Volume Ii Part 47 (1/2)

”Couldn't! ? Oh Fleda! ? I have seen changes! ? He was there one afternoon, alone, and had got into difficulty with some bigger boys ? a little fellow, you know ? he stood his ground manfully, but his strength wasn't equal to his spirit, and they were tyrannizing over him after the fas.h.i.+on of boys, who are, I do think, the ugliest creatures in creation!” said Mme.

Schwiden, not apparently reckoning her own to be of the same gender ? ”and a gentleman, who was riding by, stopped and interfered, and took him out of their hands, and then asked him his name ? struck, I suppose, with his appearance. Very kind, wasn't it? men so seldom bother themselves about what becomes of children. I suppose there were thousands of others riding by at the same time.”

”Very kind,” Fleda said.

”When he heard what his name was, he gave his horse to his servant, and walked home with Rolf; and the next day he sent me a note, speaking of having known my father and mother, and asking permission to call upon me. I never was so mortified, I think, in my life,” said Marion, after a moment's hesitation.

”Why?” said Fleda, not a little at a loss to follow out the chain of her cousin's reasoning.

”Why, I was in such a sort of a place, you don't know, Fleda; I was working then for a fancy storekeeper, to support myself ? living in a miserable little two rooms. If it had been a stranger, I wouldn't have cared so much, but somebody that had known us in different times. I hadn't a thing in the world to answer the note upon but a half-sheet of letter paper.”

Fleda's lips sought Rolf's forehead again, with a curious rush of tears and smiles at once. Perhaps Marion had caught the expression of her countenance, for she added, with a little energy ?

”It is nothing to be surprised at ? you would have felt just the same; for I knew by his note, the whole style of it, what sort of a person it must be.”

”My pride has been a good deal chastened,” Fleda said, gently.

”I never want _mine_ to be, beyond minding everything,” said Marion; ”and I don't believe yours is. I don't know why in the world I did not refuse to see him ? I had fifty minds to ? but he had won Rolf's heart, and I was a little curious, and it was something strange to see the face of a friend, any better one than my old landlady, so I let him come.”

”Was _she_ a friend?” said Fleda.

”If she hadn't been, I should not have lived to be here; the best soul that ever was; but still, you know, she could do nothing for me but be as kind as she could live; this was something different. So I let him come, and he came the next day.”

Fleda was silent, a little wondering that Marion should be so frank with her, beyond what she had ever been in former years; but, as she guessed, Mme. Schwiden's heart was a little opened by the joy of finding herself at home, and the absolute necessity of talking to somebody; and there was a further reason, which Fleda could not judge of, in her own face and manner. Marion needed no questions, and went on again, after stopping a moment.

”I was so glad, in five minutes ? I can't tell you, Fleda ?

that I had let him come. I forgot entirely about how I looked, and the wretched place I was in. He was all that I had supposed, and a great deal more; but, somehow, he hadn't been in the room three minutes before I didn't care at all for all the things I had thought would trouble me. Isn't it strange what a witchery some people have to make you forget everything but themselves!”

”The reason is, I think, because that is the only thing they forget,” said Fleda, whose imagination, however, was entirely busy with the _singular_ number.

”I shall never forget him,” said Marion. ”He was very kind to me ? I cannot tell how kind ? though I never realized it till afterwards; at the time, it always seemed only a sort of elegant politeness which he could not help. I never saw so elegant a person. He came two or three times to see me, and he took Rolf out with him, I don't know how often, to drive; and he sent me fruit ? such fruit! and game, and flowers; and I had not had anything of the kind, not even seen it, for so long; I can't tell you what it was to me. He said he had known my father and mother well when they were abroad.”

”What was his name?” said Fleda, quickly.

”I don't know ? he never told me ? and I never could ask him.

Don't you know, there are some people you can't do anything with, but just what they please? There wasn't the least thing like stiffness; you never saw anybody less stiff; but I never dreamed of asking him questions, except when he was out of sight. Why, do you know him?” she said, suddenly.

”When you tell me who he was, I'll tell you,” said Fleda, smiling.

”Have you ever heard this story before?”

”Certainly not!”

”He is somebody that knows us very well,” said Marion, ”for he asked after every one of the family in particular.”

”But what had all this to do with your getting home?”

”I don't wonder you ask. The day after his last visit, came a note, saying, that he owed a debt in my family, which it had never been in his power to repay; that he could not give the enclosure to my father, who would not recognise the obligation; and that if I would permit him to place it in my hands, I should confer a singular favour upon him.”

”And what was the enclosure?”