Volume Ii Part 22 (2/2)
she said, with half a sigh, the other half quite made up by the tone in which she spoke. But it was not, as she thought, uncle Orrin that was standing by her side, and looking up as she finished speaking ? Fleda saw, with a start, that it was Mr. Carleton. There was such a degree of life and pleasantness in his eyes, that, in spite of the start, her own quite brightened.
”That is a pleasure one may always command,” he said, answering part of her speech.
”Ay, provided one has one's mind always under command,” said Fleda. ”It is possible to sit down to a feast with a want of appet.i.te.”
”In such a case, what is the best tonic?”
His manner, even in those two minutes, had put Fleda perfectly at her ease, ill-bred eyes and ears being absent. She looked up and answered, with such entire trust in him, as made her forget that she had ever had any cause to distrust herself.
”For me,” she said, ”as a general rule, nothing is better than to go out of doors ? into the woods or the garden ? they are the best fresheners I know of. I can do myself good there at times when books are a nuisance.”
”You are not changed from your old self,” he said.
The wish was strong upon Fleda to know whether _he_ was, but it was not till she saw the answer in his face that she knew how plainly hers had asked the question. And then she was so confused that she did not know what the answer had been.
”I find it so, too,” he said. ”The influences of pure nature are the best thing I know for some moods ? after the company of a good horse.”
”And you on his back, I suppose?”
”That was my meaning. What is the doubt thereupon?” said he, laughing.
”Did I express any doubt?”
”Or my eyes were mistaken.”
”I remember they never used to be that,” said Fleda.
”What was it?”
”Why,” said Fleda, thinking that Mr. Carleton had probably retained more than one of his old habits, for she was answering with her old obedience ? ”I was doubting what the influence is in that case ? worth a.n.a.lyzing, I think. I am afraid the good horse's company has little to do with it.”
”What, then, do you suppose?” said he, smiling.
”Why,” said Fleda ? ”it might be ? but I beg your pardon, Mr.
Carleton! I am astonished at my own presumption.”
”Go on, and let me know why,” he said, with that happiness of manner which was never resisted. Fleda went on, rea.s.suring her courage now and then with a glance.
”The relief _might_ spring, Sir, from the gratification of a proud feeling of independence ? or from a dignified sense of isolation ? or an imaginary riding down of opposition ? or the consciousness of being master of what you have in hand.”
She would have added to the general category, ”the running away from one's-self;” but the eye and bearing of the person before her forbade even such a thought as connected with him.
He laughed, but shook his head.
”Perhaps, then,” said Fleda, ”it may be nothing worse than the working off of a surplus of energy or impatience that leaves behind no more than can be managed.”
”You have learned something of human nature since I had the pleasure of knowing you,” he said, with a look at once amused and penetrating.
”I wish I hadn't,” said Fleda.
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