Queechy Volume Ii Part 46

"I'll put the kettle on. It'll boil directly. I'll go in there and fix up the fire."

A word or two more, and then Fleda ran up to speak to her aunt and Hugh.

Her aunt she found in a state of agitation that was frightful.

Even Fleda's a.s.surances, with all the soothing arts she could bring to bear, were some minutes before they could in any measure tranquillize her. Fleda's own nerves were in no condition to stand another shock, when she left her and went to Hugh's door. But she could get no answer from him, though she spoke repeatedly.

She did not return to her aunt's room. She went down stairs, and brought up Barby and a light from thence.

Hugh was lying senseless and white ? not whiter than his adopted sister, as she stood by his side. Her eye went to her companion.

"Not a bit of it!" said Barby, ? "he's in nothing but a faint ? just run down stairs and get the vinegar-bottle, Fleda ? the pepper vinegar. Is there any water here?" ?

Fleda obeyed, and watched ? she could little more ? the efforts of Barby, who indeed needed no help, with the cold water, the vinegar, and rubbing of the limbs. They were for some time unsuccessful ? the fit was a severe one, and Fleda was exceedingly terrified before any signs of returning life came to rea.s.sure her.

"Now, you go down stairs and keep quiet!" said Barby, when Hugh was fairly restored, and had smiled a faint answer to Fleda's kiss and explanations ? "Go, Fleda! you aint fit to stand. Go and sit down some place, and I'll be along directly and see how the fire burns. Don't you s'pose Mis' Rossitur could come in, and sit in this easy-chair a spell without hurting herself?"

It occurred to Fleda immediately, that it might do more good than harm to her aunt if her attention were diverted even by another cause of anxiety. She gently summoned her, telling her no more than was necessary to fit her for being Hugh's nurse, and, in a very few minutes, she and Barby were at liberty to attend to other claims upon them. But it sank into her heart, "Hugh will not get over this!" ? and when she entered the sitting-room, what Mr. Carleton, years before, had said of the wood-flower, was come true in its fullest extent ? "A storm- wind had beaten it to the ground."

She was able, literally, to do no more than Barby had said ?

sit down and keep herself quiet. Miss Elster was in her briskest mood, flew in and out, made up the fire in the sitting-room, and put on the kettle in the kitchen, which she had been just about doing when called to see Hugh. The much- needed supper of the travellers must be still waited for; but the fire was burning now, the room was cozily warm and bright, and Marion drew up her chair with a look of thoughtful contentment. Fleda felt as if some conjurer had been at work there for the last few hours ? the room looked so like and felt so unlike itself.

"Are you going to be ill too, Fleda?" said Marion, suddenly.

"You are looking ? very far from well!"

"I shall have a headache to-morrow," said Fleda, quietly, ? "I generally know the day beforehand."

"Does it always make you look so?"

"Not always ? I am somewhat tired."

"Where is my father gone?"

"I don't know. Rolf, dear," said Fleda, bending forward to the little fellow, who was giving expression to some very fidgety impatience ? "what is the matter? ? what do you want?"

The child's voice fell a little from its querulousness towards the sweet key in which the questions had been put, but he gave utterance to a very decided wish for "bread and b.u.t.ter."

"Come here," said Fleda, reaching out a hand and drawing him, certainly with no force but that of attraction, towards her easy-chair ? "come here and rest yourself in this nice place by me ? see, there is plenty of room for you ? and you shall have bread and b.u.t.ter and tea, and something else, too, I guess, just as soon as Barby can get it ready."

"Who is Barby?" was the next question, in a most uncompromising tone of voice.

"You saw the woman that came in to put wood on the fire ? that was Barby ? she is very good and kind, and will do anything for you if you behave yourself."

The child muttered, but so low as to show some unwillingness that his words should reach the ears that were nearest him, that "he wasn't going to behave himself."

Fleda did not choose to hear, and went on with composing observations, till the fair little face she had drawn to her side was as bright as the sun, and returned her smile with interest.

"You have an admirable talent at moral suasion, Fleda," said the mother, half smiling ? "I wish I had it."

"You don't need it so much here."

"Why not?"

"It may do very well for me, but I think, not so well for you."

"Why? ? what do you mean? I think it is the only way in the world to bring up children ? the only way fit for rational beings to be guided."

Fleda smiled, though the faintest indication that lips could give, and shook her head ? ever so little.

"Why do you do that? ? tell me."

"Because, in my limited experience," said Fleda, as she pa.s.sed her fingers through the boy's dark locks of hair ? "in every household where 'moral suasion' has been the law, the children have been the administrators of it. Where is your husband?"

"I have lost him ? years ago" ? said Marion, with a quick expressive glance towards the child. "I never lost what I at first thought I had, for I never had it. Do you understand?"

Fleda's eyes gave a sufficient answer.

"I am a widow ? these five years ? in all but what the law would require," Marion went on. "I have been alone since then ? except my child. He was two years old then; and since then I have lived such a life, Fleda!"

"Why didn't you come home?"

"Couldn't ? the most absolute reason in the world. Think of it! ? Come home! It was as much as I could do to stay there!"

Those sympathizing eyes were enough to make her go on.

"I have wanted everything ? except trouble. I have done everything ? except ask alms. I have learned, Fleda, that death is not the worst form in which distress can come."

Fleda felt stung, and bent down her head to touch her lips to the brow of little Rolf.

"Death would have been a trifle!" said Marion. "I mean ? not that _I_ should have wished to leave Rolf alone in the world; but if I had been left ? I mean I would rather wear outside than inside mourning."

Fleda looked up again, and at her.

"Oh, I was so mistaken, Fleda!" she said, clasping her hands ?

"so mistaken! ? in everything; ? so disappointed ? in all my hopes. And the loss of my fortune was the cause of it all."

Nay, verily! thought Fleda, but she said nothing; she hung her head again; and Marion, after a pause, went on to question her about an endless string of matters concerning themselves and other people, past doings and present prospects, till little Rolf, soothed by the uninteresting soft murmur of voices, fairly forgot bread and b.u.t.ter and himself in a sound sleep, his head resting upon Fleda.

"Here is one comfort for you, Marion," she said, looking down at the dark eyelashes which lay on a cheek rosy and healthy as ever seven years old knew; " he is a beautiful child, and I am sure, a fine one."

"It is thanks to his beauty that I have ever seen home again,"

said his mother.

Fleda had no heart this evening to speak words that were not necessary; her eyes asked Marion to explain herself.

"He was in Hyde Park one day ? I had a miserable lodging not far from it, and I used to let him go in there, because he must go somewhere, you know ? I couldn't go with him ?"

"Why not?"