Volume Ii Part 9 (1/2)
”To make the matter worse (if it could be), I have been informed privately, that he is going home to crown at the altar of Hymen an old attachment to one of the loveliest of all England's daughters. Conceive the complication of my feelings! ?
”Nothing is left me but the resources of friends.h.i.+p ? so come, darling Fleda, before a barrier of ice interposes itself between my chilled heart and your sympathy.
”Mr. Thorn's state would move my pity if I were capable of being moved by anything ? by this you will comprehend he is returned. He has been informed by somebody, that there is a wolf in sheep's clothing prowling about Queechy, and his head is filled with the idea that you have fallen a victim, of which, in my calmer moments, I have in vain endeavoured to dispossess him. Every morning we are wakened up at an unseasonable hour by a furious ringing at the door-bell ? Joe Manton pulls off his nightcap, and slowly descending the stairs, opens the door, and finds Mr. Thorn, who inquires distractedly whether Miss Ringgan has arrived; and being answered in the negative, gloomily walks off towards the East river. The state of anxiety in which his mother is thereby kept is rapidly depriving her of all her flesh ? but we have directed Joe lately to reply, 'No, Sir, but she is expected' ?
upon which Mr. Thorn regularly smiles faintly, and rewards the 'fowling-piece' with a quarter dollar ?
”So make haste, dear Fleda, or I shall feel that we are acting the part of innocent swindlers.
C.E.”
There was but one voice at home on the point whether Fleda should go. So she went.
CHAPTER V.
_Host_. Now, my young guest! methinks you're allycholy; I pray you why is it?
_Jul_. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be merry.
TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.
Some nights after their arrival, the doctor and Fleda were seated at tea in the little snug old-fas.h.i.+oned back parlour, where the doctor's nicest of housekeepers, Mrs. Pritchard, had made it ready for them. In general, Mrs. Pritchard herself poured it out for the doctor, but she descended most cheerfully from her post of elevation, whenever Fleda was there to fill it.
The doctor and Fleda sat cozily looking at each other across the toast and chipped beef, their glances grazing the tea-urn, which was just on one side of their range of vision. A comfortable Liverpool-coal fire in a state of repletion burned away indolently, and gave everything else in the room somewhat of its own look of sonsy independence ? except, perhaps, the delicate creature at whom the doctor, between sips of his tea, took rather wistful observations.
”When are you going to Mrs. Evelyn?” he said, breaking the silence.
”They say next week, Sir.”
”I shall be glad of it!” said the doctor.
”Glad of it?” said Fleda, smiling. ”Do you want to get rid of me, uncle Orrin?”
”Yes!” said he. ”This isn't the right place for you. You are too much alone.”
”No, indeed, Sir. I have been reading voraciously, and enjoying myself as much as possible. I would quite as lieve be here as there, putting you out of the question.”
”I wouldn't as lieve have you,” said he, shaking his head.
”What were you musing about before tea? your face gave me the heartache.”
”My face!” said Fleda, smiling, while an instant flush of the eyes answered him; ”what was the matter with my face?”
”That is the very thing I want to know.”
”Before tea? ? I was only thinking,” said Fleda, her look going back to the fire from a.s.sociation ? ”thinking of different things ? not disagreeably; taking a kind of bird's- eye view of things, as one does sometimes.”
”I don't believe you ever take other than a bird's-eye view of anything,” said her uncle. ”But what were you viewing just then, my little Saxon?”
”I was thinking of them at home,” said Fleda, smiling, thoughtfully; ”and I somehow had perched myself on a point of observation, and was taking one of those wider views which are always rather sobering.”