"Ay, ay,--I dare say," said the old gentleman,--"your mother knew that Rock and rested her hope upon it,--where mine stands now. If ever there was a creature that might have trusted to her own doings, I believe she was one, for I never saw her do anything wrong,--as I know. But she knew Christ was all. Will you follow him as she did, dear?"
"Do you know what her last prayer for you was, Fleda?"
"It was that you might be kept 'unspotted from the world.' I heard her make that prayer myself." And stretching out his hand the old gentleman laid it tenderly upon Fleda's bowed head, saying with strong earnestness and affection, even _his_ voice somewhat shaken, "God grant that prayer!--whatever else he do with her, keep my child from the evil!--and bring her to join her father and mother in heaven!--and me!"
He said no more;--but Fleda's sobs said a great deal. And when the sobs were hushed, she still sat shedding quiet tears, sorrowed and disturbed by her grandfather's manner. She had never known it so grave, so solemn; but there was that shadow of something else in it besides, and she would have feared if she had known what to fear. He told her at last that she had better go to bed, and to say to Cynthy that he wanted to see her. She was going, and had near reached the door, when he said,
He let her do so twice, without moving, and then holding her to his breast he pressed one long earnest passionate kiss upon her lips, and released her,
Fleda told Cynthy that her grandfather wished her to come to him, and then mounted the stairs to her little bedroom. She went to the window and opening it looked out at the soft moonlit sky; the weather was mild again and a little hazy, and the landscape was beautiful. But little Fleda was tasting realities, and she could not go off upon dream-journeys to seek the light food of fancy through the air. She did not think to-night about the people the moon was shining on; she only thought of one little sad anxious heart,--and of another down stairs, more sad and anxious still, she feared;--what could it be about? Now that Mr. Jolly had settled all that troublesome business with McGowan?--
As she stood there at the window, gazing out aimlessly into the still night,--it was very quiet,--she heard Cynthy at the back of the house calling out, but as if she were afraid of making too much noise, "Watkins!--Watkins!"