Volume Ii Part 6 (2/2)
”With your leave, Sir, an' there were no more men living upon the face of the earth, I should not fancy him, by St. George.”
EVERY MAN OUT OF HIS HUMOUR.
October had come, and a fair season and a fine harvest, had enabled Fleda to ease her mind by sending a good remittance to Dr. Gregory. The family were still living upon her and Hugh's energies. Mr. Rossitur talked of coming home, that was all.
It sometimes happened that a pause in the urgency of business permitted Hugh to take a day's holiday. One of these falling soon after the frosts had opened the burrs of the chestnut- trees, and the sh.e.l.ls of the hickories, Fleda seized upon it for a nutting frolic. They took Philetus, and went up to the fine group of trees on the mountain, the most difficult to reach, and the best worth reaching of all their nut wood. The sport was very fine; and after spoiling the trees, Philetus was left to ”shuck” and bring home a load of the fruit, while Fleda and Hugh took their way slowly down the mountain. She stopped him, as usual, on the old look-out place. The leaves were just then in their richest colouring, and the October sky, in its strong vitality, seemed to fill all inanimate nature with the breath of life. If ever, then on that day, to the fancy, ”the little hills rejoiced on every side.” The woods stood thick with honours, and earth lay smiling under the tokens of the summer's harvest, and the promise for the coming year; and the wind came in gusts over the lower country and up the hill-side, with a hearty good-will that blew away all vapours, physical and mental, from its path, bidding everything follow its example and be up and doing. Fleda drew a long breath or two that seemed to recognise its freshening power.
”How long it seems,” she said ? ”how very long ? since I was here with Mr. Carleton; ? just nine years ago. How changed everything is! I was a little child then. It seems such an age ago!” ?
”It is very odd he didn't come to see us,” said Hugh.
”He did ? don't you know? ? the very next day after we heard he was here ? when, most unluckily, I was up at aunt Miriam's.”
”I should think he might have come again, considering what friends you used to be.”
”I dare say he would, if he had not left Montepoole so soon.
But, dear Hugh, I was a mere child ? how could he remember me much?”
”You remember him,” said Hugh.
”Ah, but I have good reason. Besides, I never forget anything.
I would have given a great deal to see him ? if I had it.”
”I wish the Evelyns had staid longer,” said Hugh. ”I think you have wanted something to brighten you up. They did you a great deal of good last year. I am afraid all this taking care of Philetus and Earl Dougla.s.s is too much for you.”
Fleda gave him a very bright smile, half affection, half fun.
”Don't you admire my management?” said she. ”Because I do.
Philetus is firmly persuaded that he is an invaluable a.s.sistant to me in the mystery of gardening; and the origin of Earl Dougla.s.s's new ideas is so enveloped in mist, that he does not himself know where they come from. It was rich to hear him the other day descanting to Lucas upon the evil effects of earthing up corn, and the advantages of curing hay in c.o.c.ks, as to both which matters Lucas is a thorough unbeliever, and Earl was a year ago.”
”But that doesn't hinder your looking pale and thin, and a great deal soberer than I like to see you,” said Hugh. ”You want a change, I know. I don't know how you are to get it. I wish they would send for you to New York again.”
”I don't know that I should want to go, if they did,” said Fleda. ”They don't raise my spirits, Hugh. I am amused sometimes ? I can't help that ? but such excessive gaiety rather makes me shrink within myself; I am, too, out of tone with it. I never feel more absolutely quiet than sometimes when I am laughing at Constance Evelyn's mad sallies ? and sometimes I cannot laugh at them. I do not know what they must think of me; it is what they can have no means of understanding.”
”I wish you didn't understand it, either, Fleda.”
”But you shouldn't say that. I am happier than they are, now, Hugh ? now that you are better ? with all their means of happiness. They know nothing of our quiet enjoyments; they must live in a whirl, or they would think they are not living at all; and I do not believe that all New York can give them the real pleasure that I have in such a day as this. They would see almost nothing in all this beauty that my eyes 'drink in,' as Cowper says; and they would be certain to quarrel with the wind, that to me is like the shake of an old friend's hand. Delicious!” said Fleda, as the wind rewarded this eulogium with a very hearty shake indeed.
”I believe you would make friends with everything, Fleda, said Hugh, laughing.
”The wind is always that to me,” said Fleda; ”not always in such a cheerful mood as to-day, though. It talks to me often of a thousand old-time things, and sighs over them with me, a most sympathizing friend! but to-day he invites me to a waltz ? Come!”
And pulling Hugh after her, away she went down the rocky path, with a step too light to care for the stones; the little feet capering down the mountain with a disdain of the ground that made Hugh smile to see her; and eyes dancing for company, till they reached the lower woodland.
”A most spirited waltz!” said Hugh.
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