He hesitated.
"I have been thinking of what we were talking of yesterday, Elfie," he said at length. "I am going to try to discover my duty, and then to do it."
But Fleda at that clasped his hand, and squeezing it in both hers, bent down her little head over it to hide her face and the tears that streamed again. He hardly knew how to understand, or what to say to her. He half suspected that there were depths in that childish mind beyond his fathoming. He was not, however, left to wait long. Fleda, though she might now and then be surprised into showing it, never allowed her sorrow of any kind to press upon the notice or the time of others. She again checked herself and dried her face.
"There is nobody else in Paris that will be so sorry for my leaving it," said Mr. Carleton, half tenderly and half pleasantly.
"There is nobody else that has so much cause," said Elfie, near bursting out again, but she restrained herself.
"And you will not come here again;, Mr. Carleton?" she said, after a few minutes.
"I do not say that it is possible if I do, it will be to see you, Elfie."
A shadow of a smile passed over her face at that. It was gone instantly.
"My mother will not leave Paris yet," he went on you will see her often."
But he saw that Fleda was thinking of something else; she scarce seemed to hear him. She was thinking of something that troubled her.