Volume Ii Part 83 (2/2)
”Yes, at the saw-mill. And then you would come up there through the sun to look at me, and your smile would make me forget everything sorrowful for the rest of the day ? except that I couldn't help you.”
”Oh, you did ? you did ? you helped me always, Hugh!”
”Not much. I couldn't help you when you were sewing for me and father till your fingers and eyes were aching, and you never would own that you were anything but 'a little' tired ? it made my heart ache. Oh, I knew it all, dear Fleda. I am very, very glad that you will have somebody to take care of you now, that will not let you burn four fingers for him or anybody else. It makes me happy!”
”You make me very unhappy, dear Hugh.”
”I don't mean it,” said Hugh, tenderly. ”But I don't believe there is anybody else in the world that I could be so satisfied to leave you with.”
Fleda made no answer to that. She sat up and tried to recover herself.
”I hope he will come back in time,” said Hugh, settling himself back in the easy-chair with a weary look, and closing his eyes.
”In time for what!”
”To see me again.”
”My dear Hugh! ? he will, to be sure, I hope.”
”He must make haste,” said Hugh. ”But I want to see him again very much, Fleda.”
”For anything in particular?”
”No ? only because I love him. I want to see him once more.”
Hugh slumbered; and Fleda, by his side, wept tears of mixed feeling till she was tired.
Hugh was right. But n.o.body else knew it, and his brother was not sent for.
It was about a week after this, when one night a horse and waggon came up to the back of the house from the road, the gentleman who had been driving leading the horse. It was late, long past Mr. Skillcorn's usual hour of retiring, but some errand of business had kept him abroad, and he stood there looking on. The stars gave light enough.
”Can you fasten my horse where he may stand a little while, Sir, without taking him out?”
”I guess I can,” replied Philetus, with reasonable confidence, ”if there's a rope's end some place.”
And forthwith he went back into the house to seek it; the gentleman patiently holding his horse meanwhile till he came out.
”How is Mr. Hugh to-night?”
”Well ? he aint just so smart, they say,” responded Philetus, insinuating the rope's end as awkwardly as possible among the horse's head-gear. ”I believe he's dying.”
Instead of going round now to the front of the house, Mr.
Carleton knocked gently at the kitchen door, and asked the question anew of Barby.
”He's ? come in, Sir, if you please,” she said, opening wide the door for him to enter. ”I'll tell 'em you're here.”
”Do not disturb any one for me,” said he.
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