Volume Ii Part 11 (2/2)
”And knowing that I am,” said Constance, in comic impatience, ”you are maliciously prolonging my agonies. It is not what I expected of you, Mr. Carleton.”
”My dear,” said her father, ”Mr. Carleton, I am sure, will fulfil all reasonable expectations. What is the matter?”
”I asked him where a certain tribe of Indians was to be found, Papa, and he told me they were supposed originally to have come across Behring's Strait, one cold winter.”
Mr. Evelyn looked a little doubtfully, and Constance with so unhesitating gravity, that the gravity of n.o.body else was worth talking about.
”But it is so uncommon,” said Mrs. Evelyn, when they had done laughing, ”to see an Englishman of your cla.s.s here at all, that when he comes a second time we may be forgiven for wondering what has procured us such an honour.”
”Women may always be forgiven for wondering, my dear,” said Mr. Evelyn, ”or the rest of mankind must live at odds with them.”
”Your princ.i.p.al object was to visit our western prairies, wasn't it, Mr. Carleton?” said Florence.
”No,” he replied, quietly, ”I cannot say that. I should choose to give a less romantic explanation of my movements. From, some knowledge growing out of my former visit to this country, I thought there were certain negotiations I might enter into here with advantage; and it was for the purpose of attending to these, Miss Constance, that I came.”
”And have you succeeded?” said Mrs. Evelyn, with an expression of benevolent interest.
”No, Ma'am ? my information had not been sufficient.”
”Very likely,” said Mr. Evelyn. ”There isn't one man in a hundred whose representations on such a matter are to be trusted at a distance.”
”On such a matter,” repeated his wife, funnily; ”you don't know what the matter was, Mr. Evelyn ? you don't know what you are talking about.”
”Business, my dear ? business ? I take only what Mr. Carleton said; it doesn't signify a straw what business. A man must always see with his own eyes.”
Whether Mr. Carleton had seen or had not seen, or whether even he had his faculty of hearing in present exercise, a glance at his face was incompetent to discover.
”I never should have imagined,” said Constance, eyeing him keenly, ”that Mr. Carleton's errand to this country was one of business, and not of romance. I believe it's a humbug!”
For an instant this was answered by one of those looks of absolute composure, in every muscle and feature, which put an effectual bar to all further attempts from without, or revelations from within ? a look Fleda remembered well, and felt even in her corner. But it presently relaxed, and he said with his usual manner,
”You cannot understand, then, Miss Constance, that there should be any romance about business?”
”I cannot understand,” said Mrs. Evelyn, ”why romance should not come after business. Mr. Carleton, Sir, you have seen American scenery this summer; isn't American beauty worth staying a little while longer for?”
”My dear,” said Mr. Evelyn, ”Mr. Carleton is too much of a philosopher to care about beauty ? every man of sense is.”
”I am sure he is not,” said Mrs. Evelyn, smoothly. ”Mr.
Carleton, you are an admirer of beauty, are you not, Sir ?”
”I hope so, Mrs. Evelyn,” he said smiling; ”but perhaps, I shall shock you by adding ? not of beauties.”
”That sounds very odd,” said Florence.
”But let us understand,” said Mrs. Evelyn, with the air of a person solving a problem; ”I suppose we are to infer that your taste in beauty is of a peculiar kind?”
”That may be a fair inference,” he said.
”What is it, then?” said Constance, eagerly.
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