unhappily my power reaches verylittle way. "

"Perhaps, " said Mrs. Evelyn with a sly smile, --"that might be arrangeddifferently--Mrs. Rossitur--I have no doubt--would desire nothing betterthan a smooth world for her little niece--and Mr. Carleton's power mightbe unlimited in its extent. "

There was no answer, and the absolute repose of all the lines of theyoung gentleman's face bordered too nearly on contempt to encourage thelady to pursue her jest any further. 

The next day Fleda was well enough to bear moving. Mr. Carleton had hercarefully bundled up, and then carried her down stairs and placed her inthe little light wagon which had once before brought her to the Pool. Luckily it was a mild day, for no close carriage was to be had for love ormoney. The stage coach in which Fleda had been fetched from hergrandfather's was in use, away somewhere. Mr. Carleton drove her down toaunt Miriam's, and leaving her there he went off again; and whatever hedid with himself it was a good two hours before he came back. All toolittle yet they were for the tears and the sympathy which went to so manythings both in the past and in the future. Aunt Miriam had not said halfshe wished to say, when the wagon was at the gate again, and Mr. Carletoncame to take his little charge away. 

He found her sitting happily in aunt Miriam's lap. Fleda was very gratefulto him for leaving her such a nice long time, and welcomed him with even abrighter smile than usual. But her head rested wistfully on her aunt'sbosom after that; and when he asked her if she was almost ready to go, shehid her face there and put her arms about her neck. The old lady held herclose for a few minutes, in silence. 

"Elfleda, " said aunt Miriam gravely and tenderly, --"do you know what wasyour mother's prayer for you?"

"Yes, "--she whispered. 

"What was it?"

"That I--might be kept--"

"Unspotted from the world!" repeated aunt Miriam, in a tone of tender anddeep feeling;--"My sweet blossom!--how wilt thou keep so? Will youremember always your mother's prayer?"

"I will try. "

"How will you try, Fleda?

"I will pray. "

Aunt Miriam kissed her again and again, fondly repeating, "The Lord hearthee!--The Lord bless thee!--The Lord keep thee!--as a lily among thorns, my precious little babe;--though in the world, not of it. --"

"Do you think that is possible?" said Mr. Carleton significantly, when afew moments after they had risen and were about to separate. Aunt Miriamlooked at him in surprise and asked, "What, sir?"

"To live in the world and not be like the world?"

She cast her eyes upon Fleda, fondly smoothing down her soft hair withboth hands for a minute or two before she answered, "By the help of one thing sir, yes!"

"And what is that?" said he quickly. 

"The blessing of God, with whom all things are possible. "

His eyes fell, and there was a kind of incredulous sadness in his halfsmile which aunt Miriam understood better than he did. She sighed as shefolded Fleda again to her breast and whisperingly bade her "Remember!" ButFleda knew nothing of it; and when she had finally parted from aunt Miriamand was seated in the little wagon on her way home, to her fancy the bestfriend she had in the world was sitting beside her. 

Neither was her judgment wrong, so far as it went. She saw true where shesaw at all. But there was a great deal she could not see. 

Mr. Carleton was an unbeliever. Not maliciously, --not wilfully, --notstupidly;--rather the fool of circumstance. His skepticism might be tracedto the joint workings of a very fine nature and a very bad education. Thatis, education in the broad sense of the term; of course none of the meansand appliances of mental culture had been wanting to him. 

He was an uncommonly fine example of what nature alone can do for a man. Acharacter of nature's building is at best a very ragged affair, withoutreligion's finishing hand; at the utmost a fine ruin--no more. And if thatbe the _utmost_, of nature's handiwork, what is at the other end of thescale?--alas! the rubble stones of the ruin; what of good and fair naturehad reared there was not strong enough to stand alone. But religion cannotwork alike on every foundation; and the varieties are as many as theindividuals. Sometimes she must build the whole, from the very ground; andthere are cases where nature's work stands so strong and fair thatreligion's strength may be expended in perfecting and enriching andcarrying it to an uncommon height of grace and beauty, and dedicating thefair temple to a new use. 

Of religion Mr. Carleton had nothing at all, and a true Christiancharacter had never crossed his path near enough for him to becomeacquainted with it. His mother was a woman of the world; his father hadbeen a man of the world; and what is more, so deep-dyed a politician thatto all intents and purposes, except as to bare natural affection, he wasnothing to his son and his son was nothing to him. Both mother and fatherthought the son a piece of perfection, and mothers and fathers have veryoften indeed thought so on less grounds. Mr. Carleton saw, whenever hetook time to look at him, that Guy had no lack either of quick wit ormanly bearing; that he had pride enough to keep him from low company andmake him abhor low pursuits; if anything more than pride and better thanpride mingled with it, the father's discernment could not reach so far. Hehad a love for knowledge too, that from a child made him eager in seekingit, in ways both regular and desultory; and tastes which his motherlaughingly said would give him all the elegance of a woman, joined to thestrong manly character which no one ever doubted he possessed. _She_looked mostly at the outside, willing if that pleased her to takeeverything else upon trust; and the grace of manner which a warm heart andfine sensibilities and a mind entirely frank and above board had givenhim, from his earliest years had more than met all her wishes. No onesuspected the stubbornness and energy of will which was in fact theback-bone of his character. Nothing tried it. His father's death earlyleft little Guy to his mother's guardianship. Contradicting him was thelast thing she thought of, and of course it was attempted by no one else. 

If she would ever have allowed that he had a fault, which she never would, it was one that grew out of his greatest virtue, an unmanageable truth ofcharacter; and if she ever unwillingly recognised its companion virtue, firmness of will, it was when she endeavoured to combat certaintroublesome demonstrations of the other. In spite of all the grace andcharm of manner in which he was allowed to be a model, and which was asnatural to him as it was universal, if ever the interests of truth came inconflict with the dictates of society he flung minor considerations behindhis back and came out with some startling piece of bluntness at which hismother was utterly confounded. These occasions were very rare; he neversought them. Always where it was possible he chose either to speak or besilent in an unexceptionable manner. But sometimes the barrier ofconventionalities, or his mother's unwise policy, pressed too hard uponhis integrity or his indignation; and he would then free the barrier andpresent the shut-out truth in its full size and proportions before hismother's shocked eyes. It was in vain to try to coax or blind him; amarble statue is not more unruffled by the soft air of summer; and Mrs. Carleton was fain to console herself with the reflection that Guy's verynext act after one of these breaks would be one of such happy fascinationthat the former would be forgotten; and that in this world ofdiscordancies it was impossible on the whole for any one to come nearerperfection. And if there was inconvenience there were also great comfortsabout this character of truthfulness. 

So nearly up to the time of his leaving the University the young heirlived a life of as free and uncontrolled enjoyment as the deer on hisgrounds, happily led by his own fine instincts to seek that enjoyment inpure and natural sources. His tutor was proud of his success; hisdependants loved his frank and high bearing; his mother rejoiced in hispersonal accomplishments, and was secretly well pleased that his tastesled him another way from the more common and less safe indulgences ofother young men. He had not escaped the temptations of opportunity andexample. But gambling was not intellectual enough, jockeying was tooundignified, and drinking too coarse a pleasure for him. Even hunting andcoursing charmed him but for a few times; when he found he could out-rideand out leap all his companions, he hunted no more; telling his mother, when she attacked him on the subject, that he thought the hare theworthier animal of the two upon a chase; and that the fox deserved aneasier death. His friends twitted him with his want of spirit and want ofmanliness; but such light shafts bounded back from the buff suit of coolindifference in which their object was cased; and his companions very soongave over the attempt either to persuade or annoy him, with the conclusionthat "nothing could be done with Carleton. "

The same wants that had displeased him in the sports soon led him todecline the company of those who indulged in them. From the low-minded, from the uncultivated, from the unrefined in mind and manner, and suchthere are in the highest class of society as well as in the less-favoured, he shrank away in secret disgust or weariness. There was no affinity. Tohis books, to his grounds, which he took endless delight in overseeing, tothe fine arts in general, for which he had a great love and for one or twoof them a great talent, --he went with restless energy and no want ofcompanionship; and at one or the other, always pushing eagerly forwardafter some point of excellence or some new attainment not yet reached, andwhich sprang up after one another as fast as ever "Alps on Alps, " he washappily and constantly busy. Too solitary, his mother thought, --caringless for society than she wished to see him; but that she trusted wouldmend itself. He would be through the University and come of age and gointo the world as a matter of necessity. 

But years brought a change--not the change his mother looked for. Thatrestless active energy which had made the years of his youth so happy, became, in connection with one or two other qualities, a troublesomecompanion when he had reached the age of manhood and obeying manhood'slaw had "put away childish things. " On what should it spend itself? Ithad lost none of its strength; while his fastidious notions of excellenceand a far-reaching clear-sightedness which belonged to his truth ofnature, greatly narrowed the sphere of its possible action. He could notdelude himself into the belief that the oversight of his plantations andthe perfecting his park scenery could be a worthy end of existence; orthat painting and music were meant to be the stamina of life; or eventhat books were their own final cause. These things had refined andenriched him;--they might go on doing so to the end of his days;--but_for what_? For what?

It is said that everybody has his niche, failing to find which nobodyfills his place or acts his part in society. Mr. Carleton could not findhis niche, and he consequently grew dissatisfied everywhere. His mother'shopes from the University and the World, were sadly disappointed. 

At the University he had not lost his time. The pride of character whichjoined with less estimable pride of birth was a marked feature in hiscomposition, made him look with scorn upon the ephemeral pursuits of oneset of young men; while his strong intellectual tastes drew him in theother direction; and the energetic activity which drove him to doeverything well that he once took in hand, carried him to highdistinction. Being there he would have disdained to be anywhere but at thetop of the tree. But out of the University and in possession of hisestates, what should he do with himself and them?

A question easy to settle by most young men! very easy to settle by Guy, if he had had the clue of Christian truth to guide him through thelabyrinth. But the clue was wanting, and the world seemed to him a worldof confusion. 

A certain clearness of judgment is apt to be the blessed handmaid ofuncommon truth of character; the mind that knows not what it is to playtricks upon its neighbours is rewarded by a comparative freedom fromself-deception. Guy could not sit down upon his estates and lead an insectlife like that recommended by Rossitur. His energies wanted room to expendthemselves. But the world offered no sphere that would satisfy him; evenhad his circumstances and position laid all equally open. It was a busyworld, but to him people seemed to be busy upon trifles, or working in acircle, or working mischief; and his nice notions of what _ought to be_were shocked by what he saw _was_, in every direction around him. He wasdisgusted with what he called the drivelling of some unhappy specimens ofthe Church which had come in his way; he disbelieved the truth of whatsuch men professed. If there had been truth in it, he thought, they woulddeserve to be drummed out of the profession. He detested the crookedinvolvments and double-dealing of the law. He despised the butterfly lifeof a soldier; and as to the other side of a soldier's life, again hethought, what is it for?--to humour the arrogance of the proud, --to pamperthe appetite of the full, --to tighten the grip of the iron hand ofpower;--and though it be sometimes for better ends, yet the soldier cannotchoose what letters of the alphabet of obedience he will learn. Politicswas the very shaking of the government sieve, where if there were anysolid result it was accompanied with a very great flying about of chaffindeed. Society was nothing but whip syllabub, --a mere conglomeration ofbubbles, --as hollow and as unsatisfying. And in lower departments of humanlife, as far as he knew, he saw evils yet more deplorable. The Churchplayed at shuttlecock with men's credulousness, the law with theirpurses, the medical profession with their lives, the military with theirliberties and hopes. He acknowledged that in all these lines of actionthere was much talent, much good intention, much admirable diligence andacuteness brought out--but to what great general end? He saw in short thatthe machinery of the human mind, both at large and in particular, was outof order. He did not know what was the broken wheel the want of which setall the rest to running wrong. 

This was a strange train of thought for a very young man, but Guy hadlived much alone, and in solitude one is like a person who has climbed ahigh mountain; the air is purer about him, his vision is freer; the eyegoes straight and clear to the distant view which below on the plain athousand things would come between to intercept. But there was somemorbidness about it too. Disappointment in two or three instances where hehad given his full confidence and been obliged to take it back hadquickened him to generalize unfavourably upon human character, both in themass and in individuals. And a restless dissatisfaction with himself andthe world did not tend to a healthy view of things. Yet truth was at thebottom; truth rarely arrived at without the help of revelation. Hediscerned a want he did not know how to supply. His fine perceptions feltthe jar of the machinery which other men are too busy or too deaf to hear. It seemed to him hopelessly disordered. 

This habit of thinking wrought a change very unlike what his mother hadlooked for. He mingled more in society, but Mrs. Carleton saw that the eyewith which he looked upon it was yet colder than it wont to be. A cloudcame over the light gay spirited manner he had used to wear. The charm ofhis address was as great as ever where he pleased to shew it, but muchmore generally now he contented himself with a cool reserve, as impossibleto disturb as to find fault with. His temper suffered the same eclipse. Itwas naturally excellent. His passions were not hastily moved. He had neverbeen easy to offend; his careless good-humour and an unbounded proudself-respect made him look rather with contempt than anger upon the thingsthat fire most men; though when once moved to displeasure it was stern andabiding in proportion to the depth of his character. The same good-humourand cool self-respect forbade him even then to be eager in shewingresentment; the offender fell off from his esteem and apparently from thesphere of his notice as easily as a drop of water from a duck's wing, andcould with as much ease regain his lost lodgment, but unless there werewrong to be righted or truth to be vindicated he was in general safe fromany further tokens of displeasure. In those cases Mr. Carleton was anadversary to be dreaded. As cool, as unwavering, as persevering there asin other things, he there as in other things no more failed of his end. And at bottom these characteristics remained the same; it was rather hishumour than his temper that suffered a change. That grew more gloomy andless gentle. He was more easily irritated and would shew it more freelythan in the old happy times had ever been. 

Mrs. Carleton would have been glad to have those times back again. Itcould not be. Guy could not be content any longer in the Happy Valley ofAmhara. Life had something for him to do beyond his park palings. He hadcarried manly exercises and personal accomplishments to an uncommon pointof perfection; he knew his library well and his grounds thoroughly, andhad made excellent improvement of both; it was in vain to try to persuadehim that seed-time and harvest were the same thing, and that he hadnothing to do but to rest in what he had done; shew his bright coloursand flutter like a moth in the sunshine, or sit down like a degeneratebee in the summer time and eat his own honey. The power of action whichhe knew in himself could not rest without something to act upon. Itlonged to be doing. 

But what?

Conscience is often morbidly far-sighted. Mr. Carleton had a very largetenantry around him and depending upon him, in bettering whose condition, if he had but known it, all those energies might have found full play. Itnever entered into his head. He abhorred _business_, --the detail ofbusiness; and his fastidious taste especially shrank from having anythingto do among those whose business was literally their life. The eyesensitively fond of elegance, the extreme of elegance, in everything, andpermitting no other around or about him, could not bear the tokens ofmental and bodily wretchedness among the ignorant poor; he escaped fromthem as soon as possible; thought that poverty was one of theirregularities of this wrong-working machine of a world, and somethingutterly beyond his power to do away or alleviate; and left to his stewardall the responsibility that of right rested on his own shoulders. 

And at last unable to content himself in the old routine of things hequitted home and England, even before he was of age, and roved from placeto place, trying, and trying in vain, to soothe the vague restlessnessthat called for a very different remedy. 

 "On change de ciel, --l'on ne change point du sol. "

Chapter X. 

 Faire Christabelle, that ladye bright, Was had forth of the towre: But ever she droopeth in her minde, As, nipt by an ungentle winde, Doth some faire lillye flowre. 

 Syr Cauline

That evening, the last of their stay at Montepoole, Fleda was thought wellenough to take her tea in company. So Mr. Carleton carried her down, though she could have walked, and placed her on the sofa in the parlour. 

Whatever disposition the young officers might have felt to renew theirpleasantry on the occasion, it was shamed into silence. There was a puredignity about that little pale face which protected itself. They werequite struck, and Fleda had no reason to complain of want of attentionfrom any of the party. Mr. Evelyn kissed her. Mr. Thorn brought a littletable to the side of the sofa for her cup of tea to stand on, and handedher the toast most dutifully; and her cousin Rossitur went back and forthbetween her and the tea-urn. All of the ladies seemed to take immensesatisfaction in looking at her, they did it so much; standing about thehearth-rug with their cups in their hands, sipping their tea. Fleda wasquite touched with everybody's kindness, but somebody at the back of thesofa whom she did not see was the greatest comfort of all. 

"You must let me carry you up-stairs when you go, Fleda, " said her cousin. "I shall grow quite jealous of your friend Mr. Carleton. "

"No, " said Fleda smiling a little, --"I shall not let any one but him carryme up, --if he will. "

"We shall all grow jealous of Mr. Carleton, " said Thorn "He means tomonopolize you, keeping you shut up there up-stairs. "

"He didn't keep me shut up, " said Fleda. 

Mr. Carleton was welcome to monopolize her, if it depended on her vote. 

"Not fair play, Carleton, " continued the young officer, wisely shaking hishead, --"all start alike, or there's no fun in the race. You've fairlydistanced us--left us nowhere. "

He might have talked Chinese and been as intelligible to Fleda, and asinteresting to Guy, for all that appeared. 

"How are we going to proceed to-morrow, Mr. Evelyn?" said Mrs. Carleton. "Has the missing stage-coach returned yet? or Will it be forthcoming inthe morning?"

"Promised, Mrs. Carleton. The landlord's faith stands pledged for it. "

"Then it won't disappoint us, of course. What a dismal way of travelling!"

"This young country hasn't grown up to post-coaches yet, " said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"How many will it hold?" inquired Mrs. Carleton. 

"Hum!--Nine inside, I suppose. "

"And we number ten, with the servants. 

"Just take us, " said Mr. Evelyn. "There's room on the box for one. "

"It will not take me, " said Mr. Carleton. 

"How will you go? ride?" said his mother "I should think you would, sinceyou have found a horse you like so well. "

"By George! I wish there was another that _I_ liked, " said Rossitur, "andI'd go on horseback too. Such weather. The landlord says it's thebeginning of Indian summer. "

"It's too early for that, " said Thorn. 

"Well, eight inside will do very well for one day, " said Mrs. Carleton. "That will give little Fleda a little more space to lie at her ease. "

"You may put Fleda out of your calculations too, mother, " said Mr. Carleton. "I will take care of her. "

"How in the world, " exclaimed his mother, --"if you are on horseback?"

And Fleda twisted herself round so as to give a look of bright inquiry athis face. She got no answer beyond a smile, which however completelysatisfied her. As to the rest he told his mother that he had arranged itand they should see in the morning. Mrs. Carleton was far from being atease on the subject of his arrangements, but she let the matter drop. 

Fleda was secretly very much pleased. She thought she would a great dealrather go with Mr. Carleton in the little wagon than in the stage-coachwith the rest of the people. Privately she did not at all admire Mr. Thornor her cousin Rossitur. They amused her though; and feeling very muchbetter and stronger in body, and at least quiet in mind, she sat intolerable comfort on her sofa, looking and listening to the people whowere gayly talking around her. 

In the gaps of talk she sometimes thought she heard a distressed sound inthe hall. The buzz of tongues covered it up, --then again she heardit, --and she was sure at last that it was the voice of a dog. Never camean appeal in vain from any four-footed creature to Fleda's heart. All therest being busy with their own affairs, she quietly got up and opened thedoor and looked out, and finding that she was right went softly into thehall. In one corner lay her cousin Rossitur's beautiful black pointer, which she well remembered and had greatly admired several times. The poorcreature was every now and then uttering short cries, in a manner as if hewould not, but they were forced from him. 

"What is the matter with him?" asked Fleda, stepping fearfully towardsthe dog, and speaking to Mr. Carleton who had come out to look afterher. As she spoke the dog rose and came crouching and wagging his tailto meet them. 

"O Mr. Carleton!" Fleda almost screamed, --"look at him! O what is thematter with him! he's all over bloody! Poor creature!"--

"You must ask your cousin, Fleda, " said Mr. Carleton, with as much colddisgust in his countenance as it often expressed; and that is saying agood deal. 

Fleda could speak in the cause of a dog, where she would have been silentin her own. She went back to the parlour and begged her cousin with aface of distress to come out into the hall, --she did not say for what. Both he and Thorn followed her. Rossitur's face darkened as Fledarepeated her inquiry, her heart so full by this time as hardly to allowher to make any. 

"Why the dog didn't do his duty and has been punished, " he said gloomily. 

"Punished?" said Fleda. 

"Shot, " said Mr. Carleton coolly. 

"Shot!" exclaimed Fleda, bursting into heart-wrung tears, --"Shot!--O how_could_ any one do it! Oh how could you, how could you, cousin Charlton?"

It was a picture. The child was crying bitterly, her fingers stroking thepoor dog's head with a touch in which lay, O what tender healing, if thewill had but had magnetic power. Carleton's eye glanced significantly fromher to the young officers. Rossitur looked at Thorn. 

"It was not Charlton--it was I, Miss Fleda, " said the latter. "Charltonlent him to me to-day, and he disobeyed me, and so I was angry with himand punished him a little severely; but he'll soon get over it. "

But all Fleda's answer was, "I am very sorry!--I am very sorry!--poordog!!"--and to weep such tears as made the young gentlemen for onceashamed of themselves. It almost did the child a mischief. She did not getover it all the evening. And she never got over it as far as Mr. Thorn wasconcerned. 

Mrs. Carleton hoped, faintly, that Guy would come to reason by the nextmorning and let Fleda go in the stage-coach with the rest of the people. But he was as unreasonable as ever, and stuck to his purpose. She hadsupposed however, with Fleda, that the difference would be only an openvehicle and his company instead of a covered one and her own. Both ofthem were sadly discomfited when on coming to the hall door to take theircarriages it was found that Mr. Carleton's meaning was no less than totake Fleda before him on horseback. He was busy even then in arranging acushion on the pommel of the saddle for her to sit upon. Mrs. Carletonburst into indignant remonstrances; Fleda silently trembled. 

But Mr. Carleton had his own notions on the subject, and they were notmoved by anything his mother could say. He quietly went on with hispreparations; taking very slight notice of the raillery of the youngofficers, answering Mrs. Evelyn with polite words, and silencing hismother as he came up with one of those looks out of his dark eyes towhich she always forgave the wilfulness for the sake of the beauty andthe winning power. She was completely conquered, and stepped back witheven a smile. 

"But, Carleton!" cried Rossitur impatiently, --"you can't ride so! you'llfind it deucedly inconvenient. "

"Possibly, " said Mr. Carleton. 

"Fleda would be a great deal better off in the stage-coach. "

"Have you studied medicine, Mr. Rossitur?" said the young man. "Because Iam persuaded of the contrary. "

"I don't believe your horse will like it, " said Thorn. 

"My horse is always of my mind, sir; or if he be not I generally succeedin convincing him. "

"But there is somebody else that deserves to be consulted, " said Mrs. Thorn. "I wonder how little Fleda will like it. "

"I will ask her when we get to our first stopping-place, " said Mr. Carleton smiling. "Come, Fleda!"

Fleda would hardly have said a word if his purpose had been to put herunder the horse's feet instead of on his back. But she came forward withgreat unwillingness and a very tremulous little heart. He must haveunderstood the want of alacrity in her face and manner, though he took nonotice of it otherwise than by the gentle kindness with which he led herto the horse-block and placed her upon it. Then mounting, and riding thehorse up close to the block, he took Fleda in both hands and bidding herspring, in a moment she was safely seated before him. 

At first it seemed dreadful to Fleda to have that great horse's head sonear her, and she was afraid that her feet touching him would excite hismost serious disapprobation. However a minute or so went by and she couldnot see that his tranquillity seemed to be at all ruffled, or even that hewas sensible of her being upon his shoulders. They waited to see thestage-coach off, and then gently set forward. Fleda feared very much againwhen she felt the horse moving under her, easy as his gait was, andlooking after the stagecoach in the distance, now beyond call, she felt alittle as if she was a great way from help and dry land, cast away on ahorse's back. But Mr. Carleton's arm was gently passed round her, and sheknew it held her safely and would not let her fall, and he bent down hisface to her and asked her so kindly and tenderly, and with such a looktoo, that seemed to laugh at her fears, whether she felt afraid?--and withsuch a kind little pressure of his arm that promised to take care ofher, --that Fleda's courage mounted twenty degrees at once. And it rosehigher every minute; the horse went very easily, and Mr. Carleton held herso that she could not be tired, and made her lean against him; and beforethey had gone a mile Fleda began to be delighted. Such a charming way oftravelling! Such a free view of the country!--and in this pleasant weathertoo, neither hot nor cold, and when all nature's features were softened bythe light veil of haze that hung over them and kept off the sun's glare. Mr. Carleton was right. In the stage-coach Fleda would have sat quiet in acorner and moped the time sadly away, now she was roused, excited, interested, even cheerful; forgetting herself, which was the very thing ofall others to be desired for her. She lost her fears; she was willing tohave the horse trot or canter as fast as his rider pleased; but thetrotting was too rough for her, so they cantered or paced along most ofthe time, when the hills did not oblige them to walk quietly up and down, which happened pretty often. For several miles the country was not veryfamiliar to Fleda. It was however extremely picturesque; and she satsilently and gravely looking at it, her head lying upon Mr. Carleton'sbreast, her little mind very full of thoughts and musings, curious, deep, sometimes sorrowful, but not unhappy. 

"I am afraid I tire you, Mr. Carleton!" said she in a sudden fit ofrecollection, starting up. 

His look answered her, and his arm drew her back to her place again. 

"Are _you_ not tired, Elfie?"

"Oh no!----You have got a new name for me, Mr. Carleton, ' said she amoment after, looking up and smiling. 

"Do you like it?"

"Yes. "

"You are my good genius, " said he, --"so I must have a peculiar title foryou, different from what other people know you by. "

"What is a genius, sir?" said Fleda. 

"Well a sprite then, " said he smiling. 

"A sprite!" said Fleda. 

"I have read a story of a lady, Elfie, who had a great many littleunearthly creatures, a kind of sprites, to attend upon her. Some sat inthe ringlets of her hair and took charge of them; some hid in the folds ofher dress and made them lie gracefully; another lodged in a dimple in hercheek, and another perched on her eyebrows, and so on. "

"To take care of her eyebrows?" said Fleda laughing. 

"Yes--to smooth out all the ill-humoured wrinkles and frowns, I suppose. "

"But am I such a sprite?" said Fleda. 

"Something like it. "

"Why what do I do?" said Fleda, rousing herself in a mixture ofgratification and amusement that was pleasant to behold. 

"What office would you choose, Elfie? what good would you like to do me?"

It was a curious wistful look with which Fleda answered his question, aninnocent look, in which Mr. Carleton read perfectly that she feltsomething was wanting in him, and did not know exactly what. His smilealmost made her think she had been mistaken. 

"You are just the sprite you would wish to be, Elfie, " he said. 

Fleda's head took its former position, and she sat for some time musingover his question and answer, till a familiar waymark put all suchthoughts to flight. They were passing Deepwater Lake, and would presentlybe at aunt Miriam's. Fleda looked now with a beating heart. Every foot ofground was known to her. She was seeing it perhaps for the last time. Itwas with even an intensity of eagerness that she watched every point andturn of the landscape, endeavouring to lose nothing in her farewell view, to give her farewell look at every favourite clump of trees and old rock, and at the very mill-wheels, which for years whether working or at resthad had such interest for her. If tears came to bid their good-by too, they were hastily thrown off, or suffered to roll quietly down; _they_might bide their time; but eyes must look now or never. How pleasant, howpleasant, the quiet old country seemed to Fleda as they went long!--inthat most quiet light and colouring; the brightness of the autumn glorygone, and the sober warm hue which the hills still wore seen under thathazy veil. All the home-like peace of the place was spread out to make ithard going away. Would she ever see any other so pleasant again? Thosedear old hills and fields, among which she had been so happy, --they werenot to be her home any more; would she ever have the same sweet happinessanywhere else?--"The Lord will provide!" thought little Fleda withswimming eyes. 

It was hard to go by aunt Miriam's. Fleda eagerly looked, as well as shecould, but no one was to be seen about the house. It was just as well. Asad gush of tears must come then, but she got rid of them as soon aspossible, that she might not lose the rest of the way, promising themanother time. The little settlement on "the hill" was passed, --thefactories and mills and mill-ponds, one after the other; they made Fledafeel very badly, for here she remembered going with her grandfather to seethe work, and there she had stopped with him at the turner's shop to geta wooden bowl turned, and there she had been with Cynthy when she went tovisit an acquaintance; and there never was a happier little girl thanFleda had been in those old times. All gone!--It was no use trying to helpit; Fleda put her two hands to her face and cried at last a silent but notthe less bitter leave-taking of the shadows of the past. 

She forced herself into quiet again, resolved to look to the last. As theywere going down the hill past the saw-mill Mr. Carleton noticed that herhead was stretched out to look back at it, with an expression of face hecould not withstand. He wheeled about immediately and went back and stoodopposite to it. The mill was not working to-day. The saw was standingstill, though there were plenty of huge trunks of trees lying about in alldirections waiting to be cut up. There was a desolate look of the place. No one was there; the little brook, most of its waters cut oft', did notgo roaring and laughing down the hill, but trickled softly and plaintivelyover the stones. It seemed exceeding sad to Fleda. 

"Thank you, Mr. Carleton, " she said after a little earnest fond looking ather old haunt;--"you needn't stay any longer. "

But as soon as they had crossed the little rude bridge at the foot of thehill they could see the poplar trees which skirted the courtyard fencebefore her grandfather's house. Poor Fleda's eyes could hardly serve her. She managed to keep them open till the horse had made a few steps moreand she had caught the well-known face of the old house looking at herthrough the poplars. Her fortitude failed, and bowing her little head shewept so exceedingly that Mr. Carleton was fain to draw bridle and try tocomfort her. 

"My dear Elfie!--do not weep so, " he said tenderly. "Is there anything youwould like?--Can I do anything for you?"

He had to wait a little. He repeated his first query. 

"O--it's no matter, " said Fleda, striving to conquer her tears, whichfound their way again, --"if I only could have gone into the house oncemore!--but it's no matter--you needn't wait, Mr. Carleton--"

The horse however remained motionless. 

"Do you think you would feel better, Elfie, if you had seen it again?"

"Oh yes!--But never mind, Mr. Carleton, --you may go on. "

Mr. Carleton ordered his servant to open the gate, and rode up to the backof the house. 

"I am afraid there is nobody here, Elfie, " he said; "the house seemsall shut up. "

"I know how I can get in, " said Fleda, --"there's a window down stairs--Idon't believe it is fastened, --if you wouldn't mind waiting, Mr. Carleton, --I won't keep you long?"

The child had dried her tears, and there was the eagerness of somethinglike hope in her face. Mr. Carleton dismounted and took her off. 

"I must find a way to get in too, Elfie, --I cannot let you go alone. "

"O I can open the door when I get in, " said Fleda. 

"But you have not the key. "

"There's no key--it's only hoi ted on the inside, that door. I can openit. "

She found the window unfastened, as she had expected; Mr. Carleton held itopen while she crawled in and then she undid the door for him. He morethan half questioned the wisdom of his proceeding. The house had a dismallook; cold, empty, deserted, --it was a dreary reminder of Fleda's loss, and he feared the effect of it would be anything but good. He followed andwatched her, as with an eager business step she went through the hall andup the stairs, putting her head into every room and giving an earnestwistful look all round it. Here and there she went in and stood a moment, where associations were more thick and strong; sometimes taking a look outof a particular window, and even opening a cupboard door, to give thatsame kind and sorrowful glance of recognition at the old often resorted tohiding place of her own or her grandfather's treasures and trumpery. Thoseold corners seemed to touch Fleda more than all the rest; and she turnedaway from one of them with a face of such extreme sorrow that Mr. Carletonvery much regretted he had brought her into the house. For her sake, --forhis own, it was a curious show of character. Though tears were sometimesstreaming, she made no delay and gave him no trouble; with the calmsteadiness of a woman she went regularly through the house, leaving noplace unvisited, but never obliging him to hasten her away. She said nota word during the whole time; her very crying; was still; the light treadof her little feet was the only sound in the silent empty rooms; and thenoise of their footsteps in the halls and of the opening and shuttingdoors echoed mournfully through the house. 

She had left her grandfather's room for the last. Mr. Carleton did notfollow her in there, guessing that she would rather be alone. But she didnot come back, and he was forced to go to fetch her. 

The chill desolateness of that room had been too much for poor littleFleda. The empty bedstead, the cold stove, the table bare of books, onlyone or two lay upon the old bible, --the forlorn order of the place thatbespoke the master far away, the very sunbeams that stole in at thelittle windows and met now no answering look of gladness or gratitude, --ithad struck the child's heart too heavily, and she was standing crying bythe window. A second time in that room Mr. Carleton sat down and drew hislittle charge to his breast and spoke words of soothing and sympathy. 

"I am very sorry I brought you here, dear Elfie, " he said kindly. "It wastoo hard for you. "

"O no!"--even through her tears Fleda said, --"she was very glad. "

"Hadn't we better try to overtake our friends?" he whispered afteranother pause. 

She immediately, almost immediately, put away her tears, and with a quietobedience that touched him went with him from the room; fastened the doorand got out again at the little window. 

"O Mr. Carleton!" she said with great earnestness when they had almostreached the horses, "won't you wait for me _one_ minute more?--I justwant a piece of the burning bush "--

[Illustration: She stood back and watched. ]

Drawing her hand from him she rushed round to the front of the house. Alittle more slowly Mr. Carleton followed, and found her under the burningbush, tugging furiously at a branch beyond her strength to break off. 

"That's too much for you, Elfie, " said he, gently taking her hand fromthe tree, --"let my hand try. "

She stood back and watched, tears running down her face, while he got aknife from his pocket and cut off the piece she had been trying for, nicely, and gave it to her. The first movement of Fleda's head was down, bent over the pretty spray of red berries; but by the time she stood atthe horse's side she looked up at Mr. Carleton and thanked him with a faceof more than thankfulness. 

She was crying however, constantly till they had gone several miles ontheir way again, and Mr. Carleton doubted he had done wrong. It passedaway, and she had been sitting quite peacefully for some time, when hetold her they were near the place where they were to stop and join theirfriends. She looked up most gratefully in his face. 

"I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Carleton, for what you did!"

"I was afraid I had made a mistake, Elfie. "

"Oh, no, you didn't. "

"Do you think you feel any easier after it, Elfie?"

"Oh yes!--indeed I do, " said she looking up again, --"thank you, Mr. Carleton. "

A gentle kind pressure of his arm answered her thanks. 

"I ought to be a good sprite to you, Mr. Carleton, " Fleda said aftermusing a little while, --"you are so very good to me!"

Perhaps Mr. Carleton felt too much pleasure at this speech to make anyanswer, for he made none. 

"It is only selfishness, Elfie, " said he presently, looking down to thequiet sweet little face which seemed to him, and was, more pure thananything of earth's mould he had ever seen. --"You know I must take care ofyou for my own sake. "

Fleda laughed a little. 

"But what will you do when we get to Paris?"

"I don't know. I should like to have you always, Elfie. "

"You'll have to get aunt Lucy to give me to you, " said Fleda. 

"Mr. Carleton, " said she a few minutes after, "is that story in a book?"

"What story?"

"About the lady and the little sprites that waited on her. "

"Yes, it is in a book; you shall see it, Elfie. --Here we are!"

And here it was proposed to stay till the next day, lest Fleda might notbe able to bear so much travelling at first. But the country inn was notfound inviting; the dinner was bad and the rooms were worse;uninhabitable, the ladies said; and about the middle of the afternoon theybegan to cast about for the means of reaching Albany that night. None verycomfortable could be had; however it was thought better to push on at anyrate than wear out the night in such a place. The weather was very mild;the moon at the full. 

"How is Fleda to go this afternoon?" said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"She shall decide herself, " said Mrs. Carleton. "How will you go, mysweet Fleda?"

Fleda was lying upon a sort of rude couch which had been spread for her, where she had been sleeping incessantly ever since she arrived, the hourof dinner alone excepted. Mrs. Carleton repeated her question. 

"I am afraid Mr. Carleton must be tired, " said Fleda, withoutopening her eyes. 

"That means that you are, don't it?" said Rossitur. 

"No, " said Fleda gently. 

Mr. Carleton smiled and went out to press forward the arrangements. Inspite of good words and good money there was some delay. It was ratherlate before the cavalcade left the inn; and a journey of several hours wasbefore them. Mr. Carleton rode rather slowly too, for Fleda's sake, so theevening had fallen while they were yet a mile or two from the city. 

His little charge had borne the fatigue well, thanks partly to hisadmirable care, and partly to her quiet pleasure in being with him. Shehad been so perfectly still for some distance that he thought she haddropped asleep. Looking down closer however to make sure about it he sawher thoughtful clear eyes most unsleepily fixed upon the sky. 

"What are you gazing at, Elfie?"

The look of thought changed to a look of affection as the eyes werebrought to bear upon him, and she answered with a smile, "Nothing, --I was looking at the stars. "

"What are you dreaming about?"

"I wasn't dreaming, " said Fleda, --"I was thinking. "

"Thinking of what?"

"O of pleasant things. "

"Mayn't I know them?--I like to hear of pleasant things. "

"I was thinking, --" said Fleda, looking up again at the stars, which shonewith no purer ray than those grave eyes sent back to them, --"I wasthinking--of being ready to die. "

The words, and the calm thoughtful manner in which they were said, thrilled upon Mr. Carleton with a disagreeable shock. 

"How came you to think of such a thing?" said he lightly. 

"I don't know, "--said Fleda, still looking at the stars, --"I suppose--Iwas thinking--"

"What?" said Mr. Carleton, inexpressibly curious to get at the workings ofthe child's mind, which was not easy, for Fleda was never very forward totalk of herself;--"what were you thinking? I want to know how you couldget such a thing into your head. "

"It wasn't very strange, " said Fleda. "The stars made me think of heaven, and grandpa's being there, and then I thought how he was ready to go thereand that made him ready to die--"

"I wouldn't think of such things, Elfie, " said Mr. Carleton after afew minutes. 

"Why not, sir?" said Fleda quickly. 

"I don't think they are good for you. "

"But Mr. Carleton, " said Fleda gently, --"if I don't think about it, howshall _I_ ever be ready to die?"

"It is not fit for you, " said he, evading the question, --"it is notnecessary now, --there's time enough. You are a little body and should havenone but gay thoughts. "

"But Mr. Carleton, " said Fleda with timid earnestness, --"don't you thinkone could have gay thoughts better if one knew one was ready to die?"

"What makes a person ready to die, Elfie?" said her friend, disliking toask the question, but yet more unable to answer hers, and curious to hearwhat she would say. 

"O--to be a Christian, " said Fleda. 

"But I have seen Christians, " said Mr. Carleton, "who were no more readyto die than other people. "

"Then they were make-believe Christians, " said Fleda decidedly. 

"What makes you think so?" said her friend, carefully guarding hiscountenance from anything like a smile. 

"Because, " said Fleda, "grandpa was ready, and my father was ready, and mymother too; and I know it was because they were Christians. "

"Perhaps your kind of Christians are different from my kind, " said Mr. Carleton, carrying on the conversation half in spite of himself. "What doyou mean by a Christian, Elfie?"

"Why, what the Bible means, " said Fleda, looking at him with innocentearnestness. 

Mr. Carleton was ashamed to tell her he did not know what that was, or hewas unwilling to say what he felt would trouble the happy confidence shehad in him. He was silent; but as they rode on, a bitter wish crossed hismind that he could have the simple purity of the little child in his arms;and he thought he would give his broad acres supposing it possible thatreligion could be true, --in exchange for that free happy spirit that looksup to all its possessions in heaven. 

Chapter XI. 

 Starres are poore books and oftentimes do misse; This book of starres lights to eternall blisse. 

 George Herber. 

The voyage across the Atlantic was not, in itself, at all notable. Thefirst half of the passage was extremely unquiet, and most of thepassengers uncomfortable to match. Then the weather cleared; and the restof the way, though lengthened out a good deal by the tricks of the wind, was very fair and pleasant. 

Fifteen days of tossing and sea-sickness had brought little Fleda to looklike the ghost of herself. So soon as the weather changed and sky and seawere looking gentle again, Mr. Carleton had a mattress and cushions laidin a sheltered corner of the deck for her, and carried her up. She hadhardly any more strength than a baby. 

"What are you looking at me so for, Mr. Carleton?" said she, a littlewhile after he had carried her up, with a sweet serious smile that seemedto know the answer to her question. 

He stooped down and clasped her little thin hand, as reverentially as ifshe really had not belonged to the earth. 

"You are more like a sprite than I like to see you just now, " said he, unconsciously fastening the child's heart to himself with the magnetism ofthose deep eyes. --"I must get some of the sailors' salt beef and seabiscuit for you--they say that is the best thing to make people well. "

"O I feel better already, " said Fleda, and settling her little face uponthe cushion and closing her eyes, she added, --"thank you, Mr. Carleton!"

The fresh air began to restore her immediately; she was no more sick, herappetite came back; and from that time, without the help of beef andsea-biscuit, she mended rapidly. Mr. Carleton proved himself as good anurse on the sea as on land. She seemed to be never far from histhoughts. He was constantly finding out something that would do her goodor please her; and Fleda could not discover that he took any troubleabout it; she could not feel that she was a burden to him; the thingsseemed to come as a matter of course. Mrs. Carleton was not wanting inany shew of kindness or care, and yet, when Fleda looked back upon theday, it somehow was Guy that had done everything for her; she thoughtlittle of thanking anybody but him. 

There were other passengers that petted her a great deal, or would havedone so, if Fleda's very timid retiring nature had not stood in the way. She was never bashful, nor awkward; but yet it was only a very peculiar, sympathetic, style of address that could get within the wall of reservewhich in general hid her from other people. Hid, what it could; forthrough that reserve a singular modesty, sweetness, and gracefulness ofspirit would shew themselves. But there was much more behind. There wereno eyes however on board that did not look kindly on little Fleda, excepting only two pair. The Captain shewed her a great deal of flatteringattention, and said she was a pattern of a passenger; even the sailorsnoticed and spoke of her and let slip no occasion of shewing the respectand interest she had raised. But there were two pair of eyes, and one ofthem Fleda thought most remarkably ugly, that were an exception to therest; these belonged to her cousin Rossitur and Lieut. Thorn. Rossitur hadnever forgiven her remarks upon his character as a gentleman and declaredpreference of Mr. Carleton in that capacity; and Thorn was mortified atthe invincible childish reserve which she opposed to all his advances; andboth, absurd as it seems, were jealous of the young Englishman's advantageover them. Both not the less, because their sole reason for making her aperson of consequence was that he had thought fit to do so. Fleda wouldpermit neither of them to do anything for her that she could help. 

They took their revenge in raillery, which was not always good-natured. Mr. Carleton never answered it in any other way than by his look of colddisdain, --not always by that; little Fleda could not be quite so unmoved. Many a time her nice sense of delicacy confessed itself hurt, by the deepand abiding colour her cheeks would wear after one of their ill manneredflings at her. She bore them with a grave dignity peculiar to herself, butthe same nice delicacy forbade her to mention the subject to any one; andthe young gentlemen contrived to give the little child in the course ofthe voyage a good deal of pain. She shunned them at last as she would theplague. As to the rest Fleda liked her life on board ship amazingly. Inher quiet way she took all the good that offered and seemed not torecognise the ill. 

Mr. Carleton had bought for her a copy of The Rape of the Lock, andBryant's poems. With these, sitting or lying among her cushions, Fledaamused herself a great deal; and it was an especial pleasure when he wouldsit down by her and read and talk about them. Still a greater was to watchthe sea, in its changes of colour and varieties of agitation, and to getfrom Mr. Carleton, bit by bit, all the pieces of knowledge concerning itthat he had ever made his own. Even when Fleda feared it she wasfascinated; and while the fear went off the fascination grew deeper. Daintily nestling among her cushions she watched with charmed eyes thelong rollers that came up in detachments of three to attack the good ship, that like a slandered character rode patiently over them; or the crestedgreen billows, or sometimes the little rippling waves that shewed oldOcean's placidest face; while with ears as charmed as if he had beendelivering a fairy tale she listened to all Mr. Carleton could tell her ofthe green water where the whales feed, or the blue water where Neptunesits in his own solitude, the furtherest from land, and the pavement underhis feet outdoes the very canopy overhead in its deep colouring; of thetransparent seas where the curious mysterious marine plants and animalsmay be clearly seen many feet down, and in the North where hundreds offeet of depth do not hide the bottom; of the icebergs; and whirling greatfields of ice, between which if a ship gets she had as good be an almondin a pair of strong nut crackers. How the water grows colder and murkieras it is nearer the shore; how the mountain waves are piled together; andhow old Ocean, like a wise man, however roughened and tumbled outwardly bythe currents of Life, is always calm at heart. Of the signs of theweather; the out-riders of the winds, and the use the seaman makes of thetidings they bring; and before Mr. Carleton knew where he was he foundhimself deep in the science of navigation, and making a star-gazer oflittle Fleda. Sometimes kneeling beside him as he sat on her mattress, with her hand leaning on his shoulder, Fleda asked, listened, and looked;as engaged, as rapt, as interested, as another child would be in RobinsonCrusoe, gravely drinking in knowledge with a fresh healthy taste for itthat never had enough. Mr. Carleton was about as amused and as interestedas she. There is a second taste of knowledge that some minds get inimparting it, almost as sweet as the first relish. At any rate Fleda neverfelt that she had any reason to fear tiring him; and his mothercomplaining of his want of sociableness said she believed Guy did not liketo talk to anybody but that little pet of his and one or two of the oldsailors. If left to her own resources Fleda was never at a loss; sheamused herself with her books, or watching the sailors, or watching thesea, or with some fanciful manufacture she had learned from one of theladies on board, or with what the company about her were saying and doing. 

One evening she had been some time alone, looking out upon the restlesslittle waves that were tossing and tumbling in every direction. She hadbeen afraid of them at first and they were still rather fearful to herimagination. This evening as her musing eye watched them rise and fall herchildish fancy likened them to the up-springing chances oflife, --uncertain, unstable, alike too much for her skill and her strengthto manage. She was not more helpless before the attacks of the one than ofthe other. But then--that calm blue Heaven that hung over the sea. It waslike the heaven of power and love above her destinies; only this was farhigher and more pure and abiding. "He knoweth them that trust in him. ""There shall not a hair of your head perish. "

Not these words perhaps, but something like the sense of them was inlittle Fleda's head. Mr. Carleton coming up saw her gazing out upon thewater with an eye that seemed to see nothing. 

"Elfie!--Are you looking into futurity?"

"No, --yes, --not exactly, " said Fleda smiling. 

"No, yes, and not exactly!" said he throwing himself down beside her. --"What does all that mean?"

"I wasn't exactly looking into futurity, " said Fleda. 

"What then?--Don't tell me you were 'thinking;' I know that dready. What?"

Fleda was always rather shy of opening her cabinet of thoughts. Sheglanced at him, and hesitated, and then yielded to a fascination of eyeand smile that rarely failed of its end. Looking off to the sea again, asif she had left her thoughts there, she said, "I was only thinking of that beautiful hymn of Mr. Newton's. "

"What hymn?"

"That long one, 'The Lord will provide. '"

"Do you know it?--Tell it to me, Elfie--let us see whether I shall thinkit beautiful. "

Fleda knew the whole and repeated it. 

 "Though troubles assail, And dangers affright, Though friends should all fall, And foes all unite; Yet one thing secures us Whatever betide, The Scripture assures us 'The Lord will provide. '

 "The birds without barn Or storehouse are fed; From them let us learn To trust for our bread. His saints what is fitting Shall ne'er be denied, So long as 'tis written, 'The Lord will provide. '

 "His call we obey, Like Abraham of old, Not knowing our way, But faith makes us bold. And though we are strangers, We have a good guide, And trust in all dangers 'The Lord will provide. '

 "We may like the ships In tempests be tossed On perilous deeps, But cannot be lost. Though Satan enrages The wind and the tide, The promise engages 'The Lord will provide. '

 "When Satan appears To stop up our path, And fills us with fears, We triumph by faith. He cannot take from us, Though oft he has tried, This heart-cheering promise, 'The Lord will provide. '

 "He tells us we're weak, Our hope is in vain, The good that we seek We ne'er shall obtain; But when such suggestions Our spirits have tried, This answers all questions. 'The Lord will provide. '

 "No strength of our own, Or goodness we claim; But since we have known The Saviour's great name In this, our strong tower, For safety we hide; The Lord is our power! 'The Lord will provide. '

 "When life sinks apace, And death is in view, This word of his grace Shall comfort us through. No fearing nor doubting, With Christ on our side, We hope to die shouting, 'The Lord will provide. '"

Guy listened very attentively to the whole. He was very far fromunderstanding the meaning of several of the verses, but the boundingexpression of confidence and hope he did understand, and did feel. 

"Happy to be so deluded!" he thought. --"I almost wish I could share thedelusion!"

He was gloomily silent when she had done, and little Fleda's eyes were sofull that it was a little while before she could look towards him and askin her gentle way, "Do you like it, Mr. Carleton?"

She was gratified by his grave, "Yes!"

"But, Elfie, " said he smiling again, "you have not told me yourthoughts yet. What had these verses to do with the sea you were lookingat so hard?"

"Nothing--I was thinking, " said Fleda slowly, --"that the sea seemedsomething like the world, --I don't mean it was like, but it made me thinkof it; and I thought how pleasant it is to know that God takes care ofhis people. "

"Don't he take care of everybody?"

"Yes--in one sort of way, " said Fleda; "but then it is only his childrenthat he has promised to keep from everything that will hurt them. "

"I don't see how that promise is kept, Elfie. I think those who callthemselves so meet with as many troubles as the rest of the world, andperhaps more. "

"Yes, " said Fleda quickly, "they have troubles, but then God won't let thetroubles do them any harm. "

A subtle evasion, thought Mr. Carleton. --"Where did you learn that, Elfie?"

"The Bible says so, " said Fleda. 

"Well, how do you know it from that?" aid Mr. Carleton, impelled, hehardly knew whether by his bad or his good angel, to carry on theconversation. 

"Why, " said Fleda, looking as if it were a very simple question and Mr. Carleton were catechising her, --"you know, Mr. Carleton, the Bible waswritten by men who were taught by God exactly what to say, so there couldbe nothing in it that is not true. "

"How do you know those men were so taught?"

"The Bible says so. "

A child's answer!--but with a child's wisdom in it, not learnt of theschools. "He that is of God heareth God's words. " To little Fleda, as toevery simple and humble intelligence, the Bible proved itself; she had noneed to go further. 

Mr. Carleton did not smile, for nothing would have tempted him to hurther feelings; but he said, though conscience did not let him do itwithout a twinge, "But don't you know, Elfie, there are some people who do not believethe Bible?"

"Ah but those are bad people, " replied Fleda quickly;--"all good peoplebelieve it. "

A child's reason again, but hitting the mark this time. Unconsciously, little Fleda had brought forward a strong argument for her cause. Mr. Carleton felt it, and rising up that he might not be obliged to sayanything more, he began to pace slowly up and down the deck, turning thematter over. 

Was it so? that there were hardly any good men (he thought there might bea few) who did not believe in the Bible and uphold its authority? andthat all the worst portion of society was comprehended in the otherclass?--and if so, how had he overlooked it? He had reasoned mostunphilosophically from a few solitary instances that had come under hisown eye; but applying the broad principle of induction it could not bedoubted that the Bible was on the side of all that is sound, healthful, and hopeful, in this disordered world. And whatever might be the characterof a few exceptions, it was not supposable that a wide system of hypocrisyshould tell universally for the best interests of mankind. Summoninghistory to produce her witnesses, as he went on with his walk up and down, he saw with increasing interest, what he had never seen before, that theBible had come like the breath of spring upon the moral waste of mind;that the ice-bound intellect and cold heart of the world had waked intolife under its kindly influence and that all the rich growth of the oneand the other had come forth at its bidding. And except in thatsun-lightened tract, the world was and had been a waste indeed. Doubtlessin that waste, intellect had at different times put forth sundry barrenshoots, such as a vigorous plant can make in the absence of the sun, butalso like them immature, unsound, and groping vainly after the light inwhich alone they could expand and perfect themselves; ripening no seed fora future and richer growth. And flowers the wilderness had none. Theaffections were stunted and overgrown. 

All this was so, --how had he overlooked it? His unbelief had come from athoughtless, ignorant, one-sided view of life and human things. Thedisorder and ruin which he saw, where he did not also see the adjustinghand at work, had led him to refuse his credit to the Supreme Fabricator. He thought the waste would never be reclaimed, and did not know how muchit already owed to the sun of revelation; but what was the waste wherethat light had not been!--Mr. Carleton was staggered. He did not know whatto think. He began to think he had been a fool. 

Poor little Fleda was meditating less agreeably the while. With the suretact of truth she had discerned that there was more than jest in thequestions that had been put to her. She almost feared that Mr. Carletonshared himself the doubts he had so lightly spoken of, and the thoughtgave her great distress. However, when he came to take her down to tea, with all his usual manner, Fleda's earnest look at him ended in theconviction that there was nothing very wrong under that face. 

For several days Mr. Carleton pondered the matter of this evening'sconversation, characteristically restless till he had made up his mind. Hewished very much to draw Fleda to speak further upon the subject, but itwas not easy; she never led to it. He sought in vain an opportunity tobring it in easily, and at last resolved to make one. 

"Elfie, " said he one morning when all the rest of the passengers werehappily engaged at a distance with the letter-bags, --"I wish you would letme hear that favourite hymn of yours again, --I like it very much. "

Fleda was much gratified, and immediately with great satisfactionrepeated the hymn. Its peculiar beauty struck him yet more the secondtime than the first. 

"Do you understand those two last verses?" said he when she had done. 

Fleda said "Yes!" rather surprised. 

"I do not, " he said gravely. 

Fleda paused a minute or two, and then finding that it depended on her toenlighten him, said in her modest way, "Why it means that we have no goodness of our own, and only expect to beforgiven and taken to heaven for the Saviour's sake. "

Mr. Carleton asked, "How_for his sake_?"

"Why you know, Mr. Carleton, we don't deserve to go there, and if we areforgiven at all it must be for what he has done. "

"And what is that, Elfie?"

"He died for us, " said Fleda, with a look of some anxiety into Mr. Carleton's face. 

"Died for us!--And what end was that to serve, Elfie?" said he, partlywilling to hear the full statement of the matter, and partly willing tosee how far her intelligence could give it. 

"Because we are sinners, " said Fleda, "and God has said that sinnersshall die. "

"Then how can he keep his word and forgive at all?"

"Because Christ has died _for us_, " said Fleda eagerly;--"instead of us. "

"Do you understand the justice of letting one take the place of others?"

"He was willing, Mr. Carleton, " said Fleda, with a singular wistfulexpression that touched him. 

"Still, Elfie, " said he after a minute's silence, --"how could the ends ofjustice be answered by the death of one man in the place of millions?"

"No, Mr. Carleton, but he was God as well as man, " Fleda said, with asparkle in her eye which perhaps delayed her companion's rejoinder. 

"What should induce him, Elfie, " he said gently, "to do such a thing forpeople who had displeased him?"

"Because he loved us, Mr. Carleton. "

She answered with so evident a strong and clear appreciation of what shewas saying that it half made its way into Mr. Carleton's mind by the forceof sheer sympathy. Her words came almost as something new. 

Certainly Mr. Carleton had heard these things before, though perhapsnever in a way that appealed so directly to his intelligence and hiscandour. He was again silent an instant, pondering, and so was Fleda. 

"Do you know, Elfie, " said Mr. Carleton, "there are some people who do notbelieve that the Saviour was anything more than a man?"

"Yes I know it, " said Fleda;--"it is very strange!"

"Why is it strange?"

"Because the Bible says it so plainly. "

"But those people hold I believe that the Bible does not say it?"

"I don't see how they could have read the Bible, " said Fleda. "Why he saidso himself. "

"Who said so?"

"Jesus Christ. Don't _you_ believe it, Mr. Carleton?"

She saw he did not, and the shade that had come over her face wasreflected in his before he said "No. "

"But perhaps I shall believe it yet, Elfie, " he said kindly. "Can you shewme the place in your Bible where Jesus says this of himself?"

Fleda looked in despair. She hastily turned over the leaves of her Bibleto find the passages he had asked for, and Mr. Carleton was cut to theheart to see that she twice was obliged to turn her face from him andbrush her hand over her eyes, before she could find them. She turned toMatt. Xxvi. 63, 64, 65, and without speaking gave him the book, pointingto the passage. He read it with great care, and several times over. 

"You are right, Elfie, " he said. "I do not see how those who honour theauthority of the Bible and the character of Jesus Christ can deny thetruth of his own declaration. If that is false so must those be. "

Fleda took the Bible and hurriedly sought out another passage. 

"Grandpa shewed me these places, " she said, "once when we were talkingabout Mr. Didenhover--_he_ didn't believe that. There are a great manyother places, grandpa said; but one is enough;"--

She gave him the latter part of the twentieth chapter of John. --

"You see, Mr. Carleton, he let Thomas fall down and worship him and callhim God; and if he had _not_ been, you know----God is more displeasedwith that than with any thing. '

"With what, Elfie?"

"With men's worshipping any other than himself. He says he 'will not givehis glory to another. '"

"Where is that?"

"I am afraid I can't find it, " said Fleda, --"it is somewhere inIsaiah, I know"--

She tried in vain; and failing, then looked up in Mr. Carleton's face tosee what impression had been made. 

"You see Thomas believed when he _saw_" said he, answering her;--"I willbelieve too when I see. "

"Ah if you wait for that--" said Fleda. 

Her voice suddenly checked, she bent her face down again to her littleBible, and there was a moment's struggle with herself. 

"Are you looking for something more to shew me?" said Mr. Carleton kindly, stooping his face down to hers. 

"Not much, " said Fleda hurriedly; and then making a great effort sheraised her head and gave him the book again. 

"Look here, Mr. Carleton, --Jesus said, 'Blessed are they that have _not_seen and yet have believed. '"

Mr. Carleton was profoundly struck, and the thought recurred to himafterwards and was dwelt upon. --"Blessed are they that have _not_ seen, and yet have believed. " It was strange at first, and then he wondered thatit should ever have been so. His was a mind peculiarly open to conviction, peculiarly accessible to truth; and his attention being called to it hesaw faintly now what he had never seen before, the beauty of the principleof _faith_;--how natural, how reasonable, how _necessary_, how honourableto the Supreme Being, how happy even for man, that the grounds of histrust in God being established, his acceptance of many other things shouldrest on that trust alone. 

Mr. Carleton now became more reserved and unsociable than ever. He weariedhimself with thinking. If be could have got at the books, he would havespent his days and nights in studying the evidences of Christianity, butthe ship was bare of any such books, and he never thought of turning tothe most obvious of all, the Bible itself. His unbelief was shaken; it waswithin an ace of falling in pieces to the very foundation; or rather hebegan to suspect how foundationless it had been. It came at last to onepoint with him;--If there were a God, he would not have left the worldwithout a revelation, --no more would he have suffered that revelation todefeat its own end by becoming corrupted or alloyed, if there was such arevelation it could be no other than the Bible;--and his acceptance ofthe whole scheme of Christianity now hung upon the turn of a hair. Yet hecould not resolve himself. He balanced the counter-doubts and arguments, on one side and on the other, and strained his mind to the task;--he couldnot weigh them nicely enough. He was in a maze; and seeking to clear andcalm his judgment that he might see the way out, it was in vain that hetried to shake his dizzied head from the effect of the turns it had made. By dint of anxiety to find the right path reason had lost herself in thewilderness. 

Fleda was not, as Mr. Carleton had feared she would be, at all alienatedfrom him by the discovery that had given her so much pain. It wrought inanother way, rather to add a touch of tender and anxious interest to theaffection she had for him. It gave her however much more pain than hethought. If he had seen the secret tears that fell on his account he wouldhave been grieved; and if he had known of the many petitions that littleheart made for him--he could hardly have loved her more than he did. 

One evening Mr. Carleton had been a long while pacing up and down the deckin front of little Fleda's nest, thinking and thinking, without coming toany end. It was a most fair evening, near sunset, the sky without a cloudexcept two or three little dainty strips which set off its blue. The oceanwas very quiet, only broken into cheerful mites of waves that seemed tohave nothing to do but sparkle. The sun's rays were almost level now, anda long path of glory across the sea led off towards his sinking disk. Fleda sat watching and enjoying it all in her happy fashion, which alwaysmade the most of everything good, and was especially quick in catching anyform of natural beauty. 

Mr. Carleton's thoughts were elsewhere; too busy to take note of thingsaround him. Fleda looked now and then as he passed at his gloomy brow, wondering what he was thinking of, and wishing that he could have the samereason to be happy that she had. In one of his turns his eye met hergentle glance; and vexed and bewildered as he was with study there wassomething in that calm bright face that impelled him irresistibly to askthe little child to set the proud scholar right. Placing himself besideher, he said, "Elfie, how do you know there is a God?--what reason have you for thinkingso, out of the Bible?"

It was a strange look little Fleda gave him. He felt it at the time, andhe never forgot it. Such a look of reproach, sorrow, and _pity_, heafterwards thought, as an angel's face might have worn. The _question_ didnot seem to occupy her a moment. After this answering look she suddenlypointed to the sinking sun and said, "Who made that, Mr. Carleton?"

Mr. Carleton's eyes, following the direction of hers, met the long brightrays whose still witness-bearing was almost too powerful to be borne. Thesun was just dipping majestically into the sea, and its calmself-assertion seemed to him at that instant hardly stronger than itsvindication of its Author. 

A slight arrow may find the joint in the armour before which manyweightier shafts have fallen powerless. Mr. Carleton was an unbeliever nomore from that time. 

Chapter XII

 He borrowed a box of the ear of the Englishman, and swore he would pay him again when he was able. --Merchant of Venice. 

One other incident alone in the course of the voyage deserves to bementioned; both because it served to bring out the characters of severalpeople, and because it was not, --what is?--without its lingeringconsequences. 

Thorn and Rossitur had kept up indefatigably the game of teasing Fledaabout her "English admirer, " as they sometimes styled him. Poor Fledagrew more and more sore on the subject. She thought it was very strangethat two grown men could not find enough to do to amuse themselveswithout making sport of the comfort of a little child. She wondered theycould take pleasure in what gave her so much pain; but so it was; andthey had it up so often that at last others caught it from them; andthough not in malevolence yet in thoughtless folly many a light remarkwas made and question asked of her that set little Fleda's sensitivenerves a quivering. She was only too happy that they were never saidbefore Mr. Carleton; that would have been a thousand times worse. As itwas, her gentle nature was constantly suffering from the pain or the fearof these attacks. 

"Where's Mr. Carleton?" said her cousin coming up one day. 

"I don't know, " said Fleda, --"I don't know but he is gone up into one ofthe tops. "

"Your humble servant leaves you to yourself a great while this morning, itseems to me. He is growing very inattentive. "

"I wouldn't permit it, Miss Fleda, if I were you, " said Thorn maliciously. "You let him have his own way too much. "

"I wish you wouldn't talk so, cousin Charlton!" said Fleda. 

"But seriously, " said Charlton, "I think you had better call him toaccount. He is very suspicious lately. I have observed him walking byhimself and looking very glum indeed. I am afraid he has taken some fancyinto his head that would not suit you. I advise you to enquire into it. "

"I wouldn't give myself any concern about it!" said Thorn lightly, enjoying the child's confusion and his own fanciful style ofbackbiting, --"I'd let him go if he has a mind to, Miss Fleda. He's no suchgreat catch. He's neither lord nor knight--nothing in the world but aprivate gentleman, with plenty of money I dare say, but you don't care forthat;--and there's as good fish in the sea as ever came out of it. I don'tthink much of him!"

He is wonderfully better than _you_, thought Fleda as she looked in theyoung gentleman's face for a second, but she said nothing. 

"Why, Fleda, " said Charlton laughing, "it wouldn't be a killing affair, would it? How has this English admirer of yours got so far in yourfancy?--praising your pretty eyes, eh?--Eh?" he repeated, as Fleda kept adignified silence. 

"No, " said Fleda in displeasure, --"he never says such things. "

"No?" said Charlton. "What then? What does he say? I wouldn't let him makea fool of me if I were you. Fleda!--did he ever ask you for a kiss?"

"No!" exclaimed Fleda half beside herself and bursting into tears;--"Iwish you wouldn't talk so! How can you?"

They had carried the game pretty far that time, and thought best to leaveit. Fleda stopped crying as soon as she could, lest somebody should seeher; and was sitting quietly again, alone as before, when one of thesailors whom she had never spoken to came by, and leaning over towards herwith a leer as he passed, said, "Is this the young English gentleman's little sweetheart?"

Poor Fleda! She had got more than she could bear. She jumped up and randown into the cabin; and in her berth Mrs. Carleton found her some timeafterwards, quietly crying, and most sorry to be discovered. She wasexceeding unwilling to tell what had troubled her. Mrs. Carleton, reallydistressed, tried coaxing, soothing, reasoning, promising, in a way themost gentle and kind that she could use. 

"Oh it's nothing--it's nothing, " Fleda said at last eagerly, --"it'sbecause I am foolish--it's only something they said to me. "

"Who, love?"

Again was Fleda most unwilling to answer, and it was after repeated urgingthat she at last said, "Cousin Charlton and Mr. Thorn. "

"Charlton and Mr. Thorn!--What did they say? What did they say, darling Fleda?"

"O it's only that they tease me, " said Fleda, trying hard to put an end tothe tears which caused all this questioning, and to speak as if they wereabout a trifle. But Mrs. Carleton persisted. 

"What do they say to tease you, love? what is it about?--Guy, come inhere and help me to find out what is the matter with Fleda. "

Fleda hid her face in Mrs. Carleton's neck, resolved to keep her lipssealed. Mr. Carleton came in, but to her great relief his question wasdirected not to her but his mother. 

"Fleda has been annoyed by something those young men, her cousin and Mr. Thorn, have said to her;--they tease her, she says, and she will not tellme what it is. "

Mr. Carleton did not ask, and he presently left the state-room. 

"O I am afraid he will speak to them!" exclaimed Fleda as soon as he wasgone. --"O I oughtn't to have said that!"--

Mrs. Carleton tried to soothe her and asked what she was afraid of. ButFleda would not say any more. Her anxious fear that she had done mischiefhelped to dry her tears, and she sorrowfully resolved she would keep hergriefs to herself next time. 

Rossitur and Thorn were in company with a brother officer and friend ofthe latter when Mr. Carleton approached them. 

"Mr. Rossitur and Mr. Thorn, " said he, "you have indulged yourselves in astyle of conversation extremely displeasing to the little girl under mymother's care. You will oblige me by abandoning it for the future. "

There was certainly in Mr. Carleton's manner a sufficient degree of thecold haughtiness with which he usually expressed displeasure; though hiswords gave no other cause of offence. Thorn retorted rather insolently, "I shall oblige myself in the matter, and do as I think proper. "

"I have a right to speak as I please to my own cousin, " said Rossitursulkily, --"without asking anybody's leave. I don't see what you have todo with it. "

"Simply that she is under my protection and that I will not permit her tobe annoyed. "

"I don't see how she is under your protection, " said Rossitur. 

"And I do not see how the potency of it will avail in this case, ' said hiscompanion. 

"Neither position is to be made out in words, " said Mr. Carleton calmly. "You see that I desire there be no repetition of the offence. The rest Iwill endeavour to make clear if I am compelled to it. "

"Stop, sir!" said Thorn, as the young Englishman was turning away, addingwith an oath, --"I won't bear this! You shall answer this to me, sir!"

"Easily, " said the other. 

"And me too, " said Rossitur. "You have an account to settle with me, Carleton. "

"I will answer what you please, " said Carleton carelessly, --"and as soonas we get to land--provided you do not in the mean time induce me torefuse you the honour. "

However incensed, the young men endeavoured to carry it off with the samecoolness that their adversary shewed. No more words passed. But Mrs. Carleton, possibly quickened by Fleda's fears, was not satisfied with thecarriage of all parties, and resolved to sound her son, happy in knowingthat nothing but truth was to be had from him. She found an opportunitythat very afternoon when he was sitting alone on the deck. Theneighbourhood of little Fleda she hardly noticed. Fleda was curled upamong her cushions, luxuriously bending over a little old black Biblewhich was very often in her hand at times when she was quiet and had noobservation to fear. 

"Reading!--always reading?" said Mrs. Carleton, as she came up and took aplace by her son. 

"By no means!" he said, closing his book with a smile;--"not enough totire any one's eyes on this voyage, mother. "

"I wish you liked intercourse with living society, " said Mrs. Carleton, leaning her arm on his shoulder and looking at him rather wistfully. 

"You need not wish that, --when it suits me, " he answered. 

"But none suits you. Is there any on board?"

"A small proportion, " he said, with the slight play of feature whichalways effected a diversion of his mother's thoughts, no matter in whatchannel they had been flowing. 

"But those young men, " she said, returning to the charge, --"you holdyourself very much aloof from them?"

He did not answer, even by a look, but to his mother the perfectly quietcomposure of his face was sufficiently expressive. 

"I know what you think, but Guy, you always had the same opinion of them?"

"I have never shewn any other. "

"Guy, " she said speaking low and rather anxiously, --"have you got intotrouble with those young men?"

"_I_ am in no trouble, mother, " he answered somewhat haughtily; "I cannotspeak for them. "

Mrs. Carleton waited a moment. 

"You have done something to displease them, have you not?"

"They have displeased me, which is somewhat more to the purpose. 

"But their folly is nothing to you?"

"No, --not their folly. "

"Guy, " said his mother, again pausing a minute, and pressing her hand moreheavily upon his shoulder, "you will not suffer this to alter the friendlyterms you have been on?--whatever it be, --let it pass. "

"Certainly--if they choose to apologize and behave themselves. "

"What, about Fleda?"

"Yes. "

"I have no idea they meant to trouble her--I suppose they did not at allknow what they were doing, --thoughtless nonsense, --and they could have hadno design to offend you. Promise me that you will not take any furthernotice of this!"

He shook off her beseeching hand as he rose up, and answered haughtily, and not without something like an oath, that he _would_. 

Mrs. Carleton knew him better than to press the matter any further; andher fondness easily forgave the offence against herself, especially as herson almost immediately resumed his ordinary manner. 

It had well nigh passed from the minds of both parties, when in themiddle of the next day Mr. Carleton asked what had become of Fleda?--hehad not seen her except at the breakfast table. Mrs. Carleton said shewas not well. 

"What's the matter?"

"She complained of some headache--I think she made herself sickyesterday--she was crying all the afternoon, and I could not get her totell me what for. I tried every means I could think of, but she would notgive me the least clue--she said 'no' to everything I guessed--I can'tbear to see her do so--it makes it all the worse she does it soquietly--it was only by a mere chance I found she was crying at all, but Ithink she cried herself ill before she stopped. She could not eat amouthful of breakfast. "

Mr. Carleton said nothing and with a changed countenance went directlydown to the cabin. The stewardess, whom he sent in to see how she was, brought back word that Fleda was not asleep but was too ill to speak toher. Mr. Carleton went immediately into the little crib of a state-room. There he found his little charge, sitting bolt upright, her feet on therung of a chair and her hands grasping the top to support herself. Hereyes were closed, her face without a particle of colour, except the darkshade round the eyes which bespoke illness and pain. She made no attemptto answer his shocked questions and words of tender concern, not even bythe raising of an eyelid, and he saw that the intensity of pain at themoment was such as to render breathing itself difficult. He sent off thestewardess with all despatch after iced water and vinegar and brandy, andhimself went on an earnest quest of restoratives among the lady passengersin the cabin, which resulted in sundry supplies of salts and cologne; andalso offers of service, in greater plenty still, which he all refused. Most tenderly and judiciously he himself applied various remedies to thesuffering child, who could not direct him otherwise than by gently puttingaway the things which she felt would not avail her. Several were in vain. But there was one bottle of strong aromatic vinegar which was destined toimmortalize its owner in Fleda's remembrance. Before she had taken threewhiffs of it her colour changed. Mr. Carleton watched the effect of a fewwhiffs more, and then bade the stewardess take away all the other thingsand bring him a cup of fresh strong coffee. By the time it came Fleda wasready for it, and by the time Mr. Carleton had administered the coffee hesaw it would do to throw his mother's shawl round her and carry her up ondeck, which he did without asking any questions. All this while Fleda hadnot spoken a word, except once when he asked her if she felt better. Butshe had given him, on finishing the coffee, a full look and half smile ofsuch pure affectionate gratitude that the young gentleman's tongue wastied for some time after. 

With happy skill, when he had safely bestowed Fleda among her cushions ondeck, Mr. Carleton managed to keep off the crowd of busy inquirers afterher well-doing, and even presently to turn his mother's attention anotherway, leaving Fleda to enjoy all the comfort of quiet and fresh air atonce. He himself, seeming occupied with other things, did no more but keepwatch over her, till he saw that she was able to bear conversation again. Then he seated himself beside her and said softly, [Illustration: Then he seated himself beside her. ]

"Elfie, --what were you crying about all yesterday afternoon?"

Fleda changed colour, for soft and gentle as the tone was she heard init a determination to have the answer; and looking up beseechingly intohis face she saw in the steady full blue eye that it was a determinationshe could not escape from. Her answer was an imploring request that hewould not ask her. But taking one of her little hands and carrying it tohis lips, he in the same tone repeated his question. Fleda snatched awayher hand and burst into very frank tears; Mr. Carleton was silent, butshe knew through silence that he was only quietly waiting for her toanswer him. 

"I wish you wouldn't ask me, sir, " said poor Fleda, who still could notturn her face to meet his eye;--"It was only something that happenedyesterday. "

"What was it, Elfie?--You need not be afraid to tell me. "

"It was only--what you said to Mrs. Carleton yesterday, --when she wastalking--"

"About my difficulty with those gentlemen?"

"Yes, " said Fleda, with a new gush of tears, as if her grief stirredafresh at the thought. 

Mr. Carleton was silent a moment; and when he spoke there was nodispleasure and more tenderness than usual in his voice. 

"What troubled you in that, Elfie? tell me the whole. "

"I was sorry, because, --it wasn't right, " said Fleda, with a gravetruthfulness which yet lacked none of her universal gentleness andmodesty. 

"What wasn't right?"

"To speak--I am afraid you won't like me to say it, Mr. Carleton. "

"I will, Elfie, --for I ask you. "

"To speak to Mrs. Carleton so, and besides, --you know what you said, Mr. Carleton--"

"It was _not_ right, " said he after a minute, --"and I very seldomuse such an expression, but you know one cannot always be on one'sguard, Elfie?"

"But, " said Fleda with gentle persistence, "one can always do whatis right. "

The deuce one can!--thought Mr, Carleton to himself. "Elfie, --was thatall that troubled you?--that I had said what was not right?"

"It wasn't quite that only, " said Fleda hesitating, --"What else?"

She stooped her face from his sight and he could but just understandher words. 

"I was disappointed--"

"What, in me!"

Her tears gave the answer; she could add to them nothing but an assentingnod of her head. 

They would have flowed in double measure if she had guessed the pain shehad given. Her questioner heard her with a keen pang which did not leavehim for days. There was some hurt pride in it, though other and moregenerous feelings had a far larger share. He, who had been admired, lauded, followed, cited, and envied, by all ranks of his countrymen andcountrywomen;--in whom nobody found a fault that could be dwelt upon amidthe lustre of his perfections and advantages;--one of the first young menin England, thought so by himself as well as by others;--this little purebeing had been _disappointed_ in him. He could not get over it. Hereckoned the one judgment worth all the others. Those whose direct orindirect flatteries had been poured at his feet were the proud, theworldly, the ambitious, the interested, the corrupted;--their praise wasgiven to what they esteemed, and that, his candour said, was the leastestimable part of him. Beneath all that, this truth-loving, truth-discerning little spirit had found enough to weep for. She was rightand they were wrong. The sense of this was so keen upon him that it wastea or fifteen minutes before he could recover himself to speak to hislittle reprover. He paced up and down the deck, while Fleda wept more andmore from the fear of having offended or grieved him. But she was soonreassured on the former point. She was just wiping away her tears, withthe quiet expression of patience her face often wore, when Mr. Carletonsat down beside her and took one of her hands. 

"Elfie, " said he, --"I promise you I will never say such a thing again. "

He might well call her his good angel, for it was an angelic look thechild gave him. So purely humble, grateful, glad, --so rosy with joyfulhope, --the eyes were absolutely sparkling through tears. But when she sawthat his were not dry, her own overflowed. She clasped her other hand tohis hand and bending down her face affectionately upon it, she wept, --ifever angels weep, --such tears as they. 

"Elfie, " said Mr. Carleton, as soon as he could, --"I want you to go downstairs with me; so dry those eyes, or my mother will be asking all sortsof difficult questions. "

Happiness is a quick restorative. Elfie was soon ready to go where hewould. 

They found Mrs. Carleton fortunately wrapped up in a new novel, somedistance apart from the other persons in the cabin. The novel wasimmediately laid aside to take Fleda on her lap and praise Guy's nursing. 

"But she looks more like a wax figure yet than anything else, don'tshe, Guy?"

"Not like any that ever I saw, " said Mr. Carleton gravely. "Hardlysubstantial enough. Mother, I have come to tell you I am ashamed of myselffor having given you such cause of offence yesterday. "

Mrs. Carleton's quick look, as she laid her hand on her son's arm, saidsufficiently well that she would have excused him from making any apologyrather than have him humble himself in the presence of a third person. 

"Fleda heard me yesterday, " said he; "it was right she should hearme to-day. "

"Then my dear Guy, " said his mother with a secret eagerness which she didnot allow to appear, --"if I may make a condition for my forgiveness, whichyou had before you asked for it, --will you grant me one favour?"

"Certainly, mother, --if I can. "

"You promise me?"

"As well in one word as in two. "

"Promise me that you will never, by any circumstances, allow yourself tobe drawn into--what is called _an affair of honour_. "

Mr. Carleton's brow changed, and without making any reply, perhaps toavoid his mother's questioning gaze, he rose up and walked two or threetimes the length of the cabin. His mother and Fleda watched himdoubtfully. 

"Do you see how you have got me into trouble, Elfie?" said he, stoppingbefore them. 

Fleda looked wonderingly, and Mrs. Carleton exclaimed, "What trouble?"

"Elfie, " said he, without immediately answering his mother, "what wouldyour conscience do with two promises both of which cannot be kept?"

"What such promises have you made?" said Mrs Carleton eagerly. 

"Let me hear first what Fleda says to my question. "

"Why, " said Fleda, looking a little bewildered, --"I would keep theright one. "

"Not the one first made?" said he smiling. 

"No, " said Fleda, --"not unless it was the right one. "

"But don't you think one ought to keep one's word, in any event?"

"I don't think anything can make it right to do wrong, " Fleda saidgravely, and not without a secret trembling consciousness to what pointshe was speaking. 

He left them and again took several turns up and down the cabin beforehe sat down. 

"You have not given me your promise yet, Guy, " said his mother, whose eyehad not once quitted him. "You said you would. "

"I said, if I could. "

"Well?--you can?"

"I have two honourable meetings of the proscribed kind now on hand, towhich I stand pledged. "

Fleda hid her face in an agony. Mrs. Carleton's agony was in every line ofhers as she grasped her son's wrist exclaiming, "Guy, promise me!" She hadwords for nothing else. He hesitated still a moment, and then meeting hismother's look he said gravely and steadily, "I promise you, mother, I never will. "

His mother threw herself upon his breast and hid her face there, too muchexcited to have any thought of her customary regard to appearances;sobbing out thanks and blessings even audibly. Fleda's gentle head wasbowed in almost equal agitation; and Mr. Carleton at that moment had nodoubt that he had chosen well which promise to keep. 

There remained however a less agreeable part of the business to manage. After seeing his mother and Fleda quite happy again, though withoutsatisfying in any degree the curiosity of the former, Guy went in searchof the two young West Point officers. They were together, but withoutThorn's friend, Capt. Beebee. Him Carleton next sought and brought to theforward deck where the others were enjoying their cigars; or ratherCharlton Rossitur was enjoying his, with the happy self satisfaction of apair of epaulettes off duty. Thorn had too busy a brain to be much of asmoker. Now, however, when it was plain that Mr. Carleton had something tosay to them, Charlton's cigar gave way to his attention; it was displacedfrom his mouth and held in abeyance; while Thorn puffed away more intentlythan ever. 

"Gentlemen, " Carleton began, --"I gave you yesterday reason to expect thatso soon as circumstances permitted, you should have the opportunity whichoffended honour desires of trying sounder arguments than those of reasonupon the offender. I have to tell you to-day that I will not give it you. I have thought further of it. "

"Is it a new insult that you mean by this, sir?" exclaimed Rossitur inastonishment. Thorn's cigar did not stir. 

"Neither new nor old. I mean simply that I have changed my mind. "

"But this is very extraordinary!" said Rossitur. "What reason doyou give?"

"I give none, sir. "

"In that case, " said Capt. Beebee, "perhaps Mr. Carleton will not objectto explain or unsay the things which gave offence yesterday. "

"I apprehend there is nothing to explain, sir, --I think I must have beenunderstood; and I never take back my words, for I am in the habit ofspeaking the truth. "

"Then we are to consider this as a further, unprovoked, unmitigated insultfor which you will give neither reason nor satisfaction!" cried Rossitur. 

"I have already disclaimed that, Mr. Rossitur. "

"Are we, on mature deliberation, considered unworthy of tha _honour_ youso condescendingly awarded to us yesterday?"

"My reasons have nothing to do with you, sir, nor with your friend; theyare entirely personal to myself. "

"Mr. Carleton must be aware, " said Capt. Beebee, "that his conduct, ifunexplained, will bear a very strange construction. "

Mr. Carleton was coldly silent. 

"It never was heard of, " the Captain went on, --"that a gentleman declinedboth to explain and to give satisfaction for any part of his conduct whichhad called for it. "

"It never was heard that a _gentleman_ did, " said Thorn, removing hiscigar a moment for the purpose of supplying the emphasis which his friendhad carefully omitted to make. 

"Will you say, Mr. Carleton, " said Rossitur, "that you did not mean tooffend us yesterday in what you said?"

"No, Mr. Rossitur. "

"You will not!" cried the Captain. 

"No, sir; for your friends had given me, as I conceived, just causeof displeasure; and I was, and am, careless of offending those whohave done so. "

"You consider yourself aggrieved, then, in the first place?" said Beebee. 

"I have said so, sir. "

"Then, " said the Captain, after a puzzled look out to sea, "supposing thatmy friends disclaim all intention to offend you in that case--"

"In that case I should be glad, Capt. Beebee, that they had changed theirline of tactics--there is nothing to change in my own. "

"Then what are we to understand by this strange refusal of a meeting, Mr. Carleton? what does it mean?"

"It means one thing in my own mind, sir, and probably another in yours;but the outward expression I choose to give it is that I will not rewarduncalled-for rudeness with an opportunity of self-vindication. "

"You are, " said Thorn sneeringly, "probably careless as to the figure yourown name will cut in connection with this story?"

"Entirely so, " said Mr. Carleton, eying him steadily. 

"You are aware that your character is at our mercy?"

A slight bow seemed to leave at their disposal the very small portion ofhis character he conceived to lie in that predicament. 

"You will expect to hear yourself spoken of in terms that befit a man whohas cowed out of an engagement he dared not fulfil?"

"Of course, " said Carleton haughtily, "by my present refusal I give youleave to say all that, and as much more as your ingenuity can furnish inthe same style; but not in my hearing, sir. "

"You can't help yourself, " said Thorn, with the same sneer. "You have ridyourself of a gentleman's means of protection, --what others will you use?

"I will leave that to the suggestion of the moment. I do not doubt it willbe found fruitful. "

Nobody doubted it who looked just then on his steady sparkling eye. 

"I consider the championship of yesterday given up of course, " Thorn wenton in a kind of aside, not looking at anybody, and striking his cigaragainst the guards to clear it of ashes;--"the champion has quitted thefield; and the little princess but lately so walled in with defences mustnow listen to whatever knight and squire may please to address to her. Nothing remains to be seen of her defender but his spurs. "

"They may serve for the heels of whoever is disposed to annoy her, " saidMr. Carleton. "He will need them. "

He left the group with the same air of imperturbable self-possession whichhe had maintained during the conference. But presently Rossitur, who hadhis private reasons for wishing to keep friends with an acquaintance whomight be of service in more ways than one, followed him and declaredhimself to have been, in all his nonsense to Fleda, most undesirous ofgiving displeasure to her temporary guardian, and sorry that it had fallenout so. He spoke frankly, and Mr. Carleton, with the same coolgracefulness with which he had carried on the quarrel, waived hisdispleasure, and admitted the young gentleman apparently to stand asbefore in his favour. Their reconciliation was not an hour old when Capt. Beebee joined them. 

"I am sorry I must trouble you with a word more on this disagreeablesubject, Mr. Carleton, " he began, after a ceremonious salutation, --"Myfriend, Lieut. Thorn, considers himself greatly outraged by yourdetermination not to meet him. He begs to ask, by me, whether it is yourpurpose to abide by it at all hazards?"

"Yes, sir. "

"There is some misunderstanding here, which I greatly regret. --I hope youwill see and excuse the disagreeable necessity I am under of deliveringthe rest of my friend's message. "

"Say on, sir. "

"Mr. Thorn declares that if you deny him the common courtesy which nogentleman refuses to another, he will proclaim your name with the mostopprobrious adjuncts to all the world, and in place of his former regardhe will hold you in the most unlimited contempt, which he will have noscruple about shewing on all occasions. "

Mr. Carleton coloured a little, but replied coolly, "I have not lived in Mr. Thorn's favour. As to the rest, I forgivehim!--except indeed he provoke me to measures for which I never willforgive him. "

"Measures!" said the Captain. 

"I hope not! for my own self-respect would be more grievously hurt thanhis. But there is an unruly spring somewhere about my composition thatwhen it gets wound up is once in a while too much for me. "

"But, " said Rossitur, "pardon me, --have you no regard to the effect of hismisrepresentations?"

"You are mistaken, Mr. Rossitur, " said Carleton slightly;--this is butthe blast of a bellows, --not the Simoom. "

"Then what answer shall I have the honour of carrying back to my friend?"said Capt. Beebee, after a sort of astounded pause of a few minutes. 

"None, of my sending, sir. "

Capt. Beebee touched his cap, and went back to Mr. Thorn, to whom hereported that the young Englishman was thoroughly impracticable, and thatthere was nothing to be gained by dealing with him; and the vexedconclusion of Thorn's own mind, in the end, was in favour of the wisdom ofletting him alone. 

In a very different mood, saddened and disgusted, Mr. Carleton shookhimself free of Rossitur and went and stood alone by the guards lookingout upon the sea. He did not at all regret his promise to his mother, norwish to take other ground than that he had taken. Both the theory and thepractice of duelling he heartily despised, and he was not weak enough tofancy that he had brought any discredit upon either his sense or hishonour by refusing to comply with an unwarrantable and barbarous custom. And he valued mankind too little to be at all concerned about theirjudgment in the matter. His own opinion was at all times enough for him. But the miserable folly and puerility of such an altercation as that inwhich he had just been engaged, the poor display of human character, thelittle low passions which bad been called up, even in himself, alikedestitute of worthy cause and aim, and which had perhaps but just missedending in the death of some and the living death of others, --it allwrought to bring him back to his old wearying of human nature anddespondent eying of the everywhere jarrings, confusions, and discordancesin the moral world. The fresh sea-breeze that swept by the ship, roughening the play of the waves, and brushing his own cheek with itshealth-bearing wing, brought with it a sad feeling of contrast. Free, andpure, and steadily directed, it sped on its way, to do its work. And likeit all the rest of the natural world, faithful to the law of its Maker, was stamped with the same signet of perfection. Only man, in all theuniverse, seemed to be at cross purposes with the end of his being. Onlyman, of all animate or inanimate things, lived an aimless, fruitless, broken life, --or fruitful only in evil. How was this? and whence? and whenwould be the end? and would this confused mass of warring elements ever beat peace? would this disordered machinery ever work smoothly, without letor stop any more, and work out the beautiful something for which sure itwas designed? And could any hand but its first Maker mend the broken wheelor supply the spring that was wanting?

Has not the Desire of all nations been often sought of eyes that werenever taught where to look for him. 

Mr. Carleton was standing still by the guards, looking thoughtfully out towindward to meet the fresh breeze, as if the Spirit of the Wilderness werein it and could teach him the truth that the Spirit of the World knew notand had not to give, when he became sensible of something close besidehim; and looking down met little Fleda's upturned face, with such a lookof purity, freshness, and peace, it said as plainly as ever the dial-plateof a clock that _that_ little piece of machinery was working right. Therewas a sunlight upon it, too, of happy confidence and affection. Mr. Carleton's mind experienced a sudden revulsion. Fleda might see thereflection of her own light in his face as he helped her up to a standwhere she could be more on a level with him; putting his arm round her toguard against any sudden roll of the ship. 

"What makes you wear such a happy face?" said he, with an expression halfenvious, half regretful. 

"I don't know!" said Fleda innocently. "You, I suppose. "

He looked as bright as she did, for a minute. 

"Were you ever angry, Elfie?"

"I don't know--" said Fleda. "I don't know but I have. "

He smiled to see that although evidently her memory could not bring thecharge, her modesty would not deny it. 

"Were you not angry yesterday with your cousin and that unmannerlyfriend of his?"

"No, " said Fleda, a shade crossing her face, --"I was not _angry_ "--

And as she spoke her hand was softly put upon Mr. Carleton's; as if partlyin the fear of what might have grown out of _his_ anger, and partly inthankfulness to him that he had rendered it unnecessary. There was asingular delicate timidity and tenderness in the action. 

"I wish I had your secret, Elfie, " said Mr. Carleton, looking wistfullyinto the clear eyes that met his. 

"What secret?" said Fleda smiling. 

"You say one can always do right--is that the reason you arehappy?--because you follow that out?"

"No, " said Fleda seriously. "But I think it is a great deal pleasanter. "

"I have no doubt at all of that, neither, I dare say, have the rest of theworld; only somehow when it comes to the point they find it is easier todo wrong. What's your secret, Elfie?"

"I haven't any secret, " said Fleda. But presently, seeming to bethinkherself, she added gently and gravely, "Aunt Miriam says--"

"What?"

"She says that when we love Jesus Christ it is easy to please him. "

"And do you love him, Elfie?" Mr Carleton asked after a minute. 

Her answer was a very quiet and sober "Yes. "

He doubted still whether she were not unconsciously using a form of speechthe spirit of which she did not quite realize. That one might "not see andyet believe, " he could understand; but for _affection_ to go forth towardsan unseen object was another matter. His question was grave and acute. 

"By what do you judge that you do, Elfie?"

"Why, Mr. Carleton, " said Fleda, with an instant look of appeal, "who else_should_ I love?"

"If not him "--her eye and her voice made sufficiently plain. Mr. Carletonwas obliged to confess to himself that she spoke intelligently, withdeeper intelligence than he could follow. He asked no more questions. Yettruth shines by its own light, like the sun. He had not perfectlycomprehended her answers, but they struck him as something that deservedto be understood, and he resolved to make the truth of them his own. 

The rest of the voyage was perfectly quiet. Following the earnest adviceof his friend Capt. Beebee, Thorn had given up trying to push Mr. Carletonto extremity; who on his part did not seem conscious of Thorn's existence. 

Chapter XIII. 

 There the most daintie paradise on ground Itselfe doth offer to his sober eye, -- -----The painted flowres, the trees upshooting hye, The dales for shade, the hills for breathing space, The trembling groves, the christall running by; And that, which all faire works doth most aggrace, The art which all that wrought appeared in no place. 

 Fćry Queene. 

They had taken ship for London, as Mr. And Mrs. Carleton wished to visithome for a day or two before going on to Paris. So leaving Charlton tocarry news of them to the French capital, so soon as he could persuadehimself to leave the English one, they with little Fleda in company posteddown to Carleton, in ----shire. 

It was a time of great delight to Fleda, that is, as soon as Mr. Carletonhad made her feel at home in England; and somehow he had contrived to dothat and to scatter some clouds of remembrance that seemed to gather abouther, before they had reached the end of their first day's journey. To beout of the ship was itself a comfort, and to be alone with kind friendswas much more. With great joy Fleda put her cousin Charlton and Mr. Thornat once out of sight and out of mind; and gave herself with even more thanher usual happy readiness to everything the way and the end of the way hadfor her. Those days were to be painted days in Fleda's memory. 

She thought Carleton was a very odd place. That is, the house, not thevillage which went by the same name. If the manner of her two companionshad not been such as to put her entirely at her ease she would have feltstrange and shy. As it was she felt half afraid of losing herself in thehouse, to Fleda's unaccustomed eyes it was a labyrinth of halls andstaircases, set with the most unaccountable number and variety of rooms;old and new, quaint and comfortable, gloomy and magnificent; some withstern old-fashioned massiveness of style and garniture; others absolutelybewitching (to Fleda's eyes and understanding) in the rich beauty andluxuriousness of their arrangements. Mr. Carleton's own particular hauntswere of these; his private room, the little library as it was called, thelibrary, and the music-room, which was indeed rather a gallery of finearts, so many treasures of art were gathered there. To an older andnice-judging person these rooms would have given no slight indications oftheir owner's mind--it had been at work on every corner of them. Noparticular fashion had been followed in anything, nor any model consultedbut that which fancy had built to the mind's order. The wealth of yearshad drawn together an enormous assemblage of matters, great and small, every one of which was fitted either to excite fancy, or suggest thought, or to satisfy the eye by its nice adaptation. And if pride had had theordering of them, all these might have been but a costly museum, aliterary alphabet that its possessor could not put together, an ungainlyconfession of ignorance on the part of the intellect that could do nothingwith this rich heap of material. But pride was not the genius of theplace. A most refined taste and curious fastidiousness had arranged andharmonized all the heterogeneous items; the mental hieroglyphics had beenordered by one to whom the reading of them was no mystery. Nothing strucka stranger at first entering, except the very rich effect and faultlessair of the whole, and perhaps the delicious facilities for every kind ofintellectual cultivation which appeared on every hand; facilities which itmust be allowed do seem in general _not_ to facilitate the work they aremeant to speed. In this case however it was different. The mind thatwanted them bad brought them together to satisfy its own craving. 

These rooms were Guy's peculiar domain. In other parts of the house, where his mother reigned conjointly with him, their joint tastes hadstruck out another style of adornment which might be called a style ofsuperb elegance. Not superb alone, for taste had not permitted so heavy acharacteristic to be predominant; not merely elegant, for the fineness ofall the details would warrant an ampler word. A larger part of the housethan both these together had been left as generations past had left it, invarious stages of, refinement, comfort and comeliness. It was a day or twobefore Fleda found out that it was all one; she thought at first that itwas a collection of several houses that had somehow inexplicably sat downthere with their backs to each other; it was so straggling and irregular apile of building, covering so much ground, and looking so very unlike thedifferent parts to each other. One portion was quite old; the other partsranged variously between the present and the far past. After she onceunderstood this it was a piece of delicious wonderment and musing andgreat admiration to Fleda; she never grew weary of wandering round it andthinking about it, for from a child fanciful meditation was one of herdelights. Within doors she best liked Mr. Carleton's favourite rooms. Their rich colouring and moderated light and endless stores of beauty andcuriosity made them a place of fascination. 

Out of doors she found still more to delight her. Morning, noon, and nightshe might be seen near the house gazing, taking in pictures of naturalbeauty which were for ever after to hang in Fleda's memory as standards ofexcellence in that sort. Nature's hand had been very kind to the place, moulding the ground in beautiful style. Art had made happy use of theadvantage thus given her; and now what appeared was neither art nornature, but a perfection that can only spring from the hands of both. Fleda's eyes were bewitched. She stood watching the rolling slopes ofgreen turf, _so_ soft and lovely, and the magnificent trees, that had kepttheir ground for ages and seen generations rise and fall before theirgrowing strength and grandeur. They were scattered here and there on thelawn, and further back stood on the heights and stretched along the ridgesof the undulating ground, the outposts of a wood of the same growth stillbeyond them. 

"How do you like it, Elfie?" Mr. Carleton asked her the evening of thefirst day, as he saw her for a length of time looking out gravely andintently from before the hall door. 

"I think it is beautiful!" said Fleda. "The ground is a great dealsmoother here than it was at home. "

"I'll take you to ride to-morrow, " said he smiling, "and shew you roughground enough. "

"As you did when we came from Montepoole?" raid Fleda rather eagerly. 

"Would you like that?"

"Yes, very much, --if _you_ would like it, Mr. Carleton. "

"Very well, " said he. "So it shall be. "

And not a day passed during their short stay that he did not give her oneof those rides. He shewed her rough ground, according to his promise, butFleda still thought it did not look much like the mountains "at home. " Andindeed unsightly roughnesses had been skilfully covered or removed; andthough a large part of the park, which was a very extensive one, waswildly broken and had apparently been left as nature left it, the hand oftaste had been there; and many an unsuspected touch instead of hinderinghad heightened both the wild and the beautiful character. Landscapegardening had long been a great hobby of its owner. 

"How far does your ground come, Mr Carleton?" inquired Fleda on one ofthese rides, when they had travelled a good distance from home. 

"Further than you can see, Elfie. "

"Further than I can see!--It must be a very large farm!"

"This is not a farm where we are now, " said he;--"did you meanthat?--this is the park; we are almost at the edge of it on this side. "

"What is the difference between a farm and a park?" said Fleda. 

"The grounds of a farm are tilled for profit; a park is an uncultivatedenclosure kept merely for men and women and deer to take pleasure in. "

"_I_ have taken a good deal of pleasure in it, " said Fleda. "And have youa farm besides, Mr. Carleton?"

"A good many, Elfie. "

Fleda looked surprised, and then remarked that it must be very nice tohave such a beautiful piece of ground just for pleasure. 

She enjoyed it to the full during the few days she was there. And onething more, the grand piano in the music-room. The first evening of theirarrival she was drawn by the far-off sounds, and Mrs. Carleton seeing itwent immediately to the music-room with her. The room had no light, exceptfrom the moonbeams that stole in through two glass doors which opened upona particularly private and cherished part of the grounds, in summer-timefull of flowers; for in the very refinement of luxury delights had beencrowded about this favourite apartment. Mr. Carleton was at theinstrument, playing. Fleda sat down quietly in one corner andlistened, --in a rapture of pleasure she had hardly ever known from anylike source. She did not think it could be greater, till after a time, ina pause of the music, Mrs. Carleton asked her son to sing a particularballad, and that one was followed by two or three more. Fleda left hercorner, she could not contain herself, and favoured by the darkness cameforward and stood quite near; and if the performer bad bad light to seeby, he would have been gratified with the tribute paid to his power by theunfeigned tears that ran down her cheeks. This pleasure was also repeatedfrom evening to evening. 

"Do you know we set off for Paris to-morrow?" said Mrs. Carleton the lastevening of their stay, as Fleda came up to the door after a prolongedramble in the park, leaving Mr. Carleton with one or two gardeners at alittle distance. 

"Yes!" said Fleda, with a sigh that was more than half audible. 

"Are you sorry?" said Mrs. Carleton smiling. 

"I cannot be glad, " said Fleda, giving a sober look over the lawn. 

"Then you like Carleton?"

"Very much!--It is a prettier place than Queechy. "

"But we shall have you here again, dear Fleda, " said Mrs. Carletonrestraining her smile at this, to her, very moderate complement. 

"Perhaps not, " said Fleda quietly. --"Mr. Carleton said, " she added aminute after with more animation, "that a park was a place for men andwomen and deer to take pleasure in. I am sure it is for children too!"

"Did you have a pleasant ride this morning?"

"O very!--I always do. There isn't anything I like so well. "

"What, as to ride on horseback with Guy?" said Mrs. Carleton lookingexceedingly benignant. 

"Yes, --unless--"

"Unless what, my dear Fleda?"

"Unless, perhaps, --I don't know, --I was going to say, unless perhaps tohear him sing. "

Mrs. Carleton's delight was unequivocally expressed; and she promisedFleda that she should have both rides and songs there in plenty anothertime; a promise upon which Fleda built no trust at all. 

The short journey to Pans was soon made. The next morning Mrs. Carletonmaking an excuse of her fatigue left Guy to end the care he had rathertaken upon himself by delivering his little charge into the hands of herfriends. So they drove to the Hotel------, Rue------, where Mr. Rossiturhad apartments in very handsome style. The found him alone in the saloon. 

"Ha! Carleton--come back again. Just in time--very glad to see you. Andwho is this?--Ah, another little daughter for aunt Lucy. "

Mr. Rossitur, who gave them this greeting very cordially, was rather afine looking man, decidedly agreeable both in person and manner. Fleda waspleasantly disappointed after what her grandfather had led her to expect. There might be something of sternness in his expression; people gave himcredit for a peremptory, not to say imperious temper; but if truly, itcould not often meet with opposition. The sense and gentlemanly characterwhich marked his face and bearing had an air of smooth politeness whichseemed habitual. There was no want of kindness nor even of tenderness inthe way he drew Fleda within his arm and held her there, while he went ontalking to Mr. Carleton; now and then stooping his face to look in at herbonnet and kiss her, which was his only welcome. He said nothing to herafter his first question. 

He was too busy talking to Guy. He seemed to have a great deal to tellhim. There was this for him to see, and that for him to hear, and charmingnew things which had been done or doing since Mr. Carleton left Paris. Theimpression upon Fleda's mind after listening awhile was that the Frenchcapital was a great Gallery of the Fine Arts, with a magnified likeness ofMr. Carleton's music room at one end of it. She thought her uncle must bemost extraordinarily fond of pictures and works of art in general, andmust have a great love for seeing company and hearing people sing. Thislatter taste Fleda was disposed to allow might be a very reasonable one. Mr. Carleton, she observed, seemed much more cool on the whole subject. But meanwhile where was aunt Lucy?--and had Mr. Rossitur forgotten thelittle armful that he held so fast and so perseveringly? No, for here wasanother kiss, and another look into her face, so kind that Fleda gave hima piece of her heart from that time. 

"Hugh!" said Mr. Rossitur suddenly to somebody she had not seenbefore, --"Hugh!--here is your little cousin. Take her off to your mother. "

A child came forward at this bidding hardly larger than herself. He was aslender graceful little figure, with nothing of the boy in his face ormanner; delicate as a girl, and with something almost melancholy in thegentle sweetness of his countenance. Fleda's confidence was given to it onthe instant, which had not been the case with anything in her uncle, andshe yielded without reluctance the hand he took to obey his father'scommand. Before two steps had been taken however, she suddenly broke awayfrom him and springing to Mr. Carleton's side silently laid her hand inhis. She made no answer whatever to a ligit word or two of kindness thathe spoke just for her ear. She listened with downcast eyes and a lip thathe saw was too unsteady to be trusted, and then after a moment more, without looking, pulled away her hand and followed her cousin. Hugh didnot once get a sight of her face on the way to his mother's room, butowing to her exceeding efforts and quiet generalship he never guessed thecause. There was nothing in her face to raise suspicion when he reachedthe door and opening it announced her with, "Mother, here's cousin Fleda come. "

Fleda had seen her aunt before, though several years back, and not longenough to get acquainted with her. But no matter;--it was her mother'ssister sitting there, whose face gave her so lovely a welcome at thatspeech of Hugh's, whose arms were stretched out so eagerly towards her;and springing to them as to a very haven of rest Fleda wept on herbosom those delicious tears that are only shed where the heart is athome. And even before they were dried the ties were knit that bound herto her new sphere. 

"Who came with you, dear Fleda?" said Mrs. Rossitur then. "Is Mrs. Carleton here? I must go and thank her for bringing you to me. "

"_Mr_. Carleton is here, " said Hugh. 

"I must go and thank him then. Jump down, dear Fleda--I'll be back ina minute. "

Fleda got off her lap, and stood looking in a kind of enchanted maze, while her aunt hastily arranged her hair at the glass. Looking, whilefancy and memory were making strong the net in which her heart was caught. She was trying to see something of her mother in one who had shared herblood and her affection so nearly. A miniature of that mother was left toFleda, and she had studied it till she could hardly persuade herself thatshe had not some recollection of the original; and now she thought shecaught a precious shadow of something like it in her aunt Lucy. Not inthose pretty bright eyes which had looked through kind tears so lovinglyupon her; but in the graceful ringlets about the temples, the delicatecontour of the face, and a something, Fleda could only have said it was "asomething, " about the mouth _when at rest_, the shadow of her mother'simage rejoiced her heart. Rather that faint shadow of the loved lost onefor little Fleda, than any other form or combination of beauty on earth. As she stood fascinated, watching the movements of her aunt's lightfigure, Fleda drew a long breath with which went off the whole burden ofdoubt and anxiety that had lain upon her mind ever since the journeybegan. She had not known it was there, but she felt it go. Yet even whenthat sigh of relief was breathed, and while fancy and feeling were weavingtheir rich embroidery into the very tissue of Fleda's happiness, mostpersons would have seen merely that the child looked very sober, and havethought probably that she felt very tired and strange. Perhaps Mrs. Rossitur thought so, for again tenderly kissing her before she left theroom she told Hugh to take off her things and make her feel at home. 

Hugh upon this made Fleda sit down and proceeded to untie her tippetstrings and take off her coat with an air of delicate tenderness whichshewed he had great pleasure in his task, and which made Fleda take a gooddeal of pleasure in it too. 

"Are you tired, cousin Fleda?" said he gently. 

"No, " said Fleda. "O no. "

"Charlton said you were tired on board ship. "

"I wasn't tired, " said Fleda, in not a little surprise; "I liked itvery much. "

"Then maybe I mistook. I know Charlton said _he_ was tired, and I thoughthe said you were too. You know my brother Charlton, don't you?"

"Yes. "

"Are you glad to come to Paris?"

"I am glad now, " said Fleda. "I wasn't glad before. "

"I am very glad, " said Hugh. "I think you will like it. We didn't know youwere coming till two or three days ago when Charlton got here. Do you liketo take walks?"

"Yes, very much. "

"Father and mother will take us delightful walks in the Tuileries, thegardens you know, and the Champs Elysées, and Versailles, and theBoulevards, and ever so many places; and it will be a great dealpleasanter now you are here. Do you know French?"

"No. "

"Then you'll have to learn. I'll help you if you will let me. It is veryeasy. Did you get my last letter?"

"I don't know, " said Fleda, --"the last one I had came with one of auntLucy's, telling me about Mrs. Carleton--I got it just before "--

Alas! before what? Fleda suddenly remembered, and was stopped short. Fromall the strange scenes and interests which lately had whirled her along, her spirit leaped back with strong yearning recollection to her old homeand her old ties; and such a rain of tears witnessed the dearness of whatshe had lost and the tenderness of the memory that had let them slip for amoment, that Hugh was as much distressed as startled. With greattenderness and touching delicacy he tried to soothe her and at the sametime, though guessing to find out what was the matter, lest he should makea mistake. 

"Just before what?" said he, laying his hand caressingly on his littlecousin's shoulder;--"Don't grieve so, dear Fleda!"

"It was only just before grandpa died, " said Fleda. 

Hugh had known of that before, though like her he had forgotten it for amoment. A little while his feeling was too strong to permit any furtherattempt at condolence; but as he saw Fleda grow quiet he took courage tospeak again. 

"Was he a good man?" he asked softly. 

"Oh yes!"

"Then, " said Hugh, "you know he is happy now, Fleda. If he loved JesusChrist he is gone to be with him. That ought to make you glad as wellas sorry. "

Fleda looked up, though tears were streaming yet, to give that full happyanswer of the eye that no words could do. This was consolation andsympathy. The two children had a perfect understanding of each other fromthat time forward; a fellowship that never knew a break nor a weakening. 

Mrs. Rossitur found on her return that Hugh had obeyed her charge to theletter. He had made Fleda feel at home. They were sitting close together, Hugh's hand affectionately clasping hers, and he was holding forth on somesubject with a gracious politeness that many of his elders might havecopied; while Fleda listened and assented with entire satisfaction. Therest of the morning she passed in her aunt's arms; drinking draughts ofpleasure from those dear bright eyes; taking in the balm of gentlest wordsof love, and soft kisses, every one of which was felt at the bottom ofFleda's heart, and the pleasure of talking over her young sorrows with onewho could feel them all and answer with tears as well as words ofsympathy. And Hugh stood by the while looking at his little orphan cousinas if she might have dropped from the clouds into his mother's lap, a rarejewel or delicate flower, but much more delicate and precious than they orany other possible gift. 

Hugh and Fleda dined alone. For as he informed her his father never wouldhave children at the dinner-table when he had company; and Mr. And Mrs. Carleton and other people were to be there to-day, Fleda made no remarkon the subject, by word or look, but she thought none the less. Shethought it was a very mean fashion. _She_ not come to the table whenstrangers were there! And who would enjoy them more? When Mr. Rossiturand Mr Carleton had dined with her grandfather, had she not taken as muchpleasure in their society, and in the whole thing, as any other one ofthe party? And at Carleton, had she not several times dined with atableful, and been unspeakably amused to watch the different manners andcharacteristics of people who were strange to her? However, Mr. Rossiturhad other notions. So she and Hugh had their dinner in aunt Lucy'sdressing-room, by themselves; and a very nice dinner it was, Fledathought; and Rosaline, Mrs. Rossitur's French maid, was well affected andtook admirable care of them. Indeed before the close of the day Rosalineprivately informed her mistress, "qu'elle serait entętée sűrement de cetenfant dans trois jours;" and "que son regard vraiment lui serrait lecoeur. " And Hugh was excellent company, failing all other, and did thehonours of the table with the utmost thoughtfulness, and amused Fleda thewhole time with accounts of Paris and what they would do and what sheshould see; and how his sister Marion was at school at a convent, andwhat kind of a place a convent was; and how he himself always staid athome and learned of his mother and his father; "or by himself, " he said, "just as it happened;" and he hoped they would keep Fleda at home too. SoFleda hoped exceedingly, but this stern rule about the dining had madeher feel a little shy of her uncle; she thought perhaps he was not kindand indulgent to children like her aunt Lucy; and if he said she must goto a convent she would not dare to ask him to let her stay. The next timeshe saw him however, she was obliged to change her opinion again, inpart; for he was very kind and indulgent, both to her and Hugh; and morethan that he was very amusing. He shewed her pictures, and told her newand interesting things; and finding that she listened eagerly he seemedpleased to prolong her pleasure, even at the expense of a good deal ofhis own time. 

Mr. Rossitur was a man of cultivated mind and very refined and fastidioustaste. He lived for the pleasures of Art and Literature and the societywhere these are valued. For this, and not without some secret love ofdisplay, he lived in Paris; not extravagant in his pleasures, nor silly inhis ostentation, but leading, like a gentleman, as worthy and rational alife as a man can lead who lives only to himself, with no further thoughtthan to enjoy the passing hours. Mr. Rossitur enjoyed them elegantly, andfor a man of the world, moderately, bestowing however few of thoseprecious hours upon his children. It was his maxim that they should bekept out of the way whenever their presence might by any chance interferewith the amusements of their elders; and this maxim, a good one certainlyin some hands, was in his reading of it a very broad one. Still when hedid take time to give his family he was a delightful companion to those ofthem who could understand him. If they shewed no taste for sensiblepleasure he had no patience with them nor desire of their company. Reporthad done him no wrong in giving him a stern temper; but this almost nevercame out in actual exercise; Fleda knew it only from an occasional hintnow and then, and by her childish intuitive reading of the lines it haddrawn round the mouth and brow. It had no disagreeable bearing on hiseveryday life and manner; and the quiet fact probably served but toheighten the love and reverence in which his family held him very high. 

Mr. Rossitur did once moot the question whether Fleda should not joinMarion at her convent. But his wife looked very grave and said that shewas too tender and delicate a little thing to be trusted to the hands ofstrangers; Hugh pleaded, and argued that she might share all his lessons;and Fleda's own face pleaded more powerfully. There was somethingappealing in its extreme delicacy and purity which seemed to call forshelter and protection from every rough breath of the world; and Mr. Rossitur was easily persuaded to let her remain in the stronghold of home. Hugh had never quitted it. Neither father nor mother ever thought of sucha thing. He was the cherished idol of the whole family. Always a delicatechild, always blameless in life and behaviour, his loveliness of mind andperson, his affectionateness, the winning sweetness that was about himlike a halo, and the slight tenure by which they seemed to hold him, hadwrought to bind the hearts of father and mother to this child, as it were, with the very life-strings of both. Not his mother was more gentle withHugh than his much sterner father. And now little Fleda, sharing somewhatof Hugh's peculiar claims upon their tenderness and adding another of herown, was admitted, not to the same place in their hearts, --that could notbe, --but to their honour be it spoken, to the same place in all outwardshew of thought and feeling. Hugh had nothing that Fleda did not have, even to the time, care, and caresses of his parents. And not Hugh renderedthem a more faithful return of devoted affection. 

[Illustration: The children were always together. ]

Once made easy on the question of school, which was never seriouslystirred again, Fleda's life became very happy. It was easy to make herhappy; affection and sympathy would have done it almost anywhere; but inParis she had much more; and after time had softened the sorrow shebrought with her, no bird ever found existence less of a burden, nor sangmore light-heartedly along its life. In her aunt she had all but the nameof a mother; in her uncle, with kindness and affection, she had amusement, interest, and improvement; in Hugh everything;--love, confidence, sympathy, society, help; their tastes, opinions, pursuits, went hand inhand. The two children were always together. Fleda's spirits were brighterthan Hugh's, and her intellectual tastes stronger and more universal. Thatmight be as much from difference of physical as of mental constitution. Hugh's temperament led him somewhat to melancholy, and to those studiesand pleasures which best side with subdued feeling and delicate nerves. Fleda's nervous system was of the finest too, but, in short, she was aslike a bird as possible. Perfect health, which yet a slight thing wasenough to shake to the foundation;--joyous spirits, which a look couldquell;--happy energies, which a harsh hand might easily crush for ever. Well for little Fleda that so tender a plant was permitted to unfold in sonicely tempered an atmosphere. A cold wind would soon have killed it. Besides all this there were charming studies to be gone through every daywith Hugh; some for aunt Lucy to hear, some for masters and mistresses. There were amusing walks in the Boulevards, and delicious pleasure takingin the gardens of Paris, and a new world of people and manners and thingsand histories for the little American. And despite her early rusticexperience Fleda had from nature an indefeasible taste for the eleganciesof life; it suited her well to see all about her, in dress, in furniture, in various appliances, as commodious and tasteful as wealth and refinementcould contrive it; and she very soon knew what was right in each kind. There were now and then most gleeful excursions in the environs of Paris, when she and Hugh found in earth and air a world of delights more thanthey could tell anybody but each other. And at home, what peaceful timesthey two had, --what endless conversations, discussions, schemes, air-journeys of memory and fancy, backward and forward; what sociabledinners alone, and delightful evenings with Mr. And Mrs. Rossitur in thesaloon when nobody or only a very few people were there; how pleasantly inthose evenings the foundations were laid of a strong and enduring love forthe works of art, painted, sculptured, or engraven, what a multitude ofcurious and excellent bits of knowledge Fleda's ears picked up from thetalk of different people. They were capital ears; what they caught theynever let fall. In the course of the year her gleanings amounted to morethan many another person's harvest. 

Chapter XIV. 

 Heav'n bless thee; Thou hast the sweetest face I ever look'd on. 

 Shakspeare. 

One of the greatest of Fleda's pleasures was when Mr. Carleton came totake her out with him. He did that often. Fleda only wished he would havetaken Hugh too, but somehow he never did. Nothing but that was wanting tomake the pleasure of those times perfect. Knowing that she saw the _commonthings_ in other company, Guy was at the pains to vary the amusement whenshe went with him. Instead of going to Versailles or St. Cloud, he wouldtake her long delightful drives into the country and shew her some old orinteresting place that nobody else went to see. Often there was a historybelonging to the spot, which Fleda listened to with the delight of eye andfancy at once. In the city, where they more frequently walked, still heshewed her what she would perhaps have seen under no other guidance. Hemade it his business to give her pleasure; and understanding theinquisitive active little spirit he had to do with he went where his owntastes would hardly have led him. The Quai aux Fleurs was often visited, but also the Halle aux Blés, the great Halle aux Vins, the Jardin desPlantes, and the Marché des Innocens. Guy even took the trouble, more forher sake than his own, to go to the latter place once very early in themorning, when the market-bell had not two hours sounded, while theinterest and prettiness of the scene were yet in their full life. Hugh wasin company this time, and the delight of both children was beyond words, as it would have been beyond anybody's patience that had not a strongmotive to back it. They never discovered that Mr. Carleton was in a hurry, as indeed he was not. They bargained for fruit with any number of people, upon all sorts of inducements, and to an extent of which they had nocompetent notion, but Hugh had his mother's purse, and Fleda was skilfullycommissioned to purchase what she pleased for Mrs. Carleton. Verily thetwo children that morning bought pleasure, not peaches. Fancy andBenevolence held the purse strings, and Economy did not even look on. Theyrevelled too, Fleda especially, amidst the bright pictures of the odd, thenew, and the picturesque, and the varieties of character and incident, that were displayed around them; even till the country people began to goaway and the scene to lose its charm. It never lost it in memory; and manya time in after life Hugh and Fleda recurred to something that was seenor done "that morning when we bought fruit at the Innocens. "

Besides these scenes of everyday life, which interested and amused Fledato the last degree, Mr. Carleton shewed her many an obscure part of Pariswhere deeds of daring and of blood had been, and thrilled the littlelistener's ear with histories of the Past. He judged her rightly. Shewould rather at any time have gone to walk with him, than with anybodyelse to see any show that could be devised. His object in all this was inthe first place to give her pleasure, and in the second place to draw outher mind into free communion with his own, which he knew could only bedone by talking sense to her. He succeeded as he wished. Lost in theinterest of the scenes he presented to her eye and mind, she forgoteverything else and shewed him herself; precisely what he wanted to see. 

It was strange that a young man, an admired man of fashion, a flatteredfavourite of the gay and great world, and furthermore a reserved and proudrepeller of almost all who sought his intimacy, should seek and delight inthe society of a little child. His mother would have wondered if she hadknown it. Mrs. Rossitur did marvel that even Fleda should have so won uponthe cold and haughty young Englishman; and her husband said he probablychose to have Fleda with him because he could make up his mind to likenobody else. A remark which perhaps arose from the utter failure of everyattempt to draw him and Charlton nearer together. But Mr. Rossitur wasonly half right. The reason lay deeper. 

Mr. Carleton had admitted the truth of Christianity, upon what heconsidered sufficient grounds, and would now have steadily fought for it, as he would for anything else that he believed to be truth. But there hestopped. He had not discovered nor tried to discover whether the truth ofChristianity imposed any obligation upon him. He had cast off hisunbelief, and looked upon it now as a singular folly. But his belief wasalmost as vague and as fruitless as his infidelity had been. Perhaps, alittle, his bitter dissatisfaction with the world and human things, orrather his despondent view of them, was mitigated. If there was, as he nowheld, a Supreme Orderer of events, it might be, and it was rational tosuppose there would be, in the issues of time, an entire change wrought inthe disordered and dishonoured state of his handiwork. There might be aremedial system somewhere, --nay, it might be in the Bible; he meant tolook some day. But that _he_ had anything to do with that change--that theworking of the remedial system called for hands--that _his_ had any chargein the matter had never entered into his imagination or stirred hisconscience. He was living his old life at Paris, with his olddissatisfaction, perhaps a trifle less bitter. He was seeking pleasure inwhatever art, learning, literature, refinement, and luxury can do for aman who has them all at command; but there was something within him thatspurned this ignoble existence and called for higher aims and worthierexertion. He was not vicious, he never had been vicious, or, as somebodyelse said, his vices were all refined vices; but a life of mereself-indulgence although pursued without self-satisfaction, is constantlylowering the standard and weakening the forces of virtue, --lessening thewhole man. He felt it so; and to leave his ordinary scenes and occupationsand lose a morning with little Fleda was a freshening of his betternature; it was like breathing pure air after the fever heat of a sickroom; it was like hearing the birds sing after the meaningless jabber ofBedlam. Mr. Carleton indeed did not put the matter quite so strongly tohimself. He called Fleda his good angel. He did not exactly know that theoffice this good angel performed was simply to hold a candle to hisconscience. For conscience was not by any means dead in him; it onlywanted light to see by. When he turned from the gay and corrupt world inwhich he lived, where the changes were rung incessantly uponself-interest, falsehood, pride, and the various more or less refinedforms of sensuality, and when he looked upon that pure bright little face, so free from selfishness, those clear eyes so innocent of evil, thepeaceful brow under which a thought of double-dealing had never hid, Mr. Carleton felt himself in a healthier region. Here as elsewhere, hehonoured and loved the image of truth; in the broad sense of truth;--thatwhich suits the perfect standard of right. But his pleasure in this casewas invariably mixed with a slight feeling of self-reproach; and it wasthis hardly recognised stir of his better nature, this clearing of hismental eye-sight under the light of a bright example, that made him callthe little torch-bearer his good angel. If this were truth, this purity, uprightness, and singleness of mind, as conscience said it was, where washe? how far wandering from his beloved Idol!

One other feeling saddened the pleasure he had in her society--a beliefthat the ground of it could not last. "If she could grow up so!"--he saidto himself. "But it is impossible. A very few years, and all that clearsunshine of the mind will be overcast;--there is not a cloud now!"--

Under the working of these thoughts Mr. Carleton sometimes forgot totalk to his little charge, and would walk for a length of way by herside wrapped up in sombre musings. Fleda never disturbed him then, butwaited contentedly and patiently for him to come out of them, with herold feeling wondering what he could be thinking of and wishing he wereas happy as she. But he never left her very long; he was sure to waivehis own humour and give her all the graceful kind attention which nobodyelse could bestow so well. Nobody understood and appreciated it betterthan Fleda. 

One day, some months after they had been in Paris, they were sitting inthe Place de la Concorde, Mr. Carleton was in one of these thinking fits. He had been giving Fleda a long detail of the scenes that had taken placein that spot--a history of it from the time when it had lain an unsightlywaste;--such a graphic lively account as he knew well how to give. Theabsorbed interest with which she had lost everything else in what he wassaying had given him at once reward and motive enough as he went on. Standing by his side, with one little hand confidingly resting on hisknee, she gazed alternately into his face and towards the broadhighly-adorned square by the side of which they had placed themselves, andwhere it was hard to realize that the ground had once been soaked in bloodwhile madness and death filled the air; and her changing face like amirror gave him back the reflection of the times he held up to her view. And still standing there in the same attitude after he had done she hadbeen looking out towards the square in a fit of deep meditation. Mr. Carleton had forgotten her for awhile in his own thoughts, and then thesight of the little gloved hand upon his knee brought him back again. 

"What are you musing about, Elfie, dear?" he said cheerfully, taking thehand in one of his. 

Fleda gave a swift glance into his face, as if to see whether it would besafe for her to answer his question; a kind of exploring look, in whichher eyes often acted as scouts for her tongue. Those she met pledged theirfaith for her security; yet Fleda's look went back to the square and thenagain to his face in silence. 

"How do you like living in Paris?" said he. "You should know bythis time. "

"I like it very much indeed, " said Fleda. 

"I thought you would. "

"I like Queechy better though, " she went on gravely, her eyes turningagain to the square. 

"Like Queechy better! Were you thinking of Queechy just now when Ispoke to you?"

"Oh no!"--with a smile. 

"Were you going over all those horrors I have been distressing you with?"

"No, " said Fleda;--"I _was_ thinking of them, awhile ago. "

"What then?" said he pleasantly. "You were looking so sober I should liketo know how near your thoughts were to mine. "

"I was thinking, " said Fleda, gravely, and a little unwillingly, but Guy'smanner was not to be withstood, --"I was wishing I could be like thedisciple whom Jesus loved. "

Mr. Carleton let her see none of the surprise he felt at this answer. 

"Was there one more loved than the rest?"

"Yes--the Bible calls him 'the disciple whom Jesus loved. ' That was John. "

"Why was he preferred above the others?"

"I don't know. I suppose he was more gentle and good than the others, andloved Jesus more. I think aunt Miriam said so when I asked her once. "

Mr. Carleton thought Fleda had not far to seek for the fulfilmentof her wish. 

"But how in the world, Elfie, did you work round to this gentle and gooddisciple from those scenes of blood you set out with?"

"Why, " said Elfie, --"I was thinking how unhappy and bad people are, especially people here, I think; and how much must be done before theywill all be brought right;--and then I was thinking of the work Jesus gavehis disciples to do; and so I wished I could be like _that_disciple. --Hugh and I were talking about it this morning. "

"What is the work he gave them to do?" said Mr. Carleton, more and moreinterested. 

"Why, " said Fleda, lifting her gentle wistful eyes to his and then lookingaway, --"to bring everybody to be good and happy. "

"And how in the world are they to do that?" said Mr. Carleton, astonishedto see his own problem quietly handled by this child. 

"By telling them about Jesus Christ, and getting them to believe and lovehim, " said Fleda, glancing at him again, --"and living so beautifully thatpeople cannot help believing them. "

"That last is an important clause, " said Mr. Carleton thoughtfully. "Butsuppose people will not hear when they are spoken to, Elfie?"

"Some will, at any rate, " said Fleda, --"and by and by everybody will. "

"How do you know?"

"Because the Bible says so. "

"Are you sure of that, Elfie?"

"Why yes, Mr. Carleton--God has promised that the world shall be full ofgood people, and then they will be all happy. I wish it was now. "

"But if that be so, Elfie, God can make them all good without our help?"

"Yes, but I suppose he chooses to do it with our help, Mr. Carleton, " saidFleda with equal naďveté and gravity. 

"But is not this you speak of, " said he, half smiling, --"rather thebusiness of clergymen? you have nothing to do with it?"

"No, " said Fleda, --"everybody has something to do with it, the Bible saysso; ministers must do it in their way and other people in other ways;everybody has his own work. Don't you remember the parable of the tentalents, Mr. Carleton?"

Mr. Carleton was silent for a minute. 

"I do not know the Bible quite as well as you do, Elfie, " he saidthen, --"nor as I ought to do. "

Elfie's only answer was by a look somewhat like that he well remembered onshipboard he had thought was angel-like, --a look of gentle sorrowfulwistfulness which she did not venture to put into words. It had not forthat the less power. But he did not choose to prolong the conversation. They rose up and began to walk homeward, Elfie thinking with all thewarmth of her little heart that she wished very much Mr. Carleton knew theBible better; divided between him and "that disciple" whom she and Hughhad been talking about. 

"I suppose you are very busy now, Elfie, " observed her companion, whenthey had walked the length of several squares in silence. 

"O yes!" said Fleda. "Hugh and I are as busy as we can be. We are busyevery minute. "

"Except when you are on some chase after pleasure?"

"Well, " said Fleda laughing, --"that is a kind of business; and all thebusiness is pleasure too. I didn't mean that we were always busy about_work_. O Mr. Carleton we had such a nice time the day beforeyesterday!"--And she went on to give him the history of a very successfulchase after pleasure which they had made to St. Cloud. 

"And yet you like Queechy better?"

"Yes, " said Fleda, with a gentle steadiness peculiar to herself, --if I hadaunt Lucy and Hugh and uncle Rolf there and everybody that I care for, Ishould like it a great deal better. "

"Unspotted" yet, he thought. 

"Mr. Carleton, " said Fleda presently, --"do you play and sing every dayhere in Paris?"

"Yes, " said he smiling, --"about every day. Why?"

"I was thinking how pleasant it was at your house, in England. "

"Has Carleton the honour of rivalling Queechy in your liking?"

"I haven't lived there so long, you know, " said Fleda. "I dare say itwould if I had. I think it is quite as pretty a place. "

Mr. Carleton smiled with a very pleased expression. Truth and politenesshad joined hands in her answer with a child's grace. 

He brought Fleda to her own door and there was leaving her. 

"Stop!--O Mr. Carleton, " cried Fleda, "come in just for one minute--I wantto shew you something. "

He made no resistance to that. She led him to the saloon, where ithappened that nobody was, and repeating "One minute!"--rushed out of theroom. In less than that time she came running back with a beautifulhalf-blown bud of a monthly rose in her hand, and in her face such a bloomof pleasure and eagerness as more than rivalled it. The rose was fairlyeclipsed. She put the bud quietly but with a most satisfied air ofaffection into Mr. Carleton's hand. It had come from a little tree whichhe had given her on one of their first visits to the Quai aux Fleurs. Shehad had the choice of what she liked best, and had characteristicallytaken a flourishing little rose-bush that as yet shewed nothing but leavesand green buds; partly because she would have the pleasure of seeing itsbeauties come forward, and partly because she thought having no flowers itwould not cost much. The former reason however was all that she had givento Mr. Carleton's remonstrances. 

"What is all this, Elfie?" said he. "Have you been robbing yourrose tree?"

"No, " said Elfie;--"there are plenty more buds! Isn't it lovely? This isthe first one. They've been a great while coming out. "

His eye went from the rose to her; he thought the one was a mere emblem ofthe other. Fleda was usually very quiet in her demonstrations; it was asif a little green bud had suddenly burst into a flush of loveliness; andhe saw, it was as plain as possible, that good-will to him had been themoving power. He was so much struck and moved that his thanks, though asusual perfect in their kind, were far shorter and graver than he wouldhave given if he had felt less. He turned away from the house, his mindfull of the bright unsullied purity and single-hearted good-will that hadlooked out of that beaming little face; he seemed to see them again in theflower held in his hand, and he saw nothing else as he went. 

Mr. Carleton preached to himself all the way home, and his text was arose. 

Laugh who will. To many it may seem ridiculous, and to most minds it wouldhave been impossible, but to a nature very finely wrought and highlytrained, many a voice that grosser senses cannot hear comes with anutterance as clear as it is sweet-spoken; many a touch that coarser nervescannot heed reaches the springs of the deeper life; many a truth thatduller eyes have no skill to see shews its fair features, hid away amongthe petals of a rose, or peering out between the wings of a butterfly, orreflected in a bright drop of dew. The material is but a veil for thespiritual; but then eyes must be quickened, or the veil becomes animpassable cloud. 

That particular rose was to Mr. Carleton's eye a most perfect emblem andrepresentative of its little giver. He traced out the points ofresemblance as he went along. The delicacy and character of refinement forwhich that kind of rose is remarkable above many of its more superbkindred; a refinement essential and unalterable by decay or otherwise, astrue a characteristic of the child as of the flower; a delicacy thatcalled for gentle handling and tender cherishing;--the sweetness, rareindeed, but asserting itself as it were timidly, at least with equallyrare modesty, --the very style of the beauty, that with all its lovelinesswould not startle nor even catch the eye among its more showy neighbours;and the breath of purity that seemed to own no kindred with earth, norliability to infection. 

As he went on with his musing, and drawing out this fair character fromthe type before him, the feeling of _contrast_, that he had known before, pressed upon Mr. Carleton's mind, the feeling of self-reproach, and thebitter wish that he could be again what he once had been, something likethis. How changed now he seemed to himself--not a point of likeness left. How much less honourable, how much less worth, how much less dignified, than that fair innocent child. How much better a part she was acting inlife--what an influence she was exerting, --as pure, as sweet-breathed, andas unobtrusive, as the very rose in his hand. And he--doing no good to anearthly creature and losing himself by inches. 

He reached his room, put the flower in a glass on the table, and walked upand down before it. It had come to a struggle between the sense of whatwas and the passionate wish for what might have been. 

"It is late, sir, " said his servant opening the door, --"and you were--"

"I am not going out. "

"This evening, sir?"

"No--not at all to-day. Spenser!--I don't wish to see any body--let no onecome near me. "

The servant retired and Guy went on with his walk and his meditations, looking back over his life and reviewing, with a wiser ken now, the stepsby which he had come. He compared the selfish disgust with which he hadcast off the world with the very different spirit of little Fleda's lookupon it that morning, the useless, self-pleasing, vain life he wasleading, with her wish to be like the beloved disciple and do something toheal the troubles of those less happy than herself. He did not very wellcomprehend the grounds of her feeling or reasoning, but he began to see, mistily, that his own had been mistaken and wild. 

His steps grew slower, his eye more intent, his brow quiet. 

"She is right and I am wrong, " he thought. "She is by far the noblercreature--worth, many such as I. _Like her_ I cannot be--I cannot regainwhat I have lost, --I cannot undo what years have done. But I can besomething other than I am! If there be a system of remedy, as there wellmay, it may as well take effect on myself first. She says everybody hashis work, I believe her. It must in the nature of things be so. I willmake it my business to find out what mine is, and when I have made thatsure I will give myself to the doing of it. An Allwise Governor must lookfor service of me. He shall have it. Whatever my life be, it shall be tosome end. If not what I would, what I can. If not the purity of the rose, that of tempered steel!"

Mr. Carleton walked his room for three hours; then rung for his servantand ordered him to prepare everything for leaving Paris the second daythereafter. 

The next morning over their coffee he told his mother of his purpose. 

"Leave Paris!--To-morrow!--My dear Guy, that is rather a sudden notice. "

"No mother--for I am going alone. "

His mother immediately bent an anxious and somewhat terrified lookupon him. The frank smile she met put half her suspicions out of herhead at once. 

"What is the matter?"

"Nothing at all--if by 'matter' you mean mischief. "

"You are not in difficulty with those young men again?"

"No mother, " said he coolly. "I am in difficulty with no one but myself. "

"With yourself! But why will you not let me go with you?"

"My business will go on better if I am quite alone. "

"What business?"

"Only to settle this question with myself, " said he smiling. 

"But Guy! you are enigmatical this morning. Is it the question that of allothers I wish to see settled?"

"No mother, " said he laughing and colouring a little, --"I don't wantanother half to take care of till I have this one under management. "

"I don't understand you, " said Mrs. Carleton "There is no hidden reasonunder all this that you are keeping from me?"

"I won't say that. But there is none that need give you the leastuneasiness. There are one or two matters I want to study out--I cannot doit here, so I am going where I shall be free. "

"Where?"

"I think I shall pass the summer between Switzerland and Germany. "

"And when and where shall I meet you again?"

"I think at home;--I cannot say when. "

"At home!" said his mother with a brightening face. "Then you arebeginning to be tired of wandering at last?"

"Not precisely, mother, --rather out of humour. "

"I shall be glad of anything, " said his mother, gazing at him admiringly, "that brings you home again, Guy. "

"Bring me home a better man, I hope, mother, " said he kissing her as heleft the room. "I will see you again by and by. "

"'A better man!'" thought Mrs. Carleton, as she sat with full eyes, theimage of her son filling the place where his presence had been;--"I wouldbe willing never to see him better and be sure of his never being worse!"

Mr. Carleton's farewell visit found Mr. And Mrs. Rossitur not at home. They had driven out early into the country to fetch Marion from herconvent for some holiday. Fleda came alone into the saloon to receive him. 

"I have your rose in safe keeping, Elfie, " he said. "It has done me moregood than ever a rose did before. "

Fleda smiled an innocently pleased smile. But her look changed when headded, "I have come to tell you so and to bid you good-bye. "

"Are you going away, Mr. Carleton?"

"Yes. "

"But you will be back soon?"

"No, Elfie, --I do not know that I shall ever come back. "

He spoke gravely, more gravely than he was used; and Fleda's acuteness sawthat there was some solid reason for this sudden determination. Her facechanged sadly, but she was silent, her eyes never wavering from those thatread hers with such gentle intelligence. 

"You will be satisfied to have me go, Elfie, when I tell you that I amgoing on business which I believe to be duty. Nothing else takes me away. I am going to try to do right, " said he smiling. 

Elfie could not answer the smile. She wanted to ask whether she shouldnever see him again, and there was another thought upon her tongue too;but her lip trembled and she said nothing. 

"I shall miss my good fairy, " Mr. Carleton went on lightly;--"I don't knowhow I shall do without her. If your wand was long enough to reach so far Iwould ask you to touch me now and then, Elfie. "

Poor Elfie could not stand it. Her head sank. She knew she had a wand thatcould touch him, and well and gratefully she resolved that its lightblessing should "now and then" rest on his head; but he did not understandthat; he was talking, whether lightly or seriously, and Elfie knew it wasa little of both, --he was talking of wanting her help, and was ignorant ofthe help that alone could avail him. "Oh that he knew but that!"--Whatwith this feeling and sorrow together the child's distress was exceedinggreat; and the tokens of grief in one so accustomed to hide them were themore painful to see. Mr. Carleton drew the sorrowing little creaturewithin his arm and endeavoured with a mixture of kindness and lightness inhis tone to cheer her. 

"I shall often remember you, dear Elfie, " he said;--"I shall keep yourrose always and take it with me wherever I go. --You must not make it toohard for me to quit Paris--you are glad to have me go on such an errand, are you not?"

She presently commanded herself, bade her tears wait till another time asusual, and trying to get rid of those that covered her face, asked him, "What errand?"

He hesitated. 

"I have been thinking of what we were talking of yesterday, Elfie, "he said at length. "I am going to try to discover my duty, and thento do it. "

But Fleda at that clasped his hand, and squeezing it in both hers bentdown her little head over it to hide her face and the tears that streamedagain. He hardly knew how to understand or what to say to her. He halfsuspected that there were depths in that childish mind beyond hisfathoming. He was not however left to wait long. Fleda, though she mightnow and then be surprised into shewing it, never allowed her sorrow of anykind to press upon the notice or the time of others. She again checkedherself and dried her face. 

"There is nobody else in Paris that will be so sorry for my leaving it, "said Mr. Carleton, half tenderly and half pleasantly. 

"There is nobody else that has so much cause, " said Elfie, near burstingout again, but she restrained herself. 

"And you will not come here again, Mr. Carleton?" she said after afew minutes. 

"I do not say that--it is possible--if I do, it will be to see you, Elfie. "

A shadow of a smile passed over her face at that. It was gone instantly. 

"My mother will not leave Paris yet, " he went on, --"you will seeher often. "

But he saw that Fleda was thinking of something else; she scarce seemed tohear him. She was thinking of something that troubled her. 

"Mr. Carleton--" she began, and her colour changed. 

"Speak, Elfie. "

Her colour changed again. "Mr. Carleton--will you be displeased if I saysomething?"

"Don't you know me better than to ask me that, Elfie?" he said gently. 

"I want to ask you something, --if you won't mind my saying it. "

"What is it?" said he, reading in her face that a request was behind. "Iwill do it. "

Her eyes sparkled, but she seemed to have some difficulty in going on. 

"I will do it, whatever it is, " he said watching her. 

"Will you wait for one moment, Mr. Carleton?"

"Half an hour. "

She sprang away, her face absolutely flashing pleasure through her tears. It was much soberer, and again doubtful and changing colour, when a fewminutes afterwards she came back with a book in her hand. With a strikingmixture of timidity, modesty, and eagerness in her countenance she cameforward, and putting the little volume, which was her own Bible, into Mr. Carleton's hands said under her breath, "Please read it. " She did notventure to look up. 

He saw what the book was; and then taking the gentle hand which had givenit, he kissed it two or three times. If it had been a princess's he couldnot with more respect. 

"You have my promise, Elfie, " he said. "I need not repeat it?"

She raised her eyes and gave him a look so grateful, so loving, so happy, that it dwelt for ever in his remembrance. A moment after it had faded, and she stood still where he had left her, listening to his footsteps asthey went down the stairs. She heard the last of them, and then sank uponher knees by a chair and burst into a passion of tears. Their time wasnow and she let them come. It was not only the losing a loved andpleasant friend, it was not only the stirring of sudden and disagreeableexcitement;--poor Elfie was crying for her Bible. It had been herfather's own--it was filled with his marks--it was precious to her aboveprice--and Elfie cried with all her heart for the loss of it. She haddone what she had on the spur of the emergency--she was satisfied she haddone right; she would not take it back if she could; but not the less herBible was gone, and the pages that loved eyes had looked upon were forhers to look upon no more. Her very heart was wrung that she should haveparted with it, --and yet, --what could she do?--It was as bad as theparting with Mr. Carleton. 

That agony was over, and even that was shortened, for "Hugh would findout that she had been crying. " Hours had passed, and the tears weredried, and the little face was bending over the wonted tasks with ashadow upon its wonted cheerfulness, --when Rosaline came to tell her thatVictor said there was somebody in the passage who wanted to see her andwould not come in. 

It was Mr. Carleton himself. He gave her a parcel, smiled at her withoutsaying a word, kissed her hand earnestly, and was gone again. Fleda ran toher own room, and took the wrappers off such a beauty of a Bible as shehad never seen; bound in blue velvet, with clasps of gold and her initialsin letters of gold upon the cover. Fleda hardly knew whether to be mostpleased or sorry; for to have its place so supplied seemed to put her losttreasure further away than ever. The result was another flood of verytender tears; in the very shedding of which however the new little Biblewas bound to her heart with cords of association as bright and asincorruptible as its gold mountings. 

Chapter XV. 

 Her sports were such as carried riches of knowledge upon the stream of light. --Sidney. 

Fleda had not been a year in Paris when her uncle suddenly made up hismind to quit it and go home. Some trouble in money affairs, felt orfeared, brought him to this step, which a month before he had no definitepurpose of ever taking. There was cloudy weather in the financial world ofNew York and he wisely judged it best that his own eyes should be on thespot to see to his own interests. Nobody was sorry for this determination. Mrs. Rossitur always liked what her husband liked, but she had at the sametime a decided predilection for home. Marion was glad to leave her conventfor the gay world, which her parents promised she should immediatelyenter. And Hugh and Fleda had too lively a spring of happiness withinthemselves to care where its outgoings should be. 

So home they came, in good mood, bringing with them all manner of Parisiandelights that Paris could part with. Furniture, that at home at least theymight forget where they were; dresses, that at home or abroad nobody mightforget where they had been; pictures and statuary and engravings andbooks, to satisfy a taste really strong and well cultivated. And indeedthe other items were quite as much for this purpose as for any other. AFrench cook for Mr. Rossitur, and even Rosaline for his wife, who declaredshe was worth all the rest of Paris. Hugh cared little for any of thesethings; he brought home a treasure of books and a flute, to which he wasdevoted. Fleda cared for them all, even Monsieur Emile and Rosaline, forher uncle's and aunt's sake; but her special joy was a beautiful littleKing Charles which had been sent her by Mr. Carleton a few weeks before. It came with the kindest of letters, saying that some matters had made itinexpedient for him to pass through Paris on his way home, but that hehoped nevertheless to see her soon. That intimation was the only thingthat made Fleda sorry to leave Paris. The little dog was a beauty, allowed to be so not only by his mistress but by every one else; of thetrue black and tan colours; and Fleda's dearly loved and constantcompanion. 

The life she and Hugh led was little changed by the change of place. Theywent out and came in as they had done in Paris, and took the same quietbut intense happiness in the same quiet occupations and pleasures; onlythe Tuileries and Champs Elysées had a miserable substitute in theBattery, and no substitute at all anywhere else. And the pleasant drivesin the environs of Paris were missed too and had nothing in New York tosupply their place. Mrs. Rossitur always said it was impossible to get outof New York by land, and not worth the trouble to do it by water. But thenin the house Fleda thought there was a great gain. The dirty ParisianHotel was well exchanged for the bright, clean, well-appointed house inState street. And if Broadway was disagreeable, and the Park a wearinessto the eyes, after the dressed gardens of the French capital, Hugh andFleda made it up in the delights of the luxuriously furnished library andthe dear at-home feeling of having the whole house their own. 

They were left, those two children, quite as much to themselves as ever. Marion was going into company, and she and her mother were swallowed up inthe consequent necessary calls upon their time. Marion never had beenanything to Fleda. She was a fine handsome girl, outwardly, but seemed tohave more of her father than her mother in her composition, thoughcolder-natured and more wrapped up in self than Mr. Rossitur would becalled by anybody that knew him. She had never done anything to draw Fledatowards her, and even Hugh had very little of her attention. They did notmiss it. They were everything to each other. 

Everything, --for now morning and night there was a sort of whirlwind inthe house which carried the mother and daughter round and round andpermitted no rest; and Mr. Rossitur himself was drawn in. It was worsethan it had been in Paris. There, with Marion in her convent, there wereoften evenings when they did not go abroad nor receive company and spentthe time quietly and happily in each other's society. No such eveningsnow; if by chance there were an unoccupied one Mrs. Rossitur and herdaughter were sure to be tired and Mr. Rossitur busy. 

Hugh and Fleda in those bustling times retreated to the library; Mr. Rossitur would rarely have that invaded; and while the net was so eagerlycast for pleasure among the gay company below, pleasure had often slippedaway and hid herself among the things on the library table, and wasdancing on every page of Hugh's book and minding each stroke of Fleda'spencil and cocking the spaniel's ears whenever his mistress looked at him. King, the spaniel, lay on a silk cushion on the library table, his nosejust touching Fleda's fingers. Fleda's drawing was mere amusement; sheand Hugh were not so burthened with studies that they had not always theirevenings free, and to tell truth, much more than their evenings. Mastersindeed they had; but the heads of the house were busy with the interestsof their grown-up child, and perhaps with other interests; and took it forgranted that all was going right with the young ones. 

"Haven't we a great deal better time than they have down stairs, Fleda?"said Hugh one of these evenings. 

"Hum--yes--" answered Fleda abstractedly, stroking into order some old manin her drawing with great intentness. --"King!--you rascal--keep back andbe quiet, sir!--"

Nothing could be conceived more gentle and loving than Fleda's tone offault-finding, and her repulse only fell short of a caress. 

"What's he doing?"

"Wants to get into my lap. "

"Why don't you let him?"

"Because I don't choose to--a silk cushion is good enough for his majesty. King!--" (laying her soft cheek against the little dog's soft head andforsaking her drawing for the purpose. )

"How you do love that dog!" said Hugh. 

"Very well--why shouldn't I?--provided he steals no love from anybodyelse, " said Fleda, still caressing him. 

"What a noise somebody is making down stairs!" said Hugh. "I don't think Ishould ever want to go to large parties, Fleda, do you?"

"I don't know, " said Fleda, whose natural taste for society was stronglydeveloped;--"it would depend upon what kind of parties they were. "

"I shouldn't like them, I know, of whatever kind, " said Hugh. "What areyou smiling at?"

"Only Mr. Pickwick's face, that I am drawing here. "

Hugh came round to look and laugh, and then began again. 

"I can't think of anything pleasanter than this room as we are now. "

"You should have seen Mr. Carleton's library, " said Fleda in a musingtone, going on with her drawing. 

"Was it so much better than this?"

Fleda's eyes gave a slight glance at the room and then looked down againwith a little shake of her head sufficiently expressive. 

"Well, " said Hugh, "you and I do not want any better than this, dowe, Fleda?"

Fleda's smile, a most satisfactory one, was divided between him and King. 

"I don't believe, " said Hugh, "you would have loved that dog near so wellif anybody else had given him to you. "

"I don't believe I should!--not a quarter, " said Fleda with sufficientdistinctness. 

"I never liked that Mr. Carleton as well as you did. "

"That is because you did not know him, " said Fleda quietly. 

"Do you think he was a good man, Fleda?"

"He was very good to me, " said Fleda, "always. What rides I did have onthat great black horse of his!"--

"A black horse?"

"Yes, a great black horse, strong, but so gentle, and he went sodelightfully. His name was Harold. Oh I should like to see thathorse!--When I wasn't with him, Mr. Carleton used to ride another, thegreatest beauty of a horse, Hugh; a brown Arabian--so slender anddelicate--her name was Zephyr, ind she used to go like the wind, to besure. Mr. Carleton said he wouldn't trust me on such a fly-away thing. "

"But you didn't use to ride alone?" said Hugh. 

"Oh no!--and _I_ wouldn't have been afraid if he had chosen to take meon any one. "

"But do you think, Fleda, he was a _good_ man? as I mean?"

"I am sure he was better than a great many others, " answered Fledaevasively;--"the worst of him was infinitely better than the best of halfthe people down stairs, --Mr. Sweden included. "

"Sweden"--you don't call his name right. "

"The worse it is called the better, in my opinion, " said Fleda. 

"Well, I don't like him; but what makes you dislike him so much?"

"I don't know--partly because uncle Rolf and Marion like him so much, Ibelieve--I don't think there is any moral expression in his face. "

"I wonder why they like him, " said Hugh. 

It was a somewhat irregular and desultory education that the two childrengathered under this system of things. The masters they had were rather foraccomplishments and languages than for anything solid; the rest theyworked out for themselves. Fortunately they both loved books, and rationalbooks; and hours and hours, when Mrs. Rossitur and her daughter werepaying or receiving visits, they, always together, were stowed away behindthe book-cases or in the library window poring patiently over pages ofvarious complexion; the soft turning of the leaves or Fleda's frequentattentions to King the only sound in the room. They walked together, talking of what they had read, though indeed they ranged beyond that intonameless and numberless fields of speculation, where if they sometimesfound fruit they as often lost their way. However the habit of ranging wassomething. Then when they joined the rest of the family at thedinner-table, especially if others were present, and most especially if acertain German gentleman happened to be there who the second winter aftertheir return Fleda thought came very often, she and Hugh would be sure tofind the strange talk of the world that was going on unsuited andwearisome to them, and they would make their escape up stairs again tohandle the pencil and to play the flute and to read, and to draw plans forthe future, while King crept upon the skirts of his mistress's gown andlaid his little head on her feet. Nobody ever thought of sending them toschool. Hugh was a child of frail health, and though not often very illwas often near it; and as for Fleda, she and Hugh were inseparable; andbesides by this time her uncle and aunt would almost as soon have thoughtof taking the mats off their delicate shrubs in winter as of exposing herto any atmosphere less genial than that of home. 

For Fleda this doubtful course of mental training wrought singularly well. An uncommonly quick eye and strong memory and clear head, which she hadeven in childhood, passed over no field of truth or fancy without makingtheir quiet gleanings; and the stores thus gathered, though somewhatmiscellaneous and unarranged, were both rich and uncommon, and more thanany one or she herself knew. Perhaps such a mind thus left to itself knewa more free and luxuriant growth than could ever have flourished withinthe confinement of rules. Perhaps a plant at once so strong and sodelicate was safest without the hand of the dresser. At all events it waspermitted to spring and to put forth all its native gracefulness alikeunhindered and unknown. Cherished as little Fleda dearly was, her mindkept company with no one but herself, --and Hugh. As to externals, --musicwas uncommonly loved by both the children, and by both cultivated withgreat success. So much came under Mrs. Rossitur's knowledge. Also everyforeign Signor and Madame that came into the house to teach them spokewith enthusiasm of the apt minds and flexile tongues that honoured theirinstructions. In private and in public the gentle, docile, andaffectionate children answered every wish both of taste and judgment. Andperhaps, in a world where education is _not_ understood, their guardiansmight be pardoned for taking it for granted that all was right wherenothing appeared that was wrong; certainly they took no pains to make sureof the fact. In this case, one of a thousand, their neglect was notpunished with disappointment. They never found out that Hugh's mind wantedthe strengthening that early skilful training might have given it. Hisintellectual tastes were not so strong as Fleda's; his reading was moresuperficial; his gleanings not so sound and in far fewer fields, and theywent rather to nourish sentiment and fancy than to stimulate thought orlay up food for it. But his parents saw nothing of this. 

The third winter had not passed, when Fleda's discernment saw that Mr. Sweden, as she called him, the German gentleman, would not cease coming tothe house till he had carried off Marion with him. Her opinion on thesubject was delivered to no one but Hugh. 

That winter introduced them to a better acquaintance. One evening Dr. Gregory, an uncle of Mrs. Rossitur's, had been dining with her and was inthe drawing-room. Mr. Schweden had been there too, and he and Marion andone or two other young people had gone out to some popular entertainment. The children knew little of Dr. Gregory but that he was a veryrespectable-looking elderly gentleman, a little rough in his manners; thedoctor had not long been returned from a stay of some years in Europewhere he had been collecting rare books for a fine public library, thecharge of which was now entrusted to him. After talking some time withMr. And Mrs. Rossitur the doctor pushed round his chair to take a look atthe children. 

"So that's Amy's child, " said he. "Come here, Amy. "

"That is not my name, " said the little girl coming forward. 

"Isn't it? It ought to be. What is then?"

"Elfleda. "

"Elfleda!--Where in the name of all that is auricular did you get such anoutlandish name?"

"My father gave it to me, sir, " said Fleda, with a dignified sobrietywhich amused the old gentleman. 

"Your father!--Hum--I understand. And couldn't your father find a cap thatfitted you without going back to the old-fashioned days of King Alfred?"

"Yes sir; it was my grandmother's cap. "

"I am afraid your grandmother's cap isn't all of her that's come down toyou, " said he, tapping his snuff-box and looking at her with a curioustwinkle in his eyes. "What do you call yourself? Haven't you somevariations of this tongue-twisting appellative to serve for every day andsave trouble?"

"They call me Fleda, " said the little girl, who could not help laughing. 

"Nothing better than that?"

Fleda remembered two prettier nick-names which had been hers; but one hadbeen given by dear lips long ago, and she was not going to have itprofaned by common use; and "Elfie" belonged to Mr. Carleton. She wouldown to nothing but Fleda. 

"Well, Miss Fleda, " said the doctor, "are you going to school?"

"No sir. "

"You intend to live without such a vulgar thing as learning?"

"No sir--Hugh and I have our lessons at home. "

"Teaching each other, I suppose?"

"O no, sir, " said Fleda laughing;--"Mme. Lascelles and Mr. Schweppenhesser and Signor Barytone come to teach us, besides ourmusic masters. "

"Do you ever talk German with this Mr. What's-his-name who has just goneout with your cousin Marion?"

"I never talk to him at all, sir. "

"Don't you? why not? Don't you like him?"

Fleda said "not particularly, " and seemed to wish to let the subject pass, but the doctor was amused and pressed it. 

"Why, why don't you like him?" said he; "I am sure he's a fine lookingdashing gentleman, --dresses as well as anybody, and talks as much as mostpeople, --why don't you like him? Isn't he a handsome fellow, eh?"

"I dare say he is, to many people, " said Fleda. 

"She said she didn't think there was any moral expression in his face, "said Hugh, by way of settling the matter. 

"Moral expression!" cried the doctor, --"moral expression!--and what ifthere isn't, you Elf!--what if there isn't?"

"I shouldn't care what other kind of expression it had, " said Fleda, colouring a little. 

Mr. Rossitur 'pished' rather impatiently. The doctor glanced at his niece, and changed the subject. 

"Well who teaches you English, Miss Fleda? you haven't told me that yet. "

"O that we teach ourselves, " said Fleda, smiling as if it was a veryinnocent question. 

"Hum! you do! Pray how do you teach yourselves?"

"By reading, sir. "

"Reading! And what do you read? what have you read in the last twelvemonths, now?"

"I don't think I could remember all exactly, " said Fleda. 

"But you have got a list of them all, " said Hugh, who chanced to have beenlooking over said list of a day or two before and felt quite proud of it. 

"Let's have it--let's have it, " said the doctor. And Mrs. Rossiturlaughing said "Let's have it;" and even her husband commanded Hugh to goand fetch it; so poor Fleda, though not a little unwilling, was obliged tolet the list be forthcoming. Hugh brought it, in a neat little bookcovered with pink blotting paper. 

"Now for it, " said the doctor;--"let us see what this English amounts to. Can you stand fire, Elfleda?"

'Jan. 1. Robinson Crusoe. ' [Footnote: A true list made by a child ofthat age. ]

"Hum--that sounds reasonable, at all events. "

"I had it for a New Year present, " remarked Fleda, who stood by withdown-cast eyes, like a person undergoing an examination. 

'Jan. 2. Histoire de France. '

"What history of France is this?"

Fleda hesitated and then said it was by Lacretelle. 

"Lacretelle?--what, of the Revolution?"

"No sir, it is before that; it is in five or six large volumes. "

"What, Louis XV's time!" said the doctor muttering to himself. 

'Jan. 27. 2. Ditto, ditto. '

"'Two' means the second volume I suppose?"

"Yes sir. "

"Hum--if you were a mouse you would gnaw through the wall in time at thatrate. This is in the original?"

"Yes sir. "

'Feb. 3. Paris. L. E. K. '

"What do these hieroglyphics mean?"

"That stands for the 'Library of Entertaining Knowledge, '" said Fleda. 

"But how is this?--do you go hop, skip, and jump through these books, orread a little and then throw them away? Here it is only seven days sinceyou began the second volume of Lacretelle--not time enough to getthrough it. "

"O no, sir, " said Fleda smiling, --"I like to have several books that I amreading in at once, --I mean--at the same time, you know; and then if I amnot in the mood of one I take up another. "

"She reads them all through, " said Hugh, --"always, though she reads themvery quick. "

"Hum--I understand, " said the old doctor with a humorous expression, goingon with the list. 

'March 3. 3 Hist. De France. '

"But you finish one of these volumes, I suppose, before you begin another;or do you dip into different parts of the same work at once?"

"O no, sir;--of course not!"

'Mar. 5. Modern Egyptians. L. E. K. Ap. 13. '

"What are these dates on the right as well as on the left?"

"Those on the right shew when I finished the volume. "

"Well I wonder what you were cut out for?" said the doctor. "AQuaker!--you aren't a Quaker, are you?"

"No sir, " said Fleda laughing. 

"You look like it, " said he. 

'Feb. 24. Five Penny Magazines, finished Mar. 4, '

"They are in paper numbers, you know, sir. "

'April 4. 4 Hist. De F. '

"Let us see--the third volume was finished March 29--I declare you keepit up pretty well. "

'Ap. 19. Incidents of Travel'

"Whose is that?"

"It is by Mr. Stephens. "

"How did you like it?"

"O very much indeed. "

"Ay, I see you did; you finished it by the first of May. 'Tour to theHebrides'--what? Johnson's?"

"Yes sir. "

"Read it all fairly through?"

"Yes sir, certainly. "

He smiled and went on. 

'May 12. Peter Simple!'

There was quite a shout at the heterogeneous character of Fleda's reading, which she, not knowing exactly what to make of it, heard rather abashed. 

"' Peter Simple'!" said the doctor, settling himself to go on with hislist;--"well, let us see. --' World without Souls. ' Why you Elf! read intwo days. "

"It is very short, you know, sir. "

"What did you think of it?"

"I liked parts of it very much. "

He went on, still smiling. 

'June 15. Goldsmith's Animated Nature. '

'June 18. 1 Life of Washington. '

"What Life of Washington?"

"Marshall's. "

"Hum. --'July 9. 2 Goldsmith's An. Na. ' As I live, begun the very day thefirst volume was finished, did you read the whole of that?"

"O yes, sir. I liked that book very much. "

'4 July 12. 5 Hist, de France. '

"Two histories on hand at once! Out of all rule, Miss Fleda! We must lookafter you. "

"Yes sir; sometimes I wanted to read one, and sometimes I wanted to readthe other. "

"And you always do what you want to do, I suppose?"

"I think the reading does me more good in that way. "

'July 15. Paley's Natural Theology!'

There was another shout. Poor Fleda's eyes filled with tears. 

"What in the world put that book into your head, or before your eyes?"said the doctor. 

"I don't know, sir, --I thought I should like to read it, " said Fleda, drooping her eyelids that the bright drops under them might not be seen. 

"And finished in eleven days, as I live!" said the doctor wagging hishead. 'July 19. 3 Goldsmith's A. N. ' 'Aug. 6. 4 Do. Do. '"

"That is one of Fleda's favourite books, " put in Hugh. 

"So it seems. '6 Hist. De France. '--What does this little cross mean?"

"That shews when the book is finished, " said Fleda, looking on thepage, --"the last volume, I mean. "

"'Retrospect of Western Travel'--'Goldsmith's A. N. , last vol. '--'Memoirsde Sully'--in the French?"

"Yes sir. "

"'Life of Newton'--What's this?--'Sep. 8. 1 Fairy Queen!'--notSpenser's?"

"Yes sir, I believe so--the Fairy Queen, in five volumes. "

The doctor looked up comically at his niece and her husband, who were bothsitting or standing close by. 

"'Sep. 10. Paolo e Virginia. '--In what language?"

"Italian, sir; I was just beginning, and I haven't finished it yet. "

"'Sep. 16. Milner's Church History'!--What the deuce!--'Vol. 2. FairyQueen. '--Why this must have been a favourite book too. "

"That's one of the books Fleda loves best, " said Hugh;--"she went throughthat very fast. "

"_Over_ it, you mean, I reckon; how much did you skip, Fleda?"

"I didn't skip at all, " said Fleda; "I read every word of it. "

"'Sep. 20. 2 Mem. De Sully. '--Well, you're an industrious mouse, I'll saythat for you. --What's this--'Don Quixotte!'--'Life of Howard. '--'Nov. 17. 3 Fairy Queen. '--'Nov. 29. 4 Fairy Queen. '--'Dec. 8. 1 Goldsmith'sEngland. '--Well if this list of books is a fair exhibit of your taste andcapacity, you have a most happily proportioned set of intellectuals. Letus see--History, fun, facts, nature, theology, poetry and divinity!--uponmy soul!--and poetry and history the leading features!--a little fun, --asmuch as you could lay your hand on I'll warrant, by that pinch in thecorner of your eye. And here, the eleventh of December, you finished theFairy Queen;--and ever since, I suppose, you have been imagining yourselfthe 'faire Una, ' with Hugh standing for Prince Arthur or the Red-crossknight, --haven't you?"

"No sir. I didn't imagine anything about it. "

"Don't tell me! What did you read it for?"

"Only because I liked it, sir. I liked it better than any other book Iread last year. "

"You did! Well, the year ends, I see, with another volume of Sully. Iwon't enter upon this year's list. Pray how much of all these volumes doyou suppose you remember? I'll try and find out, next time I come to seeyou. I can give a guess, if you study with that little pug in your lap. "

"He is not a pug!" said Fleda, in whose arms King was lyingluxuriously, --"and he never gets into my lap besides. "

[Illustration: "He is not a pug. "]

"Don't he! Why not?"

"Because I don't like it, sir. I don't like to see dogs in laps. "

"But all the ladies in the land do it, you little Saxon! it is universallyconsidered a mark of distinction. "

"I can't help what all the ladies in the land do, " said Fleda. "That won'talter my liking, and I don't think a lady's lap is a place for a dog. "

"I wish you were _my_ daughter!" said the old doctor, shaking his headat her with a comic fierce expression of countenance, which Fledaperfectly understood and laughed at accordingly. Then as the twochildren with the dog went off into the other room, he said, turning tohis niece and Mr. Rossitur, "If that girl ever takes a wrong turn with the bit in her teeth, you'll bepuzzled to hold her. What stuff will you make the reins of?"

"I don't think she ever will take a wrong turn, " said Mr. Rossitur. 

"A look is enough to manage her, if she did, " said his wife. "Hugh is notmore gentle. "

"I should be inclined rather to fear her not having stability of characterenough, " said Mr. Rossitur. "She is so very meek and yielding, I almostdoubt whether anything would give her courage to take ground of her ownand keep it. "

"Hum------well, well!" said the old doctor, walking off after thechildren. "Prince Arthur, will you bring this damsel up to my den some ofthese days?--the 'faire Una' is safe from the wild beasts, you know;--andI'll shew her books enough to build herself a house with, if she likes. "

The acceptance of this invitation led to some of the pleasantest hours ofFleda's city life. The visits to the great library became very frequent. Dr. Gregory and the children were little while in growing fond of eachother; he loved to see them and taught them to come at such times as thelibrary was free of visitors and his hands of engagements. Then hedelighted himself with giving them pleasure, especially Fleda, whose quickcuriosity and intelligence were a constant amusement to him. He wouldestablish the children in some corner of the large apartments, out of theway behind a screen of books and tables; and there shut out from the worldthey would enjoy a kind of fairyland pleasure over some volume or set ofengravings that they could not see at home. Hours and hours were spent so. Fleda would stand clasping her hands before Audubon, or rapt over a finelyillustrated book of travels, or going through and through with Hugh theworks of the best masters of the pencil and the graver. The doctor foundhe could trust them, and then all the treasures of the library were attheir disposal. Very often he put chosen pieces of reading into theirhands; and it was pleasantest of all when he was not busy and came and satdown with them; for with all his odd manner he was extremely kind andcould and did put them in the way to profit greatly by theiropportunities. The doctor and the children had nice times there together. 

They lasted for many months, and grew more and more worth. Mr. Schwedencarried off Marion, as Fleda had foreseen he would, before the end ofspring; and after she was gone something like the old pleasant Paris lifewas taken up again. They had no more company now than was agreeable, andit was picked not to suit Marion's taste but her father's, --a verydifferent matter. Fleda and Hugh were not forbidden the dinner-table, andso had the good of hearing much useful conversation from which the former, according to custom, made her steady precious gleanings. The pleasantevenings in the family were still better enjoyed than they used to he;Fleda was older; and the snug handsome American house had a home-feelingto her that the wide Parisian saloons never knew. She had become bound toher uncle and aunt by all but the ties of blood; nobody in the house everremembered that she was not born their daughter; except indeed Fledaherself, who remembered everything, and with whom the forming of any newaffections or relations somehow never blotted out or even faded theregister of the old. It lived in all its brightness; the writing of pastloves and friendships was as plain as ever in her heart; and often, often, the eye and the kiss of memory fell upon it. In the secret of her heart'score; for still, as at the first, no one had a suspicion of the movings ofthought that were beneath that childish brow. No one guessed how clear ajudgment weighed and decided upon many things. No one dreamed, amid theirbusy, hustling, thoughtless life, how often, in the street, in her bed, incompany and alone, her mother's last prayer was in Fleda's heart; wellcherished; never forgotten. 

Her education and Hugh's meanwhile went on after the old fashion. If Mr. Rossitur had more time he seemed to have no more thought for the matter;and Mrs. Rossitur, fine-natured as she was, had never been trained toself-exertion, and of course was entirely out of the way of trainingothers. Her children were pieces of perfection, and needed no oversight;her house was a piece of perfection too. If either had not been, Mrs. Rossitur would have been utterly at a loss how to mend matters, --except inthe latter instance by getting a new housekeeper; and as Mrs. Renney, thegood woman who held that station, was in everybody's opinion anothertreasure, Mrs. Rossitur's mind was uncrossed by the shadow of such adilemma. With Mrs. Renney as with every one else Fleda was held in highestregard; always welcome to her premises and to those mysteries of her tradewhich were sacred from other intrusion. 

Fleda's natural inquisitiveness carried her often to the housekeeper'sroom, and made her there the same curious and careful observer that shehad been in the library or at the Louvre. 

"Come, " said Hugh one day when he had sought and found her in Mrs. Renney's precincts, --"come away, Fleda! What do you want to stand here andsee Mrs. Renney roll butter and sugar for?"

"My dear Mr. Rossitur!" said Fleda, --"you don't understand quelquechoses. How do you know but I may have to get my living by making them, some day. "

"By making what?" said Hugh. 

"Quelquechoses, --anglicé, kickshaws, --alias, sweet trifles denominatedmerrings. "

"Pshaw, Fleda!"

"Miss Fleda is more likely to get her living by eating them, Mr. Hugh, isn't she?" said the housekeeper. 

"I hope to decline both lines of life, " said Fleda laughingly as shefollowed Hugh out of the room. But her chance remark had grazed the truthsufficiently near. 

Those years in New York were a happy time for little Fleda, a time whenmind and body flourished under the sun of prosperity. Luxury did not spoilher; and any one that saw her in the soft furs of her winter wrappingswould have said that delicate cheek and frame were never made to know theunkindliness of harsher things. 

Chapter XVI. 

 Whereunto is money good? Who has it not wants hardihood, Who has it has much trouble and care, Who once has had it has despair. 

 Longfellow. _From the German_. 

It was the middle of winter. One day Hugh and Fleda had come home fromtheir walk. They dashed into the parlour, complaining that it was bitterlycold, and began unrobing before the glowing grate, which was a mass ofliving fire from end to end. Mrs. Rossitur was there in an easy chair, alone and doing nothing. That was not a thing absolutely unheard of, butFleda had not pulled off her second glove before she bent down towards herand in a changed tone tenderly asked if she did not feel well?

Mrs. Rossitur looked up in her face a minute, and then drawing her downkissed the blooming cheeks one and the other several times. But as shelooked off to the fire again Fleda saw that it was through watering eyes. She dropped on her knees by the side of the easy chair that she might havea better sight of that face, and tried to read it as she asked again whatwas the matter; and Hugh coming to the other side repeated her question. His mother passed an arm round each, looking wistfully from one to theother and kissing them earnestly, but she said only, with a veryheart-felt emphasis, "Poor children!"

Fleda was now afraid to speak, but Hugh pressed his inquiry. 

"Why 'poor' mamma? what makes you say so?"

"Because you are poor really, dear Hugh. We have lost everything we havein the world. "

"Mamma! What do you mean?"

"Your father has failed. "

"Failed!--But, mamma, I thought he wasn't in business?"

"So I thought, " said Mrs. Rossitur;--"I didn't know people could failthat were not in business; but it seems they can. He was a partner insome concern or other, and it's all broken to pieces, and your fatherwith it, he says. "

Mrs. Rossitur's face was distressful. They were all silent for a little;Hugh kissing his mother's wet cheeks. Fleda had softly nestled her head inher bosom. But Mrs. Rossitur soon recovered herself. 

"How bad is it, mother?" said Hugh. 

"As bad as can possibly be. "

"Is _everything_ gone?"

"Everything. "

"You don't mean the house, mamma?"

"The house, and all that is in it. "

The children's hearts were struck, and they were silent again, onlya trembling touch of Fleda's lips spoke sympathy and patience ifever a kiss did. 

"But mamma, " said Hugh, after he had gathered breath for it, --"do youmean to say that _everything_, literally _everything_, is gone? is therenothing left?"

"Nothing in the world--not a sou. "

"Then what are we going to do?"

Mrs. Rossitur shook her head, and had no words. 

Fleda _looked_ across to Hugh to ask no more, and putting her armsround her aunt's neck and laying cheek to cheek, she spoke what comfortshe could. 

"Don't, dear aunt Lucy!--there will be some way--things always turn outbetter than at first--I dare say we shall find out it isn't so bad by andby. Don't you mind it, and then we won't. We can be happy anywheretogether. "

If there was not much in the reasoning there was something in the tone ofthe words to bid Mrs. Rossitur bear herself well. Its tremulous sweetness, its anxious love, was without a taint of self-recollection; its sorrow wasfor _her_. Mrs. Rossitur felt that she must not shew herself overcome. Sheagain kissed and blessed and pressed closer in her arms her littlecomforter, while her other hand was given to Hugh. 

"I have only heard about it this morning. Your uncle was here telling mejust now, --a little while before you came. Don't say anything about itbefore him. "

Why not? The words struck Fleda disagreeably. 

"What will be done with the house, mamma?" said Hugh. 

"Sold--sold, and everything in it. "

"Papa's books, mamma! and all the things in the library!" exclaimed Hugh, looking terrified. 

Mrs. Rossitur's face gave the answer; do it in words she could not. 

The children were a long time silent, trying hard to swallow this bitterpill; and still Hugh's hand was in his mother's and Fleda's head lay onher bosom. Thought was busy, going up and down, and breaking thecompanionship they had so long held with the pleasant drawing-room and thetasteful arrangements among which Fleda was so much at home;--the easychairs in whose comfortable arms she had had so many an hour of nicereading; the soft rug where in the very wantonness of frolic she hadstretched herself to play with King; that very luxurious, bright gratefulof fire, which had given her so often the same warm welcome home, an aptintroduction to the other stores of comfort which awaited her above andbelow stairs; the rich-coloured curtains and carpet, the beauty of whichhad been such a constant gratification to Fleda's eye; and the exquisiteFrench table and lamps they had brought out with them, in which her uncleand aunt had so much pride and which could nowhere be matched forelegance;--they must all be said 'good-bye' to; and as yet fancy hadnothing to furnish the future with; it looked very bare. 

King had come in and wagged himself up close to his mistress, but even hecould obtain nothing but the touch of most abstracted finger ends. Yet, though keenly recognized, these thoughts were only passing compared withthe anxious and sorrowful ones that went to her aunt and uncle; for Hughand her, she judged, it was less matter. And Mrs. Rossitur's care was mostfor her husband; and Hugh's was for them all. His associations were lessquick and his tastes less keen than Fleda's and less a part of himself. Hugh lived in his affections; with a salvo to them, he could bear to loseanything and go anywhere. 

"Mamma, " said he after a long time, --"will anything be done withFleda's books?"

A question that had been in Fleda's mind before, but which she hadpatiently forborne just then to ask. 

"No indeed!" said Mrs. Rossitur, pressing Fleda more closely and kissingin a kind of rapture the sweet thoughtful face;--"not yours, my darling;they can't touch anything that belongs to you--I wish it was more--and Idon't suppose they will take anything of mine either. "

"Ah, well!" said Fleda raising her head, "you have got quite a parcel ofbooks, aunt Lucy, and I have a good many--how well it is I have had somany given me since I have been here!--That will make quite a nice littlelibrary, both together, and Hugh has some; I thought perhaps we shouldn'thave one at all left, and that would have been rather bad. "

'Rather bad'! Mrs. Rossitur looked at her, and was dumb. 

"Only don't you wear a sad face for anything!" Fleda went onearnestly;--"we shall be perfectly happy if you and uncle Rolf only willbe. "

"My dear children!" said Mrs. Rossitur wiping her eyes, --"it is for you Iam unhappy--you and your uncle;--I do not think of myself. "

"And we do not think of ourselves, mamma, " said Hugh. 

"I know it--but having good children don't make one care less about them, "said Mrs. Rossitur, the tears fairly raining over her fingers. 

Hugh pulled the fingers down and again tried the efficacy of his lips. 

"And you know papa thinks most of you, mamma. "

"Ah, your father!"--said Mrs. Rossitur shaking her head, --"I am afraid itwill go hard with him!--But I will be happy as long as I have you two, orelse I should be a very wicked woman. It only grieves me to think of youreducation and prospects--"

"Fleda's piano, mamma!" said Hugh with sudden dismay. 

Mrs. Rossitur shook her head again and covered her eyes, while Fledastretching across to Hugh gave him by look and touch an earnest admonitionto let that subject alone. And then with a sweetness and gentleness likenothing but the breath of the south wind, she wooed her aunt to hope andresignation. Hugh held back, feeling, or thinking, that Fleda could do itbetter than he, and watching her progress, as Mrs. Rossitur took her handfrom her face, and smiled, at first mournfully and then really mirthfullyin Fleda's face, at some sally that nobody but a nice observer would haveseen was got up for the occasion. And it was hardly that, so completelyhad the child forgotten her own sorrow in ministering to that of another. "Blessed are the peacemakers"! It is always so. 

"You are a witch or a fairy, " said Mrs. Rossitur, catching her again inher arms, --"nothing else! You must try your powers of charming uponyour uncle. "

Fleda laughed, without any effort; but as to trying her slight wand uponMr. Rossitur she had serious doubts. And the doubts became certainty whenthey met at dinner; he looked so grave that she dared not attack him. Itwas a gloomy meal, for the face that should have lighted the whole tablecast a shadow there. 

Without at all comprehending the whole of her husband's character the suremagnetism of affection had enabled Mrs. Rossitur to divine his thoughts. Pride was his ruling passion; not such pride as Mr. Carleton's, which wasrather like exaggerated self-respect, but wider and more indiscriminate inits choice of objects. It was pride in his family name; pride in his owntalents, which were considerable; pride in his family, wife and childrenand all of which he thought did him honour, --if they had not his love forthem assuredly would have known some diminishing; pride in his wealth andin the attractions with which it surrounded him; and lastly, pride in theskill, taste and connoisseurship which enabled him to bring thoseattractions together. Furthermore, his love for both literature and artwas true and strong; and for many years he had accustomed himself to leada life of great luxuriousness; catering for body and mind in every tastethat could be elegantly enjoyed; and again proud of the elegance of everyenjoyment. The change of circumstances which touched his pride wounded himat every point where he was vulnerable at all. 

Fleda had never felt so afraid of him. She was glad to see Dr. Gregorycome in to tea. Mr. Rossitur was not there. The doctor did not touch uponaffairs, if he had heard of their misfortune; he went on as usual in arambling cheerful way all tea-time, talking mostly to Fleda and Hugh. Butafter tea he talked no more but sat still and waited till the master ofthe house came in. 

Fleda thought Mr. Rossitur did not look glad to see him. But how could helook glad about anything? He did not sit down, and for a few minutes therewas a kind of meaning silence. Fleda sat in the corner with the heartache, to see her uncle's gloomy tramp up and down the rich apartment, and heraunt Lucy gaze at him. 

"Humph!--well--So!" said the doctor at last, --"You've all gone overboardwith a smash, I understand?"

The walker gave him no regard. 

"True, is it?" said the doctor. 

Mr. Rossitur made no answer, unless a smothered grunt might betaken for one. 

"How came it about?"

"Folly and Devilry. "

"Humph!--bad capital to work upon. I hope the principal is gone with theinterest. What's the amount of your loss?"

"Ruin. "

"Humph. --French ruin, or American ruin? because there's a difference. Whatdo you mean?"

"I am not so happy as to understand you sir, but we shall not pay seventycents on the dollar. "

The old gentleman got up and stood before the fire with his back to Mr. Rossitur, saying "that was rather bad. "

"What are you going to do?"

Mr. Rossitur hesitated a few moments for an answer and then said, "Pay the seventy cents and begin the world anew with nothing. "

"Of course!" said the doctor. "I understand that; but where and how? Whatend of the world will you take up first?"

Mr. Rossitur writhed in impatience or disgust, and after again hesitatinganswered dryly that he had not determined. 

"Have you thought of anything in particular?"

"Zounds! no sir, except my misfortune. That's enough for one day. "

"And too much, " said the old doctor, "unless you can mix some otherthought with it. That's what I came for. Will you go into business?"

Fleda was startled by the vehemence with which her uncle said, "No, never!"--and he presently added, "I'll do nothing here. "

"Well, --well, " said the doctor to himself;--"Will you go into thecountry?"

"Yes!--anywhere!--the further the better. "

Mrs. Rossitur startled, but her husband's face did not encourage her toopen her lips. 

"Ay but on a farm, I mean?"

"On anything, that will give me a standing. "

"I thought that too, " said Dr. Gregory, now whirling about. "I have a finepiece of land that wants a tenant. You may take it at an easy rate, andpay me when the crops come in. I shouldn't expect so young a farmer, youknow, to keep any closer terms. "

"How far is it?"

"Far enough--up in Wyandot County. "

"How large?"

"A matter of two or three hundred acres or so. It is very fine, they say. It came into a fellow's hands that owed me what I thought was a bad debt, so for fear he would never pay me I thought best to take it and pay him;whether the place will ever fill my pockets again remains to be seen;doubtful, I think. "

"I'll take it, Dr. Gregory, and see if I cannot bring that about. "

"Pooh, pooh! fill your own. I am not careful about it; the less money onehas the more it jingles, unless it gets _too_ low indeed. "

"I will take it, Dr. Gregory, and feel myself under obligation to you. "

"No, I told you, not till the crops come in. No obligation is binding tillthe term is up. Well, I'll see you further about it. "

"But Rolf!" said Mrs. Rossitur, --"stop a minute, uncle, don't goyet, --Rolf don't know anything in the world about the management of afarm, neither do I. "

"The 'faire Una' can enlighten you, " said the doctor, waving his handtowards his little favourite in the corner, --"but I forgot!--Well, if youdon't know, the crops won't come in--that's all the difference. "

But Mrs. Rossitur looked anxiously at her husband. "Do you know exactlywhat you are undertaking, Rolf?" she said. 

"If I do not, I presume I shall discover in time. "

"But it may be too late, " said Mrs Rossitur, in the tone of sadremonstrance that had gone all the length it dared. 

"It _can not_ be too late!" said her husband impatiently. "If I do notknow what I am taking up, I know very well what I am laying down; and itdoes not signify a straw what comes after--if it was a snail-shell, thatwould cover my head!"

"Hum--" said the old doctor, --"the snail is very well in his way, but Ihave no idea that he was ever cut out for a farmer. "

"Do you think you will find it a business you would like, Mr. Rossitur?"said his wife timidly. 

"I tell you, " said he facing about, "it is not a question of liking. Iwill like anything that will bury me out of the world!"

Poor Mrs. Rossitur. She had not yet come to wishing herself buried alive, and she had small faith in the permanence of her husband's taste for it. She looked desponding. 

"You don't suppose, " said Mr. Rossitur stopping again in the middle of thefloor after another turn and a half, --"you do not suppose that I am goingto take the labouring of the farm upon myself? I shall employ some one ofcourse, who understands the matter, to take all that off my hands. "

The doctor thought of the old proverb and the alternative the ploughpresents to those who would thrive by it; Fleda thought of Mr. Didenhover;Mrs. Rossitur would fain have suggested that such an important person mustbe well paid; but neither of them spoke. 

"Of course, " said Mr. Rossitur haughtily as he went on with his walk, "Ido not expect any more than you to live in the back-woods the life we havebeen leading here. That is at an end. "

"Is it a very wild country?" asked Mrs. Rossitur of the doctor. 

"No wild beasts, my dear, if that is your meaning, --and I do not supposethere are even many snakes left by this time. "

"No, but dear uncle, I mean, is it in an unsettled state?"

"No my dear, not at all, --perfectly quiet. "

"Ah but do not play with me, " exclaimed poor Mrs. Rossitur betweenlaughing and crying;--"I mean is it far from any town and not amongneighbours?"

"Far enough to be out of the way of morning calls, " said the doctor;--"andwhen your neighbours come to see you they will expect tea by four o'clock. There are not a great many near by, but they don't mind coming from fiveor six miles off. "

Mrs. Rossitur looked chilled and horrified. To her he had described a verywild country indeed. Fleda would have laughed if it had not been for heraunt's face; but that settled down into a doubtful anxious look thatpained her. It pained the old doctor too. 

"Come, " said he touching her pretty chin with his forefinger, --"what areyou thinking of? folks may be good folks and yet have tea at four o'clock, mayn't they?"

"When do they have dinner!" said Mrs. Rossitur. 

"I really don't know. When you get settled up there I'll come and see. "

"Hardly, " said Mrs. Rossitur. "I don't believe it would be possible forEmile to get dinner before the tea-time; and I am sure I shouldn't like topropose such a thing to Mrs. Renney. "

The doctor fidgeted about a little on the hearth-rug and looked comical, perfectly understood by one acute observer in the corner. 

"Are you wise enough to imagine, Lucy, " said Mr. Rossitur sternly, "thatyou can carry your whole establishment with you? What do you suppose Emileand Mrs. Renney would do in a farmhouse?"

"I can do without whatever you can, " said Mrs. Rossitur meekly. "I did notknow that you would be willing to part with Emile, and I do not think Mrs. Renney would like to leave us. "

"I told you before, it is no more a question of liking, " answered he. 

"And if it were, " said the doctor, "I have no idea that Monsieur Emile andMadame Renney would be satisfied with the style of a country kitchen, orthink the interior of Yankee land a hopeful sphere for their energies. "

"What sort of a house is it?" said Mrs. Rossitur. 

"A wooden frame house, I believe. "

"No but, dear uncle, do tell me. "

"What sort of a house?--Humph--Large enough, I am told. It willaccommodate you, in one way. "

"Comfortable?"

"I don't know, " said the doctor shaking his head;--"depends on who's init. No house is that per se. But I reckon there isn't much plate glass. Isuppose you'll find the doors all painted blue, and every fireplace with acrane in it. "

"A crane!" said Mrs. Rossitur, to whose imagination the word suggestednothing but a large water-bird with a long neck. 

"Ay!" said the doctor. "But it's just as well. You won't want hanginglamps there, --and candelabra would hardly be in place either, to holdtallow candles. "

"Tallow candles!" exclaimed Mrs. Rossitur. Her husband winced, butsaid nothing. 

"Ay, " said the doctor again, --"and make them yourself if you are a goodhousewife. Come, Lucy, " said he taking her hand, "do you know how thewild fowl do on the Chesapeake?--duck and swim under water till theycan shew their heads with safety? O spoil your eyes to see by atallow candle. "

Mrs. Rossitur half smiled, but looked anxiously towards her husband. 

"Pooh, pooh! Rolf won't care what the light burns that lights him toindependence, --and when you get there you may illuminate with a wholewhale if you like. By the way, Rolf, there is a fine water power upyonder, and a saw-mill in good order, they tell me, but a short way fromthe house. Hugh might learn to manage it, and it would be fineemployment for him. "

"Hugh!" said his mother disconsolately. Mr. Rossitur neither spoke norlooked an answer. Fleda sprang forward. 

"A saw-mill!--Uncle Orrin!--where is it?"

"Just a little way from the house, they say. _You_ can't manage it, fairSaxon!--though you look as if you would undertake all the mills increation, for a trifle. "

"No but the place, uncle Orrin;--where is the place?"

"The place? Hum--why it's up in Wyandot County--some five or six milesfrom the Montepoole Spring--what's this they call it?--Queechy!--By theway!" said he, reading Fleda's countenance, "it is the very place whereyour father was born!--it is! I didn't think of that before. "

Fleda's hands were clasped. 

"O I am very glad!" she said. "It's my old home. It is the most lovelyplace, aunt Lucy!--most lovely--and we shall have some good neighboursthere too. O I am very glad!--The dear old saw-mill!--"

"Dear old saw-mill!" said the doctor looking at her. "Rolf, I'll tell youwhat, you shall give me this girl. I want her. I can take better care ofher, perhaps, now than you can. Let her come to me when you leave thecity--it will be better for her than to help work the saw-mill; and Ihave as good a right to her as anybody, for Amy before her was like myown child. "

The doctor spoke not with his usual light jesting manner but veryseriously. Hugh's lips parted, --Mrs. Rossitur looked with a sad thoughtfullook at Fleda, --Mr. Rossitur walked up and down looking at nobody. Fledawatched him. 

"What does Fleda herself say?" said he stopping short suddenly. His facesoftened and his eye changed as it fell upon her, for the first time thatday. Fleda saw her opening; she came to him, within his arms, and laid herhead upon his breast. 

"What does Fleda say?" said he, softly kissing her. 

Fleda's tears said a good deal, that needed no interpreter. She felt heruncle's hand passed more and more tenderly over her head, so tenderly thatit made it all the more difficult for her to govern herself and stop hertears. But she did stop them, and looked up at him then with such aface--so glowing through smiles and tears--it was like a very rainbow ofhope upon the cloud of their prospects. Mr. Rossitur felt the power of thesunbeam wand, it reached his heart; it was even with a smile that he saidas he looked at her, "Will you go to your uncle Orrin, Fleda?"

"Not if uncle Rolf will keep me. "

"Keep you!" said Mr. Rossitur;--"I should like to see who wouldn't keepyou!--There, Dr. Gregory, you have your answer. "

"Hum!--I might have known, " said the doctor, "that the 'faire Una' wouldabjure cities. --Come here, you Elf!"--and he wrapped her in his arms sotight she could not stir, --"I have a spite against you for this. Whatamends will you make me for such an affront?"

"Let me take breath, " said Fleda laughing, "and I'll tell you. You don'twant any amends, uncle Orrin. "

"Well, " said he, gazing with more feeling than he cared to shew into thatsweet face, so innocent of apology-making, --"you shall promise me that youwill not forget uncle Orrin and the old house in Bleecker street. "

Fleda's eyes grew more wistful. 

"And will you promise me that if ever you want anything you will come orsend straight there?"

"If ever I want anything I can't get nor do without, " said Fleda. 

"Pshaw!" said the doctor letting her go, but laughing at the same time. "Mind my words, Mr. And Mrs. Rossitur;--if ever that girl takes the wrongbit in her mouth--Well, well! I'll go home. "

Home he went. The rest drew together particularly near, round the fire;Hugh at his father's shoulder, and Fleda kneeling on the rug between heruncle and aunt with a hand on each; and there was not one of them whosegloom was not lightened by her bright face and cheerful words of hope thatin the new scenes they were going to, "they would all be so happy. "

The days that followed were gloomy; but Fleda's ministry was unceasing. Hugh seconded her well, though more passively. Feeling less pain himself, he perhaps for that very reason was less acutely alive to it in others;not so quick to foresee and ward off, not so skilful to allay it. Fledaseemed to have intuition for the one and a charm for the other. To herthere was pain in every parting; her sympathies clung to whatever worethe livery of habit. There was hardly any piece of furniture, there wasno book or marble or picture, that she could take leave of without apang. But it was kept to herself; her sorrowful good-byes were said insecret; before others, in all those weeks she was a very Euphrosyne;light, bright, cheerful, of eye and foot and hand; a shield between heraunt and every annoyance that _she_ could take instead; a good littlefairy, that sent her sunbeam wand, quick as a flash, where any eye restedgloomily. People did not always find out where the light came from, butit was her witchery. 

The creditors would touch none of Mrs. Rossitur's things, her husband'shonourable behaviour had been so thorough. They even presented him withone or two pictures which he sold for a considerable sum; and to Mrs. Rossitur they gave up all the plate in daily use; a matter of greatrejoicing to Fleda who knew well how sorely it would have been missed. Sheand her aunt had quite a little library too, of their own private store; alittle one it was indeed, but the worth of every volume was now trebled inher eyes. Their furniture was all left behind; and in its stead went someof neat light painted wood which looked to Fleda deliciously countryfied. A promising cook and housemaid were engaged to go with them to the wilds;and about the first of April they turned their backs upon the city. 

Chapter XVII

 The thresher's weary flingin-tree The lee-lang day had tired me: And whan the day bad closed his e'e, Far i' the west, Ben i' the spence, right pensivelie, I 'gaed to rest. 

 Burns. 

Queechy was reached at night. Fleda had promised herself to be off almostwith the dawn of light the next morning to see aunt Miriam, but a heavyrain kept her fast at home the whole day. It was very well; she waswanted there. 

Despite the rain and her disappointment it was impossible for Fleda to lieabed from the time the first grey light began to break in at herwindows, --those old windows that had rattled their welcome to her allnight. She was up and dressed and had had a long consultation with herselfover matters and prospects, before anybody else had thought of leaving theindubitable comfort of a feather bed for the doubtful contingency ofhappiness that awaited them down stairs. Fleda took in the whole lengthand breadth of it, half wittingly and half through some finer sense thanthat of the understanding. 

The first view of things could not strike them pleasantly; it was not tobe looked for. The doors did not happen to be painted blue; they were adeep chocolate colour; doors and wainscot. The fireplaces were not allfurnished with cranes, but they were all uncouthly wide and deep. Nobodywould have thought them so indeed in the winter, when piled up withblazing hickory logs, but in summer they yawned uncomfortably upon theeye. The ceilings were low; the walls rough papered or rougherwhite-washed; the sashes not hung; the rooms, otherwise well enoughproportioned, stuck with little cupboards, in recesses and corners and outof the way places, in a style impertinently suggestive of housekeeping, and fitted to shock any symmetrical set of nerves. The old house hadundergone a thorough putting in order, it is true; the chocolate paint wasjust dry, and the paper hangings freshly put up; and the bulk of the newfurniture had been sent on before and unpacked, though not a singlearticle of it was in its right place. The house was clean and tight, thatis, as tight as it ever was. But the colour had been unfortunatelychosen--perhaps there was no help for that;--the paper was _very_ coarseand countryfied; the big windows were startling, they looked so bare, without any manner of drapery; and the long reaches of wall were unbrokenby mirror or picture-frame. And this to eyes trained to eschewungracefulness and that abhorred a vacuum as much as nature is said to do!Even Fleda felt there was something disagreeable in the change, though itreached her more through the channel of other people's sensitiveness thanher own. To her it was the dear old house still, though her eyes had seenbetter things since they loved it. No corner or recess had a pleasanterfilling, to her fancy, than the old brown cupboard or shelves which hadalways been there. But what _would_ her uncle say to them! and to thatdismal paper! and what would aunt Lucy think of those rattling windowsashes! this cool raw day too, for the first!--

Think as she might Fleda did not stand still to think. She had gone softlyall over the house, taking a strange look at the old places and the imageswith which memory filled them, thinking of the last time, and many a timebefore that;--and she had at last come back to the sitting-room, longbefore anybody else was down stairs; the two tired servants were justrubbing their eyes open in the kitchen and speculating themselves awake. Leaving them, at their peril, to get ready a decent breakfast, (by the wayshe grudged them the old kitchen) Fleda set about trying what her wandcould do towards brightening the face of affairs in the other part of thehouse. It was quite cold enough for a fire, luckily. She ordered one made, and meanwhile busied herself with the various stray packages and articlesof wearing apparel that lay scattered about giving the whole place a lookof discomfort. Fleda gathered them up and bestowed them in one or two ofthe impertinent cupboards, and then undertook the labour of carrying outall the wrong furniture that had got into the breakfast-room and bringingin that which really belonged there from the hall and the parlour beyond;moving like a mouse that she might not disturb the people up stairs. Aquarter of an hour was spent in arranging to the best advantage thesevarious pieces of furniture in the room; it was the very same in which Mr. Carleton and Charlton Rossitur had been received the memorable day of theroast pig dinner, but that was not the uppermost association in Fleda'smind. Satisfied at last that a happier effect could not be produced withthe given materials, and well pleased too with her success, Fleda turnedto the fire. It was made, but not by any means doing its part to encouragethe other portions of the room to look their best. Fleda knew something ofwood fires from old times; she laid hold of the tongs, and touched andloosened and coaxed a stick here and there, with a delicate hand, till, seeing the very opening it had wanted, --without which neither fire norhope can keep its activity, --the blaze sprang up energetically, cracklingthrough all the piled oak and hickory and driving the smoke clean out ofsight. Fleda had done her work. It would have been a misanthropical personindeed that could have come into the room then and not felt his facebrighten. One other thing remained, --setting the breakfast table; andFleda would let no hands but hers do it this morning; she was curiousabout the setting of tables. How she remembered or divined whereeverything had been stowed; how quietly and efficiently her little fingersunfastened hampers and pried into baskets, without making any noise; tillall the breakfast paraphernalia of silver, china, and table-linen wasfound, gathered from various receptacles, and laid in most exquisite orderon the table. State street never saw better. Fleda stood and looked at itthen, in immense satisfaction, seeing that her uncle's eye would missnothing of its accustomed gratification. To her the old room, shining withfirelight and new furniture, was perfectly charming. If those greatwindows were staringly bright, health and cheerfulness seemed to look inat them. And what other images of association, with "nods and becks andwreathed smiles, " looked at her out of the curling flames in the old widefireplace! And one other angel stood there unseen, --the one whose errandit is to see fulfilled the promise, "Give and it shall be given to you;full measure, and pressed down, and heaped up, and running over. "

A little while Fleda sat contentedly eying her work; then a new ideastruck her and she sprang up. In the next meadow, only one fence between, a little spring of purest water ran through from the woodland; watercresses used to grow there. Uncle Rolf was very fond of them. It waspouring with rain, but no matter. Her heart beating between haste anddelight, Fleda slipped her feet into galoches and put an old cloak ofHugh's over her head, and ran out through the kitchen, the old accustomedway. The servants exclaimed and entreated, but Fleda only flashed a brightlook at them from under her cloak as she opened the door, and ran off, over the wet grass, under the fence, and over half the meadow, till shecame to the stream. She was getting a delicious taste of old times, andthough the spring water was very cold and with it and the rain one-half ofeach sleeve was soon thoroughly wetted, she gathered her cresses andscampered back with a pair of eyes and cheeks that might have struck anycity belle chill with envy. 

"Then but that's a sweet girl!" said Mary the cook to Jane the housemaid. 

"A lovely countenance she has, " answered Jane, who was refined inher speech. 

"Take her away and you've taken the best of the house, I'm a thinking. "

"Mrs. Rossitur is a lady, " said Jane in a low voice. 

"Ay, and a very proper-behaved one she is, and him the same, that is, fora gentleman I maan; but Jane! I say, I'm thinking he'll have eat too muchsour bread lately! I wish I knowed how they'd have their eggs boiled, tillI'd have 'em ready. "

"Sure it's on the table itself they'll do 'em, " said Jane. "They've anelegant little fixture in there for the purpose. "

"Is that it!"

Nobody found out how busy Fleda's wand had been in the old breakfast room. But she was not disappointed; she had not worked for praise. Her cresseswere appreciated; that was enough. She enjoyed her breakfast, the only oneof the party that did. Mr. Rossitur looked moody; his wife looked anxious;and Hugh's face was the reflection of theirs. If Fleda's face reflectedanything it was the sunlight of heaven. 

"How sweet the air is after New York!" said she. 

They looked at her. There was a fresh sweetness of another kind about thatbreakfast-table. They all felt it, and breathed more freely. 

"Delicious cresses!" said Mrs. Rossitur. 

"Yes, I wonder where they came from, " said her husband. "Who got them?"

"I guess Fleda knows, " said Hugh. 

"They grow in a little stream of spring water over here in the meadow, "said Fleda demurely. 

"Yes, but you don't answer my question, " said her uncle, putting his handunder her chin and smiling at the blushing face he brought round toview;--"Who got them?"

"I did. "

"You have been out in the rain?"

"O Queechy rain don't hurt me, uncle Rolf. "

"And don't it wet you either?"

"Yes sir--a little. "

"How much?"

"My sleeves, --O I dried them long ago. "

"Don't you repeat that experiment, Fleda, " said he seriously, but with alook that was a good reward to her nevertheless. 

"It is a raw day!" said Mrs. Rossitur, drawing her shoulders together asan ill-disposed window sash gave one of its admonitory shakes. 

"What little panes of glass for such big windows!" said Hugh. 

"But what a pleasant prospect through them, " said Fleda, --"look, Hugh!--worth all the Batteries and Parks in the world. "

"In the world!--in New York you mean, " said her uncle. "Not better thanthe Champs Elysées?"

"Better to me, " said Fleda. 

"For to-day I must attend to the prospect in-doors, " said Mrs. Rossitur. 

"Now aunt Lucy, " said Fleda, "you are just going to put yourself down inthe corner, in the rocking-chair there, with your book, and make yourselfcomfortable; and Hugh and I will see to all these things. Hugh and I andMary and Jane, --that makes quite an army of us, and we can do everythingwithout you, and you must just keep quiet. I'll build you up a fine fire, and then when I don't know what to do I will come to you for orders. Uncle Rolf, would you be so good as just to open that box of books in thehall? because I am afraid Hugh isn't strong enough. I'll take care ofyou, aunt Lucy. "

Fleda's plans were not entirely carried out, but she contrived pretty wellto take the brunt of the business on her own shoulders. She was as busy asa bee the whole day. To her all the ins and outs of the house, itsadvantages and disadvantages, were much better known than to anybody else;nothing could be done but by her advice; and more than that, she contrivedby some sweet management to baffle Mrs. Rossitur's desire to spare her, and to bear the larger half of every burden that should have come upon heraunt. What she had done in the breakfast room she did or helped to do inthe other parts of the house; she unpacked boxes and put away clothes andlinen, in which Hugh was her excellent helper; she arranged her uncle'sdressing-table with a scrupulosity that left nothing uncared-for;--and thelast thing before tea she and Hugh dived into the book-box to get out somefavourite volumes to lay upon the table in the evening, that the roommight not look to her uncle quite so dismally bare. He had been abroadnotwithstanding the rain near the whole day. 

It was a weary party that gathered round the supper-table that night, weary it seemed as much in mind as in body; and the meal exerted itscheering influence over only two of them; Mr. And Mrs. Rossitur sippedtheir cups of tea abstractedly. 

"I don't believe that fellow Donohan knows much about his business, "remarked the former at length. 

"Why don't you get somebody else, then?" said his wife. 

"I happen to have engaged him, unfortunately. "

A pause. --

"What doesn't he know?"

Mr. Rossitur laughed, not a pleasant laugh. 

"It would take too long to enumerate. If you had asked me what part ofhis business he _does_ understand, I could have told you shortly that Idon't know. "

"But you do not understand it very well yourself. Are you sure?"

"Am I sure of what?"

"That this man does not know his business?"

"No further sure than I can have confidence in my own common sense. "

"What will you do?" said Mrs. Rossitur after a moment

A question men are not fond of answering, especially when they havenot made up their minds. Mr. Rossitur was silent, and his wife too, after that. 

"If I could get some long-headed Yankee to go along with him"--he remarkedagain, balancing his spoon on the edge of his cup in curious illustrationof his own mental position at the moment; Donohan being the only fixedpoint and all the rest wavering in uncertainty. There were a few silentminutes before anybody answered. 

"If you want one and don't know of one, uncle Rolf, " said Fleda, "I daresay cousin Seth might. "

That gentle modest speech brought his attention round upon her. Hisface softened. 

"Cousin Seth? who is cousin Seth?"

"He is aunt Miriam's son, " said Fleda. "Seth Plumfield. He's a very goodfarmer, I know; grandpa used to say he was; and he knows everybody. "

"Mrs. Plumfield, " said Mrs. Rossitur, as her husband's eyes wentinquiringly to her, --"Mrs. Plumfield was Mr. Ringgan's sister, youremember. This is her son. "

"Cousin Seth, eh?" said Mr. Rossitur dubiously. "Well--Why Fleda, yoursweet air don't seem to agree with you, as far as I see; I have not knownyou look so--so _triste_--since we left Paris. What have you been doing, my child?"

"She has been doing everything, father, " said Hugh. 

"O! it's nothing, " said Fleda, answering Mr. Rossitur's look and tone ofaffection with a bright smile. "I'm a little tired, that's all. "

'A little tired!' She went to sleep on the sofa directly after supper andslept like a baby all the evening; but her power did not sleep with her;for that quiet, sweet, tired face, tired in their service, seemed to bearwitness against the indulgence of anything harsh or unlovely in the sameatmosphere. A gentle witness-bearing, but strong in its gentleness. Theysat close together round the fire, talked softly, and from time to timecast loving glances at the quiet little sleeper by their side. They didnot know that she was a fairy, and that though her wand had fallen out ofher hand it was still resting upon them. 

Chapter XVIII. 

 _Gon_. Here is everything advantageous to lift. 

 _Ant_. True; save means to live. 

 Tempest. 

Fleda's fatigue did not prevent her being up before sunrise the next day. Fatigue was forgotten, for the light of a fair spring morning was shiningin at her windows and she meant to see aunt Miriam before breakfast. Sheran out to find Hugh, and her merry shout reached him before she did, andbrought him to meet her. 

"Come, Hugh!--I'm going off up to aunt Miriam's, and I want you. Come!Isn't this delicious?"

"Hush!--" said Hugh. "Father's just here in the barn. I can't go, Fleda. "

Fleda's countenance clouded. 

"Can't go! what's the matter?--can't you go, Hugh?"

He shook his head and went off into the barn. 

A chill came upon Fleda. She turned away with a very sober step. What ifher uncle was in the barn, why should she hush? He never had been a checkupon her merriment, never; what was coming now? Hugh too looked disturbed. It was a spring morning no longer. Fleda forgot the glittering wet grassthat had set her own eyes a sparkling but a minute ago; she walked along, cogitating, swinging her bonnet by the strings in thoughtfulvibration, --till by the help of sunlight and sweet air, and the lovedscenes, her spirits again made head and swept over the sudden hindrancethey had met. There were the blessed old sugar maples, seven in number, that fringed the side of the road, --how well Fleda knew them. Onlyskeletons now, but she remembered how beautiful they looked after theOctober frosts; and presently they would be putting out their new greenleaves and be beautiful in another way. How different in their free-bornluxuriance from the dusty and city-prisoned elms and willows she hadleft. She came to the bridge then, and stopped with a thrill of pleasureand pain to look and listen, Unchanged!--all but herself. The mill was notgoing; the little brook went by quietly chattering to itself, just as ithad done the last time she saw it, when she rode past on Mr. Carleton'shorse. Four and a half years ago!--And now how strange that she had cometo live there again. 

Drawing a long breath, and swinging her bonnet again, Fleda softly went onup the hill; past the saw-mill, the ponds, the factories, the houses ofthe settlement. The same, and not the same!--Bright with the morning sun, and yet somehow a little browner and homelier than of old they used to be. Fleda did not care for that; she would hardly acknowledge it to herself;her affection never made any discount for infirmity. Leaving the littlesettlement behind her thoughts as behind her back, she ran on now towardsaunt Miriam's, breathlessly, till field after field was passed and her eyecaught a bit of the smooth lake and the old farmhouse in its old place. Very brown it looked, but Fleda dashed on, through the garden and in atthe front door. 

Nobody at all was in the entrance room, the common sitting-room of thefamily. With trembling delight Fleda opened the well-known door and stolenoiselessly through the little passage-way to the kitchen. The door ofthat was only on the latch and a gentle movement of it gave to Fleda's eyethe tall figure of aunt Miriam, just before her, stooping down to look inat the open mouth of the oven which she was at that moment engaged insupplying with more work to do. It was a huge one, and beyond her aunt'shead Fleda could see in the far end the great loaves of bread, half baked, and more near a perfect squad of pies and pans of gingerbread just goingin to take the benefit of the oven's milder mood. Fleda saw all this as itwere without seeing it; she stood still as a mouse and breathless till heraunt turned; and then, a spring and a half shout of joy, and she hadclasped her in her arms and was crying with her whole heart. Aunt Miriamwas taken all aback; she could do nothing but sit down and cry too andforget her oven door. 

"Ain't breakfast ready yet, mother?" said a manly voice coming in. "I mustbe off to see after them ploughs. Hollo!--why mother!--"

The first exclamation was uttered as the speaker put the door to theoven's mouth; the second as he turned in quest of the hand that shouldhave done it. He stood wondering, while his mother and Fleda betweenlaughing and crying tried to rouse themselves and look up. 

"What is all this?"

"Don't you see, Seth?"

"I see somebody that had like to have spoiled your whole baking--I don'tknow who it is, yet. "

"Don't you now, cousin Seth?" said Fleda shaking away her tears andgetting up. 

"I ha'n't quite lost my recollection. Cousin, you must give me akiss. --How do you do? You ha'n't forgot how to colour, I see, for allyou've been so long among the pale city-folks. "

"I haven't forgotten any thing, cousin Seth, " said Fleda, blushing indeedbut laughing and shaking his hand with as hearty good-will. 

"I don't believe you have, --anything that is good, " said he. "Where haveyou been all this while?"

"O part of the time in New York, and part of the time in Paris, and someother places. "

"Well you ha'n't seen anything better than Queechy, or Queechy bread andbutter, have you?"

"No indeed!"

"Come, you shall give me another kiss for that, " said he, suiting theaction to the word;--"and now sit down and eat as much bread and butter asyou can. It's just as good as it used to be. Come mother!--I guessbreakfast is ready by the looks of that coffee-pot. "

"Breakfast ready!" said Fleda. 

"Ay indeed; it's a good half hour since it ought to ha' been ready. If itain't I can't stop for it. Them boys will be running their furrows likesarpents 'f I ain't there to start them. "

"Which like serpents, " said Fleda, --"the furrows or the men?"

"Well, I was thinking of the furrows, " said he glancing at her;--"I guessthere ain't cunning enough in the others to trouble them. Come sit down, and let me see whether you have forgotten a Queechy appetite. "

"I don't know, " said Fleda doubtfully, --"they will expect me at home. "

"I don't care who expects you--sit down! you ain't going to eat anybread and butter this morning but my mother's--you haven't got any likeit at your house. Mother, give her a cup of coffee, will you, and sether to work. "

Fleda was too willing to comply with the invitation, were it only for thecharm of old times. She had not seen such a table for years, and little asthe conventionalities of delicate taste were known there, it was notwithout a comeliness of its own in its air of wholesome abundance and theextreme purity of all its arrangements. If but a piece of cold pork wereon aunt Miriam's table, it was served with a nicety that would not haveoffended the most fastidious; and amid irregularities that the fastidiouswould scorn, there was a sound excellence of material and preparationthat they very often fail to know. Fleda made up her mind she would bewanted at home; all the rather perhaps for Hugh's mysterious "hush"; andthere was something in the hearty kindness and truth of these friends thatshe felt particularly genial. And if there was a lack of silver at theboard its place was more than filled with the pure gold of association. They sat down to table, but aunt Miriam's eyes devoured Fleda. Mr. Plumfield set about his more material breakfast with all despatch. 

[Illustration: "They will expect me at home. "]

"So Mr. Rossitur has left the city for good, " said aunt Miriam. "How doeshe like it?"

"He hasn't been here but a day, you know, aunt Miriam, " said Fledaevasively. 

"Is he anything of a farmer?" asked her cousin. 

"Not much, " said Fleda. 

"Is he going to work the farm himself?"

"How do you mean?"

"I mean, is he going to work the farm himself, or hire it out, or letsomebody else work it on shares?"

"I don't know, " said Fleda;--"I think he is going to have a farmer andoversee things himself. "

"He'll get sick o' that, " said Seth; "unless he's the luck to get hold ofjust the right hand. "

"Has he hired anybody yet?" said aunt Miriam, after a little interval ofsupplying Fleda with 'bread and butter. '

"Yes ma'am, I believe so. "

"What's his name?"

"Donohan, --an Irishman, I believe; uncle Rolf hired him in New York. "

"For his head man?" said Seth, with a sufficiently intelligible look. 

"Yes, " said Fleda. "Why?"

But he did not immediately answer her. 

"The land's in poor heart now, " said he, "a good deal of it; it has beenwasted; it wants first-rate management to bring it in order and make muchof it for two or three years to come. I never see an Irishman's head yetthat was worth more than a joke. Their hands are all of 'em that's goodfor anything. "

"I believe uncle Rolf wants to have an American to go with this man, "said Fleda. 

Seth said nothing, but Fleda understood the shake of his head as hereached over after a pickle. 

"Are you going to keep a dairy, Fleda?" said her aunt. 

"I don't know, ma'am;--I haven't heard anything about it. "

"Does Mrs. Rossitur know anything about country affairs?"

"No--nothing, " Fleda said, her heart sinking perceptibly with everynew question. 

"She hasn't any cows yet?"

_She_!--any cows!--But Fleda only said they had not come; she believedthey were coming. 

"What help has she got?"

"Two women--Irishwomen, " said Fleda. 

"Mother you'll have to take hold and learn her, " said Mr. Plumfield. 

"Teach _her_?" cried Fleda, repelling the idea;--"aunt Lucy? she cannot doanything--she isn't strong enough;--not anything of that kind. "

"What did she come here for?" said Seth. 

"You know, " said his mother, "that Mr. Rossitur's circumstances obligedhim to quit New York. "

"Ay, but that ain't my question. A man had better keep his fingers offanything he can't live by. A farm's one thing or t'other, just as it'sworked. The land won't grow specie--it must be fetched out of it. Is Mr. Rossitur a smart man?"

"Very, " Fleda said, "about everything but farming. "

"Well if he'll put himself to school maybe, he'll learn, " Seth concludedas he finished his breakfast and went off. Fleda rose too, and wasstanding thoughtfully by the fire, when aunt Miriam came up and put herarms round her. Fleda's eyes sparkled again. 

"You're not changed--you're the same little Fleda, " she said. 

"Not quite so little, " said Fleda smiling. 

"Not quite so little, but my own darling. The world hasn't spoiledthee yet. "

"I hope not, aunt Miriam. "

"You have remembered your mother's prayer, Fleda?"

"Always!"--

How tenderly aunt Miriam's hand was passed over the bowed head, --howfondly she pressed her. And Fleda's answer was as fond. 

"I wanted to bring Hugh up to see you, aunt Miriam, with me, but hecouldn't come. You will like Hugh. He is so good!"

"I will come down and see him, " said aunt Miriam; and then she went tolook after her oven's doings. Fleda stood by, amused to see the quantitiesof nice things that were rummaged out of it. They did not look like Mrs. Renney's work, but she knew from old experience that they were good. 

"How early you must have been up, to put these things in, " said Fleda. 

"Put them in! yes, and make them. These were all made this morning, Fleda. "

"This morning!--before breakfast! Why the sun was only just rising when Iset out to come up the hill; and I wasn't long coming, aunt Miriam. "

"To be sure; that's the way to get things done. Before breakfast!--Whattime do you breakfast, Fleda?"

"Not till eight or nine o'clock. "

"Eight or nine!--_Here?_"

"There hasn't been any change made yet, and I don't suppose there will be. Uncle Rolf is always up early, but he can't bear to have breakfast early. "

Aunt Miriam's face showed what she thought; and Fleda went away with allits gravity and doubt settled like lead upon her heart. Though she had oneof the identical apple pies in her hands, which aunt Miriam had quietlysaid was "for her and Hugh, " and though a pleasant savour of old times wasabout it, Fleda could not get up again the bright feeling with which shehad come up the hill. There was a miserable misgiving at heart. It wouldwork off in time. 

It had begun to work off, when at the foot of the hill she met her uncle. He was coming after her to ask Mr. Plumfield about the desideratum of aYankee. Fleda put her pie in safety behind a rock, and turned back withhim, and aunt Miriam told them the way to Seth's ploughing ground. 

A pleasant word or two had get Fleda's spirits a bounding again, and thewalk was delightful. Truly the leaves were not on the trees, but it wasApril, and they soon would be; there was promise in the light, and hope inthe air, and everything smelt of the country and spring-time. The softtread of the sod, that her foot had not felt for so long, --the fresh lookof the newly-turned earth, --here and there the brilliance of a field ofwinter grain, --and that nameless beauty of the budding trees, that thefull luxuriance of summer can never equal, --Fleda's heart was springingfor sympathy. And to her, with whom association was everywhere so strong, there was in it all a shadowy presence of her grandfather, with whom shehad so often seen the spring-time bless those same hills and fields longago. She walked on in silence, as her manner commonly was when deeplypleased; there were hardly two persons to whom she would speak her mindfreely then. Mr. Kossitur had his own thoughts. 

"Can anything equal the spring-time!" she burst forth at length. 

Her uncle looked at her and smiled. "Perhaps not; but it is one thing, "said he sighing, "for taste to enjoy and another thing for calculationto improve. "

"But one can do both, can't one?" said Fleda brightly. 

"I don't know, " said he sighing again. "Hardly. "

Fleda knew he was mistaken and thought the sighs out of place. But theyreached her; and she had hardly condemned them before they set her offupon a long train of excuses for him, and she had wrought herself intoquite a fit of tenderness by the time they reached her cousin. 

They found him on a gentle side-hill, with two other men and teams, bothof whom were stepping away in different parts of the field. Mr. Plumfieldwas just about setting off to work his way to the other side of the lotwhen they came up with him. 

Fleda was not ashamed of her aunt Miriam's son, even before such criticaleyes as those of her uncle. Farmer-like as were his dress and air, theyshewed him nevertheless a well-built, fine-looking man, with theindependent bearing of one who has never recognised any but mental ormoral superiority. His face might have been called handsome; there was atleast manliness in every line of it; and his excellent dark eye shewed anequal mingling of kindness and acute common sense. Let Mr. Plumfield wearwhat clothes he would one felt obliged to follow Burns' notable exampleand pay respect to the _man_ that was in them. 

"A fine day, sir, " he remarked to Mr. Rossitur after they hadshaken hands. 

"Yes, and I will not interrupt you but a minute. Mr. Plumfield, I am inwant of hands, --hands for this very business you are about, ploughing, --and Fleda says you know everybody; so I have come to ask ifyou can direct me. "

"Heads or hands, do you want?" said Seth, clearing his boot-sole from somesuperfluous soil upon the share of his plough. 

"Why both, to tell you the truth. I want hands, and teams, for thatmatter, for I have only two, and I suppose there is no time to be lost. And I want very much to get a person thoroughly acquainted with thebusiness to go along with my man. He is an Irishman, and I am afraid notvery well accustomed to the ways of doing things here. "

"Like enough, " said Seth;--"and the worst of 'em is you can't learn 'em. "

"Well!--can you help me?"

"Mr. Douglass!"--said Seth, raising his voice to speak to one of hisassistants who was approaching them, --"Mr. Douglass!--you're holding that'ere plough a little too obleekly for my grounds. "

"Very good, Mr. Plumfield!" said the person called upon, with a quickaccent that intimated, "If you don't know what is best it is not myaffair!"--the voice very peculiar, seeming to come from no lower than thetop of his throat, with a guttural roll of the words. 

"Is that Earl Douglass?" said Fleda. 

"You remember him?" said her cousin smiling. "He's just where he was, andhis wife too. --Well Mr. Rossitur, 'tain't very easy to find what you wantjust at this season, when most folks have their hands full and help is alltaken up. I'll see if I can't come down and give you a lift myself withthe ploughing, for a day or two, as I'm pretty beforehand with the spring, but you'll want more than that. I ain't sure--I haven't more hands thanI'll want myself, but I think it is possible Squire Springer may spare youone of his'n. He ain't taking in any new land this year, and he's gotthings pretty snug; I guess he don't care to do any more thancommon--anyhow you might try. You know where uncle Joshua lives, Fleda?Well Philetus--what now?"

They had been slowly walking along the fence towards the furthest of Mr. Plumfield's coadjutors, upon whom his eye had been curiously fixed as hewas speaking; a young man who was an excellent sample of what is called"the raw material. " He had just come to a sudden stop in the midst of thefurrow when his employer called to him; and he answered somewhatlack-a-daisically, "Why I've broke this here clevis--I ha'n't touched anything nor nothing, and it broke right in teu!"

"What do you s'pose'll be done now?" said Mr. Plumfield gravely going upto examine the fracture. 

"Well 'twa'n't none of my doings, " said the young man. "I ha'n't touchedanything nor nothing--and the mean thing broke right in teu. 'Tain't sohandy as the old kind o' plough, by a long jump. "

"You go 'long down to the house and ask my mother for a new clevis; andtalk about ploughs when you know how to hold 'em, " said Mr. Plumfield. 

"It don't look so difficult a matter, " said Mr. Rossitur, --"but I am anovice myself. What is the principal thing to be attended to in ploughing, Mr. Plumfield?"

There was a twinkle in Seth's eye, as he looked down upon a piece of strawhe was breaking to bits, which Fleda, who could see, interpretedthoroughly. 

"Well, " said he, looking up, --"the breadth of the stitches and the widthand depth of the farrow must be regulated according to the nature of thesoil and the lay of the ground, and what you're ploughing for;--there'sstubble ploughing, and breaking up old lays, and ploughing for fallowcrops, and ribbing, where the land has been some years in grass, --and soon; and the plough must be geared accordingly, and so as not to take toomuch land nor go out of the land; and after that the best part of the workis to guide the plough right and run the furrows straight and even. "

He spoke with the most impenetrable gravity, while Mr. Rossitur lookedblank and puzzled. Fleda could hardly keep her countenance. 

"That row of poles, " said Mr. Rossitur presently, --"are they to guide youin running the furrow straight?"

"Yes sir--they are to mark out the crown of the stitch. I keep 'em rightbetween the horses and plough 'em down one after another. It's a kind ofway country folks play at ninepins, " said Seth, with a glance halfinquisitive, half sly, at his questioner. 

Mr. Rossitur asked no more. Fleda felt a little uneasy again. It wasrather a longish walk to uncle Joshua's, and hardly a word spoken oneither side. 

The old gentleman was "to hum;" and while Fleda went back into some remotepart of the house to see "aunt Syra, " Mr. Rossitur set forth his errand. 

"Well, --and so you're looking for help, eh?" said uncle Joshua when he hadheard him through. 

"Yes sir, --I want help. "

"And a team too?"

"So I have said, sir, " Mr. Rossitur answered rather shortly. "Can yousupply me?"

"Well, --I don't know as I can, " said the old man, rubbing his hands slowlyover his knees. --"You ha'n't got much done yet, I s'pose?"

"Nothing. I came the day before yesterday. "

"Land's in rather poor condition in some parts, ain't it?"

"I really am not able to say, sir, --till I have seen it. "

"It ought to be, " said the old gentleman shaking his head, --the fellowthat was there last didn't do right by it--he worked the land too hard, and didn't put on it anywhere near what he had ought to--I guess you'llfind it pretty poor in some places. He was trying to get all he couldout of it, I s'pose. There's a good deal of fencing to be done too, ain't there?"

"All that there was, sir, --I have done none since I came. "

"Seth Plumfield got through ploughing yet?"

"We found him at it. "

"Ay, he's a smart man. What are you going to do, Mr. Rossitur, with thatpiece of marsh land that lies off to the south-east of the barn, beyondthe meadow, between the hills? I had just sich another, and I"--

"Before I do anything with the wet land, Mr. ---- I am so unhappy as tohave forgotten your name?--"

"Springer, sir, " said the old gentleman, --"Springer--Joshua Springer. Thatis my name, sir. "

"Mr. Springer, before I do anything with the wet land I should like tohave something growing on the dry; and as that is the present matter inhand will you be so good as to let me know whether I can have yourassistance. "

"Well I don't know, --" said the old gentleman; "there ain't anybody tosend but my boy Lucas, and I don't know whether he would make up his mindto go or not. "

"Well sir!"--said Mr. Rossitur rising, --"in that case I will bid you goodmorning. I am sorry to have given you the trouble. "

"Stop, " said the old man, --"stop a bit. Just sit down--I'll go in and seeabout it. "

Mr. Rossitur sat down, and uncle Joshua left him to go into the kitchenand consult his wife, without whose counsel, of late years especially, herarely did anything. They never varied in opinion, but aunt Syra's witssupplied the steel edge to his heavy metal. 

"I don't know but Lucas would as leave go as not, " the old gentlemanremarked on coming back from this sharpening process, --"and I can make outto spare him, I guess. You calculate to keep him, I s'pose?"

"Until this press is over; and perhaps longer, if I find he can dowhat I want. "

"You'll find him pretty handy at a' most anything; but I mean, --I s'posehe'll get his victuals with you. "

"I have made no arrangements of the kind, " said Mr. Rossitur controllingwith some effort his rebelling muscles. "Donohan is boarded somewhereelse, and for the present it will be best for all in my employ to followthe same plan. "

"Very good, " said uncle Joshua, "it makes no difference, --only ofcourse in that case it is worth more, when a man has to find himselfand his team. "

"Whatever it is worth I am quite ready to pay, sir. "

"Very good! You and Lucas can agree about that. He'll be along inthe morning. "

So they parted; and Fleda understood the impatient quick step with whichher uncle got over the ground. 

"Is that man a brother of your grandfather?"

"No sir--Oh no! only his brother-in-law. My grandmother was his sister, but they weren't in the least like each other. "

"I should think they could not, " said Mr. Rossitur. 

"Oh they were not!" Fleda repeated. "I have always heard that. "

After paying her respects to aunt Syra in the kitchen she had come backtime enough to hear the end of the discourse in the parlour, and had feltits full teaching. Doubts returned, and her spirits were sobered again. Not another word was spoken till they reached home; when Fleda seized uponHugh and went off to the rock after her forsaken pie. 

"Have you succeeded!' asked Mrs. Rossitur while they were gone. 

"Yes--that is, a cousin has kindly consented to come and help me. "

"A cousin!" said Mrs. Rossitur. 

"Ay, --we're in a nest of cousins. "

"In a _what_, Mr. Rossitur?"

"In a nest of cousins; and I had rather be in a nest of rooks. I wonder ifI shall be expected to ask my ploughmen to dinner! Every second man is acousin, and the rest are uncles. "

Chapter XIX. 

 Whilst skies are blue and bright. Whilst flowers are gay, Whilst eyes that change ere night Make glad the day; Whilst yet the calm hours creep, Dream thou--and from thy sleep Then wake to weep. 

 Shelley. 

The days of summer flew by, for the most part lightly, over the heads ofHugh and Fleda. The farm was little to them but a place of pretty andpicturesque doings and the scene of nameless delights by wood and stream, in all which, all that summer, Fleda rejoiced; pulling Hugh along with hereven when sometimes he would rather have been poring over his books athome. She laughingly said it was good for him; and one half at least ofevery fine day their feet were abroad. They knew nothing practically ofthe dairy but that it was an inexhaustible source of the sweetest milk andbutter, and indirectly of the richest custards and syllabubs. The flock ofsheep that now and then came in sight running over the hill-side, were tothem only an image of pastoral beauty and a soft link with the beauty ofthe past. The two children took the very cream of country life. The booksthey had left were read with greater eagerness than ever. When the weatherwas "too lovely to stay in the house, " Shakspeare or Massillon or Sully orthe "Curiosities of Literature" or "Corinne" or Milner's Church History, for Fleda's reading was as miscellaneous as ever, was enjoyed under theflutter of leaves and along with the rippling of the mountain spring;whilst King curled himself up on the skirt of his mistress's gown andslept for company; hardly more thoughtless and fearless of harm than histwo companions. Now and then Fleda opened her eyes to see that her unclewas moody and not like himself, and that her aunt's gentle face wasclouded in consequence; and she could not sometimes help the suspicionthat he was not making a farmer of himself; but the next summer wind wouldblow these thoughts away, or the next look of her flowers would put themout of her head. The whole courtyard in front of the house had been givenup to her peculiar use as a flower-garden, and there she and Hugh madethemselves very busy. 

But the summer-time came to an end. 

It was a November morning, and Fleda had been doing some of the last jobsin her flower-beds. She was coming in with spirits as bright as hercheeks, when her aunt's attitude and look, more than usually spiritless, suddenly checked them. Fleda gave her a hopeful kiss and asked for theexplanation. 

"How bright you look, darling!" said her aunt, stroking her cheek. 

"Yes, but you don't, aunt Lucy. What has happened?"

"Mary and Jane are going away. "

"Going away!--What for?"

"They are tired of the place--don't like it, I suppose. "

"Very foolish of them! Well, aunt Lucy, what matter? we can get plentymore in their room. "

"Not from the city--not possible; they would not come at this time ofyear. "

"Sure?--Well, then here we can at any rate. "

"Here! But what sort of persons shall we get here? And youruncle--just think!"--

"O but I think we can manage, " said Fleda. "When do Mary and Janewant to go?"

"Immediately!--to-morrow--they are not willing to wait till we can getsomebody. Think of it!"

"Well let them go, " said Fleda, --"the sooner the better. "

"Yes, and I am sure I don't want to keep them; but--" and Mrs. Rossiturwrung her hands--"I haven't money enough to pay them quite, --and theywon't go without it. "

Fleda felt shocked--so much that she could not help looking it. 

"But can't uncle Rolf give it you?"

Mrs. Rossitur shook her head. "I have asked him. "

"How much is wanting?"

"Twenty-five. Think of his not being able to give me that!"--Mrs. Rossitur burst into tears. 

"Now don't, aunt Lucy!"--said Fleda, guarding well her owncomposure;--"you know he has had a great deal to spend upon the farm andpaying men, and all, and it is no wonder that he should be a little shortjust now, --now cheer up!--we can get along with this anyhow. "

"I asked him, " said Mrs. Rossitur through her tears, "when he would beable to give it to me; and he told me he didn't know!--"

Fleda ventured no reply but some of the tenderest caresses that lips andarms could give; and then sprang away and in three minutes was at heraunt's side again. 

"Look here, aunt Lucy, " said she gently, --"here is twenty dollars, if youcan manage the five. "

"Where did you get this?" Mrs. Rossitur exclaimed. 

"I got it honestly. It is mine, aunt Lucy, " said Fleda smiling. "UncleOrrin gave me some money just before we came away, to do what I likedwith; and I haven't wanted to do anything with it till now. "

But this seemed to hurt Mrs. Rossitur more than all the rest. Leaning herhead forward upon Fleda's breast and clasping her arms about her she criedworse tears than Fleda had seen her shed. If it had not been for theemergency Fleda would have broken down utterly too. 

"That it should have come to this!--I can't take it, dear Fleda!"--

"Yes you must, aunt Lucy, " said Fleda soothingly. "I couldn't do anythingelse with it that would give me so much pleasure. I don't want it--itwould lie in my drawer till I don't know when. We'll let these people beoff as soon as they please. Don't take it so--uncle Rolf will have moneyagain--only just now he is out, I suppose--and we'll get somebody else inthe kitchen that will do nicely--you see if we don't. "

Mrs. Rossitur's embrace said what words were powerless to say. 

"But I don't know how we're to find any one here in the country--I don'tknow who'll go to look--I am sure your uncle won't want to, --and Hughwouldn't know--"

"I'll go, " said Fleda cheerfully;--"Hugh and I. We can do famously--ifyou'll trust me. I won't promise to bring home a French cook. "

"No indeed--we must take what we can get. But you can get no one to-day, and they will be off by the morning's coach--what shall we doto-morrow, --for dinner? Your uncle--"

"I'll get dinner, " said Fleda caressing her;--"I'll take all that onmyself. It sha'n't be a bad dinner either. Uncle Rolf will like what I dofor him I dare say. Now cheer up, aunt Lucy!--do--that's all I ask of you. Won't you?--for me?"

She longed to speak a word of that quiet hope with which in every troubleshe secretly comforted herself--she wanted to whisper the words that werethat moment in her own mind, "Truly I know that it shall be well with themthat fear God;"--but her natural reserve and timidity kept her lips shut;to her grief. 

The women were paid off and dismissed and departed in the next day's coachfrom Montepoole. Fleda stood at the front door to see them go, with acurious sense that there was an empty house at her back, and indeed uponher back. And in spite of all the cheeriness of her tone to her aunt, shewas not without some shadowy feeling that soberer times might be comingupon them. 

"What is to be done now?" said Hugh close beside her. 

"O we are going to get somebody else, " said Fleda. 

"Where?"

"I don't know!--You and I are going to find out. "

"You and I!--"

"Yes. We are going out after dinner, Hugh dear, " said she turning herbright merry face towards him, --"to pick up somebody. "

Linking her arm within his she went back to the deserted kitchen premisesto see how her promise about taking Mary's place was to be fulfilled. 

"Do you know where to look?" said Hugh. 

"I've a notion;--but the first thing is dinner, that uncle Rolf mayn'tthink the world is turning topsy turvy. There is nothing at all here, Hugh!--nothing in the world but bread--it's a blessing there is that. Uncle Rolf will have to be satisfied with a coffee dinner to-day, and I'llmake him the most superb omelette--that my skill is equal to! Hugh dear, you shall set the table. --You don't know how?--then you shall make thetoast, and I will set it the first thing of all. You perceive it is wellto know how to do everything, Mr. Hugh Rossitur. "

"Where did you learn to make omelettes?" said Hugh with laughingadmiration, as Fleda bared two pretty arms and ran about the veryimpersonation of good-humoured activity. The table was set; the coffee wasmaking; and she had him established at the fire with two great plates, apile of slices of bread, and a toasting-iron. 

"Where? Oh don't you remember the days of Mrs. Renney? I have seen Emilemake them. And by dint of trying to teach Mary this summer I have taughtmyself. There is no knowing, you see, what a person may come to. "

"I wonder what father would say if he knew you had made all the coffeethis summer!"

"That is an unnecessary speculation, my dear Hugh, as I have no intentionof telling him. But see!--that is the way with speculators! 'While they goon refining'--the toast burns!"

The coffee and the omelette and the toast and Mr. Rossitur's favouriteFrench salad, were served with beautiful accuracy; and he was quitesatisfied. But aunt Lucy looked sadly at Fleda's flushed face and saw thather appetite seemed to have gone off in the steam of her preparations. Fleda had a kind of heart-feast however which answered as well. 

Hugh harnessed the little wagon, for no one was at hand to do it, and heand Fleda set off as early as possible after dinner. Fleda's thoughts hadturned to her old acquaintance Cynthia Gall, who she knew was out ofemployment and staying at home somewhere near Montepoole. They got theexact direction from aunt Miriam who approved of her plan. 

It was a pleasant peaceful drive they had. They never were alone together, they two, but vexations seemed to lose their power or be forgotten; and anatmosphere of quietness gather about them, the natural element of bothhearts. It might refuse its presence to one, but the attraction of bothtogether was too strong to be resisted. 

Miss Cynthia's present abode was in an out of the way place, and a gooddistance off; they were some time in reaching it. The barest-looking anddingiest of houses, set plump in a green field, without one softening orhome-like touch from any home-feeling within; not a flower, not a shrub, not an out-house, not a tree near. One would have thought it a desertedhouse, but that a thin wreath of smoke lazily stole up from one of thebrown chimneys; and graceful as that was it took nothing from the hardstern barrenness below which told of a worse poverty than that of paintand glazing. 

"Can this be the place?" said Hugh. 

"It must be. You stay here with the horse, and I'll go in and seek myfortune. --Don't promise much, " said Fleda shaking her head. 

The house stood back from the road. Fleda picked her way to it along alittle footpath which seemed to be the equal property of the geese. Herknock brought an invitation to "come in. "

An elderly woman was sitting there whose appearance did not mend thegeneral impression. She had the same dull and unhopeful look that herhouse had. 

"Does Mrs. Gall live here?"

"I do, " said this person. 

"Is Cynthia at home?"

The woman upon this raised her voice and directed it at an inner door. 

"Lucindy!" said she in a diversity of tones, --"Lucindy!--tell Cynthyhere's somebody wants to see her. "--But no one answered, and throwing thework from her lap the woman muttered she would go and see, and left Fledawith a cold invitation to sit down. 

Dismal work! Fleda wished herself out of it. The house did not lookpoverty-stricken within, but poverty must have struck to the very heart, Fleda thought, where there was no apparent cherishing of anything. Therewas no absolute distress visible, neither was there a sign of real comfortor of a happy home. She could not fancy it was one. 

She waited so long that she was sure Cynthia did not hold herself inreadiness to see company. And when the lady at last came in it was withvery evident marks of "smarting up" about her. 

"Why it's Flidda Ringgan!" said Miss Gall after a dubious look or two ather visitor. "How _do_ you do? I didn't 'spect to see _you_. How much youhave growed!"

She looked really pleased and gave Fleda's hand a very strong grasp asshe shook it. 

"There ain't no fire here to-day, " pursued Cynthy, paying her attentionsto the fireplace, --"we let it go down on account of our being all busy outat the back of the house. I guess you're cold, ain't you?"

Fleda said no, and remembered that the woman she had first seen wascertainly not busy at the back of the house nor anywhere else but in thatvery room, where she had found her deep in a pile of patchwork. 

"I heerd you had come to the old place. Were you glad to be back again?"Cynthy asked with a smile that might be taken to express some doubt uponthe subject. 

"I was very glad to see it again. "

"I hain't seen it in a great while. I've been staying to hum this yearor two. I got tired o' going out, " Cynthy remarked, with again a smilevery peculiar and Fleda thought a little sardonical. She did not knowhow to answer. 

"Well, how do you come along down yonder?" Cynthy went on, making a greatfuss with the shovel and tongs to very little purpose. "Ha' you come allthe way from Queechy?"

"Yes. I came on purpose to see you, Cynthy. "

Without staying to ask what for, Miss Gall now went out to "the back ofthe house" and came running in again with a live brand pinched in thetongs, and a long tail of smoke running after it. Fleda would havecompounded for no fire and no choking. The choking was only useful to giveher time to think. She was uncertain how to bring in her errand. 

"And how is Mis' Plumfield?" said Cynthy, in an interval of blowingthe brand. 

"She is quite well; but Cynthy, you need not have taken all that troublefor me. I cannot stay but a few minutes. "

"There is wood enough!" Cynthia remarked with one of her grim smiles; anassertion Fleda could not help doubting. Indeed she thought Miss Gallhad grown altogether more disagreeable than she used to be in old times. Why, she could not divine, unless the souring effect had gone on withthe years. 

"And what's become of Earl Douglass and Mis' Douglass? I hain't heerdnothin' of 'em this great while. I always told your grandpa he'd ha' savedhimself a great deal o' trouble if he'd ha' let Earl Douglass take hold ofthings. You ha'n't got Mr. Didenhover into the works again I guess, haveyou? He was there a good spell after your grandpa died. "

"I haven't seen Mrs. Douglass, " said Fleda. "But Cynthy, what do you thinkI have come here for?"

"I don't know, " said Cynthy, with another of her peculiar looks directedat the fire. "I s'pose you want someh'n nother of me. "

"I have come to see if you wouldn't come and live with my aunt, Mrs. Rossitur. We are left alone and want somebody very much; and I thought Iwould find you out and see if we couldn't have you, first of all, --beforeI looked for anybody else. "

Cynthy was absolutely silent. She sat before the fire, her feet stretchedout towards it as far as they would go and her arms crossed, and notmoving her steady gaze at the smoking wood, or the chimney-back, whicheverit might be; but there was in the corners of her mouth the threatening ofa smile that Fleda did not at all like. 

"What do you say to it, Cynthy?"

"I reckon you'd best get somebody else, " said Miss Gall with a kind ofcondescending dryness, and the smile shewing a little more. 

"Why?" said Fleda, "I would a great deal rather have an old friend than astranger. "

"Be you the housekeeper?" said Cynthy a little abruptly. 

"O I am a little of everything, " said Fleda;--"cook and housekeeper andwhatever comes first. I want you to come and be housekeeper, Cynthy. "

"I reckon Mis' Rossitur don't have much to do with her help, does she?"said Cynthy after a pause, during which the corners of her mouth neverchanged. The tone of piqued independence let some light into Fleda's mind. 

"She is not strong enough to do much herself, and she wants some onethat will take all the trouble from her. You'd have the field all toyourself, Cynthy. "

"Your aunt sets two tables I calculate, don't she?"

"Yes--my uncle doesn't like to have any but his own family around him. "

"I guess I shouldn't suit!" said Miss Gall, after another little pause, and stooping very diligently to pick up some scattered shreds from thefloor. But Fleda could see the flushed face and the smile which pride anda touch of spiteful pleasure in the revenge she was taking madeparticularly hateful. She needed no more convincing that Miss Gall"wouldn't suit;" but she was sorry at the same time for the perversenessthat had so needlessly disappointed her; and went rather pensively backagain down the little foot-path to the waiting wagon. 

"This is hardly the romance of life, dear Hugh, " she said as sheseated herself. 

"Haven't you succeeded?"

Fleda shook her head. 

"What's the matter?"

"O--pride, --injured pride of station! The wrong of not coming to our tableand putting her knife into our butter. "

"And living in such a place!" said Hugh. 

"You don't know what a place. They are miserably poor, I am sure; andyet--I suppose that the less people have to be proud of the more they makeof what is left. Poor people!--"

"Poor Fleda!" said Hugh looking at her. "What will you do now?"

"O we'll do somehow, " said she cheerfully. "Perhaps it is just as wellafter all, for Cynthy isn't the smartest woman in the world. I remembergrandpa used to say he didn't believe she could get a bean into the middleof her bread. "

"A bean into the middle of her bread!" said Hugh. 

But Fleda's sobriety was quite banished by his mystified look, and herlaugh rang along over the fields before she answered him. 

That laugh had blown away all the vapours, for the present at least, andthey jogged on again very sociably. 

"Do you know, " said Fleda, after a while of silent enjoyment in thechanges of scene and the mild autumn weather, --"I am not sure that itwasn't very well for me that we came away from New York. "

"I dare say it was, " said Hugh, --"since we came; but what makes you sayso?"

"I don't mean that it was for anybody else, but for me. I think I was alittle proud of our nice things there. "

"_You, _ Fleda!" said Hugh with a look of appreciating affection. 

"Yes I was, a little. It didn't make the greatest part of my love forthem, I am sure; but I think I had a little, undefined, sort of pleasurein the feeling that they were better and prettier than other people had. "

"You are sure you are not proud of your little King Charles now?"said Hugh. 

"I don't know but I am, " said Fleda laughing. "But how much pleasanter itis here on almost every account. Look at the beautiful sweep of the groundoff among those hills--isn't it? What an exquisite horizon line, Hugh!"

"And what a sky over it!"

"Yes--I love these fall skies. Oh I would a great deal rather be here thanin any city that ever was built!"

"So would I, " said Hugh. "But the thing is--"

Fleda knew quite well what the thing was, and did not answer. 

"But my dear Hugh, " she said presently, --"I don't remember that sweep ofhills when we were coming?"

"You were going the other way, " said Hugh. 

"Yes but, Hugh, --I am sure we did not pass these grain fields. We musthave got into the wrong road. "

Hugh drew the reins, and looked, and doubted. 

"There is a house yonder, " said Fleda, --"we had better drive on and ask. "

"There is no house--"

"Yes there is--behind that piece of wood. Look over it--don't you see alight curl of blue smoke against the sky?--We never passed that house andwood, I am certain. We ought to make haste, for the afternoons are shortnow, and you will please to recollect there is nobody at home to get tea. "

"I hope Lucas will get upon one of his everlasting talks with father, "said Hugh. 

"And that it will hold till we get home, " said Fleda. "It will be thehappiest use Lucas has made of his tongue in a good while. "

Just as they stopped before a substantial-looking farm-house a man camefrom the other way and stopped there too, with his hand upon the gate. 

"How far are we from Queechy, sir?" said Hugh. 

"You're not from it at all, sir, " said the man politely. "You're inQueechy, sir, at present. "

"Is this the right road from Montepoole to Queechy village?"

"It is not, sir. It is a very tortuous direction indeed. Have I not thepleasure of speaking to Mr. Rossitur's young gentleman?"

Mr. Rossitur's young gentleman acknowledged his relationship and beggedthe favour of being set in the right way home. 

"With much pleasure! You have been shewing Miss Rossitur the picturesquecountry about Montepoole?"

"My cousin and I have been there on business, and lost our waycoming back. "

"Ah I dare say. Very easy. First time you have been there?"

"Yes sir, and we are in a hurry to get home. "

"Well sir, --you know the road by Deacon Patterson's?--comes out just abovethe lake?"

Hugh did not remember. 

"Well--you keep this road straight on, --I'm sorry you are in a hurry, --youkeep on till--do you know when you strike Mr. Harris's ground?"

No, Hugh knew nothing about it, nor Fleda. 

"Well I'll tell you now how it is, " said the stranger, "if you'll permitme. You and your--a--cousin--come in and do us the pleasure of taking somerefreshment--I know my sister'll have her table set out by this time--andI'll do myself the honour of introducing you to--a--these strange roadsafterwards. "

"Thank you, sir, but that trouble is unnecessary--cannot you direct us?"

"No trouble--indeed sir, I assure you, I should esteem it a favour--veryhighly. I--I am Dr. Quackenboss, sir; you may have heard--"

"Thank you, Dr. Quackenboss, but we have no time this afternoon--we arevery anxious to reach home as soon as possible; if you would be be so goodas to put us in the way. "

[Illustration: "Well, sir, you know the road by Deacon Patterson's?"]

"I--really sir, I am afraid--to a person ignorant of the variouslocalities--You will lose no time--I will just hitch your horse here, andI'll have mine ready by the time this young lady has rested. Miss--a--won't you join with me? I assure you I will not put you to theexpense of a minute--Thank you!--Mr. Harden!--Just clap the saddle on toLollypop and have him up here in three seconds. --Thank you!--My dearMiss--a--won't you take my arm? I am gratified, I assure you. "

Yielding to the apparent impossibility of getting anything out of Dr. Quackenboss, except civility, and to the real difficulty of disappointingsuch very earnest good will, Fleda and Hugh did what older persons wouldnot have done, --alighted and walked up to the house. 

"This is quite a fortuitous occurrence, " the doctor went on:--"I haveoften had the pleasure of seeing Mr Rossitur's family in church--in thelittle church at Queechy Run--and that enabled me to recognise your cousinas soon as I saw him in the wagon. Perhaps Miss--a--you may have possiblyheard of my name?--Quackenboss--I don't know that you understood--"

"I have heard it, sir. "

"My Irishmen, Miss--a--my Irish labourers, can't get hold of but one endof it; they call me Boss--ha, ha, ha!"

Fleda hoped his patients did not get hold of the other end of it, andtrembled, visibly. 

"Hard to pull a man's name to pieces before his face, --ha, ha! but Iam--a--not one thing myself, --a kind of heterogynous--I am a piece of aphysician and a little in the agricultural line also; so it's all fair. "

"The Irish treat my name as hardly, Dr. Quackenboss--they call me nothingbut Miss Ring-again. "

And then Fleda could laugh, and laugh she did, so heartily that the doctorwas delighted. 

"Ring-again! ha, ha!--Very good!--Well, Miss--a--I shouldn't think thatanybody in your service would ever--a--ever let you put your name inpractice. "

But Fleda's delight at the excessive gallantry and awkwardness of thisspeech was almost too much; or, as the doctor pleasantly remarked, hernerves were too many for her; and every one of them was dancing by thetime they reached the hall-door. The doctor's flourishes lost not a bit oftheir angularity from his tall ungainly figure and a lantern-jawed face, the lower member of which had now and then a somewhat lateral play when hewas speaking, which curiously aided the quaint effect of his words. Heushered his guests into the house, seeming in a flow of self-gratulation. 

The supper-table was spread, sure enough, and hovering about it was thedoctor's sister; a lady in whom Fleda only saw a Dutch face, with eyesthat made no impression, disagreeable fair hair, and a string of giltbeads round her neck. A painted yellow floor under foot, a room thatlooked excessively _wooden_ and smelt of cheese, bare walls and awell-filled table, was all that she took in besides. 

"I have the honour of presenting you to my sister, " said the doctor withsuavity. "Flora, the Irish domestics of this young lady call her name MissRing-again--if she will let us know how it ought to be called we shall behappy to be informed. "

Dr. Quackenboss was made happy. 

"Miss _Ringgan_--and this young gentleman is young Mr. Rossitur--thegentleman that has taken Squire Ringgan's old place. We were sofortunate as to have them lose their way this afternoon, coming fromthe Pool, and they have just stepped in to see if you can't find 'em amouthful of something they can eat, while Lollypop is a getting ready tosee them home. "

Poor Miss Flora immediately disappeared into the kitchen, to order a bitof superior cheese and to have some slices of ham put on the gridiron, and then coming back to the common room went rummaging about fromcupboard to cupboard, in search of cake and sweetmeats. Fleda protestedand begged in vain. 

"She was so sorry she hadn't knowed, " Miss Flora said, --"she'd ha' hadsome cakes made that maybe they could have eaten, but the bread was dry;and the cheese wa'n't as good somehow as the last one they cut, maybe MissRinggan would prefer a piece of newer-made, if she liked it; and shehadn't had good luck with her preserves last summer--the most of 'em hadfomented--she thought it was the damp weather, but there was some stewedpears that maybe she would be so good as to approve--and there was someham! whatever else it was it was hot!--"

It was impossible, it was impossible, to do dishonour to all thishospitality and kindness and pride that was brought out for them. Early orlate, they must eat, in mere gratitude. The difficulty was to avoid eatingeverything. Hugh and Fleda managed to compound the matter with each other, one taking the cake and pears, and the other the ham and cheese. In themidst of all this over flow of good will Fleda bethought her to ask ifMiss Flora knew of any girl or woman that would go out to service. MissFlora took the matter into grave consideration as soon as her anxiety onthe subject of their cups of tea had subsided. She did not commit herself, but thought it possible that one of the Finns might be willing to go out. 

"Where do they live?"

"It's--a--not far from Queechy Run, " said the doctor, whose now and thenhesitation in the midst of his speech was never for want of a thought butsimply and merely for the best words to clothe it in. 

"Is it in our way to-night?"

He could make it so, the doctor said, with pleasure, for it would give himpermission to gallant them a little further. 

They had several miles yet to go, and the sun went down as they werepassing through Queechy Run. Under that still cool clear autumn sky Fledawould have enjoyed the ride very much, but that her unfulfilled errand wasweighing upon her, and she feared her aunt and uncle might want herservices before she could be at home. Still, late as it was, shedetermined to stop for a minute at Mrs. Finn's and go home with a clearconscience. At her door, and not till there, the doctor was prevailed uponto part company, the rest of the way being perfectly plain. 

"Not I!--at least I think not. But, Hugh, don't say anything about allthis to aunt Lucy. She would be troubled. "

Fleda had certainly when she came away no notion of improving heracquaintance with Miss Anastasia; but the supper, and the breakfast andthe dinner of the next day, with all the nameless and almost numberlessduties of housework that filled up the time between, wrought her to avery strong sense of the necessity of having some kind of "help" soon. Mrs. Rossitur wearied herself excessively with doing very little, andthen looked so sad to see Fleda working on, that it was moredisheartening and harder to bear than the fatigue. Hugh was a mostfaithful and invaluable coadjutor, and his lack of strength was like herown made up by energy of will; but neither of them could bear the strainlong; and when the final clearing away of the dinner-dishes gave her abreathing-time she resolved to dress herself and put her thimble in herpocket and go over to Miss Finn's quilting. Miss Lucy might not be likeMiss Anastasia; and if she were, anything that had hands and feet to moveinstead of her own would be welcome. 

Hugh went with her to the door and was to come for her at sunset. 

Chapter XX. 

 With superfluity of breeding First makes you sick, and then with feeding. 

 Jenyns. 

Miss Anastasia was a little surprised and a good deal gratified, Fledasaw, by her coming, and played the hostess with great benignity. Thequilting-frame was stretched in an upper room, not in the long kitchen, to Fleda's joy; most of the company were already seated at it, and shehad to go through a long string of introductions before she was permittedto take her place. First of all Earl Douglass's wife, who rose up andtaking both Fleda's hands squeezed and shook them heartily, giving herwith eye and lip a most genial welcome. This lady had every look of beinga very _clever_ woman; "a manager" she was said to be; and indeed hervery nose had a little pinch which prepared one for nothing superfluousabout her. Even her dress could not have wanted another breadth from theskirt and had no fulness to spare about the body. Neat as a pin though;and a well-to-do look through it all. Miss Quackenboss Fleda recognisedas an old friend, gilt beads and all. Catherine Douglass had grown up toa pretty girl during the five years since Fleda had left Queechy, andgave her a greeting half smiling, half shy. There was a little moreaffluence about the flow of her drapery, and the pink ribbon round herneck was confined by a little dainty Jew's harp of a brooch; she had hermother's pinch of the nose too. Then there were two other youngladies;--Miss Letitia Ann Thornton, a tall grown girl in pantalettes, evidently a would-be aristocrat from the air of her head and lip, with awell-looking face and looking well knowing of the same, and sporting neatlittle white cuffs at her wrists, the only one who bore such adistinction. The third of these damsels, Jessie Healy, impressed Fledawith having been brought up upon coarse meat and having grown heavy inconsequence; the other two were extremely fair and delicate, both incomplexion and feature. Her aunt Syra Fleda recognised without particularpleasure and managed to seat herself at the quilt with the sewing-womanand Miss Hannah between them. Miss Lucy Finn she found seated at herright hand, but after all the civilities she had just gone through Fledahad not courage just then to dash into business with her, and Miss Lucyherself stitched away and was dumb. 

So were the rest of the party--rather. The presence of the new-comerseemed to have the effect of a spell. Fleda could not think they had beenas silent before her joining them as they were for some time afterwards. The young ladies were absolutely mute, and conversation seemed to flageven among the elder ones; and if Fleda ever raised her eyes from thequilt to look at somebody she was sure to see somebody's eyes looking ather, with a curiosity well enough defined and mixed with a more _or less_amount of benevolence and pleasure. Fleda was growing very industrious andfeeling her cheeks grow warm, when the checked stream of conversationbegan to take revenge by turning its tide upon her. 

"Are you glad to be back to Queechy, Fleda?" said Mrs. Douglass from theopposite far end of the quilt. 

"Yes ma'am, " said Fleda, smiling back her answer, --"on some accounts. "

"Ain't she growed like her father, Mis' Douglass?" said the sewing woman. "Do you recollect Walter Ringgan--what a handsome feller he was?"

The two opposite girls immediately found something to say to each other. 

"She ain't a bit more like him than she is like her mother, " said Mrs. Douglass, biting off the end of her thread energetically. "Amy Ringgan wasa sweet good woman as ever was in this town. "

Again her daughter's glance and smile went over to the speaker. 

"You stay in Queechy and live like Queechy folks do, " Mrs. Douglass added, nodding encouragingly, "and you'll beat both on 'em. "

But this speech jarred, and Fleda wished it had not been spoken. 

"How does your uncle like farming?" said aunt Syra. 

A home-thrust, which Fleda parried by saying he had hardly got accustomedto it yet. 

"What's been his business? what has he been doing all his life till now?"said the sewing-woman. 

Fleda replied that he had had no business; and after the minds of thecompany had had time to entertain this statement she was startled by MissLucy's voice at her elbow. 

"It seems kind o' curious, don't it, that a man should live to beforty or fifty years old and not know anything of the earth he getshis bread from?"

"What makes you think he don't?" said Miss Thornton rather tartly. 

"She wa'n't speaking o' nobody, " said aunt Syra. 

"I was--I was speaking of _man_--I was speaking abstractly, " said Fleda'sright hand neighbour. 

"What's abstractly?" said Miss Anastasia scornfully. 

"Where do you get hold of such hard words, Lucy?" said Mrs. Douglass. 

"I don't know, Mis' Douglass;--they come to me;--it's practice, I suppose. I had no intention of being obscure. "

"One kind o' word's as easy as another I suppose, when you're used to it, ain't it?" said the sewing-woman. 

"What's abstractly?" said the mistress of the house again. 

"Look in the dictionary, if you want to know, " said her sister. 

"I don't want to know--I only want you to tell. "

"When do you get time for it, Lucy? ha'n't you nothing else to practise?"pursued Mrs. Douglass. 

"Yes, Mis' Douglass; but then there are times for exertion, and othertimes less disposable; and when I feel thoughtful, or low, I commonlyretire to my room and contemplate the stars or write a composition. "

The sewing-woman greeted this speech with an unqualified ha! ha! and Fledainvoluntarily raised her head to look at the last speaker; but there wasnothing to be noticed about her, except that she was in rather nicer orderthan the rest of the Finn family. 

"Did you get home safe last night?" inquired Miss Quackenboss, bendingforward over the quilt to look down to Fleda. 

Fleda thanked her, and replied that they had been overturned and hadseveral ribs broken. 

"And where have you been, Fleda, all this while?" said Mrs. Douglass. 

Fleda told, upon which all the quilting-party raised their headssimultaneously to take another review of her. 

"Your uncle's wife ain't a Frenchwoman, be she?" asked the sewing-woman. 

Fleda said "oh no"--and Miss Quackenboss remarked that "she thought shewa'n't;" whereby Fleda perceived it had been a subject of discussion. 

"She lives like one, don't she?" said aunt Syra. 

Which imputation Fleda also refuted to the best of her power. 

"Well, don't she have dinner in the middle of the afternoon?" pursuedaunt Syra. 

Fleda was obliged to admit that. 

"And she can't eat without she has a fresh piece of roast meat on tableevery day, can she?"

"It is not always roast, " said Fleda, half vexed and half laughing. 

"I'd rather have a good dish o' bread and 'lasses than the hull on't;"observed old Mrs. Finn; from the corner where she sat manifestly turningup her nose at the far-off joints on Mrs. Rossitur's dinner-table. 

The girls on the other side of the quilt again held counsel together, deep and low. 

"Well didn't she pick up all them notions in that place yonder?--where yousay she has been?" aunt Syra went on. 

"No, " said Fleda; "everybody does so in New York. "

"I want to know what kind of a place New York is, now, " said old Mrs. Finndrawlingly. "I s'pose it's pretty big, ain't it?"

Fleda replied that it was. 

"I shouldn't wonder if it was a'most as far as from here to Queechy Run, now, ain't it?"

The distance mentioned being somewhere about one-eighth of New York'slongest diameter, Fleda answered that it was quite as far. 

"I s'pose there's plenty o' mighty rich folks there, ain't there?"

"Plenty, I believe, " said Fleda. 

"I should hate to live in it awfully!" was the old woman's conclusion. 

"I should admire to travel in many countries, " said Miss Lucy, for thefirst time seeming to intend her words particularly for Fleda's ear. "Ithink nothing makes people more genteel. I have observed it frequently. "

Fleda said it was very pleasant; but though encouraged by this openingcould not muster enough courage to ask if Miss Lucy had a "notion" to comeand prove their gentility. Her next question was startling, --if Fleda hadever studied mathematics?

"No, " said Fleda. "Have you?"

"O my, yes! There was a lot of us concluded we would learn it; and wecommenced to study it a long time ago. I think it's a most elevating--"

The discussion was suddenly broken off, for the sewing-woman exclaimed, as the other sister came in and took her seat, "Why Hannah! you ha'n't been makin' bread with that crock on your hands!"

"Well Mis' Barnes!" said the girl, --"I've washed 'em, and I've made breadwith 'em, and even _that_ didn't take it off!"

"Do you look at the stars, too, Hannah?" said Mrs. Douglass. 

Amidst a small hubbub of laugh and talk which now became general, poorFleda fell back upon one single thought--one wish; that Hugh would come tofetch her home before tea-time. But it was a vain hope. Hugh was not to bethere till sundown, and supper was announced long before that. They allfiled down, and Fleda with them, to the great kitchen below stairs; andshe found herself placed in the seat of honour indeed, but an honour shewould gladly have escaped, at Miss Anastasia's right hand. 

A temporary locked-jaw would have been felt a blessing. Fleda dared hardlyeven look about her; but under the eye of her hostess the instinct ofgood-breeding was found sufficient to swallow everything; literally andfiguratively. There was a good deal to swallow. The usual variety ofcakes, sweetmeats, beef, cheese, biscuits, and pies, was set out with somepeculiarity of arrangement which Fleda had never seen before, and whichleft that of Miss Quackenboss elegant by comparison. Down each side of thetable ran an advanced guard of little sauces, in Indian file, but incompanies of three, the file leader of each being a saucer of custard, itsfollower a ditto of preserves, and the third keeping a sharp look-out inthe shape of pickles; and to Fleda's unspeakable horror she discoveredthat the guests were expected to help themselves at will from theseseveral stores with their own spoons, transferring what they took eitherto their own plates or at once to its final destination, which last modeseveral of the company preferred. The advantage of this plan was thenecessary great display of the new silver tea-spoons which Mrs. Douglassslyly hinted to aunt Syra were the moving cause of the tea-party. But auntSyra swallowed sweetmeats and would not give heed. 

There was no relief for poor Fleda. Aunt Syra was her next neighbour, andopposite to her, at Miss Anastasia's left hand, was the disagreeablecountenance and peering eyes of the old crone her mother. Fleda kept herown eyes fixed upon her plate and endeavoured to see nothing but that. 

"Why here's Fleda ain't eating anything, " said Mrs. Douglass. "Won't youhave some preserves? take some custard, do!--Anastasy, she ha'n't aspoon--no wonder!"

Fleda had secretly conveyed hers under cover. 

"There _was_ one, " said Miss Anastasia, looking about where one shouldhave been, --"I'll get another as soon as I give Mis' Springer her tea. "

"Ha'n't you got enough to go round?" said the old woman plucking at herdaughter's sleeve, --"Anastasy!--ha'n't you got enough to go round?"

This speech which was spoken with a most spiteful simplicity MissAnastasia answered with superb silence, and presently produced spoonsenough to satisfy herself and the company. But Fleda! No earthlypersuasion could prevail upon her to touch pickles, sweetmeats, orcustard, that evening; and even in the bread and cakes she had a vision ofhands before her that took away her appetite. She endeavoured to make ashew with hung beef and cups of tea, which indeed was not Pouchong; buther supper came suddenly to an end upon a remark of her hostess, addressedto the whole table, that they needn't be surprised if they found any biteof pudding in the gingerbread, for it was made from the molasses thechildren left the other day. Who "the children" were Fleda did not know, neither was it material. 

It was sundown, but Hugh had not come when they went to the upper roomsagain. Two were open now, for they were small and the company promised notto be such. Fathers and brothers and husbands began to come, and loudtalking and laughing and joking took place of the quilting chit-chat. Fleda would fain have absorbed herself in the work again, but though theframe still stood there the minds of the company were plainly turned asidefrom their duty, or perhaps they thought that Miss Anastasia had hadadmiration enough to dispense with service. Nobody shewed a thimble butone or two old ladies; and as numbers and spirits gathered strength, akind of romping game was set on foot in which a vast deal of kissingseemed to be the grand wit of the matter. Fleda shrank away out of sightbehind the open door of communication between the two rooms, pleading withgreat truth that she was tired and would like to keep perfectly quiet; andshe had soon the satisfaction of being apparently forgotten. 

In the other room some of the older people were enjoying themselves moresoberly. Fleda's ear was too near the crack of the door not to have thebenefit of more of their conversation than she cared for. It soon putquiet of mind out of the question. 

"He'll twist himself up pretty short; that's my sense of it; and he won'ttake long to do it, nother, " said Earl Douglass's voice. 

Fleda would have known it anywhere from its extreme peculiarity. It nevereither rose or fell much from a certain pitch; and at that level the wordsgurgled forth, seemingly from an ever-brimming fountain; he never wantedone; and the stream had neither let nor stay till his modicum of sense hadfairly run out. People thought he had not a greater stock of that thansome of his neighbours; but he issued an amount of word-currencysufficient for the use of the county. 

"He'll run himself agin a post pretty quick, " said uncle Joshua in aconfirmatory tone of voice. 

Fleda had a confused idea that somebody was going to hang himself. 

"He ain't a workin' things right, " said Douglass, --"he ain't a workin'things right; he's takin' hold o' everything by the tail end. He ain'tstudied the business; he doesn't know when things is right, and he doesn'tknow when things is wrong;--and if they're wrong he don't know how to set'em right. He's got a feller there that ain't no more fit to be there thanI am to be Vice President of the United States; and I ain't a going to saywhat I think I _am_ fit for, but I ha'n't studied for _that_ place and Ishouldn't like to stand an examination for't; and a man hadn't ought to bea farmer no more if he ha'n't qualified himself. That's my idee. I like tosee a thing done well if it's to be done at all; and there ain't a stitcho' land been laid right on the hull farm, nor a furrow driv' as it hadought to be, since he come on to it; and I say, Squire Springer, a manain't going to get along in that way, and he hadn't ought to. I work hardmyself, and I calculate to work hard; and I make a livin by't; and I'mcontent to work hard. When I see a man with his hands in his pockets, Ithink he'll have nothin' else in 'em soon. I don't believe he's done ahand's turn himself on the land the hull season!"

And upon this Mr. Douglass brought up. 

"My son Lucas has been workin' with him, off and on, pretty much the hulltime since he come; and _he_ says he ha'n't begun to know how to spellfarmer yet. "

"Ay, ay! My wife--she's a little harder on folks than I be--I think itain't worth while to say nothin' of a man without I can say some good ofhim--that's my idee--and it don't do no harm, nother, --but my wife, shesays he's got to let down his notions a peg or two afore they'll hitchjust in the right place; and I won't say but what I think she ain't maybefur from right. If a man's above his business he stands a pretty fairchance to be below it some day. I won't say myself, for I haven't anyacquaintance with him, and a man oughtn't to speak but of what he isknowing to, --but I have heerd say, that he wa'n't as conversationable asit would ha' been handsome in him to be, all things considerin'. Thereseems to be a good many things said of him, somehow, and I always thinkmen don't talk of a man if he don't give 'em occasion; but anyhow I'vebeen past the farm pretty often myself this summer, workin' with SethPlumfield; and I've took notice of things myself; and I know he's beenmakin' beds o' sparrowgrass when he had ought to ha' been makin' fences, and he's been helpin' that little girl o' his'n set her flowers, when hewould ha' been better sot to work lookin' after his Irishman; but I don'tknow as it made much matter nother, for if he went wrong Mr. Rossiturwouldn't know how to set him right, and if he was a going right Mr. Rossitur would ha' been just as likely to ha' set him wrong. Well I'msorry for him!"

"Mr. Rossitur is a most gentlemanlike man, " said the voice of Dr. Quackenboss. 

"Ay, --I dare say he is, " Earl responded in precisely the same tone. "Iwas down to his house one day last summer to see him. --He wa'n't tohum, though. "

"It would be strange if harm come to a man with such a guardian angel inthe house as that man has in his'n, " said Dr. Quackenboss. 

"Well she's a pretty creetur'!" said Douglass, looking up with someanimation. "I wouldn't blame any man that sot a good deal by her. I willsay I think she's as handsome as my own darter; and a man can't go nofurder than that I suppose. "

"She won't help his farming much, I guess, " said uncle Joshua, --"nor hiswife, nother. "

Fleda heard Dr. Quackenboss coming through the doorway and startedfrom her corner for fear he might find her out there and know what shehad heard. 

He very soon found her out in the new place she had chosen and came up topay his compliments. Fleda was in a mood for anything but laughing, yetthe mixture of the ludicrous which the doctor administered set her nervesa twitching. Bringing his chair down sideways at one angle and his personat another, so as to meet at the moment of the chair's touching the floor, and with a look and smile slanting to match, the doctor said, "Well, Miss Ringgan, has--a--Mrs. Rossitur, --does she feel herselfreconciled yet?"

"Reconciled, sir?" said Fleda. 

"Yes--a--to Queechy?"

"She never quarrelled with it, sir, " said Fleda, quite unable to keepfrom laughing. 

"Yes, --I mean--a--she feels that she can sustain her spirits in differentsituations?"

"She is very well, sir, thank you. "

"It must have been a great change to her--and to you all--coming tothis place. "

"Yes, sir; the country is very different from the city. "

"In what part of New York was Mr. Rossitur's former residence?"

"In State street, sir. "

"State street, --that is somewhere in the direction of the Park?"

"No, sir, not exactly. "

"Was Mrs. Rossitur a native of the city?"

"Not of New York. O Hugh, my dear Hugh, " exclaimed Fleda in anothertone, --"what have you been thinking of?"

"Father wanted me, " said Hugh. "I could not help it, Fleda. "

"You are not going to have the cruelty to take your--a--cousin away, Mr. Rossitur?" said the doctor. 

But Fleda was for once happy to be cruel; she would hear no remonstrances. Though her desire for Miss Lucy's "help" had considerably lessened shethought she could not in politeness avoid speaking on the subject, afterbeing invited there on purpose. But Miss Lucy said she "calculated to stayat home this winter, " unless she went to live with somebody at Kenton forthe purpose of attending a course of philosophy lectures that she heardwere to be given there. So that matter was settled; and clasping Hugh'sarm Fleda turned away from the house with a step and heart both lightenedby the joy of being out of it. 

"I couldn't come sooner, Fleda, " said Hugh. 

"No matter--O I'm so glad to be away! Walk a little faster, dearHugh. --Have you missed me at home?"

"Do you want me to say no or yes?" said Hugh smiling. "We did verywell--mother and I--and I have left everything ready to have tea theminute you get home. What sort of a time have you had?"

In answer to which Fleda gave him a long history; and then they walked onawhile in silence. The evening was still and would have been dark but forthe extreme brilliancy of the stars through the keen clear atmosphere. Fleda looked up at them and drew large draughts of bodily and mentalrefreshment with the bracing air. 

"Do you know to-morrow will be Thanksgiving day?"

"Ye--what made you think of it?"

"They were talking about it--they make a great fuss hereThanksgiving day. "

"I don't think we shall make much of a fuss, " said Hugh. 

"I don't think we shall. I wonder what I shall do--I am afraid uncle Rolfwill get tired of coffee and omelettes in the course of time; and my listof receipts is very limited. "

"It is a pity you didn't beg one of Mrs. Renney's books, " said Hughlaughing. "If you had only known--"

"'Tisn't too late!" said Fleda quickly, --"I'll send to New York for one. Iwill! I'll ask uncle Orrin to get it for me. That's the best thought!--"

"But, Fleda! you're not going to turn cook in that fashion?"

"It would be no harm to have the book, " said Fleda. "I can tell you wemustn't expect to get anybody here that can make an omelette, or evencoffee, that uncle Rolf will drink. Oh Hugh!--"

"What?"

"I don't know where we are going to get anybody!--But don't say anythingto aunt Lucy about it. "

"Well, we can keep Thanksgiving day, Fleda, without a dinner, " said Hughcheerfully. 

"Yes indeed; I am sure I can--after being among these people to-night. Howmuch I have that they want! Look at the Great Bear over there!--isn't thatbetter than New York?"

"The Great Bear hangs over New York too, " Hugh said with a smile. 

"Ah but it isn't the same thing. Heaven hasn't the same eyes for the cityand the country. "

As Hugh and Fleda went quick up to the kitchen door they overtook a darkfigure, at whom looking narrowly as she passed, Fleda recognised SethPlumfield. He was joyfully let into the kitchen, and there proved to bethe bearer of a huge dish carefully covered with a napkin. 

"Mother guessed you hadn't any Thanksgiving ready, " he said, --"and shewanted to send this down to you; so I thought I would come and fetchit myself. "

"O thank her! and thank you, cousin Seth;--how good you are?"

"Mother ha'n't lost her old trick at 'em, " said he, "so I hope_that's_ good. "

"O I know it is, " said Fleda. "I remember aunt Miriam's Thanksgivingchicken-pies. Now, cousin Seth, you must come in and see aunt Lucy. "

"No, " said he quietly, --"I've got my farm-boots on--I guess I won't seeanybody but you. "

But Fleda would not suffer that, and finding she could not move him shebrought her aunt out into the kitchen. Mrs. Rossitur's manner of speakingand thanking him quite charmed Seth, and he went away with a kindlyfeeling towards those gentle bright eyes which he never forgot. 

"Now we've something for to-morrow, Hugh!" said Fleda;--"and such achicken-pie I can tell you as _you_ never saw. Hugh, isn't it odd howdifferent a thing is in different circumstances? You don't know how glad Iwas when I put my hands upon that warm pie-dish and knew what it was; andwhen did I ever care in New York about Emile's doings?"

"Except the almond gauffres, " said Hugh smiling. 

"I never thought to be so glad of a chicken-pie, " said Fleda, shaking her head. 

Aunt Miriam's dish bore out Fleda's praise, in the opinion of all thattasted it; for such fowls, such butter, and such cream, as went to itscomposition could hardly be known but in an unsophisticated state ofsociety. But one pie could not last for ever; and as soon as the signs ofdinner were got rid of, Thanksgiving day though it was, poor Fleda wasfain to go up the hill to consult aunt Miriam about the possibility ofgetting "help. "

"I don't know, dear Fleda, " said she;--"if you cannot get Lucy Finn--Idon't know who else there is you can get. Mrs. Toles wants both herdaughters at home I know this winter, because she is sick; and MariettaWinchel is working at aunt Syra's;--I don't know--Do you remember BarbyElster, that used to live with me?"

"O yes!"

"She _might_ go--she has been staying at home these two years, to takecare of her old mother, that's the reason she left me; but she has anothersister come home now, --Hetty, that married and went to Montepoole, --she'slost her husband and come home to live; so perhaps Barby would go outagain. But I don't know, --how do you think your aunt Lucy would get alongwith her?"

"Dear aunt Miriam! you know we must do as we can. We _must_ havesomebody. "

"Barby is a little quick, " said Mrs. Plumfield, "but I think she isgood-hearted, and she is thorough, and faithful as the day is long. Ifyour aunt and uncle can put up with her ways. "

"I am sure we can, aunt Miriam. Aunt Lucy's the easiest person in theworld to please, and I'll try and keep her away from uncle Rolf. I thinkwe can get along. I know Barby used to like me. "

"But then Barby knows nothing about French cooking, my child; she cando nothing but the common country things. What will your uncle and auntsay to that?"

"I don't know, " said Fleda, "but anything is better than nothing. Imust try and do what she can't do. I'll come up and get you to teachme, aunt Miriam. "

Aunt Miriam hugged and kissed her before speaking. 

"I'll teach you what I know, my darling;--and now we'll go right off andsee Barby--we shall catch her just in a good time. "

It was a poor little unpainted house, standing back from the road, andwith a double row of boards laid down to serve as a path to it. But thisboard-walk was scrubbed perfectly clean. They went in without knocking. There was nobody there but an old woman seated before the fire shakingall over with the St. Vitus's Dance. She gave them no salutation, calling instead on "Barby!"--who presently made her appearance from theinner door. 

"Barby!--who's this?"

"That's Mis' Plumfield, mother, " said the daughter, speaking loud as to adeaf person. 

The old lady immediately got up and dropped a very quick and what wasmeant to be a very respect-shewing curtsey, saying at the same timewith much deference and with one of her involuntary twitches, --"I''maun' to know!"--The sense of the ludicrous and the feeling of pitytogether were painfully oppressive. Fleda turned away to the daughterwho came forward and shook hands with a frank look of pleasure at thesight of her elder visitor. 

"Barby, " said Mrs. Plumfield, "this is little Fleda Ringgan--do youremember her?"

"I 'mind to know!" said Barby, transferring her hand to Fleda's and givingit a good squeeze. --"She's growed a fine gal, Mis' Plumfield. You ha'n'tlost none of your good looks--ha' you kept all your old goodness alongwith 'em?"

Fleda laughed at this abrupt question, and said she didn't know. 

"If you ha'n't, I wouldn't give much for your eyes, " said Barby lettinggo her hand. 

Mrs. Plumfield laughed too at Barby's equivocal mode of complimenting. 

"Who's that young gal, Barby?" inquired Mrs. Elster. 

"That's Mis' Plumfield's niece, mother!"

"She's a handsome little creetur, ain't she?"

They all laughed at that, and Fleda's cheeks growing crimson, Mrs. Plumfield stepped forward to ask after the old lady's health; and whileshe talked and listened Fleda's eyes noted the spotless condition of theroom--the white table, the nice rag-carpet, the bright many-colouredpatch-work counterpane on the bed, the brilliant cleanliness of the floorwhere the small carpet left the boards bare, the tidy look of the twowomen; and she made up her mind that _she_ could get along with MissBarbara very well. Barby was rather tall, and in face decidedly afine-looking woman, though her figure had the usual scantling proportionswhich nature or fashion assigns to the hard-working dwellers in thecountry. A handsome quick grey eye and the mouth were sufficientlyexpressive of character, and perhaps of temper, but there were no lines ofanything sinister or surly; you could imagine a flash, but not a cloud. 

"Barby, you are not tied at home any longer, are you?" said Mrs. Plumfield, coming back from the old lady and speaking rather low;--"nowthat Hetty is here, can't your mother spare you?"

"Well I reckon she could, Mis' Plumfield, --if I could work it so thatshe'd be more comfortable by my being away. "

"Then you'd have no objection to go out again?"

"Where to?"

"Fleda's uncle, you know, has taken my brother's old place, and they haveno help. They want somebody to take the whole management--just you, Barby. Mrs. Rossitur isn't strong. "

"Nor don't want to be, does she? I've heerd tell of her. Mis' Plumfield, I should despise to have as many legs and arms as other folks and not beable to help myself!"

"But you wouldn't despise to help other folks, I hope, " said Mrs. Plumfield smiling. 

"People that want you very much too, " said Fleda; for she quite longed tohave that strong hand and healthy eye to rely upon at home. Barby lookedat her with a relaxed face, and after a little consideration said "sheguessed she'd try. "

"Mis' Plumfield, " cried the old lady as they were moving, --"Mis'Plumfield, you said you'd send me a piece of pork. "

"I haven't forgotten it, Mrs. Elster--you shall have it. "

"Well you get it out for me yourself, " said the old woman speaking veryenergetically, --"don't you send no one else to the barrel for't; because Iknow you'll give me the biggest piece. "

Mrs. Plumfield laughed and promised. 

"I'll come up and work it out some odd day, " said the daughter noddingintelligently as she followed them to the door. 

"We'll talk about that, " said Mrs. Plumfield. 

"She was wonderful pleased with the pie, " said Barby, "and so was Hetty;she ha'n't seen anything so good, she says, since she quit Queechy. "

"Well, Barby, " said Mrs. Plumfield, as she turned and grasped her hand, "did you remember your Thanksgiving over it?"

"Yes, Mis' Plumfield, " and the fine grey eyes fell to the floor, --"but Iminded it only because it had come from you. I seemed to hear you sayingjust that out of every bone I picked. "

"You minded _my_ message, " said the other gently. 

"Well I don't mind the things I had ought to most, " said Barby in asubdued voice, --"never!--'cept mother--I ain't very apt to forget her. "

Mrs. Plumfield saw a tell-tale glittering beneath the drooping eye-lid. She added no more but a sympathetic strong squeeze of the hand she held, and turned to follow Fleda who had gone on ahead. 

"Mis' Plumfield!" said Barby, before they had reached the stile that ledinto the road, where Fleda was standing, --"Will I be sure of having themoney regular down yonder? You know I hadn't ought to go otherways, onaccount of mother. "

"Yes, it will be sure, " said Mrs. Plumfield, --"and regular;" addingquietly, "I'll make it so. "

There was a bond for the whole amount in aunt Miriam's eyes; and quitesatisfied, Barby went back to the house. 

"Will she expect to come to our table, aunt Miriam?" said Fleda when theyhad walked a little way. 

"No--she will not expect that--but Barby will want a different kind ofmanaging from those Irish women of yours. She won't bear to be spokento in a way that don't suit her notions of what she thinks she deserves;and perhaps your aunt and uncle will think her notions rather high--Idon't know. "

"There is no difficulty with aunt Lucy, " said Fleda;--"and I guess I canmanage uncle Rolf--I'll try. _I_ like her very much. "

"Barby is very poor, " said Mrs. Plumfield; "she has nothing but her ownearnings to support herself and her old mother, and now I suppose hersister and her child; for Hetty is a poor thing--never did much, and now Isuppose does nothing. "

"Are those Finns poor, aunt Miriam?"

"O no--not at all--they are very well off. "

"So I thought--they seemed to have plenty of everything, and silver spoonsand all. But why then do they go out to work?"

"They are a little too fond of getting money I expect, " said aunt Miriam. "And they are a queer sort of people rather--the mother is queer and thechildren are queer--they ain't like other folks exactly--never were. "

"I am very glad we are to have Barby instead of that Lucy Finn, " saidFleda. "O aunt Miriam! you can't think how much easier my heart feels. "

"Poor child!" said aunt Miriam looking at her. "But it isn't best, Fleda, to have things work too smooth in this world. "

"No, I suppose not, " said Fleda sighing. "Isn't it very strange, auntMiriam, that it should make people worse instead of better to haveeverything go pleasantly with them?"

"It is because they are apt then to be so full of the present that theyforget the care of the future. "

"Yes, and forget there is anything better than the present, I suppose, "said Fleda. 

"So we mustn't fret at the ways our Father takes to keep us from hurtingourselves?" said aunt Miriam cheerfully. 

"O no!" said Fleda, looking up brightly in answer to the tender manner inwhich these words were spoken;--"and I didn't mean that _this_ is much ofa trouble--only I am very glad to think that somebody is comingto-morrow. "

Aunt Miriam thought that gentle unfretful face could not stand in need ofmuch discipline. 

Chapter XXI. 

 Wise men alway Affyrme and say, That best is for a man Diligently, For to apply, The business that he can. 

 More. 

Fleda waited for Barby's coming the next day with a little anxiety. Theintroduction and installation however were happily got over. Mrs. Rossitur, as Fleda knew, was most easily pleased; and Barby Elster's quickeye was satisfied with the unaffected and universal gentleness andpoliteness of her new employer. She made herself at home in half an hour;and Mrs. Rossitur and Fleda were comforted to perceive, by unmistakeablesigns, that their presence was not needed in the kitchen and they mightretire to their own premises and forget there was another part of thehouse. Fleda had forgotten it utterly, and deliciously enjoying the restof mind and body she was stretched upon the sofa, luxuriating over somevolume from her remnant of a library; when the inner door was suddenlypushed open far enough to admit the entrance of Miss Elster's head. 

"Where's the soft soap?"

Fleda's book went down and her heart jumped to her mouth, for her unclewas sitting over by the window. Mrs. Rossitur looked up in a maze andwaited for the question to be repeated. 

"I say, where's the soft soap?"

"Soft soap!" said Mrs. Rossitur, --"I don't know whether there isany. --Fleda, do you know?"

"I was trying to think, aunt Lucy. I don't believe there is any. "

"_Where_ is it?" said Barby. 

"There is none, I believe, " said Mrs. Rossitur. 

"Where _was_ it, then?"

"Nowhere--there has not been any in the house, " said Fleda, raisingherself up to see over the back of her sofa. 

"There ha'n't been none!" said Miss Elster, in a tone more significantthan her words, and shutting the door as abruptly as she had opened it. 

"What upon earth does the woman mean?" exclaimed Mr. Rossitur, springingup and advancing towards the kitchen door. Fleda threw herself before him. 

"Nothing at all, uncle Rolf--she doesn't mean anything at all--shedoesn't know any better. "

"I will improve her knowledge--get out the way, Fleda. "

"But uncle Rolf, just hear me one moment--please don't!--she didn't meanany harm--these people don't know any manners--just let me speak to her, please uncle Rolf!--" said Fleda laying both hands upon her uncle'sarms, --"I'll manage her. "

Mr. Rossitur's wrath was high, and he would have run over or knocked downanything less gentle that had stood in his way; but even the harshness ofstrength shuns to set itself in array against the meekness that does not_oppose_; if the touch of those hands had been a whit less light, or theglance of her eye less submissively appealing, it would have availednothing. As it was, he stopped and looked at her, at first scowling, butthen with a smile. 

"_You_ manage her!" said he. 

"Yes, " said Fleda laughing, and now exerting her force she gently pushedhim back towards the seat he had quitted, --"yes, uncle Rolf--you've enoughelse to manage--don't undertake our 'help. ' Deliver over all yourdispleasure upon me when anything goes wrong--I will be the conductor tocarry it off safely into the kitchen and discharge it just at that pointwhere I think it will do most execution. Now will you, uncleRolf?--Because we have got a new-fashioned piece of firearms in the otherroom that I am afraid will go off unexpectedly if it is meddled with by anunskilful hand;--and that would leave us without arms, you see, or withonly aunt Lucy's and mine, which are not reliable. "

"You saucy girl!"--said her uncle, who was laughing partly at and partlywith her, --"I don't know what you deserve exactly. --Well--keep thisprecious new operative of yours out of my way and I'll take care to keepout of hers. But mind, you must manage not to have your piece snapping inmy face in this fashion, for I won't stand it. "

And so, quieted, Mr. Rossitur sat down to his book again; and Fledaleaving hers open went to attend upon Barby. 

"There ain't much yallow soap neither, " said this personage, --"if this isall. There's one thing--if we ha'n't got it we can make it. I must getMis' Rossitur to have a leach-tub sot up right away. I'm a dreadful handfor havin' plenty o' soap. "

"What is a leach-tub?" said Fleda. 

"Why, a leach-tub, for to leach ashes in. That's easy enough. I'll fix it, afore we're any on us much older. If Mr. Rossitur'll keep me in good hardwood I sha'n't cost him hardly anything for potash. "

"I'll see about it, " said Fleda, "and I will see about having theleach-tub, or whatever it is, put up for you. And Barby, whenever you wantanything, will you just speak to me about it?--and if I am in the otherroom ask me to come out here. Because my aunt is not strong, and does notknow where things are as well as I do; and when my uncle is in there hesometimes does not like to be disturbed with hearing any such talk. Ifyou'll tell me I'll see and have everything done for you. "

"Well--you get me a leach sot up--that's all I'll ask of you just now, "said Barby good-humouredly; "and help me to find the soap-grease, if thereis any. As to the rest, I don't want to see nothin' o' him in the kitchenso I'll relieve him if he don't want to see much o' me in the parlour. --Ishouldn't wonder if there wa'n't a speck of it in the house. "

Not a speck was there to be found. 

"Your uncle's pockets must ha' had a good hole in 'em by this time, "remarked Barby as they came back from the cellar. "However, there neverwas a crock so empty it couldn't be filled. You get me a leach-tub sot up, and I'll find work for it. "

From that time Fleda had no more trouble with her uncle and Barby. Eachseemed to have a wholesome appreciation of the other's combative qualitiesand to shun them. With Mrs. Rossitur Barby was soon all-powerful. It wasenough that she wanted a thing, if Mrs Rossitur's own resources couldcompass it. For Fleda, to say that Barby had presently a perfectunderstanding with her and joined to that a most affectionate carefulregard, is not perhaps saying much; for it was true of every one withoutexception with whom Fleda had much to do. Barby was to all of them a verygreat comfort and stand-by. 

It was well for them that they had her within doors to keep things, as shecalled it, "right and tight;" for abroad the only system in vogue was oneof fluctuation and uncertainty. Mr. Rossitur's Irishman, Donohan, staidhis year out, doing as little good and as much at least negative harm ashe well could; and then went, leaving them a good deal poorer than hefound them. Dr. Gregory's generosity had added to Mr. Rossitur's own smallstock of ready money, giving him the means to make some needed outlays onthe farm. But the outlay, ill-applied, had been greater than the income; ascarcity of money began to be more and more felt; and the comfort of thefamily accordingly drew within more and more narrow bounds. The temper ofthe head of the family suffered in at least equal degree. 

From the first of Barby's coming poor Fleda had done her utmost to preventthe want of Mons. Emile from being felt. Mr. Rossitur's table was alwaysset by her careful hand, and all the delicacies that came upon it were, unknown to him, of her providing. Even the bread. One day at breakfast Mr. Rossitur had expressed his impatient displeasure at that of Miss Elster'smanufacture. Fleda saw the distressed shade that came over her aunt'sface, and took her resolution. It was the last time. She had followed herplan of sending for the receipts, and she studied them diligently, both athome and under aunt Miriam. Natural quickness of eye and hand came in aidof her affectionate zeal, and it was not long before she could trustherself to undertake any operation in the whole range of her cookery book. But meanwhile materials were growing scarce and hard to come by. Thedelicate French rolls which were now always ready for her uncle's plate inthe morning had sometimes nothing to back them, unless the unfailing watercress from the good little spring in the meadow. Fleda could not spare hereggs, for perhaps they might have nothing else to depend upon for dinner. It was no burden to her to do these things; she had a sufficient reward inseeing that her aunt and Hugh eat the better and that her uncle's brow wasclear; but it _was_ a burden when her hands were tied by the lack ofmeans; for she knew the failure of the usual supply was bitterly felt, notfor the actual want, but for that other want which it implied andprefigured. 

On the first dismissal of Donohan Fleda hoped for a good turn of affairs. But Mr. Rossitur, disgusted with his first experiment, resolved thisseason to be his own head man; and appointed Lucas Springer the second incommand, with a posse of labourers to execute his decrees. It did not workwell. Mr. Rossitur found he had a very tough prime minister, who wouldhave every one of his plans to go through a kind of winnowing process bybeing tossed about in an argument. The arguments were interminable, untilMr. Rossitur not unfrequently quit the field with, "Well, do what you likeabout it!"--not conquered, but wearied. The labourers, either from want ofready money or of what they called "manners" in their employer, fell offat the wrong times, just when they were most wanted. Hugh threw himselfthen into the breach and wrought beyond his strength; and that tried Fledaworst of all. She was glad to see haying and harvest pass over; but thechange of seasons seemed to bring only a change of disagreeableness, andshe could not find that hope had any better breathing-time in the shortdays of winter than in the long days of summer. Her gentle face grew moregentle than ever, for under the shade of sorrowful patience which wasalways there now its meekness had no eclipse. 

Mrs. Rossitur was struck with it one morning. She was coming down from herroom and saw Fleda standing on the landing-place gazing out of the window. It was before breakfast one cold morning in winter. Mrs. Rossitur put herarms round her softly and kissed her. 

"What are you thinking about, dear Fleda?--you ought not to bestanding here. "

"I was looking at Hugh, " said Fleda, and her eye went back to the window. Mrs. Rossitur's followed it. The window gave them a view of the groundbehind the house; and there was Hugh, just coming in with a large armfulof heavy wood which he had been sawing. 

"He isn't strong enough to do that, aunt Lucy, " said Fleda softly. 

"I know it, " said his mother in a subdued tone, and not moving her eye, though Hugh had disappeared. 

"It is too cold for him--he is too thinly clad to bear this exposure, "said Fleda anxiously. 

"I know it, " said his mother again. 

"Can't you tell uncle Rolf?--can't you get him to do it? I am afraid Hughwill hurt himself, aunt Lucy. "

"I did tell him the other day--I did speak to him about it, " said Mrs. Rossitur; "but he said there was no reason why Hugh should do it, --therewere plenty of other people--"

"But how can he say so when he knows we never can ask Lucas to do anythingof the kind, and that other man always contrives to be out of the way whenhe is wanted?--Oh what is he thinking of?" said Fleda bitterly, as she sawHugh again at his work. 

It was so rarely that Fleda was seen to shed tears that they always were asignal of dismay to any of the household. There was even agony in Mrs. Rossitur's voice as she implored her not to give way to them. Butnotwithstanding that, Fleda's tears came this time from too deep a springto be stopped at once. 

"It makes me feel as if all was lost, Fleda, when I see you do so, "--

Fleda put her arms about her neck and whispered that "she would not"--that"she should not"--

Yet it was a little while before she could say any more. 

"But, aunt Lucy, he doesn't know what he is doing!"

"No--and I can't make him know. I cannot say anything more, Fleda--itwould do no good. I don't know what is the matter--he is entirely changedfrom what he used to be--"

"I know what is the matter, " said Fleda, now turning comforter in her turnas her aunt's tears fell more quietly, because more despairingly, than herown, --"I know what it is--he is not happy;--that is all. He has notsucceeded well in these farm doings, and he wants money, and he isworried--it is no wonder if he don't seem exactly as he used to. "

"And oh, that troubles me most of all!" said Mrs. Rossitur. "The farm isbringing in nothing, I know, --he don't know how to get along with it, --Iwas afraid it would be so;--and we are paying nothing to uncle Orrin--andit is just a dead weight on his hands;--and I can't bear to think ofit!--And what will it come to!--"

Mrs. Rossitur was now in her turn surprised into shewing the strength ofher sorrows and apprehensions. Fleda was fain to put her own out of sightand bend her utmost powers to soothe and compose her aunt, till they couldboth go down to the breakfast table. She had got ready a nice little dishthat her uncle was very fond of; but her pleasure in it was all gone; andindeed it seemed to be thrown away upon the whole table. Half the meal wasover before anybody said a word. 

"I am going to wash my hands of these miserable farm affairs, " saidMr. Rossitur. 

"Are you?" said his wife. 

"Yes, --of all personal concern in them, that is. I am wearied to deathwith the perpetual annoyances and vexations, and petty calls upon mytime--life is not worth having at such a rate! I'll have done with it. "

"You will give up the entire charge to Lucas?" said Mrs. Rossitur. 

[Illustration: "O uncle Rolf, don't have anything to do with him. "]

"Lucas!--No!--I wouldn't undergo that man's tongue for another year ifhe would take out his wages in talking. I could not have more of it inthat case than I have had the last six months. After money, the thingthat man loves best is certainly the sound of his own voice; and a mostinsufferable egotist! No, --I have been talking with a man who wantsto take the whole farm for two years upon shares--that will clear me ofall trouble. "

There was sober silence for a few minutes, and then Mrs. Rossitur askedwho it was. 

"His name is Didenhover. "

"O uncle Rolf, don't have anything to do with him!" exclaimed Fleda. 

"Why not?"

"Because he lived with grandpa a great while ago, and behaved very ill. Grandpa had a great deal of trouble with him. "

"How old were you then?"

"I was young, to be sure, " said Fleda hanging her head, "but I remembervery well how it was. "

"You may have occasion to remember it a second time, " said Mr. Rossiturdryly, "for the thing is done. I have engaged him. "

Not another word was spoken. 

Mr. Rossitur went out after breakfast, and Mrs. Rossitur busied herselfwith the breakfast cups and a tub of hot water, a work she never would letFleda share with her and which lasted in consequence long enough, Barbysaid, to cook and eat three breakfasts. Fleda and Hugh sat looking at thefloor and the fire respectively. 

"I am going up the hill to get a sight of aunt Miriam, " said Fleda, bringing her eyes from the fire upon her aunt. 

"Well, dear, do. You have been shut up long enough by the snow. Wrapyourself up well, and put on my snow-boots. "

"No indeed!" said Fleda. "I shall just draw on another pair of stockingsover my shoes, within my India-rubbers--I will take a pair of Hugh'swoollen ones. "

"What has become of your own?" said Hugh. 

"My own what? Stockings?"

"Snow-boots. "

"Worn out, Mr. Rossitur! I have run them to death, poor things. Is that aslight intimation that you are afraid of the same fate for your socks?"

"No, " said Hugh, smiling in spite of himself at her manner, --"I will lendyou anything I have got, Fleda. "

His tone put Fleda in mind of the very doubtful pretensions of the socksin question to be comprehended under the term; she was silent a minute. 

"Will you go with me, Hugh?"

"No dear, I can't;--I must get a little ahead with the wood while I can;it looks as if it would snow again; and Barby isn't provided for more thana day or two. "

"And how for this fire?"

Hugh shook his head, and rose up to go forth into the kitchen. Fleda wenttoo, linking her arm in his and bearing affectionately upon it, a sort oftacit saying that they would sink or swim together. Hugh understood itperfectly. 

"I am very sorry you have to do it, dear Hugh--Oh that wood-shed!--If ithad only been made!--"

"Never mind--can't help it now--we shall get through the winter by andby. "

"Can't you get uncle Rolf to help you a little?" whispered Fleda;--"Itwould do him good. "

But Hugh only shook his head. 

"What are we going to do for dinner, Barby?" said Fleda, still holdingHugh there before the fire. 

"Ain't much choice, " said Barby. "It would puzzle anybody to spell muchmore out of it than pork and ham. There's plenty o' them. _I_ shan'tstarve this some time. "

"But we had ham yesterday and pork the day before yesterday and hamMonday, " said Fleda. "There is plenty of vegetables, thanks to you and me, Hugh, " she said with a little reminding squeeze of his arm. "I could makesoups nicely, if I had anything to make them of!"

"There's enough to be had for the catching, " said Barby. "If I hadn't aman-mountain of work upon me, I'd start out and shoot or steal something. "

"_You_ shoot, Barby!" said Fleda laughing. 

"I guess I can do most anything I set my hand to. If I couldn't I'd shootmyself. It won't do to kill no more o' them chickens. "

"O no, --now they are laying so finely. Well, I am going up the hill, andwhen I come home I'll try and make up something, Barby. "

"Earl Douglass'll go out in the woods now and then, of a day when heha'n't no work particular to do, and fetch hum as many pigeons andwoodchucks as you could shake a stick at. "

"Hugh, my dear, " said Fleda laughing, "it's a pity you aren't a hunter--Iwould shake a stick at you with great pleasure. Well, Barby, we will seewhen I come home. "

"I was just a thinkin, " said Barby;--"Mis' Douglass sent round to know ifMis' Rossitur would like a piece of fresh meat--Earl's been killing asheep--there's a nice quarter, she says, if she'd like to have it. "

"A quarter of mutton?"--said Fleda, --"I don't know--no, I think not, Barby; I don't know when we should be able to pay it back again. --Andyet--Hugh, do you think uncle Rolf will kill another sheep this winter?"

"I am sure he will not, " said Hugh;--"there have so many died. "

"If he only knowed it, that is a reason for killing more, " said Barby, --"and have the good of them while he can. "

"Tell Mrs. Douglass we are obliged to her, but we do not want themutton, Barby. "

Hugh went to his chopping and Fleda set out upon her walk; the lines ofher face settling into a most fixed gravity so soon as she turned awayfrom the house. It was what might be called a fine winter's day; cold andstill, and the sky covered with one uniform grey cloud. The snow lay inuncompromising whiteness thick over all the world; a kindly shelter forthe young grain and covering for the soil; but Fleda's spirits just thenin another mood saw in it only the cold refusal to hope and the barrencheck to exertion. The wind had cleared the snow from the trees andfences, and they stood in all their unsoftened blackness and nakedness, bleak and stern. The high grey sky threatened a fresh fall of snow in afew hours; it was just now a lull between two storms; and Fleda's spirits, that sometimes would have laughed in the face of nature's soberness, to-day sank to its own quiet. Her pace neither slackened nor quickenedtill she reached aunt Miriam's house and entered the kitchen. 

Aunt Miriam was in high tide of business over a pot of boiling lard, andthe enormous bread-tray by the side of the fire was half full of verytempting light-brown cruller, which however were little more than a kindof sweet bread for the workmen. In the bustle of putting in and taking outaunt Miriam could give her visitor but a word and a look. Fleda pulled offher hood and sitting down watched in unusual silence the old lady'soperations. 

"And how are they all at your house to-day?" aunt Miriam asked as she wascarefully draining her cruller out of the kettle. 

Fleda answered that they were as well as usual, but a slight hesitationand the tell-tale tone of her voice made the old lady look at her morenarrowly. She came near and kissed that gentle brow and looking in hereyes asked her what the matter was?

"I don't know, --" said Fleda, eyes and voice wavering alike, --"I amfoolish, I believe, --"

Aunt Miriam tenderly put aside the hair from her forehead and kissed itagain, but the cruller was burning and she went back to the kettle. 

"I got down-hearted somehow this morning, " Fleda went on, trying to steadyher voice and school herself. 

"_You_ down-hearted, dear? About what?"

There was a world of sympathy in these words, in the warmth of whichFleda's shut-up heart unfolded itself at once. 

"It's nothing new, aunt Miriam, --only somehow I felt it particularly thismorning, --I have been kept in the house so long by this snow I have gotdumpish I suppose. --"

Aunt Miriam looked anxiously at the tears which seemed to comeinvoluntarily, but she said nothing. 

"We are not getting along well at home. "

"I supposed that, " said Mrs. Plumfield quietly. "But anything new?"

"Yes--uncle Rolf has let the farm--only think of it!--he has let the farmto that Didenhover. "

"Didenhover!"

"For two years. "

"Did you tell him what you knew about him?"

"Yes, but it was too late--the mischief was done. "

Aunt Miriam went on skimming out her cruller with a very grave face. 

"How came your uncle to do so without learning about him first?"

"O I don't know!--he was in a hurry to do anything that would take thetrouble of the farm off his hands, --he don't like it. "

"On what terms has he let him have it?"

"On shares--and I know, I know, under that Didenhover it will bring us innothing, and it has brought us in nothing all the time we have been here;and I don't know what we are going to live upon. "--

"Has your uncle nor your aunt no property at all left?"

"Not a bit--except some waste lands in Michigan I believe, that were leftto aunt Lucy a year or two ago; but they are as good as nothing. "

"Has he let Didenhover have the saw-mill too?"

"I don't know--he didn't say--if he has there will be nothing at all leftfor us to live upon. I expect nothing from Didenhover, --his face isenough. I should have thought it might have been for uncle Rolf. O if itwasn't for aunt Lucy and Hugh I shouldn't care!--"

"What has your uncle been doing all this year past?"

"I don't know, aunt Miriam, --he can't bear the business and he has leftthe most of it to Lucas; and I think Lucas is more of a talker than adoer. Almost nothing has gone right. The crops have been ill managed--I donot know a great deal about it, but I know enough for that; and uncle Rolfdid not know anything about it but what he got from books. And the sheepare dying off--Barby says it is because they were in such poor conditionat the beginning of winter, and I dare say she is right. "

"He ought to have had a thorough good man at the beginning, to getalong well. "

"O yes!--but he hadn't, you see; and so we have just been growing poorerevery month. And now, aunt Miriam, I really don't know from day to daywhat to do to get dinner. You know for a good while after we came we usedto have our marketing brought every few days from Albany; but we have runup such a bill there already at the butcher's as I don't know when in theworld will get paid; and aunt Lucy and I will do anything before we willsend for any more; and if it wasn't for her and Hugh I wouldn't care, butthey haven't much appetite, and I know that all this takes what littlethey have away--this, and seeing the effect it has upon uncle Rolf----"

"Does he think so much more of eating than of anything else?" saidaunt Miriam. 

"Oh no, it is not that!" said Fleda earnestly, --"it is not that at all--heis not a great eater--but he can't bear to have things different from whatthey used to be and from what they ought to be--O no, don't think that! Idon't know whether I ought to have said what I have said, but I couldn'thelp it--"

Fleda's voice was lost for a little while. 

"He is changed from what he used to be--a little thing vexes him now, andI know it is because he is not happy;--he used to be so kind and pleasant, and he is still, sometimes; but aunt Lucy's face--Oh aunt Miriam!--"

"Why, dear?" said aunt Miriam, tenderly. 

"It is so changed from what it used to be!"

Poor Fleda covered her own, and aunt Miriam came to her side to givesofter and gentler expression to sympathy than words could do; till thebowed face was raised again and hid in her neck. 

"I can't see thee do so my child--my dear child!--Hope for brighter days, dear Fleda. "

"I could bear it, " said Fleda after a little interval, "if it wasn't foraunt Lucy and Hugh--oh that is the worst!--"

"What about Hugh?" said aunt Miriam, soothingly. 

"Oh he does what he ought not to do, aunt Miriam, and there is no help forit, --and he did last summer--when we wanted men; and in the hothaying-time, he used to work, I know, beyond his strength, --and aunt Lucyand I did not know what to do with ourselves!--"

Fleda's head which had been raised sunk again and more heavily. 

"Where was his father?" said Mrs. Plumfield. 

"Oh he was in the house--he didn't know it--he didn't think about it. "

"Didn't think about it!"

"No--O he didn't think Hugh was hurting himself, but he was--he shewed itfor weeks afterward. --I have said what I ought not now, " said Fledalooking up and seeming to check her tears and the spring of them at once. 

"So much security any woman has in a man without religion!" said auntMiriam, going back to her work. Fleda would have said something if shecould; she was silent; she stood looking into the fire while the tearsseemed to come as it were by stealth and ran down her face unregarded. 

"Is Hugh not well?"

"I don't know, --" said Fleda faintly, --"he is not ill--but he never wasvery strong, and he exposes himself now I know in a way he ought not. --Iam sorry I have just come and troubled you with all this now, auntMiriam, " she said after a little pause, --"I shall feel better by and by--Idon't very often get such a fit. "

"My dear little Fleda!"--and there was unspeakable tenderness in the oldlady's voice, as she came up and drew Fleda's head again to rest uponher;--"I would not let a rough wind touch thee if I had the holding ofit. --But we may be glad the arranging of things is not in my hand--Ishould be a poor friend after all, for I do not know what is best. Canstthou trust him who does know, my child?"

"I do, aunt Miriam, --O I do, " said Fleda, burying her face in herbosom;--"I don't often feel so as I did to-day. "

"There comes not a cloud that its shadow is not wanted, " said auntMiriam. "I cannot see why, --but it is that thou mayest bloom thebrighter, my dear one. "

"I know it, --" Fleda's words were hardly audible, --"I will try--"

"Remember his own message to every one under a cloud--'cast all thy careupon him, for he careth for thee;'--thou mayest keep none of it;--and thenthe peace that passeth understanding shall keep thee. 'So he giveth hisbeloved sleep. '"

Fleda wept for a minute on the old lady's neck, and then she looked up, dried her tears, and sat down with a face greatly quieted and lightened ofits burden; while aunt Miriam once more went back to her work. The onewrought and the other looked on in silence. 

The cruller were all done at last; the great bread-trough was filled andset away; the remnant of the fat was carefully disposed of, and auntMiriam's handmaid was called in to "take the watch. " She herself and hervisitor adjourned to the sitting-room. 

"Well, " said Fleda, in a tone again steady and clear, --"I must go home tosee about getting up a dinner. I am the greatest hand at making somethingout of nothing, aunt Miriam, that ever you saw. There is nothing likepractice. I only wish the man uncle Orrin talks about would come alongonce in a while. "

"Who was that?" said aunt Miriam. 

"A man that used to go about from house to house, " said Fleda laughing, "when the cottages were making soup, with a ham-bone to give it a relish, and he used to charge them so much for a dip, and so much for a wallop. "

"Come, come, I can do as much for you as that, " said aunt Miriam, proceeding to her store-pantry, --"see here--wouldn't this be as good as aham-bone?" said she, bringing out of it a fat fowl;--"how would a wallopof this do?"

"Admirably!--only--the ham-bone used to come out again, --and I amconfident this never would. "

"Well I guess I'll stand that, " said aunt Miriam smiling, --"you wouldn'tmind carrying this under your cloak, would you?"

"I have no doubt I shall go home lighter with it than without it, ma'am, --thank you, dear aunty!--dear aunt Miriam!"

There was a change of tone, and of eye, as Fleda sealed each thankwith a kiss. 

"But how is it?--does all the charge of the house come upon you, dear?"

"O, this kind of thing, because aunt Lucy doesn't understand it and can'tget along with it so well. She likes better to sew, and I had quite aslief do this. "

"And don't you sew too?"

"O--a little. She does as much as she can, " said Fleda gravely. 

"Where is your other cousin?" said Mrs. Plumfield abruptly. 

"Marion?--she is in England I believe;--we don't hear from her veryoften. "

"No, no, I mean the one who is in the army?"

"Charlton!--O he is just ordered off to Mexico, " said Fleda sadly, "andthat is another great trouble to aunt Lucy. This miserable war!--"

"Does he never come home?"

"Only once since we came from Paris--while we were in New York. He hasbeen stationed away off at the West. "

"He has a captain's pay now, hasn't he?"

"Yes, but he doesn't know at all how things are at home--he hasn't an ideaof it, --and he will not have. Well good-bye, dear aunt Miriam--I must runhome to take care of my chicken. "

She ran away; and if her eyes many a time on the way down the hill filledand overflowed, they were not bitter nor dark tears; they were thegushings of high and pure and generous affections, weeping for fulness, not for want. 

That chicken was not wasted in soup; it was converted into the nicestpossible little fricassee, because the toast would make so much more ofit; and to Fleda's own dinner little went beside the toast, that a greaterportion of the rest might be for her aunt and Hugh. 

That same evening Seth Plumfield came into the kitchen while Fledawas there. 

"Here is something belongs to you, I believe, " said he with a covertsmile, bringing out from under his cloak the mate to Fleda'sfowl;--"mother said somethin' had run away with t'other one and shedidn't know what to do with this one alone. Your uncle at home?"

The next news that Fleda heard was that Seth had taken a lease of thesaw-mill for two years. 

Mr. Didenhover did not disappoint Fleda's expectations. Very little couldbe got from him or the farm under him beyond the immediate supply wantedfor the use of the family; and that in kind, not in cash. Mrs. Rossiturwas comforted by knowing that some portion of rent had also gone to Dr. Gregory--how large or how small a portion she could not find out. Butthis left the family in increasing straits, which narrowed and narrowedduring the whole first summer and winter of Didenhover's administration. Very straitened they would have been but for the means of relief adoptedby the two _children_, as they were always called. Hugh, as soon as thespring opened, had a quiet hint, through Fleda, that if he had a mind totake the working of the saw-mill he might, for a consideration merelynominal. This offer was immediately and gratefully closed with; andHugh's earnings were thenceforward very important at home. Fleda had herown ways and means. Mr. Rossitur, more low-spirited and gloomy than ever, seemed to have no heart to anything. He would have worked perhaps if hecould have done it alone; but to join Didenhover and his men, or anyother gang of workmen, was too much for his magnanimity. He helped nobodybut Fleda. For her he would do anything, at any time; and in the gardenand among her flowers in the flowery courtyard he might often be seen atwork with her. But nowhere else. 

Chapter XXII. 

 Some bring a capon, some a rurall cake, Some nuts, some apples; some that thinke they make The better cheeses, bring 'hem; or else send By their ripe daughters, whom they would commend This way to husbands; and whose baskets beare An embleme of themselves, in plum or peare. 

 Ben Jonson. 

So the time walked away, for this family was not now of those "whom timerunneth withal, "--to the second summer of Mr. Didenhover's term. 

One morning Mrs. Rossitur was seated in the breakfast-room at her usualemployment, mending and patching; no sinecure now. Fleda opened thekitchen door and came in folding up a calico apron she had just taken off. 

"You are tired, dear, " said Mrs. Rossitur sorrowfully;--"you look pale. "

"Do I?"--said Fleda, sitting down. "I am a little tired!"

"Why do you do so?"

"O it's nothing" said Fleda cheerfully;--"I haven't hurt myself. I shallbe rested again in a few minutes. "

"What have you been doing?"

"O I tired myself a little before breakfast in the garden, I suppose. AuntLucy, don't you think I had almost a bushel of peas?--and there was alittle over a half bushel last time, so I shall call it a bushel. Isn'tthat fine?"

"You didn't pick them all yourself?"

"Hugh helped me a little while; but he had the horse to get ready, and Iwas out before him this morning--poor fellow, he was tired from yesterday, I dare say. "

Mrs. Rossitur looked at her, a look between remonstrance and reproach, andcast her eyes down without saying a word, swallowing a whole heartful ofthoughts and feelings. Fleda stooped forward till her own forehead softlytouched Mrs. Rossitur's, as gentle a chiding of despondency as a verysunbeam could have given. 

"Now aunt Lucy!--what do you mean? Don't you know it's good for me?--Anddo you know, Mr. Sweet will give me four shillings a bushel; and auntLucy, I sent three dozen heads of lettuce this morning besides. Isn't thatdoing well? and I sent two dozen day before yesterday. It is time theywere gone, for they are running up to seed, this set; I have got anotherfine set almost ready. "

Mrs. Rossitur looked at her again, as if she had been a sort ofterrestrial angel. 

"And how much will you get for them?"

"I don't know exactly--threepence, or sixpence perhaps, --I guess not somuch--they are so easily raised; though I don't believe there are so fineas mine to be seen in this region. --If I only had somebody to water thestrawberries!--we should have a great many. Aunt Lucy, I am going to sendas many as I can without robbing uncle Rolf--he sha'n't miss them; but therest of us don't mind eating rather fewer than usual? I shall make a gooddeal by them. And I think these morning rides do Hugh good; don't youthink so?"

"And what have you been busy about ever since breakfast, Fleda?"

"O--two or three things, " said Fleda lightly. 

"What?"

"I had bread to make--and then I thought while my hands were in I wouldmake a custard for uncle Rolf. "

"You needn't have done that, dear! it was not necessary. "

"Yes it was, because you know we have only fried pork for dinner to-day, and while we have the milk and eggs it doesn't cost much--the sugar isalmost nothing. He will like it better, and so will Hugh. As for you, "said Fleda, gently touching her forehead again, "you know it is of noconsequence!"

"I wish you would think yourself of some consequence, " said Mrs. Rossitur. 

"Don't I think myself of consequence!" naid Fleda affectionately. "I don'tknow how you'd all get on without me. What do you think I have a mind todo now, by way of resting myself?"

"Well?" said Mrs Rossitur, thinking of something else. 

"It is the day for making presents to the minister, you know?"

"The minister?"--

"Yes, the new minister--they expect him to-day;--you have heard ofit;--the things are all to be carried to his house to-day. I have a greatnotion to go and see the fun--if I only had anything in the world I couldpossibly take with me--"

"Aren't you too tired, dear?"

"No--it would rest me--it is early yet--if I only had something totake!--I couldn't go without taking something----"

"A basket of eggs?" said Mrs. Rossitur. 

"Can't, aunt Lucy--I can't spare them; so many of the hens are settingnow. --A basket of strawberries!--that's the thing! I've got enough pickedfor that and to-night too. That will do!"

Fleda's preparations were soon made, and with her basket on her arm shewas ready to set forth. 

"If pride had not been a little put down in me, " she said smiling, "Isuppose I should rather stay at home than go with such a petty offering. And no doubt every one that sees it or hears of it will lay it to anythingbut the right reason. So much the world knows about the people itjudges!--It is too bad to leave you all alone, aunt Lucy. "

Mrs. Rossitur pulled her down for a kiss, a kiss in which how much wassaid on both sides!--and Fleda set forth, choosing as she very commonlydid the old-time way through the kitchen. 

"Off again?" said Barby, who was on her knees scrubbing the greatflag-stones of the hearth. 

"Yes, I am going up to see the donation party. "

"Has the minister come?"

"No, but he is coming to-day, I understand. "

"He ha'n't preached for 'em yet, has he?"

"Not yet; I suppose he will next Sunday. "

"They are in a mighty hurry to give him a donation party!" said Barby. "I'd ha' waited till he was here first. I don't believe they'd be quite sospry with their donations if they had paid the last man up as they ought. I'd rather give a man what belongs to him, and make him presentsafterwards. "

"Why, so I hope they will, Barby, " said Fleda laughing. But Barbysaid no more. 

The parsonage-house was about a quarter of a mile, a little more, from thesaw-mill, in a line at right angles with the main road. Fleda took Hughfrom his work to see her safe there. The road ran north, keeping near thelevel of the mid-hill where it branched off a little below the saw-mill;and as the ground continued rising towards the east and was well clothedwith woods, the way at this hour was still pleasantly shady. To the leftthe same slope of ground carried down to the foot of the hill gave them anuninterrupted view over a wide plain or bottom, edged in the distance witha circle of gently swelling hills. Close against the hills, in the farcorner of the plain, lay the little village of Queechy Run, hid from sightby a slight intervening rise of ground; not a chimney shewed itself in thewhole spread of country. A sunny landscape just now; but rich inpicturesque associations of hay-cocks and winnows, spotting it near andfar; and close by below them was a field of mowers at work; they coulddistinctly hear the measured rush of the scythes through the grass, andthen the soft clink of the rifles would seem to play some old delicioustune of childish days. Fleda made Hugh stand still to listen. It was awarm day, but "the sweet south that breathes upon a bank of violets, "could hardly be more sweet than the air which coming to them over thewhole breadth of the valley had been charged by the new-made hay. 

"How good it is, Hugh, " said Fleda, "that one can get out of doorsand forget everything that ever happened or ever will happen withinfour walls!"

"Do you?" said Hugh, rather soberly. 

"Yes I do, --even in my flower-patch, right before the house-door; but_here_--" said Fleda, turning away and swinging her basket of strawberriesas she went, "I have no idea I ever did such a thing as make bread!--andhow clothes get mended I do not comprehend in the least!"

"And have you forgotten the peas and the asparagus too?"

"I am afraid you haven't, dear Hugh, " said Fleda, linking her arm withinhis. "Hugh, --I must find some way to make money. "

"More money?" said Hugh smiling. 

"Yes--this garden business is all very well, but it doesn't come to anyvery great things after all, if you are aware of it; and, Hugh, I want toget aunt Lucy a new dress. I can't bear to see her in that old merino, andit isn't good for her. Why, Hugh, she couldn't possibly see anybody, ifanybody should come to the house. "

"Who is there to come?" said Hugh. 

"Why nobody; but still, she ought not to be so. "

"What more can you do, dear Fleda? You work a great deal too hardalready, " said Hugh sighing. "You should have seen the way father andmother looked at you last night when you were asleep on the sofa. "

Fleda stifled her sigh, and went on. 

"I am sure there are things that might be done--things for thebooksellers--translating, or copying, or something, --I don't knowexactly--I have heard of people's doing such things. I mean to write touncle Orrin and ask him. I am sure he can manage it for me. "

"What were you writing the other night?" said Hugh suddenly. 

"When?"

"The other night--when you were writing by the firelight? I saw yourpencil scribbling away at a furious rate over the paper, and you kept yourhand up carefully between me and your face, but I could see it wassomething very interesting. Ha?--" said Hugh, laughingly trying to getanother view of Fleda's face which was again kept from him. "Send _that_to uncle Orrin, Fleda;--or shew it to me first and then I will tell you. "

Fleda made no answer; and at the parsonage door Hugh left her. 

Two or three wagons were standing there, but nobody to be seen. Fleda wentup the steps and crossed the broad piazza, brown and unpainted, butpicturesque still, and guided by the sound of tongues turned to the rightwhere she found a large low room, the very centre of the stir. But thestir had not by any means reached the height yet. Not more than a dozenpeople were gathered. Here were aunt Syra and Mrs. Douglass, appointed acommittee to receive and dispose the offerings as they were brought in. 

"Why there is not much to be seen yet, " said Fleda. "I did not know I wasso early. "

"Time enough, " said Mrs. Douglass. "They'll come the thicker whenthey do come. Good-morning, Dr. Quackenboss!--I hope you're a goingto give us something else besides a bow? and I won't take none ofyour physic, neither. "

"I humbly submit, " said the doctor graciously, "that nothing ought to beexpected of gentlemen that--a--are so unhappy as to be alone; for theyreally--a--have nothing to give, --but themselves. "

There was a shout of merriment. 

"And suppos'n that's a gift that nobody wants?" said Mrs, Douglass's sharpeye and voice at once. 

"In that case, " said the doctor, "I really--Miss Ringgan, may I--a--may Irelieve your hand of this fair burden?"

"It is not a very fair burden, sir, " said Fleda, laughing andrelinquishing her strawberries. 

"Ah but, fair, you know, I mean, --we speak--in that sense----MrsDouglass, here is by far the most elegant offering that your hands willhave the honour of receiving this day. "

"I hope so, " said Mrs. Douglass, "or there won't be much to eat for theminister. Did you never take notice how elegant things somehow made folksgrow poor?"

"I guess he'd as leave see something a little substantial, " saidaunt Syra. 

"Well now, " said the doctor, "here is Miss Ringgan, who isunquestionably--a--elegant!--and I am sure nobody will say thatshe--looks poor!"

In one sense, surely not! There could not be two opinions. But with allthe fairness of health, and the flush which two or three feelings hadbrought to her cheeks, there was a look as if the workings of the mind hadrefined away a little of the strength of the physical frame, and as ifgrowing poor in Mrs. Douglass's sense, that is, thin, might easily be thenext step. 

"What's your uncle going to give us, Fleda?" said aunt Syra. 

But Fleda was saved replying; for Mrs. Douglass, who if she was sharpcould be good-natured too, and had watched to see how Fleda took thedouble fire upon elegance and poverty, could beat no more trial of thatsweet gentle face. Without giving her time to answer she carried her offto see the things already stored in the closet, bidding the doctor overher shoulder "be off after his goods, whether he had got 'em or no. "

There was certainly a promising beginning made for the future minister'scomfort. One shelf was already completely stocked with pies, and anothershewed a quantity of cake, and biscuits enough to last a good-sized familyfor several meals. 

"That is always the way, " said Mrs. Douglass;--"it's the strangest thingthat folks has no sense! Now one-half o' them pies'll be dried up aforethey can eat the rest;--'tain't much loss, for Mis' Prin sent 'em down, and if they are worth anything it's the first time anything ever come outof her house that was. Now look at them biscuit!"--

"How many are coming to eat them?" said Fleda. 

"How?"

"How large a family has the minister?"

"He ha'n't a bit of a family! He ain't married. "

"Not!"

At the grave way in which Mrs. Douglass faced around upon her andanswered, and at the idea of a single mouth devoted to all that closetful, Fleda's gravity gave place to most uncontrollable merriment. 

"No, " said Mrs. Douglass, with a curious twist of her mouth butcommanding herself, --"he ain't to be sure--not yet. He ha'n't any familybut himself and some sort of a housekeeper, I suppose; they'll divide thehouse between 'em. "

"And the biscuits, I hope, " said Fleda. "But what will he do with all theother things, Mrs. Douglass?"

"Sell 'em if he don't want 'em, " said Mrs. Douglass quizzically. "Shut up, Fleda, I forget who sent them biscuit--somebody that calculated to make ashew for a little, I reckon. --My sakes! I believe it was Mis' Springerherself!--she didn't hear me though, " said Mrs. Douglass peeping out ofthe half-open door. "It's a good thing the world ain't all alike;--there'sMis' Plumfield--stop now, and I'll tell you all she sent;--that big jar oflard, there's as good as eighteen or twenty pound, --and that basket ofeggs, I don't know how many there is, --and that cheese, a real fine oneI'll be bound, she wouldn't pick out the worst in her dairy, --and Sethfetched down a hundred weight of corn meal and another of rye flour; nowthat's what I call doing things something like; if everybody else wouldkeep up their end as well as they keep up their'n the world wouldn't bequite so one-sided as it is. I never see the time yet when I couldn't tellwhere to find Mis' Plumfield. "

"No, nor anybody else, " said Fleda looking happy. 

"There's Mis' Silbert couldn't find nothing better to send than a kag ofsoap, " Mrs. Douglass went on, seeming very much amused;--"I _was_ beatwhen I saw that walk in! I should think she'd feel streaked to come hereby and by and see it a standing between Mis' Plumfield's lard and Mis'Clavering's pork--that's a handsome kag of pork, ain't it? What's that mandone with your strawberries?--I'll put 'em up here afore somebody takes anotion to 'em. --I'll let the minister know who he's got to thank for 'em, "said she, winking at Fleda. "Where's Dr. Quackenboss?"

"Coming, ma'am!" sounded from the hall, and forthwith at the open doorentered the doctor's head, simultaneously with a large cheese which he wasrolling before him, the rest of the doctor's person being thrown into thebackground in consequence. A curious natural representation of awheelbarrow, the wheel being the only artificial part. 

"Oh!--that's you, doctor, is it?" said Mrs. Douglass. 

"This is me, ma'am, " said the doctor, rolling up to the closetdoor, --"this has the honour to be--a--myself, --bringing my service to thefeet of Miss Ringgan. "

"'Tain't very elegant, " said the sharp lady. 

Fleda thought if his service was at her feet, her feet should be somewhereelse, and accordingly stepped quietly out of the way and went to one ofthe windows, from whence she could have a view both of the comers and thecome; and by this time thoroughly in the spirit of the thing she used hereyes upon both with great amusement. People were constantly arriving now, in wagons and on foot; and stores of all kinds were most literally pouringin. Bags and even barrels of meal, flour, pork, and potatoes; strings ofdried apples, _salt_, hams and beef; hops, pickles, vinegar, maple sugarand molasses; rolls of fresh butter, cheese, and eggs; cake, bread, andpies, without end. Mr. Penny, the storekeeper, sent a box of tea. Mr. Winegar, the carpenter, a new ox-sled. Earl Douglass brought a handsomeaxe-helve of his own fashioning; his wife a quantity of rolls of wool. ZanFinn carted a load of wood into the wood-shed, and Squire Thorntonanother. Home-made candles, custards, preserves, and smoked liver, came ina batch from two or three miles off up on the mountain. Half a dozenchairs from the factory man. Half a dozen brooms from the otherstore-keeper at the Deepwater settlement. A carpet for the best room fromthe ladies of the township, who had clubbed forces to furnish it; and ahome-made concern it was, from the shears to the loom. 

The room was full now, for every one after depositing his gift turnedaside to see what others had brought and were bringing; and men and women, the young and old, had their several circles of gossip in various parts ofthe crowd. Apart from them all Fleda sat in her window, probably voted"elegant" by others than the doctor, for they vouchsafed her no more thana transitory attention and sheered off to find something more congenial. She sat watching the people; smiling very often as some odd figure, orlook, or some peculiar turn of expression or tone of voice, caught her earor her eye. 

Both ear and eye were fastened by a young countryman with a particularlyfresh face whom she saw approaching the house. He came up on foot, carrying a single fowl slung at his back by a stick thrown across hisshoulder, and without stirring hat or stick he came into the room and madehis way through the crowd of people, looking to the one hand and the otherevidently in a maze of doubt to whom he should deliver himself and hischicken, till brought up by Mrs. Douglass's sharp voice. 

"Well, Philetus! what are you looking for?"

"Do, Mis' Douglass!"--it is impossible to express the abortive attempt ata bow which accompanied this salutation, --"I want to know if the minister'll be in town to-day?"

"What do you want of him?"

"I don't want nothin' of him. I want to know if he'll be in town to-day?"

"Yes--I expect he'll be along directly--why, what then?"

"Cause I've got ten chickens for him here, and mother said they hadn'tought to be kept no longer, and if he wa'n't to hum I were to fetch 'emback, straight. "

"Well he'll be here, so let's have 'em, " said Mrs. Douglass biting herlips. 

"What's become o' t'other one?" said Earl, as the young man's stick wasbrought round to the table;--"I guess you've lost it, ha'n't you?"

"My gracious!" was all Philetus's powers were equal to. Mrs. Douglass wentoff into fits which rendered her incapable of speaking and left theunlucky chicken-bearer to tell his story his own way, but all he broughtforth was "Du tell!--I _am_ beat!--"

"Where's t'other one?" said Mrs. Douglass between paroxysms. 

"Why I ha'n't done nothin' to it, " said Philetus dismally, --there wasteu on 'em afore I started, and I took and tied 'em together and hitched'em onto the stick, and that one must ha' loosened itself off some way. --Ibelieve the darned thing did it o' purpose. "

"I guess your mother knowed that one wouldn't keep till it got here, " saidMrs. Douglass. 

The room was now all one shout, in the midst of which poor Philetus tookhimself off as speedily as possible. Before Fleda had dried her eyes herattention was taken by a lady and gentleman who had just got out of avehicle of more than the ordinary pretension and were coming up to thedoor. The gentleman was young, the lady was not, both had a particularlyamiable and pleasant appearance; but about the lady there was somethingthat moved Fleda singularly and somehow touched the spring of oldmemories, which she felt stirring at the sight of her. As they neared thehouse she lost them--then they entered the room and came through itslowly, looking about them with an air of good-humoured amusement. Fleda'seye was fixed but her mind puzzled itself in vain to recover what in herexperience had been connected with that fair and lady-like physiognomy andthe bland smile that was overlooked by those acute eyes. The eyes methers, and then seemed to reflect her doubt, for they remained as fixed asher own while the lady quickening her steps came up to her. 

"I am sure, " she said, holding out her hand, and with a gentlegraciousness that was very agreeable, --"I am sure you are somebody I know. What is your name?"

"Fleda Ringgan. "

"I thought so!" said the lady, now shaking her hand warmly and kissingher, --"I knew nobody could have been your mother but Amy Charlton! Howlike her you look!--Don't you know me? don't you remember Mrs. Evelyn?"

"Mrs. Evelyn!" said Fleda, the whole coming back to her at once. 

"You remember me now?--How well I recollect you! and all that old time atMontepoole. Poor little creature that you were! and dear little creature, as I am sure you have been ever since. And how is your dear aunt Lucy?"

Fleda answered that she was well. 

"I used to love her very much--that was before I knew you--before shewent abroad. _We_ have just got home--this spring; and now we are stayingat Montepoole for a few days. I shall come and see her to-morrow--I knewyou were somewhere in this region, but I did not know exactly where tofind you; that was one reason why I came here to-day--I thought I mighthear something of you. And where are your aunt Lucy's children? and howare they?"

"Hugh is at home, " said Fleda, "and rather delicate--Charlton is inthe army. '

"In the army. In Mexico!"--

"In Mexico he has been"--

"Your poor aunt Lucy!"

--"In Mexico he has been, but he is just coming home now--he has beenwounded, and he is coming home to spend a long furlough. "

"Coming home. That will make you all very happy. And Hugh is delicate--andhow are you, love? you hardly look like a country-girl. Mr. Olmney!--"said Mrs. Evelyn looking round for her companion, who was standing quietlya few steps off surveying the scene, --"Mr. Olmney!--I am going to do you afavour, sir, in introducing you to Miss Ringgan--a very old friend ofmine. Mr. Olmney, --these are not exactly the apple-cheeks and _robustious_demonstrations we are taught to look for in country-land?"

This was said with a kind of sly funny enjoyment which took awayeverything disagreeable from the appeal; but Fleda conceived a favourableopinion of the person to whom it was made from the fact that he paid herno compliment and made no answer beyond a very pleasant smile. 

"What is Mrs. Evelyn's definition of a _very old_ friend?" said he withwith another smile, as that lady moved off to take a more particular viewof what she had come to see. "To judge by the specimen before me I shouldconsider it very equivocal. "

"Perhaps Mrs. Evelyn counts friendships by inheritance, " said Fleda. "Ithink they ought to be counted so. "

"'Thine own friend and thy father's friend forsake not'?" said theyoung man. 

Fleda looked up and smiled a pleased answer. 

"There is something very lovely in the faithfulness of triedfriendship--and very uncommon. "

"I know that it is uncommon only by hearsay, " said Fleda, "I have so manygood friends. "

He was silent for an instant, possibly thinking there might be a reasonfor that unknown only to Fleda herself. 

"Perhaps one must be in peculiar circumstances to realize it, " he saidsighing;--"circumstances that leave one of no importance to any one in theworld. --But it is a kind lesson I--one learns to depend more on the onefriendship that can never disappoint. "

Fleda's eyes again gave an answer of sympathy, for she thought from theshade that had come upon his face that these circumstances had probablybeen known to himself. 

"This is rather an amusing scene, " he remarked presently in a low tone. 

"Very, " said Fleda. "I have never seen such a one before. "

"Nor I, " said he. "It is a pleasant scene too, it is pleasant to seeso many evidences of kindness and good feeling on the part of allthese people. "

"There is all the more shew of it, I suppose, to-day, " said Fleda, "because we have a new minister coming;--they want to make a favourableimpression. "

"Does the old proverb of the 'new broom' hold good here too?" said he, smiling. "What's the name of your new minister?"

"I am not certain, " said Fleda, --"there were two talked of--the last Iheard was that it was an old Mr. Carey; but from what I hear thismorning I suppose it must be the other--a Mr. Ollum, or some such queername, I believe. "

Fleda thought her hearer looked very much amused, and followed his eyeinto the room, where Mrs. Evelyn was going about in all quarters lookingat everything, and finding occasion to enter into conversation with atleast a quarter of the people who were present. Whatever she was saying itseemed at that moment to have something to do with them, for sundry eyesturned in their direction; and presently Dr. Quackenboss came up, witheven more than common suavity of manner. 

"I trust Miss Ringgan will do me the favour of making me acquaintedwith--a--with our future pastor!" said the doctor, looking however not atall at Miss Ringgan but straight at the pastor in question. "I have greatpleasure in giving you the first welcome, sir, --or, I should say, ratherthe second; since no doubt Miss Ringgan has been in advance of me. It isnot un--a--appropriate, sir, for I may say we--a--divide the town betweenus. You are, I am sure, a worthy representative of Peter and Paul; and Iam--a--a pupil of Esculapus, sir! You are the intellectual physician, andI am the external. "

"I hope we shall both prove ourselves good workmen, sir, " said the youngminister, shaking the doctor's hand heartily. 

"This is Dr. Quackenboss, Mr. Olmney, " said Fleda, making a tremendouseffort. But though she could see corresponding indications about hercompanion's eyes and mouth, she admired the kindness and self-commandwith which he listened to the doctor's civilities and answered them;expressing his grateful sense of the favours received not only from himbut from others. 

"O--a little to begin with, " said the doctor, looking round upon the room, which would certainly have furnished _that_ for fifty people;--"I hope weain't done yet by considerable--But here is Miss Ringgan, Mr. --a--Ummin, that has brought you some of the fruits of her own garden, with her ownfair hands--a basket of fine strawberries--which I am sure--a--will makeyou forget everything else!"

Mr. Olmney had the good-breeding not to look at Fleda, as he answered, "Iam sure the spirit of kindness was the same in all, Dr. Quackenboss, and Itrust not to forget that readily. "

Others now came up; and Mr. Olmney was walked off to be "made acquainted"with all or with all the chief of his parishioners then and thereassembled. Fleda watched him going about, shaking hands, talking andsmiling, in all directions, with about as much freedom of locomotion as afly in a spider's web; till at Mrs. Evelyn's approach the others fell offa little, and taking him by the arm she rescued him. 

"My dear Mr. Olmney!" she whispered, with an intensely amused face, --"Ishall have a vision of you every day for a month to come, sitting down todinner with a rueful face to a whortleberry pie; for there are so many ofthem your conscience will not let you have anything else cooked--youcannot manage more than one a day. "

"Pies!" said the young gentleman, as Mrs. Evelyn left talking to indulgeher feelings in ecstatic quiet laughing, --"I have a horror of pies!"

"Yes, yes, " said Mrs. Evelyn nodding her head delightedly as she drew himtowards the pantry, --"I know!--Come and see what is in store for you. Youare to do penance for a month to come with tin pans of blackberry jamfringed with pie-crust--no, they can't be blackberries, they must beraspberries--the blackberries are not ripe yet. And you may sup upon cakeand custards--unless you give the custards for the little pig outthere--he will want something. "

"A pig!--" said Mr. Olmney in a maze; Mrs. Evelyn again giving out indistress. "A pig?" said Mr. Olmney. 

"Yes--a pig--a very little one, " said Mrs. Evelyn convulsively. "I am surehe is hungry now!--"

They had reached the pantry, and Mr. Olmney's face was all that waswanting to Mrs. Evelyn's delight. How she smothered it, so that it shouldgo no further than to distress his self-command, is a mystery known onlyto the initiated. Mrs. Douglass was forthwith called into council. 

"Mrs. Douglass, " said Mr. Olmney, "I feel very much inclined to play thehost, and beg my friends to share with me some of these good things theyhave been so bountifully providing. "

"He would enjoy them much more than he would alone, Mrs. Douglass, " saidMrs. Evelyn, who still had hold of Mr. Olmney's arm, looking round to thelady with a most benign face. 

"I reckon some of 'em would be past enjoying by the time he got to 'em, wouldn't they?" said the lady. "Well, they'll have to take 'em in theirfingers, for our crockery ha'n't come yet--I shall have to jog Mr. Flatt'selbow--but hungry folks ain't curious. "

"In their fingers, or any way, provided you have only a knife to cut themwith, " said Mr. Olmney, while Mrs. Evelyn squeezed his arm in secretmischief;--"and pray if we can muster two knives let us cut one of thesecheeses, Mrs. Douglass. "

And presently Fleda saw pieces of pie walking about in all directionssupported by pieces of cheese. And then Mrs. Evelyn and Mr. Olmney cameout from the pantry and came towards her, the latter bringing her with hisown hands a portion in a tin pan. The two ladies sat down in the windowtogether to eat and be amused. 

"My dear Fleda, I hope you are hungry!" said Mrs. Evelyn, biting her pieFleda could not help thinking with an air of good-humoured condescension. 

"I am, ma'am, " she said laughing. 

"You look just as you used to do, " Mrs. Evelyn went on earnestly. 

"Do I?" said Fleda, privately thinking that the lady must have good eyesfor features of resemblance. 

"Except that you have more colour in your cheeks and more sparkles in youreyes. Dear little creature that you were! I want to make you know mychildren. Do you remember that Mr. And Mrs. Carleton that took such careof you at Montepoole?"

"Certainly I do!--very well. "

"We saw them last winter--we were down at their country-place in----shire. They have a magnificent place there--everything you can think of tomake life pleasant. We spent a week with them. My dear Fleda!--I wish Icould shew you that place! you never saw anything like it. "

Fleda eat her pie. 

"We have nothing like it in this country--of course--cannot have. One ofthose superb English country-seats is beyond even the imagination of anAmerican. "

"Nature has been as kind to us, hasn't she?" said Fleda. 

"O yes, but such fortunes you know. Mr. Olmney, what do you think ofthose overgrown fortunes? I was speaking to Miss Ringgan just now of agentleman who has forty thousand pounds a year income--sterling, sir;--forty thousand pounds a year sterling. Somebody says, you know, that'he who has more than enough is a thief of the rights of hisbrother, '--what do you think?"

But Mr. Olmney's attention was at the moment forcibly called off by the"income" of a parishioner. 

"I suppose, " said Fleda, "his thievish character must depend entirely onthe use he makes of what he has. "

"I don't know, " said Mrs. Evelyn shaking her head, --"I think thepossession of great wealth is very hardening. "

"To a fine nature?" said Fleda. 

Mrs. Evelyn shook her head again, but did not seem to think it worth whileto reply; and Fleda was trying the question in her own mind whether wealthor poverty might be the most hardening in its effects; when Mr. Olmneyhaving succeeded in getting free again came and took his station besidethem; and they had a particularly pleasant talk, which Fleda who had seennobody in a great while enjoyed very much. They had several such talks inthe course of the day; for though the distractions caused by Mr. Olmney'sother friends were many and engrossing, he generally contrived in time tofind his way back to their window. Meanwhile Mrs. Evelyn had a great dealto say to Fleda and to hear from her; and left her at last under anengagement to spend the next day at the Pool. 

Upon Mr. Olmney's departure with Mrs. Evelyn the attraction which had heldthe company together was broken, and they scattered fast. Fleda presentlyfinding herself in the minority was glad to set out with Miss AnastasiaFinn and her sister Lucy, who would leave her but very little way from herown door. But she had more company than she bargained for. Dr. Quackenbosswas pleased to attach himself to their party, though his own shortest roadcertainly lay in another direction; and Fleda wondered what he had donewith his wagon, which beyond a question must have brought the cheese inthe morning. She edged herself out of the conversation as much aspossible, and hoped it would prove so agreeable that he would not think ofattending her home. In vain. When they made a stand at the cross-roads thedoctor stood on her side. 

"I hope, now you've made a commencement, you will come to see us again, Fleda, " said Miss Lucy. 

"What's the use of asking?" said her sister abruptly. "If she has a mindto she will, and if she ha'n't I am sure we don't want her. "

They turned off. 

"Those are excellent people, " said the doctor when they were beyondhearing;--"really respectable!"

"Are they?" said Fleda. 

"But your goodness does not look, I am sure, to find--a--Parisian gracesin so remote a circle?"

"Certainly not!" said Fleda. 

"We have had a genial day!" said the doctor, quitting the Finns. 

"I don't know, " said Fleda, permitting a little of her inward merriment towork off, --"I think it has been rather too hot. "

"Yes, " said the doctor, "the sun has been ardent; but I referred rather tothe--a--to the warming of affections, and the pleasant exchange ofintercourse on all sides which has taken place. How do you likeour--a--the stranger?"

"Who, sir?"

"The new-comer, --this young Mr. Ummin?"

Fleda answered, but she hardly knew what, for she was musing whether thedoctor would go away or come in. They reached the door, and Fleda invitedhim, with terrible effort after her voice; the doctor having just blandlyoffered an opinion upon the decided polish of Mr. Olmney's manners!

Chapter XXIII. 

 Labour is light, where lore (quoth I) doth pay; (Saith he) light burthens heavy, if far borne. 

 Drayton. 

Fleda pushed open the parlour door and preceded her convoy, in a kind oftip-toe state of spirits. The first thing that met her eyes was her auntin one of the few handsome silks which were almost her sole relic of pastwardrobe prosperity, and with a face uncommonly happy and pretty; and thenext instant she saw the explanation of this appearance in her cousinCharlton, a little palish, but looking better than she had ever seen him, and another gentleman of whom her eye took in only the general outlines offashion and comfortable circumstances; now too strange to it to gounnoted. In Fleda's usual mood her next movement would have been made witha demureness that would have looked like bashfulness. But the amusementand pleasure of the day just passed had for the moment set her spiritsfree from the burden that generally bound them down; and they were aselastic as her step as she came forward and presented to her aunt "Dr. Quackenboss, --and then turned to shake her cousin's hand. "

"Charlton!--Where did you come from? We didn't expect you so soon. "

"You are not sorry to see me, I hope?"

"Not at all--very glad;"--and then as her eye glanced towards the othernew-comer Charlton presented to her "Mr. Thorn;" and Fleda's fancy made asudden quick leap on the instant to the old hall at Montepoole and theshot dog. And then Dr. Quackenboss was presented, an introduction whichCapt. Rossitur received coldly, and Mr. Thorn with something more thanfrigidity. 

The doctor's elasticity however defied depression, especially in thepresence of a silk dress and a military coat. Fleda presently saw that hewas agonizing her uncle. Mrs. Rossitur had drawn close to her son. Fledawas left to take care of the other visitor. The young men had both seemedmore struck at the vision presented to them than she had been on her part. She thought neither of them was very ready to speak to her. 

"I did not know, " said Mr. Thorn softly, "what reason I had to thankRossitur for bringing me home with him to-night--he promised me a supperand a welcome, --but I find he did not tell me the half of myentertainment. "

"That was wise in him, " said Fleda;--"the half that is not expected isalways worth a great deal more than the other. "

"In this case, most assuredly, " said Thorn bowing, and Fleda was sure notknowing what to make of her. 

"Have you been in Mexico too, Mr. Thorn?"

"Not I!--that's an entertainment I beg to decline. I never felt inclinedto barter an arm for a shoulder-knot, or to abridge my usual means oflocomotion for the privilege of riding on parade--or selling oneself for aname--Peter Schlemil's selling his shadow I can understand; but this isreally lessening oneself that one's shadow may grow the larger. "

"But you were in the army?" said Fleda. 

"Yes--It wasn't my doing. There is a time, you know, when one must pleasethe old folks--I grew old enough and wise enough to cut loose from thearmy before I had gained or lost much by it. "

He did not understand the displeased gravity of Fleda's face, and went oninsinuatingly;--

"Unless I have lost what Charlton has gained--something I did not knowhung upon the decision--Perhaps you think a man is taller for having ironheels to his boots?"

"I do not measure a man by his inches, " said Fleda. 

"Then you have no particular predilection for shooting men?"

"I have no predilection for shooting anything, sir. "

"Then I am safe!" said he, with an arrogant little air of satisfaction. "Iwas born under an indolent star, but I confess to you, privately, of thetwo I would rather gather my harvests with the sickle than the sword. Howdoes your uncle find it?"

"Find what, sir?"

"The worship of Ceres?--I remember he used to be devoted to Apollo andthe Muses. "

"Are they rival deities?"

"Why--I have been rather of the opinion that they were too many for onehouse to hold, " said Thorn glancing at Mr. Rossitur. "But perhays theGraces manage to reconcile them!"

"Did you ever hear of the Graces getting supper?" said Fleda. "BecauseCeres sometimes sets them at that work. Uncle Rolf, " she added as shepassed him, --"Mr. Thorn is inquiring after Apollo--will you set him right, while I do the same for the tablecloth?"

Her uncle looked from her sparkling eyes to the rather puzzled expressionof his guest's face. 

"I was only asking your lovely niece, " said Mr. Thorn coming down from hisstilts, --"how you liked this country life?"

Dr. Quackenboss bowed, probably in approbation of the epithet. 

"Well sir--what information did she give you on the subject?"

"Left me in the dark, sir, with a vague hope that you would enlighten me. "

"I trust Mr. Rossitur can give a favourable report?" said thedoctor benignly. 

But Mr. Rossitur's frowning brow looked very little like it. 

"What do you say to our country life, sir?"

"It's a confounded life, sir, " said Mr. Rossitur, taking a pamphlet fromthe table to fold and twist as he spoke, --"it is a confounded life; forthe head and the hands must either live separate, or the head must do noother work but wait upon the hands. It is an alternative of loss andwaste, sir. "

"The alternative seems to be of--a--limited application, " said the doctor, as Fleda, having found that Hugh and Barby had been beforehand with her, now came back to the company. "I am sure this lady would not give such atestimony. "

"About what?" said Fleda, colouring under the fire of so many eyes. 

"The blighting influence of Ceres' sceptre, " said Mr. Thorn. 

"This country life, " said her uncle;--"do you like it, Fleda?"

"You know, uncle, " said she cheerfully, "I was always of the oldDouglasses' mind--I like better to hear the lark sing than themouse squeak. "

"Is that one of Earl Douglass's sayings?" said the doctor. 

"Yes sir, " said Fleda with quivering lips, --"but not the one you know--anolder man. "

"Ah!" said the doctor intelligently. "Mr. Rossitur, --speaking ofhands, --I have employed the Irish very much of late years--they are asgood as one can have, if you do not want a head. "

"That is to say, --if you have a head, " said Thorn. 

"Exactly" said the doctor, all abroad, --"and when there are not too manyof them together. I had enough of that, sir, some years ago when amultitude of them were employed on the public works. The Irish were in astate of mutilation, sir, all through the country. "

"Ah!" said Thorn, --"had the military been at work upon them?"

"No sir, but I wish they had, I am sure; it would have been for the peaceof the town. There were hundreds of them. We were in want of an army. "

"Of surgeons, --I should think, " said Thorn. 

Fleda saw the doctor's dubious air and her uncle's compressed lips; andcommanding herself, with even a look of something like displeasure shequitted her seat by Mr. Thorn and called the doctor to the window to lookat a cluster of rose acacias just then in their glory. He admired, and sheexpatiated, till she hoped everybody but herself had forgotten what theyhad been talking about. But they had no sooner returned to their seatsthan Thorn began again. 

"The Irish in your town are not in the same mutilated state now, Isuppose, sir?"

"No sir, no, " said the doctor;--"there are much fewer of them to breakeach other's bones. It was all among themselves, sir. "

"The country is full of foreigners, " said Mr. Rossitur withpraiseworthy gravity. 

"Yes sir, " said Dr. Quackenboss thoughtfully;--"we shall have none of ourancestors left in a short time, if they go on as they are doing. "

Fleda was beaten from the field, and rushing into the breakfast-roomastonished Hugh by seizing hold of him and indulging in a most prolongedand unbounded laugh. She did not shew herself again till the company camein to supper; but then she was found as grave as Minerva. She devotedherself particularly to the care and entertainment of Dr. Quackenboss tillhe took leave; nor could Thorn get another chance to talk to her throughall the evening. 

When he and Rossitur were at last in their rooms Fleda told her story. 

"You don't know how pleasant it was, aunt Lucy--how much I enjoyedit--seeing and talking to somebody again. Mrs. Evelyn was so very kind. "

"I am very glad, my darling, " said Mrs. Rossitur, stroking away the hairfrom the forehead that was bent down towards her;--"I am glad you had itto-day and I am glad you will have it again to-morrow. "

"You will have it too, aunt Lucy. Mrs. Evelyn will be here in themorning--she said so. "

"I shall not see her. "

"Why? Now aunt Lucy!--you will. "

"I have nothing in the world to see her in--I cannot. "

"You have this?"

"For the morning? A rich French silk?--It would be absurd. No, no, --itwould be better to wear my old merino than that. "

"But you will have to dress in the morning for Mr. Thorn?--he will be hereto breakfast. "

"I shall not come down to breakfast. --Don't look so, love!--I can't helpit. "

"Why was that calico got for me and not for you?" said Fleda, bitterly. 

"A sixpenny calico, " said Mrs. Rossitur smiling, --"it would be hard if youcould not have so much as that, love. "

"And you will not see Mrs. Evelyn and her daughters at all!--and I wasthinking that it would do you so much good!--"

Mrs. Rossitur drew her face a little nearer and kissed it, over and over. 

"It will do you good, my darling--that is what I care for much more. "

"It will not do me half as much, " said Fleda sighing. 

Her spirits were in their old place again; no more a tip-toe to-night. Theshort light of pleasure was overcast. She went to bed feeling very quietindeed; and received Mrs. Evelyn and excused her aunt the next day, almostwishing the lady had not been as good as her word. But though in the samemood she set off with her to drive to Montepoole, it could not stand thebright influences with which she found herself surrounded. She came homeagain at night with dancing spirits. 

It was some days before Capt. Rossitur began at all to comprehend thechange which had come upon his family. One morning Fleda and Hugh havingfinished their morning's work were in the breakfast-room waiting for therest of the family, when Charlton made his appearance, with the cloud onhis brow which had been lately gathering. 

"Where is the paper?" said he. "I haven't seen a paper since I havebeen here. "

"You mustn't expect to find Mexican luxuries in Queechy, Capt. Rossitur, " said Fleda pleasantly. --"Look at these roses, and don't askme for papers!"

He did look a minute at the dish of flowers she was arranging for thebreakfast table, and at the rival freshness and sweetness of the face thathung over them. 

"You don't mean to say you live without a paper?"

[Illustration: "Look at these roses, and don't ask me for papers!"]

"Well, it's astonishing how many things people can live without, " saidFleda rather dreamily, intent upon settling an uneasy rose that wouldtopple over. 

"I wish you'd answer me really, " said Charlton. "Don't you take apaper here?"

"We would take one thankfully if it would be so good as to come; butseriously, Charlton, we haven't any, " she said changing her tone. 

"And have you done without one all through the war?"

"No--we used to borrow one from a kind neighbour once in a while, to makesure, as Mr. Thorn says, that you had not bartered an arm for ashoulder-knot. "

"You never looked to see whether I was killed in the meanwhile, Isuppose?"

"No--never, " said Fleda gravely, as she took her place on a low seat inthe corner, --"I always knew you were safe before I touched the paper. "

"What do you mean?"

"I am not an enemy, Charlton, " said Fleda laughing. "I mean that I used tomake aunt Miriam look over the accounts before I did. "

Charlton walked up and down the room for a little while in sullen silence;and then brought up before Fleda. 

"What are you doing?"

Fleda looked up, --a glance that as sweetly and brightly as possible halfasked half bade him be silent and ask no questions. 

"What _are_ you doing?" he repeated. 

"I am putting a patch on my shoe. "

His look expressed more indignation than anything else. 

"What do you mean?"

"Just what I say, " said Fleda, going on with her work. 

"What in the name of all the cobblers in the land do you do it for?"

"Because I prefer it to having a hole in my shoe; which would give me theadditional trouble of mending my stockings. "

Charlton muttered an impatient sentence, of which Fleda only understoodthat "the devil" was in it, and then desired to know if whole shoes wouldnot answer the purpose as well as either holes or patches?

"Quite--if I had them, " said Fleda, giving him another glance which, withall its gravity and sweetness, carried also a little gentle reproach. 

"But do you know, " said he after standing still a minute looking at her, "that any cobbler in the country would do what you are doing much betterfor sixpence?"

"I am quite aware of that, " said Fleda, stitching away. 

"Your hands are not strong enough for that work!"

Fleda again smiled at him, in the very dint of giving a hard push to herneedle; a smile that would have witched him into good humour if he had notbeen determinately in a cloud and proof against everything. It onlyadmonished him that he could not safely remain in the region of sunbeams;and he walked up and down the room furiously again. The sudden ceasing ofhis footsteps presently made her look up. 

"What have you got there?--Oh, Charlton, don't!--please put that down!--Ididn't know I had left them there. --They were a little wet and I laid themon the chair to dry. "

"What do you call this?" said he, not minding her request. 

"They are only my gardening gloves--I thought I had put them away. "

"Gloves!" said he, pulling at them disdainfully, --"why here are two--onewithin the other--what's that for?"

"It's an old-fashioned way of mending matters, --two friends covering eachother's deficiencies. The inner pair are too thin alone, and the outerones have holes that are past cobbling. "

"Are we going to have any breakfast to-day?" said he flinging the glovesdown. "You are very late!"

"No, " said Fleda quietly, --"it is not time for aunt Lucy to be down yet. "

"Don't you have breakfast before nine o'clock?"

"Yes--by half-past eight generally. "

"Strange way of getting along on a farm!--Well I can't wait--I promisedThorn I would meet him this morning--Barby!--I wish you would bring memy boots!--"

Fleda made two springs, --one to touch Charlton's mouth, the other to closethe door of communication with the kitchen. 

"Well!--what is the matter?--can't I have them?"

"Yes, yes, but ask me for what you want. You mustn't call upon Barby inthat fashion. "

"Why not? is she too good to be spoken to? What is she in thekitchen for?"

"She wouldn't be in the kitchen long if we were to speak to her in thatway, " said Fleda. "I suppose she would as soon put your boots on for youas fetch and carry them. I'll see about it. "

"It seems to me Fleda rules the house, " remarked Capt. Rossitur when shehad left the room. 

"Well who should rule it?" said Hugh. 

"Not she!"

"I don't think she does, " said Hugh; "but if she did, I am sure it couldnot be in better hands. "

"It shouldn't be in her hands at all. But I have noticed since I have beenhere that she takes the arrangement of almost everything. My mother seemsto have nothing to do in her own family. "

"I wonder what the family or anybody in it would do without Fleda!" saidHugh, his gentle eyes quite firing with indignation. "You had better knowmore before you speak, Charlton. "

"What is there for me to know?"

"Fleda does everything. "

"So I say; and that is what I don't like. "

"How little you know what you are talking about!" said Hugh. "I can tellyou she is the life of the house, almost literally; we should have hadlittle enough to live upon this summer if it had not been for her. "

"What do you mean?"--impatiently enough. 

"Fleda--if it had not been for her gardening and management. She has takencare of the garden these two years and sold I can't tell you how much fromit. Mr. Sweet, the hotel-man at the Pool, takes all we can give him. "

"How much does her 'taking care of the garden' amount to?"

"It amounts to all the planting and nearly all the other work, after thefirst digging, --by far the greater part of it. "

Charlton walked up and down a few turns in most unsatisfied silence. 

"How does she get the things to Montepoole?"

"I take them. "

"You!--When?"

"I ride with them there before breakfast. Fleda is up very early togather them. "

"You have not been there this morning?"

"Yes. "

"With what?"

"Peas and strawberries. "

"And Fleda picked them?"

"Yes--with some help from Barby and me. "

"That glove of hers was wringing wet. "

"Yes, with the pea-vines, and strawberries too; you know they get soloaded with dew. O Fleda gets more than her gloves wet. But she does notmind anything she does for father and mother. "

"Humph!--And does she get enough when all is done to pay for the trouble?"

"I don't know, " said Hugh rather sadly. "_She_ thinks so. It is notrifle. "

"Which?--the pay or the trouble?"

"Both. But I meant the pay. Why she made ten dollars last year from theasparagus beds alone, and I don't know how much more this year. "

"Ten dollars!--The devil!"

"Why?"

"Have you come to counting your dollars by the tens?"

"We have counted our sixpences so a good while, " said Hugh quietly. 

Charlton strode about the room again in much perturbation. Then came inFleda, looking as bright as if dollars had been counted by the thousand, and bearing his boots. 

"What on earth did you do that for?" said he angrily. "I could have gonefor them myself. "

"No harm done, " said Fleda lightly, --"only I have got something elseinstead of the thanks I expected. "

"I can't conceive, " said he, sitting down and sulkily drawing on hisfoot-gear, "why this piece of punctiliousness should have made any moredifficulty about bringing me my boots than about blacking them. "

A sly glance of intelligence, which Charlton was quick enough to detect, passed between Fleda and Hugh. His eye carried its question from one tothe other. Fleda's gravity gave way. 

"Don't look at me so, Charlton, " said she laughing;--"I can't help it, you are so excessively comical!--I recommend that you go out upon thegrass-plat before the door and turn round two or three times. "

"Will you have the goodness to explain yourself? Who _did_ blackthese boots?"

"Never pry into the secrets of families, " said Fleda. "Hugh and I have acouple of convenient little fairies in our service that do things_unknownst_. "

"I blacked them, Charlton, " said Hugh. 

Capt. Rossitur gave his slippers a fling that carried them clean into thecorner of the room. 

"I will see, " he said rising, "whether some other service cannot be hadmore satisfactory than that of fairies!"

"Now Charlton, " said Fleda with a sudden change of manner, coming to himand laying her hand most gently on his arm, --"please don't speak aboutthese things before uncle Rolf or your mother--Please donot!--Charlton!--It would only do a great deal of harm and do no good. "

She looked up in his face, but he would not meet her pleading eye, andshook off her hand. 

"I don't need to be instructed how to speak to my father and mother; and Iam not one of the household that has submitted itself to your direction. "

Fleda sat down on her bench and was quiet, but with a lip that trembled alittle and eyes that let fall one or two witnesses against him. Charltondid not see them, and he knew better than to meet Hugh's look of reproach. But for all that there was a certain consciousness that hung about theneck of his purpose and kept it down in spite of him; and it was not tillbreakfast was half over that his ill-humour could make head against thisgentle thwarting and cast it off. For so long the meal was excessivelydull. Hugh and Fleda had their own thoughts; Charlton was biting hisresolution into every slice of bread and butter that occupied him; and Mr. Rossitur's face looked like anything but encouraging an inquiry into hisaffairs. Since his son's arrival he had been most uncommonly gloomy; andMrs. Rossitur's face was never in sunshine when his was in shade. 

"You'll have a warm day of it at the mill, Hugh, " said Fleda, by way ofsaying something to break the dismal monotony of knives and forks. 

"Does that mill make much?" suddenly inquired Charlton. 

"It has made a new bridge to the brook, literally, " said Fleda gayly; "forit has sawn out the boards; and you know you mustn't speak evil of whatcarries you over the water. "

"Does that mill pay for the working?" said Charlton, turning with thedryest disregard from her interference and addressing himselfdeterminately to his father. 

"What do you mean? It does not work gratuitously, " answered Mr. Rossitur, with at least equal dryness. 

"But, I mean, are the profits of it enough to pay for the loss ofHugh's time?"

"If Hugh judges they are not, he is at liberty to let it alone. "

"My time is not lost, " said Hugh; "I don't know what I should do with it. "

"I don't know what we should do without the mill, " said Mrs. Rossitur. 

That gave Charlton an unlucky opening. 

"Has the prospect of farming disappointed you, father?"

"What is the prospect of your company?" said Mr. Rossitur, swallowing halfan egg before he replied. 

"A very limited prospect!" said Charlton, --"if you mean the one that wentwith me. Not a fifth part of them left. "

"What have you done with them?"

"Shewed them where the balls were flying, sir, and did my best to shewthem the thickest of it. "

"Is it necessary to shew it to us too?" said Fleda. 

"I believe there are not twenty living that followed me into Mexico, " hewent on, as if he had not heard her. 

"Was all that havoc made in one engagement?" said Mrs. Rossitur, whosecheek had turned pale. 

"Yes, mother--in the course of a few minutes. "

"I wonder what would pay for _that_ loss!" said Fleda indignantly. 

"Why, the point was gained! and it did not signify what the cost was so wedid that. My poor boys were a small part of it. "

"What point do you mean?"

"I mean the point we had in view, which was taking the place. "

"And what was the advantage of gaining the place. "

"Pshaw!--The advantage of doing one's duty. "

"But what made it duty?" said Hugh. 

"Orders. "

"I grant you, " said Fleda, --"I understand that--but bear with me, Charlton, --what was the advantage to the army or the country?"

"The advantage of great honour if we succeeded, and avoiding the shameof failure. "

"Is that all?" said Hugh. 

"All!" said Charlton. 

"Glory must be a precious thing when other men's lives are so cheap tobuy it, " said Fleda. 

"We did not risk theirs without our own, " said Charlton colouring. 

"No, --but still theirs were risked for you. "

"Not at all;--why this is absurd! you are saying that the whole war wasfor nothing. "

"What better than nothing was the end of it? We paid Mexico for theterritory she yielded to us, didn't we, uncle Rolf?"

"Yes. "

"How much?"

"Twenty millions, I believe. "

"And what do you suppose the war has cost?"

"Hum--I don't know, --a hundred. "

"A hundred million! besides--how much besides!--And don't you suppose, uncle Rolf, that for half of that sum Mexico would have sold us peaceablywhat she did in the end?"

"It is possible--I think it is very likely. "

"What was the fruit of the war, Capt. Rossitur?"

"Why, a great deal of honour to the army and the nation at large. "

"Honour again! But granting that the army gained it, which they certainlydid, for one I do not feel very proud of the nation's share. "

"Why they are one" said Charlton impatiently. 

"In an unjust war"

"It was _not_ an unjust war!"

"That's what you call a knock-downer, " said Fleda laughing. "But I confessmyself so simple as to have agreed with Seth Plumfield, when I heard himand Lucas disputing about it last winter, that it was a shame to a greatand strong nation like ours to display its might in crushing a weak one. "

"But they drew it upon themselves. _They_ began hostilities. "

"There is a diversity of opinion about that. "

"Not in heads that have two grains of information. "

"I beg your pardon. Mrs. Evelyn and Judge Sensible were talking over thatvery question the other day at Montepoole; and he made it quite clear tomy mind that we were the aggressors. "

"Judge Sensible is a fool!" said Mr. Rossitur. 

"Very well!" said Fleda laughing;--"but as I do not wish to becomprehended in the same class, will you shew me how he was wrong, uncle?"

This drew on a discussion of some length, to which Fleda listened withprofound attention, long after her aunt had ceased to listen at all, andHugh was thoughtful, and Charlton disgusted. At the end of it Mr. Rossiturleft the table and the room, and Fleda subsiding turned to her coldcoffee-cup. 

"I didn't know you ever cared anything about politics before, " said Hugh. 

"Didn't you?" said Fleda smiling, "You do me injustice. "

Their eyes met for a second, with a most appreciating smile on his part;and then he too went off to his work. There was a few minutes' silentpause after that. 

"Mother, " said Charlton looking up and bursting forth, "what is all thisabout the mill and the farm?--Is not the farm doing well?"

"I am afraid not very well, " said Mrs. Rossitur, gently. 

"What is the difficulty?"

"Why, your father has let it to a man by the name of Didenhover, and I amafraid he is not faithful; it does not seem to bring us in what it ought. "

"What did he do that for?"

"He was wearied with the annoyances he had to endure before, and thoughtit would be better and more profitable to have somebody else take thewhole charge and management. He did not know Didenhover's character atthe time. "

"Engaged him without knowing him!"

Fleda was the only third party present, and Charlton unwittingly allowinghimself to meet her eye received a look of keen displeasure that he wasnot prepared for. 

"That is not like him, " he said in a much moderated tone. "But you must bechanged too, mother, or you would not endure such anomalous service inyour kitchen. "

"There are a great many changes, dear Charlton, " said his mother, lookingat him with such a face of sorrowful sweetness and patience that his mouthwas stopped. Fleda left the room. 

"And have you really nothing to depend upon but that child's strawberriesand Hugh's wood-saw?" he said in the tone he ought to have used from thebeginning. 

"Little else. "

Charlton stifled two or three sentences that rose to his lips, and beganto walk up and down the room again. His mother sat musing by the tea-boardstill, softly clinking her spoon against the edge of her tea-cup. 

"She has grown up very pretty, " he remarked after a pause. 

"Pretty!" said Mrs. Rossitur. 

"Why?"

"No one that has seen much of Fleda would ever describe her by that name. "

Charlton had the candour to think he had seen something of her thatmorning. 

"Poor child!" said Mrs. Rossitur sadly, --"I can't bear to think of herspending her life as she is doing--wearing herself out, I know, sometimes--and buried alive. "

"Buried!" said Charlton in his turn. 

"Yes--without any of the advantages and opportunities she ought to have. Ican't bear to think of it. And yet how should I ever live withouther!"--said Mrs. Rossitur, leaning her face upon her hands. "And if shewere known she would not be mine long. But it grieves me to have her gowithout her music that she is so fond of, and the books she wants--she andHugh have gone from end to end of every volume there is in the house, Ibelieve, in every language, except Greek. "

"Well, she looks pretty happy and contented, mother. "

"I don't know!" said Mrs. Rossitur shaking her head. 

"Isn't she happy?"

"I don't know, " said Mrs. Rossitur again;--"she has a spirit that is happyin doing her duty, or anything for those she loves; but I see hersometimes wearing a look that pains me exceedingly. I am afraid the wayshe lives and the changes in our affairs have worn upon her more than weknow of--she feels doubly everything that touches me, or Hugh, or yourfather. She is a gentle spirit!--"

"She seems to me not to want character, " said Charlton. 

"Character! I don't know who has so much. She has at least fifty times asmuch character as I have. And energy. She is admirable at managingpeople--she knows how to influence them somehow so that everybody doeswhat she wants. "

"And who influences her?" said Charlton. 

"Who influences her? Everybody that she loves. Who has the most influenceover her, do you mean?--I am sure I don't know--Hugh, if anybody, --but_she_ is rather the moving spirit of the household. "

Capt. Rossitur resolved that he would be an exception to her rule. 

He forgot, however, for some reason or other, to sound his father anymore on the subject of mismanagement. His thoughts indeed were morepleasantly taken up. 

Chapter XXIV. 

 My lord Sebastian, The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness And time to speak it in: you rub the sore. When you should bring the plaster. 

 Tempest. 

The Evelyns spent several weeks at the Pool; and both mother and daughtersconceiving a great affection for Fleda kept her in their company as muchas possible For those weeks Fleda had enough of gayety. She was constantlyspending the day with them at the Pool, or going on some party ofpleasure, or taking quiet sensible walks and rides with them along or withonly one or two more of the most rational and agreeable people that theplace could command. And even Mrs. Rossitur was persuaded, more times thanone, to put herself in her plainest remaining French silk and entertainthe whole party, with the addition of one or two of Charlton's friends, ather Queechy farm-house. 

Fleda enjoyed it all with the quick spring of a mind habitually bent tothe patient fulfilment of duty and habitually under the pressure of rathersobering thoughts. It was a needed and very useful refreshment. Charlton'sbeing at home gave her the full good of the opportunity more than wouldelse have been possible. He was her constant attendant, driving her to andfrom the Pool, and finding as much to call him there as she had; forbesides the Evelyns his friend Thorn abode there all this time. The onlydrawback to Fleda's pleasure as she drove off from Queechy would be theleaving Hugh plodding away at his saw-mill. She used to nod and wave tohim as they went by, and almost feel that she ought not to go on and enjoyherself while he was tending that wearisome machinery all day long. Stillshe went on and enjoyed herself; but the mere thought of his patient smileas she passed would have kept her from too much elation of spirits, ifthere had been any danger. There never was any. 

"That's a lovely little cousin of yours, " said Thorn one evening, when heand Rossitur, on horseback, were leisurely making their way along the upand down road between Montepoole and Queechy. 

"She is not particularly little, " said Rossitur with a dryness thatsomehow lacked any savour of gratification. 

"She is of a most fair stature, " said Thorn;--"I did not mean anythingagainst that, --but there are characters to which one gives instinctively asoftening appellative. "

"Are there?" said Charlton. 

"Yes. She is a lovely little creature. "

"She is not to compare to one of those girls we have left behind us atMontepoole, " said Charlton. 

"Hum--well perhaps you are right; but which girl do you mean?--for Iprofess I don't know. "

"The second of Mrs. Evelyn's daughters--the auburn-haired one. "

"Miss Constance, eh?" said Thorn. "In what isn't the other one to becompared to her?"

"In anything! Nobody would ever think of looking at her in the same room?"

"Why not?" said Thorn coolly. 

"I don't know why not, " said Charlton, "except that she has not a tithe ofher beauty. That's a superb girl!"

For a matter of twenty yards Mr. Thorn went softly humming a tune tohimself and leisurely switching the flies off his horse. 

"Well, "--said he, --"there's no accounting for tastes--

 'I ask no red and white To make up my delight, No odd becoming graces, Black eyes, or little know-not-what in faces. '"

"What _do_ you want then?" said Charlton, half laughing at him, though hisfriend was perfectly grave. 

"A cool eye, and a mind in it. "

"A cool eye!" said Rossitur. 

"Yes. Those we have left behind us are arrant will-o'the-wisps--dancingfires--no more. "

"I can tell you there is fire sometimes in the other eyes, " said Charlton. 

"Very likely, " said his friend composedly, --"I could have guessed as much;but that is a fire you may warm yourself at; no eternalphosphorescence;--it is the leaping up of an internal fire, that onlyshews itself upon occasion. "

"I suppose you know what you are talking about, " said Charlton, "but Ican't follow you into the region of volcanos. Constance Evelyn has superbeyes. It is uncommon to see a light blue so brilliant. "

"I would rather trust a sick head to the handling of the lovely lady thanthe superb one, at a venture. "

"I thought you never had a sick head, " said Charlton. 

"That is lucky for me, as the hands do not happen to be at my service. Butno imagination could put Miss Constance in Desdemona's place, when Othellocomplained of his headache, --you remember, Charlton, --

 ''Faith, that's with watching--'twill away again-- Let me but bind this handkerchief about it hard. '"

Thorn gave the intonation truly and admirably. 

"Fleda never said anything so soft as that, " said Charlton. 

"No?"

"No. "

"You speak--well, but _soft_!--do you know what you are talkingabout there?"

"Not very well, " said Charlton. "I only remember there was nothing softabout Othello, --what you quoted of his wife just now seemed to me to smackof that quality. "

"I forgive your memory, " said Thorn, "or else I certainly would notforgive you. If there is a fair creation in all Shakespeare it isDesdemona, and if there is a pretty combination on earth that nearlymatches it, I believe it is that one. "

"What one?"

"Your pretty cousin. "

Charlton was silent. 

"It is generous in me to undertake her defence, " Thorn went on, "for shebestows as little of her fair countenance upon me as she can well help. But try as she will, she cannot be so repellant as she is attractive. "

Charlton pushed his horse into a brisker pace not favourable toconversation; and they rode forward in silence, till in descending thehill below Deepwater they came within view of Hugh's workplace, the sawmill. Charlton suddenly drew bridle. 

"There she is. "

"And who is with her?" said Thorn. "As I live!--our friend--what's hisname?--who has lost all his ancestors. --And who is the other?"

"My brother, " said Charlton. 

"I don't mean your brother, Capt. Rossitur, " said Thorn throwing himselfoff his horse. 

He joined the party, who were just leaving the mill to go down towards thehouse. Very much at his leisure Charlton dismounted and came after him. 

"I have brought Charlton safe home, Miss Ringgan, " said Thorn, who leadinghis horse had quietly secured a position at her side. 

"What's the matter?" said Fleda laughing. "Couldn't he bringhimself home?"

"I don't know what's the matter, but he's been uncommonly dumpish--we'vebeen as near as possible to quarrelling for half a dozen miles back. "

"We have been--a--more agreeably employed, " said Dr. Quackenboss lookinground at him with a face that was a concentration of affability. 

"I make no doubt of it, sir; I trust we shall bring no unharmoniousinterruption. --If I may change somebody else's words, " he added more lowto Fleda, --"disdain itself must convert to courtesy in your presence. "

"I am sorry disdain should live to pay me a compliment, " said Fleda. "Mr. Thorn, may I introduce to you Mr. Olmney?"

Mr. Thorn honoured the introduction with perfect civility, but then fellback to his former position and slightly lowered tone. 

"Are you then a sworn foe to compliments?"

"I was never so fiercely attacked by them as to give me any occasion. "

"I should be very sorry to furnish the occasion, --but what's the harm inthem, Miss Ringgan?"

"Chiefly a want of agreeableness. "

"Of agreeableness!--Pardon me--I hope you will be so good as to give methe rationale of that?"

"I am of Miss Edgeworth's opinion, sir, " said Fleda blushing, "that a ladymay always judge of the estimation in which she is held by theconversation which is addressed to her. "

"And you judge compliments to be a doubtful indication of esteem?"

"I am sure you do not need information on that point, sir. "

"As to your opinion, or the matter of fact?" said he somewhat keenly. 

"As to the matter of fact, " said Fleda, with a glance both simple andacute in its expression. 

"I will not venture to say a word, " said Thorn smiling. "Protestationswould certainly fall flat at the gates where _les douces paroles_ cannotenter. But do you know this is picking a man's pocket of all his silverpennies and obliging him to produce his gold. "

"That _would_ be a hard measure upon a good many people, " said Fledalaughing. "But they're not driven to that. There's plenty of smallchange left. "

"You certainly do not deal in the coin you condemn, " said Thorn bowing. "But you will remember that none call for gold but those who can exchangeit, and the number of them is few. In a world where cowrie passes currenta man may be excused for not throwing about his guineas. "

"I wish you'd throw about a few for our entertainment, " said Charlton, whowas close behind. "I haven't seen a yellow-boy in a good while. "

"A proof that your eyes are not jaundiced, " said his friend withoutturning his head, "whatever may be the case with you otherwise. Is he outof humour with the country life you like so well, Miss Ringgan, or has heleft his domestic tastes in Mexico? How do you think he likes Queechy?"

"You might as well ask myself, " said Charlton. 

"How do you think he likes Queechy, Miss Ringgan?"

"I am afraid something after the fashion of Touchstone, " said Fledalaughing;--"he thinks that 'in respect of itself it is a good life; but inrespect that it is a shepherd's life it is naught. In respect that it issolitary, he likes it very well; but in respect that it is private, it isa very vile life. Now in respect it is in the fields, it pleaseth himwell; but in respect it is not in the court, it is tedious. '"

"There's a guinea for you, Capt. Rossitur, " said his friend. "Do you knowout of what mint?"

"It doesn't bear the head of Socrates, " said Charlton. 

"'Hast no philosophy in thee, ' Charlton?" said Fleda laughing back at him. 

"Has not Queechy--a--the honour of your approbation, Capt. Rossitur?" saidthe doctor. 

"Certainly sir--I have no doubt of its being a very fine country. "

"Only he has imbibed some doubts whether happiness be an indigenous crop, "said Thorn. 

"Undoubtedly, " said the doctor blandly, --"to one who has roamed over theplains of Mexico, Queechy must seem rather--a--rather flat place. "

"If he could lose sight of the hills, " said Thorn. 

"Undoubtedly, sir, undoubtedly, " said the doctor; "they are a markedfeature in the landscape, and do much to relieve--a--the charge ofsameness. "

"Luckily, " said Mr. Olmney smiling, "happiness is not a thing ofcircumstance; it depends on a man's self. "

"I used to think so, " said Thorn;--"that is what I have always subscribedto; but I am afraid I could not live in this region and find it so long. "

"What an evening!" said Fleda. "Queechy is doing its best to deserve ourregards under this light. Mr. Olmney, did you ever notice the beautifulcurve of the hills in that hollow where the sun sets?"

"I do notice it now" he said. 

"It is exquisite!" said the doctor. "Capt. Rossitur, do you observe, sir?--in that hollow where the sun sets?--"

Capt. Rossitur's eye made a very speedy transition from the hills toFleda, who had fallen back a little to take Hugh's arm and placing herselfbetween him and Mr. Olmney was giving her attention undividedly to thelatter. And to him she talked perseveringly, of the mountains, thecountry, and the people, till they reached the courtyard gate. Mr. Olmneythen passed on. So did the doctor, though invited to tarry, averring thatthe sun had gone down behind the firmament and he had something to attendto at home. 

"You will come in, Thorn, " said Charlton. 

"Why--I had intended returning, --but the sun has gone down indeed, and asour friend says there is no chance of our seeing him again I may as wellgo in and take what comfort is to be had in the circumstances. GentleEuphrosyne, doth it not become the Graces to laugh?"

"They always ask leave, sir, " said Fleda hesitating. 

"A most Grace-ful answer, though it does not smile upon me, " said Thorn. 

"I am sorry, sir, " said Fleda, smiling now, "that you have so many silverpennies to dispose of we shall never get at the gold. "

"I will do my very best, " said he. 

So he did, and made himself agreeable that evening to every one of thecircle; though Fleda's sole reason for liking to see him come in had beenthat she was glad of everything that served to keep Charlton's attentionfrom home subjects. She saw sometimes the threatening of a cloud thattroubled her. 

But the Evelyns and Thorn and everybody else whom they knew left the Poolat last, before Charlton, who was sufficiently well again, had near runout his furlough; and then the cloud which had only shewed itself by turnsduring all those weeks gathered and settled determinately upon his brow. 

He had long ago supplied the want of a newspaper. One evening in Septemberthe family were sitting in the room where they had had tea, for thebenefit of the fire, when Barby pushed open the kitchen door and came in. 

"Fleda will you let me have one of the last papers? I've a notion tolook at it. "

Fleda rose and went to rummaging in the cupboards. 

"You can have it again in a little while, " said Barby considerately. 

The paper was found and Miss Elster went out with it. 

"What an unendurable piece of ill-manners that woman is!" said Charlton. 

"She has no idea of being ill-mannered, I assure you, " said Fleda. 

His voice was like a brewing storm--hers was so clear and soft that itmade a lull in spite of him. But he began again. 

"There is no necessity for submitting to impertinence. I neverwould do it. "

"I have no doubt you never will, " said his father. "Unless you can't helpyourself. "

"Is there any good reason, sir, why you should not have proper servants inthe house?"

"A very good reason, " said Mr. Rossitur. "Fleda would be in despair. "

"Is there none beside that?" said Charlton dryly. 

"None--except a trifling one, " Mr. Rossitur answered in the same tone. 

"We cannot afford it, dear Charlton, " said his mother softly. 

There was a silence, during which Fleda moralized on the ways people taketo make themselves uncomfortable. 

"Does that man--to whom you let the farm--does he do his duty?"

"I am not the keeper of his conscience. "

"I am afraid it would be a small charge to any one, " said Fleda. 

"But are you the keeper of the gains you ought to have from him? does hedeal fairly by you?"

"May I ask first what interest it is of yours?"

"It is my interest, sir, because I come home and find the family livingupon the exertions of Hugh and Fleda and find them growing thin and paleunder it. "

"You, at least, are free from all pains of the kind, Capt. Rossitur. "

"Don't listen to him, uncle Rolf!" said Fleda going round to her uncle, and making as she passed a most warning impression upon Charlton'sarm, --"don't mind what he says--that young gentleman has been among theMexican ladies till he has lost an eye for a really proper complexion. Look at me!--do I look pale and thin?--I was paid a most brilliantcompliment the other day upon my roses--Uncle, don't listen to him!--hehasn't been in a decent humour since the Evelyns went away. "

She knelt down before him and laid her hands upon his and looked up in hisface to bring all her plea; the plea of most winning sweetness of entreatyin features yet flushed and trembling. His own did not unbend as he gazedat her, but he gave her a silent answer in a pressure of the hands thatwent straight from his heart to hers. Fleda's eye turned to Charltonappealingly. 

"Is it necessary, " he repeated, "that that child and this boy should spendtheir days in labour to keep the family alive?"

"If it were, " replied Mr. Rossitur, "I am very willing that theirexertions should cease. For my own part I would quite as lief be out ofthe world as in it. "

"Charlton!--how can you!--" said Fleda, half beside herself, --you shouldknow of what you speak or be silent!--Uncle, don't mind him! he is talkingwildly--my work does me good. "

"You do not understand yourself, " said Charlton obstinately;--"it ismore than you ought to do, and I know my mother thinks so too. "

[Illustration: She knelt down before him. ]

"Well!" said Mr. Rossitur, --"it seems there is an agreement in my ownfamily to bring me to the bar--get up, Fleda, --let us hear all the chargesto be brought against me, at once, and then pass sentence. What have yourmother and you agreed upon, Charlton?--go on!"

Mrs. Rossitur, now beyond speech, left the room, weeping even aloud. Hughfollowed her. Fleda wrestled with her agitation for a minute or two, andthen got up and put both arms round her uncle's neck. 

"Don't talk so, dear uncle Rolf!--you make us very unhappy--aunt Lucy didnot mean any such thing--it is only Charlton's nonsense. Do go and tellher you don't think so, --you have broken her heart by what you said;--dogo, uncle Rolf!--do go and make her happy again! Forget it all!--Charltondid not know what he was saying--won't you go, dear uncle Rolf?--"

The words were spoken between bursts of tears that utterly overcame her, though they did not hinder the utmost caressingness of manner. It seemedat first spent upon a rock. Mr. Rossitur stood like a man that did notcare what happened or what became of him; dumb and unrelenting; sufferingher sweet words and imploring tears, with no attempt to answer the one orstay the other. But he could not hold out against her beseeching. He wasno match for it. He returned at last heartily the pressure of her arms, and unable to give her any other answer kissed her two or three times, such kisses as are charged with the heart's whole message; and disengaginghimself left the room. 

For a minute after he was gone Fleda cried excessively; and Charlton, nowalone with her, felt as if he had not a particle of self-respect left tostand upon. One such agony would do her more harm than whole weeks oflabour and weariness. He was too vexed and ashamed of himself to be ableto utter a word, but when she recovered a little and was leaving the roomhe stood still by the door in an attitude that seemed to ask her to speaka word to him. 

"I am sure, Charlton, " she said gently, "you will be sorry to-morrow forwhat you have done. "

"I am sorry now, " he said. But she passed out without sayinganything more. 

Capt. Rossitur passed the night in unmitigated vexation with himself. Buthis repentance could not have been very genuine, since his most painfulthought was, what Fleda must think of him. 

He was somewhat reassured at breakfast to find no traces of the evening'sstorm; indeed the moral atmosphere seemed rather clearer and purer thancommon. His own face was the only one which had an unusual shade upon it. There was no difference in anybody's manner towards himself; and there waseven a particularly gentle and kind pleasantness about Fleda, intended, heknew, to soothe and put to rest any movings of self-reproach he mightfeel. It somehow missed of its aim and made him feel worse; and after onhis part a very silent meal he quitted the house and took himself and hisdiscontent to the woods. 

Whatever effect they had upon him, it was the middle of the morning beforehe came back again. He found Fleda alone in the breakfast-room, sewing;and for the first time noticed the look his mother had spoken of; a looknot of sadness, but rather of settled patient gravity; the more painful tosee because it could only have been wrought by long-acting causes, andmight be as slow to do away as it must have been to bring. Charlton'sdispleasure with the existing state of things had revived as his remorsedied away, and that quiet face did not have a quieting effect upon him. 

"What on earth is going on!" he began rather abruptly as soon as heentered the room. "What horrible cookery is on foot?"

"I venture to recommend that you do not inquire, " said Fleda. "It was seton foot in the kitchen and it has walked in here. If you open the windowit will walk out. "

"But you will be cold?"

"Never mind--in that case I will walk out too, into the kitchen. "

"Into the thick of it!--No--I will try some other way of relief. This isunendurable!"

Fleda looked, but made no other remonstrance, and not heeding the look Mr. Charlton walked out into the kitchen, shutting the door behind him. 

"Barby, " said he, "you have got something cooking here that is verydisagreeable in the other room. "

"Is it?" said Barby. "I reckoned it would all fly up chimney I guess thedraught ain't so strong as I thought it was. "

"But I tell you it fills the house!"

"Well, it'll have to a spell yet, " said Barby, "'cause if it didn't, yousee, Capt. Rossitur, there'd be nothing to fill Fleda's chickens with. "

"Chickens!--where's all the corn in the land?"

"It's some place besides in our barn, " said Barby. "All last year's isout, and Mr. Didenhover ha'n't fetched any of this year's home; so Imade a bargain with 'em they shouldn't starve as long as they'd eatboiled pursley. "

"What do you give them?"

"'Most everything--they ain't particler now-a days--chunks o' cabbage, andscarcity, and pun'kin and that--all the sass that ain't wanted. "

"And do they eat that?"

"Eat it!" said Barby. "They don't know how to thank me for't!"

"But it ought to be done out of doors, " said Charlton, coming back from akind of maze in which he had been listening to her. "It is unendurable!"

"Then I guess you'll have to go some place where you won't know it, " saidBarby;--"that's the most likely plan I can hit upon; for it'll have tostay on till it's ready. "

Charlton went back into the other room really down-hearted, and stoodwatching the play of Fleda's fingers. 

"Is it come to this!" he said at length. "Is it possible that you areobliged to go without such a trifle as the miserable supply of food yourfowls want!"

"That's a small matter!" said Fleda, speaking lightly though she smothereda sigh. "We have been obliged to do without more than that. "

"What is the reason?"

"Why this man Didenhover is a rogue I suspect, and he manages to spiritaway all the profits that should come to uncle Rolf's hands--I don't knowhow. We have lived almost entirely upon the mill for some time. "

"And has my father been doing nothing all this while?"

"Nothing on the farm. "

"And what of anything else?"

"I don't know, " said Fleda, speaking with evident unwillingness. "Butsurely, Charlton, he knows his own business best. It is not our affair. "

"He is mad!" said Charlton, violently striding up and down the floor. 

"No, " said Fleda with equal gentleness and sadness--"he is onlyunhappy;--I understand it all--he has had no spirit to take hold ofanything ever since we came here. "

"Spirit!" said Charlton;--"he ought to have worked off his fingers totheir joints before he let you do as you have been doing!"

"Don't say so!" said Fleda, looking even pale in her eagerness--"don'tthink so, Charlton! it isn't right. We cannot tell what he may have had totrouble him--I know he has suffered and does suffer a great deal. --Do notspeak again about anything as you did last night!--Oh, " said Fleda, nowshedding bitter tears, --"this is the worst of growing poor! the difficultyof keeping up the old kindness and sympathy and care for each other!--"

"I am sure it does not work so upon you, " said Charlton in analtered voice. 

"Promise me, dear Charlton, " said Fleda looking up after a moment anddrying her eyes again, "promise me you will not say any more about thesethings! I am sure it pains uncle Rolf more than you think. Say you willnot, --for your mother's sake!"

"I will not, Fleda--for your sake. I would not give _you_ any more troubleto bear. Promise me; that you will be more careful of yourself in future. "

"O there is no danger about me, " said Fleda with a faint smile and takingup her work again. 

"Who are you making shirts for?" said Charlton after a pause. 

"Hugh. "

"You do everything for Hugh, don't you?"

"Little enough. Not half so much as he does for me. "

"Is he up at the mill to-day?"

"He is always there, " said Fleda sighing. 

There was another silence. 

"Charlton, " said Fleda looking up with a face of the loveliestinsinuation. --"isn't there something _you_ might do to help us a little?"

"I will help you garden, Fleda, with pleasure. "

"I would rather you should help somebody else, " said she, stilllooking at him. 

"What, Hugh?--You would have me go and work at the mill for him, Isuppose!"

"Don't be angry with me, Charlton, for suggesting it, " said Fleda lookingdown again. 

"Angry!"--said he. "But is that what you would have me do?"

"Not unless you like, --I didn't know but you might take his place once ina while for a little, to give him a rest, --"

"And suppose some of the people from Montepoole that know me should comeby? What are you thinking of?" said he in a tone that certainly justifiedFleda's deprecation. 

"Well!"--said Fleda in a kind of choked voice, --"there is a strange ruleof honour in vogue in the world!"

"Why should I help Hugh rather than anybody else?"

"He is killing himself!--" said Fleda, letting her work fall and hardlyspeaking the words through thick tears. Her head was down and they camefast. Charlton stood abashed for a minute. 

"You sha'n't do so, Fleda, " said he gently, endeavouring to raiseher, --"you have tired yourself with this miserable work!--Come to thewindow--you have got low-spirited, but I am sure without reason aboutHugh, --but you shall set me about what you will--You are right, I daresay, and I am wrong; but don't make me think myself a brute, and I will doanything you please. "

He had raised her up and made her lean upon him. Fleda wiped her eyes andtried to smile. 

"I will do anything that will please you, Fleda. "

"It is not to please _me_, --" she answered meekly. 

"I would not have spoken a word last night if I had known it would havegrieved you so. "

"I am sorry you should have none but so poor a reason for doing right, "said Fleda gently. 

"Upon my word, I think you are about as good reason as anybody need have, "said Charlton. 

She put her hand upon his arm and looked up, --such a look of pure rebukeas carried to his mind the full force of the words she did notspeak, --'Who art thou that carest for a worm which shall die, andforgettest the Lord thy Maker!'--Charlton's eyes fell. Fleda turned gentlyaway and began to mend the fire. He stood watching her for a little. 

"What do you think of me, Fleda?" he said at length. 

"A little wrong-headed, " answered Fleda, giving him a glance and a smile. "I don't think you are very bad. "

"If you will go with me, Fleda, you shall make what you please of me!"

He spoke half in jest, half in earnest, and did not himself know at themoment which way he wished Fleda to take it. But she had no notion of anydepth in his words. 

"A hopeless task!" she answered lightly, shaking her head, as she got downon her knees to blow the fire;--"I am afraid it is too much for me. Ihave been trying to mend you ever since you came, and I cannot see theslightest change for the better!"

"Where is the bellows?" said Charlton in another tone. 

"It has expired--its last breath, " said Fleda. "In other words, it haslost its nose. "

"Well, look here, " said he laughing and pulling her away, --"you will standa fair chance of losing your face if you put it in the fire. You sha'n'tdo it. Come and shew me where to find the scattered parts of that old windinstrument and I will see if it cannot be persuaded to play again. "

Chapter XXV. 

 I dinna ken what I should want If I could get but a man. 

 Scotch Ballad. 

Capt. Rossitur did no work at the saw-mill. But Fleda's words had notfallen to the ground. He began to shew care for his fellow-creatures ingetting the bellows mended; his next step was to look to his gun; andfrom that time so long as he staid the table was plentifully suppliedwith all kinds of game the season and the country could furnish. Wildducks and partridges banished pork and bacon even from memory; and Fledajoyfully declared she would not see another omelette again till she wasin distress. 

While Charlton was still at home came a very urgent invitation from Mrs. Evelyn that Fleda should pay them a long visit in New York, bidding hercare for no want of preparation but come and make it there. Fledademurred, however, on that very score. But before her answer was written, another missive came from Dr. Gregory, not asking so much as demanding herpresence, and enclosing a fifty-dollar bill, for which he said he wouldhold her responsible till she had paid him with, --not her own hands, --buther own lips. There was no withstanding the manner of this entreaty. Fledapacked up some of Mrs. Rossitur's laid-by silks, to be refreshed with anair of fashion, and set off with Charlton at the end of his furlough. 

To her simple spirit of enjoyment the weeks ran fast; and all manner ofnovelties and kindnesses helped them on. It was a time of cloudlesspleasure. But those she had left thought it long. She wrote them howdelightfully she kept house for the old doctor, whose wife had long beendead, and how joyously she and the Evelyns made time fly. And everypleasure she felt awoke almost as strong a throb in the hearts at home. But they missed her, as Barby said, "dreadfully;" and she was most dearlywelcomed when she came back. It was just before New Year. 

For half an hour there was most gladsome use of eyes and tongues. Fledahad a great deal to tell them. 

"How well--how well you are looking, dear Fleda!" said her aunt for thethird or fourth time. 

"That's more than lean say for you and Hugh, aunt Lucy. What have you beendoing to yourself?"

"Nothing new, " they said, as her eye went from one to the other. 

"I guess you have wanted me!" said Fleda, shaking her head as she kissedthem both again. 

"I guess we have, " said Hugh, "but don't fancy we have grown thin uponthe want. "

"But where's uncle Rolf? you didn't tell me. "

"He is gone to look after those lands in Michigan. "

"In Michigan!--When did he go?"

"Very soon after you. "

"And you didn't let me know!--O why didn't you? How lonely you musthave been. "

"Let you know indeed!" said Mrs. Rossitur, wrapping her in her armsagain;--"Hugh and I counted every week that you staid with more andpleasure each one. "

"I understand!" said Fleda laughing under her aunt's kisses. "Well I amglad I am at home again to take care of you. I see you can't get alongwithout me!"

"People have been very kind, Fleda, " said Hugh. 

"Have they?"

"Yes--thinking we were desolate I suppose. There has been no end to auntMiriam's goodness and pleasantness. "

"O aunt Miriam, always!" said Fleda. "And Seth. "

"Catherine Douglass has been up twice to ask if her mother could doanything for us; and Mrs. Douglass sent us once a rabbit and once aquantity of wild pigeons that Earl had shot. Mother and I lived uponpigeons for I don't know how long. Barby wouldn't eat 'em--she said sheliked pork better; but I believe she did it on purpose. "

"Like enough, " said Fleda, smiling, from her aunt's arms where shestill lay. 

"And Seth has sent you plenty of your favourite hickory nuts, very fineones; and I gathered butternuts enough for you near home. "

"Everything is for me, " said Fleda. "Well, the first thing I do shall beto make some butternut candy for you. You won't despise that, Mr. Hugh?"--

Hugh smiled at her, and went on. 

"And your friend Mr. Olmney has sent us a corn-basket full of thesuperbest apples you ever saw. He has one tree of the finest inQueechy, he says. "

"_My_ friend!" said Fleda, colouring a little. 

"Well I don't know whose he is if he isn't yours, " said Hugh. "And eventhe Finns sent us some fish that their brother had caught, because, theysaid, they had more than they wanted. And Dr. Quackenboss sent us a gooseand a turkey. We didn't like to keep them, but we were afraid if we sentthem back it would not be understood. "

"Send them back!" said Fleda. "That would never do! All Queechy would haverung with it. "

"Well, we didn't, " said Hugh. "But so we sent one of them to Barby's oldmother for Christmas. "

"Poor Dr. Quackenboss!" said Fleda. "That man has as near as possiblekilled me two or three times. As for the others, they are certainly theoddest of all the finny tribes. I must go out and see Barby for a minute. "

It was a good many minutes, however, before she could get free to do anysuch thing. 

"You ha'n't lost no flesh, " said Barby shaking hands with her anew. "Whatdid they think of Queechy keep, down in York?"

"I don't know--I didn't ask them, " said Fleda. "How goes the world withyou, Barby?"

"I'm mighty glad you are come home, Fleda, " said Barby lowering her voice. 

"Why?" said Fleda in a like tone. 

"I guess I ain't all that's glad of it, " Miss Elster went on, with aglance of her bright eye. 

"I guess not, " said Fleda reddening a little;--"but what is the matter?"

"There's two of our friends ha'n't made us but one visit a piecesince--oh, ever since some time in October!"

"Well never mind the people, " said Fleda. "Tell me what you weregoing to say. "

"And Mr. Olmney, " said Barby not minding her, "he's took and sent us agreat basket chock full of apples. Now wa'n't that smart of him, when heknowed there wa'n't no one here that cared about 'em?"

"They are a particularly fine kind, " said Fleda. 

"Did you hear about the goose and turkey?"

"Yes, " said Fleda laughing. 

"The doctor thinks he has done the thing just about right this time, Is'pect. He had ought to take out a patent right for his invention. He'dfeel spry if he knowed who eat one on 'em. "

"Never mind the doctor, Barby. Was this what you wanted to see me for?"

"No, " said Barby changing her tone. "I'd give something it was. I've beenall but at my wit's end; for you know Mis' Rossitur ain't no hand aboutanything--I couldn't say a word to her--and ever since he went away wehave been just winding ourselves up. I thought I should clear out, whenMis' Rossitur said maybe you wa'n't a coming till next week. "

"But what is it Barby? what is wrong?"

"There ha'n't been anything right, to my notions, for a long spell, " saidBarby, wringing out her dishcloth hard and flinging it down to giveherself uninterruptedly to talk;--"but now you see, Didenhover nor none ofthe men never comes near the house to do a chore; and there ain't wood tolast three days; and Hugh ain't fit to cut it if it was piled up in theyard; and there ain't the first stick of it out of the woods yet. "

Fleda sat down and looked very thoughtfully into the fire. 

"He had ought to ha' seen to it afore he went away, but he ha'n't done it, and there it is. "

"Why who takes care of the cows?" said Fleda. 

"O never mind the cows, " said Barby;--"they ain't suffering; I wish we wasas well off as they be;--but I guess when he went away he made a hole inour pockets for to mend his'n. I don't say he hadn't ought to ha' done it, but we've been pretty short ever sen, Fleda--we're in the last bushel offlour, and there ain't but a handful of corn meal, and mighty littlesugar, white or brown. --I did say something to Mis' Rossitur, but all thegood it did was to spile her appetite, I s'pose; and if there's grain inthe floor there ain't nobody to carry it to mill, --nor to thresh it, --nora team to draw it, fur's I know. "

"Hugh cannot cut wood!" said Fleda;--"nor drive to mill either, inthis weather. "

"I could go to mill, " said Barby, "now you're to hum, but that's only thebeginning; and it's no use to try to do everything--flesh and blood muststop somewhere. --"

"No indeed!" said Fleda. "We must have somebody immediately. "

"That's what I had fixed upon, " said Barby. "If you could get hold o' someyoung feller that wa'n't sot up with an idee that he was a grown man andtoo big to be told, I'd just clap to and fix that little room up stairsfor him and give him his victuals here, and we'd have some good of him;instead o' having him streakin' off just at the minute when he'd ought tobe along. "

"Who is there we could get, Barby?"

"I don't know, " said Barby; "but they say there is never a nick that thereain't a jog some place; so I guess it can be made out. I asked Mis'Plumfield, but she didn't know anybody that was out of work; nor SethPlumfield. I'll tell you who does, --that is, if there _is_ anybody, --Mis'Douglass. She keeps hold of one end of 'most everybody's affairs, I tellher. Anyhow she's a good hand to go to. "

"I'll go there at once, " said Fleda. "Do you know anything about makingmaple sugar, Barby?"

"That's the very thing!" exclaimed Barby ecstatically. "There's lots o'sugar maples on the farm and it's murder to let them go to loss; and theyha'n't done us a speck o' good ever since I come here. And in yourgrandfather's time they used to make barrels and barrels. You and me andHugh, and somebody else we'll have, we could clap to and make as muchsugar and molasses in a week as would last us till spring come roundagain. There's no sense into it! All we'd want would be to borrow a teamsome place. I had all that in my head long ago. If we could see the lastof that man Didenhover oncet, I'd take hold of the plough myself and seeif I couldn't make a living out of it! I don't believe the world would gonow, Fleda, if it wa'n't for women. I never see three men yet that didn'ttry me more than they were worth. "

"Patience, Barby!" said Fleda smiling. "Let us take things quietly. "

"Well I declare I'm beat, to see how you take 'em, " said Barby, looking ather lovingly. 

"Don't you know why, Barby?"

"I s'pose I do, " said Barby her face softening still more, --"or Ican guess. "

"Because I know that all these troublesome things will be managed in thebest way and by my best friend, and I know that he will let none of themhurt me. I am sure of it--isn't that enough to keep me quiet?"

Fleda's eyes were filling and Barby looked away from them. 

"Well it beats me, " she said taking up her dishcloth again, "why _you_should have anything to trouble you. I can understand wicked folks beingplagued, but I can't see the sense of the good ones. "

"Troubles are to make good people better, Barby. "

"Well, " said Barby with a very odd mixture of real feeling and seemingwant of it, --"it's a wonder I never got religion, for I will say that allthe decent people I ever see were of that kind!--Mis' Rossitur ain'tthough, is she?"

"No, " said Fleda, a pang crossing her at the thought that all her aunt'sloveliness must tell directly and heavily in this case to lightenreligion's testimony. It was that thought and no other which saddened herbrow as she went back into the other room. 

"Troubles already!" said Mrs. Rossitur. "You will be sorry you have comeback to them, dear. "

"No indeed!" said Fleda brightly; "I am very glad I have come home. Wewill try and manage the troubles, aunt Lucy. "

There was no doing anything that day, but the very next afternoon Fledaand Hugh walked down through the snow to Mrs. Douglass's. It was a longwalk and a cold one and the snow was heavy; but the pleasure of beingtogether made up for it all. It was a bright walk, too, in spite ofeverything. 

In a most thrifty-looking well-painted farm-house lived Mrs. Douglass. 

"Why 'tain't you, is it?" she said when she opened the door, --"Catharinesaid it was, and I said I guessed it wa'n't, for I reckoned you had madeup your mind not to come and see me at all. --How do you do?"

The last sentence in the tone of hearty and earnest hospitality. Fledamade her excuses. 

"Ay, ay, --I can understand all that just as well as if you said it. I knowhow much it means too. Take off your hat. "

Fleda said she could not stay, and explained her business. 

"So you ha'n't come to see me after all. Well now take off your hat, 'cause I won't have anything to say to you till you do. I'll give yousupper right away. "

"But I have left my aunt alone, Mrs. Douglass;--and the afternoons are soshort now it would be dark before we could get home. "

"Serve her right for not coming along! and you sha'n't walk home in thedark, for Earl will harness the team and carry you home like a streak--thehorses have nothing to do--Come, you sha'n't go. "

And as Mrs. Douglass laid violent hands on her bonnet Fleda thought bestto submit. She was presently rewarded with the promise of the very personshe wanted--a boy, or young man, then in Earl Douglass's employ; but hiswife said "she guessed he'd give him up to her;" and what his wife said, Fleda knew, Earl Douglass was in the habit of making good. 

"There ain't enough to do to keep him busy, " said Mrs. Douglass. "I toldEarl he made me more work than he saved; but he's hung on till now. "

"What sort of a boy is he, Mrs. Douglass?"

"He ain't a steel trap. I tell you beforehand, " said the lady, with one ofher sharp intelligent glances, --"he don't know which way to go till youshew him; but he's a clever enough kind of a chap--he don't mean no harm. I guess he'll do for what you want. "

"Is he to be trusted?"

"Trust him with anything but a knife and fork, " said she, with anotherlook and shake of the head. "He has no idea but what everything on thesupper-table is meant to be eaten straight off. I would keep two such menas my husband as soon as I would Philetus. "

"Philetus!" said Fleda, --"the person that brought the chicken and thoughthe had brought two?"

"You've hit it, " said Mrs. Douglass. "Now you know him. How do you likeour new minister?"

"We are all very much pleased with him. "

"He's very good-looking, don't you think so?"

"A very pleasant face. "

"I ha'n't seen him much yet except in church; but those that know say heis very agreeable in the house. "

"Truly, I dare say, " answered Fleda, for Mrs. Douglass's face looked forher testimony. 

"But I think he looks as if he was beating his brains out there amonghis books--I tell him he is getting the blues, living in that big houseby himself. "

"Do you manage to do all your work without help, Mrs. Douglass?" saidFleda, knowing that the question was "in order" and that the affirmativeanswer was not counted a thing to be ashamed of. 

"Well I guess I'll know good reason, " said Mrs. Douglass complacently, "before I'll have any help to spoil _my_ work. Come along, and I'll letyou see whether I want one. "

Fleda went, very willingly, to be shewn all Mrs. Douglass's householdarrangements and clever contrivances, of her own or her husband'sdevising, for lessening or facilitating labour. The lady was proud, andhad some reason to be, of the very superb order and neatness of each partand detail. No corner or closet that might not be laid open fearlessly toa visitor's inspection. Miss Catharine was then directed to open her pianoand amuse Fleda with it while her mother performed her promise of gettingan early supper; a command grateful to one or two of the party, forCatharine had been carrying on all this while a most stately tęte-ŕ-tętewith Hugh which neither had any wish to prolong. So Fleda filled up thetime good-naturedly with thrumming over the two or three bits of herchildish music that she could recall, till Mr. Douglass came in and theywere summoned to sit down to supper; which Mrs. Douglass introduced bytelling her guests "they must take what they could get, for she had madefresh bread and cake and pies for them two or three times, and she wa'n'ta going to do it again. "

Her table was abundantly spread however, and with most exquisite neatness, and everything was of excellent quality, saving only certain matters whichcall for a free hand in the use of material. Fleda thought the pumpkinpies must have been made from that vaunted stock which is said to want noeggs nor sugar, and the cakes she told Mrs. Rossitur afterwards would havebeen good if half the flour had been left out and the other ingredientsdoubled. The deficiency in one kind however was made up by superabundancein another; the table was stocked with such wealth of crockery that onecould not imagine any poverty in what was to go upon it. Fleda hardly knewhow to marshal the confusion of plates which grouped themselves around hercup and saucer, and none of them might be dispensed with. There was oneset of little glass dishes for one kind of sweetmeat, another set of dittofor another kind; an army of tiny plates to receive and shield thetablecloth from the dislodged cups of tea, saucers being the conventionaldrinking vessels; and there were the standard bread and butter plates, which besides their proper charge of bread and butter and beef and cheese, were expected, Fleda knew, to receive a portion of every kind of cake thatmight happen to be on the table. It was a very different thing howeverfrom Miss Anastasia's tea-table or that of Miss Flora Quackenboss. Fledaenjoyed the whole time without difficulty. 

Mr. Douglass readily agreed to the transfer of Philetus's services. 

"He's a good boy!" said Earl, --"he's a good boy; he's as good a kind of aboy as you need to have. He wants tellin'; most boys want tellin'; buthe'll do when he _is_ told, and he means to do right. "

"How long do you expect your uncle will be gone?" said Mrs. Douglass. 

"I do not know, " said Fleda. 

"Have you heard from him since he left?"

"Not since I came home, " said Fleda. "Mr. Douglass, what is the firstthing to be done about the maple trees in the sugar season?"

"Why, you calculate to try makin' sugar in the spring?"

"Perhaps--at any rate I should like to know about it. "

"Well I should think you would, " said Earl, "and it's easy done--thereain't nothin' easier, when you know the right way to set to work about it;and there's a fine lot of sugar trees on the old farm--I recollect of themsugar trees as long ago as when I was a boy--I've helped to work themafore now, but there's a good many years since--has made me a leetleolder--but the first thing you want is a man and a team, to go about andempty the buckets--the buckets must be emptied every day, and then carryit down to the house. "

"Yes, I know, " said Fleda, "but what is the first thing to be done tothe trees?"

"Why la! 'tain't much to do to the trees--all you've got to do is totake an axe and chip a bit out and stick a chip a leetle way into thecut for to dreen the sap, and set a trough under, and then go on to thenext one, and so on;--you may make one or two cuts in the south side ofthe tree, and one or two cuts in the north side, if the tree's bigenough, and if it ain't, only make one or two cuts in the south side ofthe tree; and for the sap to run good it had ought to be that kind o'weather when it freezes in the day and thaws by night;--I wouldsay!--when it friz in the night and thaws in the day; the sap runs morebountifully in that kind o' weather. "

It needed little from Fleda to keep Mr. Douglass at the maple trees tillsupper was ended; and then as it was already sundown he went to harnessthe sleigh. 

It was a comfortable one, and the horses if not very handsome norbright-curried were well fed and had good heart to their work. A two miledrive was before them, and with no troublesome tongues or eyes to claimher attention Fleda enjoyed it fully. In the soft clear winter twilightwhen heaven and earth mingle so gently, and the stars look forth brighterand cheerfuller than ever at another time, they slid along over the fineroads, too swiftly, towards home; and Fleda's thoughts as easily andswiftly slipped away from Mr. Douglass and maple sugar and Philetus and anunfilled wood-yard and an empty flour-barrel, and revelled in the pureether. A dark rising ground covered with wood sometimes rose between herand the western horizon; and then a long stretch of snow, only less pure, would leave free view of its unearthly white light, dimmed by noexhalation, a gentle, mute, but not the less eloquent, witness to Earth ofwhat Heaven must be. 

But the sleigh stopped at the gate, and Fleda's musings came home. 

"Good night!" said Earl, in reply to their thanks and adieus;--"'tain'tanything to thank a body for--let me know when you're a goin' into thesugar making and I'll come and help you. "

"How sweet a pleasant message may make an unmusical tongue, " said Fleda, as she and Hugh made their way up to the house. 

"We had a stupid enough afternoon, " said Hugh. 

"But the ride home was worth it all!"

Chapter XXVI. 

 'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good green wood, So blithe Lady Alice is singing; On the beech's pride, and the oak's brown side, Lord Richard's axe is ringing. 

 Lady of the Lake. 

Philetus came, and was inducted into office and the little roomimmediately; and Fleda felt herself eased of a burden. Barby reported himstout and willing, and he proved it by what seemed a perverted inclinationfor bearing the most enormous logs of wood he could find into the kitchen. 

"He will hurt himself!" said Fleda. 

"I'll protect him!--against anything but buckwheat batter, " said Barbywith a grave shake of her head. "Lazy folks takes the most pains, I tellhim. But it would be good to have some more ground, Fleda, for Philetussays he don't care for no dinner when he has griddles to breakfast, andthere ain't anything much cheaper than that. "

"Aunt Lucy, have you any change in the house?" said Fleda that same day. 

"There isn't but three and sixpence, " said Mrs. Rossitur with a painedconscious look. "What is wanting, dear?"

"Only candles--Barby has suddenly found we are out, and she won't have anymore made before to-morrow. Never mind!"

"There is only that, " repeated Mrs. Rossitur. "Hugh has a little money dueto him from last summer, but he hasn't been able to get it yet. You maytake that, dear. "

"No, " said Fleda, --"we mustn't. We might want it more. "

"We can sit in the dark for once, " said Hugh, "and try to make an uncommondisplay of what Dr. Quackenboss calls 'sociality. '"

"No, " said Fleda, who had stood busily thinking, --"I am going to sendPhiletus down to the post-office for the paper, and when it comes I am notto be balked of reading it--I've made up my mind! We'll go right off intothe woods and get some pine knots, Hugh--come! They make a lovely light. You get us a couple of baskets and the hatchet--I wish we had two--andI'll be ready in no time. That'll do!"

It is to be noticed that Charlton had provided against any futuredeficiency of news in his family. Fleda skipped away and in five minutesreturned arrayed for the expedition, in her usual out-of-door workingtrim, namely, --an old dark merino cloak, almost black, the effect of whichwas continued by the edge of an old dark mousseline below, and rendereddecidedly striking by the contrast of a large whitish yarn shawl worn overit; the whole crowned with a little close-fitting hood made of some oldsilver-grey silk, shaped tight to the head, without any bow or furbelow tobreak the outline. But such a face within side of it! She came almostdancing into the room. 

"This is Miss Ringgan!--as she appeared when she was going to see the pinetrees. Hugh, don't you wish you had a picture of me?"

"I have got a tolerable picture of you, somewhere, " said Hugh. 

"This is somebody very different from the Miss Ringgan that went to seeMrs. Evelyn, I can tell you, " Fleda went on gayly. 

"Do you know, aunt Lucy, I have made up my mind that my visit to New Yorkwas a dream, and the dream is nicely folded away with my silk dresses. NowI must go tell that precious Philetus about the post-office--I am _so_comforted, aunt Lucy, whenever I see that fellow staggering into the houseunder a great log of wood! I have not heard anything in a long time sopleasant as the ringing strokes of his axe in the yard. Isn't life made upof little things!"

"Why don't you put a better pair of shoes on?"

"Can't afford it, Mrs. Rossitur! You are extravagant!"

"Go and put on my India-rubbers. "

"No ma'am!--the rocks would cut them to pieces. I have brought my minddown to--my shoes. "

"It isn't safe, Fleda; you might see somebody. "

"Well ma'am!--But I tell you I am not going to see anybody but thechick-a-dees and the snow-birds, and there is great simplicity of mannersprevailing among them. "

The shoes were changed, and Hugh and Fleda set forth, lingering awhilehowever to give a new edge to their hatchet, Fleda turning the grindstone. They mounted then the apple-orchard hill and went a little distance alongthe edge of the table-land before striking off into the woods. They hadstood still a minute to look over the little white valley to thesnow-dressed woodland beyond. 

"This is better than New York, Hugh, " said Fleda. 

"I am very glad to hear you say that, " said another voice. Fleda turnedand started a little to see Mr. Olmney at her side, and congratulatedherself instantly on her shoes. 

"Mrs. Rossitur told me where you had gone and gave me permission to followyou, but I hardly hoped to overtake you so soon. "

"We stopped to sharpen our tools, " said Fleda. "We are out on a foragingexpedition. "

"Will you let me help you?"

"Certainly!--if you understand the business. Do you know a pine knot whenyou see it?"

He laughed and shook his head, but avowed a wish to learn. 

"Well, it would be a charity to teach you anything wholesome, " said Fleda, "for I heard one of Mr. Olmney's friends lately saying that he looked likea person who was in danger of committing suicide. "

"Suicide!--One of my friends!"--he exclaimed in the utmost astonishment. 

"Yes, " said Fleda laughing;--"and there is nothing like the open air forclearing away vapours. "

"You cannot have known that by experience, " said he looking at her. 

Fleda shook her head and advising him to take nothing for granted, set offinto the woods. 

They were in a beautiful state. A light snow but an inch or two deep hadfallen the night before; the air had been perfectly still during the day;and though the sun was out, bright and mild, it had done little butglitter on the earth's white capping. The light dry flakes of snow had notstirred from their first resting-place. The long branches of the largepines were just tipped with snow at the ends; on the smaller evergreensevery leaf and tuft had its separate crest. Stones and rocks were smoothlyrounded over, little shrubs and sprays that lay along the ground were alldoubled in white; and the hemlock branches, bending with their featheryburthen, stooped to the foreheads of the party and gave them the freshestof salutations as they brushed by. The whole wood-scene was particularlyfair and graceful. A light veil of purity, no more, thrown over thewilderness of stones and stumps and bare ground, --like the blessing ofcharity, covering all roughnesses and unsightlinesses--like the innocentunsullied nature that places its light shield between the eye and whateveris unequal, unkindly, and unlovely in the world. 

"What do you think of this for a misanthropical man, Mr. Olmney? there's abetter tonic to be found in the woods than in any remedies of man'sdevising. "

"Better than books?" said he. 

"Certainly!--No comparison. "

"I have to learn that yet. "

"So I suppose, " said Fleda. "The very danger to be apprehended, as I hear, sir, is from your running a tilt into some of those thick folios of yours, head foremost. --There's no pitch there, Hugh--you may leave it alone. Wemust go on--there are more yellow pines higher up. "

"But who could give such a strange character of me to you?" saidMr. Olmney. 

"I am sure your wisdom would not advise me to tell you that, sir. You willfind nothing there, Mr. Olmney. "

They went gayly on, careering about in all directions and bearing downupon every promising stump or dead pine tree they saw in the distance. Hugh and Mr. Olmney took turns in the labour of hewing out the fat pineknots and splitting down the old stumps to get at the pitchy heart of thewood; and the baskets began to grow heavy. The whole party were inexcellent spirits, and as happy as the birds that filled the woods andwhose cheery "chick-a-dee-dee-dee, " was heard whenever they paused to restand let the hatchet be still. 

"How one sees everything in the colour of one's own spectacles, "said Fleda. 

"May I ask what colour yours are to-day?" said Mr. Olmney. 

"Rose, I think, " said Hugh. 

"No, " said Fleda, "they are better than that--they are no worse colourthan the snow's own--they shew me everything just as it is. It could notbe lovelier. "

"Then we may conclude, may we not, " said Mr. Olmney, "that you are notsorry to find yourself in Queechy again?"

"I am not sorry to find myself in the woods again. That is not pitch, Mr. Olmney. "

"It has the same colour, --and weight. "

"No, it is only wet--see this and smell of it--do you see the difference?Isn't it pleasant?"

"Everything is pleasant to-day, " said he smiling. 

"I shall report you a cure. Come, I want to go a little higher and shewyou a view. Leave that, Hugh, we have got enough--"

But Hugh chose to finish an obstinate stump, and his companions went onwithout him. It was not very far up the mountain and they came to a finelook-out point; the same where Fleda and Mr. Carleton had paused longbefore on their quest after nuts. The wide spread of country was a whitewaste now; the delicate beauties of the snow were lost in the far view;and the distant Catskill shewed wintrily against the fair blue sky. Theair was gentle enough to invite them to stand still, after the exercisethey had taken, and as they both looked in silence Mr. Olmney observedthat his companion's face settled into a gravity rather at variance withthe expression it had worn. 

"I should hardly think, " said he softly, "that you were looking throughwhite spectacles, if you had not told us so. "

"O--a shade may come over what one is looking at you know, " said Fleda. But seeing that he still watched her inquiringly she added, "I do not think a very wide landscape is ever gay in its effect upon themind--do you?"

"Perhaps--I do not know, " said he, his eyes turning to it again as if totry what the effect was. 

"My thoughts had gone back, " said Fleda, "to a time a good while ago, when I was a child and stood here in summer weather--and I was thinkingthat the change in the landscape is something like that which years makein the mind. "

"But you have not, for a long time at least, known any very acute sorrow?"

"No--" said Fleda, "but that is not necessary. There is a gentle kind ofdiscipline which does its work I think more surely. "

"Thank God for _gentle_ discipline!" said Mr. Olmney; "if you do not knowwhat those griefs are that break down mind and body together. "

"I am not unthankful, I hope, for anything, " said Fleda gently; "but Ihave been apt to think that after a crushing sorrow the mind may rise upagain, but that a long-continued though much lesser pressure in timebreaks the spring. "

He looked at her again with a mixture of incredulous and tender interest, but her face did not belie her words, strange as they sounded from soyoung and in general so bright-seeming a creature. 

"'There shall no evil happen to the just, '" he said presently and withgreat sympathy. 

Fleda flashed a look of gratitude at him--it was no more, for she felt hereyes watering and turned them away. 

"You have not, I trust, heard any bad news?"

"No sir--not at all!"

"I beg pardon for asking, but Mrs. Rossitur seemed to be in less goodspirits than usual. "

He had some reason to say so, having found her in a violent fit ofweeping. 

"You do not need to be told, " he went on, "of the need there is that acloud should now and then come over this lower scene--the danger that ifit did not our eyes would look nowhere else?"

There is something very touching in hearing a kind voice say what one hasoften struggled to say to oneself. 

"I know it, sir, " said Fleda, her words a little choked, --"and one may notwish the cloud away, --but it does not the less cast a shade upon the face. I guess Hugh has worked his way into the middle of that stump by thistime, Mr. Olmney. "

They rejoined him; and the baskets being now sufficiently heavy and armspretty well tired they left the further riches of the pine woodsunexplored and walked sagely homewards. At the brow of the table-land Mr. Olmney left them to take a shorter cut to the high-road, having a visit tomake which the shortening day warned him not to defer. 

"Put down your basket and rest a minute, Hugh, " said Fleda. "I had a worldof things to talk to you about, and this blessed man has driven them allout of my head. "

"But you are not sorry he came along with us?"

"O no. We had a very good time. How lovely it is, Hugh! Look at the snowdown there--without a track; and the woods have been dressed by thefairies. O look how the sun is glinting on the west side of that hillock!"

[Illustration: "How lovely it is, Hugh!"]

"It is twice as bright since you have come home, " said Hugh. 

"The snow is too beautiful to-day. O I was right! one may grow morbid overbooks--but I defy anybody in the company of those chick-a-dees. I shouldthink it would be hard to keep quite sound in the city. "

"You are glad to be here again, aren't you?" said Hugh. 

"Very! O Hugh!--it is better to be poor and have one's feet on thesehills, than to be rich and shut up to brick walls!"

"It is best as it is, " said Hugh quietly. 

"Once, " Fleda went on, --"one fair day when I was out driving in New York, it did come over me with a kind of pang how pleasant it would be to haveplenty of money again and be at ease; and then, as I was looking off overthat pretty North river to the other shore, I bethought me, 'A little thata righteous man hath is better than the riches of many wicked. '"

Hugh did not answer, for the face she turned to him in its half tearful, half bright submission took away his speech. 

"Why you cannot have enjoyed yourself as much as we thought, Fleda, if youdislike the city so much?"

"Yes I did. O I enjoyed a great many things. I enjoyed being with theEvelyns. You don't know how much they made of me, --every one ofthem, --father and mother and all the three daughters--and uncle Orrin. Ihave been well petted, I can tell you, since I have been gone. "

"I am glad they shewed so much discrimination, " said Hugh; "they would bepuzzled to make too much of you. "

"I must have been in a remarkably discriminating society, " said Fleda, "for everybody was very kind!"

"How do you like the Evelyns on a nearer view?"

"Very much indeed; and I believe they really love me. Nothing couldpossibly be kinder, in all ways of shewing kindness. I shall neverforget it. "

"Who were you driving with that day?" said Hugh. 

"Mr. Thorn. "

"Did you see much of him?"

"Quite as much as I wished. Hugh--I took your advice. "

"About what?" said Hugh. 

"I carried down some of my scribblings and sent them to a Magazine. "

"Did you!" said Hugh looking delighted. "And will they publish them?"

"I don't know, " said Fleda, "that's another matter. I sent them, or uncleOrrin did, when I first went down; and I have heard nothing of them yet. "

"You shewed them to uncle Orrin?"

"Couldn't help it, you know. I had to. "

"And what did he say to them?"

"Come!--I'm not going to be cross-questioned, " said Fleda laughing. "Hedid not prevent my sending them. "

"And if they take them, do you expect they will give anything forthem?--the Magazine people?"

"I am sure if they don't they shall have no more--that is my onlypossible inducement to let them be printed. For my own pleasure, I wouldfar rather not. "

"Did you sign with your own name?"

"My own name!--Yes, and desired it to be printed in large capitals. Whatare you thinking of? No--I hope you'll forgive me, but I signed myselfwhat our friend the doctor calls 'Yugh. '"

"I'll forgive you if you'll do one thing for me. "

"What?"

"Shew me all you have in your portfolio--Do, Fleda--to-night, by the lightof the pitch-pine knots. Why shouldn't you give me that pleasure? Andbesides, you know Moličre had an old woman?"

"Well, " said Fleda with a face that to Hugh was extremelysatisfactory, --"we'll see--I suppose you might as well read my productionsin manuscript as in print. But they are in a terribly scratchycondition--they go sometimes for weeks in my head before I find time toput them down--you may guess polishing is pretty well out of the question. Suppose we try to get home with these baskets. "

Which they did. 

"Has Philetus got home?" was Fleda's first question. 

"No, " said Mrs. Rossitur, "but Dr. Quackenboss has been here and broughtthe paper--he was at the post-office this morning, he says. Did you seeMr. Olmney?"

"Yes ma'am, and I feel he has saved me from a lame arm--those pine knotsare so heavy. "

"He is a lovely young man!" said Mrs. Rossitur with uncommon emphasis. 

"I should have been blind to the fact, aunt Lucy, if you had not made mechange my shoes. At present, no disparagement to him, I feel as if a cupof tea would be rather more lovely than anything else. "

"He sat with me some time, " said Mrs. Rossitur; "I was afraid he would notovertake you. "

Tea was ready, and only waiting for Mrs. Rossitur to come down stairs, when Fleda, whose eye was carelessly running along the columns of thepaper, uttered a sudden shout and covered her face with it. Hugh looked upin astonishment, but Fleda was beyond anything but exclamations, laughingand flushing to the very roots of her hair. 

"What _is_ the matter, Fleda?"

"Why, " said Fleda, --"how comical!--I was just looking over the list ofarticles in the January number of the 'Excelsior'"--

"The 'Excelsior'?" said Hugh. 

"Yes--the Magazine I sent my things to--I was running over theiradvertisement here, where they give a special puff of the publication ingeneral and of several things in particular, and I saw--here they speakof 'A tale of thrilling interest by Mrs. Eliza Lothbury, unsurpassed, ' andso forth and so forth; 'another valuable communication from Mr. Charleston, whose first acute and discriminating paper all our readerswill remember; the beginning of a new tale from the infallibly gracefulpen of Miss Delia Lawriston, we are sure it will be so and so; '"_Thewind's voices, " by our new correspondent "Hugh, " has a delicate sweetnessthat would do no discredit to some of our most honoured names!_'--What doyou think of that?"

What Hugh thought he did not say, but he looked delighted; and came toread the grateful words for himself. 

"I did not know but they had declined it utterly, " said Fleda, --"it wasso long since I had sent it and they had taken no notice of it; but itseems they kept it for the beginning of a new volume. "

"'Would do no discredit to some of our most honoured names'!" said Hugh. "Dear Fleda, I am very glad! But it is no more than I expected. "

"Expected!" said Fleda. "When you had not seen a line! Hush--My dearHugh, aren't you hungry?"

The tea, with this spice to their appetites, was wonderfully relished; andHugh and Fleda kept making despatches of secret pleasure and sympathy toeach other's eyes; though Fleda's face after the first flush had faded wasperhaps rather quieter than usual. Hugh's was illuminated. 

"Mr. Skillcorn is a smart man!" said Barby coming in with a package, --"hehas made out to go two miles in two hours and get back again safe!"

"More from the post-office!" exclaimed Fleda pouncing upon it, --"oh yes, there has been another mail. A letter for you, aunt Lucy! from uncleRolf!--We'll forgive him, Barby--And here's a letter for me, from uncleOrrin, and--yes--the 'Excelsior. ' Hugh, uncle Orrin said he would send it. Now for those blessed pine knots! Aunt Lucy, you shall be honoured withthe one whole candle the house contains. "

The table soon cleared away, the basket of fat fuel was brought in; andone or two splinters being delicately insinuated between the sticks on thefire a very brilliant illumination sprang out. Fleda sent a congratulatorylook over to Hugh on the other side of the fireplace as she cosilyestablished herself on her little bench at one corner with her letter; hehad the Magazine. Mrs. Rossitur between them at the table with her onecandle was already insensible to all outward things. 

And soon the other two were as delightfully absorbed. The bright light ofthe fire shone upon three motionless and rapt figures, and getting nogreeting from them went off and danced on the old cupboard doors and paperhangings, in a kindly hearty joviality that would have put any number ofstately wax candles out of countenance. There was no poverty in the roomthat night. But the people were too busy to know how cosy they were; tillFleda was ready to look up from her note and Hugh had gone twice carefullyover the new poem, --when there was a sudden giving out of the pinesplinters. New ones were supplied in eager haste and silence, and Hugh wasbeginning "The wind's voices" for the third time when a soft-whispered"Hugh!" across the fire made him look over to Fleda's corner. She washolding up with both hands a five-dollar bank note and just shewing himher eyes over it. 

"What's that?" said Hugh in an energetic whisper. 

"I don't know!" said Fleda, shaking her head comically;--"I am told 'Thewind's voices' have blown it here, but privately I am afraid it is awindfall of another kind. "

"What?" said Hugh laughing. 

"Uncle Orrin says it is the first fruits of what I sent to the'Excelsior, ' and that more will come; but I do not feel at all sure thatit is entirely the growth of that soil. "

"I dare say it is, " said Hugh; "I am sure it is worth more than that. DearFleda, I like it so much!"

Fleda gave him such a smile of grateful affection!--not at all as if shedeserved his praise but as if it was very pleasant to have. 

"What put it into your head? anything in particular?"

"No--nothing--I was looking out of the window one day and seeing thewillow tree blow; and that looked over my shoulder; as you know HansAndersen says his stories did. "

"It is just like you!--exactly as it can be. "

"Things put themselves in my head, " said Fleda, tucking another splinterinto the fire. "Isn't this better than a chandelier?"

"Ten times!"

"And so much pleasanter for having got it ourselves. What a nice time wehad, Hugh?"

"Very. Now for the portfolio, Fleda--come!--mother is fast; she won't seeor hear anything. What does father say, mother?"

In answer to this they had the letter read, which indeed contained nothingremarkable beyond its strong expressions of affection to each one of thelittle family; a cordial which Mrs. Rossitur drank and grew strong upon inthe very act of reading. It is pity the medicine of kind words is not moreused in the world--it has so much power. Then, having folded up hertreasure and talked a little while about it, Mrs. Rossitur caught up theMagazine like a person who had been famished in that kind; and soon sheand it and her tallow candle formed a trio apart from all the world again. Fleda and Hugh were safe to pass most mysterious-looking little papersfrom hand to hand right before her, though they had the care to read thembehind newspapers, and exchanges of thought and feeling went on moreswiftly still, and softly, across the fire. 

Looks, and smiles, and whispers, and tears too, under cover of a Tribuneand an Express. And the blaze would die down just when Hugh had got tothe last verse of something, and then while impatiently waiting for thenew pine splinters to catch he would tell Fleda how much he liked it, orhow beautiful he thought it, and whisper enquiries and criticalquestions; till the fire reached the fat vein and leaped up in defiantemulation of gas-lights unknown, and then he would fall to again withrenewed gusto. And Fleda hunted out in her portfolio what bits to givehim first, and bade him as she gave them remember this and understandthat, which was necessary to be borne in mind in the reading. And throughall the brightening and fading blaze, and all the whispering, congratulating, explaining, and rejoicing going on at her side, Mrs. Rossitur and her tallow candle were devoted to each other, happily andengrossingly. At last, however, she flung the Magazine from her andturning from the table sat looking into the fire with a rather uncommonlycareful and unsatisfied brow. 

"What did you think of the second piece of poetry there, mother?" saidHugh;--"that ballad?--'The wind's voices' it is called. "

"'The wind's voices'?--I don't know--I didn't read it, I believe. "

"Why mother! I liked it very much. Do read it--read it aloud. "

Mrs. Rossitur took up the Magazine again abstractedly, and read--

 "'Mamma, what makes your face so sad? The sound of the wind makes me feel glad; But whenever it blows, as grave you look, As if you were reading a sorrowful book. '

 "'A sorrowful book I am reading, dear, -- A book of weeping and pain and fear, -- A book deep printed on my heart, Which I cannot read but the tears will start. 

 "'That breeze to my ear was soft and mild, Just so, when I was a little child; But now I hear in its freshening breath The voices of those that sleep in death. '

 "'Mamma, ' said the child with shaded brow, 'What is this book you are reading now? And why do you read what makes you cry?' 'My child, it comes up before my eye. 

 "'Tis the memory, love, of a far-off day When my life's best friend was taken away;-- Of the weeks and months that my eyes were dim Watching for tidings--watching for him. 

 "'Many a year has come and past Since a ship sailed over the ocean fast, Bound for a port on England's shore, -- She sailed--but was never heard of more. '

 "'Mamma'--and she closer pressed her side, -- 'Was that the time when my father died?-- Is it his ship you think you see?-- Dearest mamma--won't you speak to me?'

 "The lady paused, but then calmly said, 'Yes, Lucy--the sea was his dying bed, And now whenever I hear the blast I think again of that storm long past. 

 "'The winds' fierce bowlings hurt not me, But I think how they beat on the pathless sea, -- Of the breaking mast--of the parting rope, -- Of the anxious strife and the failing hope. '

 "'Mamma, ' said the child with streaming eyes, 'My father has gone above the skies; And you tell me this world is mean and base Compared with heaven--that blessed place. '

 "'My daughter, I know--I believe it all, -- I would not his spirit to earth recall. The blest one he--his storm was brief, -- Mine, a long tempest of tears and grief. 

 "'I have you, my darling--I should not sigh. I have one star more in my cloudy sky, -- The hope that we both shall join him there, In that perfect rest from weeping and care. '"

"Well, mother, --how do you like it?" said Hugh whose eyes gave tenderwitness to _his_ liking for it. 

"It is pretty--" said Mrs. Rossitur. 

Hugh exclaimed, and Fleda laughing took it out of her hand. 

"Why mother!" said Hugh, --"it is Fleda's. "

"Fleda's!" exclaimed Mrs. Rossitur, snatching the Magazine again. "My dearchild, I was not thinking in the least of what I was reading. Fleda's!--"

She read it over anew, with swimming eyes this time, and then claspedFleda in her arms and gave her, not words, but the better reward of kissesand tears. They remained so a long time, even till Hugh left them; andthen Fleda released from her aunt's embrace still crouched by her sidewith one arm in her lap. 

They both sat thoughtfully looking into the fire till it had burnt itselfout and nothing but a glowing bed of coals remained. 

"That is an excellent young man!" said Mrs. Rossitur. 

"Who?"

"Mr. Olmney. He sat with me some time after you had gone. "

"So you said before, " said Fleda, wondering at the troubled expression ofher aunt's face. 

"He made me wish, " said Mrs. Rossitur hesitating, --"that I could besomething different from what I am--I believe I should be a great dealhappier"--

The last word was hardly spoken. Fleda rose to her knees and putting botharms about her aunt pressed face to face, with a clinging sympathy thattold how very near her spirit was; while tears from the eyes of both fellwithout measure. 

"Dear aunt Lucy--_dear_ aunt Lucy--I wish you would!--I am sure you wouldbe a great deal happier--"

But the mixture of feelings was too much for Fleda; her head sank lower onher aunt's bosom and she wept aloud. 

"But I don't know anything about it!" said Mrs. Rossitur, as well as shecould speak, --"I am as ignorant as a child!--"

"Dear aunty! that is nothing--God will teach you if you ask him; he haspromised. Oh ask him, aunt Lucy! I know you would be happier!--I know itis better--a million times!--to be a child of God than to have everythingin the world--If they only brought us that, I would be very glad of allour troubles!--indeed I would!"

"But I don't think I ever did anything right in my life!" said poorMrs. Rossitur. 

"Dear aunt Lucy!" said Fleda, straining her closer and with her very heartgushing out at these words, --"_dear_ aunty--Christ came for just suchsinners!--for just such as you and I. "

"_You, _"--said Mrs. Rossitur, but speech failed utterly, and with amuttered prayer that Fleda would help her, she sunk her head upon hershoulder and sobbed herself into quietness, or into exhaustion. Theglow of the firelight faded away till only a faint sparkle was left inthe chimney. 

There was not another word spoken, but when they rose up, with such kissesas gave and took unuttered affection, counsel and sympathy, they bade eachother good-night. 

Fleda went to her window, for the moon rode high and her childish habithad never been forgotten. But surely the face that looked out that nightwas as the face of an angel. In all the pouring moonbeams that filled theair, she could see nothing but the flood of God's goodness on a darkworld. And her heart that night had nothing but an unbounded andunqualified thanksgiving for all the "gentle discipline" they had felt;for every sorrow and weariness and disappointment;--except besides theprayer, almost too deep to be put into words, that its due and hoped-forfruit might be brought forth unto perfection. 

Chapter XXVII. 

 I become not a cart as well as another man, a plague on my bringing up. 

 Shakspeare. 

Every day could not be as bright as the last, even by the help of pitchpine knots. They blazed indeed, many a time, but the blaze shone uponfaces that it could not sometimes light up. Matters drew gradually withina smaller and smaller compass. Another five dollars came from uncle Orrin, and the hope of more; but these were carefully laid by to pay Philetus;and for all other wants of the household excepting those the farm suppliedthe family were dependent on mere driblets of sums. None came from Mr. Rossitur. Hugh managed to collect a very little. That kept them fromabsolute distress; that, and Fleda's delicate instrumentality. Regulardinners were given up, fresh meat being now unheard-of, unless when a kindneighbour made them a present; and appetite would have lagged sadly butfor Fleda's untiring care. She thought no time nor pains ill bestowedwhich could prevent her aunt and Hugh from feeling the want of oldcomforts; and her nicest skill was displayed in varying the combinationsof their very few and simple stores. The diversity and deliciousness ofher bread stuffs, Barby said, was "beyond everything!" and a cup of richcoffee was found to cover all deficiencies of removes and entremęts; andthis was always served, Barby said further, as if the President of theUnited States was expected. Fleda never permitted the least slackness inthe manner of doing this or anything else that she could control. 

Mr. Plumfield had sent down an opportune present of a fine porker. Onecold day in the beginning of February Fleda was busy in the kitchen makingsomething for dinner, and Hugh at another table was vigorously choppingsausage meat. 

"I should like to have some cake again, " said Fleda. 

"Well, why don't you?" said Hugh, chopping away. 

"No eggs, Mr. Rossitur, --and can't afford 'em at two shillings a dozen. Ibelieve I am getting discontented--I have a great desire to do somethingto distinguish myself--I would make a plum pudding if I had raisins, butthere is not one in the house. "

"You can get 'em up to Mr. Hemps's for sixpence a pound, " said Barby. 

But Fleda shook her head at the sixpence and went on moulding out herbiscuits diligently. 

"I wish Philetus would make his appearance with the cows--it is avery odd thing they should be gone since yesterday morning and nonews of them. "

"I only hope the snow ain't so bright it'll blind his eyes, " said Barby. 

"There he is this minute, " said Hugh. "It is impossible to tell from hiscountenance whether successful or not. "

"Well where are the cows, Mr. Skillcorn?" said Barby as he came in. 

"I have went all over town, " said the person addressed, "and they ain'tno place. "

"Have you asked news of them, Philetus?"

"I have asked the hull town, and I have went all over, 'till I was a'mostbeat out with the cold, --and I ha'n't seen the first sight of 'em yet!"

Fleda and Hugh exchanged looks, while Barby and Mr. Skillcorn entered intoan animated discussion of probabilities and impossibilities. 

"If we should be driven from our coffee dinners to tea with no milk init!"--said Hugh softly in mock dismay. 

"Wouldn't!" said Fleda. "We'd beat up an egg and put it in the coffee. "

"We couldn't afford it, " said Hugh smiling. 

"Could!--cheaper than to keep the cows. I'll have some sugar at any rate, I'm determined. Philetus!"

"Marm. "

"I wish, when you have got a good pile of wood chopped, you would makesome troughs to put under the maple trees--you know how to make them, don't you?"

"I do!"

"I wish you would make some--you have pine logs out there large enough, haven't you?"

"They hadn't ought to want much of it--there's some gregious big ones!"

"I don't know how many we shall want, but a hundred or two at any rate;and the sooner the better. Do you know how much sugar they make fromone tree?"

"Wall I don't, " said Mr. Skillcorn, with the air of a person who was atfault on no other point;--"the big trees give more than the little ones--"

Fleda's eyes flashed at Hugh, who took to chopping in sheer desperation;and the muscles of both gave them full occupation for five minutes. Philetus stood comfortably warming himself at the fire, looking first atone and then at the other, as if they were a show and he had paid for it. Barby grew impatient. 

"I guess this cold weather makes lazy people of me!" she said bustlingabout her fire with an amount of energy that was significant. It seemedto signify nothing to Philetus. He only moved a little out of the way. 

"Didenhover's cleared out, " he burst forth at length abruptly. 

"What!" said Fleda and Barby at once, the broom and the biscuitsstanding still. 

"Mr. Didenhover. "

"What of him?"

"He has tuk himself off out o" town. "

"Where to?"

"I can't tell you where teu--he ain't coming back, 'tain't likely. "

"How do you know?"

"'Cause he's tuk all his traps and went, and he said farming didn't payand he wa'n't a going to have nothin' more to deu with it;--he telled Mis'Simpson so--he lived to Mis' Simpson's; and she telled Mr. Ten Eyck. "

"Are you sure, Philetus?"

"Sure as 'lection!--he telled Mis' Simpson so, and she telled Mr. TenEyck; and he's cleared out. "

Fleda and Hugh again looked at each other. Mr. Skillcorn having nowdelivered himself of his news went out to the woodyard. 

"I hope he ha'n't carried off our cows along with him, " said Barby, as shetoo went out to some other part of her premises. 

"He was to have made us quite a payment on the first of March, "said Fleda. 

"Yes, and that was to have gone to uncle Orrin, " said Hugh. 

"We shall not see a cent of it. And we wanted a little of it forourselves. --I have that money from the Excelsior, but I can't touch apenny of it for it must go to Philetus's wages. What Barby does withouthers I do not know--she has had but one five dollars in six months. Whyshe stays I cannot imagine; unless it is for pure love. "

"As soon as the spring opens I can go to the mill again, " said Hugh aftera little pause. Fleda looked at him sorrowfully and shook her head as shewithdrew her eyes. 

"I wish father would give up the farm, " Hugh went on under his breath. "Icannot bear to live upon uncle Orrin so. "

Fleda's answer was to clasp her hands. Her only words were, "Don't sayanything to aunt Lucy. "

"It is of no use to say anything to anybody, " said Hugh. "But it weighs meto the ground, Fleda!"

"If uncle Rolf doesn't come home by spring--I hope, I hope he will!--butif he does not, I will take desperate measures. I will try farming myself, Hugh. I have thought of it, and I certainly will. I will get Earl Douglassor somebody else to play second fiddle, but I will have but one head onthe farm and I will try what mine is worth. "

"You could not do it, Fleda. "

"One can do anything!--with a strong enough motive. "

"I'm afraid you'd soon be tired, Fleda. "

"Not if I succeeded--not so tired as I am now. "

"Poor Fleda! I dare say you are tired. "

"It wasn't _that_ I meant, " said Fleda, slightly drawing her breath;--"Imeant this feeling of everything going wrong, and uncle Orrin, and all--"

"But you _are_ weary, " said Hugh affectionately. "I see it in your face. "

"Not so much body as mind, after all. Oh Hugh! this is the worst part ofbeing poor!--the constant occupation of one's mind on a miserablesuccession of trifles. I am so weary sometimes!--If I only had a nicebook to rest myself for a while and forget all these things--I would giveso much for it!--"

"Dear Fleda! I wish you had!"

"That was one delight of being in New York--I forgot all about money fromone end of it to the other--I put all that away;--and not having to thinkof meals till I came to eat them. You can't think how tired I get ofringing the changes on pork and flour and Indian meal and eggs andvegetables!--"

Fleda looked tired and pale; and Hugh looked sadly conscious of it. 

"Don't tell aunt Lucy I have said all this!" she exclaimed after a momentrousing herself, --"I don't always feel so--only once in a while I get sucha fit--And now I have just troubled you by speaking of it!"

"You don't trouble any one in that way very often, dear Fleda, " said Hughkissing her. 

"I ought not at all--you have enough else to think of--but it is a kind ofrelief sometimes. I like to do these things in general, --only now and thenI get tired, as I was just now, I suppose, and then one sees everythingthrough a different medium. "

"I am afraid it would tire you more to have the charge of Earl Douglassand the farm upon your mind;--and mother could be no help to you, --nor I, if I am at the mill. "

"But there's Seth Plumfield. O I've thought of it all. You don't know whatI am up to, Mr. Rossitur. You shall see how I will manage--unless uncleRolf comes home, in which case I will very gladly forego all my honoursand responsibilities together. "

"I hope he will come!" said Hugh. 

But this hope was to be disappointed. Mr. Rossitur wrote again about thefirst of March, saying that he hoped to make something of his lands inMichigan, and that he had the prospect of being engaged in some landagencies which would make it worth his while to spend the summer there. Hebade his wife let anybody take the farm that could manage it and wouldpay; and to remit to Dr. Gregory whatever she should receive and couldspare. He hoped to do something where he was. 

It was just then the beginning of the sugar season; and Mrs. Douglasshaving renewed and urged Earl's offer of help, Fleda sent Philetus down toask him to come the next day with his team. Seth Plumfield's, which haddrawn the wood in the winter, was now busy in his own sugar business. OnEarl Douglass's ground there happpened to be no maple trees. His landswere of moderate extent and almost entirely cultivated as a sheep farm;and Mr. Douglass himself though in very comfortable circumstances was inthe habit of assisting, on advantageous terms, all the farmers in theneighbourhood. 

Philetus came back again in a remarkably short time; and announced that hehad met Dr. Quackenboss in the way, who had offered to come with _his_team for the desired service. 

"Then you have not been to Mr. Douglass's?"

"I have not, " said Philetus;--"I thought likely you wouldn't calculate towant him teu. "

"How came the doctor to know what you were going for?"

"I told him. "

"But how came you to tell him?"

"Wall I guess he had a mind to know, " said Philetus, "so I didn't keep itno closer than I had teu. "

"Well, " said Fleda biting her lips, "you will have to go down to Mr. Douglass's nevertheless, Philetus, and tell him the doctor is comingto-morrow, but I should be very much obliged to him if he will be herenext day. Will you?"

"Yes marm!"

"Now dear Hugh, will you make me those little spouts for the trees!--ofsome dry wood--you can get plenty out here. You want to split them up witha hollow chisel about a quarter of an inch thick, and a little more thanhalf an inch broad. Have you got a hollow chisel?"

"No, but I can get one up the hill. Why must it be hollow?"

"To make little spouts, you know, --for the sap to run in. And then, mydear Hugh! they must be sharpened at one end so as to fit where the chiselgoes in--I am afraid I have given you a day's work of it. How sorry I amyou must go to-morrow to the mill!--and yet I am glad too. "

"Why need you go round yourself with these people?" said Hugh. "I don'tsee the sense of it. "

"They don't know where the trees are, " said Fleda. 

"I am sure I do not. Do you?"

"Perfectly well. And besides, " said Fleda laughing, "I should have greatdoubts of the discreetness of Philetus's auger if it were left to hissimple direction. I have no notion the trees would yield their sap askindly to him as to me. But I didn't bargain for Dr. Quackenboss. "

Dr. Quackenboss arrived punctually the next morning with his oxen andsled; and by the time it was loaded with the sap-troughs, Fleda in herblack cloak, yarn shawl, and grey little hood came out of the house to thewood-yard. Earl Douglass was there too, not with his team, but merely tosee how matters stood and give advice. 

"Good day, Mr. Douglass!" said the doctor. "You see I'm so fortunate as tohave got the start of you. "

"Very good, " said Earl contentedly, --"you may have it;--the start's onething and the pull's another. I'm willin' anybody should have the start, but it takes a pull to know whether a man's got stuff in him or no. "

"What do you mean?" said the doctor. 

"I don't mean nothin' at all. You make a start to-day and I'll come ahintand take the pull to-morrow. Ha' you got anythin' to boil down in, Fleda?--there's a potash kittle somewheres, ain't there? I guess there is. There is in most houses. "

"There is a large kettle--I suppose large enough, " said Fleda. 

"That'll do, I guess. Well what do you calculate to put the syrup in--ha'you got a good big cask, or plenty o' tubs and that? or will you sugaroff the hull lot every night and fix it that way? You must do one thingor t'other, and it's good to know what you're a going to do afore youcome to do it. "

"I don't know, Mr. Douglass, " said Fleda;--"whichever is the best way--wehave no cask large enough, I am afraid. "

"Well I tell you what I'll do--I know where there's a tub, and wherethey ain't usin' it nother, and I reckon I can get 'em to let me haveit--I reckon I can--and I'll go round for't and fetch it here to-morrowmornin' when I come with the team. 'Twon't be much out of my way. It'smore handier to leave the sugarin' off till the next day; and it hadought to have a settlin' besides. Where'll you have your fire built?--indoors or out?"

"Out--I would rather, if we can. But can we?"

"La, 'tain't nothin' easier--it's as easy out as in--all you've got to dois to take and roll a couple of pretty sized billets for your fireplaceand stick a couple o' crotched sticks for to hang the kittle over--I'd aslieve have it out as in, and if anythin' a leetle liever. If you'll lendme Philetus, me and him'll fix it all ready agin you come back--'tain't notrouble at all--and if the sticks ain't here we'll go into the woods after'em, and have it all sot up. "

But Fleda represented that the services of Philetus were just then inrequisition, and that there would be no sap brought home till to-morrow. 

"Very good!" said Earl amicably, --"_very_ good! it's just as easy done oneday as another--it don't make no difference to me, and if it makes anydifference to you, of course we'll leave it to-day, and there'll be timeenough to do it to-morrow; me and him'll knock it up in a whistle. --What'sthem little shingles for?"

Fleda explained the use and application of Hugh's mimic spouts. He turnedone about, whistling, while he listened to her. 

"That's some o' Seth Plumfield's new jigs, ain't it. I wonder if he thinksnow the sap's a goin to run any sweeter out o' that 'ere than it would offthe end of a chip that wa'n't quite so handsome?"

"No, Mr. Douglass, " said Fleda smiling, --"he only thinks that this willcatch a little more. "

"His sugar won't never tell where it come from, " remarked Earl, throwingthe spout down. "Well, --you shall see more o' me to-morrow. Good-bye, Dr. Quackenboss!"

"Do you contemplate the refining process?" said the doctor, as theymoved off. 

"I have often contemplated the want of it, " said Fleda; "but it is bestnot to try to do too much. I should like to make sure of something worthrefining in the first place. "

"Mr. Douglass and I, " said the doctor, --"I hope--a--he's a verygood-hearted man, Miss Fleda, but, ha! ha!--he wouldn't suffer loss from alittle refining himself. --Haw! you rascal--where are you going! Haw! Itell ye--"

"I am very sorry, Dr. Quackenboss, " said Fleda when she had the power andthe chance to speak again, --"I am very sorry you should have to take thistrouble; but unfortunately the art of driving oxen is not among Mr. Skillcorn's accomplishments. "

"My dear Miss Ringgan!" said the doctor, "I--I--nothing I assure you couldgive me greater pleasure than to drive my oxen to any place where youwould like to have them go. "

Poor Fleda wished she could have despatched them and him in one directionwhile she took another; the art of driving oxen _quietly_ was certainlynot among the doctor's accomplishments. She was almost deafened. She triedto escape from the immediate din by running before to shew Philetus abouttapping the trees and fixing the little spouts, but it was a longeroperation than she had counted upon, and by the time they were ready toleave the tree the doctor was gee-hawing alongside of it; and then if thenext maple was not within sight she could not in decent kindness leave himalone. The oxen went slowly, and though Fleda managed to have no delaylonger than to throw down a trough as the sled came up with each treewhich she and Philetus had tapped, the business promised to make a longday of it. It might have been a pleasant day in pleasant company; butFleda's spirits were down to set out with, and Dr. Quackenboss was not theperson to give them the needed spring; his long-winded complimentaryspeeches had not interest enough even to divert her. She felt that she wasentering upon an untried and most weighty undertaking; charging her timeand thoughts with a burthen they could well spare. Her energies did notflag, but the spirit that should have sustained them was not strong enoughfor the task. 

It was a blustering day of early March; with that uncompromisingbrightness of sky and land which has no shadow of sympathy with a heartovercast. The snow still lay a foot thick over the ground, thawing alittle in sunny spots; the trees quite bare and brown, the buds even ofthe early maples hardly shewing colour; the blessed evergreens alone doingtheir utmost to redeem the waste, and speaking of patience and fortitudethat can brave the blast and outstand the long waiting and cheerfully bidethe time when "the winter shall be over and gone. " Poor Fleda thought theywere like her in their circumstances, but she feared she was not like themin their strong endurance. She looked at the pines and hemlocks as shepassed, as if they were curious preachers to her; and when she had achance she prayed quietly that she might stand faithfully like them tocheer a desolation far worse and she feared far more abiding than snowscould make or melt away. She thought of Hugh, alone in his mill-work thatrough chilly day, when the wind stalked through the woods and over thecountry as if it had been the personification of March just come of apeand taking possession of his domains. She thought of her uncle, doingwhat?--in Michigan, --leaving them to fight with difficulties as theymight, --why?--why? and her gentle aunt at home sad and alone, pining forthe want of them all, but most of him, and fading with their fortunes. AndFleda's thoughts travelled about from one to the other and dwelt with themall by turns till she was heart-sick; and tears, tears, fell hot on thesnow many a time when her eyes had a moment's shield from the doctor andhis somewhat more obtuse coadjutor. She felt half superstitiously as ifwith her taking the farm were beginning the last stage of their fallingprospects, which would leave them with none of hope's colouring. Not thatin the least she doubted her own ability and success; but her uncle didnot deserve to have his affairs prosper under such a system and she had nofaith that they would. 

"It is most grateful, " said the doctor with that sideway twist of his jawand his head at once, in harmony, --"it is a most grateful thing to seesuch a young lady--Haw I there now I--what are you about? haw, --hawthen!--It is a most grateful thing to see--"

But Fleda was not at his side; she had bounded away and was standingunder a great maple tree a little ahead, making sure that Philetus screwedhis auger _up_ into the tree instead of _down_, which he had several timesshewed an unreasonable desire to do. The doctor had steered his oxen byher little grey hood and black cloak all the day. He made for it now. 

"Have we arrived at the termination of our--a--adventure?" said he as hecame up and threw down the last trough. 

"Why no, sir, " said Fleda, "for we have yet to get home again. "

"'Tain't so fur going that way as it were this'n, " said Philetus. "My!ain't I glad. "

"Glad of what?" said the doctor. "Here's Miss Ringgan's walked the wholeway, and she a lady--ain't you ashamed to speak of being tired?"

"I ha'n't said the first word o' being tired!" said Philetus in aninjured tone of voice, --"but a man ha'n't no right to kill hisself, if heain't a gal!"

"I'll qualify to your being safe enough, " said the doctor. "ButMiss Ringgan, my dear, you are--a--you have lost something sinceyou came out--"

"What?" said Fleda laughing. "Not my patience?"

"No, " said the doctor, "no, --you're--a--you're an angel! but your cheeks, my dear Miss Ringgan, shew that you have exceeded your--a--"

"Not my intentions, doctor, " said Fleda lightly. "I am very well satisfiedwith our day's work, and with my share of it, and a cup of coffee willmake me quite up again. Don't look at my cheeks till then. "

"I shall disobey you constantly, " said the doctor;--"but, my dear MissFleda, we must give you some felicities for reaching home, or Mrs. Rossitur will be--a--distressed when she sees them. Might I propose--thatyou should just bear your weight on this wood-sled and let my oxen and mehave the honour--The cup of coffee, I am confident, would be at your lipsconsiderably earlier--"

"The sun won't be a great haighth by the time we get there, " said Philetusin a cynical manner; "and I ha'n't took the first thing to-day!"

"Well who has?" said the doctor; "you ain't the only one. Follow your nosedown hill, Mr. Skillcorn, and it'll smell supper directly. Now, my dearMiss Ringgan!--will you?"

Fleda hesitated, but her relaxed energies warned her not to despise ahomely mode of relief. The wood-sled was pretty clean, and the roaddecently good over the snow. So Fleda gathered her cloak about her and satdown flat on the bottom of her rustic vehicle; too grateful for the restto care if there had been a dozen people to laugh at her; but the doctorwas only delighted, and Philetus regarded every social phenomenon ascoolly and in the same business light as he would the butter to his bread, or any other infallible every-day matter. 

Fleda was very glad presently that she had taken this plan, for besidesthe rest of body she was happily relieved from all necessity of speaking. The doctor though but a few paces off was perfectly given up to the careof his team, in the intense anxiety to shew his skill and gallantry insaving her harmless from every ugly place in the road that threatened ajar or a plunge. Why his oxen didn't go distracted was a question; but thevery vehemence and iteration of his cries at last drowned itself inFleda's ear and she could hear it like the wind's roaring, withoutthinking of it. She presently subsided to that. With a weary frame, andwith that peculiar quietness of spirits that comes upon the ending of adays work in which mind and body have both been busily engaged, and thesudden ceasing of any call upon either, fancy asked no leave and dreamilyroved hither and thither between the material and the spirit world; thewill too subdued to stir. Days gone by came marshalling their scenes andtheir actors before her; again she saw herself a little child under thosesame trees that stretched their great black arms over her head and swayingtheir tops in the wind seemed to beckon her back to the past. They talkedof their old owner, whose steps had so often passed beneath them with herown light tread, --light now, but how dancing then!--by his side; and ofher father whose hand perhaps had long ago tapped those very trees whereshe had noticed the old closed-up soars of the axe. At any rate hisboyhood had rejoiced there, and she could look back to one time at leastin his manhood when she had taken a pleasant walk with him in summerweather among those same woods, in that very ox-track she believed. Gone--two generations that she had known there; hopes and fears anddisappointments, akin to her own, at rest, --as hers would be; and howsedately the old trees stood telling her of it, and waving their arms ingrave and gentle commenting on the folly of anxieties that came and wentwith the wind. Fleda agreed to it all; she heard all they said; and herown spirit was as sober and quiet as their quaint moralizing. She felt asif it would never dance again. 

The wind had greatly abated of its violence; as if satisfied with the shewof strength it had given in the morning it seemed willing to make no morecommotion that day. The sun was far on his way to the horizon, and many abroad hill-side slope was in shadow; the snow had blown or melted from offthe stones and rocks leaving all their roughness and bareness unveiled;and the white crust of snow that lay between them looked a cheerless wastein the shade of the wood and the hill. But there were other spots wherethe sunbeams struck and bright streams of light ran between the trees, smiling and making them smile. And as Fleda's eye rested there anothervoice seemed to say, "At evening-time it shall be light, "--and "Sorrow mayendure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning. " She could have cried, but spirits were too absolutely at an ebb. She knew this was partlyphysical, because she was tired and faint, but it could not the better beovercome. Yet those streaks of sunlight were pleasant company, and Fledawatched them, thinking how bright they used to be once; till the oxen andsled came out from the woods, and she could see the evening colours on thehill-tops beyond the village, lighting up the whole landscape with promiseof the morrow. She thought her day had seen its brightest; but she thoughttoo that if she must know sorrows it was a very great blessing to knowthem at Queechy. 

The smoke of the chimney-tops came in sight, and fancy went home, --a fewminutes before her. 

"I wonder what you'll take and do to yourself next!" said Barby in extremevexation when she saw her come in. "You're as white as the wall, --and ascold, ain't you? I'd ha' let Philetus cut all the trees and drink all thesap afterwards. I wonder which you think is the worst, the want o' you orthe want o' sugar. "

A day's headache was pretty sure to visit Fleda after any over-exertion orexhaustion, and the next day justified Barby's fears. She was the quietprisoner of pain. But Earl Douglass and Mr. Skillcorn could now do withouther in the woods; and her own part of the trouble Fleda always took withspeechless patience. She had the mixed comfort that love could bestow;Hugh's sorrowful kiss and look before setting off for the mill, Mrs. Rossitur's caressing care, and Barby's softened voice, and sympathizinghand on her brow, and hearty heart-speaking kiss, and poor little King layall day with his head in her lap, casting grave wistful glances up at hismistress's face and licking her hand with intense affection when even inher distress it stole to his head to reward and comfort him. He neverwould budge from her side, or her feet, till she could move herself and heknew that she was well. As sure as King came trotting into the kitchenBarby used to look into the other room and say, "So you're better, ain'tyou, Fleda? I knowed it!"

After hours of suffering the fit was at last over; and in the evening, though looking and feeling racked, Fleda would go out to see thesap-boilers. Earl Douglass and Philetus had had a very good day of it, and now were in full blast with the evening part of the work. The weatherwas mild, and having the stay of Hugh's arm Fleda grew too amused toleave them. 

It was a very pretty scene. The sap-boilers had planted themselves nearthe cellar door on the other side of the house from the kitchen door andthe wood-yard; the casks and tubs for syrup being under cover there; andthere they had made a most picturesque work-place. Two strong crotchedsticks were stuck in the ground some six or eight feet apart and a polelaid upon them, to which by the help of some very rustic hooks twoenormous iron kettles were slung. Under them a fine fire of smallish splitsticks was doing duty, kept in order by a couple of huge logs which walledit in on the one side and on the other. It was a dark night, and the firepainted all this in strong lights and shadows; threw a faint fading Auroralike light over the snow, beyond the shade of its log barriers; glimmeredby turns upon the paling of the garden fence, whenever the dark figuresthat were passing and repassing between gave it a chance; and invested thecellar-opening and the outstanding corner of the house with striking andunwonted dignity, in a light that revealed nothing except to theimagination. Nothing was more fancifully dignified or more quaintlytravestied by that light than the figures around it, busy and flittingabout and shewing themselves in every novel variety of grouping andcolouring. There was Earl Douglass, not a hair different from what he wasevery day in reality, but with his dark skin and eyes, and a hat that likeits master had concluded to abjure all fashions and perhaps for the samereason, he looked now like any bandit and now in a more pacific view couldpass for nothing less than a Spanish shepherd at least, with an iron ladlein lieu of crook. There was Dr. Quackenboss, who had come too, determinedas Earl said, "to keep his eend up, " excessively bland and busy andimportant, the fire would throw his one-sidedness of feature into suchaspects of gravity or sternness that Fleda could make nothing of him but apoor clergyman or a poor schoolmaster alternately. Philetus, who was kepthanding about a bucket of sap or trudging off for wood, defied allcomparison; he was Philetus still; but when Barby came once or twice andpeered into the kettle her strong features with the handkerchief shealways wore about her head were lit up into a very handsome gypsy. Fledastood some time unseen in the shadow of the house to enjoy the sight, andthen went forward on the same principle that a sovereign princess shewsherself to her army, to grace and reward the labours of her servants. Thedoctor was profuse in enquiries after her health and Earl informed her ofthe success of the day. 

"We've had first rate weather, " he said;--"I don't want to see no betterweather for sugar-makin'; it's as good kind o' weather as you need tohave. It friz everythin' up tight in the night, and it thew in the sunthis mornin' as soon as the sun was anywhere; the trees couldn't do nobetter than they have done. I guess we ha'n't got much this side o' twohundred gallon--I ain't sure about it, but that's what I think; andthere's nigh two hundred gallon we've fetched down; I'll qualify to betterthan a hundred and fifty, or a hundred and sixty either. We should ha' hadmore yet if Mr. Skillcorn hadn't managed to spill over one cask of it--Ireckon he wanted it for sass for his chicken. "

"Now, Mr. Douglass!"--said Philetus, in a comical tone of deprecation. 

"It is an uncommonly fine lot of sugar trees, " said the doctor, "and theystand so on the ground as to give great felicities to the oxen. "

"Now, Fleda, " Earl went on, busy all the while with his iron ladle indipping the boiling sap from one kettle into the other, --"you know howthis is fixed when we've done all we've got to do with it?--it must bestrained out o' this biler into a cask or a tub or somethin''nother, --anythin' that'll hold it, --and stand a day or so;--you maystrain it through a cotton cloth, or through a woollen cloth, or throughany kind of a cloth!--and let it stand to settle; and then when it's bileddown--Barby knows about bilin' down--you can tell when it's comin' to thesugar when the yellow blobbers rises thick to the top and puffs off, andthen it's time to try it in cold water, --it's best to be a leetle theright side o' the sugar and stop afore it's done too much, for themolasses will dreen off afterwards--"

"It must be clarified in the commencement, " put in the doctor. 

"O' course it must be clarified, " said Earl, --"Barby knows aboutclarifyin'--that's when you first put it on--you had ought to throw in ateeny drop o' milk fur to clear it, --milk's as good as a'mostanything, --or if you can get it calf's blood's better "--

"Eggs would be a more preferable ingredient on the present occasion, Ipresume, " said the doctor. "Miss Ringgan's delicacy would be--a--wouldshrink from--a--and the albumen of eggs will answer all the same purpose. "

"Well anyhow you like to fix it, " said Earl, --"eggs or calf's blood--Iwon't quarrel with you about the eggs, though I never heerd o' blue onesafore, 'cept the robin's and bluebird's--and I've heerd say the swampblack bird lays a handsome blue egg, but I never happened to see the nestmyself;--and there's the chippin' sparrow, --but you'd want to rob all thebirds' nests in creation to get enough of 'em, and they ain't here insugar time, nother; but anyhow any eggs'll do I s'pose if you can get'em--or milk'll do if you ha'n't nothin' else--and after it is turned outinto the barrel you just let it stand still a spell till it begins tograin and look clean on top"--

"May I suggest an improvement?" said the doctor. "Many persons are of theopinion that if you take and stir it up well from the bottom for a lengthof time it will help the coagulation of the particles. I believe that isthe practice of Mr. Plumfield and others. "

"'Tain't the practice of as good men as him and as good sugar-bilers, besides, " said Earl; "though I don't mean to say nothin' agin SethPlumfield nor agin his sugar, for the both is as good as you'd need tohave; he's a good man and he's a good farmer--there ain't no better man intown than Seth Plumfield, nor no better farmer, nor no better sugarnother; but I hope there's as good; and I've seen as handsome sugar thatwa'n't stirred as I'd want to see or eat either. "

"It would lame a man's arms the worst kind!" said Philetus. 

Fleda stood listening to the discussion and smiling, when Hugh suddenlywheeling about brought her face to face with Mr. Olmney. 

"I have been sitting some time with Mrs. Rossitur, " he said, "and sherewarded me with permission to come and look at you. I mean!--not that Iwanted a reward, for I certainly did not--"

"Ah Mr. Olmney!" said Fleda laughing, "you are served right. You seehow dangerous it is to meddle with such equivocal things ascompliments. But we are worth looking at, aren't we? I have beenstanding here this half hour. "

He did not say this time what he thought. 

"Pretty, isn't it?" said Fleda. "Stand a little further back, Mr. Olmney--isn't it quite a wild-looking scene, in that peculiar light andwith the snowy background? Look at Philetus now with that bundle ofsticks--Hugh! isn't he exactly like some of the figures in the oldpictures of the martyrdoms, bringing billets to feed the fire?--that oldmartyrdom of St. Lawrence--whose was it--Spagnoletto!--at Mrs. Decatur's--don't you recollect? It is fine, isn't it, Mr. Olmney?"

"I am afraid, " said he shaking his head a little, "my eye wants training. I have not been once in your company I believe without your shewing mesomething I could not see. "

"That young lady, sir, " said Dr. Quackenboss from the far side of thefire, where he was busy giving it more wood, --"that young lady, sir, is apattron to her--a--to all young ladies. "

"A patron!" said Mr. Olmney. 

"Passively, not actively, the doctor means, " said Fleda softly. 

"Well I won't say but she's a good girl, " said Mr. Douglass in anabstracted manner, busy with his iron ladle, --"she means to be a goodgirl--she's as clever a girl as you need to have!"

Nobody's gravity stood this, excepting Philetus, in whom the principle offun seemed not to be developed. 

"Miss Ringgan, sir, " Dr. Quackenboss went on with a most benign expressionof countenance, --"Miss Ringgan, sir, Mr. Olmney, sets an example to allladies who--a--have had elegant advantages. She gives her patronage to theagricultural interest in society. "

"Not exclusively, I hope?" said Mr. Olmney smiling, and making thequestion with his eye of Fleda. But she did not meet it. 

"You know, " she said rather quickly, and drawing back from the fire, "I amof an agricultural turn perforce--in uncle Rolf's absence I am going to bea farmer myself. "

"So I have heard--so Mrs. Rossitur told me, --but I fear--pardon me--you donot look fit to grapple with such a burden of care. "

Hugh sighed, and Fleda's eyes gave Mr. Olmney a hint to be silent. 

"I am not going to grapple with any thing, sir; I intend to takethings easily. "

"I wish I could take an agricultural turn too, " said he smiling, "and beof some service to you. "

"O I shall have no lack of service, " said Fleda gayly;--"I am not goingunprovided into the business. There is my cousin Seth Plumfield, who hasengaged himself to be my counsellor and instructor in general; I could nothave a better; and Mr. Douglass is to be my right hand; I occupying onlythe quiet and unassuming post of the will, to convey the orders of thehead to the hand. And for the rest, sir, there is Philetus!"

Mr. Olmney looked, half laughing, at Mr. Skillcorn, who was at that momentstanding with his hands on his sides, eying with concentrated gravity themovements of Earl Douglass and the doctor. 

"Don't shake your head at him!" said Fleda. "I wish you had come an hourearlier, Mr. Olmney. "

"Why?"

"I was just thinking of coming out here, " said Fleda, her eyes flashingwith hidden fun, --"and Hugh and I were both standing in the kitchen, whenwe heard a tremendous shout from the woodyard. Don't laugh, or I can't goon. We all ran out, towards the lantern which we saw standing there, andso soon as we got near we heard Philetus singing out, 'Ho, MissElster!--I'm dreadfully on't!'--Why he called upon Barby I don't know, unless from some notion of her general efficiency, though to be sure hewas nearer her than the sap-boilers and perhaps thought her aid would comequickest. And he was in a hurry, for the cries came thick--'MissElster!--here!--I'm dreadfully on't'--"

"I don't understand--"

"No, " said Fleda, whose amusement seemed to be increased by thegentleman's want of understanding, --"and neither did we till we came up tohim. The silly fellow had been sent up for more wood, and splitting a loghe had put his hand in to keep the cleft, instead of a wedge, and when hetook out the axe the wood pinched him; and he had the fate of Milo beforehis eyes, I suppose, and could do nothing but roar. You should have seenthe supreme indignation with which Barby took the axe and released himwith 'You're a smart man, Mr. Skillcorn!'"

"What was the fate of Milo?" said Mr. Olmney presently. 

"Don't you remember, --the famous wrestler that in his old age trying tobreak open a tree found himself not strong enough; and the wood closingupon his hands held him fast till the wild beasts came and made an endof him. The figure of our unfortunate wood-cutter though, was hardly sodignified as that of the old athlete in the statue. --Dr. Quackenboss, and Mr. Douglass, --you will come in and see us when this troublesomebusiness is done?"

"It'll be a pretty spell yet, " said Earl;--"but the doctor, he can goin, --he ha'n't nothin' to do. It don't take more'n half a dozen men tokeep one pot a bilin'. "

"Ain't there ten on 'em, Mr. Douglass?" said Philetus. 

Chapter XXVIII. 

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

 Milton. 

The farming plan succeeded beyond Fleda's hopes; thanks not more to herwisdom than to the nice tact with which the wisdom was brought into play. The one was eked out with Seth Plumfield's; the other was all her own. Seth was indefatigably kind and faithful. After his own day's work wasdone he used to walk down to see Fleda, go with her often to view theparticular field or work just then in question, and give her the bestcounsel dictated by great sagacity and great experience. It was given toowith equal frankness and intelligence, so that Fleda knew the steps shetook and could maintain them against the prejudice or the ignorance of hersubordinates. But Fleda's delicate handling stood her yet more in steadthan her strength. Earl Douglass was sometimes unmanageable, and held outin favour of an old custom or a prevailing opinion in spite of all theweight of testimony and light of discovery that could be brought to bearupon him. Fleda would let the thing go. But seizing her opportunityanother time she would ask him to try the experiment, on a piece of theground; so pleasantly and skilfully that Earl could do nothing but shuthis mouth and obey, like an animal fairly stroked into good humour. And asFleda always forgot to remind him that she had been right and he wrong, heforgot it too, and presently took to the new way kindly. In other mattershe could be depended on, and the seed-time and harvest prospered well. There was hope of making a good payment to Dr. Gregory in the course of afew months. 

As the spring came forward Fleda took care that her garden should, --bothgardens indeed. There she and Philetus had the game in their own hands, and beautifully it was managed. Hugh had full occupation at the mill. Manya dollar this summer was earned by the loads of fine fruit and vegetableswhich Philetus carried to Montepoole; and accident opened a new source ofrevenue. When the courtyard was in the full blaze of its beauty, one dayan admiring passer-by modestly inquired if a few of those exquisiteflowers might be had for money. They were given him most cheerfully thattime; but the demand returned, accompanied by the offer, and Fleda obligedherself not to decline it. A trial it was to cut her roses and jessaminesfor anything but her own or her friends' pleasure, but according to customshe bore it without hesitation. The place became a resort for all theflower-lovers who happened to be staying at the Pool; and rose-leaves werechanged into silver pennies as fast as in a fairy-tale. 

But the delicate mainspring that kept all this machinery in order sufferedfrom too severe a strain. There was too much running, too muchconsidering, too much watchfulness. In the garden pulling peas and seeingthat Philetus weeded the carrots right, --in the field or the woodyardconsulting and arranging or maybe debating with Earl Douglass, whoacquired by degrees an unwonted and concentrated respect for womankind inher proper person; breakfast waiting for her often before she came in; inthe house her old housewifery concerns, her share in Barby's cares ordifficulties, her sweet countenancing and cheering of her aunt, herdinner, her work;--then when evening came, budding her roses or tying hercarnations or weeding or raking the ground between them, (where Philetuscould do nothing, ) or training her multiflora and sweet-briarbranches;--and then often after all, walking up to the mill to give Hugh alittle earlier a home smile and make his way down pleasant. No wonder ifthe energies which owed much of their strength to love's nerving, shouldat last give out, and Fleda's evening be passed in wearied slumbers. Nowonder if many a day was given up to the forced quietude of a headache, the more grievous to Fleda because she knew that her aunt and Hugh alwaysfound the day dark that was not lightened by her sunbeam. How brightly itshone out the moment the cloud of pain was removed, winning the shadowfrom their faces and a smile to their lips, though solitude always saw herown settle into a gravity as fixed as it was soft. 

"You have been doing too much, Fleda, " said Mrs. Rossitur one morning whenshe came in from the garden. 

"I didn't know it would take me so long, " said Fleda drawing a longbreath;--"but I couldn't help it. I had those celery plants to prickout, --and then I was helping Philetus to plant another patch of corn. "

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

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

"And then you were at your flowers?--"

"O well!--budding a few roses--that's only play. It was time they weredone. But I _am_ tired; and I am going up to see Hugh--it will rest meand him too. "

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

She stopped a moment when she came upon the bridge, to look off to theright where the waters of the little run came hurrying along through anarrow wooded chasm in the hill, murmuring to her of the time when alittle child's feet had paused there and a child's heart danced to itsmusic. The freshness of its song was unchanged, the glad rush of itswaters was as joyous as ever, but the spirits were quieted that used toanswer it with sweeter freshness and lighter joyousness. Its faint echo ofthe old-time laugh was blended now in Fleda's ear with a gentle wail forthe rushing days and swifter fleeing delights of human life;--gentle, faint, but clear, --she could hear it very well. Taking up her walk againwith a step yet slower and a brow yet more quiet, she went on till shecame in sight of the little mill; and presently above the noise of thebrook could hear the saw going. To her childish ears what a signal ofpleasure that had always been; and now, --she sighed, and stopping at alittle distance looked for Hugh. He was there; she saw him in a momentgoing forward to stop the machinery, the piece of timber in hand havingwalked its utmost length up to the saw; she saw him throwing aside thenew-cut board, and adjusting what was left till it was ready for anothermarch up to headquarters. When it stopped the second time Fleda wentforward. Hugh must have been busy in his own thoughts, for he did not seeher until he had again adjusted the log and set the noisy works in motion. She stood still. Several huge timbers lay close by, ready for the saw; andon one of them where he had been sitting Fleda saw his Bible lying open. As her eye went from it to him it struck her heart with a pang that helooked tired and that there was a something of delicacy, even offragility, in the air of face and figure both. 

He came to meet her and welcomed her with a smile that coming upon thisfeeling set Fleda's heart a quivering. Hugh's smile was always one of verygreat sweetness, though never unshadowed; there was often somethingethereal in its pure gentleness. This time it seemed even sweeter thanusual, but though not sadder, perhaps less sad, Fleda could hardlycommand herself to reply to it. She could not at the moment speak; her eyeglanced at his open book. 

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

"Rests you, dear Hugh!--"

He smiled again. "Here is somebody else that wants resting, I am afraid, "said he, placing her gently on the log; and before she had found anythingto say he went off again to his machinery. Fleda sat looking at him andtrying to clear her bosom of its thick breathing. 

"What has brought you up here through the hot sun?" said he, coming backafter he had stopped the saw, and sitting down beside her. 

Fleda's lip moved nervously and her eye shunned meeting his. Softlypushing back the wet hair from his temples, she said, "I had one of my fits of doing nothing at home--I didn't feel very brightand thought perhaps you didn't, --so on the principle that two negativesmake an affirmative--"

"I feel bright, " said Hugh gently. 

Fleda's eye came down to his, which was steady and clear as the reflectionof the sky in Deepwater lake, --and then hers fell lower. 

"Why don't you, dear Fleda?"

"I believe I am a little tired, " Fleda said, trying but in vain to commandherself and look up, --"and there are states of body when anything almostis enough to depress one--"

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

"O--I was feeling a little down about things in general, " said Fleda in achoked voice, trying to throw off her load with a long breath;--"it'sbecause I am tired, I suppose--"

"I felt so too, a little while ago, " said Hugh. "But I have concluded togive all that up, Fleda. "

Fleda looked at him. Her eyes were swimming full, but his were clear andgentle as ever, only glistening a little in sympathy with hers. 

"I thought all was going wrong with us, " he went on. "But I found it wasonly I that was wrong; and since that I have been quite happy, Fleda. "

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

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

She did not answer while he was turning over the leaves, and he then said, "Do you remember this, Fleda?--'_Truly God is good to Israel, even to themthat are of a clean heart_. '"

Fleda bent her head down upon her hands. 

"I was moody and restless the other day, " said Hugh, --"desponding ofeverything;--and I came upon this psalm; and it made me ashamed of myself. I had been disbelieving it, and because I could not see how things weregoing to work good I thought they were going to work evil. I thought wewere wearing out our lives alone here in a wearisome way, and I forgotthat it must be the very straightest way that we could get home. I am surewe shall not want anything that will do us good; and the rest I am willingto want--and so are you, Fleda?"

Fleda squeezed his hand, --that was all. For a minute he was silent, andthen went on, without any change of tone. 

"I had a notion awhile ago that I should like it if it were possible forme to go to college; but I am quite satisfied now. I have good time andopportunity to furnish myself with a better kind of knowledge, that Ishall want where college learning wouldn't be of much use to me; and I cando it, I dare say, better here in this mill than if we had stayed in NewYork and I had lived in our favourite library. "

"But dear Hugh, " said Fleda, who did not like this speech in any sense ofit, --"the two things do not clash. The better man the better Christianalways, other things being equal. The more precious kind of knowledgeshould not make one undervalue the less?"

"No, "--he said; but the extreme quietness and simplicity of his replysmote Fleda's fears; it answered her words and waived her thought; shedared not press him further. She sat looking over the road with anaching heart. 

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

But that made Fleda cry again. 

"'All his paths, ' Fleda--then, whatever may happen to you, and whatevermay happen to me, or to any of us. --I can trust him. I am willing anyone should have the world, if I may have what Abraham had--'_Fear not;I am thy shield and thy exceeding great reward;_'--and I believe Ishall, Fleda; for it is not the hungry that he has threatened to sendempty away. "

Fleda could say nothing, and Hugh just then said no more. For a littlewhile, near and busy as thoughts might be, tongues were silent. Fleda wascrying quietly, the utmost she could do being to keep it quiet; Hugh, morequietly, was considering again the strong pillars on which he had laid hishope, and trying their strength and beauty; till all other things were tohim as the mist rolling off from the valley is to the man planted on awatch tower. 

His meditations were interrupted by the tramp of horse, and a party ofriders male and female came past them up the hill. Hugh looked on as theywent by; Fleda's head was not raised. 

"There are some people enjoying themselves, " said Hugh. "After all, dearFleda, we should be very sorry to change places with those gay riders. Iwould not for a thousand worlds give my hope and treasure for all otherthey can possibly have, in possession or prospect. "

"No, indeed!" said Fleda energetically, and trying to rouse herself;--"andbesides that, Hugh, we have as it is a great deal more to enjoy than mostother people. We are so happy--"

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

"Those people looked very hard at us, or at one of us, " said Hugh. "Itmust have been you, I think, Fleda"

"They are welcome, " said Fleda; "they couldn't have made much out of theback of my sun bonnet. "

"Well, dear Fleda, I must content myself with little more than looking atyou now, for Mr. Winegar is in a hurry for his timber to be sawn, and Imust set this noisy concern a going again. "

Fleda sat and watched him, with rising and falling hopes and fears, forcing her lips to a smile when he came near her, and hiding her tears atother times; till the shadows stretching well to the east of the meridian, admonished her she had been there long enough; and she left him stillgoing backward and forward tending the saw. 

As she went down the hill she pressed involuntarily her hands upon herheart, for the dull heavy pain there. But that was no plaster for it;and when she got to the bridge the soft singing of the little brook wasjust enough to shake her spirits from the doubtful poise they had kept. Giving one hasty glance along the road and up the hill to make sure thatno one was near she sat down on a stone in the edge of the woods, andindulged in such weeping as her gentle eyes rarely knew; for the habitof patience so cultivated for others' sake constantly rewarded her ownlife with its sweet fruits. But deep and bitter in proportion was theflow of the fountain once broken up. She struggled to remind herselfthat "Providence runneth not on broken wheels, " she struggled to repeatto herself, what she did not doubt that "_all_ the ways of the Lord aremercy and truth" to his people;--in vain. The slight check for a momentto the torrent of grief but gave it greater head to sweep over thebarrier; and the self-reproach that blamed its violence and needlessnessonly made the flood more bitter. Nature fought against patience forawhile; but when the loaded heart had partly relieved itself patiencecame in again and she rose up to go home. It startled her exceedingly tofind Mr. Olmney standing before her, and looking so sorrowful thatFleda's eyes could not bear it. 

"My dear Miss Ringgan!--forgive me--I hope you will forgive me, --but Icould not leave you in such distress. I knew that in _you_ it could onlybe from some very serious cause of grief. "

"I cannot say it is from anything new, Mr. Olmney--except to myapprehensions. "

"You are all _well_?" he said inquiringly, after they had walked a fewsteps in silence. 

"Well?--yes, sir, --" said Fleda hesitatingly, --"but I do not think thatHugh looks very well. "

The trembling of her voice told him her thought. But he remained silent. 

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

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

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

"I have thought so, --but you say he always was that. If you will permit meto say so, I have thought the same of you, Miss Fleda. "

Fleda was silent; her heart ached again. 

"We would gladly save each other from every threatening trouble, " said Mr. Olmney again after a pause;--"but it ought to content us that we do notknow how. Hugh is in good hands, my dear Miss Ringgan. "

"I know it, sir, " said Fleda unable quite to keep back her tears, --"and Iknow very well this thread of our life will not bear the strainalways, --and I know that the strands must in all probability partunevenly, --and I know it is in the power of no blind fate, --but that--"

"Does not lessen our clinging to each other. Oh no!--it grows but thetenderer and the stronger for the knowledge. "

Fleda could but cry. 

"And yet, " said he very kindly, --"we who are Christians may and ought tolearn to take troubles hopefully; for 'tribulation worketh patience; andpatience, ' that is, quiet waiting on God, 'works experience' of hisgoodness and faithfulness; 'and experience worketh hope; and that hope, weknow, 'maketh not ashamed. '"

"I know it, " said Fleda;--"but, Mr. Olmney, how easily the brunt of a newaffliction breaks down all that chain of reasoning!"

"Yes!--" he said sadly and thoughtfully;--"but my dear Miss Fleda, youknow the way to build it up again. I would be very glad to bear all needfor it away from you!"

They had reached the gate. Fleda could not look up to thank him; the handshe held out was grasped, more than kindly, and he turned away. 

Fleda's tears came hot again as she went up the walk; she held her headdown to hide them and went round the back way. 

Chapter XXIX. 

 Now, the melancholy god protect thee; and the tailor make thy doublet of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is a very opal!--Twelfth Night. 

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

"Company!!--" said Fleda. 

"Yes, and it's ungrateful in you to say so, " said Barby, "for she's beenin a wonderful hurry to see you, --or to get somethin' to eat; I don't knowwhich; a little o' both, I hope in charity. "

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

"I don't know who it is! It's one of your highfliers, that's all I canmake out. She 'a'n't a hat a bit better than a man's beaver, --one 'udthink she had stole her little brother's for a spree, if the rest of herwas like common folks; but she's got a tail to her dress as long as fromhere to Queechy Run; and she's been tiddling in and out here with itpuckered up under her arm sixty times. I guess she belongs to some companyof female militie, for the body of it is all thick with braid and buttons. I believe she ha'n't sot still five minutes since she come into the house, till I don't know whether I am on my head or my heels. "

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

"Did!" said Barby;--"I give her some o' them cold biscuit and butter andcheese and a pitcher of milk--sot a good enough meal for anybody--but shedidn't take but a crumb, and she turned up her nose at that. Come, go!--you've slicked up enough--you're handsome enough to shew yourself toher any time o' day, for all her jig-em-bobs. "

"Where is aunt Lucy?"

"She's up stairs;--there's been nobody to see to her but me. She's had thehull lower part of the house to herself, kitchen and all, and she's donenothing but go out of one room into another ever since she come. She'll bein here again directly if you ain't spry. "

Fleda went in, round to the west room, and there found herself in the armsof the second Miss Evelyn, who jumped to meet her and half stifled herwith caresses. 

"You wicked little creature! what have you been doing? Here have I beengrowing melancholy over the tokens of your absence, and watching thedecline of the sun with distracted feelings these six hours. "

"Six hours!" said Fleda smiling. 

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

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

"It's unkind of you to ask after anybody but me, when I came here thismorning on purpose to talk the whole day to you. Now dear little Fleda, "said Miss Constance, executing an impatient little persuasive caperround her, --"won't you go out and order dinner? for I'm raging. Yourwoman did give me something, but I found the want of you had taken awayall my appetite; and now the delight of seeing you has exhausted me, andI feel that nature is sinking. The stimulus of gratified affection istoo much for me. "

"You absurd child!" said Fleda, --"you haven't mended a bit. But I toldBarby to put on the tea-kettle and I will administer a composing draughtas soon as it can be got ready; we don't indulge in dinners here in thewilderness. Meanwhile suppose that exhausted nature try the support ofthis easy-chair?"

She put her visitor gently into it, and seating herself upon the arm heldher hand and looked at her, with a smiling face and yet with eyes thatwere almost too gentle in their welcoming. 

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

"Very. "

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

"I was afraid of overtasking your exhausted energies. "

"Come and sit down here upon my lap!--you shall, or I won't say anotherword to you. Fleda! you've grown thin! what have you been doing toyourself?"

"Nothing, with that particular purpose. "

"I don't care, you've done something. You have been insanely imaginingthat it is necessary for you to be in three or four places at the sametime, and in the distracted effort after ubiquity you are in imminentdanger of being nowhere--there's nothing left of you. "

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

"But you are looking charmingly for all that, " Constance went on;--"socharmingly that I feel a morbid sensation creeping all over me while I sitregarding you. Really, when you come to us next winter if you persist inbeing, --by way of shewing your superiority to ordinary human nature, --arose without a thorn, 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 it rather apoor character. "

"I never heard of a Thorn that didn't bear an excellent character!" saidConstance gravely. 

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

"I haven't said a word about Mr. Thorn!" said Constance ecstatically, "butsince you ask about him I will tell you. He has not acted like himselfsince you disappeared from our horizon--that is, he has ceased to be atall pointed in his attentions to me; his conversation has lost all theacuteness for which I remember you admired it; he has walked Broadway in amoody state of mind all winter, and grown as dull as is consistent withthe essential sharpness of his nature. I ought to except our lastinterview, though, for his entreaties to mamma that she would bring youhome with her were piercing. "

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

"My respected parents are at Montepoole, with all their offspring, --thatis, Florence and Edith, --I am at present anxiously enquired after, beingnobody knows where, and to be fetched by mamma this evening. Wasn't Igood, little Fleda, to run away from Mr. Carleton to come and spend awhole day in social converse with you?"

"Carleton!" said Fleda. 

"Yes--O you don't know who _he_ is! he's a new attraction--there's beennothing like him this great while, and all New York is topsy-turvy abouthim; the mothers are dying with anxiety and the daughters with admiration;and it's too delightful to see the cool superiority with which he takes itall;--like a new star that all the people are pointing their telescopesat, --as Thorn said spitefully the other day. O he has turned _my_ head; Ihave looked till I cannot look at anything else. I can just manage to seea rose, but my dazzled powers of vision are equal to nothing more. "

"My dear Constance!--"

"It's perfectly true! Why as soon as we knew he was coming to Montepoole Iwouldn't let mamma rest till we all made a rush after him--and when we gothere first and I was afraid he wasn't coming, nothing can express thestate of my feelings!--But he appeared the next morning, and then I wasquite 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 canyou talk so!"

"And so we were all riding round here this morning and I had theself-denial to stop to see you and leave Florence and the Marlboroughs tomonopolize him all the way home. You ought to love me for ever for it. Mydear Fleda!--" said Constance, clasping her hands and elevating her eyesin mock ecstasy, --"if you had ever seen Mr. Carleton I--"

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

"My dear Fleda!" said Constance, a little scornfully this time, --"youhaven't the least idea what you are talking about! I tell you he is anEnglishman--he's of one of the best families in England, --not such as youever see here but once in an age, --he's rich enough to count Mr. Thornover I don't know how many times. "

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

Constance made an impatient gesture. 

"But I tell you it isn't! We knew him when we were abroad, and we knowwhat he is, and we know his mother very well. When we were in England wewere a week with them down at their beautiful place in ----shire, --theloveliest time! You see she was over here with Mr. Carleton once before, agood while ago; and mamma and papa were polite to them, and so they shewedus a great deal of attention when we were in England. We had the loveliesttime down there you can possibly conceive. And my dear Fleda he wears sucha fur cloak!--lined with the most exquisite black fox. "

"But, Constance!" said Fleda, a little vexed though laughing, --"any manmay wear a fur cloak--the thing is, what is inside of it?"

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

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

"There is nothing of the fox about Mr. Carleton!" said Constanceimpatiently. "If it had been anybody else I should have said he was a beartwo or three times; but he wears everything as he does his cloak, andmakes you take what he pleases from him; what I wouldn't take from anybodyelse I know. "

"With a fox lining?" said Fleda laughing. 

"Then foxes haven't got their true character, that's all. Now I'll justtell you an instance--it was at a party somewhere--it was at that tiresomeMrs. Swinburne's, where the evenings are always so stupid, and there wasnothing worth going or staying for but the supper, --except Mr. Carleton!and he never stays five minutes, except at two or three places; and itdrives me crazy, because they are places I don't go to very often--"

"Suppose you keep your wits and tell me your story?"

"Well--don't interrupt me!--he was there, and he had taken me into thesupper-room, when mamma came along and took it into her head to tell menot to take something--I forget what--punch, I believe, --because I had notbeen well in the morning. Now you know, it was absurd! I was perfectlywell then, and I told her I shouldn't mind her; but do you believe Mr. Carleton wouldn't give it to me?--absolutely told me he wouldn't, and toldme why, as coolly as possible, and gave me a glass of water and made medrink it; and if it had been anybody else I do assure you I would haveflung it in his face and never spoken to him again; and I have been inlove with him ever since. Now _is_ that tea going to be ready?"

"Presently. How long have you been here?"

"O a day or two--and it has poured with rain every single day since wecame, till this one;--and just think!"--said Constance with a ludicrouslyscared face, --"I must make haste and be back again. You see, I came awayon principle, that I may strike with the effect of novelty when I appearagain; but if I stay _too_ long, you know, --there is a point--"

"On the principle of the ice-boats, " said Fleda, "that back a little togive a better blow to the ice, where they find it tough?"

"Tough!" said Constance. 

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

"I don't know--she don't talk so much about him, but that proves nothing;she's too happy to talk _to_ him. --I expect our family concord will beshattered by and by!" said Constance shaking her head. 

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

Constance gave an expressive shrug, intimating that the deciding of thatquestion did not rest with her. 

"That is to say, you are here to watch the transit of this star over themeridian of Queechy?"

"Of Queechy!--of Montepoole. "

"Very well--of Montepoole. I don't wonder that nature is exhausted. I willgo and see after this refection. "

The prettiest little meal in the world was presently set forth for thetwo, --Fleda knew her aunt would not come down, and Hugh was yet at themill; so she led her visitor into the breakfast-room alone, Constance bythe way again fondly embracing her and repeating, "My dear littleFleda!--how glad I am to see you!"

The lady was apparently hungry, for there was a minute of silence whilethe refection begun, and then Constance exclaimed, perhaps with a suddenappreciation of the delicious bread and butter and cream and strawberries, "What a lovely old room this is!--and what lovely times you have here, don't you, Fleda?"

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

"But I shall tell mamma you are growing thin, and the first minute we gethome I shall send for you to come to us. Mrs. Thorn will be amazingly gladto see you. "

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

"Ages!--and she's been entertaining the world as hard as she could eversince. I have no doubt Lewis has confided to the maternal bosom all hisdistresses; and there never was anything like the rush that I expect willbe made to our greenhouse next winter. O Fleda, you should see Mr. Carleton's greenhouses!"

"Should I?" said Fleda. 

"Dear me! I hope mamma will come!" said Constance with a comical fidgetyshake of herself;--"when I think of those greenhouses I lose myself-command. And the park!--Fleda, it's the loveliest thing you ever sawin your life; and it's all that delightful man's doing; only he won't havea geometric flower-garden, as I did everything I could think of topersuade him. I pity the woman that will be his wife, --she won't have herown way in a single thing; but then he will fascinate her into thinkingthat his way is the best, so it will do just as well I suppose. Do youknow I can't conceive what he has come over here for? He has been herebefore, you know, 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?"

"O a month or two--since the beginning of April, I believe. He came overwith some friends of his--a Sir George Egerton and his family;--he isgoing to Canada, to be established in some post there, I forget what; andthey are spending part of the summer here before they fix themselves atthe North. It is easy to see what _they_ are here for, --they are strangersand amusing themselves; but Mr. Carleton is at home, and _not_ amusinghimself, at least he don't seem to be. He goes about with the Egertons, but that is just for his friendship for them; and he puzzles me. He don'tsnow whether he is going to Niagara, --he has been once already--and'perhaps' he may go to Canada, --and 'possibly' he will make a journey tothe West, --and I can't find out that he wants anything in particular. "

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

"Perhaps he don't; but you see that aggravates my state of mind to adistressing degree. And then I'm afraid he will go somewhere where I can'tkeep watch of him!--"

Fleda could not help laughing. 

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

"Weariness! it's my opinion he has no idea there is such a word in thelanguage, --I am certain if he heard it he would call for a dictionary thenext minute. Why at Carleton it seems to me he was half the time onhorseback, flying about from one end of the country to the other; andwhen he is in the house he is always at work at something; it's a piece ofcondescension to get him to attend to you at all; only when he does, mydear Fleda!--he is so enchanting that you live in a state of delight tillnext time. And yet I never could get him to pay me a compliment to thisminute, --I tried two or three times, and he rewarded me with some veryrude speeches. "

"Rude!" said Fleda. 

"Yes, --that is, they were the most graceful and fascinating thingspossible, but they would have been rudeness in anybody else. Where _is_mamma!" said Constance with another comic counterfeit of distress "My dearFleda, it's the most captivating thing to breakfast at Carleton!--"

"I have no idea the bread and butter is sweeter there than in some otherparts of the world, " said Fleda. 

"I don't know about the bread and butter, " said Constance, "but thoseexquisite little sugar dishes! My dear Fleda, every one has his ownsugar-dish and cream-ewer--the loveliest little things!--"

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

"I don't care about the bread and butter, " said Constance; "eating isimmaterial, with those perfect little things right opposite to me. Theyweren't like any you ever saw, Fleda--the sugar-bowl was just a littleplain oval box, with the lid on a hinge, and not a bit of chasing, onlythe arms on the cover; like nothing I ever saw but an old-fashioned silvertea-caddy; and the cream-jug a little straight up and down thing to match. Mamma said they were clumsy, but they bewitched me!--"

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

"My dear Fleda, I never had your superiority to the ordinary weaknesses ofhuman nature--I can stand _one_ sugar-bowl, but I confess myself overcomeby a dozen. How we have all wanted to see you, Fleda! and papa; you havecaptivated papa; and he says--"

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

"There--that's your modesty, that everybody raves about--I wish I couldcatch it. Fleda, where did you get that little Bible?--while I was waitingfor you I tried to soothe my restless anticipations with examining all thethings in all the rooms;--where did you get it?"

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

"But it is real gold on the outside!--the clasps and all--do you know it?it is not washed. "

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

"Wasn't that mamma's favourite Mr. Olmney that parted from you at thegate?" said Constance after a minute's silence. 

"Yes. "

"Is he a favourite of yours too?"

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

"Well, how do you like him?"

"I believe everybody likes him, " said Fleda, colouring and vexed atherself that she could not help it. The bright eyes opposite her took noteof the fact with a sufficiently wide-awake glance. 

"He's very good!" said Constance hugging herself, and taking a freshsupply of butter, --"but don't let him know I have been to see you or he'lltell you all sorts of evil things about me for fear you should innocentlybe contaminated. Don't you like to be taken care of?"

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

"I can't bear it!" said Constance, apparently with great sincerity;--"Ithink it is the most impertinent thing in the world people can do. I can'tendure it--except from--! Oh my dear Fleda! it is perfect luxury to havehim put a shawl round your shoulders!--"

"Fleda, " said Earl Douglass putting his head in from the kitchen, andbefore he said any more bobbing it frankly at Miss Evelyn, half inacknowledgment of her presence and half as it seemed in apology for hisown, --"Fleda, will you let Barby pack up somethin' 'nother for the men'slunch?--my wife would ha' done it, as she had ought to, if she wa'n't downwith the teeth-ache, and Catherine's away on a jig to Kenton, and the menwon't do so much work on nothin', and I can't say nothin' to 'em if theydon't; and I'd like to get that 'ere clover field down afore night--it'sgoin' to be a fine spell o' weather. I was a goin' to try to get alongwithout it; but I believe we can't. "

"Very well, " said Fleda. "But, Mr. Douglass, you'll try the experiment ofcuring it in cocks?"

"Well I don't know, " said Earl in a tone of very discontentedacquiescence, --"I don't see how anythin' should be as sweet as the sunfor dryin' hay--I know folks says it is, and I've heerd 'em say it is!and they'll stand to it and you can't beat 'em off the notion it is;but somehow or 'nother I can't seem to come into it. I know the sunmakes sweet hay, and I think the sun was meant to make hay, and I don'twant to see 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, just for me?"

"I'll do just what you please, " said he with a little exculpatory shakeof his head;--"'tain't my concern--it's no concern of mine--the gain orthe loss'll be your'n, and it's fair you should have the gain or the loss, which ever on 'em you choose to have. I'll put it in cocks--how much heftshould be in 'em?"

"About a hundred pounds--and you don't want to cut any more than you canput up to-night, Mr. Douglass. We'll try it. "

"Very good! And you'll send along somethin' for the men--Barby knows, "said Earl bobbing his head again intelligently at Fleda, --"there's four on'em and it takes somethin' to feed 'em--workin' men'll put away a gooddeal o' meat. "

He withdrew his head and closed the door, happily for Constance, who wentoff into a succession of ecstatic convulsions. 

"What time of day do your eccentric hay-makers prefer for the rest oftheir meals, if they lunch at three o'clock? I never heard anything sooriginal in my life. "

"This is lunch number two, " said Fleda smiling; "lunch number one is aboutten in the morning; and dinner at twelve. "

"And do they gladden their families with their presence at the otherordinary convivial occasions?"

"Certainly. "

"And what do they have for lunch?"

"Varieties. Bread and cheese, and pies, and Quirlcakes; at every othermeal they have meat. "

"Horrid creatures!"

"It is only during haying and harvesting. "

"And you have to see to all this! poor little Fleda! I declare, if I wasyou--I'd do something!--"

"No, " said Fleda quietly, "Mrs. Douglass and Barby manage the lunchbetween 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, "butI assure you in some of 'these people' there is an amount of goodness andwit, and shrewd practical sense and judgment, that would utterly distancemany of those that would call them bears. "

Constance looked a good deal more than she said. 

"My dear little Fleda! you're too sensible for anything; but as I don'tlike sense from anybody but Mr. Carleton I would rather look at you in thecapacity of a rose, smiling a gentle rebuke upon me while I talknonsense. "

And she did talk, and Fleda did smile and laugh, in spite of herself, tillMrs. Evelyn and her other daughters made their appearance. 

Then Barby said she thought they'd have talked the house down; and sheexpected there'd be nothing left of Fleda after all the kissing she got. But it was not too much for Fleda's pleasure. Mrs. Evelyn was so tenderlykind, and Miss Evelyn as caressing as her sister had been, and Edith, whowas but a child, so joyously delighted, that Fleda's eyes were swimming inhappiness as she looked from one to the other, and she could hardly answerkisses and questions fast enough. 

"Them is good-looking enough girls, " said Barby as Fleda came back to thehouse after seeing them to their carriage, --"if they knowed how to dressthemselves. I never see this fly away one 'afore--I knowed the old one assoon as I clapped my eyes onto her. Be they stopping at the Pool again?"

"Yes. "

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

"I don't know, " said Fleda quietly. And then sighing as the thought of heraunt came into her head she went off to find her and bring her down. 

Fleda's brow was sobered, and her spirits were in a flutter that was notall of happiness and that threatened not to settle down quietly. But asshe went slowly up the stairs faith's hand was laid, even as her owngrasped the balusters, on the promise, "All the paths of the Lord are mercy and truth unto such as keep hiscovenant and his testimonies. "

She set faith's foot down on those sure stepping-stones; and sheopened her aunt's door and looked in with a face that was neithertroubled nor afraid. 

Chapter XXX. 

 _Ant_. He misses not much. 

 _Seb_. No; he doth but mistake the truth totally. 

 Tempest. 

It was the very next morning that several ladies and gentlemen weregathered on the piazza of the hotel at Montepoole, to brace minds orappetites with the sweet mountain air while waiting for breakfast. As theystood there a young countryman came by bearing on his hip a large basketof fruit and vegetables. 

"O look at those lovely strawberries!" exclaimed Constance Evelyn runningdown the steps. --"Stop if you please--where are you going with these?"

"Marm!" responded the somewhat startled carrier. 

"What are you going to do with them?"

"I ain't 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 virtueof necessity, for the fingers of Constance were already hovering over thedainty little leaf-strewn baskets and her eyes complacently searching forthe most promising;--"I ha'n't got nothin' to deu with 'em. "

"Constance!" said Mrs. Evelyn from the piazza, --"don't take that! I daresay they are for Mr. Sweet. "

"Well, mamma!--" said Constance with great equanimity, --"Mr. Sweet getsthem for me, and I only save him the trouble of spoiling them. My tasteleads me to prefer the simplicity of primitive arrangements this morning. "

"Young man!" called out the landlady's reproving voice, "won't you neverrecollect to bring that basket round the back way?"

"'Tain't no handier than this way, " said Philetus, with so muchbelligerent demonstration that the landlady thought best in presence ofher guests to give over the question. 

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

"How?--" said Philetus. 

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

"Just afore I started. "

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

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

"Mr. Rossitur's!" said Mrs. Evelyn;--"does he send them here?"

"He doos not, " said Philetus;--"he doosn't keep to hum for a long spell. "

"Who does send them then?" said Constance. 

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

"Mamma!" exclaimed Constance looking up. 

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

"There don't nobody else have nothin' to deu with it--I guess she'spretty much the hull, " said her coadjutor. "Her and me was a picking 'emafore sunrise. "

"All that basketful!"

"'Tain't all strawberries--there's garden sass up to the top. "

"And does she send that too?"

"She sends that teu, " said Philetus succinctly. 

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

"Yes marm--I calculate to help considerable in the back garden--she won'tlet no one into the front where she grows her posies. "

"But where is Mr. Hugh?"

"He's to hum. "

"But has he nothing to do with all this? does he leave it all tohis cousin?"

"He's to the mill. "

"And Miss Ringgan manages farm and garden and all?" said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"She doos, " said Philetus. 

And receiving a gratuity which he accepted without demonstration of anykind whatever, the basket-bearer at length released moved off. 

"Poor Fleda!" said Miss Evelyn as he disappeared with his load. 

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

"She's too lovely for anything!" said Constance. "Mr. Carleton, --if youwill just imagine we are in China, and introduct a pair of familiarchop-sticks into this basket, I shall be repaid for the loss of astrawberry by the expression of ecstasy which will immediately spreaditself over your features. I intend to patronize the natural mode ofeating in future. I find the ends of my fingers decidedly odoriferous. "

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

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

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

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

"They are all broken to pieces, " said Mrs. Evelyn, as Mr. Carleton's eyewent back to her for his answer;--"Mr. Rossitur failed and losteverything--bankrupt--a year or two after they came home. "

"And what has he been doing since?'

"I don't know!--trying to farm it here; but I am afraid he has notsucceeded well--I am afraid not. They don't look like it. Mrs. Rossiturwill not see anybody, and I don't believe they have done any more thanstruggle for a living since they came here. "

"Where is Mr. Rossitur now?"

"He is at the West somewhere--Fleda tells me he is engaged in someagencies there; but I doubt, " said Mrs. Evelyn shaking her headcompassionately, --"there is more in the name of it than anything else. Hehas gone down hill sadly since his misfortunes. I am very sorry for them. "

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

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

"I can hardly say that, " he replied. "I had such a pleasure formerly. DoI understand that _she_ is the person to fill Mr. Rossitur's place whenhe is away?"

"So she says. "

"And so she acts, " said Constance. "I wish you had heard her yesterday. Itwas beyond everything. We were conversing very amicably, regarding eachother through a friendly vista formed by the sugar-bowl and tea-pot, whena horrid man, that looked as if he had slept all his life in a hay-cockand only waked up to turn it over, stuck his head in and immediatelyintroduced a clover-field; and Fleda and he went to tumbling about thecocks till I do assure you I was deluded into a momentary belief thathay-making was the principal end of human nature, and looked upon myselfas a burden to society; and after I had recovered my locality and venturedupon a sentence of gentle commiseration for her sufferings, Fleda went offinto a eulogium upon the intelligence of hay-makers in general and thestrength of mind barbarians are universally known to possess. "

The manner still more than the matter of this speech was beyond thewithstanding of any good-natured muscles, though the gentleman's smile wasa grave one and quickly lost in gravity. Mrs. Evelyn laughed and reprovedin a breath; but the laugh was admiring and the reproof was stimulative. The bright eye of Constance danced in return with the mischievous delightof a horse that has slipped his bridle and knows you can't catch him. 

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

"Entirely, --sacrificed!--" said Mrs. Evelyn, with a compassionatelyresigned air;--"education, advantages and everything given up; and setdown here where she has seen nobody from year's end to year's end but thecountry people about--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 deprecatory tone, --"youshouldn't talk so--it isn't right--I am sure she is very nice--nicer nowthan anybody else I know; and clever too. "

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

"She is a good girl--a very good girl, " said Mrs. Evelyn, in a tone whichwould have deterred any one from wishing to make her acquaintance. 

"And happy, mamma--Fleda don't look miserable--she seems perfectly happyand contented!"

"Yes, " said Mrs. Evelyn, --"she has got accustomed to this state ofthings--it's her life--she makes delicious bread and puddings for heraunt, and raises vegetables for market, and oversees her uncle's farmers, and it isn't a hardship to her; she finds her happiness in it. She is avery good girl! but she might have been made something much better than afarmer's wife. "

"You may set your mind at rest on that subject, mamma, " said Constance, still using her chop-sticks with great complacency;--"it's my opinionthat the farmer is not in existence who is blessed with such a conjugalfuturity. I think Fleda's strong pastoral tastes are likely to developethemselves in a new direction. "

Mrs. Evelyn looked with a partial smile at the pretty features which thebusiness of eating the strawberries displayed in sundry novel andpicturesque points of view; and asked what she meant?

"I don't know, --" said Constance, intent upon her basket, --"I feel afriend's distress for Mr. Thorn--it's all your doing, mamma, --you won't beable to look him in the face when we have Fleda next fall--I am sure Ishall not want to look at his! He'll be too savage for anything. "

"Mr. Thorn!" said Mr. Carleton. 

"Yes, " said Mrs. Evelyn in an indulgent tone, --"he was very attentive toher last winter when she was with us, but she went away before anythingwas decided. I don't think he has forgotten her. "

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

"I am confident he would be here at this moment, " said Constance, "if hewasn't in London. "

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

"The destruction of the peace of the whole family of Thorns--shouldn'tsleep sound in my bed if I were she with such a reflection. I look forwardto heart-rending scenes, --with a very disturbed state of mind. "

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

"Didn't you introduce your favourite Mr. Olmney to Miss Ringgan lastsummer? I don't know!--her native delicacy shrunk from making anydisclosures, and of course the tongue of friendship is silent, --but theywere out ages yesterday while I was waiting for her, and their parting atthe gate was--I feel myself unequal to the task of describing it!" saidConstance ecstatically;--"and she was in the most elevated tone of mindduring our whole interview afterwards, and took all my brilliant remarkswith as much coolness as if they had been drops of rain--more, I presume, considering that it was hay-time. "

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

"Only at that impracticable distance, mamma; but I introduced his nameafterwards in my usual happy manner and I found that Miss Ringgan's cheekswere by no means indifferent to it. I didn't dare go any further. "

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

"You are exciting gloomy feelings in Mr. Carleton's mind, mamma, by yourfelicitous suggestions. Mr. Carleton, did your ears receive a faintannouncement of ham and eggs which went quite through and through minejust now?"

He bowed and handed the young lady in; but Constance declared that thoughhe sat beside her and took care of her at breakfast he had on one of hisintangible fits which drove her to the last extreme of impatience, andcaptivation. 

The sun was not much more than two hours high the next morning when arider was slowly approaching Mr. Rossitur's house from the bridge, walkinghis horse like a man who wished to look well at all he was passing. Hepaused behind a clump of locusts and rose-acacias in the corner of thecourtyard as a figure bonneted and gloved came out of the house and beganto be busy among the rose-bushes. Another figure presently appeared at thehall-door and called out, "Fleda!--"

"Well, Barby--"

This second voice was hardly raised, but it came from so much nearer thatthe words could be distinctly heard. 

"Mr. Skillcorn wants to know if you're going to fix the flowers for himto carry?"

"They're not ready, and it won't do for him to vait--Mr. Sweet must sendfor them if he wants them. Philetus must make haste back, for you know Mr. Douglass wants him to help in the barn meadow. Lucas won't be here and nowthe weather is so fine I want to make haste with the hay. "

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

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

The gentleman turned his horse and galloped back to Montepoole. 

Some disappointment was created among a portion of Mr. Sweet's guests thatafternoon by the intelligence that Mr. Carleton purposed setting off thenext morning to join his English friends at Saratoga on their way to thefalls and Canada. Which purpose was duly carried into effect. 

Chapter XXXI. 

 With your leave, sir, an' there were no more men living upon the face of the earth, I should not fancy him, by St. George. --Every Man Out of His Humour. 

October had come; and a fair season and a fine harvest had enabled Fledato ease her mind by sending a good remittance to Dr. Gregory. The familywere still living upon her and Hugh's energies. Mr. Rossitur talked ofcoming home, that was all. 

It sometimes happened that a pause in the urgency of business permittedHugh to take a day's holiday. One of these falling soon after the frostshad opened the burrs of the chestnut trees and the shells of thehickories, Fleda seized upon it for a nutting frolic. They took Philetusand went up to the fine group of trees on the mountain, the most difficultto reach and the best worth reaching of all their nut wood. The sport wasvery fine; and after spoiling the trees Philetus was left to "shuck" andbring home a load of the fruit; while Fleda and Hugh took their way slowlydown the mountain. She stopped him, as usual, on the old lookout place. The leaves were just then in their richest colouring; and the October skyin its strong vitality seemed to fill all inanimate nature with the breathof lile. If ever, then on that day, to the fancy, "the little hillsrejoiced on every side. " The woods stood thick with honours, and earth laysmiling under the tokens of the summer's harvest and the promise for thecoming year; and the wind came in gusts over the lower country and up thehill-side with a hearty good-will that blew away all vapours, physicaland mental, from its path, bidding everything follow its example and be upand doing. Fleda drew a long breath or two that seemed to recognize itsfreshening power. 

[Illustration: Philetus was left to "shuck" and bring home a load ofthe fruit. ]

"How long it seems, " she said, --"how very long--since I was here with Mr. Carleton;--just nine years ago. How changed everything is! I was a littlechild then. It seems such an age ago!--"

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

"He did--don't you know?--the very next day after we heard he washere--when most unluckily I was up at aunt Miriam's. "

"I should think he might have come again, considering what friends youused to be. "

"I dare say he would if he had not left Montepoole so soon. But dear Hugh!I was a mere child--how could he remember me much. "

"You remember him, " said Hugh. 

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

"I wish the Evelyns had staid longer, " said Hugh. "I think you havewanted something to brighten you up. They did you a great deal of goodlast year. I am afraid all this taking care of Philetus and Earl Douglassis 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 isfirmly persuaded that he is an invaluable assistant to me in the mysteryof gardening; and the origin of Earl Douglass's new ideas is so envelopedin mist that he does not himself know where they come from. It was rich tohear him the other day descanting to Lucas upon the evil effects ofearthing up corn and the advantages of curing hay in cocks, as to bothwhich matters Lucas is a thorough unbeliever, and Earl was a year ago. "

"But that doesn't hinder your looking pale and thin, and a great dealsoberer than I like to see you, " said Hugh. "You want a change, I know. Idon't know how you are to get it. I wish they would send for you to NewYork again. "

"I don't know that I should want to go if they did, " said Fleda. "Theydon't raise my spirits, Hugh. I am amused sometimes, --I can't helpthat, --but such excessive gayety rather makes me shrink within myself; Iam too out of tone with it. I never feel more absolutely quiet thansometimes when I am laughing at Constance Evelyn's mad sallies--andsometimes I cannot laugh at them. I do not know what they must think ofme; it is what they can have no means of understanding. "

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

"But you shouldn't say that. I am happier than they are, now, Hugh, --nowthat you are better, --with all their means of happiness. They know nothingof our quiet enjoyments, they must live in a whirl or they would thinkthey are not living at all, and I do not believe that all New York cangive them the real pleasure that I have in such a day as this. They wouldsee almost nothing in all this beauty that my eyes 'drink in, ' as Cowpersays; and they would be certain to quarrel with the wind, that to me islike the shake of an old friend's hand. Delicious!--" said Fleda, at thewind rewarded this 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 in such acheerful mood as to-day, though. It talks to me often of a thousandold-time things and sighs over them with me--a most sympathizingfriend!--but to day he invites me to a waltz--Come!----"

And pulling Hugh after her away she went down the rocky path, with a steptoo light to care for the stones; the little feet capering down themountain with a disdain of the ground that made Hugh smile to see her; andeyes dancing for company; till they reached the lower woodland. 

"A most, spirited waltz!" said Hugh. 

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

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

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

"So I should judge, by your cheeks. "

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

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

"No, but besides those riches--there are the pleasures of the eye and themind that one may enjoy everywhere--everywhere in the country atleast--unless poverty bear one down very hard; and they are some of thepurest and most satisfying of any. O the blessing of a good education! howit makes one independent of circumstances. "

"And circumstances are education too, " said Hugh smiling. "I dare say weshould not appreciate our mountains and woods so well if we had had ourold plenty of everything else. "

"I always loved them, " said Fleda. "But what good company they havebeen to us for years past, Hugh;--to me especially; I have more reasonto love them. "

They walked on quietly and soberly to the brow of the tableland, wherethey parted; Hugh being obliged to go home, and Fleda wishing to pay avisit to her aunt Miriam. 

She turned off alone to take the way to the high road and went softlyon, no longer certainly in the momentary spirits with which she hadshaken hands with the wind and skipped down the mountain; but feeling, and thankful that she felt, a cheerful patience to tread the dustyhighway of life. 

The old lady had been rather ailing, and from one or two expressions shehad let fall Fleda could not help thinking that she looked upon herailments with a much more serious eye than anybody else thought was calledfor. It did not, however, appear to-day. She was not worse, and Fleda'sslight anxious feeling could find nothing to justify it, if it were notthe very calm and quietly happy face and manner of the old lady; and thatif it had something to alarm, did much more to sooth. Fleda had sat withher a long time, patience and cheerfulness all the while unconsciouslygrowing in her company; when catching up her bonnet with a sudden hastevery unlike her usual collectedness of manner Fleda kissed her aunt andwas rushing away. 

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

"Home, aunt Miriam--I must--don't keep me!"

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

"Yes I can. "

"How?"

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

"I sha'n't let you go that way alone--sit down and tell me what youmean, --what is this desperate hurry?"

But with equal precipitation Fleda had cast her bonnet out of sightbehind the table, and the next moment turned with the utmost possiblequietness to shake hands with Mr. Olmney. Aunt Miriam had presence ofmind enough to make no remark and receive the young gentleman with herusual dignity and kindness. 

He staid some time, but Fleda's hurry seemed to have forsaken her. She hadseized upon an interminable long grey stocking her aunt was knitting, andsat in the corner working at it most diligently, without raising her eyesunless spoken to. 

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

"Put that stocking down, Fleda, " said her aunt, "it is in no hurry. "

"I like to do it, aunt Miriam. "

But she felt with warming cheeks that she did not like to do it with twopeople sitting still and looking at her. The gentleman presently rose. 

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

"Thank you, ma'am, --I cannot stay, I believe, --unless Miss Fleda will letme take care of her down the hill by and by. "

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

"I am afraid, " said he looking at her, "that the agricultural turn hasproved an over-match for your energies. "

"The farm don't complain of me, does it?" said Fleda, looking up at himwith a comic grave expression of countenance. 

"No, " said he laughing, --"certainly not; but--if you will forgive me forsaying so--I think you complain of it, --tacitly, --and that will raise agood many complaints in other quarters--if you do not take care ofyourself. "

He shook hands and left them; and Mrs. Plumfield sat silently looking atFleda, who on her part looked at nothing but the grey stocking. 

"What is all this, Fleda?"

"What is what, aunt Miriam?" said Fleda, picking up a stitch withdesperate diligence. 

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

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

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

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

"Don't you like him, Fleda?"

"Certainly, aunt Miriam--very much. '

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

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

Mrs. Plumfield looked at her for a few minutes in silence and then said, "Fleda, love, come over here and sit by me and tell me what you mean. Whyare you sorry? It has given me a great deal of pleasure to think of it. "

But Fleda did not budge from her seat or her stocking and seemedtongue-tied. Mrs. Plumfield pressed for an answer. 

"Because, aunt Miriam, " said Fleda, with the prettiest red cheeks in theworld but speaking very clearly and steadily, --"my liking only goes to apoint which I am afraid will not satisfy either him or you. "

"But why?--it will go further. "

"No ma'am. "

"Why not? why do you say so?"

"Because I must if you ask me. "

"But what can be more excellent and estimable, Fleda?--who could be moreworth liking? I should have thought he would just please you. He is one ofthe most lovely young men I have ever seen. "

"Dear aunt Miriam!" said Fleda looking up beseechingly, --"why should wetalk about it?"

"Because I want to understand you, Fleda, and to be sure that youunderstand 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'tenough of him. He is _very_ good and excellent in every way--nobody feelsthat more than I do--I don't want to say a word against him--but I do notthink he has a very strong mind; and he isn't cultivated enough. "

"But you cannot have everything, Fleda. "

"No ma'am--I don't expect it. "

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

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

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

"It will not prevent my liking the friends I have already--it may preventmy leaving them for somebody else, " said Fleda, with a gravity that wastouching in its expression. 

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

"Yes, but his tastes are not. He could not at all enter into a great manythings that give me the most pleasure. I do not think he quite understandsabove 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 couldadmire him too. "

Mrs. Plumfield looked at her in some difficulty;--Mr. Olmney was notthe only one, clearly, whose powers of comprehension were not equal tothe subject. 

"Fleda, " said her aunt inquiringly, --"is there anybody else that has putMr. Olmney out of your head?"

"Nobody in the world!" exclaimed Fleda with a frank look and tone ofastonishment at the question, and cheeks colouring as promptly. "How couldyou ask?--But he never was in my head, aunt Miriam. "

"Mr. Thorn?" said Mrs. Plumfield. 

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

"I believe I know you, dear Fleda, but I heard he had paid you a greatdeal of attention last year; and you would not have been the firstunsuspecting nature that has been mistaken. "

Fleda was silent, flushed and disturbed; and Mrs. Plumfield was silent andmeditating; when Hugh came in. He came to fetch Fleda home. Dr. Gregoryhad arrived. In haste again Fleda sought her bonnet, and exchanging a morethan usually wistful and affectionate kiss and embrace with her aunt, setoff with Hugh down the hill. 

Hugh had a great deal to say to her all the way home, of which Fleda'sears alone took the benefit, for her understanding received none ofit; and when she at last came into the breakfast room where the doctorwas sitting, the fact of his being there was the only one which hadentered her mind. 

"Here she is!--I declare!" said the doctor, holding her back to look ather after the first greetings had passed, --"I'll be hanged if you ain'thandsome!--Now what's the use of pinking your cheeks any more at that, asif you didn't know it before?--eh?"

"I will always do my best to deserve your good opinion, sir, " saidFleda laughing. 

"Well sit down now, " said he shaking his head, "and pour me out a cup oftea--your mother can't make it right. "

And sipping his tea, for some time the old doctor sat listening to Mrs. Rossitur and eating bread and butter; saying little, but casting a veryfrequent glance at the figure opposite him behind the tea-board. 

"I am afraid, " said he after a while, "that your care for my good opinionwon't outlast an occasion. Is _that_ the way you look for every day?"

The colour came with the smile; but the old doctor looked at her in a waythat made the tears come too. He turned his eyes to Mrs. Rossitur for anexplanation. 

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

"Thin!" said the old doctor, --"etherealized to a mere abstract of herself;only that is a very bad figure, for an abstract should have all the boneand muscle of the subject; and I should say you had little left but purespirit. You are the best proof I ever saw of the principle of thehomoeopaths--I see 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. "Iought to be a happy medium between plethora and starvation. I am prettysubstantial, what there is of me. "

"Substantial!" said the doctor; "you look as substantial a personage asyour old friend the 'faire Una, ' just about. Well prepare yourself, gentleSaxon, to ride home with me the day after to-morrow. I'll try a littlehumanizing regimen with you. "

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

"We'll talk about the possibility afterwards--at present all you have todo is to get ready. If you raise difficulties you will find me a veryHercules to clear them away--I'm substantial enough I can tell you--soit's just as well to spare yourself and me the trouble. "

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

"I knew there weren't. Put a pair or two of clean stockings in yourtrunk--that's all you want--Mrs. Pritchard and I will find the rest. There's the people in Fourteenth street wants you the first of Novemberand I want you all the time till then, and longer too. --Stop--I've got amissive of some sort here for you--"

He foisted out of his breast-pocket a little package of notes; one fromMrs. Evelyn and one from Florence begging Fleda to come to them at thetime the doctor had named; the third from Constance. 

"My darling little Fleda, "I am dying to see you--so pack up and come down with Dr. Gregory if theleast spark of regard for me is slumbering in your breast--Mamma andFlorence are writing to beg you, --but though an insignificant member ofthe family, considering that instead of being 'next to head' only littleEdith prevents my being at the less dignified end of this branch of thesocial system, --I could not prevail upon myself to let the representationsof my respected elders go unsupported by mine--especially as I feltpersuaded of the superior efficacy of the motives I had it in my power topresent to your truly philanthropical mind. 

"I am in a state of mind that baffles description--Mr. Carleton is goinghome!!----

"I have not worn earrings in my ears for a fortnight--my personalappearance is become a matter of indifference to me--any descriptionof mental exertion is excruciating--I sit constantly listening for theringing of the door-bell, and when it sounds I rush frantically to thehead of the staircase and look over to see who it is--the mere sightof pen and ink excites delirious ideas--judge what I suffer inwriting to you--

"To make the matter worse (if it could be) I have been informed privatelythat he is going home to crown at the altar of Hymen an old attachment toone of the loveliest of all England's daughters. Conceive the complicationof my feelings!----

"Nothing is left me but the resources of friendship--so come darlingFleda, before a barrier of ice interposes itself between my chilled heartand your sympathy. 

"Mr. Thorn's state would move my pity if I were capable of being moved byanything--by this you will comprehend he is returned. He has been informedby somebody that there is a wolf in sheep's clothing prowling aboutQueechy, and his head is filled with the idea that you have fallen avictim, of which in my calmer moments I have in vain endeavoured todispossess him--Every morning we are wakened up at an unseasonable hour bya furious ringing at the door-bell--Joe Manton pulls off his nightcap andslowly descending the stairs opens the door and finds Mr. Thorn, whoenquires distractedly whether Miss Ringgan has arrived; and being answeredin the negative gloomily walks off towards the East river--The state ofanxiety in which his mother is thereby kept is rapidly depriving her ofall her flesh--but we have directed Joe lately to reply 'no sir, but sheis expected, '--upon which Mr. Thorn regularly smiles faintly and rewardsthe 'fowling piece' with a quarter dollar--

"So make haste, dear Fleda, or I shall feel that we are acting the part ofinnocent swindlers. 

"C. E. "

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

Chapter XXXII. 

 _Host. _ Now, my young guest! methinks you're allycholy; I pray you, why is it?

 _Jul_. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be merry. 

 Two Gentlemen of Verona. 

Some nights after their arrival the doctor and Fleda were seated at tea inthe little snug old-fashioned back parlour, where the doctor's nicest ofhousekeepers, Mrs. Pritchard, had made it ready for them. In general Mrs. Pritchard herself poured it out for the doctor, but she descended mostcheerfully from her post of elevation whenever Fleda was there to fill it. 

The doctor and Fleda sat cosily looking at each other across the toast andchipped beef, their glances grazing the tea-urn which was just on one sideof their range of vision. A comfortable Liverpool-coal fire in a state ofrepletion burned away indolently and gave everything else in the roomsomewhat of its own look of sousy independence. Except perhaps thedelicate creature at whom the doctor between sips of his tea took ratherwistful observations. 

"When are you going to Mrs. Evelyn?" he said breaking the silence. 

"They say next week, sir. "

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

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

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

"No indeed, sir. I have been reading voraciously, and enjoying myself asmuch as possible. I would quite as lieve be here as there, putting you outof the question. "

"I wouldn't as lieve have you, " said he shaking his head. "What were youmusing about before tea? your face gave me the heart-ache. "

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

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

"Before tea?--I was only thinking, --" said Fleda, her look going back tothe fire from association, --"thinking of different things--notdisagreeably--taking a kind of bird's-eye view of things, as one doessometimes. "

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

"I was thinking of them at home, " said Fleda smiling thoughtfully, --"and Isomehow had perched myself on a point of observation and was taking one ofthose wider views which are always rather sobering. "

"Views of what?"

"Of life, sir. "

"As how?" said the doctor. 

"How near the end is to the beginning, and how short the space between, and how little the ups and downs of it will matter if we take the rightroad and get home. "

"Pshaw!" said the doctor. 

But Fleda knew him too well to take his interjection otherwise than mostkindly. And indeed though he whirled round and eat his toast at the firediscontentedly, his look came back to her after a little with even morethan its usual gentle appreciation. 

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

"To see you, sir, in the first place, and the Evelyns in the second. "

"And who in the third?"

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

"You are, eh? Well--I don't know--but I know that I have been inquired ofby two several and distinct people as to your coming. Ah, you needn't openyour bright eyes at me, because I shall not tell you. Only let meask, --you have no notion of fencing off my Queechy rose with a hedge ofblackthorn, --or anything of that kind, have you?"

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

"Well those are not American fences, " said the doctor, "so I suppose I amsafe enough. Whom did I see you out riding with yesterday?"

"I was with Mrs. Evelyn, " said Fleda, --"I didn't want to go, but Icouldn'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 youseen him?"

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

"Question?--" said the doctor. "Hum--well, I won't tell you--so there'sthe answer. Now will you answer me?"

"I have not seen him, sir. "

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

"No sir. I have been there but once in the evening, uncle Orrin. He isjust about sailing for England. "

"Well, you're going there to-night, aren't you? Run and bundle yourself upand I'll take you there before I begin my work. "

There was a small party that evening at Mrs. Evelyn's. Fleda was veryearly. She ran up to the first floor, --rooms lighted and open, butnobody there. 

"Fleda Ringgan, " called out the voice of Constance from over thestairs, --"is that you?"

"Yes, " said Fleda. 

"Well just wait till I come down to you. --My darling little Fleda, it'sdelicious of you to come so early. Now just tell me, --am I captivating?"

"Well, --I retain self-possession, " said Fleda. "I cannot tell about thestrength of head of other people. "

"You wretched little creature!--Fleda, don't you admire my hair?--it's newstyle, my dear, --just come out, --the Delancys brought it out withthem--Eloise Delancy taught it us--isn't it graceful? Nobody in New Yorkhas it yet, except the Delancys and we. "

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

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

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

Constance made a gesture of impatience, and then pulled Fleda after herinto the drawing-rooms. 

"Come in here--I won't waste the elegancies of my toilet upon your dullperceptions--come here and let me shew you some flowers--aren't thoselovely? This bunch came to-day, 'for Miss Evelyn, ' so Florence will haveit it is hers, and it's very mean of her, for I am perfectly certain it ismine--it's come from somebody who wasn't enlightened on the subject of myfamily circle and has innocently imagined that _two_ Miss Evelyns couldnot belong to the same one! I know the floral representatives of allFlorence's dear friends and admirers, and this isn't from any of them--Ihave been distractedly endeavouring all day to find who it came from, forif I don't I can't take the least comfort in it. "

"But you might enjoy the flowers for their own sake, I should think, " saidFleda, breathing the sweetness of myrtle and heliotrope. 

"No I can't, for I have all the time the association of some horridcreature they might have come from, you know; but it will do just as wellto humbug people--I shall make Cornelia Schenck believe that this camefrom my dear Mr. Carleton!"

"No you won't, Constance, " said Fleda gently. 

"My dear little Fleda, I shock you, don't I? but I sha'n't tell anylies--I shall merely expressively indicate a particular specimen and say, 'My dear Cornelia, do you perceive that this is an English rose?'--andthen it's none of my business, you know, what she believes--and she willbe dying with curiosity and despair all the rest of the evening. "

"I shouldn't think there would be much pleasure in that, I confess, " saidFleda gravely. "How very ungracefully and stiffly those are made up!"

"My dear little Queechy rose?" said Constance impatiently, "you are, pardon me, as fresh as possible. They can't cut the flowers with longstems, you know, --the gardeners would be ruined. That is perfectlyelegant--it must have cost at least ten dollars. My dear little Fleda!"said Constance capering off before the long pier-glass, --"I am afraid I amnot captivating!--Do you think it would be an improvement if I put dropsin my ears?--or one curl behind them? I don't know which Mr. Carletonlikes best!--"

And with her head first on one side and then on the other she stoodbefore the glass looking at herself and Fleda by turns with such acomic expression of mock doubt and anxiety that no gravity but her owncould stand it. 

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

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

The mother's smile said "Very!"

"Fleda is wishing she were out of the sphere of my influence, mamma. --Wasn't Mr. Olmney afraid of my corrupting you?" she said with asudden pull-up in front of Fleda. --"My blessed stars!--there's somebody'svoice I know. --Well I believe it is true that a rose without thorns is adesideratum. --Mamma, is Mrs. Thorn's turban to be an invariable _pendant_to your coiffure all the while Miss Ringgan is here?"

"Hush!--"

With the entrance of company came Constance's return from extravaganzas toa sufficiently graceful every-day manner, only enough touched with highspirits and lawlessness to free it from the charge of commonplace. But thecontrast of these high spirits with her own rather made Fleda's mood morequiet, and it needed no quieting. Of the sundry people that she knew amongthose presently assembled there were none that she wanted to talk to; therooms were hot and she felt nervous and fluttered, partly from encountersalready sustained and partly from a little anxious expecting of Mr. Carleton's appearance. The Evelyns had not said he was to be there but shehad rather gathered it; and the remembrance of old times was strong enoughto make her very earnestly wish to see him and dread to be disappointed. She swung clear of Mr. Thorn, with some difficulty, and ensconced herselfunder the shadow of a large cabinet, between that and a young lady who wasvery good society for she wanted no help in carrying on the business ofit. All Fleda had to do was to sit still and listen, or not listen, whichshe generally preferred. Miss Tomlinson discoursed upon varieties, withgreat sociableness and satisfaction; while poor Fleda's mind, letting allher sense and nonsense go, was again taking a somewhat bird's-eye view ofthings, and from the little centre of her post in Mrs. Evelyn'sdrawing-room casting curious glances over the panorama of herlife--England, France, New York, and Queechy!--half coming to theconclusion that her place henceforth was only at the last and that theworld and she had nothing to do with each other. The tide of life andgayety seemed to have thrown her on one side, as something that could notswim with it; and to be rushing past too strongly and swiftly for herslight bark ever to launch upon it again. Perhaps the shore might be thesafest and happiest place; but it was sober in the comparison; and as astranded bark might look upon the white sails flying by, Fleda saw the gayfaces and heard the light tones with which her own could so little keepcompany. But as little they with her. Their enjoyment was not more foreignto her than the causes which moved it were strange. Merry?--she might liketo be merry; but she could sooner laugh with the North wind than with oneof those vapid faces, or with any face that she could not trust. Conversation might be pleasant, --but it must be something different fromthe noisy cross-fire of nonsense that was going on in one quarter, or theprofitless barter of nothings that was kept up on the other side of her. Rather Queechy and silence, by far, than New York and _this!_

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

"My dear Fleda!--what are you back here for?" said Florence comingup to her. 

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

"Take a screen--here! Miss Tomlinson, your conversation is too excitingfor Miss Ringgan--look at her cheeks--I must carry you off--I want toshew you a delightful contrivance for transparencies, that I learned theother day--"

The seat beside her was vacated, and not casting so much as a look towardsany quarter whence a possible successor to Miss Tomlinson might bearriving, Fleda sprang up and took a place in the far corner of the roomby Mrs. Thorn, happily not another vacant chair in the neighbourhood. Mrs. Thorn had shewn a very great fancy for her and was almost as good companyas Miss Tomlinson; not quite, for it was necessary sometimes to answer andtherefore necessary always to hear. But Fleda liked her; she wasthoroughly amiable, sensible, and good-hearted. And Mrs. Thorn, very muchgratified at Fleda's choice of a seat, talked to her with a benignitywhich Fleda could not help answering with grateful pleasure. 

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

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

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

Mrs. Thorn's smile at Fleda might almost have been called that, it was sofull of benevolent pleasure. But she spoiled it by her answer. 

"I don't believe I am the first one to find it out. "

"But what are you looking so sober for?" Constance went on, taking Fleda'sscreen from her hand and fanning her diligently with it, --"you don't talk!The gravity of Miss Ringgan's face casts a gloom over the brightness ofthe evening. I couldn't conceive what made me feel chilly in the otherroom, till I looked about and found that the shade came from this corner;and Mr. Thorn's teeth, I saw, were chattering. "

"Constance!" said Fleda laughing and vexed, and making the reproof morestrongly with her eyes, --"how can you talk so!"

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

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

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

"No, Mrs. Thorn, I believe not--I intend to stay perseveringly at hometo-morrow and see if it is possible to be quiet a day in New York. "

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

"My dear Mrs. Thorn!" said Constance, --"I shall be in ecstacies, and MissRinggan was privately imploring me last night to find some way of gettingher to it. We regard such material pleasures as tea and muffins with greatindifference, but when you look up after swallowing your last cup you willsee Miss Ringgan and Miss Evelyn, cloaked and hooded, anxiously awaitingyour next movement. My dear Fleda!--there is a ring!--"

And giving her the benefit of a most comic and expressive arching ofher eyebrows, Constance flung back the screen into Fleda's lap andskimmed away. 

Fleda was too vexed for a few minutes to understand more of Mrs. Thorn'stalk than that she was first enlarging upon the concert, and afterwardsdetailing to her a long shopping expedition in search of something whichhad been a morning's annoyance. She almost thought Constance was unkind, because she wanted to go to the concert herself to lug her in sounceremoniously; and wished herself back in her uncle's snug little quietparlour, --unless Mr. Carleton would come. 

And there he is!--said a quick beat of her heart, as his entranceexplained Constance's "ring. "

Such a rush of associations came over Fleda that she was in imminentdanger of losing Mrs. Thorn altogether. She managed however by some sortof instinct to disprove the assertion that the mind cannot attend to twothings at once, and carried on a double conversation, with herself andwith Mrs. Thorn, for some time very vigorously. 

"Just the same!--he has not altered a jot, " she said to herself as he cameforward to Mrs. Evelyn;--"it is himself!--his very self--he doesn't look aday older--I'm very glad!--(Yes, ma'am--it's extremely tiresome--) Howexactly as when he left me in Paris, --and how much pleasanter than anybodyelse!--more pleasant than ever, it seems to me, but that is because I havenot seen him in so long; he only wanted one thing. That same grave eye--but quieter, isn't it, --than it used to be?--I think so--(It's the beststore in town, I think, Mrs. Thorn, by far, --yes, ma'am--) Those eyes arecertainly the finest I ever saw--How I have seen him stand and look justso when he was talking to his workmen--without that air of consciousnessthat all these people have, comparatively--what a difference! (I knowvery little about it, ma'am;--I am not learned in laces--I never boughtany--) I wish he would look this way--I wonder if Mrs. Evelyn does notmean to bring him to see me--she must remember;--now there is that curiousold smile and looking down! how much better I know what it means than Mrs. Evelyn does--(Yes, ma'am, I understand--I mean!--it is very convenient--Inever go anywhere else to get anything, --at least I should not if I livedhere--) She does not know whom she is talking to. --She is going to walkhim off into the other room! How very much more gracefully he doeseverything than anybody else--it comes from that entire high-mindednessand frankness, I think, --not altogether, a fine person must aid theeffect, and that complete independence of other people. ----I wonder ifMrs. Evelyn has forgotten my existence!--he has not, I am sure--I thinkshe is a little odd--(Yes, ma'am, my face is flushed--the room is verywarm--)"

"But the fire has gone down--it will be cooler now, " said Mrs. Thorn. 

Which were the first words that fairly entered Fleda's understanding. Shewas glad to use the screen to hide her face now, not the fire. 

Apparently the gentleman and lady found nothing to detain them in theother room, for after sauntering off to it they sauntered back again andplaced themselves to talk just opposite her. Fleda had an additionalscreen now in the person of Miss Tomlinson, who had sought her corner andwas earnestly talking across her to Mrs. Thorn; so that she was sure evenif Mr. Carleton's eyes should chance to wander that way they would seenothing but the unremarkable skirt of her green silk dress, most unlikelyto detain them. The trade in nothings going on over the said green silkwas very brisk indeed; but disregarding the buzz of tongues near at handFleda's quick ears were able to free the barrier and catch every one ofthe quiet tones beyond. 

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

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

The lady's brow instantly revealed to Fleda a trap setting beneath tocatch his reason. 

"I'm very glad!" exclaimed little Edith who in defiance ofconventionalities and proprieties made good her claim to be in the drawingroom on all occasions;--"then you will take me another ride, won't 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 answeredrather thoughtfully. 

"Mr. Carleton, " said Constance sidling up in front of him, --"I have beenin distress to ask you a question, and I am afraid----"

"Of what are you afraid, Miss Constance?"

"That you would reward me with one of your severe looks, --which wouldpetrify me, --and then I am afraid I should feel uncomfortable--"

"I hope he will!" said Mrs. Evelyn, settling herself back in the corner ofthe sofa, and with a look at her daughter which was complacencyitself, --"I hope Mr. Carleton will, if you are guilty of anyimpertinence. "

"What is the question, Miss Constance?"

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

"Fie, Constance!" said her mother. "I am ashamed of you. Do not answerher, Mr. Carleton. "

"Mr. Carleton will answer me, mamma, --he looks benevolently upon myfaults, which are entirely those of education! What was it, Mr. Carleton?"

"I suppose, " said he smiling, "it might be traced more or less remotely tothe restlessness incident to human nature. "

"But _you_ are not restless, Mr. Carleton, " said Florence, with a glancewhich might be taken as complimentary. 

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

"My dear, " said her father, "Mr. Carleton, I am sure, will fulfil allreasonable expectations. What is the matter?"

"I asked him where a certain tribe of Indians was to be found, papa, andhe told me they were supposed originally to have come across Behring'sStraits one cold winter!"

Mr. Evelyn looked a little doubtfully and Constance with so unhesitatinggravity that the gravity of nobody else was worth talking about. 

"But it is so uncommon, " said Mrs. Evelyn when they had done laughing, "to see an Englishman of your class here at all, that when he comes asecond time we may be forgiven for wondering what has procured us suchan honour. "

"Women may always be forgiven for wondering, my dear, " said Mr. Evelyn, --"or the rest of mankind must live at odds with them. "

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

"No, " he replied quietly, --"I cannot say that. I should choose to give aless romantic explanation of my movements. From some knowledge growing outof my former visit to this country I thought there were certainnegotiations I might enter into here with advantage; and it was for thepurpose of attending to these, Miss Constance, that I came. "

"And have you succeeded?" said Mrs. Evelyn with an expression ofbenevolent interest. 

"No, ma'am--my information had not been sufficient. "

"Very likely!" said Mr. Evelyn. "There isn't one man in a hundred whoserepresentations on such a matter are to be trusted at a distance. "

"'On such a matter'!" repeated his wife funnily, --"you don't know what thematter was, Mr. Evelyn--you don't know what you are talking about. "

"Business, my dear, --business--I take only what Mr. Carleton said;--itdoesn't signify a straw what business. A man must always see with hisown eyes. "

Whether Mr. Carleton had seen or had not seen, or whether even he had hisfaculty of hearing in present exercise, a glance at his face wasincompetent to discover. 

"I never should have imagined, " said Constance eying him keenly, "that Mr. Carleton's errand to this country was one of business and not of romance, _I_ believe it's a humbug!"

For an instant this was answered by one of those looks of absolutecomposure in every muscle and feature which put an effectual bar to allfurther attempts from without or revelations from within; a look Fledaremembered well, and felt even in her corner. But it presently relaxed, and he said with his usual manner, "You cannot understand then, Miss Constance, that there should be anyromance about business?"

"I cannot understand, " said Mrs. Evelyn, "why romance should not comeafter business. Mr. Carleton, sir, you have seen American scenery thissummer--isn't American beauty worth staying a little while longer for?"

"My dear, " said Mr. Evelyn, "Mr. Carleton is too much of a philosopher tocare about beauty--every man of sense is. "

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

"I hope so, Mrs. Evelyn, " he said smiling, --"but perhaps I shall shock youby adding, --not of _beauties_. "

"That sounds very odd, " said Florence. 

"But let us understand, " said Mrs. Evelyn with the air of a person solvinga problem, --"I suppose we are to infer that your taste in beauty is of apeculiar 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, whohad joined the group and placed himself precisely so as to hinderFleda's view. 

"My fancy has no stamp of nationality, in this, at least, " he saidpleasantly. 

"Now for instance, the Miss Delancys--don't you call them handsome, Mr. Carleton?" said Florence. 

"Yes, " he said, half smiling. 

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

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

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

"It is very pretty-featured. "

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

"She has only one. "

"Only one! and how many smiles ought the same person to have?" criedFlorence impatiently. But that which instantly answered her said forciblythat a plurality of them was possible. 

"I have seen one face, " he said gravely, and his eye seeking thefloor, --"that had I think a thousand. "

"Different smiles?" said Mrs. Evelyn in a constrained voice. 

"If they were not all absolutely that, they had so much of freshness andvariety that they all seemed new. "

"Was the mouth so beautiful?" said Florence. 

"Perhaps it would not have been remarked for beauty when it was perfectlyat rest; but it could not move with the least play of feeling, grave orgay, that it did not become so in a very high degree. I think there was notouch or shade of sentiment in the mind that the lips did not give withsingular nicety; 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, two lipsindifferent red; item, two grey eyes with lids to them; item, one neck, one chin, and so forth. '"

"Mr. Carleton, sir, " said Mrs. Evelyn blandly--"as Mr. Evelyn says womenmay be forgiven for wondering, won't you answer Florence's question?"

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

"But I have great doubts of the correctness of Mr. Thorn's description, sir--won't 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. In general, 'thatwhich made her fairness much the fairer was that it was but anambassador of a most fair mind. '"

"A most exquisite picture!" said Thorn, "and the original don't stand sothick that one is in any danger of mistaking them. Is the painterShakspeare?--I don't recollect--"

"I think Sidney, sir--I am not sure. "

"But still, Mr. Carleton, " said Mrs Evelyn, "this is only in general--Iwant very much to know the particulars;--what style of features belongedto this face?"

"The fairest, I think, I have ever known, " said Mr. Carleton. "Youasked me, Miss Evelyn, what was my notion of beauty;--this face was agood illustration of it. Not perfection of outline, though it had thattoo in very uncommon degree;--but the loveliness of mind and characterto which these features were only an index; the thoughts wereinvariably telegraphed through eye and mouth more faithfully than wordscould give them. "

"What kind of eyes?" said Florence. 

His own grew dark as he answered, --

"Clear and pure as one might imagine an angel's--through which I am suremy good angel many a time looked at me. "

Good angels were at a premium among the eyes that were exchanging glancesjust then. 

"And Mr. Carleton, " said Mrs. Evelyn, --"is it fair to ask--thisparagon--is she living still?"

"I hope so, " he answered, with his old light smile, dismissing thesubject. 

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

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

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

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

So far Fleda listened, with cheeks that would certainly have excited Mrs. Thorn's alarm if she had not been happily engrossed with Miss Tomlinson'saffairs; though up to the last two minutes the idea of herself had notentered Fleda's head in connection with the subject of conversation. Butthen feeling it impossible to make her appearance in public that evening, she quietly slipped out of the open window close by, which led into alittle greenhouse on the piazza, and by another door gained the hall andthe dressing-room. 

When Dr. Gregory came to Mrs. Evelyn's an hour or two after, a figure allcloaked and hooded ran down the stairs and met him in the hall. 

"Ready!" said the doctor in surprise. 

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

"Well, " said he, "then we'll go straight home, for I've not done mywork yet. "

"Dear uncle Orrin!" said Fleda, "if I had known you had work to do Iwouldn't have come. "

"Yes you would!" said he decidedly. 

She clasped her uncle's arm and walked with him briskly home through thefrosty air, looking at the silent lights and shadows on the walls of thestreet and feeling a great desire to cry. 

"Did you have a pleasant evening?" said the doctor when they wereabout half way. 

"Not particularly, sir, " said Fleda hesitating. 

He said not another word till they got home and Fleda went up to herroom. But the habit of patience overcame the wish to cry; and though theoutside of her little gold-clasped Bible awoke it again, a few words ofthe inside were enough to lay it quietly to sleep. 

"Well, " said the doctor as they sat at breakfast the next morning, --"whereare you going next?"

"To the concert, I must, to-night, " said Fleda. "I couldn't help myself. "

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

"No sir, I believe not. "

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

"I am sure I should enjoy myself more at home, uncle Orrin. There is verylittle rational pleasure to be had in these assemblages. "

"Rational pleasure!" said he. "Didn't you have any rational pleasurelast night?"

"I didn't hear a single word spoken, sir, that was worth listening to, --atleast that was spoken to me; and the hollow kind of rattle that one hearsfrom every tongue makes me more tired than anything else, I believe;--I amout of tune with it, somehow. "

"Out of tune!" said the old doctor, giving her a look made up of humourousvexation and real sadness, --"I wish I knew the right tuning-key to takehold of you!"

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

"That won't do!" said he, shaking his head at the smile with which thiswas said, --"there is too much tension upon the strings. So that was thereason you were all ready waiting for me last night?--Well, you must tuneup, my little piece of discordance, and go with me to Mrs. Thorn'sto-morrow night--I won't let you off. "

"With you, sir!" said Fleda. 

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

"But, dear uncle Orrin, there is another difficulty--it is to be a largeparty and I have not a dress exactly fit. "

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

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

"What do you want?"

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

"You mend a pair of stockings to put on, " said he nodding at her, "andI'll see to the rest. "

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

"I don't care either, " said the doctor, working himself into his greatcoat. "By the by, do you want to invoke the aid of St. Crispin?"

He went off, and Fleda did not know whether to cry or to laugh at thevigorous way in which he trod through the hall and slammed the front doorafter him. Her spirits just kept the medium and did neither. But they werein the same doubtful mood still an hour after when he came back with apaper parcel he had brought home under his arm, and unrolled a fineembroidered muslin; her eyes were very unsteady in carrying their briefmessages of thankfulness, as if they feared saying too much. The doctor, however, was in the mood for doing, not talking, by looks or otherwise. Mrs. Pritchard was called into consultation, and with great pride anddelight engaged to have the dress and all things else in due order by thefollowing night; _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 theconfusion of laces and draperies Fleda was almost glad to escape and go tothe concert, --but for one item; that spoiled it. 

They were in their seats early. Fleda managed successfully to place thetwo Evelyns between her and Mr. Thorn, and then prepared herself to wearout the evening with patience. 

"My dear Fleda!" whispered Constance, after some time spent in restlessreconnoitring of everybody and everything, --"I don't see my English roseanywhere!"

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

"What was it?"

"American, unfortunately; it was a Noisette; the variety I think that theycall 'Conque de Venus. '"

"My dear little Fleda, you're too wise for anything!" said Constance witha rather significant arching of her eyebrows. "You mustn't expect otherpeople to be as rural in their acquirements as yourself. I don't pretendto know any rose by sight but the Queechy, " she said, with a change ofexpression 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 that developmentof elegance the parterre is become a wilderness to me!"

"Hush, Constance!" Fleda whispered earnestly, --"you are not safe--he maybe near you. "

"Safe!--" ejaculated Constance; but a half backward hasty glance of hereye brought home so strong an impression that the person in question wasseated a little behind her that she dared not venture another look, andbecame straightway extremely well-behaved. 

He was there; and being presently convinced that he was in theneighbourhood of his little friend of former days he resolved with his ownexcellent eyes to test the truth of the opinion he had formed as to thenatural and inevitable effect of circumstances upon her character; whetherit could by possibility have retained its great delicacy and refinementunder the rough handling and unkindly bearing of things seemingly foreignto both. He had thought not. 

Truffi did not sing, and the entertainment was of a very secondaryquality. This seemed to give no uneasiness to the Miss Evelyns, for ifthey pouted they laughed and talked in the same breath, and thatincessantly. It was nothing to Mr. Carleton, for his mind was bent onsomething else. And with a little surprise he saw that it was nothing tothe subject of his thoughts, --either because her own were elsewhere too, or because they were in league with a nice taste that permitted them totake no interest in what was going on. Even her eyes, trained as they hadbeen to recluse habits, were far less busy than those of her companions;indeed they were not busy at all; for the greater part of the time onehand was upon the brow, shielding them from the glare of the gas-lights. Ostensibly, --but the very quiet air of the face led him to guess that themind was glad of a shield too. It relaxed sometimes. Constance andFlorence and Mr. Thorn and Mr. Thorn's mother were every now and thenmaking demands upon her, and they were met always with an intelligentwell-bred eye, and often with a smile of equal gentleness and character;but her observer noticed that though the smile came readily, it went asreadily, and the lines of the face quickly settled again into what seemedto be an habitual composure. There were the same outlines, the samecharacters, he remembered very well; yet there was a difference; not griefhad changed them, but life had. The brow had all its fine chiselling andhigh purity of expression; but now there sat there a hopelessness, orrather a want of hopefulness, that a child's face never knows. The mouthwas sweet and pliable as ever, but now often patience and endurance didnot quit their seat upon the lip even when it smiled. The eye with all itsold clearness and truthfulness had a shade upon it that nine years agoonly fell at the bidding of sorrow; and in every line of the face therewas a quiet gravity that went to the heart of the person who was studyingit. Whatever causes had been at work he was very sure had done no harm tothe character; its old simplicity had suffered no change, as every lookand movement proved; the very unstudied careless position of the fingersover the eyes shewed that the thoughts had nothing to do there. 

On one half of his doubt Mr. Carleton's mind was entirely made up;--buteducation? the training and storing of the mind?--how had that fared? Hewould know!--

Perhaps he would have made some attempt that very evening towardssatisfying himself; but noticing that in coming out Thorn permitted theEvelyns to pass him and attached himself determinately to Fleda, he drewback, and resolved to make his observations indirectly and on more thanone point before he should seem to make them at all. 

Chapter XXXIII

 Hark! I hear the sound of coaches, The hour of attack approaches. 

 Gay. 

Mrs. Pritchard had arrayed Fleda in the white muslin, with an amount ofsatisfaction and admiration that all the lines of her face wereinsufficient to express. 

"Now, " she said, "you must just run down and let the doctor see you--aforeyou take the shine off--or he won't be able to look at anything else whenyou get to the place. "

"That would be unfortunate!" said Fleda, and she ran down laughing intothe room where the doctor was waiting for her; but her astonished eyesencountering the figure of Dr. Quackenboss she stopped short, with an airthat no woman of the world could have bettered. The physician of Queechyon his part was at least equally taken aback. 

"Dr. Quackenboss!" said Fleda. 

"I--I was going to say, Miss Ringgan!" said the doctor with a mostunaffected obeisance, --"but--a--I am afraid, sir, it is a deceptiveinfluence!"

"I hope not, " said Dr. Gregory smiling, one corner of his mouth for hisguest and the other for his niece. "Real enough to do real execution, or Iam mistaken, sir. "

"Upon my word, sir, " said Dr. Quackenboss bowing again, --"I hope--a--MissRinggan!--will remember the acts of her executive power at home, andreturn in time to prevent an unfortunate termination!"

Dr. Gregory laughed heartily now, while Fleda's cheeks relieved her dressto admiration. 

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

But Fleda put in her question. 

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

"All Queechy, sir, " answered the doctor politely, on the principle of'first come, first served, '--"and individuals, --I shouldn't like tospecify--"

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

"I--have the pleasure to say--we are coming along as usual, " replied thedoctor, who seemed to have lost his power of standing up straight;--"Mysister Flora enjoys but poor health lately, --they are all holding theirheads up at your house. Mr. Rossitur has come home. "

"Uncle Rolf! Has he!" exclaimed Fleda, the colour of joy quite supplantingthe other. "O I'm very glad!"

"Yes, " said the doctor, --"he's been home now, --I guess, going onfour days. "

"I am very glad!" repeated Fleda. "But won't you come and see me anothertime, Dr. Quackenboss?--I am obliged to go out. "

The doctor professed his great willingness, adding that he had only comedown to the city to do two or three chores and thought she might perhapslike to take the opportunity--which would afford him such very greatgratification. 

"No indeed, faire Una, " said Dr. Gregory, when they were on their way toMrs. Thorn's, --"they've got your uncle at home now and we've got you; andI mean to keep you till I'm satisfied. So you may bring home that eye thathas been squinting at Queechy ever since you have been here and make upyour mind to enjoy yourself; I sha'n't let you go till you do. "

"I ought to enjoy myself, uncle Orrin, " said Fleda, squeezing his armgratefully. 

"See you do, " said he. 

The pleasant news from home had given Fleda's spirits the needed spurwhich the quick walk to Mrs. Thorn's did not take off. 

"Did you ever see Fleda look so well, mamma?" said Florence, as the formerentered the drawing-room. 

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

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

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

"Why where did you ever see her, Mr. Stackpole, except at our house?" saidConstance. 

"At Mrs. Decatur's--I have had that pleasure--and once at her uncle's. "

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

"How Mrs. Thorn does look at her!" said Constance, under her breath. "Itis too much!"

It was almost too much for Fleda's equanimity, for the colour began tocome. 

"And there goes Mr. Carleton!" said Constance. "I expect momentarily tohear the company strike up 'Sparkling and Bright. '"

[Illustration: "And there goes Mr. Carleton!" said Constance. ]

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

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

"I trust I do not need presentation, " said his voice and his smile atonce, as he presented himself to Fleda. 

How little he needed it the flash of feeling which met his eyes saidsufficiently well. But apparently the feeling was a little too deep, forthe colour mounted and the eyes fell, and the smile suddenly died on thelips. Mr. Thorn came up to them, and releasing her hand Mr. Carletonstepped back and permitted him to lead her away. 

"What do think of _that_ face?" said Constance finding herself a fewminutes after at his side. 

"'That' must define itself, " said he, "or I can hardly give a safeanswer. "

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

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

"Mine? why I expected every minute that Mr. Thorn would make the musiciansplay 'Sparkling and Bright, ' and tell Miss Ringgan that to save trouble hehad directed them to express what he was sure were the sentiments of thewhole company in one burst. "

He smiled a little, but in a way that Constance could not understand anddid not like. 

"Those are common epithets, " he said. 

"Must I use uncommon?" said Constance significantly. 

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

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

"Pardon me--you have said nothing. These epithets are deserved by a greatmany faces, but on very different grounds; and the praise is a differentthing accordingly. "

"Well what is the difference?" said Constance. 

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

"On what?--why on that bewitching little air of the eyes and mouth, I suppose. "

"Bewitching is a very vague term, " said he smiling again more quietly. "But you have had an opportunity of knowing it much better of late thanI--to which class of bright faces would you refer this one? Where does thelight come from?"

"I never studied faces in a class, " said Constance a little scornfully. "Come from?--a region of mist and clouds I should say, for it is sometimespretty well covered up. "

"There are some eyes whose sparkling is nothing more than the play oflight upon a bright bead of glass. "

"It is not that, " said Constance, answering in spite of herself afterdelaying as long as she dared. 

"There is the brightness that is only the reflection of outwardcircumstances, and passes away with them. "

"It isn't that in Fleda Ringgan, " said Constance, "for her outwardcircumstances have no brightness, I should think, that reflection wouldnot utterly absorb. "

She would fain have turned the conversation, but the questions were putso lightly and quietly that it could not be gracefully done. She longed tocut it short, but her hand was upon Mr. Carleton's arm and they wereslowly sauntering down the rooms, --too pleasant a state of things to berelinquished for a trifle. 

"There is the broad day-light of mere animal spirits, " he went on, seemingrather to be suggesting these things for her consideration than eager toset forth any opinions of his own;--"there is the sparkling of mischief, and the fire of hidden passions, --there is the passing brilliance of wit, as satisfactory and resting as these gas-lights, --and there is now andthen the light of refined affections out of a heart unspotted from theworld, as pure and abiding as the stars, and like them throwing its softray especially upon the shadows of life. "

"I have always understood, " said Constance, "that cats' eyes are brightestin the dark. "

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

"Well, " said Constance, not relishing the expression of her companion'seye, which from glowing had suddenly become cool and bright, --"wherewould you put me, Mr. Carleton, among all these illuminators of thesocial system?"

"You may put yourself--where you please, Miss Constance, " he said, againturning upon her an eye so deep and full in its meaning that her own andher humour fell before it; for a moment she looked most unlike the gayscene around her. 

"Is not that the best brightness, " he said speaking low, "that will lastforever?--and is not that lightness of heart best worth having which doesnot depend on circumstances, and will find its perfection just when allother kinds of happiness fail utterly?"

"I can't conceive, " said Constance presently, rallying or trying to rallyherself, --"what you and I have to do in a place where people are enjoyingthemselves at this moment, Mr. Carleton!"

He smiled at that and led her out of it into the conservatory, close towhich they found themselves. It was a large and fine one, terminating thesuite of rooms in this direction. Few people were there; but at the farend stood a group among whom Fleda and Mr. Thorn were conspicuous. He wasbusying himself in putting together a quantity of flowers for her; andMrs. Evelyn and old Mr. Thorn stood looking on; with Mr. Stackpole. Mr. Stackpole was an Englishman, of certainly not very prepossessing exteriorbut somewhat noted as an author and a good deal sought after inconsequence. At present he was engaged by Mrs. Evelyn. Mr. Carleton andConstance sauntered up towards them and paused at a little distance tolook at some curious plants. 

"Don't try for that, Mr. Thorn, " said Fleda, as the gentleman was makingrather ticklish efforts to reach a superb Fuchsia that hung high, --"Youare endangering sundry things besides yourself. "

"I have learned, Miss Fleda, " said Thorn as with much ado he grasped thebeautiful cluster, --"that what we take the most pains for is apt to bereckoned the best prize, --a truth I should never think of putting into alady's head if I believed it possible that a single one of them wasignorant of its practical value. "

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

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

"I am very fond of it, sir, " said Fleda, answering _him_ with an entirelydifferent face. 

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

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

"I guess she is an exception to most rules that you have got in yournote-book, Mr. Stackpole, " said the younger man. "But there is no guessingabout the garden, for I have with my own eyes seen these gentle hands atone end of a spade and her foot at the other;--a sight that--I declare Idon't know whether I was most filled with astonishment or admiration!"

"Yes, " said Fleda half laughing and colouring, --"and he ingenuouslyconfessed in his surprise that he didn't know whether politeness ought tooblige him to stop and shake hands or to pass by without seeing me;evidently shewing that he thought I was about something equivocal. "

The laugh was now turned against Mr. Thorn, but he went on cutting hisgeraniums with a grave face. 

"Well, " said he at length, "I think it _is_ something of very equivocalutility. Why should such gentle hands and feet spend their strength inclod-breaking, when rough ones are at command?"

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

"I have learned, Mr. Thorn, by sad experience, that the rough hands breakmore than the clods. One day I set Philetus to work among my flowers; andthe first thing I knew he had pulled up a fine passion-flower which didn'tmake much shew above 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 Thornin a kind of aside. "I cannot express my admiration at the idea of yourdealing with those boors, as it has been described to me. "

"They do not deserve the name, Mr. Thorn, " said Fleda. "They are manyof them most sensible and excellent people, and friends that I valuevery highly. "

"Ah, your goodness would made friends of everything. "

"Not of boors, I hope, " said Fleda coolly. "Besides, what do you mean bythe name?"

"Anybody incapable of appreciating that of which you alone should beunconscious, " he said softly. 

Fleda stood impatiently tapping her flowers against her left hand. 

"I doubt their power of appreciation reaches a point that would surpriseyou, sir. "

"It does indeed--if I am mistaken in my supposition, " he said with aglance which Fleda refused to acknowledge. 

"What proportion do you suppose, " she went on, "of all these roomfuls ofpeople behind us, --without saying anything uncharitable, --whatproportion of them, if compelled to amuse themselves for two hours at abookcase, would pitch upon Macaulay's Essays, or anything like them, tospend the time?"

"Hum--really, Miss Fleda, " said Thorn, "I should want to brush up myAlgebra considerably before I could hope to find x, y, and z in such aconfusion of the alphabet. "

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

"Will you bear with my vindication of my country friends?--Hugh and I sentfor a carpenter to make some new arrangement of shelves in a cupboardwhere we kept our books; he was one of these boors, Mr. Thorn, in norespect above the rest. The right stuff for his work was wanting, andwhile it was sent for he took up one of the volumes that were lying aboutand read perseveringly until the messenger returned. It was a volume ofMacaulay's Miscellanies; and afterwards he borrowed the book of me. "

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

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

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

"No, I think not, " said Fleda; the quick blood in her cheeks againanswering the familiar voice and old associations;--"I know several of thefarmers' daughters around us that have studied Latin and Greek; andphilosophy is a common thing; and I am sure there is more sense"--

She suddenly checked herself, and her eye which had been sparklinggrew quiet. 

"It is very absurd!" said Mr. Stackpole

"Why, sir?"

"O--these people have nothing to do with such things--do them nothingbut 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 and to draw herout, Fleda was sure. 

"By lifting them out of it. "

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

"You can't lift everybody out of it, " said the gentleman with a littleirritation in his manner, --"that station must be filled--there must alwaysbe poor people. "

"And what degree of poverty ought to debar a man from the pleasures ofeducation and a cultivated taste? such as he can attain?

"No, no, not that, " said Mr. Stackpole;--"but it all goes to fill themwith absurd notions about their place in society, inconsistent with propersubordination. "

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

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

"Are they?" said Fleda. 

"Yes--we understand how to keep things in their places a little better. "

"I did not know, " said Fleda quietly, "that it was by _design_ of therulers of England that so many of her lower class are in the intellectualcondition of our slaves. "

"Mr. Carleton, " said Mrs. Evelyn laughing, --"what do you say tothat, sir?"

Fleda's face turned suddenly to him with a quick look of apology, whichshe immediately knew was not needed. 

"But this kind of thing don't make the people any happier, " pursued Mr. Stackpole;--"only serves to give them uppish and dissatisfied longingsthat cannot be gratified. "

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

"Precisely, " said Mr. Stackpole. 

"That might do very well if the world were in a state of perfection, " saidFleda. "As it is, commend me to discontent and getting on. And theuppishness I am afraid is a national fault, sir; you know our state mottois 'Excelsior. '"

"We are at liberty to suppose, " said Thorn, "that Miss Ringgan hasfollowed the example of her friends the farmers' daughters?--or ledthem in it?--"

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

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

"I was talking to a gentleman once, " said Fleda, "about the birds andflowers we find in our wilds; and he told me afterwards gravely that hewas afraid I was studying too many things at once!--when I was innocentof all ornithology but what my eyes and ears had picked up in the woods;except some childish reminiscences of Audubon. "

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

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

"Nothing, sir; it is one of those positions that are unanswerable. "

"But Mr. Stackpole, " said Mrs. Evelyn, "I don't like that doctrine, sir. Ido not believe in it at all. "

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

"But I do not believe it is yours. Why must women have nothing to do withbooks? what harm do they do, Mr. Stackpole?"

"Not needed, ma'am, --a woman, as somebody says, knows intuitively all thatis really worth knowing. "

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

"It _is_ worked, " said Mr. Stackpole. "Domestic life is the true trainingfor the female mind. One woman will learn more wisdom from the child onher breast than another will learn from ten thousand volumes. "

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

"A woman who never saw a book, " pursued Mr. Stackpole, unconsciouslyquoting his author, "may be infinitely superior, even in all those mattersof which books treat, to the woman who has read, and read intelligently, awhole library. "

"Unquestionably--and it is likewise beyond question that a silver sixpencemay be worth more than a washed guinea. "

"But a woman's true sphere is in her family--in her home duties, whichfurnish the best and most appropriate training for her faculties--pointedout by nature itself. "

"Yes!" said Mr. Carleton, --"and for those duties, some of the veryhighest and noblest that are entrusted to human agency, the finemachinery that is to perform them should be wrought to its last point ofperfectness. The wealth of a woman's mind, instead of lying in the rough, should be richly brought out and fashioned for its various ends, whileyet those ends are in the future, or it will never meet the demand. Andfor her own happiness, all the more because her sphere is at home, herhome stores should be exhaustless--the stores she cannot go abroad toseek. I would add to strength beauty, and to beauty grace, in theintellectual proportions, so far as possible. It were ungenerous, in manto condemn the _best_ half of human intellect to insignificance merelybecause it is not his own. "

Mrs. Evelyn wore a smile of admiration that nobody saw, but Fleda's facewas a study while Mr. Carleton was saying this. Her look was fixed uponhim with such intent satisfaction and eagerness that it was not till hehad finished that she became aware that those dark eyes were going verydeep into hers, and suddenly put a stop to the inquisition. 

"Very pleasant doctrine to the ears that have an interest in it!" said Mr. Stackpole rather discontentedly. 

"The man knows little of his own interest, " said Mr. Carleton, "who wouldleave that ground waste, or would cultivate it only in the narrow spiritof a utilitarian. He needs an influence in his family not more refreshingthan rectifying; and no man will seek that in one greatly his inferior. Heis to be pitied who cannot fall back upon his home with the assurance thathe has there something better than himself. "

"Why, Mr. Carleton, sir--" said Mrs. Evelyn, with every line of her mouthsaying funny things, --"I am afraid you have sadly neglected your owninterest--have you anything at Carleton better than yourself?"

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

"But Mr. Carleton, --" pursued the lady with a mixture of insinuation andfun, --"why were you never married?"

"Circumstances have always forbade it, " he answered with a smilewhich Constance declared was the most fascinating thing she ever sawin her life. 

Fleda was arranging her flowers, with the help of some very unnecessarysuggestions from the donor. 

"Mr. Lewis, " said Constance with a kind of insinuation very different fromher mother's, made up of fun and daring, --"Mr. Carleton has been giving mea long lecture on botany; while my attention was distracted by listeningto your _spirituel_ conversation. "

"Well, Miss Constance?"

"And I am morally certain I sha'n't recollect a word of it if I don'tcarry away some specimens to refresh my memory--and in that case he wouldnever give me another!"

It was impossible to help laughing at the distressful position of theyoung lady's eyebrows, and with at least some measure of outward grace Mr. Thorn set about complying with her request. Fleda again stood tapping herleft hand with her flowers, wondering a little that somebody else did notcome and speak to her; but he was talking to Mrs. Evelyn and Mr. Stackpole. Fleda did not wish to join them, and nothing better occurred toher than to arrange her flowers over again; so throwing them all downbefore her on a marble slab, she began to pick them up one by one and putthem together, with it must be confessed a very indistinct realization ofthe difference between myrtle and lemon blossoms, and as she seemed to belaying acacia to rose, and disposing some sprigs of beautiful heath behindthem, in reality she was laying kindness alongside of kindness and lookingat the years beyond years where their place had been. It was with a littlestart that she suddenly found the person of her thoughts standing at herelbow and talking to her in bodily presence. But while he spoke with allthe ease and simplicity of old times, almost making Fleda think it was butlast week they had been strolling through the Place de la Concordetogether, there was a constraint upon her that she could not get rid ofand that bound eye and tongue. It might have worn off, but his attentionwas presently claimed again by Mrs. Evelyn; and Fleda thought best whileyet Constance's bouquet was unfinished, to join another party and make herescape into the drawing-rooms. 

Chapter XXXIV. 

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

 Prior. 

By the Evelyns' own desire Fleda's going to them was delayed for a week, because, they said, a furnace was to be brought into the house and theywould be all topsy-turvy till that fuss was over. Fleda kept herself veryquiet in the mean time, seeing almost nobody but the person whom it washer especial object to shun. Do her best she could not quite escape him, and was even drawn into two or three walks and rides; in spite of denyingherself utterly to gentlemen at home, and losing in consequence a visitfrom her old friend. She was glad at last to go to the Evelyns and seecompany again, hoping that Mr. Thorn would be merged in a crowd. 

But she could not merge him; and sometimes was almost inclined to suspectthat his constant prominence in the picture must be owing to somemysterious and wilful conjuration going on in the background. She was at aloss to conceive how else it happened that despite her utmost endeavoursto the contrary she was so often thrown upon his care and obliged to takeup with his company. It was very disagreeable. Mr. Carleton she saw almostas constantly, but though frequently near she had never much to do withhim. There seemed to be a dividing atmosphere always in the way; andwhenever he did speak to her she felt miserably constrained and unable toappear like herself. Why was it?--she asked herself in a very vexed stateof mind. No doubt partly from the remembrance of that overheardconversation which she could not help applying, but much more from anindefinable sense that at these times there were always eyes upon her. Shetried to charge the feeling upon her consciousness of their having heardthat same talk, but it would not the more go off. And it had no chance towear off, for somehow the occasions never lasted long; something was sureto break them up; while an unfortunate combination of circumstances, or ofconnivers, seemed to give Mr. Thorn unlimited facilities in the same kind. Fleda was quick witted and skilful enough to work herself out of them oncein a while; more often the combination was too much for her simplicity andstraight-forwardness. 

She was a little disappointed and a little surprised at Mr. Carleton'scoolness. He was quite equal to withstand or out-general the schemes ofany set of manoeuvrers; therefore it was plain he did not care for thesociety of his little friend and companion of old time. Fleda felt it, especially as she now and then heard him in delightful talk with somebodyelse; making himself so interesting that when Fleda could get a chance tolisten she was quite ready to forgive his not talking to her for thepleasure of hearing him talk at all. But at other times she saidsorrowfully to herself, "He will be going home presently, and I shall nothave seen him!"

One day she had successfully defended herself against taking a drive whichMr. Thorn came to propose, though the proposition had been laughinglybacked by Mrs. Evelyn. Raillery was much harder to withstand thanpersuasion; but Fleda's quiet resolution had proved a match for both. Thebetter to cover her 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 little apart from therest, industriously bending over a complicated piece of embroiderybelonging to Constance and in which that young lady had made a greatblunder which she declared her patience unequal to the task of rectifying. The conversation went gayly forward among the others; Fleda taking no partin it beyond an involuntary one. Mr. Carleton's part was rather reservedand grave; according to his manner in ordinary society. 

"What do you keep bothering yourself with that for?" said Edith coming toFleda'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 letConstance pick out her own work. "

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

"Well, you didn't promise her when. Come!--everybody's been out but you, and you have sat here over this the whole day. Why don't you come overthere and talk with the rest?--I know you want to, for I've watched yourmouth going. "

"Going!--how?"

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

But Fleda said she could listen and work at once, and would not budge. Edith stood looking at her a little while in a kind of admiring sympathy, and then went back to the group. 

"Mr. Carleton, " said the young lady, who was treading with laudablesuccess in the steps of her sister Constance, --"what has become of thatride you promised to give me?"

"I do not know, Miss Edith, " said Mr. Carleton smiling, "for my consciencenever had the keeping of it. "

"Hush, Edith!" said her mother; "do you think Mr. Carleton has nothing todo but to take you riding?"

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

"Will you go now, Miss Edith?"

"Now?--O yes! And will you go out to Manhattanville, Mr. Carleton!--alongby the river?"

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

"Fleda!" said Edith, springing off to her with extravagant capers ofjoy, --"Fleda, you shall go! you haven't been out to-day. "

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

"The air is very fine, " said Mr. Carleton approaching her table, with nowant of alacrity in step or tone, her ears knew;--"and this weather makeseverything beautiful--has that piece of canvas any claims upon you thatcannot be put aside for a little?"

"No sir, " said Fleda, --"but--I am sorry I have a stronger reason that mustkeep me at home. "

"She knows how the weather looks, " said Edith, --"Mr. Thorn takes her outevery other day. It's no use to talk to her, Mr. Carleton, --when she saysshe won't, she won't. "

"Every other day!" said Fleda. 

"No, no, " said Mrs. Evelyn coming up, and with that smile which Fleda hadnever liked so little as at that minute, --"not _every other day_, Edith, what are you talking of? Go and don't keep Mr. Carleton waiting. "

Fleda worked on, feeling a little aggrieved. Mr. Carleton stood still byher table, watching her, while his companions were getting themselvesready; but he said no more, and Fleda did not raise her head till theparty were off. Florence had taken her resigned place. 

"I dare say the weather will be quite as fine to-morrow, dear Fleda, " saidMrs. Evelyn softly. 

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

"I only hope it will not bring too great a throng of carriages to thedoor, " Mrs. Evelyn went on in a tone of great internal amusement;--"Inever used to mind it, but I have lately a nervous fear of collisions. "

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

"No, not mine, " said Mrs. Evelyn softly, --"but that doesn't signify--itmay 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 of Abrahamquarrelling, " Mrs. Evelyn went on in the same undertone ofdelight, --"because the land was too strait for them--I should be verysorry to have anything of the sort happen again, for I cannot imaginewhere Lot would go to find a plain that would suit him. "

"Lot and Abraham, mamma!" said Constance from the sofa, --"what on earthare you talking about?"

"None of your business, " said Mrs. Evelyn;--"I was talking of some countryfriends of mine that you don't know. "

Constance knew her mother's laugh very well; but Mrs. Evelyn wasimpenetrable. 

The next day Fleda ran away and spent a good part of the morning with heruncle in the library, looking over new books; among which she foundherself quite a stranger, so many had made their appearance since the timewhen she had much to do with libraries or bookstores. Living friends, maleand female, were happily forgotten in the delighted acquaintance-makingwith those quiet companions which, whatever their deficiencies in otherrespects, are at least never importunate nor unfaithful. Fleda had comehome rather late and was dressing for dinner with Constance's company andhelp, when Mrs. Evelyn came into her room. 

"My dear Fleda, " said the lady, her face and voice as full as possible offun, --"Mr. Carleton wants to know if you will ride with him thisafternoon. --I told him I believed you were in general shy of gentlementhat drove their own horses--that I thought I had noticed you were, --but Iwould come up and see. "

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

"He said he was sorry to see you looked pale yesterday when he was askingyou; and he was afraid that embroidery is not good for you. He thinks youare a very charming girl!--"

And Mrs. Evelyn went off into little fits of laughter which unstrung allFleda's nerves. She stood absolutely trembling. 

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

"He did!--upon my word!--" said Mrs. Evelyn, speaking with greatdifficulty;--"he said she was very charming, and it might be dangerous tosee 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 so afraid thatLot will make his appearance!--"

Fleda turned round to the glass, and went on arranging her hair, with aquivering lip. 

"Lot, mamma!" said Constance somewhat indignantly. 

"Yes, " said Mrs. Evelyn in ecstacies, --"because the land will not bearboth of them. --But Mr. Carleton is very much in earnest for his answer, Fleda my dear--what shall I tell him?--You need be under noapprehensions about going--he will perhaps tell you that you arecharming, but I don't think he will say anything more. You know he is akind of patriarch!--And when I asked him if he didn't think it might bedangerous to 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 with a voice thatcarried a good deal of reproach. 

"My dear Fleda, shall I tell him you will go?--You need not be afraid togo riding, only you must not let yourself be seen walking with him. "

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

"I wanted to send Edith with you, thinking it would be pleasanter; but Iknew Mr. Carleton's carriage would hold but two to-day. So what shall Itell him?"

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

"But what shall I tell him? I must give him some reason. Shall I say thatyou think a sea-breeze is blowing, and you don't like it?--or shall I saythat prospects are a matter of indifference to you?"

Fleda was quite silent, and went on dressing herself with tremblingfingers. 

"My dear Fleda, " said the lady bringing her face a little intoorder, --"won't 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, everyline of her face drawing again, --"that will console him; and let him hopethat you will not mind sea-breezes by and by, after you have been a littlelonger in the neighbourhood of them. I will tell him you are a goodrepublican, and have an objection at present to an English equipage, but Ihave no doubt that it is a prejudice which will wear off. "

She stopped to laugh, while Fleda had the greatest difficulty not to cry. The lady did not seem to see her disturbed brow; but recovering herselfafter a little, though not readily, she bent forward and touched her lipsto it in kind fashion. Fleda did not look up; and saying again, "I willtell him, dear Fleda!"--Mrs. Evelyn left the room. 

Constance after a little laughing and condoling, neither of which Fledaattempted to answer, ran off too, to dress herself; and Fleda afterfinishing her own toilette locked her door, sat down and cried heartily. She thought Mrs. Evelyn had been, perhaps unconsciously, very unkind; andto say that unkindness has not been meant is but to shift the charge fromone to another vital point in the character of a friend, and one perhapssometimes not less grave. A moment's passionate wrong may consist with theendurance of a friendship worth having, better than the thoughtlessness ofobtuse wits that can never know how to be kind. Fleda's whole frame wasstill in a tremor from disagreeable excitement; and she had serious causesof sorrow to cry for. She was sorry she had lost what would have been agreat pleasure in the ride, --and her great pleasures were not often, --butnothing would have been more impossible than for her to go after what Mrs. Evelyn had said;--she was sorry Mr. Carleton should have asked her twicein vain; what must he think?--she was exceeding sorry that a thoughtshould have been put into her head that never before had visited the mostdistant dreams of her imagination, --so needlessly, so gratuitously;--shewas very sorry, for she could not be free of it again, and she felt itwould make her miserably hampered and constrained in mind and manner both, in any future intercourse with the person in question. And then again whatwould he think of that? Poor Fleda came to the conclusion that her bestplace was at home; and made up her mind to take the first good opportunityof getting there. 

She went down to dinner with no traces of either tears or unkindness onher sweet face, but her nerves were quivering all the afternoon; she couldnot tell whether Mrs. Evelyn and her daughters found it out. And it wasimpossible for her to get back even her old degree of freedom of mannerbefore either Mr. Carleton or Mr Thorn. All the more because Mrs. Evelynwas every now and then bringing out some sly allusion which affordedherself intense delight and wrought Fleda to the last degree of quietness. Unkind. --Fleda thought now it was but half from ignorance of the mischiefshe was doing, and the other half from the mere desire of selfishgratification. The times and ways in which Lot and Abraham were walkedinto the conversation were incalculable, --and unintelligible except tothe person who understood it only too well. On one occasion Mrs. Evelynwent on with a long rigmarole to Mr. Thorn about sea-breezes, with a faceof most exquisite delight at his mystification and her own hidden fun;till Fleda was absolutely 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 notleave it. Why he staid, Constance was as much in a puzzle as ever, for nomortal could guess. Clearly, she said, he did not delight in New Yorksociety, for he honoured it as slightly and partially as might be, and itwas equally clear if he had a particular reason for staying he didn't meananybody should know it. 

"If he don't mean it, you won't find it out, Constance, " said Fleda. 

"But it is that very consideration, you see, which inflames my impatienceto a most dreadful degree. I think our house is distinguished with hisregards, though I am sure I can't imagine why, for he never condescends toanything beyond general benevolence when he is here, and not always tothat. He has no taste for embroidery, or Miss Ringgan's crewels wouldreceive more of his notice--he listens to my spirited conversation with aself-possession which invariably deprives me of mine!--and his ear isevidently dull to musical sensibilities, or Florence's harp would havegreater charms. I hope there is a web weaving somewhere that will catchhim--at present he stands in an attitude of provoking independence of allthe rest of the world. It is curious!" said Constance with anindescribable face, --"I feel that the independence of another is rapidlymaking a slave of me!--"

"What do you mean, Constance?" said Edith indignantly. But the otherscould do nothing but laugh. 

Fleda did not wonder that Mr. Carleton made no more efforts to get her toride, for the very next day after his last failure he had met her drivingwith Mr. Thorn. Fleda had been asked by Mr. Thorn's mother in such a wayas made it impossible to get off; but it caused her to set a fresh seal ofunkindness to Mrs. Evelyn's behaviour. 

One evening when there was no other company at Mrs. Evelyn's, Mr. Stackpole was entertaining himself with a long dissertation upon theaffairs of America, past, present, and future. It was a favourite subject;Mr. Stackpole always seemed to have more complacent enjoyment of his easychair when he could succeed in making every American in the room situncomfortably. And this time, without any one to thwart him, he went on tohis heart's content, disposing of the subject as one would strip a rose ofits petals, with as much seeming nonchalance and ease, and with preciselythe same design, to make a rose no rose. Leaf after leaf fell under Mr. Stackpole's touch, as if it had been a black frost. The Americangovernment was a rickety experiment; go to pieces presently, --Americaninstitutions an alternative between fallacy and absurdity, the fruit ofraw minds and precocious theories;--American liberty a contradiction;--American character a compound of quackery and pretension;--Americansociety (except at Mrs. Evelyn's) an anomaly;--American destiny the samewith that of a Cactus or a volcano; a period of rest followed by a periodof excitement; not however like the former making successive shootstowards perfection, but like the latter grounding every new face of thingsupon the demolition of that which went before. Smoothly and pleasantly Mr. Stackpole went on compounding this cup of entertainment for himself andhis hearers, smacking his lips over it, and all the more, Fleda thought, when they made wry faces; throwing in a little truth, a good deal offallacy, a great deal of perversion and misrepresentation; while Mrs. Evelyn listened and smiled, and half parried and half assented to hispositions; and Fleda sat impatiently drumming upon her elbow with thefingers of her other hand, in the sheer necessity of giving someexpression to her feelings. Mr. Stackpole at last got his finger upon thesore spot of American slavery, and pressed it hard. 

"This is the land of the stars and the stripes!" said the gentleman in alittle fit of virtuous indignation;--"This is the land where all arebrothers!--where 'All men are born free and equal. '"

"Mr. Stackpole, " said Fleda in a tone that called his attention, --"are youwell acquainted with the popular proverbs of your country?"

"Not particularly, " he said, --"he had never made it a branch of study. "

"I am a great admirer of them. "

He bowed, and begged to be excused for remarking that he didn't see thepoint yet. 

"Do you remember this one, sir, " said Fleda colouring a little, --"'Thosethat live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones?'"

"I have heard it; but pardon me, --though your remark seems to imply thecontrary I am in the dark yet. What unfortunate points of vitrificationhave I laid open to your fire?"

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

"I shall be exceedingly obliged to you if you will put me in condition todefend myself. "

"I think nothing could do that, Mr. Stackpole. Under whose auspices andfostering care was this curse of slavery laid upon America?"

"Why--of course, --but you will observe, Miss Ringgan, that at that day theworld was unenlightened on a great many points;--since then _we_ have castoff the wrong which we then shared with the rest of mankind. "

"Ay sir, but not until we had first repudiated it and Englishmen haddesired to force it back upon us at the point of the sword. Four times"--

"But my dear Fleda, " interrupted Mrs. Evelyn, "the English nation have noslaves nor slave-trade--they have put an end to slavery entirelyeverywhere under their flag. "

"They were very slow about it, " said Fleda. "Four times the government ofMassachusetts abolished the slave-trade under their control, and fourtimes the English government thrust it back upon them. Do you rememberwhat Burke says about that?--in his speech on Conciliation with America?"

"It don't signify what Burke says about it, " said Mr. Stackpole rubbinghis chin, --"Burke is not the first authority--but Miss Ringgan, it isundeniable that slavery and the slave-trade, too, does at this momentexist in the interior of your own country. "

"I will never excuse what is wrong, sir; but I think it becomes anEnglishman to be very moderate in putting forth that charge. "

"Why?" said he hastily;--"we have done away with it entirely in our owndominions;--wiped that stain clean off. Not a slave can touch Britishground but he breathes free air from that minute. "

"Yes, sir, but candour will allow that we are not in a condition in thiscountry to decide the question by a _tour de force_. "

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

"The progress of truth in public opinion. "

"And why not the government--as well as our government?"

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

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

"Nothing against us, on a fair construction, " said Fleda patiently. "It iswell known to those who understand the subject"--

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

"As the birds pick up their supplies, ma'am--here and there. --It is wellknown, Mr. Stackpole, that our constitution never could have been agreedupon if that question of slavery had not been by common consent left whereit was--with the separate state governments. "

"The separate state governments--well, why do not _they_ put an end to it?The disgrace is only shifted. "

"Of course they must first have the consent of the public mind ofthose states. "

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

"We cannot defend ourselves there, " said Mrs. Evelyn;--"I wish we could. "

"The disgrace at least is shifted from the whole to a part. But will youpermit me, " said Fleda, "to give another quotation from my despisedauthority, and remind you of an Englishman's testimony, that beyond adoubt that point of emancipation would never have been carried inparliament had the interests of even a part of the electors beenconcerned in it. "

"It was done, however, --and done at the expense of twenty millionsof money. "

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

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

"I do not wish to dispute it, " said Fleda; "but still it was doing whatdid not touch the sensitive point of their own well-being. "

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

"So does every right-minded person, " said Mrs. Evelyn; "I am sure I do. "

"And I am sure so do I, " said Fleda; "but I think the honour of a piece ofgenerosity is considerably lessened by the fact that it is done at theexpense of another. "

"Generosity!" said Mr. Stackpole, --"it was not generosity, it wasjustice;--there was no generosity about it. "

"Then it deserves no honour at all, " said Fleda, "if it was merelythat--the tardy execution of justice is but the removal of a reproach. "

"We Englishmen are of opinion, however, " said Mr. Stackpole contentedly, "that the removers of a reproach are entitled to some honour which thosewho persist in retaining it cannot claim. "

"Yes, " said Fleda, drawing rather a long breath, --"I acknowledge that;but I think that while some of these same Englishmen have shewn themselvesso unwilling to have the condition of their own factory slavesameliorated, they should be very gentle in speaking of wrongs which wehave far less ability to rectify. "

"Ah!--I like consistency, " said Mr. Stackpole. "America shouldn't dressup poles with liberty caps till all who walk under are free to wearthem. She cannot boast that the breath of her air and the breath offreedom are one. "

"Can England?" said Fleda gently, --"when her own citizens are not freefrom the horrors of impressment?"

"Pshaw!" said Mr. Stackpole, half in a pet and half laughing, --"why, wheredid you get such a fury against England?--you are the first _fair_antagonist I have met on this side of the water. "

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

"Miss Ringgan has been prejudiced by an acquaintance with one or twounfortunate specimens, " said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"Ay!" said Mr. Stackpole a little bitterly, --"America is the naturalbirthplace of prejudice, --always was. "

"Displayed, first, in maintaining the rights against the swords ofEnglishmen;--latterly, how, Mr. Stackpole?"

"It isn't necessary to enlighten _you_ on any part of the subject, " saidhe a little pointedly. 

"Fleda, my dear, you are answered!" said Mrs. Evelyn, apparently withgreat internal amusement. 

"Yet you will indulge me so far as to indicate what part of the subjectyou are upon?" said Fleda quietly. 

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

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

"Not at all--I agree with you, that Americans are prejudiced; but I thinkit will pass off, Mr. Stackpole, as they learn to know themselves andother countries better. "

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

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

"Why, " said Mr. Stackpole, --"in their absurd opposition to all the old andtried forms of things, and rancorous dislike of those who uphold them; andin their pertinacity on every point where they might be set right, andimpatience of hearing the truth. "

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

"Now, " said Mr. Stackpole, not heeding her, --"there's your treatmentof the aborigines of this country--what do you call that, for a_free_ people?"

"A powder magazine, communicating with a great one of your own somewhereelse; so if you are a good subject, sir, you will not carry a lightedcandle into it. "

"One of our own--where?" said he. 

"In India, " said Fleda with a glance, --"and there are I don't know howmany 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 eying her as one would a belligerent mouse orcricket. "Will you tell me now that Americans are not prejudiced?"

"What do you call prejudice?" said Fleda smiling. 

"O there is a great deal of it, no doubt, here, Mr. Stackpole, " said Mrs. Evelyn blandly;--"but we shall grow out of it in time;--it is only thepremature wisdom of a young people. "

"And young people never like to hear their wisdom rebuked, " said MrStackpole bowing. 

"Fleda, my dear, what for is that little significant shake of your head?"said Mrs. Evelyn in her amused voice. 

"A trifle, ma'am. "

"Covers a hidden rebuke, Mrs. Evelyn, I have no doubt, for both our lastremarks. What is it, Miss Fleda?--I dare say we can bear it. "

"I was thinking, sir, that none would trouble themselves much about ourfoolscap if we had not once made them wear it. "

"Mr. Stackpole, you are worsted!--I only wish Mr. Carleton had been here!"said Mrs. Evelyn, with a face of excessive delight. 

"I wish he had, " said Fleda, "for then I need not have spoken a word. "

"Why, " said Mr. Stackpole a little irritated, "you suppose he would havefought for you against me?"

"I suppose he would have fought for truth against anybody, sir, "said Fleda. 

"Even against his own interests?"

"If I am not mistaken in him, " said Fleda, "he reckons his own and thoseof truth identical. "

The shout that was raised at this by all the ladies of the family, madeher look up in wonderment. 

"Mr. Carleton, "--said Mrs. Evelyn, --"what do you say to that, sir. "

The direction of the lady's eye made Fleda spring up and face about. Thegentleman in question was standing quietly at the back of her chair, tooquietly, she saw, to leave any doubt of his having been there some time. Mr. Stackpole uttered an ejaculation, but Fleda stood absolutelymotionless, and nothing could be prettier than her colour. 

"What do you say to what you have heard, Mr. Carleton?" said Mrs. Evelyn. 

Fleda's eyes were on the floor, but she thoroughly appreciated the tone ofthe question. 

"I hardly know whether I have listened with most pleasure or pain, Mrs. Evelyn. "

"Pleasure!" said Constance. 

"Pain!" said Mr. Stackpole. 

"I am certain Miss Ringgan was pure from any intention of giving pain, "said Mrs. Evelyn with her voice of contained fun. "She has no nationalantipathies, I am sure, --unless in the case of the Jews, --she is toocharming a girl for that. "

"Miss Ringgan cannot regret less than I a word that she has spoken, " saidMr. Carleton looking keenly at her as she drew back and took a seat alittle off from the rest. 

"Then why was the pain?" said Mr. Stackpole. 

"That there should have been any occasion for them, sir. "

"Well I wasn't sensible of the occasion, so I didn't feel the pain, " saidMr. Stackpole dryly, for the other gentleman's tone was almost haughtilysignificant. "But if I had, the pleasure of such sparkling eyes wouldhave made me forget it. Good-evening, Mrs. Evelyn--good-evening, mygentle antagonist, --it seems to me you have learned, if it is permissibleto alter one of your favorite proverbs, that it is possible to _break twowindows_ with one stone. However, I don't feel that I go away with any ofmine shattered. "--

"Fleda, my dear, " said Mrs. Evelyn laughing, --"what do you say to that?"

"As he is not here I will say nothing to it, Mrs. Evelyn, " said Fleda, quietly drawing off to the table with her work, and again in a tremor fromhead to foot. 

"Why, didn't you see Mr. Carleton come in?" said Edith following her;--"Idid--he came in long before you had done talking, and mamma held up herfinger and made him stop; and he stood at the back of your chair the wholetime listening. Mr. Stackpole didn't know he was there, either. But what'sthe matter with you?"

"Nothing--" said Fleda, --but she made her escape out of the room thenext instant. 

"Mamma, " said Edith, "what ails Fleda?"

"I don't know, my love, " said Mrs. Evelyn. "Nothing, I hope. "

"There does, though, " said Edith decidedly. 

"Come here, Edith, " said Constance, "and don't meddle with matters aboveyour comprehension. Miss Ringgan has probably hurt her hand withthrowing stones. "

"Hurt her hand!" said Edith. But she was taken possession of by hereldest sister. 

"That is a lovely girl, Mr. Carleton, " said Mrs. Evelyn with anindescribable look--outwardly benign, but beneath that most keen inits scrutiny. 

He bowed rather abstractedly. 

"She will make a charming little farmer's wife, don't you think so?"

"Is that her lot, Mrs. Evelyn?" he said with a somewhat incredulous smile. 

"Why no--not precisely, --" said the lady, --"you know in the country, oryou do not know, the ministers are half farmers, but I suppose not morethan half; just such a mixture as will suit Fleda, I should think. She hasnot told me in so many words, but it is easy to read so ingenuous a natureas hers, and I have discovered that there is a most deserving young friendof mine settled at Queechy that she is by no means indifferent to. I takeit for granted that will be the end of it, " said Mrs. Evelyn, pinching hersofa cushion in a great many successive places with a most composed andsatisfied air. 

But Mr. Carleton did not seem at all interested in the subject, andpresently introduced another. 

Chapter XXXV. 

 It is a hard matter for friends to meet; but mountains may be removed with earthquakes, and so encounter. --As You Like It. 

"What have we to do to-night?" said Florence at breakfast the nextmorning. 

"You have no engagement, have you?" said her mother. 

"No mamma, " said Constance arching her eyebrows, --"we are to taste thesweets of domestic life--you as head of the family will go to sleep in thedormeuse, and Florence and I shall take turns in yawning by your side. "

"And what will Fleda do?" said Mrs. Evelyn laughing. 

"Fleda, mamma, will be wrapped in remorseful recollections of havingenacted a mob last evening and have enough occupation in considering howshe shall repair damages. "

"Fleda, my dear, she is very saucy, " said Mrs. Evelyn, sipping her teawith great comfort. 

"Why should we yawn to-night any more than last night?" said Fleda; aquestion which Edith would certainly have asked if she had not been awayat school. The breakfast was too late for both her and her father. 

"Last night, my dear, your fractious disposition kept us upon half breath;there wasn't time to yawn. I meant to have eased my breast by laughingafterwards, but that expectation was stifled. "

"What stifled it?"

"I was afraid!--" said Constance with a little flutter of her person upand down in her chair. 

"Afraid of what?"

"And besides you know we can't have our drawing-rooms filled withdistinguished foreigners _every_ evening we are not at home. I shalldirect the fowling-piece to be severe in his execution of orders to-nightand let nobody in. I forgot!"--exclaimed Constance with anotherflutter, --"it is Mr. Thorn's night!--My dearest mamma, will you consent tohave the dormeuse wheeled round with its back to the fire?--and Florenceand I will take the opportunity to hear little Edith's lessons in the nextroom--unless Mr Decatur comes. I must endeavour to make the Mantoncomprehend what he has to do. "

"But what is to become of Mr. Evelyn?" said Fleda; "you make Mrs. Evelynthe head of the family very unceremoniously. "

"Mr. Evelyn, my dear, " said Constance gravely, --"makes a futile attemptsemi-weekly to beat his brains out with a club; and every successivefailure encourages him to try again; the only effect being a temporarydecapitation of his family; and I believe this is the night on which heperiodically turns a frigid eye upon their destitution. "

"You are too absurd!" said Florence, reaching over for a sausage. 

"Dear Constance!" said Fleda, half laughing, "why do you talk so?"

"Constance, behave yourself, " said her mother. 

"Mamma!" said the young lady, --"I am actuated by a benevolent desire toeffect a diversion of Miss Ringgan's mind from its gloomy meditations, bypresenting to her some more real subjects of distress. "

"I wonder if you ever looked at such a thing, " said Fleda. 

"What 'such a thing'?"

"As a real subject of distress. "

"Yes--I have one incessantly before me in your serious countenance. Why inthe world, Fleda, don't you look like other people?"

"I suppose, because I don't feel like them. "

"And why don't you? I am sure you ought to be as happy as most people. "

"I think I am a great deal happier, " said Fleda. 

"Than I am?" said the young lady, with arched eyebrows. But they went downand her look softened in spite of herself at the eye and smile whichanswered her. 

"I should be very glad, dear Constance, to know you were as happy as I. "

"Why do you think I am not?" said the young lady a little tartly. 

"Because no happiness would satisfy me that cannot last"

"And why can't it last?"

"It is not built upon lasting things. "

"Pshaw!" said Constance, "I wouldn't have such a dismal kind of happinessas yours, Fleda, for anything. "

"Dismal!" said Fleda smiling, --"because it can never disappoint me?--orbecause it isn't noisy?"

"My dear little Fleda!" said Constance in her usual manner, --"you havelived up there among the solitudes till you have got morbid ideas oflife--which it makes me melancholy to observe. I am very much afraid theyverge towards stagnation. "

"No indeed!" said Fleda laughing; "but, if you please, with me the streamof life has flowed so quietly that I have looked quite to the bottom, andknow how shallow it is, and growing shallower;--I could not venture mybark of happiness there; but with you it is like a spring torrent, --thefoam and the roar hinder your looking deep into it. "

Constance gave her a significant glance, a strong contrast to theearnest simplicity of Fleda's face, and presently inquired if she everwrote poetry. 

"Shall I have the pleasure some day of discovering your uncommon signaturein the secular corner of some religious newspaper?"

"I hope not, " said Fleda quietly. 

Joe Manton just then brought in a bouquet for Miss Evelyn, a very commonenlivener of the breakfast-table, all the more when, as in the presentcase, the sisters could not divine where it came from. It moved Fleda'swonder to see how very little the flowers were valued for their own sake;the probable cost, the probable giver, the probable éclat, were pointsenthusiastically discussed and thoroughly appreciated; but the sweetmessengers themselves were carelessly set by for other eyes and seemed tohave no attraction for those they were destined to. Fleda enjoyed them ata distance and could not help thinking that "Heaven sends almonds to thosethat have no 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, " said Florenceabstractedly, examining her bouquet, --"I am afraid it hasn't stem enough, Constance!--never mind--I'll fix it--where _is _ the end of thismyrtle?--I shall be very glad, of course, Fleda my dear, but--" pickingher bouquet to pieces, --"I think it right to tell you, privately, I amafraid you will find it very stupid--"

"O I dare say she will not, " said Mrs. Evelyn, --"she can go and try at anyrate--she would find it very stupid with me here alone and Constance atthe concert--I dare say she will find some there whom she knows. "

"But the thing is, mamma, you see, at these conversaziones they never talkanything but French and German--I don't know--of _course_ I should bedelighted to have Fleda with me, and I have no doubt Mrs. Decatur would bevery glad to have her--but I am afraid she won't enjoy herself. "

"I do not want to go where I shall not enjoy myself, " said Fledaquietly;--"that is certain. "

"Of course, you know, dear, I would a great deal rather have you thannot--I only speak for what I think would be for your pleasure. "

"I would do just as I felt inclined, Fleda, " said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"I shall let her encounter the dullness alone, ma'am, " said Fleda lightly. 

But it was not in a light mood that she put on her bonnet after dinnerand set out to pay a visit to her uncle at the library; she had resolvedthat she would not be near the dormeuse in whatsoever relative positionthat evening. Very, very quiet she was; her grave little face walkedthrough the crowd of busy, bustling, anxious people, as if she had nothingin common with them; and Fleda felt that she had very little. Halfunconsciously as she passed along the streets her eye scanned thecountenances of that moving panorama; and the report it brought back madeher 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 you downhere to-day?"

"I felt in want of something fresh, uncle Orrin, so I thought I would comeand see you. "

"Fresh!" said he. "Ah you are pining for green fields, I know. But youlittle piece of simplicity, there are no green fields now at Queechy--theyare two feet deep with snow by this time. "

"Well I am sure _that_ is fresh, " said Fleda smiling. 

The doctor was turning over great volumes one after another in adelightful confusion of business. 

"When do you think you shall go north, uncle Orrin?"

"North?" said he--"what do you want to know about the north?"

"You said, you know, sir, that you would go a little out of your way toleave me at home. "

"I won't go out of my way for anybody. If I leave you there, it will be inmy way. Why you are not getting homesick?"

"No sir, not exactly, --but I think I will go with you when you go. "

"That won't be yet awhile--I thought those people wanted you to staytill January. "

"Ay, but suppose I want to do something else?"

He looked at her with a comical kind of indecision, and said, "You don't know what you want!--I thought when you came in you needn't gofurther than the glass to see something fresh; but I believe thesea-breezes haven't had enough of you yet. Which part of you wantsfreshening?" he said in his mock-fierce way. 

Fleda laughed and said she didn't know. 

"Out of humour, I guess, " said the doctor. "I'll talk to you!--Take thisand amuse yourself awhile, with something that _isn't_ fresh, till I getthrough, and then you shall go home with me. "

Fleda carried the large volume into one of the reading rooms, where therewas nobody, and sat down at the baize-covered table. But the book was notof the right kind--or her mood was notfor it failed to interest her. Shesat nonchalantly turning over the leaves; but mentally she was busyturning over other leaves which had by far the most of her attention. Thepages that memory read--the record of the old times passed in that veryroom, and the old childish light-hearted feelings that were, she thought, as much beyond recall. Those pleasant times, when the world was all brightand friends all fair, and the light heart had never been borne down by thepressure of care, nor sobered by disappointment, nor chilled byexperience. The spirit will not spring elastic again from under thatweight; and the flower that has closed upon its own sweetness will notopen a second time to the world's breath. Thoughtfully, softly, she wastouching and feeling of the bands that years had fastened about herheart--they would not be undone, --though so quietly and almost stealthilythey had been bound there. She was remembering the shadows that one afteranother had been cast upon her life, till now one soft veil of a cloudcovered the whole; no storm cloud certainly, but also there was nothingleft of the glad sunlight that her young eyes rejoiced in. At Queechy thefirst shadow had fallen;--it was a good while before the next one, butthen they came thick. There was the loss of some old comforts andadvantages, --that could have been borne;--then consequent upon that, theannoyances and difficulties that had wrought such a change in her uncle, till Fleda could hardly look back and believe that he was the same person. Once manly, frank, busy, happy and making his family so;--now reserved, gloomy, irritable, unfaithful to his duty and selfishly throwing down theburden they must take up, but were far less able to bear. And so Hugh waschanged too; not in loveliness of character and demeanour, nor even muchin the always gentle and tender expression of countenance; but the animalspirits and frame, that should have had all the strong cherishing andbracing that affection and wisdom together could have applied, had beenleft to wear themselves out under trials his father had shrunk from andother trials his father had made. And Mrs. Rossitur, --it was hard forFleda to remember the face she wore at Paris, --the bright eye and joyouscorners of the mouth, that now were so utterly changed. All by hisfault--that made it so hard to bear. Fleda had thought all this a hundredtimes; she went over it now as one looks at a thing one is well accustomedto; not with new sorrow, only in a subdued mood of mind just fit to makethe most of it. The familiar place took her back to the time when itbecame familiar; she compared herself sitting there and feeling the wholeworld a blank, except for the two or three at home, with the child who hadsat there years before in that happy time "when the feelings were youngand the world was new. "

Then the Evelyns--why should they trouble one so inoffensive and soeasily troubled as her poor little self? They did not know all they weredoing, --but if they had eyes they _must_ see a little of it. Why could shenot have been allowed to keep her old free simple feeling with everybody, instead of being hampered and constrained and miserable from thispertinacious putting of thoughts in her head that ought not to be there?It had made her unlike herself, she knew, in the company of severalpeople. And perhaps _they_ might be sharp-sighted enough to read it!--buteven if not, how it had hindered her enjoyment. She had taken so muchpleasure in the Evelyns last year, and in her visit, --well, she would gohome and forget it, and maybe they would come to their right minds by thenext time she saw them. 

[Illustration: Fleda saw with a start that it was Mr. Carleton. ]

"What pleasant times we used to have here once, uncle Orrin!" she saidwith half a sigh, the other half quite made up by the tone in which shespoke. But it was not, as she thought, uncle Orrin that was standing byher side, and looking up as she finished speaking Fleda saw with a startthat it was Mr. Carleton. There was such a degree of life and pleasantnessin his eyes that, in spite of the start, her own quite brightened. 

"That is a pleasure one may always command, " he said, answering part ofher speech. 

"Ay, provided one has one's mind always under command, " said Fleda. "It ispossible to sit down to a feast with a want of appetite. "

"In such a case, what is the best tonic?"

His manner, even in those two minutes, had put Fleda perfectly at herease, ill-bred eyes and ears being absent. She looked up and answered, with such entire trust in him as made her forget that she had ever had anycause to distrust herself. 

"For me, " she said, --"as a general rule, nothing is better than to go outof doors--into the woods or the garden--they are the best fresheners Iknow of. I can do myself good there at times when books are a nuisance. "

"You are not changed from your old self, " he said. 

The wish was strong upon Fleda to know whether _he_ was, but it was nottill she saw the answer in his face that she knew how plainly hers hadasked the question. And then she was so confused that she did not knowwhat the answer had been. 

"I find it so too, " he said. "The influences of pure nature are the bestthing I know for some moods--after the company of a good horse. "

"And you on his back, I suppose?"

"That was my meaning. What is the doubt thereupon?" said he laughing. 

"Did I express any doubt?"

"Or my eyes were mistaken. "

"I remember they never used to be that, " said Fleda. 

"What was it?"

"Why, " said Fleda, thinking that Mr. Carleton had probably retained morethan one of his old habits, for she was answering with her oldobedience, --"I was doubting what the influence is in that case--worthanalyzing, I think. I am afraid the good horse's company has little todo with it. "

"What then do you suppose?" said he smiling. 

"Why, " said Fleda, --"it might be--but I beg your pardon, Mr. Carleton! Iam astonished at my own presumption. "

"Go on, and let me know why?" he said, with that happiness of manner whichwas never resisted. Fleda went on, reassuring her courage now and thenwith a glance. 

"The relief _might_ spring, sir, from the gratification of a proud feelingof independence, --or from a dignified sense of isolation, --or an imaginaryriding down of opposition--or the consciousness of being master of whatyou have in hand. "

She would have added to the general category, "the running away fromoneself;" but the eye and bearing of the person before her forbade evensuch a thought as connected with him. He laughed, but shook his head. 

"Perhaps then, " said Fleda, "it may be nothing worse than the working offof a surplus of energy or impatience, that leaves behind no more than canbe managed. "

"You have learned something of human nature since I had the pleasure ofknowing you, " he said with a look at once amused and penetrating. 

"I wish I hadn't, " said Fleda. 

Her countenance absolutely fell. 

"I sometimes think, " said he turning over the leaves of her book, "thatthese are the best companionship one can have--the world at large is veryunsatisfactory. "

"O how much!" said Fleda with a long breath. "The only pleasant thing thatmy eyes rested upon as I came through the streets this afternoon, was ahuge bunch of violets that somebody was carrying. I walked behind them aslong as I could. "

"Is your old love for Queechy in full force?" said Mr. Carleton, stillturning over the leaves, and smiling. 

"I believe so--I should be very sorry to live here long--at home I canalways go out and find society that refreshes me. "

"You have set yourself a high standard, " he said, with no displeasedexpression of the lips. 

"I have been charged with that, " said Fleda;--"but is it possible to settoo high a standard, Mr. Carleton?"

"One may leave oneself almost alone in the world. "

"Well, even then, " said Fleda, "I would rather have only the image ofexcellence than be contented with inferiority. "

"Isn't it possible to do both?" said he, smiling again. 

"I don't know, " said Fleda, --"perhaps I am too easily dissatisfied--Ibelieve I have grown fastidious living alone--I have sometimes almost adisgust at the world and everything in it. "

"I have often felt so, " he said;--"but I am not sure that it is a mood tobe indulged in--likely to further our own good or that of others. "

"I am sure it is not, " said Fleda;--"I often feel vexed with myself forit; but what can one do, Mr. Carleton?"

"Don't your friends the flowers help you in this?"

"Not a bit, " said Fleda, --"they draw the other way; their society is sovery pure and satisfying that one is all the less inclined to take up withthe other. "

She could not quite tell what to make of the smile with which he began tospeak; it half abashed her. 

"When I spoke a little while ago, " said he, "of the best cure for an illmood, I was speaking of secondary means simply--the only reallyhumanizing, rectifying, peace-giving thing I ever tried was looking attime in the light of eternity, and shaming or melting my coldness away inthe rays of the Sun of righteousness. "

Fleda's eyes, which had fallen on her book, were raised again with such aflash of feeling that it quite prevented her seeing what was in his. Butthe feeling was a little too strong--the eyes went down, lower than ever, and the features shewed that the utmost efforts of self-command wereneeded to control them. 

"There is no other cure, " he went on in the same tone;--"but disgust andweariness and selfishness shrink away and hide themselves before a word ora look of the Redeemer of men. When we hear him say, 'I have boughtthee--thou art mine, ' it is like one of those old words of healing, 'Thouart loosed from thine infirmity, '--'Be thou clean, '--and the mind takessweetly the grace and the command together, 'That he who loveth God lovehis brother also. '--Only the preparation of the gospel of peace can makeour feet go softly over the roughness of the way. "

Fleda did not move, unless her twinkling eyelashes might seem tocontradict that. 

"_I_ need not tell you, " Mr. Carleton went on a little lower, "where thismedicine is to be sought. "

"It is strange, " said Fleda presently, "how well one may know and how wellone may forget. --But I think the body has a great deal to do with itsometimes--these states of feeling, I mean. "

"No doubt it has; and in these cases the cure is a more complicatedmatter. I should think the roses would be useful there?"

Fleda's mind was crossed by an indistinct vision of peas, asparagus, andsweet corn; she said nothing. 

"An indirect remedy is sometimes the very best that can be employed. However it is always true that the more our eyes are fixed upon the sourceof light the less we notice the shadows that things we are passing flingacross our way. "

Fleda did not know how to talk for a little while; she was too happy. Whatever kept Mr. Carleton from talking, he was silent also. Perhaps itwas the understanding of her mood. 

"Mr. Carleton, " said Fleda after a little time, "did you ever carry outthat plan of a rose-garden that you were talking of a long while ago?"

"You remember it?" said he with a pleased look. --"Yes--that was one ofthe first things I set about after I went home--but I did not follow theregular fashion of arrangement that one of your friends is so fond of. "

"I should not like that for anything, " said Fleda, --"and least of allfor roses. "

"Do you remember the little shrubbery path that opened just in front ofthe library windows?--leading at the distance of half a mile to a longnarrow winding glen?"

"Perfectly well!" said Fleda, --"through the wood of evergreens--Iremember the glen very well. "

"About half way from the house, " said he smiling at her eyes, "a gladeopens which merges at last in the head of the glen--I planted my rosesthere--the circumstances of the ground were very happy for disposing themaccording to my wish. "

"And how far?"

"The roses?--O all the way, and some distance down the glen. Not acontinuous thicket of them, " he added smiling again, --"I wished each kindto stand so that its peculiar beauty should be fully relieved andappreciated; and that would have been lost in a crowd. "

"Yes, I know it, " said Fleda;--"one's eye rests upon the chief objects ofattraction and the others are hardly seen, --they do not even serve asfoils. And they must shew beautifully against that dark background of firsand larches!"

"Yes--and the windings of the ground gave me every sort of situationand exposure. I wanted room too for the different effects of masses ofthe same kind growing together and of fine individuals or groupsstanding alone where they could shew the full graceful development oftheir nature. "

"What a pleasure!--What a beauty it must be!"

"The ground is very happy--many varieties of soil and exposure were neededfor the plants of different habits, and I found or made them all. Therocky beginnings of the glen even furnished me with south walls for thelittle tea-roses, and the Macartneys and Musk roses, --the Banksias I keptnearer home. "

"Do you know them all, Mr. Carleton?"

"Not quite, " said he smiling at her. 

"I have seen one Banksia--the Macartney is a name that tells me nothing. "

"They are evergreens--with large white flowers--very abundant and late inthe season, but they need the shelter of a wall with us. "

"I should think you would say 'with _me_', " said Fleda. "I cannot conceivethat the head-quarters of the Rose tribe should be anywhere else. "

"One of the queens of the tribe is there, in the neighbourhood of theMacartneys--the difficult Rosa sulphurea--it finds itself so wellaccommodated that it condescends to play its part to perfection. Do youknow that?"

"Not at all. "

"It is one of the most beautiful of all, though not my favourite--it haslarge double yellow flowers shaped like the Provence--very superb, but aswilful as any queen of them all. "

"Which is your favourite, Mr. Carleton?"

"Not that which shews itself most splendid to the eye, but which offersfairest indications to the fancy. "

Fleda looked a little wistfully, for there was a smile rather of the eyethan of the lips which said there was a hidden thought beneath. 

"Don't you assign characters to your flowers?" said he gravely. 

"Always!"

"That Rosa sulphurea is a haughty high-bred beauty that disdains even toshew herself beautiful unless she is pleased;--I love better what comesnearer home to the charities and wants of everyday life. "

He had not answered her, Fleda knew; she thought of what he had said toMrs. Evelyn about liking beauty but not _beauties_. 

"Then, " said he smiling again in that hidden way, "the head of the glengave me the soil I needed for the Bourbons and French roses. "--

"Bourbons?"--said Fleda. 

"Those are exceeding fine--a hybrid between the Chinese and theRose-ŕ-quatre-saisons--I have not confined them all to the head of theglen; many of them are in richer soil, grafted on standards. "

"I like standard roses, " said Fleda, "better than any. "

"Not better than climbers?"

"Better than any climbers I ever saw--except the Banksia. "

"There is hardly a more elegant variety than that, though it is notstrictly a climber; and indeed when I spoke I was thinking as much of thetraining roses. Many of the Noisettes are very fine. But I have theclimbers all over--in some parts nothing else, where the wood closes inupon the path--there the evergreen roses or the Ayrshire cover the groundunder the trees, or are trained up the trunks and allowed to find theirown way through the branches down again--the Multiflora in the samemanner. I have made the Boursault cover some unsightly rocks that were inmy way. --Then in wider parts of the glade nearer home are your favouritestandards--the Damask, and Provence, and Moss, which you know arevarieties of the Centifolia, and the Noisette standards, some of them arevery fine, and the Chinese roses, and countless hybrids and varieties ofall these, with many Bourbons;--and your beautiful American yellow rose, and the Austrian briar and Eglantine, and the Scotch and white and Dogroses in their innumerable varieties change admirably well with theothers, and relieve the eye very happily. "

"Relieve the eye!" said Fleda, --"my imagination wants relieving! Isn'tthere--I have a fancy that there is--a view of the sea from some parts ofthat walk, Mr. Carleton?"

"Yes, --you have a good memory, " said he smiling. "On one side the wood israther dense, and in some parts of the other side; but elsewhere the treesare thinned off towards the south-west, and in one or two points thedescent of the ground and some cutting have given free access to the airand free range to the eye, bounded only by the sea line in thedistance--if indeed that can be said to bound anything. "

"I haven't seen it since I was a child, " said Fleda. "And for how long atime in the year is this literally a garden of roses, Mr. Carleton?"

"The perpetual roses are in bloom for eight months, --the Damask and theChinese, and some of their varieties--the Provence roses are in blossomall the summer. "

"Ah we can do nothing like that in this country, " said Fleda shaking herhead;--"our winters are unmanageable. "

She was silent a minute, turning over the leaves of her book in anabstracted manner. 

"You have struck out upon a grave path of reflection, " said Mr. Carletongently, --"and left me bewildered among the roses. "

"I was thinking, " said Fleda, looking up and laughing--"I was moralizingto myself upon the curious equalization of happiness in the world--I justsheered off from a feeling of envy, and comfortably reflected that onemeasures happiness by what one knows--not by what one does not know; andso that in all probability I have had near as much enjoyment in the littlenumber of plants that I have brought up and cherished and know intimately, as you, sir, in your superb walk through fairyland. "

"Do you suppose, " said he laughing, "that I leave the whole care offairyland to my gardener? No, you are mistaken--when the roses are to actas my correctors I find I must become theirs. I seldom go among themwithout a pruning knife and never without wishing for one. And you arecertainly right so far, --that the plants on which I bestow most pains giveme the most pleasure. There are some that no hand but mine ever touches, and those are by far the best loved of my eye. "

A discussion followed, partly natural, partly moral, --on the manner ofpruning various roses, and on the curious connection between care andcomplacency, and the philosophy of the same. 

"The rules of the library are to shut up at sundown, sir, " said one of thebookmen who had come into the room. 

"Sundown!" exclaimed Fleda jumping up;--"is my uncle not here, Mr. Frost?"

"He has been gone half an hour, ma'am. "

"And I was to have gone home with him--I have forgotten myself. "

"If that is at all the fault of my roses, ", said Mr. Carleton smiling, "Iwill 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 a while. Ishall dream of those roses, Mr. Carleton!"

"That would be doing them too much honour. "

Very happily she had forgotten herself; and during all the walk home hermind was too full of one great piece of joy and indeed too much engagedwith conversation to take up her own subject again. Her only wish was thatthey might not meet any of the Evelyns;--Mr. Thorn, whom they did meet, was a matter of entire indifference. 

The door was opened by Dr. Gregory himself. To Fleda's utter astonishmentMr. Carleton accepted his invitation to come in. She went up stairs totake off her things in a kind of maze. 

"I thought he would go away without my seeing him, and now what a nicetime I have had!--in spite of Mrs. Evelyn--"

That thought slipped in without Fleda's knowledge, but she could not getit out again. 

"I don't know how much it has been her fault either, but one thing iscertain--I never could have had it at her house. --How very glad I am!--How_very_ glad I am!--that I have seen him and heard all this from his ownlips. --But how very funny that he will be here to tea--"

"Well!" said the doctor when she came down, --"you _do_ look freshened up, I declare. Here is this girl, sir, was coming to me a little while ago, complaining that she wanted something _fresh_, and begging me to take herback to Queechy, forsooth, to find it, with two feet of snow on theground. Who wants to see you at Queechy?" he said, facing round upon herwith a look half fierce, half quizzical. 

Fleda laughed, but was vexed to feel that she could not help colouringand colouring exceedingly; partly from the consciousness of his meaning, and partly from a vague notion that somebody else was conscious of ittoo. Dr. Gregory, however, dashed right off into the thick ofconversation with his guest, and kept him busily engaged till tea-time. Fleda sat still on the sofa, looking and listening with simple pleasure;memory served her up a rich entertainment enough. Yet she thought heruncle was the most heartily interested of the two in the conversation;there was a shade more upon Mr. Carleton, not than he often wore, butthan he had worn a little while ago. Dr. Gregory was a great bibliopole, and in the course of the hour hauled out and made his guest overhaul noless than several musty old folios; and Fleda could not help fancyingthat he did it with an access of gravity greater even than the occasioncalled for. The grace of his manner, however, was unaltered; and at teashe did not know whether she had been right or not. Demurely as she satthere behind the tea-urn, for Dr. Gregory still engrossed all theattention of his guest as far as talking was concerned, Fleda was againinwardly smiling to herself at the oddity and the pleasantness of thechance that had brought those three together in such a quiet way, afterall the weeks she had been seeing Mr. Carleton at a distance. And sheenjoyed the conversation 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. Carletonsaid, when he was about to take leave and standing before Fleda, --"that Iam half afraid to mention it again. "

"I could not help it, both those time, Mr. Carleton, " said Fledaearnestly. 

"Both the last?--or both the first?" said he smiling. 

"The last?--" said Fleda. 

"I have had the honour of making such an attempt twice within the last tendays----to my disappointment. "

"It was not by my fault then either, sir, " Fleda said quietly. 

But he knew very well from the expression of her face a moment beforewhere to put the emphasis her tongue would not make. 

"Dare I ask you to go with me to-morrow?"

"I don't know, " said Fleda with the old childish sparkle of her eye, --"butif you ask me, sir, I will go. "

He sat down beside her immediately, and Fleda knew by his change of eyethat 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 yourfriends the Miss Evelyns, that they were going. "

"I believe they are, and I did think of it; but I have changed my mind, and shall stay at home with Mrs. Evelyn. "

After some further conversation the hour for the drive was appointed, andMr. Carleton took leave. 

"Come for me twice and Mrs. Evelyn refused without consulting me!" thoughtFleda. "What could make her do so?--How very rude he must have thought me!And how glad I am I have had an opportunity of setting that right. "

So quitting Mrs. Evelyn her thoughts went off upon a long train ofwandering over the afternoon's talk. 

"Wake up!" said the doctor, laying his hand kindly upon hershoulder, --"you'll want something fresh again presently. What mine ofprofundity are you digging into now?"

Fleda looked up and came back from her profundity with a glance and smileas simple as a child's. 

"Dear uncle Orrin, how came you to leave me alone in the library?"

"Was that what you were trying to discover?"

"Oh no, sir! But why did you, uncle Orrin? I might have been leftutterly alone. "

"Why, " said the doctor, "I was going out, and a friend that I thought Icould confide in promised to take care of you. "

"A friend!--Nobody came near me, " said Fleda. 

"Then I'll never trust anybody again, " said the doctor. "But what were youhammering at, mentally, just now?--come, you shall tell me. "

"O nothing, uncle Orrin, " said Fleda, looking grave again however;--"Iwas thinking that I had been talking too much to-day. "

"Talking too much?--why whom have you been talking to?"

"O, nobody but Mr. Carleton. "

"Mr. Carleton! why you didn't say six and a quarter words while hewas 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 to talk at allin company. "

"No sir, I am not;--I am not at all shy unless people frighten me. Ittakes almost nothing to do that; but I am very bold if I am notfrightened. "

"Were you frightened this afternoon?"

"No sir. "

"Well, if you weren't frightened, I guess nobody else was, " saidthe doctor. 

Chapter XXXVI. 

 Whence came this? This is some token from a newer friend. 

 Shakspeare. 

The snow-flakes were falling softly and thick when Fleda got up thenext morning. 

"No ride for me to-day--but how very glad I am that I had a chance ofsetting that matter right. What could Mrs. Evelyn have been thinkingof?--Very false kindness!--if I had disliked to go ever so much she oughtto have made me, for my own sake, rather than let me seem so rude--it istrue she didn't know _how_ rude. O snow-flakes--how much purer andprettier you are than most things in this place!"

No one was in the breakfast parlour when Fleda came down, so she took herbook and the dormeuse and had an hour of luxurious quiet before anybodyappeared. Not a foot-fall in the house; nor even one outside to be heard, for the soft carpeting of snow which was laid over the streets. The gentlebreathing of the fire the only sound in the room; while the very lightcame subdued through the falling snow and the thin muslin curtains, andgave an air of softer luxury to the apartment. "Money is pleasant, "thought Fleda, as she took a little complacent review of all this beforeopening her book. --"And yet how unspeakably happier one may be without itthan another with it. Happiness never was locked up in a purse yet. I amsure Hugh and I, --They must want me at home!--"

There was a little sober consideration of the lumps of coal and thecontented looking blaze in the grate, a most essentially home-likething, --and then Fleda went to her book and for the space of an hourturned over her pages without interruption. At the end of the hour "thefowling piece, " certainly the noiseliest of his kind, put his head in, butseeing none of his ladies took it and himself away again and left Fleda inpeace for another half hour. Then appeared Mrs. Evelyn in her morningwrapper, and only stopping at the bell-handle, came up to the dormeuse andstooping down kissed Fleda's forehead, with so much tenderness that it wona look of most affectionate gratitude in reply. 

"Fleda my dear, we set you a sad example. But you won't copy it. Joe, breakfast. Has Mr. Evelyn gone down town?"

"Yes, ma'am, two hours ago. "

"Did it ever occur to you, Fleda my dear, " said Mrs. Evelyn, breaking thelumps of coal with the poker in a very leisurely satisfied kind of away, --"Did it ever occur to you to rejoice that you were not born abusiness man? What a life!--"

"I wonder how it compares with that of a business woman, " said Fledalaughing. "There is an uncompromising old proverb which says

 'Man's work is from sun to sun-- But a woman's work is never done. '"

A saying which she instantly reflected was entirely beyond thecomprehension of the person to whose consideration she had offered it. 

And then came in Florence, rubbing her hands and knitting her eyebrows. 

"Why don't you look as bright as the rest of the world, this morning, "said Fleda. 

"What a wretched storm!"

"Wretched! This beautiful snow! Here have I been enjoying it forthis hour. "

But Florence rubbed her hands and looked as if Fleda were no rule forother people. 

"How horrid it will make the going out to-night, if it snows all day!"

"Then you can stay at home, " said her mother composedly. 

"Indeed I shall not, mamma!"

"Mamma!" said Constance now coming in with Edith, --"isn't breakfast ready?It strikes me that the fowling-piece wants polishing up. I have anindistinct impression that the sun would be upon the meridian if he wasanywhere. "

"Not quite so bad as that, " said Fleda smiling;--"it is only an hour and ahalf since I came down stairs. "

"You horrid little creature!--Mamma, I consider it an act of inhospitalityto permit studious habits on the part of your guests. And I am surprisedyour ordinary sagacity has not discovered that it is the greatest impolicytowards the objects of your maternal care. We are labouring under growingdisadvantages; for when we have brought the enemy to at long shot there isa mean little craft that comes in and unmans him in a close fight beforewe can get our speaking-trumpets up. "

"Constance!--Do hush!" said her sister. "You are too absurd. "

"Fact, " said Constance gravely. "Capt. Lewiston was telling me the othernight how the thing is managed; and I recognized it immediately and toldhim I had often seen it done!"

"Hold your tongue, Constance, " said her mother smiling, --"and come tobreakfast. "

Half and but half of the mandate the young lady had any idea of obeying. 

"I can't imagine what you are talking about, Constance!" said Edith. 

"And then being a friend, you see, " pursued Constance, "we can do nothingbut fire a salute, instead of demolishing her. "

"Can't you?" said Fleda. "I am sure many a time I have felt as if you hadleft me nothing but my colours. "

"Except your prizes, my dear. I am sure I don't know about your beinga friend either, for I have observed that you engage English andAmerican alike. "

"She is getting up her colours now, " said Mrs. Evelyn in mockgravity, --"you can tell what she is. "

"Blood-red!" said Constance. "A pirate!--I thought so, "--she exclaimed, with an ecstatic gesture. "I shall make it my business to warn everybody!"

"Oh Constance!" said Fleda, burying her face in her hands. But theyall laughed. 

"Fleda my dear, I would box her ears, " said Mrs. Evelyn commandingherself. "It is a mere envious insinuation, --I have always understoodthose were the most successful colours carried. "

"Dear Mrs. Evelyn!--"

"My dear Fleda, that is not a hot roll--you sha'n't eat it--Take this. Florence give her a piece of the bacon--Fleda my dear, it is good for thedigestion--you must try it. Constance was quite mistaken in supposingyours were those obnoxious colours--there is too much white with thered--it is more like a very different flag. "

"Like what then, mamma?" said Constance;--"a good American would haveblue in it. "

"You may keep the American yourself, " said her mother. 

"Only, " said Fleda trying to recover herself, "there is a slightirregularity--with you the stars are blue and the ground white. "

"My dear little Fleda!" exclaimed Constance jumping up and capering roundthe table to kiss her, "you are too delicious for anything; and in futureI will be blind to your colours; which is a piece of self-denial I am surenobody else will practise. "

"Mamma, " said Edith, "what _are_ you all talking about? Can't Constancesit 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 elsewould move me. "

"Are you going to Mrs. Decatur's to-night, Fleda?"

"No, Edith, I believe not"

"I'm very glad; then there'll be somebody at home. But why don't you?"

"I think on the whole I had rather not. "

"Mamma, " said Constance, "you have done very wrong in permitting such athing. I know just how it will be. Mr. Thorn and Mr. Stackpole will makeindefinite voyages of discovery round Mrs. Decatur's rooms, and thenhaving a glimmering perception that the light of Miss Ringgan's eyes is inanother direction they will sheer off; and you will presently see themcome sailing blandly in, one after the other, and cast anchor for theevening; when to your extreme delight Mr. Stackpole and Miss Ringgan willimmediately commence fighting. I shall stay at home to see!" exclaimedConstance, with little bounds of delight up and down upon her chair whichthis time afforded her the additional elasticity of springs, --"I will notgo. I am persuaded how it will be, and I would not miss it for anything. "

"Dear Constance!" said Fleda, unable to help laughing through all hervexation, --"please do not talk so! You know very well Mr. Stackpole onlycomes to see your mother. "

"He was here last night, " said Constance in an extreme state ofdelight, --"with all the rest of your admirers--ranged in the hall, withtheir hats in a pile at the foot of the staircase as a token of theirdetermination not to go till you came home; and as they could not beinduced to come up to the drawing-room Mr. Evelyn was obliged to go down, and with some difficulty persuaded them to disperse. "

Fleda was by this time in a state of indecision betwixt crying andlaughing, assiduously attentive to her breakfast. 

"Mr. Carleton asked me if you would go to ride with him again the otherday, Fleda, " said Mrs. Evelyn, with her face of delighted mischief, --"andI excused you; for I thought you would thank me for it. "

"Mamma, " said Constance, "the mention of that name rouses all the bitterfeelings I am capable of! My dear Fleda--we have been friends--but if Isee you abstracting my English rose"--

"Look at those roses behind you!" said Fleda. 

The young lady turned and sprang at the word, followed by both hersisters; and for some moments nothing but a hubbub of exclamationsfilled the air, "Joe, you are enchanting!--But did you ever _see_ such flowers?--Oh thoserose-buds!--"

"And these Camellias, " said Edith, --"look, Florence, how they arecut--with such splendid long stems. "

"And the roses too--all of them--see mamma, just cut from the bushes withthe buds all left on, and immensely long stems--Mamma, these must havecost an immensity!--"

"That is what I call a bouquet, " said Fleda, fain to leave the table tooand draw near the tempting shew in Florence's hand. 

"This is the handsomest you have had all winter, Florence, " said Edith. 

"Handsomest!--I never saw anything like it. I shall wear some of theseto-night, mamma. "

"You are in a great hurry to appropriate it, " said Constance, --"how do youknow but it is mine?"

"Which of us is it for, Joe?"

"Say it is mine, Joe, and I will vote you--the best article of your kind!"said Constance, with an inexpressible glance at Fleda. 

"Who brought it, Joe?" said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"Yes, Joe, who brought it? where did it come from, Joe?"

Joe had hardly a chance to answer. 

"I really couldn't say, Miss Florence, --the man wasn't known to me. "

"But did he say it was for Florence or for me?"

"No ma'am--he"--

"_Which_ did he say it was for?"

"He didn't say it was either for Miss Florence or for you, MissConstance; he--"

"But didn't he say who sent it?"

"No ma'am. It's"--

"Mamma here is a white moss that is beyond everything! with two of themost lovely buds--Oh!" said Constance clasping her hands and whirlingabout the room in comic ecstasy--"I sha'n't survive if I cannot find outwhere it is from!--"

"How delicious the scent of these tea-roses is!" said Fleda. "You oughtnot to mind the snow storm to-day after this, Florence. I should think youwould be perfectly happy. "

"I shall be, if I can contrive to keep them fresh to wear to-night. Mammahow sweetly they would dress me. "

"They're a great deal too good to be wasted so, " said Mrs. Evelyn; "Isha'n't let you do it. "

"Mamma!--it wouldn't take any of them at all for my hair and the bouquetde corsage too--there'd be thousands left--Well Joe, --what are youwaiting for?"

"I didn't say, " said Joe, looking a good deal blank and a littleafraid, --"I should have said--that the bouquet--is--"

"What is it?"

"It is--I believe, ma'am, --the man said it was for Miss Ringgan. "

"For me!" exclaimed Fleda, her cheeks forming instantly the most exquisitecommentary on the gift that the giver could have desired. She took in herhand the superb bunch of flowers from which the fingers of Florenceunclosed as if it had been an icicle. 

"Why didn't you say so before?" she inquired sharply; but the"fowling-piece" had wisely disappeared. 

"I am very glad!" exclaimed Edith. "They have had plenty all winter, andyou haven't had one--I am very glad it is yours, Fleda. "

But such a shadow had come upon every other face that Fleda's pleasurewas completely overclouded. She smelled at her roses, just ready to burstinto tears, and wishing sincerely that they had never come. 

"I am afraid, my dear Fleda, " said Mrs. Evelyn quietly going on with herbreakfast, --"that there is a thorn somewhere among those flowers. "

Fleda was too sure of it. But not by any means the one Mrs. Evelynintended. 

"He never could have got half those from his own greenhouse, mamma, " saidFlorence, --"if he had cut every rose that was in it; and he isn't veryfree with his knife either. "

"I said nothing about anybody's greenhouse, " said Mrs. Evelyn, --"thoughI don't suppose there is more than one Lot in the city they could havecome from. "

"Well, " said Constance settling herself back in her chair and closingher eyes, --"I feel extinguished!----Mamma, do you suppose it possiblethat a hot cup of tea might revive me? I am suffering from a universalsense of unappreciated merit!--and nobody can tell what the pain is thathasn't felt it. "

"I think you are extremely foolish, Constance, " said Edith. "Fleda hasn'thad a single flower sent her since she has been here and you have had themevery other day. I think Florence is the only one that has a right to bedisappointed. "

"Dear Florence, " said Fleda earnestly, --"you shall have as many of them asyou 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. I wonder whatsomebody would think to see his flowers in my head!"

Fleda secretly had mooted the same question and was very well pleased notto have it put to the proof. She took the flowers up stairs afterbreakfast, resolving that they should not be an eye-sore to her friends;placed them in water and sat down to enjoy and muse over them in a verysorrowful mood. She again thought she would take the first opportunity ofgoing home. How strange--out of their abundance of tributary flowers togrudge her this one bunch! To be sure it was a magnificent one. Theflowers were mostly roses, of the rarer kinds, with a very few fineCamellias; all of them cut with a freedom that evidently had known noconstraint but that of taste, and put together with an exquisite skillthat Fleda felt sure was never possessed by any gardener. She knew thatonly one hand had had anything to do with them, and that the hand that hadbought, not the one that had sold; and "How very kind!"--presently quitesupplanted "How very strange!"--"How exactly like him, --and how singularthat Mrs. Evelyn and her daughters should have supposed they could havecome from Mr. Thorn. " It was a moral impossibility that _he_ should haveput such a bunch of flowers together; while to Fleda's eye they so borethe impress of another person's character that she had absolutely beenglad to get them out of sight for fear they might betray him. She hungover their varied loveliness, tasted and studied it, till the soft breathof the roses had wafted away every cloud of disagreeable feeling and shewas drinking in pure and strong pleasure from each leaf and bud. What avery apt emblem of kindness and friendship she thought them; when theirgentle preaching and silent sympathy could alone so nearly do friendship'swork; for to Fleda there was both counsel and consolation in flowers. Soshe found it this morning. An hour's talk with them had done her a greatdeal of good, and when she dressed herself and went down to thedrawing-room her grave little face was not less placid than the roses shehad left; she would not wear even one of them down to be a disagreeablereminder. And she thought that still snowy day was one of the verypleasantest she had had in New York. 

Florence went to Mrs. Decatur's; but Constance according to her avoweddetermination remained at home to see the fun. Fleda hoped most sincerelythere would be none for her to see. 

But a good deal to her astonishment, early in the evening Mr. Carletonwalked in, followed very soon by Mr. Thorn. Constance and Mrs. Evelynwere forthwith in a perfect effervescence of delight, which as they couldnot very well give it full play promised to last the evening; and Fleda, all her nervous trembling awakened again, took her work to the table andendeavoured to bury herself in it. But ears could not be fastened as wellas eyes; and the mere sound of Mrs. Evelyn's voice sometimes sent athrill over her. 

"Mr. Thorn, " said the lady in her smoothest manner, --"are you a lover offloriculture, sir?"

"Can't say that I am, Mrs. Evelyn, --except as practised by others. "

"Then you are not a connoisseur in roses?--Miss Ringgan's happy lot--senther a most exquisite collection this morning, and she has been wanting toapply to somebody who could tell her what they are--I thought you mightknow. --O they are not here, " said Mrs. Evelyn as she noticed thegentleman's look round the room;--"Miss Ringgan judges them too preciousfor any eyes but her own. Fleda, my dear, won't you bring down your rosesto let Mr. Thorn tell us their names?"

"I am sure Mr. Thorn will excuse me, Mrs. Evelyn--I believe he would findit a puzzling task. "

"The surest way, Mrs. Evelyn, would be to apply at the fountain head forinformation, " said Thorn dryly. 

"If I could get at it, " said Mrs. Evelyn, (Fleda knew with quiveringlips, )--"but it seems to me I might as well try to find the Dead Sea!"

"Perhaps Mr. Carleton might serve your purpose, " said Thorn. 

That gentleman was at the moment talking to Constance. 

"Mr. Carleton--" said Mrs. Evelyn, --"are you a judge, sir?"

"Of what, Mrs. Evelyn?--I beg your pardon. "

The lady's tone somewhat lowered. 

"Are you a judge of roses, Mr. Carleton?"

"So far as to know a rose when I see it, " he answered smiling, and with animperturbable coolness that it quieted Fleda to hear. 

[Illustration: "I am sure Mr. Thorn will excuse me. "]

"Ay, but the thing is, " said Constance, "do you know twenty roses when yousee them?"

"Miss Ringgan, Mr. Carleton, " said Mrs. Evelyn, "has received a mostbeautiful supply this morning; but like a true woman she is not satisfiedto enjoy unless she can enjoy intelligently--they are strangers to us all, and she would like to know what name to give them--Mr. Thorn suggestedthat perhaps you might help us out of our difficulty. "

"With great pleasure, so far as I am able, --if my judgment may beexercised by daylight. I cannot answer for shades of green in thenight time. "

But he spoke with an ease and simplicity that left no mortal able toguess whether he had ever heard of a particular bunch of roses in hislife before. 

"You give me more of Eve in my character, Mrs. Evelyn, than I thinkbelongs to me, " said Fleda from her work at the far centre-table, whichcertainly did not get its name from its place in the room. "My enjoymentto-day has not been in the least troubled by curiosity. "

Which none of the rest of the family could have affirmed. 

"Do you mean to say, Mr. Carleton, " said Constance, "that it is necessaryto distinguish between shades of green in judging of roses?"

"It is necessary to make shades of distinction in judging of almostanything, Miss Constance. The difference between varieties of the sameflower is often extremely nice. "

"I have read of magicians, " said Thorn softly, bending down towardsFleda's work, --"who did not need to see things to answer questionsrespecting them. "

Fleda thought that was a kind of magic remarkably common in the world;but even her displeasure could not give her courage to speak. It gave hercourage to be silent, however; and Mr. Thorn's best efforts in aconversation of some length could gain nothing but very uninterestedrejoinders. A sudden pinch from Constance then made her look up andalmost destroyed her self-possession as she saw Mr. Stackpole make hisway into the room. 

"I hope I find my fair enemy in a mollified humour, " he saidapproaching them. 

"I suppose you have repaired damages, Mr. Stackpole, " saidConstance, --"since you venture into the region of broken windows again. "

"Mr. Stackpole declared there were none to repair, " said Mrs. Evelynfrom the sofa. 

"More than I knew of, " said the gentleman laughing--"there were more thanI knew of; but you see I court the danger, having rashly concluded that Imight as well know all my weak points at once. "

"Miss Ringgan will break nothing to-night, Mr. Stackpole--she promised meshe would not. "

"Not even her silence?" said the gentleman. 

"Is she always so desperately industrious?" said Mr. Thorn. 

"Miss Ringgan, Mr. Stackpole, " said Constance, "is subject to occasionalfits of misanthropy, in which cases her retreating with her work to thesolitude of the centre-table is significant of her desire to avoidconversation, --as Mr. Thorn has been experiencing. "

"I am happy to see that the malady is not catching, Miss Constance. "

"Mr. Stackpole!" said Constance, --"I am in a morose state of mind!--MissRinggan this morning received a magnificent bouquet of roses which in thefirst place I rashly appropriated to myself; and ever since I discoveredmy mistake I have been meditating the renouncing of society--it hasexcited more bad feelings than I thought had existence in my nature. "

"Mr. Stackpole, " said Mrs. Evelyn, "would you ever have supposed thatroses could be a cause of discord?"

Mr. Stackpole looked as if he did not exactly know what the ladies weredriving at. 

"There have five thousand emigrants arrived at this port within a week!"said he, as if that were something worth talking about. 

"Poor creatures! where will they all go?" said Mrs. Evelyn comfortably. 

"Country's large enough, " said Thorn. 

"Yes, but such a stream of immigration will reach the Pacific and comeback again before long: and then there will be a meeting of the waters!This tide of German and Irish will sweep over everything. "

"I suppose if the land will not bear both, one party will have to seekother quarters, " said Mrs. Evelyn with an exquisite satisfaction whichFleda could hear in her voice. "You remember the story of Lot and Abraham, Mr. Stackpole, --when a quarrel arose between them?--not about roses. "

Mr. Stackpole looked as if women were--to say the least--incomprehensible. 

"Five thousand a week!" he repeated. 

"I wish there was a Dead Sea for them all to sheer off into!" said Thorn. 

"If you had seen the look of grave rebuke that speech called forth, Mr. Thorn, " said Constance, "your feelings would have been penetrated--if youhave any. "

"I had forgotten, " he said, looking round with a bland change ofmanner, --"what gentle charities were so near me. "

"Mamma!" said Constance with a most comic shew of indignation, --"Mr. Thorn thought that with Miss Ringgan he had forgotten all the gentlecharities in the room!--I am of no further use to society!--I will troubleyou to ring that bell, Mr. Thorn, if you please. I shall request candlesand retire to the privacy of my own apartment!"

"Not till you have permitted me to expiate my fault!" said Mr. Thorn laughing. 

"It cannot be expiated!--My worth will be known at some future day. --Mr. Carleton, _will_ you have the goodness to summon our domestic attendant?"

"If you will permit me to give the order, " he said smiling, with his handon the bell. "I am afraid you are hardly fit to be trusted alone. "

"Why?"

"May I delay obeying you long enough to give my reasons?"

"Yes. "

"Because, " said he coming up to her, "when people turn away from the worldin disgust they generally find worse company in themselves. "

"Mr. Carleton!--I would not sit still another minute, if curiosity didn'tkeep me. I thought solitude was said to be such a corrector?"

"Like a clear atmosphere--an excellent medium if your object is to take anobservation of your position--worse than lost if you mean to shut up thewindows and burn sickly lights of your own. "

"Then according to that one shouldn't seek solitude unless onedoesn't want it. "

"No, " said Mr. Carleton, with that eye of deep meaning to which Constancealways rendered involuntary homage, --"every one wants it;--if we do notdaily take an observation to find where we are, we are sailing aboutwildly and do not know whither we are going. "

"An observation?" said Constance, understanding part and impatient of notcatching the whole of his meaning. 

"Yes, " he said with a smile of singular fascination, --"I mean, consultingthe unerring guides of the way to know where we are and if we are sailingsafely and happily in the right direction--otherwise we are in danger ofstriking upon some rock or of never making the harbour; and in eithercase, all is lost. "

The power of eye and smile was too much for Constance, as it had happenedmore than once before; her own eyes fell and for a moment she wore a lookof unwonted sadness and sweetness, at what from any other person wouldhave roused her mockery. 

"Mr. Carleton, " said she, trying to rally herself but still not daring tolook up, knowing that would put it out of her power, --"I can't understandhow you ever came to be such a grave person. "

"What is your idea of gravity?" said he smiling. "To have a mind so atrest about the future as to be able to enjoy thoroughly all that is worthenjoying in the present?"

"But I can't imagine how _you_ ever came to take up such notions. "

"May I ask again, why not I?"

"O you know--you have so much to make you otherwise. "

"What degree of present contentment ought to make one satisfied to leavethat of the limitless future an uncertain thing?"

"Do you think it can be made certain?"

"Undoubtedly!--why not? the tickets are free--the only thing is to makesure that ours has the true signature. Do you think the possession of thatticket makes life a sadder thing? The very handwriting of it is moreprecious to me, by far, Miss Constance, than everything else I have. "

"But you are a very uncommon instance, " said Constance, still unable tolook up, and speaking without any of her usual attempt at jocularity. 

"No, I hope not, " he said quietly. 

"I mean, " said Constance, "that it is very uncommon language to hear froma person like you. "

"I suppose I know your meaning, " he said after a minute's pause;--"but, Miss Constance, there is hardly a graver thought to me than that power andresponsibility go hand in hand. "

"It don't generally work so, " said Constance rather uneasily. 

"What are you talking about, Constance?" said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"Mr. Carleton, mamma, --has been making me melancholy. "

"Mr. Carleton, " said Mrs. Evelyn, "I am going to petition that you willturn your efforts in another direction--I have felt oppressed all theafternoon from the effects of that funeral service I was attending--I amonly just getting over it. The preacher seemed to delight in puttingtogether all the gloomy thoughts he could think of. "

"Yes!" said Mr. Stackpole, putting his hands in his pockets, --"it is theparticular enjoyment of some of them, I believe, to do their best to makeother people miserable. "

Mr. Thorn said nothing, being warned by the impatient little hammering ofFleda's worsted needle upon the marble, while her eye was no longerconsidering her work, and her face rested anxiously upon her hand. 

"There wasn't a thing, " the lady went on, --"in anything he said, in hisprayer or his speech, --there wasn't a single cheering or elevatingconsideration, --all he talked and prayed for was that the people theremight be filled with a sense of their wickedness--"

"It's their trade, ma'am, " said Mr. Stackpole, --"it's their trade! Iwonder if it ever occurs to them to include themselves in that petition. "

"There wasn't the slightest effort made in anything he said or prayedfor, --and one would have thought that would have been so natural!--therewas not the least endeavour to do away with that superstitious fear ofdeath which is so common--and one would think it was the very occasion todo it;--he never once asked that we might be led to look upon itrationally and calmly. --It's so unreasonable, Mr. Stackpole--it is sodissonant with our views of a benevolent Supreme Being--as if it could beaccording to _his_ will that his creatures should live lives oftormenting themselves--it so shews a want of trust in his goodness!"

"It's a relic of barbarism, ma'am, " said Mr. Stackpole;--"it's a populardelusion--and it is like to be, till you can get men to embrace wider andmore liberal views of things. "

"What do you suppose it proceeds from?" said Mr. Carleton, as if thequestion 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 be butshifting the question back one generation. "

"It is a root of barbarous ages, " said Mr. Stackpole, --"a piece ofsuperstition handed down from father to son--a set of false ideaswhich men are bred up and almost born with, and that they can hardlyget rid of. "

"How can that be a root of barbarism, which the utmost degree ofintelligence and cultivation has no power to do away, nor even to lessen, however it may afford motive to control? Men may often put a brave faceupon it and shew none of their thoughts to the world; but I think no onecapable of reflection has not at times felt the influence of that dread. "

"Men have often sought death, of purpose and choice, " said Mr. Stackpoledryly and rubbing his chin. 

"Not from the absence of this feeling, but from the greater momentarypressure of some other. "

"Of course, " said Mr. Stackpole, rubbing his chin still, --there is anatural love of life--the world could not get on if there was not. "

"If the love of life is natural, the fear of death must be so, by thesame reason. "

"Undoubtedly, " said Mrs. Evelyn, "it is natural--it is part of theconstitution of our nature. "

"Yes, " said Mr. Stackpole, settling himself again in his chair with hishands in his pockets--"it is not unnatural, I suppose, --but then that isthe first view of the subject--it is the business of reason to correctmany impressions and prejudices that are, as we say, natural. "

"And there was where my clergyman of to-day failed utterly, " said Mrs. Evelyn;--"he aimed at strengthening that feeling and driving it down ashard as he could into everybody's mind--not a single lisp of anything todo it away or lessen the gloom with which we are, naturally as you say, disposed to invest the subject. "

"I dare say he has held it up as a bugbear till it has become one tohimself, " said Mr. Stackpole. 

"It is nothing more than the mere natural dread of dissolution, " saidMr. 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--anuneasy misgiving that there may be issues which the spirit is notprepared to meet?"

"I suppose there is, " said Mrs. Evelyn, --"but sir--"

"Why that is the very thing, " said Mr. Stackpole, --"that is the mischiefof education I was speaking of--men are brought up to it. "

"You cannot dispose of it so, sir, for this feeling is quite as universalas the other; and so strong that men have not only been willing to renderlife miserable but even to endure death itself, with all the aggravationof torture, to smooth their way in that unknown region beyond. "

"It is one of the maladies of human nature, " said Mr. Stackpole, --"thatit remains for the progress of enlightened reason to dispel. "

"What is the cure for the malady?" said Mr. Carleton quietly. 

"Why sir!--the looking upon death as a necessary step in the course of ourexistence which simply introduces us from a lower to a highersphere, --from a comparatively narrow to a wider and nobler range offeeling and intellect. "

"Ay--but how shall we be sure that it is so?"

"Why Mr. Carleton, sir, " said Mrs. Evelyn, --"do you doubt that? Do yousuppose it possible for a moment that a benevolent being would makecreatures to be anything but happy?"

"You believe the Bible, Mrs. Evelyn?" he said smiling slightly. 

"Certainly, sir; but Mr. Carleton, the Bible I am sure holds out the sameviews of the goodness and glory of the Creator; you cannot open it but youfind them on every page. If I could take such views of things as somepeople have, " said Mrs. Evelyn, getting up to punch the fire in herextremity, --"I don't know what I should do!--Mr. Carleton, I think I wouldrather never have been born, sir!"

"Every one runs to the Bible!" said Mr. Stackpole. "It is the generalarmoury, and all parties draw from it to fight each other. "

"True, " said Mr. Carleton, --"but only while they draw partially. No mancan fight the battle of truth but in the whole panoply; and no man soarmed can fight any other. "

"What do you mean, sir?"

"I mean that the Bible is not a riddle, neither inconsistent withitself; but if you take off one leg of a pair of compasses the measuringpower is gone. "

"But Mr. Carleton, sir, " said Mrs. Evelyn, --"do you think that readingthe Bible is calculated to give one gloomy ideas of the future?"

"By no means, " he said with one of those meaning-fraught smiles, --"butis it safe, Mrs. Evelyn, in such a matter, to venture a single grasp ofhope without the direct warrant of God's word?"

"Well, sir?"

"Well, ma'am, --that says, 'the soul that sinneth, it shall die. '"

"That disposes of the whole matter comfortably at once, " said Mr. Stackpole. 

"But, sir, " said Mrs. Evelyn, --"that doesn't stand alone--the Bibleeverywhere speaks of the fulness and freeness of Christ's salvation?"

"Full and free as it can possibly be, " he answered with something of a sadexpression of countenance;--"but, Mrs. Evelyn, _never offered but withconditions_. "

"What conditions?" said Mr. Stackpole hastily. 

"I recommend you to look for them, sir, " answered Mr. Carleton, gravely;--"they should not be unknown to a wise man. "

"Then you would leave mankind ridden by this nightmare of fear?--or whatis your remedy?"

"There is a remedy, sir, " said Mr. Carleton, with that dilating anddarkening eye which shewed him deeply engaged in what he was thinkingabout;--"it is not mine. When men feel themselves lost and are willing tobe saved in God's way, then the breach is made up--then hope can lookacross the gap and see its best home and its best friend on the otherside--then faith lays hold on forgiveness and trembling is done--then, sinbeing pardoned, the sting of death is taken away and the fear of death isno more, for it is swallowed up in victory. But men will not apply to aphysician while they think themselves well; and people will not seek thesweet way of safety by Christ till they know there is no other; and so, doyou see, Mrs. Evelyn, that when the gentleman you were speaking of soughtto-day to persuade his hearers that they were poorer than they thoughtthey were, he was but taking the surest way to bring them to be madericher than they ever dreamed. "

There was a power of gentle earnestness in his eye that Mrs Evelyn couldnot answer; her look fell as that of Constance had done, and there was amoment's silence. 

Thorn had kept quiet, for two reasons--that he might not displease Fleda, and that he might watch her. She had left her work, and turning half roundfrom the table had listened intently to the conversation, towards the lastvery forgetful that there might be anybody to observe her, --with eyesfixed, and cheeks flushing, and the corners of the mouth just indicatingdelight, --till the silence fell; and then she turned round to the tableand took up her worsted-work. But the lips were quite grave now, andThorn's keen eyes discerned that upon one or two of the artificial rosesthere lay two or three very natural drops. 

"Mr. Carleton, " said Edith, "what makes you talk such sober things?--youhave set Miss Ringgan to crying. "

"Mr. Carleton could not be better pleased than at such a tribute to hiseloquence, " said Mr. Thorn with a saturnine expression. 

"Smiles are common things, " said Mr. Stackpole a little maliciously; "butany man may be flattered to find his words drop diamonds. "

"Fleda my dear, " said Mrs. Evelyn, with that trembling tone of concealedecstasy which always set every one of Fleda's nerves a jarring, --"you maytell the gentlemen that they do not always know when they are making anunfelicitous compliment--I never read what poets say about 'briny drops'and 'salt tears' without imagining the heroine immediately to be somethinglike Lot's wife. "

"Nobody said anything about briny drops, mamma, " said Edith. "Why there'sFlorence!--"

Her entrance made a little bustle, which Fleda was very glad of. Unkind!--She was trembling again in every finger. She bent down over hercanvas and worked away as hard as she could. That did not hinder herbecoming aware presently that Mr. Carleton was standing close beside her. 

"Are you not trying your eyes?" said he. 

The words were nothing, but the tone was a great deal, there was a kind ofquiet intelligence in it. Fleda looked up, and something in the clearsteady self-reliant eye she met wrought an instant change in her feeling. She met it a moment and then looked at her work again with nerves quieted. 

"Cannot I persuade them to be of my mind?" said Mr. Carleton, bending downa little nearer to their sphere of action. 

"Mr. Carleton is unreasonable, to require more testimony of that thisevening, " said Mr. Thorn;--"his own must have been ill employed. "

Fleda did not look up, but the absolute quietness of Mr. Carleton's mannercould be felt; she felt it, almost with sympathetic pain. Thornimmediately left them and took leave. 

"What are you searching for in the papers, Mr. Carleton?" said Mrs. Evelynpresently coming up to them. 

"I was looking for the steamers, Mrs. Evelyn. "

"How soon do you think of bidding us good-bye?"

"I do not know, ma'am, " he answered coolly--"I expect my mother. "

Mrs. Evelyn walked back to her sofa. 

But in the space of two minutes she came over to the centre-table again, with an open magazine in her hand. 

"Mr. Carleton, " said the lady, "you must read this for me and tell mewhat you think of it, will you sir? I have been shewing it to Mr. Stackpole and he can't see any beauty in it, and I tell him it is hisfault and there is some serious want in his composition. Now I want toknow what you will say to it. "

"An arbiter, Mrs. Evelyn, should be chosen by both parties. "

"Read it and tell me what you think!" repeated the lady, walking away toleave him opportunity. Mr. Carleton looked it over. 

"That is something pretty, " he said putting it before Fleda. Mrs. Evelynwas still at a distance. 

"What do you think of that print for trying the eyes?" said Fleda laughingas she took it. But he noticed that her colour rose a little. 

"How do you like it?"

"I like it, --pretty well, " said Fleda rather hesitatingly. 

"You have seen it before?"

"Why?" Fleda said, with a look up at him at once a little startled and alittle curious;--"what makes you say so?"

"Because--pardon me--you did not read it. "

"Oh, " said Fleda laughing, but colouring at the same time very frankly, "Ican tell how I like some things without reading them very carefully. "

Mr. Carleton looked at her, and then took the magazine again. 

"What have you there, Mr. Carleton?" said Florence. 

"A piece of English on which I was asking this lady's opinion, MissEvelyn. "

"Now, Mr. Carleton!" exclaimed Constance jumping up, --"I am going to askyou to decide a quarrel between Fleda and me about a point of English"--

"Hush, Constance!" said her mother, --"I want to speak to Mr. Carleton--Mr. Carleton, how do you like it?"

"Like what, mamma?" said Florence. 

"A piece I gave Mr. Carleton to read. Mr. Carleton, tell how youlike it, sir. "

"But what is it, mamma?"

"A piece of poetry in an old Excelsior--'The Spirit of the Fireside. ' Mr. Carleton, won't you read it aloud, and let us all hear--but tell me firstwhat you think of it. "

"It has pleased me particularly, Mrs. Evelyn. "

"Mr. Stackpole says he does not understand it, sir. "

"Fanciful, " said Mr. Stackpole, --"it's a little fanciful--and I can'tquite make out what the fancy is. "

"It has been the misfortune of many good things before not to be prized, Mr. Stackpole, " said the lady funnily. 

"True, ma'am, " said that gentleman rubbing his chin--"and the converse isalso true unfortunately, --and with a much wider application. "

"There is a peculiarity of mental development or training, " said Mr. Carleton, "which must fail of pleasing many minds because of their wantingthe corresponding key of nature or experience. Some literature has ahidden freemasonry of its own. "

"Very hidden indeed!" said Mr. Stackpole;--"the cloud is so thick that Ican't see the electricity!"

"Mr. Carleton, " said Mrs. Evelyn laughing, "I take that remark as acompliment, sir. I have always appreciated that writer's pieces--I enjoythem very much. "

"Well, won't you please read it, Mr. Carleton?" said Florence, "and let usknow what we are talking about. "

Mr. Carleton obeyed, standing where he was by the centre-table. 

 "By the old hearthstone a Spirit dwells, The child of bygone years, -- He lieth hid the stones amid, And liveth on smiles and tears. 

 "But when the night is drawing on, And the fire burns clear and bright, He Cometh out and walketh about, In the pleasant grave twilight. 

 "He goeth round on tiptoe soft, And scanneth close each face; If one in the room be sunk in gloom, By him he taketh his place. 

 "And then with fingers cool and soft, (Their touch who does not know) With water brought from the well of Thought, That was dug long years ago, "He layeth his hand on the weary eyes-- They are closed and quiet now;-- And he wipeth away the dust of the day Which had settled on the brow. 

 "And gently then he walketh away And sits in the corner chair; And the closed eyes swim--it seemeth to _him_ The form that once sat there. 

 "And whispered words of comfort and love Fall sweet on the ear of sorrow;-- 'Why weepest thou?--thou art troubled now, But there cometh a bright to-morrow. 

 "'We too have passed over life's wild stream In a frail and shattered boat, But the pilot was sure--and we sailed secure When we seemed but scarce afloat. 

 "'Though tossed by the rage of waves and wind, The bark held together still, -- One arm was strong--it bore us along, And has saved from every ill. '

 "The Spirit returns to his hiding-place, But his words have been like balm. The big tears start--but the fluttering heart Is soothed and softened and calm. "

"I remember that, " said Florence;--"it is beautiful. "

"Who's the writer?" said Mr. Stackpole. 

"I don't know, " said Mrs. Evelyn, --"it is signed 'Hugh'--there have beena good many of his pieces in the Excelsior for a year past--and all ofthem pretty. "

"Hugh!" exclaimed Edith springing forward, --"that's the one that wrote theChestnuts!--Fleda, won't you read Mr. Carleton the Chestnuts?"

"Why no, Edith, I think not. "

"Ah do! I like it so much, and I want him to hear it, --and you know mammasays they're all pretty. Won't you?"

"My dear Edith, you have heard it once already to day. "

"But I want you to read it for me again. "

"Let me have it, Miss Edith, " said Mr. Carleton smiling, --"I will readit for you. "

"Ah but it would be twice as good if you could hear her read it, " saidEdith, fluttering over the leaves of the magazine, --"she reads it so well. It's so funny--about the coffee and buckwheat cakes. "

"What is that, Edith?" said her mother. 

"Something Mr. Carleton is going to read for me, mamma. "

"Don't you trouble Mr. Carleton. "

"It won't trouble him, mamma--he promised of his own accord. "

"Let us all have the benefit of it, Mr. Carleton, " said the lady. 

It is worthy of remark that Fleda's politeness utterly deserted her duringthe reading of both this piece and the last. She as near as possibleturned her back upon the reader. 

 "Merrily sang the crickets forth One fair October night;-- And the stars looked down, and the northern crown Gave its strange fantastic light. 

 "A nipping frost was in the air, On flowers and grass it fell; And the leaves were still on the eastern hill As if touched by a fairy spell. 

 "To the very top of the tall nut-trees The frost-king seemed to ride; With his wand he stirs the chestnut burs, And straight they are opened wide. 

 "And squirrels and children together dream Of the coming winter's hoard; And many, I ween, are the chestnuts seen In hole or in garret stored. 

 "The children are sleeping in feather-beds-- Poor Bun in his mossy nest, -- _He_ courts repose with his tail on his nose. On the others warm blankets rest. 

 "Late in the morning the sun gets up From behind the village spire; And the children dream, that the first red gleam Is the chestnut trees on fire!

 "The squirrel had on when he first awoke All the clothing he could command; And his breakfast was light--he just took a bite Of an acorn that lay at hand;

 "And then he was off to the trees to work;-- While the children some time it takes To dress and to eat what _they_ think meet Of coffee and buckwheat cakes. 

 "The sparkling frost when they first go out, Lies thick upon all around; And earth and grass, as they onward pass, Give a pleasant crackling sound. 

 "O there is a heap of chestnuts, see!' Cried the youngest of the train; For they came to a stone where the squirrel had thrown What he meant to pick up again. 

 "And two bright eyes from the tree o'erhead, Looked down at the open bag Where the nuts went in--and so to begin, Almost made his courage flag. 

 "Away on the hill, outside the wood, Three giant trees there stand; And the chestnuts bright that hang in sight, Are eyed by the youthful band. 

 "And one of their number climbs the tree, And passes from bough to bough, -- And the children run--for with pelting fun The nuts fall thickly now. 

 "Some of the burs are still shut tight, -- Some open with chestnuts three, -- And some nuts fall with no burs at all-- Smooth, shiny, as nuts should be. 

 "O who can tell what fun it was To see the prickly shower! To feel what a whack on head or back. Was within a chestnut's power!--

 "To run beneath the shaking tree, And then to scamper away; And with laughing shout to dance about The grass where the chestnuts lay. 

 "With flowing dresses, and blowing hair, And eyes that no shadow knew, -- Like the growing light of a morning bright--- The dawn of the summer blue!

 "The work was ended--the trees were stripped-- The children were 'tired of play. ' And they forgot (but the squirrel did not) The wrong they had done that day. "

Whether it was from the reader's enjoyment or good giving of these lines, or from Edith's delight in them, he was frequently interrupted with burstsof laughter. 

"I can understand _that_" said Mr. Stackpole, "without any difficulty. "

"You are not lost in the mysteries of chestnuting in open daylight, " saidMrs. Evelyn. 

"Mr. Carleton, " said Edith, "wouldn't you have taken the squirrel'schestnuts?"

"I believe I should, Miss Edith, --if I had not been hindered. "

"But what would have hindered you? don't you think it was right?"

"Ask your friend Miss Ringgan what she thinks of it, " said he smiling. 

"Now Mr. Carleton, " said Constance as he threw down the magazine, "willyou decide that point of English between Miss Ringgan and me?"

"I should like to hear the pleadings on both sides, Miss Constance. "

"Well, Fleda, will you agree to submit it to Mr. Carleton?"

"I must know by what standards Mr. Carleton will be guided before I agreeto any such thing, " said Fleda. 

"Standards! but aren't you going to trust anybody in anything withoutknowing what standards they go by?"

"Would that be a safe rule to follow in general?" said Fleda smiling. 

"You won't be a true woman if you don't follow it, sooner or later, mydear Fleda, " said Mrs. Evelyn. "Every woman must. "

"The later the better, ma'am, I cannot help thinking. "

"You will change your mind, " said Mrs. Evelyn complacently. 

"Mamma's notions, Mr. Stackpole, would satisfy any man's pride, when sheis expatiating upon the subject of woman's dependence, " said Florence. 

"The dependence of affection, " said Mrs. Evelyn. "Of course! It's theirlot. Affection always leads a true woman to merge her separate judgment, on anything, in the judgment of the beloved object. "

"Ay, " said Fleda laughing, --"suppose her affection is wasted on anobject that has none?"

"My dear Fleda!" said Mrs. Evelyn with a funny expression, --"thatcan never be, you know--don't you remember what your favouriteLongfellow says--'affection never is wasted'?--Florence, my love, just hand me 'Evangeline' there--I want you to listen to it, Mr. Stackpole--here it is--

 'Talk not of wasted affection; affection never was wasted; If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters returning Back to their springs shall fill them full of refreshment. That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain. '"

"How very plain it is that was written by a man!" said Fleda. 

"Why?" said Mr. Carleton laughing. 

"I always thought it was so exquisite!" said Florence. 

"_I_ was so struck with it, " said Constance, "that I have been lookingever since for an object to waste _my_ affections upon. "

"Hush, Constance!" said her mother. "Don't you like it, Mr. Carleton?"

"I should like to hear Miss Ringgan's commentary, " said Mr. Stackpole;--"I can't anticipate it. I should have said the sentiment was quite soft andtender enough for a woman. "

"Don't you agree with it, Mr. Carleton, " repeated Mrs. Evelyn. 

"I beg leave to second Mr. Stackpole's motion, " he said smiling. 

"Fleda my dear, you must explain yourself, --the gentlemen are at a stand. "

"I believe, Mrs. Evelyn, " said Fleda smiling and blushing, --I am of themind of the old woman who couldn't bear to see anything wasted. "

"But the assertion is that it _isn't_ wasted, " said Mr. Stackpole. 

"'That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain, '"said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"Yes, to flood and lay waste the fair growth of nature, " said Fleda with alittle energy, though her colour rose and rose higher. 

"Did it never occur to you, Mrs. Evelyn, that the streams which fertilizeas they flow do but desolate if their course be checked?"

"But your objection lies only against the author's figure, " said Mr. Stackpole;--"come to the fact. "

"I was speaking as he did, sir, of the fact under the figure--I did notmean to separate them. "

Both the gentlemen were smiling, though with very different expression. 

"Perhaps, " said Mr. Carleton, "the writer was thinking of a gentler andmore diffusive flow of kind feeling, which however it may meet with barrenground and raise no fruit there, is sure in due time to come back, heaven-refined, to refresh and replenish its source. "

"Perhaps so, " said Fleda with a very pleased answering look, --"I do notrecollect how it is brought in--I may have answered rather Mrs. Evelynthan Mr. Longfellow. "

"But granting that it is an error, " said Mr. Stackpole, "as you understoodit, --what shews it to have been made by a man?"

"Its utter ignorance of the subject, sir. "

"You think _they_ never waste their affections?" said he. 

"By no means! but I think they rarely waste so much in any one directionas to leave them quite impoverished. "

"Mr. Carleton, how do you bear that, sir?" said Mrs. Evelyn. "Will you letsuch an assertion pass unchecked?"

"I would not if I could help it, Mrs. Evelyn. "

"That isn't saying much for yourself, " said Constance;--"but Fleda mydear, where did you get such an experience of waste and desolation?"

"Oh, 'man is a microcosm, ' you know, " said Fleda lightly. 

"But you make it out that only one-half of mankind can appropriate thataxiom, " said Mr. Stackpole. "How can a woman know _men's_ hearts so well?"

"On the principle that the whole is greater than a part?" said Mr. Carleton smiling. 

"I'll sleep upon that before I give my opinion, " said Mr. Stackpole. "Mrs. Evelyn, good-evening!--"

"Well Mr. Carleton!" said Constance, "you have said a great deal forwomen's minds. "

"Some women's minds, " he said with a smile. 

"And some men's minds, " said Fleda. "I was speaking only in the general. "

Her eye half unconsciously reiterated her meaning as she shook hands withMr. Carleton. And without speaking a word for other people to hear, hislook and smile in return were more than an answer. Fleda sat for sometime after he was gone trying to think what it was in eye and lip whichhad given her so much pleasure. She could not make out anything butapprobation, --the look of loving approbation that one gives to a goodchild; but she thought it had also something of that quietintelligence--a silent communication of sympathy which the others incompany 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 a few minutes. 

"Giving a good account, I hope, ma'am, " said Fleda smiling. 

"I shall tell her I think sea-breezes have an unfavourable effect uponyou, " said Mrs. Evelyn;--"that I am afraid you are growing pale; and thatyou have clearly expressed yourself in favour of a garden at Queechyrather than any lot in the city--or anywhere else;--so she had better sendfor you home immediately. "

Fleda tried to find out what the lady really meant; but Mrs. Evelyn'sdelighted amusement did not consist with making the matter veryplain. Fleda's questions did nothing but aggravate the cause of them, to her own annoyance; so she was fain at last to take her light andgo to her own room. 

She looked at her flowers again with a renewal of the first pleasure andof the quieting influence the giver of them had exercised over her thatevening; thought again how very kind it was of him to send them, and tochoose them so; how strikingly he differed from other people; how glad shewas to have seen him again, and how more than glad that he was so happilychanged from his old self. And then from that change and the cause of it, to those higher, more tranquilizing, and sweetening influences that own nokindred with earth's dust and descend like the dew of heaven to lay andfertilize it. And when she laid herself down to sleep it was with a spiritgrave but simply happy; every annoyance and unkindness as unfelt now asever the parching heat of a few hours before when the stars are abroad. 

Chapter XXXVII. 

 A snake bedded himself under the threshold of a country house. 

 L'Estrange. 

To Fleda's very great satisfaction Mr. Thorn was not seen again forseveral days. It would have been to her very great comfort too if he couldhave been permitted to die out of mind as well as out of sight; but he wasbrought up before her "lots of times, " till poor Fleda almost felt as ifshe was really in the moral neighbourhood of the Dead Sea, every naturalgrowth of pleasure was so withered under the barren spirit of raillery. Sea-breezes were never so disagreeable since winds blew; and nervous andfidgety again whenever Mr. Carleton was present, Fleda retreated to herwork and the table 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 her head, the absurdity ofwhich, she thought, was only equalled by their needlessness. "As much asshe could" she withdrew; but that was not entirely; now and then interestmade her forget herself, and quitting her needle she would give eyes andattention to the principal speaker as frankly as he could have desired. Bad weather and bad roads for those days put riding out of the question. 

One morning she was called down to see a gentleman, and came eschewing inadvance the expected image of Mr. Thorn. It was a very different person. 

"Charlton Rossitur! My dear Charlton, how do you do? Where did youcome from?"

"You had better ask me what I have come for, " he said laughing as he shookhands with her. 

"What have you come for?"

"To carry you home. "

"Home!" said Fleda. 

"I am going up there for a day or two, and mamma wrote me I had better actas your escort, which of course I am most willing to do. See what mammasays to you. "

"When are you going, Charlton?" said Fleda as she broke the seal of thenote he gave her. 

"To-morrow morning. "

"That is too sudden a notice, Capt. Rossitur, " said Mrs. Evelyn. "Fledawill hurry herself out of her colour, and then your mother will say thereis something in sea-breezes that isn't good for her; and then she willnever trust her within reach of them again, --which I am sure Miss Ringganwould be sorry for. "

Fleda took her note to the window, half angry with herself that a kind ofbanter in which certainly there was very little wit should have powerenough to disturb her. But though the shaft might be a slight one it waswinged with a will; the intensity of Mrs. Evelyn's enjoyment in her ownmischief gave it all the force that was wanting. Fleda's head was inconfusion; she read her aunt's note three times over before she had madeup her mind on any point respecting it. 

"My Dearest Fleda, Charlton is coming home for a day or two--hadn't you better take theopportunity to return with him? I feel as if you had been long away, mydear child--don't you feel so too? Your uncle is very desirous of seeingyou; and as for Hugh and me we are but half ourselves. I would not stillsay a word about your coming home if it were for your good to stay; but Ifancy from something in Mrs. Evelyn's letter that Queechy air will by thistime do you good again; and opportunities of making the journey are veryuncertain. My heart has grown lighter since I gave it leave to expect you. Yours, my darling, L. R. 

"P. S. I will write to Mrs. E. Soon. "

"What string has pulled these wires that are twitching me home?" thoughtFleda, as her eyes went over and over the words which the feeling of thelines of her face would alone have told her were unwelcome. And whyunwelcome?--"One likes to be moved by fair means and not by foul, " was theimmediate answer. "And besides, it is very disagreeable to be taken bysurprise. Whenever, in any matter of my staying or going, did aunt Lucyhave any wish but my pleasure?" Fleda mused a little while; and then witha perfect understanding of the machinery that had been at work, though anextremely vague and repulsed notion of the spring that had moved it, shecame quietly out from her window and told Charlton she would go with him. 

"But not to-morrow?" said Mrs. Evelyn composedly. "You will not hurry heroff so soon as that, Capt. Rossitur?"

"Furloughs are the stubbornest things in the world, Mrs. Evelyn; there isno spirit of accommodation about them. Mine lies between to-morrow morningand one other morning some two days thereafter; and you might as soonpersuade Atlas to change his place. Will you be ready, coz?"

"I will be ready, " said Fleda; and her cousin departed. 

"Now my dear Fleda" said Mrs. Evelyn, but it was with that funny face, asshe saw Fleda standing thoughtfully before the fire, --you must be verycareful in getting your things together--"

"Why, Mrs. Evelyn?"

"I am afraid you will leave something behind you, my love. "

"I will take care of that, ma'am, and that I may I will go and see aboutit at once. "

Very busy till dinner-time; she would not let herself stop to think aboutanything. At dinner Mr. Evelyn openly expressed his regrets for her goingand his earnest wishes that she would at least stay till the holidayswere over. 

"Don't you know Fleda better, papa, " said Florence, "than to try to makeher alter her mind? When she says a thing is determined upon, I know thereis nothing to do but to submit, with as good a grace as you can. "

"I tried to make Capt. Rossitur leave her a little longer, " said Mrs. Evelyn; "but he says furloughs are immovable, and his begins to-morrowmorning--so he was immovable too. I should keep her notwithstanding, though, if her aunt Lucy hadn't sent for her. "

"Well see what she wants, and come back again, " said Mr. Evelyn. 

"Thank you, sir, " said Fleda smiling gratefully, --"I think notthis winter. "

"There are two or three of my friends that will be confoundedly takenaback, " said Mr. Evelyn, carefully helping himself to gravy. 

"I expect that an immediate depopulation of New York will commence, " saidConstance, --"and go on till the heights about Queechy are all thicklysettled with elegant country-seats, --which is the conventional term for aspecies of mouse trap!"

"Hush, you baggage!" said her father. "Fleda, I wish you could spare her alittle of your common-sense, to go through the world with. "

"Papa thinks, you see, my dear, that you have _more than enough_--which isnot perhaps precisely the compliment he intended. "

"I take the full benefit of his and yours, " said Fleda smiling. 

After dinner she had just time to run down to the library to bid Dr. Gregory good-bye; her last walk in the city. It wasn't a walk sheenjoyed much. 

"Going to-morrow, " said he. "Why I am going to Boston in a week--you hadbetter stay and go with me. "

"I can't now, uncle Orrin--I am dislodged--and you know there is nothingto do then but to go. "

"Come and stay with me till next week. "

But Fleda said it was best not, and went home to finish her preparations. 

She had no chance till late, for several gentlemen spent the evening withthem. Mr. Carleton was there part of the time, but he was one of the firstto go; and Fleda could not find an opportunity to say that she should notsee him again. Her timidity would not allow her to make one. But itgrieved her. 

At last she escaped to her own room, where most of her packing was stillto do. By the time half the floor and all the bed was strewn withneat-looking piles of things, the varieties of her modest wardrobe, Florence and Constance came in to see and talk with her, and sat down onthe floor too; partly perhaps because the chairs were all bespoken in theservice of boxes and baskets, and partly to follow what seemed to be theprevailing style of things. 

"What do you suppose has become of Mr. Thorn?" said Constance. "I have apresentiment that you will find him cracking nuts sociably with Mr. Rossitur or drinking one of aunt Lucy's excellent cups of coffee--incomfortable expectation of your return. "

"If I thought that I should stay here, " said Fleda. "My dear, those were_my_ cups of coffee!"

"I wish I could make you think it then, " said Constance. 

"But you are glad to go home, aren't you, Fleda?" said Florence. 

"She isn't!" said her sister. "She knows mamma contemplates making agrand entertainment of all the Jews as soon as she is gone. What _does_mamma mean by that, Fleda?--I observe you comprehend her with mostinvariable quickness. "

"I should be puzzled to explain all that your mother means, " said Fledagently, as she went on bestowing her things in the trunk. "No--I am notparticularly glad to go home--but I fancy it is time. I am afraid I havegrown too accustomed to your luxury of life, and want knocking about toharden me a little. "

"Harden you!" said Constance. "My dear Fleda, you are under a delusion. Why should any one go through an indurating process?--will you inform me?"

"I don't say that every one should, " said Fleda, --"but isn't it well forthose whose lot does not lie among soft things?"

There was extreme sweetness and a touching insinuation in her manner, andboth the young ladies were silent for sometime thereafter watchingsomewhat wistfully the gentle hands and face that were so quietly busy;till the room was cleared again and looked remarkably empty with Fleda'strunk standing in the middle of it. And then reminding them that shewanted some sleep to fit her for the hardening process and must thereforesend them away, she was left alone. 

One thing Fleda had put off till then--the care of her bunch of flowers. They were beautiful still. They had given her a very great deal ofpleasure; and she was determined they should be left to no servant's handsto be flung into the street. If it had been summer she was sure she couldhave got buds from them; as it was, perhaps she might strike somecuttings; at all events they should go home with her. So carefully takingthem out of the water and wrapping the ends in some fresh earth she hadgot that very afternoon from her uncle's garden, Fleda bestowed them inthe corner of her trunk that she had left for them, and went to bed, feeling weary in body, and in mind to the last degree quiet. 

In the same mind and mood she reached Queechy the next afternoon. It was alittle before January--just the same time that she had come home lastyear. As then, it was a bright day, and the country was again coveredthick with the unspotted snow; but Fleda forgot to think how bright andfresh it was. Somehow she did not feel this time quite so glad to findherself there. It had never occurred to her so strongly before thatQueechy could want anything. 

This feeling flew away before the first glimpse of her aunt's smile, andfor half an hour after Fleda would have certified that Queechy wantednothing. At the end of that time came in Mr. Rossitur. His greeting ofCharlton was sufficiently unmarked; but eye and lip wakened when heturned to Fleda. 

"My dear child, " he said, holding her face in both his hands, --how lovelyyou have grown!"

"That's only because you have forgotten her, father, " said Hugh laughing. 

[Illustration: "My dear child, " he said, holding her face in both hishands. ]

It was a very lovely face just then. Mr. Rossitur gazed into it a momentand again kissed first one cheek and then the other, and then suddenlywithdrew his hands and turned away, with an air--Fleda could not tellwhat to make of it--an air that struck her with an immediate feeling ofpain; somewhat as if for some cause or other he had nothing to do withher or her loveliness. And she needed not to see him walk the room forthree minutes to know that Michigan agencies had done nothing to lightenhis brow or uncloud his character. If this had wanted confirmation Fledawould have found it in her aunt's face. She soon discovered, even in thecourse of the pleasant talkative hours before supper, that it was notbrightened as she had expected to find it by her uncle's coming home; andher ears now caught painfully the occasional long breath, but halfsmothered, which told of a burden upon the heart but half concealed. Fleda supposed that Mr. Rossitur's business affairs at the West must havedisappointed him; and resolved not to remember that Michigan was in themap of North America. 

Still they talked on, through the afternoon and evening, all of themexcept him; he was moody and silent. Fleda felt the cloud overshadow sadlyher own gayety; but Mrs. Rossitur and Hugh were accustomed to it, andCharlton was much too tall a light to come under any external obscurationwhatever. He was descanting brilliantly upon the doings and prospects atFort Hamilton where he was stationed, much to the entertainment of hismother and brother. Fleda could not listen to him while his father wassitting lost in something not half so pleasant as sleep in the corner ofthe sofa. Her eyes watched him stealthily till she could not bear it anylonger. She resolved to bring the power of her sunbeam to bear, and goinground seated herself on the sofa close by him and laid her hand on hisarm. He felt it immediately. The arm was instantly drawn away to be putaround her and Fleda was pressed nearer to his side, while the other handtook hers; and his lips were again on her forehead. 

"And how do you like me for a farmer, uncle Rolf?" she said looking up athim laughingly, and then fearing immediately that she had chosen hersubject ill. Not from any change in his countenance however, --thatdecidedly brightened up. He did not answer at once. 

"My child--you make me ashamed of mankind!"

"Of the dominant half of them, sir, do you mean?" said Charlton, --"or isyour observation a sweeping one?"

"It would sweep the greatest part of the world into the background, sir, "answered his father dryly, "if its sense were the general rule. "

"And what has Fleda done to be such a besom of desolation?"

Fleda's laugh set everybody else a going, and there was immediately morelife and common feeling in the society than had been all day. They allseemed willing to shake off a weight, and even Fleda, in the endeavour tochase the gloom that hung over others, as it had often happened, lost halfof her own. 

"But still I am not answered, " said Charlton when they were grave again. "What has Fleda done to put such a libel upon mankind?"

"You should call it a _label_, as Dr. Quackenboss does, " said Fleda in afresh burst, --"he says he never would stand being labelled!"--

"But come back to the point, " said Charlton, --"I want to know what is the_label_ in this case, that Fleda's doings put upon those of other people?"

"Insignificance, " said his father dryly. 

"I should like to know how bestowed, " said Charlton. 

"Don't enlighten him, uncle Rolf, " said Fleda laughing, --"let my doingsremain in safe obscurity, --please!"

"I stand as a representative of mankind, " said Charlton, "and I demand anexplanation. "

"Look at what this slight frame and delicate nerves have been foundequal to, and then tell me if the broad shoulders of all your mess wouldhave borne half the burden or their united heads accomplished a quarterthe results. "

He spoke with sufficient depth of meaning, though now with no unpleasantexpression. But Charlton notwithstanding rather gathered himself up. 

"O uncle Rolf, " said Fleda gently, --"nerves and muscles haven't much to dowith it--after all you know I have just served the place of a mouth-piece. Seth was the head, and good Earl Douglass the hand. "

"I am ashamed of myself and of mankind, " Mr. Rossitur repeated, "when Isee what mere weakness can do, and how proudly valueless strength iscontended to be. You are looking, Capt. Rossitur, --but after all a cap andplume really makes a man taller only to the eye. "

"When I have flung my plume in anybody's face, sir, " said Charlton ratherhotly, "it will be time enough to throw it back again. "

Mrs. Rossitur put her hand on his arm and looked her remonstrance. 

"Are you glad to be home again, dear Fleda?" she said turning to her. 

But Fleda was making some smiling communications to her uncle and did notseem to hear. 

"Fleda does it seem pleasant to be here again?"

"Very pleasant, dear aunt Lucy--though I have had a very pleasantvisit too. "

"On the whole you do not wish you were at this moment driving out of townin Mr. Thorn's cabriolet?" said her cousin. 

"Not in the least, " said Fleda coolly. "How did you know I ever didsuch a thing?"

"I wonder what should bring Mr. Thorn to Queechy at this time of year, "said Hugh. 

Fleda started at this confirmation of Constance's words; and what was veryodd, she could not get rid of the impression that Mr. Rossitur had startedtoo. Perhaps it was only her own nerves, but he had certainly taken awaythe arm that was round her. 

"I suppose he has followed Miss Ringgan, " said Charlton gravely. 

"No, " said Hugh, "he has been here some little time. "

"Then he preceded her, I suppose, to see and get the sleighs in order. "

"He did not know I was coming, " said Fleda. 

"Didn't!"

"No--I have not seen him for several days. "

"My dear little cousin, " said Charlton laughing, --"you are not a witch inyour own affairs, whatever you may be in those of other people. "

"Why, Charlton?"

"You are no adept in the art of concealment. "

"I have nothing to conceal, " said Fleda. "How do you know he ishere, Hugh?"

"I was anxiously asked the other day, " said Hugh with a slight smile, "whether you had come home; and then told that Mr. Thorn was in Queechy. There is no mistake about it, for my imformant had actually seen him, andgiven him the direction to Mr. Plumfield's, for which he was inquiring. "

"The direction to Mr. Plumfield's!" said Fleda. 

"What's your old friend Mr. Carleton doing in New York?" said Charlton. 

"Is he there still?" said Mrs. Rossitur. 

"As large as life, " answered her son. 

"Which, though you might not suppose it, aunt Lucy, is about the height ofCapt. Rossitur, with--I should judge--a trifle less weight. "

"Your eyes are observant!" said Charlton. 

"Of a good many things, " said Fleda lightly. 

"He is _not_ my height by half an inch, " said Charlton;--"I am just sixfeet without my boots. "

"An excellent height!" said Fleda, --"'your six feet was ever theonly height. '"

"Who said that?" said Charlton. 

"Isn't it enough that I say it?"

"What's he staying here for?"

"I don't know really, " said Fleda. "It's very difficult to tell whatpeople do things for. "

"Have you seen much of him?" said Mrs. Rossitur. 

"Yes ma'am--a good deal--he was often at Mrs. Evelyn's. "

"Is he going to marry one of her daughters?"

"Oh no!" said Fleda smiling, --"he isn't thinking of such a thing;--not inAmerica--I don't know what he may do in England. "

"No!" said Charlton. --"I suppose he would think himself contaminated bymatching with any blood in this hemisphere. "

"You do him injustice, " said Fleda, colouring;--"you do not know him, Charlton. "

"You do?"

"Much better than that. "

"And he is not one of the most touch-me-not pieces of English birth andwealth that ever stood upon their own dignity?"

"Not at all!" said Fleda;--"how people may be misunderstood!--he is oneof the most gentle and kind persons I ever saw. "

"To you!"

"To everybody that deserves it. "

"Humph!--And not proud?"

"No, not as you understand it, "--and she felt it was very difficult tomake him understand it, as the discovery involved a very offensiveimplication;--"he is too fine a character to be proud. "

"That _is_ arguing in a circle with a vengeance!" said Charlton. 

"I know what you are thinking of, " said Fleda, "and I suppose it passesfor pride with a great many people who cannot comprehend it--he has asingular power of quietly rebuking wrong, and keeping impertinence at adistance--where Capt. Rossitur, for instance, I suppose, would throw hiscap in a man's face, Mr. Carleton's mere silence would make the offenderdoff his and ask pardon. "

The manner in which this was said precluded all taking offence. 

"Well, " said Charlton shrugging his shoulders, --"then I don't know whatpride is--that's all!"

"Take care, Capt. Rossitur, " said Fleda laughing, --"I have heard of such athing as American pride before now. "

"Certainly!" said Charlton, "and I'm quite willing--but it never reachesquite such a towering height on our side the water. "

"I am sure I don't know how that may be, " said Fleda, "but I know I haveheard a lady, an enlightened, gentle-tempered American lady, so called, --Ihave heard her talk to a poor Irish woman with whom she had nothing in theworld to do, in a style that moved my indignation--it stirred myblood!--and there 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 a right to lookfor. But indeed I wouldn't take the blood of all the Howards for anysecurity--pride as well as high-breeding is a thing of natural notadventitious growth--it belongs to character, not circumstance. "

"Do you know that your favourite Mr. Carleton is nearly connected withthose same Howards, and quarters their arms with his own?"

"I have a very vague idea of the dignity implied in that expression of'quartering arms, ' which comes so roundly out of your mouth, Charlton, "said Fleda laughing. "No, I didn't know it. But in general I am apt tothink that pride is a thing which reverses the usual rules ofarchitecture, and builds highest on the narrowest foundations. "

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind, " said Fleda, --"if a meaning isn't plain it isn't worthlooking after. But it will not do to measure pride by its supposedmaterials. It does not depend on them but on the individual. Youeverywhere see people assert that most of which they feel least sure, andthen it is easy for them to conclude that where there is so much more ofthe reality there must be proportionably more of the assertion. I wishsome of our gentlemen, and ladies, who talk of pride where they see andcan see nothing but the habit of wealth--I wish they could see theuniversal politeness with which Mr. Carleton returns the salutes of hisinferiors. Not more respectfully they lift their hats to him than he liftshis to them--unless when he speaks. "

"You have seen it?"

"Often. "

"Where?"

"In England--at his own place--among his own servants and dependents. Iremember very well--it struck even my childish eyes. "

"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 not like thatlady you were talking of--it would be very unfair to make her a sample. Idon't think I ever heard any one speak so in my life--you never heard mespeak so. "

"Dear aunt Lucy!--no, --I was only giving instance for instance. I have noidea that Mr. Carleton is a type of Englishmen in general--I wish he were. But I think it is the very people that cry out against superiority, whoare the most happy to assert their own where they can; the same jealousfeeling that repines on the one hand, revenges itself on the other. "

"Superiority of what kind?" said Charlton stiffly. 

"Of any kind--superiority of wealth, or refinement, or name, or standing. Now it does not follow that an Englishman is proud because he keepsliveried servants, and it by no means follows that an American lacks theessence of haughtiness because he finds fault with him for doing so. "

"I dare say some of our neighbours think we are proud, " said Hugh, "Because we use silver forks instead of steel. "

"Because we're _too good for steel forks_, you ought to say, " said Fleda. "I am sure they think so. I have been given to understand as much. Barby, I believe, has a good opinion of us and charitably concludes that we meanright; but some other of our country friends would think I was far gone inuppishness if they knew that I never touch fish with a steel knife; and itwouldn't mend the matter much to tell them that the combination offlavours is disagreeable to me--it hardly suits the doctrine of libertyand equality that my palate should be so much nicer than theirs. "

"Absurd!" said Charlton. 

"Very, " said Fleda; "but on which side, in all probability, is the pride?"

"It wasn't for liveried servants that I charged Mr. Carleton, " said hercousin. "How do the Evelyns like this paragon of yours?"

"O everybody likes him, " said Fleda smiling, --"except you and your friendMr. Thorn. "

"Thorn don't like him, eh?"

"I think not. "

"What do you suppose is the reason?" said Charlton gravely. 

"I don't think Mr. Thorn is particularly apt to like anybody, " said Fleda, who knew very well the original cause of both exceptions but did not liketo advert to it. 

"Apparently you don't like Mr. Thorn?" said Mr. Rossitur, speaking for thefirst time. 

"I don't know who does, sir, much, --except his mother. "

"What is he?"

"A man not wanting in parts, sir, and with considerable force ofcharacter, --but I am afraid more for ill than for good. I should be verysorry to trust him with anything dear to me. "

"How long were you in forming that opinion?" said Charlton looking at hercuriously. 

"It was formed, substantially, the first evening I saw him, and I harenever seen cause to alter it since. "

The several members of the family therewith fell into a general muse, withthe single exception of Hugh, whose eyes and thoughts seemed to beoccupied with Fleda's living presence. Mr. Rossitur then requested thatbreakfast might be ready very early--at six o'clock. 

"Six o'clock!" exclaimed Mrs. Rossitur. 

"I have to take a long ride, on business, which must be done earlyin the day. "

"When will you be back?"

"Not before night-fall. "

"But going on _another_ business journey!" said Mrs. Rossitur. "You havebut just these few hours come home from one. "

"Cannot breakfast be ready?"

"Yes, uncle Rolf, " said Fleda bringing her bright face before him, --"readyat half-past five if you like--now that _I_ am to the fore, you know. "

He clasped her to his breast and kissed her again; but with a face so verygrave that Fleda was glad nobody else saw it. 

Then Charlton went, averring that he wanted at least a night and a halfof sleep between two such journeys as the one of that day and the onebefore him on the next, --especially as he must resign himself to goingwithout anything to eat. Him also Fleda laughingly promised that preciselyhalf an hour before the stage time a cup of coffee and a roll should besmoking on the table, with whatever substantial appendages might be withinthe 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 isa favour taken, not given; and I am entirely ignorant what you have doneto deserve it. "

"You make a curious difference between me and Hugh, " said Charlton, halfin jest, half in earnest. 

"Hugh is my brother, Capt. Rossitur, " said Fleda smiling, --and that is anhonour you never made any pretensions to. "

"Come, you shall not say that any more, " said he, taking the kiss thatFleda had no mind to give him. 

Half laughing, but with eyes that were all too ready for something else, she turned again to Hugh when his brother had left the room and lookedwistfully in his face, stroking back the hair from his temples with acaressing hand. 

"You are just as you were when I left you!--" she said, with lips thatseemed too unsteady to say more, and remained parted. 

"I am afraid so are you, " he replied;--"not a bit fatter. I hoped youwould be. "

"What have you been smiling at so this evening?"

"I was thinking how well you talked. "

"Why Hugh!--You should have helped me--I talked too much. "

"I would much rather listen, " said Hugh. "Dear Fleda, what a differentthing the house is with you in it!"

Fleda said nothing, except an inexplicable little shake of her head whichsaid a great many things; and then she and her aunt were left alone. Mrs. Rossitur drew her to her bosom with a look so exceeding fond that itssadness was hardly discernible. It was mingled however with an expressionof some doubt. 

"What has made you keep so thin?"

"I have been very well, aunt Lucy, --thinness agrees with me. "

"Are you glad to be home again, dear Fleda?"

"I am very glad to be with you, dear aunt Lucy!"

"But not glad to be home?"

"Yes I am, " said Fleda, --"but somehow--I don't know--I believe I have gota little spoiled--it is time I was at home I am sure. --I shall be quiteglad after a day or two, when I have got into the works again. I am gladnow, aunt Lucy. "

Mrs. Rossitur seemed unsatisfied, and stroked the hair from Fleda'sforehead with an absent look. 

"What was there in New York that you were so sorry to leave?"

"Nothing ma'am, in particular, "--said Fleda brightly, --"and I am notsorry, aunt Lucy--I tell you I am a little spoiled with company and easyliving--I am glad to be with you again. "

Mrs. Rossitur was silent. 

"Don't you get up to uncle Rolf's breakfast to-morrow, aunt Lucy. "

"Nor you. "

"I sha'n't unless I want to--but there'll be nothing for you to do, andyou must just lie still. We will all have our breakfast together whenCharlton has his. "

"You are the veriest sunbeam that ever came into a house, " said her auntkissing her. 

Chapter XXXVIII. 

 My flagging soul flies under her own pitch. 

 Dryden. 

Fleda mused as she went up stairs whether the sun were a luminous body tohimself or no, feeling herself at that moment dull enough. Bright, wasshe, to others? nothing seemed bright to her. Every old shadow was darkerthan ever. Her uncle's unchanged gloom, --her aunt's unrested face, --Hugh'sunaltered delicate sweet look, which always to her fancy seemed to writeupon his face, "Passing away!"--and the thickening prospects whence sprangthe miasm that infected the whole moral atmosphere--alas, yes!--"Money isa good thing, " thought Fleda;--"and poverty need not be a bad thing, ifpeople can take it right;--but if they take it wrong!--"

With a very drooping heart indeed she went to the window. Her old childishhabit had never been forgotten; whenever the moon or the stars were abroadFleda rarely failed to have a talk with them from her window. She stoodthere now, looking out into the cold still night, with eyes just dimmedwith tears--not that she lacked sadness enough, but she did lack spiritenough to cry. It was very still;--after the rattle and confusion of thecity streets, that extent of snow-covered country where the very shadowswere motionless--the entire absence of soil and of disturbance--the restof nature--the breathlessness of the very wind--all preached a quaint kindof sermon to Fleda. By the force of contrast they told her what shouldbe;--and there was more yet, --she thought that by the force of examplethey shewed what might be. Her eyes had not long travelled over thefamiliar old fields and fences before she came to the conclusion that shewas home in good time, --she thought she had been growing selfish, or indanger of it; and she made up her mind she was glad to be back again amongthe rough things of life, where she could do so much to smooth them forothers and her own spirit might grow to a polish it would never gain inthe regions of ease and pleasure. "To do life's work!"--thought Fledaclasping her hands, --"no matter where--and mine is here. I am glad I amin my place again--I was forgetting I had one. "

It was a face of strange purity and gravity that the moon shone upon, withno power to brighten as in past days; the shadows of life were upon thechild's brow. But nothing to brighten it from within? One sweet strong rayof other light suddenly found its way through the shadows and entered herheart. "The Lord reigneth! let the earth be glad!"--and then the moonbeamspouring down with equal ray upon all the unevennesses of this little worldseemed to say the same thing over and over. Even so! Not less equally hisprovidence touches all, --not less impartially his faithfulness guides. "The Lord reigneth! let the earth be glad!" There was brightness in themoonbeams now that Fleda could read this in them; she went to sleep, avery child again, with these words for her pillow. 

It was not six, and darkness yet filled the world, when Mr. Rossitur camedown stairs and softly opened the sitting-room door. But the home fairyhad been at work; he was greeted with such a blaze of cheerfulness asseemed to say what a dark place the world was everywhere but at home; hisbreakfast-table was standing ready, well set and well supplied; and evenas he entered by one door Fleda pushed open the other and came in from thekitchen, looking as if she had some strange spirit-like kindred with thecheery hearty glow which filled both rooms. 

"Fleda!--you up at this hour!"

"Yes, uncle Rolf, " she said coming forward to put her hands uponhis, --"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 busiedhimself gravely with some little matters of preparation for his journey. Evidently the gloom of last night was upon him yet. But Fleda had notwrought for praise, and could work without encouragement; neither step norhand slackened, till all she and Barby had made ready was in nice order onthe table and she was pouring out a cup of smoking coffee. 

"You are not fit to be up, " said Mr. Rossitur, looking at her, ---"you arepale now, Put yourself in that arm chair, Fleda, and go to sleep--I willdo this for myself. "

"No indeed, uncle Rolf, " she answered brightly, --"I have enjoyed gettingbreakfast very much at this out-of-the-way hour, and now I am going tohave the pleasure of seeing you eat it. Suppose you were to take a cup ofcoffee instead of my shoulder. "

He took it and sat down, but Fleda found that the pleasure of seeing himwas to be a very qualified thing. He ate like a business man, in unbrokensilence and gravity; and her cheerful words and looks got no return. Itbecame an effort at length to keep either bright. Mr. Rossitur's soleremarks during breakfast were to ask if Charlton was going back that day, and if Philetus was getting the horse ready. 

Mr. Skillcorn had been called in good time by Barby at Fleda's suggestion, and coming down stairs had opined discontentedly that "a man hadn't noright to be took out of bed in the morning afore he could see himself. "But this, and Barby's spirited reply, that "there was no chance of hisdoing _that_ at any time of day, so it was no use to wait, "--Fleda did notrepeat. Her uncle was in no humour to be amused. 

She expected almost that he would go off without speaking to her. But hecame up kindly to where she stood watching him. 

"You must bid me good-bye for all the family, uncle Rolf, as I am the onlyone here, " she said laughing. 

But she was sure that the embrace and kiss which followed were veryexclusively for her. They made her face almost as sober as his own. 

"There will be a blessing for you, " said he, --"if there is a blessinganywhere!"

"If, uncle Rolf?" said Fleda, her heart swelling to her eyes. 

He turned away without answering her. 

Fleda sat down in the easy chair then and cried. But that lasted very fewminutes; she soon left crying for herself to pray for him, that he mighthave the blessing he did not know. That did not stop tears. She rememberedthe poor man sick of the palsy who was brought in by friends to be healed, and that "Jesus seeing _their_ faith, said unto the sick of the palsy, 'Son, thy sins be forgiven thee. '" It was a handle that faith took hold ofand held fast while love made its petition. It was all she could do, shethought; _she_ never could venture to speak to her uncle on the subject. 

Weary and tired, tears and longing at length lost themselves in sleep. When she awaked she found the daylight broadly come, little King in herlap, the fire, instead of being burnt out, in perfect preservation, andBarby standing before it and looking at her. 

"You ha'n't got one speck o' good by _this_ journey to New York, " was MissElster's vexed salutation. 

"Do you think so?" said Fleda rousing herself. "_I_ wouldn't venture tosay as much as that, Barby. "

"If you have, 'tain't in your cheeks, " said Barby decidedly. "You lookjust as if you was made of anything that wouldn't stand wear, and thatisn't the way you used to look. "

"I have been up a good while without breakfast--my cheeks will be a bettercolour when I have had that, Barby--they feel pale. "

The second breakfast was a cheerfuller thing. But when the secondtraveller was despatched, and the rest fell back upon their old numbers, Fleda was very quiet again. It vexed her to be so, but she could notchange her mood. She felt as if she had been whirled along in a dream andwas now just opening her eyes to daylight and reality. And reality--shecould not help it--looked rather dull after dreamland. She thought it wasvery well she was waked up; but it cost her some effort to appear so. Andthen she charged herself with ingratitude, her aunt and Hugh were soexceedingly 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 hethinks there never was anything like it now. "

"Did you ever see finer ham, Fleda?" inquired her aunt. "Mr. Plumfieldsays it could not be better. "

"Very good!" said Fleda, whose thoughts had somehow got upon Mr. Carleton's notions about female education and were very busy with them. 

"I expected you would have remarked upon our potatoes, before now, "said Hugh. "These are the Elephants--have you seen anything like themin New York?"

"There cannot be more beautiful potatoes, " said Mrs. Rossitur. 

"We had not tried any of them before you went away, Fleda, had we?"

"I don't know, aunt Lucy!--no, I think not. "

"You needn't talk to Fleda, mother, " said Hugh laughing, --"she is quitebeyond attending to all such ordinary matters--her thoughts have learnedto take a higher flight since she has been in New York. "

"It is time they were brought down then, " said Fleda smiling; "but theyhave not learned to fly out of sight of home, Hugh. "

"Where were they, dear Fleda?" said her aunt. 

"I was thinking a minute ago of something I heard talked about in NewYork, aunt Lucy; and afterwards I was trying to find out by what possibleor imaginable road I had got round to it. "

"Could you tell?"

Fleda said no, and tried to bear her part in the conversation. But she didnot know whether to blame the subjects which had been brought forward, orherself, for her utter want of interest in them. She went into the kitchenfeeling dissatisfied with both. 

"Did you ever see potatoes that would beat them Elephants?" said Barby. 

"Never, certainly, " said Fleda with a most involuntary smile. 

"I never did, " said Barby. "They beat all, for bigness and goodnessboth. I can't keep 'em together. There's thousands of 'em, and I mean tomake Philetus eat 'em for supper--such potatoes and milk is good enoughfor him, or anybody. The cow has gained on her milk wonderful, Fleda, since she begun to have them roots fed out to her. "

"Which cow?" said Fleda. 

"Which cow?--why--the blue cow--there ain't none of the others that'sgiving any, to speak of, " said Barby looking at her. "Don't you know, --thecow you said them carrots should be kept for?"

Fleda half laughed, as there began to rise up before her the variousmagazines of vegetables, grain, hay, and fodder, that for many weeks hadbeen deliciously distant from her imagination. 

"I made butter for four weeks, I guess, after you went away, " Barby wenton;--"just come in here and see--and the carrots makes it as yellow andsweet as June--I churned as long as I had anything to churn, and longer;and now we live on cream--you can make some cheesecakes just as soon asyou're a mind to, --see! ain't that doing pretty well?--and fine itis, --put your nose down to it--"

"Bravely, Barby--and it is very sweet. "

"You ha'n't left nothing behind you in New York, have you?" said Barbywhen they returned to the kitchen. 

"Left anything! no, --what do you think I have left?"

"I didn't know but you might have forgotten to pack up your memory, " saidBarby dryly. 

Fleda laughed; and then in walked Mr. Douglass. 

"How d'ye do?" said he. "Got back again. I heerd you was hum, and so Ithought I'd just step up and see. Been getting along pretty well?"

Fleda answered, smiling internally at the wide distance between her"getting along" and his idea of it. 

"Well the hay's first-rate!" said Earl, taking off his hat and sittingdown in the nearest chair;--"I've been feedin' it out, now, for a goodspell, and I know what to think about it. We've been feedin' it out eversince some time this side o' the middle o' November;--I never seenothin' sweeter, and I don't want to see nothin' sweeter than it is! andthe cattle eats it like 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 thanks for it, and Idon't deserve none! 'Twa'n't thanks to none of _my_ fore-sightedness thatthe clover wa'n't served the old way. I didn't like new notions--and Inever did like new notions! and I never see much good of 'em;--but Isuppose there's some on 'em that ain't moon-shine--my woman says there is, and I suppose there is, and after this clover hay I'm willin' to allowthat there is! It's as sweet as a posie if you smell to it, --and all ofit's cured alike; and I think, Fleda, there's a quarter more weight of it. I ha'n't proved it nor weighed it, but I've an eye and a hand as good asmost folks', and I'll qualify to there being a fourth part more weight ofit;--and it's a beautiful colour. The critters is as fond of it as you andI be of strawberries. "

"Well that is satisfactory, Mr. Douglass, " said Fleda. "How is Mrs. Douglass? and Catherine?"

"I ha'n't heerd 'em sayin' nothin' about it, " he said, --"and if there wasanythin' the matter I suppose they'd let me know. There don't much gowrong in a man's house without his hearin' tell of it. So I think. Maybe'tain't the same in other men's houses. That's the way it is in mine. "

"Mrs. Douglass would not thank you, " said Fleda, wholly unable to keepfrom laughing. Earl's mouth gave way a very little, and then he went on. 

"How be you?" he said. "You ha'n't gained much, as I see. I don't see butyou're as poor as when you went away. "

"I am very well, Mr. Douglass. "

"I guess New York ain't the place to grow fat. Well, Fleda, there ha'n'tbeen seen in the whole country, or by any man in it, the like of the cropof corn we took off that 'ere twenty-acre lot--they're all beat to heartell of it--they won't believe me--Seth Plumfield ha'n't shewed as muchhimself--he says you're the best farmer in the state. "

"I hope he gives you part of the credit, Mr. Douglass;--how muchwas there?

"I'll take my share of credit whenever I can get it, " said Earl, "and Ithink it's right to take it, as long as you ha'n't nothing to be ashamedof; but I won't take no more than my share; and I will say I thought wewas a goin' to choke the corn to death when we seeded the field in thatway. --Well, there's better than two thousand bushel--more or less--and ashandsome corn as I want to see;--there never was handsomer corn. Wouldyou let it go for five shillings?--there's a man I've heerd of wants thehull of it. "

"Is that a good price, Mr. Douglass? Why don't you ask Mr. Rossitur?"

"Do you s'pose Mr. Rossitur knows much about it?" inquired Earl with acurious turn of feature, between sly and contemptuous. "The less he has todo with that heap of corn the bigger it'll be--that's my idee, _I_ ain'tagoin' to ask him 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 wiser in thematter o' farmin'. "

"But now that he is at home, Mr. Douglass, I certainly cannot decidewithout speaking to him. "

"Very good!" said Earl uneasily, --"'tain't no affair of mine--as youlike to have it so you'll have it--just as you please!--But now, Fleda, there's another thing I want to speak to you about--I want you to let metake hold of that 'ere piece of swamp land and bring it in. I knew a manthat fixed a piece 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 trees overthere--between them two little hills. There's six or seven acres ofit--nothin' in the world but mud and briars--will you let me take hold ofit? I'll do the hull job if you'll give me half the profits for oneyear. --Come over and look at it, and I'll tell you--come! the walk won'thurt you, and it ain't fur. "

All Fleda's inclinations said no, but she thought it was not best toindulge them. She put on her hood and went off with him; and was treatedto a long and most implicated detail of ways and means, from which she atlength disentangled the rationale of the matter and gave Mr. Douglass theconsent he asked for, promising to gain that of her uncle. 

The day was fair and mild, and in spite of weariness of body a certainweariness of mind prompted Fleda when she had got rid of Earl Douglass, togo and see her aunt Miriam. She went questioning with herself all the wayfor her want of good-will to these matters. True, they were not pleasantmind-work; but she tried to school herself into taking them patiently asgood life-work. She had had too much pleasant company and enjoyed too muchconversation, she said. It had unfitted her for home duties. 

Mrs. Plumfield, she knew, was no better. But her eye found no change forthe worse. The old lady was very glad to see her, and very cheerful andkind as usual. 

"Well are you glad to be home again?" said aunt Miriam after a pause inthe conversation. 

"Everybody asks me that question, " said Fleda smiling. 

"Perhaps for the same reason I did--because they thought you didn't lookvery glad. "

"I am glad--" said Fleda, --"but I believe not so glad as I was last year. "

"Why not

"I suppose I had a pleasanter time, I have got a little spoiled, Ibelieve, aunt Miriam, " Fleda said with glistening eyes and an alteringvoice, --"I don't take up my old cares and duties kindly at first--I shallbe myself again in a few days. "

Aunt Miriam looked at her with that fond, wistful, benevolent look whichmade Fleda turn away. 

"What has spoiled you, love?"

"Oh!--easy living and pleasure, I suppose--" Fleda said, but said withdifficulty. 

"Pleasure?"--said aunt Miriam, putting one arm gently round her. Fledastruggled with herself. 

"It is so pleasant, aunt Miriam, to forget these money cares!--to liftone's eyes from the ground and feel free to stretch out one's hand--not tobe obliged to think about spending sixpences, and to have one's mind atliberty for a great many things that I haven't time for here. AndHugh--and aunt Lucy--somehow things seem sad to me--"

Nothing could be more sympathizingly kind than the way in which auntMiriam brought Fleda closer to her side and wrapped her in her arms. 

"I am very foolish--" Fleda whispered, --"I am very wrong--I shall getover it--"

"I am afraid, dear Fleda, " Mrs. Plumfield said after a pause, --"it isn'tbest for us always to be without sad things--though I cannot bear to seeyour dear little face look sad--but it wouldn't fit us for the work wehave to do--it wouldn't fit us to stand where I stand now and lookforward happily. "

"Where you stand?" said Fleda raising her head. 

"Yes, and I would not be without a sorrow I have ever known. They arebitter now, when they are present, --but the sweet fruit comes after. "

"But what do you mean by 'where you stand'?"

"On the edge of life. "

"You do not think so, aunt Miriam!" Fleda said with a terrified look. "Youare not worse?"

"I don't expect ever to be better, " said Mrs. Plumfield with a smile. "Nay, my love, " she said, as Fleda's head went down on her bosomagain, --"not so! I do not wish it either, Fleda. I do not expect to leaveyou soon, but I would not prolong the time by a day. I would not havespoken of it now if I had recollected myself, --but I am so accustomed tothink and speak of it that it came out before I knew it. --My darlingchild, it is nothing to cry for. "

"I know it, aunt Miriam. "

"Then don't cry, " whispered aunt Miriam, when she had stroked Fleda's headfor five minutes. 

"I am crying for myself, aunt Miriam, " said Fleda. "I shall be leftalone. "

"Alone, my dear child?"

"Yes--there is nobody but you that I feel I can talk to. " She would haveadded that she dared not say a word to Hugh for fear of troubling him. Butthat pain at her heart stopped her, and pressing her hands together sheburst into bitter weeping. 

"Nobody to talk to but me?" said Mrs. Plumfield after again soothing herfor some time, --"what do you mean, dear?"

"O--I can't say anything to them at home, " said Fleda with a forcedeffort after voice;--"and you are the only one I can look to forhelp--Hugh never says anything--almost never--anything of that kind;--hewould rather others should counsel him--"

"There is one friend to whom you may always tell everything, with no fearof wearying him, --of whom you may at all times ask counsel without anydanger of being denied, --more dear, more precious, more rejoiced in, themore he is sought unto. Thou mayest lose friend after friend, and gainmore than thou losest, --in that one. "

"I know it, " said Fleda;--"but dear aunt Miriam, don't you think humannature longs for some human sympathy and help too?"

"My sweet blossom!--yes--" said Mrs. Plumfield caressingly stroking herbowed head, --"but let him do what he will;--he hath said, 'I will neverleave thee nor forsake thee. '"

"I know that too, " said Fleda weeping. "How do people bear life that donot know it!"

"Or that cannot take the comfort of it. Thou art not poor nor alone whilethou hast him to go to, little Fleda. --And you are not losing me yet, mychild; you will have time, I think, to grow as well satisfied as I withthe prospect. "

"Is that possible, --for _others_?" said Fleda. 

The mother sighed, as her son entered the room. 

He looked uncommonly grave, Fleda thought. That did not surprise her, butit seemed that it did his mother, for she asked an explanation. Whichhowever he did not give. 

"So you've got back from New York, " said he. 

"Just got back, yesterday, " said Fleda. 

"Why didn't you stay longer?"

"I thought my friends at home would be glad to see me, " said Fleda. "Was Imistaken?"

He made no answer for a minute, and then said, "Is your uncle at home?"

"No, " said Fleda, "he went away this morning on business, and we do notexpect him home before night-fall. Do you want to see him?"

"No, " said Seth very decidedly. "I wish he had staid in Michigan, or gonefurther west, --anywhere that Queechy'd never have heard of him. "

"Why what has he done?" said Fleda, looking up half laughing and halfamazed at her cousin. But his face was disagreeably dark, though she couldnot make out that the expression was one of displeasure. It did notencourage her to talk. 

"Do you know a man in New York of the name of Thorn?" he said afterstanding still a minute or two. 

"I know two men of that name, " said Fleda, colouring and wondering. 

"Is either on 'em a friend of your'n?"

"No. "

"He ain't?" said Mr. Plumfield, giving the forestick on the fire anenergetic kick which Fleda could not help thinking was mentally aimed atthe said New Yorker. 

"No certainly. What makes you ask?"

"O, " said Seth dryly, "folks' tongues will find work to do;--I heerd saysomething like that--I thought you must take to him more than I do. "

"Why what do you know of him?"

"He's been here a spell lately, " said Seth, --"poking round; more for illthan for good, I reckon. "

He turned and quitted the room abruptly; and Fleda bethought her that shemust go home while she had light enough. 

Chapter XXXIX. 

 Nothing could be more obliging and respectful than the lion's letter was, in appearance; but there was death in the true intent. --L'Estrange. 

The landscape had grown more dark since Fleda came up the hill, --or elsethe eyes that looked at it. Both probably. It was just after sundown, andthat is a very sober time of day in winter, especially in some states ofthe weather. The sun had left no largesses behind him; the scenery wasdeserted to all the coming poverty of night and looked grim and threadbarealready. Not one of the colours of prosperity left. The land was inmourning dress; all the ground and even the ice on the little mill-ponds auniform spread of white, while the hills were draperied with black stems, here just veiling the snow, and there on a side view making a thick foldof black. Every little unpainted workshop or mill shewed uncompromisinglyall its forbidding sharpness of angle and outline darkening against thetwilight. In better days perhaps some friendly tree had hung over it, shielding part of its faults and redeeming the rest. Now nothing but thegaunt skeleton of a friend stood there, --doubtless to bud forth again asfairly as ever should the season smile. Still and quiet all was, asFleda's spirit, and in too good harmony with it; she resolved to choosethe morning to go out in future. There was as little of the light ofspring or summer in her own mind as on the hills, and it was desirable tocatch at least a cheering reflection. She could rouse herself to no brightthoughts, try as she would; the happy voices of nature that used to speakto her were all hushed, --or her ear was deaf; and her eye met nothing thatdid not immediately fall in with the train of sad images that were passingthrough her mind and swell the procession. She was fain to fall back andstay herself upon these words, the only stand-by she could lay hold of;--

"To them who by patient continuance in well-doing seek for glory, andhonour, and immortality, eternal life!"--

They toned with the scene and with her spirit exactly; they suited thedarkening sky and the coming night; for "glory, honour, and immortality"are not now. They filled Fleda's mind, after they had once entered, andthen nature's sympathy was again as readily given; each barrenstern-looking hill in its guise of present desolation and calm expectancyseemed to echo softly, "patient continuance in well-doing. " And the tearstrembled then in Fleda's eyes; she had set her face, as the old Scotchmansays, "in the right airth. [Footnote: quarter, direction]" "How sweet isthe wind that bloweth out of the airth where Christ is!"

"Well, " said Hugh, who entered the kitchen with her, "you have been lateenough. Did you have a pleasant walk? You are pale, Fleda!"

"Yes, it was pleasant, " said Fleda with one of her winning smiles, --"akind of pleasant. But have you looked at the hills? They are exactly as ifthey had put on mourning--nothing but white and black--a crape-likedressing of black tree-stems upon the snowy face of the ground, and onevery slope and edge of the hills the crape lies in folds. Do look at itwhen you go out! It has a most curious effect. "

"Not pleasant, I should think, " said Hugh. 

"You'll see it is just as I have described it. No--not pleasantexactly--the landscape wants the sun to light it up just now--it is coldand wilderness looking. I think I'll take the morning in future. Whitherare you bound?"

"I must go over to Queechy Run for a minute, on business--I'll be homebefore supper--I should have been back by this time but Philetus has goneto bed with a headache and I had to take care of the cows. "

"Three times and out, " said Barby. "I won't try again. I didn't know asanything would be too powerful for his head; but I find as sure as he hasapple dumplin' for dinner he goes to bed for his supper and leaves thecows without none. And then Hugh has to take it. It has saved so manyElephants--that's one thing. "

Hugh went out by one door and Fleda by another entered the breakfast-room;the one generally used in winter for all purposes. Mrs. Rossitur sat therealone in an easy-chair; and Fleda no sooner caught the outline of herfigure than her heart sank at once to an unknown depth, --unknown beforeand unfathomable now. She was _cowering_ over the fire, --her head sunk inher hands, so crouching, that the line of neck and shoulders instantlyconveyed to Fleda the idea of fancied or felt degradation--there was noescaping it--how, whence, what, was all wild confusion. But the languageof mere attitude was so unmistakable, --the expression of crushing pain wasso strong, that after Fleda had fearfully made her way up beside her shecould do no more. She stood there tongue-tied, spell-bound, present tonothing but a nameless chill of fear and heart-sinking. She was afraid tospeak--afraid to touch her aunt, and abode motionless in the grasp of thatdread for minutes. But Mrs. Rossitur did not stir a hair, and the terrorof that stillness grew to be less endurable than any other. 

[Illustration: Mrs. Rossitur sat there alone. ]

Fleda spoke to her, --it did not win the shadow of a reply, --again andagain. She laid her hand then upon Mrs. Rossitur's shoulder, but the verysignificant answer to that was a shrinking gesture of the shoulder andneck, away from the hand. Fleda growing desperate then implored an answerin words--prayed for an explanation--with an intensity of distress invoice and manner, that no one whose ears were not stopped with a strongerfeeling could have been deaf to; but Mrs. Rossitur would not raise herhead, nor slacken in the least the clasp of the fingers that supported it, that of themselves in their relentless tension spoke what no words could. Fleda's trembling prayers were in vain, in vain. Poor nature at lastsought a woman's relief in tears--but they were heart-breaking, notheart-relieving tears--racking both mind and body more than they ought tobear, but bringing no cure. Mrs. Rossitur seemed as unconscious of herniece's mute agony as she had been of her agony of words; and it was fromFleda's own self-recollection alone that she fought off pain and rousedherself above weakness to do what the time called for. 

"Aunt Lucy, " she said laying her hand upon her shoulder, and this time thevoice was steady and the hand would not be shaken off, --"Aunt Lucy, --Hughwill be in presently--hadn't you better rouse yourself and go upstairs--for awhile?--till you are better?--and not let him see you so?--"

How the voice was broken and quivering before it got through!

The answer this time was a low long-drawn moan, so exceeding plaintive andfull of pain that it made Fleda shake like an aspen. But after a momentshe spoke again, bearing more heavily with her hand to mark her words. 

"I am afraid he will be in presently--he ought not to see you now--AuntLucy, I am afraid it might do him an injury he might not get over--"

She spoke with the strength of desperation; her nerves were unstrung byfear, and every joint weakened so that she could hardly support herself. She had not however spoken in vain; one or two convulsive shudders passedover her aunt, and then Mrs. Rossitur suddenly rose turning her face fromFleda; neither would she permit her to follow her. But Fleda thought shehad seen that one or two unfolded letters or papers of some kind, theylooked like letters, were in her lap when she raised her head. 

Left alone, Fleda sat down on the floor by the easy-chair and rested herhead there; waiting, --she could do nothing else, --till her extremeexcitement of body and mind should have quieted itself. She had a kind ofvague hope that time would do something for her before Hugh came in. Perhaps it did; for though she lay in a kind of stupor, and was consciousof no change whatever, she was able when she heard him coming to get upand sit in the chair in an ordinary attitude. But she looked like thewraith of herself an hour ago. 

"Fleda!" Hugh exclaimed as soon as he looked from the fire to herface, --"what is the matter?--what is the matter with you?"

"I am not very well--I don't feel very well, " said Fleda speaking almostmechanically, --"I shall have a headache to-morrow--"

"Headache! But you look shockingly! what has happened to you? what is thematter, Fleda?"

"I am not ill--I shall be better by and by. There is nothing the matterwith me that need trouble you, dear Hugh. "

"Nothing the matter with you!" said he, --and Fleda might see how shelooked in the reflection of his face, --"where's mother?"

"She is up-stairs--you mustn't go to her, Hugh!" said Fleda laying adetaining hand upon him with more strength than she thought she had, --"Idon't want anything. "

"Why mustn't I go to her?"

"I don't think she wants to be disturbed--"

"I must disturb her--"

"You musn't!--I know she don't--she isn't well--something has happened totrouble her--"

"What?"

"I don't know. "

"And is that what has troubled you too?" said Hugh, his countenancechanging as he gained more light on the subject;--"what is it, dearFleda?"

"I don't know, " repeated Fleda, bursting into tears. Hugh was quiet enoughnow, and sat down beside her, subdued and still, without even desiring toask a question. Fleda's tears flowed violently, for a minute, --then shechecked them, for his sake; and they sat motionless, without speaking toone another, looking into the fire and letting it die out before them intoembers and ashes, neither stirring to put a hand to it. As the fire diedthe moonlight streamed in, --how very dismal the room looked!

"What do you think about having tea?" said Barby opening the door ofthe kitchen. 

Neither felt it possible to answer her. 

"Mr. Rossitur ain't come home, is he?"

"No, " said Fleda shuddering. 

"So I thought, and so I told Seth Plumfield just now--he was asking forhim--My stars! ha'n't you no fire here? what did you let it go out for?"

Barby came in and began to build it up. 

"It's growing cold I can tell you, so you may as well have something inthe chimney to look at. You'll want it shortly if you don't now. "

"Was Mr. Plumfield here, did you say, Barby?"

"Yes. "

"Why didn't he come in?"

"I s'pose he hadn't a mind to, " said Barby. "Twa'n't for want of beingasked. I did the civil thing by him if he didn't by me;--but he said hedidn't want to see anybody but Mr. Rossitur. "

Did not wank to see anybody but Mr. Rossitur, when he had distinctly saidhe did not wish to see him? Fleda felt sick, merely from the mysteriousdread which could fasten upon nothing and therefore took in everything. 

"Well what about tea?" concluded Barby, when the fire was going accordingto her wishes. "Will you have it, or will you wait longer?"

"No--we won't wait--we will have it now, Barby, " said Fleda, forcingherself to make the exertion; and she went to the window to put downthe hangings. 

The moonlight was very bright, and Fleda's eye was caught in the very actof letting down the curtain, by a figure in the road slowly passing beforethe courtyard fence. It paused a moment by the horse-gate, and turningpaced slowly back till it was hid behind the rose acacias. There was aclump of shrubbery in that corner thick enough even in winter to serve fora screen. Fleda stood with the curtain in her hand, half let down, unableto move, and feeling almost as if the very currents of life within herwere standing still too. She thought, she was almost sure, she knew thefigure; it was on her tongue to ask Hugh to come and look, but she checkedthat. The form appeared again from behind the acacias, moving with thesame leisurely pace the other way towards the horse-gate. Fleda let downthe curtain, then the other two quietly, and then left the room and stolenoiselessly out at the front door, leaving it open that the sound of itmight not warn Hugh 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 for the cold within, --while theperson she was watching stood still a lew moments by the horse-gate andcame again with leisurely steps towards her. 

"Seth Plumfield!"--said Fleda, almost as much frightened at the sound ofher own voice as he was. He stopped immediately, with a start, and came upto the little gate behind which she was standing. But said nothing. 

"What are you doing here?"

"You oughtn't to be out without anything on, " said he, --"you're fixing totake your death. "

He had good reason to say so. But she gave him no more heed than the wind. 

"What are you waiting here for? What do you want?"

"I have nothing better to do with my time, " said he;--"I thought I'd walkup and down here a little. You go in!"

"Are you waiting to see uncle Rolf?" she said, with teeth chattering. 

"You mustn't stay out here, " said he earnestly--"you're like nothingbut a spook this minute--I'd rather see one, or a hull army of 'em. Goin, go in!"

"Tell me if you want to see him, Seth. "

"No I don't--I told you I didn't. "

"Then why are you waiting for him?"

"I thought I'd see if he was coming home to-night--I had a word to say ifI could catch him before he got into the house. "

"_Is_ he coming home to-night?" said Fleda. 

"I don't know!" said he looking at her. "Do you?"

Fleda burst open the gate between them and putting her hands on hisimplored him to tell her what was the matter. He looked singularlydisturbed; his fine eye twinkled with compassion; but his face, never aweak one, shewed no signs of yielding now. 

"The matter is, " said he pressing hard both her hands, "that you arefixing to be down sick in your bed by to-morrow. You mustn't stayanother second. "

"Come in then. "

"No--not to-night. "

"You won't tell me!--"

"There is nothing I can tell you--Maybe there'll be nothing to tell--Runin, run in, and keep quiet. "

Fleda hurried back to the house, feeling that she had gone to the limit ofrisk already. Not daring to show herself to Hugh in her chilled state ofbody and mind she went into the kitchen. 

"Why what on earth's come over you?" was Barby's terrified ejaculationwhen she saw her. 

"I have been out and got myself cold--"

"Cold!" said Barby, --"you're looking dreadful! What on earth ailsyou, Fleda?"

"Don't ask me, Barby, " said Fleda hiding her face in her hands andshivering, --"I made myself very cold just now--Aunt Lucy doesn't feel verywell and I got frightened, " she added presently. 

"What's the matter with her?"

"I don't know--if you'll make me a cup of tea I'll take it up toher, Barby. "

"You put yourself down there, " said Barby placing her with gentle force ina chair, --"you'll do no such a thing till I see you look as if there wassome blood in you. I'll take it up myself. "

But Fleda held her, though with a hand much too feeble indeed for any butmoral suasion. It was enough. Barby stood silently and very anxiouslywatching her, till the fire had removed the outward chill at least. Buteven that took long to do, and before it was well done Fleda again askedfor the cup of tea. Barby made it without a word, and Fleda went to heraunt with it, taking her strength from the sheer emergency. Her kneestrembled under her as she mounted the stairs, and once a glimpse of thosewords flitted across her mind, --"patient continuance in well-doing. " Itwas like a lightning flash in a dark night shewing the way one must go. She could lay 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 was unfastened, and shewent in. Mrs. Rossitur was lying on the bed; but her first mood hadchanged, for at Fleda's soft word and touch she half rose up and puttingboth arms round her waist laid her face against her. There were no tearsstill, only a succession of low moans, so inexpressibly weak and plaintivethat Fleda's nature could hardly bear them without giving way. A morefragile support was never clung to. Yet her trembling fingers, in theiragony moved caressingly among her aunt's hair and over her brow as shebegged her--when she could, she was not able at first--to let her know thecause that was grieving her. The straightened clasp of Mrs. Rossitur'sarms and her increased moaning gave only an answer of pain. But Fledarepeated the question. Mrs. Rossitur still neglecting it, then made hersit down upon the bed, so that she could lay her head higher, on Fleda'sbosom; where she hid it, with a mingling of fondness given and asked, apoor seeking for comfort and rest, that wrung her niece's heart. 

They sat so for a little time; Fleda hoping that her aunt would by degreescome to the point herself. The tea stood cooling on the table, not evenoffered; not wanted there. 

"Wouldn't you feel better if you told me, dear aunt Lucy?" said Fleda, when they had been for a little while perfectly still. Even the moaninghad ceased. 

"Is your uncle come home?" whispered Mrs. Rossitur, but so low that Fledacould but half catch the words. 

"Not yet. "

"What o'clock is it?"

"I don't know--not early--it must be near eight. --Why?"

"You have not heard anything of him?"

"No--nothing. "

There was silence again for a little, and then Mrs. Rossitur said in a lowfearful whisper, "Have you seen anybody round the house?"

Fleda's thoughts flew to Seth, with that nameless fear to which shecould give neither shape nor direction, and after a moment'shesitation 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 clew that she had not, for with a half scream, halfexclamation, she quitted Fleda's arms and fell back upon the pillows, turning from her and hiding her face there. Fleda prayed again for herconfidence, as well as the weakness and the strength of fear could do;and Mrs. Rossitur presently grasping a paper that lay on the bed heldit out to her, saying only as Fleda was about quitting the room, "Bringme a light. "

Fleda left the letter there and went down to fetch one. She commandedherself under the excitement and necessity of the moment, --all but herface; that terrified Barby exceedingly. But she spoke with a strangedegree of calmness; told her Mrs. Rossitur was not alarmingly ill; thatshe did not need Barby's services and wished to see nobody but herselfand didn't want a fire. As she was passing through the hall again Hughcame out of the sitting-room to ask after his mother. Fleda kept thelight from her face. 

"She does not want to be disturbed--I hope she will be better to-morrow. "

"What is the matter, Fleda?"

"I don't know yet. "

"And you are ill yourself, Fleda!--you are ill!--"

"No--I shall do very well--never mind me. Hugh, take some tea--I will bedown by and by. "

He went back, and Fieda went up stairs. Mrs. Rossitur had not moved. Fledaset down the light and herself beside it, with the paper her aunt hadgiven her. It was a letter. 

"Queechy, _Thursday_--

"It gives me great concern, my dear madam, to be the means of bringing toyou a piece of painful information--but it cannot be long kept from yourknowledge and you may perhaps learn it better from me than by any otherchannel. May I entreat you not to be too much alarmed, since I amconfident the cause will be of short duration. 

"Pardon me for what I am about to say. 

"There are proceedings entered into against Mr. Rossitur--there are writsout against him--on the charge of having, some years ago, endorsed myfather's name upon a note of his own giving. --Why it has lain so long Icannot explain. There is unhappily no doubt of the fact. 

"I was in Queechy some days ago, on business of my own, when I becameaware that this was going on--my father had made no mention of it to me. Iimmediately took strict measures--I am happy to say I believe withcomplete success, --to have the matter kept a profound secret. I then mademy way as fast as possible to New York to confer on the subject with theoriginal mover of it--unfortunately I was disappointed. My father had leftfor a neighbouring city, to be absent several days. Finding myself toolate to prevent, as I had hoped to do, any open steps from being taken atQueechy, I returned hither immediately to enforce secrecy of proceedingsand to assure you, madam, that my utmost exertions shall not be wantingto bring the whole matter to a speedy and satisfactory termination. Ientertain no doubt of being able to succeed entirely--even to the point ofhaving the whole transaction remain unknown and unsuspected by the world. It is so entirely as yet, with the exception of one or two law-officerswhose silence I have means of procuring. 

"May I confess that I am not entirely disinterested? May the selfishnessof human nature ask its reward, and own its moving spring? May I own thatmy zeal in this cause is quickened by the unspeakable excellencies of Mr. Rossitur's lovely niece--which I have learned to appreciate with my whole_heart_--and be forgiven?--And may I hope for the kind offices andintercession of the lady I have the honour of addressing, with her nieceMiss Ringgan, that my reward, --the single word of encouragement I askfor, --may be given me?--Having that, I will promise anything--I willguaranty the success of any enterprise, however difficult, to which shemay impel me, --and I will undertake that the matter which furnishes thepainful theme of this letter shall never more be spoken or thought of, bythe world, or my father, or by Mrs. Rossitur's

obliged, grateful, andfaithful servant, Lewis Thorn. "

Fleda felt as she read as if icicles were gathering about her heart. Thewhirlwind of fear and distress of a little while ago which could take nodefinite direction, seemed to have died away and given place to a deadfrost--the steady bearing 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 landscape could neverbe made to smile again. It was the fall of a bright star from their homeconstellation; but alas! the star was fallen long ago, and the failure oflight which they had deplored was all too easily accounted for; yet nowthey knew that no restoration was to be hoped. And the mother andson--what would become of them? And the father--what would become of him?what further distress was in store?--_Public_ disgrace?--and Fleda bowedher head forward on her clasped hands with the mechanical, vain endeavourto seek rest or shelter from thought. She made nothing of Mr. Thorn'sprofessions; she took only the facts of his letter; the rest her eye hadglanced over as if she had no concern with it, and it hardly occurred toher that she had any. But the sense of his words she had taken in, andknew, better perhaps than her aunt, that there was nothing to look forfrom his kind offices. The weight on her heart was too great just then forher to suspect as she did afterwards that he was the sole mover of thewhole affair. 

As the first confusion of thought cleared away, two images of distressloomed up and filled the view, --her aunt, broken under the news, and Hughstill unknowing to them; her own separate existence Fleda was hardlyconscious of. Hugh especially, --how was he to be told, and how could hebear to hear? with his most sensitive conformation of both physical andmoral nature. And if an arrest should take place there that night!--Fledashuddered, and unable to go on thinking rose up and went to her aunt'sbedside. It had not entered her mind till the moment she read Mr. Thorn'sletter that Seth Plumfield was sheriff for the county. She was shakingagain from head to foot with fear. She could not say anything--the touchof her lips to the throbbing temples, soft and tender as sympathy itself, was all she ventured. 

"Have you heard anything of him?" Mrs. Rossitur whispered. 

"No--I doubt if we do at all to-night. "

There was a half breathed "Oh!--" of indescribable pain and longing; andwith a restless change of position Mrs. Rossitur gathered herself up onthe bed and sat with her head leaning on her knees. Fleda brought a largecloak and put it round her. 

"I am in no danger, " she said, --"I wish I were!"

Again Fleda's lips softly, tremblingly, touched her cheek. 

Mrs. Rossitur put her arm round her and drew her down to her side, uponthe bed; and wrapped half of the big cloak about her; and they sat therestill in each other's arms, without speaking or weeping, while quarterafter quarter of an hour passed away, --nobody knew how many. And the coldbright moonlight streamed in on the floor, mocking them. 

"Go!" whispered Mrs. Rossitur at last, --"go down stairs and take care ofyourself--and Hugh. "

"Won't you come?"

Mrs. Rossitur shook her head. 

"Mayn't I bring you something?--do let me!"

But Mrs. Rossitur's shake of the head was decisive. Fleda crawled off thebed, feeling as if a month's illness had been making its ravages upon herframe and strength. She stood a moment to collect her thoughts; but alas, thinking was impossible; there was a palsy upon her mind. She went intoher own room and for a minute kneeled down, --not to form a petition inwords, she was as much beyond that; it was only the mute attitude ofappeal, the pitiful outward token of the mind's bearing, that could not beforborne, a silent uttering of the plea she had made her own in happydays. There was something of comfort in the mere feeling of doing it; andthere was more in one or two words that even in that blank came to hermind;--"_Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth themthat fear him_;" and she again recollected that "Providence runneth notupon broken wheels. " Nothing could be darker than the prospect before her, and these things did not bring light; but they gave her a sure stay tohold on by and keep her feet; a bit of strength to preserve from utterlyfainting. Ah! the storehouse must be filled and the mind well familiarizedwith what is stored in it while yet the days are bright, or it will neverbe able to find what it wants in the dark. 

Fleda first went into the kitchen to tell Barby to fasten the doors andnot sit up. 

"I don't believe uncle Rolf will be home to-night; but if he comes I willlet him in. "

Barby looked at her with absolutely a face of distress; but not daring toask and not knowing how to propose anything, she looked in silence. 

"It must be nine o'clock now, " Fleda went on. 

"And how long be you going to sit up?" said Barby. 

"I don't know--a while yet. "

"You look proper for it!" said Barby half sorrowfully and halfindignantly;--"you look as if a straw would knock you down this minute. There's sense into everything. You catch me a going to bed and leaving youup! It won't do me no hurt to sit here the hull night; and I'm the onlyone in the house that's fit for it, with the exception of Philetus, andthe little wit he has by day seems to forsake him at night. All the lightthat ever gets into his head, _I_ believe, comes from the outside; as soonas ever that's gone he shuts up his shutters. He's been snoozing a'readynow this hour and a half. Go yourself off to bed, Fleda, " she added with amixture of reproach and kindness, "and leave me alone to take care ofmyself and the house too. "

Fleda did not remonstrate, for Barby was as determined in her way as itwas possible for anything to be. She went into the other room without aparticle of notion what she should say or do. 

Hugh was walking up and down the floor--a most unusual sign ofperturbation with him. He met and stopped her as she came in. 

"Fleda, I cannot bear it. What is the matter?--Do you know?'" he said asher eyes fell. 

"Yes. ----"

"What is it?"

She was silent and tried to pass on to the fire. But he stayed her. 

"What is it?" he repeated. 

"Oh I wish I could keep it from you!" said Fleda bursting into tears. 

He was still a moment, and then bringing her to the arm-chair made her sitdown, and stood himself before her, silently waiting, perhaps because hecould not speak, perhaps from the accustomed gentle endurance of hisnature. But Fleda was speechless too. 

"You are keeping me in distress, " he said at length. 

"I cannot end the distress, dear Hugh, " said Fleda. 

She saw him change colour and he stood motionless still. 

"Do you remember, " said Fleda, trembling even to her voice, --"whatRutherford says about Providence 'not running on broken wheels'?"

He gave her no answer but the intent look of expectation. Its intentnessparalyzed Fleda. She did not know how to go on. She rose from her chairand hung upon his shoulder. 

"Believe it now, if you can--for oh, dear Hugh!--we have somethingto try it. "

"It is strange my father don't come home, " said he, supporting her withtenderness which had very little strength to help it, --"we want himvery much. "

Whether or not any unacknowledged feeling prompted this remark, someslight involuntary movement of Fleda's made him ask suddenly, "Is it about him?"

He had grown deadly pale and Fleda answered eagerly, "Nothing that has happened to-day--it is not anything that has happenedto-day--he is perfectly well, I trust and believe. "

"But it is about him?"

Fleda's head sank, and she burst into such an agony of tears that Hugh'sdistress 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, timepassed, --unmeasured by the wild coursing of thought to and fro. ThenFleda came and knelt down at the table beside him, and put her armround his neck. 

"Dear Hugh, " she said--and if ever love and tenderness and sympathy couldbe distilled in tones, such drops were those that fell upon the mind'sear, --"can't you look up at me?"

He did then, but he did not give her a chance to look at him. He lockedhis arms about her, bringing her close to his breast; and for a fewminutes, in utter silence, they knew what strange sweetness pure affectioncan mingle even in the communion of sorrow. There were tears shed in thoseminutes that, 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--won't you go to bedand rest?"

He looked dreadfully as if he needed it. But the usual calmness andsweetness of his face was not altered;--it was only deepened to very greatsadness. Mentally, Fleda thought, he had borne the shock better than hismother; for the bodily frame she trembled. He had not answered and shespoke again. 

"You need it worse than I, poor Fleda"

"I will go too presently--I do not think anybody will be here tonight. "

"Is--Are there--Is this what has taken him away?" said Hugh. 

Her silence and her look told him, and then laying her cheek againalongside of his she whispered, how unsteadily, "We have only one help, dear Hugh. "

They were still and quiet again for minutes, counting the pulses of pain;till Fleda came back to her poor wish "to keep what they could. " She mixeda restorative of wine and water, which however little desired, she feltwas necessary for both of them, and Hugh went up stairs. She staid a fewminutes to prepare another glass with particular care for her aunt. It wasjust finished, and taking her candle she had bid Barby good-night, whenthere came a loud rap at the front door. Fleda set down candle and glass, from the quick inability to hold them as well as for other reasons; andshe and Barby stood and looked at each other, in such a confusion of doubtand dread that some little time had passed before either stirred even hereyes. Barby then threw down the tongs with which she had begun to makepreparations for covering up the fire and set off to the front. 

"You mustn't open the door, Barby, " cried Fleda, following her. "Come inhere and let us look out of one of the windows. "

Before this could be reached however, there was another prolongedrepetition of the first thundering burst. It went through Fleda's heart, because of the two up stairs who must hear it. 

Barby threw up the sash. 

"Who's there?"

"Is this Mr. Rossitur's place?" enquired a gruff voice. 

"Yes, it is. "

"Well will you come round and open the door?"

"Who wants it open?"

"A lady wants it open?"

"A lady!--what lady?"

"Down yonder in the carriage. "

"What lady? who is she?"

"I don't know who she is--she wanted to come to Mr. Rossitur's place--willyou open the door for her?"

Barby and Fleda both now saw a carriage standing in the road. 

"We must see who it is first, " whispered Fleda. 

"When the lady comes I'll open the door, " was Barby's ultimatum. 

The man withdrew to the carriage; and after a few moments of intensewatching Fleda and Barby certainly saw something in female apparel enterthe little gate of the court-yard and come up over the bright moonlit snowtowards the house, accompanied by a child; while the man with whom theyhad had the interview came behind transformed into an unmistakeablebaggage-carrier. 

Chapter XL. 

 Zeal was the spring whence flowed her hardiment. 

 Fairfax. 

Barby undid bolt and lock and Fleda met the traveller in the hall. She wasa lady; her air and dress shewed that, though the latter was very plain. 

"Does Mr. Rossitur live here?" was her first word. 

Fleda answered it, and brought her visitor into the sitting room. But thelight falling upon a form and face that had seen more wear and tear thantime, gave her no clue as to the who or what of the person before her. Thestranger's hurried look round the room seemed to expect something. 

"Are they all gone to bed?"

"All but me, " said Fleda. 

"We have been delayed--we took a wrong road--we've been riding for hoursto find the place--hadn't the right direction. "--Then looking keenly atFleda, from whose vision an electric spark of intelligence had scatteredthe clouds, she said;

"I am Marion Rossitur. "

"I knew it!" said Fleda, with lips and eyes that gave her already asister's welcome; and they were folded in each other's arms almost astenderly and affectionately, on the part of one at least, as if there hadreally been the relationship 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 Lucy are notvery well. I don't know that it will do for you to see them at allto-night, Marion. "

"Not to-night! They are not ill?"

"No--only enough to be taken care of--not ill. But it would bebetter to wait"

"And my father?"

"He is not at home. "

Marion exclaimed in sorrow, and Fleda to hide the look that she felt wason her face stooped down to kiss the child. He was a remarkablyfine-looking manly boy. 

"That is your cousin Fleda, " said his mother. 

"No--_aunt_ Fleda, " said the person thus introduced--"don't put me offinto cousindom, Marion. I am uncle Hugh's sister--and so I am your auntFleda. Who are you?"

"Rolf Rossitur Schwiden. "

Alas how wide are the ramifications of evil! How was what might have beenvery pure pleasure utterly poisoned and turned into bitterness. It wentthrough Fleda's heart with a keen pang when she heard that name and lookedon the very fair brow that owned it, and thought of the ineffaceable stainthat had come upon both. She dared look at nobody but the child. Healready understood the melting eyes that were making acquaintance withhis, and half felt the pain that gave so much tenderness to her kiss, andlooked at her with a grave face of awakening wonder and sympathy. Fledawas glad to have business to call her into the kitchen. 

"Who is it?" was Barby's immediate question. 

"Aunt Lucy's daughter. "

"She don't look much like her!" said Barby intelligently. 

"They will want something to eat, Barby. "

"I'll put the kettle on. It'll boil directly. I'll go in there and fix upthe fire. "

A word or two more, and then Fleda ran up to speak to her aunt and Hugh. 

Her aunt she found in a state of agitation that was frightful. EvenFleda's assurances, with all the soothing arts she could bring to bearwere some minutes before they could in any measure tranquillize her. Fleda's own nerves were in no condition to stand another shock when sheleft her and went to Hugh's door. But she could get no answer from himthough she spoke repeatedly. 

She did not return to her aunt's room. She went down stairs and brought upBarby and a light from thence. 

Hugh was lying senseless and white; not whiter than his adopted sister asshe stood by his side. Her eye went to her companion. 

"Not a bit of it!" said Barby--"he's in nothing but a faint--just run downstairs and get the vinegar bottle, Fleda--the pepper vinegar. --Is thereany water here?--"

Fleda obeyed; and watched, she could do little more, the efforts of Barby, who indeed needed no help, with the cold water, the vinegar, and rubbingof the limbs. They were for sometime unsuccessful; the fit was a severeone; and Fleda was exceedingly terrified before any signs of returninglife came to reassure her. 

"Now you go down stairs and keep quiet!" said Barby, when Hugh was fairlyrestored and had smiled a faint answer to Fleda's kiss andexplanations, --"Go, Fleda! you ain't fit to stand. Go and sit down someplace, and I'll be along directly and see how the fire burns. Don't yous'pose Mis' Rossitur could come in and sit in this easy-chair a spellwithout hurting herself?"

It occurred to Fleda immediately that it might do more good than harm toher aunt if her attention were diverted even by another cause of anxiety. She gently summoned her, telling her no more than was necessary to fit herfor being Hugh's nurse; and in a very few minutes she and Barby were atliberty to attend to other claims upon them. But it sank into her heart, "Hugh will not get over this!"--and when she entered the sitting-room, what Mr. Carleton years before had said of the wood-flower was come truein 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 andkeep herself quiet. Miss Elster was in her briskest mood; flew in and out;made up the fire in the sitting-room and put on the kettle in the kitchen, which she had been just about doing when called to see Hugh. Themuch-needed supper of the travellers must be still waited for; but thefire was burning now, the room was cosily warm and bright, and Marion drewup her chair with a look of thoughtful contentment. Fleda felt as if someconjuror had been at work here for the last few hours--the room looked solike and felt so unlike itself. 

"Are you going to be ill too, Fleda?" said Marion suddenly. "You arelooking--very far from well!"

"I shall have a headache to-morrow, " said Fleda quietly. "I generally knowthe day beforehand. "

"Does it always make you look so?"

"Not always--I am somewhat tired. "

"Where is my father gone?"

"I don't know. --Rolf, dear, " said Fleda bending forward to the littlefellow who was giving expression to some very fidgety impatience, --"whatis the matter? what do you want?"

The child's voice fell a little from its querulousness towards the sweetkey in which the questions had been put, but he gave utterance to a verydecided wish for "bread and butter. "

"Come here, " said Fleda, reaching out a hand and drawing him, certainlywith no force but that of attraction, towards her easy-chair, --"come hereand rest yourself in this nice place by me--see, there is plenty of roomfor you;--and you shall have bread and butter and tea, and something elsetoo, I guess, just as soon as Barby can get it ready. "

"Who is Barby?" was the next question, in a most uncompromisingtone of voice. 

"You saw the woman that came in to put wood on the fire--that wasBarby--she is very good and kind and will do anything for you if youbehave yourself. "

The child muttered, but so low as to shew some unwillingness that hiswords should reach the ears that were nearest him, that "he wasn't goingto behave himself. "

Fleda did not choose to hear; and went on with composing observations tillthe fair little face she had drawn to her side was as bright as the sunand returned her smile with interest. 

"You have an admirable talent at moral suasion, Fleda, " said the motherhalf smiling;--"I wish I had it. "

"You don't need it so much here. "

"Why not?"

"It may do very well for me, but I think not so well for you. "

"Why?--what do you mean? I think it is the only way in the world to bringup children--the only way fit for rational beings to be guided. "

Fleda smiled, though the faintest indication that lips could give, andshook her head, --ever so little. 

"Why do you do that?--tell me. "

"Because in my limited experience, " said Fleda as she passed her fingersthrough the boy's dark locks of hair, --"in every household where 'moralsuasion' has been the law, the children have been the administrators ofit. Where is your husband?"

"I have lost him--years ago--" said Marion with a quick expressive glancetowards the child. "I never lost what I at first thought I had, for Inever had it. Do you understand?"

Fleda's eyes gave a sufficient answer. 

"I am a widow--these five years--in all but what the law would require, "Marion went on. "I have been alone since then--except my child. He was twoyears old then; and since then I have lived such a life, Fleda!--"

"Why didn't you come home?"

"Couldn't--the most absolute reason in the world. Think of it!--Come home!It was as much as I could do to stay there!"

Those sympathizing eyes were enough to make her go on. 

"I have wanted everything--except trouble. I have done everything--exceptask alms. I have learned, Fleda, that death is not the worst form in whichdistress can come. "

Fleda felt stung, and bent down her head to touch her lips to the brow oflittle Rolf. 

"Death would have been a trifle!" said Marion. "I mean, --not that _I_should have wished to leave Rolf alone in the world; but if I had beenleft--I mean I would rather wear outside than inside mourning. "

Fleda looked up again, and at her. 

"O I was so mistaken, Fleda!" she said clasping her hands, --"somistaken!--in everything;--so disappointed, --in all my hopes. And the lossof my fortune was the cause of it all. "

Nay verily! thought Fleda; but she said nothing; she hung her head again;and Marion after a pause went on to question her about an endless stringof matters concerning themselves and other people, past doings and presentprospects, till little Rolf soothed by the uninteresting soft murmur ofvoices fairly forgot bread and butter and himself in a sound sleep, hishead resting upon Fleda. 

"Here is one comfort for you, Marion, " she said looking down at the darkeyelashes which lay on a cheek rosy and healthy as ever seven years oldknew;--"he is a beautiful child, and I am sure, a fine one. "

"It is thanks to his beauty that I have ever seen home again, " saidhis mother. 

Fleda had no heart this evening to speak words that were not necessary;her eyes asked Marion to explain herself. 

"He was in Hyde Park one day--I had a miserable lodging not far from it, and I used to let him go in there, because he must go somewhere, youknow, --I couldn't go with him--"

"Why not?"

"Couldn't!--Oh Fleda!--I have seen changes!--He was there one afternoon, alone, and had got into difficulty with some bigger boys--a little fellow, you know, --he stood his ground man-fully, but his strength wasn't equal tohis spirit, and they were tyrannizing over him after the fashion of boys, who are I do think the ugliest creatures in creation!" said Mme. Schwiden, not apparently reckoning her own to be of the same gender, --"and agentleman who was riding by stopped and interfered and took him out oftheir hands, and then asked him his name, --struck I suppose with hisappearance. Very kind, wasn't it? men so seldom bother themselves aboutwhat becomes of children, I suppose there were thousands of others ridingby at the same time. "

"Very kind, " Fleda said. 

"When he heard what his name was he gave his horse to his servant andwalked home with Rolf; and the next day he sent me a note, speaking ofhaving known my father and mother and asking permission to call uponme. --I never was so mortified, I think, in my life, " said Marion after amoment's hesitation. 

"Why?" said Fleda, not a little at a loss to follow out the chain of hercousin's reasoning. 

"Why I was in such a sort of a place--you don't know, Fleda; I was workingthen for a fancy store-keeper, to support myself--living in a miserablelittle two rooms. --If it had been a stranger I wouldn't have cared somuch, but somebody that had known us in different times--I hadn't a thingin the world to answer the note upon but a half sheet of letter paper. "

Fleda's lips sought Rolf's forehead again, with a curious rush of tearsand smiles at once. Perhaps Marion had caught the expression of hercountenance, for she added with a little energy, "It is nothing to be surprised at--you would have felt just the same;for I knew by his note, the whole style of it, what sort of a personit must be. "

"My pride has been a good deal chastened, " Fleda said gently. 

"I never want _mine_ to be, beyond minding everything, " said Marion; "andI don't believe yours is. I don't know why in the world I did not refuseto see him--I had fifty minds to--but he had won Rolf's heart, and I was alittle curious, and it was something strange to see the face of a friend, any better one than my old landlady, so I let him come. "

"Was _she_ a friend?" said Fleda. 

"If she hadn't been I should not have lived to be here--the best soul thatever was; but still, you know, she could do nothing for me but be as kindas she could live;--this was something different. So I let him come, andhe came the next day. "

Fleda was silent, a little wondering that Marion should be so frank withher, beyond what she had ever been in former years; but as she guessed, Mme. Schwiden's heart was a little opened by the joy of finding herself athome and the absolute necessity of talking to somebody; and there was afurther reason which Fleda could not judge of, in her own face and manner. Marion needed no questions and went on again after stopping a moment. 

"I was so glad in five minutes, --I can't tell you, Fleda, --that I had lethim come. I forget entirely about how I looked and the wretched place Iwas in. He was all that I had supposed, and a great deal more, but somehowhe hadn't been in the room three minutes before I didn't care at all forall the things I had thought would trouble me. Isn't it strange what awitchery some people have to make you forget everything but themselves!"

"The reason is, I think, because that is the only thing they forget, "said Fleda, whose imagination however was entirely busy with the_singular_ number. 

"I shall never forget him, " said Marion. "He was very kind to me--I cannottell how kind--though I never realized it till afterwards; at the time italways seemed only a sort of elegant politeness which he could not help. Inever saw so elegant 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; and he sent mefruit--such fruit!--and game, and flowers; and I had not had anything ofthe kind, not even seen it, for so long--I can't tell you what it was tome. He said he had known my father and mother well when they were abroad. "

"What, was his name?" said Fleda quickly. 

"I don't know--he never told me--and I never could ask him. Don't you knowthere are some people you can't do anything with but just what theyplease? There wasn't the least thing like stiffness--you never saw anybodyless stiff, --but I never dreamed of asking him questions except when hewas out of sight. Why, do you know him?" she said suddenly. 

"When you tell me who he was I'll tell you, " said Fleda smiling. 

"Have you ever heard this story before?"

"Certainly not!"

"He is somebody that knows us very well, " said Marion, "for he asked afterevery one of the family in particular. "

"But what had all this to do with your getting home?"

"I don't wonder you ask. The day after his last visit came a note sayingthat he owed a debt in my family which it had never been in his power torepay; that he could not give the enclosure to my father, who would notrecognize the obligation; 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 upon littleRolf's shoulder. 

"I suppose my pride has been a little broken too, " Marion went on, "or Ishouldn't have kept it. But then if you saw the person, and the wholemanner of it--I don't know how I could ever have sent it back. Literally Icouldn't, though, for I hadn't the least clue. I never saw or heard fromhim afterwards. "

"When was this, Marion?"

"Last spring. "

"Last spring!--then what kept you so long?"

"Because of the arrival of eyes that I was afraid of. I dared not make theleast move that would show I could move. I came off the very first packetafter I was free. "

"How glad you must be!" said Fleda. 

"Glad!--"

"Glad of what, mamma?" said Rolf, whose dreams the entrance of Barby hadprobably disturbed. 

"Glad of bread and butter, " said his mother; "wake up--here it is. "

The young gentleman declared, rubbing his eyes, that he did not want itnow; but however Fleda contrived to dispel that illusion, and bread andbutter was found to have the same dulcifying properties at Queechy that itowns in all the rest of the world. Little Rolf was completely mollifiedafter a hearty meal and was put with his mother to enjoy most unbrokenslumbers in Fleda's room. Fleda herself, after a look at Hugh, crept toher aunt's bed; whither Barby very soon despatched Mrs. Rossitur, takingin her place the arm-chair and the watch with most invincible good-willand determination; and sleep at last took the joys and sorrows of thatdisturbed household into its kind custody. 

Fleda was the first one awake, and was thinking how she should break thelast news to her aunt, when Mrs. Rossitur put her arms round her and aftera most affectionate look and kiss, spoke to what she supposed had been herniece's purpose. 

"You want taking care of more than I do, poor Fleda!"

"It was not for that I came, " said Fleda;--"I had to give up my room tothe travellers. "

"Travellers!--"

A very few words more brought out the whole, and Mrs. Rossitur sprang outof bed and rushed to her daughter's room. 

Fleda hid her face in the bed to cry--for a moment's passionate indulgencein weeping while no one could see. But a moment was all. There was work todo and she must not disable herself. She slowly got up, feeling thankfulthat her headache did not announce itself with the dawn, and that shewould be able to attend to the morning affairs and the breakfast, whichwas something more of a circumstance now with the new additions to thefamily. More than that she knew from sure signs she would not be able toaccomplish. 

It was all done and done well, though with what secret flagging of mindand body nobody knew or suspected. The business of the day was arranged, Barby's course made clear, Hugh visited and smiled upon; and then Fledaset herself down in the breakfast-room to wear out the rest of the day inpatient suffering. Her little spaniel, who seemed to understand herlanguid step and faint tones and know what was coming, crept into her lapand looked up at her with a face of equal truth and affection; and after afew gentle acknowledging touches from the loved hand, laid his head on herknees, and silently avowed his determination of abiding her fortunes forthe remainder of the day. 

They had been there for some hours. Mrs. Rossitur and her daughter weregathered in Hugh's room; whither Rolf also after sundry expressions ofsympathy for Fleda's headache, finding it a dull companion, had departed. Pain of body rising above pain of mind had obliged as far as possibleeven thought to be still; when a loud rap at the front door brought theblood in a sudden flush of pain to Fleda's face. She knew instinctivelywhat it meant. 

She heard Barby's distinct accents saying that somebody was "not well. "The other voice was more smothered. But in a moment the door of thebreakfast-room opened and Mr. Thorn walked in. 

The intensity of the pain she was suffering effectually precluded Fledafrom discovering emotion of any kind. She could not move. Only Kinglifted up his head and looked at the intruder, who seemed shocked, andwell he might. Fleda was in her old headache position; bolt upright on thesofa, her feet on the rung of a chair while her hands supported her bytheir grasp upon the back of it. The flush had passed away leaving thedeadly paleness of pain, which the dark rings under her eyes shewed to bewell seated. 

"Miss Ringgan!" said the gentleman, coming up softly as to something thatfrightened him, --"my dear Miss Fleda!--I am distressed!--You are veryill--can nothing be done to relieve you?"

Fleda's lips rather than her voice said, "Nothing. "

"I would not have come in on any account to disturb you if I had known--Idid not understand you were more than a trifle ill--"

Fleda wished he would mend his mistake, as his understanding certainly bythis time was mended. But that did not seem to be his conclusion of thebest thing to do. 

"Since I am here, --can you bear to hear me say three words? without toomuch pain?--I do not ask you to speak"--

A faint whispered "yes" gave him leave to go on. She had never looked athim. She sat like a statue; to answer by a motion of her head was morethan could be risked. 

He drew up a chair and sat down, while King looked at him with eyes ofsuspicious indignation. 

"I am not surprised, " he said gently, "to find you suffering. I knew howyour sensibilities must feel the shock of yesterday--I would fain havespared it you--I will spare you all further pain on the same score ifpossible--Dear Miss Ringgan, since I am here and time is precious may Isay one word before I cease troubling you--take it for granted that youwere made acquainted with the contents of my letter to Mrs. Rossitur?--with _all_ the contents?--were you?"

Again Fleda's lips almost voicelessly gave the answer. 

"Will you give me what I ventured to ask for?" said he gently, --"thepermission to work _for you?_ Do not trouble those precious lips tospeak--the answer of these fingers will be as sure a warrant to me as allwords that could be spoken that you do not deny my request. "

He had taken one of her hands in his own. But the fingers lay withunanswering coldness and lifelessness for a second in his clasp and thenwere drawn away and took determinate hold of the chair-back. Again theflush came to Fleda's cheeks, brought by a sharp pain, --oh, bodily andmental too!--and after a moment's pause, with a distinctness of utterancethat let him know every word, she said, "A generous man would not ask it, sir. "

Thorn sprang up, and several times paced the length of the room, up anddown, before he said anything more. He looked at Fleda, but the flush wasgone again, and nothing could seem less conscious of his presence. Painand patience were in every line of her face, but he could read nothingmore, except a calmness as unmistakably written. Thorn gave that facerepeated glances as he walked, then stood still and read it at leisure. Then he came to her side again and spoke in a different voice. 

"You are so unlike anybody else, " he said, "that you shall make me unlikemyself. I will do freely what I hoped to do with the light of your smilebefore me. You shall hear no more of this affair, neither you nor theworld--I have the matter perfectly in my own hands--it shall never raise awhisper again. I will move heaven and earth rather than fail--but there isno danger of my failing. I will try to prove myself worthy of your esteemeven where a man is most excusable for being selfish. "

[Illustration: Barby's energies and fainting remedies were again putin use. ]

He took one of her cold hands again, --Fleda could not help it without moreforce than she cared to use, and indeed pain would by this time almosthave swallowed up other sensation if every word and touch had not sent itin a stronger throb to her very finger ends. Thorn bent his lips to herhand, twice kissed it fervently, and then left her; much to King'ssatisfaction, who thereupon resigned himself to quiet slumbers. 

His mistress knew no such relief. Excitement had dreadfully aggravated herdisorder, at a time when it was needful to banish even thought as far aspossible. Pain effectually banished it now, and Barby coming in a littleafter Mr. Thorn had gone found her quite unable to speak and scarce ableto breathe, from agony. Barby's energies and fainting remedies were againput in use; but pain reigned triumphant for hours, and when its hard rulewas at last abated Fleda was able to do nothing but sleep like a child forhours more. 

Towards a late tea-time she was at last awake, and carrying on a veryone-sided conversation with Rolf, her own lips being called upon forlittle more than a smile now and then. King, not able to be in her lap, had curled himself up upon a piece of his mistress's dress and as closewithin the circle of her arms as possible, where Fleda's hand and his headwere on terms of mutual satisfaction. 

"I thought you wouldn't permit a dog to lie in your lap, " said Marion. 

"Do you remember that?" said Fleda with a smile. "Ah I have growntender-hearted, Marion, since I have known what it was to want comfortmyself. I have come to the conclusion that it is best to let everythinghave all the enjoyment it can in the circumstances. King crawled into mylap one day when I had not spirits enough to turn him out, and he has keptthe place ever since. --Little King!"--In answer to which word ofintelligence King looked in her face and wagged his tail, and thenearnestly endeavoured to lick all her fingers. Which however was a pieceof comfort she would not give him. 

"Fleda, " said Barby putting her head in, "I wish you'd just step out hereand tell me which cheese you'd like to have cut. "

"What a fool!" said Marion. "Let her cut them all if she likes. "

"She is no fool, " said Fleda. She thought Barby's punctiliousness howevera little ill-timed, as she rose from her sofa and went into the kitchen. 

"Well you _do_ look as if you wa'n't good for nothing but to be taken careof!" said Barby. "I wouldn't have riz you up if it hadn't been justtea-time, and I knowed you couldn't stay quiet much longer;"--and with alook which explained her tactics she put into Fleda's hand a letterdirected to her aunt. 

"Philetus gave it to me, " she said, without a glance at Fleda's face, --"hesaid it was give to him by a spry little shaver who wa'n't a mind to tellnothin' about himself. "

"Thank you, Barby!" was Fleda's most grateful return; and summoning heraunt up-stairs she took her into her own room and locked the door beforeshe gave her the letter which Barby's shrewdness and delicacy had takensuch care should not reach its owner in a wrong way. Fleda watched her asher eye ran over the paper and caught it as it fell from her fingers. 

"My Dear Wife, "That villain Thorn has got a handle of me which he will not fail touse--you know it all I suppose, by this time--It is true that in an evilhour, long ago, when greatly pressed, I did what I thought I should surelyundo in a few days--The time never came--I don't know why he has let itlie 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 see you again. The rascal would never let me rest, I know, in any spot that calls itselfAmerican ground. 

"You will do better without me than with me. 

"R. R. "

Fleda mused over the letter for several minutes, and then touched her auntwho had fallen on a chair with her head sunk in her hands. 

"What does he mean?" said Mrs. Rossitur, looking up with a perfectlycolourless face. 

"To leave the country. "

"Are you sure? is that it?" said Mrs. Rossitur, rising and looking overthe words again;--"He would do anything, Fleda--"

"That is what he means, aunt Lucy;--don't you see he says he could not besafe anywhere in America?"

Mrs. Rossitur stood eying with intense eagerness for a minute or two thenote in her niece's hand. 

"Then he is gone! now that it is all settled!--And we don't knowwhere--and we can't get word to him--"

Her cheek which had a little brightened became perfectly white again. 

"He isn't gone yet--he can't be--he cannot have left Queechy tillto-day--he will be in New York for several days yet probably. "

"New York!--it may be Boston?"

"No, he would be more likely to go to New York--I am sure he would--he isaccustomed to it. "

"We might write to both places, " said poor Mrs. Rossitur. "I will do itand send them off at once. "

"But he might not get the letters, " said Fleda thoughtfully, --"he might notdare 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 clew!"

Fleda put an arm round her affectionately and stood thinking; stoodtrembling might as well be said, for she was too weak to bestanding at all. 

"What can we do, dear Fleda?" said Mrs. Rossitur in great distress. "Onceout of New York and we can get nothing to him! If he only knew that thereis no need, and that it is all over!--"

"We must do everything, aunt Lucy, " said Fleda thoughtfully, "and I hopewe shall succeed yet. We will write, but I think the most hopeful otherthing we could do would be to put advertisements in the newspapers--hewould be very likely to see them. "

"Advertisements!--But you couldn't--what would you put in?"

"Something that would catch his eye and nobody's else--_that_ is easy, aunt Lucy. "

"But there is nobody to put them in, Fleda, --you said uncle Orrin wasgoing to Boston--"

"He wasn't going there till next week, but he was to be in Philadelphia afew days before that--the letter might miss him. "

"Mr. Plumfield!--Couldn't he?"

But Fleda shook her head. 

"Wouldn't do, aunt Lucy--he would do all he could, but he don't know NewYork nor the papers--he wouldn't know how to manage it--he don't knowuncle Rolf--shouldn't like to trust it to him. "

"Who then?--there isn't a creature we could ask--"

Fleda laid her cheek to her poor aunt's and said, "I'll do it. "

"But you must be in New York to do it, dear Fleda, --you can't do it here. "

"I will go to New York. "

"When?"

"To-morrow morning. "

"But dear Fleda, you can't go alone! I can't let you, and you're not fitto go at all, my poor child!--" and between conflicting feelings Mrs. Rossitur sat down and wept without measure. 

"Listen, aunt Lucy, " said Fleda, pressing a hand on hershoulder, --"listen, and don't cry so!--I'll go and make all right, ifefforts can do it. I am not going alone--I'll get Seth to go with me; andI can sleep in the cars and rest nicely in the steamboat--I shall feelhappy and well when I know that I am leaving you easier and doing all thatcan be done to bring uncle Rolf home. Leave me to manage, and don't sayanything to Marion, --it is one blessed thing that she need not knowanything about all this. I shall feel better than if I were at home andhad trusted this business to any other hands. "

"_You_ are the blessing of my life, " said Mrs. Rossitur. 

"Cheer up, and come down and let us have some tea, " said Fleda, kissingher; "I feel as if that would make me up a little; and then I'll writethe letters. I sha'n't want but very little baggage; there'll be nothingto pack up. "

Philetus was sent up the hill with a note to Seth Plumfield, and broughthome a favorable answer. Fleda thought as she went to rest that it waswell the mind's strength could sometimes act independently of its servantthe body, hers felt so very shattered and unsubstantial. 

Chapter XLI. 

 I thank you for your company; but good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone. --As You Like It. 

The first thing next morning Seth Plumfield came down to say that he hadseen Dr. Quackenboss the night before and had chanced to find out that hewas going to New York too, this very day; and knowing that the doctorwould be just as safe an escort as himself, Seth had made over the chargeof his cousin to him; "calculating, " he said, "that it would make nodifference to Fleda and that he had better stay at home with his mother. "

Fleda said nothing and looked as little as possible of her disappointment, and her cousin went away wholly unsuspecting of it. 

"Seth Plumfield ha'n't done a smarter thing than that in a goodwhile, " Barby remarked satirically as he was shutting the door. "I shouldthink he'd ha' hurt himself. "

"I dare say the doctor will take good care of me, " said Fleda;--"as goodas he knows how. "

"Men beat all!" said Barby impatiently. --"The little sense there isinto them!--"

Fleda's sinking heart was almost ready to echo the sentiment; butnobody knew it. 

Coffee was swallowed, her little travelling bag and bonnet on the sofa;all ready. Then came the doctor. 

"My dear Miss Ringgan!--I am most happy of this delightfulopportunity--I had supposed you were located at home for the winter. This is a sudden start. "

"Is it sudden to you, Dr. Quackenboss?" said Fleda. 

"Why--a--not disagreeably so, " said the doctor smiling;--"nothing could bethat in the present circumstances, --but I--a--I hadn't calculated upon itfor much of a spell beforehand. "

Fleda was vexed, and looked, --only unconversable. 

"I suppose, " said the doctor after a pause, --"that we have not much timeto waste--a--in idle moments. Which route do you intend to travel?"

"I was thinking to go by the North River, sir. "

"But the ice has collected, --I am afraid, --"

"At Albany, I know; but when I came up there was a boat every other day, and we could get there in time by the stage--this is her day. "

"But we have had some pretty tight weather since, if you remember, " saidthe doctor; "and the boats have ceased to connect with the stage. We shallhave to go to Greenfield to take the Housatonic which will land us atBridgeport on the Sound"

"Have we time to reach Greenfield this morning?"

"Oceans of time?" said the doctor delightedly; "I've got my team here andthey're jumping out of their skins with having nothing to do and theweather--they'll carry us there as spry as grasshoppers--now, if you'reready, my dear Miss Ringgan!"

There was nothing more but to give and receive those speechlesslip-messages that are out of the reach of words, and Mrs. Rossitur'shalf-spoken last charge, to take care of _herself_; and with these sealsupon her mission Fleda set forth and joined the doctor; thankful for onefoil to curiosity in the shape of a veil and only wishing that there wereany invented screen that she could place between her and hearing. 

"I hope your attire is of a very warm description, " said the doctor as hehelped her into the wagon;--"it friz pretty hard last night and I don'tthink it has got out of the notion yet. If I had been consulted in anyother--a--form, than that of a friend, I should have disapprobated, ifyou'll excuse me, Miss Ringgan's travelling again before her 'Rose ofCassius' there was in blow. I hope you have heard no evil tidings?Dr. --a--Gregory, I hope, is not taken ill?"

"I hope not, sir, " said Fleda. 

"He didn't look like it. A very hearty old gentleman. Not very old either, I should judge. Was he the brother of your mother or your father?"

"Neither, sir. "

"Ah!--I misunderstood--I thought, but of course I was mistaken, --I thoughtI heard you speak to him under the title of uncle. But that is a title wesometimes give to elderly people as a term of familiarity--there is an oldfellow that works 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. She lookedstraight before her and was mum. 

"That 'Rose of Cassius' is a most exquisite thing!" said the doctor, recurring to the cluster of bare bushy stems in the corner of the garden. "Did Mr. Rossitur bring it with him when he came to his presentresidence?"

"Yes sir. "

"Where is Mr. Rossitur now?"

Fleda replied, with a jump of her heart, that business affairs had obligedhim to be away for a few days. 

"And when does he expect to return?" said the doctor. 

"I hope he will be home as soon as I am, " said Fleda. 

"Then you do not expect to remain long in the city this time?"

"I shall not have much of a winter at home if I do, " said Fleda. "We arealmost at January. "

"Because, " said the doctor, "in that case I should have no highergratification than in attending upon your motions. I--a--beg you tobelieve, my dear Miss Ringgan, that it would afford me the--a--mostparticular--it would be most particularly grateful to me to wait upon youto--a--the confines of the world. "

Fleda hastened to assure her officious friend that the time of her returnwas altogether uncertain; resolving rather to abide a guest with Mrs. Pritchard than to have Dr. Quackenboss hanging upon her motions every dayof her being there. But in the mean time the doctor got upon Capt. Rossitur's subject; then came to Mr. Thorn; and then wanted to know theexact nature of Mr. Rossitur's business affairs in Michigan; through allwhich matters poor Fleda had to run the gauntlet of questions, interspersed with gracious speeches which she could bear even less well. She was extremely glad to reach the cars and take refuge in seeming sleepfrom the mongrel attentions, which if for the most part prompted byadmiration owned so large a share of curiosity. Her weary head and heartwould fain have courted the reality of sleep, as a refuge from morepainful thoughts and a feeling of exhaustion that could scarcely supportitself; but the restless roar and jumble of the rail-cars put it beyondher power. How long the hours were--how hard to wear out, with nopossibility of a change of position that would give rest; Fleda would noteven raise her head when they stopped, for fear of being talked to; howtrying that endless noise to her racked nerves. It came to an end atlast, though Fleda would not move for fear they might be only taking inwood and water. 

"Miss Ringgan!" said the doctor in her ear, --"my dear Miss Ringgan!--weare here!--"

"Are we?" said Fleda, looking up;--"what other name has the place, doctor?"

"Why Bridgeport, " said the doctor, --"we're at Bridgeport--now we haveleave to exchange conveyances. A man feels constrained after a prolongedlength of time in a place. How have you enjoyed the ride?"

"Not very well--it has seemed long. I am glad we are at the end of it!"

But as she rose and threw back her veil the doctor looked startled. 

"My dear Miss Ringgan!--are you faint?"

"No sir. "

"You are not well, indeed!--I am very sorry--the ride has been--Take myarm!--Ma'am, " said the doctor touching a black satin cloak which filledthe passage-way, --"will you have the goodness to give this lady apassport?"

But the black satin cloak preferred a straightforward manner of doingthis, so their egress was somewhat delayed. Happily faintness was notthe matter. 

"My dear Miss Ringgan!" said the doctor as they reached the ground and theouter air, --"what was it?--the stove too powerful? You are looking--youare of a dreadfully delicate appearance!"

"I had a headache yesterday, " said Fleda; "it always leaves me with adisagreeable reminder the next day. I am not ill. "

But he looked frightened, and hurried her, as fast as he dared, to thesteamboat; and there proposed half a dozen restoratives; the simplest ofwhich Fleda took, and then sought delicious rest from him and from herselfon the cushions of a settee. Delicious!--though she was alone, in thecabin of a steamboat, with strange forms and noisy tongues around her, theclosed eyelids shut it out all; and she had time but for one restingthought of "patient continuance in well-doing, " and one happy heart-lookup to him who has said that he cares for his children, a look that laidher anxieties down there, --when past misery and future difficulty fadedaway before a sleep that lasted till the vessel reached her moorings andwas made fast. 

She was too weary and faint even to think during the long drive up toBleecker-st. She was fain to let it all go--the work she had to do and theway she must set about it, and rest in the assurance that nothing could bedone that night. She did not so much as hear Dr. Quackenboss'sobservations, though she answered a few of them, till, at the door, shewas conscious of his promising to see her to-morrow and of her instantconclusion to take measures to see nobody. 

How strange everything seemed. She walked through the familiar hall, feeling as if her acquaintance with every old thing was broken. There wasno light in the back parlour, but a comfortable fire. 

"Is my--is Dr. Gregory at home?" she asked of the girl who had let her in. 

"No ma'am; he hasn't got back from Philadelphia. "

"Tell Mrs. Pritchard a lady wants to see her. "

Good Mrs. Pritchard was much more frightened than Dr. Quackenboss had beenwhen she came into the back parlour to see "a lady" and found Fleda in thegreat arm-chair taking off her things. She poured out questions, wonderings and lamentings, 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 of yesterday's illness andto-day's journey; and met all her shocked enquiries with so composed aface and such a calm smile and bearing, that Mrs. Pritchard was almostpersuaded not to believe her eyes. 

"My uncle is not at home?"

"O no, Miss Fleda! I suppose he's in Philadelphy--but his motions is solittle to be depended on that I never know when I have him; maybe he'llstop going through to Boston, and maybe no, and I don't know when; soanyhow I had to have a fire made and this room all ready; and ain't itlucky it was ready for you to-night!--and now he ain't here you can havethe great chair all to yourself and make yourself comfortable--we can keepwarmer here, I guess, than you can in the country, " said the goodhousekeeper, giving some skilful admonishing touches to the fire;--"andyou must just sit there and read and rest, and see if you can't get backyour old 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 very serious concern, evidently thinking much more than she chose to give utterance to. 

"I am tired, Mrs. Pritchard, " said Fleda, smiling up at her. 

"I wish you had somebody to take care of you, Miss Fleda, that wouldn'tlet you tire yourself. It's a sin to throw your strength away so--and youdon't care for looks nor nothing else when it's for other people. You'relooking just as handsome, too, for all, " she said, her mouth giving way alittle, as she stooped down to take off Fleda's overshoes, "but that'sonly because you can't help it. Now what is there you'd like to have forsupper!--just say and you shall have it--whatever would seem best--becauseI mightn't hit the right thing?"

Fleda declared her indifference to everything but a cup of tea, and herhostess bustled away to get that and tax her own ingenuity and kindnessfor the rest. And leaning her weary head back in the lounge Fleda tried tothink, --but it was not time yet; she could only feel; feel what a sadchange had come 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 with first. 

The nicest of suppers was served in the bright little parlour and herhostess was a compound of care and good will; nothing was wanting to thefeast but a merry heart. Fleda could not bring that, so her performancewas unsatisfactory and Mrs. Pritchard was distressed. Fleda went to herown room promising better doings to-morrow. 

She awoke in the morning to the full burden of care and sorrow whichsheer weakness and weariness the day before had in part laid down; to aquicker sense of the state of things than she had had yet. The blastingevil that had fallen upon them, --Fleda writhed on her bed when shethought of it. The sternest, cruellest, most inflexible, grasp ofdistress. Poverty may be borne, death may be sweetened, even to thesurvivors; but _disgrace_--Fleda hid her head, as if she would shut theidea out with the light. And the ruin it had wrought. Affection killed atthe root, --her aunt's happiness withered, for this world, --Hugh's lifethreatened, --the fair name of his family gone, --the wear and weariness ofher own spirit, --but that had hardly a thought. Himself?--oh no one couldtell what a possible wreck, now that self-respect and the esteem ofothers, those two safe-guards of character, were lost to him. "So muchsecurity has any woman in a man without religion;" she remembered thosewords of her aunt Miriam now; and she thought if Mr. Thorn had sought anill wind to blow upon his pretensions he could not have pitched thembetter. What fairer promise, without religion, could be than her unclehad given? Reproach had never breathed against his name, and no one lessthan those who knew him best could fancy that he had ever given itoccasion. And who could have more at stake?--and the stake was lost--thatwas the summing up thought. 

No, it was not, --for Fleda's mind presently sprang beyond, --to the remedy;and after a little swift and earnest flitting about of thought overfeasibilities and contingencies, she jumped up and dressed herself with aprompt energy which shewed a mind made up to its course. And yet when shecame down to the parlour, though bending herself with nervous intentnessto the work she had to do, her fingers and her heart were only stayed intheir trembling by some of the happy assurances 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 they paths. "--

--Assurances, not indeed that her plans should meet with success, but thatthey should have the issue best for them. 

She was early, but the room was warm and in order and the servant had leftit. Fleda sought out paper and pencil and sat down to fashion the form ofan advertisement, --the first thing to be done. She had no notion howdifficult a thing till she came to do it. 

"_R. R. Is entreated to communicate with his niece at the old place inBleecker-street, on business of the greatest importance_. "

"It will not do, " said Fleda to herself as she sat and looked atit, --"there is not enough to catch his eye; and there is _too much_ if itcaught anybody else's eye;--'R. R. ', and 'his niece, ' and'Bleecker-street, '--that would tell plain enough. "

"_Dear uncle, F. Has followed you here on business of the greatestimportance. Pray let her see you--she is at the old place_. "

"It will not do, " thought Fleda again, --"there is still less to catch hiseye--I cannot trust it. And if I were to put 'Queechy' over it, thatwould give the clue to the Evelyns and everybody. But I had better riskanything rather than his seeing it--"

The miserable needlessness of the whole thing, the pitiful weighing ofsorrow against sorrow, and shame against shame overcame her for a little;and then dashing away the tears she had no time for and locking up thestrong box of her heart, she took her pencil again. 

"_Queechy_. 

"_Let me see you at the old place. I have come here on urgent business_for you. _Do not deny me, for H---'s sake_!"

With a trifle of alteration she thought this would do; and went on to makea number of fair copies of it for so many papers, This was done and alltraces of it out of the way before Mrs. Pritchard came in and thebreakfast; and after bracing herself with coffee, though the goodhousekeeper was still sadly dissatisfied with her indifference to somemore substantial brace in the shape of chickens and ham, Fleda preparedherself inwardly and outwardly to brave the wind and the newspaperoffices, and set forth. It was a bright keen day; she was sorry; she wouldit had been cloudy. It seemed as if she could not hope to escape some eyesin such an atmosphere. 

She went to the library first, and there requested the librarian, whom sheknew, to bring her from the reading-room the files of morning and eveningpapers. They were many more than she had supposed; she had not nearadvertisements enough. Paper and ink were at hand however, and makingcarefully her list of the various offices, morning and evening separate, she wrote out a copy of the notice for each of them. 

The morning was well on by the time she could leave the library. It wasyet far from the fashionable hour, however, and sedulously shunning therecognition of anybody, in hopes that it would be one step towards herescaping theirs, she made her way down the bright thoroughfare as far asthe City Hall, and then crossed over the Park and plunged into a regionwhere it was very little likely she would see a face that she knew. Shesaw nothing else either that she knew; in spite of having studied the mapof the city in the library she was forced several times to ask her way, asshe visited office after office, of the evening papers first, till she hadplaced her notice with each one of them. Her courage almost failed her, her heart did quite, after two or three. It was a trial from which herwhole nature shrank, to go among the people, to face the eyes, to exchangetalk with the lips, that were at home in those purlieus; look at them shedid not. Making her slow way through the choked narrow streets, where themere confusion of business was bewildering, --very, to any one come fromQueechy; among crowds, of what mixed and doubtful character, hurryingalong and brushing with little ceremony past her; edging by loiteringgroups that filled the whole sidewalk, or perhaps edging through them, groups whose general type of character was sufficiently plain and unmixed;entering into parley with clerk after clerk who looked at such a visiteras an anomaly, --poor Fleda almost thought so too, and shrank withinherself; venturing hardly her eyes beyond her thick veil, and shutting herears resolutely as far as possible to all the dissonant rough voices thathelped to assure her she was where she ought not to be. Sometimes she feltthat it was _impossible_ to go on and finish her task; but a thought ortwo nerved her again to plunge into another untried quarter or make goodher entrance to some new office through a host of loungers and waitingnews-boys collected round the door. Sometimes in utter discouragement shewent on and walked to a distance and came back, in the hope of a betteropportunity. It was a long business; and she often had to wait. The end ofher list was reached at last, and the paper was thrown away; but she didnot draw free breath till she had got to the west side of Broadway again, and turned her back upon them all. 

It was late then, and the street was thinned of a part of its gay throng. Completely worn, in body as well as mind, with slow faltering steps, Fledamoved on among those still left; looking upon them with a curious eye asif they and she belonged to different classes of beings; so very far hersobered and saddened spirit seemed to herself from their stir of businessand gayety; if they had been a train of lady-flies or black ants Fledawould hardly have felt that she had less in common with them. It was aweary long way up to Bleecker-street, as she was forced to travel it. 

The relief was unspeakable to find herself within her uncle's door withthe sense that her dreaded duty was done, and well and thoroughly. Now herpart was to be still and wait. But with the relief came also a reactionfrom the strain of the morning. Before her weary feet had well mounted thestairs her heart gave up its control; and she locked herself in her roomto yield to a helpless outpouring of tears which she was utterly unable torestrain, though conscious that long time could not pass before she wouldbe called to dinner. Dinner had to wait. 

"Miss Fleda, " said the housekeeper in a vexed tone when the meal was halfover, --"I didn't know you ever did any thing wrong. "

"You are sadly mistaken, Mrs. Pritchard, " said Fleda half lightly, half sadly. 

"You're looking not a bit better than last night, and if anything ratherworse, " Mrs. Pritchard went on. "It isn't right, Miss Fleda. You oughtn'tto ha' set the first step out of doors, I know you oughtn't, this blessedday; and you've been on your feet these seven hours, --and you shew it!You're just ready to drop. "

"I will rest to-morrow, " said Fleda, --"or try to. "

"You are fit for nothing but bed, " said the housekeeper, --"and you'vebeen using yourself, Miss Fleda, as if you had the strength of anelephant. Now do you think you've been doing right?"

Fleda would have made some cheerful answer, but she was not equal to it;she had lost all command of herself, and she dropped knife and fork toburst into a flood of exceeding tears. Mrs. Pritchard equally astonishedand mystified, hurried questions, apologies, and consolations, one uponanother; and made up her mind that there was something mysterious on footabout which she had better ask no questions. Neither did she, from thattime. She sealed up her mouth, and contented herself with taking the bestcare of her guest that she possibly could. Needed enough, but all oflittle avail. 

The reaction did not cease with that day. The next, Sunday, was spent onthe sofa, in a state of utter prostration. With the necessity for exertionthe power had died. Fleda could only lie upon the cushions, and sleephelplessly, while Mrs. Pritchard sat by, anxiously watching her; curiosityreally swallowed up in kind feeling. Monday was little better, but towardsthe after part of the day the stimulant of anxiety began to work again, and Fleda sat up to watch for a word from her uncle, But none came, andTuesday morning distressed Mrs. Pritchard with its want of amendment. Itwas not to be hoped for, Fleda knew, while this fearful watching lasted. Her uncle might not have seen the advertisement--he might not have got herletter--he might be even then setting sail to quit home forever. And shecould do nothing but wait. Her nerves were alive to every stir; everytouch of the bell made her tremble; it was impossible to read, to liedown, to be quiet or still anywhere. She had set the glass of expectancyfor one thing in the distance; and all things else were a blur or a blank. 

They had sat down to dinner that Tuesday, when a ring at the door whichhad made her heart jump was followed--yes, it was, --by the entrance of themaid-servant holding a folded bit of paper in her hand. Fleda did not waitto ask whose it was; she seized it and saw; and sprang away up stairs. Itwas a sealed scrap of paper, that had been the back of a letter, containing two lines without signature. 

"I will meet you _at Dinah's_--if you come there alone about sundown. "

Enough! Dinah was an old black woman who once had been a very attachedservant in Mr. Rossitur's family, and having married and become a widowyears ago, had set up for herself in the trade of a washerwoman, occupyingan obscure little tenement out towards Chelsea. Fleda had rather a shadowyidea of the locality, though remembering very well sundry journeys ofkindness she and Hugh had made to it in days gone by. But she recollectedit was in Sloman-street and she knew she could find it; and dropping uponher knees poured out thanks too deep to be uttered and too strong to beeven thought without a convulsion of tears. Her dinner after that was buta mental thanksgiving; she was hardly conscious of anything beside; and athankful rejoicing for all her weary labours. Their weariness was sweet toher now. Let her but see him;--the rest was sure. 

Chapter XLII. 

 How well appaid she was her bird to find. 

 Sidney. 

Fleda counted the minutes till it wanted an hour of sundown; and thenavoiding Mrs. Pritchard made her escape out of the house. A long walk wasbefore her and the latter part of it through a region which she wished topass while the light was good. And she was utterly unable to travel at anybut a very gentle rate. So she gave herself plenty of time. 

It was a very bright afternoon and all the world was astir. Fledashielded herself with a thick veil and went up one of the narrowstreets, not daring to venture into Broadway; and passing Waverly Placewhich was almost as bright, turned down Eighth-street. A few blocks nowand she would be out of all danger of meeting any one that knew her. Shedrew her veil close and hurried on. But the proverb saith "a miss is asgood as a mile, " and with reason; for if fate wills the chances makenothing. As Fleda set her foot down to cross Fifth Avenue she saw Mr. Carleton on the other side coming up from Waverly Place. She went asslowly as she dared, hoping that he would pass without looking her way, or be unable to recognize her through her thick wrapper. In vain, --shesoon saw that she was known; he was waiting for her, and she must put upher veil and speak to him. 

"Why I thought you had left New York, " said he;--"I was told so. "

"I had left it--I have left it, sir, " said Fleda;--"I have only come backfor a day or two--"

"Have you been ill?" he said with a sudden change of tone, the light inhis eye and smile giving place to a very marked gravity. 

Fleda would have answered with a half smile, but such a sickness of heartcame over her that speech failed and she was very near bursting intotears. Mr. Carleton looked at her earnestly a moment, and then put thehand which Fleda had forgotten he still held, upon his arm and began towalk forward gently with her. Something in the grave tenderness with whichthis was done reminded Fleda irresistibly of the times when she had beena child under his care; and somehow her thoughts went off on a tangentback to the further days of her mother and father and grandfather, theother friends from whom she had had the same gentle protection, which nowthere was no one in the world to give her. And their images did never seemmore winning fair than just then, --when their place was left mostespecially empty. Her uncle she had never looked up to in the same way, and whatever stay he had been was cut down. Her aunt leaned upon _her_;and Hugh had always been more of a younger than an elder brother. Thequick contrast of those old happy childish days was too strong; the glanceback at what she had had, made her feel the want. Fleda blamed herself, reasoned and fought with herself;--but she was weak in mind and body, hernerves were unsteady yet, her spirits unprepared for any encounter orreminder of pleasure; and though vexed and ashamed she _could_ not holdher head up, and she could not prevent tear after tear from falling asthey went along; she could only hope that nobody saw them. 

Nobody spoke of them. But then nobody said anything; and the silence atlast frightened her into rousing herself She checked her tears and raisedher head; she ventured no more; she dared not turn her face towards hercompanion. He looked at her once or twice, as if in doubt whether tospeak or not. 

"Are you not going beyond your strength?" he said at length gently. 

Fleda said no, although in a tone that half confessed his suspicion. Hewas silent again, however, and she cast about in vain for something tospeak of; it seemed to her that all subjects of conversation in generalhad been packed up for exportation, neither eye nor memory could lightupon a single one. Block after block was passed, the pace at which hewalked, and the manner of his care for her, alone shewing that he knewwhat a very light hand was resting upon his arm. 

"How pretty the curl of blue smoke is from that chimney, " he said. 

It was said with a tone so carelessly easy that Fleda's heart jumped forone instant in the persuasion that he had seen and noticed nothingpeculiar about her. 

"I know it, " she said eagerly, --"I have often thought of it--especiallyhere in the city--"

"Why is it? what is it?--"

Fleda's eye gave one of its exploratory looks at his, such as heremembered from years ago, before she spoke. 

"Isn't it contrast?--or at least I think that helps the effect here. "

"What do you make the contrast?" he said quietly. 

"Isn't it, " said Fleda with another glance, "the contrast of somethingpure and free and upward-tending, with what is below it. I did not meanthe mere painter's contrast. In the country smoke is more picturesque, butin the city I think it has more character. "

"To how many people do you suppose it ever occurred that smoke had acharacter?" said he smiling. 

"You are laughing at me, Mr. Carleton? perhaps I deserve it. "

"You do not think that, " said he with a look that forbade her to think it. "But I see you are of Lavater's mind, that everything has a physiognomy?"

"I think he was perfectly right, " said Fleda. "Don't you, Mr. Carleton?"

"To some people, yes!--But the expression is so subtle that only very nicesensibilities, with fine training, can hope to catch it; therefore to themass of the world Lavater would talk nonsense. "

"That is a gentle hint to me. But if I talk nonsense I wish you would setme right, Mr. Carleton;--I am very apt to amuse myself with tracing outfancied analogies in almost everything, and I may carry it too far--toofar--to be spoken of wisely. I think it enlarges one's field of pleasurevery much. Where one eye is stopped, another is but invited on. "

"So, " said Mr. Carleton, "while that puff of smoke would lead oneperson's imagination only down the chimney to the kitchen fire, itwould take another's----where did yours go?" said he suddenly turninground upon her. 

Fleda met his eye again, without speaking; but her look had perhaps morethan half revealed her thought, for she was answered with a smile sointelligent and sympathetic that she was abashed. 

"How very much religion heightens the enjoyments of life, " Mr. Carletonsaid after a while. 

Fieda's heart throbbed an answer; she did not speak. 

"Both in its direct and indirect action. The mind is set free frominfluences that narrowed its range and dimmed its vision; and refined to akeener sensibility, a juster perception, a higher power of appreciation, by far, than it had before. And then, to say nothing of religion's ownpeculiar sphere of enjoyment, technically religious, --what a field ofpleasure it opens to its possessor in the world of moral beauty, mostpartially known to any other, --and the fine but exquisite analogies ofthings material with things spiritual, --those _harmonies of Nature_, towhich, talk as they will, all other ears are deaf!"

"You know, " said Fleda with full eyes that she dared not shew, "how HenryMartyn said that he found he enjoyed painting and music so much more afterhe became a Christian. "

"I remember. It is the substituting a just medium for a false one--it isputting nature within and nature without in tune with each other, so thatthe chords are perfect now which were jarring before. "

"And yet how far people would be from believing you, Mr. Carleton. "

"Yes--they are possessed with the contrary notion. But in all thecreation nothing has a one-sided usefulness;--what a reflection it wouldbe upon the wisdom of its author if godliness alone were theexception--if it were not 'profitable for the life that now is, as wellas for that which is to come'!"

"They make that work the other way, don't they?" said Fleda. --"Not beingable to see how thorough religion should be for anybody's happiness, theymake use of your argument to conclude that it is not what the Biblerequires. How I have heard that urged--that God intended his creatures tobe happy--as a reason why they should disobey him. They lay hold on thewrong end of the argument and work backwards. "

"Precisely. 

"'God intended his creatures to be happy. 

"'Strict obedience would make them unhappy. 

"'Therefore, he does not intend them to obey. '"

"They never put it before them quite so clearly, " said Fleda. 

"They would startle at it a little. But so they would at the right statingof the case. "

"And how would that be, Mr. Carleton?"

"It might be somewhat after this fashion--

"'God requires nothing that is not for the happiness of his people--

"'He requires perfect obedience--

"'Therefore perfect obedience is for their happiness'

"But unbelief will not understand that. Did it ever strike you how muchthere is in those words 'Come and see'?--All that argument can do, afterall, is but to persuade to that. Only faith will submit to terms and enterthe narrrow gate; and only obedience knows what the prospect is on theother side. "

"But isn't it true, Mr. Carleton, that the world have some cause for theiropinion?--judging as they do by the outside? The peculiar pleasures ofreligion, as you say, are out of sight, and they do not always find inreligious people that enlargement and refinement of which you werespeaking. "

"Because they make unequal comparisons. Recollect that, as God hasdeclared, the ranks of religion are not for the most part filled from thewise and the great. In making your estimate you must measure things equalin other respects. Compare the same man with himself before he was aChristian or with his unchristianized fellows--and you will findinvariably the refining, dignifying, ennobling, influence of truereligion; the enlarged intelligence and the greater power of enjoyment. "

"And besides those causes of pleasure-giving that you mentioned, " saidFleda, --"there is a mind at ease; and how much that is alone. If I mayjudge others by myself, --the mere fact of being unpoised--unresting--disables the mind from a thousand things that are joyfully relished byone entirely at ease. "

"Yes, " said he, --"do you remember that word--'The stones of the fieldshall be at peace with thee'?"

"I am afraid people would understand you as little as they would me, Mr. Carleton, " said Fleda laughing. 

He smiled, rather a prolonged smile, the expression of which Fleda couldnot make out; she felt that _she_ did not quite understand him. 

"I have thought, " said he after a pause, "that much of the beauty we findin many things is owing to a hidden analogy--the harmony they make withsome unknown string of the mind's harp which they have set a vibrating. But the music of that is so low and soft that one must listen very closelyto find out what it is. "

"Why that is the very theory of which I gave you a smoky illustration alittle while ago, " said Fleda. "I thought I was on safe ground, after whatyou said about the characters of flowers, for that was a little--"

"Fanciful?" said he smiling. 

"What you please, " said Fleda colouring a little, --"I am sure it is true. The theory, I mean. I have many a time felt it, though I never put it inwords. 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 of Fleda's faceas it was turned to him. 

"Forgive me for supposing you as ignorant as myself. I have seenit--once. "

"Appreciated it, I hope, that time?" said Fleda. 

"I shall never forget it. "

"And it never wrought in you a desire to see it again?"

"I might see many a dawn, " said he smiling, "without what I saw then. Itwas very early--and a cloudy morning, so that night had still almostundisturbed possession of earth and sky; but in the south-eastern quarter, between two clouds, there was a space of fair white promise, hardly makingany impression upon the darkness but only set off by it. And upon this onebright spot in earth or heaven, rode the planet of the morning--the sun'sforerunner--bright upon the brightness. All else was dusky--except whereoverhead the clouds had parted again and shewed a faint old moon, glimmering down upon the night it could no longer be said to 'rule'. "

"Beautiful!" said Fleda. "There is hardly any time I like so well as thedawn of a winter morning with an old moon in the sky. Summer weather hasno beauty like it--in some things. "

"Once, " continued Mr, Carleton, "I should have seen no more than I havetold you--the beauty that every cultivated eye must take in. But now, methought I saw the dayspring that has come upon a longer night--and fromout of the midst of it there was the fair face of the morning star lookingat me with its sweet reminder and invitation--looking over the world withits aspect of triumphant expectancy;--there was its calm assurance of thecoming day, --its promise that the star of hope which now there were only afew watching eyes to see, should presently be followed by the full beamsof the Sun of righteousness making the kingdoms of the world hisown. --Your memory may bring to you the words that came to mine, --thepromise 'to him that overcometh', and the beauty of the lips that madeit--the encouragement to 'patient continuance in well-doing', 'till theday break and the shadows flee away. '--And there on the other hand was thesubstituted light of earth's wisdom and inventions, dominant yet, butwaning and soon to be put out for ever. "

Fleda was crying again, and perhaps that was the reason why Mr. Carletonwas silent for some time. She was very sorry to shew herself so weak, butshe could not help it; part of his words had come too close. And when shehad recovered again she was absolutely silent too, for they were nearingSloman-street and she could not take him there with her. She did not knowwhat to say, nor what he would think; and she said not another word tillthey came to the corner. There she must stop and speak. 

"I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Carleton, " she said drawing her handfrom his arm, "for taking care of me all this disagreeable way--I will notgive you any more trouble. "

"You are not going to dismiss me?" said he looking at her with acountenance of serious anxiety. 

"I must, " said Fleda ingenuously, --"I have business to attend to here--"

"But you will let me have the pleasure of waiting for you?"

"O no, " said Fleda hesitating and flushing, --"thank you, Mr. Carleton, --but pray do not--I don't know at all how long I may bedetained. "

He bowed, she thought gravely, and turned away, and she entered the littlewretched street; with a strange feeling of pain that she could notanalyze. She did not know where it came from, but she thought if thereonly had been a hiding-place for her she could have sat down and wept awhole heartful. The feeling must be kept back now, and it was soonforgotten in the throbbing of her heart at another thought which tookentire possession. 

The sun was not down, there was time enough, but it was with a step andeye of hurried anxiety that Fleda passed along the little street, for fearof missing her quest or lest Dinah should have changed her domicil. Yetwould her uncle have named it for their meeting if he had not been sureof it? It was very odd he should have appointed that place at all, andFleda was inclined to think he must have seen Dinah by some chance, or itnever would have come into his head. Still her eye passed unheeding overall the varieties of dinginess and misery in her way, intent only uponfinding that particular dingy cellar-way which used to admit her toDinah's premises. It was found at last, and she went in. 

The old woman, herself most unchanged, did not know the young lady, butwell remembered the little girl whom Fleda brought to her mind. And thenshe was overjoyed to see her, and asked a multitude of questions, and tolda long story of her having met Mr. Rossitur in the street the other day"in the last place where she'd have looked to see him;" and how old he hadgrown, and how surprised she had been to see the grey hairs in his head. Fleda at last gave her to understand that she expected him to meet herthere and would like to see him alone; and the good woman immediately tookher work into another apartment, made up the fire and set up the chairs, and leaving her assured Fleda she would lock up the doors "and not let noone come through. "

It was sundown, and later, Fleda thought, and she felt as if every pulsewas doing double duty. No matter--if she were shattered and the work done. But what work!--Oh the needlessness, the cruelty, the folly of it! And howmuch of the ill consequences she might be unable after all to ward off. She took off her hat, to relieve a nervous smothered feeling; and walked, and sat down; and then sat still, from trembling inability to do anythingelse. Dinah's poor little room, clean though it was, looked to her themost dismal place in the world from its association with her errand; shehid her face on her knees that she might have no disagreeableness tocontend with but that which could not be shut out. 

It had lain there some time, till a sudden felling of terror at thegrowing lateness made her raise it to look at the window. Mr. Rossitur wasstanding still before her, he must have come in very softly, --andlooking, --oh Fleda had not imagined him looking so changed. All wasforgotten, --the wrong, and the needlessness, and the indignation withwhich she had sometimes thought of it; Fleda remembered nothing but loveand pity, and threw herself upon his neck with such tears of tendernessand sympathy, such kisses of forgiveness and comfort-speaking, as mighthave broken a stouter heart than Mr. Rossitur's. He held her in his armsfor a few minutes, passively suffering her caresses, and then gentlyunloosing her hold placed her on a seat; sat down a little way off, covered his face and groaned aloud. 

Fleda could not recover herself at once. Then shaking off her agitationshe came and knelt down by his side and putting one arm over his shoulderlaid her cheek against his forehead. Words were beyond reach, but hisforehead was wet with her tears; and kisses, of soft entreaty, of winningassurance, said all she could say. 

"What did you come here for, Fleda?" said Mr. Rossitur at length, withoutchanging his position. 

"To bring you home, uncle Rolf. "

"Home!" said he, with an accent between bitterness and despair. 

"Yes, for it's all over, it's all forgotten--there is no more to be saidabout it at all, " said Fleda, getting her words out she didn't know how. 

"What is forgotten?" said he harshly. 

"All that you would wish, sir, " replied Fleda softly and gently;--"thereis no more to be done about it; and I came to tell you if possible beforeit was too late. Oh I'm so glad!--" and her arms and her cheek pressedcloser as fresh tears stopped her voice. 

"How do you know, Fleda?" said Mr. Rossitur raising his head and bringinghers to his shoulder, while his arms in turn enclosed her. 

Fleda whispered, "He told me so himself. "

"Who?"

"Mr. Thorn. "

The words were but just spoken above her breath. Mr. Rossitur was silentfor some time. 

"Are you sure you understood him?"

"Yes, sir; it could not have been spoken plainer. "

"Are you quite sure he meant what he said, Fleda?"

"Perfectly sure, uncle Rolf! I know he did. "

"What stipulation did he make beforehand?"

"He did it without any stipulation, sir. "

"What was his inducement then? If I know him he is not a man to actwithout any. "

Fleda's cheek was dyed, but except that she gave no other answer. 

"Why has it been left so long?" said her uncle presently. 

"I don't know, sir--he said nothing about that. He promised that neitherwe nor the world should hear anything more of it. "

"The world?" said Mr. Rossitur. 

"No sir, he said that only one or two persons had any notion of it andthat their secrecy he had the means of securing. "

"Did he tell you anything more?"

"Only that he had the matter entirely under his control and that never awhisper of it should be heard again, No promise could be given more fullyand absolutely. "

Mr. Rossitur drew a long breath, speaking to Fleda's ear very greatrelief, and was silent. 

"And what reward is he to have for this, Fleda?" he said after somemusing. 

"All that my hearty thanks and gratitude can give, as far as I amconcerned, 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 theworld. I haven't engaged myself to anything. The promise was made freely, without any sort of stipulation. "

Mr. Rossitur looked thoughtful and disquieted. Fleda's tears werepouring again. 

"I will not trust him, " he said, --"I will not stay in the country!"

"But you will come home, uncle?" said Fleda, terrified. 

"Yes my dear child--yes my dear child!" he said tenderly, putting his armsround Fleda again and kissing, with an earnestness of acknowledgment thatwent to her heart, her lips and brow, --"you shall do what you will withme; and when I go, we will all go together. "

From Queechy! From America!--But she had no time for that thought now. 

"You said 'for Hugh's sake, '" Mr. Rossitur observed after a pause, andwith some apparent difficulty;--"what of him?"

"He is not well, uncle Rolf, " said Fleda, --"and I think the best medicinewill be the sight of you again. "

Mr. Rossitur looked pale and was silent a moment. 

"And my wife?" he said. 

His face, and the thought of those faces at home, were too much for Fleda;she could not help it; "Oh, uncle Rolf, " she said, hiding her face, "theyonly want to see you again now!"

Mr. Rossitur leaned his head in his hands and groaned; and Fleda could butcry; she felt there was nothing to say. 

"It was for Marion, " he said at length;--"it was when I was hard pressedand I was fearful if it were known that it might ruin her prospects. --Iwanted that miserable sum--only four thousand dollars--that fellowSchwiden asked to borrow it of me for a few days, and to refuse would havebeen to confess all. I dared not try my credit, and I just madly took thatstep that proved irretrievable--I counted at the moment upon funds thatwere coming to me only the next week, sure, I thought, as possible, --butthe man cheated me, and our embarrassments thickened from that time; thatthing has been a weight--oh a weight of deadening power!--round my neckever since. I have died a living death these six years!--"

"I know it, dear uncle--I know it all!" said Fleda, bringing thesympathizing touch of her cheek to his again. 

"The good that it did has been unspeakably overbalanced by the evil--evenlong ago I knew that. "

"The good that it did"! It was no time _then_ to moralize, but he mustknow that Marion was at home, or he might incautiously reveal to her whathappily there was no necessity for her ever knowing. And the story mustgive him great and fresh pain----

"Dear uncle Rolf!" said Fleda pressing closer to him, "we may be happierthan we have been in a long time, if you will only take it so. The cloudupon you has been a cloud upon us. "

"I know it!" he exclaimed, --"a cloud that served to shew me that my jewelswere diamonds!"

"You have an accession to your jewels, uncle Rolf. "

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, " said Fleda trembling, "that there are two more at home. "

He held her back to look at her. 

"Can't you guess who?"

"No!" said he. "What do you mean?"

"I must tell you, because they know nothing, and needn't know, of allthis matter. "

"What are you talking about?"

"Marion is there----"

"Marion!" exclaimed Mr. Rossitur, with quick changes of expression, --"Marion!--At Queechy!--and her husband?"

"No sir, --a dear little child. "

"Marion!--and her husband--where is he?"

Fleda hesitated. 

"I don't know--I don't know whether she knows--"

"Is he dead?"

"No sir--"

Mr. Rossitur put her away and got up and walked, or strode, up and down, up and down, the little apartment. Fleda dared not look at him, even bythe faint glimmer that came from the chimney. 

But abroad it was perfectly dark--the stars were shining, the only lampsthat illumined the poor little street, and for a long time there had beenno light in the room but that of the tiny wood fire. Dinah never could bepersuaded of the superior cheapness of coal. Fleda came at last to heruncle's side and putting her arm within his said, "How soon will you set off for home, uncle Rolf?"

"To-morrow morning. "

"You must take the boat to Bridgeport now--you know the river is fast. "

"Yes I know----"

"Then I will meet you at the wharf, uncle Rolf, --at what o'clock?"

"My dear child, " said he, stopping and passing his hand tenderly over hercheek, "are you fit for it to-morrow? You had better stay where you arequietly for a few days--you want rest. "

"No, I will go home with you, " said Fleda, "and rest there. But hadn't webetter let Dinah in and bid her good bye? for I ought to be somewhere elseto get ready. "

Dinah was called, and a few kind words spoken, and with a moresubstantial remembrance, or reward, from Fleda's hand, they left her. 

Fleda had the support of her uncle's arm till they came within sight ofthe house, and then he stood and watched her while she went the rest ofthe way alone. 

[Illustration: Then he stood and watched her. ]

Anything more white and spirit-looking, and more spirit-like in itspurity and peacefulness, surely did not walk that night. There was musicin her ear, and abroad in the star-light, more ethereal than Ariel's, but she knew where it came from; it was the chimes of her heart thatwere ringing; and never a happier peal, nor never had the mentalatmosphere been more clear for their sounding. Thankfulness, --that wasthe oftenest note, --swelling thankfulness for her success, --joy forherself and for the dear ones at home, --generous delight at having beenthe instrument of their relief, --the harmonies of pure affections, without any grating now, --the hope well grounded she thought, ofimprovement in her uncle and better times for them all, --a childlikepeace that was at rest with itself and the world, --these were minglingand interchanging their music, and again and again in the midst of itall, faith rang the last chime in heaven. 

Chapter XLIII. 

 As some lone bird at day's departing hour Sings in the sunbeam of the transient shower, Forgetful though its wings are wet the while. 

 Bowles. 

Happily possessed with the notion that there was some hidden mystery inFleda's movements, Mrs. Pritchard said not a word about her having goneout, and only spoke in looks her pain at the imprudence of which shehad been guilty. But when Fleda asked to have a carriage ordered totake her to the boat in the morning, the good housekeeper could nothold any longer. 

"Miss Fleda, " said she with a look of very serious remonstrance, --"Idon't know what you're thinking of, but _I_ know you're fixing to killyourself. You are no more fit to go to Queechy to-morrow than you were tobe out till seven o'clock this evening; and if you saw yourself youwouldn't want me to say any more. There is not the least morsel of colourin your face, and you look as if you had a mind to get rid of your bodyaltogether as fast as you can! You want to be in bed for two daysrunning, now this minute. "

"Thank you, dear Mrs. Pritchard, " said Fleda smiling; "you are verycareful of me; but I must go home to-morrow, and go to bed afterwards. "

The housekeeper looked at her a minute in silence, and then said, "Don't, dear Miss Fleda!"--with an energy of entreaty which brought the tears intoFleda's eyes. But she persisted in desiring the carriage; and Mrs. Pritchard was silenced, observing however that she shouldn't wonder if shewasn't able to go after all. Fleda herself was not without a doubt on thesubject before the evening was over. The reaction, complete now, began tomake itself felt; and morning settled the question. She was not able evento rise from her bed. 

The housekeeper was, in a sort, delighted; and Fleda was in too passive amood of body and mind to have any care on the subject. The agitation ofthe past days had given way to an absolute quiet that seemed as if nothingcould ever ruffle it again, and this feeling was seconded by the extremeprostration of body. She was a mere child in the hands of her nurse, andhad, Mrs. Pritchard said, "if she wouldn't mind her telling, --the sweetestbaby-face that ever had so much sense belonging to it. "

The morning was half spent in dozing slumbers, when Fleda heard a rush offootsteps, much lighter and sprightlier than good Mrs. Pritchard's, comingup the stairs and pattering along the entry to her room; and with littleceremony in rushed Florence and Constance Evelyn. They almost smotheredFleda with their delighted caresses, and ran so hard their questions abouther looks and her illness, that she was well nigh spared the trouble ofanswering. 

"You horrid little creature!" said Constance, --"why didn't you comestraight to our house? just think of the injurious suspicions you haveexposed us to!--to say nothing of the extent of fiction we have foundourselves obliged to execute. I didn't expect it of you, little Queechy. "

Fleda kept her pale face quiet on the pillow, and only smiled herincredulous curiosity. 

"But when did you come back, Fleda?" said Miss Evelyn. 

"We should never have known a breath about your being here, " Constancewent on. "We were sitting last night in peaceful unconsciousness of therebeing any neglected calls upon our friendship in the vicinity, when Mr. Carleton came in and asked for you. Imagine our horror!--we said you hadgone out early in the afternoon and had not returned. "

"You didn't say that!" said Fleda colouring. 

"And he remarked at some length, " said Constance, "upon the importance ofyoung ladies having some attendance when they are out late in the evening, and that you in particular were one of those persons--he didn't say, buthe intimated, of a slightly volatile disposition, --whom their friendsought not to lose sight of. "

"But what brought you to town again, Fleda?" said the elder sister. 

"What makes you talk so, Constance?" said Fleda. 

"I haven't told you the half!" said Constance demurely. "And then mammaexcused herself as well as she could, and Mr. Carleton said very seriouslythat he knew there was a great element of head-strongness in yourcharacter--he had remarked it, he said, when you were arguing with Mr. Stackpole. "

"Constance, be quiet!" said her sister. "_Will_ you tell me, Fleda, whatyou have come to town for? I am dying with curiosity. "

"Then it's inordinate curiosity, and ought to be checked, my dear, " saidFleda smiling. 

"Tell me!"

"I came to take care of some business that could not very well be attendedto at a distance. "

"Who did you come with?"

"One of our Queechy neighbours that I heard was coming to New York. "

"Wasn't your uncle at home?"

"Of course not. If he had been, there would have been no need of mystirring. "

"But was there nobody else to do it but you?"

"Uncle Orrin away, you know; and Charlton down at his post--FortHamilton, is it?--I forget which fort--he is fast there. "

"He is not so very fast, " said Constance, "for I see him every now andthen in Broadway shouldering Mr. Thorn instead of a musket; and he hastaken up the distressing idea that it is part of his duty to oversee theprogress of Florence's worsted-work--(I've made over that horrid thing toher, Fleda)--or else his precision has been struck with the anomaly ofblue stars on a white ground, and he is studying that, --I don't knowwhich, --and so every few nights he rushes over from Governor's Island, orsomewhere, to prosecute enquiries. Mamma is quite concerned about him--shesays he is wearing himself out. "

The mixture of amusement, admiration, and affection, with which the othersister looked at her and laughed with her was a pretty thing to see. 

"But where is your other cousin, --Hugh?" said Florence. 

"He was not well. "

"Where is your uncle?"

"He will be at home to-day I expect; and so should I have been--I meant tobe there as soon as he was, --but I found this morning that I was not wellenough, --to my sorrow. "

"You were not going alone!"

"O no--a friend of ours was going to-day. "

"I never saw anybody with so many friends!" said Florence. "But you arecoming to us now, Fleda. How soon are you going to get up?"

"O by to-morrow, " said Fleda smiling;--"but I had better stay where I amthe little while I shall be here--I must go home the first minute I canfind an opportunity. "

"But you sha'n't find an opportunity till we've had you, " said Constance. "I'm going to bring a carriage for you this afternoon. I could bear theloss of your friendship, my dear, but not the peril of my own reputation. Mr. Carleton is under the impression that you are suffering from amomentary succession of fainting fits, and if we were to leave you herein an empty house to come out of them at your leisure, what would hethink of us?"

What would he think!--Oh world! Is this it?

But Fleda was not able to be moved in the afternoon; and it soon appearedthat nature would take more revenge than a day's sleep for the roughhandling she had had the past week. Fleda could not rise from her bed thenext morning; and instead of that a kind of nondescript nervous fever setin; nowise dangerous, but very wearying. She was nevertheless extremelyglad of it, for it would serve to explain to all her friends the change oflook which had astonished them. They would make it now the token ofcoming, not of past, evil. The rest she took with her accustomed patienceand quietness, thankful for everything after the anxiety and the reliefshe had just before known. 

Dr. Gregory came home from Philadelphia in the height of her attack, andaggravated it for a day or two with the fear of his questioning. ButFleda was surprised at his want of curiosity. He asked her indeed whatshe had come to town for, but her whispered answer of "Business, " seemedto satisfy him, for he did not inquire what the business was. He did askher furthermore what had made her get sick; but this time he wassatisfied more easily still, with a very curious sweet smile which wasthe utmost reply Fleda's wits at the moment could frame. "Well, getwell, " said he kissing her heartily once or twice, "and I won't quarrelwith you about it. "

The getting well however promised to be a leisurely affair. Dr. Gregorystaid two or three days, and then went on to Boston, leaving Fleda in nowant of him. 

Mrs. Pritchard was the tenderest and carefullest of nurres. The Evelynsdid everything _but_ nurse her. They sat by her, talked to her, made herlaugh, and not seldom made her look sober too, with their wild tales ofthe world and the world's doings. But they were indeed very affectionateand kind, and Fleda loved them for it. If they wearied her sometimes withtheir talk, it was a change from the weariness of fever and silence thaton the whole was useful. 

She was quieting herself one morning, as well as she could, in the midstof both, lying with shut eyes against her pillow, and trying to fix hermind on pleasant things, when she heard Mrs. Pritchard open the door andcome in. She knew it was Mrs. Pritchard, so she didn't move nor look. Butin a moment, the knowledge that Mrs. Pritchard's feet had stopped just bythe bed, and a strange sensation of something delicious saluting her madeher open her eyes; when they lighted upon a huge bunch of violets, justbefore them and in most friendly neighbourhood to her nose. Fleda startedup, 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, withan immense amount of delighted satisfaction. 

"Delicious!--Where did they come from?"

"Well they must have come from a greenhouse, or hot-house, or something ofthat kind, Miss Fleda, --these things don't grow nowhere out o' doors atthis time. "

Mrs. Pritchard guessed Fleda had got the clue, from her quick change ofcolour and falling eye. There was a quick little smile too; and "Howkind!" was upon the end of Fleda's tongue, but it never got any further. Her energies, so far as expression was concerned, seemed to beconcentrated in the act of smelling. Mrs. Pritchard stood by. 

"They must be put in water, " said Fleda, --"I must have a dish forthem--Dear Mrs. Pritchard, will you get me one?"

The housekeeper went smiling to herself. The dish was brought, the violetsplaced in it, and a little table at Fleda's request was set by the side ofthe bed close to her pillow, for them to stand upon. And Fleda lay on herpillow and looked at them. 

There never were purer-breathed flowers than those. All the pleasantassociations of Fleda's life seemed to hang about them, from the time whenher childish eyes had first made acquaintance with violets, to theconversation in the library a few days ago; and painful things stoodaloof; they had no part. The freshness of youth, and the sweetness ofspring-time, and all the kindly influences which had ever joined with bothto bless her, came back with their blessing in the violets' remindingbreath. Fleda shut her eyes and she felt it; she opened her eyes, and thelittle double blue things smiled at her good humouredly and said, "Here weare--you may 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 day rather thanupon food and medicine; or at least, she said, they agreed remarkably welltogether. And the next day it was much the same. 

"What will you do when they are withered?" she said that evening. "I shallhave to see and get some more for you. "

"Oh they will last a great while, " said Fleda smiling. 

But the next morning Mrs. Pritchard came into her room with a great bunchof roses, the very like of the one Fleda had had at the Evelyns'. Shedelivered them with a sort of silent triumph, and then as before stood byto enjoy Fleda and the flowers together. But the degree of Fleda'swonderment, 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 Inever _did_ see such a bunch of roses as that since I livedanywhere. --They have made a rose of you, Miss Fleda. "

"How beautiful!--" was Fleda's answer. 

"Somebody--he didn't say who--desired to know particularly how MissRinggan was to-day. "

"Somebody is _very_ kind!" said Fleda from the bottom of her heart. "Butdear Mrs. Pritchard, I shall want another dish. "

Somebody was kind, she thought more and more; for there came every day ortwo the most delicious bouquets, every day different. They were _at least_equal in their soothing and refreshing influences to all the efforts ofall the Evelyns and Mrs. Pritchard put together. There never came any namewith them, and there never was any need. Those bunches of flowerscertainly had a physiognomy; and to Fleda were (not the flowers but thechoosing, cutting, and putting of them together) the embodiment of anamount of grace, refined feeling, generosity, and kindness, that herimagination never thought of in connection with but one person. And hiskindness was answered, perhaps Mrs. Pritchard better than Fleda guessedhow well, from the delighted colour and sparkle of the eye with whichevery fresh arrival was greeted as it walked into her room. By Fleda'sorder the bouquets were invariably put out of sight before the Evelynsmade their first visit in the morning, and not brought out again till alldanger of seeing them any more for the day was past. The regular coming ofthese floral messengers confirmed Mrs. Pritchard in her mysterioussurmises about Fleda, which were still further strengthened by thisincomprehensible order; and at last she got so into the spirit of thething that if she heard an untimely ring at the door she would catch up aglass of flowers and run as if they had been contraband, without a wordfrom anybody. 

The Evelyns wrote to Mrs. Rossitur, by Fleda's desire, so as not to alarmher; merely saying that Fleda was not quite well, and that they meant tokeep her a little while to recruit herself; and that Mrs. Rossitur mustsend her some clothes. This last clause was tha particular addition ofConstance. 

The fever lasted a fortnight, and then went off by degrees, leaving herwith a very small portion of her ordinary strength. Fleda was to go to theEvelyns as soon as she could bear it; at present she was only able to comedown to the little back parlour and sit in the doctor's arm chair, and eatjelly, and sleep, and look at Constance, and when Constance was not therelook at her flowers. She could hardly bear a book as yet. She hadn't a bitof colour in her face, Mrs. Pritchard said, but she looked better thanwhen she came to town; and to herself the good housekeeper added, that shelooked happier too. No doubt that was true. Fleda's principal feeling, ever since she lay down in her bed, had been thankfulness; and now thatthe ease of returning health was joined to this feeling, her face with allits subdued gravity was as untroubled in its expression as the faces ofher flowers. 

She was disagreeably surprised one day, after she had been two or threedays down stairs, by a visit from Mrs. Thorn. In her well-grounded dreadof seeing one person Fleda had given strict orders that no _gentleman_should be admitted; she had not counted upon this invasion. Mrs. Thorn hadalways been extremely kind to her, but though Fleda gave her credit forthorough good-heartedness, and a true liking for herself, she could notdisconnect her attentions from another thought, and therefore alwayswished them away; and never had her kind face been more thoroughlydisagreeable to Fleda than when it made its appearance in the doctor'slittle back parlour on this occasion. With even more than her usualfondness, or Pleda's excited imagination fancied so, Mrs. Thorn lavishedcaresses upon her, and finally besought her to go out and take the air inher carriage. Fleda tried most earnestly to get rid of this invitation, and was gently unpersuadable, till the lady at last was brought to promisethat she should see no creature during the drive but herself. An ominouspromise! but Fleda did not know any longer how, to refuse without hurtinga person for 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 went to theEvelyns. But then precautions were at an end. It was no longer possible tokeep herself shut up. She had cause, poor child, the very first night ofher coming, to wish herself back again. 

This first evening she would fain have pleaded weakness as her excuse andgone to her room, but Constance laid violent hands on her and insistedthat she should stay at least a little while with them. And she seemedfated to see all her friends in a bevy. First came Charlton; then followedthe Decaturs, whom she knew and liked very well, and engrossed her, happily before her cousin had time to make any enquiries; then came Mr. Carleton; then Mr. Stackpole. Then Mr. Thorn, in expectation of whomFleda's breath had been coming and going painfully all the evening. Shecould not meet him without a strange mixture of embarrassment andconfusion with the gratitude she wished to express, an embarrassment notat all lessened by the air of happy confidence with which he came forwardto her. It carried an intimation that almost took away the little strengthshe had. And if anything could have made his presence more intolerable, itwas the feeling she could not get rid of that it was the cause why Mr. Carleton did not come near her again; though she prolonged her stay in thedrawing-room in the hope that he would. It proved to be for Mr. Thorn'sbenefit alone. 

"Well you staid all the evening after all, " said Constance as they weregoing up stairs. 

"Yes--I wish I hadn't, " said Fleda. "I wonder when I shall be likely tofind a chance of getting back to Queechy. "

"You're not fit yet, so you needn't trouble yourself about it, " saidConstance. "We'll find you plenty of chances. "

Fleda could not think of Mr. Thorn without trembling. His manner meant--somuch more than it had any right, or than she had counted upon. Heseemed--she pressed her hands upon her face to get rid of theimpression--he seemed to take for granted precisely that which she hadrefused to admit; he seemed to reckon as paid for that which she haddeclined to set a price upon. Her uncle's words and manner came up in hermemory. She could see nothing best to do but to get home as fast aspossible. She had no one here to fall back upon. Again that vision offather and mother and grandfather flitted across her fancy; and thoughFleda's heart ended by resting down on that foundation to which it alwaysrecurred, it rested with a great many tears. 

For several days she denied herself absolutely to morning visitors ofevery kind. But she could not entirely absent herself from thedrawing-room in the evening; and whenever the family were at home therewas a regular levee. Mr. Thorn could not be avoided then. He was alwaysthere, and always with that same look and manner of satisfied confidence. Fleda was as grave, as silent, as reserved, as she could possibly be andnot be rude; but he seemed to take it in excellent good part, as beinghalf indisposition and half timidity. Fleda set her face earnestly towardshome, and pressed Mrs. Evelyn to find her an opportunity, weak or strong, of going there; but for those days as yet none presented itself. 

Mr. Carleton was at the house almost as often as Mr. Thorn, seldom stayingso long however, and never having any more to do with Fleda than he hadthat first evening. Whenever he did come in contact with her, he was, shethought, as grave as he was graceful. That was to be sure his commonmanner in company, yet she could not help thinking there was somedifference since the walk they had taken together, and it grieved her. 

Chapter XLIV. 

 The beat-laid schemes o' mice and men Gang aft agley. 

 Burns. 

After a few days Charlton verified what Constance had said about his notbeing very _fast_ at Fort Hamilton, by coming again to see them onemorning. Fleda asked him if he could not get another furlough to go withher home, but he declared he was just spending one which was near out; andhe could not hope 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, " said Fleda sighing. 

"No you wouldn't, " said Constance, --"you are well enough to go out now, and you forget we are all to make Mrs. Thorn happy to-morrow night. "

"I am not, " said Fleda. 

"Not? you can't help yourself; you must; you said you would. "

"I did not indeed. "

"Well then I said it for you, and that will do just as well. Why my dear, if you don't--just think!--the Thorns will be in a state--I should preferto go through a hedge of any description rather than meet the tryingdemonstrations which will encounter me on every side. "

"I am going to Mrs. Decatur's, " said Fleda;--"she invited me first, and Iowe it to her, she has asked me so often and so kindly. "

"I shouldn't think you'd enjoy yourself there, " said Florence; "they don'ttalk a bit of English these nights. If I was going, my dear, I would actas your interpreter, but my destiny lies in another direction. "

"If I cannot make anybody understand my French I will get somebody tocondescend to my English, " said Fleda. 

"Why do you talk French?" was the instant question from both mouths. 

"Unless she has forgotten herself strangely, " said Charlton. "Talk! shewill talk to anybody's satisfaction--that happens to differ from her; andI think her tongue cares very little which language it wags in. There isno danger about Fleda's enjoying herself, where people are talking. "

Fleda laughed at him, and the Evelyns rather stared at them both. 

"But we are all going to Mrs. Thorn's? you can't go alone?"

"I will make Charlton take me, " said Fleda, --"or rather I will take him, if he will let me. Will you, Charlton? will you take care of me to Mrs. Decatur's to-morrow night?"

"With the greatest pleasure, my dear coz, but I have another engagement inthe course of the evening. "

"Oh that is nothing, " said Fleda;--"if you will only go with me, thatis all I care for. You needn't stay but ten minutes. And you can callfor me, " she added, turning to the Evelyns, --"as you come back fromMrs. Thorn's. "

To this no objection could be made, and the ensuing raillery Fleda borewith steadiness at least if not with coolness; for Charlton heard it, andshe was distressed. 

She went to Mrs. Decatur's the next evening in greater elation of spiritsthan she had known since she left her uncle's; delighted to be missingfrom the party at Mrs. Thorn's, and hoping that Mr. Lewis would besatisfied with this very plain hint of her mind. A little pleased too tofeel quite free, alone from too friendly eyes, and ears that had toolively a concern in her sayings and doings. She did not in the least careabout going to Mrs. Decatur's; her joy was that she was not at the otherplace. But there never was elation so outwardly quiet. Nobody would havesuspected its existence. 

The evening was near half over when Mr. Carleton came in. Fleda had halfhoped he would be there, and now immediately hoped she might have achance to see him alone and to thank him for his flowers; she had notbeen able to do that yet. He presently came up to speak to her just asCharlton, who had found attraction enough to keep him so long, came totell he was going. 

"You are looking better, " said the former, as gravely as ever, but with aneye of serious interest that made the word something. 

"I am better, " said Fleda gratefully. 

"So much better that she is in a hurry to make herself worse, " said hercousin. "Mr. Carleton, you are a professor of medicine, I believe, --I havean indistinct impression of your having once prescribed a ride onhorseback for somebody;--wouldn't you recommend some measure of prudenceto her consideration?"

"In general, " Mr. Carleton answered gravely; "but in the present case Icould not venture upon any special prescription, Capt. Rossitur. "

"As for instance, that she should remain in New York till she is fit toleave it?--By the way, what brought you here again in such a hurry, Fleda?I haven't heard that yet. "

The question was rather sudden. Fleda was a little taken by surprise; herface shewed some pain and confusion both. Mr. Carleton prevented heranswer, she could not tell whether with design. 

"What imprudence do you charge your cousin with, Capt. Rossitur?"

"Why she is in a great hurry to get back to Queechy, before she is ableto go anywhere--begging me to find an escort for her. It is lucky Ican't. I didn't know I ever should be glad to be 'posted up' in thisfashion, but I am. "

"You have not sought very far, Capt. Rossitur, " said the voice of Thornbehind him. "Here is one that will be very happy to attend Miss Fleda, whenever she pleases. "

Fleda's shocked start and change of countenance was seen by more eyesthan one pair. Thorn's fell, and a shade crossed his countenance too, foran instant, that Fleda's vision was too dazzled to see. Mr. Carletonmoved away. 

"Why are _you_ going to Queechy?" said Charlton astonished. 

His friend was silent a moment, perhaps for want of power to speak. Fledadared not look at him. 

"It is not impossible, --unless this lady forbid me. I am not a fixture. "

"But what brought you here, man, to offer your services?" saidCharlton;--"most ungallantly leaving so many pairs of bright eyes to shineupon your absence. "

"Mr. Thorn will not find himself in darkness here, Capt. Rossitur, " saidMrs. Decatur. 

"It's my opinion he ought, ma'am, " said Charlton. 

"It is my opinion every man ought, who makes his dependance on gleams ofsunshine, " said Mr. Thorn rather cynically. "I cannot say I was thinkingof brightness before or behind me. "

"I should think not, " said Charlton;--"you don't look as if you had seenany in a good while. "

"A light goes out every now and then, " said Thorn, "and it takes one'seyes some time to get accustomed to it. What a singular world we live in, Mrs. Decatur!"

"That is so new an idea, " said the lady laughing, "that I must request anexplanation. "

"What new experience of its singularity has your wisdom made?" sid hisfriend. "I thought you and the world knew each other's faces prettywell before. "

"Then you have not heard the news?"

"What news?"

"Hum--I suppose it is not about yet, " said Thorn composedly. "No--youhaven't heard it. "

"But what, man?" said Charlton, --"let's hear your news, for I must beoff. "

"Why--but it is no more than rumour yet--but it is said that strangethings are coming to light about a name that used to be held in veryhigh respect. "

"In this city?"

"In this city?--yes--it is said proceedings are afoot against one of ouroldest citizens, on charge of a very grave offence. "

"Who?--and what offence? what do you mean?"

"Is it a secret, Mr. Thorn?" said Mrs. Decatur. 

"If you have not heard, perhaps it is as well not to mention names toosoon;--if it comes out it will be all over directly; possibly the familymay hush it up, and in that case the less said the better; but those haveit in hand that will not let it slip through their fingers. "

Mrs. Decatur turned away, saying "how shocking such things were;" andThorn, with a smile which did not however light up his face, said, "You may be off, Charlton, with no concern for the bright eyes you leavebehind you--I will endeavour to atone for my negligence elsewhere, by mymindfulness of them. "

"Don't excuse you, " said Charlton;--but his eye catching at the momentanother attraction opposite in the form of man or woman, instead ofquitting the room he leisurely crossed it to speak to the new-comer; andThorn with an entire change of look and manner pressed forward and offeredhis arm to Fleda, who was looking perfectly white. If his words had neededany commentary it was given by his eye as it met hers in speaking the lastsentence to Mrs. Decatur. No one was near whom she knew and Mr. Thorn ledher out to a little back room where the gentlemen had thrown off theircloaks, where the air was fresher, and placing her on a seat stood waitingbefore her till she could speak to him. 

"What do you mean, Mr. Thorn?" Fleda looked as much as said, when shecould meet his face. 

"I may rather ask you what _you_ mean, Miss Fleda, " he answered gravely. 

Fleda drew breath painfully. 

"I mean nothing, " she said lowering her head again, --"I have donenothing--"

"Did you think I meant nothing when I agreed to do all you wished?"

"I thought you said you would do it freely, " she said, with a tone ofvoice that might have touched anybody, there was such a sinking ofheart in it. 

"Didn't you understand me?"

"And is it all over now?" said Fleda after a pause. 

"Not yet--but it soon may be. A weak hand may stop it now, --it will soonbe beyond the power of the strongest. "

"And what becomes of your promise that it should no more be heard of?"said Fleda, looking up at him with a colourless face but eyes that put thequestion forcibly nevertheless. 

"Is any promise bound to stand without its conditions?"

"I made no conditions, " said Fleda quickly. 

"Forgive me, --but did you not permit me to understand them?"

"No!--or if I did I could not help it. "

"Did you say that you wished to help it?" said he gently. 

"I must say so now, then, Mr. Thorn, " said Fleda withdrawing the hand hehad taken;--"I did not mean or wish you to think so, but I was too ill tospeak--almost to know what I did--It was not my fault--"

"You do not make it mine, that I chose such a time, selfishly, I grant, todraw from your lips the words that are more to me than life?"

"Cannot you be generous?"--_for once_, she was very near saying. 

"Where you are concerned, I do not know how. "

Fleda was silent a moment, and then bowed her face in her hands. 

"May I not ask that question of you?" said he, bending down andendeavouring to remove them;--"will you not say--or look--that word thatwill make others happy beside me?"

"I cannot, sir. "

"Not for their sakes?" he said calmly. 

"Can you ask me to do for theirs what I would not for my own?"

"Yes--for mine, " he said, with a meaning deliberateness. 

Fleda was silent, with a face of white determination. 

"It will be beyond _eluding_, as beyond recall, the second time. I mayseem selfish--I am selfish--but dear Miss Ringgan you do not see all, --youwho make me so can make me anything else with a touch of your hand--it isselfishness that would be bound to your happiness, if you did but entrustit to me. "

Fleda neither spoke nor looked at him and rose up from her chair. 

"Is this _your_ generosity?" he said, pointedly though gently. 

"That is not the question now, sir, " said Fleda, who was tremblingpainfully. "I cannot do evil that good may come. "

"But _evil_?" said he detaining her, --"what evil do I ask of you?--to_remove_ evil, I do. "

Fleda clasped her hands, but answered calmly, "I cannot make any pretences, sir;--I cannot promise to give what is notin my power. "

"In whose power then?" said he quickly. 

A feeling of indignation came to Fleda's aid, and she turned away. But hestopped her still. 

"Do you think I do not understand?" he said with a covert sneer that hadthe keenness and hardness, and the brightness, of steel. 

"_I_ do not, sir, " said Fleda. 

"Do you think I do not know whom you came here to meet?"

Fleda's glance of reproach was a most innocent one, but it did notcheck him. 

"Has that fellow renewed his old admiration of you?" he went on in thesame tone. 

"Do not make me desire his old protection, " said Fleda, her gentle faceroused to a flush of displeasure. 

"Protection!" said Charlton coming in, --"who wants protection? here itis--protection from what? my old friend Lewis? what the deuce does thislady want of protection, Mr. Thorn?"

It was plain enough that Fleda wanted it, from the way she was droopingupon his arm. 

"You may ask the lady herself, " said Thorn, in the same tone he had beforeused, --"I have not the honour to be her spokesman. "

"She don't need one, " said Charlton, --"I addressed myself to you--speakfor yourself, man. "

"I am not sure that it would be her pleasure I should, " said Thorn. "Shall I tell this gentleman, Miss Ringgan, who needs protection, andfrom what?--"

Fleda raised her head, and putting her hand on his arm looked aconcentration of entreaty--lips were sealed. 

"Will you give me, " said he gently taking the hand in his own, "yoursign manual for Capt. Rossitur's security? It is not too late. --Ask itof her, sir!"

"What does this mean?" said Charlton looking from his cousin to hisfriend. 

"You shall have the pleasure of knowing, sir, just so soon as I find itconvenient. "

"I will have a few words with you on this subject, my fine fellow, " saidCapt. Rossitur, as the other was preparing to leave the room. 

"You had better speak to somebody else, " said Thorn. "But I am ready. "

Charlton muttered an imprecation upon his absurdity, and turned hisattention to Fleda, who needed it. And yet desired anything else. For amoment she had an excuse for not answering his questions in her inability;and then opportunely Mrs. Decatur came in to look after her; and she wasfollowed by her daughter. Fleda roused all her powers to conceal andcommand her feelings; rallied herself; said she had been a little weak andfaint; drank water, and declared herself able to go back into thedrawing-room. To go home would have been her utmost desire, but at theinstant her energies were all bent to the one point of putting backthought and keeping off suspicion. And in the first hurry and bewildermentof distress the dread of finding herself alone with Charlton till she hadhad time to collect her thoughts would of itself have been enough toprevent her accepting the proposal. 

She entered the drawing-room again on Mrs. Decatur's arm, and had stood afew minutes talking or listening, with that same concentration of all herfaculties upon the effort to bear up outwardly, when Charlton came up toask if he should leave her. Fleda made no objection, and he was out of hersight, far enough to be beyond reach or recall, 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 before he sawThorn. The sickness of this new apprehension was too much for poor Fleda'spower of keeping up. She quietly drew her arm from Mrs. Decatur's, sayingthat she would sit down; and sought out a place for herself apart from therest by an engraving stand; where for a little while, not to seemunoccupied, she turned over print after print that she did not see. Eventhat effort failed at last; and she sat gazing at one of Sir ThomasLawrence's bright-faced children, and feeling as if in herself the tidesof life were setting back upon their fountain preparatory to being stillforever. She became 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 suddenpain, and perhaps sudden difficulty of self-command. She did not speak. 

"Will you have anything?"

A whispered "no. "

"Would you like to return to Mrs. Evelyn's?--I have a carriage here. "

With a look of relief that seemed to welcome him as her good angel, Pledainstantly rose up, and took the arm he offered her. She would havehastened from the room then, but he gently checked her pace; and Fleda wasimmediately grateful for the quiet and perfect shielding from observationthat his manner secured her. He went with her up the stairs, and to thevery door of the dressing-room. There Fleda hurried on her shoes andmufflers in trembling fear that some one might come and find her, gainedMr. Carleton's arm again, and was placed in the carriage. 

The drive was in perfect silence, and Fleda's agony deepened andstrengthened with every minute. She had freedom to think, and thought didbut carry a torch into chamber after chamber of misery. There seemednothing to be done. She could not get hold of Charlton; and if shecould?--Nothing could be less amenable than his passions to her gentlerestraints. Mr. Thorn was still less approachable or manageable, except inone way, that she did not even think of. His insinuations about Mr. Carleton did not leave even a tinge of embarrassment upon her mind; theywere cast from her as insulting absurdities, which she could not think ofa second time without shame. 

The carriage rolled on with them a long time without a word being said. Mr. Carleton knew that she was not weeping nor faint. But as the light ofthe lamps was now and then cast within the carriage he saw that her facelooked ghastly; and he saw too that its expression was not of a quietsinking under sorrow, nor of an endeavour to bear up against it, but awild searching gaze into the darkness of _possibilities_. They had nearreached Mrs. Evelyn's. 

"I cannot see you so, " he said, gently touching the hand which laylistlessly beside him. "You are ill!"

Again the same motion of the other hand to her face, the quick token ofgreat pain suddenly stirred. 

"For the sake of old times, let me ask, " said he, "can nothing be done?"

Those very gentle and delicate tones of sympathy and kindness Were toomuch to bear. The hand was snatched away to be pressed to her face. Ohthat those old times were back again, and she a child that could ask hisprotection!--No one to give it now. 

He was silent a moment. Fleda's head bowed beneath the mental pressure. 

"Has Dr. Gregory returned?"

The negative answer was followed by a half-uttered exclamation oflonging, --checked midway, but sufficiently expressive of her want. 

"Do you trust me?" he said after another second of pausing. 

"Perfectly!" said Fleda amidst her tears, too much excited to know whatshe was saying, and in her simplicity half forgetting that she was not achild still;--"more than any one in the world!"

The few words he had spoken, and the manner of them, had curiously borneher back years in a minute; she seemed to be under his care more than forthe drive home. He did not speak again for a minute; when he did his tonewas very quiet and lower than before. 

"Give me what a friend _can_ have in charge to do for you, and itshall be done. "

Fleda raised her head and looked out of the window in a silence of doubt. The carriage stopped at Mrs. Evelyn's. 

"Not now, " said Mr. Carleton, as the servant was about to open thedoor;--"drive round the square--till I speak to you. "

Fleda was motionless and almost breathless with uncertainty. If Charltoncould be hindered from meeting Mr. Thorn--But how, could Mr. Carletoneffect it?--But there was that in him or in his manner which invariablycreated confidence in his ability, or fear of it, even in strangers; andhow much more in her who had a childish but very clear recollection ofseveral points in his character which confirmed the feeling. And might notsomething be done, through his means, to facilitate her uncle's escape? ofwhom she seemed to herself now the betrayer. --But to tell him the storyI--a person of his high nice notions of character--what a distance itwould put even between his friendship and her, --but that thought wasbanished instantly, with one glance at Mr. Thorn's imputation ofungenerousness. To sacrifice herself to _him_ would not have beengenerosity, --to lower herself in the esteem of a different character, shefelt, called for it. There was time even then too for one swift thought ofthe needlessness and bitter fruits of wrong-doing. But here theywere;--should she make them known?--and trouble Mr. Carleton, friendthough he were, with these miserable matters in which he had noconcern?--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 of anxiousquestioning. Mr. Carleton watched it for a little while, --undecided asever, and more pained. 

"You said you trusted me, " he said quietly, taking her hand again. 

"But--I don't know what you could do, Mr. Carleton, " Fleda said with atrembling voice. 

"Will you let me be the judge of that?"

"I cannot bear to trouble you with these miserable things--"

"You cannot, " said he with that same quiet tone, "but by thinking andsaying so. I can have no greater pleasure than to take pains for you. "

Fleda heard these words precisely and with the same simplicity as a childwould have heard them, and answered with a very frank burst oftears, --soon, as soon as possible, according to her custom, driven back;though even in the act of quieting herself they broke forth again asuncontrollably as at first. But Mr. Carleton had not long to wait. Sheraised her head again after a short struggle, with the wonted look ofpatience sitting upon her brow, and wiping away her tears paused merelyfor breath and voice. He was perfectly silent. 

"Mr. Carleton, I will tell you, " she began;--"I hardly know whether Iought or ought not, --" and her hand went to her forehead for amoment, --"but I cannot think to-night--and I have not a friend toapply to--"

She hesitated; and then went on, with a voice that trembled andquavered sadly. 

"Mr. Thorn has a secret--of my uncle's--in his power--which hepromised--without conditions--to keep faithfully; and now insists that hewill not--but upon conditions--"

"And cannot the conditions be met?"

"No--and--O I may as well tell you at once?" said Fleda in bittersorrow, --"it is a crime that he committed--"

"Mr. Thorn?"

"No--oh no!" said Fleda weeping bitterly, --"not he--"

Her agitation was excessive for a moment; then she threw it off, and spokemore collectedly, though with exceeding depression of manner. 

"It was long ago--when he was in trouble--he put Mr. Thorn's name to anote, and never was able to take it up;--and nothing was ever heard aboutit till lately; and last week he was going to leave the country, and Mr. Thorn promised that the proceedings should be entirely given up; and thatwas why I came to town, to find uncle Rolf and bring him home; and I did, and he is gone; and now Mr. Thorn says it is all going on again and thathe will not escape this time;--and I have done it!--"

Fleda writhed again in distress. 

"Thorn promised without conditions?"

"Certainly--he promised freely--and now he insists upon them; and yousee uncle Rolf would have been safe out of the country now, if it hadn'tbeen for me--"

"I think I can undo this snarl, " said Mr. Carleton calmly. 

"But that is not all, " said Fleda, a little quieted;--"Charlton came inthis evening when we were talking, and he was surprised to find me so, andMr. Thorn was in a very ill humour, and some words passed between them;and Charlton threatened to see him again; and Oh if he does!" said poorFleda, --"that will finish our difficulties!--for Charlton is very hot, andI know how it will end--how it must end--"

"Where is your cousin to be found?"

"I don't know where he lodges when he is in town. "

"You did not leave him at Mrs. Decatur's. Do you know where he isthis evening?"

"Yes!" said Fleda, wondering that she should have heard andremembered, --"he said he was going to meet a party of his brotherofficers at Mme. Fouché's--a sister-in-law of his Colonel, I believe. "

"I know her. This note--was it the name of the young Mr. Thorn, or of hisfather that was used?"

"Of his father!--"

"Has _he_ appeared at all in this business?"

"No, " said Fleda, feeling for the first time that there was somethingnotable about it. 

"What sort of person do you take him to be?"

"Very kind--very pleasant, always, he has been to me, and I should thinkto everybody, --very unlike the son"

Mr. Carleton had ordered the coachman back to Mrs. Evelyn's. 

"Do you know the amount of the note? It may be desirable that I should notappear uninformed. "

"It was for four thousand dollars" Fleda said in the low voice of shame. 

"And when given?"

"I don't know exactly--but six years ago--some time in the winter of '43, it must have been. "

He said no more till the carriage stopped; and then before handing her outof it, lifted her hand to his lips. That carried all the promise Fledawanted from him. How oddly, how curiously, her hand kept the feeling ofthat kiss upon it all night. 

Chapter XLV. 

 Heat not a furnace for your friend so hot That it may singe yourself. 

 Shakspeare. 

Mr. Carleton went to Mme. Fouché's, who received most graciously, asany lady would, his apology for introducing himself unlooked-for, andbegged that he would commit the same fault often. As soon aspracticable he made his way to Charlton, and invited him to breakfastwith him the next morning. 

Mrs. Carleton always said it never was known that Guy was refused anythinghe had a mind to ask. Charlton, though taken by surprise, and certainlynot too much prepossessed in his favour, was won by an influence thatwhere its owner chose to exert it was generally found irresistible; andnot only accepted the invitation, but was conscious to himself of doing itwith a good deal of pleasure. Even when Mr. Carleton made the furtherrequest that Capt. Rossitur would in the mean time see no one on business, of any kind, intimating that the reason would then be given, Charltonthough startling a little at this restraint upon his freedom of motioncould do no 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 rather hesitatingly. 

"I wish to see him a few moments on business. "

"It is no hour for business, " said the voice of Mr. Lewis from over thebalusters;--"I can't see anybody to-night. "

"I ask but a few minutes, " said Mr. Carleton. "It is important. "

"It may be any thing!" said Thorn. "I won't do business aftertwelve o'clock. "

Mr. Carleton desired the servant to carry his card, with the same request, to Mr, Thorn the elder. 

"What's that?" said Thorn as the man came up stairs, --"my father?--Pshaw!_he_ can't attend to it--Well, walk up, sir, if you please!--may as wellhave it over and done with it. "

Mr. Carleton mounted the stairs and followed the young gentleman into anapartment to which he rapidly led the way. 

"You've no objections to this, _I_ suppose?" Thorn remarked as he lockedthe door behind them. 

"Certainly not, " said Mr. Carleton coolly, taking out the key and puttingit in his pocket;--"my business is private--it needs no witnesses. "

"Especially as it so nearly concerns yourself, " said Thorn sneeringly. 

"Which part of it, sir?" said Mr. Carleton with admirable breeding. Itvexed at the same time that it constrained Thorn. 

"I'll let you know presently!" he said, hurriedly proceeding to the lowerend of the room where some cabinets stood, and unlocking door after doorin mad haste. 

The place had somewhat the air of a study, perhaps Thorn's private room. Along table stood in the middle of the floor, with materials for writing, and a good many books were about the room, in cases and on the tables, with maps and engravings and portfolios, and a nameless collection ofarticles, the miscellaneous gathering of a man of leisure and someliterary taste. 

Their owner presently came back from the cabinets with tokens of a verydifferent 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 asyou please--nothing like coming to the point at once!"

He was heated and excited even more than his manner indicated. Mr. Carleton glanced at him and stood quietly examining the pistol he hadtaken. It was all ready loaded. 

"This is a business that comes upon me by surprise, " he said calmly, --"Idon't know what I have to do with this, Mr. Thorn. "

"Well I do, " said Thorn, "and that's enough. Take your place, sir! Youescaped me once, but"--and he gave his words dreadful emphasis, --"youwon't do it the second time!"

"You do not mean, " said the other, "that your recollection of such anoffence has lived out so many years?"

"No sir! no sir!" said Thorn, --"it is not that. I despise it, as I do theoffender. You have touched me more nearly. "

"Let me know in what, " said Mr. Carleton turning his pistol's mouth downupon the table and leaning on it. 

"You know already, --what do you ask me for?" said Thorn who wasfoaming, --"if you say you don't you lie heartily. I'll tell you nothingbut 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--dare saynot the first. Put yourself there, sir, will you?"

"Well, " said Guy carelessly, --"if it is decreed that I am to fight ofcourse there's no help for it; but as I have business on hand that mightnot be so well done afterwards I must beg your attention to that in thefirst place. "

"No, sir, " said Thorn, --"I'll attend to nothing--I'll hear nothing fromyou. I know you!--I'll not hear a word. I'll see to the business!--Takeyour stand. "

"I will not have anything to do with pistols, " said Mr. Carleton coolly, laying his out of his hand;--"they make too much noise. "

"Who cares for the noise?" said Thorn. "It won't hurt you; and the dooris locked. "

"But people's ears are not, " said Guy. 

Neither tone nor attitude nor look had changed in the least its calmgracefulness. It began to act upon Thorn. 

"Well, in the devil's name, have your own way, " said he, throwing down hispistol too, and going back to the cabinets at the lower end of theroom, --"there are rapiers here, if you like them better--_I_ don't, --theshortest the best for me, --but here they are--take your choice. "

Guy examined them carefully for a few minutes, and then laid them both, with a firm hand upon them, on the table. 

"I will choose neither, Mr. Thorn, till you have heard me. I came here tosee you on the part of others--I should be a recreant to my charge if Iallowed you or myself to draw me into anything that might prevent myfulfilling it. That must be done first. "

Thorn looked with a lowering brow on the indications of his opponent's eyeand attitude; they left him plainly but one course to take. 

"Well speak and have done, " he said as in spite of himself;--but I knowit already. "

"I am here as a friend of Mr. Rossitur. "

"Why don't you say a friend of somebody else, and come nearer the truth?"said Thorn. 

There was an intensity of expression in his sneer, but pain was thereas well as anger; and it was with even a feeling of pity that Mr. Carleton answered, "The truth will be best reached, sir, if I am allowed to choose myown words. "

There was no haughtiness in the steady gravity of this speech, whatever there was in the quiet silence he permitted to follow. Thorndid not break it. 

"I am informed of the particulars concerning this prosecution of Mr. Rossitur--I am come here to know if no terms can be obtained. "

"No!" said Thorn, --"no terms--I won't speak of terms. The matter willbe followed up now till the fellow is lodged in jail, where hedeserves to be. "

"Are you aware, sir, that this, if done, will be the cause of very greatdistress to a family who have _not_ deserved it?"

"That can't be helped, " said Thorn. "Of course!--it must cause distress, but you can't act upon that. Of course when a man turns rogue he ruins hisfamily--that's part of his punishment--and a just one. "

"The law is just, " said Mr. Carleton, --"but a friend may be merciful. "

"I don't pretend to be a friend, " said Thorn viciously, --"and I have nocause to be merciful. I like to bring a man to public shame when he hasforfeited his title to anything else; and I intend that Mr. Rossitur shallbecome intimately acquainted with the interior of the State's Prison. "

"Did it ever occur to you that public shame _might_ fall upon other thanMr. Rossitur? and without the State Prison?"

Thorn fixed a somewhat startled look upon the steady powerful eye of hisopponent, and did not like its meaning. 

"You must explain yourself, sir, " he said haughtily. 

"I am acquainted with _all_ the particulars of this proceeding, Mr. Thorn. If it goes abroad, so surely will they. "

"She told you, did she?" said Thorn in a sudden flash of fury. 

Mr. Carleton was silent, with his air of imperturbable reserve, telling and expressing nothing but a cool independence that put theworld at a distance. 

"Ha!" said Thorn, --"it is easy to see why our brave Englishman comeshere to solicit 'terms' for his honest friend Rossitur--he would notlike the scandal of franking letters to Sing Sing. Come, sir, " he saidsnatching up the pistol, --"our business is ended--come, I say! or Iwon't wait for you. "

But the pistol was struck from his baud. 

"Not yet, " said Mr. Carleton calmly, --"you shall have your turn atthese, --mind, I promise you;--but my business must be done first--tillthen, let them alone!"

"Well what is it?" said Thorn impatiently. "Rossitur will be a convict, Itell you; so you'll have to give up all thoughts of his niece, or pockether shame along with her. What more have you got to say? that's all yourbusiness, 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 thisprosecution is continued or not?"

"It does not in the least. "

"It is indifferent to you, I suppose, what sort of a Queen consort youcarry to your little throne of a provinciality down yonder?"

"I will reply to you, sir, when you come back to the subject, " said Mr. Carleton coldly. 

"You mean to say that your pretensions have not been in the way of mine?"

"I have made none, sir. "

"Doesn't she like you?"

"I have never asked her. "

"Then what possessed her to tell you all this to-night?"

"Simply because I was an old friend and the only one at hand, I presume. "

"And you do not look for any reward of your services, of course?"

"I wish for none, sir, but her relief. "

"Well, it don't signify, " said Thorn with a mixture of expressions in hisface, --"if I believed you, which I don't, --it don't signify a hair whatyou do, when once this matter is known. I should never think of advancing_my_ pretensions into a felon's family. "

"You know that the lady in whose welfare you take so much interest will inthat case suffer aggravated distress as having been the means of hinderingMr. Rossitur's escape, "

"Can't help it, " said Thorn, beating the table with a ruler;--"so she has;she must suffer for it. It isn't my fault. "

"You are willing then to abide the consequences of a full disclosure ofall the circumstances?--for part will not come out without the whole?"

"There is happily nobody to tell them, " said Thorn with a sneer. 

"Pardon me--they will not only be told, but known thoroughly in all thecircles in this country that know Mr. Thorn's name. "

"_The lady_" said Thorn in the same tone, "would hardly relish sucha 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 of this room to doit! Let me have it, sir! you said you would--"

His passion was at a fearful height, for the family pride which had beenappealed to felt a touch of fear, and his other thoughts were confirmedagain, besides the dim vision of a possible thwarting of all his plans. Desire almost concentrated itself upon revenge against the object thatthreatened them. He had thrown himself again towards the weapons which laybeyond his reach, but was met and forcibly withheld 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 will never live todo anything out of these doors again--you are mocking yourself. "

"My life is not in your hands, sir, and I will settle this matter before Iput it in peril. If not with you, with Mr. Thorn your father, to whom itmore properly belongs. "

"You cannot leave the room to see him, " said Thorn sneeringly. 

"That is at my pleasure, " said the other, --"unless hindered by means I donot think you will use. "

Thorn was silent. 

"Will you yield anything of justice, once more, in favour of thisdistressed family?"

"That is, yield the whole, and let the guilty go free. "

"When the punishment of the offender would involve that of so manyunoffending, who in this case would feel it with peculiar severity. "

"He deserves it, if it was only for the money he has kept me out of--heought to be made to refund what he has stolen, if it took the skin offhis back!"

"That part of his obligation, " said Mr. Carleton, "I am authorized todischarge, on condition of having the note given up. I have a chequewith me which I am commissioned to fill up, from one of the best nameshere. I need only the date of the note, which the giver of the chequedid not know. "

Thorn hesitated, again tapping the table with the ruler in a troubledmanner. He knew by the calm erect figure before him and the steady eye hedid not care to meet that the threat of disclosure would be kept. He wasnot prepared to brave it, --in case his revenge should fail;--and if itdid not----

"It is deuced folly, " he said at length with a half laugh, --"for I shallhave it back again in five minutes, if my eye don't play me atrick, --however, if you will have it so--I don't care. There are chancesin all things--"

He went again to the cabinets, and presently brought the endorsed note. Mr. Carleton gave it a cool and careful examination, to satisfy himself ofits being the true one; and then delivered him the cheque; the blank dulyfilled up. 

"There are chances in nothing, sir, " he said, as he proceeded to burn thenote effectually in the candle. 

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that there is a Supreme Disposer of all things, who among the resthas our lives in his hand. And now, sir, I will give you that chance at mylife for which you have been so eagerly wishing. "

[Illustration: "Well, take your place, " said Thorn. ]

"Well take your place, " said Thorn seizing his pistol, --"and take yourarms--put yourself at the end of the table----!"

"I shall stand here, " said Mr. Carleton, quietly folding his arms;--"youmay take your place where you please. "

"But you are not armed!" said Thorn impatiently, --"why don't you getready? what are you waiting for?"

"I have nothing to do with arms, " said Mr. Carleton smiling; "I have nowish to hurt you, Mr. Thorn; I bear you no ill-will. But you may do whatyou please with me. "

"But you promised!" said Thorn in desperation. 

"I abide by my promise, sir. "

Thorn's pistol hand fell; he looked _dreadfully_. There was a silence ofseveral minutes. 

"Well?"--said Mr. Carleton looking up and smiling. 

"I can do nothing unless you will, " said Thorn hoarsely, and lookinghurriedly away. 

"I am at your pleasure, sir! But on my own part I have none to gratify. "

There was silence again, during which Thorn's face was pitiable in itsdarkness. He did not stir. 

"I did not come here in enmity, Mr. Thorn, " said Guy after a littleapproaching him;--"I have none now. If you believe me you will throw awaythe remains of yours and take my hand in pledge of it. "

Thorn was ashamed and confounded, in the midst of passions that madehim at the moment a mere wreck of himself. He inwardly drew backexceedingly from the proposal. But the grace with which the words weresaid wrought upon all the gentlemanly character that belonged to him, and made it impossible not to comply. The pistol was exchanged for Mr. Carleton's hand. 

"I need not assure you, " said the latter, "that nothing of what we havetalked of to-night shall ever be known or suspected, in any quarter, unless by your means. "

Thorn's answer was merely a bow, and Mr. Carleton withdrew, his quondamantagonist lighting him ceremoniously to the door. 

It was easy for Mr. Carleton the next morning to deal with his guest atthe break fast-table. 

The appointments of the service were such as of themselves to put Charltonin a good humour, if he had not come already provided with that happyqualification; and the powers of manner and conversation which hisentertainer brought into play not only put them into the background ofCapt. Rossitur's perceptions but even made him merge certain other thingsin fascination, and lose all thought of what probably had called himthere. Once before, he had known Mr. Carleton come out in a like manner, but this time he forgot to be surprised. 

The meal was two thirds over before the business that had drawn themtogether was alluded to. 

"I made an odd request of you last night, Capt. Rossitur, " said hishost;--"you haven't asked for an explanation. "

"I had forgotten all about it, " said Rossitur candidly. "I am_inconséquent_ enough myself not to think everything odd that requires anexplanation. "

"Then I hope you will pardon me if mine seem to touch upon what is not myconcern. You had some cause to be displeased with Mr. Thorn's behaviourlast night?"

Who told you as much?--was in Rossitur's open eyes, and upon his tongue;but few ever asked naughty questions of Mr Carleton. Charlton's eyes cameback, not indeed to their former dimensions, but to his plate, in silence. 

"He was incomprehensible, " he said after a minute, --"and didn't actlike himself--I don't know what was the matter. I shall call him toaccount for it. "

"Capt. Rossitur, I am going to ask you a favour. "

"I will grant it with the greatest pleasure, " said Charlton, --"if it liewithin my power. "

"A wise man's addition, " said Mr. Carleton, --"but I trust you will notthink me extravagant. I will hold myself much obliged to you if you willlet Mr. Thorn's folly, or impertinence, go this time without notice. "

Charlton absolutely laid down his knife in astonishment; while at the samemoment this slight let to the assertion of his dignity roused it touncommon pugnaciousness. 

"Sir--Mr. Carleton--" he stammered, --"I would be very happy to grantanything in my power, --but this, sir, --really goes beyond it. "

"Permit me to say, " said Mr. Carleton, "that I have myself seen Thorn uponthe business that occasioned his discomposure, and that it has beensatisfactorily arranged; so that nothing more is to be gained or desiredfrom a second interview. "

Who gave you authority to do any such thing?--was again in Charlton'seyes, and an odd twinge crossed his mind; but as before his thoughtswere silent. 

"_My_ part of the business cannot have been arranged, " he said, --"for itlies in a question or two that I must put to the gentleman myself. "

"What will that question or two probably end in?" said Mr. Carletonsignificantly. 

"I can't tell!" said Rossitur, --"depends on himself--it will end accordingto his answers. "

"Is his offence so great that it cannot be forgiven upon my entreaty?"

"Mr. Carleton!" said Rossitur, --"I would gladly pleasure you, sir, but yousee, this is a thing a man owes to himself. "

"What thing, sir?"

"Why, not to suffer impertinence to be offered him with impunity. "

"Even though the punishment extend to hearts at home that must feel it farmore heavily than the offender?"

"Would you suffer yourself to be insulted, Mr. Carleton?" said Rossitur, by way of a mouth stopper. 

"Not if I could help it, " said Mr. Carleton smiling;--"but if such amisfortune happened, I don't know how it would be repaired by being made amatter of life and death. "

"But honour might, " said Rossitur. 

"Honour is not reached, Capt. Rossitur. Honour dwells in a strong citadel, and a squib against the walls does in no wise affect their security. "

"But also it is not consistent with honour to sit still and suffer it. "

"Question. The firing of a cracker, I think, hardly warrants a sally. "

"It calls for chastisement though, " said Rossitur a little shortly. 

"I don't know that, " said Mr. Carleton gravely. "We have it on the highestauthority that it is the glory of man to _pass by_ a transgression. "

"But you can't go by that, " said Charlton a little fidgeted;--"the worldwouldn't get along so;--men must take care of themselves. "

"Certainly. But what part of themselves is cared for in this resenting ofinjuries?"

"Why, their good name!"

"As how affected?--pardon me. "

"By the world's opinion, " said Rossitur, --"which stamps every man withsomething worse than infamy who cannot protect his own standing. "

"That is to say, " said Mr. Carleton seriously, --"that Capt. Rossitur willpunish a fool's words with death, or visit the last extremity of distressupon those who are dearest to him, rather than leave the world in anydoubt of his prowess. "

"Mr. Carleton!" said Rossitur colouring. "What do you mean byspeaking so, sir?"

"Not to displease you, Capt. Rossitur. "

"Then you count the world's opinion for nothing?"

"For less than nothing--compared with the regards I have named. "

"You would brave it without scruple?"

"I do not call him a brave man who would not, sir. "

"I remember, " said Charlton half laughing, --"you did it yourself once; andI must confess I believe nobody thought you lost anything by it. "

"But forgive me for asking, " said Mr. Carleton, --"is this terrible world aparty to _this_ matter? In the request which I made, --and which I have notgiven up, sir, --do I presume upon any more than the sacrifice of a littleprivate feeling?"

"Why, yes, --" said Charlton looking somewhat puzzled, "for I promised thefellow I would see to it, and I must keep my word. "

"And you know how that will of necessity issue. "

"I can't consider that, sir; that is a secondary matter. I must do what Itold him I would. "

"At all hazards?" said Mr. Carleton. 

"What hazards?"

"Not hazard, but certainty, --of incurring a reckoning far less easy todeal with. "

"What, do you mean with yourself?" said Rossitur. 

"No sir, " said Mr. Carleton, a shade of even sorrowful expression crossinghis face;--"I mean with one whose displeasure is a more weightymatter;--one who has declared very distinctly, 'Thou shalt not kill. '"

"I am sorry for it, " said Rossitur after a disturbed pause of someminutes, --"I wish you had asked me anything else; but we can't take thisthing in the light you do, sir. I wish Thorn had been in any spot of theworld but at Mrs. Decatur's last night, or that Fleda hadn't taken methere; but since he was, there is no help for it, --I must make him accountfor his behaviour, 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 a smile whichdisarmed offence, --"for if you will not help it, I must. "

Charlton looked in doubt for a moment and then asked "how he would helpit?"

"In that case, I shall think it my duty to have you bound over to keepthe peace. "

He spoke gravely now, and with that quiet tone which always carriesconviction. Charlton stared unmistakably and in silence. 

"You are not in earnest?" he then said. 

"I trust you will permit me to leave you forever in doubt on thatpoint, " said Mr. Carleton, with again a slight giving way of the musclesof his face. 

"I cannot indeed, " said Rossitur. "Do you mean what you said just now?"

"Entirely. "

"But Mr. Carleton, " said Rossitur, flushing and not knowing exactly how totake him up, --"is this the manner of one gentleman towards another?"

He had not chosen right, for he received no answer but an absolutequietness which needed no interpretation. Charlton was vexed and confused, but somehow it did not come into his head to pick a quarrel with his host, in spite of his irritation. That was perhaps because he felt it to beimpossible. 

"I beg your pardon, " he said, most unconsciously verifying Fleda's wordsin his own person, --"but Mr. Carleton, do me the favour to say that I havemisunderstood your words. They are incomprehensible to me, sir. "

"I must abide by them nevertheless, Capt. Rossitur, " Mr. Carletonanswered with a smile. "I will not permit this thing to be done, while, asI believe, I have the power to prevent it. You see, " he said, smilingagain, --"I put in practice my own theory. "

Charlton looked exceedingly disturbed, and maintained a vexed andirresolute silence for several minutes, realizing the extremedisagreeableness of having more than his match to deal with. 

"Come, Capt. Kossitur, " said the other turning suddenly round uponhim, --"say that you forgive me what you know was meant in nodisrespect to you?"

"I certainly should not, " said Rossitur, yielding however with a halflaugh, "if it were not for the truth of the proverb that it takes two tomake a quarrel. "

"Give me your hand upon that. And now that the question of honour is takenout of your hands, grant not to me but to those for whom I ask it, yourpromise to forgive this man. "

Charlton hesitated, but it was difficult to resist the request, backed asit was with weight of character and grace of manner, along with itsintrinsic reasonableness; and he saw no other way so expedient of gettingout of his dilemma. 

"I ought to be angry with somebody, " he said, half laughing and a littleashamed;--"if you will point out any substitute for Thorn I will let himgo--since I cannot help myself--with pleasure. "

"I will bear it, " said Mr. Carleton lightly. "Give me your promise forThorn and hold me your debtor in what amount you please. "

"Very well--I forgive him, " said Rossitur;--"and now Mr. Carleton I shallhave a reckoning with you some day for this. "

"I will meet it. When you are next in England you shall come down to----shire, and I will give you any satisfaction you please. "

They parted in high good-humour; but Charlton looked grave as he went downthe staircase; and very oddly all the way down to Whitehall his head wasrunning upon the various excellencies and perfections of his cousin Fleda. 

Chapter XLVI

 There is a fortune coming Towards you, dainty, that will take thee thus, And set thee aloft. 

 Ben Jonson. 

That day was spent by Fleda in the never-failing headache which was sureto visit her after any extraordinary nervous agitation or too great mentalor bodily trial. It was severe this time, not only from the anxiety of thepreceding night but from the uncertainty that weighed upon her all daylong. The person who could have removed the uncertainty came indeed to thehouse, but she was too ill to see anybody. 

The extremity of pain wore itself off with the day, and at evening she wasable to leave her room and come down stairs. But she was ill yet, andcould do nothing but sit in the corner of the sofa, with her hair unbound, and Florence gently bathing her head with cologne. 

Anxiety as well as pain had in some measure given place to exhaustion, andshe looked a white embodiment of endurance which gave a shock to herfriends' sympathy. Visitors were denied, --and Constance and Edith devotedtheir eyes and tongues at least to her service, if they could do no more. 

It happened that Joe Manton was out of the way, holding an importantconference with a brother usher next door, a conference that he had nonotion would be so important when he began it; when a ring on his ownpremises summoned one of the maid-servants to the door. She knew nothingabout "not at home, " and unceremoniously desired the gentleman to "walkup, "--"the ladies were in the drawing-room. "

The door had been set wide open for the heat, and Fleda was close in thecorner behind it; gratefully permitting Florence's efforts with thecologne, which yet she knew could avail nothing but the kind feelings ofthe operator; for herself patiently waiting her enemy's time. Constancewas sitting on the floor looking at her. 

"I can't conceive how you can bear so much, " she said at length. 

Fleda thought, how little she knew what was borne!

"Why you could bear it I suppose if you had to, " said Edithphilosophically. 

"She knows she looks most beautiful, " said Florence, softly passing hercologned hands down over the smooth hair;--"she knows

 "'Il faut souffrir pour ętre belle. '"

"La migraine ne se guérit avec les douceurs, " said Mr. Carletonentering;--"try something sharp, Miss Evelyn. "

"Where are we to get it?" said Constance springing up, and adding in amost lack-a-daisical aside to her mother, "(Mamma!--the fowlingpiece!)--Our last vinegar hardly comes under the appellation; and youdon't expect to find anything volatile in this house, Mr. Carleton?"

He smiled. 

"Have you none for grave occasions, Miss Constance?"

"I won't retort the question about 'something sharp, '" said Constancearching her eyebrows, "because it is against my principles to make peopleuncomfortable; but you have certainly brought in some medicine with you, for Miss Ringgan's cheeks a little while ago were as pure as hermind--from a tinge of any sort--and now, you see--"

"My dear Constance, " said her mother, "Miss Ringgan's cheeks will stand amuch better chance if you come away and leave her in peace. How can sheget well with such a chatter in her ears. "

"Mr. Carleton and I, mamma, are conferring upon measures of relief, --andMiss Ringgan gives token of improvement already. "

"For which I am very little to be thanked, " said Mr. Carleton. "But I amnot a bringer of bad news, that she should look pale at the sight of me. "

"Are you a bringer of any news?" said Constance, "O do let us have them, Mr. Carleton!--I am dying for news--I haven't heard a bit to-day. "

"What is the news, Mr. Carleton?" said her mother's voice, from the moredistant region of the fire. 

"I believe there are no general news, Mrs. Evelyn. "

"Are there any particular news?" said Constance. --"I like particular newsinfinitely the best!"

"I am sorry, Miss Constance, I have none for you. But--will this headacheyield to nothing?"

"Fleda prophesied that it would to time, " said Florence;--"she Would notlet us try much beside. "

"And I must confess there has been no volatile agency employed at all, "said Constance;--"I never knew time have less of it; and Fleda seemed toprefer him for her physician. "

"He hasn't been a good one to-day, " said Edith nestling affectionatelyto her side. "Isn't it better, Fleda?"--for she had covered her eyeswith 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 permitme, Miss Constance, I will supersede time and try a differentprescription. "

He went out to seek it; and Fleda leaned her head in her hand and tried toquiet the throbbing heart every pulsation of which was felt so keenly atthe seat of pain. She knew from Mr. Carleton's voice and manner, --she_thought_ she knew, --that he had exceeding good tidings for her; onceassured of that she would soon be better; but she was worse now. 

"Where is Mr. Carleton gone?" said Mrs. Evelyn. 

"I haven't the least idea, mamma--he has ventured upon an extraordinaryundertaking and has gone off to qualify himself, I suppose. I can'tconceive why he didn't ask Miss Ringgan's permission to change herphysician, instead of mine. "

"I suppose he knew there was no doubt about that. " said Edith, hitting theprecise answer of Fleda's thoughts. 

"And what should make him think there was any doubt about mine?" saidConstance tartly. 

"O you know, " said her sister, "you are so odd nobody can tell what youwill take a fancy to. "

"You are--extremely liberal in your expressions, at least, Miss Evelyn, --Imust say, " said Constance, with a glance of no doubtfulmeaning. --"Joe--did you let Mr. Carleton in?"

"No, ma'am. "

"Well let him in next time; and don't let in anybody else. "

Whereafter the party relapsed into silent expectation. 

It was not many minutes before Mr. Carleton returned. 

"Tell your friend, Miss Constance, " he said putting an exquisite littlevinaigrette into her hand, --"that I have nothing worse for her than that. "

"Worse than this!" said Constance examining it. "Mr. Carleton--I doubtexceedingly whether smelling this will afford Miss Ringgan any benefit. "

"Why, Miss Constance?"

"Because--it has made me sick only to look at it!"

"There will be no danger for her, " he said smiling. 

"Won't there?--Well, Fleda my dear--here, take it, " said the younglady;--"I hope you are differently constituted from me, for I feel asudden pain since I saw it;--but as you keep your eyes shut and so escapethe sight of this lovely gold chasing, perhaps it will do you nomischief. "

"It will do her all the more good for that, " said Mrs. Evelyn. 

The only ears that took the benefit of this speech were Edith's and Mr. Carleton's; Fleda's were deafened by the rush of feeling. She very littleknew what she was holding. Mr. Carleton stood with rather significantgravity watching the effect of his prescription, while Edith beset hermother to know why the outside of the vinaigrette being of gold shouldmake it do Fleda any more good; the disposing of which questioneffectually occupied Mrs. Evelyn's attention for some time. 

"And pray how long is it since you took up the trade of a physician, Mr. Carleton?" said Constance. 

"It is--just about nine years, Miss Constance, " he answered gravely. 

But that little reminder, slight as it was, overcame the small remnant ofFleda's self-command; the vinaigrette fell from her hands and her face washid in them; whatever became of pain, tears must flow. 

"Forgive me, " said Mr. Carleton gently, bending down towards her, "forspeaking when I should have been silent. --Miss Evelyn, and Miss Constance, will you permit me to order that my patient be left in quiet. "

And he took them away to Mrs. Evelyn's quarter, and kept them all threeengaged in conversation, too busily to trouble Fleda with any attention;till she had had ample time to try the effect of the quiet and of thevinegar both. Then he went himself to look after her. 

"Are you better?" said he, bending down and speaking low. 

Fleda opened her eyes and gave him, what a look!--of grateful feeling. Shedid not know the half that was in it; but he did. That she was better wasa very small item. 

"Ready for the coffee?" said he smiling. 

"O no, " whispered Fleda, --"it don't matter about that--never mindthe coffee!"

But he went back with his usual calmness to Mrs. Evelyn and beggedthat she would have the goodness to order a cup of rather strongcoffee to be made. 

"But Mr. Carleton, sir, " said that lady, --"I am not at all sure that itwould be the best thing for Miss Ringgan--if she is better, --I think itwould do her far more good to go to rest and let sleep finish her cure, before taking something that will make sleep impossible. "

"Did you ever hear of a physician, Mrs. Evelyn, " he said smiling, "thatallowed his prescriptions to be interfered with? I must beg you will do methis favour. "

"I doubt very much whether it will be a favour to Miss Ringgan, " said Mrs. Evelyn, --"however--"

And she rang the bell and gave the desired order, with a somewhatdisconcerted face. But Mr. Carleton again left Fleda to herself anddevoted his attention to the other ladies, with so much success, thoughwith his usual absence of effort, that good humour was served long beforethe coffee. 

Then indeed he played the physician's part again; made the coffee himselfand saw it taken, according to his own pleasure; skilfully however seemingall the while, except to Fleda, to be occupied with everything else. Thegroup gathered round her anew; she was well enough to bear their talk bythis time; by the time the coffee was drunk quite well. 

"Is it quite gone?" asked Edith. 

"The headache?--yes. "

"You will owe your physician a great many thanks, my dear Fleda, " saidMrs. Evelyn. 

Fleda's only answer to this, however, was by a very slight smile; andshe presently left the room to go up stairs and arrange her yetdisarranged hair. 

"That is a very fine girl, " remarked Mrs. Evelyn, preparing half a cup ofcoffee for herself in a kind of amused abstraction, --"my friend Mr. Thornwill have an excellent wife of her. "

"Provided she marries him, " said Constance somewhat shortly. 

"I am sure I hope she won't, " 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 very good, Mrs. Evelyn, " he answered coolly. 

"Well don't you think so?" said Mrs. Evelyn, coming back to her seat withher coffee-cup, and apparently dividing her attention between it and hersubject, --"It's a great chance for her--most girls in her circumstanceswould 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 dryly. "I hate peoplewho are always sure of their ground!"

"What do you think, Mr. Carleton?" said Mrs. Evelyn, taking littlesatisfied sips of her coffee. 

"May I ask, first, what is meant by the 'chance' and what by the'circumstances. '"

"Why Mr. Thorn has a fine fortune, you know, and he is of an excellentfamily--there is not a better family in the city--and very few young menof such pretensions would think of a girl that has no name nor standing. "

"Unless she had qualities that would command them, " said Mr. Carleton. 

"But Mr. Carleton, sir, " said the lady, --"do you think that can be? do youthink a woman can fill gracefully a high place in society if she has haddisadvantages in early life to contend with that were calculated to unfither for it?"

"But mamma, " said Constance, --"Fleda don't shew any such thing. "

"No, she don't shew it, " said Mrs. Evelyn, --"but I am not talking ofFleda--I am talking of the effect of early disadvantages. What do youthink, Mr. Carleton?"

"Disadvantages of what kind, Mrs. Evelyn?"

"Why, for instance--the strange habits of intercourse, on familiar terms, with rough and uncultivated people, --such intercourse for years--in allsorts of ways, --in the field and in the house, --mingling with them as oneof them--it seems 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 andproperly, but still taken up, --so as to make much intellectual acquirementand accomplishments impossible; it can't be otherwise, you know, --neitheropportunity nor instructors; and I don't think anything can supply thewant in after life--it isn't the mere things themselves which may beacquired--the mind should grow up in the atmosphere of them--don't youthink so, Mr. Carleton?"

He bowed. 

"Music, for instance, and languages, and converse with society, and agreat many things, are put completely beyond reach;--Edith, my dear, youare not to touch the coffee, --nor Constance either, --no I will not letyou, --And there could not be even much reading, for want of books if fornothing else. 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 thatweakness imposed had come in again and stood by the centre-table. 

"We are discussing a knotty question, Miss Ringgan, " said Mr. Carletonwith a smile, as he brought a bergčre for her; "I should like to have yourvoice on it. "

There was no seconding of his motion. He waited till she had seatedherself 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 at one or twoothers which had undeniably the air of being _arrested_, was enough forFleda's quick apprehension. She knew they had been talking of her. Hereyes stopped short of Mr. Carleton's and she coloured and hesitated. Noone spoke. 

"By prosperity you mean--?"

"Rank and fortune, " said Florence, without looking up. 

"Marrying a rich man, for instance, " said Edith, "and having one'shands full. "

This peculiar statement of the case occasioned a laugh all round, but thesilence which followed seemed still to wait upon Fleda's reply. 

"Am I expected to give a serious answer to that question?" she said alittle doubtfully. 

"Expectations are not stringent things, " said her first questionersmiling. "That waits upon your choice. "

"They are horridly stringent, _I_ think, " said Constance. "We shall all bedisappointed 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 andspeaking with evident difficulty, --"Such an experience as might teach oneboth the worth and the worthlessness of money. "

Mr. Carleton's smile was a sufficiently satisfied one; but Mrs. Evelyn retorted, "The _worth_ and the _worthlessness!_--Fleda my dear, I don'tunderstand--"

"And what experience teaches one the worth and what the worthlessness ofmoney?" said Constance;--"Mamma is morbidly persuaded that I do notunderstand the first--of the second I have an indefinite idea from neverbeing able to do more than half that I want with it. "

Fleda smiled and hesitated again, in a way that shewed she would willinglybe excused, but the silence left her no choice but to speak. 

"I think, " she said modestly, "that a person can hardly understand thetrue worth of money, --the ends it can best subserve, --that has not beentaught it by his own experience of the want; and--"

"What follows?" said Mr. Carleton. 

"I was going to say, sir, that there is danger, especially when peoplehave not been accustomed to it, that they will greatly overvalue andmisplace the real worth of prosperity; unless the mind has been steadiedby another kind of experience, and has learnt to measure things by ahigher scale. "

"And how when they _have_ been accustomed to it?" said Florence. 

"The same danger, without the 'especially', " said Fleda, with a look thatdisclaimed any assuming. 

"One thing is certain, " said Constance, --"you hardly ever see _lesnouveaux riches_ make a graceful use of anything. --Fleda my dear, I amseconding all of your last speech that I understand. Mamma, I perceive, isat work upon the rest. "

"I think we ought all to be at work upon it, " said Mrs. Evelyn, "for MissRinggan has made it out that there is hardly anybody here that isqualified to wear prosperity well. "

"I was just thinking so, " said Florence. 

Fleda said nothing, and perhaps her colour rose a little. 

"I will take lessons of her, " said Constance, with eyebrows just raisedenough to neutralize the composed gravity of the other features, --"as soonas I have an amount of prosperity that will make it worth while. "

"But I don't think, " said Florence, "that a graceful use of things isconsistent with such a careful valuation and considering of the exactworth of everything--it's not my idea of grace. "

"Yet _propriety_ is an essential element of gracefulness, Miss Evelyn. "

"Well, " said Florence, --"certainly; but what then?"

"Is it attainable, in the use of means, without a nice knowledge of theirtrue value?"

"But, Mr. Carleton, I am sure I have seen improper things--things improperin a way--gracefully done?"

"No doubt; but, Miss Evelyn, " said he smiling "the impropriety did not inthose cases, I presume, attach itself to the other quality. The graceful_manner_ was strictly proper to its ends, was it not, however the endsmight be false?"

"I don't know, " said Florence;--"you have gone too deep for me. But doyou think that close calculation, and all that sort of thing, islikely to make people use money, or anything else, gracefully? I neverthought it did. "

"Not close calculation alone, " said Mr. Carleton. 

"But do you think it is _consistent_ with gracefulness?"

"The largest and grandest views of material things that man has evertaken, Miss Evelyn, stand upon a basis of the closest calculation. "

Florence worked at her worsted and looked very dissatisfied. 

"O Mr. Carleton, " said Constance as he was going, --"don't leave yourvinaigrette--there it is on the table. "

He made no motion to take it up. 

"Don't you know, Miss Constance, that physicians seldom like to haveanything to do with their own prescriptions?"

"It's very suspicious of them, " said Constance;--"but you must take it, Mr. Carleton, if you please, for I shouldn't like the responsibility ofits being left here; and I am afraid it would be dangerous to our peace ofmind, besides. "

"I shall risk that, " he said laughing. "Its work is not done. "

"And then, Mr. Carleton, " said Mrs. Evelyn, and Fleda knew with what alook, --"you know physicians are accustomed to be paid when theirprescriptions are taken. "

But the answer to this was only a bow, so expressive in its air of haughtycoldness that any further efforts of Mrs. Evelyn's wit were chilled forsome minutes after he had gone. 

Fleda had not seen this. She had taken up the vinaigrette, and wasthinking with acute pleasure that Mr. Carleton's manner last night andto-night had returned to all the familiar kindness of old times. Not as ithad been during the rest of her stay in the city. She could be quitecontented now to have him go back to England, with this pleasantremembrance left her. She sat turning over the vinaigrette, which to herfancy was covered with hieroglyphics that no one else could read; of heruncle's affair, of Charlton's danger, of her own distress, and thekindness which had wrought its relief, more penetrating and pleasant thaneven the fine aromatic scent which fairly typified it, --Constance's voicebroke in upon her musings. 

"Isn't it awkward?" she said as she saw Fleda handling and looking at thepretty toy, --"Isn't it awkward? I sha'n't have a bit of rest now for fearsomething will happen to that. I hate to have people do such things!"

"Fleda my dear, " said Mrs. Evelyn, --"I wouldn't handle it, my love; youmay depend there is some charm in it--some mischievous hiddeninfluence, --and if you have much to do with it I am afraid you willfind a gradual coldness stealing over you, and a strange forgetfulnessof Queechy, and you will perhaps lose your desire ever to go back thereany more. "

The vinaigrette dropped from Fleda's fingers, but beyond a heightenedcolour and a little tremulous gravity about the lip, she gave no othersign of emotion. 

"Mamma, " said Florence laughing, --"you are too bad!"

"Mamma, " said Constance, "I wonder how any tender sentiment for you cancontinue to exist in Fleda's breast!--By the way, Fleda, my dear, do youknow that we have heard of two escorts for you? but I only tell youbecause I know you'll not be fit to travel this age. "

"I should not be able to travel to-morrow, " said Fleda. 

"They are not going to-morrow, " said Mrs. Evelyn quietly. 

"Who are they?"

"Excellent ones, " said Mrs. Evelyn. "One of them is your old friendMr. Olmney, "

"Mr. Olmney!" said Fleda. "What has brought him to New York?"

"Really, " said Mrs. Evelyn laughing, --"I do not know. What should keephim away? I was very glad to see him, for my part. Maybe he has come totake you home. "

"Who is the other?" said Fleda. 

"That's another old friend of yours--Mrs. Renney. "

"Mrs. Renney?--who is she?" said Fleda. 

"Why don't you know? Mrs. Renney--she used to live with your aunt Lucy insome capacity--years ago, --when she was in New York, --housekeeper, Ithink; don't you remember her?"

"Perfectly, now, " said Fleda. "Mrs. Renney!--"

"She has been housekeeper for Mrs. Schenck these several years, and she isgoing somewhere out West to some relation, her brother, I believe, to takecare of his family; and her road leads her your way. "

"When do they go, Mrs. Evelyn?"

"Both the same day, and both the day after to-morrow. Mr. Olmney takes themorning train, he says, unless you would prefer some other, --I told himyou were very anxious to go, --and Mrs. Renney goes in the afternoon. Sothere's a choice for you. "

"Mamma, " said Constance, "Fleda is not fit to go at all, either time. "

"I don't think she is, " said Mrs. Evelyn. "But she knows best what shelikes to do. "

Thoughts and resolutions came swiftly one after another into Fleda's mindand were decided upon in as quick succession. First, that she must go theday after to-morrow, at all events. Second, that it should not be withMr. Olmney. Third, that to prevent that, she must not see him in the meantime, and therefore--yes, no help for it, --must refuse to see any one thatcalled the next day; there was to be a party in the evening, so then shewould be safe. No doubt Mr. Carleton would come, to give her a moreparticular account of what he had done, and she wished unspeakably to hearit; but it was not possible that she should make an exception in hisfavour and admit him alone. That could not be. If friends would only besimple and straightforward and kind, --one could afford to bestraightforward too;--but as it was she must not do what she longed to doand they would be sure to misunderstand. There was indeed the morning ofthe day following left her if Mr. Olmney did not take it into his head tostay. And it might issue in her not seeing Mr. Carleton at all, to bidgood-bye and thank him? He would not think her ungrateful, he knew betterthan that, but still--Well! so much for kindness!--

"What _are_ you looking so grave about?" said Constance. 

"Considering ways and means, " Fleda said with a slight smile. 

"Ways and means of what?"

"Going. "

"You don't mean to go the day after to-morrow?"

"Yes. "

"It's too absurd for anything! You sha'n't do it. "

"I must indeed. "

"Mamma, " said Constance, "if you permit such a thing, I shall hope thatmemory will be a fingerboard of remorse to you, pointing to Miss Ringgan'spale cheeks. "

"I shall charge it entirely upon Miss Ringgan's own fingerboard, " saidMrs. Evelyn, with her complacently amused face. "Fleda, my dear, --shall Irequest Mr. Olmney to delay his journey for a day or two, my love, tillyou are stronger?"

"Not at all, Mrs. Evelyn! I shall go then;--if I am not ready in themorning I will take Mrs. Renney in the afternoon--I would quite as lief gowith her. "

"Then I will make Mr. Olmney keep to his first purpose, " said Mrs. Evelyn. 

Poor Fleda, though with a very sorrowful heart, kept her resolutions, andfor very forlornness and weariness slept away a great part of the nextday. Neither would she appear in the evening, for fear of more people thanone. It was impossible 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, but Fleda could not endure eventhe chance of seeing his mother. She wanted to know, but dared not ask, whether Mr. Carleton had been to see her. What if to-morrow morning shouldpass without her seeing him? Fleda pondered this uncertainty a little, and then jumped out of bed and wrote him the heartiest little note ofthanks and remembrance that tears would let her write; sealed it, andcarried it herself to the nearest branch of the despatch post the firstthing next morning. 

She took a long look that same morning at the little vinaigrette whichstill lay on the centre-table, wishing very much to take it up stairs andpack it away among her things. It was meant for her she knew, and shewanted it as a very pleasant relic from the kind hands that had given it;and besides, he might think it odd if she should slight his intention. Buthow odd it would seem to him if he knew that the Evelyns had halfappropriated it. And appropriate it anew, in another direction, she couldnot. She could not without their knowledge, and they would put their ownabsurd construction on what was a simple matter of kindness; she could notbrave it. 

[Illustration: "I told him, 'O you were not gone yet!'"]

The morning, a long one it was, had passed away; Fleda had just finishedpacking her trunk, and was sitting with a faint-hearted feeling of bodyand mind, trying to rest before being called to her early dinner, whenFlorence came to tell her it was ready. 

"Mr. Carleton was here awhile ago, " she said, "and he asked for you; butmamma said you were busy; she knew you had enough to tire you withoutcoming down stairs to see him. He asked when you thought of going. "

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him, 'O you were not gone yet!'--it's such a plague to be biddingpeople good-bye--_I_ always want to get rid of it. Was I right?"

Fleda said nothing, but in her heart she wondered what possible concern itcould be of her friends if Mr. Carleton wanted to see her before she wentaway. She felt it was unkind--they did not know how unkind, for they didnot understand that he was a very particular friend and an oldfriend--they could not tell what reason there was for her wishing to bidhim good-bye. She thought she should have liked to do it, very much. 

Chapter XLVII. 

 Methought I was--there is no man can tell what. Methought I was, and methought I had, --But man is but a patched fool, if he will offer to say what methought I had. --Midsummer Night's Dream. 

Mrs. Evelyn drove down to the boat with Fleda and did not leave her tillshe was safely put in charge of Mrs. Renney. Fleda immediately retreatedto the innermost depths of the ladies' cabin, hoping to find some rest forthe body at least if not forgetfulness for the mind. 

The latter was not to be. Mrs. Renney was exceeding glad to see her andbent upon knowing what had become of her since those days when they usedto know each other. 

"You're just the same, Miss Fleda, that you used to be--you're very littlealtered--I can see that--though you're looking a good deal more thin andpale--you had very pretty roses in your cheeks in those times. --Yes, Iknow, I understood Mrs. Evelyn to say you had not been well; but allowingfor that I can see you are just yourself still--I'm glad of it. Do yourecollect, Miss Fleda, what a little thing you was then?"

"I recollect, very well, " said Fleda. 

"I'm sure of another thing--you're just as good as you used to be, " saidthe housekeeper looking at her complacently. "Do you remember how you usedto come into my room to see me make jelly? I see it as well as if it wasyesterday;--and you used to beg me to let you squeeze the lemons; and Inever could refuse 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 youwould stain your dress with the acid, and I'd stand and watch to see youputting all your strength to squeeze 'em clean, and be afraid that Mrs. Rossitur would be angry with me for letting you spoil your hands, but youused to look up and smile at me so, I couldn't help myself but let you dojust whatever you had a mind. You don't look quite so light and bright asyou did in those times; but to be sure, you ain't feeling well! Seehere--just let me pull some of these things onto this settee, and you putyourself down there and rest--pillows--let's have another pillow, --there, how's that?"

Oh if Fleda might have silenced her! She thought it was rather hard thatshe should have two talkative companions on this journey of all others. The housekeeper paused no longer than to arrange her couch and see hercomfortably laid down. 

"And then Mr. Hugh would come in to find you and carry you away--he nevercould bear to be long from you. How is Mr. Hugh, Miss Fleda? he used tobe always a very delicate looking child. I remember you and him used tobe always together--he was a very sweet boy! I have often said I neversaw such another pair of children. How does Mr. Hugh have his health, Miss Fleda?"

"Not very well, just now, " said Fleda gently, and shutting her eyes thatthey might reveal less. 

There was need; for the housekeeper went on to ask particularly afterevery member of the family, and where they had been living, and as muchas she conveniently could about how they had been living. She was verykind through it all, or she tried to be; but Fleda felt there was adifference since the time when her aunt kept house in State street andMrs. Renney made jellies for her. When her neighbours' affairs wereexhausted Mrs. Renney fell back upon her own, and gave Fleda a verycircumstantial account of the occurrences that were drawing her westward;how so many years ago her brother had married and removed thither; howlately his wife had died; what in general was the character of his wife, and what, in particular, the story of her decease; how many children wereleft without care, and the state of her brother's business which demandeda great deal; and how finally, she, Mrs. Renney, had received andaccepted an invitation to go on to Belle Rivičre and be housekeeper deson chef. And as Fleda's pale worn face had for some time given her nosign of attention the housekeeper then hoped she was asleep, and placedherself so as to screen her and have herself a good view of everythingthat was going on in the cabin. 

But poor Fleda was not asleep, much as she rejoiced in being thought so. Mind and body could get no repose, sadly as the condition of both calledfor it. Too worn to sleep, perhaps;--too down-hearted to rest. She blamedherself for it, and told over to herself the causes, the recent causes, she had of joy and gratitude; but it would not do. Grateful she could beand was; but tears that were not the distillation of joy came with hergratitude; came from under the closed eyelid in spite of her; the pillowwas wet with them. She excused herself, or tried to, with thinking thatshe was weak and not very well, and that her nerves had gone through somuch for a few days past it was no wonder if a reaction left her withouther usual strength of mind. And she could not help thinking there had beena want of kindness in the Evelyns to let her come away to-day to make sucha journey, at such a season, under such guardianship. But it was not allthat; she knew it was not. The journey was a small matter; only a littlepiece of disagreeableness that was well in keeping with her othermeditations. She was going home and home had lost all its fair-seeming;its honours were withered. It would be pleasant indeed to be there againto nurse Hugh; but nurse him for what?--life or death?--she did not liketo think; and beyond that she could fix upon nothing at all that lookedbright in the prospect; she almost thought herself wicked, but she couldnot. If she might hope that her uncle would take hold of his farm like aman, and redeem his character and his family's happiness on the oldplace, --that would have been something; but he had declared a differentpurpose, and Fleda knew him too well to hope that he would be better thanhis word. Then they must leave the old homestead, where at least theassociations of happiness clung, and go to a strange land. It lookeddesolate to Fleda, wherever it might be. Leave Queechy!--that she lovedunspeakably beyond any other place in the world; where the very hills hadbeen the friends of her childhood, and where she had seen the maples growgreen and grow red through as many-coloured changes of her own fortunes;the woods where the shade of her grandfather walked with her and where thepresence even of her father could be brought back by memory; where the airwas sweeter and the sunlight brighter, by far, than in any other place, for both had some strange kindred with the sunny days of long ago. PoorFleda turned her face from Mrs. Renney, and leaving doubtful prospects andwithering comforts for a while as it were out of sight, she wept the fairoutlines and the red maples of Queechy as if they had been all she had toregret. They had never disappointed her. Their countenance had comfortedher many a time, under many a sorrow. After all, it was only fancychoosing at which shrine the whole offering of sorrow should be made. Sheknew that many of the tears that fell were due to some other. It was invain to tell herself they were selfish; mind and body were in no conditionto struggle with anything. 

It had fallen dark some time, and she had wept and sorrowed herself into ahalf-dozing state, when a few words spoken near aroused her. 

"It is snowing, "--was said by several voices. 

"Going very slow, ain't we?" said Fleda's friend in a suppressed voice. 

"Yes, 'cause it's so dark, you see; the Captain dursn't let her run. "

Some poor witticism followed from a third party about the 'Butterfly's'having run herself off her legs the first time she ever ran at all; andthen Mrs. Renney went on. 

"Is the storm so bad, Hannah?"

"Pretty thick--can't see far ahead--I hope we'll make out to find our wayin--that's all _I_ care for. "

"How far are we?"

"Not half way yet--I don't know--depends on what headway we make, youknow;--there ain't much wind yet, that's a good thing. "

"There ain't any danger, is there?"

This of course the chambermaid denied, and a whispered colloquy followedwhich Fleda did not try to catch. A new feeling came upon her wearyheart, --a feeling of fear. There was a sad twinge of a wish that she wereout of the boat and safe back again with the Evelyns, and a fresh sense ofthe unkindness of letting her come away that afternoon so attended. Andthen with that sickness of heart the forlorn feeling of being alone, ofwanting some one at hand to depend upon, to look to. It is true that incase of real danger none such could be a real protection, --and yet not soneither, for strength and decision can live and make live where a moment'sfaltering will kill, and weakness must often falter of necessity. "Allthe ways of the Lord are mercy and truth" to his people; she thought ofthat, and yet she feared, for his ways are often what we do not like. Afew moments of sick-heartedness and trembling, --and then Fleda mentallyfolded her arms 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; inhim will I trust_. "

And then what comes after, --"_He shall cover thee with his feathers, andunder his wings shalt thou trust; his truth shall be thy shield andbuckler_. "

Fleda lay quiet till she was called to tea. 

"Bless me, how pale you are!" said the housekeeper, as Fleda raisedherself up at this summons, --"do you feel very bad, Miss Fleda?"

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 not verystrong yet. "

The housekeeper and Hannah both looked at her with strangely touchedfaces, and again begged her to try the refreshment of tea. But Fledawould not go down, so they served her up there with great zeal andtenderness. And then she waited patiently and watched the people in thecabin, as they sat gossiping in groups or stupefying in solitude; andthought how miserable a thing is existence where religion and refinementhave not taught the mind to live in somewhat beyond and above itsevery-day concern. 

Late at night the boat arrived safe at Bridgeport. Mrs. Renney and Fledahad resolved to stay on board till morning, when the former promised totake her to the house of a sister she had living in the town; as the carswould not leave the place till near eleven o'clock. Kest was not to behoped for meantime in the boat, on the miserable couch which was the bestthe cabin could furnish; but Fleda was so thankful to have finished thevoyage in safety that she took thankfully everything else, even lyingawake. It was a wild night. The wind rose soon after they reachedBridgeport, and swept furiously over the boat, rattling the tiller chainsand making Fleda so nervously alive to possibilities that she got up twoor three times to see if the boat were fast to her moorings. It was verydark, and only by a fortunately placed lantern she could see a bit of thedark wharf and one of the posts belonging to it, from which the lanternnever budged; so at last, quieted or tired out, nature had her rights, andshe slept. 

It was not refreshing rest after all, and Fleda was very glad that Mrs. Renney's impatience for something comfortable made her willing to be astiras early as there was any chance of finding people up in the town. Fewwere abroad when they left the boat, they two. Not a foot had printed thedeep layer of snow that covered the wharf. It had fallen thick during thenight. Just then it was not snowing; the clouds seemed to have taken arecess, for they hung threatening yet; one uniform leaden canopy was overthe whole horizon. 

"The snow ain't done yet, " said Mrs. Renney. 

"No, but the worst of our journey is over, " said Fleda. "I am glad to beon the land. "

"I hope we'll get something to eat here, " said Mrs. Renney as they steppedalong over the wharf. "They ought to be ashamed to give people such amess, when it's just as easy to have things decent. My! how it has snowed. I declare, if I'd ha' known I'd ha' waited till somebody had tracked apath 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 get somebreakfast. You'd better catch on to my arm--I'll waken up the sevensleepers but what I'll have something to put life into you directly. "

Fleda thanked her but declined the proffered accommodation, and followedher companion in the narrow beaten path a few travellers had made in thestreet, feeling enough like a ghost, if want of flesh and blood realitywere enough. It seemed a dream that she was walking through the grey lightand the empty streets of the little town; everything looked and felt sowild and strange. 

If it was a dream she was soon waked out of it. In the house where theywere presently received and established in sufficient comfort, there wassuch a little specimen of masculine humanity as never shewed his face indream land yet; a little bit of reality enough to bring any dreamer to hissenses. He seemed to have been brought up on stove heat, for he was ailglowing yet from a very warm bed he had just tumbled out of somewhere, andhe looked at the pale thin stranger by his mother's fireplace as if shewere an anomaly in the comfortable world. If he could have contentedhimself with looking!--but he planted himself firmly on the rug just twofeet from Fleda, and with a laudable and most persistent desire to examineinto the causes of what he could not understand he commenced inquiring, "Are you cold?--say! Are you cold?--say!"--in a tone most provokingly madeup of wonder and dulness. In vain Fleda answered him, that she was notvery cold and would soon not be cold at all by that good fire;--thequestion came again, apparently in all its freshness, from theinterrogator's mind, --"Are you cold?--say!--"

And silence and words, looking grave and laughing, were alike thrown away. Fleda shut her eyes at length and used the small remnant of her patienceto keep herself quiet till she was called to breakfast. After breakfastshe accepted the offer of her hostess to go up stairs and lie down tillthe cars were ready; and there got some real and much needed refreshmentof sleep and rest. 

It lasted longer than she bad counted upon. For the cars were not readyat eleven o'clock; the snow last night had occasioned some perplexingdelays. It was not till near three o'clock that the often-despatchedmessenger to the dépôt brought back word that they might go as soon asthey pleased. It pleased Mrs. Renney to be in a great hurry, for herbaggage was in the cars she said, and it would be dreadful if she and itwent different ways; so Fleda and her companion hastened down to thestation house and choose their places some time before anybody elsethought of coming. They had a long, very tiresome waiting to go through, and room for some uneasy speculations about being belated and a nightjourney. But Fleda was stronger now, and bore it all with her usualpatient submission. At length, by degrees the people dropped in andfilled the cars, and they get off. 

"How early do you suppose we shall reach Greenfield?" said Fleda. 

"Why we ought to get there between nine and ten o'clock, I should think, "said her companion. "I hope the snow will hold up till we get there, "

Fleda thought it a hope very unlikely to be fulfilled. There were as yetno snow-flakes to be seen near by, but at a little distance the lowclouds seemed already to enshroud every clump of trees and put a mistabout every hill. They surely would descend more palpably soon. 

It was pleasant to be moving swiftly on again towards the end of theirjourney, if Fleda could have rid herself of some qualms about the possiblestorm and the certain darkness; they might not reach Greenfield by teno'clock; and she disliked travelling in the night at any time. But shecould do nothing, and she resigned herself anew to the comfort and trustshe had built upon last night. She had the seat next the window, and witha very sober kind of pleasure watched the pretty landscape they wereflitting by--misty as her own prospects, --darkening as they?--no, shewould not allow that thought. "'Surely I know that it shall be well withthem that fear God;' and I can trust him. " And she found a strangesweetness in that naked trust and clinging of faith, that faith nevertried never knows. But the breath of daylight was already gone, though theuniversal spread of snow gave the eye a fair range yet, white, white, asfar as the view could reach, with that light misty drapery roundeverything in the distance and merging into the soft grey sky; and everynow and then as the wind served, a thick wreath of white vapour came byfrom the engine and hid all, eddying past the windows and then skimmingoff away over the snowy ground from which it would not lift; a morepalpable veil for a moment of the distant things, --and then broken, scattered, fragmentary, lovely in its frailty and evanishing. It was apretty afternoon, but a sober; and the bare black solitary trees near handwhich the cars flew by, looked to Fleda constantly like finger-posts ofthe past; and back at their bidding her thoughts and her spirits went, back and forward, comparing, in her own mental view, what had once been sogay and genial with its present bleak 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 this wearybearing up of mind and body against the ills that beset both, --of itsquiet home for this unstable strange world where nothing is at astand-still--of perfect and pure society for the unsatisfactory andwearying friendships that the most are here. The thought came to Fledalike one of those unearthly clear Northwestern skies from which a stormcloud has rolled away, that seem almost to mock Earth with their distancefrom its defilement and agitations. "Truly I know that it shall be wellwith them that fear God!"--She could remember Hugh, --she could not thinkof the words without him, --and yet say them with the full boundingassurance. And in that weary and uneasy afternoon her mind rested anddelighted itself 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 but the dim railfences they were flying by, and the reflection from some stationarylantern on the engine or one of the forward cars, that always threw abright spot of light on the snow. Still she kept her eyes fastened out ofthe window; anything but the view _inboard_. They were going slowly now, and frequently stopping; for they were out of time, and some other trainswere to be looked out for. Nervous work; and whenever they stopped thevoices which at other times were happily drowned in the rolling of thecar-wheels, rose and jarred in discords far less endurable. Fleda shuther ears to the words, but it was easy enough without words to understandthe indications of coarse and disagreeable natures in whose neighbourhoodshe disliked to find herself; of whose neighbourhood she exceedinglydisliked to be reminded. The muttered oath, the more than muttered jest, the various laughs that tell so much of head or heart emptiness, --theshadowy but sure tokens of that in human nature which one would notrealize and which one strives to forget;--Fleda shrank within herself andwould gladly have stopped her ears; did sometimes covertly. Oh if homecould be but reached, and she out of this atmosphere! how well sheresolved that never another time, by any motive, of delicacy orotherwise, she would be tempted to trust herself in the like againwithout more than womanly protection. The hours rolled wearily on; theyheard nothing of Greenfield yet. 

They came at length to a more obstinate stop than usual. Fleda took herhands from her ears to ask what was the matter. 

"I don't know, " said Mrs. Renney. "I hope they won't keep us a great whilewaiting here. "

The door swung open and the red comforter and tarpaulin hat of one of thebrakemen shewed itself a moment. Presently after "Can't get on"--wasrepeated by several voices in the various tones of assertion, interrogation, and impatience. The women folks, having nobody to askquestions of, had nothing for it but to be quiet and use their ears. 

"Can't get on!" said another man coming in, --"there's nothing but snow outo' doors--track's all foul. "

A number of people instantly rushed out to see. 

"Can't get on any further to-night?" asked a quiet old gentleman of thenews-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 go back. "

"And what are we going to do?" said an unhappy wight not quick in drawingconclusions. 

"I s'pose we'll all be stiff by the morning, " answered the othergravely, --"unless the wood holds out, which ain't likely. "

How much there is in even a cheery tone of voice, Fleda was sorry whenthis man took his away with him. There was a most uncheering confusion oftongues for a few minutes among the people he had left, and then the carwas near deserted; everybody went out to bring his own wits to bear uponthe obstacles in the way of their progress. Mrs. Renney observed that shemight as well warm her feet while she could, and went to the stove forthe purpose. 

Poor Fleda felt as if she had no heart left. She sat still in her placeand leaned her head upon the back of the deserted chair before her, inutter inability to keep it up. The night journey was bad enough, but_this_ was more than she had counted upon. Danger, to be sure, there mightbe none in standing still there all night, unless perhaps the danger ofdeath from the cold;--she had heard of such things;--but to sit there tillmorning among all those people and obliged to hear their unloosedtongues, --Fleda felt almost that she could not bear it, --a most forlornfeeling, with which came anew a keen reflection upon the Evelyns forhaving permitted her to run even the hazard of such trouble. And in themorning, if well it came, who would take care of them in all thesubsequent annoyance and difficulty of getting out of the snow?--

It must have taken very little time for these thoughts to run through herhead, for half a minute had not flown when the vacant seat beside her wasoccupied and a hand softly touched one of hers which lay in her lap. Fleda started up in terror, --to have the hand taken and her eye met byMr. Carleton. 

"Mr. Carleton!--O sir, how glad I am to see you!"--was said by eye andcheek as unmistakably as by word. 

"Have you come from the clouds?"

"I might rather ask that question of you, " said he smiling. 

"You have been invisible ever since the night when I had the honour ofplaying the part of your physician. "

"I could not help it, sir, --I was sure you would believe it. I wantedexceedingly to see you and to thank you--as well as I could--but I wasobliged to leave it--"

She could hardly say so much. Her swimming eye gave him more thanks thanhe wanted. But she scolded herself vigorously and after a few minutes wasable to look and speak again. 

"I hoped you would not think me ungrateful, sir, but in case you might, Iwrote to let you know that you were mistaken. "

"You wrote to me!" said he. 

"Yes, sir--yesterday morning--at least it was put in the postyesterday morning. "

"It was more unnecessary than you are aware off, " he said with a smile andturning 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 isvery thick. "

"You need not look so about it for me, " said Fleda;--"I don't care for itat all now. "

And a long-drawn breath half told how much she had cared for it, and whata burden was gone. 

"You look very little like breasting hardships, " said Mr. Carleton, bending on her so exactly the look of affectionate care that she hadoften had from him when she was a child, that Fleda was very nearovercome again. 

"O you know, " she said, speaking by dint of great force uponherself, --"You know the will is everything, and mine is very good--"

But he looked extremely unconvinced and unsatisfied. 

"I am so comforted to see you sitting there, sir, " Fleda went ongratefully, --"that I am sure I can bear patiently all the rest. "

His eye turned away and she did not know what to make of his gravity. Buta moment after he looked again and spoke with his usual manner. 

"That business you entrusted to me, " he said in a lower tone, --"I believeyou will have no more trouble with it. "

"So I thought!--so I gathered--the other night, --" said Fleda, her heartand 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' tearful musing. 

"I had the pleasure of Capt. Rossitur's company to breakfast, the nextmorning, --and I am happy to report that there is no danger of any troublearising there. "

"How shall I ever thank you, sir!" said Fleda with trembling lips. 

His smile was so peculiar she almost thought he was going to tell her. Butjust then Mrs. Renney having accomplished the desirable temperature of herfeet, came back to warm her ears, and placed herself on the next seat;happily not the one behind but the one before them, where her eyes werethrown away; 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 difference whether to-dayor to-morrow. 

"You had heard no ill news of your cousin?"

"Not at all, but it is difficult to find an opportunity of making thejourney, and I thought I ought to come yesterday. "

He was silent again; and the baffled seekers after ways and means who hadgone out to try arguments upon the storm, began to come pouring back intothe car. And bringing with them not only their loud and coarse voices withevery shade of disagreeableness aggravated by ill-humour, but also anaverage amount of snow upon their hats and shoulders, the place was soonfull of a reeking atmosphere of great coats. Fleda was trying to put upher window, but Mr. Carleton gently stopped her and began bargaining witha neighbouring fellow-traveller for the opening of his. 

"Well, sir, I'll open it if you wish it, " said the man civilly, "butthey say we sha'n't have nothing to make fires with more than an houror two longer;--so maybe you'll think we can't afford to let any toomuch cold in. "

The gentleman however persisting in his wish and the wish being moreoverbacked with those arguments to which every grade of human reason isaccessible, the window was opened. At first the rush of fresh air was agreat relief; but it was not very long before the raw snowy atmospherewhich made its way in was felt to be more dangerous, if it was moreendurable, than the close pent-up one it displaced. Mr. Carleton orderedthe window closed again; and Fleda's glance of meek grateful patience wasenough to pay any reasonable man for his share of the suffering. _Her_share of it was another matter. Perhaps Mr. Carleton thought so, for heimmediately bent himself to reward her and to avert the evil, and for thatpurpose brought into play every talent of manner and conversation thatcould beguile the time and make her forget what she was among. If successwere his reward he had it. He withdrew her attention completely from allthat was around her, and without tasking it; she could not have bornethat. He did not seem to task himself; but without making any exertion heheld her eye and ear and guarded both from communication with thingsdisagreeable. He knew it. There was not a change in her eye's happyinterest, till in the course of the conversation Fleda happened to mentionHugh, and he noticed the saddening of the eye immediately afterwards. 

"Is he ill?" said Mr. Carleton. 

"I don't know, " said Fleda faltering a little, --"he was not--very, --but afew weeks ago--"

Her eye explained the broken sentences which there in the neighbourhood ofother ears she dared not finish. 

"He will be better after he has seen you, " said Mr. Carleton gently. 

"Yes--"

A very sorrowful and uncertain "yes, " with an "if" in the speaker's mindwhich she did not bring out. 

"Can you sing your old song yet, --" said Mr. Carleton softly, --

 "'Yet one thing secures us. Whatever betide?'"

But Fleda burst into tears. 

"Forgive me, " he whispered earnestly, --"for reminding you of that, --youdid not need it, and I have only troubled you. "

"No sir, you have not, " said Fleda, --"it did not trouble me--and Hughknows it better than I do. I cannot bear anything to-night, I believe--"

"So you have remembered that, Mr. Carleton?" she said a minute after. 

"Do you remember that?" said he, putting her old little Bible into herhand. 

Fleda seized it, but she could hardly bear the throng of images thatstarted up around it. The smooth worn cover brought so back the childishhappy days when it had been her constant companion--the shadows of theQueechy of old, and Cynthia and her grandfather; and the very atmosphereof those times when she had led a light-hearted strange wild life allalone with them, reading the Encyclopćdia and hunting out thewood-springs. She opened the book and slowly turned over the leaves whereher father's hand had drawn those lines, of remark and affection, roundmany a passage, --the very look of them she knew; but she could not see itnow, for her eyes were dim and tears were dropping fast into herlap, --she hoped Mr. Carleton did not see them, but she could not help it;she could only keep the book out of the way of being blotted. And therewere other and later associations she had with it too, --how dear!--howtender!--how grateful!

Mr. Carleton was quite silent for a good while--till the tears had ceased;then he bent towards her so as to be heard no further off. 

"It has been for many years my best friend and companion, " he said ina low tone. 

Fleda could make no answer, even by look. 

"At first, " he went on softly, "I had a strong association of you with it;but the time came when I lost that entirely, and itself quite swallowed upthe thought of the giver. "

A quick glance and smile told how well Fleda understood, how heartily shewas pleased with that. But she instantly looked away again. 

"And now, " said Mr. Carleton after a pause, --"for some time past, I havegot the association again; and I do not choose to have it so. I have cometo the resolution to put the book back into your hands and not receive itagain, unless the giver go with the gift. "

Fleda looked up, a startled look of wonder, into his face, but the darkeye left no doubt of the meaning of his words; and in unbounded confusionshe turned her own and her attention, ostensibly, to the book in her hand, though sight and sense were almost equally out of her power. For a fewminutes poor Fleda felt as if all sensation had retreated to herfinger-ends. She turned the leaves over and over, as if willing to cheatherself or her companion into the belief that she had something to thinkof there, while associations and images of the past were gone with avengeance, swallowed up in a tremendous reality of the present; and thebook, which a minute ago was her father's Bible, was now--what wasit?--something of Mr. Carleton's which she must give back to him. Butstill she held it and looked at it--conscious of no one distinct idea butthat, and a faint one besides that he might like to be repossessed of hisproperty in some reasonable time--time like everything else was in awhirl; the only steady thing in creation seemed to be that perfectly stilland moveless figure by her side--till her trembling fingers admonished herthey would not be able to hold anything much longer; and gently andslowly, without looking, her hand put the book back towards Mr. Carleton. That both were detained together she knew but hardly felt;--the thing wasthat she had given it!--

There was no other answer; and there was no further need that Mr. Carletonshould make any efforts for diverting her from the scene and thecircumstances where they were. Probably he knew that, for he made none. Hewas perfectly silent for a long time, and Fleda was deaf to any othervoice that could be raised, near or far. She could not even think. 

Mrs. Renney was happily snoring, and most of the other people haddescended into their coat collars, or figuratively speaking had loweredtheir blinds, by tilting over their hats in some uncomfortable positionthat signified sleep; and comparative quiet had blessed the place for sometime; as little noticed indeed by Fleda as noise would have been. The solething that she clearly recognized in connection with the exterior worldwas that clasp in which one of her hands lay. She did not know that thecar had grown quiet, and that only an occasional grunt of ill-humour, orwaking-up colloquy, testified that it was the unwonted domicile of anumber of human beings who were harbouring there in a disturbed state ofmind. But this state of things could not last. The time came that had beenthreatened, when their last supply of extrinsic warmth was at an end. Despite shut windows, the darkening of the stove was presently followed bya very sensible and fast-increasing change of temperature; and thisaddition to their causes of discomfort roused every one of the companyfrom his temporary lethargy. The growl of dissatisfied voices awoke again, more gruff than before; the spirit of jesting had long languished and nowdied outright, and in its stead came some low and deep and bitter-spokencurses. Poor Mrs. Renney shook off her somnolency and shook her shoulders, a little business shake, admonitory to herself to keep cool; and Fledacame to the consciousness that some very disagreeable chills were makingtheir way over her. 

"Are you warm enough?" said Mr. Carleton suddenly, turning to her. 

"Not quite, " said Fleda hesitating, --"I feel the cold a little. Pleasedon't, Mr. Carleton!--" she added earnestly as she saw him preparing tothrow off his cloak, the identical black fox which Constance had describedwith so much vivacity;--"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 youwould feel the want very much after wearing it. --I won't put it on. "

But he smilingly bade her "stand up, " stooping down and taking one of herhands to enforce his words, and giving her at the same time the benefit ofone of those looks of good humoured wilfulness to which his mother alwaysyielded, and to which Fleda yielded instantly, though with a colourconsiderably heightened at the slight touch of peremptoriness in his tone. 

"You are not offended with me, Elfie?" he said in another manner, when shehad sat down again and he was arranging the heavy folds of the cloak. 

Offended!--A glance answered. 

"You shall have everything your own way, " he whispered gently, as hestooped down to bring the cloak under her feet, --"_except yourself_. "

What good care should be taken of that exception was said in the darkeye at which Fleda hardly ventured half a glance. She had much ado tocommand herself. 

She was shielded again from all the sights and sounds within reach. Shewas in a maze. The comfort of the fur cloak was curiously mixed with thefeeling of something else, of which that was an emblem, --a surrounding ofcare and strength which would effectually be exerted for herprotection, --somewhat that Fleda had not known for many a long day, --themaking up of the old want. Fleda had it in her heart to cry like a baby. Such a dash of sunlight had fallen at her feet that she hardly dared lookat it for fear of being dazzled; but she could not look anywhere that shedid not see the reflection. 

In the mean time the earful of people settled again into sullen quietude. The cold was not found propitious to quarrelling. Those who could subsidedanew into lethargy, those who could not gathered in their outposts to makethe best defence they might of the citadel. Most happily it was not anextreme night; cold enough to be very disagreeable and even (without a furcloak) dangerous; but not enough to put even noses and ears in immediatejeopardy. Mr. Carleton had contrived to procure a comfortable wrapper forMrs. Renney from a Yankee who for the sake of being "a warm man" as to hispockets was willing to be cold otherwise for a time. The rest of the greatcoats and cloaks which were so alert and erect a little while ago weredoubled up on every side in all sorts of despondent attitudes. A dullquiet brooded over the assembly; and Mr. Carleton walked up and down thevacant space. Once he caught an anxious glance from Fleda, and cameimmediately to her side. 

"You need not be troubled about me, " he said with a most genial smile;--"Iam not suffering--never was further from it in my life. "

Fleda could neither answer nor look. 

"There are not many hours of the night to wear out, " he said. "Can't youfollow your neighbour's example?"

She shook her head. 

"This watching is too hard for you. You will have another headacheto-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 doingvery well--"

He stood still, and the changing lights and shades on Fleda's cheekgrew deeper. 

"Do you know where we are, Mr. Carleton?"

"Somewhere between a town the name of which I have forgotten and a placecalled Quarrenton, I think; and Quarrenton, they tell me, is but a fewmiles from Greenfield. Our difficulties will vanish, I hope, with thedarkness. "

He walked again, and Fleda mused, and wondered at herself in the blackfox. She did not venture another look, though her eye took in nothing verydistinctly but the outlines of that figure passing up and down through thecar. He walked perseveringly; and weariness at last prevailed overeverything else with Fleda; she lost herself with her head leaning againstthe bit of wood between the windows. 

The rousing of the great coats, and the growing gray light, roused herbefore her uneasy sleep had lasted an hour. The lamps were out, the carwas again spotted with two long rows of window-panes, through which thelight as yet came but dimly. The morning had dawned at last, and seemed tohave brought with it a fresh accession of cold, for everybody was on thestir. Fleda put up her window to get a breath of fresh air and see how theday looked. 

A change of weather had come with the dawn. It was not fine yet. Thesnowing had ceased, but the clouds hung overhead still, though not withthe leaden uniformity of yesterday; they were higher and broken into manya soft grey fold, that promised to roll away from the sky by and by. Thesnow was deep on the ground; every visible thing lapped in a thick whitecovering; a still, very grave, very pretty winter landscape, but somewhatdreary in its aspect to a trainful of people fixed in the midst of it outof sight of human habitation. Fleda felt that, but only in the abstract;to her it did not seem dreary; she enjoyed the wild solitary beauty of thescene very much, with many a grateful thought of what might have been. Asit was, she left difficulties entirely to others. 

As soon as it was light the various inmates of the strange dormitorygathered themselves up and set out on foot for Quarrenton. By one of themMr. Carleton sent an order for a sleigh, which in as short a time aspossible arrived, and transported him and Fleda and Mrs. Renney, and oneother ill-bestead woman, safely to the little town of Quarrenton. 

Chapter XLVIII. 

 Welcome the sour cup of prosperity! Affliction may one day smile again, and till then, Sit thee down, sorrow!--Love's Labour Lost. 

It had been a wild night, and the morning looked scared. Perhaps it wasonly the particular locality, for if ever a place shewed bleak and winterstricken the little town of Quarrenton was in that condition that morning. The snow overlaid and enveloped everything, except where the wind had beenat work; and the wind and the grey clouds seemed the only agencies abroad. Nor a ray of sunlight to relieve the uniform sober tints, the universalgrey and white, only varied where a black house-roof, partially cleared, or a blacker bare-branched tree, gave it a sharp interruption. There wasnot a solitary thing that bore an indication of comfortable life, unlessthe curls of smoke that went up from the chimneys; and Fleda was in nocondition to study their physiognomy. 

A little square hotel, perched alone on a rising ground, looked theespecial bleak and unpromising spot of the place. It bore however theimposing title of the Pocahontas; and there the sleigh set them down. 

They were ushered up-stairs into a little parlour furnished in the usualstyle, with one or two articles a great deal too showy for the place and ageneral dearth as to the rest. A lumbering mahogany sofa, that shewed asmuch wood and as little promise as possible; a marble-topped centre-table;chairs in the minority and curtains minus; and the hearth-rug providentlyturned bottom upwards. On the centre-table lay a pile of Penny Magazines, a volume of selections of poetry from various good authors, and asufficient complement of newspapers. The room was rather cold, but of thatthe waiter gave a reasonable explanation in the fact that the fire had notbeen burning long. 

Furs however might be dispensed with, or Fleda thought so; and taking offher bonnet she endeavoured to rest her weary head against the sharp-cuttop of the sofa-back, which seemed contrived expressly to punish andforbid all attempts at ease-seeking. The mere change of position was stillcomparative ease. But the black fox had not done duty yet. Its ample foldswere laid over the sofa, cushion-back and all, so as at once to serve forpillow and mattress, and Fleda being gently placed upon it laid her facedown again upon the soft fur, which gave a very kindly welcome not more tothe body than to the mind. Fleda almost smiled as she felt that. The furswere something more than a pillow for her cheek--they were the soft imageof somewhat for her mind to rest on. But entirely exhausted, too much forsmiles or tears, though both were near, she resigned herself as helplesslyas an infant to the feeling of rest; and in five minutes was in a state ofdreamy unconsciousness. 

Mrs. Renney, who had slept a great part of the night, courted sleep anewin the rocking-chair, till breakfast should be ready; the other woman hadfound quarters in the lower part of the house; and Mr. Carleton stoodstill with folded arms to read at his leisure the fair face that rested soconfidingly upon the black fur of his cloak, looking so very fair in thecontrast. It was the same face he had known in time past, --the same, withonly an alteration that had added new graces but had taken away none ofthe old. Not one of the soft outlines had grown hard under Time'sdiscipline; not a curve had lost its grace or its sweet mobility; and yetthe hand of Time had been there; for on brow and lip and cheek and eyelidthere was that nameless grave composure which said touchingly that hopehad long ago clasped hands with submission. And perhaps, that if hope'sanchor had not been well placed, ay, even where it could not be moved, thestorms of life might have beaten even hope from her ground and made aclean sweep of desolation over all she had left. Not the storms of thelast few weeks. Mr. Carleton saw and understood their work in theperfectly colourless and thin cheek. But these other finer drawncharacters had taken longer to write. He did not know the instrument, buthe read the hand-writing, and came to his own resolutions therefrom. 

Yet if not untroubled she had remained unspotted by the world; that was asclear as the other. The slight eyebrow sat with its wonted calm purity ofoutline just where it used; the eyelid fell as quietly; the forehead aboveit was as unruffled; and if the mouth had a subdued gravity that it hadtaken years to teach, it had neither lost any of the sweetness nor any ofthe simplicity of childhood. It was a strange picture that Mr. Carletonwas looking at, --strange for its rareness. In this very matter ofsimplicity, that the world will never leave those who belong to it. Halfsitting and half reclining, she had given herself to rest with theabandonment and self-forgetfulness of a child; her attitude had the verygrace of a child's unconsciousness; and her face shewed that even inplacing herself there she had lost all thought of any other presence orany other eyes than her own; even of what her hand and cheek lay upon, and what it betokened. It meant something to Mr. Carleton too; and ifFleda could have opened her eyes she would have seen in those that werefixed upon her a happy promise for her future life. She was beyond makingany such observations; and Mrs. Renney gave no interruption to his tillthe breakfast bell rang. 

Mr. Carleton had desired the meal to be served in a private room. But hewas met with a speech in which such a confusion of arguments endeavouredto persuade him to be of another mind, that he had at last given way. Itwas asserted that the ladies would have their breakfast a great dealquicker and a great deal hotter with the rest of the company; and in thesame breath that it would be a very great favour to the house if thegentleman would not put them to the inconvenience of setting a separatetable; the reasons of which inconvenience were set forth in detail, orwould have been if the gentleman would have heard them; and desirousespecially of haste, on Fleda's account, Mr. Carleton signified hiswillingness to let the house accommodate itself. Following the bell awaiter now came to announce and conduct them to their breakfast. 

Down the stairs, through sundry narrow turning passages, they went to along low room at one corner of the house; where a table was spread for avery nondescript company, as it soon proved, many of their last night'scompanions having found their way thither. The two _ladies_, however, weregiven the chief posts at the head, as near as possible to a fiery hotstove, and served with tea and coffee from a neighbouring table by a younglady in long ringlets who was there probably for their express honour. Butalas for the breakfast! They might as good have had the comfort of aprivate room, for there was none other to be had. Of the tea and coffee itmight be said as once it was said of two bad roads--"whichever one youtake you will wish you had taken the other;" the beefsteak was a problemof impracticability; and the chickens--Fleda could not help thinking thata well-to-do rooster which she saw flapping his wings in the yard, must inall probability be at that very moment endeavouring to account for asudden breach in his social circle; and if the oysters had been some veryfine ladies they could hardly have retained less recollection of theiroriginal circumstances. It was in vain to try to eat or to drink; andFleda returned to her sofa with even an increased appetite for rest, themore that her head began to take its revenge for the trials to which ithad been put the past day and night. 

She had closed her eyes again in her old position. Mrs. Renney was tyingher bonnet-strings. Mr. Carleton was pacing up and down. 

"Aren't you going to get ready, Miss Ringgan?" said the former. 

"How soon will the cars be here?" exclaimed Fleda starting up. 

"Presently, " said Mr. Carleton; "but, " said he, coming up to herand taking her hands, --"I am going to prescribe for you again--willyou let me?"

Fleda's face gave small promise of opposition. 

"You are not fit to travel now. You need some hours of quiet rest beforewe go any further. "

"But when shall we get home?" said Fleda. 

"In good time--not by the railroad--there is a nearer way that will takeus to Queechy without going through Greenfield. I have ordered a room tobe made ready for you--will you try if it be habitable?"

Fleda submitted; and indeed there was in his manner a sort of gentledetermination to which few women would have opposed themselves; besidesthat her head threatened to make a journey a miserable business. 

"You are ill now, " said Mr. Carleton. "Cannot you induce your companion tostay and attend you?"

"I don't want her, " said Fleda. 

Mr. Carleton however mooted the question himself with Mrs. Renney, but sherepresented to him, though with much deference, that the care of herproperty must oblige her to go where and when it went. He rang and orderedthe housekeeper to be sent. 

Presently after a young lady in ringlets entered the room, and firsttaking a somewhat leisurely survey of the company, walked to the windowand stood there looking out. A dim recollection of her figure and air madeFleda query whether she were not the person sent for; but it was severalminutes before it came into Mr. Carleton's head to ask if she belonged tothe house. 

"I do, sir, " was the dignified answer. 

"Will you shew this lady the room prepared for her? And take care that shewants nothing. "

The owner of the ringlets answered not, but turning the front view of themfull upon Fleda seemed to intimate that she was ready to act as her guide. She hinted however that the rooms were very _airy_ in winter and thatFleda would stand a better chance of comfort where she was. But this Fledawould not listen to, and followed her adviser to the half warmed andcertainly very airy apartment which had been got ready for her. It wasprobably more owing to something in her own appearance than to Mr. Carleton's word of admonition on the subject that her attendant was reallyassiduous and kind. 

"Be you of this country?" she said abruptly, after her good offices asFleda thought were ended, and she had just closed her eyes. 

She opened them again and said "yes. "

"Well, that ain't in the parlour, is he?"

"What?" said Fleda. 

"One of our folks?"

"An American, you mean?--No. "

"I thought he wa'n't--What is he?"

"He is English. "

"Is he your brother?"

"No. "

The young lady gave her a good look out of her large dark eyes, andremarking that "she thought they didn't look much like, " left the room. 

The day was spent by poor Fleda between pain and stupor, each of whichacted in some measure to check the other; too much exhausted for nervouspain to reach the height it sometimes did, while yet that was sufficientto prevent stupor from sinking into sleep. Beyond any power of thought oreven fancy, with only a dreamy succession of images flitting across hermind, the hours passed she knew not how; that they did pass she knew fromher handmaid in the long curls who was every now and then coming in tolook at her and give her fresh water; it needed no ice. Her handmaid toldher that the cars were gone by--that it was near noon--then that it waspast noon. There was no help for it; she could only lie still and wait; itwas long past noon before she was able to move; and she was looking illenough yet when she at last opened the door of the parlour and slowlypresented herself. 

Mr. Carleton was there alone, Mrs. Renney having long since accompaniedher baggage. He came forward instantly and led Fleda to the sofa, withsuch gentle grave kindness that she could hardly bear it; her nerves hadbeen in an unsteady state all day. A table was set and partially spreadwith evidently much more care than the one of the morning; and Fleda satlooking at it afraid to trust herself to look anywhere else. For years shehad been taking care of others; and now there was something so strange inthis feeling of being cared for, that her heart was full. Whatever Mr. Carleton saw or suspected of this, it did not appear. On the contrary hismanner and his talk on different matters was as cool, as quiet, asgraceful, as if neither he nor Fleda had anything particular to think of;avoiding even an allusion to whatever might in the least distress her. Fleda thought she had a great many reasons to be grateful to him, but shenever thanked him for anything more than at that moment she thanked himfor the delicacy 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 served with themin a way that went as far as possible towards making them satisfactory;but though a great improvement upon the morning they furnished still butthe substitute for a meal. There was a little pause then after the horseswere ordered. 

"I am afraid you have wanted my former prescription to-day, " said Mr. Carleton, after considering the little-improved colour of Fleda's face. 

"I have indeed. "

"Where is it?"

Fleda hesitated, and then in a little confusion said she supposed it waslying on Mrs. Evelyn's centre-table. 

"How happens that?" said he smiling. 

"Because--I could not help it, Mr. Carleton, " said Fleda with no littledifficulty;--"I was foolish--I could not bring it away. "

He understood and was silent. 

"Are you fit to bear a long ride in the cold?" he said compassionately afew minutes after. 

"Oh yes!--It will do me good. "

"You have had a miserable day, have you not?"

"My head has been pretty bad, --" said Fleda a little evasively. 

"Well, what would you have?" said he lightly;--"doesn't that make amiserable day of it?"

Fleda hesitated and coloured, --and then conscious that her cheeks wereanswering for her, coloured so exceedingly that she was fain to put bothher hands up to hide what they only served the more plainly to shew. Noadvantage was taken. Mr. Carleton said nothing; she could not see whatanswer might be in his face. It was only by a peculiar quietness in histone whenever he spoke to her afterwards that Fleda knew she had beenthoroughly understood. She dared not lift her eyes. 

They had soon employment enough around her. A sleigh and horses betterthan anything else Quarrenton had been known to furnish, were carryingher rapidly towards home; the weather had perfectly cleared off, and infull brightness and fairness the sun was shining upon a brilliant world. It was cold indeed, though the only wind was that made by their progress;but Fleda had been again unresistingly wrapped in the furs and was forthe time beyond the reach of that or any other annoyance. She eatsilently and quietly enjoying; so quietly that a stranger might havequestioned there being any enjoyment in the case. It was a verypicturesque broken country, fresh-covered with snow; and at that hour, late in the day, the lights and shadows were a constantly varying charmto the eye. Clumps of evergreens stood out in full disclosure against thewhite ground; the bare branches of neighbouring trees, in all theirbarrenness, had a wild prospective or retrospective beauty peculiar tothemselves. On the wavy white surface of the meadow-land, or the steephill-sides, lay every variety of shadow in blue and neutral tint; wherethey lay not the snow was too brilliant to be borne. And afar off, through a heaven bright and cold enough to hold the canopy over Winter'shead, the ruler of the day was gently preparing to say good-bye to theworld. Fleda's eye seemed to be new set for all forms of beauty, androved from one to the other, as grave and bright as nature itself. 

For a little way Mr. Carleton left her to her musings and was as silent asshe. But then he gently drew her into a conversation that broke up thesettled gravity of her face and obliged her to divide her attentionbetween nature and him, and his part of it he knew how to manage. Butthough eye and smile constantly answered him he could win neither to astraightforward bearing. 

They were about a mile from Queechy when Pleda suddenly exclaimed, "O Mr. Carleton, please stop the sleigh I--"

The horses were stopped. 

"It is only Earl Douglass--our farmer, " Fleda said in explanation, --"Iwant to ask how they are at home. "

In answer to her nod of recognition Mr. Douglass came to the side of thevehicle; but till he was there, close, gave her no other answer by word orsign; when there, broke forth his accustomed guttural, "How d'ye do!"

"How d'ye do, Mr. Douglass, " said Fleda. "How are they all at home?"

"Well, there ain't nothin' new among 'em, as I've heerd on, " said Earl, diligently though stealthily at the same time qualifying himself to make areport of Mr. Carleton, --"I guess they'll be glad to see you. _I_ be. "

"Thank you, Mr. Douglass. How is Hugh?"

"He ain't nothin' different from what he's been for a spell back--at leastI ain't heerd that he was. --Maybe he is, but if he is I han't heerd speakof it, and if he was, I think I should ha' heerd speak of it. He _was_pretty bad a spell ago--about when you went away--but he's been bettersen. So they say. 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 make up yourmind to stay to hum this time?"

"I have no immediate intention of running away, Mr. Douglass, " said Fleda, her pale cheeks turning rose as she saw him looking curiously up and downthe edges of the black fox. His eye came back to hers with a good-humouredintelligence that she could hardly stand. 

"It's time you was back, " said he. "Your uncle's to hum, --but he don't dome much good, whatever he does to other folks--nor himself nother, as faras the farm goes; there's that corn"--

"Very well, Mr. Douglass, " said Fleda, --"I shall be at home now and I'llsee about it. "

"_Very_ good!" said Earl as he stepped back, --"Queechy can't get alongwithout you, that's no mistake. "

They drove on a few minutes in silence. 

"Aren't you thinking, Mr. Carleton, " said Fleda, "that my countrymen are astrange mixture?"

"I was not thinking of them at all at this moment. I believe such a notionhas crossed my mind. "

"It has crossed mine very often, " said Fleda. 

"How do you read them? what is the basis of it?"

[Illustration: "How are they all at home?"]

"I think, --the strong self-respect which springs from the security andimportance that republican institutions give every man. But, " she addedcolouring, "I have seen very little of the world and ought not to judge. "

"I have no doubt you are quite right, " said Mr. Carleton smiling. "Butdon't you think an equal degree of self-respect may consist with givinghonour where honour is due?"

"Yes--" said Fleda a little doubtfully, --"where religion and notrepublicanism is the spring of it. "

"Humility and not pride, " said he. "Yes--you are right. "

"My countrymen do yield honour where they think it is due, " said Fleda;"especially where it is not claimed. They must give it to reality, not topretension. And I confess I would rather see them a little rude in theirindependence than cringing before mere advantages of externalposition;--even for my own personal pleasure. "

"I agree with you, Elfie, --putting perhaps the last clause out of thequestion. "

"Now that man, " said Fleda, smiling at his look, --"I suppose his addressmust have struck you as very strange; and yet there was no want of respectunder it. I am sure he has a true thorough respect and even regard for me, and would prove it on any occasion. "

"I have no doubt of that. "

"But it does not satisfy you?"

"Not quite. I confess I should require more from any one under mycontrol. "

"Oh nobody is under control here, " said Fleda. "That is, I mean, individual control. Unless so far as self-interest comes in. I supposethat is all-powerful here as elsewhere. "

"And the reason it gives less power to individuals is that the greaterfreedom of resources makes no man's interest depend so absolutely on oneother man. That is a reason you cannot regret. No--your countrymen havethe best of it, Elfie. But do you suppose that this is a fair sample ofthe whole country?"

"I dare not say that, " said Fleda. "I am afraid there is not so muchintelligence and cultivation everywhere. But I am sure there are manyparts of the land that will bear a fair comparison with it. "

"It is more than I would dare say for my own land. "

"I should think--" Fleda suddenly stopped. 

"What?--" said Mr. Carleton gently. 

"I beg your pardon, sir, --I was going to say something very presumptuous. "

"You cannot, " he said in the same tone. 

"I was going to say, " said Fleda blushing, "that I should think theremight be a great deal of pleasure in raising the tone of mind andcharacter among the people, --as one could who had influence over a largeneighbourhood. "

His smile was very bright in answer. 

"I have been trying that, Elfie, for the last eight years. "

Fleda's eye looked now eagerly in pleasure and in curiosity for more. Buthe was silent. 

"I was thinking a little while ago, " he said, "of the time once beforewhen I rode here with you--when you were beginning to lead me to theproblem I have been trying to work out ever since. --When I left you inParis I went to resolve with myself the question, What I had to do in theworld?--Your little Bible was my invaluable help. I had read very littleof it when I threw aside all other books; and my problem was soon solved. I saw that the life has no honour nor value which is not spent to theglory of God. I saw the end I was made for--the happiness I was fittedfor--the dignity to which even a fallen creature may rise, through hisdear Redeemer and surety. "

Fleda's eyes were down now. Mr. Carleton was silent a moment, watching oneor two bright witnesses that fell from them. 

"The next conclusion was easy, --that my work was at home. --I have wantedmy good fairy, " Mr. Carleton went on smiling. "But I hope she will becontented to carry the standard of Christianity, without that ofrepublicanism. "

"But Christianity tends directly to republicanism, Mr. Carleton, " saidFleda, trying to laugh. 

"I know that, " said he smiling, "and I am willing to know it. But theleaven of truth is one thing, and the powder train of the innovatoris another. "

Fleda sat thinking that she had very little in common with the layers ofpowder trains. She did not know the sleigh was passing Deepwater Lake, till Mr. Carleton said, --

"I am glad, my dear Elfie, for your sake, that we are almost at the end ofyour journey. "

"I should think you might be glad for your own sake, Mr. Carleton. "

"No--my journey is not ended--"

"Not?"

"No--it will not be ended till I get back to New York, or rather till Ifind myself here again--I shall make very little delay there--"

"But you will not go any further to-night?" said Fleda, her eye this timemeeting his fully. 

"Yes--I must take the first train to New York. I have some reason toexpect my mother by this steamer. "

"Back to New York!" said Fleda. "Then taking care of me has just hinderedyou in your business. "

But even as she spoke she read the truth in his eye and her own fell inconfusion. 

"My business?" said he smiling;--"you know it now, Elfie. I arrived atMrs. Evelyn's just after you had quitted it, intending to ask you to takethe long talked of drive; and learned to my astonishment that you had leftthe city, and as Edith kindly informed me, under no better guardianshipthan that in which I found you. I was just in time to reach the boat. "

"And you were in the boat night before last?"

"Certainly. "

"I should have felt a great deal easier if I had known that, " said Fleda. 

"So should I, " said he, "but you were invisible, till I discerned you inthe midst of a crowd of people before me in the car. "

Fleda was silent till the sleigh stopped and Mr. Carleton hadhanded her out. 

"What's going to be done

"I will send somebody down to help you with it, " said Fleda. "It is tooheavy for one alone. "

"Well I reckon it is, " said he. "I guess you didn't know I was acousin, 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 JoshuaSpringer's your uncle, ain't he?"

"Yes, my father's uncle. "

"Well he's mine too. His sister's my mother. "

"I'll send somebody to help you, Mr. Barnes. "

She took Mr. Carleton's arm and walked half the way up to the housewithout daring to look at him. 

"Another specimen of your countrymen, " he said smiling. 

There was nothing but quiet amusement in the tone, and there was not theshadow of anything else in his face. Fleda looked, and thanked himmentally, and drew breath easier. At the house door he made a pause. 

"You are coming in, Mr. Carleton?"

"Not now. "

"It is a long drive to Greenfield, Mr. Carleton;--you must not turn awayfrom a country house till we have shewn ourselves unworthy to live in it. You will come in and let us give you something more substantial than thoseQuarrenton oysters. Do not say no, " she said earnestly as she saw arefusal in his eye, --"I know what you are thinking of, but they do notknow that you have been told anything--it makes no difference. "

She laid her gentle detaining hand, as irresistible in its way as mostthings, upon his arm, and he followed her in. 

Only Hugh was in the sitting-room, and he was in a great easy-chair by thefire. It struck to Fleda's heart; but there was no time but for a flash ofthought. He had turned his face and saw her. Fleda meant to havecontrolled herself and presented Mr. Carleton properly, but Hugh startedup, he saw nothing but herself, and one view of the ethereal delicacy ofhis face made Fleda for a moment forget everything but him. They were ineach other's arms, and then still as death. Hugh was unconscious that astranger was there, and though Fleda was very conscious that one was therewho was no stranger, --there was so much in both hearts, so much of sorrowand joy, and gratitude and tenderness, on the one part and on the other, so much that even if they had been alone lips could only have saidsilently, --that for a little while they kissed each other and wept in apassionate attempt to speak what their hearts were too full of. 

Fleda at last whispered to Hugh that somebody else was there and turnedto make as well as she might the introduction. But Mr. Carleton did notneed it, and made his own with that singular talent which in allcircumstances, wherever he chose to exert it, had absolute power. Fledasaw Hugh's countenance change, with a kind of pleased surprise, andherself stood still under the charm for a minute; then she recollected shemight be dispensed with. She took up her little spaniel who was in anagony of gratulation at her feet, and went out into the kitchen. 

"Well do you mean to say you are here at last?" said Barby, her grey eyesflashing pleasure as she came forward to take the half hand which, owingto King's monopoly, was all Fleda had to give her. "Have you come home tostay, Fleda?"

"I am tired enough to be quiet, " said Fleda. "But dear Barby, what haveyou got in the house?--I want supper as quickly as it can be had. "

"Well you do look dreadful bad, " said Barby eying her. "Why there ain'tmuch particular, Fleda; nobody's had any heart to eat lately; I thought Imight a'most as well save myself the fuss of getting victuals. Hugh liveslike a bird, and Mis' Rossitur ain't much better, and I think all of 'emhave been keeping their appetites till you came back; 'cept Philetus andme; we keep it up pretty well. Why you're come home hungry, ain't you?"

"No, not I, " said Fleda, "but there's a gentleman here that came with methat must have something before he goes away again. What have you Barby?"

"Who is he?" said Barby. 

"A friend that took care of me on the way--I'll tell you about it, --but inthe mean time, supper, Barby. "

"Is he a New Yorker, that one must be curious for?"

"As curious as you like, " said Fleda, "but he is not a New Yorker. "

"Where _is_ he from, then?" said Barby, who was busily putting on thetea-kettle. 

"England. "

"England!" said Barby facing about. "Oh if he's an Englishman I don't carefor him, Fleda. "

"But you care for me, " said Fleda laughing; "and for my sake don't let ourhospitality fail to somebody who has been very kind to me, if he is anEnglishman; and he is in haste to be off. "

"Well I don't know what we're a going to give him, " said Barby looking ather. "There ain't much in the pantry besides cold pork and beans thatPhiletus and me made our dinner on--they wouldn't have it in there, andeat nothing but some pickerel the doctor sent down--and cold fish ain'tgood for much. "

"None of them left uncooked?"

"Yes, there's a couple--he sent a great lot--I guess he thought therewas more in the family--but two ain't enough to go round; they'relittle ones. "

"No, but put them down and I'll make an omelette. Just get the thingsready for me, Barby, will you, while I run up to see aunt Lucy. The henshave begun to lay?"

"La yes--Philetus fetches in lots of eggs--he loves 'em, I reckon--but youain't fit this minute to do a thing but rest, Fleda. "

"I'll rest afterwards. Just get the things ready for me, Barby, and anapron; and the table--I'll be down in a minute. And Barby, grind somecoffee, will you?"

But as she turned to run up stairs, her uncle stood in her way, and thesupper vanished from Fleda's head. His arms were open and she was silentlyclasped in them, with so much feeling on both sides that thought and wellnigh strength for anything else on her part was gone. His smothered wordsof deep blessing overcame her. Fleda could do nothing but sob, indistress, till she recollected Barby. Putting her arms round his neck thenshe whispered to him that Mr. Carleton was in the other room and shortlyexplained how he came to be there, and begged her uncle would go in andsee him till supper should be ready. Enforcing this request with a partingkiss on his cheek, she ran off up stairs. Mr. Rossitur looked extremelymoody and cloudy for a few minutes, and then went in and joined his guest. Mrs. Rossitur and her daughter could not be induced to shew themselves. 

Little Rolf, however, had no scruples of any kind. He presently edgedhimself into the room to see the stranger whom he no sooner saw than witha joyous exclamation he bounded forward to claim an old friend. 

"Why, Mr. Carleton, " exclaimed Mr. Rossitur in surprise, "I was not awarethat this young gentleman had the honour of your acquaintance. "

"But I have!" said Rolf. 

"In London, sir, I had that pleasure, " said Mr. Carleton. 

"I think it was _I_ had the pleasure, " said Rolf, pounding one hand uponMr. Carleton's knee. 

"Where is your mother?"

"She wouldn't come down, " said Rolf, --"but I guess she will when she knowswho is here--"

And he was darting away to tell her, when Mr. Carleton, within whose armshe stood, quietly restrained him, and told him he was going awaypresently, but would come again and see his mother another time. 

"Are you going back to England, sir?"

"By and by. "

"But you will come here again first?"

"Yes--if Mr. Rossitur will let me. "

"Mr. Carleton knows he commands his own welcome, " said that gentlemansomewhat stately. "Go and tell your aunt Fleda that tea is ready, Rolf. "

"She knows, " said Rolf. "She was making an omelette--I guess it was forthis gentleman!"

Whose name he was not clear of yet. Mr. Rossitur looked vexed, but Hughlaughed and asked if his aunt gave him leave to tell that. Rolf enteredforthwith into discussion on this subject, while Mr. Carleton who had notseemed to hear it engaged Mr. Rossitur busily in another; till theomelette and Fleda came in. Rolf's mind however was ill at ease. 

"Aunt Fleda, " said he, as soon as she had fairly taken her place at thehead of the table, "would you mind my telling that you made the omelettefor this gentleman?"

Fleda cast a confused glance first at the person in question and thenround the table, but Mr. Carleton without looking at her answeredinstantly, "Don't you understand, Rolf, that the same kindness which will do a favourfor a friend will keep him in ignorance of it?"

Rolf pondered a moment and then burst forth, "Why, sir, wouldn't you like it as well for knowing she made it?"

It was hardly in human gravity to stand this. Fleda herself laughed, butMr. Carleton as unmoved as possible answered him, "Certainly not!"--andRolf was nonplussed. 

The supper was over. Hugh had left the room, and Mr. Rossitur had beforethat gone out to give directions about Mr. Carleton's horses. He and Fledawere left alone. 

"I have something against you, fairy, " said he lightly, taking her handand putting it to his lips. "You shall not again do me such honour as youhave done me to-day--I did not deserve it, Elfie. "

The last words were spoken half reproachfully. Fleda stood a momentmotionless, and then by some curious revulsion of feeling put both herhands to her face and burst into tears. 

She struggled against them, and spoke almost immediately, "You will think me very foolish, Mr. Carleton, --I am ashamed ofmyself--but I have lived here so long in this way, --my spirits have grownso quieted by different things, --that it seems sometimes as if I could notbear anything. --I am afraid--"

"Of what, my dear Elfie?"

But she did not answer, and her tears came again. 

"You are weary and spent, " he said gently, repossessing himself of one ofher hands. "I will ask you another time what you are afraid of, and rebukeall your fears. "

"I deserve nothing but rebuke now, " said Fleda. 

But her hand knew, by the gentle and quiet clasp in which it lay, thatthere was no disposition to give it. 

"Do not speak to me for a minute, " she said hastily as she heard someone coming. 

She went to the window and stood there looking out till Mr. Carleton cameto bid her good-bye. 

"Will you permit me to say to Mrs. Evelyn, " he said in a low tone, "thatyou left a piece of your property in her house and have commissioned me tobring it you?"

"Yes--" said Fleda, hesitating and looking a little confused, --"but--willyou let me write a note instead, Mr. Carleton?"

"Certainly!--but what are you thinking of, Elfie? what grave doubt islying under your brow?"

All Fleda's shadows rolled away before that clear bright eye. 

"I have found by experience, " she said, smiling a little but lookingdown, --"that whenever I tell my secret thoughts to anybody I have somereason afterwards to be sorry for it. "

"You shall make me an exception to your rule, however, Elfie. "

Fleda looked up, one of her looks half questioning, half fearing, and thenanswered, a little hesitating, "I was afraid, sir, that if you went to Mrs. Evelyn's on that errand--Iwas afraid you would shew them you were displeased. "

"And what then?" said he quietly. 

"Only--that I wanted to spare them what always gives me a cold chill. "

"Gives you!" said Mr. Carleton. 

"No sir--only by sympathy--I thought my agency would be the gentlest. "

"I see I was right, " she said, looking up as he did not answer, --"theydon't deserve it, --not half so much as you think. They talk--they don'tknow what. I am sure they never meant half they said--never meant to annoyme with it, I mean, --and I am sure they have a true love for me; they haveshewn it in a great many ways. Constance especially never shewed meanything else. They have been very kind to me; and as to letting me comeaway as they did, I suppose they thought I was in a greater hurry to gethome than I really was--and they would very likely not have mindedtravelling so themselves; I am so different from them that they might inmany things judge me by themselves and yet judge far wrong. "

Fleda was going on, but she suddenly became aware that the eye to whichshe was speaking had ceased to look at the Evelyns, even in imagination, and she stopped short. 

"Will you trust me, after this, to see Mrs. Evelyn without the note?" saidhe smiling. 

But Fleda gave him her hand very demurely without raising her eyes again, and he went. 

Barby who had come in to clear away the table took her stand at thewindow to watch Mr. Carleton drive off. Fleda had retreated to the fire. Barby looked in silence till the sleigh was out of sight. 

"Is he going back to England now?" she said coming back to the table. 

"No. "

Barby gathered a pile of plates together and then enquired, "Is he going to settle in America?"

"Why no, Barby! What makes you ask such a thing?"

"I thought he looked as if he had dressed himself for a cold climate, "said Barby dryly. 

Fleda sat down by Hugh's easy-chair and laid her head on his breast. 

"I like your Mr. Carleton very much, " Hugh whispered after awhile. 

"Do you?" said Fleda, a little wondering at Hugh's choice of thatparticular pronominal adjective. 

"Very much indeed. But he has changed, Fleda?"

"Yes--in some things--some great things. "

"He says he is coming again, " said Hugh. 

Fleda's heart beat. She was silent. 

"I am very glad, " repeated Hugh, "I like him very much. But you won'tleave me, Fleda, --will you?"

"Leave you?" said Fleda looking at him. 

"Yes, " said Hugh smiling, and drawing her head down again;--I alwaysthought what he came over here for. But you will stay with me while I wantyou, Fleda?"

"While you want me!" said Fleda again. 

"Yes. --It won't be long. "

"What won't be long?"

"I, " said Hugh quietly. "Not long. I am very glad I shall not leave youalone, dear Fleda--very glad!--promise me you will not leave me any more. "

"Don't talk so, dear Hugh!"

"But it is true, Fleda, " said Hugh gently. "I know it. I sha'n't be herebut a little while. I am so glad you are come home, dear Fleda!--You willnot let anybody take you away till I am gone first?"

Fleda drew her arm close around Hugh's neck and was still, --still even tohis ear, --for a good while. A hard battle must be fought, and she must notbe weak, for his sake and for everybody's sake. Others of the family hadcome or were coming 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 want you. "

"I am sure he would not ask it, " said Fleda, hiding her cheeks and eyes atonce in his breast. 

Chapter XLIX. 

 Do you think I shall not love a sad Pamela as well as a joyful?

 Sidney. 

Mr. Carleton came back without his mother; she had chosen to put off hervoyage till spring. He took up his quarters at Montepoole, which, farthough it was, was yet the nearest point where his notions of ease couldhave freedom enough. 

One would have thought that saw him, --those most nearly concerned almostdid think, --that in his daily coming to Queechy Mr. Carleton soughteverybody's pleasure rather than his own. He was Fleda's most gentle andkind assistant in taking care of Hugh, soon dearly valued by the sick one, who watched for and welcomed his coming as a bright spot in the day; andloved particularly to have Mr. Carleton's hand do anything for him. Ratherthan almost any other. His mother's was too feeling; Fleda's Hugh oftenfeared was weary; and his father's, though gentle to him as to an infant, yet lacked the mind's training. And though Marion was his sister in blood, Guy was his brother in better bonds. The deep blue eye that little Fledahad admired Hugh learned to love and rest on singularly. 

To the rest of the family Mr. Carleton's influence was more soothing andcheering than any cause beside. To all but the head of it. Even Mrs. Rossitur, after she had once made up her mind to see him, could not bearto be absent when he was in the house. The dreaded contrast with old timesgave no pain, either to her or Marion. Mr. Carleton forgot so completelythat there was any difference that they were charmed into forgetting ittoo. But Mr. Rossitur's pride lay deeper, or had been less humbled bysorrow; the recollections that his family let slip never failed to gallhim when Mr. Carleton was present; and if now and then for a moment thesewere banished by his guest's graces of mind and manner, the next breathwas a sigh for the circles and the pleasures they served to recall, nowseeming for ever lost to him. Mr. Carleton perceived that his companygave pain and not pleasure to his host and for that reason was the less inthe 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 goodand his own. 

To Fleda the old childish feeling came back, that she was in somebody'shands who had a marvellous happy way of managing things about her and evenof managing herself. A kind of genial atmosphere, that was always doingher good, yet so quietly and so skilfully that she could only now and thenget a chance even to look her thanks. Quietly and efficiently he wasexerting himself to raise the tone of her mind, to brighten her spirits, to reach those sober lines that years of patience had drawn round her eyeand mouth, and charm them away. So gently, so indirectly, by efforts sowisely and gracefully aimed, he set about it, that Fleda did not know whathe was doing; but _he_ knew. He knew when he saw her brow unbend and hereye catch its old light sparkle, that his conversation and the thoughtsand interests with which he was rousing her mind or fancy, were working, and would work all he pleased. And though the next day he might find theold look of patient gravity again, he hardly wished it not there, for thepleasure of doing it away. Hugh's anxious question to Fleda had been veryuncalled for, and Fleda's assurance was well-grounded; that subject wasnever touched upon. 

Fleda's manner with Mr. Carleton was peculiar and characteristic. In thehouse, before others, she was as demure and reserved as though he had beena stranger; she never placed herself near him, nor entered intoconversation with him, unless when he obliged her; but when they werealone there was a frank confidence and simplicity in her manner that mosthappily answered the high-bred delicacy that had called it out. 

One afternoon of a pleasant day in March Fleda and Hugh were sitting alonetogether in the sick room. Hugh was weaker than usual, but not confined tohis bed; he was in his great easy-chair which had been moved up-stairs forhim again. Fleda had been repeating hymns. 

"You are tired, " Hugh said. 

"No--"

"There's something about you that isn't strong, " said Hugh fondly. "Iwonder where is Mr. Carleton to-day. It is very pleasant, isn't it?"

"Very pleasant, and warm; it is like April; the snow all went offyesterday, and the ground is dry except in spots. "

"I wish he would come and give you a good walk. I have noticed how youalways come back looking so much brighter after one of your walks or rideswith him. "

"What makes you think so, dear Hugh?" said Fleda a little troubled. 

"Only my eyes, " said Hugh smiling. "It does me as much good as you, Fleda. "

"I _never_ want to go and leave you, Hugh. "

"I am very glad there is somebody to take you. I wish he would come. Youwant it this minute. "

"I don't think I shall let him take me if he comes. "

"Whither? and whom?" said another voice. 

"I didn't know you were there, sir, " said Fleda suddenly rising. 

"I am but just here--Rolf admitted me as he passed out. "

Coming in between them and still holding the hand of one Mr. Carleton bentdown towards the other. 

"How is Hugh, to-day?"

It was pleasant to see, that meeting of eyes, --the grave kindliness on theone side, the confident affection on the other. But the wasted featuressaid as plainly as the tone of Hugh's gentle reply, that he was passingaway, --fast. 

"What shall I do for you?"

"Take Fleda out and give her a good walk. She wants it. "

"I will, presently. You are weary--what shall I do to rest you?"

"Nothing--" said Hugh, closing his eyes with a very placid look;--"unlessyou will put me in mind of something about heaven, Mr. Carleton. "

"Shall I read to you?--Baxter, --or something else?"

"No--just give me something to think of while you're gone, --as you havedone before, Mr. Carleton. "

"I will give you two or three of the Bible bits on that subject; they arebut hints and indications you know--rather rays of light that stream outfrom the place than any description of it; but you have only to follow oneof these indications and see whither it will lead you. The first Irecollect is that one spoken to Abraham, 'Fear not--I am thy shield, andthy exceeding great reward. '"

"Don't go any further, Mr. Carleton, " said Hugh with a smile. "Fleda--doyou remember?"

They sat all silent, quite silent, all three, for nobody knew how long. 

"You were going to walk, " said Hugh without looking at them. 

Fleda however did not move till a word or two from Mr. Carleton had backedHugh'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 and took out afolded paper which he gave to Mr. Carleton, saying that he thought heought to have it. 

"Do you know the handwriting, sir?"

"No. "

"Ah she has scratched it so. It is Fleda's. "

Hugh shut his eyes again and Mr. Carleton seeing that he had settledhimself to sleep went to the window with the paper. It hardly told himanything he did not know before, though set in a fresh light. 

 "Cold blew the east wind And thick fell the rain, I looked for the tops Of the mountains in vain; Twilight was gathering And dark grew the west, And the woodfire's crackling Toned well with the rest. 

 "Speak fire and tell me-- Thy flickering flame Fell on me in years past-- Say, am I the same? Has my face the same brightness In those days it wore?-- My foot the same lightness As it crosses the floor?

 "Methinks there are changes-- Am weary to-night, -- I once was as tireless As the bird on her flight; My bark in full measure Threw foam from the prow;-- Not even for pleasure Would I care to move now. 

 "Tis not the foot only That lieth thus still, -- I am weary in spirit, I am listless in will. My eye vainly peereth Through the darkness, to find Some object that cheereth-- Some light for the mind. 

 "What shadows come o'er me-- What things of the past, -- Bright things of my childhood That fled all too fast, The scenes where light roaming My foot wandered free, Come back through the gloamin'-- Come all back to me. 

 "The cool autumn evening, The fair summer morn, -- The dress and the aspect Some dear ones have worn, -- The sunshiny places-- The shady hill-side-- The words and the faces That might not abide. --

 "Die out little fire-- Ay, blacken and pine!-- So have paled many lights That were brighter than thine. I can quicken thy embers Again with a breath, But the others lie cold In the ashes of death. "

Mr. Carleton had read near through the paper before Fleda came in. 

"I have kept you a long time, Mr. Carleton, " she said coming up to thewindow; "I found aunt Lucy wanted me. "

But she saw with a little surprise the deepening eye which met her, andwhich shewed, she knew, the working of strong feeling. Her own eye went tothe paper in search of explanation. 

"What have you there?--Oh, Mr. Carleton, " she said, putting her hand overit, --"Please to give it to me!"

Fleda's face was very much in earnest. He took the hand but did not giveher the paper, and looked his refusal. 

"I am ashamed you should see that!--who gave it to you?"

"You shall wreak your displeasure on no one but me, " he said smiling. 

"But have you read it?"

"Yes. "

"I am very sorry!"

"I am very glad, my dear Elfie. "

"You will think--you will think what wasn't true, --it was just a mood Iused to get into once in a while--I used to be angry with myself for it, but I could not help it--one of those listless fits would take me nowand then--"

"I understand it, Elfie. "

"I am very sorry you should know I ever felt or wrote so. "

"Why?"

"It was very foolish and wrong--"

"Is that a reason for my not knowing it?"

"No--not a good one--But you have read it now, --won't you let me have it?"

"No--I shall ask for all the rest of the portfolio, Elfie, " he said as heput it in a place of security. 

"Pray do not!" said Fleda most unaffectedly. 

"Why?"

"Because I remember Mrs. Carleton says you always have what you ask for. "

"Give me permission to put on your bonnet, then, " said he laughingly, taking it from her hand. 

The air was very sweet, the footing pleasant. The first few steps of thewalk were made by Fleda in silence, with eager breath and a foot that grewlighter as it trod. 

"I don't think it was a right mood of mind I had when I wrote that, " shesaid. "It was morbid. But I couldn't help it. --Yet if one could keeppossession of those words you quoted just now, I suppose one never wouldhave morbid feelings, Mr. Carleton?"

"Perhaps not; but human nature has a weak hold of anything, and manythings may make it weaker. "

"Mine is weak, " said Fleda. "But it is possible to keep firm hold of thosewords, Mr. Carleton?"

"Yes--by strength that is not human nature's--And after all the firm holdis rather that in which we are held, or ours would soon fail. The veryhand that makes the promise its own must be nerved to grasp it. And so itis best, for it keeps us looking off always to the Author and Finisher ofour faith. "

"I love those words, " said Fleda. "But Mr. Carleton, how shall one be_sure_ that one has a right to those other words--those I mean that youtold to Hugh? One cannot take the comfort of them unless one is _sure_. "

Her voice trembled. 

"My dear Elfie, the promises have many of them their _double_--stampedwith the very same signet--and if that sealed counterpart is your own, itis the sure earnest and title to the whole value of the promise. "

"Well--in this case?" said Fleda eagerly. 

"In this case, --God says, 'I am thy shield, and thy exceeding greatreward. ' Now see if your own heart can give the countersign, --'_Thou artmy portion, O Lord_!'"

Fleda's head sank instantly and almost lay upon his arm. 

"If you have the one, my dear Elfie, the other is yours--it is the note ofhand of the maker of the promise--sure to be honoured. And if you wantproof here it is, --and a threefold cord is not soon broken. --'Because hehath set his love upon me, therefore will I deliver him: I will set him onhigh, because he hath known my name. He shall call upon me, and I willanswer him; I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him, and honourhim. With long life will I satisfy him, and shew him my salvation. '"

There was a pause of some length. Fleda had lifted up her head, but walkedalong very quietly, not seeming to care to speak. 

"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 got those fitsof feeling--I forgot it, I suppose. "

"When were these verses written?"

"Last fall;--uncle Rolf was away, and aunt Lucy unhappy, --and I believe Iwas tired--I suppose it was that. "

For a matter of several rods each was busy with his own musings. But Mr. Carleton bethought himself. 

"Where are you, Elfie?"

"Where am I?"

"Yes--Not at Queechy?"

"No indeed, " said Fleda laughing. "Far enough away. "

"Where?"

"At Paris--at the Marché des Innocens. "

"How did you get to Paris?"

"I don't know--by a bridge of associations, I suppose, resting one end onlast year, and the other on the time when I was eleven years old. "

"Very intelligible, " said Mr. Carleton smiling. 

"Do you remember that morning, Mr. Carleton?--when you took Hugh and me tothe Marché des Innocens?"

"Perfectly. "

"I have thanked you a great many times since for getting up so earlythat morning. "

"I think I was well paid at the time. I remember I thought I had seen oneof the prettiest sights I had even seen in Paris. "

"So I thought!" said Fleda. "It has been a pleasant picture in myimagination ever since. "

There was a curious curl in the corners of Mr. Carleton's mouth whichmade Fleda look an inquiry--a look so innocently wistful that hisgravity gave way. 

"My dear Elfie!" said he, "you are the very child you were then. "

"Am I?" said Fleda. "I dare say I am, for I feel so. I have the very samefeeling I used to have then, that I am a child, and you taking the care ofme into your own hands. "

"One half of that is true, and the other half nearly so. "

"How good you always were to me!" Fleda said with a sigh. 

"Not necessary to balance the debtor and creditor items on both sides, " hesaid with a smile, "as the account bids fair to run a good while. "

A silence again, during which Fleda is clearly _not_ enjoying thelandscape nor the fine weather. 

"Elfie, --what are you meditating?"

She came back from her meditations with a very frank look. 

"I was thinking, --Mr. Carleton, --of your notions about female education. "

"Well?--"

They had paused upon a rising ground. Fleda hesitated, and then looked upin his face. 

"I am afraid you will find me wanting, and when you do, will you put me inthe way of being all you wish me to be?"

Her look was ingenuous and tender, equally. He gave her no answer, exceptby the eye of grave intentness that fixed hers till she could meet it nolonger and her own fell. Mr. Carleton recollected himself. 

"My dear Elfie, " said he, and whatever the look had meant Elfie was at noloss for the tone now, --"what do you consider yourself deficient in?"

Fleda spoke with a little difficulty. 

"I am afraid in a good many things--in general reading, --and in what arecalled accomplishments--"

"You shall read as much as you please by and by, " said he, "provided youwill let me read with you; and as for the other want, Elfie, it is rathera source of gratification to me. "

Elfie very naturally asked why?

"Because as soon as I have the power I shall immediately constitute myselfyour master in the arts of riding and drawing, and in any other art oracquisition you may take a fancy to, and give you lessons diligently. "

"And will there be gratification in that?" said Fleda. 

His answer was by a smile. But he somewhat mischievously asked her, "Willthere not?"--and Fleda was quiet. 

Chapter L. 

 Friends, I sorrow not to leave ye; If this life an exile be, We who leave it do but journey Homeward to our family. 

 Spanish Ballad. 

The first of April came. 

Mr. Rossitur had made up his mind not to abide at Queechy, which only heldhim now by the frail thread of Hugh's life. Mr. Carleton knew this, andhad even taken some steps towards securing for him a situation in the WestIndies. But it was unknown to Fleda; she had not heard her uncle sayanything on the subject since she came home; and though aware that theirstay was a doubtful matter, she still thought it might be as well to havethe garden in order. Philetus could not be trusted to do everything wiselyof his own head, and even some delicate jobs of hand could not be safelyleft to his skill; if the garden was to make any headway Fleda's head andhand must both be there, she knew. So as the spring opened she used tosteal away from the house every morning for an hour or two, hardly lettingher friends know what she was about, to make sure that peas and potatoesand radishes and lettuce were in the right places at the right times, andto see that the later and more delicate vegetables were preparing for. Shetook care to have this business well over before the time that Mr. Carleton ever arrived from the Pool. 

One morning she was busy in dressing the strawberry beds, forking up theground between the plants and filling the vacancies that the severe winteror some irregularities of fall dressing had made. Mr. Skillcorn wasrendering a somewhat inefficient help, or perhaps amusing himself withseeing how she worked. The little old silver-grey hood was bending downover the strawberries, and the fork was going at a very energetic rate. 

"Philetus--"

"Marm!"

"Will you bring me that bunch of strawberry plants that lies at the cornerof the beds, in the walk?--and my trowel?"

"I will!--" said Mr. Skillcorn. 

It was another hand however that brought them and laid them beside her;but Fleda very intent upon her work and hidden under her close hood didnot find it out. She went on busily putting in the plants as she foundroom for them, and just conscious, as she thought, that Philetus was stillstanding at her side she called upon him from time to time, or merelystretched out her hand, for a fresh plant as she had occasion for it. 

"Philetus, " she said at length, raising her voice a little that it mightwin to him round the edge of her hood without turning her face, --"I wishyou would get the ground ready for that other planting of potatoes--youneedn't stay to help me any longer. "

"'Tain't me, I guess, " said the voice of Philetus on the other side ofher. 

Fleda looked in astonishment to make sure that it really was Mr. Skillcornproceeding along the garden path in that quarter, and turning jumped upand dropped her trowel and fork, to have her hands otherwise occupied. Mr. Skillcorn walked off leisurely towards the potato ground, singing tohimself in a kind of consolatory aside, --

 "I cocked 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 coun_tray_. "

"There is one of your countrymen that is an odd variety, certainly, " saidMr. Carleton, looking after him with a very comic expression of eye. 

"Is he not!" said Fleda. "And hardly a common one. There never was a linemore mathematically straight than the course of Philetus's ideas; theynever diverge, I think, to the right hand or the left, a jot from his ownself-interest. "

"You will be an invaluable help to me, Elfie, if you can read my Englishfriends as closely. "

"I am afraid you will not let me come as close to them, " said Fledalaughing. 

"Perhaps not. I shouldn't like to pay too high a premium for theknowledge. How is Hugh, to-day?"

Fleda answered with a quick change of look and voice that he wasmuch as usual. 

"My mother has written me that she will be here by the Europa, which isdue to-morrow--I must set off for New York this afternoon; therefore Icame so early to Queechy. "

Fleda was instinctively pulling off her gardening gloves, as they walkedtowards the house. 

"Aunt Miriam wants to see you, Mr. Carleton--she begged I would ask you tocome there some time--"

"With great pleasure--shall we go there now, Elfie?"

"I will be ready in five minutes. "

Mrs. Rossitur was alone in the breakfast-room when they went in. Hugh shereported was asleep, and would be just ready to see Mr. Carleton by thetime they got back. They stood a few minutes talking, and then Fleda wentto get ready. 

Both pair of eyes followed her as she left the room and then met withperfect understanding. 

"Will you give your child to me, Mrs. Rossitur?" said the gentleman. 

"With all my heart!" exclaimed Mrs. Rossitur bursting into tears, --"evenif I were left alone entirely--"

Her agitation was uncontrolled for a minute, and then she said, withfeeling seemingly too strong to be kept in, "If I were only sure of meeting her in heaven, I could be content to bewithout her till then!--"

"What is in the way, my dear madam?" said Mr. Carleton, with a gentlesympathy that touched the very spring he meant it should. Mrs. Rossiturwaited a minute, but it was only till tears would let her speak, and thensaid like a child, --

"Oh, it is all darkness!--"

"Except this, " said he, gently and clearly, "that Jesus Christ is asun and a shield; and those that put themselves at his feet are safefrom all fear, and they who go to him for light shall complain ofdarkness no more. "

"But I do not know how--"

"Ask him and he will tell you. "

"But I am unworthy even to look up towards him, " said Mrs. Rossitur, struggling, it seemed, between doubts and wishes. 

"He knows that, and yet he has bid you come to him. He knows that, --andknowing it, he has taken your responsibility and paid your debt, andoffers you now a clean discharge, if you will take it at his hand;--andfor the other part of this unworthiness, that blood cannot do away, bloodhas brought the remedy--'Shall we who are evil give good things to ourchildren, and shall 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 had remained quietwith her face in her hands for a minute or two after he had done speaking. 

"Nothing but be willing--be willing to have Christ in all his offices, asyour Teacher, your King, and your Redeemer--give yourself to him, dearMrs. Rossitur, and he will take care of the rest. "

"I am willing!" she exclaimed. Fresh tears came, and came freely. Mr. Carleton said no more, till hearing some noise of opening and shuttingdoors above stairs Mrs. Rossitur hurriedly left the room, and Fleda camein by the other entrance. 

"May I take you a little out of the way, Mr. Carleton?" she said when theyhad passed through the Deepwater settlement. --"I have a message to carryto Mrs. Elster--a poor woman out here beyond the lake. It is not adisagreeable place. "

"And what if it were?"

"I should not perhaps have asked you to go with me, " said Fleda a littledoubtfully. 

"You may take me where you will, Elfie, " he said gently. "I hope to do asmuch by you some day. "

Fleda looked up at the piece of elegance beside her, and thought what achange must have come over him if _he_ would visit poor places. He wassilent and grave however, and so was she, till they arrived at the housethey were going to. 

Certainly it was not a disagreeable place. Barby's much less strong mindedsister had at least a good share of her practical nicety. The little boardpath to the door was clean and white still, with possibly a trifle lessbrilliant effect. The room and its old inhabitants were very comfortableand tidy; the patchwork counterpane as gay as ever. Mrs. Elster was alone, keeping company with a snug little wood fire, which was near as muchneeded in that early spring weather as it had been during the winter. 

Mr. Carleton had come back from his abstraction, and stood taking halfunconscious note of these things, while Fleda was delivering her messageto the old woman. Mrs. Elster listened to her implicitly with every nowand then an acquiescing nod or ejaculation, but so soon as Fleda had saidher say she burst out, with a voice that had never known the mufflings ofdelicacy and was now pitched entirely beyond its owner's ken. Looking hardat Mr. Carleton, "Fleda!--Is _this_ the gentleman that's to be your--_husband?_"

The last word elevated and brought out with emphatic distinctness ofutterance. 

If the demand had been whether the gentleman in question was a follower ofMahomet, it would hardly have been more impossible for Fleda to give anaffirmative answer; but Mr. Carleton laughed and bringing his face alittle nearer the old crone, answered, "So she has promised, ma'am. "

[Illustration: "Is this the gentleman that's to be your husband?"]

It was curious to see the lines of the old woman's face relax as shelooked at him. 

"He's--worthy of you!--as far as looks goes, " she said in the same key asbefore, apostrophizing Fleda who had drawn back, but not stirring her eyesfrom Mr. Carleton all the time. And then she added to him with a littlesatisfied nod, and in a very decided tone of information, "She will make you a good wife!"

"Because she has made a good friend?" said Mr. Carleton quietly. "Will youlet me be a friend too?"

He had turned the old lady's thoughts into a golden channel, whence, asshe was an American, they had no immediate issue in words; and Fleda andMr. Carleton left the house without anything more. 

Fleda felt nervous. But Mr. Carleton's first words were as coolly and asgravely spoken as if they had just come out from a philosophical lecture;and with an immediate spring of relief she enjoyed every step of the wayand every word of the conversation which was kept up with great life, tillthey reached Mrs. Plumfield's door. 

No one was in the sitting-room. Fleda left Mr. Carleton there and passedgently into the inner apartment, the door of which was standing ajar. 

But her heart absolutely leaped into her mouth, for Dr. Quackenboss andMr. Olmney were there on either side of her aunt's bed. Fleda came forwardand shook hands. 

"This is quite a meeting of friends, " said the doctor blandly, yet with aperceptible shading of the whilome broad sunshine of hisface. --"Your--a--aunt, my dear Miss Ringgan, --is in a most extraordinarystate of mind!"

Fleda was glad to hide her face against her aunt's and asked herhow she did. 

"Dr. Quackenboss thinks it extraordinary, Fleda, " said the old lady withher usual cheerful sedateness, --"that one who has trusted God and hadconstant experience of his goodness and faithfulness for forty yearsshould not doubt him at the end of it. "

"You have no doubt--of any kind, Mrs. Plumfield?" said the clergyman. 

"Not the shadow of a doubt!" was the hearty, steady reply. 

"You mistake, my dear madam, " said Dr. Quackenboss, --"pardon me--it is notthat--I would be understood to say, merely, that I do not comprehend howsuch--a--such security--can be attained respecting what seemsso--a--elevated--and difficult to know. "

"Only by believing, " said Mrs. Plumfield with a very calm smile. "'He thatbelieveth on him shall not be ashamed;'--'shall _not_ be ashamed!'" sherepeated slowly. 

Dr. Quackenboss looked at Fleda, who kept her eyes fixed upon her aunt. 

"But it seems to me--I beg pardon--perhaps I am arrogant--" he said with alittle bow, --"but it appears to me almost--in a manner--almostpresumptuous, not to be a little doubtful in such a matter until the timecomes. Am I--do you disapprove of me, Mr. Olmney?"

Mr. Olmney silently referred him for his answer to the person he had firstaddressed, who had closed her eyes while he was speaking. 

"Sir, " she said, opening them, --"it can't be presumption to obey God, andhe tells me to rejoice. And I do--I do!--'Let all those that love theerejoice in thee and be glad in thee!'--But mind!" she added energetically, fixing her strong grey eye upon him--"he does not tell _you_ torejoice--do not think it--not while you stand aloof from his terms ofpeace. Take God at his word, and be happy;--but if not, you have nothingto do with the song that I sing!"

The doctor stared at her till she had done speaking, and then slunk outof her range of vision behind the curtains of the bed-post. Notsilenced however. 

"But--a--Mr. Olmney, " said he hesitating--"don't you think that there isin general--a--a becoming modesty, in--a--in people that have donewrong, as we all have, --putting off being sure until they are so? Itseems so to me!"

"Come here, Dr. Quackenboss, " said aunt Miriam. 

She waited till he came to her side, and then taking his hand and lookingat him very kindly, she said, "Sir, forty years ago I found in the Bible, as you say, that I was asinner, and that drove me to look for something else. I found then God'spromise that if I would give my dependence entirely to the substitute hehad provided for me and yield my heart to his service, he would forChrist's sake hold me quit of all my debts and be my father, and make mehis child. And, sir, I did it. I abhor every other dependence--the thingsyou count good in me I reckon but filthy rags. At the same time, I knowthat ever since that day, forty years ago, I have lived in his service andtried to live to his glory. And now, sir, shall I disbelieve his promise?do you think he would be pleased if I did?"

The doctor's mouth was stopped, for once. He drew back as soon as he couldand said not another word. 

Before anybody had broken the silence Seth came in; and after shakinghands with Fleda, startled her by asking whether that was not Mr. Carletonin the other room. 

"Yes, " Fleda said, --"he came to see aunt Miriam. "

"Ain't you well enough to see him, mother?"

"Quite--and very happy, " said she. 

Seth immediately went back and invited him in. Fleda dared not look upwhile the introductions were passing, --of "the Rev. Mr. Olmney, " and of"Dr. Quackenboss, "--the former of whom Mr. Carleton took cordially by thehand, while Dr. Quackenboss conceiving that his hand must be asacceptable, made his salutation with an indescribable air at once ofattempted gracefulness and ingratiation. Fleda saw the whole in theadvancing line of the doctor's person, a vision of which crossed herdowncast eye. She drew back then, for Mr. Carleton came where she wasstanding to take her aunt's hand; Seth had absolutely stayed his waybefore to make the said introductions. 

Mrs. Plumfield was little changed by years or disease since he had seenher. There was somewhat more of a look of bodily weakness than there usedto be; but the dignified, strong-minded expression of the face was evenheightened; eye and brow were more pure and unclouded in theirsteadfastness. She looked very earnestly at her visiter and then withevident pleasure from the manner of his look and greeting. Fleda watchedher eye softening with a gratified expression and fixed upon him as he wasgently talking to her. 

Mr. Olmney presently came round to take leave, promising to see heranother time, and passing Fleda with a frank grave pressure of the handwhich gave her some pain. He and Seth left the room. Fleda was hardlyconscious that Dr. Quackenboss was still standing at the foot of the bedmaking the utmost use of his powers of observation. He could use littleelse, for Mr. Carleton and Mrs. Plumfield after a few words on each side, had as it were by common consent come to a pause. The doctor, when asufficient time had made him fully sensible of this, walked up to Fleda, who wished heartily at the moment that she could have presented thereverse end of the magnet to him. Perhaps however it was that very thingwhich by a perverse sort of attraction drew him towards her. 

"I suppose--a--we may conclude, " said he with a somewhat saturnineexpression of mischief, --that Miss Ringgan contemplates forsaking theagricultural line before a great while. "

"I have not given up my old habits, sir, " said Fleda, a good deal vexed. 

"No--I suppose not--but Queechy air is not so well suited for them--otherskies will prove more genial, " he said; she could not help thinking, pleased at her displeasure. 

"What is the fault of Queechy air, sir?" said Mr. Carleton, approaching them. 

"Sir!" said the doctor, exceedingly taken aback, though the words hadbeen spoken in the quietest manner possible, --'it--a--it has no fault, sir, --that I am particularly aware of--it is perfectly salubrious. Mrs. Plumfield, I will bid you good-day;--I--a--I _hope_ you will getwell again!"

"I hope not, sir!" said aunt Miriam, in the same clear hearty tones whichhad answered him before. 

The doctor took his departure and made capital of his interview with Mr. Carleton; who he affirmed he could tell by what he had seen of him was avery deciduous character, and not always conciliating in his manners. 

Fleda waited with a little anxiety for what was to follow the doctor'sleave-taking. 

It was with a very softened eye that aunt Miriam looked at the two whowere left, clasping Fleda's hand again; and it was with a very softenedvoice that she next spoke. 

"Do you remember our last meeting, sir?"

"I remember it well, " he said. 

"Fleda tells me you are a changed man since that time?"

He answered only by a slight and grave bow. 

"Mr. Carleton, " said the old lady, --"I am a dying woman--and this child isthe dearest thing in the world to me after my own, --and hardly afterhim. --Will you pardon me--will you bear with me, if that I may die inpeace, I say, sir, what else it would not become me to say?--and it is forher sake. "

"Speak to me freely as you would to her, " he said with a look that gaveher full permission. 

Fleda had drawn close and hid her face in her aunt's neck. Aunt Miriam'shand moved fondly over her cheek and brow for a minute or two in silence;her eye resting there too. 

"Mr. Carleton, this child is to belong to you--how will you guide her?"

"By the gentlest paths, " he said with a smile. 

A whispered remonstrance from Fleda to her aunt had no effect. 

"Will her best interests be safe in your hands?"

"How shall I resolve you of that, Mrs. Plumfield?" he said gravely. 

"Will you help her to mind her mother's prayer and keep herself unspottedfrom the world?"

"As I trust she will help me. "

A rogue may answer questions, but an eye that has never known the shadowof double-dealing makes no doubtful discoveries of itself. Mrs. Plumfieldread it and gave it her very thorough respect. 

"Mr. Carleton--pardon me, sir, --I do not doubt you--but I remember hearinglong ago that you were rich and great in the world--it is dangerous for aChristian to be so--Can she keep in your grandeur the simplicity of heartand life she has had at Queechy?"

"May I remind you of your own words, my dear madam? By the blessing ofGod all things are possible. These things you speak of are not inthemselves evil; if the mind be set on somewhat else, they are littlebeside a larger storehouse of material to work with--an increasedstewardship to account for. "

"She has been taking care of others all her life, " said aunt Miriamtenderly;--"it is time she was taken care of; and these feet are veryunfit for rough paths; but I would rather she should go on struggling asshe has done with difficulties and live and die in poverty, than that thelustre of her heavenly inheritance should be tarnished even a little. --Iwould, my darling!--"

"But the alternative is not, so, " said Mr. Carleton with gentle grace, touching Fleda's hand who he saw was a good deal disturbed. "Do not makeher afraid of me, Mrs. Plumfield. "

"I do not believe I need, " said aunt Miriam, "and I am sure I couldnot, --but sir, you will forgive me?"

"No madam--that is not possible. "

"One cannot stand where I do, " said the old lady, "without learning alittle the comparative value of things; and I seek my child's good, --thatis my excuse. I could not be satisfied to take her testimony--"

"Take mine, madam, " said Mr. Carleton. "I have learned the comparativevalue of things too; and I will guard her highest interests as carefullyas I will every other--as earnestly as you can desire. "

"I thank you, sir, " said the old lady gratefully. "I am sure of it. Ishall leave her in good hands. I wanted this assurance. And if ever therewas a tender plant that was not fitted to grow on the rough side of theworld--I think this is one, " said she, kissing earnestly the face that yetFleda did not dare to lift up. 

Mr. Carleton did not say what he thought. He presently took kind leave ofthe old lady and went into the next room, where Fleda soon rejoined himand they set off homewards. 

Fleda was quietly crying all the way down the hill. At the foot of thehill Mr. Carleton resolutely slackened his pace. 

"I have one consolation, " he said, "my dear Elfie--you will have the lessto leave for me. "

She put her hand with a quick motion upon his, and roused her self. 

"She is a beautiful rebuke to unbelief. But she is hardly to be mournedfor, Elfie. "

"Oh I was not crying for aunt Miriam, " said Fleda. 

"For what then?" he said gently. 

"Myself. "

"That needs explanation, " he said in the same tone. "Let me haveit, Elfie. "

"O--I was thinking of several things, " said Fleda, not exactly wishing togive the explanation. 

"Too vague, " said Mr. Carleton smiling. "Trust me with a little more ofyour mind, Elfie. "

Fleda glanced up at him, half smiling, and yet with filling eyes, and thenas usual, yielded to the winning power of the look that met her. 

"I was thinking, " she said, keeping her head carefully down, --"of some ofthe things you and aunt Miriam were saying just now, --and--how good fornothing I am. "

"In what respect?" said Mr. Carleton with praiseworthy gravity. 

Fleda hesitated, and he pressed the matter no further; but more unwillingto displease him than herself she presently went on, with some difficulty;wording what she had to say with as much care as she could. 

"I was thinking--how gratitude--or not gratitude alone--but how one can befull of the desire to please another, --a fellow-creature, --and find itconstantly easy to do or bear anything for that purpose; and how slowlyand coldly duty has to move alone in the direction where it should be theswiftest and warmest. "

She knew he would take her words as simply as she said them; she was notdisappointed. He was silent a minute and then said gravely, --

"Is this a late discovery, Elfie?"

"No--only I was realizing it strongly just now. "

"It is a complaint we may all make. The remedy is, not to love less whatwe know, but to know better that of which we are in ignorance. We will behelps and not hindrances to each other, Elfie. "

"You have said that before, " said Fleda still keeping her head down. 

"What?"

"About my being a help to you!"

"It will not be the first time, " said he smiling, --"nor the second. Yourlittle hand first held up a glass to gather the scattered rays of truththat could not warm me into a centre where they must burn. "

"Very innocently, " said Fleda with a little unsteady feeling of voice. 

"Very innocently, " said Mr. Carleton smiling. "A veritable lens couldhardly have been more unconscious of its work or more pure of design. "

"I do not think that was quite so either, Mr. Carleton, " said Fleda. 

"It was so, my dear Elfie, and your present speech is nothing against it. This power of example is always unconsciously wielded; the medium ceasesto be clear so soon as it is made anything but a medium. The bits of truthyou aimed at me wittingly would have been nothing if they had not comethrough that medium. "

"Then apparently one's prime efforts ought to be directed to oneself. "

"One's first efforts, certainly. Your silent example was the first thingthat moved me. "

"Silent example!" said Fleda catching her breath a little. "Mine ought tobe very good, for I can never do good in any other way. "

"You used to talk pretty freely to me. "

"It wasn't my fault, I am certain, " said Fleda half laughing. "Besides, Iwas sure of my ground. But in general I never can speak to people aboutwhat will do them any good. "

"Yet whatever be the power of silent example there are often times when aword is of incalculable importance. "

"I know it, " said Fleda earnestly, --"I have felt it very often, andgrieved that I could not say it, even at the very moment when I knew itwas wanting. "

"Is that right, Elfie?"

"No, " said Fleda, with quick watering eyes, --"It is not right atall;--but it is constitutional with me. I never can talk to other peopleof what concerns my own thoughts and feelings. "

"But this concerns other people's thoughts and feelings. "

"Yes, but there is an implied revelation of my own. "

"Do you expect to include me in the denomination of 'other people'?"

"I don't know, " said Fleda laughing. 

"Do you wish it?"

Fleda looked down and up, and coloured, and said she didn't know. 

"I will teach you, " said he smiling. 

The rest of the day by both was given to Hugh. 

Chapter LI. 

 O what is life but a sum of love, And death but to lose it all? Weeds be for those that are left behind, And not for those that fall!

 Milnes. 

"Here's something come, Fleda, " said Barby walking into the sick room onemorning a few days afterwards, --"a great bag of something--more than youcan eat up in a fortnight--it's for Hugh. "

"It's extraordinary that anybody should send _me_ a great bag of anythingeatable, " said Hugh. 

"Where did it come from?" said Fleda. 

"Philetus fetched it--he found it down to Mr. Sampion's when he went withthe sheep-skins. "

"How do you know it's for me?" said Hugh. 

"'Cause it's written on, as plain as a pikestaff. I guess it's amistake though. "

"Why?" said Fleda; "and what is it?"

"O I don't much think 'twas meant for him, " said Barby. "It's oysters. "

"Oysters!"

"Yes--come out and look at 'em--you never see such fine fellows. I'veheerd say, " said Barby abstractedly as Fleda followed her out and shedisplayed to view some magnificent Ostraceans, --"I've heerd say that anEnglish shilling was worth two American ones, but I never understood itrightly till now. "

To all intents and purposes those were English oysters, and worth twice asmuch as any others Fleda secretly confessed. 

That evening, up in the sick room, --it was quite evening, and all theothers of the family were taking rest or keeping Mr. Rossitur companydown stairs, --Fleda was carefully roasting some of the same oysters forHugh's supper. She had spread out a glowing bed of coals on the hearth, and there lay four or five of the big bivalves, snapping and sputtering inapprobation of their quarters in a most comfortable manner; and Fledastanding before the fire tended them with a double kind of pleasure. Fromone friend, and for another, those were most odorous oysters. Hugh satwatching them and her, the same in happy simplicity that he had been ateleven years old. 

"How pleasant those oysters smell, " said he. "Fleda, they remind me soof the time when you and I used to roast oysters in Mrs. Renney's roomfor lunch--do you recollect?--and sometimes in the evening wheneverybody was gone out, you know; and what an airing we used to have togive the dining-room afterwards. How we used to enjoy them, Fleda--youand I all alone. "

"Yes, " said Fleda in a tone of doubtful enjoyment. She was shielding herface with a paper and making self-sacrificing efforts to persuade a largeoyster-shell to stand so on the coals as to keep the juice. 

"Don't!" said Hugh;--"I would rather the oysters should burn than you. Mr. Carleton wouldn't thank me for letting you do so. "

"Never mind!" said Fleda arranging the oysters to her satisfaction, --"heisn't here to see. Now Hugh, my dear--these are ready as soon as I am. "

"I am ready, " said Hugh. "How long it is since we had a roastoyster, Fleda!"

"They look good, don't they?"

A little stand was brought up between them with the bread and butter andthe cups; and Fleda opened oysters and prepared tea for Hugh, with hernicest, gentlest, busiest of hands; making every bit to be twice as sweet, for her sympathizing eyes and loving smile and pleasant word commenting. She shared the meal with him, but her own part was as slender as his andmuch less thought of. His enjoyment was what she enjoyed, though it waswith a sad twinge of alloy which changed her face whenever it was where hecould not see it; when turned upon him it was only bright andaffectionate, and sometimes a little too tender; but Fleda was too good anurse to let that often appear. 

"Mr. Carleton did not bargain for your opening his oysters, Fleda. Howkind it was of him to send them. "

"Yes. "

"How long will he be gone, Fleda?"

"I don't know--he didn't say. I don't believe many days. "

Hugh was silent a little while she was putting away the stand and theoyster-shells. Then she came and sat down by him. 

"You have burnt yourself over those things, " said he sorrowfully;--"you-shouldn't have done it. It is not right. "

"Dear Hugh, " said Fleda lightly, laying her head on his shoulder, --"Ilike to burn myself for you. "

"That's just the way you have been doing all your life. "

"Hush!" she said softly. 

"It is true, --for me and for everybody else. It is time you were takenbetter care of, dear Fleda. "

"Don't, dear Hugh!"

"I am right though, " said he. "You are pale and worn now with waiting uponme and thinking of me. It is time you were gone. But I think it is well Iam going too, for what should I do in the world without you, Fleda?"

Fleda was crying now, intensely though quietly; but Hugh went on withfeeling as calm as it was deep. 

"What should I have done all these years?--or any of us? How you havetired yourself for everybody--in the garden and in the kitchen and withEarl Douglass--how we could let you I don't know, but I believe we couldnot help it. "

Fleda put her hand upon his mouth. But he took it away and went on--

"How often I have seen you sleeping all the evening on the sofa with apale face, tired out--Dear Fleda, " said he kissing her cheek, "I am gladthere's to be an end put to it. And all the day you went about with such abright face that it made mother and me happy to look at you; and I knewthen, many a time, it was for our sakes--

"Why do you cry so, Fleda? I like to think of it, and to talk of it, nowthat I know you won't do so any more. I knew the whole truth, and it wentto the bottom of my heart; but I could do nothing but love you--I didthat!--Don't cry so, Fleda!--you ought not. --You have been the sunshine ofthe house. My spirit never was so strong as yours; I should have beenborne to the ground, I know, in all these years, if it had not been foryou; and mother--you have been her life. "

"You have been tired too, " Fleda whispered. 

"Yes at the saw-mill. And then you would come up there through the sun tolook at me, and your smile would make me forget everything sorrowful forthe rest of the day--except that I couldn't help you. "

"Oh you did--you did--you helped me always, Hugh. "

"Not much. I couldn't help you when you were sewing for me and father tillyour fingers and eyes were aching, and you never would own that you wereanything but 'a little' tired--it made my heart ache. Oh I knew it all, dear Fleda. --I am very, very glad that you will have somebody to take careof you now that will not let you burn your fingers for him or anybodyelse. It makes me happy!"

"You make me very unhappy, dear Hugh. "

"I don't mean it, " said Hugh tenderly. "I don't believe there is anybodyelse in the world that I could be so satisfied to leave you with. "

Fleda made no answer to that. She sat up and tried to recover herself. 

"I hope he will come back in time, " said Hugh, settling himself back inthe easy-chair with a weary look, and closing his eyes. 

"In time for what?"

"To see me again. "

"My dear Hugh!--he will to be sure, I hope. "

"He must make haste, " said Hugh. "But I want to see him again verymuch, Fleda. "

"For anything in particular?"

"No--only because I love him. I want to see him once more. "

Hugh slumbered; and Fleda by his side wept tears of mixed feeling till shewas tired. 

Hugh was right. But nobody else knew it, and his brother was not sent for. 

It was about a week after this, when one night a horse and wagon came upto the back of the house from the road, the gentleman who had been drivingleading the horse. It was late, long past Mr. Skillcorn's usual hour ofretiring, but some errand of business had kept him abroad and he stoodthere looking on. The stars gave light enough. 

"Can you fasten my horse where he may stand a little while, sir? withouttaking him out?"

"I guess I can, " replied Philetus, with reasonable confidence, --"ifthere's a rope's end some place--"

And forthwith he went back into the house to seek it. The gentlemanpatiently holding his horse meanwhile, till he came out. 

"How is Mr. Hugh to-night?"

"Well--he ain't just so smart, they say, " responded Philetus, insinuatingthe rope's end as awkwardly as possible among the horse's head-gear, --"Ibelieve he's dying. "

Instead of going round now to the front of the house, Mr. Carleton knockedgently at the kitchen door and asked the question anew of Barby. 

"He's--Come in, sir, if you please, " she said, opening wide the door forhim to enter, --"I'll tell 'em you're here. "

"Do not disturb any one for me, " said he. 

"I won't disturb 'em!" said Barby, in a tone a little though unconsciouslysignificant. 

Mr. Carleton neglected the chair she had placed for him, and remainedstanding by the mantelpiece, thinking of the scenes of his earlyintroduction to that kitchen. It wore the same look it had done then;under Barby's rule it was precisely the same thing it had been underCynthia's. --The passing years seemed a dream, and the passing generationsof men a vanity, before the old house more abiding than they. He stoodthinking of the people he had seen gathered by that fireplace and thelittle household fairy whose childish ministrations had given such abeauty to the scene, --when a very light step crossed the painted floor andshe was there again before him. She did not speak a word; she stood stilla moment trying for words, and then put her hand upon Mr. Carleton's armand gently drew him out of the room with her. 

The family were all gathered in the room to which she brought him. Mr. Rossitur, as soon as he saw Mr. Carleton come in, shrunk back where hecould be a little shielded by the bed-post. Marion's face was hid on thefoot of the bed. Mrs. Rossitur did not move. Leaving Mr. Carleton on thenear side of 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 wasin a little doze, lying with his eyes closed, and the face as gently andplacidly sweet as it had been in his boyhood. Perhaps Mr. Rossitur lookedat it; but no other did just then, except Mr. Carleton. His eye restednowhere else. The breathing of an infant could not be more gentle; theface of an angel not more peacefully at rest. "So he giveth his belovedsleep, "--thought the gentleman, as he gazed on the brow from which allcare, if care there had ever been, seemed to have taken flight. 

Not yet--not quite yet; for Hugh suddenly opened his eyes and withoutseeing anybody else, said, "Father--"

Mr. Rossitur left the bed-post and came close to where Fleda was standing, and leaning forward, touched his son's head, but did not speak. 

"Father--" said Hugh, in a voice so gentle that it seemed as if strengthmust be failing, --"what will you do when you come to lie here?"

Mr. Rossitur put his hands to his face. 

"Father--I must speak now if I never did before--once I must speak toyou, --what will you do when you come to lie where I do?--what will youtrust to?"

The person addressed was as motionless as a statue. Hugh did not move hiseyes from him. 

"Father, I will be a living warning and example to you, for I know thatI shall live in your memory--you shall remember what I say to you--thatJesus Christ is a dear friend to those that trust in him, and if he isnot yours it will be because you will not let him. You shall remember mytestimony, that he can make death sweeter than life--in his presence isfulness of joy--at his right hand there are pleasures for evermore. Heis better, --he is more to me, --even than you all, and he will be to youa better friend than the poor child you are losing, though you do notknow it now. It is he that has made my life in this world happy--onlyhe--and I have nothing to look to but him in the world I am going to. But what will you do in the hour of death, as I am, if he isn't yourfriend, father?"

Mr. Rossitur's frame swayed, like a tree that one sees shaken by a distantwind, but he said nothing. 

"Will you remember me happily, father, if you come to die without havingdone as I begged you? Will you think of me in heaven and not try to comethere too? Father, will you be a Christian?--will you not?--for mysake--for _little Hugh's_ sake, as you used to call him?--Father?--"

Mr. Rossitur knelt down and hid his face in the coverings; but he did notutter a word. 

Hugh's eye dwelt on him for a moment with unspeakable expression, and hislip trembled. He said no more; he closed his eyes; and for a little timethere was nothing to be heard but the sobs which could not be restrained, from all but the two gentlemen. It probably oppressed Hugh, for after awhile he said with a weary sigh and without opening his eyes, "I wish somebody would sing. "

Nobody answered at first. 

"Sing what, dear Hugh?" said Fleda, putting aside her tears and leaningher 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 herutmost efforts after self-control wrought nothing but tears. The stillnesshad lasted a little while, when very softly and sweetly the notes of ahymn floated to their ears, and though they floated on and filled theroom, the voice was so nicely modulated that its waves of sweetness brokegently upon the nearest ear. 

 "Jesus, the sinner's friend, to Thee, Lost and undone, for aid I flee; Weary of earth, myself, and sin, Open thine arms and take me in. 

 "Pity and save my sin-sick soul, -- 'Tis thou alone canst make me whole; Dark, till in me thine image shine, And lost I am, till thou art mine. 

 "At length I own it cannot be, That I should fit myself for thee, Here now to thee I all resign, -- Thine is the work, and only thine. 

 "What shall I say thy grace to move?-- Lord, I am sin, but thou art love! I give up every plea beside, -- Lord, I am lost, --but thou hast died!"

They were still again after the voice had ceased; almost perfectly still;though tears might be pouring, as indeed they were from every eye, therewas no break to the silence, other than a half-caught sob now and thenfrom a kneeling figure whose head was in Marion's lap. 

"Who was that?" said Hugh, when the singer had been silent a minute. 

Nobody answered immediately; and then Mr. Carleton bending over him, said, "Don't you know me, dear Hugh?"

"Is it Mr. Carleton?"

Hugh looked pleased, and clasped both of his hands upon Guy's which helaid upon his breast. For a second he closed his eyes and was silent. 

"Was it you sang?"

"Yes. "

"You never sang for me before, " he remarked. 

He was silent again. 

"Are you going to take Fleda away?"

"By and by, " said Mr. Carleton gently. 

"Will you take good care of her?"

Mr. Carleton hesitated, and then said, so low that it could reach but oneother person's ear, "What hand and life can. "

"I know it, " said Hugh. "I am very glad you will have her. You will notlet her tire herself any more. "

Whatever became of Fleda's tears she had driven them away and leaningforward she touched her cheek to his, saying with a clearness andsweetness of voice that only intensity of feeling could have given her atthe moment, "I am not tired, dear Hugh. "

Hugh clasped one arm round her neck and kissed her--again and again, seeming unable to say anything to her in any other way; still keeping hishold of Mr. Carleton's hand. 

"I give all my part of her to you, " he said at length. "Mr. Carleton, Ishall see both of you in heaven?"

"I hope so, " was the answer, in those very calm and clear tones that havea singular effect in quieting emotion, while they indicate anything butthe want of it. 

"I am the best off of you all, " Hugh said. 

He lay still for awhile with shut eyes. Fleda had withdrawn herself fromhis arms and stood at his side, with a bowed head, but perfectly quiet. Hestill held Mr. Carleton's hand, as something he did not want to part with. 

"Fleda, " said he, "who is that crying?--Mother--come here. "

Mr. Carleton gave place to her. Hugh pulled her down to him till her facelay upon his, and folded both his arms around her. 

"Mother, " he said softly, "will you meet me in heaven?--say yes. "

"How can I, dear Hugh?"

"You can, dear mother, " said he kissing her with exceeding tenderness ofexpression, --"my Saviour will be yours and take you there. Say you willgive yourself to Christ--dear mother!--sweet mother! promise me I shallsee you again!--"

Mrs. Rossitur's weeping it was difficult to hear. But Hugh hardly sheddinga tear still kissed her, repeating, "Promise me, dear mother--promise methat you will;"--till Mrs. Rossitur in an agony sobbed out the word hewanted, --and Hugh hid his face then in her neck. 

Mr. Carleton left the room and went down stairs. He found the sitting-roomdesolate, untenanted and cold for hours; and he went again into thekitchen. Barby was there for some time, and then she left him alone. 

He had passed a long while in thinking and walking up and down, and he wasstanding musing by the fire, when Fleda again came in. She came insilently, to his side, and putting her arm within his laid her face uponit with a simplicity of trust and reliance that went to his heart; and shewept there for a long hour. They hardly changed their position in all thattime; and her tears flowed silently though incessantly, the only tokens ofsympathy on his part being such a gentle caressing smoothing of her hairor putting it from her brow as he had used when she was a child. Thebearing of her hand and head upon his arm in time shewed her increasinglyweary. Nothing shewed him so. 

"Elfie--my dear Elfie, " he said at last very tenderly, in the same waythat he would have spoken nine years before--"Hugh gave his part of you tome--I must take care of it. "

Fleda tried to rouse herself immediately. 

"This is poor entertainment for you, Mr. Carleton, " she said, raising herhead and wiping away the tears from her face. 

"You are mistaken, " he said gently. "You never gave me such pleasure buttwice before, Elfie. "

Fleda's head went down again instantly, and this time there was somethingalmost caressing in the motion. 

"Next to the happiness of having friends on earth, " he said soothingly, "is the happiness of having friends in heaven. Don't weep any moreto-night, my dear Elfie. "

"He told me to thank you--" said Fleda. But stopping short and claspingwith convulsive energy the arm she held, she shed more violent tears thanshe had done that night before. The most gentle soothing, the most tenderreproof, availed at last to quiet her; and she stood clinging to his armstill and looking down into the fire. 

"I did not think it would be so soon, " she said. 

"It was not soon to him, Elfie. "

"He told me to thank you for singing. How little while it seems since wewere children together--how little while since before that--when I was alittle child here--how different!"

"No, the very same, " said he, touching his lips to her forehead, --"you arethe very same child you were then; but it is time you were my child, for Isee you would make yourself ill. No--" said he softly taking the handFleda raised to her face, --"no more tonight--tell me how early I may seeyou in the morning--for, Elfie, I must leave you after breakfast. "

Fleda looked up inquiringly. 

"My mother has brought news that determines me to return to Englandimmediately. "

"To England!"

"I have been too long from home--I am wanted there. "

Fleda looked down again and did her best not to shew what she felt. 

"I do not know how to leave you--and now--but I must. There aredisturbances among the people, and my own are infected. I _must_ be therewithout delay. "

"Political disturbances?" said Fleda. 

"Somewhat of that nature--but partly local. How early may I come to you?"

"But you are not going away tonight? It is very late. "

"That is nothing--my horse is here. "

Fleda would have begged in vain, if Barby had not come in and added herword, to the effect that it would be a mess of work to look for lodgingsat that time of night, and that she had made the west room ready for Mr. Carleton. She rejected with great sincerity any claim to the thanks withwhich Fleda as well as Mr. Carleton repaid her; "there wa'n't no troubleabout it, " she said. Mr. Carleton however found his room prepared for himwith all the care that Barby's utmost ideas of refinement and exactnesscould suggest. 

It was still very early the next morning; when he left it and came intothe sitting-room, but he was not the first there. The firelight glimmeredon the silver and china of the breakfast table, all set; everything was inabsolute order, from the fire to the two cups and saucers which were aloneon the board. A still silent figure was standing by one of the windowslooking out. Not crying; but that Mr. Carleton knew from the unmistakablelines of the face was only because tears were waiting another time; quietnow, it would not be by and by. He came and stood at the window with her. 

"Do you know, " he said, after a little, "that Mr. Rossitur purposes toleave Queechy?"

"Does he?" said Fleda rather starting, but she added not another word, simply because she felt she could not safely. 

"He has accepted, I believe, a consulship at Jamaica. "

"Jamaica!" said Fleda. "I have heard him speak of the West Indies--I amnot surprised--I know it was likely he would not stay here. "

How tightly her fingers that were free grasped the edge of thewindow-frame. Mr. Carleton saw it and softly removed them into hisown keeping. 

"He may go before I can be here again. But I shall leave my mother to takecare of you, Elfie. "

"Thank you, " said Fleda faintly. "You are very kind--"

"Kind to myself, " he said smiling. "I am only taking care of my own. Ineed not say that you will see me again as early as my duty can make itpossible;--but I may be detained, and your friends may begone--Elfie--give me the right to send if I cannot come for you. Let meleave my wife in my mother's care. "

Fleda looked down, and coloured, and hesitated; but the expression in herface was not that of doubt. 

"Am I asking too much?" he said gently. 

"No sir, " said Fleda, --"and--but--"

"What is in the way?"

But it seemed impossible for Fleda to tell him. 

"May I not know?" he said, gently putting away the hair from Fleda's face, which looked distressed. "Is it only your feeling?"

"No sir, " said Fleda, --"at least--not the feeling you think it is--but--Icould not do it without giving great pain. "

Mr. Carleton was silent. 

"Not to anybody you know, Mr. Carleton, " said Fleda, suddenly fearing awrong interpretation of her words, --"I don't mean that--I mean somebodyelse--the person--the only person you could apply to--" she said, coveringher face in utter confusion. 

"Do I understand you?" said he smiling. "Has this gentleman any reason todislike the sight of me?"

"No sir, " said Fleda, --"but he thinks he has. "

"That only I meant, " said he. "You are quite right, my dear Elfie; I ofall men ought to understand that. "

The subject was dropped, and in a few minutes his gentle skill had wellnigh made Fleda forget what they had been talking about. Himself and hiswishes seemed to be put quite out of his own view, and out of hers as faras possible; except that the very fact made Fleda recognize withunspeakable gratitude and admiration the kindness and grace that werealways exerted for her pleasure. If her good-will could have been put intothe cups of coffee she poured out for him, he might have gone in thestrength of them all the way to England. There was strength of anotherkind to be gained from her face of quiet sorrow and quiet self-commandwhich were her very childhood's own. 

"You will see me at the earliest possible moment, " he said when at lasttaking leave. --"I hope to be free in a short time; but it may not be. Elfie--if I should be detained longer than I hope--if I should not be ableto return in a reasonable time, will you let my mother bring you out?--ifI cannot come to you will you come to me?"

Fleda coloured a good deal, and said, scarce intelligibly, that she hopedhe would be able to come. He did not press the matter. He parted from herand was leaving the room. Fleda suddenly sprang after him, before he hadreached the door, and laid her hand on his arm. 

"I did not answer your question, Mr. Carleton, " she said with cheeks thatwere dyed now, --"I will do whatever you please--whatever you think best. "

His thanks were most gratefully though silently spoken, and he went away. 

Chapter LII. 

 Daughter, they seem to say, Peace to thy heart! We too, yes, daughter, Have been as thou art. Hope-lifted, doubt-depressed, Seeing in part, -- Tried, troubled, tempted, -- Sustained, --as thou art. 

 Unknown. 

Mr. Rossitur was disposed for no further delay now in leaving Queechy. Theoffice at Jamaica, which Mr. Carleton and Dr. Gregory had secured for him, was immediately accepted; and every arrangement pressed to hasten hisgoing. On every account he was impatient to be out of America, andespecially since his son's death. Marion was of his mind. Mrs. Rossiturhad more of a home feeling, even for the place where home had not been toher as happy as it might. 

They were sad weeks of bustle and weariness that followed Hugh's death;less sad perhaps for the weariness and the bustle. There was little timefor musing, no time for lingering regrets. If thought and feeling playedtheir Eolian measures on Fleda's harpstrings, they were listened to onlyby snatches, and she rarely sat down and cried to them. 

A very kind note had been received from Mrs. Carleton. 

April gave place to May. One afternoon Fleda had taken an hour or two togo and look at some of the old places on the farm, that she loved andthat were not too far to reach. A last look she guessed it might be, forit was weeks since she had had a spare afternoon, and another she mightnot he able to find. It was a doubtful pleasure she sought too, but shemust have it. 

She visited the long meadow and the height that stretched along it, andeven went so far as the extremity of the valley, at the foot of thetwenty-acre lot, and then stood still to gather up the ends of memory. There she had gone chestnutting with Mr. Ringgan--thither she had guidedMr. Carleton and her cousin Rossitur that day when they were going afterwood-cock--there she had directed and overseen Earl Douglass's huge cropof corn. How many pieces of her life were connected with it. She stood fora little while looking at the old chestnut trees, looking and thinking, and turned away soberly with the recollection, "The world passethaway, --but the word of our God shall stand forever. " And though there wasone thought that was a continual well of happiness in the depth of Fleda'sheart, her mind passed it now, and echoed with great joy the countersignof Abraham's privilege, --"Thou art my portion, O Lord!"--And in thatassurance every past and every hoped-for good was sweet with addedsweetness. She walked home without thinking much of the long meadow. 

It was a chill spring afternoon and Fleda was in her old trim, the blackcloak, the white shawl over it, and the hood of grey silk. And in thattrim she walked into the sitting-room. 

A lady was there, in a travelling dress, a stranger. Fleda's eye took inher outline and feature one moment with a kind of bewilderment, the nextwith perfect intelligence. If the lady had been in any doubt, Fleda'scheeks alone would have announced her identity. But she came forwardwithout hesitation after the first moment, pulling off her hood, and stoodbefore her visiter, blushing in a way that perhaps Mrs. Carleton looked atas a novelty in her world. Fleda did not know how she looked at it, butshe had nevertheless an instinctive feeling, even at the moment, that thelady wondered how her son should have fancied particularly anything thatwent about under such a hood. 

Whatever Mrs. Carleton thought, her son's fancies she knew wereunmanageable; and she had far too much good breeding to let her thoughtsbe known; unless to one of those curious spirit thermometers that can tella variation of temperature through every sort of medium. There might havebeen the slightest want of forwardness to do it, but she embraced Fledawith great cordiality. 

"This is for the old time--not for the new, dear Fleda, " she said. "Do youremember me?"

"Perfectly!--very well, " said Fleda, giving Mrs. Carleton for a moment aglimpse of her eyes. --"I do not easily forget. "

"Your look promises me an advantage from that, which I do not deserve, butwhich I may as well use as another. I want all I can have, Fleda. "

There was a half look at the speaker that seemed to deny the truth ofthat, but Fleda did not otherwise answer. She begged her visiter to sitdown, and throwing off the white shawl and black cloak, took tongs in handand began to mend the fire. Mrs. Carleton sat considering a moment thefigure of the fire-maker, not much regardful of the skill she was bringingto bear upon the sticks of wood. 

Fleda turned from the fire to remove her visitor's bonnet and wrappings, but the former was all Mrs. Carleton would give her; she threw off shawland tippet on the nearest chair. 

It was the same Mrs. Carleton of old, --Fleda saw while this wasdoing, --unaltered almost entirely. The fine figure and bearing were thesame; time had made no difference; even the face had paid little tributeto the years that had passed by it; and the hair held its own without achange. Bodily and mentally she was the same. Apparently she was thinkingthe like of Fleda. 

"I remember you very well, " she said with kindly accent when Fleda satdown by her. "I have never forgotten you. A dear little creature you were. I always knew that. "

Fleda hoped privately the lady would see no occasion to change her mind;but for the present she was bankrupt in words. 

"I was in the same room this morning at Montepoole where we used to dine, and it brought back the whole thing to me--the time when you were sickthere with us. I could think of nothing else. But I don't think I was yourfavourite, Fleda. "

Such a rush of blood again answered her as moved Mrs. Carleton in commonkindness to speak of common things. She entered into a long story of herjourney--of her passage from England--of the steamer that brought her--ofher stay in New York;--all which Fleda heard very indifferently well. Shewas more distinctly conscious of the handsome travelling dress whichseemed all the while to look as its wearer had done, with some want ofaffinity upon the little grey hood which lay on the chair in the corner. Still she listened and responded as became her, though for the most partwith eyes that did not venture from home. The little hood itself couldnever have kept its place with less presumption, nor with less flutter ofself-distrust. 

Mrs. Carleton came at last to a general account of the circumstances thathad determined Guy to return home so suddenly, where she was moreinteresting. She hoped he would not be detained, but it was impossible totell. It was just as it might happen. 

"Are you acquainted with the commission I have been charged with?" shesaid, when her narrations had at last lapsed into silence and Fleda's eyeshad returned to the ground. 

"I suppose so, ma'am, " said Fleda with a little smile. 

"It is a very pleasant charge, " said Mrs. Carleton softly kissing hercheek. Something in the face itself must have called forth that kiss, forthis time there were no requisitions of politeness. 

"Do you recognize my commission, Fleda?"

Fleda did not answer. Mrs. Carleton sat a few minutes thoughtfully drawingback the curls from her forehead, Mr. Carleton's very gesture, but not byany means with his fingers; and musing perhaps on the possibility of ahood's having very little to do with what it covered. 

"Do you know, " she said, "I have felt as if I were nearer to Guy since Ihave seen you. "

The quick smile and colour that answered this, both very bright, wroughtin Mrs Carleton an instant recollection that her son was very apt to beright in his judgments and that probably the present case might prove himso. The hand which had played with Fleda's hair was put round her waist, very affectionately, and Mrs. Carleton drew near her. 

"I am sure we shall love each other, Fleda, " she said. 

It was said like Fleda, not like Mrs. Carleton, and answered as simply. Fleda had gained her place. Her head was in Mrs. Carleton's neck, andwelcomed there. 

"At least I am sure I shall love you, " said the lady kissing her, --"and Idon't despair on my own account, --for somebody else's sake. "

"No--" said Fleda, --but she was not fluent to-day. She sat up andrepeated, "I have not forgotten old times either, Mrs. Carleton. "

"I don't want to think of the old time--I want to think of the new, "--sheseemed to have a great fancy for stroking back those curls of hair;--"Iwant to tell you how happy I am, dear Fleda. "

Fleda did not say whether she was happy or unhappy, and her look mighthave been taken for dubious. She kept her eyes on the ground, while Mrs. Carleton drew the hair off from her flushing cheeks, and considered theface laid bare to her view; and thought it was a fair face--a verypresentable face--delicate and lovely--a face that she would have noreason to 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 need not askpardon?--I felt that I should be hardly discharging my commission if I didnot see you till you arrived in New York. My wishes I could have made towait, but not my trust. So I came. "

"I am very glad you did!"

She could fain have persuaded the lady to disregard circumstances and staywith her, at least till the next day, but Mrs. Carleton was unpersuadable. She would return immediately to Montepoole. 

"And how long shall you be here now?" she said. 

"A few days--it will not be more than a week. "

"Do you know how soon Mr. Rossitur intends to sail for Jamaica?"

"As soon as possible--he will make his stay in New York very short--notmore than a fortnight perhaps, --as short as he can. "

"And then, my dear Fleda, I am to have the charge of you--for a littlewhile--am I not?"

Fleda hesitated and began to say, "Thank you, " but it was finished with aburst of very hearty tears. 

Mrs. Carleton knew immediately the tender spot she had touched. She puther arms about Fleda and caressed her as gently as her own mother mighthave done. 

"Forgive me, dear Fleda!--I forgot that so much that is sad to you mustcome before what is so much pleasure to me. --Look up and tell me that youforgive me. "

Fleda soon looked up, but she looked very sorrowful, and said nothing. Mrs. Carleton watched her face for a little while, really pained. 

"Have you heard from Guy since he went away?" she whispered. 

"No, ma'am. "

"I have. "

And therewith she put into Fleda's hand a letter, --not Mrs. Carleton'sletter, as Fleda's first thought was. It had her own name and the sealwas unbroken. But it moved Mrs. Carleton's wonder to see Fleda cry again, and longer than before. She did not understand it. She tried soothing, but she ventured no attempt at consoling, for she did not know what wasthe matter. 

"You will let me go now, I know, " she said smilingly, when Fleda was againrecovered and standing before the fire with a face _not_ so sorrowful, Mrs. Carleton saw. "But I must say something--I shall not hurt you again. "

"Oh no, you did not hurt me at all--it was not what you said. "

"You will come to me, dear Fleda? I feel that I want you very much. "

"Thank you--but there is my uncle Orrin, Mrs. Carleton, --Dr. Gregory. "

"Dr. Gregory? He is just on the eve of sailing for Europe--I thoughtyou knew it. "

"On the _eve?_--so soon?"

"Very soon, he told me. Dear Fleda--shall I remind you of my commission, and who gave it to me?"

Fleda hesitated still; at least she stood looking into the fire and didnot answer. 

"You do not own his authority yet, " Mrs. Carleton went on, --"but I am surehis 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 seethose deep spots on Fleda's cheeks. They were a silent tribute to aninvisible presence that flattered the lady's affection, --or her pride. 

"What do you say, dear Fleda--to him and to me?" she said smiling andkissing her. 

"I will come, Mrs. Carleton. "

The lady was quite satisfied and departed on the instant, having got, shesaid, all she wanted; and Fleda--cried till her eyes were sore. 

The days were few that remained to them in their old home; not more than aweek, as Fleda had said. It was the first week in May. 

The evening before they were to leave Queechy, Fleda and Mrs. Rossiturwent together to pay their farewell visit to Hugh's grave. It was somedistance off. They walked there arm in arm without a word by the way. 

The little country grave-yard lay alone on a hill-side, a good way fromany house, and out of sight even of any but a very distant one. A soberand quiet place, no tokens of busy life immediately near, the fieldsaround it being used for pasturing sheep, except an instance or two ofwinter grain now nearing its maturity. A by-road not much travelled led tothe grave-yard, and led off from it over the broken country, following theups and downs of the ground to a long distance away, without a movingthing upon it in sight near or far. No sound of stirring and activehumanity. Nothing to touch the perfect repose. But every lesson of theplace could be heard more distinctly amid that silence of all othervoices. Except indeed nature's voice; that was not silent; and neither didit jar with the other. The very light of the evening fell more tenderlyupon the old grey stones and the thick grass in that place. 

Fleda and Mrs. Rossitur went softly to one spot where the grass was notgrown and where the bright white marble caught the eye and spoke of grieffresh too. Oh that that were grey and moss-grown like the others! Themother placed herself where the staring black letters of Hugh's name couldnot remind her so harshly that it no more belonged to the living; andsitting down on the ground hid her face; to struggle through the partingagony once more with added bitterness. 

Fleda stood awhile sharing it, for with her too it was the last time, inall likelihood. If she had been alone, her grief might have witnesseditself bitterly and uncontrolled; but the selfish relief was foregone, forthe sake of another, that it might be in her power by and by to ministerto a heart yet sorer and weaker than hers. The tears that fell so quietlyand so fast upon the foot of Hugh's grave were all the deeper-drawn andricher-fraught. 

Awhile she stood there; and then passed round to a group a little way off, that had as dear and strong claims upon her love and memory. These werenot fresh, not very; oblivion had not come there yet; only Time'ssoftening hand. Was it softening?--for Fleda's head was bent down furtherhere, and tears rained faster. It was hard to leave these! The cherishednames that from early years had lived in her child's heart, --from thistheir last earthly abiding-place she was to part company. Her mother's andher father's graves were there, side by side; and never had Fleda's heartso clung to the old grey stones, never had the faded lettering seemed sodear, --of the dear names and of the words of faith and hope that weretheir dying or living testimony. And next to them was her grandfather'sresting-place; and with that sunshiny green mound came a throng ofstrangely tender and sweet associations, more even than with the othertwo. His gentle, venerable, dignified figure rose before her, and herheart yearned towards it. In imagination Fleda pressed again to her breastthe withered hand that had led her childhood so kindly; and overcome herefor a little she kneeled down upon the sod and bent her head till the longgrass almost touched it, in an agony of human sorrow. Could she leavethem?--and for ever in this world? and be content to see no more thesedear memorials till others like them should be raised for herself, faraway?--But then stole in consolations not human, nor of man'sdevising, --the words that were written upon her mother's tombstone, --

"_Them that sleep in Jesus will God bring with him_. "--It was like themarch of angel's feet over the turf. And her mother had been a meek childof faith, and her father and grandfather, though strong men, had bowedlike little children to the same rule. --Fleda's head bent lower yet, andshe wept, even aloud, but it was one half in pure thankfulness and a joythat the world knows nothing of. Doubtless they and she were one;doubtless though the grass now covered their graves, the heavenly bond inwhich they were held would bring them together again in light, to a newand more beautiful life that should know no severing. Asleep inJesus;--and even as he had risen so should they, --they and others that sheloved, --all whom she loved best. She could leave their graves; and with anunspeakable look of thanks to Him who had brought life and immortality tolight, she did; but not till she had there once again remembered hermother's prayer, and her aunt Miriam's words, and prayed that ratheranything might happen to her than that prosperity and the world's favourshould draw her from the simplicity and humility of a life above theworld. Rather than not meet them in joy at the last, --oh let her want whatshe most wished for in this world. 

If riches have their poisonous snares, Fleda carried away from this placea strong antidote. With a spirit strangely simple, pure, and calm she wentback to her aunt. 

Poor Mrs. Rossitur was not quieted, but at Fleda's touch and voice, gentleand loving as the spirit of love and gentleness could make them, she triedto rouse herself; lifted up her weary head and clasped her arms about herniece. The manner of it went to Fleda's heart, for there was in it both alooking to her for support and a clinging to her as another dear thing shewas about to lose. Fleda could not speak for the heart-ache. 

"It is harder to leave this place than all the rest, " Mrs. Rossiturmurmured, after some little time had passed on. 

"He is not here, " said Fleda's soothing voice. It set her aunt tocrying again. 

"No--I know it--" she said. 

"We shall see him again. Think of that. "

"You will, " said Mrs. Rossitur very sadly. 

"And so will you, dear aunt Lucy, --_dear_ aunt Lucy--you promised him?"

"Yes--" sobbed Mrs. Rossitur, --"I promised him--but I am such a poorcreature--"

"So poor that Jesus cannot save you?--or will not?--No, dear auntLucy--you do not think that;--only trust him--you do trust him now, do you not?"

A fresh gush of tears came with the answer, but it was in the affirmative;and after a few minutes Mrs. Rossitur grew more quiet. 

"I wish something were done to this, " she said, looking at the fresh earthbeside her;--"if we could have planted something--"

"I have thought of it a thousand times, " said Fleda sighing;--I would havedone it long ago if I could have got here;--but it doesn't matter, auntLucy, --I wish I could have done it. "

"You?" said Mrs. Rossitur;--"my poor child! you have been wearing yourselfout working for me, --I never was worth anything!"--she said, hiding herface again. 

"When you have been the dearest and best mother to me? Now that is notright, aunt Lucy--look up and kiss me. "

The pleading sweet tone of voice was not to be resisted. Mrs. Rossiturlooked up and kissed her earnestly enough but with unabated self reproach. 

"I don't deserve to kiss you, for I have let you try yourself beyond yourstrength. --How you look!--Oh how you look!--"

"Never mind how I look, " said Fleda bringing her face so close that heraunt could not see it. "You helped me all you could, aunt Lucy--don't talkso--and I shall look well enough by and by. I am not so very tired. "

"You always were so!" exclaimed Mrs. Rossitur clapping her in her armsagain;--"and now I am going to lose you too--My dear Fleda!--that gives memore pleasure than anything else in the world!--"

But it was a pleasure well cried over. 

"We shall all meet again, I hope, --I will hope, --" said Mrs. Rossiturmeekly when Fleda had risen from her arms;

"Dear aunty!--but before that--in England--you will come to see me--UncleRolf will bring you. "

Even then Fleda could not say even that without the blood mounting to herface. Mrs. Rossitur shook her head and sighed; but smiled a little too, asif that delightful chink of possibility let some light in. 

"I shouldn't like to see Mr. Carleton now, " she said, "for I could notlook him in the face; and I am afraid he wouldn't want to look in mine, hewould be so angry with me. "

[Illustration: Slowly and lingeringly they moved away. ]

The sun was sinking low on that fair May afternoon and they had two milesto walk to get home. Slowly and lingeringly they moved away. 

The talk with her aunt had shaken Fleda's calmness and she could havecried now with all her heart; but she constrained herself. They stopped amoment at the fence to look the last before turning their backs upon theplace. They lingered, and still Mrs. Rossitur did not move, and Fledacould not take away her eyes. 

It was that prettiest time of nature which while it shows indeed theshade side of everything, makes it the occasion of a fair contrast Thegrave-stones cast long shadows over the ground, foretokens of nightwhere another night was resting already; the longest stretched away fromthe head of Hugh's grave. But the rays of the setting sun softly touchingthe grass and the face of the white tombstone seemed to say, "Thybrother shall rise again. " Light upon the grave! The promise kissing therecord of death!--It was impossible to look in calmness. Fleda bowed herhead upon the paling and cried with a straitened heart, for grief andgratitude together. 

Mrs. Rossitur had not moved when Fleda looked up again. The sun was yetlower; the sunbeams, more slant, touched not only that bright whitestone--they passed on beyond, and carried the promise to those other greyones, a little further off; that she had left--yes, for the last time; andFleda's thoughts went forward swiftly to the time of the promise. --"_Then_shall be brought to pass the saying which is written, Death is swallowedup in victory. O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law. But thanksbe to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord JesusChrist. "--And then as she looked, the sunbeams might have been a choir ofangels in light singing, ever so softly, "Glory to God in the highest, andon earth peace, good will towards men. "

With a full heart Fleda clasped her aunt's arm, and they went gently downthe lane without saying one word to each other, till they had left thegraveyard far behind them and were in the high road again. 

Fleda internally thanked Mr. Carleton for what he had said to her on aformer occasion, for the thought of his words had given her courage, orstrength, to go beyond her usual reserve in speaking to her aunt; and shethought her words had done good. 

Chapter LIII. 

 Use your pleasure: If your love do not persuade you to come, let not my letter. 

 Merchant of Venice. 

On the way home Mrs. Rossitur and Fleda went a trifle out of their road tosay good-bye to Mrs. Douglass's family. Fleda had seen her aunt Miriam inthe morning, and bid her a conditional farewell; for, as after Mrs. Rossitur's sailing she would be with Mrs. Carleton, she judged it littlelikely that she should see Queechy again. 

They had time for but a minute at Mrs. Douglass's. Mrs. Rossitur hadshaken hands and was leaving the house when Mrs. Douglass pulledFleda 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 awhile, " said Fleda colouring. 

"O go 'long!" said Mrs. Douglass, "I know all about it. Now do you s'poseyou're agoing to be any happier among all those great folks than youwould be if you staid among little folks?" she added tartly; whileCatherine looked with a kind of incredulous admiration at the future ladyof Carleton. 

"I don't suppose that greatness has anything to do with happiness, Mrs. Douglass, " said Fleda gently. 

So gently, --and so calmly sweet the face was that said it that Mrs. Douglass's mood was overcome. 

"Well you ain't agoing to forget Queechy?" she said, shaking Fleda's handwith a hearty grasp. 

"Never--never!"

"I'll tell you what I think, " said Mrs. Douglass, the tears in her eyesanswering those in Fleda's. --"It'll be a happy house that gets you intoit, wherever 'tis! I only wish it wa'n't out o' Queechy. "

Fleda thought on the whole as she walked home that she did not wish anysuch thing. Queechy seemed dismantled, and she thought she would rather goto a new place now that she had taken such a leave of every thing here. 

Two things remained however to be taken leave of; the house and Barby. Happily Fleda had little time for the former. It was a busy evening, andthe morning would be more busy; she contrived that all the family shouldgo to rest before her, meaning then to have one quiet look at the oldrooms by herself; a leave-taking that no other eyes should interfere with. She sat down before the kitchen fire-place, but she had hardly realizedthat she was alone when one of the many doors opened and Barby's tallfigure walked in. 

"Here you be, " she half whispered. "I knowed there wouldn't be a minute'speace to-morrow; so I thought I'd bid you good-bye to-night. "

Fleda gave her a smile and a hand, but did not speak. Barby drew up achair beside her, and they sat silent for some time, while quiet tearsfrom the eyes of each said a great many things. 

"Well, I hope you'll be as happy as you deserve to be, "--were Barby'sfirst words, in a voice very altered from its accustomed firm andspirited accent. 

"Make some better wish for me than that, dear Barby. "

"I wouldn't want any better for myself, " said Barby determinately. 

"I would for you, " said Fleda. 

She thought of Mr. Carleton's words again, and went on in spite ofherself. 

"It is a mistake, Barby. The best of us do not deserve anything good; andif we have the sight of a friend's face, or the very sweet air we breathe, it is because Christ has bought it for us. Don't let us forget that, andforget him. "

"I do, always, " said Barby crying, --"forget everything. Fleda, I wishyou'd pray for me when you are far away, for I ain't as good as you be. "

"Dear Barby, " said Fleda, touching her shoulder affectionately, "I haven'twaited to be far away to do that. "

Barby sobbed for a few minutes with the strength of a strong nature thatrarely gave way in that manner; and then dashed her tears right and left, not at all as if she were ashamed of them, but with a resolution not tobe overcome. 

"There won't be nothing good left in Queechy, when you're gone, you andMis' Plumfield--without I go and look at the place where Hugh lies--"

"Dear Barby, " said Fleda with softening eyes, "won't you be something goodyourself?"

Barby put up her hand to shield her face. Fleda was silent for she sawthat strong feeling was at work. 

"I wish I could, " Barby broke forth at last, "if it was only foryour sake. "

"Dear Barby, " said Fleda, "you can do this for me--you can go to churchand hear what Mr. Olmney says. I should go away happier if I thought youwould, and if I thought you would follow what he says; for dear Barbythere is a time coming when you will wish you were a Christian more thanyou 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 youmight have stayed in Queechy all your days and done what you liked witheverybody. I'm glad you ain't, 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 trifleof ruminating. "If 'twa'n't for my old mother I'd be 'most a mind to pullup sticks and go after you. "

"I wish you could, Barby; only I am afraid you would not like it so wellthere as here. "

"Maybe I wouldn't. I s'pect them English folks has ways of their own, fromwhat 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 wellenough--I never see any one that knowed how to behave himself better. "

Fleda gave her a smiling acknowledgment of this compliment. 

"He's plenty of money, ha'n't he?"

"I believe so. "

"You'll be sot up like a princess, and never have anything to do no more. "

"O no, " said Fleda laughing, --"I expect to have a great deal to do; if Idon't find it, I shall make it. "

"I guess it'll be pleasant work, " said Barby. "Well, I don't care! you'vedone work enough since you've lived here that wa'n't pleasant, to play forthe rest of your days; and I'm glad on't. I guess he don't hurt himself. You wouldn't stand it much longer to do as you have been doing lately. "

"That couldn't be helped, " said Fleda; "but that I may stand it to-morrowI am afraid we must go to bed, Barby. "

Barby bade her good-night and left her. But Fleda's musing mood was gone. She had no longer the desire to call back the reminiscences of the oldwalls. All that page of her life, she felt, was turned over; and after afew minutes' quiet survey of the familiar things, without the power ofmoralizing over them 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 family were fairlyon shipboard. Fleda as usual, and more than usual, --with the eagerness ofaffection that felt its opportunities numbered and would gladly haveconcentrated the services of years into days, --wrought, watched, andtoiled, at what expense to her own flesh and blood Mrs. Rossitur neverknew, and the others were too busy to guess. But Mrs. Carleton saw thesigns of it, and was heartily rejoiced when they were fairly gone andFleda was committed to her hands. 

For days, almost for weeks, after her aunt was gone Fleda could do littlebut rest and sleep; so great was the weariness of mind and body, and theexhaustion of the animal spirits, which had been kept upon a strain tohide her feelings and support those of others. To the very last momentaffection's sweet work had been done; the eye, the voice, the smile, tosay nothing of the hands, had been tasked and kept in play to put awayrecollections, to cheer hopes, to soften the present, to lighten thefuture; and hardest of all, to do the whole by her own living example. Assoon as the last look and wave of the hand were exchanged and there was nolonger anybody to lean upon her for strength and support, Fleda shewed howweak she was, and sank into a state of prostration as gentle and deepalmost as an infant's. 

As sweet and lovely as a child too, Mrs. Carleton declared her to be;sweet and lovely as _she_ was when a child; and there was no going beyondthat. As neither this lady nor Fleda had changed essentially since thedays of their former acquaintanceship, it followed that there was still aslittle in common between them, except indeed now the strong ground ofaffection. Whatever concerned her son concerned Mrs. Carleton in almostequal degree; anything that he valued she valued; and to have a thoroughappreciation of him was a sure title to her esteem. The consequence of allthis was that Fleda was now the most precious thing in the world to herafter himself; especially since her eyes, sharpened as well as opened byaffection, could find in her nothing that she thought unworthy of him. Inher personally, country and blood Mrs. Carleton might have wished changed;but her desire that her son should marry, the strongest wish she had knownfor years, had grown so despairing that her only feeling now on thesubject was joy; she was not in the least inclined to quarrel with hischoice. Fleda had from her the tenderest care, as well as the utmostdelicacy that affection and good-breeding could teach. And Fleda neededboth, for she was slow in going back to her old health and strength; andstripped on a sudden of all her old friends, on this turning-point of herlife, her spirits were in that quiet mood that would have felt any jarringmost keenly. 

The weeks of her first languor and weariness were over, and she wasbeginning again to feel and look like herself. The weather was hot and thecity disagreeable now, for it was the end of June; but they had pleasantrooms upon the Battery, and Fleda's windows looked out upon the wavingtops of green trees and the bright waters of the bay. She used to liegazing out at the coming and going vessels with a curious fantasticinterest in them; they seemed oddly to belong to that piece of her life, and to be weaving the threads of her future fate as they flitted about inall directions before her. In a very quiet, placid mood, not as if shewished to touch one of the threads, she lay watching the bright sails thatseemed to carry 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 I don't seethat you get better very fast. And sober;--this cheek is too sober, " sheadded, passing her hand fondly over it;--"I don't like to see it so. "

"That is just the way I have been feeling, ma'am--unable to rouse myself. I should be ashamed of it, if I could help it. "

"Mrs. Evelyn has been here begging that we would join her in a party tothe Springs--Saratoga--how would you like that?"

"I should like anything that you would like, ma'am, " said Fleda, with athought how she would like to read Montepoole for Saratoga. 

"The city is very hot and dusty just now. "

"Very, and I am sorry to keep you in it, Mrs. Carleton. "

"Keep me, love?" said Mrs. Carleton bending down her face to her again;--"it's a pleasure to be kept anywhere by you. "

Fleda shut her eyes, for she could hardly bear a little word now. 

"I don't like to keep _you_ here--it is not myself I am thinking of. Ifancy a change would do you good. "

"You are very kind, ma'am. "

"Very interested kindness, " said Mrs. Carleton. "I want to see you lookinga little better before Guy comes--I am afraid he will look grave at bothof us. " But as she paused and stroked Fleda's cheek it came into her mindto doubt the truth of the last assertion, and she ended off with, "I wishhe would come!--"

So Fleda wished truly; for now, cut off as she was from her oldassociations, she longed for the presence of the one friend that was totake place of them all. 

"I hope we shall hear soon that there is some prospect of his gettingfree, " Mrs. Carleton went on. "He has been gone now, --how many weeks?--Iam looking for a letter to-day. And there it is!--"

The maid at this moment entered with the steamer despatches. Mrs. Carletonpounced upon the one she knew and broke it open. 

"Here it is!--and there is yours, Fleda. "

With kind politeness she went off to read her own and left Fleda to studyhers at her leisure. An hour after she came in again. Fleda's face wasturned 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 mesundry charges, which if he has given you it is morally certain we shallnever come to an understanding. "

"I have received no charges. " said Fleda. 

"I am directed to be very careful to find out your exact wish in thematter and to let you follow no other. So what is it, my sweet Fleda?"

"I promised--" said Fleda colouring and turning her letter over. But thereshe 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, and was silent. 

"What do you say, dear Fleda?" said the lady, taking her hand andbending over her. 

"I am sure we shall be expected, " said Fleda. "I will go. "

"You are a darling girl!" said Mrs. Carleton kissing her again and again. "I will love you forever for that. And I am sure it will be the best thingfor you--the sea will do you good--and ne vous en déplaise, our own homeis pleasanter just now than this dusty town. I will write by this steamerand tell Guy we will be there by the next. He will have everything inreadiness, I know, at all events; and in half an hour after you get there, my dear Fleda, you will be established in all your rights--as well as ifit had been done six months before. Guy will know how to thank you. Butafter all, Fleda, you might do him this grace--considering how long he hasbeen 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 I--" said Mrs. Carleton in amusedextremity, --"how long is it since you knew what he came out here for?"

"I don't know now, ma'am, " said Fleda. But she became angelically rosy thenext 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 hecan have no objection to your knowing now, I suppose. He never told me butat the latest. You must know, Fleda, that it has been my wish for a greatmany years that Guy would marry--and I almost despaired, he was sodifficult to please--his taste in everything is so fastidious; but I amglad of it now, " she added, kissing Fleda's cheek. "Last spring--not thislast, but a year ago--one evening at home I was talking to him on thissubject; but he met everything I said lightly--you know his way--and I sawmy words took no hold. I asked him at last in a kind of desperation if hesupposed there was a woman in the world that could please him; and helaughed, and said if there was he was afraid she was not in thathemisphere. And a day or two after he told me he was going to America. "

"Did he say for what?"

"No, --but I guessed as soon as I found he was prolonging his stay, and Iwas sure when he wrote me to come out to him. But I never knew till Ilanded, Fleda my dear, any more than that. The first question I asked himwas who he was going to introduce to me. "

The interval was short to the next steamer, but also the preparations werefew. A day or two after the foregoing conversation, Constance Evelyncoming into Fleda's room found her busy with some light packing. 

"My dear little creature!" she exclaimed ecstatically, --"are yougoing with us?"

"No, " said Fleda. 

"Where are you going then?"

"To England. "

"England!--Has--I mean, is there any addition to my list of acquaintancesin the city?"

"Not that I know of, " said Fleda, going on with her work. 

"And you are going to England!--Greenhouses will be a desolation to me!--"

"I hope not, " said Fleda smiling;--"you will recover yourself, and yoursense of sweetness, in time. "

"It will have nothing to act upon!--And you are going to England!--I thinkit is very mean of you not to ask me to go too and be your bridesmaid. "

"I don't expect to have such a thing, " said Fleda. 

"Not?--Horrid! I wouldn't be married so, Fleda. You don't know theworld, little Queechy; the art _de vous faire valoir_ I am afraid isunknown to you. "

"So it may remain with my good will, " said Fleda. 

"Why?" said Constance. 

"I have never felt the want of it, " said Fleda simply. 

"When are you going?" said Constance after a minute's pause. 

"By the Europa. "

"But this is a very sudden move!"

"Yes--very sudden. "

"I should think you would want a little time to make preparations. "

"That is all happily taken off my hands, " said Fleda. "Mrs. Carleton haswritten to her sister in England to take care of it for me. "

"I didn't know that Mrs. Carleton had a sister. --What's her name?"

"Lady Peterborough. "

Constance was silent again. 

"What are you going to do about mourning, Fleda? wear white, I suppose. Asnobody there knows anything about you, you won't care. "

"I do not care in the least, " said Fleda calmly; "my feeling would quiteas soon choose white as black. Mourning so often goes alone, that I shouldthink grief might be excused for shunning its company. "

"And as you have not put it on yet, " said Constance, "you won't feel thechange. And then in reality after all he was only a cousin. "

Fleda's quiet mood, sober and tender as it was, could go to a certainlength of endurance, but this asked too much. Dropping the things from herhands, she turned from the trunk beside which she was kneeling and hidingher face on a chair wept such tears as cousins never shed for each other. Constance was startled and distressed; and Fleda's quick sympathy knewthat she must be, before she could see it. 

"You needn't mind it at all, dear Constance, " she said as soon as shecould speak, --"it's no matter--I am in such a mood sometimes that I cannotbear anything. Don't think of it, " she said kissing her. 

Constance however could not for the remainder of her visit get back herwonted light mood, which indeed had been singularly wanting to her duringthe whole interview. 

Mrs. Carleton counted the days to the steamer, and her spirits rose witheach one. Fleda's spirits were quiet to the last degree, and passive, toopassive, Mrs. Carleton thought. She did not know the course of the yearsthat had gone, and could not understand how strangely Fleda seemed toherself now to stand alone, broken off from her old friends and her formerlife, on a little piece of time that was like an isthmus joining twocontinents. Fleda felt it all exceedingly; felt that she was changing fromone sphere of life to another; never forgot the graves she had left atQueechy, and as little the thoughts and prayers that had sprung up besidethem. She felt, with all Mrs. Carleton's kindness, that she was completelyalone, with no one on her side the ocean to look to; and glad to berelieved from taking active part in anything she made her little Bible hercompanion for the greater part of the time. 

"Are you going to carry that sober face all the way to Carleton?" saidMrs. Carleton one day pleasantly. 

"I don't know, ma'am. "

"What do you suppose Guy will think of it?"

But the thought of what he would think of it, and what he would say toit, and how fast he would brighten it, made Fleda burst into tears. Mrs. Carleton resolved to talk to her no more, but to get her home asfast as possible. 

"I have one consolation, " said Charlton Rossitur as he shook hands withher on board the steamer;--"I have received permission, fromhead-quarters, to come and see you in England; and to that I shall lookforward constantly from this time. "

Chapter LIV. 

 The full sum of me Is sum of something; which to term in gross, Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractis'd; Happy in this, she is not yet so old But she may learn; and happier than this, She is not bred so dull but she can learn; Happiest of all, is that her gentle spirit Commits itself to yours to be directed, As from her lord, her governor, her king. 

 Merchant of Venice. 

They had a very speedy passage to the other side, and partly inconsequence of that Mr. Carleton was _not_ found waiting for them inLiverpool. Mrs. Carleton would not tarry there but hastened down at onceto the country, thinking to be at home before the news of their arrival. 

It was early morning of one fair day in July when they were at lastdrawing near the end of their journey. They would have reached it theevening before but for a storm which had constrained them to stop andwait over the night at a small town about eight miles off. For fearthen of passing Guy on the road his mother sent a servant before, andmaking an extraordinary exertion was actually herself in the carriageby seven o'clock. 

Nothing could be fairer than that early drive, if Fleda might have enjoyedit in peace. The sweet morning air was exceeding sweet, and the summerlight fell upon a perfect luxuriance of green things. Out of the carriageFleda's spirits were at home, but not within it; and it was sadly irksometo be obliged to hear and respond to Mrs. Carleton's talk, which was keptup, she knew, in the charitable intent to divert her. She was just in astate to listen to nature's talk; to the other she attended and repliedwith a patient longing to be left free that she might steady and quietherself. Perhaps Mrs. Carleton's tact discovered this in thematter-of-course and uninterested manner of her rejoinders; for as theyentered the park gates she became silent, and the long drive from them tothe house was made without a word on either side. 

For a length of way the road was through a forest of trees of noblegrowth, which in some places closed their arms overhead and in allsentinelled the path in stately array. The eye had no scope beyond theranks of this magnificent body; Carleton park was celebrated for itstrees; but magnificent though they were and dearly as Fleda loved everyform of forest beauty, she felt oppressed. The eye forbidden to range, sowas the mind, shut in to itself; and she only felt under the gloom andshadow of those great trees the shadow of the responsibilities and of thechange that were coming upon her. But after a while the ranks began to bethinned and the ground to be broken; the little touches of beauty withwhich the sun had enlivened the woodland began to grow broader andcheerfuller; and then as the forest scattered away to the right and left, gay streams of light came through the glades and touched the surface ofthe rolling ground, where in the hollows, on the heights, on the slopingsides of the dingles, knots of trees of yet more luxuriant and picturesquegrowth, planted or left by the cultivator's hand long ago and trained byno hand but nature's, stood so as to distract a painter's eye; and justnow, in the fresh gilding of the morning and with all the witchery of thelong shadows upon the uneven ground certainly charmed Fleda's eye and mindboth. Fancy was dancing again, albeit with one hand upon gravity'sshoulder, and the dancing was a little nervous too. But she looked andcaught her breath as she looked, while the road led along the very edge ofa dingle, and then was lost in a kind of enchanted open woodland--itseemed so--and then passing through a thicket came out upon a broad sweepof green turf that wiled the eye by its smooth facility to the distantscreen of oaks and beeches and firs on its far border. It was all new. Fleda's memory had retained only an indistinct vision of beauty, like theface of an angel in a cloud as painters have drawn it; now came out thebeautiful features one after another, as if she had never seen them. 

So far nature had seemed to stand alone. But now another hand appeared, not interfering with nature but adding to her. The road came upon a beltof the shrubbery where the old tenants of the soil were mingled withlighter and gayer companionship and in some instances gave it place;though in general the mingling was very graceful. There was never anycrowding of effects; it seemed all nature still, only as if several climeshad joined together to grace one. Then that was past; and over smoothundulating ground, bearing a lighter growth of foreign wood with here andthere a stately elm or ash that disdained their rivalry, the carriage cameunder the brown walls and turrets of the house. Fleda's mood had changedagain; and as the grave outlines rose above her, half remembered and allthe more for that imposing, she trembled at the thought of what she hadcome there to do and to be. She felt very nervous and strange and out ofplace, and longed for the familiar free and voice that would bid her be athome. Mrs. Carleton, now, was not enough of a stand-by. With all that, Fleda descended from the carriage with her usual quiet demureness; no onethat did not know her well would have seen in her any other token ofemotion than a somewhat undue and wavering colour. 

They were welcomed, at least one of them was, with every appearance ofsincerity by the most respectable-looking personage who opened to them andwhom Fleda remembered instantly. The array of servants in the hall wouldalmost have startled her if she had not recollected the same thing on herfirst coming to Carleton. She stepped in with a curious sense of thatfirst time, when she had come there a little child. 

"Where is your master?' was Mrs. Carleton's immediate demand. 

"Mr. Carleton set off this morning for Liverpool. "

Mrs. Carleton gave a quick glance at Fleda, who kept her eyes at home. 

"We did not meet him--we have not passed him--how long ago?" were her nextrapid words. 

"My master left Carleton as early as five o'clock--he gave orders to driveas fast as possible. "

"Then he had gone through Hollonby an hour before we left it, " said Mrs. Carleton looking again to her companion;--"but he will hear of us atCarstairs--we stopped there yesterday afternoon--he will be back again ina few hours I am sure. Then we have been expected?"

"Yes ma'am--my master gave orders that you should be expected. "

"Is all well, Popham?"

"All is well, madam!"

"Is Lady Peterborough here?"

"His lordship and Lady Peterborough arrived the day before yesterday, " wasthe succint reply. 

Drawing Fleda's arm within hers and giving kind recognition to the restwho stood around, Mrs. Carleton led her to the stairs and mounted them, repeating in a whisper, "He will be here presently again. " They went toMrs. Carleton's dressing room, Fleda wondering in an interval feverwhether "orders had been given" to expect her also; from the old butler'sbenign look at her as he said "All is well!" she could not help thinkingit. If she maintained her outward quiet it was the merest external crustof seeming; there was nothing like quiet beneath it; and Mrs. Carleton'skiss and fond words of welcome were hardly composing. 

Mrs. Carleton made her sit down, and with very gentle hands was busyarranging her hair, when the housekeeper came in; to pay her moreparticular respects and to offer her services. Fleda hardly ventured aglance to see whether _she_ looked benign. She was a dignified elderlyperson, as stately and near as handsome as Mrs. Carleton herself. 

"My dear Fleda, " said the latter when she had finished the hair, --"I amgoing to see my sister--will you let Mrs. Fothergill help you in anythingyou want, and take you then to the library--you will find no one, and Iwill come to you there. Mrs. Fothergill, I recommend you to the particularcare of this lady. "

The recommendation was not needed, Fleda thought, or was very effectual;the housekeeper served her with most assiduous care, and in absolutesilence. Fleda hurried the finishing of her toilet. 

"Are the people quiet in the country?" she forced herself to say. 

"Perfectly quiet, ma'am. It needed only that my master should be at hometo make them so. "

"How is that?"

"He has their love and their ear, ma'am, and so it is that he can just dohis pleasure with them. "

"How is it in the neighbouring country?"

"They're quiet, ma'am, I believe, --mostly--there's been some littledisturbance in one place and another, and more fear of it, as well as Ican make out, but it's well got over, as it appears. The noblemen andgentlemen in the country around were very glad, all of them I am told, ofMr. Carleton's return. Is there nothing more I can do for you, ma'am?"

The last question was put with an indefinable touch of kindliness whichhad not softened the respect of her first words. Fleda begged her to showthe way to the library, which Mrs. Fothergill immediately did, remarkingas she ushered her in that "those were Mr. Carleton's favourite rooms. "

Fleda did not need to be told that; she put the remark and the benignitytogether, and drew a nervous inference. But Mrs. Fothergill was gone andshe was alone. Nobody was there, as Mrs. Carleton had said. 

Fleda stood still in the middle of the floor, looking around her, in abewildered effort to realize the past and the present; with all the mindin the world to cry, but there was too great a pressure of excitement andtoo much strangeness of feeling at work. Nothing before her in the dimlyfamiliar place served at all to lessen this feeling, and recovering fromher maze she went to one of the glazed doors, which stood open, and turnedher back upon the room with its oppressive recollections. Her eye lightedupon nothing that was not quiet now. A secluded piece of smooth green, partially bordered with evergreens and set with light shrubbery of rarekinds, exquisitely kept; over against her a sweetbriar that seemed to haverun wild, indicating, Fleda was sure, the entrance of the path to the rosegarden, that her memory alone would hardly have helped her to find. Allthis in the bright early summer morning, and the sweet aromatic smell offirs and flowers coming with every breath. There were draughts ofrefreshment in the air. It composed her, and drinking it in delightedlyFleda stood with folded arms in the doorway, half forgetting herself andher position, and going in fancy from the firs and the roses over a verywide field of meditation indeed. So lost, that she started fearfully onsuddenly becoming aware that a figure had come just beside her. 

It was an elderly and most gentlemanly-looking man, as a glance made herknow. Fleda was reassured and ashamed in a breath. The gentleman did notnotice her confusion, however, otherwise than by a very pleasant andwell-bred smile, and immediately entered into some light remarks on themorning, the place, and the improvements Mr. Carleton had made in thelatter. Though he said the place was one of those which could bear verywell to want improvement; but Carleton was always finding something to dowhich excited his admiration. 

"Landscape gardening is one of the pleasantest of amusements, " said Fleda. 

"I have just knowledge enough in the matter to admire;--to originate anyideas is beyond me; I have to depend for them upon my gardener, --and mywife--and so I lose a pleasure, I suppose; but every man has his ownparticular hobby. Carleton, however, has more than his share--he has halfa dozen, I think. "

"Half a dozen hobbies!" said Fleda. 

"Perhaps I should not call them hobbies, for he manages to ride them allskilfully; and a hobby-horse, I believe, always runs away with the man?"

Fleda could hardly return his smile. She thought people were possessedwith an unhappy choice of subjects in talking to her that morning. Butfancying that she had very ill kept up her part in the conversation andmust have looked like a simpleton, she forced herself to break the silencewhich followed the last remark, and asked the same question she had askedMrs. Fothergill, --if the country was quiet?

"Outwardly quiet, " he said;--"O yes--there is no more difficulty--that is, none which cannot easily be handled. There was some danger a few monthsago, but it is blown over; all was quiet on Carleton's estates so soon ashe was at home, and that of course had great influence on theneighbourhood. No, there is nothing to be apprehended. He has the heartsof his people completely, and one who has their hearts can do what hepleases with their heads, you know. Well he deserves it--he has done agreat deal for them. "

Fleda was afraid to ask in what way, --but perhaps he read the questionin her eyes. 

"That's one of his hobbies--ameliorating the condition of the poorerclasses on his estates. He has given himself to it for some years back; hehas accomplished a great deal for them--a vast deal indeed! He has changedthe face of things, mentally and morally, in several places, with hisadult schools, and agricultural systems, and I know not what; but the mostpowerful means I think after all has been the weight of his personalinfluence, by which he can introduce and carry through any measure;neither ignorance nor prejudice nor obstinacy seem to make head againsthim. It requires a peculiar combination of qualities, I think, --verypeculiar and rare, --to deal successfully with the mind of the masses. "

"I should think so indeed, " said Fleda. 

"He has it--I don't comprehend it--and I have not studied his machineryenough to understand that; but I have seen the effects. Never should havethought he was the kind of man either--but there it is!--I don'tcomprehend him. There is only one fault to be found with him though. "

"What is that?" said Fleda smiling. 

"He has built a fine dissenting chapel down here towards Hollonby, " hesaid gravely, looking her in the face, --"and what is yet worse, his uncletells me, he goes there half the time himself!"

Fleda could not help laughing, nor colouring, at his manner. 

"I thought it was always considered a meritorious action to build achurch, " she said. 

"Indubitably. --But you see, this was a chapel. "

The laugh and the colour both grew more unequivocal--Fleda couldnot 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 influence him, --I am afraid nobody else will. There is no help for it. And I should be very sorry to stand ill with him. I have given you the dark side of his character. "

"What is the other side in the contrast?" said Fleda, wondering at herselffor her daring. 

"It is not for me to say, " he answered with a slight shrug of theshoulders and an amused glance at her;--"I suppose it depends uponpeople's vision, --but if you will permit me, I will instance a bright spotthat was shewn to me the other day, that I confess, when I look at it, dazzles my eyes a little. "

Fleda only bowed; she dared not speak again. 

"There was a poor fellow--the son of one of Mr. Carleton's old tenantsdown here at Enchapel, --who was under sentence of death, lying in prisonat Carstairs. The father, I am told, is an excellent man and a goodtenant; the son had been a miserable scapegrace, and now for some crime--Iforget what--had at last been brought to justice. The evidence against himwas perfect and the offence was not trifling--there was not the mostremote chance of a pardon, but it seemed the poor wretch had been buildingup his dependence upon that hope and was resting on it; and consequentlywas altogether indisposed 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 a brotherclergyman to go with him to visit the prisoner. They found him quitestupid--unmovable by all that could be urged, or rather perhaps the styleof the address, as it was described to me, was fitted to confound andbewilder the man rather than enlighten him. In the midst of all this Mr. Carleton came in--he was just then on the wing for America, and he hadheard of the poor creature's condition in a visit to his father. Hecame, --my informant said, --like a being of a different planet. He took theman's hand, --he was chained foot and wrist, --'My poor friend, ' he said, 'Ihave been thinking of you here, shut out from the light of the sun, and Ithought you might like to see the face of a friend';--with that singularcharm of manner which he knows how to adapt to everybody and everyoccasion. The man was melted at once--at his feet, as it were;--he coulddo anything with him. Carleton began then, quietly, to set before him thelinks in the chain of evidence which had condemned him--one by one--insuch a way as to prove to him, by degrees but irresistibly, that he had nohope in this world. The man was perfectly subdued--sat listening andlooking into those powerful eyes that perhaps you know, --taking in all hiswords and completely in his hand. And then Carleton went on to bringbefore him the considerations that he thought should affect him in such acase, in a way that this gentleman said was indescribably effective andwinning; till that hardened creature was broken down, --sobbing like achild, --actually sobbing!--"

Fleda did her best, but she was obliged to hide her face in her hands, letwhat would be thought of her. 

"It was the finest exhibition of eloquence, this gentleman said, hehad ever listened to. --For me it was an exhibition of another kind. Iwould have believed such an account of few men, but of all the men Iknow I would least have believed it of Guy Carleton a few years ago;even now I can hardly believe it. But it is a thing that would dohonour to any man. "--

Fleda felt that the tears were making their way between her fingers, butshe could not help it; and she presently knew that her companion had goneand she was left alone again. Who was this gentleman? and how much did heknow about her? More than that she was a stranger, Fleda was sure; anddreading his return, or that somebody else might come and find her withtokens of tears upon her face, she stepped out upon the greensward andmade for the flaunting sweet-briar that seemed to beckon her to visit itsrelations. 

The entrance of a green path was there, or a grassy glade, more or lesswide, leading through a beautiful growth of firs and larches. No roses, nor any other ornamental shrubs; only the soft, well-kept footway throughthe woodland. Fleda went gently on and on, admiring, where the treessometimes swept back, leaving an opening, and at other places stretchedtheir graceful branches over her head. The perfect condition ofeverything to the eye, the rich coloured vegetation, --of varying colourabove and below, --the absolute retirement, and the strong pleasant smellof the evergreens, had a kind of charmed effect upon senses and mind too. It was a fairyland sort of place. The presence of its master seemedeverywhere; it was like him; and Fleda pressed on to see yet liveliermarks of his character and fancy beyond. By degrees the wood began to thinon one side; then at once the glade opened into a bright little lawn richwith roses in full bloom. Fleda was stopped short at the sudden vision ofloveliness. There was the least possible appearance of design; no dry bedswere to be seen; the luxuriant clumps of Provence and white roses, withthe varieties of the latter, seemed to have chosen their own places; onlyto have chosen them very happily. One hardly imagined that they hadsubmitted to dictation, if it were not that Queen Flora never was known tomake so effective a disposition of her forces without help. The screen oftrees was very thin on the border of this opening, so thin that the lightfrom beyond came through. On a slight rocky elevation which formed thefurther side of it sat an exquisite little Moorish temple, about which andthe face of the rock below some Noisette and Multiflora climbers werevying with each other; and just at the entrance of the further path awhite dog-rose had thrown itself over the way, covering the lower branchesof the trees with its blossoms. 

Fleda stood spell bound a good while, with a breath oppressed withpleasure. But what she had seen excited her to see more, and a dimrecollection of the sea-view from somewhere in the walk drew her on. Rosesmet her now frequently. Now and then a climber, all alone, seemed to havesought protection in a tree by the path-side, and to have displayed itselfthence in the very wantonness of security, hanging out its flowerywreaths, fearless of hand or knife. Clusters of Noisettes, or of French orDamask roses, where the ground was open enough, stood without a rival andneeding no foil, other than the beautiful surrounding of dark evergreenfoliage. But the distance was not long before she came out upon a wideropening and found what she was seeking--the sight of the sea. The glade, here, was upon the brow of high ground, and the wood disappearing entirelyfor a space left the eye free to go over the lower tree-tops and thecountry beyond to the distant shore and sea-line. Roses were here too; theair was full of the sweetness of Damask and Bourbon varieties; and a fewbeautiful Banksias, happily placed, contrasted without interfering withthem. It was very still;--it was very perfect;--the distant country wasfresh-coloured with the yet early light which streamed between the treesand laid lines of enchantment upon the green turf; and the air came upfrom the sea-board and bore the breath of the roses to Fleda every now andthen with a gentle puff of sweetness. Such light--she had seen none suchlight since she was a child. Was it the burst of mental sunshine that hadmade it so bright?--or was she going to be really a happy child again?No--no, --not that; and yet something very like it. So like it that shealmost startled at herself. She went no further. She could not have borne, just then, to see any more; and feeling her heart too full she stood eventhere, with hands crossed upon her bosom, looking away from the roses tothe distant sea-line. 

[Illustration: The roses could not be sweeter to any one. ]

That said something very different. That was very sobering; if she hadneeded sobering, which she did not. But it helped her to arrange thescattered thoughts which had been pressing confusedly upon her brain. "Look away from the roses" indeed she could not, for the same range ofvision took in the sea and them, --and the same range of thought. Thesemight stand for an emblem of the present; that, of the future, --grave, far-off, impenetrable;--and passing as it were the roses of time Fledafixed upon that image of eternity; and weighing the one against the other, felt, never in her life more keenly, how wild it would be to forget insmelling the roses her preparations for that distant voyage that must bemade from the shores where they grow. With one eye upon this brightestbits of earth before her, the other mentally was upon Hugh's grave. Theroses could not be sweeter to any one; but in view of the launching awayinto that distant sea-line, in view of the issues on the other shore, inview of the welcome that might be had there, --the roses might fade andwither, but her happiness could not go with their breath. They weresomething to be loved, to be used, to be thankful for, --but not to liveupon; something too that whispered of an increased burden ofresponsibility, and never more deeply than at that moment did Fledaremember her mother's prayer; never more simply recognized that happinesscould not be made of these things. She might be as happy at Queechy ashere. It depended on the sunlight of undying hopes, which indeed wouldgive wonderful colour to the flowers that might be in her way;--on thepossession of resources the spring of which would never dry;--on the peacewhich secures the continual feast of a merry heart. Fleda could take hernew honours and advantages very meekly, and very soberly, with all herappreciation of them. The same work of life was to be done here as atQueechy. To fulfil the trust committed to her, larger here--to keep herhope for the future--undeceived by the sunshine of earth to plant herroses where they would bloom everlastingly. 

The weight of these things bowed Fleda to the ground and made her bury herface in her hands. But there was one item of happiness from which herthoughts never even in imagination dissevered themselves, and round itthey gathered now in their weakness. A strong mind and heart to upholdhers, --a strong hand for here to rest in, --that was a blessing; and Fledawould have cried heartily but that her feelings were too high wrought. They made her deaf to the light sound of footsteps coming over thegrass, --till two hands gently touched hers and lifted her up, and thenFleda was at home. But surprised and startled she could hardly lift up herface. Mr. Carleton's greeting was as grave and gentle as if she had been astray child. 

"Do not fancy I am going to thank you for the grace you have shewn me, "said he lightly. "I know you would never have done it if circumstances hadnot been hard pleaders in my cause. I will thank you presently when youhave answered one or two questions for me. "

"Questions?" said Fleda looking up. But she blushed the next instant ather own simplicity. 

He was leading her back on the path she had come. No further however thanto the first opening, where the climbing dog-rose hung over the way. There he turned aside crossing the little plot of greensward, and theyascended some steps cut in the rock to the pavilion Fleda had looked atfrom a distance. 

It stood high enough to command the same sea-view. On that side it wasentirely open, and of very light construction on the others. Severalpeople were there; Fleda could hardly tell how many; and when LordPeterborough was presented to her she did not find out that he was hermorning's acquaintance. Her eye only took in besides that there were oneor two ladies, and a clergyman in the dress of the Church of England; shecould not distinguish. Yet she stood beside Mr. Carleton with all herusual quiet dignity, though her eye did not leave the ground and her wordswere in no higher key than was necessary, and though she could hardly bearthe unchanged easy tone of his. The birds were in a perfect ecstasy allabout them; the soft breeze came through the trees, gently waving thebranches and stirring the spray wreaths of the roses, the very flutteringof summer's drapery; some roses looked in at the lattice, and those whichcould not be there sent in their congratulations on the breath of thewind, while the words were spoken that bound them together. 

Mr. Carleton then dismissing his guests to the house, went with Fledaagain the other way. He had felt the extreme trembling of the hand whichhe took, and would not go in till it was quieted. He led her back to thevery rose-bush where he had found her, and in his own way, presentlybrought her spirit home from its trembling and made it rest; and thensuffered her to stand a few minutes quite silent, looking out again overthe fair rich spread of country that lay between them and the sea. 

"Now tell me, Elfie, " said he softly, drawing back with the same oldcaressing and tranquillizing touch the hair that hung over herbrow, --"what you were thinking about when I found you here?--in the veryluxury of seclusion--behind a rose-bush. "

Fleda looked a quick look, smiled, and hesitated, and then said it wasrather a confusion of thoughts. 

"It will be a confusion no longer when you have disentangled them for me. "

"I don't know--" said Fleda. And she was silent, but so was he, quietlywaiting for her to go on. 

"Perhaps you will wonder at me, Mr. Carleton, " she said, hesitating andcolouring. 

"Perhaps, " he said smiling;--"but if I do I will not keep you inignorance, 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 followedupon liking it, Elfie?"

"I was thinking, " said Fleda, looking resolutely away from him, --"in themidst of all this, --that it is not these things which make people happy. "

"There is no question of that, " he replied. "I have realized it thoroughlyfor 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 Fieda, speaking with some difficulty, "of Hugh'sgrave, --and of the comparative value of things; and afraid, Ibelieve, --especially--here--"

"Of making a wrong estimate?"

"Yes--and of not doing and being just what I ought. "

Mr. Carleton was silent for a minute, considering the brow from which hisfingers drew off the light screen. 

"Will you trust me to watch over and tell you?"

Fleda did not trust her voice to tell him, but her eyes did it. 

"As to the estimate--the remedy is to 'keep ourselves in the love ofGod;' and then these things are the gifts of our Father's hand and willnever be put in competition with him. And they are never so sweet as whentaken so. "

"Oh I know that!"

"This is a danger I share with you. We will watch over each other. "

Fleda was silent with filling eyes. 

"We do not seek our happiness in these things, " he said tenderly. "I neverfound it in them. For years, whatever others may have judged, I have feltmyself a poor man; because I had not in the world a friend in whom I couldhave entire sympathy. 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 head in distress, and giving his hand an earnest entreaty. 

"What shall I not do?" said he half laughing and half gently, bringing herface near enough for his lips to try another kind of eloquence. "You shallnot do this, Elfie, for any so light occasion. --Was this the whole burdenof those grave thoughts?"

"Not quite--entirely--" she said stammering. "But grave thoughts are notalways unhappy. "

"Not always. I want to know what gave yours a tinge of that colourthis morning. "

"It was hardly that. --You know what Foster says about 'power to its verylast particle being duty'--I believe it frightened me a little. "

"If you feel that as strongly as I do, Elfie, it will act as a strongcorrective to the danger of false estimates. "

"I do feel it, " said Fleda. "One of my fears was that I should not feelit enough. "

"One of my cares will be that you do not act upon it too fiercely, " saidhe smiling. "The power being limited so is the duty. But you shall havepower enough, Elfie, and work enough. I have precisely what I haveneeded--my good sprite back again. "

"With a slight difference. "

"What difference?"

"She is to act under direction now. "

"Not at all--only under safe control, " he said laughing. 

"I am very glad of the difference, Mr. Carleton, " said Fleda, with a graveand grateful remembrance of it. 

"If you think the sprite's old office is gone, you are mistaken, " said he. "What were your other fears?--one was that you should not feel enough yourresponsibility, and the other that you might forget it. "

"I don't know that there were any other particular fears, " said Fleda;--"Ihad been thinking of all these things--"

"And what else?"

Her colour and her silence begged him not to ask. He said no more, and lether stand still again looking off through the roses, while her mind morequietly and lightly went over the same train of thoughts that had moved itbefore; gradually calmed; came back from being a stranger to being athome, at least in one presence; and ended, her action even before her looktold him where, as her other hand unconsciously was joined to the onealready on his arm. A mute expression of feeling the full import of whichhe read, even before her eye coming back from its musings was raised tohim, perhaps unconsciously too, with all the mind in it; its timidity wasnot more apparent than its simplicity of clinging affection anddependence. Mr. Carleton's answer was in three words, but in the tone andmanner that accompanied them there was a response to every part of herappeal; so perfect that Fleda was confused at her own frankness. 

They began to move towards the house, but Fleda was in a maze again andcould hardly realize anything. "His wife"!--was she that?--had somarvellous a change really been wrought in her?--the little asparaguscutter of Queechy transformed into the mistress of all this domain, and ofthe stately mansion of which they caught glimpses now and then, as theydrew near it by another approach into which Mr. Carleton had diverged. Andhis wife!--that was the hardest to realize of all. 

She was as far from realizing it when she got into the house. Theyentered now at once into the breakfast-room where the same party weregathered whom she had met once before that morning. Mr. Carleton theelder, and Lord Peterborough and Lady Peterborough, she had met withoutseeing. But Fleda could look at them now; and if her colour came and wentas frankly as when she was a child, she could speak to them and meettheir advances with the same free and sweet self-possession as then; therare dignity of a little wood-flower, that is moved by a breath, butrecovers as easily and instantly its quiet standing. There were one ortwo who looked a little curiously at first to see whether this new memberof the family were worthy of her place and would fill it to satisfy them. Not Mr. Carleton; he never sought to ascertain the value of anything thatbelonged to him by a popular vote; and his own judgment always stoodcarelessly alone. But Mrs. Carleton was less sure of her own ground or ofothers. For five minutes she noted Fleda's motions and words, her blushesand smiles, as she stood talking to one and another;--for five minutes, and then with a little smile at her sister Mrs. Carleton moved off to thebreakfast-table, well pleased that Lady Peterborough was too engaged toanswer her. Fleda had won them all. Mr. Carleton's intervening shield ofgrace and kindness was only needed here against the too much attention orattraction that might distress her. He was again, now they were inpresence of others, exactly what he had been to her when she was a child, the same cool and efficient friend and protector. Nobody in the roomshewed less thought of her _except_ in action; a great many little thingsdone for her pleasure or comfort, so quietly that nobody knew it but oneperson, and she hardly noticed it at the time. All could not have thesame tact. 

There was an uninterrupted easy flow of talk at the table, which Fledaheard just enough to join in where it was necessary; the rest of the timeshe sat in a kind of abstraction, dipping enormous strawberries one byone into white sugar, with a curious want of recognition between them andthe ends of her fingers; it never occurred to her that they had pickedbaskets full. 

"I have done something for which you will hardly thank me, Mr. Carleton, "said Lord Peterborough. "I have driven this lady to tears within the firsthour of her being in the house. "

"If she will forgive you, I will, my lord, " Mr. Carleton answeredcarelessly. 

"I will confess myself though, " continued his lordship looking at the facethat was so intent over the strawberries. "I was under the impression whenI first saw a figure in the window that it was Lady Peterborough. I own assoon as I found it was a stranger I had my suspicions--which did not lackconfirmation in the course of the interview--I trust I am forgiven themeans I used. "

"It seems you had your curiosity too, my lord, " said Mr. Carletonthe uncle. 

"Which ought in all justice to have lacked gratification, " said LadyPeterborough. "I hope Fleda will not be too ready to forgive you. "

"I expect forgiveness nevertheless, " said he looking at Fleda. "Must Iwait for it?"

"I am much obliged to you, sir. "

And then she gave him a very frank smile and blush as she added, "I begpardon--you know my tongue is American. "

"I don't like that, " said his lordship gravely. 

"Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh, " said theelder Carleton. "The heart being English, we may hope the tongue willbecome so too. "

"I will not assure you of that, sir, " Fleda said laughingly, though hercheeks showed the conversation was not carried on without effort. Oddlyenough nobody saw it with any dissatisfaction. 

"Of what, madam?" said Lord Peterborough. 

"That I will not always keep a rag of the stars and stripes flyingsomewhere. "

But that little speech had almost been too much for her equanimity. 

"Like Queen Elizabeth who retained the crucifix when she gave up theprofession of popery. "

"Very unlike indeed!" said Fleda, endeavouring to understand what Mr. Carleton was saying to her about wood strawberries and hautbois. 

"Will you allow that, Carleton?"

"What, my lord?"

"A rival banner to float alongside of St. George's?"

'"The flags are friendly, my lord. "

"Hum--just now, --they may seem so. --Has your little standard-beareranything of a rebellious disposition?"

"Not against any lawful authority, I hope, " said Fleda. 

"Then there is hope for you, Mr. Carleton, that you will be able toprevent the introduction of mischievous doctrines. "

"For shame, Lord Peterborough!" said his wife, --"what atrocioussuppositions you are making. I am blushing, I am sure, for your want ofdiscernment. "

"Why--yes--" said his lordship, looking at another face whose blushes weremore unequivocal, --"it may seem so--there is no appearance of anythinguntoward, but she is a woman after all. I will try her. Mrs. Carleton, don't you think with my Lady Peterborough that in the present nineteenthcentury women ought to stand more on that independent footing from whichlordly monopoly has excluded them?"

The first name Fleda thought belonged to another person, and her downcasteyelids prevented her seeing to whom it was addressed. It was no matter, for any answer was anticipated. 

"The boast of independence is not engrossed by the boldest footing, mylord. "

"She has never considered the subject, " said Lady Peterborough. 

"It is no matter, " said his lordship. "I must respectfully beg an answerto my question. "

The silence made Fleda look up. 

"Don't you think that the rights of the weak ought to be on a perfectequality with those of the strong?"

"The rights of the weak _as such_--yes, my lord. "

The gentlemen smiled; the ladies looked rather puzzled. 

"I have no more to say, Mr. Carleton, " said his lordship, "but that wemust make an Englishwoman of her!"

"I am afraid she will never be a perfect cure, " said Mr. Carleton smiling. 

"I conceive it might require peculiar qualities in the physician, --but Ido not despair. I was telling her of some of your doings this morning, andhappy to see that they met with her entire disapproval. "

Mr. Carleton did not even glance towards Fleda and made no answer, butcarelessly gave the conversation another turn; for which she thanked himunspeakably. 

There was no other interruption of any consequence to the well-bred flowof talk and kindliness of manner on the part of all the company, that putFleda as much as possible at her ease. Still she did not realize anything, and yet she did realize it so strongly that her woman's heart could notrest till it bad eased itself in tears. The superbly appointed table atwhich she sat, --her own, though Mrs. Carleton this morning presided, --thelike of which she had not seen since she was at Carleton before; thebeautiful room with its arrangements, bringing back a troop ofrecollections of that old time; all the magnificence about her, instead ofelevating sobered her spirits to the last degree. It pressed home upon herthat feeling of responsibility, of the change that come over her; andthough beneath it all very happy, Fleda hardly knew it, she longed so tobe alone and to cry. One person's eyes, however little seemingly observantof her, read sufficiently well the unusual shaded air of her brow and hersmile. But a sudden errand of business called him abroad immediately afterbreakfast. 

The ladies seized the opportunity to carry Fleda up and introduce her toher dressing-room and take account of Lady Peterborough's commission, andladies and ladies' maids soon formed a busy committee of dress anddecorations. It did not enliven Fleda, it wearied her, though she forgavethem the annoyance in gratitude for the pleasure they took in looking ather. Even the delight her eye had from the first minute she saw it, in thebeautiful room, and her quick sense of the carefulness with which it hadbeen arranged for her, added to the feeling with which she was oppressed;she was very passive in the hands of her friends. 

In the midst of all this the housekeeper was called in and formallypresented, and received by Fleda with a mixture of frankness andbashfulness that caused Mrs. Fothergill afterwards to pronounce her "alady of a very sweet dignity indeed. "

"She is just such a lady as you might know my master would have fancied, "said Mr. Spenser. 

"And what kind of a lady is that?" said Mrs. Fothergill. 

But Mr. Spenser was too wise to enter into any particulars and merelyinformed Mrs. Fothergill that she would know in a few days. 

"The first words Mrs. Carleton said when Mr. Carleton got home, " said theold butler, --"she put both her hands on his arms and cried out, 'Guy, I amdelighted with her!'"

"And what did _he_ say?" said Mrs. Fothergill. 

"He!" echoed Mr. Spenser in a tone of indignant intelligence, --"whatshould _he_ say?--He didn't say anything; only asked where she was, I believe. "

In the midst of silks, muslins and jewels Mr. Carleton found Fleda stillon his return; looking pale and even sad, though nobody but himselfthrough her gentle and grateful bearing would have discerned it. He tookher out of the hands of the committee and carried her down to the littlelibrary, adjoining the great one, but never thrown open, --_his_ room, asit was called, where more particularly art and taste had accumulated theirwealth of attractions. 

"I remember this very well, " said Fleda. "This beautiful room!"

"It is as free to you as to me, Elfie; and I never gave the freedom of itto any one else. "

"I will not abuse it, " said Fleda. 

"I hope not, my dear Elfie, " said he smiling, --"for the room will wantsomething to me now when you are not in it; and a gift is abused that isnot made free use of. "

A large and deep bay window in the room looked upon the same green lawnand fir wood with the windows of the library. Like those this casementstood open, and Mr. Carleton leading Fleda there remained quietly besideher for a moment, watching her face which his last words had a littlemoved from its outward composure. Then, gently and gravely as if she hadbeen a child, putting his arm round her shoulders and drawing her to himhe whispered, "My dear Elfie, --you need not fear being misunderstood--"

Fleda started and looked up to see what he meant. But his face said it soplainly, in its perfect intelligence and sympathy with her, that herbarrier of self-command and reserve was all broken down; and hiding herhead in her hands upon his breast she let the pent-up burden upon herheart come forth in a flood of unrestrained tears. She could not helpherself. And when she would fain have checked them after the first burstand bidden them, according to her habit to wait another time, it was outof her power; for the same kindness and tenderness that had set them aflowing, perhaps witting of her intent, effectually hindered itsexecution. He did not say a single word, but now and then a soft touch ofhis hand or of his lips upon her brow, in its expressive tenderness wouldunnerve all her resolution and oblige her to have no reserve that time atleast in letting her secret thoughts and feelings be known, as far astears could tell them. She wept, at first in spite of herself andafterwards in the very luxury of indulged feeling; till she was as quietas a child, and the weight of oppression was all gone. Mr. Carleton didnot move, nor speak, till she did. 

"I never knew before how good you were, Mr. Carleton, " said Fledaraising her head at length, as soon as she dared, but still held fast bythat kind arm. 

"What new light have you got on the subject?" said he, smiling. 

"Why, " said Fleda, trying as hard as ever did sunshine to scatter theremnants of a cloud, --it was a bright cloud too by this time, "I havealways heard that men cannot endure the sight of a woman's tears. "

"You shall give me a reward then. Elfie. "

"What reward?" said Fleda. 

"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;--atleast. "--for drops were falling rather fast again, --" not sorrowfully. "

"Promise me, Elfie, " said Mr. Carleton after a pause. 

But Fleda hesitated still and looked dubious. 

"Come!--" he said smiling, --"you know you promised a little while ago thatyou would have a particular regard to my wishes. "

Fleda's cheeks answered that appeal with sufficient brightness, but shelooked down and said demurely, "I am sure one of your wishes is that I should not say anything rashly. "

"Well?--"

"One cannot answer for such wilful things as tears. "

"And for such wilful things as men?" said he smiling. 

But Fleda was silent. 

"Then I will alter the form of my demand. Promise me that no shadow ofanything shall come over your spirit that you do not let me either shareor remove. "

There was no trifling in the tone, --full of gentleness as it was; therecould be no evading its requisition. But the promise demanded was a graveone. Fleda was half afraid to make it. She looked up, in the very way hehad seen her do when a child, to find a warrant for her words before sheuttered them. But the full, clear, steadfast eye into which she looked fortwo seconds, authorized as well as required the promise; and hiding herface again on his breast Fleda gave it, amid a gush of tears every one ofwhich was illumined with heart-sunshine. 

The End.