Volume I Part 5 (1/2)

”She says they are going to stay in Paris yet a good while longer.”

”Hum!” ? said Mr. Ringgan. ”Well ? that aint the wisest thing I should like to hear of her doing.”

”Oh, but it's because uncle Rossitur likes to stay there, I suppose, isn't it, grandpa?”

”I don't know, dear. Maybe your aunt's caught the French fever. She used to be a good sensible woman; but when people will go into a whirligig, I think some of their wits get blown away before they come out. Well ? what else?”

”I am sure she is very kind,” said Fleda. ”She wants to have me go out there and live with her very much. She says I shall have everything I like, and do just as I please, and she will make a pet of me, and give me all sorts of pleasant things.

She says she will take as good care of me as ever I took of the kittens. And there's a long piece to you about it, that I'll give you to read as soon as we have a light. It is very good of her, isn't it, grandpa? I love aunt Lucy very much.”

”Well,” said Mr. Ringgan, after a pause, ”how does she propose to get you there?”

”Why,” said Fleda, ? ”isn't it curious? ? she says there is a Mrs. Carleton here, who is a friend of hers, and she is going to Paris in a little while, and aunt Lucy asked her if she wouldn't bring me, if you would let me go, and she said she would with great pleasure, and aunt Lucy wants me to come out with her.”

”Carleton! ? Hum ?” said Mr. Ringgan; ” that must be this young man's mother?'”

”Yes, aunt Lucy says she is here with her son, ? at least she says they were coming.”

”A very gentlemanly young man, indeed,” said Mr. Ringgan.

There was a grave silence. The old gentleman sat looking on the floor; Fleda sat looking into the fire with all her might.

”Well,” said Mr. Ringgan after a little, ”how would you like it, Fleda?”

”What, grandpa?”

”To go out to Paris to your aunt, with this Mrs. Carleton?”

”I shouldn't like it at all,” said Fleda, smiling and letting her eyes go back to the fire. But looking, after the pause of a minute or two, again to her grandfather's face, she was struck with its expression of stern anxiety. She rose instantly, and coming to him, and laying one hand gently on his knee, said in tones that fell as light on the ear as the touch of a moonbeam on the water, ”_You_ do not want me to go, do you, grandpa?”

”No, dear!” said the old gentleman, letting his hand fall upon hers, ? ”no, dear! ? that is the last thing I want!”

But Fleda's keen ear discerned not only the deep affection, but something of _regret_ in the voice, which troubled her. She stood, anxious and fearing while her grandfather lifting his hand again and again, let it fall gently upon hers; and amid all the fondness of the action, Fleda somehow seemed to feel in it the same regret.

”You'll not let aunt Lucy, nor anybody else, take me away from you, will you, grandpa?” said she after a little, leaning both arms affectionately on his knee, and looking up into his face.

”No, indeed, dear!” said he, with an attempt at his usual heartiness, ? ”not as long as I have a place to keep you.

While I have a roof to put my head under, it shall cover yours.”

To Fleda's hope that would have said enough; but her grandfather's face was so moved from its wonted expression of calm dignity, that it was plain _his_ hope was tasting bitter things. Fleda watched in silent grief and amazement the watering eye and unnerved lip; till her grandfather, indignantly das.h.i.+ng away a tear or two, drew her close to his breast and kissed her. But she well guessed that the reason why he did not for a minute or two say anything, was because he could not. Neither could she. She was fighting with her woman's nature to keep it down, ? learning the lesson early!

”Ah well,” ? said Mr. Ringgan at length, in a kind of tone that might indicate the giving up a struggle which he had no means of carrying on, or the endeavour to conceal it from the too keen-wrought feelings of his little grand-daughter, ?

”there will be a way opened for us somehow. We must let our Heavenly Father take care of us.”

”And he will, grandpa,” whispered Fleda.

”Yes, dear! We are selfish creatures. Your father's and your mother's child will not be forgotten.”

”Nor you either, dear grandpa,” said the little girl, laying her soft cheek alongside of his, and speaking by dint of a great effort.