Queechy Volume I Part 27

She had left her grandfather's room for the last. Mr. Carleton did not follow her in there, guessing that she would rather be alone. But she did not come back, and he was forced to go to fetch her.

The chill desolateness of that room had been too much for poor little Fleda. The empty bedstead, the cold stove, the table bare of books, only one or two lay upon the old Bible; the forlorn order of the place that bespoke the master far away; the very sunbeams that stole in at the little windows, and met now no answering look of gladness or grat.i.tude; it had struck the child's heart too heavily, and she was standing crying by the window. A second time in that room Mr. Carleton sat down and drew his little charge to his breast; and spoke words of soothing and sympathy.

"I am very sorry I brought you here, dear Elfie," he said kindly. "It was too hard for you."

"Oh, no!" even through her tears, Fleda said, "she was very glad!"

"Hadn't we better try to overtake our friends?" he whispered, after another pause.

She immediately, almost immediately, put away her tears, and with a quiet obedience that touched him, went with him from the room, fastened the door, and got out again at the little window.

"Oh, Mr. Carleton!" she said, with great earnestness, when they had almost reached the horses, "wont you wait for me one minute more? I just want a piece of the burning bush."

Drawing her hand from him she rushed round to the front of the house. A little more slowly Mr. Carleton followed, and found her under the burning bush, tugging furiously at a branch, beyond her strength to break off.

"That's too much for you, Elfie," said he, gently taking her hand from the tree; "let my hand try."

She stood back and watched, tears running down her face, while he got a knife from his pocket and cut off the piece she had been trying for, nicely, and gave it to her. The first movement of Fleda's head was down, bent over the pretty spray of red berries; but by the time she stood at the horse's side she looked up at Mr. Carleton and thanked him with a face of more than thankfulness.

She was crying, however, constantly, till they had gone several miles on their way again, and Mr. Carleton doubted he had done wrong. It pa.s.sed away, and she had been sitting quite peacefully for some time, when he told her they were near the place where they were to stop and join their friends. She looked up most gratefully in his face.

"I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Carleton, for what you did!"

"I was afraid I had made a mistake, Elfie."

"Oh, no, you didn't."

"Do you think you feel any easier after it, Elfie?"

"Oh, yes! ? indeed I do," said she, looking up again, ? "thank you, Mr. Carleton."

A gentle kind pressure of his arm answered her thanks.

"I ought to be a good sprite to you, Mr. Carleton," Fleda said, after musing a little while, ? "you are so very good to me!"

Perhaps Mr. Carleton felt too much pleasure at this speech to make any answer, for he made none.

"It is only selfishness, Elfie," said he, presently, looking down to the quiet sweet little face which seemed to him, and was, more pure than anything of earth's mould he had ever seen. ? "You know I must take care of you for my own sake."

Fleda laughed a little.

"But what will you do when we get to Paris?"

"I don't know. I should like to have you always, Elfie."

"You'll have to get aunt Lucy to give me to you," said Fleda.

"Mr. Carleton," said she, a few minutes after, ? "is that story in a book?"

"What story ?"

"About the lady and the little sprites that waited on her."

"Yes, it is in a book; you shall see it, Elfie. ? Here we are!"

And here it was proposed to stay till the next day, lest Fleda might not be able to bear so much travelling at first. But the country inn was not found inviting; the dinner was bad, and the rooms were worse; uninhabitable, the ladies said; and about the middle of the afternoon they began to cast about for the means of reaching Albany that night. None very comfortable could be had; however, it was thought better to push on at any rate than wear out the night in such a place. The weather was very mild; the moon at the full.

"How is Fleda to go this afternoon," said Mrs. Evelyn.

"She shall decide herself," said Mrs. Carleton. "How will you go, my sweet Fleda?"

Fleda was lying upon a sort of rude couch which had been spread for her, where she had been sleeping incessantly ever since she arrived, the hour of dinner alone excepted. Mrs.

Carleton repeated her question.

"I am afraid Mr. Carleton must be tired," said Fleda, without opening her eyes.

"That means that you are, don't it?" said Rossitur.

"No," said Fleda, gently.

Mr. Carleton smiled, and went out to press forward the arrangements. In spite of good words and good money there was some delay. It was rather late before the cavalcade left the inn; and a journey of several hours was before them. Mr.

Carleton rode rather slowly, too, for Fleda's sake, so the evening had fallen while they were yet a mile or two from the city.

His little charge had borne the fatigue well, thanks partly to his admirable care, and partly to her quiet pleasure in being with him. She had been so perfectly still for some distance, that he thought she had dropped asleep. Looking down closer, however, to make sure about it, he saw her thoughtful clear eyes most unsleepily fixed upon the sky.

"What are you gazing at, Elfie?"

The look of thought changed to a look of affection as the eyes were brought to bear upon him, and she answered with a smile,

"Nothing, ? I was looking at the stars."

"What are you dreaming about?"

"I wasn't dreaming," said Fleda, ? "I was thinking."

"Thinking of what?"

"Oh, of pleasant things."

"Mayn't I know them? ? I like to hear of pleasant things."

"I was thinking, ?" said Fleda, looking up again at the stars, which shone with no purer ray than those grave eyes sent back to them, ? "I was thinking ? of being ready to die."

The words, and the calm thoughtful manner in which they were said, thrilled upon Mr. Carleton with a disagreeable shock.

"How came you to think of such a thing?" said he, lightly.

"I don't know," ? said Fleda, still looking at the stars," ? I suppose ? I was thinking ?"