Mr. Carleton was quite silent for a good while till the tears had ceased; then he bent towards her so as to be heard no further off.
"It has been for many years my best friend and companion," he said, in a low tone.
Fleda could make no answer, even by look.
"At first," he went on, softly, "I had a strong association of you with it; but the time came when I lost that entirely, and itself quite swallowed up the thought of the giver."
A quick glance and smile told how well Fleda understood, how heartily she was pleased with that. But she instantly looked away again.
"And now," said Mr. Carleton, after a pause "for some time past, I have got the association again; and I do not choose to have it so. I have come to the resolution to put the book back into your hands, and not receive it again, unless the giver go with the gift."
Fleda looked up, a startled look of wonder, into his face, but the dark eye left no doubt of the meaning of his words; and in unbounded confusion she turned her own and her attention, ostensibly, to the book in her hand, though sight and sense were almost equally out of her power. For a few minutes poor Fleda felt as if all sensation had retreated to her finger- ends. She turned the leaves over and over, as if willing to cheat herself or her companion into the belief that she had something to think of there, while associations and images of the past were gone with a vengeance, swallowed up in a tremendous reality of the present; and the book, which a minute ago was her father's Bible, was now, what was it? something of Mr. Carleton's, which she must give back to him. But still she held it and looked at it conscious of no one distinct idea but that, and a faint one besides, that he might like to be repossessed of his property in some reasonable time time like everything else was in a whirl? the only steady thing in creation seemed to be that perfectly still and moveless figure by her side till her trembling fingers admonished her they would not be able to hold anything much longer; and gently and slowly, without looking, her hand put the book back towards Mr. Carleton. That both were detained together she knew, but hardly felt; the thing was that she had given it!
There was no other answer; and there was no further need that Mr. Carleton should make any efforts for diverting her from the scene and the circumstances where they were. Probably he knew that, for he made none. He was perfectly silent for a long time, and Fleda was deaf to any other voice that could be raised, near or far. She could not even think.
Mrs. Renney was happily snoring, and most of the other people had descended into their coat collars, or, figuratively speaking, had lowered their blinds by tilting over their hats in some uncomfortable position that signified sleep; and comparative quiet had blessed the place for some time; as little noticed, indeed, by Fleda, as noise would have been. The sole thing that she clearly recognized in connexion with the exterior world, was that clasp in which one of her hands lay. She did not know that the car had grown quiet, and that only an occasional grunt of ill-humour or waking-up colloquy testified that it was the unwonted domicile of a number of human beings, who were harbouring there in a disturbed state of mind. But this state of things could not last. The time came that had been threatened, when their last supply of extrinsic warmth was at an end. Despite shut windows, the darkening of the stove was presently followed by a very sensible and fast-increasing change of temperature; and this addition to their causes of discomfort roused every one of the company from his temporary lethargy. The growl of dissatisfied voices awoke again, more gruff than before; the spirit of jesting had long languished, and now died outright, and in its stead came some low, and deep, and bitter-spoken curses. Poor Mrs. Renney shook off her somnolency and shook her shoulders, a little business shake, admonitory to herself to keep cool; and Fleda came to the consciousness that some very disagreeable chills were making their way over her.
"Are you warm enough?" said Mr. Carleton, suddenly, turning to her.