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 old-time things, and sighs over them with me, a
most sympathizing friend! but to-day he invites me to a waltz
— Come!"