Volume Ii Part 17 (2/2)
”I don't believe he has much to do,” said Edith, securely.
”But, Mr. Carleton, you did promise, for I asked you, and you said nothing; and I always have been told that silence gives consent; so what is to become of it?”
”Will you go now, Miss Edith?”
”Now? ? O, yes! And will you go out to Manhattanville, Mr.
Carleton ? along by the river?”
”If you like. But, Miss Edith, the carriage will hold another ? cannot you persuade one of these ladies to go with us?”
”Fleda!” said Edith, springing off to her with extravagant capers of joy ? ”Fleda, you shall go! you haven't been out to- day.”
”And I cannot go out to-day,” said Fleda, gently.
”The air is very fine,” said Mr. Carleton, approaching her table, with no want of alacrity in step or tone, her ears knew; ”and this weather makes everything beautiful. Has that piece of canvas any claims upon you that cannot be put aside for a little?”
”No, Sir,” said Fleda, ”but, I am sorry I have a stronger reason that must keep me at home.”
”She knows how the weather looks,” said Edith; ”Mr. Thorn takes her out every other day. It's no use to talk to her, Mr.
Carleton ? when she says she wont, she wont.”
”Every other day!” said Fleda.
”No, no,” said Mrs. Evelyn, coming up, and with that smile which Fleda had never liked so little as at that minute ? ”not _every other_ day, Edith; what are you talking of? Go, and don't keep Mr. Carleton waiting.”
Fleda worked on, feeling a little aggrieved. Mr. Carleton stood still by her table, watching her, while his companions were getting themselves ready; but he said no more, and Fleda did not raise her head till the party were off. Florence had taken her resigned place.
”I dare say the weather will be quite as fine to-morrow, dear Fleda,” said Mrs. Evelyn, softly.
”I hope it will,” said Fleda, in a tone of resolute simplicity.
”I only hope it will not bring too great a throng of carriages to the door,” Mrs. Evelyn went on, in a tone of great internal amus.e.m.e.nt; ”I never used to mind it, but I have lately a nervous fear of collisions.”
”To-morrow is not your reception-day?” said Fleda.
”No, not mine,” said Mrs. Evelyn, softly ? ”but that doesn't signify ? it may be one of my neighbours.”
Fleda pulled away at her threads of worsted, and wouldn't know anything else.
”I have read of the servants of Lot and the servants of Abraham quarrelling,” Mrs. Evelyn went on, in the same undertone of delight ? ”because the land was too strait for them ? I should be very sorry to have anything of the sort happen again, for I cannot imagine where Lot would go to find a plain that would suit him.”
”Lot and Abraham, Mamma,” said Constance, from the sofa ?
”what on earth are you talking about?”
”None of your business,” said Mrs. Evelyn; ”I was talking of some country friends of mine that you don't know.”
Constance knew her mother's laugh very well, but Mrs. Evelyn was impenetrable.
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