Fleda enjoyed it all with the quick spring of a mind habitually bent to the patient fulfilment of duty, and habitually under the pressure of rather sobering thoughts. It was a needed and very useful refreshment. Charlton's being at home gave her the full good of the opportunity more than would else have been possible. He was her constant attendant, driving her to and from the Pool, and finding as much to call him there as she had; for, besides the Evelyns, his friend Thorn abode there all this time. The only drawback to Fleda's pleasure as she drove off from Queechy would be the leaving Hugh plodding away at his saw-mill. She used to nod and wave to him as they went by, and almost feel that she ought not to go on and enjoy herself while he was tending that wearisome machinery all day long. Still she went on and enjoyed herself; but the mere thought of his patient smile as she passed would have kept her from too much elation of spirits, if there had been any danger. There never was any.
"That's a lovely little cousin of yours," said Thorn, one evening, when he and Rossitur, on horseback, were leisurely making their way along the up-and-down road between Montepoole and Queechy.
"She is not particularly little," said Rossitur, with a dryness that somehow lacked any savour of gratification.
"She is of a most fair stature," said Thorn; "I did not mean anything against that; but there are characters to which one gives instinctively a softening appellative."
"Are there?" said Charlton.
"Yes. She is a lovely little creature."
"She is not to compare to one of those girls we have left behind us at Montepoole," said Charlton.
"Hum well, perhaps you are right; but which girl do you mean? for I profess I don't know."
"The second of Mrs. Evelyn's daughters the auburn-haired one."
"Miss Constance, eh?" said Thorn. "In what isn't the other one to be compared to her?"