Queechy Volume Ii Part 54

Even long ago I knew that."

"The good that it did!" It was no time then to moralize, but he must know that Marion was at home, or he might incautiously reveal to her what happily there was no necessity for her ever knowing. And the story must give him great and fresh pain.

"Dear uncle Rolf," said Fleda, pressing closer to him "we may be happier than we have been in a long time, if you will only take it so. The cloud upon you has been a cloud upon us."

"I know it!" he exclaimed ? "a cloud that served to show me that my jewels were diamonds!"

"You have an accession to your jewels, uncle Rolf."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," said Fleda, trembling, "that there are two more at home."

He held her back to look at her.

"Can't you guess who?"

"No!" said he. "What do you mean?"

"I must tell you, because they know nothing, and needn't know, of all this matter."

"What are you talking about?"

"Marion is there!"

"Marion!" exclaimed Mr. Rossitur, with quick changes of expression ? "Marion! At Queechy! ? and her husband?"

"No, Sir ? a dear little child."

"Marion! ? and her husband ? where is he?"

Fleda hesitated.

"I don't know ? I don't know whether she knows."

"Is he dead?"

"No, Sir."

Mr. Rossitur put her away, and got up and walked, or strode up and down the little apartment. Fleda dared not look at him, even by the faint glimmer that came from the chimney.

But abroad it was perfectly dark ? the stars were s.h.i.+ning, the only lamps that illumined the poor little street, and for a long time there had been no light in the room but that of the tiny wood fire. Dinah never could be persuaded of the superior cheapness of coal. Fleda came at last to her uncle's side, and putting her arm within his, said ?

"How soon will you set off for home, uncle Rolf?"

"To-morrow morning."

"You must take the boat to Bridgeport now ? you know the river is fast."

"Yes, I know."

"Then I will meet you at the wharf, uncle Rolf ? at what o'clock?"

"My dear child," said he, stopping and pa.s.sing his hand tenderly over her cheek, "are you fit for it to-morrow? You had better stay where you are quietly for a few days ? you want rest."

"No, I will go home with you," said Fleda, "and rest there.

But hadn't we better let Dinah in, and bid her good-bye? for I ought to be somewhere else to get ready."

Dinah was called, and a few kind words spoken, and with a more substantial remembrance, or reward, from Fleda's hand, they left her.

Fleda had the support of her uncle's arm till they came within sight of the house, and then he stood and watched her while she went the rest of the way alone.

Anything more white and spirit-looking, and more spirit-like, in its purity and peacefulness surely did not walk that night.

There was music in her ear, and abroad in the star-light, more ethereal than Ariel's; but she knew where it came from ? it was the chimes of her heart that were ringing; and never a happier peal, nor ever had the mental atmosphere been more clear for their sounding. Thankfulness ? that was the oftenest note ? swelling thankfulness for her success ? joy for herself and for the dear ones at home ? generous delight at having been the instrument of their relief ? the harmonies of pure affections, without any grating now ? the hope, well grounded she thought, of improvement in her uncle, and better times for them all ? a childlike peace that was at rest with itself and the world ? these were mingling and interchanging their music, and again and again, in the midst of it all, faith rang the last chime in heaven.

CHAPTER XVI.

"As some lone bird at day's departing hour Sings in the sunbeam of the transient shower, Forgetful though its wings are wet the while."

BOWLES.

Happily possessed with the notion that there was some hidden mystery in Fleda's movements, Mrs. Pritchard said not a word about her having gone out, and only spoke in looks her pain at the imprudence of which she had been guilty. But when Fleda asked to have a carriage ordered to take her to the boat in the morning, the good housekeeper could not hold any longer.

"Miss Fleda," said she, with a look of very serious remonstrance ? "I don't know what you're thinking of, but _I_ know you're fixing to kill yourself. You are no more fit to go to Queechy to-morrow than you were to be out till seven o'clock this evening; and if you saw yourself, you wouldn't want me to say any more. There is not the least morsel of colour in your face, and you look as if you had a mind to get rid of your body altogether as fast as you can! You want to be in bed for two days running, now this minute."

"Thank you, dear Mrs. Pritchard," said Fleda, smiling ? "you are very careful of me, but I must go home to-morrow, and go to bed afterwards."

The housekeeper looked at her a minute in silence, and then said, "Don't, dear Miss Fleda!" with an energy of entreaty, which brought the tears into Fleda's eyes. But she persisted in desiring the carriage, and Mrs. Pritchard was silenced, observing, however, that she shouldn't wonder if she wasn't able to go, after all. Fleda herself was not without a doubt on the subject before the evening was over. The reaction, complete now, began to make itself felt, and morning settled the question. She was not able even to rise from her bed.

The housekeeper was, in a sort, delighted; and Fleda was in too pa.s.sive a mood of body and mind to have any care on the subject. The agitation of the past days had given way to an absolute quiet, that seemed as if nothing could ever ruffle it again, and this feeling was seconded by the extreme prostration of body. She was a mere child in the hands of her nurse, and had, Mrs. Pritchard said, "if she wouldn't mind her telling ? the sweetest baby-face that ever had so much sense belonging to it."

The morning was half spent in dozing slumbers, when Fleda heard a rush of footsteps, much lighter and sprightlier than good Mrs. Pritchard's, coming up the stairs, and pattering along the entry to her room, and, with little ceremony, in rushed Florence and Constance Evelyn. They almost smothered Fleda with their delighted caresses, and ran so hard their questions about her looks and her illness, that she was well nigh spared the trouble of answering.

"You horrid little creature!" said Constance, "why didn't you come straight to our house? Just think of the injurious suspicions you have exposed us to! ? to say nothing of the extent of fiction we have found ourselves obliged to execute.

I didn't expect it of you, little Queechy."

Fleda kept her pale face quiet on the pillow, and only smiled her incredulous curiosity.

"But when did you come back, Fleda?" said Miss Evelyn.

"We should never have known a breath about your being here,"

Constance went on. "We were sitting last night, in peaceful unconsciousness of there being any neglected calls upon our friends.h.i.+p in the vicinity, when Mr. Carleton came in and asked for you. Imagine our horror! We said you had gone out early in the afternoon, and had not returned."

"You didn't say that!" said Fleda, colouring.

"And he remarked at some length," said Constance, "upon the importance of young ladies having some attendance when they are out late in the evening, and that you in particular were one of those persons ? he didn't say, but he intimated, of a slightly volatile disposition ? whom their friends ought not to lose sight of."