Volume I Part 33 (1/2)
”It was _not_ right,” said he, after a minute, ”and I very seldom use such an expression, but you know one cannot always be on one's guard, Elfie.”
”But,” said Fleda, with gentle persistence, ”one can always do what is right.”
”The deuce one can!” thought Mr. Carleton to himself.
”Elfie, was this all that troubled you? that I had said what was not right?”
”It wasn't quite that only,” said Fleda, hesitating.
”What else?”
She stooped her face from his sight, and he could but just understand her words.
”I was disappointed ?”
”What, in me?”
Her tears gave the answer; she could add to them nothing but an a.s.senting nod of her head.
They would have flowed in double measure if she had guessed the pain she had given. Her questioner heard her with a keen pang, which did not leave him. for days. There was some hurt pride in it, though other and more generous feelings had a far larger share. He, who had been admired, lauded, followed, cited, and envied, by all ranks of his countrymen and countrywomen; in whom n.o.body found a fault that could be dwelt upon, amid the l.u.s.tre of his perfections and advantages ? one of the first young men in England, thought so by himself, as well as by others ? this little pure being had been _disappointed_ in him. He could not get over it. He reckoned the one judgment worth all the others. Those whose direct or indirect flatteries had been poured at his feet, were the proud, the worldly, the ambitious, the interested, the corrupted; their praise was given to what they esteemed, and that, his candour said, was the least estimable part of him.
Beneath all that, this truth-loving, truth-discerning little spirit had found enough to weep for. She was right, and they were wrong. The sense of this was so keen upon him, that it was ten or fifteen minutes before he could recover himself to speak to his little reprover. He paced up and down the deck, while Fleda wept more and more from the fear of having offended or grieved him. But she was soon rea.s.sured on the former point. She was just wiping away her tears, with the quiet expression of patience her face often wore, when Mr.
Carleton sat down beside her and took one of her hands.
”Elfie,” said he, ”I promise you I will never say such a thing again.”
He might well call her his good angel, for it was an angelic look the child gave him; so purely humble, grateful, glad; so rosy with joyful hope; the eyes were absolutely sparkling through tears. But when she saw that his were not dry, her own overflowed. She clasped her other hand to his hand, and bending down her face affectionately upon it, she wept ? if ever angels weep ? such tears as they.
”Elfie,” said Mr. Carleton, as soon as he could, ”I want you to go down stairs with me; so dry those eyes, or my mother will be asking all sorts of difficult questions.”
Happiness is a quick restorative. Elfie was soon ready to go where he would.
They found Mrs. Carleton fortunately wrapped up in a new novel, some distance apart from the other persons in the cabin. The novel was immediately laid aside to take Fleda on her lap, and praise Guy's nursing.
”But she looks more like a wax figure yet than anything else; don't she, Guy?”
”Not like any that ever I saw,” said Mr. Carleton, gravely.
”Hardly substantial enough. Mother, I have come to tell you I am ashamed of myself for having given you such cause of offence yesterday.”
Mrs. Carleton's quick look, as she laid her hand on her son's arm, said sufficiently well that she would have excused him from making any apology, rather than have him humble himself in the presence of a third person.
”Fleda heard me yesterday,” said he; ”it was right she should hear me to-day.”
”Then, my dear Guy,” said his mother, with a secret eagerness which she did not allow to appear, ”if I may make a condition for my forgiveness, which you had before you asked for it, will you grant me one favour?”
”Certainly, mother, if I can.”
”You promise me?”