Volume I Part 74 (2/2)
”That is not like him,” he said, in a much moderated tone.
”But you must be changed too, mother, or you would not endure such anomalous service in your kitchen.”
”There are a great many changes, dear Charlton,” said his mother, looking at him with such a face of sorrowful sweetness and patience that his mouth was stopped. Fleda left the room.
”And have you really nothing to depend upon but that child's strawberries and Hugh's wood-saw?” he said, in the tone he ought to have used from the beginning.
”Little else.”
Charlton stifled two or three sentences that rose to his lips, and began to walk up and down the room again. His mother sat musing by the tea-board still, softly clinking her spoon against the edge of her tea-cup.
”She has grown up very pretty,” he remarked, after a pause.
”Pretty!” said Mrs. Rossitur.
”Why?”
”No one that has seen much of Fleda would ever describe her by that name.”
Charlton had the candour to think he had seen something of her that morning.
”Poor child!” said Mrs. Rossitur, sadly, ” I can't bear to think of her spending her life as she is doing ? wearing herself out, I know, sometimes ? and buried alive.”
”Buried!” said Charlton, in his turn.
”Yes; without any of the advantages and opportunities she ought to have. I can't bear to think of it. And yet how should I ever live without her” said Mrs. Rossitur, leaning her lace upon her hands. ”And if she were known she would not be mine long. But It grieves me to have her go without her music, that she is so fond of, and the book she wants; she and Hugh have gone from end to end of every volume there is in the house, I believe, in every language, except Greek.”
”Well, she looks pretty happy and contented, mother.”
”I don't know!'” said Mrs.. Rossitur, shaking her head.
”Isn't she happy?”
”I don't know,” said Mrs. Rossitur, again; ”she has a spirit that is happy in doing her duty, or anything for those she loves; but I see her sometimes wearing a look that pains me exceedingly. I am afraid the way she lives, and the changes in our affairs, have worn upon her more than we know of ? she feels doubly everything that touches me, or Hugh, or your father. She is a gentle spirit!” ?
”She seems to me not to want character,” said Charlton.
”Character! I don't know who has so much. She has at least fifty times as much character as I have. And energy. She is admirable at managing people ? she knows how to influence them somehow, so that everybody does what she wants.”
”And who influences her?” said Charlton.
”Who influences her? Everybody that she loves. Who has the most influence over her, do you mean? I am sure I don't know ?
Hugh, if anybody ? but she is rather the moving spirit of the household.”
Captain Rossitur resolved that he would be an exception to her rule.
He forgot, however, for some reason or other, to sound his father any more on the subject of mismanagement. His thoughts, indeed, were more pleasantly taken up.
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