Fleda started, and looked up to see what he meant. But his face said it so plainly, in its perfect intelligence and sympathy with her, that her barrier of self-command and reserve was all broken down; and hiding her head in her hands upon his breast, she let the pent-up burden upon her heart come forth in a flood of unrestrained tears. She could not help herself. And when she would fain have checked them after the first burst, and bidden them, according to her habit, to wait another time, it was out of her power; for the same kindness and tenderness that had set them a-flowing, perhaps witting of her intent, effectually hindered its execution. He did not say a single word, but now and then a soft touch of his hand, or of his lips upon her brow, in its expressive tenderness, would unnerve all her resolution, and oblige her to have no reserve that time, at least in letting her secret thoughts and feelings be known, as far as tears could tell them. She wept, at first in spite of herself, and afterwards in the very luxury of indulged feeling; till she was as quiet as a child, and the weight of oppression was all gone. Mr. Carleton did not move, nor speak, till she did.
"I never knew before how good you were, Mr. Carleton," said Fleda, raising her head, at length, as soon as she dared, but still held fast by that kind arm.
"What new light have you got on the subject?" said he, smiling.
"Why," said Fleda, trying as hard as ever did sunshine to scatter the remnants of a cloud it was a bright cloud too, by this time "I have always heard that men cannot endure the sight of a woman's tears."
"You shall give me a reward, then, Elfie."
"What reward?" said Elfie.
"Promise me that you will shed them nowhere else."
"Nowhere else?"
"But here in my arms."
"I don't feel like crying any more now," said Fleda, evasively; "at least," for drops were falling rather fast again "not sorrowfully."