"A black horse?"
"Yes, a great black horse, strong, but so gentle, and he went so delightfully. His name was Harold. Oh, I should like to see that horse! When I wasn't with him, Mr. Carleton used to ride another, the greatest beauty of a horse, Hugh a brown Arabian so slender and delicate her name was Zephyr, and she used to go like the wind, to be sure. Mr. Carleton said he wouldn't trust me on such a fly-away thing."
"But you didn't use to ride alone?" said Hugh.
"O no! and I wouldn't have been afraid if he had chosen to take me on any one."
"But do you think, Fleda, he was a good man as I mean?"
"I am sure he was better than a great many others," answered Fleda, evasively "the worst of him was infinitely better than the best of half the people down stairs Mr. Sweden included."
"Sweden! you don't call his name right."
"The worse it is called the better, in my opinion," said
Fleda.
"Well, I don't like him; but what makes you dislike him so much?"
"I don't know partly because Uncle Rolf and Marion like him so much, I believe I don't think there is any moral expression in his face."