Volume I Part 78 (2/2)
”He is mad!” said Charlton, violently striding up and down the floor.
”No,” said Fleda, with equal gentleness and sadness, ”he is only unhappy; I understand it all ? he has had no spirit to take hold of anything ever since we came here.”
”Spirit!” said Charlton; ”he ought to have worked off his fingers to their joints before he let you do as you have been doing!”
”Don't say so!” said Fleda, looking even pale in her eagerness ? ”don't think so, Charlton! it isn't right. We cannot tell what he may have had to trouble him; I know he has suffered, and does suffer a great deal. Do not speak again about anything as you did last night! Oh,” said Fleda, now shedding bitter tears, ”this is the worst of growing poor ? the difficulty of keeping up the old kindness, and sympathy, and care, for each other!”
”I am sure it does not work so upon you,” said Charlton, in an altered voice.
”Promise me, dear Charlton,” said Fleda, looking up after a moment, and drying her eyes again, ”promise me you will not say any more about these things! I am sure it pains uncle Rolf more than you think. Say you will not ? for your mother's sake!”
”I will not Fleda for your sake. I would not give you any more trouble to bear. Promise me that you will be more careful of yourself in future.”
”Oh there is no danger about me,” said Fleda, with a faint smile, and taking up her work again!
”Who are you making s.h.i.+rts for?” said Charlton, after a pause.”
”Hugh.”
”You do everything for Hugh, don't you?”
”Little enough. Not half so much as he does for me.”
”Is he up at the mill to-day?”
”He is always there,” said Fleda, sighing.
There was another silence.
”Charlton,” said Fleda, looking up with a face of the loveliest insinuation ? ”isn't there something _you_ might do to help us a little?”
”I will help you garden, Fleda, with pleasure.”
”I would rather you should help somebody else,” said she, still looking at him.
”What, Hugh? You would have me go and work at the mill for him, I suppose?”
”Don't be angry with me, Charlton, for suggesting it,” said Fleda, looking down again.
”Angry!” said he. ”But is that what you would have me do.”
”Not unless you like; I didn't know but you might take his place once in a while for a little, to give him a rest ?”
”And suppose some of the people from Montepoole, that know me, should come by? ? What are you thinking of?” said he, in a tone that certainly justified Fleda's deprecation.
”Well!” said Fleda, in a kind of choked voice ? ”there is a strange rule of honour in vogue in the world.”
”Why should I help Hugh rather than anybody else?”
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