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Renney as with every one else Fleda was held in highest regard; always welcome to her premises and to those mysteries of her trade which were sacred from other intrusion. Fleda's natural inquisitiveness carried her often to the housekeeper's room, and made her there the same curious and careful observer that she had been in the library or at the Louvre.
Fleda immediately retreated to the. innermost depths of the ladies' cabin, hoping to find some rest for the body at least, if not forgetfulness for the mind. The latter was not to be. Mrs. Renney was exceeding glad to see her, and bent upon knowing what had become of her since those days when they used to know each other.
Fleda was sorry when this man took his away with him. There was a most uncheering confusion of tongues for a few minutes among the people he had left, and then the car was near deserted; everybody went out to bring his own wits to bear upon the obstacles in the way of their progress. Mrs. Renney observed that she might as well warm her feet while she could, and went to the stove for the purpose.
Fleda took her hands from her ears to ask what was the matter. "I don't know," said Mrs. Renney. "I hope they won't keep us a great while waiting here." The door swung open, and the red comforter and tarpaulin hat of one of the breakmen showed itself a moment. Presently after, "Can't get on," was repeated by several voices in the various tones of assertion, interrogation, and impatience.
Some poor witticism followed from a third party about the "Butterfly's" having run herself off her legs the first time she ever ran at all; and then Mrs. Renney went on. "Is the storm so bad, Hannah?" "Pretty thick can't see far ahead I hope we'll make out to find our way in that's all I care for." "How far are we?"
Poor Fleda turned her face from Mrs. Renney, and leaving doubtful prospects and withering comforts for a while, as it were, out of sight, she wept the fair outlines and the red maples of Queechy, as if they had been all she had to regret. They had never disappointed her. Their countenance had comforted her many a time, under many a sorrow.
Poor Fleda turned her face from Mrs. Renney, and leaving doubtful prospects and withering comforts for a while as it were out of sight, she wept the fair outlines and the red maples of Queechy as if they had been all she had to regret. They had never disappointed her. Their countenance had comforted her many a time, under many a sorrow.
Renney shook off her somnolency and shook her shoulders, a little business shake, admonitory to herself to keep cool; and Fleda came to the consciousness that some very disagreeable chills were making their way over her. "Are you warm enough?" said Mr. Carleton, suddenly, turning to her. "Not quite," said Fleda, hesitating; "I feel the cold a little. Please don't, Mr.
Renney, who had slept a great part of the night, courted sleep anew in the rocking-chair, till breakfast should be ready; the other woman had found quarters in the lower part of the house; and Mr. Carleton stood still, with folded arms, to read at his leisure the fair face that rested so confidingly upon the black fur of his cloak, looking so very fair in the contrast.
Renney shook off her somnolency and shook her shoulders, a little business shake, admonitory to herself to keep cool; and Fleda came to the consciousness that some very disagreeable chills were making their way over her. "Are you warm enough?" said Mr. Carleton suddenly, turning to her. "Not quite," said Fleda hesitating, "I feel the cold a little. Please don't, Mr. Carleton!
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