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I know it is better a million times to be a child of God, than to have everything in the world. If they only brought us that, I would be very glad of all our troubles indeed I would." "But I don't think I ever did anything right in my life," said poor Mrs. Rossitur.
Carleton, calmly, "you shall have your turn at these mind, I promise you; but my business must be done first till then, let them alone." "Well, what is it?" said Thorn, impatiently. "Rossitur will be a convict, I tell you; so you'll have to give up all thoughts of his niece, or pocket her shame along with her. What more have you got to say? that's all your business, I take it."
A quarter of an hour was spent in arranging to the best advantage these various pieces of furniture in the room; it was the very same in which Mr. Carleton and Charlton Rossitur had been received the memorable day of the roast pig dinner, but that was not the uppermost association in Fleda's mind.
Carleton," said Rossitur, "that you did not mean to offend us yesterday in what you said?" "No, Mr. Rossitur." "You will not!" cried the Captain. "No, sir; for your friends had given me, as I conceived, just cause of displeasure; and I was, and am, careless of offending those who have done so." "You consider yourself aggrieved, then, in the first place?" said Beebee. "I have said so, sir."
Rossitur, stopping again in the middle of the floor, after another turn and a half "you do not suppose that I am going to take the labouring of the farm upon myself? I shall employ some one, of course, who understands the matter, to take all that off my hands." The doctor thought of the old proverb, and the alternative the plough presents to those who would thrive by it; Fleda thought of Mr.
It was hardly in human gravity to stand this. Fleda herself laughed, but Mr. Carleton as unmoved as possible answered him, "Certainly not!" and Rolf was nonplussed. The supper was over. Hugh had left the room, and Mr. Rossitur had before that gone out to give directions about Mr. Carleton's horses. He and Fleda were left alone.
Rossitur and her tallow candle were devoted to each other, happily and engrossingly. At last, however, she flung the magazine from her, and turning from the table sat looking into the fire with a rather uncommonly careful and unsatisfied brow. "What did you think of the second piece of poetry there, mother?" said Hugh "that ballad? 'The Wind's Voices, it is called."
Welcome home," exclaimed this lady, as her son and his friend at length made their appearance; "Welcome home we are all famishing; and I don't know why in the world we waited for you, for I am sure you don't deserve it. What success? What success, Mr. Rossitur?" "'Faith ma'am, there's little enough to boast of, as far as I am concerned. Mr. Carleton may speak for himself."
As the fire died, the moonlight streamed in : how very dismal the room looked! "What do you think about having tea?" said Barby, opening the door of the kitchen. Neither felt it possible to answer her. "Mr. Rossitur aint come home, is he?" "No," said Fleda, shuddering. "So I thought, and so I told Seth Plumfield, just now he was asking for him.
"What do you suppose has become of Mr. Thorn?" said Constance. "I have a presentiment that you will find him cracking nuts sociably with Mr. Rossitur, or drinking one of aunt Lucy's excellent cups of coffee, in comfortable expectation of your return." "If I thought that, I should stay here," said Fleda. "My dear, those were my cups of coffee."