“While you want me!” said Fleda again.
“Yes.—It won’t be long.”
“What won’t be long?”
“I,” said Hugh quietly. “Not
long. I am very glad I shall not leave you alone,
dear Fleda—very glad!—promise
me you will not leave me any more.”
“Don’t talk so, dear Hugh!”
“But it is true, Fleda,” said Hugh gently.
“I know it. I sha’n’t be here
but a little while. I am so glad you are come
home, dear Fleda!—You will not let anybody
take you away till I am gone first?”
Fleda drew her arm close around Hugh’s neck
and was still,—still even to his ear,—for
a good while. A hard battle must be fought, and
she must not be weak, for his sake and for everybody’s
sake. Others of the family had come or were coming
into the room. Hugh waited till a short breath,
but freer drawn, told him he might speak.
“Fleda—” he whispered.
“What?”
“I am very happy.—I only want your
promise about that.”
“I can’t talk to you, Hugh.”
“No, but promise me.”
“What?”
“That you will not let anybody take you away
while I want you.”
“I am sure he would not ask it,” said
Fleda, hiding her cheeks and eyes at once in his breast.
Do you think I shall not love a sad Pamela
as well as a joyful?
Sidney.
Mr. Carleton came back without his mother; she had
chosen to put off her voyage till spring. He
took up his quarters at Montepoole, which, far though
it was, was yet the nearest point where his notions
of ease could have freedom enough.
One would have thought that saw him,—those
most nearly concerned almost did think,—that
in his daily coming to Queechy Mr. Carleton sought
everybody’s pleasure rather than his own.
He was Fleda’s most gentle and kind assistant
in taking care of Hugh, soon dearly valued by the sick
one, who watched for and welcomed his coming as a
bright spot in the day; and loved particularly to
have Mr. Carleton’s hand do anything for him.
Rather than almost any other. His mother’s
was too feeling; Fleda’s Hugh often feared was
weary; and his father’s, though gentle to him
as to an infant, yet lacked the mind’s training.
And though Marion was his sister in blood, Guy was
his brother in better bonds. The deep blue eye
that little Fleda had admired Hugh learned to love
and rest on singularly.
To the rest of the family Mr. Carleton’s influence
was more soothing and cheering than any cause beside.
To all but the head of it. Even Mrs. Rossitur,
after she had once made up her mind to see him, could
not bear to be absent when he was in the house.
The dreaded contrast with old times gave no pain,
either to her or Marion. Mr. Carleton forgot so
completely that there was any difference that they
were charmed into forgetting it too. But Mr.
Rossitur’s pride lay deeper, or had been less
