on his part; and then he too went off to his work. There was a few minutes' silent pause after that.

"Mother," said Charlton, looking up and bursting forth, "what is all this about the mill and the farm?-is not the farm doing well?"

“I am afraid not very well," said Mrs. Rossitur, gently. “What is the difficulty?"

Why, your father has let it to a man by the name of Didenhover, and I am afraid he is not faithful; it does not seem to bring us in what it ought."

"What did he do that for?"

"He was wearied with the annoyances he had to endure before, and thought it would be better and more profitable to have somebody else take the whole charge and management. He did not know Didenhover's character at the time."

"Engaged him without knowing him!"

Fleda was the only third party present, and Charlton unwittingly allowing himself to meet her eye, received a look of keen displeasure that he was not prepared for.

"That is not like him," he said, in a much moderated tone. but you must be changed too, mother, or you would not endure such anomalous service in your kitchen."

"There are a great many changes, dear Charlton," said his mother, looking at him with such a face of sorrowful sweetness and patience that his mouth was stopped. Fleda left the room. And have you really nothing to depend upon but that child's strawberries, and Hugh's wood-saw?" he said, in the tone he ought to have used from the beginning.

"Little else."

Charlton stifled two or three sentences that rose to his lips, and began to walk up and down the room again. His mother sat musing by the tea-board still, softly clinking her spoon against the edge of her tea-cup.

"She has grown up very pretty," he remarked, after a pause. 66 Pretty!" said Mrs. Rossitur.

66

Why?"

"No one that has seen much of Fleda would ever describe her by that name."

Charlton had the candour to think he had seen something of her that morning.

"Poor child!" said Mrs. Rossitur, sadly, "I can't bear to think of her spending her life as she is doing-wearing herself out, I know, sometimes--and buried alive."

66 Buried!" said Charlton, in his turn.

"Yes; without any of the advantages and opportunities she ought to have. I can't bear to think of it. And yet how should

I ever live without her?" said Mrs. Rossitur, leaning her face upon her hands. "And if she were known she would not be mine long. But it grieves ine to have her go without her music, that she is so fond of, and the book she wants; she and Hugh have gone from end to end of every volume there is in the house, I believe, in every language, except Greek."

66

Well, she looks pretty happy and contented, mother."

66 I don't know," said Mrs. Rossitur, shaking her head. "Isn't she happy?"

"she has a spirit

66 I don't know," said Mrs. Rossitur, again; that is happy in doing her duty, or anything for those she loves; but I see her sometimes wearing a look that pains me exceedingly. I am afraid the way she lives, and the changes in our affairs, have worn upon her more than we know of-she feels doubly everything that touches me, or Hugh, or your father. She is a gentle spirit!"

"She seems to me not to want character," said Charlton.

"Character! I don't know who has so much. She has at least fifty times as much character as I have. And energy. She is admirable at managing people—she knows how to influence them somehow, so that everybody does what she wants." "And who influences her?" said Charlton.

"Who influences her? Everybody that she loves. Who has the most influence over her, do you mean? I am sure I don't know-Hugh, if anybody-but she is rather the moving spirit of the household."

Captain Rossitur resolved that he would be an exception to her rule.

He forgot, however, for some reason or other, to sound his father any more on the subject of mismanagement. His thoughts, indeed, were more pleasantly taken up.

THE Evelyns spent several weeks at the Pool; and both mother and daughters conceiving a great affection for Fleda, kept her in their company as much as possible. For those weeks Fleda had enough of gaiety. She was constantly spending the day

with them at the Pool, or going on some party of pleasure, or taking quiet sensible walks and rides with them alone, or with only one or two more of the most rational and agreeable people that the place could command. And even Mrs. Rossitur was persuaded, more times than one, to put herself in her plainest remaining French silk, and entertain the whole party, with the addition of one or two of Charlton's friends, at her Queechy farm-house.

Fleda enjoyed it all with the quick spring of a mind habitually bent to the patient fulfilment of duty, and habitually under the pressure of rather sobering thoughts. It was a needed and very useful refreshment. Charlton's being at home gave her the full good of the opportunity more than would else have been possible. He was her constant attendant, driving her to and from the Pool, and finding as much to call him there as she had; for, besides the Evelyns, his friend Thorn abode there all this time. The only drawback to Fleda's pleasure as she drove off from Queechy would be the leaving Hugh plodding away at his saw-mill. She used to nod and wave to him as they went by, and almost feel that she ought not to go on and enjoy herself while he was tending that wearisome machinery all day long. Still she went on and enjoyed herself; but the mere thought of his patient smile as she passed would have kept her from too much elation of spirits, if there had been any danger. There never was any.

"That's a lovely little cousin of yours," said Thorn, one evening, when he and Rossitur, on horseback, were leisurely making their way along the up-and-down road between Montepoole and Queechy.

66

She is not particularly little," said Rossitur, with a dryness that somehow lacked any savour of gratification.

"She is of a most fair stature," said Thorn; "I did not mean anything against that; but there are characters to which one gives instinctively a softening appellative."

"Are there?" said Charlton.

"Yes. She is a lovely little creature."

"She is not to compare with one of those girls we have left behind us at Montepoole," said Charlton.

"Hum-well, perhaps you are right; but which girl do you mean?-for I profess I don't know."

"The second of Mrs. Evelyn's daughters—the auburn-haired one."

"Miss Constance, eh?" said Thorn. "In what isn't the other one to be compared to her?"

"In anything! Nobody would ever think of looking at her in the same room."

"Why not?" said Thorn, coolly.

"I don't know why not," said Charlton, "except that she has not a tithe of her beauty. That's a superb girl!"

For a matter of twenty yards, Mr. Thorn went softly humming a tune to himself, and leisurely switching the flies off his horse.

"Well," said he, "there's no accounting for tastes

'I ask no red and white

To make up my delight,

No odd becoming graces,

Black eyes, or little know-not-what in faces.'

"What do you want, then?" said Charlton, half laughing at him, though his friend was perfectly grave.

"A cool eye, and a mind in it."

"A cool eye!" said Rossitur.

"Yes. Those we have left behind us are arrant will-o'-thewisps-dancing fires-no more."

"I can tell you, there is fire sometimes in the other eyes," said Charlton.

"Very likely," said his friend, composedly; "I could have guessed as much; but that is a fire you may warm yourself at ; no eternal phosphorescence-it is the leaping up of an internal fire, that only shows itself upon occasion."

"I suppose you know what you are talking about," said Charlton; "but I can't follow you in the region of volcanoes. Constance Evelyn has superb eyes. It is uncommon to see a

light blue so brilliant."

"I would rather trust a sick head to the handling of the lovely lady than the superb one, at a venture."

"I thought you never had a sick head," said Charlton.

That is lucky for me, as the hands do not happen to be at my service. But no imagination could put Miss Constance in Desdemona's place, when Othello complained of his headacheyou remember, Charlton

'Faith, that's with watching-'twill away again-
Let me but bind this handkerchief about it hard.'"

Thorn gave the intonation truly and admirably. "Fleda never said anything so soft as that," said Charlton. "No?"

"No."

"You speak-well, but soft!-do you know what you are talking about there?"

"Not very well," said Charlton. "I only remember there

was nothing soft about Othello; what you quoted of his wife just now seemed to me to smack of that quality."

"I forgive your memory," said Thorn, "or else I certainly would not forgive you. If there is a fair creation in all Shakspere, it is Desdemona; and if there is a pretty combination on earth that nearly matches it, I believe it is that one."

"What one?"

"Your pretty cousin."

Charlton was silent.

"It is generous in me to undertake her defence," Thorn went on, "for she bestows as little of her fair countenance upon me as she can well help. But try as she will, she cannot be so repellent as she is attractive."

Charlton pushed his horse into a brisker pace not favourable to conversation; and they rode forward in silence, till, in descending the hill below Deepwater, they came within view of Hugh's work-place, the saw-mill. Charlton suddenly drew bridle.

There she is."

"And who is with her?" said Thorn. "As I live!—our friend-what's his name!-who has lost all his ancestors. who is the other?"

(6 My brother," said Charlton.

And

"I don't mean your brother, Captain Rossitur,” said Thorn, throwing himself off his horse.

He joined the party, who were just leaving the mill to go down towards the house. Very much at his leisure, Charlton dismounted, and came after him.

"I have brought Charlton safe home, Miss Ringgan,” said Thorn, who, leading his horse, had quietly secured a position at her side.

"What's the matter?" said Fleda, laughing. bring himself home?"

"Couldn't he

"I don't know what's the matter, but he's been uncommonly dumpish; we've been as near as possible to quarrelling for halfa-dozen miles back."

"We have been-a-more agreeably employed,” said Dr. Quackenboss, looking round at him with a face that was a concentration of affability.

"I make no doubt of it, sir; I trust we shall bring no unharmonious interruption. If I may change somebody else's words," he added more low to Fleda-"disdain itself must convert to courtesy in your presence.'

"I am sorry disdain should live to pay me a compliment," said Fleda. "Mr. Thorn, may I introduce to you Mr. Olmney?"