Volume I Part 27 (2/2)
”About the lady and the little sprites that waited on her.”
”Yes, it is in a book; you shall see it, Elfie. ? Here we are!”
And here it was proposed to stay till the next day, lest Fleda might not be able to bear so much travelling at first. But the country inn was not found inviting; the dinner was bad, and the rooms were worse; uninhabitable, the ladies said; and about the middle of the afternoon they began to cast about for the means of reaching Albany that night. None very comfortable could be had; however, it was thought better to push on at any rate than wear out the night in such a place. The weather was very mild; the moon at the full.
”How is Fleda to go this afternoon,” said Mrs. Evelyn.
”She shall decide herself,” said Mrs. Carleton. ”How will you go, my sweet Fleda?”
Fleda was lying upon a sort of rude couch which had been spread for her, where she had been sleeping incessantly ever since she arrived, the hour of dinner alone excepted. Mrs.
Carleton repeated her question.
”I am afraid Mr. Carleton must be tired,” said Fleda, without opening her eyes.
”That means that you are, don't it?” said Rossitur.
”No,” said Fleda, gently.
Mr. Carleton smiled, and went out to press forward the arrangements. In spite of good words and good money there was some delay. It was rather late before the cavalcade left the inn; and a journey of several hours was before them. Mr.
Carleton rode rather slowly, too, for Fleda's sake, so the evening had fallen while they were yet a mile or two from the city.
His little charge had borne the fatigue well, thanks partly to his admirable care, and partly to her quiet pleasure in being with him. She had been so perfectly still for some distance, that he thought she had dropped asleep. Looking down closer, however, to make sure about it, he saw her thoughtful clear eyes most unsleepily fixed upon the sky.
”What are you gazing at, Elfie?”
The look of thought changed to a look of affection as the eyes were brought to bear upon him, and she answered with a smile,
”Nothing, ? I was looking at the stars.”
”What are you dreaming about?”
”I wasn't dreaming,” said Fleda, ? ”I was thinking.”
”Thinking of what?”
”Oh, of pleasant things.”
”Mayn't I know them? ? I like to hear of pleasant things.”
”I was thinking, ?” said Fleda, looking up again at the stars, which shone with no purer ray than those grave eyes sent back to them, ? ”I was thinking ? of being ready to die.”
The words, and the calm thoughtful manner in which they were said, thrilled upon Mr. Carleton with a disagreeable shock.
”How came you to think of such a thing?” said he, lightly.
”I don't know,” ? said Fleda, still looking at the stars,” ? I suppose ? I was thinking ?”
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