"The room?" said Mr. Carleton. "The room where the body lies?"
"Yes it's dreadful chill in there when the stove aint heated, and she sits there the hull time. And she ha'n't got much to boast of now; she looks as if a feather would blow her away."
The door at the further end of the hall opened about two inches, and a voice called out through the crack,
"Cynthy! Mis' Plumfield wants to know if that is Mr.
Carleton?"
"Yes. "
"Well, she'd like to see him. Ask him to walk into the front room, she says."
Cynthy upon this showed the way, and Mr. Carleton walked into the same room where a very few days before he had been so kindly welcomed by his fine old host. Cold indeed it was now, as was the welcome he would have given. There was no fire in the chimney, and even all the signs of the fire of the other day had been carefully cleared away; the clean empty fireplace looked a mournful assurance that its cheerfulness would not soon come back again. It was a raw disagreeable day; the paper window-shades fluttered uncomfortably in the wind, which had its way now; and the very chairs and tables seemed as if they had taken leave of life and society for ever. Mr. Carleton walked slowly up and down, his thoughts running perhaps somewhat in the train where poor little Fleda's had been so busy last night; and wrapped up in broadcloth as he was to the chin, he shivered when he heard the chill wind moaning round the house and rustling the paper hangings, and thought of little Fleda's delicate frame, exposed as Cynthia had described it. He made up his mind it must not be.
Mrs. Plumfield presently came in, and met him with the calm dignity of that sorrow which needs no parade, and that truth and meekness of character which can make none. Yet there was nothing like stoicism, no affected or proud repression of feeling; her manner was simply the dictate of good sense, borne out by a firm and quiet spirit. Mr. Carleton was struck with it; it was a display of character different from any he had ever before met with; it was something he could not quite understand. For he wanted the key. But all the high respect he had felt for this lady from the first was confirmed and strengthened.
After quietly receiving Mr. Carleton's silent grasp of the hand, aunt Miriam said,
"I troubled you to stop, Sir, that I might ask you how much longer you expect to stop at Montepoole."