"I am very glad of it! I hope it is so!" said Mrs. Evelyn energetically. "It would be a most excellent match. He is a charming young man and would make her very happy."

"You are exciting gloomy feelings in Mr. Carleton's mind, mamma, by your felicitous suggestions. Mr. Carleton-did your ears receive a faint announcement of ham and eggs which went quite through and through mine just now?"

He bowed and handed the young lady in; but Constance declared that though he sat beside her and took care of her at breakfast, he had on one of his intangible fits which drove her to the last extreme of impatience and captivation.

The sun was not much more than two hours high the next morning when a rider was slowly approaching Mr. Rossitur's house from the bridge, walking his horse like a man who wished to look well at all he was passing. He paused behind a clump of locusts and rose-acacias in the corner of the courtyard as a figure, bonneted and gloved, came out of the house and began to be busy among the rose-bushes. Another figure presently appeared at the hall-door and called out

"Fleda!"

"Well, Barby?"

This second voice was hardly raised, but it came from so much nearer that the words could be distinctly heard.

"Mr. Skillcorn wants to know if you're going to fix the flowers for him to carry?"

"They're not ready, and it won't do for him to wait; Mr. Sweet must send for thein if he wants them. Philetus must make haste back, for you know Mr. Douglass wants him to help in the barn meadow. Lucas won't be here, and now the weather is so fine I want to make haste with the hay." "Well, will you have the samp for breakfast?"

"No, we'll keep that for dinner. I'll come in and poach some eggs, Barby, if you'll make me some thin pieces of toast, and call me when it's time. Thin, Barby.'

دو

The gentleman turned his horse and galloped back to Montepoole.

Some disappointment was created among a portion of Mr. Sweet's guests that afternoon by the intelligence that Mr. Carleton purposed setting off the next morning to join his English friends at Saratoga on their way to the Falls and Canada. Which purpose was duly carried into effect.

CHAPTER XXXI.

With your leave, sir, an' there were no more men living upon the face of the earth, I should not fancy him, by St. George.-Every Man out of his Humour.

OCTOBER had come; and a fair season and a fine harvest had enabled

Fleda to ease her mind by sending a good remittance to Dr. Gregory. The family were still living upon her and Hugh's energies. Mr. Rossitur talked of coming home, that was all.

It sometimes happened that a pause in the urgency of business permitted Hugh to take a day's holiday. One of these falling soon after the frosts had opened the burrs of the chestnut trees and the shells of the hickories, Fleda seized upon it for a nutting frolic. They took Philetus and went up to the fine group of trees on the mountain, the most difficult to reach and the best worth reaching of all their nut wood. The sport was very fine; and after spoiling the trees Philetus was left to “shuck” and bring home a load of the fruit; while Fleda and Hugh took their way slowly down the mountain. She stopped him, as usual, on the old look-out place. The leaves were just then in their richest colouring; and the October sky in its strong vitality seemed to fill all inanimate nature with the breath of life. If ever, then on that day, to the fancy," the little hills rejoiced on every side." The woods stood thick with honours, and earth lay smiling under the tokens of the summer's harvest and the promise for the coming year; and the wind came in gusts over the lower country and up the hill-side with a hearty good will that blew away all vapours, physical and mental, from its path, bidding everything follow its example and be up and doing. Fleda drew a long breath or two that seemed to recognise its freshening power.

"How long it seems," she said, "how very long, since I was here with Mr. Carleton; just nine years ago. How changed everything is! I was a little child then. It seems such an age ago!"

"It is very odd he didn't come to see us," said Hugh.

"He did; don't you know? the very next day after we heard he was here, when most unluckily I was up at aunt Miriam's."

"I should think he might have come again, considering what friends you lised to be."

"I daresay he would if he had not left Montepoole so soon. But dear Hugh! I was a mere child-how could he remember me much.”

"You remember him," said Hugh.

"Ah but I have good reason. Besides I never forget anything. would have given a great deal to see him, if I had it."

I

"I wish the Evelyns had stayed longer," said Hugh. "I think you have wanted something to brighten you up. They did you a great deal of good last year. I am afraid all this taking care of Philetus and Earl Douglass is too much for you."

Fleda gave him a very bright smile, half affection, half fun. "Don't you admire my management?" said she. "Because I do. Philetus is firmly persuaded that he is an invaluable assistant to me in the mystery of gardening; and the origin of Earl Douglass's new ideas is so enveloped in mist that he does not himself know where they come from. It was rich to hear him the other day descanting to Lucas upon the evil effects of earthing up corn and the advantages of curing hay in cocks, as to both which matters Lucas is a thorough unbeliever, and Earl was a year ago.'

"But that doesn't hinder you looking pale and thin, and a great deal soberer than I like to see you," said Hugh. "You want a change, I know. I don't know how you are to get it. I wish they would send for you to New York again."

"I don't know that I should want to go if they did," said Fleda. " They don't raise my spirits, Hugh. I am amused sometimes—I can't help that— but such excessive gaiety rather makes me shrink within myself; I am too out of tone with it. I never feel more absolutely quiet than sometimes when I am laughing at Constance Evelyn's mad sallies-and sometimes I cannot laugh at them. I do not know what they must think of me; it is what they can have no means of understanding.

"I wish you didn't understand it either, Fleda."

"But you shouldn't say that. I am happier than they are, now, Hugh, now that you are better, with all their means of happiness. They know nothing of our quiet enjoyments; they must live in a whirl or they would think they are not living at all; and I do not believe that all New York can give them the real pleasure that I have in such a day as this. They would see almost nothing in all this beauty that my eyes 'drink in,' as Cowper says; and they would be certain to quarrel with the wind, that to me is like the shake of an old friend's hand. Delicious!" said Fleda, as the wind rewarded this eulogium with a very hearty shake indeed.

"I believe you would make friends with everything, Fleda," said Hugh laughing.

"The wind is always that to me,” said Fleda, "not always in such a cheerful mood as to-day, though. It talks to me often of a thousand oldtime things and sighs over them with me-a most sympathising friend! but to-day he invites me to a waltz-Come!"

And pulling Hugh after her away she went down the rocky path, with a step too light to care for the stones; the little feet capering down the mountain with a disdain of the ground that made Hugh smile to see her; and eyes dancing for company; till they reached the lower woodland. "A most spirited waltz!" said Hugh.

"And a most slack partner. Why didn't you keep me company "I never was made for waltzing," said Hugh shaking his head. "Not to the tune of the North wind? That has done me good, Hugh,"

y?"

“So I should judge, by your cheeks.”

"Poverty need not always make people poor," said Fleda taking breath and his arm together. "You and I are rich, Hugh."

"And our riches cannot take to themselves wings and fly away," said Hugh.

"No, but besides those riches-there are the pleasures of the eye and the mind that one may enjoy everywhere—everywhere in the country at least-unless poverty bear one down very hard; and they are some of the purest and most satisfying of any. Oh the blessing of a good education ! how it makes one independent of circumstances."

"And circumstances are education too," said Hugh smiling. "I dare say we should not appreciate our mountains and woods so well if we had had our old plenty of everything else."

"I always loved them," said Fleda.

"But what good company they have been to us for years past, Hugh; to me especially; I have more reason to love them."

They walked on quietly and soberly to the brow of the table-land, where they parted; Hugh being obliged to go home, and Fleda wishing to pay a visit to her aunt Miriam.

She turned off alone to take the way to the high road and went softly on, no longer certainly in the momentary spirits with which she had shaken hands with the wind and skipped down the mountain; but feeling, and thankful that she felt, a cheerful patience to tread the dusty highway of life.

The old lady had been rather ailing, and from one or two expressions she had let fall Fleda could not help thinking that she looked upon her ailments with a much more serious eye than anybody else thought was called for. It did not however appear to-day. She was not worse, and Fleda's slight anxious feeling could find nothing to justify it, if it were not the very calm and quietly happy face and manner of the old lady; and that if it had something to alarm, did much more to soothe. Fleda had sat with her a long time, patience and cheerfulness all the while unconsciously growing in her company; when catching up her bonnet with a sudden haste very unlike her usual collectedness of manner, Fleda kissed her aunt and was rushing away.

"But stop! where are you going, Fleda?"
"Home, aunt Miriam-I must-don't keep me!
"But what are you going that way for? you can't go
"Yes I can."

"How?"

home that way?"

"I can cross the blackberry hill behind the barn and then over the east hill, and then there's nothing but the water-cress meadow."

"I sha'n't let you go that way alone-sit down and tell me what you mean -what is this desperate hurry?"

But with equal precipitation Fleda had cast her bonnet out of sight behind the table, and at the next moment turned with the utmost possible quietness to shake hands with Mr. Olmney. Aunt Miriam had presence of mind enough to make no remark and receive the young gentleman with her usual dignity and kindness.

He staid some time, but Fleda's hurry seemed to have forsaken her. She had seized upon an interminable long grey stocking her aunt was knitting, and sat in the corner working at it most diligently, without raising her eyes unless spoken to.

"Do you give yourself no rest at home or abroad, Miss Fleda," said the gentleman.

"Put that stocking down, Fleda," said her aunt; "it is in no hurry." "I like to do it, aunt Miriam."

But she felt with warming cheeks that she did not like to do it with two people sitting still and looking at her. The gentleman presently rose.

"Don't go till we have had tea, Mr. Olmney," said Mrs. Plumfield. "Thank you, ma'am, I cannot stay, I believe, unless Miss Fleda will let me take care of her down the hill by and by.”

“Thank you, Mr. Olmney," said Fleda, “but I am not going home before night, unless they send for me."

“I am afraid,” said he looking at her, "that the agricultural turn has proved an over-match for your energies."

"The farm don't complain of me, does it?" said Fleda, looking up at him with a comic grave expression of countenance.

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No," said he laughing—“certainly not; but, if you will forgive me for saying so, I think you complain of it tacitly, and that will raise a good many complaints in other quarters if you do not take care of yourself."

He shook hands and left them; and Mrs. Plumfield sat silently looking at Fleda, who on her part looked at nothing but the grey stocking. "What is all this, Fleda?"

"What is what, aunt Miriam ?" said Fleda, picking up a stitch with desperate diligence.

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Why did you want to run away from Mr. Olmney?" "I didn't wish to be delayed, I wanted to get home." “Then why wouldn't you let him go home with you ?” "I liked better to go alone, aunt Miriam." "Don't you like him, Fleda ?"

"Certainly, aunt Miriam, very much."

"I think he likes you, Fleda," said her aunt smiling.

"I am very sorry for it," said Fleda, with great gravity.

Mrs. Plumfield looked at her for a few minutes in silence and then said"Fleda, love, come over here and sit by me and tell me what you mean, why are you sorry? It has given me a great deal of pleasure to think of it.