Good angels were at a premium among the eyes that were exchanging glances just then.
"And Mr. Carleton," said Mrs. Evelyn, "is it fair to ask this paragon is she living, still?"
"I hope so," he answered, with his old light smile, dismissing the subject.
"You spoke so much in the past tense," said Mrs. Evelyn, apologetically.
"Yes; I have not seen it since it was a child's."
"A child's face! Oh," said Florence, "I think you see a great many children's faces with that kind of look."
"I never saw but the one," said Mr. Carleton, drily.
So far Fleda listened, with cheeks that would certainly have excited Mrs. Thorn's alarm, if she had not been happily engrossed with Miss Tomlinson's affairs; though up to the last two minutes the idea of herself had not entered Fleda's head in connection with the subject of conversation. But then, feeling it impossible to make her appearance in public that evening, she quietly slipped out of the open window close by, which led into a little greenhouse on the piazza, and by another door gained the hall and the dressing-room.
When Dr. Gregory came to Mrs. Evelyn's an hour or two after, a figure all cloaked and hooded ran down the stairs and met him in the hall.
"Ready!" said the doctor, in surprise.