Fleda's head went down again instantly, and this time there was something almost caressing in the motion.
"Next to the happiness of having friends on earth," he said soothingly, "is the happiness of having friends in heaven. Don't weep any more to-night, my dear Elfie."
"He told me to thank you--" said Fleda. But stopping short and clasping with convulsive energy the arm she held, she shed more violent tears than she had done that night before. The most gentle soothing, the most tender reproof, availed at last to quiet her; and she stood clinging to his arm still and looking down into the fire.
"I did not think it would be so soon," she said.
"It was not soon to him, Elfie."
"He told me to thank you for singing. How little while it seems since we were children together--how little while since before that--when I was a little child here--how different!"
"No, the very same," said he, touching his lips to her forehead,--"you are the very same child you were then; but it is time you were my child, for I see you would make yourself ill. No--" said he softly taking the hand Fleda raised to her face,--"no more tonight--tell me how early I may see you in the morning--for, Elfie, I must leave you after breakfast."
Fleda looked up inquiringly.
"My mother has brought news that determines me to return to England immediately."
"To England!"