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Queechy Volume I Part 39

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He reached his room, put the flower in a gla.s.s on the table, and walked up and down before it. It had come to a struggle between the sense of what was and the pa.s.sionate wish for what might have been.

"It is late, Sir," said his servant, opening the door ? "and you were ?"

"I am not going out."

"This evening, Sir?"

"No ? not at all to-day. Spenser, I don't wish to see anybody ? let no one come near me."



The servant retired, and Guy went on with his walk and his meditations ? looking back over his life, and reviewing, with a wiser ken now, the steps by which he had come. He compared the selfish disgust with which he had cast off the world with the very different spirit of little Fleda's look upon it that morning; the useless, self-pleasing, vain life he was leading, with her wish to be like the beloved disciple, and do something to heal the troubles of those less happy than herself. He did not very well comprehend the grounds of her feeling or reasoning, but he began to see, mistily, that his own had been mistaken and wild.

His step grew slower, his eye more intent, his brow quiet.

"She is right, and I am wrong," he thought. "She is by far the n.o.bler creature ? worth many such as I. Like her I cannot be ?

I cannot regain what I have lost ? I cannot undo what years have done. But I can be something other than I am! If there be a system of remedy, as there well may, it may as well take effect on myself first. She says everybody has his work; I believe her. It must, in the nature of things, be so. I will make it my business to find out what mine is; and when I have made that sure, I will give myself to the doing of it. An All- wise Governor must look for service of me. He shall have it.

Whatever my life be, it shall be to some end. If not what I would, what I can. If not the purity of the rose, that of tempered steel!"

Mr. Carleton walked his room for three hours; then rung for his servant, and ordered him to prepare everything for leaving Paris the second day thereafter.

The next morning over theirs coffee he told his mother of his purpose.

"Leave Paris! To-morrow! My dear Guy, that is rather a sudden notice."

"No, mother; for I am going alone."

His mother immediately bent an anxious and somewhat terrified look upon him. The frank smile she met put half her suspicions out of her head at once.

"What is the matter?"

"Nothing at all ? if by 'matter' you mean mischief."

"You are not in difficulty with those young men again?"

"No, mother," said he, coolly. "I am in difficulty with no one but myself."

"With yourself! But why will you not let me go with you?"

"My business will go on better if I am quite alone."

"What business?''

"Only to settle this question with myself," said he, smiling.

"But, Guy! you are enigmatical this morning. Is it the question that of all others I wish to see settled?"

"No, mother," said he, laughing, and colouring a little; "I don't want another half to take care of till I have this one under management."

"I don't understand you," said Mrs. Carleton. "There is no hidden reason under all this that you are keeping from me?"

"I wont say that. But there is none that need give you the least uneasiness. There are one or two matters I want to study out; I cannot do it here, so I am going where I shall be free."

"Where?"

"I think I shall pa.s.s the summer between Switzerland and Germany."

"And when and where shall I meet you again?"

"I think, at home; I cannot say when."

"At home!" said his mother with a brightening face. "Then you are beginning to be tired of wandering at last?"

"Not precisely, mother," ? rather out of humour.

"I shall be glad of anything," said his mother, gazing at him admiringly, "that brings you home again, Guy."

"Brings me home a better man, I hope, mother," said he, kissing her as he left the room. "I will see you again by and by."

" 'A better man!' " thought Mrs. Carleton, as she sat with full eyes, the image of her son filling the place where his presence had been; "I would be willing never to see him better, and be sure of his never being worse."

Mr. Carleton's farewell visit found Mr. and Mrs. Rossitur not at home. They had driven out early into the country to fetch Marion from her convent for some holiday. Fleda came alone into the saloon to receive him.

"I have your rose in safe keeping, Elfie," he said. "It has done me more good than ever a rose did before."

Fleda smiled an innocently pleased smile. But her look changed when he added ?

"I have come to tell you so, and to bid you good-bye."

"Are you going away, Mr. Carleton?"

"Yes."

"But you will be back soon?"

"No, Elfie ? I do not know that I shall ever come back."

He spoke gravely, more gravely than he was used, and Fleda's acuteness saw that there was some solid reason for this sudden determination. Her face changed sadly, but she was silent, her eyes never wavering from those that read hers with such gentle intelligence.

"You will be satisfied to have me go, Elfie, when I tell you that I am going on business which I believe to be duty.

Nothing else takes me away. I am going to try to do right,"

said he, smiling.

Elfie could not answer the smile. She wanted to ask whether she should never see him again, and there was another thought upon her tongue too; but her lip trembled, and she said nothing.

"I shall miss my good fairy," Mr. Carleton went on, lightly; "I don't know how I shall do without her. If your wand was long enough to reach so far I would ask you to touch me now and then, Elfie."

Poor Elfie could not stand it. Heir head sank. She knew she had a wand that could touch him, and well and gratefully she resolved that its light blessing should "now and then" rest on his head; but he did not understand that; he was talking, whether lightly or seriously ? and Elfie knew it was a little of both ? he was talking of wanting her help, and was ignorant of the help that alone could avail him. "O that he knew but that!" What with this feeling and sorrow together, the child's distress was exceeding great; and the tokens of grief in one so accustomed to hide them were the more painful to see. Mr.

Carleton drew the sorrowing little creature within his arm, and endeavoured with a mixture of kindness and lightness in his tone to cheer her.

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About Queechy Volume I Part 39 novel

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