Volume I Part 49 (1/2)
It was a weary party that gathered round the supper-table that night ? weary, it seemed, as much in mind as in body; and the meal exerted its cheering influence over only two of them; Mr.
and Mrs. Rossitur sipped their cups of tea abstractedly.
”I don't believe that fellow, Donohan, knows much about his business,” remarked the former at length.
”Why don't you get somebody else, then?” said his wife.
”I happen to have engaged him, unfortunately.”
A pause.
”What doesn't he know?”
Mr. Rossitur laughed, not a pleasant laugh.
”It would take too long to enumerate. If you had asked me what part of his business he does understand, I could have told you shortly that I don't know.”
”But you do not understand it very well yourself. Are you sure?”
”Am I sure of what?”
”That this man does not know his business?”
”No further sure than I can have confidence in my own common sense.”
”What will you do?” said Mrs. Rossitur, after a moment.
A question men are not fond of answering, especially when they have not made up their minds. Mr. Rossitur was silent, and his wife too, after that.
”If I could get some long-headed Yankee to go along with him,”
he remarked again, balancing his spoon on the edge of his cup, in curious ill.u.s.tration of his own mental position at the moment ? Donohan being the only fixed point, and all the rest wavering in uncertainty. There were a few silent minutes before anybody answered.
”If you want one, and don't know of one, uncle Rolf,” said Fleda, ”I dare say cousin Seth might.”
That gentle modest speech brought his attention round upon her. His face softened.
”Cousin Seth? who is cousin Seth?”
”He is aunt Miriam's son,” said Fleda. ”Seth Plumfield. He's a very good farmer, I know; grandpa used to say he was; and he knows everybody.”
”Mrs. Plumfield,” said Mrs. Rossitur, as her husband's eyes went inquiringly to her ? ”Mrs. Plumfield was Mr. Ringgan's sister, you remember. This is her son.”
”Cousin Seth, eh?” said Mr. Rossitur, dubiously. ” Well ? Why, Fleda, your sweet air don't seem to agree with you, as far as I see; I have not known you look so ? so triste ? since we left Paris. What have you been doing, my child?”
”She has been doing everything, father,” said Hugh.
”Oh! it's nothing,” said Fleda, answering Mr. Rossitur's look and tone of affection with a bright smile. ” I'm a little tired, that's all!”
”A little tired!' She went to sleep on the sofa directly after supper, and slept like a baby all the evening; but her power did not sleep with her; for that quiet, sweet, tired face, tired in their service, seemed to bear witness against the indulgence of anything harsh or unlovely in the same atmosphere. A gentle witness-bearing, but strong in its gentleness. They sat close together round the fire, talked softly, and from time to time cast loving glances at the quiet little sleeper by their side. They did not know that she was a fairy, and that though her wand had fallen out of her hand it was still resting upon them.