Queechy Volume Ii Part 8

"Why not? ? why do you say so?"

"Because I must, if you ask me."

"But what can be more excellent and estimable, Fleda? ? who could be more worth liking? I should have thought he would just please you. He is one of the most lovely young men I have ever seen."

"Dear aunt Miriam," said Fleda, looking up beseechingly, "why should we talk about it?"

"Because I want to understand you, Fleda, and to be sure that you understand yourself."

"I do," said Fleda, quietly, and with a quivering lip.

"What is there that you dislike about Mr. Olmney?"

"Nothing in the world, aunt Miriam."

"Then, what is the reason you cannot like him enough?"

"Because, aunt Miriam," said Fleda, speaking in desperation, "there isn't enough of him. He is very good and excellent in every way, n.o.body feels that more than I do; I don't want to say a word against him, but I do not think he has a very strong mind, and he isn't cultivated enough."

"But you cannot have everything, Fleda."

"No, Ma'am, I don't expect it."

"I am afraid you have set up too high a standard for yourself," said Mrs. Plumfield, looking rather troubled.

"I don't think that is possible, aunt Miriam."

"But I am afraid it will prevent your ever liking anybody."

"It will not prevent my liking the friends I have already; it may prevent my leaving them for somebody else," said Fleda, with a gravity that was touching in its expression.

"But Mr. Olmney is sensible, and well educated."

"Yes, but his tastes are not. He could not at all enter into a great many things that give me the most pleasure. I do not think he quite understands above half of what I say to him."

"Are you sure? I know he admires you, Fleda."

"Ah, but that is only half enough, you see, aunt Miriam, unless I could admire him too."

Mrs. Plumfield looked at her in some difficulty; Mr. Olmney was not the only one, clearly, whose powers of comprehension were not equal to the subject.

"Fleda," said her aunt, inquiringly, "is there anybody else that has put Mr. Olmney out of your head?"

"n.o.body in the world!" exclaimed Fleda, with a frank look and tone of astonishment at the question, and cheeks colouring as promptly. "How could you ask? ? but he never was in my head, aunt Miriam."

"Mr. Thorn?" said Mrs. Plumfield.

"Mr. Thorn!" said Fleda, indignantly. "Don't you know me better than that, aunt Miriam? But you do not know him."

"I believe I know you, dear Fleda; but I heard he had paid you a great deal of attention last year; and you would not have been the first unsuspecting nature that has been mistaken."

Fleda was silent, flushed, and disturbed; and Mrs. Plumfield was silent and meditating; when Hugh came in. He came to fetch Fleda home. Dr. Gregory had arrived. In haste again, Fleda sought her bonnet, and exchanging a more than usually wistful and affectionate kiss and embrace with her aunt, set off with Hugh down the hill.

Hugh had a great deal to say to her all the way home, of which Fleda's ears alone took the benefit, for her understanding received none of it; and when she at last came into the breakfast-room where the doctor was sitting, the fact of his being there was the only one which had entered her mind.

"Here she is, I declare!" said the doctor, holding her back to look at her after the first greetings had pa.s.sed. "I'll be hanged if you aint handsome. Now, what's the use of pinking your cheeks any more at that, as if you didn't know it before?

? eh?"

"I will always do my best to deserve your good opinion, Sir,"

said Fleda, laughing.

"Well, sit down now," said he, shaking his head, "and pour me out a cup of tea ? your mother can't make it right."

And sipping his tea for some time, the old doctor sat listening to Mrs. Rossitur, and eating bread and b.u.t.ter, saying little, but casting a very frequent glance at the figure opposite him, behind the tea-board.

"I am afraid," said he, after a while, "that your care for my good opinion wont outlast an occasion. Is _that_ the way you look for every day?"

The colour came with the smile; but the old doctor looked at her in a way that made the tears come too. He turned his eyes to Mrs. Rossitur for an explanation.

"She is well," said Mrs. Rossitur, fondly ? "she has been very well ? except her old headaches now and then; I think she has grown rather thin, lately."

"Thin!" said the old doctor ? "etherealized to a mere abstract of herself; only that is a very bad figure, for an abstract should have all the bone and muscle of the subject; and I should say you had little left but pure spirit. You are the best proof I ever saw of the principle of the homeopaths ? I see now, that though a little corn may fatten a man, a great deal may be the death of him."

"But I have tried it both ways, uncle Orrin," said Fleda, laughing. "I ought to be a happy medium between plethora and starvation. I am pretty substantial, what there is of me."

"Substantial!" said the doctor; "you look as substantial a personage as your old friend, the 'faire Una' ? just about.

Well, prepare yourself, gentle Saxon, to ride home with me the day after to-morrow. I'll try a little humanizing regimen with you."

"I don't think that is possible, uncle Orrin," said Fleda, gently.

"We'll talk about the possibility afterwards ? at present, all you have to do is to get ready. If you raise difficulties, you will find me a very Hercules to clear them away ? I'm substantial enough, I can tell you ? so it's just as well to spare yourself and me the trouble."

"There are no difficulties," Mrs. Rossitur and Hugh said, both at once.

"I knew there weren't. Put a pair or two of clean stockings in your trunk ? that's all you want ? Mrs. Pritchard and I will find the rest. There's the people in Fourteenth street want you the first of November, and I want you all the time till then, and longer too. Stop ? I've got a missive of some sort here for you."

He foisted out of his breast-pocket a little package of notes ? one from Mrs. Evelyn, and one from Florence, begging Fleda to come to them at the time the doctor had named; the third from Constance:

"MY DARLING LITTLE FLEDA,

"I am dying to see you ? so pack up and come down with Dr.

Gregory, if the least spark of regard for me is slumbering in your breast. Mamma and Florence are writing to beg you ? but though an insignificant member of the family, considering that instead of being 'next to head', only little Edith prevents my being at the less dignified end of this branch of the social system, I could not prevail upon myself to let the representations of my respected elders go unsupported by mine ? especially as I felt persuaded of the superior efficacy of the motives I had it in my power to present to your truly philanthropical mind.

"I am in a state of mind that baffles description ? Mr.

Carleton is going home! ?

"I have not worn ear-rings in my ears for a fortnight; my personal appearance is become a matter of indifference to me; any description of mental exertion is excruciating; I sit constantly listening for the ringing of the door-bell, and when it sounds, I rush frantically to the head of the staircase, and look over to see who it is; the mere sight of pen and ink excites delirious ideas ? judge what I suffer in writing to you.