"I am afraid Mr. Carleton must be tired," said Fleda, without
opening her eyes.
"That means that you are, don't it?" said Rossitur.
"No," said Fleda gently.
Mr. Carleton smiled and went out to press forward the arrangements. In
spite of good words and good money there was some delay. It was rather
late before the cavalcade left the inn; and a journey of several hours was
before them. Mr. Carleton rode rather slowly too, for Fleda's sake, so the
evening had fallen while they were yet a mile or two from the city.
His little charge had borne the fatigue well, thanks partly to his
admirable care, and partly to her quiet pleasure in being with him. She
had been so perfectly still for some distance that he thought she had
dropped asleep. Looking down closer however to make sure about it he saw
her thoughtful clear eyes most unsleepily fixed upon the sky.
"What are you gazing at, Elfie?"
The look of thought changed to a look of affection as the eyes were
brought to bear upon him, and she answered with a smile,
"Nothing,--I was looking at the stars."
"What are you dreaming about?"
"I wasn't dreaming," said Fleda,--"I was thinking."
"Thinking of what?"
"O of pleasant things.
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