Queechy Volume Ii Part 81

Mr. Olmney presently came round to take leave, promising to see her another time; and pa.s.sing Fleda, with a frank grave pressure of the hand, which gave her some pain. He and Seth left the room. Fleda was hardly conscious that Dr. Quackenboss was still standing at the foot of the bed, making the utmost use of his powers of observation. He could use little else, for Mr. Carleton and Mrs. Plumfield, after a few words on each side, had, as it were, by common consent, come to a pause. The doctor, when a sufficient time had made him fully sensible of this, walked up to Fleda, who wished heartily at the moment that she could have presented the reverse end of the magnet to him. Perhaps, however, it was that very thing which, by a perverse sort of attraction, drew him towards her.

"I suppose ? a ? we may conclude," said he, with a some. what saturnine expression of mischief ? "that Miss Ringgan contemplates forsaking the agricultural line before a great while?"

"I have not given up my old habits, Sir," said Fleda, a good deal vexed.

"No ? I suppose not ? but Queechy air is not so well suited for them ? other skies will prove more genial," he said, she could not help thinking, pleased at her displeasure.

"What is the fault of Queechy air, Sir?" said Mr. Carleton, approaching them.

"Sir!" said the doctor, exceedingly taken aback, though the words had been spoken in the quietest manner possible ? "it ?

a ? it has no fault, Sir ? that I am particularly aware of ?

it is perfectly salubrious. Mrs. Plumfield, I will bid you good-day; ? I ? a ? I hope you will get well again."

"I hope not, Sir!" said aunt Miriam, in the same clear hearty tones which had answered him before.

The doctor took his departure, and made capital of his interview with Mr. Carleton; who, he affirmed, he could tell by what he had seen of him, was a very deciduous character, and not always conciliating in his manners.

Fleda waited with a little anxiety for what was to follow the doctor's leave-taking.

It was with a very softened eye that aunt Miriam looked at the two who were left, clasping Fleda's hand again; and it was with a very softened voice that she next spoke.

"Do you remember our last meeting, Sir?"

"I remember it well," he said.

"Fleda tells me you are a changed man since that time?"

He answered only by a slight and grave bow.

"Mr. Carleton," said the old lady ? "I am a dying woman ? and this child is the dearest thing in the world to me after my own ? and hardly after him. Will you pardon me ? will you bear with me, if, that I may die in peace, I say, Sir, what else it would not become me to say? ? and it is for her sake."

"Speak to me freely as you would to her," he said, with a look that gave her full permission.

Fleda had drawn close and hid her face in her aunt's neck.

Aunt Miriam's hand moved fondly over her cheek and brow for a minute or two in silence; her eye resting there too.

"Mr. Carleton, this child is to belong to you ? how will you guide her?"

"By the gentlest paths," he said, with a smile.

A whispered remonstrance from Fleda to her aunt had no effect.

"Will her best interests be safe in your hands?"

"How shall I resolve you of that, Mrs. Plumfield?" he said, gravely.

"Will you help her to mind her mother's prayer, and keep herself unspotted from the world?"

"As I trust she will help me."

A rogue may answer questions, but an eye that has never known the shadow of double-dealing makes no doubtful discoveries of itself. Mrs. Plumfield read it, and gave it her very thorough respect.

"Mr. Carleton ? pardon me, Sir ? I do not doubt you ? but I remember hearing long ago that you were rich and great in the world ? it is dangerous for a Christian to be so ? can she keep in your grandeur the simplicity of heart and life she has had at Queechy?"

"May I remind you of your own words, my dear madam? By the blessing of G.o.d all things are possible. These things you speak of are not in themselves evil; if the mind be set on somewhat else, they are little beside a larger storehouse of material to work with ? an increased stewardship to account for."

"She has been taking care of others all her life," said aunt Miriam, tenderly; "it is time she was taken care of: and these feet are very unfit for rough paths; but I would rather she should go on struggling, as she has done, with difficulties, and live and die in poverty, than that the l.u.s.tre of her heavenly inheritance should be tarnished even a little. I would, my darling."

"But the alternative is not so," said Mr. Carleton, with gentle grace, touching Fleda's hand, who he saw was a good deal disturbed. "Do not make her afraid of me, Mrs.

Plumfield."

"I do not believe I need," said aunt Miriam, "and I am sure I could not ? but, Sir, you will forgive me?"

"No, Madam ? that is not possible."

"One cannot stand where I do," said the old lady, "without learning a little the comparative value of things; and I seek my child's good ? that is my excuse. I could not be satisfied to take her testimony."

"Take mine, Madam," said Mr. Carleton. "I have learned the comparative value of things too; and I will guard her highest interests as carefully as I will every other ? as earnestly as you can desire."

"I thank you, Sir," said the old lady, gratefully. "I am sure of it. I shall leave her in good hands. I wanted this a.s.surance. And if ever there was a tender plant that was not fitted to grow on the rough side of the world ? I think this is one," said she, kissing earnestly the face that yet Fleda did not dare to lift up.

Mr. Carleton did not say what he thought. He presently took kind leave of the old lady, and went into the next room, where Fleda soon rejoined him, and they set off homewards.

Fleda was quietly crying all the way down the hill. At the foot of the hill, Mr. Carleton resolutely slackened his pace.

"I have one consolation," he said, "my dear Elfie ? you will have the less to leave for me."

She put her hand with a quick motion upon his, and roused herself.

"She is a beautiful rebuke to unbelief. But she is hardly to be mourned for, Elfie."

"Oh, I was not crying for aunt Miriam," said Fleda.

"For what then?" he said, gently.

"Myself."

"That needs explanation," he said, in the same tone. "Let me have it, Elfie."

"Oh ? I was thinking of several things," said Fleda, not exactly wishing to give the explanation.

"Too vague," said Mr. Carleton, smiling. "Trust me with a little more of your mind, Elfie."

Fleda glanced up at him, half smiling, and yet with filling eyes, and then, as usual, yielded to the winning power of the look that met her.

"I was thinking," she said, keeping her head carefully down, "of some of the things you and aunt Miriam were saying just now ? and ? how good for nothing I am."

"In what respect?" said Mr. Carleton, with praiseworthy gravity.