CHAPTER XIV.
"I thank you for your company; but, good faith, I had as lief have been myself alone." AS YOU LIKE IT.
The first thing next morning, Seth Plumfield came down to say that he had seen Dr. Quackenboss the night before, and had chanced to find out that he was going to New York, too, this very day; and knowing that the doctor would be just as safe an escort as himself, Seth had made over the charge of his cousin to him; "calculating," he said, "that it would make no difference to Fleda, and that he had better stay at home with his mother."
Fleda said nothing, and looked as little as possible of her disappointment, and her cousin went away wholly unsuspecting of it.
"Seth Plumfield ha'n't done a smarter thing than that in a good while," Barby remarked, satirically, as he was shutting the door. "I should think he'd ha' hurt himself."
"I dare say the doctor will take good care of me," said Fleda; "as good as he knows how."
"Men beat all!" said Barby, impatiently. "The little sense there is into them."
Fleda's sinking heart was almost ready to echo the sentiment; but nobody knew it.
Coffee was swallowed, her little travelling-bag and bonnet on the sofa all ready. Then came the doctor.
"My dear Miss Ringgan, I am most happy of this delightful opportunity I had supposed you were located at home for the winter. This is a sudden start."
"Is it sudden to you, Dr. Quackenboss?" said Fleda.
"Why a not disagreeably so," said the doctor, smiling; "nothing could be that in the present circumstances but I a I hadn't calculated upon it for much of a spell beforehand."
Fleda was vexed, and looked only unconversable.
"I suppose," said the doctor, after a pause, "that we have not much time to waste a in idle moments. Which route do you intend to travel?"
"I was thinking to go by the North River, Sir."
"But the ice has collected, I am afraid."
"At Albany, I know; but when I came up, there was a boat every other day, and we could get there in time by the stage this is her day."
"But we have had some pretty tight weather since, if you remember," said the doctor; "and the boats have ceased to connect with the stage. We shall have to go to Greenfield to take the Housatonic, which will land us at Bridgeport on the Sound."
"Have we time to reach Greenfield this morning?"
"Oceans of time," said the doctor, delightedly; "I've got my team here, and they're jumping out of their skins with having nothing to do, and the weather they'll carry us there as spry as grasshoppers now, if you're ready, my dear Miss Ringgan."
There was nothing more but to give and receive those speechless lip-messages that are out of the reach of words, and Mrs. Rossitur's half-spoken last charge, to take care of herself; and with these seals upon her mission, Fleda set forth and joined the doctor, thankful for one foil to curiosity in the shape of a veil, and only wishing that there were any invented screen that she could place between her and hearing.
"I hope your attire is of a very warm description," said the doctor, as he helped her into the wagon; "it friz pretty hard last night, and I don't think it has got out of the notion yet. If I had been consulted in any other a form, than that of a friend, I should have disapprobated, if you'll excuse me, Miss Ringgan's travelling again before her 'Rose of Cassius' there was in blow. I hope you have heard no evil tidings? Dr. a Gregory, I hope, is not taken ill?"
"I hope not, Sir," said Fleda.
"He didn't look like it. A very hearty old gentleman. Not very old either, I should judge. Was he the brother of your mother or your father?"
"Neither, Sir."
"Ah! I misunderstood I thought, but of course I was mistaken I thought I heard you speak to him under the title of uncle. But that is a title we sometimes give to elderly people as a term of familiarity; there is an old fellow that works for me, he has been a long time in our family, and we always call him 'uncle Jenk.' "
Fleda was ready to laugh, cry, and be angry, in a breath. She looked straight before her, and was mum.
"That 'Rose of Cassius' is a most exquisite thing," said the doctor, recurring to the cluster of bare bushy stems in the corner of the garden. "Did Mr. Rossitur bring it with him when he came to his present residence?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Where is Mr. Rossitur now?"
Fleda replied, with a jump of her heart, that business affairs had obliged him to be away for a few days.
"And when does he expect to return?" said the doctor.
"I hope he will be home as soon as I am," said Fleda.
"Then you do not expect to remain long in the city this time?"
"I shall not have much of a winter at home if I do," said
Fleda. "We are almost at January."
"Because," said the doctor, "in that case I should have no higher gratification than in attending upon your motions. I a beg you to believe, my dear Miss Ringgan, that it would afford me the a most particular it would be most particularly grateful to me to wait upon you to a the confines of the world."
Fleda hastened to assure her officious friend that the time of her return was altogether uncertain, resolving rather to abide a guest with Mrs. Pritchard than to have Dr. Quackenboss hanging upon her motions every day of her being there. But, in the meantime, the doctor got upon Captain Rossitur's subject, then came to Mr. Thorn, and then wanted to know the exact nature of Mr. Rossitur's business affairs in Michigan, through all which matters poor Fleda had to run the gauntlet of questions, interspersed with gracious speeches which she could bear even less well. She was extremely glad to reach the cars, and take refuge in seeming sleep from the mongrel attentions, which, if for the most part prompted by admiration, owned so large a share of curiosity. Her weary head and heart would fain have courted the reality of sleep, as a refuge from more painful thoughts, and a feeling of exhaustion that could scarcely support itself; but the restless roar and jumble of the rail-cars put it beyond her power. How long the hours were how hard to wear out, with no possibility of a change of position that would give rest! Fleda would not even raise her head when they stopped, for fear of being talked to; how trying that endless noise to her racked nerves! It came to an end at last, though Fleda would not move for fear they might be only taking in wood and water.
"Miss Ringgan!" said the doctor in her ear, "my dear Miss
Ringgan, we are here"
"Are we?" said Fleda, looking up; "what other name has the place, doctor?"
"Why, Bridgeport," said the doctor; "we're at Bridgeport. Now we have leave to exchange conveyances. A man feels constrained after a prolonged length of time in a place. How have you enjoyed the ride?"
"Not very well it has seemed long. I am glad we are at the end of it."
But as she rose and threw back her veil, the doctor looked startled.
"My dear Miss Ringgan, are you faint?"
"No, Sir."
"You are not well, indeed! I am very sorry the ride has been Take my arm! Ma'am," said the doctor, touching a black satin cloak which filled the passage-way, "will you have the goodness to give this lady a passport?"
But the black satin cloak preferred a straightforward manner of doing this, so their egress was somewhat delayed. Happily faintness was not the matter.
"My dear Miss Ringgan," said the doctor, as they reached the ground and the outer air, "what was it? the stove too powerful? You are looking you are of a dreadfully delicate appearance!"
"I had a headache yesterday," said Fleda; "it always leaves me with a disagreeable reminder the next day. I am not ill."
But he looked frightened, and hurried her, as fast as he dared, to the steamboat; and there proposed half a dozen restoratives, the simplest of which Fleda took, and then sought delicious rest from him and from herself on the cushions of a settee. Delicious! though she was alone, in the cabin of a steamboat, with strange forms and noisy tongues around her, the closed eyelids shut it out all; and she had time but for one resting thought of "patient continuance in well-doing," and one happy heart-look up to Him who has said that he cares for his children, a look that laid her anxieties down there when past misery and future difficulty faded away before a sleep that lasted till the vessel reached her moorings and was made fast.
She was too weary and faint even to think during the long drive up to Bleecker Street. She was fain to let it all go the work she had to do, and the way she must set about it, and rest in the assurance that nothing could be done that night. She did not so much as hear Dr. Quackenboss's observations, though she answered a few of them, till, at the door, she was conscious of his promising to see her to-morrow, and of her instant conclusion to take measures to see nobody.
How strange everything seemed! She walked through the familiar hall, feeling as if her acquaintance with every old thing was broken. There was no light in the back parlour, but a comfortable fire.
"Is my is Dr. Gregory at home?" she asked of the girl who had let her in.
"No, Ma'am; he hasn't got back from Philadelphia."
"Tell Mrs. Pritchard a lady wants to see her."
Good Mrs. Pritchard was much more frightened than Dr. Quackenboss had been when she came into the back parlour to see "a lady," and found Fleda in. the great arm-chair, taking off her things. She poured out questions, wonderings, and lamentings, not "in a breath," but in a great many; quite forgot to be glad to see her, she looked so dreadfully; and "what had been the matter?" Fleda answered her told of yesterday's illness and to-day's journey; and met all her shocked inquiries with so composed a face, and such a calm smile and bearing, that Mrs. Pritchard was almost persuaded not to believe her eyes.
"My uncle is not at home?"
"O no, Miss Fleda! I suppose he's in Philadelphy but his motions is so little to be depended on, that I never know when I have him; maybe he'll stop going through to Boston, and maybe no, and I don't know when; so anyhow I had to have a fire made, and this room all ready; and aint it lucky it was ready for you to-night? and now he aint here, you can have the great chair all to yourself, and make yourself comfortable we can keep warmer here, I guess, than you can in the country," said the good housekeeper, giving some skilful admonishing touches to the fire; "and you must just sit there and read and rest, and see if you can't get back your old looks again. If I thought it was that you came for, I'd be happy. I never did see such a change in any one in five days."
She stood looking down at her guest with a face of very serious concern, evidently thinking much more than she chose to give utterance to.
"I am tired, Mrs. Pritchard," said Fleda, smiling up at her.
"I wish you had somebody to take care of you, Miss Fleda, that wouldn't let you tire yourself. It's a sin to throw your strength away so and you don't care for looks, nor nothing else when it's for other people. You're looking just as handsome, too, for all," she said, her mouth giving way a little, as she stooped down to take off Fleda's overshoes; "but that's only because you can't help it. Now, what is there you'd like to have for supper? just say, and you shall have it whatever would seem best because I mightn't hit the right thing."
Fleda declared her indifference to everything but a cup of tea, and her hostess bustled away to get that, and tax her own ingenuity and kindness for the rest. And, leaning her weary head back in the lounge, Fleda tried to think but it was not time yet; she could only feel feel what a sad change had come over her since she had sat there last shut her eyes and wish she could sleep again.
But Mrs. Pritchard's hospitality must be gone through with first.
The nicest of suppers was served in the bright little parlour, and her hostess was a compound of care and good-will; nothing was wanting to the feast but a merry heart. Fleda could not bring that, so her performance was unsatisfactory, and Mrs. Pritchard was distressed. Fleda went to her own room, promising better doings to-morrow.
She awoke in the morning to the full burden of care and sorrow which sheer weakness and weariness the day before had in part laid down to a quicker sense of the state of things than she had had yet. The blasting evil that had fallen upon them Fleda writhed on her bed when she thought of it. The sternest, cruellest, most inflexible grasp of distress. Poverty may be borne, death may be sweetened, even to the survivors; but disgrace Fleda hid her head, as if she would shut the idea out with the light. And the ruin it had wrought! Affection killed at the root her aunt's happiness withered for this world Hugh's life threatened the fair name of his family gone the wear and weariness of her own spirit but that had hardly a thought. Himself! oh! no one could tell what a possible wreck, now that self-respect and the esteem of others those two safeguards of character were lost to him. "So much security has any woman in a man without religion;" she remembered those words of her aunt Miriam now; and she thought, if Mr. Thorn had sought an ill wind to blow, upon his pretensions, he could not have pitched them better. What fairer promise, without religion, could be than her uncle had given! Reproach had never breathed against his name, and no one less than those who knew him best could fancy that he had ever given it occasion. And who could have more at stake? and the stake was lost that was the summing up thought.
No, it was not for Fleda's mind presently sprang beyond to the remedy; and after a little swift and earnest flitting about of thought over feasibilities and contingencies, she jumped up, and dressed herself with a prompt energy which showed a mind made up to its course. And yet when she came down to the parlour, though bending herself with nervous intentness to the work she had to do, her fingers and her heart were only stayed in their trembling by some of the happy assurances she had been fleeing to