"I have been too long from home--I am wanted there."
Fleda looked down again and did her best not to shew what she felt.
"I do not know how to leave you--and now--but I must. There are disturbances among the people, and my own are infected. I must be there without delay."
"Political disturbances?" said Fleda.
"Somewhat of that nature--but partly local. How early may I come to you?"
"But you are not going away tonight? It is very late."
"That is nothing--my horse is here."
Fleda would have begged in vain, if Barby had not come in and added her word, to the effect that it would be a mess of work to look for lodgings at that time of night, and that she had made the west room ready for Mr. Carleton. She rejected with great sincerity any claim to the thanks with which Fleda as well as Mr. Carleton repaid her; "there wa'n't no trouble about it," she said. Mr. Carleton however found his room prepared for him with all the care that Barby's utmost ideas of refinement and exactness could suggest.
It was still very early the next morning; when he left it and came into the sitting-room, but he was not the first there. The firelight glimmered on the silver and china of the breakfast table, all set; everything was in absolute order, from the fire to the two cups and saucers which were alone on the board. A still silent figure was standing by one of the windows looking out. Not crying; but that Mr. Carleton knew from the unmistakable lines of the face was only because tears were waiting another time; quiet now, it would not be by and by. He came and stood at the window with her.
"Do you know," he said, after a little, "that Mr. Rossitur purposes to leave Queechy?"