"Friends, I sorrow not to leave ye;
If this life an exile be,
We who leave it do but journey
Homeward to our family."
SPANISH BALLAD.
The first of April came.
Mr. Rossitur had made up his mind not to abide at Queechy,
which only held him now by the frail thread of Hugh's life.
Mr. Carleton knew this, and had even taken some steps towards
securing for him a situation in the West Indies. But it was
unknown to Fleda; she had not heard her uncle say anything on
the subject since she came home; and though aware that their
stay was a doubtful matter, she still thought it might be as
well to have the garden in order. Philetus could not be
trusted to do everything wisely of his own head, and even some
delicate jobs of hand could not be safely left to his skill;
if the garden was to make any head-way, Fleda's head and hand
must both be there, she knew. So, as the spring opened, she
used to steal away from the house every morning for an hour or
two, hardly letting her friends know what she was about, to
make sure that peas, and potatoes, and radishes, and lettuce,
were in the right places at the right times, and to see that
the later and more delicate vegetables were preparing for. She
took care to have this business well over before the time that
Mr. Carleton ever arrived from the Pool.
One morning she was busy in dressing the strawberry beds,
forking up the ground between the plants, and filling the
vacancies that the severe winter or some irregularities of
fall dressing had made. Mr. Skillcorn was rendering a somewhat
inefficient help, or, perhaps, amusing himself with seeing how
she worked. The little old silver-grey hood was bending down
over the strawberries, and the fork was going at a very
energetic rate.
"Philetus "
"Marm!"
"Will you bring me that bunch of strawberry plants that lies
at the corner of the beds, in the walk? and my trowel?"
"I will!" said Mr. Skillcorn.
It was, another hand, however, that brought them and laid them
beside her; but Fleda, very intent upon her work, and hidden
under her close hood, did not find it out. She went on busily
putting in the plants as she found room for them, and just
conscious, as she thought, that Philetus was still standing at
her side, she called upon him from time to time, or merely
stretched out her hand, for a fresh plant as she had occasion
for it.
"Philetus," she said at length, raising her voice a little
that it might win to him round the edge of her hood, without
turning her face "I wish you would get the ground ready for
that other planting of potatoes you needn't stay to help me
any longer."
" 'Tain't me, I guess," said the voice of Philetus, on the
other side of her.
Fleda looked in astonishment to make sure that it really was
Mr. Skillcorn proceeding along the garden path in that
quarter, and turning, jumped up and dropped her trowel and
fork, to have her hands otherwise occupied. Mr. Skillcorn
walked off leisurely towards the potato ground, singing to
himself in a kind of consolatory aside
"I cock'd up my beaver, and who but I!
The lace in my hat was so gallant and so gay,
That I flourished like a king in his own countray."
"There is one of your countrymen that is an odd variety,
certainly," said Mr. Carleton, looking after him with a very
comic expression of eye.
"Is he not?" said Fleda. "And hardly a common one. There never
was a line more mathematically straight than the course of
Philetus's ideas; they never diverge, I think, to the right
hand or the left, a jot from his own self-interest."
"You will be an invaluable help to me, Elfie, if you can read
my English friends as closely."
"I am afraid you will not let me come as close to them," said
Fleda, laughing.
"Perhaps not. I shouldn't like to pay too high a premium for
the knowledge. How is Hugh, to-day?"
Fleda answered, with a quick change of look and voice, that he
was much as usual.
"My mother has written me that she will be here by the
'Europa,' which is due to-morrow. I must set off for New York
this afternoon; therefore I came so early to Queechy."
Fleda was instinctively pulling off her gardening gloves, as
they walked towards the house.
"Aunt Miriam wants to see you, Mr. Carleton she begged I
would ask you to come there some time "
"With great pleasure. Shall we go there now, Elfie?"
"I will be ready in five minutes."
Mrs. Rossitur was alone in the breakfast-room when they went
in. Hugh, she reported, was asleep, and would be just ready to
see Mr. Carleton by the time they got back. They stood a few
minutes talking, and then Fleda went to get ready.
Both pair of eyes followed her as she left the room, and then
met with perfect understanding.
"Will you give your child to me, Mrs. Rossitur?" said the
gentleman.
"With all my heart!" exclaimed Mrs. Rossitur, bursting into
tears "even if I were left alone entirely "
Her agitation was uncontrolled for a minute; and then she
said, with feeling seemingly too strong to be kept in
"If I were only sure of meeting her in heaven, I could be
content to be without her till then!"
"What is in the way, my dear Madam?" said Mr. Carleton, with a
gentle sympathy that touched the very spring he meant it
should. Mrs. Rossitur waited a minute, but it was only till
tears would let her speak, and then said like a child
"Oh, it is all darkness!"
"Except this," said he, gently and clearly, "that Jesus Christ
is a sun and a shield; and those that put themselves at His
feet are safe from all fear, and they who go to Him for light
shall complain of darkness no more."
"But I do not know how "
"Ask Him, and He will tell you."
"But I am unworthy even to look up towards Him," said Mrs.
Rossitur, struggling, it seemed, between doubts and wishes.
"He knows that, and yet He has bid you come to Him. He knows
that; and, knowing it, He has taken your responsibility, and
paid your debt, and offers you now a clean discharge, if you
will take it at His hand; and for the other part of this
unworthiness, that blood cannot do away, blood has brought the
remedy
Shall we, who are evil, give good things to our children; and
shall not our Father, which is in heaven, give His Holy Spirit
to them that ask Him?"
"But must I do nothing?" said Mrs. Rossitur, when she had
remained quiet, with her face in her hands, for a minute or
two after he had done speaking.
"Nothing but be willing be willing to have Christ in all His
offices, as your Teacher, your King, and your Redeemer; give
yourself to Him, dear Mrs. Rossitur, and He will take care of
the rest."
"I am willing!" she exclaimed. Fresh tears came, and came
freely. Mr. Carleton said no more, till; hearing some noise of
opening and shutting doors above stairs, Mrs. Rossitur
hurriedly left the room, and Fleda came in by the other
entrance.
"May I take you a little out of the way, Mr. Carleton?" she
said, when they had passed through the Deepwater settlement.
"I have a message to carry to Mrs. Elster a poor woman out
here beyond the Lake. It is not a disagreeable place."
"And what if it were?"
"I should not, perhaps, have asked you to go with me," said
Fleda, a little doubtfully.
"You may take me where you will, Elfie," he said, gently. "I
hope to do as much by you some day."
Fleda looked up at the piece of elegance beside her, and
thought what a change must have come over him if _he_ would
visit poor places. He was silent and grave, however, and so
was she, till they arrived at the house they were going to.
Certainly it was not a disagreeable place. Barb's much less
strong-minded sister had at least a good share of her
practical nicety. The little board path to the door was clean
and white still, with possibly a trifle less brilliant effect.
The room and its old inhabitants were very comfortable and
tidy the patchwork counterpane as gay as ever. Mrs. Elster
was alone, keeping company with a snug little wood fire, which
was near as much needed in that early spring weather as it had
been during the winter.
Mr. Carleton had come back from his abstraction, and stood,
taking half unconscious note of these things, while Fleda was
delivering her message to the old woman. Mrs. Elster listened
to her implicitly, with, every now and then, an acquiescing
nod or ejaculation; but so soon as Fleda had said her say, she
burst out, with a voice that had never known the mufflings of
delicacy, and was now pitched entirely beyond its owner's ken.
Looking hard at Mr. Carleton
"Fleda! Is _this_ the gentleman that's to be your _husband?_"
The last word elevated and brought out with emphatic
distinctness of utterance.
If the demand had been, whether the gentleman in question was
a follower of Mohammed, it would hardly have been more
impossible for Fleda to give an affirmative answer; but Mr.
Carleton laughed, and, bringing his face a little nearer the
old crone, answered
"So she has promised, Ma'am ."
It was curious to see the lines of the old woman's face relax
as she looked at him.
"He's worthy of you, as far as looks goes," she said, in the
same key as before, apostrophising Fleda, who had drawn back,
but not stirring her eyes from Mr. Carleton all the time. And
then she added to him, with a little, satisfied nod, and in a
very decided tone of information
"She will make you a good wife."
"Because she has made a good friend?" said Mr. Carleton,
quietly. "Will you let me be a friend, too?"
He had turned the old lady's thoughts into a golden channel,
whence, as she was an American, they had no immediate issue in
words; and Fleda and Mr. Carleton left the house without
anything more.
Fleda felt nervous. But Mr. Carleton's first words were as
coolly and as gravely spoken as if they had just come out from
a philosophical lecture; and with an immediate spring of
relief, she enjoyed every step of the way, and every word of
the conversation, which was kept up with great life till they
reached Mrs. Plumfield's door.
No one was in the sitting-room. Fleda left Mr. Carleton there,
and passed gently into the inner apartment, the door of which
was standing ajar.
But her heart absolutely leaped into her mouth, for Dr.
Quackenboss and Mr. Olmney were there on either side of her
aunt's bed. Fleda came forward and shook hands.
"This is quite a meeting of friends," said the doctor,
blandly, yet with a perceptible shading of the whilome broad
sunshine of his face. "Your a aunt, my dear Miss Ringgan,
is in a most extraordinary state of mind!"
Fleda was glad to hide her face against her aunt's, and asked
her how she did.
"Dr. Quackenboss thinks it extraordinary, Fleda," said the old
lady, with her usual cheerful sedateness, "that one who has
trusted God, and had constant experience of His goodness and
faithfulness for forty years, should not doubt Him at the end
of it."
"You have no doubt of any kind, Mrs. Plumfield?" said the
clergyman.
"Not the shadow of a doubt!" was the hearty, steady reply.
"You mistake, my dear Madam," said Dr. Quackenboss, "pardon me
it is not that: I would be understood to say, merely, that I
do not comprehend how such a such security can be
attained respecting what seems so a elevated and
difficult to know."
"Only by believing," said Mrs. Plumfield, with a very calm
smile. " 'He that believeth on Him shall not be ashamed;'
'shall _not _ be ashamed!' " she repeated, slowly.
Dr. Quackenboss looked at Fleda, who kept her eyes fixed upon
her aunt.
"But it seems to me I beg pardon; perhaps I am arrogant"
he said, with a little bow; "but it appears to me almost in
a manner almost presumptuous, not to be a little doubtful in
such a matter until the time comes. Am I do you disapprove
of me, Mr. Olmney?"
Mr. Olmney silently referred him for his answer to the person
he had first addressed, who had closed her eyes while he was
speaking.
"Sir," she said, opening them, "it can't be presumption to
obey God, and He tells me to rejoice. And I do I do! 'Let
all those that love thee rejoice in thee, and be glad in
thee!' But mind!" she added, energetically, fixing her strong
grey eve upon him, "He does not tell you to rejoice do not
think it not while you stand aloof from His terms of peace.
Take God at His word, and be happy; but if not, you have
nothing to do with the song that I sing!"
The doctor stared at her till she had done speaking, and then
slunk out of her range of vision behind the curtains of the
bed-post. Not silenced, however.
"But a Mr. Olmney," said he, hesitating, "don't you think
that there is in general a a becoming modesty, in a in
people that have done wrong, as we all have putting off
being sure until they are so? It seems so to me!"
"Come here, Dr. Quackenboss," said aunt Miriam.
She waited till he came to her side, and then taking his hand,
and looking at him very kindly, she said
"Sir, forty years ago I found in the Bible, as you say, that I
was a sinner, and that drove me to look for something else. I
found then God's promise, that if I would give my dependence
entirely to the Substitute he had provided for me, and yield
my heart to his service, he would, for Christ's sake, hold me
quit of all my debts, and be my father, and make me his child.
And, Sir, I did it. I abhor every other dependence the
things you count good in me I reckon but filthy rags. At the
same time, I know that ever since that day, forty years ago, I
have lived in his service, and tried to live to his glory. And
now, Sir, shall I disbelieve his promise? do you think he
would be pleased if I did?"
The doctor's mouth was stopped, for once, He drew back as soon
as he could, and said not another word.
Before anybody had broken the silence, Seth came in; and after
shaking hands with Fleda, startled her by asking, whether that
was not Mr. Carleton in the other room.
"Yes," Fleda said "he came to see aunt Miriam."
"Aint you well enough to see him, mother?"
"Quite and very happy," she said.
Seth immediately went back and invited him in. Fleda dared not
look up while the introductions were passing of "the Rev.
Mr. Olmney," and of "Dr. Quackenboss," the former of whom Mr.
Carleton took cordially by the hand, while Dr. Quackenboss,
conceiving that his hand must be as acceptable, made his
salutations with an indescribable air, at once of attempted
gracefulness and ingratiation. Fleda saw the whole in the
advancing line of the doctor's person, a vision of which
crossed her downcast eye. She drew back then, for Mr. Carleton
came where she was standing, to take her aunt's hand; Seth had
absolutely stayed his way before to make the said
introductions.
Mrs. Plumfield was little changed by years or disease since he
had seen her. There was somewhat more of a look of bodily
weakness than there used to be; but the dignified, strong-
minded expression of the face was even heightened; eye and
brow were more pure and unclouded in their steadfastness. She
looked very earnestly at her visitor, and then with evident
pleasure from the manner of his look and greeting. Fleda
watched her eye softening with a gratified expression, and
fixed upon him, as he was gently talking to her.
Mr. Olmney presently came round to take leave, promising to
see her another time; and passing Fleda, with a frank grave
pressure of the hand, which gave her some pain. He and Seth
left the room. Fleda was hardly conscious that Dr. Quackenboss
was still standing at the foot of the bed, making the utmost
use of his powers of observation. He could use little else,
for Mr. Carleton and Mrs. Plumfield, after a few words on each
side, had, as it were, by common consent, come to a pause. The
doctor, when a sufficient time had made him fully sensible of
this, walked up to Fleda, who wished heartily at the moment
that she could have presented the reverse end of the magnet to
him. Perhaps, however, it was that very thing which, by a
perverse sort of attraction, drew him towards her.
"I suppose a we may conclude," said he, with a some. what
saturnine expression of mischief "that Miss Ringgan
contemplates forsaking the agricultural line before a great
while?"
"I have not given up my old habits, Sir," said Fleda, a good
deal vexed.
"No I suppose not but Queechy air is not so well suited
for them other skies will prove more genial," he said, she
could not help thinking, pleased at her displeasure.
"What is the fault of Queechy air, Sir?" said Mr. Carleton,
approaching them.
"Sir!" said the doctor, exceedingly taken aback, though the
words had been spoken in the quietest manner possible "it
a it has no fault, Sir that I am particularly aware of
it is perfectly salubrious. Mrs. Plumfield, I will bid you
good-day; I a I hope you will get well again."
"I hope not, Sir!" said aunt Miriam, in the same clear hearty
tones which had answered him before.
The doctor took his departure, and made capital of his
interview with Mr. Carleton; who, he affirmed, he could tell
by what he had seen of him, was a very deciduous character,
and not always conciliating in his manners.
Fleda waited with a little anxiety for what was to follow the
doctor's leave-taking.
It was with a very softened eye that aunt Miriam looked at the
two who were left, clasping Fleda's hand again; and it was
with a very softened voice that she next spoke.
"Do you remember our last meeting, Sir?"
"I remember it well," he said.
"Fleda tells me you are a changed man since that time?"
He answered only by a slight and grave bow.
"Mr. Carleton," said the old lady "I am a dying woman and
this child is the dearest thing in the world to me after my
own and hardly after him. Will you pardon me will you bear
with me, if, that I may die in peace, I say, Sir, what else it
would not become me to say? and it is for her sake."
"Speak to me freely as you would to her," he said, with a look
that gave her full permission.
Fleda had drawn close and hid her face in her aunt's neck.
Aunt Miriam's hand moved fondly over her cheek and brow for a
minute or two in silence; her eye resting there too.
"Mr. Carleton, this child is to belong to you how will you
guide her?"
"By the gentlest paths," he said, with a smile.
A whispered remonstrance from Fleda to her aunt had no effect.
"Will her best interests be safe in your hands?"
"How shall I resolve you of that, Mrs. Plumfield?" he said,
gravely.
"Will you help her to mind her mother's prayer, and keep
herself unspotted from the world?"
"As I trust she will help me."
A rogue may answer questions, but an eye that has never known
the shadow of double-dealing makes no doubtful discoveries of
itself. Mrs. Plumfield read it, and gave it her very thorough
respect.
"Mr. Carleton pardon me, Sir I do not doubt you but I
remember hearing long ago that you were rich and great in the
world it is dangerous for a Christian to be so can she
keep in your grandeur the simplicity of heart and life she has
had at Queechy?"
"May I remind you of your own words, my dear madam? By the
blessing of God all things are possible. These things you
speak of are not in themselves evil; if the mind be set on
somewhat else, they are little beside a larger storehouse of
material to work with an increased stewardship to account
for."
"She has been taking care of others all her life," said aunt
Miriam, tenderly; "it is time she was taken care of: and these
feet are very unfit for rough paths; but I would rather she
should go on struggling, as she has done, with difficulties,
and live and die in poverty, than that the lustre of her
heavenly inheritance should be tarnished even a little. I
would, my darling."
"But the alternative is not so," said Mr. Carleton, with
gentle grace, touching Fleda's hand, who he saw was a good
deal disturbed. "Do not make her afraid of me, Mrs.
Plumfield."
"I do not believe I need," said aunt Miriam, "and I am sure I
could not but, Sir, you will forgive me?"
"No, Madam that is not possible."
"One cannot stand where I do," said the old lady, "without
learning a little the comparative value of things; and I seek
my child's good that is my excuse. I could not be satisfied
to take her testimony."
"Take mine, Madam," said Mr. Carleton. "I have learned the
comparative value of things too; and I will guard her highest
interests as carefully as I will every other as earnestly as
you can desire."
"I thank you, Sir," said the old lady, gratefully. "I am sure
of it. I shall leave her in good hands. I wanted this
assurance. And if ever there was a tender plant that was not
fitted to grow on the rough side of the world I think this
is one," said she, kissing earnestly the face that yet Fleda
did not dare to lift up.
Mr. Carleton did not say what he thought. He presently took
kind leave of the old lady, and went into the next room, where
Fleda soon rejoined him, and they set off homewards.
Fleda was quietly crying all the way down the hill. At the
foot of the hill, Mr. Carleton resolutely slackened his pace.
"I have one consolation," he said, "my dear Elfie you will
have the less to leave for me."
She put her hand with a quick motion upon his, and roused
herself.
"She is a beautiful rebuke to unbelief. But she is hardly to
be mourned for, Elfie."
"Oh, I was not crying for aunt Miriam," said Fleda.
"For what then?" he said, gently.
"Myself."
"That needs explanation," he said, in the same tone. "Let me
have it, Elfie."
"Oh I was thinking of several things," said Fleda, not
exactly wishing to give the explanation.
"Too vague," said Mr. Carleton, smiling. "Trust me with a
little more of your mind, Elfie."
Fleda glanced up at him, half smiling, and yet with filling
eyes, and then, as usual, yielded to the winning power of the
look that met her.
"I was thinking," she said, keeping her head carefully down,
"of some of the things you and aunt Miriam were saying just
now and how good for nothing I am."
"In what respect?" said Mr. Carleton, with praiseworthy
gravity.
Fleda hesitated, and he pressed the matter no further; but,
more unwilling to displease him than herself, she presently
went on, with some difficulty; wording what she had to say
with as much care as she could.
"I was thinking, how gratitude or not gratitude alone but
how one can be full of the desire to please another a
fellow-creature and find it constantly easy to do or bear
anything for that purpose; and how slowly and coldly duty has
to move alone in the direction where it should be the swiftest
and warmest."
She knew he would take her words as simply as she said them;
she was not disappointed. He was silent a minute, and then
said gravely,
"Is this a late discovery, Elfie?"
"No only I was realizing it strongly just now."
"It is a complaint we may all make. The remedy is, not to love
less what we know, but to know better that of which we are in
ignorance. We will be helps, and not hindrances to each other,
Elfie."
"You have said that before," said Fleda, still keeping her
head down.
"What?"
"About my being a help to you!"
"It will not be the first time," said he, smiling; "nor the
second. Your little hand first held up a glass to gather the
scattered rays of truth that could not warm me, into a centre
where they must burn."
"Very innocently," said Fleda, with a little unsteady feeling
of voice.
"Very innocently!" said Mr. Carleton, smiling. "A veritable
lens could hardly have been more unconscious of its work, or
more pure of design."
"I do not think that was quite so, either, Mr. Carleton," said
Fleda.
"It was so, my dear Elfie, and your present speech is nothing
against it. This power of example is always unconsciously
wielded; the medium ceases to be clear so soon as it is made
anything but as medium. The bits of truth you aimed at me
wittingly would have been nothing, if they had not come
through that medium."
"Then apparently one's prime efforts ought to be directed to
one's self."
"One's first efforts, certainly Your silent example was the
first thing that moved me."
"Silent example!" said Fleda, catching her breath a little.
"Mine ought to be very good, for I can never do good in any
other way."
"You used to talk pretty freely to me."
"It wasn't my fault, I am certain," said Fleda, half laughing.
"Besides, I was sure of my ground. But, in general, I never
can speak to people about what will do them any good."
"Yet, whatever be the power of silent example, there are often
times when a word is of incalculable importance."
"I know it," said Fleda, earnestly; "I have felt it very
often, and grieved that I could not say it, even at the very
moment when I knew it was wanting."
"Is that right, Elfie?"
"No," said Fleda, with quick watering eyes; "it is not right
at all; but it is constitutional with me. I never can talk to
other people of what concerns my own thoughts and feelings."
"But this concerns other people's thoughts and feelings."
"Yes; but there is an implied revelation of my own."
"Do you expect to include me in the denomination of 'other
people?' "
"I don't know," said Fleda, laughing.
"Do you wish it?"
Fleda looked down and up, and coloured, and said she didn't
know.
"I will teach you," said he, smiling.
The rest of the day, by both, was given to Hugh.