Volume Ii Part 8 (1/2)
”Why not? ? why do you say so?”
”Because I must, if you ask me.”
”But what can be more excellent and estimable, Fleda? ? who could be more worth liking? I should have thought he would just please you. He is one of the most lovely young men I have ever seen.”
”Dear aunt Miriam,” said Fleda, looking up beseechingly, ”why should we talk about it?”
”Because I want to understand you, Fleda, and to be sure that you understand yourself.”
”I do,” said Fleda, quietly, and with a quivering lip.
”What is there that you dislike about Mr. Olmney?”
”Nothing in the world, aunt Miriam.”
”Then, what is the reason you cannot like him enough?”
”Because, aunt Miriam,” said Fleda, speaking in desperation, ”there isn't enough of him. He is very good and excellent in every way, n.o.body feels that more than I do; I don't want to say a word against him, but I do not think he has a very strong mind, and he isn't cultivated enough.”
”But you cannot have everything, Fleda.”
”No, Ma'am, I don't expect it.”
”I am afraid you have set up too high a standard for yourself,” said Mrs. Plumfield, looking rather troubled.
”I don't think that is possible, aunt Miriam.”
”But I am afraid it will prevent your ever liking anybody.”
”It will not prevent my liking the friends I have already; it may prevent my leaving them for somebody else,” said Fleda, with a gravity that was touching in its expression.
”But Mr. Olmney is sensible, and well educated.”
”Yes, but his tastes are not. He could not at all enter into a great many things that give me the most pleasure. I do not think he quite understands above half of what I say to him.”
”Are you sure? I know he admires you, Fleda.”
”Ah, but that is only half enough, you see, aunt Miriam, unless I could admire him too.”
Mrs. Plumfield looked at her in some difficulty; Mr. Olmney was not the only one, clearly, whose powers of comprehension were not equal to the subject.
”Fleda,” said her aunt, inquiringly, ”is there anybody else that has put Mr. Olmney out of your head?”
”n.o.body in the world!” exclaimed Fleda, with a frank look and tone of astonishment at the question, and cheeks colouring as promptly. ”How could you ask? ? but he never was in my head, aunt Miriam.”
”Mr. Thorn?” said Mrs. Plumfield.
”Mr. Thorn!” said Fleda, indignantly. ”Don't you know me better than that, aunt Miriam? But you do not know him.”
”I believe I know you, dear Fleda; but I heard he had paid you a great deal of attention last year; and you would not have been the first unsuspecting nature that has been mistaken.”
Fleda was silent, flushed, and disturbed; and Mrs. Plumfield was silent and meditating; when Hugh came in. He came to fetch Fleda home. Dr. Gregory had arrived. In haste again, Fleda sought her bonnet, and exchanging a more than usually wistful and affectionate kiss and embrace with her aunt, set off with Hugh down the hill.