"Not quite," said Fleda, hesitating; "I feel the cold a little. Please don't, Mr. Carleton!" she added, earnestly, as she saw him preparing to throw off his cloak, the identical black fox which Constance had described, with so much vivacity; "pray do not. I am not very cold I can bear a little I am not so tender as you think me; I do not need it, and you would feel the want very much after wearing it. I won't put it on."
But he smilingly bade her "stand up," stooping down and taking one of her hands to enforce his words, and giving her, at the same time, the benefit of one of those looks of good-humoured wilfulness to which his mother always yielded, and to which Fleda yielded instantly, though with a colour considerably heightened at the slight touch of peremptoriness in his tone.
"You are not offended with me, Elfie?" he said, in another manner, when she had sat down again, and he was arranging the heavy folds of the cloak.
Offended! a glance answered.
"You shall have everything your own way," he whispered, gently, as he stooped down to bring the cloak under her feet, "except yourself."
What good care should be taken of that exception was said in the dark eye at which Fleda hardly ventured half a glance. She had much ado to command herself.
She was shielded again from all the sights and sounds within reach. She was in a maze. The comfort of the fur-cloak was curiously mixed with the feeling of something else, of which that was an emblem a surrounding of care and strength which would effectually be exerted for her protection somewhat that Fleda had not known for many a long day the making up of the old want. Fleda had it in her heart to cry like a baby. Such a dash of sunlight had fallen at her feet that she hardly dared look at it for fear of being dazzled; but she could not look anywhere that she did not see the reflection.
In the mean time the carful of people settled again into sullen quietude. The cold was not found propitious to quarrelling. Those who could subsided again into lethargy; those who could not, gathered in their outposts to make the best defence they might of the citadel. Most happily it was not an extreme night; cold enough to be very disagreeable, and even (without a fur-cloak) dangerous; but not enough to put even noses and ears in immediate jeopardy. Mr. Carleton had contrived to procure a comfortable wrapper for Mrs. Renney, from a Yankee, who, for the sake of being a "warm man" as to his pockets, was willing to be cold otherwise for a time. The rest of the great-coats and cloaks, which were so alert and erect a little while ago, were doubled up on every side in all sorts of despondent attitudes. A dull quiet brooded over the assembly, and Mr. Carleton walked up and down the vacant space. Once he caught an anxious glance from Fleda, and came immediately to her side.
"You need not be troubled about me," he said, with a most genial smile; "I am not suffering never was farther from it in my life."
Fleda could neither answer nor look.