"The largest and grandest views of material things that man has ever taken, Miss Evelyn, stand upon a basis of the closest calculation."
Florence worked at her worsted and looked very dissatisfied.
"O Mr. Carleton," said Constance as he was going,--"don't leave your vinaigrette--there it is on the table."
He made no motion to take it up.
"Don't you know, Miss Constance, that physicians seldom like to have anything to do with their own prescriptions?"
"It's very suspicious of them," said Constance;--"but you must take it, Mr. Carleton, if you please, for I shouldn't like the responsibility of its being left here; and I am afraid it would be dangerous to our peace of mind, besides."
"I shall risk that," he said laughing. "Its work is not done."
"And then, Mr. Carleton," said Mrs. Evelyn, and Fleda knew with what a look,--"you know physicians are accustomed to be paid when their prescriptions are taken."
But the answer to this was only a bow, so expressive in its air of haughty coldness that any further efforts of Mrs. Evelyn's wit were chilled for some minutes after he had gone.
Fleda had not seen this. She had taken up the vinaigrette, and was thinking with acute pleasure that Mr. Carleton's manner last night and to-night had returned to all the familiar kindness of old times. Not as it had been during the rest of her stay in the city. She could be quite contented now to have him go back to England, with this pleasant remembrance left her. She sat turning over the vinaigrette, which to her fancy was covered with hieroglyphics that no one else could read; of her uncle's affair, of Charlton's danger, of her own distress, and the kindness which had wrought its relief, more penetrating and pleasant than even the fine aromatic scent which fairly typified it,--Constance's voice broke in upon her musings.