Volume Ii Part 51 (2/2)

”Why, I thought you had left New York,” said he ? ”I was told so.”

”I had left it ? I have left it, Sir,” said Fleda ? ”I have only come back for a day or two.” ?

”Have you been ill?” he said, with a sudden change of tone, the light in his eye, and smile, giving place to a very marked gravity.

Fleda would have answered with a half smile, but such a sickness of heart came over her, that speech failed, and she was very near bursting into tears. Mr. Carleton looked at her earnestly a moment, and then put the hand which Fleda had forgotten he still held upon his arm, and began to walk forward gently with her. Something in the grave tenderness with which this was done, reminded Fleda irresistibly of the times when she had been a child under his care; and, somehow, her thoughts went off on a tangent back to the further days of her mother, and father, and grandfather, the other friends from whom she had had the same gentle protection, which now there was no one in the world to give her. And their images did never seem more winning fair than just then ? when their place was left most especially empty. Her uncle she had never looked up to in the same way, and whatever stay he had been was cut down. Her aunt leaned upon _her;_ and Hugh had always been more of a younger than an elder brother. The quick contrast of those old happy childish days was too strong; the glance back at what she had had, made her feel the want. Fleda blamed herself, reasoned and fought with herself; but she was weak in mind and body, her nerves were unsteady yet, her spirits unprepared for any encounter or reminder of pleasure; and though vexed and ashamed, she _could_ not hold her head up, and she could not prevent tear after tear from falling as they went along; she could only hope that n.o.body saw them.

n.o.body spoke of them. But then n.o.body said anything; and the silence at last frightened her into rousing herself. She checked her tears and raised her head; she ventured no more; she dared not turn her face towards her companion. He looked at her once or twice, as if in doubt whether to speak or not.

”Are you not going beyond your strength?” he said at length, gently.

Fleda said, ”No,” although in a tone that half confessed his suspicion. He was silent again, however, and she cast about in vain for something to speak of; it seemed to her that all subjects of conversation in general had been packed up for exportation; neither eye nor memory could light upon a single one. Block after block was pa.s.sed, the pace at which he walked, and the manner of his care for her, alone showing that he knew what a very light hand was resting upon his arm.

”How pretty the curl of blue smoke is from that chimney,” he said.

It was said with a tone so carelessly easy, that Fleda's heart jumped for one instant in the persuasion that he had seen and noticed nothing peculiar about her.

”I know it,” she said, eagerly ? ”I have often thought of it ?

especially here in the city ?”

”Why is it? what is it?”

Fleda's eye gave one of its exploratory looks at his, such as he remembered from years ago, before she spoke.

”Isn't it contrast? ? or at least I think that helps the effect here.”

”What do you make the contrast?” he said, quietly.

”Isn't it,” said Fleda, with another glance, ”the contrast of something pure and free and upward-tending, with what is below it? I did not mean the mere painter's contrast. In the country, smoke is more picturesque, but in the city I think it has more character.”

”To how many people do you suppose it ever occurred that smoke had a character?” said he, smiling.

”You are laughing at me, Mr. Carleton; perhaps I deserve it.”

”You do not think that,” said he, with a look that forbade her to think it. ”But I see you are of Lavater's mind, that everything has a physiognomy?”

”I think he was perfectly right,” said Fleda. ”Don't you, Mr.

Carleton?”

”To some people, yes! ? But the expression is so subtle, that only very nice sensibilities, with fine training, can hope to catch it; therefore, to the ma.s.s of the world Lavater would talk nonsense.”

”That is a gentle hint to me. But if I talk nonsense, I wish you would set me right, Mr. Carleton; I am very apt to amuse myself with tracing out fancied a.n.a.logies in almost everything, and I may carry it too far ? too far to be spoken of wisely. I think it enlarges the field of pleasure very much. Where one eye is stopped, another is but invited on.”

”So,” said Mr. Carleton, ”while that puff of smoke would lead one person's imagination only down the chimney to the kitchen fire, it would take another's ? where did yours go?” said he, suddenly turning round upon her.

Fleda met his eye again, without speaking; but her look had, perhaps, more than half revealed her thought, for she was answered with a smile so intelligent and sympathetic, that she was abashed.

”How very much religion heightens the enjoyments of life!” Mr.

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