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"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!" "I wish I could make you think it then," said Constance.
Rossitur shall become intimately acquainted with the interior of the State's prison." "Did it ever occur to you that public shame might fall upon other than Mr. Rossitur, and without the State prison?" Thorn fixed a somewhat startled look upon the steady powerful eye of his opponent, and did not like its meaning. "You must explain yourself, Sir," he said, haughtily.
And then she was overjoyed to see her, and asked a multitude of questions, and told a long story of her having met Mr. Rossitur in the street the other day "in the last place where she'd have looked to see him;" and how old he had grown, and how surprised she had been to see the grey hairs in his head.
"I believe there are not twenty living that followed me into Mexico," he went on, as if he had not heard her. "Was all that havoc made in one engagement?" said Mrs. Rossitur, whose cheek had turned pale. "Yes, mother; in the course of a few minutes." "I wonder what would pay for that loss," said Fleda, indignantly.
It was that thought and no other which saddened her brow as she went back into the other room. "Troubles already!" said Mrs. Rossitur. "You will be sorry you have come back to them, dear." "No indeed!" said Fleda brightly; "I am very glad I have come home. We will try and manage the troubles, aunt Lucy."
Rossitur, sadly, " I can't bear to think of her spending her life as she is doing wearing herself out, I know, sometimes and buried alive." "Buried!" said Charlton, in his turn. "Yes; without any of the advantages and opportunities she ought to have. I can't bear to think of it. And yet how should I ever live without her" said Mrs. Rossitur, leaning her lace upon her hands.
Rossitur in the saloon when nobody or only a very few people were there; how pleasantly in those evenings the foundations were laid of a strong and enduring love for the works of art, painted, sculptured, or engraven, what a multitude of curious and excellent bits of knowledge Fleda's ears picked up from the talk of different people. They were capital ears; what they caught they never let fall.
Plumfield set about his more material breakfast with all despatch. "So Mr. Rossitur has left the city for good?" said aunt Miriam. "How does he like it?" "He hasn't been here but a day, you know, aunt Miriam," said Fleda evasively. "Is he anything of a farmer?" asked her cousin. "Not much," said Fleda. "Is he going to work the farm himself?" "How do you mean?"
But Fleda commanded herself, with difficulty, and announced that dinner was ready. "Mr. Rossitur tells me, Mr. Carleton, you are an Englishman," said his host.
I did say something to Mis' Rossitur, but all the good it did was to spile her appetite, I s'pose; and if there's grain in the floor there ain't nobody to carry it to mill, nor to thresh it, nor a team to draw it, fur's I know." "Hugh cannot cut wood!" said Fleda; "nor drive to mill either, in this weather."
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