Queechy Volume Ii Part 17

"Well, Miss Constance?"

"And I am morally certain I sha'n't recollect a word of it if I don't carry away some specimens to refresh my memory, and in that case he would never give me another."

It was impossible to help laughing at the distressful position of the young lady's eyebrows, and, with at least some measure of outward grace, Mr. Thorn set about complying with her request. Fleda again stood tapping her left hand with her flowers, wondering a little that somebody else did not come and speak to her, but he was talking to Mrs. Evelyn and Mr.

Stackpole. Fleda did not wish to join them, and nothing better occurred to her than to arrange her flowers over again; so, throwing them all down before her on a marble slab, she began to pick them up one by one, and put them together, with, it must be confessed, a very indistinct realization of the difference between myrtle and lemon blossoms; and as she seemed to be laying acacia to rose, and disposing some sprigs of beautiful heath behind them, in reality she was laying kindness alongside of kindness, and looking at the years beyond years where their place had been. It was with a little start that she suddenly found the person of her thoughts standing at her elbow, and talking to her in bodily presence.

But while he spoke with all the ease and simplicity of old times, almost making Fleda think it was but last week they had been strolling through the Place de la Concorde together, there was a constraint upon her that she could not get rid of, and that bound eye and tongue. It might have worn off, but his attention was presently claimed again by Mrs. Evelyn, and Fleda thought best, while yet Constance's bouquet was unfinished, to join another party, and make her escape into the drawing-rooms.

CHAPTER VII.

"Have you observed a sitting hare, List'ning, and, fearful of the storm Of horns and hounds, clap back her ear, Afraid to keep or leave her form?

PRIOR.

By the Evelyns' own desire, Fleda's going to them was delayed for a week, because, they said, a furnace was to be brought into the house, and they would be all topsy-turvy till that fuss was over. Fleda kept herself very quiet in the meantime, seeing almost n.o.body but the person whom it was her especial object to shun. Do her best, she could not quite escape him, and was even drawn into two or three walks and rides, in spite of denying herself utterly to gentlemen at home, and losing, in consequence, a visit from her old friend. She was glad at last to go to the Evelyns, and see company again, hoping that Mr. Thorn would be merged in a crowd.

But she could not merge him, and sometimes was almost inclined to suspect that his constant prominence in the picture must be owing to some mysterious and wilful conjuration going on in the background. She was at a loss to conceive how else it happened that, despite her utmost endeavours to the contrary, she was so often thrown upon his care, and obliged to take up with his company. It was very disagreeable. Mr. Carleton she saw almost as constantly, but, though frequently near, she had never much to do with him. There seemed to be a dividing atmosphere always in the way, and whenever he did speak to her, she felt miserably constrained, and unable to appear like herself. Why was it? she asked herself, in a very vexed state of mind. No doubt, partly from the remembrance of that overheard conversation which she could not help applying, but much more from an indefinable sense that at these times there were always eyes upon her. She tried to charge the feeling upon her consciousness of their having heard that same talk, but it would not the more go off. And it had no chance to wear off, for somehow, the occasions never lasted long ? something was sure to break them up ? while an unfortunate combination of circ.u.mstances, or of connivers, seemed to give Mr. Thorn unlimited facilities in the same kind. Fleda was quick-witted and skilful enough to work herself out of them once in a while; more often the combination was too much for her simplicity and straightforwardness.

She was a little disappointed and a little surprised at Mr.

Carleton's coolness. He was quite equal to withstand or out- general the schemes of any set of manoeuvrers; therefore it was plain he did not care for the society of his little friend and companion of old time. Fleda felt it, especially as she now and then heard him in delightful talk with somebody else, making himself so interesting that, when Fleda could get a chance to listen, she was quite ready to forgive his not talking to her for the pleasure of hearing him talk at all.

But at other times she said, sorrowfully to herself, "He will be going home presently, and I shall not have seen him."

One day she had successfully defended herself against taking a drive which Mr. Thorn came to propose, though the proposition had been laughingly backed by Mrs. Evelyn. Raillery was much harder to withstand than persuasion, but Fleda's quiet resolution had proved a match for both. The better to cover her ground, she declined to go out at all, and remained at home, the only one of the family, that fine day.

In the afternoon Mr. Carleton was there. Fleda sat a little apart from the rest, industriously bending over a complicated piece of embroidery belonging to Constance, and in which that young lady had made a great blunder, which she declared her patience unequal to the task of rectifying. The conversation went gaily forward among the others, Fleda taking no part in it beyond an involuntary one. Mr. Carleton's part was rather reserved and grave, according to his manner in ordinary society.

"What do you keep bothering yourself with that for?" said Edith, coming to Fleda's side.

"One must be doing something, you know," said Fleda, lightly.

"No, you mustn't ? not when you're tired ? and I know you are.

I'd let Constance pick out her own work."

"I promised her I would do it," said Fleda.

"Well, you didn't promise her when. Come! ? everybody's been out but you, and you have sat here over this the whole day.

Why don't you come over there and talk with the rest? I know you want to, for I've watched your mouth going."

"Going! ? how!"

"Going ? off at the corners. I've seen it! Come."

But Fleda said she could listen and work at once, and would not budge. Edith stood looking at her a little while in a kind of admiring sympathy, and then went back to the group.

"Mr. Carleton," said the young lady, who was treading with laudable success in the steps of her sister Constance ? "what has become of that ride you promised to give me?"

"I do not know, Miss Edith," said Mr. Carleton, smiling, "for my conscience never had the keeping of it."

"Hush, Edith!" said her mother; "do you think Mr. Carleton has nothing to do but to take you riding?"

"I don't believe he has much to do," said Edith, securely.

"But, Mr. Carleton, you did promise, for I asked you, and you said nothing; and I always have been told that silence gives consent; so what is to become of it?"

"Will you go now, Miss Edith?"

"Now? ? O, yes! And will you go out to Manhattanville, Mr.

Carleton ? along by the river?"

"If you like. But, Miss Edith, the carriage will hold another ? cannot you persuade one of these ladies to go with us?"

"Fleda!" said Edith, springing off to her with extravagant capers of joy ? "Fleda, you shall go! you haven't been out to- day."

"And I cannot go out to-day," said Fleda, gently.

"The air is very fine," said Mr. Carleton, approaching her table, with no want of alacrity in step or tone, her ears knew; "and this weather makes everything beautiful. Has that piece of canvas any claims upon you that cannot be put aside for a little?"

"No, Sir," said Fleda, "but, I am sorry I have a stronger reason that must keep me at home."

"She knows how the weather looks," said Edith; "Mr. Thorn takes her out every other day. It's no use to talk to her, Mr.

Carleton ? when she says she wont, she wont."

"Every other day!" said Fleda.

"No, no," said Mrs. Evelyn, coming up, and with that smile which Fleda had never liked so little as at that minute ? "not _every other_ day, Edith; what are you talking of? Go, and don't keep Mr. Carleton waiting."

Fleda worked on, feeling a little aggrieved. Mr. Carleton stood still by her table, watching her, while his companions were getting themselves ready; but he said no more, and Fleda did not raise her head till the party were off. Florence had taken her resigned place.

"I dare say the weather will be quite as fine to-morrow, dear Fleda," said Mrs. Evelyn, softly.

"I hope it will," said Fleda, in a tone of resolute simplicity.

"I only hope it will not bring too great a throng of carriages to the door," Mrs. Evelyn went on, in a tone of great internal amus.e.m.e.nt; "I never used to mind it, but I have lately a nervous fear of collisions."

"To-morrow is not your reception-day?" said Fleda.

"No, not mine," said Mrs. Evelyn, softly ? "but that doesn't signify ? it may be one of my neighbours."

Fleda pulled away at her threads of worsted, and wouldn't know anything else.

"I have read of the servants of Lot and the servants of Abraham quarrelling," Mrs. Evelyn went on, in the same undertone of delight ? "because the land was too strait for them ? I should be very sorry to have anything of the sort happen again, for I cannot imagine where Lot would go to find a plain that would suit him."

"Lot and Abraham, Mamma," said Constance, from the sofa ?

"what on earth are you talking about?"

"None of your business," said Mrs. Evelyn; "I was talking of some country friends of mine that you don't know."

Constance knew her mother's laugh very well, but Mrs. Evelyn was impenetrable.