"Very! O, Hugh! it is better to be poor, and have one's feet on these hills, than to be rich, and shut up to brick walls!"
"It is best as it is," said Hugh, quietly.
"Once," Fleda went on "one fair day, when I was out driving in New York, it did come over me with a kind of pang, how pleasant it would be to have plenty of money again, and be at ease; and then, as I was looking off over that pretty north river to the other shore, I bethought me 'A little that a righteous man hath is better than the riches of many wicked.' "
Hugh did not answer, for the face she turned to him, in its half-tearful, half-bright submission, took away his speech.
"Why, you cannot have enjoyed yourself as much as we thought,
Fleda, if you dislike the city so much."
"Yes, I did. Oh, I enjoyed a great many things. I enjoyed being with the Evelyns. You don't know how much they made of me every one of them father and mother, and all the three daughters and uncle Orrin. I have been well petted, I can tell you, since I have been gone."
"I am glad they showed so much discrimination," said Hugh; "they would be puzzled to make too much of you."
"I must have been in a remarkably discriminating society," said Fleda, "for everybody was very kind."
"How do you like the Evelyns, on a nearer view?"
"Very much, indeed; and I believe they really love me. Nothing could possibly be kinder, in all ways of showing kindness. I shall never forget it."