Heat not a furnace for your friend so hotThat it may singe yourself.
Heat not a furnace for your friend so hotThat it may singe yourself.
Shakspeare.
Shakspeare.
Mr. Carleton went to Mme. Fouché's, who received most graciously, as any lady would, his apology for introducing himself unlooked-for, and begged that he would commit the same fault often. As soon as practicable he made his way to Charlton, and invited him to breakfast with him the next morning.
Mrs. Carleton always said it never was known that Guy was refused anything he had a mind to ask. Charlton, though taken by surprise, and certainly not too much prepossessed in his favour, was won by an influence that where its owner chose to exert it was generally found irresistible; and not only accepted the invitation, but was conscious to himself of doing it with a good deal of pleasure. Even when Mr. Carleton made the further request that Capt. Rossitur would in the mean time see no one on business, of any kind, intimating that the reason would then be given, Charlton though startling a little at this restraint upon his freedom of motion could do no other than give the desired promise, and with the utmost readiness.
Guy then went to Mr. Thorn's.--It was by this time not early.
"Mr. Lewis Thorn--is he at home?"
"He is, sir," said the servant admitting him rather hesitatingly.
"I wish to see him a few moments on business."
"It is no hour for business," said the voice of Mr. Lewis from over the balusters;--"I can't see anybody to-night."
"I ask but a few minutes," said Mr. Carleton. "It is important."
"It may be any thing!" said Thorn. "I won't do business after twelve o'clock."
Mr. Carleton desired the servant to carry his card, with the same request, to Mr, Thorn the elder.
"What's that?" said Thorn as the man came up stairs,--"my father?--Pshaw!hecan't attend to it--Well, walk up, sir, if you please!--may as well have it over and done with it."
Mr. Carleton mounted the stairs and followed the young gentleman into an apartment to which he rapidly led the way.
"You've no objections to this,Isuppose?" Thorn remarked as he locked the door behind them.
"Certainly not," said Mr. Carleton coolly, taking out the key and putting it in his pocket;--"my business is private--it needs no witnesses."
"Especially as it so nearly concerns yourself," said Thorn sneeringly.
"Which part of it, sir?" said Mr. Carleton with admirable breeding. It vexed at the same time that it constrained Thorn.
"I'll let you know presently!" he said, hurriedly proceeding to the lower end of the room where some cabinets stood, and unlocking door after door in mad haste.
The place had somewhat the air of a study, perhaps Thorn's private room. A long table stood in the middle of the floor, with materials for writing, and a good many books were about the room, in cases and on the tables, with maps and engravings and portfolios, and a nameless collection of articles, the miscellaneous gathering of a man of leisure and some literary taste.
Their owner presently came back from the cabinets with tokens of a very different kind about him.
"There, sir!" he said, offering to his guest a brace of most inhospitable-looking pistols,--"take one and take your stand, as soon as you please--nothing like coming to the point at once!"
He was heated and excited even more than his manner indicated. Mr. Carleton glanced at him and stood quietly examining the pistol he had taken. It was all ready loaded.
"This is a business that comes upon me by surprise," he said calmly,--"I don't know what I have to do with this, Mr. Thorn."
"Well I do," said Thorn, "and that's enough. Take your place, sir! You escaped me once, but"--and he gave his words dreadful emphasis,--"you won't do it the second time!"
"You do not mean," said the other, "that your recollection of such an offence has lived out so many years?"
"No sir! no sir!" said Thorn,--"it is not that. I despise it, as I do the offender. You have touched me more nearly."
"Let me know in what," said Mr. Carleton turning his pistol's mouth down upon the table and leaning on it.
"You know already,--what do you ask me for?" said Thorn who was foaming,--"if you say you don't you lie heartily. I'll tell you nothing but out ofthis--"
"I have not knowingly injured you, sir,--in a whit."
"Then a Carleton may be a liar," said Thorn, "and you are one--dare say not the first. Put yourself there, sir, will you?"
"Well," said Guy carelessly,--"if it is decreed that I am to fight of course there's no help for it; but as I have business on hand that might not be so well done afterwards I must beg your attention to that in the first place."
"No, sir," said Thorn,--"I'll attend to nothing--I'll hear nothing from you. I know you!--I'll not hear a word. I'll see to the business!--Take your stand."
"I will not have anything to do with pistols," said Mr. Carleton coolly, laying his out of his hand;--"they make too much noise."
"Who cares for the noise?" said Thorn. "It won't hurt you; and the door is locked."
"But people's ears are not," said Guy.
Neither tone nor attitude nor look had changed in the least its calm gracefulness. It began to act upon Thorn.
"Well, in the devil's name, have your own way," said he, throwing down his pistol too, and going back to the cabinets at the lower end of the room,--"there are rapiers here, if you like them better--Idon't,--the shortest the best for me,--but here they are--take your choice."
Guy examined them carefully for a few minutes, and then laid them both, with a firm hand upon them, on the table.
"I will choose neither, Mr. Thorn, till you have heard me. I came here to see you on the part of others--I should be a recreant to my charge if I allowed you or myself to draw me into anything that might prevent my fulfilling it. That must be done first."
Thorn looked with a lowering brow on the indications of his opponent's eye and attitude; they left him plainly but one course to take.
"Well speak and have done," he said as in spite of himself;--but I know it already."
"I am here as a friend of Mr. Rossitur."
"Why don't you say a friend of somebody else, and come nearer the truth?" said Thorn.
There was an intensity of expression in his sneer, but pain was there as well as anger; and it was with even a feeling of pity that Mr. Carleton answered,
"The truth will be best reached, sir, if I am allowed to choose my own words."
There was no haughtiness in the steady gravity of this speech, whatever there was in the quiet silence he permitted to follow. Thorn did not break it.
"I am informed of the particulars concerning this prosecution of Mr. Rossitur--I am come here to know if no terms can be obtained."
"No!" said Thorn,--"no terms--I won't speak of terms. The matter will be followed up now till the fellow is lodged in jail, where he deserves to be."
"Are you aware, sir, that this, if done, will be the cause of very great distress to a family who havenotdeserved it?"
"That can't be helped," said Thorn. "Of course!--it must cause distress, but you can't act upon that. Of course when a man turns rogue he ruins his family--that's part of his punishment--and a just one."
"The law is just," said Mr. Carleton,--"but a friend may be merciful."
"I don't pretend to be a friend," said Thorn viciously,--"and I have no cause to be merciful. I like to bring a man to public shame when he has forfeited his title to anything else; and I intend that Mr. Rossitur shall become intimately acquainted with the interior of the State's Prison."
"Did it ever occur to you that public shamemightfall upon other than Mr. Rossitur? and without the State Prison?"
Thorn fixed a somewhat startled look upon the steady powerful eye of his opponent, and did not like its meaning.
"You must explain yourself, sir," he said haughtily.
"I am acquainted withallthe particulars of this proceeding, Mr. Thorn. If it goes abroad, so surely will they."
"She told you, did she?" said Thorn in a sudden flash of fury.
Mr. Carleton was silent, with his air of imperturbable reserve, telling and expressing nothing but a cool independence that put the world at a distance.
"Ha!" said Thorn,--"it is easy to see why our brave Englishman comes here to solicit 'terms' for his honest friend Rossitur--he would not like the scandal of franking letters to Sing Sing. Come, sir," he said snatching up the pistol,--"our business is ended--come, I say! or I won't wait for you."
But the pistol was struck from his baud.
"Not yet," said Mr. Carleton calmly,--"you shall have your turn at these,--mind, I promise you;--but my business must be done first--till then, let them alone!"
"Well what is it?" said Thorn impatiently. "Rossitur will be a convict, I tell you; so you'll have to give up all thoughts of his niece, or pocket her shame along with her. What more have you got to say? that's all your business, I take it."
"You are mistaken, Mr. Thorn," said Mr. Carleton gravely.
"Am I? In what?"
"In every position of your last speech."
"It don't affect your plans and views, I suppose, personally, whether this prosecution is continued or not?"
"It does not in the least."
"It is indifferent to you, I suppose, what sort of a Queen consort you carry to your little throne of a provinciality down yonder?"
"I will reply to you, sir, when you come back to the subject," said Mr. Carleton coldly.
"You mean to say that your pretensions have not been in the way of mine?"
"I have made none, sir."
"Doesn't she like you?"
"I have never asked her."
"Then what possessed her to tell you all this to-night?"
"Simply because I was an old friend and the only one at hand, I presume."
"And you do not look for any reward of your services, of course?"
"I wish for none, sir, but her relief."
"Well, it don't signify," said Thorn with a mixture of expressions in his face,--"if I believed you, which I don't,--it don't signify a hair what you do, when once this matter is known. I should never think of advancingmypretensions into a felon's family."
"You know that the lady in whose welfare you take so much interest will in that case suffer aggravated distress as having been the means of hindering Mr. Rossitur's escape,"
"Can't help it," said Thorn, beating the table with a ruler;--"so she has; she must suffer for it. It isn't my fault."
"You are willing then to abide the consequences of a full disclosure of all the circumstances?--for part will not come out without the whole?"
"There is happily nobody to tell them," said Thorn with a sneer.
"Pardon me--they will not only be told, but known thoroughly in all the circles in this country that know Mr. Thorn's name."
"The lady" said Thorn in the same tone, "would hardly relish such a publication ofhername--her welfarewould be scantily advantaged by it."
"I will take the risk of that upon myself," said Mr. Carleton quietly; "and the charge of the other."
"You dare not!" said Thorn. "You shall not go alive out of this room to do it! Let me have it, sir! you said you would--"
His passion was at a fearful height, for the family pride which had been appealed to felt a touch of fear, and his other thoughts were confirmed again, besides the dim vision of a possible thwarting of all his plans. Desire almost concentrated itself upon revenge against the object that threatened them. He had thrown himself again towards the weapons which lay beyond his reach, but was met and forcibly withheld from them.
"Stand back!" said Mr. Carleton. "I said I would, but I am not ready;--finish this business first."
"What is there to finish?" said Thorn furiously;--"you will never live to do anything out of these doors again--you are mocking yourself."
"My life is not in your hands, sir, and I will settle this matter before I put it in peril. If not with you, with Mr. Thorn your father, to whom it more properly belongs."
"You cannot leave the room to see him," said Thorn sneeringly.
"That is at my pleasure," said the other,--"unless hindered by means I do not think you will use."
Thorn was silent.
"Will you yield anything of justice, once more, in favour of this distressed family?"
"That is, yield the whole, and let the guilty go free."
"When the punishment of the offender would involve that of so many unoffending, who in this case would feel it with peculiar severity."
"He deserves it, if it was only for the money he has kept me out of--he ought to be made to refund what he has stolen, if it took the skin off his back!"
"That part of his obligation," said Mr. Carleton, "I am authorized to discharge, on condition of having the note given up. I have a cheque with me which I am commissioned to fill up, from one of the best names here. I need only the date of the note, which the giver of the cheque did not know."
Thorn hesitated, again tapping the table with the ruler in a troubled manner. He knew by the calm erect figure before him and the steady eye he did not care to meet that the threat of disclosure would be kept. He was not prepared to brave it,--in case his revenge should fail;--and if it did not----
"It is deuced folly," he said at length with a half laugh,--"for I shall have it back again in five minutes, if my eye don't play me a trick,--however, if you will have it so--I don't care. There are chances in all things--"
He went again to the cabinets, and presently brought the endorsed note. Mr. Carleton gave it a cool and careful examination, to satisfy himself of its being the true one; and then delivered him the cheque; the blank duly filled up.
"There are chances in nothing, sir," he said, as he proceeded to burn the note effectually in the candle.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that there is a Supreme Disposer of all things, who among the rest has our lives in his hand. And now, sir, I will give you that chance at my life for which you have been so eagerly wishing."
'Well, take your place,' said Thorn."Well, take your place," said Thorn.
"Well take your place," said Thorn seizing his pistol,--"and take your arms--put yourself at the end of the table----!"
"I shall stand here," said Mr. Carleton, quietly folding his arms;--"you may take your place where you please."
"But you are not armed!" said Thorn impatiently,--"why don't you get ready? what are you waiting for?"
"I have nothing to do with arms," said Mr. Carleton smiling; "I have no wish to hurt you, Mr. Thorn; I bear you no ill-will. But you may do what you please with me."
"But you promised!" said Thorn in desperation.
"I abide by my promise, sir."
Thorn's pistol hand fell; he lookeddreadfully. There was a silence of several minutes.
"Well?"--said Mr. Carleton looking up and smiling.
"I can do nothing unless you will," said Thorn hoarsely, and looking hurriedly away.
"I am at your pleasure, sir! But on my own part I have none to gratify."
There was silence again, during which Thorn's face was pitiable in its darkness. He did not stir.
"I did not come here in enmity, Mr. Thorn," said Guy after a little approaching him;--"I have none now. If you believe me you will throw away the remains of yours and take my hand in pledge of it."
Thorn was ashamed and confounded, in the midst of passions that made him at the moment a mere wreck of himself. He inwardly drew back exceedingly from the proposal. But the grace with which the words were said wrought upon all the gentlemanly character that belonged to him, and made it impossible not to comply. The pistol was exchanged for Mr. Carleton's hand.
"I need not assure you," said the latter, "that nothing of what we have talked of to-night shall ever be known or suspected, in any quarter, unless by your means."
Thorn's answer was merely a bow, and Mr. Carleton withdrew, his quondam antagonist lighting him ceremoniously to the door.
It was easy for Mr. Carleton the next morning to deal with his guest at the break fast-table.
The appointments of the service were such as of themselves to put Charlton in a good humour, if he had not come already provided with that happy qualification; and the powers of manner and conversation which his entertainer brought into play not only put them into the background of Capt. Rossitur's perceptions but even made him merge certain other things in fascination, and lose all thought of what probably had called him there. Once before, he had known Mr. Carleton come out in a like manner, but this time he forgot to be surprised.
The meal was two thirds over before the business that had drawn them together was alluded to.
"I made an odd request of you last night, Capt. Rossitur," said his host;--"you haven't asked for an explanation."
"I had forgotten all about it," said Rossitur candidly. "I aminconséquentenough myself not to think everything odd that requires an explanation."
"Then I hope you will pardon me if mine seem to touch upon what is not my concern. You had some cause to be displeased with Mr. Thorn's behaviour last night?"
Who told you as much?--was in Rossitur's open eyes, and upon his tongue; but few ever asked naughty questions of Mr Carleton. Charlton's eyes came back, not indeed to their former dimensions, but to his plate, in silence.
"He was incomprehensible," he said after a minute,--"and didn't act like himself--I don't know what was the matter. I shall call him to account for it."
"Capt. Rossitur, I am going to ask you a favour."
"I will grant it with the greatest pleasure," said Charlton,--"if it lie within my power."
"A wise man's addition," said Mr. Carleton,--"but I trust you will not think me extravagant. I will hold myself much obliged to you if you will let Mr. Thorn's folly, or impertinence, go this time without notice."
Charlton absolutely laid down his knife in astonishment; while at the same moment this slight let to the assertion of his dignity roused it to uncommon pugnaciousness.
"Sir--Mr. Carleton--" he stammered,--"I would be very happy to grant anything in my power,--but this, sir,--really goes beyond it."
"Permit me to say," said Mr. Carleton, "that I have myself seen Thorn upon the business that occasioned his discomposure, and that it has been satisfactorily arranged; so that nothing more is to be gained or desired from a second interview."
Who gave you authority to do any such thing?--was again in Charlton's eyes, and an odd twinge crossed his mind; but as before his thoughts were silent.
"Mypart of the business cannot have been arranged," he said,--"for it lies in a question or two that I must put to the gentleman myself."
"What will that question or two probably end in?" said Mr. Carleton significantly.
"I can't tell!" said Rossitur,--"depends on himself--it will end according to his answers."
"Is his offence so great that it cannot be forgiven upon my entreaty?"
"Mr. Carleton!" said Rossitur,--"I would gladly pleasure you, sir, but you see, this is a thing a man owes to himself."
"What thing, sir?"
"Why, not to suffer impertinence to be offered him with impunity."
"Even though the punishment extend to hearts at home that must feel it far more heavily than the offender?"
"Would you suffer yourself to be insulted, Mr. Carleton?" said Rossitur, by way of a mouth stopper.
"Not if I could help it," said Mr. Carleton smiling;--"but if such a misfortune happened, I don't know how it would be repaired by being made a matter of life and death."
"But honour might," said Rossitur.
"Honour is not reached, 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 highest authority that it is the glory of man topass bya transgression."
"But you can't go by that," said Charlton a little fidgeted;--"the world wouldn't get along so;--men must take care of themselves."
"Certainly. But what part of themselves is cared for in this resenting of injuries?"
"Why, their good name!"
"As how affected?--pardon me."
"By the world's opinion," said Rossitur,--"which stamps every man with something worse than infamy who cannot protect his own standing."
"That is to say," said Mr. Carleton seriously,--"that Capt. Rossitur will punish a fool's words with death, or visit the last extremity of distress upon those who are dearest to him, rather than leave the world in any doubt of his prowess."
"Mr. Carleton!" said Rossitur colouring. "What do you mean by speaking so, sir?"
"Not to displease you, 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; and I must confess I believe nobody thought you lost anything by it."
"But forgive me for asking," said Mr. Carleton,--"is this terrible world a party tothismatter? In the request which I made,--and which I have not given up, sir,--do I presume upon any more than the sacrifice of a little private feeling?"
"Why, yes,--" said Charlton looking somewhat puzzled, "for I promised the fellow I would see to it, and I must keep my word."
"And you know how that will of necessity issue."
"I can't consider that, sir; that is a secondary matter. I must do what I told him I would."
"At all hazards?" said Mr. Carleton.
"What hazards?"
"Not hazard, but certainty,--of incurring a reckoning far less easy to deal with."
"What, do you mean with yourself?" said Rossitur.
"No sir," said Mr. Carleton, a shade of even sorrowful expression crossing his face;--"I mean with one whose displeasure is a more weighty matter;--one who has declared very distinctly, 'Thou shalt not kill.'"
"I am sorry for it," said Rossitur after a disturbed pause of some minutes,--"I wish you had asked me anything else; but we can't take this thing in the light you do, sir. I wish Thorn had been in any spot of the world but at Mrs. Decatur's last night, or that Fleda hadn't taken me there; but since he was, there is no help for it,--I must make him account for his behaviour, to her as well as to me. I really don't know how to help it, sir."
"Let me beg you to reconsider that," Mr. Carleton said with a smile which disarmed offence,--"for if you will not help it, I must."
Charlton looked in doubt for a moment and then asked "how he would help it?"
"In that case, I shall think it my duty to have you bound over to keep the peace."
He spoke gravely now, and with that quiet tone which always carries conviction. Charlton stared unmistakably and in silence.
"You are not in earnest?" he then said.
"I trust you will permit me to leave you forever in doubt on that point," said Mr. Carleton, with again a slight giving way of the muscles of his face.
"I cannot indeed," said Rossitur. "Do you mean what you said just now?"
"Entirely."
"But Mr. Carleton," said Rossitur, flushing and not knowing exactly how to take him up,--"is this the manner of one gentleman towards another?"
He had not chosen right, for he received no answer but an absolute quietness which needed no interpretation. Charlton was vexed and confused, but somehow it did not come into his head to pick a quarrel with his host, in spite of his irritation. That was perhaps because he felt it to be impossible.
"I beg your pardon," he said, most unconsciously verifying Fleda's words in his own person,--"but Mr. Carleton, do me the favour to say that I have misunderstood your words. They are incomprehensible to me, sir."
"I must abide by them nevertheless, Capt. Rossitur," Mr. Carleton answered with a smile. "I will not permit this thing to be done, while, as I believe, I have the power to prevent it. You see," he said, smiling again,--"I put in practice my own theory."
Charlton looked exceedingly disturbed, and maintained a vexed and irresolute silence for several minutes, realizing the extreme disagreeableness of having more than his match to deal with.
"Come, Capt. Kossitur," said the other turning suddenly round upon him,--"say that you forgive me what you know was meant in no disrespect to you?"
"I certainly should not," said Rossitur, yielding however with a half laugh, "if it were not for the truth of the proverb that it takes two to make a quarrel."
"Give me your hand upon that. And now that the question of honour is taken out of your hands, grant not to me but to those for whom I ask it, your promise to forgive this man."
Charlton hesitated, but it was difficult to resist the request, backed as it was with weight of character and grace of manner, along with its intrinsic reasonableness; and he saw no other way so expedient of getting out of his dilemma.
"I ought to be angry with somebody," he said, half laughing and a little ashamed;--"if you will point out any substitute for Thorn I will let him go--since I cannot help myself--with pleasure."
"I will bear it," said Mr. Carleton lightly. "Give me your promise for Thorn and hold me your debtor in what amount you please."
"Very well--I forgive him," said Rossitur;--"and now Mr. Carleton I shall have a reckoning with you some day for this."
"I will meet it. When you are next in England you shall come down to---- shire, and I will give you any satisfaction you please."
They parted in high good-humour; but Charlton looked grave as he went down the staircase; and very oddly all the way down to Whitehall his head was running upon the various excellencies and perfections of his cousin Fleda.
There is a fortune comingTowards you, dainty, that will take thee thus,And set thee aloft.
There is a fortune comingTowards you, dainty, that will take thee thus,And set thee aloft.
Ben Jonson.
Ben Jonson.
That day was spent by Fleda in the never-failing headache which was sure to visit her after any extraordinary nervous agitation or too great mental or bodily trial. It was severe this time, not only from the anxiety of the preceding night but from the uncertainty that weighed upon her all day long. The person who could have removed the uncertainty came indeed to the house, but she was too ill to see anybody.
The extremity of pain wore itself off with the day, and at evening she was able to leave her room and come down stairs. But she was ill yet, and could do nothing but sit in the corner of the sofa, with her hair unbound, and Florence gently bathing her head with cologne.
Anxiety as well as pain had in some measure given place to exhaustion, and she looked a white embodiment of endurance which gave a shock to her friends' sympathy. Visitors were denied,--and Constance and Edith devoted their eyes and tongues at least to her service, if they could do no more.
It happened that Joe Manton was out of the way, holding an important conference with a brother usher next door, a conference that he had no notion would be so important when he began it; when a ring on his own premises summoned one of the maid-servants to the door. She knew nothing about "not at home," and unceremoniously desired the gentleman to "walk up,"--"the ladies were in the drawing-room."
The door had been set wide open for the heat, and Fleda was close in the corner behind it; gratefully permitting Florence's efforts with the cologne, which yet she knew could avail nothing but the kind feelings of the operator; for herself patiently waiting her enemy's time. Constance was sitting on the floor looking at her.
"I can't conceive how you can bear so much," she said at length.
Fleda thought, how little she knew what was borne!
"Why you could bear it I suppose if you had to," said Edith philosophically.
"She knows she looks most beautiful," said Florence, softly passing her cologned hands down over the smooth hair;--"she knows
"'Il faut souffrir pour être belle.'"
"La migraine ne se guérit avec les douceurs," said Mr. Carleton entering;--"try something sharp, Miss Evelyn."
"Where are we to get it?" said Constance springing up, and adding in a most lack-a-daisical aside to her mother, "(Mamma!--the fowling piece!)--Our last vinegar hardly comes under the appellation; and you don't expect to find anything volatile in this house, Mr. Carleton?"
He smiled.
"Have you none for grave occasions, Miss Constance?"
"I won't retort the question about 'something sharp,'" said Constance arching her eyebrows, "because it is against my principles to make people uncomfortable; but you have certainly brought in some medicine with you, for Miss Ringgan's cheeks a little while ago were as pure as her mind--from a tinge of any sort--and now, you see--"
"My dear Constance," said her mother, "Miss Ringgan's cheeks will stand a much better chance if you come away and leave her in peace. How can she get well with such a chatter in her ears."
"Mr. Carleton and I, mamma, are conferring upon measures of relief,--and Miss Ringgan gives token of improvement already."
"For which I am very little to be thanked," said Mr. Carleton. "But I am not a bringer of bad news, that she should look pale at the sight of me."
"Are you a bringer of any news?" said Constance, "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 more distant region of the fire.
"I believe there are no general news, Mrs. Evelyn."
"Are there any particular news?" said Constance.--"I like particular news infinitely the best!"
"I am sorry, Miss Constance, I have none for you. But--will this headache yield to nothing?"
"Fleda prophesied that it would to time," said Florence;--"she Would not let us try much beside."
"And I must confess there has been no volatile agency employed at all," said Constance;--"I never knew time have less of it; and Fleda seemed to prefer him for her physician."
"He hasn't been a good one to-day," said Edith nestling affectionately to her side. "Isn't it better, Fleda?"--for she had covered her eyes with her hand.
"Not just now," said Fleda softly.
"It is fair to change physicians if the first fails," said Mr. Carleton. "I have had a slight experience in headache-curing,--if you will permit me, Miss Constance, I will supersede time and try a different prescription."
He went out to seek it; and Fleda leaned her head in her hand and tried to quiet the throbbing heart every pulsation of which was felt so keenly at the seat of pain. She knew from Mr. Carleton's voice and manner,--shethoughtshe knew,--that he had exceeding good tidings for her; once assured of that she would soon be better; but she was worse now.
"Where is Mr. Carleton gone?" said Mrs. Evelyn.
"I haven't the least idea, mamma--he has ventured upon an extraordinary undertaking and has gone off to qualify himself, I suppose. I can't conceive why he didn't ask Miss Ringgan's permission to change her physician, instead of mine."
"I suppose he knew there was no doubt about that." said Edith, hitting the precise answer of Fleda's thoughts.
"And what should make him think there was any doubt about mine?" said Constance tartly.
"O you know," said her sister, "you are so odd nobody can tell what you will take a fancy to."
"You are--extremely liberal in your expressions, at least, Miss Evelyn,--I must say," said Constance, with a glance of no doubtful meaning.--"Joe--did you let Mr. Carleton in?"
"No, ma'am."
"Well let him in next time; and don't let in anybody else."
Whereafter the party relapsed into silent expectation.
It was not many minutes before Mr. Carleton returned.
"Tell your friend, Miss Constance," he said putting an exquisite little vinaigrette into her hand,--"that I have nothing worse for her than that."
"Worse than this!" said Constance examining it. "Mr. Carleton--I doubt exceedingly whether smelling this will afford Miss Ringgan any benefit."
"Why, Miss Constance?"
"Because--it has made me sick only to look at it!"
"There will be no danger for her," be said smiling.
"Won't there?--Well, Fleda my dear--here, take it," said the young lady;--"I hope you are differently constituted from me, for I feel a sudden pain since I saw it;--but as you keep your eyes shut and so escape the sight of this lovely gold chasing, perhaps it will do you no mischief."
"It will do her all the more good for that," said Mrs. Evelyn.
The only ears that took the benefit of this speech were Edith's and Mr. Carleton's; Fleda's were deafened by the rush of feeling. She very little knew what she was holding. Mr. Carleton stood with rather significant gravity watching the effect of his prescription, while Edith beset her mother to know why the outside of the vinaigrette being of gold should make it do Fleda any more good; the disposing of which question effectually occupied Mrs. Evelyn's attention for some time.
"And pray how long is it since you took up the trade of a physician, Mr. Carleton?" said Constance.
"It is--just about nine years, Miss Constance," he answered gravely.
But that little reminder, slight as it was, overcame the small remnant of Fleda's self-command; the vinaigrette fell from her hands and her face was hid in them; whatever became of pain, tears must flow.
"Forgive me," said Mr. Carleton gently, bending down towards her, "for speaking when I should have been silent.--Miss Evelyn, and Miss Constance, will you permit me to order that my patient be left in quiet."
And he took them away to Mrs. Evelyn's quarter, and kept them all three engaged in conversation, too busily to trouble Fleda with any attention; till she had had ample time to try the effect of the quiet and of the vinegar both. Then he went himself to look after her.
"Are you better?" said he, bending down and speaking low.
Fleda opened her eyes and gave him, what a look!--of grateful feeling. She did not know the half that was in it; but he did. That she was better was a very small item.
"Ready for the coffee?" said he smiling.
"O no," whispered Fleda,--"it don't matter about that--never mind the coffee!"
But he went back with his usual calmness to Mrs. Evelyn and begged that she would have the goodness to order a cup of rather strong coffee to be made.
"But Mr. Carleton, sir," said that lady,--"I am not at all sure that it would be the best thing for Miss Ringgan--if she is better,--I think it would do her far more good to go to rest and let sleep finish her cure, before taking something that will make sleep impossible."
"Did you ever hear of a physician, Mrs. Evelyn," he said smiling, "that allowed his prescriptions to be interfered with? I must beg you will do me this favour."
"I doubt very much whether it will be a favour to Miss Ringgan," said Mrs. Evelyn,--"however--"
And she rang the bell and gave the desired order, with a somewhat disconcerted face. But Mr. Carleton again left Fleda to herself and devoted his attention to the other ladies, with so much success, though with his usual absence of effort, that good humour was served long before the coffee.
Then indeed he played the physician's part again; made the coffee himself and saw it taken, according to his own pleasure; skilfully however seeming all the while, except to Fleda, to be occupied with everything else. The group gathered round her anew; she was well enough to bear their talk by this time; by the time the coffee was drunk quite well.
"Is it quite gone?" asked Edith.
"The headache?--yes."
"You will owe your physician a great many thanks, my dear Fleda," said Mrs. Evelyn.
Fleda's only answer to this, however, was by a very slight smile; and she presently left the room to go up stairs and arrange her yet disarranged hair.
"That is a very fine girl," remarked Mrs. Evelyn, preparing half a cup of coffee for herself in a kind of amused abstraction,--"my friend Mr. Thorn will have an excellent wife of her."
"Provided she marries him," said Constance somewhat shortly.
"I am sure I hope she won't," said Edith,--"and I don't believe she will."
"What do you think of his chances of success, Mr. Carleton?"
"Your manner of speech would seem to imply that they are very good, Mrs. Evelyn," he answered coolly.
"Well don't you think so?" said Mrs. Evelyn, coming back to her seat with her coffee-cup, and apparently dividing her attention between it and her subject,--"It's a great chance for her--most girls in her circumstances would not refuse it--Ithink 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 people who are always sure of their ground!"
"What do you think, Mr. Carleton?" said Mrs. Evelyn, taking little satisfied sips of her coffee.
"May I ask, first, what is meant by the 'chance' and what by the 'circumstances.'"
"Why Mr. Thorn has a fine fortune, you know, and he is of an excellent family--there is not a better family in the city--and very few young men of such pretensions would think of a girl that has no name nor standing."
"Unless she had qualities that would command them," said Mr. Carleton.
"But Mr. Carleton, sir," said the lady,--"do you think that can be? do you think a woman can fill gracefully a high place in society if she has had disadvantages in early life to contend with that were calculated to unfit her for it?"
"But mamma," said Constance,--"Fleda don't shew any such thing."
"No, she don't shew it," said Mrs. Evelyn,--"but I am not talking of Fleda--I am talking of the effect of early disadvantages. What do you think, Mr. Carleton?"
"Disadvantages of what kind, Mrs. Evelyn?"
"Why, for instance--the strange habits of intercourse, on familiar terms, with rough and uncultivated people,--such intercourse for years--in all sorts of ways,--in the field and in the house,--mingling with them as one of them--it seems to me it must leave its traces on the mind and on the habits of acting and thinking?"
"There is no doubt it does," he answered with an extremely unconcerned face.
"And then there's the actual want of cultivation," said Mrs. Evelyn, warming;--"time taken up with other things, you know,--usefully and properly, but still taken up,--so as to make much intellectual acquirement and accomplishments impossible; it can't be otherwise, you know,--neither opportunity nor instructors; and I don't think anything can supply the want in after life--it isn't the mere things themselves which may be acquired--the mind should grow up in the atmosphere of them--don't you think so, Mr. Carleton?"
He bowed.
"Music, for instance, and languages, and converse with society, and a great many things, are put completely beyond reach;--Edith, my dear, you are not to touch the coffee,--nor Constance either,--no I will not let you,--And there could not be even much reading, for want of books if for nothing else. Perhaps I am wrong, but I confess I don't see how it is possible in such a case"--
She checked herself suddenly, for Fleda with the slow noiseless step that weakness imposed had come in again and stood by the centre-table.
"We are discussing a knotty question, Miss Ringgan," said Mr. Carleton with a smile, as he brought a bergère for her; "I should like to have your voice on it."
There was no seconding of his motion. He waited till she had seated herself and then went on.
"What in your opinion is the best preparation for wearing prosperity well?"
A glance at Mrs. Evelyn's face which was opposite her, and at one or two others which had undeniably the air of beingarrested, was enough for Fleda's quick apprehension. She knew they had been talking of her. Her eyes stopped short of Mr. Carleton's and she coloured and hesitated. No one spoke.
"By prosperity you mean--?"
"Rank and fortune," said Florence, without looking up.
"Marrying a rich man, for instance," said Edith, "and having one's hands full."
This peculiar statement of the case occasioned a laugh all round, but the silence which followed seemed still to wait upon Fleda's reply.
"Am I expected to give a serious answer to that question?" she said a little doubtfully.
"Expectations are not stringent things," said her first questioner smiling. "That waits upon your choice."
"They are horridly stringent,Ithink," said Constance. "We shall all be disappointed if you don't, Fleda my dear."
"By wearing it 'well' you mean, making a good use of it?"
"And gracefully," said Mrs. Evelyn.
"I think I should say then," said Fleda after some little hesitation and speaking with evident difficulty,--"Such an experience as might teach one both the worth and the worthlessness of money."
Mr. Carleton's smile was a sufficiently satisfied one; but Mrs. Evelyn retorted,
"Theworthand theworthlessness!--Fleda my dear, I don't understand--"
"And what experience teaches one the worth and what the worthlessness of money?" said Constance;--"Mamma is morbidly persuaded that I do not understand the first--of the second I have an indefinite idea from never being able to do more than half that I want with it."
Fleda smiled and hesitated again, in a way that shewed she would willingly be excused, but the silence left her no choice but to speak.
"I think," she said modestly, "that a person can hardly understand the true worth of money,--the ends it can best subserve,--that has not been taught it by his own experience of the want; and--"
"What follows?" said Mr. Carleton.
"I was going to say, sir, that there is danger, especially when people have not been accustomed to it, that they will greatly overvalue and misplace the real worth of prosperity; unless the mind has been steadied by another kind of experience, and has learnt to measure things by a higher scale."
"And how when theyhavebeen accustomed to it?" said Florence.
"The same danger, without the 'especially'," said Fleda, with a look that disclaimed any assuming.
"One thing is certain," said Constance,--"you hardly ever seeles nouveaux richesmake a graceful use of anything.--Fleda my dear, I am seconding all of your last speech that I understand. Mamma, I perceive, is at work upon the rest."
"I think we ought all to be at work upon it," said Mrs. Evelyn, "for Miss Ringgan has made it out that there is hardly anybody here that is qualified to wear prosperity well."
"I was just thinking so," said Florence.
Fleda said nothing, and perhaps her colour rose a little.
"I will take lessons of her," said Constance, with eyebrows just raised enough to neutralize the composed gravity of the other features,--"as soon as I have an amount of prosperity that will make it worth while."
"But I don't think," said Florence, "that a graceful use of things is consistent with such a careful valuation and considering of the exact worth of everything--it's not my idea of grace."
"Yetproprietyis an essential element of gracefulness, Miss Evelyn."
"Well," said Florence,--"certainly; but what then?"
"Is it attainable, in the use of means, without a nice knowledge of their true value?"
"But, Mr. Carleton, I am sure I have seen improper things--things improper in a way--gracefully done?"
"No doubt; but, Miss Evelyn," said he smiling "the impropriety did not in those cases, I presume, attach itself to the other quality. The gracefulmannerwas strictly proper to its ends, was it not, however the ends might be false?"
"I don't know," said Florence;--"you have gone too deep for me. But do you think that close calculation, and all that sort of thing, is likely to make people use money, or anything else, gracefully? I never thought it did."
"Not close calculation alone," said Mr. Carleton.
"But do you think it isconsistentwith gracefulness?"
"The largest and grandest views of material things that man has ever taken, Miss Evelyn, stand upon a basis of the closest calculation."
Florence worked at her worsted and looked very dissatisfied.
"O Mr. Carleton," said Constance as he was going,--"don't leave your vinaigrette--there it is on the table."
He made no motion to take it up.
"Don't you know, Miss Constance, that physicians seldom like to have anything to do with their own prescriptions?"
"It's very suspicious of them," said Constance;--"but you must take it, Mr. Carleton, if you please, for I shouldn't like the responsibility of its being left here; and I am afraid it would be dangerous to our peace of mind, besides."
"I shall risk that," he said laughing. "Its work is not done."
"And then, Mr. Carleton," said Mrs. Evelyn, and Fleda knew with what a look,--"you know physicians are accustomed to be paid when their prescriptions are taken."
But the answer to this was only a bow, so expressive in its air of haughty coldness that any further efforts of Mrs. Evelyn's wit were chilled for some minutes after he had gone.
Fleda had not seen this. She had taken up the vinaigrette, and was thinking with acute pleasure that Mr. Carleton's manner last night and to-night had returned to all the familiar kindness of old times. Not as it had been during the rest of her stay in the city. She could be quite contented now to have him go back to England, with this pleasant remembrance left her. She sat turning over the vinaigrette, which to her fancy was covered with hieroglyphics that no one else could read; of her uncle's affair, of Charlton's danger, of her own distress, and the kindness which had wrought its relief, more penetrating and pleasant than even the fine aromatic scent which fairly typified it,--Constance's voice broke in upon her musings.
"Isn't it awkward?" she said as she saw Fleda handling and looking at the pretty toy,--"Isn't it awkward? I sha'n't have a bit of rest now for fear something will happen to that. I hate to have people do such things!"
"Fleda my dear," said Mrs. Evelyn,--"I wouldn't handle it, my love; you may depend there is some charm in it--some mischievous hidden influence,--and if you have much to do with it I am afraid you will find a gradual coldness stealing over you, and a strange forgetfulness of Queechy, and you will perhaps lose your desire ever to go back there any more."
The vinaigrette dropped from Fleda's fingers, but beyond a heightened colour and a little tremulous gravity about the lip, she gave no other sign of emotion.
"Mamma," said Florence laughing,--"you are too bad!"
"Mamma," said Constance, "I wonder how any tender sentiment for you can continue to exist in Fleda's breast!--By the way, Fleda, my dear, do you know that we have heard of two escorts for you? but I only tell you because I know you'll not be fit to travel this age."
"I should not be able to travel to-morrow," said Fleda.
"They are not going to-morrow," said Mrs. Evelyn quietly.
"Who are they?"
"Excellent ones," said Mrs. Evelyn. "One of them is your old friend Mr. Olmney,"
"Mr. Olmney!" said Fleda. "What has brought him to New York?"
"Really," said Mrs. Evelyn laughing,--"I do not know. What should keep him away? I was very glad to see him, for my part. Maybe he has come to take you home."
"Who is the other?" said Fleda.
"That's another old friend of yours--Mrs. Renney."
"Mrs. Renney?--who is she?" said Fleda.
"Why don't you know? Mrs. Renney--she used to live with your aunt Lucy in some capacity--years ago,--when she was in New York,--housekeeper, I think; don't you remember her?"
"Perfectly, now," said Fleda. "Mrs. Renney!--"
"She has been housekeeper for Mrs. Schenck these several years, and she is going somewhere out West to some relation, her brother, I believe, to take care of his family; and her road leads her your way."
"When do they go, Mrs. Evelyn?"
"Both the same day, and both the day after to-morrow. Mr. Olmney takes the morning train, he says, unless you would prefer some other,--I told him you were very anxious to go,--and Mrs. Renney goes in the afternoon. So there's a choice for you."
"Mamma," said Constance, "Fleda is not fit to go at all, either time."
"I don't think she is," said Mrs. Evelyn. "But she knows best what she likes to do."
Thoughts and resolutions came swiftly one after another into Fleda's mind and were decided upon in as quick succession. First, that she must go the day after to-morrow, at all events. Second, that it should not be with Mr. Olmney. Third, that to prevent that, she must not see him in the mean time, and therefore--yes, no help for it,--must refuse to see any one that called the next day; there was to be a party in the evening, so then she would be safe. No doubt Mr. Carleton would come, to give her a more particular account of what he had done, and she wished unspeakably to hear it; but it was not possible that she should make an exception in his favour and admit him alone. That could not be. If friends would only be simple and straightforward and kind,--one could afford to be straightforward too;--but as it was she must not do what she longed to do and they would be sure to misunderstand. There was indeed the morning of the day following left her if Mr. Olmney did not take it into his head to stay. And it might issue in her not seeing Mr. Carleton at all, to bid good-bye and thank him? He would not think her ungrateful, he knew better than that, but still--Well! so much for kindness!--
"Whatareyou looking so grave about?" said Constance.
"Considering ways and means," Fleda said with a slight smile.
"Ways and means of what?"
"Going."
"You don't mean to go the day after to-morrow?"
"Yes."
"It's too absurd for anything! You sha'n't do it."
"I must indeed."
"Mamma," said Constance, "if you permit such a thing, I shall hope that memory will be a fingerboard of remorse to you, pointing to Miss Ringgan's pale cheeks."
"I shall charge it entirely upon Miss Ringgan's own fingerboard," said Mrs. Evelyn, with her complacently amused face. "Fleda, my dear,--shall I request Mr. Olmney to delay his journey for a day or two, my love, till you are stronger?"
"Not at all, Mrs. Evelyn! I shall go then;--if I am not ready in the morning I will take Mrs. Renney in the afternoon--I would quite as lief go with her."
"Then I will make Mr. Olmney keep to his first purpose," said Mrs. Evelyn.
Poor Fleda, though with a very sorrowful heart, kept her resolutions, and for very forlornness and weariness slept away a great part of the next day. Neither would she appear in the evening, for fear of more people than one. It was impossible to tell whether Mrs. Evelyn's love of mischief would not bring Mr. Olmney there, and the Thorns, she knew, were invited. Mr. Lewis would probably absent himself, but Fleda could not endure even the chance of seeing his mother. She wanted to know, but dared not ask, whether Mr. Carleton had been to see her. What if to-morrow morning should pass without her seeing him? Fleda pondered this uncertainty a little, and then jumped out of bed and wrote him the heartiest little note of thanks and remembrance that tears would let her write; sealed it, and carried it herself to the nearest branch of the despatch post the first thing next morning.
She took a long look that same morning at the little vinaigrette which still lay on the centre-table, wishing very much to take it up stairs and pack it away among her things. It was meant for her she knew, and she wanted it as a very pleasant relic from the kind hands that had given it; and besides, he might think it odd if she should slight his intention. But how odd it would seem to him if he knew that the Evelyns had half appropriated it. And appropriate it anew, in another direction, she could not. She could not without their knowledge, and they would put their own absurd construction on what was a simple matter of kindness; she could not brave it.
'I told him, 'O you were not gone yet!''"I told him, 'O you were not gone yet!'"
The morning, a long one it was, had passed away; Fleda had just finished packing her trunk, and was sitting with a faint-hearted feeling of body and mind, trying to rest before being called to her early dinner, when Florence came to tell her it was ready.
"Mr. Carleton was here awhile ago," she said, "and he asked for you; but mamma said you were busy; she knew you had enough to tire you without coming down stairs to see him. He asked when you thought of going."
"What did you tell him?"
"I told him, 'O you were not gone yet!'--it's such a plague to be bidding people good-bye--Ialways want to get rid of it. Was I right?"
Fleda said nothing, but in her heart she wondered what possible concern it could be of her friends if Mr. Carleton wanted to see her before she went away. She felt it was unkind--they did not know how unkind, for they did not understand that he was a very particular friend and an old friend--they could not tell what reason there was for her wishing to bid him good-bye. She thought she should have liked to do it, very much.