Then he seated himself beside her.
"Elfie,--what were you crying about all yesterday afternoon?"
Fleda changed colour, for soft and gentle as the tone was she heard in it a determination to have the answer; and looking up beseechingly into his face she saw in the steady full blue eye that it was a determination she could not escape from. Her answer was an imploring request that he would not ask her. But taking one of her little hands and carrying it to his lips, he in the same tone repeated his question. Fleda snatched away her hand and burst into very frank tears; Mr. Carleton was silent, but she knew through silence that he was only quietly waiting for her to answer him.
"I wish you wouldn't ask me, sir," said poor Fleda, who still could not turn her face to meet his eye;--"It was only something that happened yesterday."
"What was it, Elfie?--You need not be afraid to tell me."
"It was only--what you said to Mrs. Carleton yesterday,--when she was talking--"
"About my difficulty with those gentlemen?"
"Yes," said Fleda, with a new gush of tears, as if her grief stirred afresh at the thought.
Mr. Carleton was silent a moment; and when he spoke there was no displeasure and more tenderness than usual in his voice.