colour and falling eye. There was a quick little smile too; and "How kind!" was upon the end of Fleda's tongue, but it never got any further. Her energies, so far as expression was concerned, seemed to be concentrated in the act of smelling. Mrs. Pritchard stood by.

They must be put in water," said Fleda. "I must have a dish for them. Dear Mrs. Pritchard, will you get me one?"

The housekeeper went, smiling to herself. The dish was brought, the violets placed in it, and a little table at Fleda's request was set by the side of the bed, close to her pillow, for them to stand upon. And Fleda lay on her pillow and looked at them.

There never were purer-breathed flowers than those. All the pleasant associations of Fleda's life seemed to hang about them, from the time when her childish eyes had first made acquaintance with violets, to the conversation in the library a few days ago; and painful things stood aloof; they had no part. The freshness of youth, and the sweetness of spring-time, and all the kindly influences which had ever joined with both to bless her, came back with their blessing in the violets' reminding breath. Fleda shut her eyes and she felt it; she opened her eyes, and the little double blue things smiled at her good-humouredly and said, "Here we are, you may shut them again.' And it was curious how often Fleda gave them a smile back as she did so. Mrs. Pritchard thought Fleda lived upon the violets that day rather than upon food and medicine; or at least, she said they agreed remarkably well together. And the next day it was much the same.

"What will you do when they are withered ?” she said that evening. "I shall have to see and get some more for you.'

"Oh they will last a great while," said Fleda smiling.

But the next morning Mrs. Pritchard came into her room with a great bunch of roses, the very like of the one Fleda had had at the Evelyns'. She delivered them with a sort of silent triumph, and then as before stood by to enjoy Fleda and the flowers together. But the degree of Fleda's wonderment, pleasure, and gratitude, made her reception of them, outwardly at least, this time rather grave.

"You may throw the others away now, Miss Fleda,” said the housekeeper smiling.-"Indeed I shall not!

"The violets, I suppose, is all gone," Mrs. Pritchard went on; "but I never did see such a bunch of roses as that since I lived anywhere. They have made a rose of you, Miss Fleda."

"How beautiful! was Fleda's answer.

"Somebody, he didn't say who, desired to know particularly how Miss Ringgan was to-day."

"Somebody is very kind!" said Fleda from the bottom of her heart. "But dear Mrs. Pritchard, I shall want another dish."

Somebody was kind, she thought more and more; for there came every day or two the most delicious bouquets, every day different. They were at least equal in their soothing and refreshing influences to all the efforts of all the Evelyns and Mrs. Pritchard put together. There never came any name with them, and there never was any need. Those bunches of flowers certainly had a physiognomy; and to Fleda were (not the flowers, but the choosing, cutting, and putting of them together) the embodiment of an amount of grace, refined feeling, generosity, and kindness that her imagination never thought of in connection with but one person. And his kindness was answered, perhaps Mrs. Pritchard better than Fleda guessed how well, from the delighted colour and sparkle of the eye with which every fresh arrival was greeted as it walked into her room. By Fleda's order

the bouquets were invariably put out of sight before the Evelyns made their first visit in the morning, and not brought out again till all danger of seeing them any more for the day was past. The regular coming of these floral messengers confirmed Mrs. Pritchard in her mysterious surmises about Fleda, which were still further strengthened by this incomprehensible order; and at last she got so into the spirit of the thing that if she heard an untimely ring at the door she would catch up a glass of flowers and run as if they had been contraband, without a word from anybody.

The Evelyns wrote to Mrs. Rossitur, by Fleda's desire, so as not to alarm her; merely saying that Fleda was not quite well, and that they meant to keep her a little while to recruit herself; and that Mrs. Rossitur must send her some clothes. This last clause was the particular addition of Constance. The fever lasted a fortnight, and then went off by degrees, leaving her with a very small portion of her ordinary strength. Fleda was to go to the Evelyns as soon as she could bear it; at present she was only able to come down to the little back parlour and sit in the doctor's arm-chair, and eat jelly, and sleep, and look at Constance, and when Constance was not there look at her flowers. She could hardly bear a book as yet. She hadn't a bit of colour in her face, Mrs. Pritchard said, but she looked better than when she came to town; and to herself the good housekeeper added, that she looked happier too. No doubt that was true. Fleda's principal feeling, ever since she lay down in her bed, had been thankfulness; and now that the ease of returning health was joined to this feeling, her face with all its subdued gravity was as untroubled in its expression as the faces of her flowers.

She was disagreeably surprised one day, after she had been two or three days downstairs, by a visit from Mrs. Thorn. In her well-grounded dread of seeing one person Fleda had given strict orders that no gentleman should be admitted; she had not counted upon this invasion. Mrs. Thorn had always been extremely kind to her, but though Fleda gave her credit for thorough good-heartedness, and a true liking for herself, she could not disconnect her attentions from another thought, and therefore always wished them away; and never had her kind face been more thoroughly disagreeable to Fleda than when it made its appearance in the doctor's little back parlour on this occasion. With even more than her usual fondness, or Fleda's excited imagination fancied so, Mrs. Thorn lavished caresses upon her, and finally besought her to go out and take the air in her carriage. Fleda tried most earnestly to get rid of this invitation, and was gently unpersuadable, till the lady at last was brought to promise that she should see no creature during the drive but herself. An ominous promise; but Fleda did not know any longer how to refuse without hurting a person for whom she had really a grateful regard. So she went. And doubted afterwards exceedingly whether she had done well.

She took special good care to see nobody again till she went to the Evelyns. But then precautions were at an end. It was no longer possible to keep herself shut up. She had cause, poor child, the very first night of her coming, to wish herself back again.

This first evening she would fain have pleaded weakness as her excuse and gone to her room, but Constance laid violent hands on her and insisted that she should stay at least a little while with them. And she seemed fated to see all her friends in a bevy. First came Charlton; then followed the Decaturs, whom she knew and liked very well, and engrossed her, happily before her cousin had time to make any enquiries; then came Mr. Carleton; then Mr. Stackpole. Then Mr. Thorn, in expectation of whom Fleda's breath had been coming and going painfully all the evening. She could not

meet him without a strange mixture of embarrassment and confusion with the gratitude she wished to express, an embarrassment not at all lessened by the air of happy confidence with which he came forward to her. It carried an intimation that almost took away the little strength she had. And if anything could have made his presence more intolerable, it was the feeling she could not get rid of that it was the cause why Mr. Carleton did not come near her again; though she prolonged her stay in the drawing-room in the hope that he would. It proved to be for Mr. Thorn's benefit alone.

"Well you stayed all the evening after all," said Constance as they were going upstairs." Yes, I wish I hadn't," said Fleda. "I wonder when I shall be likely to find a chance of getting back to Queechy."

"You're not fit yet, so you needn't trouble yourself about it," said Constance. "We'll find you plenty of chances."

His manner

Fleda could not think of Mr. Thorn without trembling. meant so much more than it had any right, or than she had counted upon. He seemed she pressed her hands upon her face to get rid of the impression-he seemed to take for granted precisely that which she had refused to admit; he seemed to reckon as paid for that which she had declined to set a price upon. Her uncle's words and manner came up in her memory. She could see nothing best to do but to get home as fast as possible. She had no one here to fall back upon. Again that vision of father and mother and grandfather flitted across her fancy; and though Fleda's heart ended by resting down on that foundation to which it always recurred, it rested with a great many tears.

For several days she denied herself absolutely to morning visitors of every kind. But she could not entirely absent herself from the drawing-room in the evening; and whenever the family were at home there was a regular levee. Mr. Thorn could not be avoided then. He was always there, and always with that same look and manner of satisfied confidence. Fleda was as grave, as silent, as reserved, as she could possibly be and not be rude; but he seemed to take it in excellent good part, as being half indisposition and half timidity. Fleda set her face earnestly towards home, and pressed Mrs. Evelyn to find her an opportunity, weak or strong, of going there; but for those days as yet none presented itself.

Mr. Carleton was at the house almost as often as Mr. Thorn, seldom staying so long however, and never having any more to do with Fleda than he had that first evening. Whenever he did come in contact with her, he was, she thought, as grave as he was graceful. That was to be sure his common manner in company, yet she could not help thinking there was some difference since the walk they had taken together, and it grieved her.

A

CHAPTER XLIV.

The best-laid schemes o' mice and men
Gang aft agley.-Burns.

FTER a few days Charlton verified what Constance had said about his not being very fast at Fort Hamilton, by coming again to see them one morning. Fleda asked him if he could not get another furlough to go with her home, but he declared he was just spending one which was near out; and he could not hope for a third in some time; he must be back at his post by the day after to-morrow.

"When do you want to go, coz?"-"I would to-morrow if I had anybody to go with me," said Fleda sighing.

"No you wouldn't," said Constance, "you are well enough to go out

now, and you forget we are all to make Mrs. Thorn happy to-morrow night."-"I am not," said Fleda.

Not! you can't help yourself; you must; you said you would.”—“I did not indeed."

"Well then, I said it for you, and that will do just as well. Why my dear, if you don't-just think! the Thorns will be in a state-I should prefer to go through a hedge of any description rather than meet the trying demonstrations which will encounter me on every side."

"I am going to Mrs. Decatur's," said Fleda; "she invited me first, and I owe it to her, she has asked me so often and so kindly.'

"I shouldn't think you'd enjoy yourself there," said Florence; "they don't talk a bit of English these nights. If I was going, my dear, I would act as your interpreter, but my destiny lies in another direction."

"If I cannot make anybody understand my French, I will get somebody to condescend to my English," said Fleda.

"Why, do you talk French?" was the instant question from both mouths. "Unless she has forgotten herself strangely," said Charlton. "Talk! she will talk to anybody's satisfaction-that happens to differ from her; and I think her tongue cares very little which language it wags in. There is no danger about Fleda's enjoying herself where people are talking." Fleda laughed at him, and the Evelyns rather stared at them both. "But we are all going to Mrs. Thorn's? you can't go alone?"

"I will make Charlton take me," said Fleda, "or rather, I will take him, if he will let me. Will you, Charlton? will you take care of me to Mrs. Decatur's to-morrow night?"-" With the greatest of pleasure, my dear coz, but I have another engagement in the course of the evening.'

66

'Oh, that is nothing," said Fleda; "if you will only go with me, that is all I care for. You needn't stay but ten minutes. And you can call for me," she added, turning to the Evelyns, "as you come back from Mrs. Thorn's." To this no objection could be made, and the ensuing raillery Fleda bore with steadiness at least if not with coolness; for Charlton heard it, and she was distressed.

She went to Mrs. Decatur's the next evening in greater elation of spirits than she had known since she left her uncle's; delighted to be missing from the party at Mrs. Thorn's, and hoping that Mr. Lewis would be satisfied with this very plain hint of her mind. A little pleased, too, to feel quite free, alone from too friendly eyes, and ears that had too lively a concern in her sayings and doings. She did not in the least care about going to Mrs. Decatur's; her joy was that she was not at the other place. But there never was elation so outwardly quiet. Nobody would have suspected its existence. The evening was near half over when Mr. Carleton came in. Fleda had half hoped he would be there, and now immediately hoped she might have a chance to see him alone and to thank him for his flowers; she had not been able to do that yet. He presently came up to speak to her, just as Charlton, who had found attraction enough to keep him so long, came to tell her he was going.

"You are looking better," said the former, as gravely as ever, but with an eye of serious interest that made the words something.-"I am better," said Fleda gratefully.

cousin.

"So much better that she is in a hurry to make herself worse," said her "Mr. Carleton, you are a professor of medicine, I believe; I have an indistinct impression of your having once prescribed a ride on horseback for somebody; wouldn't you recommend some measure of prudence to her consideration?' ""

"In general," Mr. Carleton answered gravely; "but in the present case I could not venture upon any special prescription, Capt. Rossitur.

"As for instance, that she should remain in New York till she is fit to leave it? By the way, what brought you here again in such a hurry, Fleda! I haven't heard that yet.' The question was rather sudden. Fleda was a little taken by surprise; her face showed some pain and confusion both. Mr. Carleton prevented her answer, she could not tell whether with design. "What imprudence do you charge your cousin with, Capt. Rossitur ? Why she is in a hurry to get back to Queechy, before she is able to go anywhere-begging me to findan escort for her. It is lucky I can't. I didn't know I ever should be glad to be posted up' in this fashion, but I am.

"You have not sought very far, Capt. Rossitur," said the voice of Thorn behind him. "Here is one that will be very happy to attend Miss Fleda whenever she pleases.' Fleda's shocked start and change of countenance was seen by more eyes than one pair. Thorn's fell, and a shade crossed his countenance, too, for an instant, that Fleda's vision was too dazzled to see. Mr. Carleton moved away.

66

Why are you going to Queechy?" said Charlton astonished. His friend was silent a moment, perhaps for want of power to speak. Fleda dared not look at him.

"It is not impossible, unless this lady forbid me. I am not a fixture." "But what brought you here, man, to offer your services?" said Charlton; "most ungallantly leaving so many pairs of bright eyes to shine upon your

absence.

"Mr. Thorn will not find himself in darkness here, Capt. Rossitur," said Mrs. Decatur.-"It's my opinion he ought, ma'am," said Charlton.

"It is my opinion every man ought, who makes his dependence on gleams of sunshine," said Mr. Thorn rather cynically. "I cannot say I was thinking of brightness before or behind me."

"I should think not," said Charlton; "you don't look as if you had seen any in a good while."

"A light goes out every now and then," said Thorn, "and it takes one's eyes some time to get accustomed to it. What a singular world we live in, Mrs. Decatur !" "That is so new an idea," said the lady laughing, I must request an explanation."

"that

"What new experience of its singularity has your wisdom made?" said his friend. "I thought you and the world knew each other's faces pretty well before."

"Then you have not heard the news? "What news?" "Hum-I suppose it is not about yet," said Thorn composedly. -you haven't heard it."

"No

"But what, man?" said Charlton, "let's hear your news, for I must be off."-"Why-but it is no more than rumour yet-but it is said that strange things are coming to light about a name that used to be held in very high respect."

"In this city?"—"In this city? yes-it is said proceedings are afoot against one of our oldest citizens, on charge of a very grave offence." "Who? and what offence? What do you mean?"

"Is it a secret, Mr. Thorn?" said Mrs. Decatur.

"If you have not heard, perhaps it is as well not to mention names too soon; if it comes out it will be all over directly; possibly the family may hush it up, and in that case the less said the better; but those have it in hand that will not let it slip through their fingers.

Mrs. Decatur turned away, saying "how shocking such things were;"

2

*