cap in a man's face, Mr. Carleton's mere silence would make the offender doff his and ask pardon."

The manner in which this was said precluded all taking offence.

"Well," said Charlton shrugging his shoulders; "then I don't know what pride is, that's all!"

"Take care, Capt. Rossitur," said Fleda laughing, "I have heard of such a thing as American pride before now."

"Certainly!" said Charlton, "and I'm quite willing, but it never reaches quite such a towering height on our side the water."

"I am sure I don't know how that may be," said Fleda, "but I know I have heard a lady, an enlightened, gentle-tempered American lady, so called, I have heard her talk to a poor Irish woman with whom she had nothing in the world to do, in a style that moved my indignation-it stirred my blood! and there was nothing whatever to call it out. 'All the blood of all the Howards,' I hope would not have disgraced itself so."

"What business have you to 'hope' anything about it?"

"None, except from the natural desire to find what one has a right to look for. But, indeed, I wouldn't take the blood of all the Howards for any security-pride as well as high-breeding is a thing of natural, not adventitious growth-it belongs to character, not circumstance."

"Do you know that your favourite, Mr. Carleton, is nearly connected with those same Howards, and quarters their arms with his own?"

"I have a very vague idea of the dignity implied in that expression of 'quartering arms,' which comes so roundly out of your mouth, Charlton,' said Fleda laughing. "No, I didn't know it. But in general I am apt to think that pride is a thing which reverses the usual rules of architecture, and builds highest on the narrowest foundations."

"What do you mean!"

"Never mind," said Fleda, "if a meaning isn't plain it isn't worth looking after. But it will not do to measure pride by its supposed materials. It does not depend on them but on the individual. You everywhere see people assert that most of which they feel least sure, and then it is easy for them to conclude that where there is so much more of the reality there must be proportionably more of the assertion. I wish some of our gentlemen, and ladies, who talk of pride where they see and can see nothing but the habit of wealth-I wish they could see the universal politeness with which Mr. Carleton returns the salutes of his inferiors. Not more respectfully they lift their hats to him than he lifts his to them, unless when he speaks." "You have seen it ?"-" Often."

"Where?"-" In England-at his own place-among his own servants and dependents. I remember very well-it struck even my childish eyes." "Well, after all, that is nothing still but a refined kind of haughtiness. "It is a kind that I wish some of our Americans would copy," said Fleda. "But dear Fleda," said Mrs. Rossitur, "all Americans are not like that lady you were talking of—it would be very unfair to make her a sample. I don't think I ever heard any one speak so in my life-you never heard me speak so.

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"Dear aunt Lucy!-no,-I was only giving instance for instance. I have no idea that Mr. Carleton is a type of Englishmen in general, I wish he were. But I think it is the very people that cry out against superiority, who are the most happy to assert their own where they can; the same jealous feeling that repines on the one hand, revenges itself on the other."

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Superiority of what kind!" said Charlton stiffly.

"Of any kind-superiority of wealth, or refinement, or name, or standing,

Now it does not follow that an Englishman is proud because he keeps liveried servants, and it by no means follows that an American lacks the essence of haughtiness because he finds fault with him for doing so."

"I daresay some of our neighbours think we are proud," said Hugh, "because we use silver forks instead of steel."

"I

"Because we're too good for steel forks you ought to say," said Fleda. am sure they think so. I have been given to understand as much. Barby, I believe, has a good opinion of us and charitably concludes that we mean right; but some other of our country friends would think I was far gone in uppishness if they knew that I never touch fish with a steel knife; and it wouldn't mend the matter much to tell them that the combination of flavours is disagreeable to me-it hardly suits the doctrine of liberty and equality that my palate should be so much nicer than theirs."

"Absurd!" said Charlton.

"Very," said Fleda; "but on which side, in all probability, is the pride?" "It wasn't for liveried servants that I charged Mr. Carleton," said her cousin. "How do the Evelyns like this paragon of yours?"

"Oh everybody likes him," said Fleda smiling, "except you and your friend Mr. Thorn."

"Thorn don't like him, eh ?"-"I think not."

"What do you suppose is the reason?" said Charlton gravely.

"I don't think Mr. Thorn is particularly apt to like anybody," said Fleda, who knew very well the original cause of both exceptions, but did not like to advert to it.

"Apparently you don't like Mr. Thorn ?" said Mr. Rossitur, speaking for the first time."I don't know who does, sir, much, except his mother."

"What is he?"-"A man not wanting in parts, sir, and with considerable force of character, but I am afraid more for ill than for good. I should be very sorry to trust him with anything dear to me."

"How long were you in forming that opinion?" said Charlton looking at her curiously." It was formed, substantially, the first evening I saw him, and I have never seen cause to alter it since.'

The several members of the family therewith fell into a general muse, with the single exception of Hugh, whose eyes and thoughts seemed to be occupied with Fleda's living presence. Mr. Rossitur then requested that breakfast might be ready very early-at six o'clock.

"Six o'clock !" exclaimed Mrs. Rossitur.-"I have to take a long ride, on business, which must be done early in the day.' "When will you be back?"-" Not before night-fall."

"But going on another business journey!" said Mrs. Rossitur. have but just these few hours come home from one. "Cannot breakfast be ready?"

"You

"Yes, uncle Rolf," said Fleda bringing her bright face before him, "ready at half-past five if you like-now that I am to the fore, you know.' He clasped her to his breast and kissed her again; but with a face so very grave that Fleda was glad nobody else saw it.

Then Charlton went, averring that he wanted at least a night and a half sleep between two such journeys as the one of that day and the one before him on the next, especially as he must resign himself to going without any. thing to eat. Him also Fleda laughingly promised that precisely half an hour before the stage time a cup of coffee and a roll should be smoking on the table, with whatever substantial appendages might be within the bounds of possibility, or the house.

"I will pay you for that beforehand with a kiss," said he.

*

"You will do nothing of the kind," said Fleda stepping back; "a kiss is a favour taken, not given; and I am entirely ignorant what you have done to deserve it." "You make a curious difference between me and Hugh," said Charlton half in jest, half in earnest.

Hugh is my brother, Capt. Rossitur," said Fleda smiling, "and that is an honour you never made any pretensions to."

"Come, you shall not say that any more," said he, taking the kiss that Fleda had no mind to give him.

Half laughing, but with eyes that were all too ready for something else, she turned again to Hugh when his brother had left the room and looked wistfully in his face, stroking back the hair from his temples with a caressing hand.

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"You are just as you were when I left you! she said, with lips that seemed too unsteady to say more, and remained parted." I am afraid so are you," he replied; not a bit fatter. I hoped you would be." "What have you been smiling at so this evening?"-"I was thinking how well you talked."

Why Hugh! You should have helped me--I talked too much." "I would much rather listen," said Hugh. "Dear Fleda, what a different thing the house is with you in it!"

Fleda said nothing, except an inexplicable little shake of her head which said a great many things; and then she and her aunt were left alone. Mrs. Rossitur drew her to her bosom with a look so exceeding fond that its sadness was hardly discernible. It was mingled however with an expression of some doubt.

"What has made you keep so thin?"

"I have been very well, aunt Lucy, thinness agrees with me."

"Are you glad to be home again, dear Fleda?

"I am very glad to be with you, dear aunt Lucy!"

"But not glad to be home?

"Yes I am," said Fleda, "but somehow-I don't know-I believe I have got a little spoiled-it is time I was at home I am sure.

I shall be

quite glad after a day or two, when I have got into the works again. I am glad now, aunt Lucy."

Mrs. Rossitur seemed unsatisfied, and stroked the hair from Fleda's forehead with an absent look.

"What was there in New York that you were so sorry to leave?" "Nothing, ma'am, in particular," said Fleda brightly, "and I am not sorry, aunt Lucy, I tell you I am a little spoiled with company and easy living-I am glad to be with you again."-Mrs. Rossitur was silent.

"Don't you get up to uncle Rolf's breakfast to-morrow, aunt Lucy." "Nor you.

"I sha'n't unless I want to-but there'll be nothing for you to do, and you must just lie still. We will all have our breakfast together when Charlton has his." -"You are the veriest sunbeam that ever came into a house," said her aunt kissing her.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

My flagging soul flies under her own pitch.-Dryden.

LEDA mused as she went upstairs whether the sun were a luminous

Bright, was she, to others? nothing seemed bright to her. Every old shadow

was darker than ever. Her uncle's unchanged gloom, her aunt's unrested face, Hugh's unaltered delicate sweet look, which always to her fancy seemed to write upon his face, "Passing away!"-and the thickening prospects whence sprang the miasm that infected the whole moral atmosphere-alas, yes!"Money is a good thing," thought Fleda; "and poverty need not be a bad thing, if people can take it right; but if they take it wrong!With a very drooping heart indeed she went to the window. Her old childish habit had never been forgotten; whenever the moon or the stars were abroad Fleda rarely failed to have a talk with them from her window. She stood there now, looking out into the cold still night, with eyes just dimmed with tears-not that she lacked sadness enough, but she did lack spirit enough to cry. It was very still, after the rattle and confusion of the city streets, that extent of snow-covered country where the very shadows were motionless, the entire absence of soil and of disturbance, the rest of nature, the breathlessness of the very wind, all preached a quaint kind of sermon to Fleda. By the force of contrast they told her what should be; and there was more yet, she thought by the force of example they showed what might be. Her eyes had not long travelled over the familiar old fields and fences before she came to the conclusion that she was home in good time, she thought she had been growing selfish, or in danger of it; and she made up her mind she was glad to be back again among the rough things of life, where she could do so much to smooth them for others, and her own spirit might grow to a polish it would never gain in the regions of ease and pleasure. "To do life's work," thought Fleda, clasping her hands, "no matter where, and mine is here. I am glad I am in my place again, I was forgetting I had one.

It was a face of strange purity and gravity that the moon shone upon, with no power to brighten as in past days; the shadows of life were upon the child's brow. But nothing to brighten it from within? One sweet strong ray of other light suddenly found its way through the shadows and entered her heart. "The Lord reigneth! let the earth be glad!" and then the moonbeams pouring down with equal ray upon all the unevennesses of this little world seemed to say the same thing over and over. so! Not less equally His providence touches all, not less impartially His faithfulness guides. "The Lord reigneth! let the earth be glad!" There was brightness in the moonbeams now that Fleda could read this in them; she went to sleep a very child again, with these words for her pillow.

Even

It was not six, and darkness yet filled the world, when Mr. Rossitur came downstairs and softly opened the sitting-room door. But the homefairy had been at work; he was greeted with such a blaze of cheerfulness as seemed to say what a dark place the world was everywhere but at home; his breakfast-table was standing ready, well set and well supplied; and even as he entered by one door Fleda pushed open the other and came in from the kitchen, looking as if she had some strange spirit-like kindred with the cheery hearty glow which filled both rooms.

"Fleda! you up at this hour!"- "Yes, uncle Rolf," she said coming forward to put her hands upon his, ". you are not sorry to see me I hope. But he did not say he was glad; and he did not speak at all; he busied himself gravely with some little matters of preparation for his journey. Evidently the gloom of last night was upon him yet. But Fleda had not wrought for praise, and could work without encouragement; neither step nor hand slackened, till all she and Barby had made ready was in nice order on the table and she was pouring out a cup of smoking coffee.

"You are not fit to be up," said Mr. Rossitur, looking at her, “you are

pale now. Put yourself in that arm-chair, Fleda, and go to sleep, I will do this for myself.' "No indeed, uncle Rolf," she answered brightly, "I have enjoyed getting breakfast very much at this out-of-the-way hour, and now I am going to have the pleasure of seeing you eat it. Suppose you were to take a cup of coffee instead of my shoulder."

He took it and sat down, but Fleda found that the pleasure of seeing him was to be a very qualified thing. He ate like a business man, in unbroken silence and gravity; and her cheerful words and looks got no return. It became an effort at length to keep either bright. Mr. Rossitur's sole remarks during breakfast were to ask if Charlton was going back that day, and if Philetus was getting the horse ready.

Mr. Skillcorn had been called in good time by Barby at Fleda's suggestion, and coming downstairs had opined discontentedly that "a man hadn't no right to be took out of bed in the morning afore he could see himself." But this and Barby's spirited reply, that "there was no chance of his doing that at any time of day, so it was no use to wait," Fleda did not repeat. Her uncle was in no humour to be amused.

She expected almost that he would go off without speaking to her. he came up kindly to where she stood watching him.

But

"You must bid me good-bye for all the family, uncle Rolf, as I am the only one here," she said laughing.

But she was sure that the embrace and kiss which followed were very exclusively for her. They made her face almost as sober as his own.

"There will be a blessing for you," said he, "if there is a blessing anywhere!"-"If, uncle Rolf? said Fleda, her heart swelling to her eyes, He turned away without answering her.

Fleda sat down in the easy-chair then and cried. But that lasted very few minutes; she soon left crying for herself to pray for him, that he might have the blessing he did not know. That did not stop tears. She remembered the poor man sick of the palsy who was brought in by friends to be healed, and that "Jesus seeing their faith, said unto the sick of the palsy, Son, thy sins be forgiven thee."" It was a handle that faith took hold of and held while love made fast its petition. It was all she could do, she thought; she never could venture to speak to her uncle on the subject.

Weary and tired, tears and longing at length lost themselves in sleep. When she awaked she found the daylight broadly come, little King in her lap, the fire, instead of being burnt out, in perfect preservation, and Barby standing before it and looking at her.

"You ha'n't got one speck o' good by this journey to New York," was Miss Elster's vexed salutation.-"Do you think so?" said Fleda, rousing herself. "I wouldn't venture to say as much as that, Barby."

"You

"If you have, 'tain't in your cheeks," said Barby, decidedly. look just as if you was made of anything that wouldn't stand wear, and that isn't the way you used to look.'

"I have been up a good while without breakfast-my cheeks will be a better colour when I have had that, Barby-they feel pale.'

The second breakfast was a cheerfuller thing. But when the second traveller was despatched, and the rest fell back upon their old numbers, Fleda was very quiet again. It vexed her to be so, but she could not change her mood. She felt as if she had been whirled along in a dream and was now just opening her eyes to daylight and reality. And reality-she could not help it-looked rather dull after dreamland. She thought it was very well she was waked up; but it cost her some effort to appear so. And then