"No," said Fleda, a shade crossing her face,--"I was not angry "--
And as she spoke her hand was softly put upon Mr. Carleton's; as if partly in the fear of what might have grown out of his anger, and partly in thankfulness to him that he had rendered it unnecessary. There was a singular delicate timidity and tenderness in the action.
"I wish I had your secret, Elfie," said Mr. Carleton, looking wistfully into the clear eyes that met his.
"What secret?" said Fleda smiling.
"You say one can always do right--is that the reason you are happy?--because you follow that out?"
"No," said Fleda seriously. "But I think it is a great deal pleasanter."
"I have no doubt at all of that, neither, I dare say, have the rest of the world; only somehow when it comes to the point they find it is easier to do wrong. What's your secret, Elfie?"
"I haven't any secret," said Fleda. But presently, seeming to bethink herself, she added gently and gravely,
"Aunt Miriam says--"
"What?"