"Yes--and of not doing and being just what I ought."
Mr. Carleton was silent for a minute, considering the brow from which his fingers drew off the light screen.
"Will you trust me to watch over and tell you?"
Fleda did not trust her voice to tell him, but her eyes did it.
"As to the estimate--the remedy is to 'keep ourselves in the love of God;' and then these things are the gifts of our Father's hand and will never be put in competition with him. And they are never so sweet as when taken so."
"Oh I know that!"
"This is a danger I share with you. We will watch over each other."
Fleda was silent with filling eyes.
"We do not seek our happiness in these things," he said tenderly. "I never found it in them. For years, whatever others may have judged, I have felt myself a poor man; because I had not in the world a friend in whom I could have entire sympathy. And if I am rich now, it is not in any treasure that I look to enjoy in this world alone."
"Oh do not, Mr. Carleton!" exclaimed Fleda, bowing her head in distress, and giving his hand an earnest entreaty.