"He is aunt Miriam's son," said Fleda. "Seth Plumfield. He's a very good farmer, I know; grandpa used to say he was; and he knows everybody."
"Mrs. Plumfield," said Mrs. Rossitur, as her husband's eyes went inquiringly to her "Mrs. Plumfield was Mr. Ringgan's sister, you remember. This is her son."
"Cousin Seth, eh?" said Mr. Rossitur, dubiously. " Well Why,
Fleda, your sweet air don't seem to agree with you, as far as
I see; I have not known you look so so triste since we
left Paris. What have you been doing, my child?"
"She has been doing everything, father," said Hugh.
"Oh! it's nothing," said Fleda, answering Mr. Rossitur's look and tone of affection with a bright smile. " I'm a little tired, that's all!"
"A little tired!' She went to sleep on the sofa directly after supper, and slept like a baby all the evening; but her power did not sleep with her; for that quiet, sweet, tired face, tired in their service, seemed to bear witness against the indulgence of anything harsh or unlovely in the same atmosphere. A gentle witness-bearing, but strong in its gentleness. They sat close together round the fire, talked softly, and from time to time cast loving glances at the quiet little sleeper by their side. They did not know that she was a fairy, and that though her wand had fallen out of her hand it was still resting upon them.
CHAPTER XVIII.
"Gon. Here is everything advantageous to life. Ant. True; save means to live." TEMPEST.
Fleda's fatigue did not prevent her being up before sunrise the next day. Fatigue was forgotten, for the light of a fair spring morning was shining in at her windows, and she meant to see aunt Miriam before breakfast. She ran out to find Hugh, and her merry shout reached him before she did, and brought him to meet her.
"Come, Hugh! I'm going off up to aunt Miriam's, and I want you. Come! Isn't this delicious?"