"Yes, to flood and lay waste the fair growth of nature," said Fleda with a little energy, though her colour rose and rose higher.
"Did it never occur to you, Mrs. Evelyn, that the streams which fertilize as they flow do but desolate if their course be checked?"
"But your objection lies only against the author's figure," said Mr. Stackpole;--"come to the fact."
"I was speaking as he did, sir, of the fact under the figure--I did not mean to separate them."
Both the gentlemen were smiling, though with very different expression.
"Perhaps," said Mr. Carleton, "the writer was thinking of a gentler and more diffusive flow of kind feeling, which however it may meet with barren ground and raise no fruit there, is sure in due time to come back, heaven-refined, to refresh and replenish its source."
"Perhaps so," said Fleda with a very pleased answering look,--"I do not recollect how it is brought in--I may have answered rather Mrs. Evelyn than Mr. Longfellow."
"But granting that it is an error," said Mr. Stackpole, "as you understood it,--what shews it to have been made by a man?"
"Its utter ignorance of the subject, sir."
"You think they never waste their affections?" said he.