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Updated: June 26, 2025
Mauleverer keeps one himself, and leaves one with me. Oh, botheration, there's the Grey carriage! Well, you go and receive them, and I'll try to pacify Mrs. Rossitur, and then come down." Neatly kept were these account books of the F. U. E. E,, and sure enough for every month were entered the sums for coals, wood, and potatoes, tallying exactly with Mrs. Rossitur's account, and each month Mr.
Rossitur looked at her, a look between remonstrance and reproach, and cast her eyes down without saying a word, swallowing a whole heartful of thoughts and feelings. Fleda stooped forward till her own forehead softly touched Mrs. Rossitur's, as gentle a chiding of despondency as a very sunbeam could have given. "Now aunt Lucy! what do you mean? Don't you know it's good for me? And do you know, Mr.
Rossitur's, had been dining with her and was in the drawing-room. Mr. Schweden had been there too, and he and Marion and one or two other young people had gone out to some popular entertainment. The children knew little of Dr.
Rossitur at last, "go down stairs and take care of yourself and Hugh." "Won't you come?" Mrs. Rossitur shook her head. "Mayn't I bring you something? do let me!" But Mrs. Rossitur's shake of the head was decisive. Fleda crawled off the bed, feeling as if a month's illness had been making its ravages upon her frame and strength.
Rossitur's young gentleman acknowledged his relationship and begged the favour of being set in the right way home. "With much pleasure! You have been shewing Miss Rossitur the picturesque country about Montepoole?" "My cousin and I have been there on business, and lost our way coming back." "Ah I dare say. Very easy. First time you have been there?" "Yes sir, and we are in a hurry to get home."
"And she can't eat without she has a fresh piece of roast meat on table every day, can she?" "It is not always roast," said Fleda, half vexed and half laughing. "I'd rather have a good dish o' bread and 'lasses than the hull on't;" observed old Mrs. Finn; from the corner where she sat manifestly turning up her nose at the far-off joints on Mrs. Rossitur's dinner-table.
All was forgotten the wrong, and the needlessness, and the indignation with which she had sometimes thought of it; Fleda remembered nothing but love and pity, and threw herself upon his neck with such tears of tenderness and sympathy, such kisses of forgiveness and comfort-speaking, as might have broken a stouter heart than Mr. Rossitur's.
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?"
I presume Carleton will tell you she is something uncommon and quite remarkable." "Is she, Mr. Carleton?" "What, Ma'am?" "Uncommon?" "Very." "Come? That is something, from you," said Rossitur's brother officer, Lieut. Thorn. "What's the uncommonness?" said Mrs. Thorn, addressing herself rather to Mr. Rossitur as she saw Mr. Carleton's averted eye; "Is she handsome, Mr. Rossitur?"
"I was looking at Hugh," said Fleda, and her eye went back to the window. Mrs. Rossitur's followed it. The window gave them a view of the ground behind the house; and there was Hugh, just coming in with a large armful of heavy wood which he had been sawing. "He isn't strong enough to do that, aunt Lucy," said Fleda, softly.
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