The evening was near half over when Mr. Carleton came in. Fleda had half hoped he would be there, and now immediately hoped she might have a chance to see him alone, and to thank him for his flowers; she had not been able to do that yet. He presently came up to speak to her, just as Charlton, who had found attraction enough to keep him so long, came to tell her he was going.
"You are looking better," said the former, as gravely as ever, but with an eye of serious interest that made the words something.
"I am better," said Fleda, gratefully.
"So much better that she is in a hurry to make herself worse," said her cousin. "Mr. Carleton, you are a professor of medicine, I believe. I have an indistinct impression of your having once prescribed a ride on horseback for somebody; wouldn't you recommend some measure of prudence to her consideration?"
"In general," Mr. Carleton answered, gravely; "but in the present case I could not venture upon any special prescription, Captain Rossitur."
"As, for instance, that she should remain in New York till she is fit to leave it. By the way, what brought you here again in such a hurry, Fleda? I haven't heard that yet."
The question was rather sudden. Fleda was a little taken by surprise. Her face showed some pain and confusion both. Mr. Carleton prevented her answer, she could not tell whether with design.
"What imprudence do you charge your cousin with, Captain
Rossitur?"
"Why, she is in a great hurry to get back to Queechy, before she is able to go anywhere begging me to find an escort for her. It is lucky I can't. I didn't know I ever should be glad to be 'posted up' in this fashion, but I am."
"You have not sought very far, Captain Rossitur," said the voice of Thorn behind him. "Here is one that will be very happy to attend Miss Fleda, whenever she pleases."