"My face!" said Fleda, smiling, while an instant flush of the eyes answered him; "what was the matter with my

face?"

"That is the very thing I want to know."

"Before tea?—I was only thinking," said Fleda, her look going back to the fire from association—" thinking of different things-not disagreeably; taking a kind of bird's-eye view of things as one does sometimes."

"I don't believe you ever take other than a bird's-eye view of anything," said her uncle. "But what were you viewing just then, my little Saxon?"

"I was thinking of them at home," said Fleda, smiling, thoughtfully; "and I somehow had perched myself on a point of observation, and was taking one of those wider views which are always rather sobering."

"Views of what?"

"Of life, sir."

"As how?" said the doctor.

"How near the end is to the beginning, and how short the space between, and how little the ups and downs of it will matter if we take the right road and get home."

"Pshaw!" said the doctor.

But Fleda knew him too well to take his interjection otherwise than most kindly. And, indeed, though he whirled round and ate his toast at the fire discontentedly, his look came back to her after a little, with even more than its usual gentle appreciation.

"What do you suppose you have come to New York for?" said he.

"To see you, sir, in the first place, and the Evelyns in the second."

"And who in the third?"

"I am afraid the third place is vacant," said Fleda, smiling.

"You are, eh? Well-I don't know—but I know that I have been inquired of by two several and distinct people as to your coming. Ah! you needn't open your bright eyes at me, because I shall not tell you. Only let me ask-you have no notion of fencing off, my Queechy rose, with a hedge of blackthorn, or anything of that kind, have you?"

"I have no notion of any fences at all, except invisible ones, sir," said Fleda, laughing, and colouring very prettily.

“Well, those are not American fences," said the doctor; “so, I suppose, I am safe enough. Whom did I see you out riding with yesterday?"

"I was with Mrs Evelyn," said Fleda. "I didn't want to go, but I couldn't very well help myself."

"Mrs Evelyn! Mrs Evelyn wasn't driving, was she?" "No, sir; Mr Thorn was driving."

"I thought so. Have you seen your old friend Mr Carleton yet?"

"Do you know him, uncle Orrin ?"

"Why shouldn't I? What's the difficulty of knowing people? Have you seen him?"

"But how did you know that he was an old friend of

mine?"

"Question!" said the doctor. you-so there's the answer.

“ Hum—well, I won't tell Now, will you answer me?"

"I have not seen him, sir." "Haven't met him, in all the times you have been to Mrs Evelyn's?"

66

No, sir. I have been there but once in the evening, uncle Orrin. He is just about sailing for England."

"Well, you're going there to-night, aren't you? Run, and bundle yourself up, and I'll take you there before I begin my work."

There was a small party that evening at Mrs Evelyn's. Fleda was very early. She ran up to the first floor-rooms lighted and open, but nobody there.

"Fleda Ringgan," called out the voice of Constance from over the stairs, "is that you?"

"No," said Fleda.

"Well, just wait till I come down to you. Fleda, it's delicious of you to come so early. me, am I captivating?"`

"Well, I retain self-possession," said Fleda. about the strength of head of other people."

My darling little

Now, just tell

"I cannot tell

"You wretched little creature! Fleda, don't you admire my hair? it's new style, my dear-just come out; the Delancys brought it out with them; Eloise Delancy taught it us; isn't it graceful? Nobody in New York has it yet, except the Delancys and we."

"How do you know but they have taught somebody else?" said Fleda.

"I won't talk to you !-Don't you like it?"

"I am not sure that I do not like you in your ordinary way better."

Constance made a gesture of impatience, and then pulled Fleda after her into the drawing-rooms.

"Come in here--I won't waste the elegancies of my toilet upon your dull perceptions—come here and let me shew you some flowers-aren't those lovely? This bunch came to-day, 'for Miss Evelyn,' so Florence will have it it is hers, and it's very mean of her, for I am perfectly certain it is mine-it's come from somebody who wasn't enlightened on the subject of my family circle, and has innocently imagined that two Misses Evelyn could not belong to the same one! I know the floral representatives of all Florence's dear friends and admirers, and this isn't from any of them. I have been distractedly endeavouring all day to find who it came from, for if I don't I can't take the least comfort in it."

"But you might enjoy the flowers for their own sake, I should think," said Fleda, breathing the sweetness of myrtle and heliotrope.

"No, I can't, for I have all the time the association of some horrid creature they might have come from, you know; but it will do just as well to humbug people—I shall make Cornelia Schenck believe that this came from my dear Mr Carleton !"

"No, you won't, Constance," said Fleda, gently.

"My dear little Fleda, I shock you, don't I? but I sha'n't tell any lies-I shall merely expressively indicate a particular specimen and say, 'My dear Cornelia, do you perceive that this is an English rose?'-and then it's none of my business, you know, what she believes-and she will be dying with curiosity and despair all the rest of the evening."

"I shouldn't think there would be much pleasure in that, I confess," said Fleda, gravely. "How very ungracefully and stiffly those are made up!"

"My dear little Queechy rose," said Constance, impatiently, "you are, pardon me, as fresh as possible. They can't cut the flowers with long stems, you know-the gardeners would be ruined. That is perfectly elegant-it must have cost at least ten dollars. My dear little Fleda!" said Constance, capering off before the long pier-glass, "I am afraid I am not captivating! Do you think it would be an improvement if I put

drops in my ears?—or one curl behind them? I don't know which Mr Carleton likes best !"

And with her head first on one side and then on the other, she stood before the glass looking at herself and Fleda by turns with such a comic expression of mock doubt and anxiety that no gravity but her own could stand it.

"She is a silly girl, Fleda, isn't she!" said Mrs Evelyn, coming up behind them.

"Mamma !—am I captivating?" cried Constance, wheeling round.

The mother's smile said "Very!"

"Fleda is wishing she were out of the sphere of my influence, mamma.- Wasn't Mr Olmney afraid of my corrupting you?" she said, with a sudden pull-up in front of Fleda. "My stars!—there's somebody's voice I know. Well, I believe it is true that a rose without thorns is a desideratum. Mamma, is Mrs Thorn's turban to be an invariable pendant to your coiffure all the while Miss Ringgan is here?"

"Hush!"

With the entrance of company came Constance's return from extravaganzas to a sufficiently graceful every-day manner, only enough touched with high spirits and lawlessness to free it from the charge of commonplace. But the contrast of these high spirits with her own rather made Fleda's mood more quiet, and it needed no quieting. Of the sundry people that she knew among those presently assembled there were none that she wanted to talk to; the rooms were hot, and she felt nervous and fluttered, partly from encounters already sustained, and partly from a little anxious expecting of Mr Carleton's appearance. The Evelyns had not said he was to be there, but she had rather gathered it; and the remembrance of old times was strong enough to make her very earnestly wish to see him, and dread to be disappointed. She swung clear of Mr Thorn, with some difficulty, and ensconced herself under the shadow of a large cabinet, between that and a young lady who was very good society, for she wanted no help in carrying on the business of it. All Fleda had to do was to sit still and listen, or not listen, which she generally preferred. Miss Tomlinson discoursed upon varieties, with great sociableness and satisfaction, while poor Fleda's mind, letting all her sense and nonsense go, was again taking a somewhat bird'seye view of things, and from the little centre of her post in

Mrs Evelyn's drawing-room, casting curious glances over the panorama of her life-England, France, New York, and Queechy!-half coming to the conclusion that her place henceforth was only at the last, and that the world and she had nothing to do with each other. The tide of life and gaiety seemed to have thrown her on one side, as something that could not swim with it; and to be rushing past too strong and swiftly for her slight bark ever to launch upon it again. Perhaps the shore might be the safest and happiest place; but it was sober in the comparison; and as a stranded bark might look upon the white sails flying by, Fleda saw the gay faces and heard the light tones with which her own could so little keep company. But as little they with her. Their enjoyment was not more foreign to her than the causes which moved it were strange. Merry?-she might like to be merry, but she could sooner laugh with the North wind than with one of those vapid faces, or with any face that she could not trust. Conversation might be pleasant-but it must be something different from the noisy cross-fire of nonsense that was going on in one quarter, or the profitless barter of nothings that was kept up on the other side of her. Rather Queechy and silence,

by far, than New York and this!

And through it all, Miss Tomlinson talked on and was happy. 'My dear Fleda!—what are you back here for?" said Florence, coming up to her.

"I was glad to be at a safe distance from the fire."

"Take a screen-here! Miss Tomlinson, your conversation is too exciting for Miss Ringgan-look at her cheeks-I must carry you off-I want to shew you a delightful contrivance for transparencies that I learned the other day."

The seat beside her was vacated, and not casting so much as a look towards any quarter whence a possible successor to Miss Tomlinson might be arriving, Fleda sprang up and took a place in the far corner of the room by Mrs Thorn, happily not another vacant chair in the neighbourhood. Mrs Thorn had shewn a very great fancy for her, and was almost as good company as Miss Tomlinson;-not quite, for it was necessary sometimes to answer, and therefore necessary always to hear. But Fleda liked her; she was thoroughly amiable, sensible, and good-hearted. And Mrs Thorn, very much gratified at Fleda's choice of a seat, talked to her with a benignity which Fleda could not help answering with grateful pleasure.