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Updated: May 16, 2025
Thorn's smile at Fleda might almost have been called that, it was so full of benevolent pleasure. But she spoiled it by her answer. "I don't believe I am the first one to find it out.". "But what are you looking so sober for?" Constance went on, taking Fleda's screen from her hand and fanning her diligently with it "you don't talk.
"That's what I've been a telling her," said Cynthy, "but she wa'n't a mind to listen to me." But the two little arms embraced aunt Miriam's cloak and wrappers and the little face was hid there still, and Fleda's answer was a half smothered ejaculation. "I am so glad you are come, dear aunt Miriam!" Aunt Miriam kissed her again, and again repeated her request.
Rossitur and her daughter were paying or receiving visits, they, always together, were stowed away behind the book-cases or in the library window poring patiently over pages of various complexion; the soft turning of the leaves or Fleda's frequent attentions to King the only sound in the room.
It went through Fleda's heart, because of the two up stairs who must hear it. Barby threw up the sash. "Who's there?" "Is this Mr. Rossitur's place?" enquired a gruff voice. "Yes, it is." "Well will you come round and open the door?" "Who wants it open?" "A lady wants it open?" "A lady! what lady?" "Down yonder in the carriage." "What lady? who is she?"
The Evelyns wrote to Mrs. Rossitur, by Fleda's desire, so as not to alarm her; merely saying that Fleda was not quite well, and that they meant to keep her a little while to recruit herself; and that Mrs. Rossitur must send her some clothes. This last clause was tha particular addition of Constance.
There was this for him to see, and that for him to hear, and charming new things which had been done or doing since Mr. Carleton left Paris. The impression upon Fleda's mind after listening awhile was, that the French capital was a great gallery of the fine arts, with a magnified likeness of Mr. Carleton's music-room at one end of' it.
But, as she turned to run upstairs, her uncle stood in her way, and the supper vanished from Fleda's head. His arms were open, and she was silently clasped in them, with so much feeling on both sides, that thought, and well nigh strength, for anything else on her part was gone. His smothered words of deep blessing overcame her.
The sun was yet lower the sunbeams, more slant, touched not only that bright white stone they passed on beyond, and carried the promise to those other grey ones, a little further off; that she had left yes, for the last time; and Fleda's thoughts went forward swiftly to the time of the promise "Then shall be brought to pass the saying which is written, Death is swallowed up in victory.
"What do you mean?" "Have you?" said Mrs. Rossitur, with more energy. "Seth Plumfield was here a little while ago." Her aunt had the clue that she had not, for with a half scream, half exclamation, she quitted Fleda's arms, and fell back upon the pillows, turning from her and hiding her face there.
But the contrast of these high spirits with her own rather made Fleda's mood more quiet, and it needed no quieting. Of the sundry people that she knew among those presently assembled there were none that she wanted to talk to; the rooms were hot, and she felt nervous and fluttered, partly from encounters already sustained, and partly from a little anxious expecting of Mr. Carleton's appearance.
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