"I don't know that I should want to go, if they did," said Fleda. "They don't raise my spirits, Hugh. I am amused sometimes I can't help that but such excessive gaiety rather makes me shrink within myself; I am, too, out of tone with it. I never feel more absolutely quiet than sometimes when I am laughing at Constance Evelyn's mad sallies and sometimes I cannot laugh at them. I do not know what they must think of me; it is what they can have no means of understanding."
"I wish you didn't understand it, either, Fleda."
"But you shouldn't say that. I am happier than they are, now, Hugh now that you are better with all their means of happiness. They know nothing of our quiet enjoyments; they must live in a whirl, or they would think they are not living at all; and I do not believe that all New York can give them the real pleasure that I have in such a day as this. They would see almost nothing in all this beauty that my eyes 'drink in,' as Cowper says; and they would be certain to quarrel with the wind, that to me is like the shake of an old friend's hand. Delicious!" said Fleda, as the wind rewarded this eulogium with a very hearty shake indeed.
"I believe you would make friends with everything, Fleda, saidHugh, laughing.
"The wind is always that to me," said Fleda; "not always in such a cheerful mood as to-day, though. It talks to me often of a thousand old-time things, and sighs over them with me, a most sympathizing friend! but to-day he invites me to a waltz Come!"
And pulling Hugh after her, away she went down the rocky path, with a step too light to care for the stones; the little feet capering down the mountain with a disdain of the ground that made Hugh smile to see her; and eyes dancing for company, till they reached the lower woodland.
"A most spirited waltz!" said Hugh.
"And a most slack partner. Why didn't you keep me company?"
"I never was made for waltzing," said Hugh, shaking his head.
"Not to the tune of the north wind? That has done me good,Hugh."
"So I should judge, by your cheeks."
"Poverty need not always make people poor," said Fleda, talking breath and his arm together. "You and I are rich, Hugh."
"And our riches cannot take to themselves wings and fly away," said Hugh.
"No, but besides those riches, there are the pleasures of the eye and the mind, that one may enjoy everywhere everywhere in the country at least unless poverty bear one down very hard; and they are some of the purest and most satisfying of any. Oh, the blessing of a good education! how it makes one independent of circumstances!"
"And circumstances are education, too," said Hugh, smiling. "I dare say we should not appreciate our mountains and woods so well, if we had had our old plenty of everything else."
"I always loved them," said Fleda. "But what good company they have been to us for years past, Hugh! to me especially; I have more reason to love them."
They walked on quietly and soberly to the brow of the table- land, where they parted; Hugh being obliged to go home, and Fleda wishing to pay a visit to her aunt Miriam.
She turned off alone to take the way to the high road, and went softly on, no longer, certainly, in the momentary spirits with which she had shaken hands with the wind, and skipped down the mountain; but feeling, and thankful that she felt, a cheerful patience to tread the dusty highway of life.
The old lady had been rather ailing, and from one or two expressions she had let fall, Fleda could not help thinking that she looked upon her ailments with a much more serious eye than anybody else thought was called for. It did not, however, appear to-day. She was not worse, and Fleda's slight anxious feeling could find nothing to justify it, if it were not the very calm and quietly happy face and manner of the old lady; and that, if it had something to alarm, did much more to soothe. Fleda had sat with her a long time, patience and cheerfulness all the while unconsciously growing in her company; when, catching up her bonnet with a sudden haste very unlike her usual collectedness of manner, Fleda kissed her aunt and was rushing away.
"But stop! where are you going, Fleda?"
"Home, aunt Miriam; I must, don't keep me."
"But what are you going that way for? you can't go home that way?"
"Yes, I can."
"How?"
"I can cross the blackberry hill behind the barn, and then over the east hill, and then there's nothing but the water- cress meadow."
"I sha'n't let you go that way alone; sit down and tell me what you mean what is this desperate hurry?"
But, with equal precipitation, Fleda had cast her bonnet out of sight behind the table, and the next moment turned, with the utmost possible quietness, to shake hands with Mr. Olmney. Aunt Miriam had presence of mind enough to make no remark, and receive the young gentleman with her usual dignity and kindness.
He stayed some time, but Fleda's hurry seemed to have forsaken her. She had seized upon an interminable long gray stocking her aunt was knitting, and sat in the corner working at it most diligently, without raising her eyes unless spoken to.
"Do you give yourself no rest, at home or abroad, Miss Fleda?" said the gentleman.
"Put that stocking down, Fleda," said her aunt; "it is in no hurry."
"I like to do it, aunt Miriam."
But she felt, with warming cheeks, that she did not like to do it with two people sitting still and looking at her. The gentleman presently rose.
"Don't go till we have had tea, Mr. Olmney," said Mrs.Plumfield.
"Thank you, Ma'am; I cannot stay, I believe, unless Miss Fleda will let me take care of her down the hill by and by."
"Thank you, Mr. Olmney," said Fleda, "but I am not going home before night, unless they send for me."
"I am afraid," said he, looking at her, "that the agricultural turn has proved an overmatch for your energies."
"The farm don't complain of me, does it?" said Fleda, looking up at him with a comic, grave expression of countenance.
"No," said he, laughing, "certainly not; but, if you will forgive me for saying so, I think you complain of it, tacitly and that will raise a good many complaints in other quarters, if you do not take care of yourself."
He shook hands and left them; and Mrs. Plumfield sat silently looking at Fleda, who, on her part, looked at nothing but the gray stocking.
"What is all this, Fleda?"
"What is what, aunt Miriam?" said Fleda, picking up a stitch with desperate diligence.
"Why did you want to run away from Mr. Olmney?"
"I didn't wish to be delayed, I wanted to get home."
"Then, why wouldn't you let him go home with you?"
"I liked better to go alone, aunt Miriam."
"Don't you like him, Fleda?"
"Certainly, aunt Miriam; very much."
"I think he likes you Fleda," said her aunt, smiling.
"I am very sorry for it," said Fleda, with great gravity.
Mrs. Plumfield looked at her for a few minutes in silence, and then said
"Fleda, love, come over here and sit by me, and tell me what you mean. Why are you sorry? It has given me a great deal of pleasure to think of it."
But Fleda did not budge from her seat or her stocking, and seemed tongue-tied. Mrs. Plumfield pressed for an answer.
"Because, aunt Miriam," said Fleda, with the prettiest red cheeks in the world, but speaking very clearly and steadily, "my liking only goes to a point which, I am afraid, will not satisfy either him or you."
"But why? it will go further."
"No, Ma'am."
"Why not? why do you say so?"
"Because I must, if you ask me."
"But what can be more excellent and estimable, Fleda? who could be more worth liking? I should have thought he would just please you. He is one of the most lovely young men I have ever seen."
"Dear aunt Miriam," said Fleda, looking up beseechingly, "why should we talk about it?"
"Because I want to understand you, Fleda, and to be sure that you understand yourself."
"I do," said Fleda, quietly, and with a quivering lip.
"What is there that you dislike about Mr. Olmney?"
"Nothing in the world, aunt Miriam."
"Then, what is the reason you cannot like him enough?"
"Because, aunt Miriam," said Fleda, speaking in desperation, "there isn't enough of him. He is very good and excellent in every way, nobody feels that more than I do; I don't want to say a word against him, but I do not think he has a very strong mind, and he isn't cultivated enough."
"But you cannot have everything, Fleda."
"No, Ma'am, I don't expect it."
"I am afraid you have set up too high a standard for yourself," said Mrs. Plumfield, looking rather troubled.
"I don't think that is possible, aunt Miriam."
"But I am afraid it will prevent your ever liking anybody."
"It will not prevent my liking the friends I have already; it may prevent my leaving them for somebody else," said Fleda, with a gravity that was touching in its expression.
"But Mr. Olmney is sensible, and well educated."
"Yes, but his tastes are not. He could not at all enter into a great many things that give me the most pleasure. I do not think he quite understands above half of what I say to him."
"Are you sure? I know he admires you, Fleda."
"Ah, but that is only half enough, you see, aunt Miriam, unless I could admire him too."
Mrs. Plumfield looked at her in some difficulty; Mr. Olmney was not the only one, clearly, whose powers of comprehension were not equal to the subject.
"Fleda," said her aunt, inquiringly, "is there anybody else that has put Mr. Olmney out of your head?"
"Nobody in the world!" exclaimed Fleda, with a frank look and tone of astonishment at the question, and cheeks colouring as promptly. "How could you ask? but he never was in my head, aunt Miriam."
"Mr. Thorn?" said Mrs. Plumfield.
"Mr. Thorn!" said Fleda, indignantly. "Don't you know me better than that, aunt Miriam? But you do not know him."
"I believe I know you, dear Fleda; but I heard he had paid you a great deal of attention last year; and you would not have been the first unsuspecting nature that has been mistaken."
Fleda was silent, flushed, and disturbed; and Mrs. Plumfield was silent and meditating; when Hugh came in. He came to fetch Fleda home. Dr. Gregory had arrived. In haste again, Fleda sought her bonnet, and exchanging a more than usually wistful and affectionate kiss and embrace with her aunt, set off with Hugh down the hill.
Hugh had a great deal to say to her all the way home, of which Fleda's ears alone took the benefit, for her understanding received none of it; and when she at last came into the breakfast-room where the doctor was sitting, the fact of his being there was the only one which had entered her mind.
"Here she is, I declare!" said the doctor, holding her back to look at her after the first greetings had passed. "I'll be hanged if you aint handsome. Now, what's the use of pinking your cheeks any more at that, as if you didn't know it before? eh?"
"I will always do my best to deserve your good opinion, Sir," said Fleda, laughing.
"Well, sit down now," said he, shaking his head, "and pour me out a cup of tea your mother can't make it right."
And sipping his tea for some time, the old doctor sat listening to Mrs. Rossitur, and eating bread and butter, saying little, but casting a very frequent glance at the figure opposite him, behind the tea-board.
"I am afraid," said he, after a while, "that your care for my good opinion wont outlast an occasion. Isthatthe way you look for every day?"
The colour came with the smile; but the old doctor looked at her in a way that made the tears come too. He turned his eyes to Mrs. Rossitur for an explanation.
"She is well," said Mrs. Rossitur, fondly "she has been very well except her old headaches now and then; I think she has grown rather thin, lately."
"Thin!" said the old doctor "etherealized to a mere abstract of herself; only that is a very bad figure, for an abstract should have all the bone and muscle of the subject; and I should say you had little left but pure spirit. You are the best proof I ever saw of the principle of the homeopaths I see now, that though a little corn may fatten a man, a great deal may be the death of him."
"But I have tried it both ways, uncle Orrin," said Fleda, laughing. "I ought to be a happy medium between plethora and starvation. I am pretty substantial, what there is of me."
"Substantial!" said the doctor; "you look as substantial a personage as your old friend, the 'faire Una' just about. Well, prepare yourself, gentle Saxon, to ride home with me the day after to-morrow. I'll try a little humanizing regimen with you."
"I don't think that is possible, uncle Orrin," said Fleda, gently.
"We'll talk about the possibility afterwards at present, all you have to do is to get ready. If you raise difficulties, you will find me a very Hercules to clear them away I'm substantial enough, I can tell you so it's just as well to spare yourself and me the trouble."
"There are no difficulties," Mrs. Rossitur and Hugh said, both at once.
"I knew there weren't. Put a pair or two of clean stockings in your trunk that's all you want Mrs. Pritchard and I will find the rest. There's the people in Fourteenth street want you the first of November, and I want you all the time till then, and longer too. Stop I've got a missive of some sort here for you."
He foisted out of his breast-pocket a little package of notes one from Mrs. Evelyn, and one from Florence, begging Fleda to come to them at the time the doctor had named; the third from Constance:
"I am dying to see you so pack up and come down with Dr. Gregory, if the least spark of regard for me is slumbering in your breast. Mamma and Florence are writing to beg you but though an insignificant member of the family, considering that instead of being 'next to head', only little Edith prevents my being at the less dignified end of this branch of the social system, I could not prevail upon myself to let the representations of my respected elders go unsupported by mine especially as I felt persuaded of the superior efficacy of the motives I had it in my power to present to your truly philanthropical mind.
"I am in a state of mind that baffles description Mr.Carleton is going home!
"I have not worn ear-rings in my ears for a fortnight; my personal appearance is become a matter of indifference to me; any description of mental exertion is excruciating; I sit constantly listening for the ringing of the door-bell, and when it sounds, I rush frantically to the head of the staircase, and look over to see who it is; the mere sight of pen and ink excites delirious ideas judge what I suffer in writing to you.
"To make the matter worse (if it could be), I have been informed privately, that he is going home to crown at the altar of Hymen an old attachment to one of the loveliest of all England's daughters. Conceive the complication of my feelings!
"Nothing is left me but the resources of friendship so come, darling Fleda, before a barrier of ice interposes itself between my chilled heart and your sympathy.
"Mr. Thorn's state would move my pity if I were capable of being moved by anything by this you will comprehend he is returned. He has been informed by somebody, that there is a wolf in sheep's clothing prowling about Queechy, and his head is filled with the idea that you have fallen a victim, of which, in my calmer moments, I have in vain endeavoured to dispossess him. Every morning we are wakened up at an unseasonable hour by a furious ringing at the door-bell Joe Manton pulls off his nightcap, and slowly descending the stairs, opens the door, and finds Mr. Thorn, who inquires distractedly whether Miss Ringgan has arrived; and being answered in the negative, gloomily walks off towards the East river. The state of anxiety in which his mother is thereby kept is rapidly depriving her of all her flesh but we have directed Joe lately to reply, 'No, Sir, but she is expected' upon which Mr. Thorn regularly smiles faintly, and rewards the 'fowling-piece' with a quarter dollar
"So make haste, dear Fleda, or I shall feel that we are acting the part of innocent swindlers.
There was but one voice at home on the point whether Fleda should go. So she went.
Host. Now, my young guest! methinks you're allycholy; I pray you why is it?Jul. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be merry. TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.
Some nights after their arrival, the doctor and Fleda were seated at tea in the little snug old-fashioned back parlour, where the doctor's nicest of housekeepers, Mrs. Pritchard, had made it ready for them. In general, Mrs. Pritchard herself poured it out for the doctor, but she descended most cheerfully from her post of elevation, whenever Fleda was there to fill it.
The doctor and Fleda sat cozily looking at each other across the toast and chipped beef, their glances grazing the tea-urn, which was just on one side of their range of vision. A comfortable Liverpool-coal fire in a state of repletion burned away indolently, and gave everything else in the room somewhat of its own look of sonsy independence except, perhaps, the delicate creature at whom the doctor, between sips of his tea, took rather wistful observations.
"When are you going to Mrs. Evelyn?" he said, breaking the silence.
"They say next week, Sir."
"I shall be glad of it!" said the doctor.
"Glad of it?" said Fleda, smiling. "Do you want to get rid of me, uncle Orrin?"
"Yes!" said he. "This isn't the right place for you. You are too much alone."
"No, indeed, Sir. I have been reading voraciously, and enjoying myself as much as possible. I would quite as lieve be here as there, putting you out of the question."
"I wouldn't as lieve have you," said he, shaking his head.
"What were you musing about before tea? your face gave me the heartache."
"My face!" said Fleda, smiling, while an instant flush of the eyes answered him; "what was the matter with my face?"
"That is the very thing I want to know."
"Before tea? I was only thinking," said Fleda, her look going back to the fire from association "thinking of different things not disagreeably; taking a kind of bird's- eye view of things, as one does sometimes."
"I don't believe you ever take other than a bird's-eye view of anything," said her uncle. "But what were you viewing just then, my little Saxon?"
"I was thinking of them at home," said Fleda, smiling, thoughtfully; "and I somehow had perched myself on a point of observation, and was taking one of those wider views which are always rather sobering."
"Views of what?"
"Of life, Sir."
"As how?" said the doctor.
"How near the end is to the beginning, and how short the space between, and how little the ups and downs of it will matter if we take the right road and get home."
"Pshaw!" said the doctor.
But Fleda knew him too well to take his interjection otherwise than most kindly. And, indeed, though he whirled round and ate his toast at the fire discontentedly, his look came back to her after a little, with even more than its usual gentle appreciation.
"What do you suppose you have come to New York for?" said he.
"To see you, Sir, in the first place, and the Evelyns in the second."
"And who in the third?"
"I am afraid the third place is vacant," said Fleda, smiling.
"You are, eh? Well I don't know but I know that I have been inquired of by two several and distinct people as to your coming. Ah! you needn't open your bright eyes at me, because I shall not tell you. Only let me ask you have no notion of fencing off, my Queechy rose, with a hedge of blackthorn, or anything of that kind, have you?"
"I have no notion of any fences at all, except invisible ones,Sir," said Fleda, laughing, and colouring very prettily.
"Well, those are not American fences," said the doctor; "so, I suppose, I am safe enough. Whom did I see you out riding with yesterday?"
"I was with Mrs. Evelyn," said Fleda. "I didn't want to go, but I couldn't very well help myself."
"Mrs. Evelyn! Mrs. Evelyn wasn't driving, was she?"
"No, Sir; Mr. Thorn was driving."
"I thought so. Have you seen your old friend, Mr. Carleton, yet?"
"Do you know him, uncle Orrin?"
"Why shouldn't I? What's the difficulty of knowing people?Have you seen him?"
"But how did you know that he was an old friend of mine?"
"Question!" said the doctor. "Hum well, I won't tell you; so there's the answer. Now, will you answer me?"
"I have not seen him, Sir."
"Haven't met him, in all the times you have been to Mrs.Evelyn's?"
"No, Sir. I have been there but once in the evening, uncleOrrin. He is just about sailing for England."
"Well, you're going there to-night, aren't you? Run, and bundle yourself up, and I'll take you there before I begin my work."
There was a small party that evening at Mrs. Evelyn's. Fleda was very early. She ran up to the first floor rooms lighted and open, but nobody there.
"Fleda Ringgan," called out the voice of Constance from over the stairs, "is that you?"
"No," said Fleda.
"Well, just wait till I come down to you. My darling little Fleda, it's delicious of you to come so early. Now, just tell me, am I captivating?"
"Well, I retain self-possession," said Fleda. "I cannot tell about the strength of head of other people."
"You wretched little creature! Fleda, don't you admire my hair? it's new style, my dear just come out; the Delancys brought it out with them; Eloise Delancy taught it us; isn't it graceful? Nobody in New York has it yet, except the Delancys and we."
"How do you know but they have taught somebody else?" saidFleda.
"I won't talk to you! Don't you like it?"
"I am not sure that I do not like you in your ordinary way better."
Constance made a gesture of impatience, and then pulled Fleda after her into the drawing-rooms.
"Come in here; I wont waste the elegancies of my toilet upon your dull perceptions; come here and let me show you some flowers aren't those lovely? This bunch came to-day, 'for Miss Evelyn', so Florence will have it it is hers, and it's very mean of her, for I am perfectly certain it is mine; it's come from somebody who wasn't enlightened on the subject of my family circle, and has innocently imagined that two Miss Evelyns could not belong to the same one! I know the floral representatives of all Florence's dear friends and admirers, and this isn't from any of them. I have been distractedly endeavouring all day to find who it came from, for if I don't, I can't take the least comfort in it."
"But you might enjoy the flowers for their own sake, I should think," said Fleda, breathing the sweetness of myrtle and heliotrope.
"No, I can't, for I have all the time the association of some horrid creature they might have come from, you know; but it will do just as well to humbug people: I shall make Cornelia Schenck believe that this came from my dear Mr. Carleton!"
"No, you wont, Constance," said Fleda, gently.
"My dear little Fleda, I shock you, don't I? but I sha'n't tell any lies; I shall merely expressively indicate a particular specimen, and say, 'My dear Cornelia, do you perceive that this is an English rose?' and then it's none of my business, you know, what she believes; and she will be dying with curiosity and despair all the rest of the evening."
"I shouldn't think there would be much pleasure in that, I confess," said Fleda, gravely. "How very ungracefully and stiffly those are made up!"
"My dear little Queechy rose," said Constance, impatiently, "you are, pardon me, as fresh as possible. They can't cut the flowers with long stems, you know; the gardeners would be ruined. That is perfectly elegant; it must have cost at least ten dollars. My dear little Fleda!" said Constance, capering off before the long pier-glass, "I am afraid I am not captivating! Do you think it would be an improvement if I put drops in my ears? or one curl behind them? I don't know which Mr. Carleton likes best!"
And with her head first on one side and then on the other, she stood before the glass looking at herself and Fleda by turns with such a comic expression of mock doubt and anxiety, that no gravity but her own could stand it.
"She is a silly girl, Fleda, isn't she?" said Mrs. Evelyn, coming up behind them.
"Mamma! am I captivating?" cried Constance, wheeling round.
The mother's smile said "Very!"
"Fleda is wishing she were out of the sphere of my influence, Mamma. Wasn't Mr. Olmney afraid of my corrupting you?" she said, with a sudden pull-up in front of Fleda. "My blessed stars! there's somebody's voice I know. Well, I believe it is true that a rose without thorns is a desideratum. Mamma, is Mrs. Thorn's turban to be an invariablependantto yourcoiffureall the while Miss Ringgan is here?"
"Hush!"
With the entrance of company came Constance's return from extravaganzas to a sufficiently graceful every-day manner, only enough touched with high spirits and lawlessness to free it from the charge of commonplace. But the contrast of these high spirits with her own rather made Fleda's mood more quiet, and it needed no quieting. Of the sundry people that she knew among those presently assembled there were none that she wanted to talk to; the rooms were hot, and she felt nervous and fluttered, partly from encounters already sustained, and partly from a little anxious expecting of Mr. Carleton's appearance. The Evelyns had not said he was to be there, but she had rather gathered it; and the remembrance of old times was strong enough to make her very earnestly wish to see him, and dread to be disappointed. She swung clear of Mr. Thorn, with some difficulty, and ensconced herself under the shadow of a large cabinet, between that and a young lady who was very good society, for she wanted no help in carrying on the business of it. All Fleda had to do was to sit still and listen, or not listen, which she generally preferred. Miss Tomlinson discoursed upon varieties, with great sociableness and satisfaction; while poor Fleda's mind, letting all her sense and nonsense go, was again taking a somewhat bird's-eye view of things, and from the little centre of her post in Mrs. Evelyn's drawing-room, casting curious glances over the panorama of her life England, France, New York, and Queechy! half coming to the conclusion that her place henceforth was only at the last, and that the world and she had nothing to do with each other. The tide of life and gaiety seemed to have thrown her on one side, as something that could not swim with it, and to be rushing past too strongly and swiftly for her slight bark ever to launch upon it again. Perhaps the shore might be the safest and happiest place; but it was sober in the comparison; and, as a stranded bark might look upon the white sails flying by, Fleda saw the gay faces and heard the light tones with which her own could so little keep company. But as little they with her. Their enjoyment was not more foreign to her than the causes which moved it were strange. Merry? she might like to be merry, but she could sooner laugh with the north wind than with one of those vapid faces, or with any face that she could not trust. Conversation might be pleasant, but it must be something different from the noisy cross-fire of nonsense that was going on in one quarter, or the profitless barter of nothings that was kept up on the other side of her. Rather Queechy and silence, by far, than New York andthis!
And through it all, Miss Tomlinson talked on and was happy.
"My dear Fleda! what are you back here for?" said Florence, coming up to her.
"I was glad to be at a safe distance from the fire."
"Take a screen here! Miss Tomlinson, your conversation is too exciting for Miss Ringgan; look at her cheeks! I must carry you off; I want to show you a delightful contrivance for transparencies that I learned the other day."
The seat beside her was vacated, and, not casting so much as a look towards any quarter whence a possible successor to Miss Tomlinson might be arriving, Fleda sprang up and took a place in the far corner of the room by Mrs. Thorn, happily not another vacant chair in the neighbourhood. Mrs. Thorn had shown a very great fancy for her, and was almost as good company as Miss Tomlinson not quite, for it was necessary sometimes to answer, and therefore necessary always to hear. But Fleda liked her; she was thoroughly amiable, sensible, and good-hearted; and Mrs. Thorn, very much gratified at Fleda's choice of a seat, talked to her with a benignity which Fleda could not help answering with grateful pleasure.
"Little Queechy, what has driven you into the corner?" saidConstance, pausing a moment before her.
"It must have been a retiring spirit," said Fleda.
"Mrs. Thorn, isn't she lovely?"
Mrs. Thorn's smile at Fleda might almost have been called that, it was so full of benevolent pleasure. But she spoiled it by her answer. "I don't believe I am the first one to find it out.".
"But what are you looking so sober for?" Constance went on, taking Fleda's screen from her hand and fanning her diligently with it "you don't talk. The gravity of Miss Ringgan's face casts a gloom over the brightness of the evening. I couldn't conceive what made me feel chilly in the other room till I looked about and found that the shade came from this corner; and Mr. Thorn's teeth, I saw, were chattering."
"Constance," said Fleda, laughing and vexed, and making the reproof more strongly with her eyes "how can you talk so?"
"Mrs. Thorn, isn't it true?"
Mrs. Thorn's look at Fleda was the essence of good humour.
"Will you let Lewis come and take you a good long ride to- morrow?"
"No, Mrs. Thorn, I believe not I intend to stay perseveringly at home to-morrow, and see if it is possible to be quiet a day in New York."
"But you will go with me to the concert to-morrow night? both of you and hear Truffi; come to my house and take tea, and go from there? will you, Constance?"
"My dear Mrs. Thorn," said Constance, "I shall be in ecstasies, and Miss Ringgan was privately imploring me last night to find some way of getting her to it. We regard such material pleasures as tea and muffins with great indifference, but when you look up after swallowing your last cup you will see Miss Ringgan and Miss Evelyn, cloaked and hooded, anxiously awaiting your next movement. My dear Fleda, there is a ring!"
And giving her the benefit of a most comic and expressive arching of her eyebrows, Constance flung back the screen into Fleda's lap, and skimmed away.
Fleda was too vexed for a few minutes to understand more of Mrs. Thorn's talk than that she was first enlarging upon the concert, and afterwards detailing to her a long shopping expedition in search of something which had been a morning's annoyance. She almost thought Constance was unkind, because she wanted to go to the concert herself, to lug her in so unceremoniously, and wished herself back in her uncle's snug, little, quiet parlour, unless M. Carleton would come.
And there he is, said a quick beat of her heart, as his entrance explained Constance's "ring."
Such a rush of associations came over Fleda that she was in imminent danger of losing Mrs. Thorn altogether. She managed, however, by some sort of instinct, to disprove the assertion that the mind cannot attend to two things at once, and carried on a double conversation with herself and with Mrs. Thorn for some time very vigorously.
"Just the same! he has not altered a jot," she said to herself as he came forward to Mrs. Evelyn; "it is himself! his very self he doesn't look a day older I'm very glad! (Yes, Ma'am, it's extremely tiresome ). How exactly as when he left me in Paris, and how much pleasanter than anybody else! more pleasant than ever, it seems, to me, but that is because I have not seen him in so long; he only wanted one thing. That same grave eye but quieter, isn't it than it used to be? I think so (It's the best store in town, I think, Mrs. Thorn, by far yes, Ma'am ). Those eyes are certainly the finest I ever saw. How I have seen him stand and look just so when he was talking to his workmen without that air of consciousness that all these people have, comparatively what a difference! (I know very little about it, Ma'am; I am not learned in laces I never bought any ). I wish he would look this way I wonder if Mrs. Evelyn does not mean to bring him to see me she must remember; now there is that curious old smile and looking down! how much better I know what it means than Mrs. Evelyn does! (Yes, Ma'am, I understand I mean! it is very convenient I never go anywhere else to get anything at least, I should not if I lived here ). She does not know whom she is talking to. She is going to walk him off into the other room! How very much more gracefully he does everything than anybody else it comes from that entire high-mindedness and frankness, I think not altogether, a fine person must aid the effect, and that complete independence of other people I wonder if Mrs. Evelyn has forgotten my existence? he has not, I am sure I think she is a little odd (Yes, Ma'am, my face is flushed the room is very warm .)"
"But the fire has gone down it will be cooler now," saidMrs. Thorn.
Which were the first words that fairly entered Fleda's understanding. She was glad to use the screen to hide her face now, not the fire.
Apparently the gentleman and lady found nothing to detain them in the other room, for, after sauntering off to it, they sauntered back again, and placed themselves to talk just opposite her. Fleda had an additional screen now in the person of Miss Tomlinson, who had sought her corner, and was earnest talking across her to Mrs. Thorn, so that she was sure, even if Mr. Carleton's eyes should chance to wander that way, they would see nothing but the unremarkable skirt of her green silk dress, most unlikely to detain them.
The trade in nothings going on over the said green silk was very brisk indeed; but, disregarding the buzz of tongues near at hand, Fleda's quick ears were able to free the barrier, and catch every one of the quiet tones beyond.
"And you leave us the day after to-morrow?" said Mrs. Evelyn.
"No, Mrs. Evelyn, I shall wait another steamer."
The lady's brow instantly revealed to Fleda a trap setting beneath to catch his reason.
"I'm very glad!" exclaimed little Edith, who, in defiance of conventionalities and proprieties, made good her claim to be in the drawing-room on all occasions "then you will take me another ride, wont you, Mr. Carleton?"
"You do not flatter us with a very long stay," pursued Mrs.Evelyn.
"Quite as long as I expected longer than I meant it to be," he answered, rather thoughtfully.
"Mr. Carleton," said Constance, sidling up in front of him. "I have been in distress to ask you a question, and I am afraid "
"Of what are you afraid, Miss Constance?"
"That you would reward me with one of your severe looks, which would petrify me; and then, I am afraid I should feel uncomfortable"
"I hope he will!" said Mrs. Evelyn, settling herself back in the corner of the sofa, and with a look at her daughter which was complacency itself "I hope Mr. Carleton will, if you are guilty of any impertinence."
"What is the question, Miss Constance?"
"I want to know what brought you out here?"
"Fie, Constance," said her mother. "I am ashamed of you. Do not answer her, Mr. Carleton."
"Mr. Carleton will answer me, Mamma he looks benevolently upon my faults, which are entirely those of education. What was it, Mr. Carleton?"
"I suppose," said he, smiling, "it might be traced more or less remotely to the restlessness incident to human nature."
"But you are not restless, Mr. Carleton," said Florence, with a glance which might be taken as complimentary.
"And knowing that I am," said Constance, in comic impatience, "you are maliciously prolonging my agonies. It is not what I expected of you, Mr. Carleton."
"My dear," said her father, "Mr. Carleton, I am sure, will fulfil all reasonable expectations. What is the matter?"
"I asked him where a certain tribe of Indians was to be found, Papa, and he told me they were supposed originally to have come across Behring's Strait, one cold winter."
Mr. Evelyn looked a little doubtfully, and Constance with so unhesitating gravity, that the gravity of nobody else was worth talking about.
"But it is so uncommon," said Mrs. Evelyn, when they had done laughing, "to see an Englishman of your class here at all, that when he comes a second time we may be forgiven for wondering what has procured us such an honour."
"Women may always be forgiven for wondering, my dear," said Mr. Evelyn, "or the rest of mankind must live at odds with them."
"Your principal object was to visit our western prairies, wasn't it, Mr. Carleton?" said Florence.
"No," he replied, quietly, "I cannot say that. I should choose to give a less romantic explanation of my movements. From, some knowledge growing out of my former visit to this country, I thought there were certain negotiations I might enter into here with advantage; and it was for the purpose of attending to these, Miss Constance, that I came."
"And have you succeeded?" said Mrs. Evelyn, with an expression of benevolent interest.
"No, Ma'am my information had not been sufficient."
"Very likely," said Mr. Evelyn. "There isn't one man in a hundred whose representations on such a matter are to be trusted at a distance."
"On such a matter," repeated his wife, funnily; "you don't know what the matter was, Mr. Evelyn you don't know what you are talking about."
"Business, my dear business I take only what Mr. Carleton said; it doesn't signify a straw what business. A man must always see with his own eyes."
Whether Mr. Carleton had seen or had not seen, or whether even he had his faculty of hearing in present exercise, a glance at his face was incompetent to discover.
"I never should have imagined," said Constance, eyeing him keenly, "that Mr. Carleton's errand to this country was one of business, and not of romance. I believe it's a humbug!"
For an instant this was answered by one of those looks of absolute composure, in every muscle and feature, which put an effectual bar to all further attempts from without, or revelations from within a look Fleda remembered well, and felt even in her corner. But it presently relaxed, and he said with his usual manner,
"You cannot understand, then, Miss Constance, that there should be any romance about business?"
"I cannot understand," said Mrs. Evelyn, "why romance should not come after business. Mr. Carleton, Sir, you have seen American scenery this summer; isn't American beauty worth staying a little while longer for?"
"My dear," said Mr. Evelyn, "Mr. Carleton is too much of a philosopher to care about beauty every man of sense is."
"I am sure he is not," said Mrs. Evelyn, smoothly. "Mr.Carleton, you are an admirer of beauty, are you not, Sir ?"
"I hope so, Mrs. Evelyn," he said smiling; "but perhaps, I shall shock you by adding not of beauties."
"That sounds very odd," said Florence.
"But let us understand," said Mrs. Evelyn, with the air of a person solving a problem; "I suppose we are to infer that your taste in beauty is of a peculiar kind?"
"That may be a fair inference," he said.
"What is it, then?" said Constance, eagerly.
"Yes what is it you look for in a face?" said Mrs. Evelyn.
"Let us hear whether America has any chance," said Mr. Thorn, who had joined the group, and placed himself precisely so as to hinder Fleda's view.
"My fancy has no stamp of nationality, in this, at least," he said, pleasantly.
"Now, for instance, the Miss Delancys don't you call them handsome, Mr. Carleton?" said Florence.
"Yes," he said, half smiling.
"But not beautiful? Now, what is it they want?"
"I do not wish, if I could, to make the want visible to other eyes than my own."
"Well, Cornelia Schenck how do you like her face?"
"It is very pretty-featured."
"Pretty-featured! Why, she is called beautiful! She has a beautiful smile, Mr. Carleton!"
"She has only one."
"Only one! and how many smiles ought the same person to have?" cried Florence, impatiently. But that which instantly answered her said forcibly, that a plurality of them was possible.
"I have seen one face," he said, gravely, and his eye seeking the floor, "that had, I think, a thousand."
"Different smiles!" said Mrs. Evelyn, in a constrained voice.
"If they were not all absolutely that, they had so much of freshness and variety that they all seemed new."
"Was the mouth so beautiful?" said Florence.
"Perhaps it would not have been remarked for beauty when it was perfectly at rest, but it could not move with the least play of feeling, grave or gay, that it did not become so in a very high degree. I think there was no touch or shade of sentiment in the mind that the lips did not give with singular nicety; and the mind was one of the most finely wrought I have ever known."
"And what other features went with this mouth?" said Florence.
"The usual complement, I suppose," said Thorn. " 'Item, two lips indifferent red;item, two gray eyes, with lids to them;item, one neck, one chin, and so forth."
"Mr. Carleton, Sir," said Mrs. Evelyn, blandly," as Mr. Evelyn says, women may be forgiven for wondering, wont you answer Florence's question?"
"Mr. Thorn has done it, Mrs. Evelyn, for me."
"But I have great doubts of the correctness of Mr. Thorn's description, Sir; wont you indulge us with yours?"
"Word-painting is a difficult matter, Mrs. Evelyn, in some instances; if I must do it, I will borrow my colours. In general, 'that which made her fairness much the fairer was, that it was but an ambassador of a most fair mind.' "
"A most exquisite picture!" said Thorn; "and the originals don't stand so thick that one is in any danger of mistaking them. Is the painter Shakespeare? I don't recollect."
"I think Sidney, Sir; I am not sure."
"But still, Mr. Carleton," said Mrs. Evelyn, "this is only in general I want very much to know the particulars; what style of features belonged to this face?"
"The fairest, I think, I have ever known," said Mr. Carleton. "You asked me, Miss Evelyn, what was my notion of beauty; this face was a good illustration of it. Not perfection of outline, though it had that, too, in very uncommon degree; but the loveliness of mind and character to which these features were only an index; the thoughts were invariably telegraphed through eye and mouth more faithfully than words could give them."
"What kind of eyes?" said Florence.
His own grew dark as he answered
"Clear and pure as one might imagine an angel's through which I am sure my good angel many a time looked at me."
Good angels were at a premium among the eyes that were exchanging glances just then.
"And Mr. Carleton," said Mrs. Evelyn, "is it fair to ask this paragon is she living, still?"
"I hope so," he answered, with his old light smile, dismissing the subject.
"You spoke so much in the past tense," said Mrs. Evelyn, apologetically.
"Yes; I have not seen it since it was a child's."
"A child's face! Oh," said Florence, "I think you see a great many children's faces with that kind of look."
"I never saw but the one," said Mr. Carleton, drily.
So far Fleda listened, with cheeks that would certainly have excited Mrs. Thorn's alarm, if she had not been happily engrossed with Miss Tomlinson's affairs; though up to the last two minutes the idea of herself had not entered Fleda's head in connection with the subject of conversation. But then, feeling it impossible to make her appearance in public that evening, she quietly slipped out of the open window close by, which led into a little greenhouse on the piazza, and by another door gained the hall and the dressing-room.
When Dr. Gregory came to Mrs. Evelyn's an hour or two after, a figure all cloaked and hooded ran down the stairs and met him in the hall.
"Ready!" said the doctor, in surprise.
"I have been ready some time, Sir," said Fleda.
"Well," said he, "then we'll go straight home, for I've not done my work yet."
"Dear uncle Orrin," said Fleda, "if I had known you had work to do, I wouldn't have come."
"Yes, you would," said he, decidedly.
She clasped her uncle's arm, and walked with him briskly home through the frosty air, looking at the silent lights and shadows on the walls of the street, and feeling a great desire to cry.
"Did you have a pleasant evening?" said the doctor, when they were about half way.
"Not particularly, Sir," said Fleda, hesitating.
He said not another word till they got home, and Fleda went up to her room. But the habit of patience overcame the wish to cry; and though the outside of her little gold-clasped bible awoke it again, a few words of the inside were enough to lay it quietly to sleep.
"Well," said the doctor, as they sat at breakfast the next morning, "where are you going next?"
"To the concert, I must, to-night," said Fleda. "I couldn't help myself."
"Why should you want to help yourself?" said the doctor. "And to Mrs. Thorn's to-morrow night?"
"No, Sir; I believe not."
"I believe you will," said he, looking at her.
"I am sure I should enjoy myself more at home, uncle Orrin. There is very little rational pleasure to be had in these assemblages."
"Rational pleasure!" said he. "Didn't you have any rational pleasure last night?"
"I didn't hear a single word spoken, Sir, that was worth listening to; at least, that was spoken to me; and the hollow kind of rattle that one hears from every tongue, makes me more tired than anything else, I believe. I am out of tune with it, somehow."
"Out of tune!" said the old doctor, giving her a look made up of humourous vexation and real sadness; "I wish I knew the right tuning-key to take hold of you!"
"I become harmonious rapidly, uncle Orrin, when I am in this pleasant little room alone with you."
"That wont do!" said he, shaking his head at the smile with which this was said "there is too much tension upon the strings. So that was the reason you were all ready waiting for me last night? Well, you must tune up, my little piece of discordance, and go with me to Mrs. Thorn's to-morrow night I wont let you off."
"With you, Sir!" said Fleda.
"Yes," he said. "I'll go along and take care of you, lest you get drawn into something else you don't like."
"But, dear uncle Orrin, there is another difficulty it is to be a large party, and I have not a dress exactly fit."
"What have you got?" said he, with a comic kind of fierceness.
"I have silks, but they are none of them proper for this occasion they are ever so little old-fashioned."
"What do you want?"
"Nothing, Sir," said Fleda; "for I don't want to go."
"You mend a pair of stockings to put on," said he, nodding at her, "and I'll see to the rest."
"Apparently you place great importance in stockings," saidFleda, laughing, "for you always mention them first. But,please don't get anything for me, uncle Orrin please don't!I have plenty for common occasions, and I don't care to go toMrs. Thorn's."
"I don't care either," said the doctor, working himself into his great coat. "By the by, do you want to invoke the aid of St. Crispin?"
He went off, and Fleda did not know whether to cry or to laugh at the vigorous way in which he trod through the hall, and slammed the front door after him. Her spirits just kept the medium, and did neither. But they were in the same doubtful mood still an hour after, when he came back with a paper parcel he had brought home under his arm, and unrolled a fine embroidered muslin; her eyes were very unsteady in carrying their brief messages of thankfulness, as if they feared saying too much. The doctor, however, was in the mood for doing, not talking, by looks or otherwise. Mrs. Pritchard was called into consultation, and with great pride and delight engaged to have the dress and all things else in due order by the following night; her eyes saying all manner of gratulatory things as they went from the muslin to Fleda, and from Fleda to Dr. Gregory.
The rest of the day was, not books, but needlefuls of thread; and from the confusion of laces and draperies, Fleda was almost glad to escape, and go to the concert but for one item; that spoiled it.
They were in their seats early. Fleda managed successfully to place the two Evelyns between her and Mr. Thorn, and then prepared herself to wear out the evening with patience.
"My dear Fleda!" whispered Constance, after some time spent in restless reconnoitring of everything "I don't see my English rose anywhere!"
"Hush!" said Fleda, smiling. "That happened not to be anEnglish rose, Constance."
"What was it?"
"American, unfortunately; it was a Noisette; the variety, I think, that they call 'Conque de Vénus.' "
"My dear little Fleda, you're too wise for anything!" said Constance, with a rather significant arching of her eye-brows. "You mustn't expect other people to be as rural in their acquirements as yourself. I don't pretend to know any rose by sight but the Queechy," she said, with a change of expression, meant to cover the former one.
Fleda's face, however, did not call for any apology. It was perfectly quiet.
"But what has become of him?" said Constance, with her comic impatience. "My dear Fleda! if my eyes cannot rest upon that development of elegance, the parterre is become a wilderness to me!"
"Hush, Constance!" Fleda whispered earnestly "you are not safe he may be near you."
"Safe!" ejaculated Constance; but a half backward hasty glance of her eye brought home so strong an impression that the person in question was seated a little behind her, that she dared not venture another look, and became straightway extremely well-behave.
He was there; and being presently convinced that he was in the neighbourhood of his little friend of former days, he resolved with his own excellent eyes to test the truth of the opinion he had formed as to the natural and inevitable effect of circumstances upon her character; whether it could by possibility have retained its great delicacy and refinement, under the rough handling and unkindly bearing of things seemingly foreign to both. He had thought not.
Truffi did not sing, and the entertainment was of a very secondary quality. This seemed to give no uneasiness to the Miss Evelyns, for if they pouted, they laughed and talked in the same breath, and that incessantly. It was nothing to Mr. Carleton, for his mind was bent on something else. And with a little surprise, he saw that it was nothing to the subject of his thoughts, either because her own were elsewhere, too, or because they were in league with a nice taste, that permitted them to take no interest in what was going on. Even her eyes, trained as they had been to recluse habits, were far less busy than those of her companions; indeed, they were not busy at all; for the greater part of the time, one hand was upon the brow, shielding them from the glare of the gas-lights. Ostensibly but the very quiet air of the face led him to guess that the mind was glad of a shield too. It relaxed sometimes. Constance, and Florence, and Mr. Thorn, and Mr. Thorn's mother, were every now and then making demands upon her, and they were met always with an intelligent well-bred eye, and often with a smile of equal gentleness and character; but her observer noticed that though the smile came readily, it went as readily, and the lines of the face quickly settled again into what seemed to be an habitual composure. There were the same outlines, the same characters, he remembered very well; yet there was a difference; not grief had changed them, but life had. The brow had all its fine chiselling and high purity of expression; but now there sat there a hopelessness, or rather a want of hopefulness, that a child's face never knows. The mouth was sweet and pliable as ever, but now often patience and endurance did not quit their seat upon the lip even when it smiled. The eye, with all its old clearness and truthfulness, had a shade upon it that, nine years ago, only fell at the bidding of sorrow; and in every line of the face there was a quiet gravity that went to the heart of the person who was studying it. Whatever causes had been at work, he was very sure, had done no harm to the character; its old simplicity had suffered no change, as every look and movement proved; the very unstudied careless position of the fingers over the eyes showed that the thoughts had nothing to do there.
On one half of his doubt Mr. Carleton's mind was entirely made up; but education? the training and storing of the mind how had that fared? He would know!
Perhaps he would have made some attempt that very evening towards satisfying himself; but noticing that, in coming out, Thorn permitted the Evelyns to pass him, and attached himself determinately to Fleda, he drew back, and resolved to make his observations indirectly, and on more than one point, before he should seem to make them at all.
"Hark: I hear the sound of coaches,The hour of attack approaches."GAY.
Mrs. Pritchard had arrayed Fleda in the white muslin, with an amount of satisfaction and admiration that all the lines of her face were insufficient to express.
"Now," she said, "you must just run down and let the doctor see you, afore you take the shine off, or he wont be able to look at anything else when you get to the place."
"That would be unfortunate!" said Fleda, and she ran down, laughing, into the room where the doctor was waiting for her; but her astonished eyes encountering the figure of Dr. Quackenboss, she stopped short, with an air that no woman of the world could have bettered. The physician of Queechy, on his part, was at least equally taken aback.
"Dr. Quackenboss!" said Fleda.
"I I was going to say, Miss Ringgan!" said the doctor, with a most unaffected obeisance, "but a I am afraid, Sir, it is a deceptive influence!"
"I hope not," said Dr. Gregory, smiling; one corner of his mouth for his guest and the other for his niece. "Real enough to do real execution, or I am mistaken, Sir."
"Upon my word, Sir," said Dr. Quackenboss, bowing again, "I hope a Miss Ringgan will remember the acts of her executive power at home, and return in time to prevent an unfortunate termination!"
Dr. Gregory laughed heartily now, while Fleda's cheeks relieved her dress to admiration.
"Who will complain of her if she don't?" said the doctor. "Who will complain of her if she don't?"
But Fleda put in her question.
"How are you all at home, Dr. Quackenboss?"
"All Queechy, Sir," answered the doctor, politely, on the principle of 'first come, first served' "and individuals I shouldn't like to specify"
"How are you all in Queechy, Dr. Quackenboss?" said Fleda.
"I have the pleasure to say we are coming along as usual," replied the doctor, who seemed to have lost his power of standing up straight. "My sister Flora enjoys but poor health lately they are all holding their heads up at your house. Mr. Rossitur has come home."
"Uncle Rolf! Has he?" exclaimed Fleda, the colour of joy quite supplanting the other. "Oh, I'm very glad!"
"Yes," said the doctor "he's been home now I guess, going on four days."
"I am very glad!" repeated Fleda. "But wont you come and see me another time, Dr. Quackenboss? I am obliged to go out."
The doctor professed his great willingness, adding that he had only come down to the city to do two or three chores, and thought she might perhaps like to take the opportunity which would afford him such very great gratification.
"No, indeed, faire Una," said Dr. Gregory, when they were on their way to Mrs. Thorn's "they've got your uncle at home now, and we've got you; and I mean to keep you till I'm satisfied. So you may bring home that eye that has been squinting at Queechy ever since you have been here, and make up your mind to enjoy yourself; I shan't let you go till you do."
"I ought to enjoy myself, uncle Orrin," said Fleda, squeezing his arm gratefully.
"See you do," said he.
The pleasant news from home had given Fleda's spirits the needed spur, which the quick walk to Mrs. Thorn's did not take off.
"Did you ever see Fleda look so well, Mamma?" said Florence, as the former entered the drawing-room.
"That is the loveliest and best face in the room," said Mr.Evelyn; "and she looks like herself to-night."
"There is a matchless simplicity about her," said a gentleman, standing by.
"Her dress is becoming," said Mrs. Evelyn.
"Why, where did you ever see her, Mr. Stackpole, except at our house?" said Constance.
"At Mrs. Decatur's I have had that pleasure and once at her uncle's."
"I didn't know you ever noticed ladies' faces, Mr. Stackpole," said Florence.
"How Mrs. Thorn does look at her!" said Constance, under her breath. "It is too much."
It was almost too much for Fleda's equanimity, for the colour began to come.
"And there goes Mr. Carleton!" said Constance. "I expect momentarily to hear the company strike up, 'Sparkling and Bright.' "
"They should have done that some time ago, Miss Constance," said the gentleman.
Which compliment, however, Constance received with hardly disguised scorn, and turned her attention again to Mr. Carleton.
"I trust I do not need presentation," said his voice and his smile at once, as he presented himself to Fleda.
How little he needed it, the flash of feeling which met his eyes said sufficiently well. But apparently the feeling was a little too deep, for the colour mounted, and the eyes fell, and the smile suddenly died on the lips. Mr. Thorn came up to them, and releasing her hand, Mr. Carleton stepped back and permitted him to lead her away.
"What do think ofthatface?" said Constance, finding herself a few moments after at his side.
" 'That' must define itself," said he, "or I can hardly give a safe answer."
"What face? Why, I mean, of course, the one Mr. Thorn carried off just now."
"You are her friend, Miss .Constance," he said, coolly. "May I ask for your judgment upon it before I give mine?"
"Mine? why, I expected every minute that Mr. Thorn would make the musicians play 'Sparkling and Bright,' and tell Miss Ringgan that to save trouble he had directed them to express what he was sure were the sentiments of the whole company in one burst."
He smiled a little, but in a way that Constance could not understand, and did not like.
"Those are common epithets," he said.
"Must I use uncommon?" said Constance, significantly.
"No; but these may say one thing or another."
"I have said one thing," said Constance; "and now you may say the other."
"Pardon me you have said nothing. These epithets are deserved by a great many faces, but on very different grounds; and the praise is a different thing, accordingly."
"Well, what is the difference?" said Constance.
"On what do you think this lady's title to it rests?"
"On what? why, on that bewitching little air of the eyes and mouth, I suppose."
"Bewitching is a very vague term," said he, smiling again, more quietly. "But you have had an opportunity of knowing it much better of late than I to which class of bright faces would you refer this one? Where does the light come from?"
"I never studied faces in a class," said Constance, a little scornfully. "Come from? a region of mist and clouds, I should say, for it is sometimes pretty well covered up."
"There are some eyes whose sparkling is nothing more than the play of light upon a bright bead of glass."
"It is not that," said Constance, answering in spite of herself, after delaying as long as she dared.