They sat all silent, quite silent, all three, for nobody knew how long.
"You were going to walk," said Hugh, without looking at them.
Fleda, however, did not move till a word or two from Mr.
Carleton had backed Hugh's request; then she went.
"Is she gone?" said Hugh. "Mr. Carleton, will you hand me that little desk?"
It was his own. Mr. Carleton brought it. Hugh opened it, and took out a folded paper, which he gave to Mr. Carleton, saying that he thought he ought to have it.
"Do you know the handwriting, Sir?"
"No."
"Ah! she has scratched it so. It is Fleda's."
Hugh shut his eyes again, and Mr. Carleton seeing that he had settled himself to sleep, went to the window with the paper. It hardly told him anything he did not know before, though set in a fresh light.
"Cold blew the east wind,
And thick fell the rain
I look'd for the tops
Of the mountains in vain;
Twilight was gathering,
And dark grew the west,
And the wood-fire's crackling
Toned well with the rest.