Queechy Volume Ii Part 45

"I will go, too, presently: I do not think anybody will be here to-night."

"Is ? are there ? is this what has taken him away?" said Hugh.

Her silence and her look told him; and then, laying her cheek again alongside of his, she whispered (how unsteadily!) ?

"We have only one help, dear Hugh."

They were still and quiet again for minutes, counting the pulses of pain, till Fleda came back to her poor wish "to keep what they could." She mixed a restorative of wine and water, which, however little desired, she felt was necessary for both of them, and Hugh went up stairs. She staid a few minutes to prepare another gla.s.s, with particular care, for her aunt. It was just finished, and, taking her candle, she had bid Barby good night, when there came a loud rap at the front door.

Fleda set down candle and gla.s.s, from the quick inability to hold them, as well as for other reasons, and she and Barby stood and looked at each other, in such a confusion of doubt and dread, that some little time had pa.s.sed before either stirred even her eyes. Barby then threw down the tongs, with which she had begun to make preparations for covering up the fire, and set off to the front.

"You mustn't open the door, Barby," cried Fleda, following her. "Come in here, and let us look out of one of the windows."

Before this could be reached, however, there was another prolonged repet.i.tion of the first thundering burst. It went through Fleda's heart, because of the two up stairs who must hear it.

Barby threw up the sash.

"Who's there?"

"Is this Mr. Rossitur's place?" inquired a gruff voice.

"Yes, it is."

"Well will you come round and open the door?"

"Who wants it open?"

"A lady wants it open."

"A lady! ? what lady?"

"Down yonder, in the carriage."

"What lady? ? who is she?"

"I don't know who she is: she wanted to come to Mr. Rossitur's place. Will you open the door for her?"

Barby and Fleda both now saw a carriage standing in the road.

"We must see who it is first," whispered Fleda.

"When the lady comes, I'll open the door," was Barby's ultimatum.

The man withdrew to the carriage, and, after a few moments of intense watching, Fleda and Barby certainly saw something in female apparel enter the little gate of the court-yard, and come up over the bright, moonlit snow towards the house, accompanied by a child; while the man with whom they had had the interview came behind, transformed into an unmistakable baggage-carrier.

CHAPTER XIII.

"Zeal was the spring whence flowed her hardiment."

FAIRFAX.

Barby undid bolt and lock, and Fleda met the traveller in the hall. She was a lady; her air and dress showed that, though the latter was very plain.

"Does Mr. Rossitur live here?" was her first word.

Fleda answered it, and brought her visitor into the sitting- room. But the light falling upon a form and face that had seen more wear and tear than time, gave her no clue as to the who or what of the person before her. The stranger's hurried look around the room seemed to expect something.

"Are they all gone to bed?"

"All but me," said Fleda.

"We have been delayed ? we took a wrong road ? we've been riding for hours to find the place ? hadn't the right direction." Then, looking keenly at Fleda, from whose vision an electric spark of intelligence had scattered the clouds, she said ?

"I am Marion Rossitur."

"I knew it!" said Fleda, with lips and eyes that gave her already a sister's welcome; and they were folded in each other's arms almost as tenderly and affectionately, on the part of one at least, as if there had really been the relationship between them. But more than surprise and affection struck Fleda's heart.

"And where are they all, Fleda? Can't I see them?"

"You must wait till I have prepared them; Hugh and aunt Lucy are not very well. I don't know that it will do for you to see them at all to-night, Marion."

"Not to-night! They are not ill?"

"No ? only enough to be taken care of ? not ill. But it would be better to wait."

"And my father?"

"He is not at home."

Marion exclaimed in sorrow, and Fleda, to hide the look that she felt was on her face, stooped down to kiss the child. He was a remarkably fine-looking, manly boy.

"That is your cousin Fleda," said his mother.

"No ? _aunt_ Fleda," said the person thus introduced ? "don't put me off into cousindom, Marion. I am uncle Hugh's sister ?

and so I am your aunt Fleda. Who are you?"

"Rolf Rossitur Schwiden."

Alas, how wide are the ramifications of evil! How was what might have been very pure pleasure utterly poisoned and turned into bitterness! It went through Fleda's heart with a keen pang, when she heard that name and looked on the very fair brow that owned it, and thought of the ineffaceable stain that had come upon both. She dared look at n.o.body but the child. He already understood the melting eyes that were making acquaintance with his, and half felt the pain that gave so much tenderness to her kiss, and looked at her with a grave face of awakening wonder and sympathy. Fleda was glad to have business to call her into the kitchen.

"Who is it?" was Barby's immediate question.

"Aunt Lucy's daughter."

"She don't look much like her!" said Barby, intelligently.

"They will want something to eat, Barby."