The last words were spoken half reproachfully. Fleda stood a moment motionless, and then by some curious revulsion of feeling, put both her hands to her face and burst into tears.
She struggled against them, and spoke almost immediately
"You will think me very foolish, Mr. Carleton I am ashamed of myself but I have lived here so long in this way my spirits have grown so quieted by different things, that it seems, sometimes, as if I could not bear anything I am afraid"
"Of what, my dear Elfie?"
But she did not answer, and her tears came again.
"You are weary and spent," he said, gently, repossessing himself of one of her hands. "I will ask you another time what you are afraid of, and rebuke all your fears."
"I deserve nothing but rebuke now," said Fleda.
But her hand knew, by the gentle and quiet clasp in which it lay, that there was no disposition to give it.
"Do not speak to me for a minute," she said, hastily, as she heard some one coming.
She went to the window, and stood there looking out, till Mr.
Carleton came to bid her good-bye.