The subject was dropped; and in a few minutes his gentle skill had wellnigh made Fleda forget what they had been talking about. Himself and his wishes seemed to be put quite out of his own view, and out of hers as far as possible, except that the very fact made Fleda recognise, with unspeakable gratitude and admiration, the kindness and grace that were always exerted for her pleasure. If her goodwill could have been put into the cups of coffee she poured out for him, he might have gone, in the strength of them, all the way to England. There was strength of another kind to be gained from her face of quiet sorrow and quiet self-command, which were her very childhood's own.
"You will see me at the earliest possible moment," he said, when at last taking leave. "I hope to be free in a short time: but it may not be. Elfie, if I should be detained longer than I hope if I should not be able to return in a reasonable time will you let my mother bring you out? if I cannot come to you, will you come to me?"
Fleda coloured a good deal, and said, scarce intelligibly, that she hoped he would be able to come. He did not press the matter. He parted from her, and was leaving the room. Fleda suddenly sprang after him, before he had reached the door, and laid her hand on his arm.
"I did not answer your question, Mr. Carleton," she said, with cheeks that were dyed now "I will do whatever you please whatever you think best."
His thanks were most gratefully, though silently, spoken, and he went away.
CHAPTER XXV.
"Daughter, they seem to say,
Peace to thy heart!
We too, yes, daughter,
Have been as thou art.
Hope-lifted, doubt-depress'd,
Seeing in part
Tried, troubled, tempted
Sustain'd as thou art."
UNKNOWN.
Mr. Rossitur was disposed for no further delay now in leaving Queechy. The office at Jamaica, which Mr. Carleton and Dr. Gregory had secured for him, was immediately accepted, and every arrangement pressed to hasten his going. On every account, he was impatient to be out of America, and especially since his son's death. Marion was of his mind. Mrs. Rossitur had more of a home feeling, even for the place where home had not been to her as happy as it might.
They were sad weeks of bustle and weariness that followed Hugh's death less sad, perhaps, for the weariness and the bustle. There was little time for musing no time for lingering regrets. If thought and feeling played their Aeolian measures on Fleda's harpstrings, they were listened to only by snatches, and she rarely sat down and cried to them.
A very kind note had been received from Mrs. Carleton.