"I cannot bear to trouble you with these miserable things--"
"You cannot," said he with that same quiet tone, "but by thinking and saying so. I can have no greater pleasure than to take pains for you."
Fleda heard these words precisely and with the same simplicity as a child would have heard them, and answered with a very frank burst of tears,--soon, as soon as possible, according to her custom, driven back; though even in the act of quieting herself they broke forth again as uncontrollably as at first. But Mr. Carleton had not long to wait. She raised her head again after a short struggle, with the wonted look of patience sitting upon her brow, and wiping away her tears paused merely for breath and voice. He was perfectly silent.
"Mr. Carleton, I will tell you," she began;--"I hardly know whether I ought or ought not,--" and her hand went to her forehead for a moment,--"but I cannot think to-night--and I have not a friend to apply to--"
She hesitated; and then went on, with a voice that trembled and quavered sadly.
"Mr. Thorn has a secret--of my uncle's--in his power--which he promised--without conditions--to keep faithfully; and now insists that he will not--but upon conditions--"
"And cannot the conditions be met?"
"No--and--O I may as well tell you at once?" said Fleda in bitter sorrow,--"it is a crime that he committed--"
"Mr. Thorn?"
"No--oh no!" said Fleda weeping bitterly,--"not he--"