His smile was very bright in answer.
"I have been trying that, Elfie, for the last eight years."
Fleda's eye looked now eagerly in pleasure and in curiosity for more. But he was silent.
"I was thinking a little while ago," he said, "of the time once before when I rode here with you--when you were beginning to lead me to the problem I have been trying to work out ever since.--When I left you in Paris I went to resolve with myself the question, What I had to do in the world?--Your little Bible was my invaluable help. I had read very little of it when I threw aside all other books; and my problem was soon solved. I saw that the life has no honour nor value which is not spent to the glory of God. I saw the end I was made for--the happiness I was fitted for--the dignity to which even a fallen creature may rise, through his dear Redeemer and surety."
Fleda's eyes were down now. Mr. Carleton was silent a moment, watching one or two bright witnesses that fell from them.
"The next conclusion was easy,--that my work was at home.--I have wanted my good fairy," Mr. Carleton went on smiling. "But I hope she will be contented to carry the standard of Christianity, without that of republicanism."
"But Christianity tends directly to republicanism, Mr. Carleton," said Fleda, trying to laugh.
"I know that," said he smiling, "and I am willing to know it. But the leaven of truth is one thing, and the powder train of the innovator is another."
Fleda sat thinking that she had very little in common with the layers of powder trains. She did not know the sleigh was passing Deepwater Lake, till Mr. Carleton said,--
"I am glad, my dear Elfie, for your sake, that we are almost at the end of your journey."