"Pretty!" said Mrs. Rossitur.
"Why?"
"No one that has seen much of Fleda would ever describe her by that name."
Charlton had the candour to think he had seen something of her that morning.
"Poor child!" said Mrs. Rossitur, sadly, " I can't bear to think of her spending her life as she is doing wearing herself out, I know, sometimes and buried alive."
"Buried!" said Charlton, in his turn.
"Yes; without any of the advantages and opportunities she ought to have. I can't bear to think of it. And yet how should I ever live without her" said Mrs. Rossitur, leaning her lace upon her hands. "And if she were known she would not be mine long. But It grieves me to have her go without her music, that she is so fond of, and the book she wants; she and Hugh have gone from end to end of every volume there is in the house, I believe, in every language, except Greek."
"Well, she looks pretty happy and contented, mother."
"I don't know!'" said Mrs.. Rossitur, shaking her head.
"Isn't she happy?"