[Transcriber's note: Susan Warner (1819-1885) & Anna Warner(1824-1915), _Say and seal_ (1860), Tauchnitz edition 1860 volume 2]

COLLECTION

OF

BRITISH AUTHORS

VOL. CCCXCIX. 

SAY AND SEAL. 

IN TWO VOLUMES. 

VOL. II. 

SAY AND SEAL. 

BY

THE AUTHOR OF "WIDE WIDE WORLD, "

AND

THE AUTHOR OF "DOLLARS AND CENTS. "

COPYRIGHT EDITION. 

IN TWO VOLUMES. 

VOL. II. 

LEIPZIG

BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ

1860. 

SAY AND SEAL. 

VOL. II. 

CHAPTER I. 

So came the holiday week, wherein was to be done so much less thanusual--and so much more. Mr. Linden's work, indeed, was like to doubleon all hands; for he was threatened with more tea-drinkings, dinners, suppers, and frolics, than the week would hold. How should he manage togive everybody a piece of him, and likewise present himself entire tothe assembled boys when ever they chose to assemble?--which promised tobe pretty often. How should he go skating, sliding, and sleigh-riding, at all hours of the day and night, and yet spend all those hours wherehe wanted to spend them? It was a grave question; and not easy, as heremarked to Faith, to hold so many feelings in his hands and hurt noneof them. So with the question yet undecided, Christmas day came. 

It was a brilliant day--all white and blue; the sky like a sapphire, the earth like a pearl; the sunbeams burnished gold. 

 "Ha' ye but seen the light fall of the snow, Before the soil hath smutched it?"--

Such was Pattaquasset, Christmas morning. And the bright lily, "Before rude hands have touched it, "

that was Faith Derrick when she came down stairs. The dainty littlecrimson silk hood which Mrs. Derrick had quilted for her, was in herhand, brought down for display; but at present the sitting-room wasempty, and Faith passed on to her work-basket, to put the hood in safekeeping. She found a pre-occupied basket. At some unknown hour of thenight, Santa Claus had come and left upon it his mark in the shape of apackage: a rather large and rather thin package, but done up with thatinfallible brown paper and small cord which everybody knows byinstinct. Who ever looked twice at a parcel from _that_ wagon, anddoubted whence it came?

Faith's cheeks took an additional tinge, quite as brilliant as if thecrimson hood had been on. What doubtful fingers lifted the package fromthe basket!

The thing--whatever it was--had been done up carefully. Beneath thebrown paper a white one revealed itself, beneath that a red leatherportfolio--made in the pretty old-fashioned style, and securing itscontents by means of its red leather tongue. But when Faith hadwithdrawn this, and with the caution always exercised on such occasionshad also drawn out the contents, she found the prettiest continuationof her Italian journey, in the shape of very fine photographs of allsorts of Italian places and things, mingled with here and there anexcursion into the Swiss mountains. 

A few almost awe-stricken glances Faith gave; then she put thephotographs in the portfolio again, scarcely seen, and looked at theoutside of the red leather; felt of its smooth surface with admiringfingers that hardly believed what they touched, and a face glowing witha very deep glow by this time. Faith thought herself rich, beyond theimagination of a millionaire. But after a little mute amazedconsideration of her happiness, she rushed off to the kitchen tosignalize the Christmas breakfast--and perhaps spend a few of her toomany thoughts--by the preparation and production of one of MadameDanforth's nice, but in Pattaquasset unheard of, delicacies; and whenall the rest of the breakfast was ready, Faith demurely went in withher dish. 

She had not a word of acknowledgment for Mr. Linden, which wasungrateful. She gave him her hand, however, with a manner and lookwhich were graceful enough; being at once open and shy, very bright, and yet veiled with a shade of reserve. She had been over the fire, soher face was naturally a little rosy. There was no particular reserveabout him, --his "Merry Christmas" was not only wished but carried out, so far as breakfast time extended. Faith might be as demure as sheliked, but she had to be merry too; so on the whole the breakfast roomwas beaming with more than sunlight. Yes, it was a merryChristmas!--merry without and merry within, --that sort of merrimentwhich "doeth good like a medicine. " Gay voices and steps andsnowballing on the broad street; gay snowbirds and chickadees in thebranches; in the house glad faces; over and upon all, clear sunshineand the soft hush of a winter's morning. 

"What are you going to do to-day, mother?" said Faith towards the closeof breakfast time. 

"I'd rather look at you than anything else, child, " said her mother, "but I've got to go out, you know. What are _you_ going to do Faith?"

"All sorts of things, mother. Mr. Linden?"--

"All sorts of things, Miss Faith--therefore we shall probably meetquite often in the course of the day, " he said smiling. "Will you giveme any commands?"

"Perhaps--if I can. Mother, how are we to get to Mrs. Somersto-night?--is Crab well?"

"O Crab's gone away for the winter, child, and we've got Mr. Stoutenburgh's Jerry. To be sure--that's since you went away. "

The first thing for Faith was the Christmas dinner, into which sheplunged, heart and hand. The turkey, the apples, and the pies, were allseen to at last; and about an hour before dinner Faith was ready totake off her kitchen apron and go into the parlour. She longed for afurther touch and eyesight of that red leather. 

She had it, for that hour; as dainty a luxuriating over her treasuresas anybody ever had. Faith pondered and dreamed over the photographs, one after another; with endless marvel and querying of numberlessquestions springing out of them, --general and particular, historical, natural, social, and artistic or scientific. Questions that sometimesshe knew only enough to form vaguely. What a looking over of printsthat was! such an hour as is known by few, few of those who have seenengravings all their lives. Nay, further than that;--such as is notknown by many a one that stands on the Bridge of sighs, and crosses theMer de glace, and sees the smoke curling up from Vesuvius. For once ina while there is an imaginary traveller at home to whom is revealedmore of the spirit of beauty residing in these things, than hundreds ofthose who visit them do ever see. Who

 "Feels the warm Orient in the noontide air, And from cloud-minarets hears the sunset call to prayer. "

Before dinner time was quite on the stroke came home Mr. Linden, whobetaking himself first upstairs and then into the sitting-room, broughtFaith her Christmas breastknot of green and red. Stiff holly leaves, with their glossy sheen, and bright winterberries--clear and red, seteach other off like jewellers' work; and the soft ribbon that boundthem together was of the darkest possible blue. It was as dainty a bitof floral handicraft as Faith had often seen. 

"Will you wear it, Miss Faith?" Mr. Linden said as he laid it on thetable by her. 

Faith had come out of her dream, and gave the holly and winterberries adowncast look of recognition. It was given in silence, but the pleasurewhich had been uppermost for some time presently made her overcomeshyness, and looking up gratefully she exclaimed, "Mr. Linden--whatpleasure you have given me!"--The soft colour which had been in hercheeks before, mounted instantly to deep crimson, and she addedtimidly, "Wasn't it you?"

"What pleasure you give me!"--he said with a smile at her crimson andall. "Yes, it was I. "

"It seems to me I have been at those places to-day, " she went on, looking over at the sofa where her portfolio lay. "I have been fancyingyour sister standing here and there and looking at something I saw inthe picture. Now I can understand a little better what she was writingabout. "

"I am very glad you like them! Some time you must let me give you anyexplanations they may need. What have you found for me to do thisafternoon?"

"Aren't you going to be busy, Mr. Linden?"

"About something--your business shall come first. "

"It can wait, " said Faith very brightly. "It was just that, Mr. Linden. --I was going to ask you some time to shew them to me. I havebeen looking at some of them by myself, and going into a great manythings over them that I could not understand. But any time will do forthat--as well as to-day. "

"And to-day as well as any time"--he said smiling; "but I suppose wemust wait till after dinner. "

There was great satisfaction at that dinner, not to say in it--whichindeed the dinner merited. There was the remaining glow of the pleasantmorning, and a little dawning of the afternoon, besides the hour's ownlight. Faith indeed was the radiating point of pleasure, which the twoothers watched and furnished with new supplies. Then after dinner camethe Italian work, and she had as elaborate and careful answers andinformation as she wished for. Mr. Linden could go back and tell herwhere each place got its name, and what had been its history, with manystories of its climate and productions and traditions; and so one byone Faith went over again her new treasures. One by one, --until theshort afternoon began to fade, and it was time to dress for Mrs. Somers'; and they had made but little progress into the portfolio, after all. Yet it was a great "progress" to Faith;--a grand processionthrough the years of history and the stages of civilization and thevarying phases of nature and humanity. 

Very tenderly the photographs were restored to the portfolio and thered leather tongue drawn through, with a little breath heavy withpleasure, and Faith carried off the whole to be put where profane handsshould not get hold of it. Then the comparatively ignoble business ofdressing occupied her. And Mrs. Derrick yet more, who of course wasthere to help and look on; while Faith's head was erratically in herportfolio, or at Rome, or at Florence, or--elsewhere, --as the casemight be. Her dress was this evening the same she had worn to Mrs. Stoutenburgh's, but the knot of holly and winterberries transformed hermore than the rose and myrtle had done; and she stood an undoubtedguest of Christmas night. Faith herself took somewhat of the effect, which her thought however concentrated. 

"Mother, " she said as she looked in the glass, --"I never saw anythingso pretty!"

"Neither did I, child, " said Mrs. Derrick smiling. 

Faith took still closer note of the beauty of her breastknot; and thengathering up her crimson hood and cloak, they went down stairs. It wasnot quite the hour yet for Mrs. Somers'. Mr. Linden was ready and inthe sitting-room; but Faith did not this time call his attention to herbouquet. She came in and sat down very quietly in a corner of the sofa. He paused in his walk up and down the room however, noting her well asshe came in and took her seat; coming presently to take one at herside; and then catching up a book from the table he proceeded to giveher the ice palace of the little brook, with which he had threatenedher before. --

 "Down swept the cold wind from the mountain peak, From the snow five thousand summers old"--etc. 

"O, " exclaimed Faith, "I have seen just such a brook! I have played init; when mother was afraid I should take cold, and wouldn't let mestay. But that's as good as the brook, " she added timidly. 

"Without the danger of taking cold. You are quite sure it has notchilled you, Miss Faith?--do you feel 'winter-proof'?"

"I think I do, for to-day, " said Faith. "If the evening were to be evenvery disagreeable, I think I could stand it. "

Which remark was perhaps significant. 

The tinkle of Jerry's bells now made itself heard at the door, andFaith was shawled and cloaked and wrapped up by her mother in the houseand by Mr. Linden in the sleigh. He was more skilful about it thanSquire Stoutenburgh; and contrived to enclose Faith in a little wigwamof buffalo robes, without letting her feel the weight of them. Thenthey dashed off--Jerry well disposed for exercise after his fiveminutes' stand, and spurning the snow from a light enough pair ofheels. How merrily the bells jingled! how calmly and steadily the starsshone down! There was no moon now, but the whitened earth caught andreflected every bit of the starlight, and made it by no means dark; andthe gleams from cottage windows came out and fell on the snow in littlestreaks of brightness. Sleighs enough abroad!--from the swift littlecutters and large family sleighs that glided on towards the parsonage, down to sledding parties of boys, cheered only by a cow-bell and theirown laughter. Tinkle, tinkle--everywhere, --near by and in the distance;the dark figures just casting a light shadow on the roadside, the merryvoices ignoring anything of the kind. 

Mrs. Somers' house was a good long drive from Mrs. Derrick's. The roadwas first on the way to Mr. Simlins'; from there it turned off at rightangles and went winding crookedly down a solitary piece of country;rising and falling over uneven ground, twisting out of the way of arock here and there, and for some distance skirting the edge of awoodland. There was light enough to see by, but it was not just thepiece of road one would choose of a dark night; and Faith felt thankfulSquire Deacon was gone to Egypt. 

CHAPTER II. 

In the dressing-room Faith was seized upon in the warmest manner byMrs. Stoutenburgh, who looked very pretty in her dress of brightcrimson silk. 

"I'm so glad you've come back, dear. And how well you're looking!--alittle thin, though. But you'll soon make up for that. You're just aslovely as you can be, Faith--do you know it?"

"No, ma'am. "--Her _flowers_, she knew, were as lovely as they could be. "Jerry brought us, Mrs. Stoutenburgh, after all, and pretty fast too. "

"O he can go fast enough. You needn't look so sober, child--of courseno one thinks so but me, and nobody ever minds what I say. _That's_pretty, I suppose you'll allow, " she said laughing, and bending downcloser to Faith's holly leaves, --"what is it, Faith? basswood?"

"Don't you know holly, Mrs. Stoutenburgh? And the berries arewinterberries. "

"Yes my dear--I perceive. You mustn't get angry with me, child--I tellyou nobody does, not even your grave escort. At least not for anythingI do to _him_. Well I'll go down and electrify people with the newsthat you're coming. " And the crimson dress floated off to the tune of alight step and a merry voice. And more slowly and more doubtfully theblack dress and winterberries followed her. Perhaps in very truth Faithwould have been willing that Mr. Stoutenburgh should have taken herunder his broad wing for that going down stairs. At least she was asabsolutely grave and quiet as anybody ever saw her, and a little moreinclined to be shrinking. But Mr. Linden was alone in the hall at thatminute, so there was no one else to shrink from; and if Faith wanted toshrink from him, she hardly could, --there was such an absence ofanything to alarm her, both in his look and manner. Therefore, thoughshe had to go down stairs upon his arm, and pass sundry people on theirway up, Faith felt that he was a shield between her and the glances andwords which he so little regarded. Eyes and tongues indeed ventured hutlittle in his presence; but that protection of course extended only tothe centre of the drawing-room, and the welcome which Faith receivedfrom Mrs. Somers, --then she must shield herself. Then truly, for awhile, she was taken possession of by Squire Stoutenburgh, who walkedwith her up and down, and said all manner of kind things. 

Faith had no particular skill to shield herself from anything, andindeed gave herself no thought about it. She took what came, in asimple and quiet spirit, which was very apt to strike like a bee theright part of every flower; or that perhaps carried its own honeyalong. So she walked up and down with Mr. Stoutenburgh; and so sheafterwards entered into the demands of a posse of her old and youngfriends who had not seen her for a good while. 

Amidst a little group of these people, collected benignly around Faith, Dr. Harrison presently intruded himself. Now Dr. Harrison was a lion, and the smaller animals naturally fell off from him, which wasprecisely what he expected them to do. The doctor had the field soonclear. 

"What have you been doing to yourself?" he said to Faith with thekindly, familiar manner which had grown up between them. 

"Taking good care, "--she said, in smiling answer to his question. 

"Who took the care? yourself?"

"Yes. "

"I thought so. "

"Why, Dr. Harrison?"

"Excuse me, " said he. "Anybody else would have done it better. "

"No, " said she shaking her head, --"you are wrong. "

"You have been--" said he, looking at her, --"you have been 'doing yourduty' too hard. "

"Can one do that, Dr. Harrison?"

"Certainly!"

"I haven't been doing it this time. "

"Do you remember, " he said sitting down by her and lowering hisvoice, --"what you said once about the flowers of the wilderness?"

"Yes. "

"Would you like to see some of them?"

"In the wilderness?"

"No, " said he smiling. "I can shew you one family of them, by theirportraits, here--to-night. "

"I would like to see them in the wilderness or anywhere!" said Faith. 

"Then if you'll come with me"--

And the next thing was Dr. Harrison's walking off the black silk andwinterberries before all the eyes of the people and through one roomafter another, till a little one-side room was reached which was not athoroughfare to anything. In this little room was a table and a lampupon it, and also several very large thin books. There was also, whichwas singular, a very comfortable easy chair. In this Dr. Harrisoninstalled his charge close by the table, and drew up one of the volumes. 

"I am going to introduce to you, " he said, "the whole family of theRhododendrons. "

"Rhododendron?"--said Faith. "I never saw them. "

"It is their loss, " said the doctor; "but here they are. "

It was as he said;--the whole family of the plant, in the most superbstyle of portraiture and presentation. Full size and full colour; oneof the most magnificent of such works. Faith had never seen aRhododendron, and even in her dreams had never visited a wildernesswhere such flowers grew. Her exquisite delight fully satisfied Dr. Harrison, and quite kept her attention from herself and the fact of herbeing shut off from the rest of the company. Now and then one andanother would drop in and look at what they were about, with curiosityif not with sympathy; but Rhododendrons were not alluring to most ofthe people, nor to say truth was Dr. Harrison. With most urbanepoliteness he dispersed any desire to remain and look over hisproceedings which might have been felt by some of the intruders; orcontrived that they should find nothing to detain them. 

It was a long business, to turn over all those delicious portraits offloral life and give anything like a sufficient look at each one. Suchglories of vegetable beauty Faith had never imagined. It was almost anew revelation. There were deep brilliant crimsons; there was theloveliest rose-colour, in large heads of the close elegant flowers;there were, larger still and almost incredible in their magnificence, enormous clusters of cream-coloured and tinted and even of buff. Therewere smaller and humbler members of the family, which would have beenglorious in any other companionship. There were residents of the richregions of the tropics; and less superb members of the temperate zones;there were trees and shrubs; and there were little bushy, hardydenizens of the highest and barrenest elevations of rocks and snow towhich inflorescence ever climbs. Faith almost caught her breath. 

"And these are in the wilderness!" she said. 

"Yes. What then?" said the doctor. Faith did not say. 

"You are thinking they 'waste their sweetness'?"

"O no, indeed! I don't think that. "

"You are thinking something. Please let me be the better for it. "

"One ought to be the better for it, " said Faith. 

"Then I hope you won't refuse it to me, " said Dr. Harrison gentlylaughing at her. 

"I was thinking, Dr Harrison, what the Bible says, --'He hath madeeverything beautiful in his time';--and, 'God saw everything that hehad made, and behold it was very good. '"

The doctor turned over the leaf to a new Rhododendron. Faith's thoughtswent to Pequot, and her heart gave a bound of joy at the remembrance ofthe sick woman there. 

Mrs. Stoutenburgh's crimson dress was so softly worn and managed, thatthe wearer thereof was close in Dr. Harrison's neighbourhood for aminute before he was aware of her presence; which quiet motions, itshould be observed, were habitual to Mrs. Stoutenburgh, and not at allassumed for the occasion. Therefore it was with no idea of startlinganybody, that she said presently, "My dear Faith, what _are_ youlooking at through those Rhododendrons?" Faith started, and looked upwith a bit of a smile. 

"What do you see, Mrs. Stoutenburgh?" said the doctor. 

"O several things, " said the lady, passing her hand softly over Faith'sbrow, and then with one of her sudden impulses putting her lips there. "Do you like them, Faith?"

"Does not Mrs. Stoutenburgh like them?" said the doctor, as he placed achair for her in the best position left for seeing. 

"Thank you, " said she laughing. "I came here to be seen this evening. And so ought some other people. How much do you pay for the monopoly, doctor?"

"I really don't know!" said Dr. Harrison with a very slight rise of hishandsome eyebrows. "I am in Pattaquasset--which is to me a region ofuncertainties. You will know better than I, Mrs. Stoutenburgh. "

"Well, " said Mrs. Stoutenburgh with a wicked look at the doctor for hissole benefit, --"speaking of Rhododendrons, which you've seen oftenenough before, --don't you admire _this_--which you have _not_ seenbefore?" and she touched Faith's holly leaves with the tip of herlittle glove. "I should think it must stir what Mr. Linden calls your'nerves of pleasant sensation'. "

"I am honoured by your estimation, " said the doctor laughing slightly. "Miss Derrick's taste is matchless. It is an act of benevolence for herto wear flowers. "

Faith's very brow crimsoned, till she bent it from view as much as shecould. In all her truth she could not rise up there and confess thather skill was not the skill to be commended. She wanted a shield then. 

"Don't flatter yourself that you are an object of charity, " said Mrs. Stoutenburgh turning over another leaf to give Faith employment. "They're talking of games in the other room, dear, " she added in agentle voice, --"may I tell Mrs. Somers you will play too?"

"Yes ma'am, certainly!"

"They're not ready yet--sit still and enjoy your prints--I'll see whatthey are about. " And the lady left the room. Dr. Harrison sought someparticularly fine specimens and engaged Faith in talk about them andtheir localities and habits, till her self-possession was restored. 

"Have you heard the news about Mr. Linden?" he asked with mostnonchalant carelessness. 

"What news?" said Faith, doubtful whether he meant SquireStoutenburgh's chapter or some other. 

"Then he hasn't told you himself?"

"No, " said Faith. 

"I thought you ought to be authority, " the doctor went on in the sametone. "It is very good news--for him--I hope it is true. They say--Ihave heard, --how beautiful the droop of those petals is!--and the shadeof colour is rare--They say, that he has a very dear friend abroad; Imean in Europe, somewhere. Do you think it is true?"

"Yes, " said Faith. She thought it was not wonderful news. 

"I mean a lady friend?" said the doctor. 

"Yes, " said Faith again. She knew now what the doctor meant, but shedid not feel inclined to enter into the subject or to enlighten him atall. Then too Mr. Linden might have more friends than _one_ abroad!--Itflashed upon her like a curious illumination. 

"Then the story is true?" said the doctor. 

"I don't know, sir, " said Faith in some distress. "I know nothing aboutit. "

"But you don't know that it is not true?" said he looking at her. 

"No, sir. I don't know. "

Dr. Harrison's further questions and remarks were cut short by theentrance of the very person referred to; who coming up with his usuallight, alert step, held out his hand first of all to the questioner. 

"Good evening, doctor!--how do you do again? Miss Faith, may I take youaway from these beauties?" And the released hand was offered to her. She put hers in it very willingly but very silently; Faith dared notsay a word to him about the Rhododendrons or about anything else. 

"Ah, you have two hands again, " said Dr. Harrison, "and you turn itagainst me!"

"Not that fact--" Mr. Linden said as he went off. And then slackeninghis step, he talked or made Faith talk--and laugh--every inch of theway into the room where all the rest were clustered ready for blindman's buff. It was a triumph of his skill, --or of his power, --for shehad left the Rhododendrons in a mood most shy and quiet, and disposedto keep so. Dr. Harrison had not followed them, but soon made hisentrance upon the company by another door. 

"What is going on? or off, Mrs. Stoutenburgh?" he whispered to thatlady. 

"Why the bandage is going on, and we're going off, " said she laughing. "Will you be blinded first, doctor?"

"Blind man's buff!" said the doctor shrugging his shoulders comically. "Barbarous! I would rather 'go off' too--but anything to please you, Mrs. Stoutenburgh. A game to see how much a man without his five sensescan do against other people who have them. " But the doctor gallantlystepped up to Mrs. Somers. 

"I represent the forlorn hope for the evening, aunt Ellen. Has anybodyvolunteered to be the first victim?"

"You are the last person in the room that ought to volunteer, " saidMrs. Somers, --"however, blindness is proverbial in some cases. MissEssie will bandage your eyes, Julius--and use her own for you in themeanwhile, I dare say. Miss Essie, here is a candidate. "

"Not for Miss Essie's good offices!" said the doctor. "I know her. Ishall not trust her. I will put myself in safe hands. "

And with an inexpressible air of carelessness and easy pleasure-taking, Dr. Harrison carried his handsome person across the room to where Faithyet stood by the side of Mr. Linden; stood looking rather sober. Shehad not brought any of the rosy Rhododendron colour away in her face;or else it had faded. The doctor came up and spoke in an undertone aswilfully and gracefully independent as his manner. 

"If I ask you to do me the honour to put this handkerchief over myeyes, Miss Derrick, I suppose you will not know what it signifies?"

"No, sir, " said Faith, with a very slight smile and extra colour. 

"Where I have been, " said the doctor, --"where we never play it!--it isplayed in this way. My entreating you to blind my eyes, signifies thatwithout them I shall endeavour to find you. "

"Then I wish you'd get somebody else to do it, Dr. Harrison. "

"You are not in earnest?" said the doctor. 

"Very much in earnest. "

"But I should observe, " said he smiling, "that even the unkindness ofyour refusal would not change my endeavour. I only give you, as inhonour bound, the chance of doing all you can to prevent my succeeding. Will you do it?"

He tendered the handkerchief. Faith coloured a little more, but to puta stop to his absurdities, as they seemed to her, and to her consequentprominence before the eyes of people, she accepted the office. Dr. Harrison kneeled at her feet, and Faith put the handkerchief round hiseyes and tied it on; endeavouring, to do her justice, to perform thetask thoroughly. She was not quite sure how well it was done, afterall, --for the doctor had interposed a gentle "Softly, " as she wasdrawing the knot and had at the same time also raised his hand to easethe bandage. But Faith had to let it go so; and simply resolved to takecare of herself. 

Many eyes, meanwhile, surveyed this performance with much edification, glancing too at the motionless figure who at Faith's side looked downupon it. But when the smile in those eyes touched the lips as well, Mrs. Stoutenburgh was roused to a pitch of delight; and running intothe middle of the room to meet the doctor as he came to take his stand, she clapped her hands exclaiming, "O, doctor! doctor!--how could youlet anybody tie anything over your eyes!"

"Is there treachery, Mrs. Stoutenburgh?" said the doctor with a comicstop. 

"Where?"--said the lady. 

"Nay, --I know where, " said the doctor. And turning from her headdressed himself to the game. 

But though Dr. Harrison shewed himself a keen player the game came tono sudden termination. And Faith could not help doubting that her workhad not been too effectual. It was beyond question, even if she had notbeen forewarned, that the doctor was endeavouring to find--orendeavouring to catch her. In vain Mrs. Stoutenburgh's crimson and MissEssie's blue floated past him and rustled behind him. In vain Mrs. Somers' purple stood in his way. The skirt of that one black silk couldgo nowhere that some one of the doctor's senses did not inform him ofit. Closely he followed upon her flight, and keen work Faith found it, play as well as she would. She began to get out of breath, and theamusement and fun grew uproarious. 

It was when her foot was failing that the doctor's gained strength:between him and the prize there was now no barrier; no leap could availFaith in the corner where she was at last hemmed in. Slowly andsecurely the doctor advanced, first himself and then his hands, andcaught--Mr Linden! Caught him unmistakeably too, --there was no help forit; and Dr. Harrison in his astonishment forgot to pronounce himsomebody else!

"Confound you!" said the doctor slowly and comically--"how did you gethere?"

"Are you fatigued?" said Mr. Linden, taking off the bandage. "MissFaith, you did _this_ part of your work very ill. "

"How did you get here?" repeated the doctor, taking hold of his arm andshaking it slightly. "I wasn't looking for _you_, man. "

"What were you _looking_ for?" said Mr. Linden, with a laughing returnof the doctor's gaze. 

"Shall I put that on for you?" said the latter with a sort ofcomplicate expression, which however never lost its grace and ease. Andthen began another chase--but not of Faith this time, --perhaps Mr. Linden thought she needed rest. And the changes ran round the company, but never (as it happened) including Faith or Dr. Harrison, until theyreached the finishing round of the game. Then it was Mr. Linden's turnagain to wear the bandage, and then he gave Faith the sort of run hehad given her before at Mrs. Stoutenburgh's--and with the same success. 

"Haven't they played blind man's buff long enough?" Faith whispered, when the bandage was taken off her captor. She was flushed, a little, and sober more than a little. 

"Yes--I will move a change, " he answered in the same tone. Which hedid, after a short consultation. 

"Dr. Harrison--you have seen the 'Butterfly, ' I suppose?"

"_The_ butterfly?" said the doctor. "I have seen many--of all colours;but the butterfly par excellence, I know not. Unless it is one withwhite wings and black body, and spots of most brilliant red on thebreast. "

"The one I mean combines more colours, " said Mr. Linden. "What were youdoing in France, not to see it?"

"Seeing other things, I suppose. However, now you speak of it, Ibelieve that butterfly has flown over me--sometime. "

"Please to imagine yourself a gay rover for the nonce, " said Mr. Linden, leading the doctor persuasively into the middle of the floor. "Just suppose you are a Purple Emperor--will you doctor? Miss Essiewants a story and forfeits, --I shall leave you to gratify her. " But hehimself went to give Miss Faith a seat. That was done with a verydifferent manner from the gay, genial way in which he had addressed thedoctor: it was genial enough, certainly, but grave. 

"You do not feel well?" he said, as he wheeled up an easy chair forher. It was spoken too low for any one else to hear. 

"Yes, I do, "--said Faith quickly. But her face flushed deep, and hereye though it glanced towards him, failed timidly of meeting his; andher voice had lost all the spring of pleasure. 

"Then cannot you keep the promise you made about a disagreeableevening?" The tone was very low still--(he was arranging her footstooland chair) a little concerned too, a little--or Faith fancied it--butindeed she was not quite sure what the third part was; and then thedoctor began his work. 

For a minute or two she did not hear him, or heard without heed. Shewas thinking over Mr. Linden's question and struggling with it. For itsslight tone, of remonstrance perhaps, only met and stirred into lifethe feeling she was trying to keep down. Her lip took one of itssorrowful curves for an instant; but then Dr. Harrison came towardsthem. 

"What insect on the face of the earth, Linden, will you be? What doeshe resemble most, Miss Derrick?"

"I am not particular about being on the face of the earth, " said Mr. Linden, --"the air will do just as well. "

The doctor was waiting for Faith's answer. Under the exigency of themoment she gave it him, glancing up first at the figure beside her, perhaps to refresh her memory--or imagination--and smiling a little asshe spoke. 

"I don't think of any he is like, Dr. Harrison. "

"Do you think I am like a purple butterfly?" said the doctor. 

"Yes, a little, "--said Faith. But it was with a face of such childlikesoberness that the doctor looked hard at her. 

"What do you think you are like yourself?" said he; not lightly. 

"I think I am a little like an ant, " said Faith. 

The doctor turned half round on his heel. 

"'Angels and ministers of grace'!" was his exclamation. "Most winged, gentle, and etherial of all the dwellers in, or on, anthills, --knowthat thy similitude is nothing meaner than a flower. You must take thename of one, Miss Faith--all the ladies do--what will you be?"

"What will you be?" Mr. Linden repeated, --"Mignonette?--that is evenbelow the level of some of your anthills. "

"If you please, "--she said. 

"Or one of your Rhododendrons?" said the doctor--"that is better; foryou have the art--or the nature, indeed, --of representing all the tintsof the family by turns--except the unlovely ones. Be a Rhodora!"

"No"--said Faith--"I am not like that--nor like the other, but I willbe the other. "

"Mignonette"--said the doctor. "Well, what shall we call him? what is_he_ like?"

"I think, " said Faith, looking down very gravely, not with the flashingeye with which she would have said it another time, --"he is most like amidge. "

The little laugh which answered her, the way in which Mr. Linden bentdown and said, "How do you know, Miss Faith?" were slightly mystifyingto Dr. Harrison. 

"I don't know, "--she said smiling; and the doctor with one or two looksof very ungratified curiosity left them and returned to his post. 

"What are they going to play, Mr. Linden?" said Faith. The doctor'sexplanation, given to the rest generally, she had not heard. 

"Do you know what a family connexion you have given me, MissFaith?--The proverb declares that 'the mother of mischief is no biggerthan a midge's wing. '"

An involuntary little caught breath attested perhaps Faith'sacquiescence in the truth of the proverb; but the doctor's wordsprevented the necessity of her speaking. 

"Miss Essie--Ladies and gentlemen! Please answer to your names, andthereby proclaim your characters. Mrs. Stoutenburgh, what are you?"

"A poppy, I think, " said Mrs. Stoutenburgh laughing. "I like to bebeforehand with the public. "

"Will you please to name your lord and master? He is incapable ofnaming himself. "

"I think you've named him!" said Mrs. Stoutenburgh with a gay toss ofher pretty head. "I'm not learned in insects, doctor, --call himanything that eats up butter-flies. "

"Mr. Stoutenburgh will--you be a grub?" said the doctor. "Or a beetle?I don't know anything else that I--as a butterfly--dislike more. "

"No, I'll be a cricket--I'm so spry, " said the Squire, --"and I'll bedown upon _you_ in some other form, doctor. "

"You'll have to fly higher first, " said the doctor. "Miss Essiedeclares herself to be a purple Althaea. Miss Davids--an eveningprimrose. Miss Deacon--a cluster rose. Miss Fax--a sweet pink. MissChester--a daisy. Miss Bezac--what shall I put you down?" The butterflywas making a list of his flowers and insects, and cards had beenfurnished to the different members of the party, and pencils, to do asmuch for themselves. 

"I'd as lieve be balm as anything else, if I knew how, " said MissBezac; "but I shouldn't call _that_ putting me down. "

"That fits, anyhow, " said Squire Stoutenburgh. 

"'Balm for hurt minds'"--said Dr. Harrison writing. "Miss Julia DeStaff is a white lily. Miss Emmons--a morning glory. Mrs. Churchill apeony. Miss Derrick is mignonette. Mrs. Somers--?"

"I may as well be lavender, " said Mrs. Somers. "You say I am in a goodstate of preservation. "

"What is Mr. Somers?"

"Mr. Somers--what are you?" said his wife. 

"Ha!--I don't know, my dear, " said Mr. Somers blandly. "I think Iam--a--out of place. "

"Then you're a moth, " said the doctor. "That is out of place too, inmost people's opinion. Miss Delaney, I beg your pardon--what are you?"

"Here are the two Miss Churchills, doctor, " said Miss Essie--"hyacinthand laburnum. "

"I am sure you have been sponsor, Miss Essie. Well this is my garden offlowers. Then of fellow insects I have a somewhat confused variety. Mr. Stoutenburgh sings round his hearth in the shape of a black cricket. Mr. Linden passes unnoticed in the invisibility of a midge--nothingmore dangerous. Mr. Somers does all the mischief he can in the way ofdevouring widows' houses. The two Messrs. De Staff" (two very spruceand moustachioed young gentlemen) "figure as wasp and snail--one wouldhardly think they belonged to the same family--but there is noaccounting for these things. Mr. George Somers professes to have thetaste of a bee--but luckily the garden belongs to the butterfly. "

"In other words, some one has put Dr. Harrison in a flutter, " said Mrs. Stoutenburgh. 

"I haven't begun yet, " said the doctor wheeling round to face her;"when I do, my first business will be to cut you up, Mrs. Stoutenburgh. "

"Miss Faith, " said Mr. Linden while the roll went on, "I have notforgotten your question, --they, and we, are going to play a French gamecalled 'the Butterfly and the Flowers;' wherein I, a midge, am inhumble attendance oh a sprig of mignonette. Whenever our butterflygardener chooses to speak the name of any flower or insect, that Floweror insect must reply: when he speaks of the gardener, you flowers mustextend one hand in token of welcome, we insects draw back in dismay: ifthe gardener brings his watering-pot, or there falls a shower of rain, you must hold up your head for joy--I must kneel down for fear. If thesunshine is mentioned, we are free to rejoice together--standing up andmaking demonstrations. You may reply, Miss Faith, either in your ownwords or quotations, so that you mention some one of your companions;but if you fail to speak, or break any other rule, you must pay aforfeit first and redeem it afterwards. "

"I may mention either insect or flower?" said Faith. 

"Yes, just what you like. "

"If everybody is ready, " said the doctor, "I will begin by remarkingthat I find myself in an 'embarras de richesses'--so many sweets aroundme that I--a butterfly--know not which to taste first; and such anarray of enemies, hostile alike to the flowers and me, that I know notwhich to demolish first. I hope a demolishing rain will fall some ofthese days--ah! that is gratifying! behold my enemies shrinkingalready, while the flowers lift up their heads with pleasure and warmthemselves in the rays of the sun. What is mignonette doing?"

There was a general outcry of laughter, for as the gentlemen hadkneeled and bent their heads, and the flowers had risen to greet thesun, --Faith, in her amusement and preoccupation had sat still. She rosenow, blushing a little at being called upon. 

"Mignonette loves the sun without making any show for it. She has noface to lift up like the white lily. "

"The white lily isn't sweet like lavender, " said Miss Julia. 

"And the lavender has more to do in the linen press than amongbutterflies, " said Mrs. Somers. 

"It is good to know one's place, " said the doctor. "But the butterfly, seeking a safe resting place, flutters with unpoised flight, past thefalse poppy which flaunts its gay colours on the sight. "

"And fixes its eyes on the distant gardener with his watering-pot, "said Mrs. Stoutenburgh, stretching forth her hand, sibyl-like, towardsthe now prostrate doctor, --"whereat the mignonette rejoices. "

"All the flowers rejoice, " said the mignonette, "and the cricket jumpsout of the way. "

"Into the sunshine"--said Mr. Stoutenburgh, laughing;--"but the mothfeels doubtful. "

"The moth"--said Mr. Somers--"he--don't like the sunshine so well asthe rain. He--ha--he wishes he was a midge there, to get under shelter. "

"A midge _here_ he can't be, " said Mr. Linden, dropping his voice forFaith's benefit, --"'Two suns hold not their courses in onesphere!'"--Then aloud--"Invisibility is a great thing--when you canmake up your mind to it, but 'Althaea with the purple eye' looks onlife differently. "

"I look on it soberly, " said Miss Essie. --

 "'Flutter he, flutter he, high as he will, A butterfly is but a butterfly still. And 'tis better for us to remain where we are, In the lowly valley of duty and care, Than lonely to soar to the heights above, Where there's nothing to do and nothing to love. '"

"I'll flutter no more! after that"--said the doctor. "I'll creep intothe heart of the white lily and beg it to shelter me. "

"It won't hide you from the sun nor from the rain, " said the whitelily, --"and I'd as lieve shelter a spider besides. "

Faith forgot again that she must welcome the sun; but she was not theonly one who had incurred forfeits. Nor the last one who should. Forwhile that interesting member of society who called himself spider, made his reply, Mr. Linden's attention naturally wandered--or cameback; and the lively dialogue which then ensued between Messrs. Snail, Wasp, Beetle, etc. Failed to arouse him to the duties of a midge or thefear of the gardener: he forgot everything else in the pleasure ofmaking Mignonette laugh. Standing half before her at last, in someanimated bit of talk, more than one sunbeam and watering-pot had comeand gone, unnoticed by both midge and mignonette, --a fact of which someother people took note, and smilingly marked down the forfeits. 

"Mr. Linden"--said the voice of Miss Essie at his elbow--"do you knowwhat the doctor is saying?--'The mother of mischief is no bigger than amidge's wing!' You'd better speak to him. "

Mr. Linden turned, with a laughing, recollective glance--

"Who speaks slightingly of the midge?--let him have a dose of syrup ofpoppies!"

"I guess you can find balm, " said Mrs. Stoutenburgh gaily. 

"He shall have it if he wants it, " said Miss Bezac--"that is if _I_'vegot it, --though I rather guess he's got it himself, --I'm sure I don'tknow what he hasn't got. And it don't strike me he looks as if hewanted it, either, if I _had_. But it's funny I should and not thedoctor--though to be sure most things are, --and _he_'s gone to 'thebutterfly's ball and the grasshopper's feast. '"

"The grasshopper's feast being just now announced, " said Mrs. Somersstepping forward, "I shall hope to set the flowers free from theirnatural enemies without more delay. "

"I shall not confess to that!" said Mr. Linden under-tone. "But willyou come, Miss Faith--the insects are all gone--

 'Save the few that linger, even yet, Round the Alyssum's tuft and the Mignonette. '"

The midge's prompt action had perhaps disappointed several otherpeople. Dr. Harrison at any rate contrived with Miss Essie to be theimmediately preceding couple in the walk to the supper-room. 

"I'm glad of some refreshment!" said the doctor; "butterflies cannotlive on the wing. Linden! have you been singing all the evening, in thecharacter of a midge?"

"No, " said Mr. Linden--"all the singing I have done has been in my owncharacter. "

"I am glad to hear it. By the way, " said Dr. Harrison as they reachedthe supper-room and paired off from their respective charges, --"I amsorry to hear that Pattaquasset has no hold on you, Linden. "

"Indeed?" said Mr. Linden, --an "indeed" which might refer to thedoctor's sorrow, or the supposed fact. 

"Nay I know nothing about it!" said the doctor lightly as he attackedthe supper-table--"but Miss Derrick tells me it is true that your heartis in another place. "

"Dr. Harrison!" Mr. Linden said, with a momentary erectness ofposition. But he said no more; turning off then towards Faith with heroysters. And the gentle respect and quick attention with which she wasserved, Faith might feel, and take note of--yet not guess that itspeculiar tone this night was warring, hand to hand, with the injusticedone her name. The doctor had unwittingly betrayed at least one pointof talk held over the Rhododendrons--furnished a clue he dreamed notof; and stirred a power of displeasure which perhaps he thought Mr. Linden did not possess. 

Faith did not indeed guess anything from the manner of the latter toher, although she felt it; she felt it as his own, kind and watchfuland even affectionate; but like him, belonging to him, and thereforenot telling upon the question. With a very humbled and self-chidingspirit, she was endeavouring to keep the face and manner which suitedthe place, above a deep sinking of heart which was almost overcoming. Her success was like the balance of her mind--doubtful. Gentle her facewas as ever; all the crosses of the evening had not brought an anglethere; but it was shadowed beyond the fitness of things; and she wasstill and retiring so far as it was possible to be, shrinking into avery child's lowness of place. 

Ladies were in the majority that night and the gentlemen were obligedto be constantly on the move. In one of the minutes when Faith wasalone, Mrs. Stoutenburgh came up. 

"Faith, " she whispered, "have you been doing anything to vex my friend?"

Faith started a little, with a sort of shadow of pain crossing her face. 

"Who is your friend, Mrs. Stoutenburgh?"

"Hush, child!" she answered--"_your_ friend, if you like it better. "And she added softly but seriously, "Don't vex him, --he doesn't deserveit. "

Faith's lip was that touchingly sorrowful child's lip for an instant. She was beyond speaking. Then came up help, in the shape of Miss Essie;with questions about the forfeits and about Mr. Linden. All Mrs. Stoutenburgh's kindness made itself into a screen for Faith, on theinstant, --neither eyes nor tongues were allowed to come near her. 

"Mr. Linden!" said Miss Essie as he just then came up, "will you helpus give out forfeits? Who do you think is best to do it?"

"Mr. Linden, " said Mrs. Somers, "we are all very anxious to knowwhether all the reports about you are true. "

Mr. Linden bowed to the anxiety, but gave it no further heed. 

"Are they?" she repeated. 

"Do all the reports agree, Mrs. Somers?"

"I must confess they are at swords' points. "

"Then they cannot all be true, --let them fight it out. "

"But suppose some of the fighting should come upon you?"

"That is a supposition I have just refused to take up, " said Mr. Linden, stepping towards the table and bringing a bunch of grapes toFaith's plate. 

"Yes, but everybody hasn't the patience of Job, " said Mrs. Somers. "Julius, for instance. "

"He has at least his own ways of obtaining information, " said Mr. Linden, and Faith felt the slight change of voice. "Miss Essie, whatwill you have?"

"Has the doctor any forfeits to pay?" was the somewhat irrelevantanswer. "I should so like to see you two set against each other! Dr. Harrison!--have you any forfeits?"

"No, " said the doctor;--"but as severe service to perform as if I had. Linden, we shall want your help--it's too much for one man. "

Faith edged away behind this growing knot of talkers, and presently wasdeeply engaged in conversation with Miss Cecilia Deacon, at a table inthe corner, and alternating her attention between grapes and words. Then Squire Stoutenburgh walked softly up and stood behind Faith'schair. 

"My dear, will you have anything more?"

"No, sir, thank you. "

"Then I am going to carry you off!" said the Squire, --"if I wait aquarter of a second more I shall lose my chance. Come!"

Faith was very willing to come, indeed; and they went back to thedrawing-room, all the company pouring after them; and Faith feeling asif she had got under a kind of lee shore, on Mr. Stoutenburgh's arm. Itcould not shelter her long, for the forfeits began. 

The doctor and Mr. Linden, with Miss Essie and Mrs. Stoutenburgh forcoadjutors, were constituted the awarding committee; and the forfeitswere distributed to them indifferently. There were many to be redeemed;and at first there was a crowd of inferior interest, Messrs. Spider andWasp, Mesdemoiselles White Lily and Cluster rose; who were easilydisposed of and gallantly dismissed. But there were others behind. Oneof Faith's forfeits came up; it was held by Dr. Harrison. 

"Please to stand forth, Miss Derrick, and hear your sentence, " said thedoctor, leading her to a central position in the floor; which Faithtook quietly, but with what inward rebellion one or two people couldsomewhat guess. 

"Have the goodness to state to the company what you consider to be themost admirable and praiseworthy of all the characters of flowers withinyour knowledge; and to describe the same, that we may judge of thejustness of your opinion. "

"Describe the character?" said Faith in a low voice. 

"Yes. If you please. "

She stood silent a moment, with downcast eyes, and did not raise themwhen she spoke. Her colour was hardly heightened, and though her voicerose little above its former pitch, its sweet accents were perfectlyaudible everywhere. The picture would have been enough for her forfeit. 

"The prettiest character of a flower that I know, is that of a littlespecies of Rhododendron. It is one of the least handsome, to look at, of all its family; its beauty is in its living. It grows on the highplaces of high mountains, where frost and barrenness give it no helpnor chance; but there, where no other flower ever blossoms, it opensits flowers patiently and perseveringly; and its flowers are verysweet. Nothing checks it nor discourages it. As soon as the great coldlets it come, it comes; and as long as the least mildness lets it stay, it stays. Amidst snow and tempest and desolation it opens its blossomsand spreads its sweetness, with nobody to see it nor to praise it;where from the nature of the place it lives in, its work is all alone. For no other flower will bear what it bears. --Will that do?" saidFaith, looking up gravely at her questioner. 

Very gently, very reverently even, he took her hand, put it upon hisarm and led her to a seat, speaking as he went low words of gratifiedpardon asking. "You must forgive me!" he said. "Forfeits must beforfeits, you know. I couldn't resist the temptation. "

"Now wasn't that pretty?" whispered Miss Essie in the mean time in Mr. Linden's ear. 

He had listened, leaning against the mantelpiece, and with shaded eyeslooking down; and now to Miss Essie's question returned only a gravebend of the head. 

"If you have been looking at the floor all this while, you have lostsomething, " said the lady. "Do you know your turn comes next? Mr. Linden--ladies and gentlemen!--is condemned to tell us what he holdsthe most precious thing in this world; and to justify himself in hisopinion by an argument, a quotation, and an illustration!"--

"Now will he find means to evade his sentence!" said Mrs. Stoutenburghlaughing. 

"He has confessed himself addicted to witchcraft in my hearing, " saidthe doctor, who had remained standing by Faith's chair. 

"The most precious thing in the world, " said Mr. Linden, in a tone ascarelessly graceful as his attitude, "is that which cannot bebought, --for if money could buy it, then were money equally valuable. Take for illustration, the perfection of a friend. "

"_I_ don't understand, "--said Miss Essie; "but perhaps I shall when Ihear the rest. "

He smiled a little and gave the quotation on that point in his ownclear and perfect manner. 

 "'A sweet, attractive kind of grace; A full assurance given by looks; Continual comfort in a face; The lineaments of gospel books, -- I trow that countenance cannot lye Whose thoughts are legible in the eye. '"

The quotation was received variously, but in general with vastadmiration. Miss Essie turned to Mrs. Stoutenburgh and remarked, halfloud, "_That's_ easy to understand. I was dull. "

"What do you think of it?" said the doctor softly, stooping towardsFaith. But if she heard she did not answer him. She sat with downcasteyes that did not move. She had been wondering whether that was adescription of "Pet, "--or of somebody else. 

"Faith, " whispered Mrs. Stoutenburgh's kind mischievous voice in herear, --"in whose face do you suppose he finds 'continual comfort'?" Butshe was sorry the next instant, for the pained, startled look whichflashed up at her. Sorry and yet amused--the soft little kiss onFaith's cheek was smiling although apologetic. 

"Mr. Linden, " said the doctor, who held the bag of forfeits, --"it isyour duty to punish Miss Essie with some infliction, such as you candevise. "

"Miss Essie, " said Mr. Linden, walking gravely up to her, "if there isany person in this room towards whom you entertain and practisemalicious, mischievous, and underhand designs, you are hereby sentencedto indicate the person, declare the designs, and to 'shew cause. '"

"Why I never did in my life!" said Miss Essie, with a mixture ofsurprise and amusement in her gracious black eyes. 

"The court is obliged to refuse an unsupported negative, " said Mr. Linden bowing. 

"Well, " said Miss Essie, with no diminishing of the lustre of her blackorbs, --"I had a design against you, sir!"

"Of what sort?" said Mr. Linden with intense gravity, while everybodyelse laughed in proportion. 

"I had a design to enter your mind by private fraud, and steal away itssecrets;--and the reason was, because the door was so terribly strongand had such an uncommon good lock! and I couldn't get in any otherway. "

"I hope that is news to the rest of the company, " said Mr. Lindenlaughing as he bowed his acknowledgments. "It is none to me! MissEssie, may your shadow never be less!"--

"Aint you ashamed!" said Miss Essie reproachfully. "Didn't such aconfession deserve better? Who's next, Mr. Harrison?"

Some unimportant names followed, with commonplace forfeits according;then Faith's name came to Mr. Linden. Then was there an opening of eyesand a pricking of ears of all the rest of the company. Only Faithherself sat as still as a mouse, after one little quick glance over towhere the person stood in whose hands she was. He stood looking ather, --then walked with great deliberation across the room to her lowseat, and taking both her hands lifted her up. 

"You need not be frightened, " he said softly, as keeping one hand inhis clasp he led her back to where he had been standing; then placedher in a great downy easy chair in that corner of the fireplace, anddrew up a footstool for her feet. 

"Miss Faith, " he said, "you are to sit there in absolute silence forthe next fifteen minutes. If anybody speaks to you, you are not toanswer, --if you are longing to speak yourself you must wait. It is alsorequired that you look at nobody, and hear as little as possible. " Withwhich fierce sentence, Mr. Linden took his stand by the chair to see itenforced. 

"What a man you are!" said Mrs. Stoutenburgh laughing. 

"That's not fair play!" said Mrs. Somers. "She don't want to sitthere--if you think she does, you're mistaken. "

"She should have been more careful then, " said Mr. Linden. "Dr. Harrison, you have the floor. "

Dr. Harrison did not appear to think that was much of a possession;--tojudge by his face, which cast several very observant glances towardsthe chair, and by his manner which for a moment was slightly abstractedand destitute of the spirit of the game. Miss Essie's eyes took thesame direction, with a steady gaze which the picture justified. Faithsat where she had been placed, in most absolute obedience to the ordersshe had received, --except possibly--not probably--the last one. Thelids drooped over her eyes, which moved rarely from the floor, andnever raised themselves. Her colour had risen indeed to a rich tint, where it stayed; but Mrs. Somers' declaration nevertheless was hardlyborne out by a certain little bit-in smile which lurked there too, spite of everything. Otherwise she sat like an impersonation ofsilence, happily screened, by not looking at anybody, from anyannoyance of the eyes that were levelled at her and at the figure thatheld post by her side. 

"Mrs. Stoutenburgh, " said the doctor, "you have my aunt Ellen. "

Mrs. Stoutenburgh however was lenient in that quarter, and told Mrs. Somers they would require nothing of her but the three last items ofPattaquasset news--which she, as pastor's wife, was bound to know. AndMrs. Somers was not backward in declaring them; the first being theengagement of two people who hated each other, the second theseparation of two people who loved each other; the third, that Mr. Linden shot himself--to make a sensation. 

"Mr. Linden, " said the doctor, "you come next--and you are mine. Whatshall I do with you?"

"Why--anything, " said Mr. Linden. 

"Well--I am greatly at a loss what you are good for, " said the doctorlightly, --"but on the whole I order you to preach a sermon to thecompany. "

"Have you any choice as to the text?"

"I am not in the way of those things, " said the doctor laughingly. "Give us the lesson you think we want most. "

The clear, grave look that met him--Dr. Harrison had seen it before. The change was like the parting of a little bright vapour, revealingthe steadfast blue beneath. 

"Nay doctor, you must bid me do something else! I dare not play atmarbles with precious stones. "

There was probably a mixture of things in the doctor's mind;--but theoutward show in answer to this was in the highest degree seemly andbecoming. The expression of Dr. Harrison's face changed; with a lookgentle and kind, even winning, he came up to Mr. Linden's side and tookhis hand. 

"You are right!" said he, "and I have got my sermon--which I deserve. But now, Linden, _that_ is not your forfeit;--for that you must tellme--honestly--what you think of me. " There was always a general air ofcarelessness about Dr. Harrison, as to what he said himself or whatothers said in his presence. Along with this carelessness, whichwhether seeming or real was almost invariable, there mingled now afriend's look and tone and something of a friend's apology making. 

"But do you want me to tell everybody else?" said Mr. Linden, smilingin his old way at the doctor. "Do you like to blush before so manypeople?"

"That's your forfeit!" said the doctor resuming also his old-fashionedlight tone. "You're to tell me--and you are _not_ to tell anybody else!"

"Well--if you will have it, " said Mr. Linden looking athim, --"Honestly, I think you are very handsome!--of course that is newsto nobody but yourself. "

"Mercy on you, man!" said the doctor; "do you think that is news to_me?_"

"It is supposed to be--by courtesy, " said Mr. Linden laughing. 

"Well--give me all the grace courtesy will let you, " said the doctor;whether altogether lightly, or with some feeling, it would have beenhard for a by-stander to tell. "Is Miss Derrick's penance out? Shecomes next--and Miss Essie has her. "

"No, "--said Mr. Linden consulting his watch. "I am sorry to interferewith your arrangements, doctor, but justice must have its course. "

"Then there is a 'recess'"--said the doctor comically. "Ladies andgentlemen--please amuse yourselves. "--

He had no intention of helping them, it seemed, for he stood fast inhis place and talked to Mr. Linden in a different tone till the minuteswere run out. No thing could be more motionless than the occupant ofthe chair. 

"Miss Faith, " Mr. Linden said then, "it is a little hard to pass fromone inquisitor to another--but I must hand you over to Miss Essie. "

Faith's glance at him expressed no gratification. Meanwhile the doctorhad gone for Miss Essie and brought her up to the fireplace. 

"Miss Derrick, " said the black-eyed lady, "I wish you to tell--as thepenalty of your forfeit--why, when you thought the Rhododendron themost perfect flower, you did not take it for your name?"

If anybody had known the pain this question gave Faith--the leap ofdismay that her heart made! Nobody knew it; her head drooped, and thecolour rose again to be sure; but one hand sheltered the exposed cheekand the other was turned to the fire. She could not refuse to answer, and with the doctor's weapons she would not; but here, as once before, Faith's straightforwardness saved her. 

"Why didn't you call yourself Rhodora?" repeated Miss Essie. And Faithanswered, --

"Because another name was suggested to me. "

The question could not decently be pushed any further; and both MissEssie and the doctor looked as if they had failed. Faith's own tumultand sinking of heart prevented her knowing how thoroughly this was true. 

"And you two people, " said Mr. Linden, "come and ask Miss Derrick whyshe chose to appropriate a character that she thought fell short ofperfection!--what is the use of telling anybody anything, after that?"

"I am only one people, " said Miss Essie. 

"I am another, " said the doctor; "and I confess myself curious. Besides, a single point of imperfection might be supposed, withoutinjury to mortal and human nature. "

"Julius, " said Miss Harrison, "will you have the goodness to do soimpolite a thing as to look at your watch? Aunt Ellen will expect us toset a proper example. Dear Faith, are you bound to sit in that bigchair all night?"

Then there was a general stir and break-up of the party. One bit ofconversation Faith was fated to hear as she slowly made her way out ofthe dressing-room door, among comers and goers: the first speaker was ayoung De Staff. 

"Since that shooting affair there's been nothing but reports about you, Linden. "

"Reports seldom kill, " said Mr. Linden. 

"Don't trust to that!" said another laughing moustache, --"keep 'em thisside the water. By the way--is there any likeness of that fairforeigner going? How do you fancy _she_ would like reports?"

"When you find out I wish you would let me know, " said Mr. Linden witha little accent of impatience, as he came forward and took Faith incharge. 

CHAPTER III. 

It was pretty late when Jerry and his little sleigh-load got clear ofthe gates. The stars were as bright as ever, and now they had the helpof the old moon; which was pouring her clear radiance over the snow andsending long shadows from trees and fences. The fresh air was pleasanttoo. Faith felt it, and wondered that starlight and snow andsleigh-bells were such a different thing from what they were a fewhours before. She chid herself, she was vexed at herself, and humbledexceedingly. She endeavoured to get back on the simple abstract groundshe had held in her own thoughts until within a day or two; she wasdeeply ashamed that her head should have allowed even a flutter ofimagination from Mr. Stoutenburgh's words, which now it appeared mightbear a quite contrary sense to that which she had given them. What was_she_, to have anything to do with them? Faith humbly said, nothing. And yet, --she could not help that either, --the image of the possibilityof what Dr. Harrison had suggested, raised a pain that Faith could notlook at. She sat still and motionless, and heard the sleigh-bellswithout knowing to what tune they jingled. 

It was a quick tune, at all events, --for the first ten or fifteenminutes Jerry dashed along to his heart's content, and his driver evenurged him on, --then with other sleighs left far behind and a hillbefore him, Jerry brought the tune to a staccato, and Mr. Linden spoke. But the words were not very relevant to either stars or sleigh-bells. 

"Miss Faith, I thought you knew me better. "

They startled her, for she was a minute or two without answering; thencame a gentle, and also rather frightened, "Why?--why do you say that, Mr. Linden?"

"Do you think you know me?" he said, turning towards her with a littlebit of a smile, though the voice was grave. "Do you think you have anyidea how much I care about you?"

"I think you do, " she said. "I am sure you do--very much!"

"Do you know how much?"--and the smile was full then, and followed by amoment's silence. "I shall not try to tell you, Miss Faith; I could notif I would--but there is something on the other side of the questionwhich I want you to tell me. "

And Jerry walked slowly up the snowy hill, and the slight tinkle of hisbells was as silvery as the starlight of Orion overhead. 

Faith looked at her questioner and then off again, while a rich colourwas slowly mantling in her cheeks. But the silence was breathless. Jerry's bells only announced it. And having by that time reached thetop of the hill he chose--and was permitted--to set off at his formerpace; flinging off the snow right and left, and tossing his mane on thecool night air. Down that hill, and up the next, and down that--andalong a level bit of road to the foot of another, --then slowly. 

"Miss Faith, " said Mr. Linden when they were half way up, "do you nevermean to speak to me again?"

A very low-breathed although audible "yes. "

"Is that all you mean to say?--I shall take it very comprehensively. "

She was willing probably that he should take it any way that hepleased; but to add was as much beyond Faith's power at the moment asto subtract from her one word. She did not even look. 

"Do you know what this silence is promising?" Mr. Linden said in thesame tone, and bending down by her. "I do--and yet I want to hear youspeak once more. If there is any reason why I should try not to loveyou better than all the rest of the world, you must tell me now. "

One other quick, inquiring, astonished glance her eyes gave into hisface; and then, as usual, his wish to have her speak made her speak, through all the intense difficulty. There was a minute's furtherhesitation, and then the words, very low, very simple, and trembling, "Do--if you can. "

"Do _try?_" he said in a lower and graver tone. 

"Try?"--she said; then with a change of voice and in very muchconfusion, --"O no, Mr. Linden!"

"I should not succeed"--was all his answer, nor was there time for muchmore; for having now turned into the main street where otherhomeward-bound sleighs were flying along, there was nothing to do butfly along with the rest; and a very few minutes brought them home. 

Mr. Skip was probably reposing in parts unknown, for there was no signof him at his post; and when Faith had been silently taken out of thesleigh and into the hall, Mr. Linden went back to Jerry--telling hershe must take good care of herself for five minutes. 

Bewilderedly, and trembling yet, Faith turned into the sitting-room. Itwas warm and bright, Mrs. Derrick having only lately left it; andtaking off hood and cloak in a sort of mechanical way, with fingersthat did not feel the strings, she sat down in the easy chair and laidher head on the arm of it; as very a child as she had been on the nightof that terrible walk;--wondering to herself if this were Christmasday--if she were Faith Derrick--and if anything were anything!--butwith a wonder of such growing happiness as made it more and moredifficult for her to raise her head up. She dreaded--with an odd kindof dread which contradicted itself--to hear Mr. Linden come in; and inthe abstract, she would have liked very much to jump up and run away;but that little intimation was quite enough to hold her fast. She satstill drawing quick little breaths. The loud voice of the clock nearby, striking its twelve strokes, was not half so distinct to her asthat light step in the hall which came so swiftly and quick to her side. 

"What is the problem now, pretty child?" Mr. Linden said, laying bothhands upon hers, --"it is too late for study to-night. You must waittill to-morrow and have my help. "

She rose up at that, however gladly she would have hidden the face herrising revealed; but yet with no awkwardness she stood before him, rosily grave and shy, and with downcast eyelids that could by no meanslift themselves up to shew what was beneath; a fair combination of thechild's character and the woman's nature in one; both spoken fairly andfully. Mr. Linden watched her for a minute, softly passing his handover that fair brow; then drew her closer. 

"I suppose I may claim Mr. Stoutenburgh's privilege now, " he said. Butit was more than that he took. And then with one hand still held fast, Faith was put back in her chair and wheeled up to the fire "to getwarm, " and Mr. Linden sat down by her side. 

Did he really think she needed it, when she was rosy to her fingers'ends? But what could she do, but be very still and very happy Even as aflower whose head is heavy with dew, --never more fragrant than then, yet with the weight of its sweet burden it bends a little;--like thatwas the droop of Faith's head at this minute. Whither had the whirl ofthis evening whirled her? Faith did not know. She felt as if, to someharbour of rest, broad and safe; the very one where from its fitness itseemed she ought to be. But shyly and confusedly, she felt it much as aman feels the ground, who is near taken off it by a hurricane. Yet shefelt it, for her head drooped more and more. 

"Faith, " Mr. Linden said, half smiling, half seriously, "what has madeyou so sober all this evening--so much afraid of me?"

The quick answer of the eye stayed not a minute; the blush was moreabiding. 

"You don't want me to tell you that!"--she said in soft pleading. 

"Do you know now who I think has--

 'A sweet attractive kind of grace'?"

"O don't, please, speak so, Mr. Linden!" she said bowing her face inher hands, --"it don't belong to me. "--And pressing her hands closer, she added, "_You_ have made me all I am--that is anything. "

"There is one thing I mean to make you--if I live, " he answeredsmiling, and taking down her hand. "Faith, what do you mean by talkingto me in that style?--haven't you just given me leave to think what Ilike of you? You deserve another half hour's silent penance. "

A little bit of smile broke upon her face which for an instant shetried to hide with her other hand. But she dropped that and turned theface towards him, rosy, grave, and happy, more than she knew, or sheperhaps would have hidden it again. Her eyes indeed only saw his andfell instantly; and her words began and stopped. 

"There is one comfort--"

"What, dear child?"

"That you know what to think, " she said, looking up with a face thatevidently rested in the confidence of that fact. 

"About what?" Mr. Linden said with an amused look. "I have known whatto think about _you_ for some time. "

"I meant that, "--she said quietly and with very downcast eyes again. 

"I am not in a good mood for riddles to-night, " said Mr. Linden, --"justwhat does this one mean?"

"Nothing, only--" said Faith flushing, --"you said--"

She was near breaking down in sheer confusion, but she rallied and wenton. "You said I had given you leave to think what you liked of me, --andI say it is a comfort that you know _what_ to think. "

Mr. Linden laughed. 

"You are a dear little child!" he said. "Being just the most preciousthing in the world to me, you sit there and rejoice that I am in nodanger of overestimating you--which is profoundly true. My comfort inknowing what to think, runs in a different line. "

It is hard to describe Faith's look; it was a mixture of so manythings. It was wondering, and shamefaced; and curious for its blendingof humility and gladness; but gladness moved to such a point as to benear the edge of sorrowful expression. She would not have permitted itto choose such expression, and indeed it easily took another line; foreven as she looked, her eye caught the light from Mr. Linden's and thegravity of her face broke in a sunny and somewhat obstinate smile, which Faith would have controlled if she could. 

"That penance was not so very bad, " she said, perhaps by way ofdiversion. 

"I enjoyed it, " said Mr. Linden, --"I am not sure that everybody elsedid. Are you longing for another piece of rest?--Look up at me, and letme see if _I_ ought to keep you here any longer. "

She obeyed, though shyly; the smile lingering round her lips yet, andher whole face, to tell the truth, bearing much more resemblance to thedawn of a May morning than to the middle of a December night. Mr. Linden was in some danger of forgetting why he had asked to see it; butwhen her eyes fell beneath his, then he remembered. 

"I must let you go, " he said, --"I suppose the sooner I do that, thesooner I may hope to see you again. Will you sleep diligently, to thatend?"

"I don't know--" she said softly; rising at the same time to gather upher wrappers which lay strewed about, around and under her. Her lipshad the first answer to that; only as he let her go Mr. Linden said, "You must try. "

And a little scarce-spoken "yes" promised it. 

It was easier than she thought. When Faith had got to her room, whenshe had as usual laid down her heart's burden--joyful or careful--inher prayer, there came soon a great subsiding; and mind and body slept, as sleep comes to an exhausted child; or as those sleep, at any age, whose hearts bear no weight which God's hand can bear for them, and whoare contented to leave their dearest things to the same hand. There wasno "ravelled sleeve of care" ever in Faith's mind, for sleep to knitup; but "tired nature's sweet restorer" she needed like the rest of thehuman family; and on this occasion sleep did her work without let orhindrance from the time ten minutes after Faith's head touched herpillow till the sun was strong and bright on the morning of the 26th ofDecember. Yes, and pretty high up too; for the first thing that fellupon her waking senses was eight clear strokes of the town clock. 

Faith got up and dressed herself in a great hurry and in absolutedismay; blushing to think where was her mother; and breakfast--andeverybody--all this while, and what everybody was thinking of her. Fromher room Faith went straight to dairy and kitchen. She wanted her handsfull this morning. But her duties in the kitchen were done; breakfastwas only waiting, and her mother talking to the butcher. Faith stoodtill he was dismissed and had turned his back, and then came into Mrs. Derrick's arms. 

"Mother!--why _didn't_ you call me!"

"Pretty child!" was the fond answer, "why should I?--I've been up tolook at you half a dozen times, Faith, to make sure you were not sick;but Mr. Linden said he was in no hurry for breakfast--and of course Iwasn't. Did you have a good time last night?"

"I should think you _ought_ to be in a hurry for breakfast by thistime. " And Faith busied herself in helping Cindy put the breakfast onthe table. 

"You run and call Mr. Linden, child, " said her mother, "and I'll see tothis. He was here till a minute ago, and then some of the boys wantedto see him. "

Faith turned away, but with no sort of mind to present herself beforethe boys, and in tolerable fear of presenting herself before anybody. The closing hall door informed her that one danger was over; andforcing herself to brave the other, she passed into the sitting-roomjust as Mr. Linden re�ntered it from the hall. Very timidly then sheadvanced a few steps to meet him and stood still, with cheeks as rosyas it was possible to be, and eyes that dared not lift themselves up. 

The greeting she had did not help either matter very much, but thatcould not be helped either. 

"What colour are your cheeks under all these roses?" Mr. Linden saidsmiling at her. "My dear Faith, were you quite tired out?"

"No--You must think so, " she said with stammering lips--"but breakfastis ready at last. If you'll go in--I'll come, Mr. Linden. "

"Do you want me to go in first?"

"Yes. I'll come directly. "

He let her go, and went in as she desired; and having persuaded Mrs. Derrick that as breakfast was on the table it had better have promptattention, Mr. Linden engaged her with a lively account of the people, dresses, and doings, which had graced the Christmas party; keeping hermind pretty well on that subject both before and after Faith made herappearance. How little it engrossed him, only one person at the tablecould even guess. But she knew, and rested herself happily under thescreen he spread out for her; as quiet and demure as anything that eversat at a breakfast table yet. And all the attention she received was assilent as it was careful; not till breakfast was over did Mr. Lindengive her more than a passing word; but then he inquired how soon shewould be ready for philosophy. 

Faith's hesitating answer was "Very soon;"--then as Mr. Linden left theroom she asked, "What are you going to do to-day, mother?"

"O just the old story, " said Mrs. Derrick, --"two or three sick people Imust go and see, --and some well people I'd rather see, by half. It's sogood to have you home, dear!" And she kissed Faith and held her off andlooked at her--several feelings at work in her face. "Pretty child, "she said, "I don't think I ever saw you look so pretty. "

Faith returned the kiss, and hid her face in her mother's neck; morethings than one were in her mind to say, but not one of them could getout. She could only kiss her mother and hold her fast. The words thatat last came, were a very commonplace remark about--"going to see tothe dinner. "

"I guess you will!" said Mrs. Derrick--"with Mr. Linden waiting for youin the other room. I wonder what he'd say to you, or to me either. Andbesides--people that want to see about dinner must get up earlier inthe morning. "

The words, some of them, were a little moved; but whatever Mrs. Derrickwas thinking of, she did not explain, only bade Faith go off and attendto her lessons and make up for lost time. 

Which after some scouting round kitchen and dairy, Faith did. Sheentered the sitting-room with the little green book in her hand, asnear as possible as she would have done three weeks ago. Not quite. 

She had a bright smile of welcome, and Mr. Linden placed a chair forher and placed her in it; and then the lessons went on with all theirold gentle care and guidance. More, they could hardly have--thoughFaith sometimes fancied there was more; and if the old sobriety washard to keep up, still it was done, for her sake. A little play of thelips which she could sometimes see, was kept within very quiet bounds;whatever novelty there might be in look or manner was perhapsunconscious and unavoidable. She might be watched a little more thanformerly, but her work none the less; and Mr. Linden's explanations andcorrections were given with just their old grave freedom, and no more. And yet how different a thing the lessons were to him!--

As to Faith, her hand trembled very much at first, and even her voice;but for all that, the sunshine within was easy to see, and there came abright flash of it sometimes. In spite of timidity and shyness, everynow and then something made her forget herself, and then the sunlightbroke out; to be followed perhaps by a double cloud of gravity. But forthe rest, she worked like a docile pupil, as she always had done. 

Apparently her teacher's thoughts had not been confined to the work, ifthey had to her; for when all was done that could be done beforedinner, he made one of those sudden speeches with which he sometimesindulged himself. 

"Faith--I wish you would ask me to do half a dozen almost impossiblethings for you. "

What a pretty wondering look she gave him. One of the flashes of thesunlight came then. But then came an amused expression. 

"What would be the good of that, Mr. Linden?"

"I should have the pleasure of doing them. "

"I believe you would, " said Faith. "I think the only things quiteimpossible to you are wrong things. "

"The only thing you ever did ask of me was impossible, " he said with asmile, upon which there was a shadow too--as if the recollection painedhim. "Child, how could you?--It half broke my heart to withstand youso, do you know that? I want the almost impossible things to make meforget it. "

Her lip trembled instantly and her command of herself was nearly gone. She had risen for something, and as he spoke she came swiftly behindhim, putting herself where he could not see her face, and laid her handon his shoulder. It lay there as light as thistle-down; but it wasFaith's mute way of saying a great many things that her voice could not. 

Very quick and tenderly Mr. Linden drew her forward again, and triedthe power of his lips to still hers. 

"Hush, dear child!" he said--"you must not mind any thing I say, --I amthe last person in the world you ought to be afraid of. And you mustnot claim it as your prerogative to get before me in danger and behindme at all other times--because that is just reversing the proper orderof things. Faith, I am going to ask an almost impossible thing of you. "

"What is it?" Faith was secretly glad, for afraid of his _requests_ shecould not be. 

"You will try to do it?"

"Yes--certainly!"

"It is only to forget that 'Mr. Linden' is any part of my name, " hesaid smiling. 

She had been rosy enough before, but now the blood reddened her verybrow, till for one instant she put up her hands to hide it. 

"What then?"--she said in a breathless sort of way. 

"What you like"--he answered brightly. "I have not quite as many namesas a Prince Royal, but still enough to choose from. You may separate, combine, or invent, at your pleasure. "

There came a summons to dinner then; and part of the hours which shouldfollow thereafter, Mr. Linden was pledged to spend somewhere withsomebody--away from home. But he promised to be back to tea, and beforethat, if he could; and so left Faith to the quiet companionship of hermother and her lessons--if she felt disposed for them. They were bothin the sitting-room together, Mrs. Derrick and the books, --both helpingthe sunlight that came in at the windows. But Faith neglected thebooks, and came to her mother's side. She sat down and put her armsround her, and nestled her head on her mother's bosom, as she had donein the morning. And then was silent. That might have been just whatMrs. Derrick expected, she was so very ready for it; her work wasdropped so instantly, her head rested so fondly on Faith's. But hersilence was soon broken. 

"How long do you think I can wait, pretty child?" she said in thesoftest, tenderest tone that even she could use. 

"Mother!" said Faith startling. "For what?"

"Suppose you tell me. "

"Do you know, mother?" said Faith in a low, changed tone and drawingcloser. But Mrs. Derrick only repeated, "What, child?"

"What Mr. Linden has said to me, "--she whispered. 

"I knew what he would"--but the words broke off there, and Mrs. Derrickrested her head again in silence as absolute as Faith's. 

For awhile; and then Faith lifted up her flushed face and began to kissher. 

"Mother!--why don't you speak to me?"

It was not very easy to speak--Faith could see that; but Mrs. Derrickdid command her voice enough to give a sort of answer. 

"He had my leave, child, --at least he has talked to me about you in away that I should have said no to, if I had meant it, --and he knewthat. Do you think I should have let him stay here all this time if Ihad _not_ been willing?"

Faith laid her head down again. 

"Mother--dear mother!"--she said, --"I want more than that!"--

She had all she wanted then, --Mrs. Derrick spoke clearly and steadily, though the tears were falling fast. 

"I am as glad as you are, darling--or as he is, --I cannot say more thanthat. So glad that you should be so happy--so glad to have such handsin which to leave you. " The last words were scarce above a whisper. 

Faith was desperate. She did not cry, but she did everything else. Withtrembling fingers she stroked her mother's face; with lips thattrembled she kissed her; but Faith's voice was steady, whatever laybehind it. 

"Mother--mother!--why do you do so? why do you speak so? Does this looklike gladness?" And lips and hands kissed away the tears with aneagerness that was to the last degree tender. 

"Why yes, child!" her mother said rousing up, and with a little bit ofa smile that did not belie her words, --"I tell you I'm as glad as I canbe!--Tears don't mean anything, Faith, --I can't help crying sometimes. But I'm just as glad as he is, " she repeated, trying her soothingpowers in turn, --"and if you'd seen his face as I did when he wentaway, you'd think that was enough. I don't know whether I _could_ be, "she added softly, "if I thought he would take you away from me--but Iknow he'll never do that, from something he said once. Why prettychild! any one but a baby could see this long ago, --and as for that, Faith, I believe I love him almost as well as you do, this minute. "

The last few minutes had tried Faith more than she could bear, with thecomplete reaction that followed. The tears that very rarely made theirway from her eyes in anybody's sight, came now. But they were notpermitted to be many; her mother hardly knew they were come before theywere gone; and half nestling in her arms, Faith lay with her face hid;silent and quiet. It seemed to Mrs. Derrick as if she was too far offstill, for she lifted Faith softly up, and took her on her lap afterthe old childish fashion, kissing her once and again. 

"Now, pretty child, " she said, softly stroking the uncovered cheek, "keep your hands down and tell me all about it. I don't mean everyword, " she added smiling, "but all you like to tell. "

But Faith could not do that. She made very lame work of it. She managedonly with much difficulty to give her mother a very sketchy and thinoutline of what she wanted to know; which perhaps was as much as Mrs. Derrick expected; and was given with a simplicity as bare of additionsas her facts were. A very few words told all she had to tell. Yes, hermother was satisfied, --she loved to hear Faith speak those few words, and to watch her the while--herself supplying all deficiencies; andthen was content that her child should lie still and go to sleep, ifshe chose--it was enough to look at her and think: rejoicing with herand for her with a very pure joy, if it was sometimes tearful. 

Faith presently changed her position, and gave a very particularattention to the smoothing of the hair over her mother's forehead. Thenpulling her cap straight, and giving her a finishing look and kiss, shetook a low seat close beside her, laid one of her study books on hermother's lap, resting one arm there fondly, and went hard to workremarking however that Mrs. Derrick might talk as much as she liked andshe would talk too. But Mrs. Derrick either did not want to talk, orelse she did not want to interrupt; for she watched Faith and smiledupon her, and stroked her hair, and said very little. 

Just at the end of the afternoon, when Faith was finishing her work byfirelight, Mr. Linden came in. She did not see the look that passedbetween her mother and him--she only knew that they held each other'shands for a minute silently, --then one of the hands was laid upon herforehead. 

"Little student--do you want to try the fresh air?"

She said yes; and without raising her eyes, ran off to get ready. Inanother minute she was out in the cool freshness of the Decembertwilight. 

CHAPTER IV. 

The walk lasted till all the afterglow had faded and all the stars comeout, and till half Pattaquasset had done tea; having its own glow andstarlight, and its flow of conversation to which the table talk wasnothing. 

Of course, Faith's first business on reaching home was to see about thetea. She and Mrs. Derrick were happily engaged together in variouspreparations, and Mr. Linden alone in the sitting-room, when theunwelcome sound of a knock came at the front door; and the next minutehis solitude was broken in upon. 

"Good evening!" said the doctor. "Three-quarters of a mile off 'I heardthe clarion of the unseen midge!' so I thought it was best to come toclose quarters with the enemy. --There is nothing so annoying as adistant humming in your ears. How do you do?" He had come up and laidhis hand on Mr. Linden's shoulder before the latter had time to rise. 

"What a perverse taste!" Mr. Linden said, laughing and springing up. "All the rest of the world think a near-by humming so much worse. "

"Can't distinguish at a distance, " said the doctor;--"one doesn't knowwhether it's a midge or a dragon-fly. How is Mignonette? andMignonette's mother?"

"They were both well the last time I saw them. In what sort of a calmflutter are you, doctor?"

"Do you think that is my character?" said the doctor, taking hisfavourite position on the rug. 

"You go straight to the fire--like all the rest of the tribe, " said Mr. Linden. 

"Is it inconsistent with the character of such an extra ordinary midge, to go straight to the mark?"

"Nobody ever saw a midge do that yet, I'll venture to say. "

"And you are resolved to act in character, " said the doctor gravely. "You have got clean away from the point. I asked you last night to tellme what you thought of me. We are alone now--do it, Linden!"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I don't know. A man likes to talk of himself--cela s'entend--but Icare enough about you, to care to know how I stand in your thoughts. Ifyou asked me how I stand in my own, I could not tell you; and I shouldlike to know how the just balances of your mind--I'm not talkingironically, Linden, --weigh and poise me;--what sort of alloy yourmental tests make me out. No matter why!--indulge me, and let me haveit. I presume it is nothing better than philosophical curiosity. Iam--every man is to himself--an enigma--a mystery;--and I should liketo have a sudden outside view--from optics that I have some respectfor. "

"I gave you the outside view last night, " Mr. Linden said. But then hecame and stood near the doctor and answered him simply; speaking withthat grave gentleness of interest which rarely failed to give thespeaker a place in people's hearts, even when his words failed of it. 

"I think much of you, in the first place, --and in the second place, Iwish you would let me think more;--you stand in my thoughts as anobject of very warm interest, of very earnest prayer. Measured--not bymy standards, but by those which the word of God sets up, you are likeyour own admirably made and adjusted microscope, with all the higherpowers left off. The only enigma, the only mystery is, that youyourself cannot see this. "

Dr. Harrison looked at him with a grave, considerative face, drawing alittle back; perhaps to do it the better. 

"Do you mean to say, that _you_ do such a thing as pray for _me?_"

A slight, sweet smile came with the answer--"Can you doubt it?"

"Why I might very reasonably doubt it, --though not your word. Why doyou, --may I ask?"

"What can I do for a man in deadly peril, whom my arm cannot reach?"The tone was very kindly, very earnest; the eyes with their deep lightlooked full into the doctor's. 

Dr. Harrison was silent, meeting the look and taking the depth andmeaning of it, so far as fathomable by him. The two faces and figures, fine as they both were, made a strange contrast. The doctor's face wasin one of its serious and good expressions; but the other had come froma region of light which this one had never entered. And even inattitude--the dignified unconsciousness of the one, was very differentfrom the satisfied carelessness of the other. 

"May I further ask, " he said in a softened tone, --"why you do this forme?"

"Because I care about you. "

"It's incredible!" said the doctor, his eye wavering, however. "One mancare about another! Why, man, I may be the worst enemy you have in theworld, for aught you know. "

"That cannot hinder my being your friend. "

"Do you know, " said the other looking at him half curiously, --"I amready to do such a foolish thing as to believe you? Well--be as much ofa friend to me as you can; and I'll deserve it as well as I can--whichmaybe won't be very well. Indeed that is most likely!" He had stretchedout his hand to Mr. Linden however, and clasped his warmly. He quittedit now to go forward and take that of Faith. 

She came in just as usual, and met the doctor with her wonted manner;only the crimson stain on her cheek telling anything against her. Shedid not give him much chance to observe that; for Cindy followed herwith the tea things and Faith busied herself about the table. Thedoctor went back to his stand and watched her. 

"Mignonette has changed colour, " he remarked presently. "How is that, Miss Derrick?"

"How is what, sir?"

"How come you to change the proper characteristics of mignonette? Don'tyou know that never shews high brilliancy?"

"I suppose I am not mignonette to-night, " said Faith, returning to thesafer observation of the tea-table. 

"Are you my flower, then? the Rhodora?" he said with a lowered tone, coming near her. 

If Faith heard, she did not seem to hear this question. Her attentionwas bestowed upon the preparations for tea, till Mrs. Derrick came into make it; and then Faith found a great deal to do in the care of theother duties of the table. It was a mystery, how she managed it; shewho generally had as much leisure at meals as anybody wanted. Dr. Harrison's attention however was no longer exclusively given to her. 

"Do you _always_ have these muffins for tea, Mrs. Derrick?" he remarkedwith his second essay. 

"Why no!" said Mrs. Derrick, --"we have all sorts of other things. Don'tyou like muffins, doctor?"

"Like them!" said the doctor. "I am thinking what a happy man Mr. Linden must be. "

"Marvellously true!" said Mr. Linden. "I hope you'll go home and writea new 'Search after happiness, ' ending it sentimentally in muffins. "

"Not so, " said the doctor. "I should only begin it in muffins--as I amdoing. But my remark after all had a point;--for I was thinking of thepossibility of detaching anybody from such a periodical attraction. Mrs. Derrick, I am the bearer of an humble message to you from mysister and father--who covet the honour and pleasure of your presenceto-morrow evening. Sophy makes me useful, when she can. I hope you willgive me a gracious answer--for yourself and Miss Faith, and so make meuseful again. It is a rare chance! I am not often good for anything. "

"I don't know whether I know how to give what you call graciousanswers, doctor, " said Mrs. Derrick pleasantly. "I'm very much obligedto Miss Sophy, but I never go anywhere at night. "

With the other two the doctor's mission was more successful; and thenhe disclosed the other object of his visit. 

"Miss Derrick, do you remember I once threatened to bring the play ofPortia here--and introduce her to you?"

"I remember it, " said Faith. 

"Would it be pleasant to you that I should fulfil my threat thisevening?"

"I don't know, sir, " said Faith smiling, --"till I hear the play. "

"Mr. Linden, --what do you think?" said the doctor, also with a smile. 

"I am ready for anything--if you will let me be impolite enough tofinish writing a letter while I hear the first part of your reading. "

"To change the subject slightly--what do you suppose, Mr. Linden, wouldon the whole be the effect, on society, if the hand of Truth were inevery case to be presented without a glove?" The doctor spoke gravelynow. 

"The effect would be that society would shake hands more cordially--Ishould think, " said Mr. Linden; "though it is hard to say how such anextreme proposition would work. "

"Do you know, it strikes me that it would work just the other way, andthat hands would presently clasp nothing but daggers' hilts. But thereis another question. --How will one fair hand of truth live among acrowd of steel gauntlets?"

"_What?_" Mr. Linden said, with a little bending of his brows upon thedoctor. "I am wearing neither glove nor gauntlet, --what are you talkingabout?--And my half-finished letter is a fact and no pretence. "

"I sha'n't believe you, " said the doctor, "if you give my fingers sucha wring as that. Well, go to your letter, and I'll take Miss Derrick toVenice--if she will let me. "

Venice!--That exquisite photograph of the Bridge of Sighs, and "thepalace and the prison on each hand, " about which such a long, longentrancing account had been given by Mr. Linden to her--the scene andthe talk rose up before Faith's imagination; she was very ready to goto Venice. Its witching scenery, its strange history, floated up, in afascinating, strange cloud-view; she was ready for Shylock and theRialto. Nay, for the Rialto, not for Shylock; him, or anything likehim, she had never seen nor imagined. She was only sorry that Mr. Linden had to go to his letter; but there was a compensative side tothat, for her shyness was somewhat less endangered. With only thedoctor and Shylock to attend to, she could get along very well. 

Shyness and fears however, were of very short endurance. To Venice shewent, --Shylock she saw; and then she saw nothing else but Shylock, andthose who were dealing with him; unless an occasional slight glancetowards the distant table where Mr. Linden sat at his writing, might beheld to signify that she _had_ powers of vision for somewhat else. Itdid not interrupt the doctor's pleasure, nor her own. Dr. Harrison hadbegun with at least a double motive in his mind; but man of the worldas he was, he forgot his unsatisfied curiosity in the singulargratification of reading such a play to such a listener. It was soplain that Faith was in Venice! She entered with such simplicity, andalso with such intelligence, into the characters and interests of thepersons in the drama; she relished their words so well; she weighed insuch a nice balance of her own the right and the wrong, the true andthe false, of whatever rested on nature and truth for its properjudgment;--she was so perfectly and deliciously ignorant of the worldand the ways of it! The fresh view that such pure eyes took of suchactors and scenes, was indescribably interesting; Dr. Harrison found itthe best play he had ever read in his life. He made it convenientsometimes to pause to indoctrinate Faith in characters or customs ofwhich she had no adequate knowledge; it did not hurt her pleasure; itwas all part of the play. 

In the second scene, the doctor stopped to explain the terms on whichPortia had been left with her suitors. 

"What do you think of it?"

"I think it was hard, " said Faith smiling. 

"What would you have done if you had been left so?"

"I would not have been left so. "

"But you might not help yourself. Suppose it had been a father's or amother's command? that anybody might come up and have you, for thefinding--if they could pitch upon the right box of jewelry?"

"My father or mother would never have put such a command on me, " saidFaith looking amused. 

"But you may _suppose_ anything, " said the doctor leaning forward andsmiling. "_Suppose_ they had?"

"Then you must suppose me different too, " said Faith laughing. "Supposeme to have been like Portia; and I should have done as she did. "

The doctor shook his head and looked gravely at her. 

"Are you so impracticable?"

"Was she?" said Faith. 

"Then you wouldn't think it right to obey Mrs. Derrick in allcircumstances?"

"Not if she was Portia's mother, " said Faith. 

"Suppose you had been the Prince of Arragon--which casket would youhave chosen?" said Mr. Linden, as he came from his table, letter inhand. 

"I suppose I should have chosen as he did, " said the doctorcarelessly--"I really don't remember how that was. I'll tell you when Icome to him. Have you done letter-writing?"

"I have done writing letters, for to-night. Have I permission to go toVenice in your train?"

"I am only a locomotive, " said the doctor. "But you know, with two atrain goes faster. If you had another copy of the play, now, Linden--and we should read it as I have read Shakspeare in certainformer times--take different parts--I presume the effect would excelsteam-power, and be electric. Can you?"

This was agreed to, and the "effect" almost equalled the doctor'sprognostications. Even Mrs. Derrick, who had somewhat carelessly heldaloof from his single presentation of the play, was fascinated now, anddrew near and dropped her knitting. It would have been a very rareentertainment to any that had heard it; but for once an audience of twowas sufficient for the stimulus and reward of the readers. That and theactual enjoyment of the parts they were playing. Dr. Harrison readwell, with cultivated and critical accuracy. His voice was good andmelodious, his English enunciation excellent; his knowledge of hisauthor thorough, as far as acquaintanceship went; and his habit ofreading a dramatically practised one. But Faith, amid all her delight, had felt a want in it, as compared with the reading to which of lateshe had been accustomed; it did not give the soul and heart of theauthor--though it gave everything else. _That_ is what only soul andheart can do. Not that Dr. Harrison was entirely wanting in those giftseither; they lay somewhere, perhaps, in him; but they are not the oneswhich in what is called "the world" come most often or readily intoplay; and so it falls out that one who lives there long becomes likethe cork oak when it has stood long untouched in _its_ world; the heartis encrusted with a monstrous thick, almost impenetrable, coating ofbark. When Mr. Linden joined the reading, the pleasure was perfect; thevery contrast between the two characters and the two voices made theillusion more happy. Then Faith was in a little danger of betrayingherself; for it was difficult to look at both readers with the sameeyes; and if she tried to keep her eyes at home, that was moredifficult still. 

In the second act, Portia says to Arragon, "In terms of choice I am not solely led By nice direction of a maiden's eyes, " etc. 

"What do you think of that, Miss Derrick?" said the doctor pausing whenhis turn came. "Do you think a lady's choice ought to be so determined?"

Faith raised her eyes, and answered, "No, sir. "

"By what then? You don't trust appearances?"

Faith hesitated. 

"I should like to hear how Portia managed, " she said, with a littleheightened colour. "I never thought much about it. "

"What do you think of Portia's gloves, doctor?" said Mr. Linden. 

"Hum"--said the doctor. "They are a pattern!--soft as steel, harsh askid-leather. They fit too, so exquisitely! But, if I were marrying her, I think I should request that she would give her gloves into mykeeping. "

"Then would your exercise of power be properly thwarted. Every time youmade the demand, Portia would, like a juggler, pull off and surrender afresh pair of gloves, leaving ever a pair yet finer-spun upon herhands. "

"I suppose she would, " said the doctor comically. "Come! I won't marryher. And yet, Linden, --one might do worse. Such gloves keep off awonderful amount of friction. "

"If you happen to have fur which cannot be even _stroked_ the wrongway!"

The doctor's eye glanced with fun, and Faith laughed The reading wenton. And went on without much pausing, until the lines--

 "O ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly To seal love's bonds new made, than they are wont To keep obliged faith unforfeited! ----Who riseth from a feast, With that keen appetite that he sits down? Where is the horse, that doth untread again His tedious measures with the unbated fire That he did pace them first? All things that are, Are with more spirit chased than enjoyed. "

"Do you believe in that doctrine, Miss Faith?" said the doctor, with agentle look in her direction. 

"I suppose it is true of some things, "--she said after a minute'sconsideration. 

"What a wicked truth it is, Linden!" said the doctor. 

"There is 'an error i' the bill, '" said Mr. Linden. 

Faith's eyes looked somewhat eagerly, the doctor's philosophically. 

"Declare and shew, " said the doctor. "I thought it was a universal, most deplorable, human fact; and here it is, in Shakspeare, man; whichis another word for saying it is in humanity. "

"It is true only of false things. The Magician's coins are next day butwithered leaves--the real gold is at compound interest. "

The doctor's smile was doubtful and cynical; Faith's had a touch ofsunlight on it. 

"Where is your 'real gold'?" said the doctor. 

"Do you expect me to tell you?" said Mr. Linden laughing. "I have founda good deal in the course of my life, and the interest is regularlypaid in. "

"Are you talking seriously?"

"Ay truly. So may you. "

"From any other man, I should throw away your words as the veriestMagician's coin; but if they are true metal--why I'll ask you to takeme to see the Mint some day!"

"Let me remind you, " said Mr. Linden, "that there are many things inShakspeare. What do you think of this, for a set-off?--

 'Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out e'en to the edge of doom. If this be error, and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved. '"

"There's an error proved upon _me_, " said the doctor, biting his lipsas he looked at Faith who had listened delightedly. "Come on! I'll stopno more. The thing is, Linden, that I am less happy than you--I neverfound any real gold in my life!"

"Ah you expect gold to come set with diamonds, --and that cannot alwaysbe. I don't doubt you have gold enough to start a large fortune, if youwould only rub it up and make it productive. "

The doctor made no answer to that, and the reading went on; Faithbecoming exceedingly engrossed with the progress of the drama. Shelistened with an eagerness which both the readers amusedly took heedof, as the successive princes of Morocco and Arragon made their trial:the doctor avowing by the way, that he thought he should have "assumeddesert" as the latter prince did, and received the fool's head for hispains. Then they came to the beautiful "casket scene. " The doctor hadsomehow from the beginning left Portia in Mr. Linden's hands; and nowgave with great truth and gracefulness the very graceful words of hersuccessful suitor. He could put truth into these, and did, andaccordingly read beautifully; well heard, for the play of Faith'svarying face shewed she went along thoroughly with all the fine turnsof thought and feeling; here and elsewhere. But how well and howdelicately Mr. Linden gave Portia! That Dr. Harrison could not havedone; the parts had fallen out happily, whether by chance or design. Her ladylike and coy play with words--her transparent veil of delicateshifting turns of expression--contriving to say all and yet as if shewould say nothing--were rendered by the reader with a grace of toneevery way fit to them. Faith's eye ceased to look at anybody, and hercolour flitted, as this scene went on; and when Portia's address to herfortunate wooer was reached--that very noble and dignified declarationof her woman's mind, when she certainly pulled off her gloves, whereverelse she might wear them;--Faith turned her face quite away from thereaders and with the cheek she could not hide sheltered by her hand--aswell as her hand could--she let nobody but the fire and Mrs. Derricksee what a flush covered the other. Very incautious in Faith, but itwas the best she could do. And the varied interests that immediatelyfollowed, of Antonio's danger and deliverance, gradually brought herhead round again and accounted sufficiently for the colour with whichher cheeks still burned. The Merchant of Venice was not the only playenacting that evening; and the temptation to break in upon the one, made the doctor, as often as he could, break off the other; though theinterest of the plot for a while gave him little chance. 

 "So shines a good deed in a naughty world. "

"Do you suppose, Miss Derrick, " said Dr. Harrison with his look ofamused pleasure, --"that is because the world is so dark?--or becausethe effects of the good deed reach to such a distance?"

"Both, " said Faith immediately. 

"You think the world is so bad?"

"I don't know much of the world, " said Faith, --"but I suppose the_shining_ good deeds aren't so very many. "

"What makes a good deed _shining?_" said the doctor. 

Faith glanced at Mr. Linden. But he did not take it up, and she wasthrown back upon her own resources. She thought a bit. 

"I suppose, "--she said, --"its coming from the very spirit of light. "

"You must explain, " said the doctor good-humouredly but smiling, --"forthat puts me in absolute darkness. "

"I don't know very well how to tell what I mean, " said Faith colouringand looking thoughtful;--"I think I know. Things that are done for thepure love of God and truth, I think, shine; if they are ever so littlethings, because really there is a great light in them. I think theyshine more than some of the greater things that people call verybrilliant, but that are done from a lower motive. "

"I should like"--said the doctor--"Can you remember an instance or two?of both kinds?"

Well Faith remembered an instance or two of _one_ kind, which she couldnot instance. She sought in her memory. 

"When Daniel kneeled upon his knees three times a day to pray, with hiswindows open, after the king's law had for bidden any one to do it onpain of death, --" said Faith. --"I think that was a shining good deed!"

"But that was a very notable instance, " said the doctor. 

"It was a very little thing he did, " said Faith. "Only kneeled down topray in his own room. And it has shined all the way down to us. "

"And in later times, " said Mr. Linden, --"when the exploring shallop ofthe Mayflower sought a place of settlement, and after beating about inwinter storms came to anchor Friday night at Plymouth Rock;--allSaturday was lost in refitting and preparing, and yet on Sunday theywould not land. Those two dozen men, with no human eye to see, withevery possible need for haste!"

"That hasn't shined quite so far, " said the doctor, "for it neverreached me. And it don't enlighten me now! I should have landed. "

"Do you know nothing of the _spirit_ of Say and Seal, as well as theprovince?" said Mr. Linden. 

"As how, against landing?"

"They rested that day '_according to the commandment_. ' Having promisedto obey God in all things, the seal of their obedience was unbroken. "

"Well, Miss Faith, " said the doctor--"Now for a counter example. "

"I know so little of what has been done, " said Faith. "Don't youremember some such things yourself, Dr. Harrison?--Mr. Linden?"--Thevoice changed and fell a little as it passed from one to the other. 

"General Putnam went into the wolf's den, and pulled him out"--said thedoctor humorously, --"that's all I can think of just now, and it is notvery much in point. I don't know that there was anything very brightabout it except the wolf's eyes!--But here we are keeping Portia out ofdoors, and Miss Derrick waiting! Linden--fall to. " And with comicallife and dramatic zeal on the doctor's part, in a few minutes more, theplay was finished. 

"Mrs. Derrick, " said the doctor gravely as he rose and stood beforeher, --"I hope you approve of plays. "

Mrs. Derrick expressed her amusement and satisfaction. 

"Miss Faith, " he said extending his hand, --"I have to thank you for themost perfect enjoyment I have ever had of Shakspeare. I only wishto-morrow evening would roll off on such swift wheels--but it would betoo much. Look where this one has rolled to!" And he shewed his watchand hurried off; that is, if Dr. Harrison could be said to do such athing. 

The rest of the party also were stirred from their quiet. Mrs Derrickwent out; and Mr. Linden, coming behind Faith as she stood by the fire, gently raised her face till he could have a full view of it, and askedher how she liked being in Venice?

"Very much, " she said, smiling and blushing at him, --"very much!"

"You are not the magician's coin!" he said, kissing her. "You are noteven a witch. Do you know how I found that out?"

"No"--she said softly, the colour spreading over her face and her eyesfalling, but raised again immediately to ask the question of him. 

"A witch's charms are always dispelled whenever she tries to crossrunning water!"--

She laughed; an amused, bright, happy little laugh, that it waspleasant to hear. 

"But what did Dr. Harrison mean, --by what he said when he thanked me?What did he thank me for?"

"He _said_--for a new enjoyment of Shakspeare. "

"What did he mean?"

"Do you understand how the sweet fragrance of mignonette can give newenjoyment to a summer's day?"

She blushed exceedingly. "But, Mr. Linden, please don't talk so! And Idon't want to give Dr. Harrison enjoyment in that way. "

"Which part of your sentence shall I handle first?" he said with alaughing flash of the eyes, --"'Dr. Harrison'--or 'Mr. Linden'?"

"The first, " said Faith laying her hand deprecatingly on his arm;--"andlet the other alone!"

"How am I to 'please not to talk'?"

"So--as I don't deserve, " she said raising her grave eyes to his face. "I would rather have you tell me my wrong things. "

He looked at her, with one of those rare smiles which belonged to her;holding her hand with a little soft motion of it to and fro upon hisown. 

"I am not sure that I dare promise 'to be good, '" he said, --"I am soapt to speak of things as I find them. And Mignonette you are tome--both in French and English. Faith, I know there is no glove uponyour hand, --and I know there is none on mine; but I cannot feel, norimagine, any friction, --can you?"

She looked up and smiled. So much friction or promise of it, as thereis about the blue sky's reflection in the clear deep waters of amountain lake--so much there was in the soft depth--and reflection--ofFaith's eyes at that moment. So deep, --so unruffled;--and as in thelake, so in the look that he saw, there was a mingling of earth andheaven. 

CHAPTER V. 

Wednesday morning was cold and raw, and the sun presently put on athick grey cloak. There were suspicions abroad that it was one made inthe regions of perpetual snow, for whatever effect it might have hadupon the sun, it made the earth very cold. Now and then a littlefrozen-up snowflake came silently down, and the wind swept fitfullyround the corners of houses, and wandered up and down the chimneys. People who were out subsided into a little trot to keep themselveswarm, all except the younger part of creation, who made the trot a run;and those who could, staid at home. 

All of Mrs. Derrick's little family were of this latter class, afterthe very early morning; for as some of them were to brave the weatherat night, there seemed no reason why they should also brave it by day. As speedily as might be, Mr. Linden despatched his various matters ofoutdoor business, of which there were always more or less on his hands, and then came back and went into the sitting-room to look for hisscholar. In two minutes she came in from the other door, with the stirof business and the cold morning fresh in her cheeks. But no one wouldguess--no one could ever guess, from Faith's brown dress and whiterufffles, that she had just been flying about in the kitchen--to useCindy's elegant illustration--"like shelled peas"; not quite soaimlessly, however. And her smiling glance at her teacher spoke ofreadiness for all sorts of other business. 

The first thing she was set about was her French exercise, during thefirst few lines of which Mr. Linden stood by her and looked on. Butthen he suddenly turned away and went up stairs--returning however, presently, to take his usual seat by her side. He watched her progresssilently, except for business words and instructions, till the exercisewas finished and Faith had turned to him for further directions; thentaking her hand he put upon its forefinger one of the prettiest thingsshe had ever seen. It was an old-fashioned diamond ring; the stones allof a size, and of great clearness and lustre, set close upon each otherall the way round; with just enough goldsmith's work to bind themtogether, and to form a dainty frill of filagree work above andbelow--looking almost like a gold line of shadow by that flashing lineof light. 

"It was my mother's, Faith, " he said, "and she gave it to me in trustfor whatever lady I should love as I love you. "

Faith looked down at it with very, very grave eyes. Her head bentlower, and then suddenly laying her hands together on the table she hidher face in them; and the diamonds glittered against her temple and incontrast with the neighbouring soft hair. 

One or two mute questions came there, before Mr. Linden said softly, "Faith!" She looked up with flushed face, and all of tears in her eyes_but_ the tears; and her lip had its very unbent line. She looked firstat him and then at the ring again. Anything more humble or more gravethan her look cannot be imagined. His face was grave too, with a sortof moved gravity, that touched both the present and the past, but hedid not mean hers should be. 

"Now what will you do, dear child?" he said. "For I must forewarn youthat there is a language of rings which is well established in theworld. "

"What--do you mean?" she said, looking alternately at the ring and him. 

"You know what plain gold on this finger means?" he said, touching theone he spoke of. She looked at first doubtfully, then coloured and said"yes. "

"Well diamonds on _this_ finger are understood to be the avant-couriersof that. "

Faith had never seen diamonds; but that was not what she was thinkingof, nor what brought such a deep spot of colour on her cheeks. It waspretty to see, it was so bright and so different from the flush whichhad been there a few minutes before. Her eyes considered the diamondsattentively. 

"What shall I do?" she said after a little. 

"I don't know--you must try your powers of contrivance. "

"I cannot contrive. I could keep ray glove on to-night; but I could notevery day. Shall I give it back to you to keep for me?"--she saidlooking at it lovingly. "Perhaps that will be best!--What would youlike me to do?"

"Anything _but_ that, " he said smiling, --"I should say that would beworst. You may wear a glove, or glove-finger--what you will; but thereit must stay, and keep possession for me, till the other one comes tobear it company. In fact I suppose I _could_ endure to have it seen!"

Her eyes went down to it again. Clearly the ring had a charm for Faith. And so it had, something beyond the glitter of brilliants. Ofjewellers' value she knew little; the marketable worth of the thing wasan enigma to her. But as a treasure of another kind it was beyondprice. His mother's ring, on _her_ finger--to Faith's fancy it boundand pledged her to a round of life as perfect, as bright, and as pure, as its own circlet of light-giving gems. That she might fill to him--asfar as was possible--all the place that the once owner of the diamondswould have looked for and desired; and be all that _he_ would look forin the person to whom the ring, so derived, had come. Faith consideredit lovingly, with intent brow, and at last lifted her eyes to Mr. Linden by way of answer; without saying anything, yet with half herthoughts in her face. His face was very grave--Faith could see a littlewhat the flashing of that ring was to him; but her look was met andanswered with a fulness of warmth and tenderness which said that he hadread her thoughts, and that to his mind they were already accomplished. Then he took up one of her books and opened it at the place where shewas to read. 

The morning, and the afternoon, went off all too fast, and the sun wentdown sullenly. As if to be in keeping with the expected change of workand company, the evening brought worse weather, --a keenerwind--beginning to bestir itself in earnest, a thicker sky; though theground was too snow-covered already to allow it to be very dark. Withanybody but Mr. Linden, Mrs. Derrick would hardly have let Faith goout; and even as it was, she several times hoped the weather wouldmoderate before they came home. Faith was so well wrapped up however, both in the house and in the sleigh, that the weather gave her nodiscomfort; it was rather exhilarating to be so warm in spite of it;and they flew along at a good rate, having the road pretty much tothemselves. 

"Faith, " Mr. Linden said as they approached Judge Harrison's, "I cannotspend all the evening here with you--that is, I ought not. I had amessage sent me this afternoon--too late to attend to then, which Icannot leave till morning. But if I see you safe by the fire, I hopeMiss Harrison will take good care of you till I get back. "

"Well, " said Faith, --"I wouldn't meddle with your 'oughts, '--if Icould. I hope you'll take care of Jerry!"--

"What shall I do with him?"

"Don't you know?" said Faith demurely. 

"I suppose I ought to drive him so fast that he'll keep warm, " said Mr. Linden. "What else?"

Faith's little laugh made a contrast with the rough night. "You hadbetter let me get out to the fire, " she said joy fully, --"or _I_sha'n't keep warm. "

"You sha'n't?" he said bending down by her, as they reached thedoor, --"your face has no idea of being cold!--I'll take care of Jerry, child--if I don't forget him in my own pleasant thoughts. "

Faith threw off her cloak and furs on the hall table where some otherslay, and pulled off one glove. 

"Keep them both on!" Mr. Linden said softly and smiling, --"enact Portiafor once. Then if you are much urged, you can gracefully yield your ownprejudices so far as to take off one. "

She looked at him, then amusedly pulled on her glove again; and thedoor was opened for them into a region of warmth and brightness; wherethere were all sorts of rejoicings over them and against the coldnight. Mr. Linden was by force persuaded to wait till after coffeebefore braving it again; and the Judge and his daughter fairly involvedFaith in the meshes of their kindness. A very mouse Faith was to-night, as ever wore gloves; and with a little of a mouse's watchfulness abouther, fancying cat's ears at every corner. A brown mouse too; she hadworn only her finest and best stuff dress. But upon the breast of that, a bunch of snowy Laurustinus, nestling among green leaves, put forth asecret claim in a way that was very beautifying. The Judge and MissSophy put her in a great soft velvet chair and hovered round her, bothof them conscious of her being a little more dainty than usual. Sophythought perhaps it was the Laurustinus; her father believed itintrinsic. 

The coffee came, and the doctor. 

"I have something better for you than Portia to-night"--he said as hedealt out sugar, --"though not something better than muffins. "

"Faith, my dear child, " said Miss Sophy, --"you needn't be soceremonious--none of us are wearing gloves. "

Faith laughed and blushed and pulled off one glove. 

"You are enacting Portia, are you?" said Dr. Harrison. "Even she wouldnot have handled wigs with them. I see I have done mischief! But theharm I did you last night I will undo this evening. Ladies andGentlemen!--I will give you, presently, the pleasure of hearing somelines written expressive of my wishes toward the unknown--butsupposed--mistress of my life and affections. Any suggestions towardthe bettering of them--I will hear. "

"The bettering of what?" said Mrs. Somers, --"your life and affections?"

"I am aware, my dear aunt Ellen, you think the one impossible--theother improbable. I speak of bettering the wishes. "

"'Unknown but supposed'"--said Mr. Linden. "'Item--She hath manynameless virtues'. "

"That is not my wish, " said the doctor gravely looking at him, "I thinknameless virtues--deserve their obscurity!"

"What do you call your ideal?"

"Psyche, --" said the doctor, after a minute's sober considerationapparently divided between Mr. Linden's face and the subject. 

"That is not so uncommon a name as Campaspe, " said Mr. Linden, with aqueer little gesture of brow and lips. 

"Who is Campaspe?" said the doctor; while Faith looked, and MissEssie's black eyes sparkled and danced, and everybody else held hiscoffee cup in abeyance. 

"Did you never hear of my Campaspe?" said Mr. Linden, glancing up fromunder his brows. 

"We will exchange civilities, " said the doctor. "I should be very happyto hear of her. "

Laughing a little, his own cup sending its persuasive steam unheeded, his own face on the sparkling order--though the eyes looked demurelydown, --Mr. Linden went on to answer. 

 "'Cupid and my Campaspe played At cards for kisses; Cupid payed; He stakes his quiver, bow and arrows, His mother's doves, and teame of sparrows; Loses them too; then down he throws The coral of his lippe, the rose Growing on's cheek, (but none knows how) With these, the crystal of his browe, And then the dimple of his chinne; All these did my Campaspe winne. At last he set her both his eyes, -- She won, and Cupid blind did rise. O Love! has she done this to thee? What shall, alas! become of me!'"

There was a general little breeze of laughter and applause. The doctorhad glanced at Faith;--her colour was certainly raised; but then theold Judge had just bent down to ask her "if she had ever heard ofCampaspe before?" The doctor did not hear but he guessed at thewhisper, and saw Faith's laugh and shake of the head. 

"Is that a true bill, Linden?"

"Very true, --" said Mr. Linden, trying his coffee. "But it is not yetknown what will become of me. "

"What has become of Campaspe?"

"She is using her eyes. "

"Are they _those_ eyes, Mr. Linden?" said Miss Essie coming nearer andusing her own. 

"What was the colour of Cupid's?"

"Blue, certainly!"

"Miss Derrick!"--said the doctor, --"let us have your opinion. "

Faith gave him at least a frank view of her own, all blushing andlaughing as she was, and answered readily, --"As to the colour ofCupid's eyes?--I have never seen him, sir. "

The doctor was obliged to laugh himself, and the chorus became general, at something in the combination of Faith and her words. But Faith'sconfusion thereupon mastered her so completely, that perhaps to shieldher the doctor requested silence and attention and began to read; of alady who, he said he was certain, had borrowed of nobody--not even ofCupid. --

 "'Whoe'er she be, That not impossible she, That shall command my heart and me. '"

"I believe she _is_ impossible, to begin with, " said Miss Essie. "Youwill never let any woman command you, Dr. Harrison. "

"You don't know me, Miss Essie, " said the doctor, with a curiouslygrave face, for him. 

"He means--

 'Who shall command my heart--_not_ me. '"

said Mr. Linden. 

"If she can command my heart--what of me is left to rebel?" said thedoctor. 

"Sophy, " said Mrs. Somers, "how long has Julius been all heart?"

"Ever since my aunt Ellen has been _all_ eyes and ears. Mr. Somers, which portion of your mental nature owns the supremacy of your wife?may I inquire, in the course of this investigation?"

"Ha!" said Mr. Somers blandly, thus called upon--"I own her supremacy, sir--ha--in all proper things!"

"Ha! Very proper!" said the doctor. 

"That is all any good woman wants, " said the old Judge benignly. "Itake it, that is all she wants. "

"Then you must say which are the proper things, father!" said MissSophy laughing. 

"You'll have to ask every man separately, Sophy, " said Mrs. Somers, --"they all have their own ideas about proper things. Mr. Somersthinks milk porridge is the limit. "

"Mr. Stoutenburgh, " said the doctor, "haven't you owned yourselfcommanded, ever since your heart gave up its lock and key?"

"Yes indeed, " said the Squire earnestly, --"I am so bound up in slaverythat I have even forgotten the wish to be free! All my wife's thingsare proper!"

"O hush!" his wife said laughing, but with a little quick brightwitness in her eyes, that was pretty to see. Dr. Harrison smiled. 

"You see, Miss Derrick!" he said with a little bow to her, --"there iswitness on all sides;--and now I will go on with my _not impossible_she. "--

He got through several verses, not without several interruptions, tillhe came to the exquisite words following;--

 "'I wish her beauty, That owes not all his duty To gaudy tire or glistring shoetye. 

 'Something more than Taffeta or tissue can, Or rampant feather, or rich fan. 

 'More than the spoil Of shop, or silk-worm's toil, Or a bought blush, or a set smile. '"

While Miss Essie exclaimed, Miss Harrison stole a look at Faith; whowas looking up at the doctor, listening, with a very simple face ofamusement. Her thoughts were indeed better ballasted than to sway tosuch a breeze if she had felt it. But the real extreme beauty of theimage and of the delineation was what she felt; she made no applicationof them. The doctor came to this verse. 

 "'A well-tamed heart, For whose more noble smart Love may be long choosing a dart. '--

What does that mean, Linden?--isn't that an error in the description?"

"Poetical license, " said Mr. Linden smiling. "Psyche will give youtrouble enough, wings and all, --there is no fear you will find her'tamed'. "

"How is Campaspe in that respect?"

"She has never given me much trouble yet, " said Mr. Linden. 

"What I object to is the 'long choosing', " said the doctor. "Miss deStaff--do you think a good heart should be very hard to win?"

"Certainly!--the harder the better, " replied the lady. "That's the onlyway to bring down your pride. The harder she is, the more likely youare to think she's a diamond. "

"Mrs. Stoutenburgh!"--

"What has been the texture of yours all these years, doctor?"

"He thinks that when he has dined the rest of the world should followsuit--like the Khan of Tartary, " said Mrs. Somers. 

"Miss Derrick!" said the doctor--"I hope for some gentleness from you. Do you think such a heart as we have been talking of, should be verydifficult to move?"

Faith's blush was exquisite. Real speech was hard to command. She knewall eyes were waiting upon her; and she could not reason out andcomfort herself with the truth--that to them her blush might meanseveral things as well as one. The answer came in that delicate voiceof hers which timidity had shaken. 

"I think--it depends on what there is to move it. "

"What do you call sufficient force?" said Mrs. Somers. 

"I?"--said Faith. --

"Yes, you, " replied the parson's wife with a look not unkindly amused. "What sort and degree of power should move 'such a heart'?--to quoteJulius. "

Faith's blush was painful again, and it was only the sheer necessity ofthe case that enabled her to rally. But her answer was clear. "Something better than itself, Mrs. Somers. "

"I should like to know what that is!" said Mrs. Somers. 

Mr. Linden's involuntary "And so should I"--was in a different tone, but rather drew eyes upon himself than Faith. 

"It's of no consequence to you!" said the doctor, with a funny, mockserious tone of admonition. 

Mr. Linden bowed, acquiescingly. --"Psychology is an interestingstudy"--he added, in qualification. "But let me return your warning, doctor--you have a formidable rival. "

"Qui donc?"

"Cupid carried off Psyche some time ago--do you suppose you can get herback?" And with a laughing sign of adieu, Mr. Linden went away. 

Luckily for Faith, she was not acquainted with the heathen mythology;and was also guiltless of any thought of connexion between herself andthe doctor's ideal. So her very free, unsuspicious face and laughterquite reassured him. 

"Mr. Linden is an odd sort of person, " said Miss Essie philosophically. "I have studied him a good deal, and I can't quite make him out. He's avery interesting man! But I think he is deeper than he seems. "

"He's deeper than the salt mines of Salzburg then!" said the doctor. 

"Why?" said Miss Essie curiously. 

The doctor answered gravely that "there were beautiful thingsthere";--and went on with his reading. And Faith listened now withunwavering attention, till he came to--

 "'Sydnean showers Of soft discourse, whose powers Can crown old winter's head with flowers. '"

Faith's mind took a leap. And it hardly came back again. The readingwas followed by a very lively round game of talk; but it was not _such_talk; and Faith's thoughts wandered away and watched round that circletof brightness that was covered by her glove; scattered rays from whichled them variously, --home, to her Sunday school, to Pequot, --and toheaven; coming back again and again to the diamonds and to the imagethat was in the centre of them. No wonder her grave sweet face wasremarked as being even graver and sweeter than usual; and the doctor atlast devoted himself to breaking up its quiet. He took her into thelibrary to finish the Rhododendrons--ostensibly--but in reality to getrid of the stiff circle in the other room. The circle followed; but nolonger stiff; under the influence of the cold weather and the big firesand good prompting, their spirits got up at last to the pitch of actingcharades. Miss Harrison brought down her stores of old and new finery;and with much zeal and success charades and tableaux went on for somelength of time; to the extreme amusement of Faith, who had never seenany before. They did not divert her from watching for the sound of Mr. Linden's return; but it came not, and Miss Essie expected and hopedaloud in vain. The hour did come, and passed, at which such gatheringsin Pattaquasset were wont to break up. That was not very late to besure. The Stoutenburghs, and the De Staffs, and finally Mr. And Mrs. Somers, went off in turn; and Faith was left alone to wait; for she hadrefused all offers of being set down by her various friends. 

It happened that Mr. Linden had been, by no harmful accident but simplyby the untowardness of things, delayed beyond his time; and then havinga good distance to drive, it was some while after the last visiters haddeparted when he once more reined up Jerry at the door. No servant cameto take him, and Mr. Linden applied himself to the bell-handle. Butthere seemed a spell upon the house--or else the inmates wereasleep--for ring as he would, no one came. 

To fasten Jerry and let himself in were the next steps--neither ofwhich took long. But in the drawing-room, to which he had been usheredin the beginning of the evening, there was now no one. The lights andthe fires and the empty chairs were there; that was all. Mr. Lindenknew the house well enough to know where next to look; he crossed thehall to a room at the other side, which was the one most commonly usedby the family, and from which a passage led to the library. No one washere, and the room was in a strange state of confusion. Before he hadwell time to remark upon it, Faith came in from the passage bearing aheavy marble bust in her arms. The colour sprang to her cheeks; she setdown Prince Talleyrand quickly and came towards Mr. Linden, saying, "There's fire in the library. "

"My dear child!" he said softly, "what is the matter? What are youabout?"

"Why there is fire in the library--it's all on fire, or soon will be, "she said hurriedly, "and we are bringing the things out. The fire can'tget in here--its a fireproof building only the inside will all burn up. The servants are carrying water to the roof of the house, lest thatshould catch. I am so glad to see you!"--

And Miss Sophy and the doctor came in, carrying one a picture, theother an armful of books. Faith ran back through the passage. Butbefore she could set her foot inside the library, Mr. Linden's hand wason her shoulder, and he stepped before her and took the survey of theroom in one glance. 

Its condition was sufficiently unpromising. The fire had kindled in aheap of combustible trumpery brought there for the tableaux. It had gotfar beyond management before any one discovered it; and now was makingfast work in that corner of the room and creeping with no slow progressalong the cornices of the bookshelves. Short time evidently there wasfor the family to remove their treasures from its destructive sweep. One corner of the room was in a light blaze; one or two lamps mockinglyjoined their light to the glare; the smoke was curling in grey wreathsand clouds over and around almost everything. Here an exquisite bust ofProserpine looked forlornly through it; and there a noble painting ofAlston's shewed in richer lights than ever before, its harmony ofcolouring. The servants were, as Faith had said, engaged inendeavouring to keep the roof of the house from catching; only one oldblack retainer of the family, too infirm for that service, was helpingthem in the labour of rescuing books and treasures of art from thetire, which must take its way within the library. The wall it could notpass, that being, as Faith had also said, proof against it. 

"Stay where you are, " Mr. Linden said, "and I will hand things toyou"--adding under his breath, "if you love me, Faith!" And passinginto the room he snatched Proserpine from her smoky berth and gave herto the old servant, handing Faith a light picture. 

"Don't let your sister come in here, Harrison, " he said, springing upthe steps to the upper shelves of the bookcase nearest the fire--"anddon't let everybody do everything, --keep half in the passage and halfhere. "

"Yes, Sophy, " said the doctor, "that is much better--don't you come inhere, nor Miss Faith. And don't work too hard, " he said gently to thelatter as she came back after bestowing the picture. "I won't ask younot to work at all, for I know it would be of no use. "

"Just work like monkeys, " Mr. Linden said from his high post, which wasa rather invisible one. "Reuben!--I am glad of your help. "

"Reuben!" exclaimed Faith joyously. "How good that is. Give me thosebooks, Reuben. "--

And after that the work went on steadily, with few words. It was toosmoky an atmosphere to speak much in; and the utmost exertions on thepart of every one of the workers left no strength nor time for it. "Like monkeys" they worked--the gentlemen handing things out of thesmoke to the willing fingers and light feet that made quick dispositionof them. Quick it had need to be, for the fire was not waiting forthem. And in an incredibly short time--incredible save to those whohave seen the experiment tried, --books and engravings were emptied fromshelf after shelf--compartment after compartment--and lodged within thehouse. Not a spare inch of space--not a spare second of time, itseemed, was gone over; and the treasures of the library were in quickprocess of shifting from one place to another. It was rather a wearypart Faith had to play, to stop short at the doorway and see thestruggle with smoke and fire that was going on inside; and an anxiouseye and trembling heart followed the movements of one of the workersthere whenever she returned to her post of waiting. She would ratherhave been amid the smoke and the fire too, than to stand off lookingon; but she did what she was desired--and more than she was desired;for she said not a word, like a wise child. Only did her work with nodelay and came back again. Two excellent workers were the doctor andMr. Linden; Reuben was a capital seconder; and no better runners thanthe two ladies need have been found; while the old Judge and his oldserving man did what they could. There was every appearance that theirefforts would be successful; the fire was to be sure, greatly increasedand fast spreading, but so also the precious things that it endangeredwere already in great measure secured. Probably very little would havebeen lost to be regretted, if the workers had not suffered a slightinterruption. 

Mr. Linden was in the middle of the room unlocking the drawers of thelibrary table, which was too large to be removed. Old Nero, the blackman, had taken one of the lamps which yet remained burning, a largeheavy one, to carry away. He was just opposite the table, when a stonebust of some weight, which had stood above the bookcases, detached bythe failure of its supports, came down along with some spars of theburning wood and fell against a rich screen just on the other side ofNero. The screen was thrown over on him; he struggled an instant toright himself and it, holding his lamp off at an awful angle towardsMr. Linden; then, nobody could tell how it was, Nero had saved himselfand struggled out from the falling screen and burning wood, and Faithand the lamp lay under it, just at Mr. Linden's feet. Yet hardly underit--so instantly was it thrown off. The lamp was not broken, which wasa wonder; but Faith was stunned, and the burning wood had touched herbrow and singed a lock of hair. 

In such a time of confusion all sorts of things come and go, unseen butby the immediate actors. Dr. Harrison and Reuben were intent upon aheavy picture; the Judge and his daughter were in the other room. AndFaith was lifted up and borne swiftly along to the drawing-room sofa, and there was cold water already on her brow, before the others reachedher. She was only a little stunned and had opened her eyes when theycame up. They came round her, all the gang of workers, like a swarm ofbees, and with as many questions and inquiries. Faith smiled at themall, and begged they would go back and finish what they were doing. 

"I'll stay here a little while, " she said; "my fall didn't hurt me abit, to speak of. Do go! don't anybody wait for me. "

There seemed nothing else to be done; she would own to wanting nothing;and her urgency at length prevailed with them, however reluctantly, toleave her and go back to the library. But Mr. Linden stood still as theothers moved off. 

"Where are you hurt?" he said in a low voice. 

"I suppose the fall bruised me a little bit. It didn't do me any realharm. Don't wait here for me. "

"Where?" Mr. Linden said. 

"Where it bruised me? A little on my head--and elbow--and side;altogether nothing!"

He sat down by her, passing his hand softly over the scorched hair;then said, "Let me see your arm. "

"Oh no!--that's not necessary. I said I was bruised, but it isn't much. "

"Faith, you have not told me the whole. "

Her eye shrank from his instantly, and her colour flitted from red topale. 

"There is nothing more I need tell you. They will all be back here--orsome of them--if you stay. I'll tell you anything you please tomorrow, " she added with a smile. But he only repeated, "Tell me now--Ihave a right to know. "

Her lip took its childish look, but her eye met him now. "Don't lookso!"--she said, "as if there was any reason for it. I think some of thefluid from that lamp ran down on my arm--and it smarts. Don't stay hereto look grave about me!--it isn't necessary. "

He bent his head and gave her one answer to all that--then sprang upand went for Dr. Harrison. Faith tried to hinder him, in vain. 

There was little now to detain anybody in the library, he found, and agood deal to drive everybody out of it. The fire had seemed to takeadvantage of its unwatched opportunity and had put it pretty well outof any one's power to rescue much more from its rapacity. Reuben andDr. Harrison were carrying out the drawers of the table, which Mr. Linden had been unlocking; and the doctor dropped the one he held theinstant he caught the sense of Mr. Linden's words. He went through theother way, summoning his sister. 

Faith was lying very quietly and smiled at them, but her colour wentand came with odd suddenness. She would not after all let the doctortouch her; but rising from the sofa said she would go up stairs and letSophy see what was wanting. The three went up, and Mr. Linden was leftalone. 

He stood still for a moment where they left him, resting his face uponhis hand, but then he went back to the burning room; and stationinghimself at the doorway, bade all the rest keep back, and those thatcould to bring him water. Reuben sprang to this work as he had done tothe other; some of the servants had come down by this time; and Mr. Linden stood there, dashing the water about the doorway and into theroom, upon the floor, the great table, and such of the bookcases as hecould come near. The effect was soon evident. The blazing bits ofcarved moulding as they fell to the floor, went out instead of gettinghelp to burn; and the heavier shelves and wainscot which being of hardwood burned slowly, began to give out steam as well as smoke. The doorand doorway were now perfectly safe--the fire hardly could spread intothe passage, a danger which had been imminent when Mr. Linden came, butwhich the family seemed to have forgotten; secure in their fireproofwalls, they forgot the un-fireproof floor, nor seemed to remember howfar along the passage the cinders might drift. When there was reallynothing more for him to do, and he had given the servants very specialinstructions as to the watch they should keep, then and not till thendid Mr. Linden return to the parlour; the glow of his severe exercisefading away. 

He found the Judge there, who engaged him in not too welcomeconversation; but there was no help for it. He must hear and answer theold gentleman's thanks for his great services that night--praises ofhis conduct and of Faith's conduct; speculations and questionsconcerning the evening's disaster. After a time that seemed tedious, though it was not really very long, Miss Harrison came down. 

"She'll be better directly, " she said. "Do sit down, Mr. Linden!--Ihave ordered some refreshments--you must want them, I should think; andyou'll have to wait a little while, for Faith says she will go homewith you; though I am sure she ought not, and Julius says she must notstir. "

Mr. Linden bowed slightly--answering in the most commonplace way thathe was in no hurry and in no need of refreshments; and probably he feltalso in no need of rest--for he remained standing. 

"How is she, dear? how is she?" said the Judge. "Is she much hurt?"

"Just _now_, " said Miss Harrison, "she is in such pain that she cannotmove--but we have put something on that will take away the pain, Juliussays, in fifteen minutes; and she will be quite well this timeto-morrow, he says. "

"But is she much hurt?" Judge Harrison repeated with a very concernedface. 

"She'll be well to-morrow, father; but she was dreadfully burned--herarm and shoulder--I thought she would have fainted upstairs--but Idon't know whether people _can_ faint when they are in such pain. Idon't see how she can bear her dress to go home, but she says she will;Mrs. Derrick would be frightened. Mr. Linden, they say every body doeswhat you tell them--I wish you'd persuade Faith to stay with meto-night! She won't hear me. "

"How soon can I see her?"--The voice made Miss Harrison look--but hereyes said her ears had made a mistake. 

"Why she said she would come down stairs presently--as soon as the painwent off enough to let her do anything--and she wanted me to tell youso; but I am sure it's very wrong. Do, Mr. Linden, takesomething!"--(the servant had brought in a tray of meats andwine)--"While you're waiting, you may as well rest yourself. How shallwe ever thank you for what you've done to-night!"

Miss Harrison spoke under some degree of agitation, but both she andher father failed in no kind or grateful shew of feeling towards theirguest. 

"How did it happen, Mr. Linden?" she said when she had done in thiskind all she could. 

He said he had not seen the accident--only its results. 

"I can't imagine how Faith got there, " said Miss Harrison. "She saw thescreen coming over on Nero, I suppose, and thought she could save thelamp--she made one spring from the doorway, he says, to where he stood. And in putting up her hand to the lamp, I suppose that horrid fluid randown her arm and on her shoulder--when Nero put out the lamp he musthave loosened the fastening; it went all over her shoulder. But she'llbe well to-morrow night, Julius says. "

"Who's with her now, my dear?" said the Judge. 

"O Julius is with her--he said he'd stay with her till I came back--shewanted Mr. Linden to know she would go home with him. Now, Mr. Linden, won't you send her word back that you'll take care of Mrs. Derrick ifshe'll stay?"

"I will go up and see her, Miss Harrison. "

That was anticipated however, by the entrance of the doctor; who toldhis sister Miss Derrick wanted her help, then came gravely to thetable, poured out a glass of wine and drank it. His father askedquestions, which he answered briefly. Miss Derrick felt better--she wasgoing to get up and come down stairs. 

"But ought she to be suffered to go out to-night, Julius?--such anight?"

"Certainly not!"

The Judge argued the objections to her going. The doctor made noanswer. He walked up and down the room, and Mr. Linden stood still. Tenor fifteen minutes passed; and then the door opened softly and Faith, all dressed, cloaked, and furred, came in with her hood, followed byher friend. Miss Sophy looked very ill satisfied. Faith's face was paleenough, but as serenely happy as release from pain can leave a facethat has no care behind. A white embodiment of purity and gentlenessshe looked. The doctor was at her side instantly, asking questions. Mr. Linden did not interrupt him, --he had met her almost before the doctor, and taken her hand with a quietness through which Faith could perceivethe stir of feelings that might have swept those of all the others outinto the snow. But he held her hand silently until other people haddone their questions--then simply asked if she was quite sure she wasfit to ride home? Then, with that passing of the barrier, look andvoice did change a little. 

"I mean to go, "--she said without looking at him, --"if you'll please totake me. "

"She ought not, --I am sure she ought not!" exclaimed Miss Harrison inmuch vexation. "She is just able to stand. "

"You know, " Mr. Linden said, --not at all as if he was urging her, butmerely making a statement he thought best to make; "I could even bringyour mother here, in a very short time, if you wished it. "

"O I don't wish it. I can go home very well now. "

He gave her his arm without more words. Miss Harrison and the Judgefollowed regretfully to the door; the doctor to the sleigh. 

"Are you well wrapped up?" he asked. 

"I have got all my own and all Sophy's furs, " said Faith in a glad toneof voice. 

"Take care of yourself, " he said;--"and Mr. Linden, you must take careof her--which is more to the purpose. If I had it to do, this ridewould not be taken. Linden--I'll thank you another time. "

They drove off. But as soon as they were a few steps from the house, Mr. Linden put his arm about Faith and held her so that she could leanagainst him and rest; giving her complete support, and muffling up thefurs about her lightly and effectually, till it was hardly possible forthe cold air to win through; and so drove her home. Not with manywords, --with only a whispered question now and then, whether she wascold, or wanted any change of posture. The wind had lulled, and it wasmuch milder, and the snow was beginning to fall softly and fast; Faithcould feel the snow crystals on his face whenever it touched hers. Mr. Linden would have perhaps chosen to drive gently, as being easier forher, but the thick air made it needful. Once only he asked any otherquestion. --

"Faith--is my care of you in fault, that it lets you come home?"

"No, I think not, " she said;--"you hold me just so nicely as it ispossible to be! and this snow-storm is beautiful. " Which answer, thoughshe might not know it, testified to her need of precisely the care hewas giving her. 

"Are you suffering much now, dear child?"

"Not at all. I am only enjoying. I like being out in such a storm asthis. --Only I am afraid mother is troubled. "

"No--I sent Reuben down some time ago, to answer her questions if shewas up, and to have a good fire ready for you. "

"O that's good!" she said. And then rested, in how luxurious a rest!after exertion, and after anxiety, and after pain; so cared for andguarded. She could almost have gone to sleep to the tinkle of Jerry'sbells; only that her spirit was too wide awake for that and thepleasure of the time too good to be lost. She had not all the pleasureto herself--Faith could feel that, every time Mr. Linden spoke ortouched her; but what a different atmosphere his mind was in, from herquiet rest! Pain had quitted her, but not him, though the kinds weredifferent. Truly he would have borne any amount of physical painhimself, to cancel that which she had suffered, --there were someminutes of the ride when he would have borne it, only to lose thethought of that. But Faith knew nothing of it all, except as she couldfeel once or twice a deep breath that was checked and hushed, andturned into some sweet low-spoken word to her; and her rest was verydeep. So deep, that the stopping of the sleigh at last, was aninterruption. 

The moment Jerry's bells rang their little summons at the door, thedoor itself opened, and from the glimmering light Reuben ran out totake the reins. 

"Is Mrs. Derrick up?" Mr. Linden asked, when the first inquiry aboutFaith had been answered. 

"I don't know, sir. I told her you wore afraid Miss Faith would takecold without a fire in her room--and she let me take up wood and makeit; and then she said she wasn't sleepy, and she'd take care it didn'tgo out. I haven't seen her since. "

"Thank you, Reuben--now hold Jerry for me, --I shall keep you hereto-night, " Mr. Linden said as he stepped out. And laying his hand uponthe furs and wrappers, he said softly, --"Little Esquimaux--do you thinkyou can walk to the house?"

"O yes!--certainly. "

A little bit of a laugh answered her--the first she had heard sinceCampaspe; and then she was softly lifted up, and borne into the houseover the new-fallen snow as lightly as if she had been a snowflakeherself. The snow might lay its white feathers upon her hood, but Faithfelt as if she were in a cradle instead of a snow-storm. She was placedin the easy chair before the sitting-room fire, and her hood and fursquickly taken off. "How do you feel?" Mr. Linden asked her. 

She looked like one of the flakes of snow herself, for simplicity andcolour; but there was a smile in her eyes and lips that had come from aclimate where roses blow. 

"I feel nicely. --Only a little bruised and battered feeling, whichisn't unpleasant. "

"Will you have anything?--a cup of tea?--that might do you good. "

Faith looked dubious at the cup of tea; but then rose up and said itwould disturb her mother, and she would just go and sleep. 

"It won't disturb her a bit, "--Mr. Linden said, reseating her, --"sitstill--I'll send Reuben up to see. "

He left her there a very few minutes, apparently attending to more thanone thing, for he came back through the eating-room door; bringing wordto Faith that her fire and room were in nice order, and her mother fastasleep there in the rocking-chair to keep guard; and that she shouldhave a cup of tea in no time. And with a smile at her, he went backinto the eating-room, and brought thence her cup and plate, andrequested to be told just how the tea should be made to please her, andwhether he might invade the dairy for cream. 

"If I could put this cloak over my shoulders, I would get some myself. Will you put it on for me? please. --Is there fire in the kitchen? I'llgo and make the tea. "

"Is there nothing else you would like to do?" he said standing beforeher, --"you shall not stir! Do you think I don't know cream when I seeit?"--and he went off again, coming back this time in company withReuben and the tea-kettle, but the former did not stay. Then withappeals to her for directions the tea was made and poured out, andtoast made and laid on her plate; but she was not allowed to raise afinger, except now to handle her cup. 

"It's very good!" said Faith, --"but--don't you remember you once toldme two cups of cocoa were better than one?"

It is to be noted in passing, that all Faith's _nameless_ addresseswere made with a certain gentle, modulated accent, which invariablyimplied in its half timid respect the "Mr. Linden" which she rarelyforgot now she was not to say. 

"Dear child! I do indeed, " he said, as if the remembrance wore a brightone. "But I remember too that my opinion was negatived. Faith, I usedto wish then that I could wait upon you--but I would rather have youwait upon me, after all!"

Faith utterly disallowed the tone of these last words, and urged herrequest in great earnest. He laughed at her a little--but brought thecup and drank the tea, --certainly more to please her than himself;watching her the while, to see if the refreshment were telling upon hercheeks. She was very little satisfied with his performance. 

"Now I'll go and wake up mother, " she said at last rising. "Don't thinkof this evening again but to be glad of everything that has happened. Iam. "

"I fear, I fear, " he said looking at her, "that your gladness and mysorrow meet on common ground. Child, what shall I do with you?"--butwhat he did with her then was to put her in that same cradle and carryher softly upstairs, to the very door of her room. 

CHAPTER VI. 

The same soft snow-storm was coming down when Faith opened her eyesnext morning; the air looked like a white sheet; but in her room abright fire was blazing, reddening the white walls, and by her side satMrs. Derrick watching her. Very gentle and tender were the hands thathelped her dress, and then Mrs. Derrick said she would go down and seeto breakfast for a little while. 

"Wasn't it good your room was warm last night?" she said, strokingFaith's hair. 

Faith's eyes acknowledged that. 

"And wasn't it good you were asleep!" she said laughing and kissingMrs. Derrick. "Mother!--I was so glad!"

"That's the funny part of it, " said Mrs. Derrick. "Reuben's just aboutas queer in his way as Mr. Linden. The only thing I thought from theway he gave the message, was that somebody cared a good deal about hisnew possession--which I suppose is true, " she added smiling; "and so Ijust went to sleep. "

Mrs. Derrick went down; and Faith knelt on the rug before the fire andbent her heart and head over her bible. In great happiness;--in greatendeavour that her happiness should stand well based on its truefoundations and not shift from them to any other. In sober endeavour tolay hold, and feel that she had hold, of the happiness that cannot betaken away; to make sure that her feet were on a rock, before shestooped to take the sweetness of the flowers around her. And to judgeby her face, she had felt the rock and the flowers both, before sheleft her room. 

The moment she opened her door and went out into the hall, Mr. Lindenopened his, --or rather it was already open, and he came out, meetingher at the head of the stairs. And after his first greeting, he heldher still and looked at her for a moment--a little anxiously andintently. "My poor, pale little child!" he said--"you are nothing but asnowdrop this morning!"

"Well that is a very good thing to be, " said Faith brightly. But the_colour_ resemblance he had destroyed. 

She was lifted and carried down just as she had been carried up lastnight, and into the sitting-room again; for breakfast was preparedthere this morning, and the sofa wheeled round to the side of the fireall ready for her. How bright the room looked!--its red curtains withinand its white curtains without, and everything so noiseless and sweetand in order. Even the coffeepot was there by this time, and Mrs. Derrick arranged the cups and looked at Faith on the sofa, with eyesthat lost no gladness when they went from her to the person who stoodat her side. Faith's eyes fell, and for a moment she was very sober. Itwas only for a moment. 

"What a beautiful storm!" she said. "I am glad it snows. I am going todo a great deal of work to-day. "

Mr. Linden looked at her. "Wouldn't you just as lieve be talked tosleep?"

She smiled. "You--couldn't--do that, Mr. Linden. "

"Mr. Linden can do more than you think--and will, " he said with alittle comic raising of the eyebrows. 

For a while after breakfast Faith sat alone, except as her mother camein and out to see that she wanted nothing, --alone in the soft snowystillness, till Mr. Linden came in from the postoffice and sat down byher, laying against her cheek a soft little bunch of rosebuds andviolets. 

"Faith, " he said, "you have been looking sober--what is the reason?"

"I haven't been looking _too_ sober, have I? I didn't know I waslooking sober at all. "

She was looking quaint, and lovely; in the plain wrapper she had put onand the soft thoughtful air and mien, in contrast with which thediamonds jumped and flashed with every motion of her hand. A study booklay in her lap. 

"How did all that happen last night?" said Mr. Linden abruptly. 

"Why!"--said Faith colouring and looking down at her ring--"I wasstanding in the doorway and Nero was coming out with that great lamp;and when he got opposite the screen something fell on it, I believe, from the burning bookcases, and it was thrown over against him--Ithought the lamp and he would all go over together--and I jumped;--andin putting up my hand to the lamp I suppose, for I don't remember, thefluid must have run down my arm and on my shoulder--I don't know how itgot on fire, but it must have been from some of the burning wood thatfell. The next I knew, you were carrying me to the drawing-room--I havea recollection of that. "

He listened with very grave eyes. 

"Were you trying to take the lamp from Nero?"

"O no. I thought it was going to fall over. "

"What harm would it have done the floor?"

The tinge of colour on Faith's cheek deepened considerably, and hereyes lifted not themselves from the diamonds. She was not ready tospeak. 

"I did not think of the floor"--

"Of what then?"

She waited again. "I was afraid some harm would be done, "--

"Did you prevent it?"

"I don't know"--she said rather faintly. 

Gently her head was drawn down till it rested on his shoulder. 

"Faith, " he said in his own low sweet tones, "I stretched a littlesilken thread across the doorway to keep you out--did you make of thata clue to find your way in?"

She did not answer--nor stir. 

There were no more questions asked--no more words said; Mr. Linden wasas silent as she and almost as still. Once or twice his lips touchedher forehead, not just as they had ever done it before, Faith thought;but some little time had passed, when he suddenly took up the bookwhich lay in her lap and began the lesson at which it lay open; readingand explaining in a very gentle, steady voice, a little moved from itsusual clearness. Still his arm did not release her. Faith listened, with a semidivided mind, for some time; there was something in thisstate of things that she wished to mend. It came at last, when therewas a pause in the lesson. 

"I am glad of all that happened last night, " she said, "except the painto you and mother. There is nothing to be sorry for. You shouldn't besorry. "

"Why not, little naughty child?--and why are you glad?"

"Because--it was good for me, "--she said, not very readily norexplicitly. 

"In what way?"

"It was good for me, "--she repeated;--"it put me in mind of somethings. "

"Of what, dear child?"

It was a question evidently Faith would rather not have answered. Shespoke with some difficulty. 

"That there are such things in the world as pain--and trouble. It isbest not to forget it. "

Mr. Linden understood and felt; but he only answered, "It will be thebusiness of my life to make you forget it. Now don't you think youought to put up this book, and rest or sleep?"

"I dare say _you_ ought, " said Faith, --"and I wish you would. _I_ wantto work. "

He gave her a laugh, by way of reply, and then gave her work as shedesired; watching carefully against her tiring herself in any way, andmaking the lessons more of talk on his part and less of study on hers. They were none the less good for that, nor any the less pleasant. Tillthere came a knock at the front door; and then with a little sigh Faithleaned back against the sofa, as if lessons were done. 

"There is Dr. Harrison. "

"And I shall have to be on my good behaviour, " Mr. Linden said, quitting the sofa. "But I suppose he will not stay all the rest of theday. " And as Cindy was slow in her movements, he went and opened thedoor; Faith the while fitting on a glove finger. 

"First in one element, and then in another--" Mr. Linden said, as thedoctor came in from a sort of simoon of snow. 

"This one for me!" said Dr. Harrison shaking herself;--"but I shouldsay you must be out of your element to-day. "

"Wherefore, if you please?" said Mr. Linden, as he endeavoured to getthe doctor out of his. 

"Unless you live in a variety! I thought you were in your element lastnight. " And the doctor went forward into the sitting-room. The firstmove was to take a seat by Faith and attend to her; and his address andhis inquiries, with the manner of them, were perfect in their kind. Interested, concerned, tender, grateful, to the utmost limit of whatmight have been in the circumstances testified by anybody, with equalgrace and skill they were limited there. Of special individual interesthe allowed no testimony to escape him--none at least that wasunequivocal. And Faith gave him answers to all he said, till he touchedher gloved finger and inquired if the fire had been at work there too. Faith rather hastily drew it under cover and said no. 

"What is the matter with it?"

"There is nothing bad the matter with it, " said Faith, very imprudentlyletting her cheeks get rosy. The doctor looked at her--told her hecould cure her finger if she would let him; and then rose up andassumed his position before the fire, looking down at Mr. Linden. 

"There isn't much of a midge about you, after all, " he said. 

"I suppose in the matter of wings we are about on a par. What is theextent of the damage?"

"It is nothing worth speaking of--I think now, " said the doctor. "Butwe are under an extent of obligation to you, my dear fellow, --whichsits on me as lightly as obligation so generously imposed should;--andyet I should be doubly grateful if you could shew me some way in whichI could--for a moment--reverse the terms on which we stand towards eachother. "

"I don't think of any generous imposition just now, " said Mr. Lindensmiling. "How are your father and sister?--I was afraid they wouldsuffer from the fright, if nothing else. "

"Strong nerves!" said the doctor shrugging his shoulders. "We all eatour breakfast this morning, and wanted the chops done as much as usual. Sophy _did_ suffer, though; but it was because Miss Faith would donothing but get hurt in the house and wouldn't stay to be made well. "

"I am sure I did something more than _that_, " said Faith, to whom thedoctor had looked. 

"You don't deserve any thanks!" he said sitting down again besideher;--"but there is somebody else that does, and I wish you would giveme a hint how to pay them. That young fellow who says he is no friendof yours--he helped us bravely last night. What can I do to please him?"

"Mr. Linden can tell best, " said Faith looking to him. The doctorturned in the same direction. 

"Thank you!" Mr. Linden said, and the words were warmly spoken, yet notimmediately followed up. "Thank you very much, doctor!" he repeatedthoughtfully--"I am not sure that Reuben wants anything just now, --nextsummer, perhaps, he may want books. "

"I see _you_ are his friend?"

"Yes--if you give the word its full length and breadth. "

"What is that?" said Dr. Harrison. "Don't go off to 'Nought and All. '"

"I suppose in this case I may say, a mutual bond of trust, affection, and active good wishes. "

"There's something in that fellow, I judge?"

"You judge right. "

"A fisherman's son, I think you said. Well--I share the 'active goodwishes, ' at least, if I can't assume the 'affection'--so think about myquestion, Linden, and I'll promise to back your thoughts. What do youdo with yourself such a day? I was overcome with ennui--till I got outinto the elements. "

"Ennui is not one of my friends, " said Mr. Linden smiling--"not even anacquaintance. In fact I never even set a chair for him, as the woman inElia set a chair for the poor relation, saying, 'perhaps he will stepin to-day. ' I have been busy, doctor--what shall I do to amuse you?will you have a foreign newspaper?"

The doctor looked dubious; then took the newspaper and turned it over, but not as if he had got rid of his ennui. 

"This smoke in the house will drive us out of Pattaquasset a littlesooner than we expected. "

"Not this winter?"

"Yes. _That's_ nothing new--but we shall go a few days earlier than wemeant. I wish you were going too. "

"When to return?" said Mr. Linden. "I mean you--not myself. "

"I?--I am a wandering comet, " said the doctor. "I have astonishedPattaquasset so long, it is time for me to flare up in some otherplace. I don't know, Linden. Somebody must be here occasionally, tooverlook the refitting of the inside of that library--perhaps thatagreeable duty will fall on me. But Linden, "--said the doctor droppingthe newspaper and turning half round on his chair, speaking gracefullyand comically, --"_you_ astonish Pattaquasset as much as I do; and totell you the truth you astonish me sometimes a little. This is no placefor you. Wouldn't you prefer a tutorship at Quilipeak, or a professor'schair in one of the city colleges? You may step into either berthpresently, and at your pleasure, --I know. I do not speak withoutknowledge. "

There was a stir of feeling in Mr. Linden's face--there was even anunwonted tinge of colour, but the firm-set lips gave no indication asto whence it came; and he presently looked up, answering the doctor intones as graceful and more simple than his own. 

"Thank you, doctor, once more! But I have full employment, and am--oram not--ambitious, --whichever way you choose to render it. Not to speakof the pleasure of astonishing Pattaquasset, " he added, with a smilebreaking out, --"I could not hope to do that for Quilipeak. "

"Please know, " said the doctor, both frankly and with much respect inhis manner, "that I have been so presumptuous as to concern my mindabout this for some time--for which you will punish me as you think Ideserve. How to be so much further presumptuous as to speak to youabout it, was my trouble;--and I ventured at last, " he said smiling, "upon my own certain possession of certain points of that 'friend'character which you were giving just now to Reuben Taylor--or toyourself, in his regard. "

"I am sure you have them!--But about Reuben, --though I know reward isthe last thing he thought of or would wish, --yet I, his friend, chooseto answer for him, that if you choose to give him any of the books thathe will need in college, they will be well bestowed. "

"In college!" said the doctor. "Diable! Where is he going?"

"Probably to Quilipeak. "

"You said, to college, man. I mean, what is college the road to, in theyoungster's mind?"

"I am not sure that I have a right to tell you, " said Mr. Linden, --"itis in his mind a road to greater usefulness--so much I may say. "

"He'll never be more useful than he was last night. However, I'mwilling to help him try. --What is Mignonette going to do with herselfthis afternoon?"--said the doctor throwing aside his newspaper andstanding before her. 

"I don't know, " said Faith. "Sit here and work, I suppose. "

"I'll tell you what she ought to do, " the doctor went on impressively. "She ought to do what the flowers do when the sun goes down, --shut upher sweetness to herself, see and be seen by nobody, and cease to beconscious of her own existence. "

Faith laughed, in a way that gave doubtful promise of following thedirections. The doctor stood looking down at her, took her hand andgallantly kissed it, and finally took himself off. 

"There is a good little trial of my patience!" Mr. Linden said. "Idon't know but it is well he is going away, for I might forget myselfsome time, and bid him hands off. "

At which Faith looked thoughtful. 

"Faith, " Mr. Linden said, gently raising her face, "would you like tolive at Quilipeak?"

The answer to that was a great rush of colour, and a casting down ofeyes and face too as soon as it was permitted. 

"Well?" he said smiling--though she felt some other thread in thevoice. "What did you think of the words that passed between the doctorand me? Would you like to have me agree to his proposal?"

"You would do what is best, " she said with a good deal of effort. "Icouldn't wish anything else. "--

He answered her mutely at first, with a deep mingling of gravity andaffection, as if she were very, very precious. 

"My dear little child!" he said, "if anything on earth could make me doit, it would be you!--and yet I cannot. "

She looked up inquiringly; but except by that look, she asked nothing. 

"You strengthen my hands more than you weaken them, " he said. "I am sosure that you would feel with me!--I know it so well! I have a longstory to tell you, dear Faith, --some time, not now, " he added, with asort of shadow coming over his face. "Will you let me choose my owntime? I know it is asking a good deal. "

"It would be asking a great deal more of me to choose any other, " Faithsaid with a sunny smile. "I like that time best. "

He passed his hand softly once or twice across her forehead, giving hera bright, grateful look, though a little bit of a sigh came with ittoo, --then drew her arm within his and led her slowly up and down theroom. 

But after dinner, and after one or two more lessons--under carefulguardianship, Faith was persuaded to lay herself on the sofa and rest, and listen, --first to various bits of reading, then to talk about someof her photographic pictures; the talk diverging right and left, intoall sorts of paths, fictional, historic, sacred and profane. Then thelight faded--the out-of-door light, still amid falling snow; and thefirelight shone brighter and brighter; and Mrs. Derrick stoppedlistening, and went to the dining-room sofa for a nap. Then Mr. Linden, who had been sitting at Faith's side, changed his place so as to faceher. 

"How do you feel to-night?" he asked. 

"Perfectly well--and as nicely as possible. Just enough remains of lastnight to make it pleasant to lie still. "

"You are a real little sunbeam! Do you know I want you to go off withme on a shining expedition?"

"On _what_ sort of expedition?" said Faith laughing. 

"A shining one--I want to carry your bright face into all the darkestplaces I can find. "

There was an alternation of amusement and a grave expression in herface for a minute, one and the other flitting by turns; but then shesaid quietly, "When, Mr. Linden?"

"What shall I do with you?" he said, --"shall I call you Miss Derrick?"

"No indeed!" she said colouring. "I don't often forget myself. "

"No, I shall not do that, for it would punish myself too much, but Ishall do something else--which will not punish me at all, and mayperhaps make you remember. What do you suppose it will be?"

"I don't know"--she said flushing all over. 

"Nothing worse than this"--he said, bending his face to hers. "Faith! Idid not mean to frighten you so! I'll tell you where I want to takeyou. --You know Monday is the first of January, and I want to go withyou to those houses in the neighbourhood where the wheels of the newyear drag a little, and try to give them a pleasant start. Would youlike it?"

"O!"--she said, springing forward with a delighted exclamation. --"Tellme, just what you mean. To which houses?"

"I mean that if you are well, we will have a long, long sleigh ride, and leave as many little pieces of comfort and pleasure by the way aswe can. The houses, dear, will be more than you think--I must make outa list. "

Faith clapped her hands. 

"O delicious! That is the best thing we could possibly do with Monday!and there are two days yet this week--I shall have plenty of chance, mother and I, to make everything. O what sorts of things shall we take?and what are some of the houses? There is Mrs. Dow, where we went thatnight, "--she said, her voice falling, --"and Sally Lowndes--what placesare you thinking off?"

"I think we might give Reuben at least a visit, if nothing else, --andthere are a good many such houses down about those points, and far onalong the shore. I was thinking most of them--though there are somenearer by. But my Mignonette must not tire herself, --I did not mean tobring anything but pleasure upon her hands. "

"You can't! in this way, " said Faith in delighted eagerness. "Who keepshouse in Reuben's home? he has no mother. "

"No--I suppose I may say that he keeps house, --for his father is away agreat deal, and Reuben always seems to be doing what there is to do. Asto things--you will want some for well people, and some for sick, --atsome houses the mere necessary bread and meat, and at others any ofthose little extras which people who spend all their money for breadand meat can never get. But little child, " Mr. Linden said smiling, "ifI let you prepare, you must let me send home. "

"What?" said she. "I thought you said we would both take them together?"

He laughed--taking her hand and holding it in both his. 

"And so we will!--I meant, send home here, to prepare. "

"Oh!--Well, " said Faith, "but we have a great deal now, you know; and Ican send Mr. Skip to get more. But one thing I know--we will takeReuben a roast turkey!"

I wonder if she could tell, in the firelight, with what eyes he watchedher and listened to her! Probably not, for his back was towards thefire, and the changing light and shade on his face was a littleconcealed. But the light had the mastery. 

"Faith, " he said, "I shall send you home some sugar-plums--upon expresscondition that you are not to eat them up; being quite sweet enoughalready. "

His face was so hid that probably Faith thought her own was hid too, and did not know how clearly its moved timid changes were seen. Sheleaned forward, and touching one hand lightly to his shoulder, said, "What do you mean to make me, --Endecott?"

It was a thing to hear, the soft fall and hesitancy of Faith's voice atthe last word. Yet they hardly told of the struggle it had cost. Howthe word thrilled him she did not know, --the persons living from whomhe ever had that name were now so few, that there was a strangemingling with the exquisite pleasure of hearing it from her lips, --amingling of past grief and of present healing. He changed his placeinstantly; and taking possession of her, gave her the most gentle, tender, and silent thanks. Perhaps too much touched to speak--perhapsfeeling sure that if he spoke at all it would be in just such words asshe had so gently reproved. The answer at last was only a bright, "Itold you I could not promise--and I will not now!"

She pushed her head round a little so that she could give a quickglance into his face, in which lay her answer. Her words, when shespoke, made something of a transition, which however was proved by thevoice to be a transition in words only. 

"Wouldn't a bag of potatoes be a good thing for us to take?"

"Certainly!--and we must take some books, and some orders for wood. Andyou must have a basket of trifles to delight all the children we meet. "

"That's easy! And books, will you take? that's delicious! that's betterthan anything, for those who can enjoy them. Do you think any of themwant bibles?"

"We will take some, at a venture--I never like to go anywhere withoutthat supply. And then we shall both have to use our wits to find outjust what is wanted in a particular place, --the people that tell youmost have often the least to tell. And above all, Faith, we shall wantplenty of sympathy and kind words and patience, --they are more calledfor than anything else. Do you think you can conjure up a sufficientsupply?"

"It is something I know so little about!" said Faith. "I have never hadvery much chance. When I went to see Mrs. Custers I didn't in the leastknow how to speak to her. But these people where we are going all know_you_, I suppose?"--she said with another and not a little wistful lookup into his face. 

"Most of them--more or less. What of it?"

"That makes it easy, " she said quietly. "But I suppose it would be justthe same if you didn't know them! About the sick people, --Endecott--ifyou can tell us _how_ they are sick, mother and I between us can makeout what things to prepare for them. "

"Did you think I was in earnest, dear Faith, when I asked about yoursympathy?" Mr. Linden said, drawing her closer. 

"No. --I think I have the sympathy, but I don't so well know how to shewit. Then loaves of bread, I suppose, wouldn't come amiss?--And aboveall, meat. Where else do you think a roast turkey ought to go?"

"To one particular far-off house on the shore that is brim full oflittle children--and nothing else!"

"We'll take them a big one, " said Faith smiling, --"and I suppose it isno matter how many cakes! You'll have to make a very particular list, with some notion of what would be best at each place; because in somehouses they wouldn't bear what in others they would be very glad of. Wouldn't that be good? So that we might be sure to have the right thingeverywhere--_one_ right thing, at any rate. The other things might taketheir chance. "

"Yes, I will do that. But you know the first thing is, that you shouldget well, and the next that you should _not_ get tired, --and these mustbe secured, if nobody ever has anything. "

Faith's laugh was joyous. 

"To-morrow I mean to make cakes and pies, " she said, --"and the next dayI will bake bread and roast turkeys and boil beef! And you have no ideawhat a quantity of each will be wanted! I think I never saw anybody sogood at talking people to sleep!--that didn't want to go. Now what isthat?" For the knocker of the front door sounded loudly again. 

"It is something to send people away--that don't want to go!" Mr. Linden said, as he put her back in her old position on the cushions, and moved his chair to a respectful distance therefrom. But nothingworse came in this time than a note, well enveloped and sealed, whichwas for Mr. Linden. It ran after this fashion. --

 "_In the snow--yet and the chair not only set for Ennui, but ennui in the chair!_

"_This 28th Dec_. 18

"DEAR LINDEN, You see my condition. I am desperate for want of something to do--_so_I send you this. Enclosed you will please find--if you haven't droppedit on the floor!--$25, for the bibliothecal and collegiate expenses of'Miss Derrick's friend. ' If you should hereafter know him to be infurther want of the same kind of material aid and comfort--pleaseconvey intelligence of the same to myself or father. He---i. E-. Said'friend'--saved to _us_ last night far more than the value of this. 

I am sorry I have no more to say! for your image--what else could itbe?--has for the moment frightened Ennui into the shadow--but he willcome back again as soon as I have sealed this. By which you will knowwhen you read the (then) present condition of

Your friend most truly

JULIUS HARRISON. 

In Pattaquasset, is it?"

Mr. Linden read the note by firelight and standing--then came and satdown by Faith and put it in her hands. By firelight Faith read ithastily, and looked up with eyes of great delight. "Oh!" shesaid, --"isn't that good!" Then she looked down at the note soberlyagain. 

"Well, little child? what?" he said smiling. "Yes, I am very glad. Whatare you doubting about?"

"I am not doubting about anything, " she said giving him thenote, --"only thinking of this strange man. "

"Is he very strange?" Mr. Linden said. But he did not pursue thesubject, going back instead to the one they had been upon, to give herthe information she had asked for about the sick people they werelikely to meet in their rounds; passing gradually from that to othermatters, thence into silence. And Faith followed him, step bystep, --only when he was quite silent, she was--asleep!

CHAPTER VII. 

The next two days were busy ones, all round; for though Faith wascarefully watched, by both her guardians, yet she was really well andstrong enough again to be allowed to do a good deal; especially withthose intervals of rest and study which Mr. Linden managed for her. Hiswork, between these intervals, took him often out of doors, and variouswere the tokens of that work which came home--greatly to Faith'sinterest and amusement. They were curiously indicative, too, both ofthe varied wants of the poor people in the neighbourhood, and of hisknowledge on the subject. From a little pair of shoes which was toaccompany one roast turkey, to the particular sort of new fishing netwhich was to go with the other, it really seemed as if every sort ofthing was wanted somewhere, --simple things, and easy to get, and notcosting much, --but priceless to people who had no money at all. Faithwas appointed receiver general, and her hands were full of amusement aswell as business. And those two things were the most of all that Mr. Linden suffered to come upon them, --whatever his own means might be, itwas no part of his plan to trench upon Mrs. Derrick's; though she onher part entered heart and hands into the work, with almost as muchdelight as Faith herself, and would have given the two carte-blanche totake anything she had in the house. Faith didn't ask _him_ what sheshould take there, nor let him know much about it till Monday. By thistime, what with direct and indirect modes of getting at the knowledge, Faith had become tolerably well acquainted with the class or classes ofwants that were to be ministered to. Many were the ovenfuls that werebaked that Friday and Saturday! great service did the great pot thatwas used for boiling great joints! nice and comforting were the brothsand more delicate things provided, with infinite care, for some four orfive sick or infirm people. But Faith's delight was the things Mr. Linden sent home; every fresh arrival of which sent her to the kitchenwith a new accession of zeal, sympathy, and exultation, --sympathy withhim and the poor people; exultation in the work--most of all in him!Great was the marvelling of Cindy and Mr. Skip at these days'proceedings. 

So passed Friday and Saturday; and Sunday brought a lull. Faith thoughtso, and felt so. Her roast turkeys and chickens were reposing in spicyreadiness; her boiled meats and bakeries were all accomplished and inwaiting; and dismissing all but a little joyful background thought ofthem, Faith gave her whole heart and mind to the full Sabbath rest, tothe full Sabbath rising; and looked, in her deep happiness, as if shewere--what she was--enjoying the one and striving after the other. Butthe ways by which we are to find the good we must seek, are by no meansalways those of our own choosing. 

It was a clear, cold, still, winter's day. Cold enough by thethermometer; but so still that the walking to church was pleasant. Theyhad come home from the afternoon service--Faith had not taken off herthings--when she was called into the kitchen to receive a message. Thenext minute she was in the sitting-room and stood by the side of Mr. Linden's chair. 

"Mrs. Custers is dying--and has sent for me. "

"For you, dear child?--Well--Are you able to go?"

"Oh yes. "

He looked at her in silence, as if he were making up his own mind onthe subject, then rose up and gently seating her on the sofa, told herto rest there till he was ready; but before he came back again Mrs. Derrick came to Faith's side with a smoking cup of chicken broth and abiscuit. 

"You've got to eat it, pretty child, " she said fondly, --"we're bothagreed upon that point. "

Which point mandate Faith did not try to dispute. 

The town clock had struck four, all counted, when Jerry dashed off fromthe door with the little sleigh behind him. No other sleigh-bells wereabroad, and his rang out noisily and alone over the great waste ofstillness as soon as they were quit of the village. The air happily wasvery still and the cold had not increased; but low, low the sun was, and sent his slant beams coolly over the snow-white fields, glintingfrom fences and rocks and bare thickets with a gleam that threatened hewould not look at them long. The hour was one of extreme beauty, --fairand still, with a steady strength in its stillness that made the beautysomewhat imposing. There was none of the yielding character of summerthere; but a power that was doing its work and would do it straightthrough. "He giveth forth his ice like morsels; who can stand beforehis cold?"--thought Faith. 

The sleighing was excellent; the roads in perfect condition. 

"How long is it since you were here?" Mr. Linden said as the house camein sight, shewn only by its twinkling panes of glass. 

"Not since before I went to Pequot--not since a day or two after thatride we took with Dr. Harrison, when you rode 'Stranger' the firsttime. "

"How was she then?"

"Not much different from what she had been before--she didn't saymuch--she seemed to like to listen to me, or to see me, or both. Thatwas all I could be sure of. "

"Try not to let her spend her strength in examining the past state ofher mind. Bid her lay hold of the promise now. A present hold willanswer all her questions--and is all the oldest Christian can rest in. "

"I wish you could speak to her instead of me, " said Faith. "Perhaps shewill let you. "

"It is not you nor I, my child. --Fix your heart upon Christ, and lethim speak, --fix your eyes upon him, and let his light shine. "

"I know it. O I do!--" she said, looking up at him with an humble, moved face. 

He lifted her out of the sleigh and led her up to the house, where theywere presently admitted; into an outer room first, where Faith couldlay off her furs. 

"She's some brighter to-night, " the woman in attendance said, in answerto Mr. Linden's questions. "I guess she'll be real glad to seeyou"--this was addressed to Faith. 

Faith left Mr. Linden there, and went into the sick chamber alone;where she was always received as if she had brought an olive branch, ora palm branch, or both of them, in her hand. The spirit of both, nodoubt, was in her; the gentle face looked the promise of both peace andvictory, as only humility can look it. 

Mrs. Custers on her part looked--as the other had said--glad; if sobright a word could be applied to a face that had lost all its ownlight, and where no reflected light as yet shone. Yet she was quieterthan when Faith had first seen her, whether from mental relief orphysical prostration, and was most eager for all Faith'swords, --listening for the most part in silence, but with eyes thatnever said "enough. " As some poor exhausted traveller takes the waterwhich he has at last reached in the desert, nor knows yet whether itsbright drops can avail to save his life, but lays him down by thefountain--there to live or die. And Faith, feeling that her hand wasministering those drops of life, lost every other thought, --except towish for a hand that could do it better. Once she ventured aproposition. 

"I have a friend here, Mrs. Custers, who can tell you about all thesethings much better than I can. Will you let him? May I ask him to comein and see you?"

"Better?" she said slowly--"I don't believe it. Who is he? yourbrother?"

"No--I haven't any brother. But that don't matter. He's somebody thatis a great deal better than I am. May I let him come in? He's here, "said Faith very quietly, along with her flushing cheek. 

There was a poor little faint smile for a moment upon the sick woman'slips while Faith spoke, but it passed and she answered in the sametone--"I'll see him--to please you--before you go. I just want thewords now--and I like you best. "

Faith troubled her no more with unnecessary suggestions, and gave her"the words. " Gave them with the fragrance of her own love about them, which certainly is the surest human vehicle for the love above humanthat is in them. As on that first occasion, Faith placed herself on theside of the bed; and holding one of Mrs. Custers' hands in her own, bending her soft quiet face towards the listening eyes and ears, shegave her one by one, like crumbs of life-giving food, the words ofpromise, of encouragement, of invitation, of example. No answer cheeredor helped her; no token of pleasure or even of assent met her; onlythose fixed listening eyes bade her go on, and told that whether forlife and refreshment or no, the words were eagerly taken in, each afterthe other, as she said them. There was something in the strong sympathyof the speaker--in her own feeling and joy of the truths she told--thatmight give them double power and life to the ears of another. Faithreported the words of her Master with such triumphant prizing of themand such leaning on their strength; she gave his invitations in suchtones of affection; she told over the instances of others' prevailingfaith with such an evident, clear, satisfying share in the same;--theliving words this time lost nothing of their power by a dead utterance. Of her own words Faith ventured few; now and then the simplest additionto some thing she had repeated, to make it more plain, or to carry itfurther home; such words as she could not keep back; such words, verymuch, as she would have spoken to Johnny Fax; not very unlike whatJohnny Fax might have spoken to her. But there was not a littlephysical exhaustion about all this after a while, and Faith found shemust have some help to her memory. She went into the other room. 

"I want a bible, " she said looking round for it--"Is there one here?"

Yes there was one, but it was Mr. Linden's. That was quickly given her. 

"I forgot it at the moment you went in, " he said, "and then I did notlike to disturb you. My dear Faith!--" and he held her hand and lookedat her a little wistfully. She brought her other hand upon his, andlooked down and looked up wistfully too; like one with a heart full. 

"Can I help you? can I take your place?"

"She won't let you, " said Faith shaking her head. "She says she willsee you by and by--but she must take her own time for it. "

And Faith went back to her ministrations. Of all bibles, she would havehad that one in her hand then! And yet its companionship bowed down herheart with a sense of weakness;--but that was the very position for thenext move; a spring beyond weakness to the only real and sufficientground of strength. 

The afternoon merged into the evening. A tallow candle had been broughtby the attendant into the room in which Mr. Linden was waiting; and itsdim smoky light would have made a dismal place of it if he had had noother to go by. He could sometimes hear the low tones of a word or twoin the other room; more often the tones were so low that they failed toreach him. When this state of things had lasted a long time--as itseemed--there came an interruption in the form of quick steps on thesnow; then the door was pushed open, and Dr. Harrison appeared. 

"You here!" was his astonished salutation. "What upon earth has broughtyou?"

"I came to bring some one else. "

"_She_ isn't here?" said the doctor. "You don't mean that?"

His emphatic pronouns were a little smile-provoking, in spite of thegrave thoughts upon which they intruded--or rather perhaps because ofthem; but if Mr. Linden's face felt that temptation, it was only for amoment, --he answered quietly, "If you mean Miss Faith, she has been here a long time. "

The doctor knew that! if she came when she was called. _He_ had stoppedto eat his dinner. 

"I mean her, of course, " he said with his tone a little subdued. "Ishouldn't think her mother would have let her come--such a night!--"Which meant very plainly that Dr. Harrison would not have let her. --"Isshe in there with the woman now?"

"Yes. "

The doctor went with grave aspect to the door of communication betweenthe two rooms and softly opened it and went in; so softly, that Faith, engaged in her reading, did not hear anything; the sick woman's eyeswere the first that perceived him. Hers rested on him a moment--thencame back to Faith, and then again met the doctor's; but not just asthey had been wont. And her first words bore out his impression. 

"You may come in, " she said, slowly and distinctly, --"I'm not afraid ofyou to-night. "

He came forward, looked at her, touched her hand, kindly; and thenwithout a word turned to Faith. 

Faith did not dare ask a question, but her eyes put it silently. 

"She don't want anything, " said he meaningly. "Not from me. She mayhave anything she fancies to have. "

Faith's eyes went back to the other face. That the doctor's words hadbeen understood there too, was evident from the little flitting colour, and the sick woman lay still with closed eyes, clasping Faith's hand asif she were holding herself back from drifting out on "that great andunknown sea. " But she roused herself and spoke hurriedly. "Won'tsomebody pray for me?"

Faith bent over until her lips almost touched the sufferer's cheek andher warm breath floated in the words, "I'll bring somebody--" thenloosing her hold, she sprang from the bed and out into the other room. But when she had clasped Mr. Linden's hand, Faith bent down her headupon it, unable to speak. The strength it could, his hand gave her--andhis voice. 

"What, my dear child?"

Then Faith looked up. "She wants you to pray for her. " And withoutwaiting for the unnecessary answer, she led Mr. Linden to the door ofthe room, there dropped his hand and went in before him. Dr. Harrisonwas standing by the bedpost, and looked wordlessly upon the two as theyentered. 

Mrs. Custers scanned the stranger's face as he came to wards her, withan anxious, eager look, as if she wanted to know whether he could doanything for her; the look changing to one of satisfaction. But to hislow-spoken question as he took her hand, she gave an answer that wasalmost startling in its slow earnestness. 

"Pray that I may believe--and that _he_ may--and that God would blessher forever!"

How was such a request to be met! then and there!--for a moment Mr. Linden's eyes fell. But then he knelt by her side, and met it mostliterally, --in tones very low and clear and distinct, in words thatmight have been angels' plumage for their soft bearing upward of thesufferer's thoughts. Faith could feel a slight trembling once or twiceof the hand that held hers, but the bitterness of its grasp hadrelaxed. Dr. Harrison was behind her; whether he stood or knelt she didnot know; but _he_ knew that when the other two rose to their feet, oneof them was exceedingly pale; and his move, made on the instant, was toget her a glass of water. Faith only tasted it and gave it him back, and mounted to her former place on the bed. And for a little all wasstill, until Mr. Linden spoke again in the same clear, guiding tones. 

 "'My God, within thy hand My helpless soul I trust! Thy love shall ever stand-- Thy promise must!--'"

Then Mrs. Custers opened her eyes; and her first look was at Dr. Harrison. But whether the relaxed mental tension let the bodilyweakness appear, or whether the tide was at that point where it ebbsmost rapidly, her words were spoken with some trouble--yet spoken as ifboth to make amends and give information. 

"You meant to be very kind--" she said--"and you have--But _now_ I wantto believe--even if it isn't any use. "

Her eyes passed from him--rested for a minute on Mr. Linden--then cameto Faith, and never wavered again. "Read"--was all she said. 

With unnerved lip and quivering breath Faith began again her sweetutterance of some of those sweetest things. For a moment she longed toask the other two listeners to go away and leave her alone; butreasons, different and strong, kept her mouth from speaking the wish;and then, once dismissed, it was forgotten. Her voice steadied and grewclear presently; its low, distinct words were not interrupted by somuch as a breath in any part of the room. They steadied her; Faithrested on them and clung to them as she went along, with a sense offailing energy which needed a stay somewhere. But her words did notshew it, except perhaps that they came more slowly and deliberately. Mr. Linden had drawn back a little out of sight. Dr. Harrison kept hisstand by the bedpost, leaning against it; and whatever that reading wasto him, he was as motionless as that whereon he leaned. 

Till some little length of time had passed in this way, and then hecame to Faith's side and laid his hand on her open book. 

"She does not hear you, " he said softly. 

Faith looked at him startled, and then bent forward over the womanwhose face was turned a little from her. 

"She is sleeping"--she said looking up again. 

"She will not hear you any more, " said the doctor. 

"She breathes, regularly, --"

"Yes--so she will for perhaps some hours. But she will not wakenagain, --probably. "

"Are you sure?" Faith said with another look at the calm face beforeher. 

"Very sure!"--

Was it true? Faith looked still at the unconscious form, --then herbible fell from her hands and her head wearily sunk into them. Thestrain was over--broken short. She had done all she could, --and theeverlasting answer was sealed up from her. Those heavy eyelids wouldnot unclose again to give it; those parted lips through which the slowbreath went and came, would never tell her. It seemed to Faith that herheart lay on the very ground with the burden of all that weight restingupon it. 

She was not suffered to sit so long. 

"May I take you away?"--Mr. Linden said, --"you must not stay anylonger. "

"Do you think it is no use?" said Faith looking up at him wearily. 

"It is of no use, " said Dr. Harrison. He had come near, and took herhand, looking at her with a moved face in which there was somethingvery like tender reproach. But he only brought her hand gravely to hislips again and turned away. Mr. Linden's words were very low-spoken. "Ithink the doctor is right. --But let me take you home, and then I willcome back and stay till morning if you like--or till there comes achange. _You_ must not stay. "

"I don't like to go, "--said Faith without moving. "She may want meagain. "

"There may be no change all night, " said the doctor;--"and when itcomes it will not probably be a conscious change. If she awakes at all, it will be to die. You could do nothing more. "

Faith saw that Mr. Linden thought so, and she gave it up; with alingering unwillingness got off the bed and wrapped her furs round her. Mr. Linden put her into the sleigh, keeping Jerry back to let thedoctor precede them; and when he was fairly in front, Faith was doublywrapped up--as she had been the night of the fire, and could take therefreshment of the cool air, and rest. Very wearily, for a while, mindand body both dropped. Faith was as still as if she had been asleep;but her eyes were gazing out upon the snow, following the distant speckof the doctor's sleigh, or looking up to the eternal changeless lightsthat keep watch over this little world and mock its changes. Yet notso! but that bear their quiet witness that there is something which isnot "passing away;"--yea, that there is something which "endurethforever. "

"He calleth them all by their names; for that he is strong in power, not one faileth. " That was in Faith's mind along with other words--"TheLord knoweth them that are his. " Her mind was in a passive state;things floated in and floated out. It was some time before Mr. Lindensaid anything--he let her be as silent and still as she would; but atlast he bent over her and spoke. 

"My Mignonette"--and the thought was not sweeter than the words--"areyou asleep?"

"No--" she said in one of those etherial answering tones whichcuriously say a great many things. 

"Are you resting?"

"Yes. I am rested. "

"You must try not to bear the burden of your work after it is done. Nowlay it off--and leave your poor friend in the hands where I trust shehas left herself. Her senses are not closed to his voice. "

"I do"--she said with a grateful look. "I know it is not my work--noranybody's. "

He drew the furs up about her silently, arranging and adjusting them soas to keep off the wind which had risen a little. 

"We are not very far from home now, --we have come fast. "

And as Jerry did not relax his pace, the little distance was soontravelled over. How fair the lights in their own windows lookedthen!--with their speech of blessing and comfort. 

They all came together round the fire first, and then round thetea-table; Faith being specially watched over and waited on by both theothers. Mrs. Derrick's half developed fear at their long stay, hadgiven place to a sort of moved, untalkative mood when she heard theexplanation, but a mood which relieved itself by trying every possibleand impossible thing for Faith's refreshment. Every possible thingexcept refreshing talk--and that Mr. Linden gave her. Talk whichwithout jarring in the least upon the evening's work, yet led herthoughts a little off from the painful part of it. Talk of theChristian's work--of the Christian's privilege, --of "Heaven and the waythither, "--of the gilding of the cross, of the glory of the crown. Faith heard and joined in it, but there was a point of pressure yet ather heart; and when they left the table and went into the other room, aslight thing gave indication where it lay. Faith took a little bench byMrs. Derrick's side, drew her mother's arms round her close, and laidher head down on her lap. 

How softly, how tenderly, did Mrs. Derrick answer the caress, as if sheread it perfectly!--touching Faith's hands and brow and cheeks withfingers that were even trembling. And at last--whether her child's mutepleading was too much for her, --whether the pain which had never lefther heart since the day of Faith's overturn had by degrees done itswork, --she bent down her lips to Faith's cheek and whispered--"Yes, pretty child--I mean to try. "

And so the door opened, and Cindy and Mr. Skip came in for prayers. Faith hid her face, but otherwise did not stir. 

How sweet the service was to them all that night!--yes, to them all;there was not one who could help feeling its influence. And yet it wasvery simple, and not very long, --Mr. Linden read first a few Biblepassages, and then Wesley's hymn of the New Year, --with its bugle noteof action, --and then to prayer, for which, by that time, every heartwas ready. 

 "Come let us anew our journey pursue, Roll round with the year, And never stand still till the Master appear. His adorable will let us gladly fulfil, And our talents improve, By the patience of hope and the labours of love. 

 "Our life is a dream; our time, as a stream, Glides swiftly away, And the fugitive moment refuses to stay. The arrow is flown--the moment is gone; The millennial year Rushes on to our view, and eternity's here. 

 "O that each, in the day of his coming, may say, I have fought my way through; I have finished the work thou didst give me to do. O that each from his Lord may receive the glad word, Well and faithfully done! Enter into my joy, and sit down on my throne. "

CHAPTER VIII. 

The first morning of the new year turned out as bright as could bedesired for the great sleigh-riding expedition; the very day for it. And in the very mood for it were the people who were to go. Not butsomewhat of last night's gravity hung about Faith's bright face; theone did no hurt to the other; for the best brightness is always sure tobe grave, and the best gravity is almost sure to be bright, on someside. However there was nothing _contemplative_ about the character ofthings this morning; there was too much action afoot. Such an army ofmeats and drinks, with all sorts of odd ends and varieties, from theshoes to the fishing-net, and such an array of apples andsugarplums!--to marshal and order them all in proper companies andranks, wanted a general! But Faith was by no means a bad general, andup to the act of stowing the sleigh, at which point the things weremade over to Mr. Linden and Mr. Skip, her part was well done. And Mr. Linden found in the course of _his_ part of the business that Mrs. Derrick and Faith had followed a lead of their own. 

There had been a pretty packing and tying up and labelling at thetable, before the sleigh-packing began, --Faith's busy little fingerswent in and out with great dexterity; and either Mr. Linden thought itwas pleasant to her--or knew it was pleasant to him, to have them soengaged; for though he stood by and talked to her, and laughed at her, he let the said little fingers have their way; except when they touchedsome harsh bit of string, or rough bit of paper, or unmanageablepackage, and then his own interfered. It was a bright packingup--without a shadow, at least that could be called such. But once ortwice, when with some quick movement of Faith's hand the diamondsflashed forth their weird light suddenly, --she did see that Mr. Linden's eyes went down, and that his mouth took a set which if not ofpain, was at least sad. It never lasted long--and the next look wasalways one of most full pleasure at her. But the second time, Faith'sheart could hardly bear it. She guessed at the why and the what; butwords were too gross a medium to convey from spirit to spirit the touchthat love could give and pain bear. She watched her chance; and whenone of Mr. Linden's hands was for a moment resting on a package thatthe other was busied in arranging, suddenly laying the jewelled hand onhis, Faith's lips kept it company. 

"Faith!" he said. And then as if he saw it all, he did not say anotherword, only held her for a minute in a very, very close embrace. Butthen he whispered, "Faith--you must give me that in another way. "

Faith appeared to have exhausted her ammunition, for she only answeredby hiding her face. 

"Faith"--Mr. Linden repeated. 

She looked up slowly, blushing all over; and her very doubtful faceseemed to negative the whole proceeding. But then an irrepressiblelittle laugh began to play. 

"I wouldn't do it, " she said unsteadily, --"at least, I don't know thatI would--if I hadn't wished so very much to give you somethingto-day;--and I have nothing else!--"

And nerving herself desperately, Faith laid one hand on Mr. Linden'sshoulder and slightly raising herself on her toes, did bestow on hislips as dainty a kiss as ever Santa Claus brought in his box of NewYear curiosities. But she was overcome with confusion the moment shehad done it, and would have rushed off if that had been possible. 

"Let me go"--she said hastily--"let me go!"--

In answer to which, she was held as securely fast as she ever had beenin her life. Covering and hiding all of her face that she could, Faithrenewed her request, in a comical tone of humility--as if she didn'tdeserve it. 

"I never felt less inclined to let you go!"

"There is all that work to be done, " said Faith, by way of possiblyuseful suggestion. 

"Mignonette, will you remember your new lesson?"

She whispered softly, "No. --It was only Santa Claus. "

"Not Campaspe?"

"No--Certainly not!"

"You remember, " said Mr. Linden, "that when--'Cupid and Campaspe playedat cards for kisses, _Cupid paid_. '--I was unavoidably reminded ofthat. But you may go on with your work, --you know what happens whenlessons are learned imperfectly. " And liberty for her work she had; nomore. 

"Child, " said her mother coming in, "are you ready for your lunch?"

"Why no, mother, " said Faith with a little laugh, --"of course not! butI can take it as I go on. There's a good deal of 'sorting' to do yet. Ihope the sleigh is big. "

"Take it as you go on, indeed!" said Mrs. Derrick. "You've got to stopand eat, child, --you can't live till night with nothing but otherfolk's dinners. "

Faith however declared she could not _stop_ to eat; and she contrivedto carry on both the rival occupations together; and even to make rightsure that no one else should attempt to live upon anything moreetherial than sandwiches and pumpkin pie. She drank her coffee in theintervals of tying packages and writing labels, and ran about with asandwich in one hand and a basket in the other; filling Mr. Linden'scup and putting tempting platefuls in his way. But he was as busy asshe, --spending much of his time at the barn, where SquireStoutenburgh's pretty little box sleigh was in process of filling withcloaks, buffalo robes, and commodities! At last everything was in, andMr. Linden came to announce that fact to Faith, --furs and hood weredonned, and the sleigh was off with its whole load. 

Bright, bright the snow was, and blue the shadows, and fair the whiteexpanse of hill and meadow, all crisp and sparkling. Everybody wasout--which was not wonderful; but so well had Mr. Linden disposed andcovered up his packages, that all anybody could see was that he andFaith were taking a sleigh-ride, --which was not wonderful either. Andbefore long they left the more frequented roads, and turned down thelane that led to the dwelling of Sally Lowndes. How different it lookednow, from that summer evening when Faith had gone there alone. What acolouring then lay on all the ground that was now white with sunlightand blue with shade! And also, what a difference in the mentalcolouring. But Jerry, travelling faster than her feet had done, soonbrought them to the house. Mr. Linden buckled the tie, and helpedFaith to emerge from the buffalo robes; the winter wind blowing freshfrom the sea, and sweeping over the down till Jerry shook his blanketin disapproval. 

"Now my little counsellor, " said Mr. Linden, "what does your wisdom sayshould go in here--besides this basket of substantiate? I think youknow more of these people than I do?"--And the surf in its coldmonotony, said--"Anything warm!"

"Mother has put in a shawl for Sally, " said Faith, getting out thepackage;--(it was one that Mrs. Derrick found she could dowithout, )--"and a little paper of tea, --tea is Sally's greatestdelight, --here it is!"

Sally's abode was in nothing different from the run of poor houses inthe country; unpainted of course, outside and inside; a rag carpet onthe floor, a gay patchwork coverlet on the bed. Sally herself was inthe rocking-chair before a little wood fire. But there was not the lookof even poor comfort which may sometimes be seen; want, that told oflack of means and that also went deeper, was visible in everything. 

"I've come to wish you a happy new year, Sally, " said Faith brightly. 

"Laws! I wonder where it's to come from!" said Sally. "If _wishin'_ Iwould fetch it--I've wished it to myself till I'm tired. Happy newyears don't come to all folks. Aint that--How do you do, sir!--aint itthe gentleman Jenny told of? that fell down at Mr. Simlins' door?"

"And got up again?" said Mr. Linden. "Yes, I presume I am the veryperson Jenny told of. I remember that Jenny was very kind to me, too. Where is she?"

"O she's to Mr. Simlinses all along! she's got a good place; she knowswhen she's comfortable. She don't think of me stayin' here all alone. "

"But aren't you comfortable, Sally?" said Faith. 

"I should like to know how I would be! Folks that _is_ comfortablethinks all the world is like them! If they didn't they'd help. "

"Well what is the first thing that would help to make you comfortable?"said Mr. Linden. 

Sally looked at him, up and down. 

"I'd like to see a speck o' somebody's face now and then. I mope andmope, till I wish I'd die to get rid of it! You see, sir, I aint as Iused to was; and my family aint numerous now. There's no one lives inthis house over my head but me and a girl what stays by me to dochores. Aint that a life for a spider?"

Faith had been stealthily unfolding the shawl and now put it roundSally's shoulders. "Will _that_ help to make you comfortable?" she saidgently. 

"Laws!" said Sally--"aint that smart! That's good as far as it goes. Where did that come from?"

"Mother sent it to you, for New Year. "

"It's real becoming of her!" said Sally in a mollified tone, feeling ofthe shawl. "Well I won't say this New Years haint brought me something. "

"It brings you too much cold air at present, " Mr. Linden said. "Do youknow that window lets in about as much cold as it keeps out?"

"Well I reckon I do, " said Sally. "I've nothin' to do all day but sithere and realize onto it. There aint no such a thing as buildin' a firein the chimney that'll keep out the cold from that winter. "

"I should think not!--the way is to attack the window itself, " he said, looking at it as if he were studying the attack. 

"We've brought you something else here, Sally, to help keep out thecold, " said Faith. "May I put the things in your closet--so as to carryhome my basket?"

"Yes, if you like. What have you got there, Faith?" said Miss Lowndeslooking into the closet after her. 

"There's a piece of beef, Sally, of mother's own curing--all readycooked--so you'll have nothing to do but cook your potatoes--and motherthought you'd like a few of our potatoes, they're good this year. Thenhere is a little paper of tea she sent you, and I've brought you one ofmy own pumpkin pies--so you must say it is good, Sally. "

"Well I'm beat!" said Sally. "Haint you got something else?"

She was like to be beat on all hands; for Mr. Linden who had beenexamining the window while Faith emptied her basket, now went out andpresently brought back hammer and nails and strips of lath, that madeFaith wonder whether he had brought a tool-chest along. But the noiseof his hammer was much more cheerful than the rattling of the window, and when it had done its work outside as well as in, the wind mightwhistle for admission in vain. He came in and stood by the fire for amoment then, before they set off, and asked Faith softly what else waswanted? And Faith whispered in answer--

"'The Dairyman's Daughter?' but you must give it. "

"Can't you get some comfort in reading your Bible, Sally?" said Faithwhile Mr. Linden went out to the sleigh with his hammer and nails. 

"Laws!" said Sally--"what's the use! I haint got the heart to take thetrouble to read, half the time. "

"If you read one half the time, and pray too, Sally, you'll soon getheart for the other half. "

"It's easy talkin'"--was Sally's encouraging view of the case. 

"It's a great deal easier doing, " said Faith. "If you try it, Sally, it'll make you so glad you'll never say you want comfort again. "

"Well you've brought me a heap to-day anyhow, " said Sally. "Just lookat that winder! I declare!--I 'spect I'll make out to eat my dinnerto-day without scolding. "

Mr. Linden came back with the tract, but kept it in his hand for aminute. 

"Do you know, Sally, how a house is built upon the bare ground?" hesaid. "The mason lays down one stone, and then another on that; and ifhe cannot have his choice of stones he takes just what come tohand--little and big, putting in plenty of mortar to bind all together. Now that's the way you must build up a happy year for yourself, --and inthat way every one can. " The words were spoken very brightly, without atouch of faultfinding. 

"Well"--said Sally rocking herself back and forth in therocking-chair--"I 'spect you know how. "--Which might have been meant asa compliment, or as an excuse. 

"I think you do, " said Mr. Linden smiling; "and I am going to leave youa true story of how it was really done by somebody else. Will you readit?"

"Yes"--said Sally continuing to rock. "I'll do any thing you ask meto--after that winder. You've given me a good start--anyways. I'd aslieves hear you talk as most things. "

There was not time for much more talk then, however. Mr. Linden andFaith went away, leaving the little book on the table. But when Sallywent to take a nearer view of its words of golden example, there lay onit the first real little gold piece Sally had ever possessed. 

"That was a good beginning, " said Faith in a sort of quiet glee, aftershe had got into the sleigh again. "I knew, before, we were like abutcher and baker setting off on their travels; but I had no idea therewas a carpenter stowed away anywhere!" And her laugh broke forth uponthe air of those wild downs, as Jerry turned his head about. 

"I must be something, you know, " said Mr. Linden, --"and I don't chooseto be the butcher--and certainly am not the baker. "

They turned into the village again, and then down towards the shore;getting brilliant glimpses of the Sound now and then, and a pretty keenbreeze. But the sun was strong in its modifying power, and bright andhappy spirits did the rest. One little pause the sleigh made at thehouse where Faith had had her decisive interview with Squire Deacon, but they did not get out there; only gave a selection of comforts intothe hands of one of the household, and jingled on their way shorewards. Not turning down to the bathing region, but taking a road that ranparallel with the Sound. 

"Do you remember our first walk down here, Faith?" said Mr. Linden, --"when you said you had shewed me the shore?"

"Well I did, " said Faith smiling, --"I shewed you what I knew; but youshewed me what I had never known before. "

"I'm sure you shewed me some things I had never known before, " he saidlaughing a little. "Do you know where we are going now?"--they had leftthe beaten road, and entered a by-way where only footsteps marked thesnow, and no sleigh before their own had broken ground. It seemed to bea sort of coast-way, --leading right off towards the dashing Sound andits low points and inlets. The shore was marked with ice as well asfoam; the water looked dark and cold, with the white gulls soaring anddipping, and the white line of Long Island in the distance. 

"No, I don't know. Where are we going? O how beautiful! O howbeautiful!" Faith exclaimed. "Hasn't every time its own pleasure! Whereare we going, Endecott?"

"To see one who Dr. Harrison 'fancies' may have 'something in him. 'Whatever made the doctor take such a dislike to Reuben?"

Faith did not answer, and instead looked forward with a sort ofcontemplative gravity upon her brow. Her cheeks were already sobrilliant with riding in the fresh air that a little rise of colourcould hardly have been noticed. 

"Do you know?"

Faith presently replied that she supposed it was a dislike taken upwithout any sort of real ground. 

"Well to tell you the truth, my little Mignonette, " said Mr. Linden, "the doctor's twenty-five dollars gives me some trouble in thatconnexion. Reuben will take favours gladly from anybody that likes him, but towards people who do not (they are very few, indeed) he is asproud as if he had the Bank of England at his back. _I_ might send hima dinner every day if I chose; but if Reuben were starving, hisconscience would have a struggle with him before he would take breadfrom Dr. Harrison. "

Faith listened very seriously and her conclusion was a very earnest"Oh, I am sorry!--But then, " she went on thoughtfully, --"I don't knowthat Dr. Harrison _dislikes_ Reuben. --He don't understand him, howshould he?--and I know they have never seemed to get on welltogether. --"

"I chose to answer for him the other day, " said Mr. Linden--"and Ishall not let him refuse; but I have questioned whether I would tellhim anything about the money till he is ready for the books. Then if heshould meet the doctor, and the doctor should ask him!--"

Faith was silent a bit. 

"But Reuben will do what you tell him, " she said. "And besides, Reubenwas doing everything he could for Dr. Harrison the other night--hecan't refuse to let Dr. Harrison do something for him. I don't think heought. "

"He had no thought of reward. Still, he would not refuse, if hesupposed any part of the 'doing' was out of care for him, --and you knowI cannot tell him that I think it is. But I shall talk to him about it. Not to-day: I will not run the risk of spoiling his pleasure at thesight of us. There--do you see that little beaver-like hut on the nextpoint?--that is where he lives. "

Faith looked at it with curious interest. That little brown spot amidstthe waste of snow and waters--that was where the fisherman's boy lived;and there he was preparing himself for college. And for what beside?

"Will Reuben or his father be hurt at all at anything we have broughtthem?" she said then. 

"No, they will take it all simply for what it is, --a New Year's gift. And Reuben would not dream of being hurt by anything we could do, --heis as humble as he is proud. We are like enough to find him alone. "

And so they found him. With an absorbed ignoring of sleigh-bells andcuriosity--perhaps because the former rarely came for him, --Reuben hadsat still at his work until his visiters knocked at the low door. Butthen he came with a step and face ready to find Mr. Linden--though notFaith; and his first flush of pleasure deepened with surprise and evena little embarrassment as he ushered her in. There was no false prideabout it, but "Miss Faith" was looked upon by all the boys as a daintything; and Reuben placed a chair for her by the drift-wood fire, withas much feeling of the unfitness of surrounding circumstances, as ifshe had been the Queen. Something in the hand that was laid on hisshoulder brushed that away; and then Reuben looked and spoke as usual. 

Surrounding circumstances were not so bad, after all. Faith had noticedhow carefully and neatly the snow was cleared from the door and down tothe water's edge, and everything within bore the same tokens. The roomwas very tiny, the floor bare--but very clean; the blazing drift-woodthe only adornment. Yet not so: for on an old sea chest which gracedone side of the room, lay Reuben's work which they had interrupted. Anopen book, with one or two others beside it; and by them all, with meshand netting-kneedle and twine, lay an old net which Reuben had beenrepairing. The drift-wood had stone supporters, --the winter wind sweptin a sort of grasping way round the little hut; and the dashing of theSound waters, and the sharp war of the floating ice, broke thestillness. But they were very glad eyes that Reuben lifted to Mr. Linden's face and a very glad alacrity brought forward a little box forFaith to rest her feet. 

"Don't you mean to sit down, Mr. Linden?" he said. 

"To be sure I do. But I haven't wished you a happy New Year yet. " Andthe lips that Reuben most reverenced in the world, left their greetingon his forehead. It was well the boy found something to do--with thefire, and Faith's box, and Mr. Linden's chair! But then he stood silentand quiet as before. 

"Don't _you_ mean to sit down, Reuben?" said Faith. 

Reuben smiled, --not as if he cared about a seat; but he brought forwardanother little box, not even the first cousin of Faith's, and sat downas she desired. 

"Didn't you find it very cold, Miss Faith?" he said, as if he could notget used to seeing her there. "Are you getting warm now?"

Faith said she hadn't been cold; and would fast enough have enteredinto conversation with Reuben, but she thought he would rather hearwords from other lips, and was sure that other lips could give thembetter. 

"And have you got quite well, ma'm?" said Reuben. 

"Don't I look well?" she said smiling at him. "What are you doing overthere, Reuben?--making a net?"

"O I was mending it, Miss Faith. "

"I can't afford to have you at that work just now, " said Mr. Linden, --"you know we begin school again to-morrow. You must tell yourfather from me, Reuben, that he must please to use his new one for thepresent, and let you mend up that at your leisure. Will you?"

Reuben flushed--looking up and then down as he said, "Yes, sir, "--andthen very softly, "O Mr. Linden, you needn't have done that!"

"Of course I need not--people never need please themselves, I suppose. But you know, Reuben, there is a great deal of Santa Glaus work goingon at this time of year, and Miss Faith and I have had some of it putin our hands. I won't answer for what she'll do with you!--but you musttry and bear it manfully. "

Reuben laughed a little--half in sympathy with the bright words andsmile, half as if the spirit of the time had laid hold of him. 

"You know, Mr. Linden, " said Faith laughing, but appealinglytoo, --"that Reuben will get worse handling from you than he will fromme!--so let him have the worst first. "

"I'll bring in your basket, " was all he said, --and the basket came inaccordingly; Reuben feeling too bewildered to even offer his services. 

Faith found herself in a corner. She jumped up and placed herself infront of the basket so as to hide it. "Wait!"--she said. "Reuben, howmuch of a housekeeper are you?"

"I don't know, Miss Faith, --I don't believe I ever was tried. "

"Do you know how to make mince pies, for instance?"

But Reuben shook his head, with a low-spoken, "No, Miss Faith, "--alittle as if she were somehow transparent, and he was viewing thebasket behind her. 

"Never mind my questions, " said Faith, "but tell me. Could you stuff aturkey, do you think, if you tried?"

"I suppose I could--somehow, " Reuben said, colouring and laughing. "Inever tried, Miss Faith. "

"Then you couldn't!" said Faith, her laugh rolling round the littleroom, as softly as the curls of smoke went up the chimney. "You needn'tthink you could! But Reuben, since you can't, don't you think you wouldlet me do it once for you?"

Reuben's words were not ready in answer. But a bashful look at Faith'sface--and her hands, --one that reminded her of the clam-roasting, --wasfollowed by a grateful, low-spoken--"I don't think you ought to doanything for _me_, Miss Faith. "

"I have had so much pleasure in it, Reuben, you'll have to forgiveme;"--Faith answered, withdrawing from the basket. 

"You must look into that at your leisure, Reuben, " Mr. Linden said, ashe watched the play of feeling in the boy's face. "Miss Faith is in nohurry for her basket. "

Reuben heard him silently, and as silently lifted the basket from whereit stood and set it carefully on the table. But then he came close upto Faith and stood by her side. "You are _very_ good, Miss Faith!" hesaid. "I don't know how to thank you. "

"Reuben!" said Faith colouring--"you mustn't thank me at all. I've justhad the pleasure of doing--but it is Mr. Linden that has brought thebasket here, and me too. "

"And he must take you away, " Mr. Linden said. "Reuben, you may thankMiss Faith just as much as you please. If I had nothing else to do, Ishould invite my self here to dinner, but as it is I must be off. Areyou ready?" he said to Faith, while in silence Reuben knelt down to puton again the moccasins which she had thrown off, and then she followedMr. Linden. Reuben followed too, --partly to help their arrangements, partly at Mr. Linden's bidding to bring back the net. But when therewas added thereto a little package which could only mean books, Reuben's cup of gravity, at least, was full; and _words_ of good-bye hehad none. 

And for a few minutes after they drove away Faith too was silent withgreat pleasure. She hardly knew, though she felt, how bright the sunwas on the snow, and how genial his midday winter beams; and with howcrisp a gleam the light broke on ice points and crests of foam andglanced from the snow-banks. The riches of many days seemed crowdedinto the few hours of that morning. Were they not on a "shining"expedition! Had they not been leaving sunbeams of gladness in houseafter house, that would shine on, nobody knew how long! Faith was tooglad for a little while not to feel very sober; those sunbeams camefrom so high a source, and were wrought in with others that so wrappedher own life about. So she looked at Jerry's ears and said nothing. 

"Faith, " Mr. Linden said suddenly, "I wish I could tell you what it isto me to be going these rounds with you!"

Faith shewed a quick, touched little smile. "I've been thinking justnow, --what it means. "

"I should like to have the explanation of those last three words. "

"What it means?"--and the slight play of her lips did not at all hinderthe deep, deep strength of her thought from being manifest. --"It means, all you have taught me and led me to!--"

"You don't intend to lead me to a very clear understanding, " he saidplayfully, and yet with a tone that half acknowledged her meaning. "Doyou ever remember what you have taught me?--They say one should at theend of the year, reckon up all the blessings it has brought, --but Iknow not where to begin, nor how to recount them. This year!--it hasbeen like the shield in the old fable, --it seemed to me of iron to lookforward to--so cold and dark, --and it has been all gold!"

"Did it look so?" she said with quick eyes of sympathy. 

"Yes, little Sunbeam, it looked so; and there were enough earthlyreasons why it should. But unbelief has had a rebuke for once;--if Iknow myself, I am ready now to go forward without a question!"

Over what Hill Difficulty did that future road lie?--He did notexplain, and the next words came with a different tone, --one thatalmost put the other out of Faith's head. "My little Sunbeam, do youkeep warm?"

"Yes"--she said with a somewhat wistful look that came from a sunbeamdetermined upon doing its very best of shining, for him. But she wassilent again for a minute. "There are plenty of sunbeams abroad to-day, Endecott, " she said then with rare sweetness of tone, that touched butdid not press upon his tone of a few minutes ago. 

"Dear Faith, " he said looking at her, and answering the wistfulness andthe smile and the voice all in one, --"do you know I can never findwords that just suit me for you?--And do you know that I think therewas never such a New Year's day heard of?--it is all sunshine! Justlook how the light is breaking out there upon the ice, and touching thewaves, and shining through that one little cloud, --and guess how I feelit in my heart. Do you know how much work of this sort, and of everysort, you and I shall have to do together, little child, if we live?"

It was a look of beauty that answered, --so full in its happiness, soblushing and shy; but Faith's words were as simple as they were earnest. 

"I wish it. There can't be too much. "

Their course now became rather irregular; crossing about from one spotto another, and through a part of the country where Faith had neverbeen. Here was a sort of shore population, --people living upon rocksand sand rent free, or almost that; and supporting themselves otherwiseas best they might. A scattered, loose-built hamlet, perching along theicy shore, and with its wild winds to rock the children to sleep, andthe music of the waves for a lullaby. But the children throve with suchnursing, if one might judge by the numbers that tumbled in the snow andclustered on the doorsteps; and the amusement they afforded Faith wasnot small. The houses were too many here to have time for a _visit_ toeach, --a pause at the door, and the leaving of some little token ofkindness, was all that could be attempted; and the tokens were various. Faith's loaves of bread, and her pieces of meat, or papers from thestock of tea and sugar with which she had been furnished, or a bowl ofbroth jelly for some sick person, --a pair of woollen stockings, perhaps, or a flannel jacket, for some rheumatic old man or woman, --ora bible, --or a combination of different things where the need demanded. But Faith's special fun was with the children. 

When they first entered the hamlet, Mr. Linden brought forward and setat her feet one basket of trifling juvenile treasures, and anotherfilled more substantially with apples and cakes and sugarplums; andthen as all the children were out of doors, he drove slowly and let herdelight as many of them as she chose. What pleasure it was!--thoselittle cold hands, so unwonted to cakes and that could hardly holdapples, --how eagerly, how shyly, they were stretched out!--with whatflourishes of bare feet or old shoes the young ones scampered away, orstood gazing after Jerry's little dust-cloud of snow;--ever after toremember and tell of this day, as one wherein a beautiful lady dressedup like a pussy cat, gave them an apple, or a stick of candy, or apicture book! Faith was in a debate between smiles and tears by thetime they were through the hamlet and dashing out again on the opensnow, for Mr. Linden had left all that part of the business to her;though the children all seemed to know him--and he them--by heart. 

And good note Faith took of that, and laid up the lesson. She had beena very good Santa Claus the while, and had acted the part of a sunbeamindifferent well; being just about so bright and so soft in all herdealings with those same little cold hands and quick spirits; givingthem their apples and candy with a good envelope of gentle words andlaughter. Seeing that she had it to do, she went into the gamethoroughly. But once she made a private protest. 

"Do you know, Endecott, these things would taste a great deal sweeterif your hand gave them?"

"I know nothing of the sort! Sweeter?--look at that urchin deep inpeppermint candy, --could anything enhance the spice or the sweetness ofthat?"

"Yes, " said Faith shaking her head--"and look at that little girlbefore him, who took the apple and looked at you all the while!"

"She has an eye for contrast, " he said laughing, "and is probablywondering why all people can't look alike!"

Faith did not secretly blame her, but she left that subject. 

It was to the furthest point of their round that they wentnow, --another fisherman's house--far, far off, on the shore. A littlelarger than Reuben's, but not so neatly kept; as indeed how could itbe? with so many children, --or how could the house hold them, in thosetimes of weather when they condescended to stay in! They were in prettygood order, to do their mother justice, and she in great delight at thesight of her visiters. There was no room for silence here--or at leastno silence in the room, for Mrs. Ling was never at a loss for words. And there was no need of much circumlocution in presenting theturkey, --nothing but pleasure could come of it, let it enter on whichfoot it would; and the train of potatoes, and tea, and bread, and otherthings, fairly made Mrs. Ling's eyes shine, --though she talked away asfast as ever. The children were in spirits too great to be got rid ofin any ordinary way, especially the youngest walking Ling; whose turnhaving not yet come for a pair of shoes from his father's pocket, wasnow to be fitted out of Mr. Linden's sleigh. And the shoes did fit--andlittle Japhet marked his sense of the obligation by at once requestingFaith to tie them. Which Faith did in a state of delight too great forwords. 

"Now what do you feel like?" she said, when Japhet was fairly shod andshe still stooping at his feet. 

"I feel like a king!" said Japhet promptly, --which had been the heightof his unrepublican ambition for some time. 

"Dear sakes!" said his mother, who had heard the child's request toolate to interfere, --"I hope you'll not mind him, ma'am, --he oughterknow better, but he don't. And poor things, when they gets pleased--itaint often, you see, ma'am, so I can't be hard upon 'em. Do you feelwarm?--we do make out to keep warm, most times. "

"I am quite warm, thank you; but I should think you'd feel the winddown here. Japhet, "--said Faith, who had brought in her basket ofvarieties and whose quiet eyes were fairly in a dance with fun anddelight, --"which do you think kings like best--cookies or candy?"

To which Japhet with equal promptness replied, "Candy--and cookies. "

"Don't!"--his mother said again, --but the basket of varieties lookedalmost as wonderful to her eyes as to those of the children, who nowgathered round as near as they dare come, while Mrs. Ling cautiouslypeeped over their heads. 

"I see you feel like a king!" said Faith filling both Japhet'shands. --"There! now I hope you don't feel like Alexander. "

"Alexander haint got nothin'!" said Japhet, looking towards his eldestbrother. 

Which did not overset Faith's gravity, because by this time she hadnone to speak of. Alexander's delight was found to be in red apples, and he thought a little common top a treasure such as neither Diogenesnor the real Alexander knew of between them! One little girl was madehappy with a wonderful picture-book in which there were a dog, a cat, and a lion with a great mane just ready to eat a man up, with thestories thereto pertaining; and a neat little slate seemed a mostdesirable acquisition to the bright eyes of an older girl. They wereall more satisfied than the conqueror of the world by the time Faithrose from the basket; and then she offered her tribute of gingerbreadto Mrs. Ling. The little girl with the slate, once released from thespell of the basket, went up to Mr. Linden (who had stood looking on)and said, --"She's awake now, if you please, sir, "--and he turned andwent into the next room, leaving Mrs. Ling to entertain Faith as bestshe might. For which Mrs. Ling was most ready. 

"Ma always does want to see him"--she said. "You see, ma'am, she can'tnever get up now, so it's a play to hear somebody talk. And ma likeshim special. Mr. Somers he's been kind too--and Mrs. --he come down whenma was first took, and since; but someways she don't just see into himmuch. I don' know but it's along of his bein' better than otherfolks--but after all, a person wants to have even good things talked to'em so's they can understand. Now Mr. Linden, --my Mary there 'll listento him for an hour, and never lose a word. " And Mary's bright littleeyes answered that readily, while Mrs. Ling's went back to the basket. 

"I can't believe!" she said. "You don't know what you've done, ma'am!Why there aint one o' them children as ever see a real live turkeycooked, in their existence. "

"You don't know what pleasure I had in doing it for them, Mrs. Ling. Mr. Linden told me there was a houseful of children. "

"Well so there is!" said Mrs. Ling looking round the room, --"and it'sno wonder he thinks so, for they tease him most out of his lifesometimes when he's here, --or would if he wam't as good-natured as theday's long. But there aint one too many, after all said and done, forI've got nothing else, --so if it warn't for them I should be poorlyoff. " With which reverse statement of the case, Mrs. Ling complacentlysmoothed down four or five heads, and tied as many aprons. 

"Ma, " said little Mary, "will Mr. Linden sing for us to-day?"

"I dare say--if you ask him pretty, " said her mother. "No, I guess he'sbusy and won't be bothered. "

"He never _is_ bothered, " said Mary persistently, while two or three ofthe others recovering from their apples and shyness, ventured up toFaith again and began to stroke her furs. 

"What does he sing for you, Jenny?" said Faith, taking the littlepicture-book girl on her lap, and glad to put her own face down in asomewhat sheltered position. 

"O he sings hymns--" said Jenny, gazing abstractedly at the lion andthe cat by turns, --"and other things too, sometimes. "

"Hymns are very interesting. And beautiful--don't you think so?" saidMary drawing nearer. 

"Yes, indeed I do, " said Faith stretching out her hand and pulling thelittle girl up to her. "What ones do you like best, Mary?"

But Mary's answer stayed, for Mr. Linden came back at that moment, andskilfully making his way up to Faith without running over any of thelittle throng, he told her he was ready. And Faith, though secretlywishing for the song as much as any of the children, set Jenny on thefloor and rose up; while Mr. Linden laughingly shewed her "an excellentway of investing ten cents, " by giving the children each one. MeanwhileMrs. Ling had been emptying the basket. There was the cold turkey inthe full splendour of its rich brown coat--a good large turkey too; butlest there should not be enough of it to go round to so many mouths, Mrs. Derrick and Faith had added a nice piece, ready boiled, of saltpork. Then there were potatoes, and some of Faith's bread, --and a paperof tea and another of sugar; and there was arrowroot, made and unmade, for the sick woman, with some broth jelly. It was one of those houseswhere a good deal was wanted, and the supply had been generous inproportion. Mrs. Ling was at her wits' end to dispose of it all; andthe children watched her in a gale of excitement, till the last thingwas carried off, and Mrs. Ling began to shake out the napkins and foldthem up. But then they came round Mr. Linden with their petition, urging it with such humble pertinacity, that he was fain at last tocomply. It was only a child's Christmas hymn, set to a simple, bright, quick tune, which at first kept some of the smallest feet in a greaterstate of unrest than the older children thought at all respectful. 

 "O little children, sing! Jesus, your Lord and King For you a child became: On that bright Christmas day He in a manger lay, Who hath the one Almighty name!

 "Come children, love him now, Before the Saviour bow, Give him each little heart. His spotless nature see, -- Then like him spotless be, And choose his service for your part. 

 "The joy of loving him Shall never fade nor dim, -- While worldly joys fly fast:-- Jesus to see and love, First here and then above, Such joy shall ever, ever last. 

 "I'll give myself away On this new Christmas day, -- He gave his life for me! Jesus, my heart is thine, O make it humbly shine With ever-living love to thee!

 "O Jesus, our Great Friend, Our Saviour, without end Thy praises we will bring! Glory to God's high throne! Peace now on earth is known, And we for joy may ever sing!"

"There"--Mr. Linden said, breaking the hush into which the children hadsubsided, and gently disengaging himself from them, --"now I have givenyou something to think of, and you must do it, and let me go. " And heand Faith were presently on their way; Faith feeling that she had"something to think of" too. 

The sun was westing fast as they turned, but now their way lay towardshome, via sundry other places. The long sunbeams were passing lovely asthey lay upon the snow, and the fantastic shadows of Jerry and thesleigh and all it held, were in odd harmony and contrast. Thepoverty-stricken house to which the two had walked that memorablenight, had been already visited and passed, and several others withsick or poor inhabitants. Then Mr. Linden turned off down one of thescarce broken by-roads, and stopped before a little lonely brown housewith an old buttonwood tree in front. 

"There is a blanket to go in here, Faith, " he said as he took her out, "and also my hammer!--for there is always something to do. "

"Always something to do at this house?"

"Yes, " he answered laughingly, --"so you must hold in check youraversion to carpenters. "

"If you'll please have a charity for the butcher and baker, and tell mewhat I shall take in here? for my part. "

"O we'll go in and find out, --these good people are never just suitedunless they have the ordering of everything. They'll tell us what theywant fast enough, but if we guessed at it beforehand, they would maybefind out that those were just the things they did _not_ want. Only myhammer--I'm sure of that. "

The "good people" in question, were an old man and his wife, living inone little room and with very little furniture. Very deaf the old manwas, and both of them dimsighted, so that the old bible on the shelfwas only a thing to look at, --if indeed it had ever been anything more, which some people doubted. This was one of the first things Mr. Lindentook hold of after the kind greetings were passed, and he gave it toFaith; telling her that old Mr. Roscom always expected his visitors toread to him, and that if she would do that, he would mend Mrs. Roscom'sspinning-wheel--which he saw was ready for him. 

Faith threw back her hood and her furs, and took a seat close by theold man; and the first thing he heard was her sweet voice asking himwhere she should read, or if he liked to hear any part in particular. 

"No, " he said, "he liked to have it surprise him. "

Faith pondered how she should best surprise him, but she had not muchtime to spare and no chance to ask counsel. So she read as her heartprompted her, --first the fifth chapter of II. Corinthians--with itsjoyful Christian profession and invitation to others; then she read theaccount of Jesus' healing the impotent man and bidding him "sin nomore"; and then she turned over to the Psalms and gave Mr. Roscom thebeautiful 103d psalm of thanksgiving, --which after those other twopassages seemed particularly beautiful. This was work that Faith loved, and she read so. 

How softly the hammer worked while she read, she might have noticed ifher mind had not been full; but though she had no word from thatquarter, Mr. Roscom's opinion was clear. 

"That's good, " he said, --"and strong;--and I'm obleeged to ye. "

And then, the wheel being near done, there was a little skilful talkgone into; in the course of which Faith and Mr. Linden learned, thatthe old couple were "real tired of salt meat, some days"--and that ryebread "warnt thought wholesome by itself"--and that "if their teashould give out they didn't know what they _should_ do!"--and that"times when the old man was a little poorly, nothing on airth wouldserve him but a roasted potato!" All of which was said just for thepleasure of talking to sympathizing faces, --without the least idea ofwhat was at the door. The blanket was too old a want to be spoken of, but Faith needed only to look at the bed. And then she looked at Mr. Linden, in delighted watch to see what his next move would be; in theintervals of her chat with Mr. Roscom, which was very lively. 

Mr. Linden had finished his work, and stood balancing his hammer andlistening to the catalogue of wants with a smile both grave and bright. 

"Are these just the things you wish for?" he said. "Well--'your Fatherknoweth that ye have need of them, '--and he has sent them by our handsto-day; so you see that you may trust him for the future. "

He laid his hand on Faith's shoulder as an invitation to her to follow, and went out to the sleigh. She was at the side of it as soon as he, and in it the next minute, stopping to give him only with the eye onewarm speech of sympathy and joy. 

"You haven't put up a basket specially for these people, of course, "she said, --"so we shall have to take the things from everywhere. There's a beautiful chicken in that basket, Endecott--I know; that'sthe largest one we have left; and bread--there aren't but two loaveshere!--shall we give them both? Or do we want one somewhere else?"

"I think we may give them both. And Faith--don't you think a roastedapple might alternate usefully with the potato?"

Faith dived into the receptacle for apples and brought out a goodquantity of the right kind. Potatoes were not in very large supply, buttea and sugar were--blessed things!--unfailing. 

"And here is a pumpkin pie!" said Faith--"I am sure they'll likethat--and as many cookies and cruller as you like. And what else, Endecott?--O here's a pair of those big socks mother knit--wouldn'tthey be good here?"

"Very good, dear child!--and this blanket must go--and sometracts, --that will furnish more reading. You run in with those, Faith--these other things are too heavy for you. "

"I've strength enough to carry a blanket, " said Faith laughing. 

"Well, run off with that too, then, " said Mr. Linden, "only if yourstrength gives out by the way, please to fall on the blanket. "

Faith managed to reach the house safely and with a bright facedeposited the blanket on a chair. "I got leave to bring this in to you, Mrs. Roscom, " she said. "I suppose you know what Mr. Linden means youto do with it. "

Perhaps they had seen no two people in the course of the day morethoroughly pleased than these two. The sources of pleasure were notmany in that house, and the expectation of pleasure not strong; and theneed of comforts had not died out with the supply; and old and alone asthey were, the looking forward to possible cold and hunger was a trial. It was easy to see how that blanket warmed the room and promised a mildwinter, and how the socks be came liniment, --and it seemed doubtfulwhether the old man would ever be sick enough for roast potatoes, withthe potatoes really in the house. So with other things, --they took achildish pleasure even in the cakes and pie, and an order for wood wasa real relief. And what a dinner they were already eating inimagination!

Mr. Linden had put Faith in the sleigh, with the last sunset raysplaying about her; and he stood wrapping her up in all sorts of ways, and the old man and the old woman stood in the door to see. Then in avoice which he supposed to be a whisper, Mr. Roscom said, --

"Be she his wife?"

"He didn't say--and I don' know _what_ he said, " screamed Mrs. Roscom. 

"Wal--she's handsome enough for it--and so's he, " said the old mancontemplatively. "I hope he'll get one as good!"

Very merrily Mr. Linden laughed as they drove away. 

"I hope I shall!" he said. "Faith, what do you think of that? And whichof us has the compliment?"

But Faith was engaged in pulling her furs and buffalo robes round her, and did not appear to consider compliments even a matter of moonshine;much less of sunshine. Her first words were to remark upon theexceeding beauty of the last touch the sunlight was giving to certainsnowy heights and white cumuli floating above them; a touch so fair andcalm as if heaven were setting its own seal on this bright day. 

"Is your heart in the clouds?" Mr. Linden said, bending down to look ather with his laughing eyes. "How can you abstract your thoughts sosuddenly from all sublunary affairs! Do you want any more wrapping up?"

A little flashing glance of most naive appeal, and Faith's eyes wentdown absolutely. 

"You may as well laugh!" he said. "One cannot get through the worldwithout occasionally hearing frightful suggestions. "

Faith did laugh, and gave him another _good_ little look, about whichthe only remarkable thing was that it was afraid to stay. 

"What were your cloudy remarks just now?" said Mr. Linden. 

"I wanted you to look at the beautiful light on them and those far-offridges of hill--it is not gone yet. "

"Yes, they are very beautiful. But I believe I am not in a meditativemood to-day, --or else the rival colours distract me. Faith, I mean toput you in the witness-box again. "

"In the witness-box?"--she said with a mental jump to Neanticut, and alook to suit. 

"Yes--but we are not on the banks of Kildeer river, and need not beafraid, " he said with a smile. "Faith--what ever made you take such anaversion to Phil Davids?"

"I don't dislike him, "--she said softly. 

"I did not mean to doubt your forgiving disposition! But what did he doto displease you?"

Did Mr. Linden know? or did he _not_ know! Faith looked up to see. Hewas just disentangling one of the lines from Jerry's tail, but met herlook with great composure. 

"It's an old thing, "--said Faith. "It's not worth bringing up. "

"But since I have brought it--won't you indulge me?"

The red on Faith's cheeks grew brilliant. "It isn't anything you wouldlike, --if I told it to you. --Won't you let me let it alone?"

"I should like to hear you tell it. "

"He made one or two rude speeches"--said Faith in very great doubt andconfusion;--"that was all. "

"_That_ I knew before. "

"Did you?" said Faith looking at him. "How did you know it, Endecott?"

There was a curious gentle, almost tender, modulation of tone in thislast sentence, which covered a good deal of possible ground. Mr. Lindendrew up one of her mufflers which had fallen off a little, giving heras he did so a silent though laughing answer, as comprehensive as herquestion. 

"You are just the dearest and most precious little child in the wholeworld!" he said. "But why are you afraid to tell me _now?_--and why didPhil's insinuation cause you such dismay?"

Faith's confusion would have been, as her rosy flush was, extreme, --ifsomething in Mr. Linden's manner had not met that and rebuked it, healing the wound almost before it was made. Between the two Faithstruggled for a standing-ground of equanimity, --but words, though shestruggled for them too, in her reason or imagination she could not find. 

"I want an answer to one of these questions, "--Mr. Linden said, in aplayful sort of tone. "Dr. Harrison used to ask me if you lived uponroses--but do you think I can?"

Faith made an effort. "What do you want me to say?"

"What was it in Phil's words that troubled you so much?"

The crimson rush came back overwhelmingly. "Oh Endy--please don't askme!"

"Not quite fair, "--he said smiling. "I'm sure I am willing to tell_you_ anything. Though indeed I do not suppose you need much telling. But Faith--is _that_ the system of tactics by which you intend alwaysto have your own way? I shall have to be philosophical to any point!"

"That speech is so very zigzag, " said Faith, "that I cannot follow it. How are you going to be philosophical, Mr. Linden?"

"Not by forgetting to exact your forfeit, Miss Derrick. "

"That isn't fair, " said Faith laughing. "I didn't for get!--I shouldn'tthink you had gone all day without eating anything!--and yet you mustbe starving. "

"For what? little provider. "

"For something to eat, I should think. "

"Does that mean that you are suffering?--because if that be the case, Iwill refresh you (cautiously) with sugar-plums! A very superfluousthing, to be sure, but the most suitable I can think of. "

Faith's laugh came clear now. "No indeed. Suffering! I never eat somany dinners in one day in my life. But I am hungry though, I believe. How many more places are we going to? I don't care how many, " she saidearnestly. "I like to be hungry. "

"Well, keep up your spirits, --the next turn will bring us out of thewoods, and a three-minute stay at one or two doors will end our workfor this time. Meanwhile, do you want to hear a little bit of goodpoetry--on an entirely new subject?"

"Oh yes! if you please. "

Demurely enough it was given. --

 "'Her true beauty leaves behind Apprehensions in my mind Of more sweetness, than all art Or inventions can impart. Thoughts too deep to be expressed, And too strong to be repressed. '"

She gave him a wistful look as he finished the lines; and then satamong her furs, as quiet again as a mouse. 

"Do you like them, Mignonette?"

"Yes--very much. "

"Would you like to tell me then why the hearing of them makes yousober?"

"Yes--if you wish"; she said gently. "I know--a little--Ibelieve, --what you think of me; but what I seem to your eyes on theoutside--and much more!--I want to be really, really--in the sight ofthe eye that tries the heart--and I am not now, Endy. "

"My dear child--" he said, --and was silent a minute, speeding smoothlyalong through the starlight; then went on. 

"Yes, dear Faith, --that is what I wish for you--and for myself. That iswhere we will most earnestly try to help each other. " And presently, aseye and thoughts were caught and held by the wonderful constellationabove in the clear sky, yet not drawn away from what they had beentalking of, Mr. Linden said, --

"'Seek him that maketh the seven stars and Orion, --that bringeth theshadow of death upon the day, and turneth the night into morning!'" Andso, in the thought of that, they went home; Orion looking down uponthem, and they leaving bits of brightness by the way at the two orthree houses which yet remained. The box sleigh got home at lastemptied of all its load but the two travellers. 

Mrs. Derrick and supper were ready for them, and had been a good while;and by this time Mr. Linden and Faith were ready for supper. And muchas Mrs. Derrick had to hear, she had something to tell. How JudgeHarrison had come to make a visit and say good-bye, and how he had putin her hands another twenty-five dollars to be added to those his sonhad already bestowed on Reuben. Squire Stoutenburgh too had been there;but his errand was to declare that Jerry could never be received againinto his service, but must henceforth remain in Mrs. Derrick's stableand possession. Altogether, the day even at home had been an excitingone. 

A little time after supper Faith went into the sitting-room. Mr. Lindenwas there alone. Faith came up to the back of his chair, laid a hand onhis shoulder, and bent her head into speaking neighbourhood. It may beremarked, that though Faith no longer said "Mr. Linden, " yet that oneother word of his name was _never_ spoken just like her other words. There was always a little lowering or alteration of tone, a slightpause before--or after it, which set and marked it as bordered roundwith all the regards which by any phrase could be made known. 

"Endecott"--she said very softly, --"do you know what you have beendoing to-day?"

"Comprehensively speaking--I have been enjoying myself, " he said with abright smile at her. 

"You have been giving me a lesson all the while, that I felt throughand through. "

"Through and through?" he repeated. "Come round here, little bird--youneed not perch on the back of my chair. What are you singing about?"

"Of what you have taught me to-day. "

"I must have fallen into a very unconscious habit of lesson-giving. What have I taught you?--suppose you teach me. "

"How one should 'hold forth the word of life. '"

"Ah little bird!"--he said, with a look at her which said his day'slesson had been the same, yet on different grounds. "Well--if you canlearn anything from so imperfect a teacher, I am glad. But do not restthere, --take up the olive leaf and bear it on!"

CHAPTER IX. 

Mrs Derrick went to Pequot the next day, and found Miss Danforth asFaith had left her; or rather, somewhat more failing in everything butmind-strength. Mrs. Derrick was greatly welcomed by both ladies; butshe had not been there three hours when Miss Dilly spoke out what wason her heart. 

"Isn't Faith coming back to me again?"

For Faith's sake her mother hesitated, and yet it was for Faith's sakethat she answered, --"Yes, if you want her. "

"It won't be for long I shall want her, "--said Miss Dilly with aquietness very unlike her old self:--"but I would like to have her dearface and music about me once more--if she can let me. "

Mrs. Derrick came back with Mr. Stoutenburgh to Pattaquasset that sameevening; and Faith put up her books and made immediate preparations forgoing to Pequot in her stead. 

"I must let you go, child, " said her mother, --"I couldn't refuse. "

"And I am so glad to-morrow is Wednesday, for I can take you over, "said Mr. Linden. 

Wednesday afternoon was very fair, and after dinner Faith and all herneedful baggage were bestowed in the little sleigh, and the journeybegan. Not very much of a journey indeed, unless compared with thelength of day-light; but as fair and bright and pleasant as a journeycould be. Full of talk of all sorts, --gliding on through the fading dayand the falling night, until

 ----"the floor of heaven Was thick inlaid with patines of bright gold. "

Very bright the stars were, very dark the sky, when Jerry's bells beganto mingle with a crowd of others in the streets of Pequot. Faith hadinsisted that Mr. Linden should come in and have a cup of tea or coffeebefore he went back again; and this being a not unreasonable request, besides a pleasant one, she had her way. 

Miss Danforth was in her room and could not see Mr. Linden. Faith witha kiss and a word established the little Frenchwoman to talk to him, obtaining leave to do what she pleased; though Madame Danforth managedto have her share in the hospitality; got out cups and saucers forFaith and Mr. Linden both on a little table by the fire, --her rolls andher butter; talking all the while to him; and took a minute to run downinto the kitchen and see that Faith and the coffee-pot were getting onproperly. And it may be said in passing that the result did credit toboth. The coffee served to Mr. Linden was faultless. Madame Danforthhowever had hardly presented him his cup, when she was called off andher guests were left alone. 

"Faith, " said Mr. Linden, "you must not forget that you have somethingto do for me as well as for other people while you are here. "

"I don't forget it. But what do you mean, Endecott?"

"To put it in the most effective way--I mean that you must take care ofme!" he said smiling. 

"I will. As good care as you would take of yourself. "

"That is a little ambiguous! But will you send me word very often ofyour success?"

Faith looked up and looked at him, a little startled. 

"Do you mean--"

"I mean that there is a postoffice in Pattaquasset--and another inPequot. "

She coloured, and somewhat hastily busied herself with refilling Mr. Linden's cup. Then she folded her hands and sat looking into the firewith a face on which there was a touching expression of humbleness. 

"My little Mignonette, " he said, "what are you thinking of?"

"I am thinking of that, "--she said with a smile which did not changethe expression. "Of what you want me to do--and about it. "

"What about it? Are you inditing a letter to me on the spot?"

"No. "

"What then?"

Faith would have liked to have her face out of sight, but she couldn't, conveniently. 

"I am thinking, how I shall do it--and how you will not like it. "

"_You_ don't know"--said Mr. Linden. "Let me tell you how I shall likeit. I shall read it, and love it, and answer it--will that satisfy you?or do you want me to hang it round my neck by a blue ribband?--becauseif you do, I will. "

The laughing flash of Faith's eye contained nevertheless a protest. 

"No, you will not like it, because it will not be fit for you to like;but you will have patience with it, "--she said with a smile which didin its loveliness bid good-bye to shadows. 

Mr. Linden left the table, and standing before her as she had risentoo, took her face softly in both hands and raised it up for hisinspection. 

"Do you know what a naughty child you are?"

A most quaint little "yes. "

"Then why don't you behave better?" he said, enforcing his question butnot releasing her. 

"I suppose you will teach me, in time"--she said, blushing andsparkling under his hands. He seemed to like to study her face--or wasthinking that he should not see it again for some time, --the expressionon his own belonged to more than one thing. 

"You must not make me wait for that letter, Faith, " he said--"and Imust not let you keep me any longer here! But if you want anything, ofany sort, you must send to me. "

"Yes!--to you or to mother. "

"To me--if it is anything I can do, " he said as he bade her good-bye. "And take care of yourself, dear child, for me. " And releasing her atlast, none too willingly, Mr. Linden went out alone into the starlight. He did not see--nor guess--how Faith stood before the fire where he hadleft her, looking down into it, --motionless and grave until MadameDanforth came back. Then all that part of her life was shut up withinher, and Faith was again to other eyes what she had been before atPequot. Yet not so entirely the same, nor was all that part of her lifeso entirely shut up to herself, that both her aunt and Madame Danforthdid not have a thought and exchange a word on the subject. 

"The sun has found the blossom!" said the little Frenchwoman knowinglyone day; "they do not open so without that!"

"Nonsense!" said Miss Danforth. "I will ask her. " But she never did. 

And for a little while again Faith filled her old office. Miss Dillyhad no troubles or darkness to clear away now; the Bible was plainsailing to her; but she could never spread her sails too soon or toofull for that navigation. Early and late, as before, Faith read to her, with a joy and gladness all brightened from the contrast of that Sundaynight's reading, and coming with a fuller spring since that one littleword of her mother the same night. Indeed the last few days had seemedto make the Bible even greatly more precious to Faith than ever before. She clung more fast, she searched more eagerly, among its treasures ofriches, to its pillars of strength; valuing them all, as it seemed toher, with a new value, with a fresh knowledge of what might be foundand won there for others and herself. So with the very eagerness oflove Faith read the Bible to Miss Dilly; and so as she had done before, many a time, early and late, in childlike simpleness prayed at herbedside and by her chair. And as before when she was at Pequot she wonMadame Danforth's heart, she intrenched herself there now. She was allover the house, carrying a sunbeam with her; but Faith never thought itwas her own. She was a most efficient maid of all work, for nursing andtoo much care had worn poor Madame Danforth not a little. Faith wasupper servant and cook by turns; and sometimes went to market; madeevery meal pleasant with her gentle happy ways; and comforted the twoold ladies to the very top of comfort. 

Whether she wanted to be at home or not, Faith did not stop to askherself. But those letters--those letters--they were written, and theywere carried to the postoffice--and others were found at the postofficein reply to them. And what had been such trial in the proposition, became, even in the first instance, the joy of Faith's life. She wrotehers how she could; generally at night, when she could be quiteuninterrupted and alone. It was often very late at night, but it wasalways a time of rare pleasure and liberty of heart; for if the bodywere tired, the spirit was free. And Faith's was particularly free, forthe manacles and fetters of pride which weigh so bitter heavy on many amind and life, her gentle and true spirit had let fall. Sheknew--nobody better--that her letters were not like those letters ofMr. Linden's sister, Pet:--those exquisite letters, where every graceand every talent of a finely gifted and fully cultivated mind seemedplaying together with all the rich stores of the past and realities ofthe present. She knew, that in very style and formalities of execution, her own letters were imperfect and unformed. But she was equally surethat in time what was wrong in this kind would be made right; and shewas not afraid to be found wrong, at all, for her own sake. It wasbecause of somebody else, that she had flinched from this writingproposal; because she felt that what was wrong in _her_ touched himnow. But there again, Faith wrote, trusting with an absolute trust inthe heart and hand to which she sent her letters; willing to be foundwrong if need be; sure to be set right truly and gently. And so, Faithwrote her own heart and life out, from day to day, giving Mr. Lindenprecisely what he wanted, and with a child's fearlessness. It was agreat thing to go to the postoffice those days! Faith left it to nobodyelse to do for her. And how strange--how weird, almost, the signatureof those letters and her own name on the outside looked to her, in thesame free, graceful handwriting which she had read on that little cardso long ago! And the letters themselves?--enough to say, that they madeFaith think of the way she had been sheltered from the wind, andcarried upstairs when her strength failed, and read to and talked toand instructed, --that they made her long to be home and yet content tobe there; giving her all sorts of details, of things in Pattaquassetand things elsewhere--just as the writer would have talked them to her;with sometimes a word of counsel, or of caution, or of suggestion, --orsome old German hymn which she might find of use in her ministrations, written out in full. It may be mentioned in passing, that the fairlittle face he had been looking at, or her evident fear of writing tohim, made Mr. Linden write to her that very night; a little sugarplumof a letter, which Faith had for her dinner next day. 

And Faith read these letters at all sorts of times, and thought of themat other times; and made them next to her Bible--as she should. 

CHAPTER X. 

Two weeks passed quietly, without much apparent change in MissDanforth; and Faith was beginning to think of appointing a time to gohome. But the necessity for that was suddenly superseded. The Fridayfollowing, Miss Dilly took a change for the worse, and Saturday shedied. Faith sent off tidings immediately to Pattaquasset; but herletter could not reach there till Monday; and Monday came a very greatfall of snow which made travelling impossible. Faith waited patiently, comforting Madame Danforth as she might, and endeavouring to win her tosome notion of that joy in the things of the Bible in which Miss Dillyhad lived and died. For no change had come over Miss Dilly's sky; andshe had set sail from the shores of earth in the very sunlight. 

It fell out, that Faith's letter of Saturday afternoon had been fiveminutes too late for the mail; and after lying in the office at Pequotover Sunday, had been again subjected to the delays of Monday's storm, which in its wild fury put a stop to everything else; and thus, whenMr. Linden went to the office Tuesday morning before school time, themail had not yet got in. Not long after, however, Mr. Skip brought homethe letters; and Mrs. Derrick reading hers, at once took Mr. Skip andJerry and set off for Pequot; minding neither snowdrifts nor drivingwind, when the road to Faith lay through them, and arriving there quitesafe about the hour of midday. 

The delayed funeral took place the same afternoon. And the nextmorning, in a brilliant cold day, snow all over the ground and the skyall blue, the mother and daughter set forth homewards. Madame Danforthwas going to take another relation in, and live on still in the littlehouse where she and her sister-in-law had made a happy home for so manyyears. Miss Danforth had left a few hundreds, three or four, to Faith. It was all she had owned in the world; her principal living having beenan annuity settled upon her by her brother, which reverted to MadameDanforth. 

It was about mid-afternoon when they reached home, and of course thehouse held no one but Cindy; except indeed that sort of invisiblepresence which books and other inanimate things make known; and Cindyhad to tell of two or three visiters, but otherwise nothing. Very fairit all looked to Faith, --very sweet to her ear was the sound of thevillage clock, although as yet it was only striking three. She did notsay much about the matter. A gleeful announcement that she was glad tobe at home, she made to Mrs. Derrick; but after that she expressedherself in action. One of her first moves was to the kitchen, determined that there should be a double consciousness of her being athome when supper-time came. Then books were got out, and fires put inwonderful order. Mr. Linden might guess, from the state in which hefound his room, that it had come under its old rule. No such fire hadgreeted him there for weeks; no such brushed-up clean hearth; no suchdelicate arrangement of table and chairs and curtains and couch. Butthe fire burned quietly and told no tales, otherwise than by its veryorderly snapping and sparkling. 

And indeed it so happened, that Mr. Linden went first into thesitting-room, --partly to see if any one was there, partly because theday was cold, and under Cindy's management there was small reason tosuppose that his room was warm. And once there, the easy-chair remindedhim so strongly that he was tired, that he even sat down in it beforegoing upstairs, --which combination a long walk through the snowdriftssince school, made very acceptable. Five minutes after, Faith havinggot rid of her kitchen apron, opened softly the door of thesitting-room. She stopped an instant, and then came forward, hergladness not at all veiled by a very rosy veil of shy modesty. Therewas no stay in his step to meet her, --he had sprung up with the firstsound of her foot on the threshold; and how much she had been missedand longed for Faith might guess, from the glad silence in which shewas held fast and for a minute not allowed to speak herself. So veryglad!--she could see it and feel it exceedingly as he brought herforward to the fire, and lifted up her face, and looked at it with eyesthat were not easily satisfied. 

"My little Sunbeam, " he said, "how lovely you are!"

She had been laughing and flushing with a joy almost as frankly shewnas his own; but that brought a change over her face. The eyes fell, andthe line of the lips was unbent after a different fashion. 

"I don't know what it is like to see you again, " Mr. Linden said as hisown touched them once more, --"like any amount of balm and rest andrefreshment! How long have you been here, dear child? and how do youdo?--and have you any idea how glad I am to have you home?"

She answered partly in dumb show, clasping one hand upon his shoulderand laying down her head upon it. Her words were very quiet andlow-spoken. 

"We came home a while ago--and I am very well. " Mr. Linden rested hisface lightly upon her shining hair, and was silent--till Faithwondered; little guessing what thoughts the absence and the meeting andabove all her mute expression, had stirred; nor what bitterness waswrapped in those sweet minutes. But he put it aside, and then took thesweetness pure and unmixed; giving her about as much sunshine as hesaid she gave him. 

"How do you like writing to me, Faith?" he said. "Am I, on the whole, any more terrific at a distance than near by?"

"I didn't know you could be so good at a distance, "--she saidexpressively. 

"Did you find out what reception your letters met?"

"I didn't want to find out. "

"Do you call that an answer?" he said smiling. "Why didn't you want tofind out?--and _did_ you?"

"Why!"--said Faith, --"I didn't want to find out because it wasn'tnecessary. I _did_ find out that I liked to write. But you wouldn'thave liked it if you had known what time of night it was, often. "

"What do you think of taking up a new study?" said Mr. Linden. "Itstrikes me that it would do you good to stand in the witness-box halfan hour every day, --just for practice. Faith--did you find out whatreception your letters met?"

"I knew before--" she said, meeting his eyes. 

"Did you!--then what made you assure me I should not like them?"

"I don't think you did, Endecott--the parts of them that you oughtn'tto have liked. "

"Truly I think not!" he said laughing. "You are on safe ground there, little Mignonette. But speaking of letters--do you want more tidingsfrom Italy?"

"O yes I if you please. Are they good? And has all been good here withyou and the school since I have been away?"

"Yes, they are good, --my sister--and yours--is enjoying herselfreasonably. And the boys have been good, --and I--have wanted myMignonette. "

One word in that speech brought a soft play of colour to Faith's face, but her words did not touch that point. 

The days went on very quietly after that, and the weeksfollowed, --quietly, regularly, full of business and pleasure. Quicksteps were made in many things during those weeks, little interruptedby the rest of Pattaquasset, some of the most stirring people of thattown being away. An occasional tea-drinking did steal an evening nowand then, but also furnished the before and after walk or ride, and soon the whole did little mischief; and as Faith was now sometimes takenon Mr. Linden's visits to another range of society, she saw more of himthan ever; and daily learned more and more--not only of him, but of hiscare for her. His voice--never indeed harsh to any one--took itsgentlest tones to her; his eye its softest and deepest lustre: nomatter how tired he came home--the first sight of her seemed to banishall thought of fatigue. Faith could feel that she was the very delightof his life. Indeed, by degrees, she began to understand that she hadlong been so--only there had once been a qualification, --now, thesunshine of his happiness had nothing to check its expression, or itsendeavour to make her life as bright. That he took "continual comfort"in her, Faith could see. 

And--child!--he did not see what this consciousness spurred her to do;how the strength of her heart spent itself--yet was never spent--inefforts to grow and become more worthy of him and more fit for him totake comfort in. The days were short, and Faith's household duties notfew, especially in the severe weather, when she could not let hermother be tried with efforts which in summer-time might be easy andpleasant enough. A good piece of every day was of necessity spent byFaith about house and in the kitchen, and faithfully given to its work. But her heart spurred her on to get knowledge. The times when Mr. Linden was out of school could rarely be study times, except of studywith him; and to be prepared for him Faith was eager. She took timesthat were hers all alone. Nobody heard her noiseless footfall in theearly morning down the stair. Long before it was light, --hours beforethe sun thought of shewing his face to the white Mong and the snowyhouseroofs of Pattaquasset, Faith lighted her fire in the sitting-room, and her lamp on the table; and after what in the first place was oftena good while with her Bible, she bent herself to the deep earnestabsorbed pressing into the studies she was pursuing with Mr. Linden--orsuch of them as the morning had time for. Faith could not lengthen theday at the other end; to prevent the sun was her only chance; and dayafter day and week after week, through the short days of February, shehad done solid work and a deal of it before anybody in the house sawher face in the kitchen or at breakfast. They saw it then as bright asever. Mr. Linden only knew that his scholar made very swift and smoothprogress. He would have known more, for Faith would have shewn theeffects of her early hours of work in her looks and life the rest ofthe day, but happiness is strong; and a mind absolutely at peace withGod and the world has a great rest! Friction is said to be one of thenotable hindering powers in the world of matter--it is equally true, perhaps, of the world of spirit. Without it, in either sphere, howsoftly and with how little wear and tear, everything moves! And Faith'slife knew none. 

CHAPTER XI. 

It was near the end of February, --rather late in the afternoon of a byno means balmy day, in the course of which Dr. Harrison had arrived tolook after his repairs. But the workmen had stopped work and gone hometo supper, and the doctor and his late dinner sat together. Luxuriouslyenough, on the doctor's part, for the dinner was good and well cooked, the bottles of wine irreproachable (as wine) in their silver stands, the little group of different coloured glasses shining in thefirelight. The doctor's fingerbowl and napkin stood at hand, (at thisstage of the proceeding) his half-pared apple was clearly worth thetrouble, and he himself--between the fire and his easy-chair--might besaid to be "in the lap of comfort. " Comfort rarely did much for him buttake him on her lap, however--he seldom stayed there; and on thepresent occasion the doctor's eyes were very wide open and his thoughtsat work. It might be presumed that neither process was cut short, whenthe old black man opened the door and announced Mr. Linden. 

But if Mr. Linden could have seen the doctor's face just before, hemight have supposed that his entrance had produced rather a sedativeeffect. For the brow smoothed itself down, the eye took its light playand the mouth its light smile, and the doctor's advance to meet hisfriend was marked with all its graceful and easy unconcern. He did noteven seem energetic enough to be very glad; for grace and carelessnessstill blended in his welcome and in his hospitable attentions, nothingof which however was failing. He had presently made Mr. Linden ascomfortable as himself, so far as possible outward appliances could beeffectual; established him at a good side of the table; Burnished himwith fruit and pressed him with wine; and then sitting at ease at hisown corner, sipped his claret daintily, eyeing Mr. Linden goodhumouredly between sips; but apparently too happily on good terms withcomfort to be in any wise eager or anxious as to what Mr. Linden'sbusiness might be, or whether he had any. 

"Has the news of my arrival flown over Pattaquasset already?" said he. "I thought I had seen nothing but frieze jackets, and friezes of brokenplaster--and I have certainly felt so much of another kind of _freeze_that I should hardly think even news could have stirred. "

Mr. Linden's reception of the doctor's hospitality had been merelynominal--except so far as face and voice had the receiving, and heanswered quietly--

"I don't know. I happened to want you, doctor, and so I found out thatyou were here. "

"Want me? I am very glad to be wanted by you--so that it be not _for_you. What is it, my dear Linden?"

"No--you will not be glad, " said Mr. Linden, --"though it is both for meand not for me. I want you to go with me to see one of my littlescholars who is sick. "

"Who is he?"

"One whom you have seen but will not remember, --Johnny Fax. "

"Fax--" said the doctor--"I remember the name, but no particular ownerof it. What's the matter with him?"

"I want you to come and see. "

"Now?"--

"As near that as may be. "

"Now it shall be, then; though with such a February night on one side, it takes all your power on the other to draw me out of this chair. Youdon't look much like Comedy, and I am very little like the greatbuskin-wearer--but I would as lieve Tragedy had me by the othershoulder as February, when his fingers have been so very long away fromthe fire. Did you ever read Thomson's 'Castle of Indolence, ' Linden?"

"Not to much purpose--the name is all I remember. "

"Stupid book, "--said the doctor;--"but a delightful place!"

The luxury of broadcloth and furs in which the doctor was presentlyinvolved might have rendered him reasonably independent, one wouldthink, of February or any other of Jack Frost's band. Jerry was at thedoor, and involving themselves still further in buffalo robes the twogentle men drove to the somewhat distant farm settlement which calledJonathan Fax master. Mr. Fax was a well-to-do member of thePattaquasset community, as far as means went; there was very littleknowledge in his house how to make use of means. Nor many people tomake use of the knowledge. The one feminine member of the family hadlately married and gone off to take care of her own concerns, andJonathan and his one other child lived on as best they might; the childbeing dependant upon the maid of all work for his clothes andbreakfast, for his Sunday lessons upon Faith, for the weekday teachingand comfort of his little life upon Mr. Linden. Living along in thissomewhat divided way, the child had suddenly taken sick--no one justknew how; nor just what to do with him--except to send Mr. Linden wordby one of the other boys, which had been done that afternoon. And thusit was, that Dr. Harrison had been looked for, found, and drawn outinto the February night with only the slight protection of furs andbroadcloth. 

Thus it was that after a short and rather silent drive, the twogentlemen went together into the last-century sort of a house, receivedthe angular welcome of Jonathan Fax, and stood side by side by the bedwhere the sick child lay. Side by side--with what different faces! Adifference which Johnny was quick to recognize. He lay on the bed, wrapped in a little old plaid cloak, and with cheeks which rivalled itsone remaining bright colour; and half unclosing his heavy eyes to seethe doctor, he stretched out his arms to Mr. Linden, clasping themround his neck as his friend sat down on the bedside and gently liftedhim up, and receiving the kiss on his flushed cheek with a littleparting of the lips which said how glad he was. But then he lay quitestill in Mr. Linden's arms. 

Whatever attractions the Castle of Indolence might have for Dr. Harrison upon occasion, he never seemed so much as to look that waywhen he was at his work. Now, it made no difference that _he_ was nofriend of Johnny's; he gave his attention thoroughly and with all hisskill to the condition and wants of his little patient. 

"Is there nobody to take care of him?" he asked in French, for JonathanFax with his square and by no means delicate and tender physiognomystood at the other side of the bed heavily looking on. 

"I shall, to-night, " said Mr. Linden. "You may give me your directions. "

The doctor proceeded to do this; but added, "He wants care and goodnursing; and he'll suffer if he don't have it. He is a sick child. "

"He shall have it, " was all the answer; and when the doctor hadfinished his work for the time, Mr. Linden laid the child on the bedagain, giving him a whispered promise to come back and stay with himall night; upon the strength of which promise Johnny fell into a deepsleep. 

"Has the creature nobody to take care of him?" said the doctor as theywent out. 

"Nobody at home. "

"I shall be here a day or two, Linden--I'll see him early in themorning again. "

Mr. Linden's next move through the biting air was to drive home. At thedoor of the sitting-room Faith met him. 

"Endecott--how is he?"

"Less well than I expected to find him, dear Faith. I found Dr. Harrison and took him there with me. "

"And what did Dr. Harrison say of him?"

"That he wanted good care and nursing. "

"And who is there to give it to him, Endy?" she said with a verysaddened and earnest face. 

"Why I shall give it to him to-night, my child, and we'll see aboutto-morrow. The doctor promised to go there again in the morning. "

She stood a moment silent, and then said, "I'll go with you. "

"Not to-night, dear--it is not needful. He will not want more than onewatcher. "

"But he might want something else--something to be done that a womanabout the house might be wanted for--let me go too!--"

"No indeed! you must go to sleep. And he will hardly want anything butwhat I can give him to-night. I know well what your little hands are ina sick room, " he said taking them in his own, --"I know well!--but theyare not made of iron--nor are you. "

Faith looked ill satisfied. 

"Well, you'll not hinder my taking your place by him to-morrow, Endy?"

"If I can, " Mr. Linden said, "I shall come home to breakfast, and thenI may know what you had better do; but if I should be detained there, and so not get here till midday, wait for me--I should not like to haveyou go without seeing me again; and I can leave Reuben there for themorning if need be. "

"Oh Endecott!--" she said with a heart full; but she said no more andran away. She came back soon to call Mr. Linden to tea, which hadwaited; and after tea when he was about going she put a basket in hishand. 

"I hope Mr. Fax has wood in his house, so that you can keep afire, --but you are not likely to find anything else there. You'll wanteverything that is in this, Endy--please remember. "

"I will not forget, " he said, as he gave her his thanks. "But what didthat exclamation mean, before tea?"

"What exclamation?--Oh--" said Faith, smiling somewhat but lookingdown, "I suppose it meant that I was disappointed. "

"My dear little child--you must try not to feel disappointed, because Iam quite sure you ought not to go; and that must content both you andme. So good night. "--

Faith tried to be contented, but her little scholar lay on her heart. And it lay on her heart too, that Mr. Linden would be watching allnight and teaching all day. He did not know how much he haddisappointed, for she had laid a fine plan to go by starlight in themorning to take his place and send him home for a little rest beforebreakfast and school. Faith studied only one book that night, and thatwas her Bible. 

It was a night of steady watching, --broken by many other things, butnot by sleep. There was constantly some little thing to do for the sickchild, --ranging from giving him a drink of water, to giving him "talk, "or rocking and--it might be--singing him to sleep. But the restlesslittle requests never had to wait for their answer, and with the wholehouse sunk in stillness or sleep, Mr. Linden played the part of a mostgentle and efficient nurse--and thought of Faith, and herdisappointment. And so the night wore away, and the morning star cameup, and then the red flushes of sunrise. 

"Who turneth the night into day"--Mr. Linden thought, with a grave lookfrom the window to the little face beside him--and then the wordscame, --

 "In the morning, children, in the morning; We'll all rise together in the morning!"

It was very early indeed, earlier even than usual, when Faith came downand kindled her fire. And then leaving it to burn, she opened thecurtains of the window and looked out into the starlight. It was longbefore the red flush of the morning; it was even before the time whenFaith would have gone to relieve the guard in that sick room; herthoughts sped away to the distant watcher there and the sick child. Faith could guess what sort of a watching it had been, and it was acomfort to think that Johnny had it. But then as she looked out intothe clear still starlight, something brought up the question, what ifJohnny should die?--It was overwhelming to Faith for a minute; herlittle scholar's loveliness had got fast hold of her heart; and sheloved him for deep and far-back associations too. She could not bear tothink that it might be. Yet she asked herself if this was a reasonablefeeling? Why should she be sorry--if it were so--that this littleblossom of Heaven should have an early transplanting thither? Ah, thefragrance of such Heaven-flowers is too sweet to be missed, and Earthwants them. As Faith looked sadly out into the night, watched theeternal procession of bright stars, and heard the low sweep of thewind, the words came to her, --separated from their context and fromeverything else as it seemed, --"I, the Lord, do all these things. " Hermind as instantly gave a glad assent and rested itself in them. Notseen by her or by mortal the place or fitting of any change or turn ofearthly things, in the great plan, --every one such turn and change hadits place, as sure as the post of each star in the sky--as true to itscommission as that wind, which came from no one knew where to go no oneknew whither. Faith looked and listened, and took the lesson deep downin her heart. 

Mr. Linden's little basket had stood him well in stead that longnight, --for Faith had said truth; nothing was for him in Mr. Fax'shouse. Mr. Fax was well enough satisfied that Johnny's teacher shouldtake the trouble of nursing the child, had no idea that such troublewould necessarily involve much loss of sleep, and still further nonotion of the fact that a watcher at night needs food as much as fire. Fire Mr. Linden had, but he would have been worse off without thestores he found in his basket. In truth the supply generally wassufficient to have kept him from starving even if he had been obligedto go without his breakfast; but Dr. Harrison concerned himself abouthis little patient, and was better than Mr. Linden's hopes. He came, though in the cold short February morning, a good while before eighto'clock. He gave Mr. Linden a pleasant clasp of the hand; and then madehis observations in silence. 

"Is this one of your favourites?" he said at length. 

A grave "yes. "

"I am sorry for it. "

Mr. Linden was silent at first, looking down at the child with a sortof expression the doctor had not often seen, and when he spoke it waswithout raising his eyes. 

"Tell me more particularly. "

"I don't know myself, "--said the doctor with a frankness startling inone of his profession; but Dr. Harrison's characteristic carelessnessnowhere made itself more apparent than in his words and about whatpeople might think of them. --"I don't say anything _certainly_--but Ido not like appearances. "

"What is the matter?"

"It's an indefinite sort of attack--all the worse for that!--the rootof which is hid from me. All you can do is to watch and wait. Have youbeen here through the night?"

"Yes, " Mr. Linden answered--and put the further question, "Do you thinkthere is any danger of contagion?"

"O no!--the fever, what there is, comes from some inward cause--acomplicated one, I judge. I can guess, and that's all. Are there nowomen about the house?"

"None that are good for much. " And looking at his watch, Mr. Lindenlaid the child--who had fallen asleep again--out of his arms among thepillows, arranging them softly and dextrously as if he were used to thebusiness. 

"Reuben Taylor will stay with him for the present, " he said as heturned to Dr. Harrison. 

"I'll come again by and by, " the doctor said. "Meanwhile all that canbe done is to let him have this, as I told you. "

The directions were given to Reuben, the doctor drove off, and Mr. Linden set out on his quick walk home; after the confinement of thenight, the cold morning air and exercise were rather resting thanotherwise. It was a very thoughtful half hour--very sorrowful at first;but before he reached home, thought, and almost feeling, had got beyond"the narrow bounds of time, " and were resting peacefully--evenjoyfully--"where bright celestial ages roll. "

He entered the house with a light step, and went first upstairs tochange his dress; but when he came down and entered the sitting-room, there was the tone of the whole walk upon his face still. Faith put herquestion softly, as if she expected no glad answer. And yet it waspartly that, though given in very gentle, grave tones. 

"There is more to fear than to hope, dear Faith, --and there iseverything to hope, and nothing to fear!"

She turned away to the breakfast-table; and said little more till themeal was over. Then she rose when he did. 

"I am going now, Endy!"--The tone was of very earnest determination, that yet waited for sanction. 

"Yes, " he answered--"Dr. Harrison says the fever is not contagious, Iwaited to know that. If I can I shall get free before midday, so I maymeet you there. And can you prepare and take with you two or threethings?"--he told her what. 

Faith set about them; and when they were done, Mr. Skip had finishedhis breakfast and got Jerry ready. Some other preparations Faith hadmade beforehand; and with no delay now she was on her swift way tolittle Johnny's bedside. She came in like a vision of comfort upon thesick room, with all sorts of freshness about her; grasped Reuben'shand, and throwing back her hood, stooped her lips to Johnny's cheek. And Johnny gave her his usual little fair smile--and then his eyes wentoff to the doorway, as if he half expected to see some one else behindher. But it was from no want of love to _her_, as she knew from the waythe eyes came back to her face and rested there, and took a sort ofpleased survey of her hood and, her fur and her dress. 

"Dear Johnny!--Can you speak to me?" said Faith tenderly touching hercheek again to his. 

"Oh yes, ma'am, " he said, in a quiet voice and with the same bit of asmile. That was what Faith wanted. Then she looked up. 

"Are you going to school now, Reuben?"

"I didn't expect to this morning, Miss Faith, " Reuben said with a soberglance at his little comrade. 

"Then you can wait here a bit for me. "

Leaving Reuben once more in charge, Faith went on a rummagingexpedition over the house to find some woman inmate. Not too easily orspeedily she was found at last, the housekeeper and all-work woman deepin _all work_ as she really seemed, and in an outer kitchen of remotebusiness, whither Faith had traced her by an exercise of determinatepatience and skill. Having got so fur, Faith was not balked in therest; and obtaining from her some of Johnny's clean linen which shepersuaded her to go in search of, she returned to the room where shehad left Reuben; and set about making the sick child as comfortable asin his sickness he could be. 

It was a day or two already since Johnny had lain there and had hadlittle effectual attention from anybody, till Mr. Linden came lastnight. The child might well look at his new nurse, for her neat dressand gentle face and soft movements were alone a balm for any sickplace. And in her quiet way, Faith set about changing the look of thisone. There was plenty of wood, and she made a glorious fire. Thentenderly and dextrously she managed to get a fresh nightgown on Johnnywithout disturbing him more than pleasantly with her softmanipulations; and wrapping him in a nice little old doublegown whichshe had brought with her and which had been a friend of her ownchildish days, Faith gave him to Reuben to hold while she made up thebed and changed the clothes, the means for which she had also won fromthe housekeeper. Then having let down the chintz curtains to shield offthe intense glare of the sunny snow, Faith assumed Johnny into her ownarms. She had brought vinegar from home, and with it bathed the littleboy's face and hands and brushed his hair, till the refreshed littlehead lay upon her breast in soothed rest and comfort. 

"There, Johnny!"--she whispered as her lips touched his brow, --"Mr. Linden may come as soon as he pleases--we are ready for him!"

The child half unclosed his eyes at the words, and then sunk again intoone of his fits of feverish sleep, the colour rising in his cheeks alittle, the breath coming quick. Reuben knelt down at Faith's side andwatched him. 

"I used to wonder, Miss Faith, " he said softly, "what would become ofhim if Mr. Linden ever went away"--and the quiet pause told whatprovision Reuben thought was fast coming for any such contingency. 

"You can't think what Mr. Linden's been to Johnny, Miss Faith, " he wenton in the same low voice, --"and to all of us, " he added lower still. "But he's taken such care of him, in school and out. It was only lastweek Johnny told me he liked coming to school in the winter, becausethen Mr. Linden always went home with him. And whenever he could get inMr. Linden's lap he was perfectly happy. And Mr. Linden would let him, sometimes, even in school, because Johnny was so little and not verystrong, --and he'd let him sit in his lap and go to sleep for a littlewhile when he got tired, and then Johnny would go back to his lessonsas bright as a bee. That was the way he did the very first day schoolwas opened, for Johnny was frightened at first, and a mind to cry--he'dnever had anybody to take much care of him. And Mr. Linden just calledhim and took him up and spoke to him--and Johnny laid his head rightdown and went to sleep; and he's loved Mr. Linden with all his heartever since. I know we all laughed--and he smiled himself, but it madeall the rest of us love him too. "

Reuben had gone on talking, softly, as if he felt sure of sympathy inall he might say on the subject. But that "first day school wasopened!"--how Faith's thoughts sprang back there, --with what strange, mixed memories the vision of it came up before her! That day and timewhen so many new threads were introduced into her life, which were nowshewing their colours and working out their various patterns. It wasonly a spring there and back again, however, that her thoughts took; orrather the vision was a sort of background to Reuben's delineations, and her eye was upon these; with what kind of sympathy she did not careto let him see. Her cheek was bent down to the sick child's head andFaith's face was half hidden. Until a moment later, when the dooropened and Johnny's father came in to see what was become of him; andthen Mr. Fax had no clue to the lustrous softness of the eyes thatlooked up at him. He could make nothing of it. 

"What!" said he. "Why who's Johnny got to look after him now?"

"I am his teacher, sir. "

"His teacher, be you? Seems to me he's a lot of 'em. One teacher stayedwith him last night. How many has he got, among you?"

"Only two--" said Faith, rejoicing that she was _one_. "I am his Sundayschool teacher. "

"Well what's your name, now?"

"Faith Derrick. "

"_That's_ who you be!" said Mr. Fax in surprise. "Don't say! WellJohnny's got into good hands, aint he? How's he gettin' along?"

Faith's eye went down to the little boy, and her hand passed slowly andtenderly over his hair; she was at a loss how to answer, and Reubenspoke for her. 

"He's been sleeping a good deal this morning. "

The father stooped towards the child, but his look went from him toFaith, with a mixture of curiosity and uneasiness as he spoke. 

"Sleepin', is he?--Then I guess he's gettin' along first-rate--aint he?"

Again Faith's look astonished the man, both because of its intent softbeauty and the trembling set of her lip. But how to answer him she didnot know. Her head sunk over the child's brow as she exclaimed, "His dear Master knows what to do with him!"

Jonathan Fax stood up straight and looked at Reuben. 

"What does she mean!"

"She means that he is in God's hands, and that we don't know yet whatHe will do, " Reuben answered with clear simplicity. 

Yet it was a strange view of the subject to Mr. Fax; and he stood stiffand angular and square, looking down at Faith and her charge, feelingstartled and strange. Her face was bent so that he could not see thatquiver of her lip now; but he did see one or two drops fall from thelowered eyelids on Johnny's hair. Perhaps he would have asked morequestions, but he did not; something kept them back. He stood fixed, with gathering soberness growing over his features. Little he guessedthat those tears had been half wrung from Faith's eyes by the contrastbetween his happy little child and him. It was with something like agroan at last that he turned away, merely bidding Reuben Taylor to callfor anything that was wanted. 

The morning wore on softly, for Johnny still slept. Reuben went quietlyabout, giving attention where it was needed; to the fire, or to thecurtains--drawn back now as the sun got round--or bringing Faith afootstool, or trying some other little thing for her comfort; and whenhe was not wanted remaining in absolute stillness. As it neared midday, however, he took his stand by the window, and after a short watch theresuddenly turned and left the room. And a moment after Mr. Linden camein. 

Faith met him with a look of grave, sweet quiet; in which was mingled acertain joy at being where she was. She waited for him to speak. Butsomething in her face, or her office, moved him, --the gravity of hisown look deepened as he came forward--his words were not ready. He satdown by her, resting his arm on the back of her chair and giving herand Johnny the same salutation--the last too softly to rouse him. 

"Has the doctor been here?" he said first. 

"No. "

He was silent again for a minute, but then Johnny suddenly startedup--waking perhaps out of some fever dream; for he seemed frightenedand bewildered, and almost ready to cry; turning his head uneasily awayfrom everything and everybody as it seemed, until his eyes were fairlyopen, and then giving almost a spring out of Faith's arms into those ofMr. Linden; holding him round the neck and breathing little sobbingbreaths on his shoulder, till the resting-place had done itswork, --till Mr. Linden's soft whispered words had given him comfort. But it was a little wearily then that he said, "Sing. "

Was it wearily that the song was given? Faith could not tell, --shecould not name those different notes in the voice, she could only feelthat the octave reached from earth to heaven. 

 "'How kind is Jesus, Lord of all! To hear my little feeble call. How kind is Jesus, thus to be Physician, Saviour, all to me!

 'How much he loves me he doth shew; How much he loves I cannot know. I'm glad my life is his to keep, Then he will watch and I may sleep. 

 'Jesus on earth, while here I lie; Jesus in heaven, if I die: I'm safe and happy in his care, His love will keep me, here or there. 

 'An angel he may send for me, And then an angel I shall be. Lord Jesus, through thy love divine, Thy little child is ever thine. '"

Faith had drawn her chair a little back and with her head leaning onthe back of Mr. Linden's chair, listened--in a spirit not verydifferent from Johnny's own. She looked up then when it was done, withalmost as childlike a brow. It had quieted him, as with a charm, andthe little smile he gave Faith was almost wondering why she lookedgrave. 

"You've been here a good while, " he said, as if the mere announcementof the fact spoke his thanks. 

"Has she?" Mr. Linden said. "What has Miss Faith done with you, Johnny, if she has been here a good while?"

"All sorts of things, " Johnny answered, with another comprehensiveexpression of gratitude. 

"I thought so!" said Mr. Linden. "I shouldn't wonder a bit if she haddressed you up in something she used to wear herself. "

"She wasn't ever so little, " the child said softly. 

Faith had been preparing for him a cup of some light nourishment whichhe was to take from time to time, and now coming to Mr. Linden's sidekneeled down there before Johnny to give it to him. The child took thedelicate spoonfuls as she gave them, turning his fair eyes from her toMr. Linden as if he felt in a very sweet atmosphere of love and care;and when she went away with the cup he said in his slow fashion, "I love her very much. "

And Faith heard the answer--

"And so do I. "

Coming up behind Mr. Linden she laid her hand on his shoulder. 

"Endecott--where are you going to take dinner and rest to-day?"

"O I will take rest by the way, " he answered lightly, and with a smileat her. "There is dinner enough in my supper basket--I have not muchtime for it, neither. "

"School again this afternoon?"

"Yes I must be there for awhile. "

Faith moved away, remarking in a different tone, "Your supper basket isat home, sir!"--and busied her energies about serving him as she hadjust served Johnny. With something more substantial however. Faith hadbrought a lunch basket, and in five minutes had made Mr. Linden a cupof home tea. 

"Now how shall we manage?" she said;--"for Johnny must have you everyminute while you are here--and there is no such thing as a littletable. I shall have to be table and dumb waiter for you--if you won'tmind. "

And so Faith pulled up her chair again and sat down, with the basketopen on her lap and Mr. Linden's cup in her hand. 

"I only hope, " she said, "that Dr. Harrison will not choose thisparticular minute to come in! If he does, catch the cup of tea, Endecott!--for I won't answer for anything. "

"I don't know whether I should be most sorry or proud, in case of suchevent, " said Mr. Linden, --"however, I do not wish the doctor anythingso disagreeable. But I will promise to catch the cup of tea--andeverything else, down to his displeasure. Only you must not be a _dumb_waiter; for that will not suit me at all. "

It was one of those pretty bits of sunshine that sometimes shewthemselves in the midst of a very unpromising day, the time when theysat there with the lunch basket between them. The refreshment of talkand of lunch (for lunch _is_ refreshing when it is needed) brightenedboth faces and voices; and Mr. Linden's little charge, in one of histurns of happy rest and ease, watched them--amused and interested--tillhe fell asleep. By that time Mr. Linden's spare minutes were aboutover. As he was laying Johnny gently down on the bed, Faith seized herchance. 

"You'll let me stay here to-night--won't you, Endecott?"

"It would not be good for you, dear child, --if you stay until night itwill be quite as much as you ought to do. But I will see you again bythat time. "

"I am strong, Endecott. "

"Yes, you are strong, little Sunbeam, " he said, turning now to her andtaking both her hands, --"and yet it is a sort of strength I must guard. Even sunbeams must not be always on duty. But we'll see about it when Icome back. "

Mr. Linden went off to his other sphere of action, and soon afterReuben came softly in, just to let Faith know that he was at hand ifshe wanted anything, and to offer to take her place. 

"Reuben!" said Faith suddenly, "have you had any dinner?"

"O yes, ma'am--enough, " Reuben said with a smile. "I brought somethingwith me this morning. "

Faith put her lunch basket into his hand, but her words were cut short;for she saw Dr. Harrison just coming to the house. She moved away andstood gravely by the fire. 

The doctor came in pulling off his glove. He gave his hand to Faithwith evident pleasure, but with a frank free pleasure, that had nothingembarrassing about the manner of it; except the indication of itsdepth. After a few words given with as easy an intonation as if thethermometer were not just a few degrees above zero outside where he hadcome from, the doctor's eye went over to the other person in the room;and then the doctor himself crossed over and offered his hand. 

"I shall never see you, Reuben, "--said he with a very pleasantrecollective play of eye and lip, --"without thinking of a _friend_. "

The doctor had a more full view of Reuben's eyes, thereupon, than hehad ever before been favoured with, --for one moment their clear, true, earnest expression met his. But whatever the boy read--or tried toread--or did not read, he answered simply, as he looked away again, "You have been that to me, sir. "

"I don't know--" said the doctor lightly. "I am afraid not according toyour friend. Mr. Linden's definition. But reckon me such a one as I_can_ be, will you?"--He turned away without waiting for the answer andwent back to Faith. 

"Do you know, " he said, "I expected to find you here?"

"Very naturally, " said Faith quietly. 

"Yes--it is according to my experience. Now how is this child?"--

He turned to see, and so did Faith. He looked at the child, whileFaith's eye went from Johnny to him. Both faces were grave, but Faith'sgrew more grave as she looked. 

"How is this child?" she repeated. 

"He is not worse, " said the doctor; "except that not to be better is tobe worse. Are you particularly interested in him?"

Faith looked down at the sweet pure little face, and for a minute ortwo was very still. She did not even think of answering the doctor, nordare speak words at all. Her first movement was to push away softly alock of hair from Johnny's forehead. 

"What can I do for him, Dr. Harrison?"

"Not much just now--go on as you have been doing. I will be hereto-night again, and then perhaps I shall know more. "

He gave her a new medicine for him however; and having said all thatwas needful on that score, came back with her to the fire and stood alittle while talking--just so long as it would do for him to stay withany chance of its being acceptable; talking in a tone that did not jarwith the place or the time, gravely and pleasantly, of some matters ofinterest; and then he went. And Faith sat down by the bedside, andforgot Dr. Harrison; and thought of the Sunday school in the woods thatevening in October, and the hymn, "I want to be an angel"; and lookedat Johnny with a very full heart. 

Not a very long time had passed, when Faith heard sleigh bells again, and a person very different from the doctor came softly in; even Mrs. Derrick. She smiled at Reuben and Faith, and going close up to the bedfolded her hands quietly together and stood looking at the sick child;the smile vanishing from her face, her lips taking a tender, pitifulset--her eyes in their experience gravely reading the signs. She lookedfor a few minutes in silence, then with a little sorrowful sigh sheturned to Faith. 

"Pretty child, " she said, "can't you take a little rest? I'll sit byhim now. "

"O mother I'm not tired--much. I have not been very busy. "

Mrs. Derrick however took the matter into her own hands, and did notcontent herself till she had Faith on a low seat at her side, andFaith's head on her lap; which was a rest, to mind and body both. Reuben replenished the fire and went out, and the two sat alone. 

"Faith, " her mother said softly, "don't you think he'd be content withme to-night? I can't bear to have Mr. Linden sit up. "

"I want to stay myself, mother, if he would let me. "

"I don't believe he'll do that, Faith--and I guess he's right But youmust make him go home to tea, child, and he might rest a little then;and I'll stay till he comes back, at least. "

There was not much more to be said then, for Johnny woke up and wantedto be taken on Faith's lap, and talked to, and petted; answering allher efforts with a sort of grateful little smile and way; but movinghimself about in her arms as if he felt restless and uneasy. It went toher heart. Presently, in the low tones which were music of themselves, she carried his thoughts off to the time when Jesus was a little child;and began to give him, in the simplicity of very graphic detail, partof the story of Christ's life upon earth. It was a name that Johnnyloved to hear; and Faith went from point to point of his words, andwonders, and healing power and comforting love. Not dwelling too long, but telling Johnny very much as if she had seen it, each gentle storyof the sick and the weary and the troubled, who came in their variousways to ask pity of Jesus, and found it; and reporting to Johnny as ifshe had heard them the words of promise and love that a little childcould understand. Mrs. Derrick listened; she had never heard just sucha talk in her life. The peculiarity of it was in the vivid faith andlove which took hold of the things as if Faith had had them by eyesightand hearing, and in the simplicity of representation with which shegave them, as a child to a child. And all the while she let Johnnyconstantly be changing his position, as restlessness prompted; fromsitting to kneeling and lying in her arms; sometimes brushing his hair, which once in a while he had a fancy for, and sometimes combing it offfrom his forehead with her own fingers dipped in the vinegar and waterwhich he liked to smell. Nothing could be more winning--nothing moreskilful, in its way, than Faith's talk to the sick child that half houror more. And Johnny told its effect, in the way he would bid her"talk, " if she paused for a minute. So by degrees the restless fitpassed off for the time, and he lay still in her arms, with droopingheavy eyelids now. 

Everything was subsiding;--the sun sank down softly behind the wavyhorizon line, the clouds floated silently away to some other harbour, and the blasts of wind came fainter and fainter, like the music of aretreating army. Swiftly the daylight ebbed away, and still Faithrocked softly back and forth, and her mother watched her. Once in awhile Reuben came silently in to bring wood or fresh water, --otherwisethey had no interruption. Then Mr. Linden came, and sitting down byFaith as he had done before, asked about the child and about the doctor. 

"He came very soon after you went away, " said Faith. "He said that hewas no better, and that to be no better was to be worse. " It was plainthat she thought more than she said. Faith had little experience, butthere is an intuitive skill in some eyes to know what they have neverknown before. 

Mr. Linden bent down over the child, laying cheek to cheek softly andsilently, until Johnny rousing up a little held up his lips to bekissed, --and he did not raise his head then. 

"Have you been asleep, Johnny?" he said. 

"I don't know, " the child said dreamily. 

"Has Miss Faith taken care of you ever since I went?"

"Yes, " Johnny said, with a little faint smile--"and we've had talk. "

"I wish I had been here to hear it, " said Mr. Linden. "What was itabout?--all sorts of sweet things?"

"Yes, " Johnny said again, his face brightening--"out of the Bible. "

"Well they are the sweetest things I know of, " said Mr. Linden. "Now ifyou will come on my lap, I am sure Miss Faith will get you something toeat--she can do it a great deal better than I can. "

Faith had soon done that, and brought the cup to Johnny, of somethingthat he liked, and fed him as she had done at noon. It seemed torefresh him, for he fell into a quieter sleep than he had had for sometime, and was oftly laid on the bed. 

"Now dear Faith, " Mr. Linden said coming back to her, "it is time foryou to go home and rest. "

"Do you mean to send me?" she said wistfully. 

"Or take you--" he said, with a soft touch of his fingers on her hair. "I don't know but I could be spared long enough for that. "

It was arranged so, Mrs. Derrick undertaking to supply all deficienciesso far as she could, until Mr. Linden should get back again. The fastdrive home through the still cold air was refreshing to both parties;it was a still drive too. Then leaving Mr. Linden to get a little reston the sofa, Faith prepared tea. But Mr. Linden would not stay longafter that, for rest or anything. 

"I am coming very early to-morrow, Endecott, " Faith said then. 

"You may, dear child--if you will promise to sleep to-night. But youmust not rouse yourself _too_ early. You know to-morrow is Saturday--soI shall not be called off by other duties. "

He went, and Mrs. Derrick came; but Faith, though weary enoughcertainly, spent the evening in study. 

CHAPTER XII. 

There is no knowing what Mr. Linden would have considered "too early, "and Faith had prudently omitted to enquire. She studied nothing but herBible that morning and spent the rest of the time in getting ready whatshe was to take with her; for Mr. Linden would not come home tobreakfast. And it was but fair day, the sun had not risen, when she wason her way. She wondered, as she went, what they would have done thatwinter without Jerry; and looked at the colouring clouds in the eastwith a strange quick appreciation of the rising of that other day toldof in the Bible. Little Johnny brought the two near; the type and theantitype. It was a pretty ride; cold, bright, still, shadowless; tillthe sun got above the horizon, and then the long yellow faint beamsthrew themselves across the snow that was all a white level before. They reached Faith's heart, as the commissioned earnest of that otherSun that will fill the world with his glory and that will make heaven aplace where "there shall be no night. "

The room where little Johnny was, --lay like the chamber called Peace, in the Pilgrim's Progress--towards the sunrising; but to reach it Faithhad first to pass through another on the darker side of the house. Thedoor between the two stood open, perhaps for fresher air, and as Faithcame lightly in she could see that room lit up as it were with theearly sunbeams. It was an old-fashioned room;--the windows with chintzshades, the floor painted, with a single strip of rag carpet; the oldlow-post bed-stead, with its check blue and white spread, thehigh-backed splinter chairs, told of life that had made but littleprogress in modern improvement. And Jonathan Fax himself, lean, long-headed, and lantern-jawed, looked grimmer than ever under his newveil of solemn feeling. He sat by the window. 

The wood fire in the low fireplace flickered and fell with its changinglight, on all; but within the warm glow a little group told of lifethat _had_ made progress--progress which though but yet begun, was togo on its fair course through all the ages of eternity!

Little Johnny sat in his teacher's lap, one arm round his neck, and hisweary little head resting as securely on Mr. Linden's breast as if ithad been a woman's. The other hand moved softly over the cuff of thatblack sleeve, or twined its thin fingers in and out the strong handthat was clasped round him. Sometimes raising his eyes, Johnny put somequestion, or asked for "talk;" his own face then much the brighter ofthe two, --Faith could see the face that bent over him not only touchedwith its wonted gravity, which the heavenly seal set there, but movedand shaken in its composure by the wistful eyes and words of the littleboy. The answering words were too low-spoken for her to hear. She couldsee how tenderly the child's caresses were returned, --not the motherwhose care Johnny had never known, could have given the little headgentler rest. Nay, not so good, --unless she could have given the littleheart such comfort. For Johnny was in the arms of one who knew wellthat road to the unseen land--who had studied it; and now as the childwent on before him, could still give him words of cheer, and shew himthe stepping-stones through the dark river. It seemed to Faith as ifthe river were already in sight, --as if somewhat of

 "that strange, unearthly grace Which crowns but once the children of our race--"

already rested upon Johnny's fair brow. Yet he looked brighter thanyesterday, bright with a very sweet clear quietness now. 

Faith stood still one minute--and another; then pulling off her hood, she came in with a footfall so noiseless that it never brought Mr. Fax's head from the window, and knelt down by the side of that group. She had a smile for Johnny too, but it was a smile that had quite leftthe things of the world behind it and met the child on his own ground;and her kiss was sweet accordingly. A look and a clasp of the hand toMr. Linden; then she rose up and went round to the window to take thehand of Mr. Fax, who had found his feet. 

"I'm very much beholden to ye!" said he in somewhat astonished wise. "You're takin' a sight o' trouble among ye. "

"It's no trouble, sir. "

Mr. Fax looked bewildered. He advanced to Mr. Linden. "Now this girl'shere, " said he, "don't you think you hadn't better come into anotherroom and try to drop off? I guess he can get along without you for aspell--can't he?"

"I am not quite ready to leave him, " Mr. Linden said, --"and I am not atall sleepy, Mr. Fax. Perhaps I will come by and by. "

"We'll have breakfast, I conclude, some time this forenoon. I'll go andsee if it's ever comin'. Maybe you'll take that first. "

He went away; and Faith, rid of her wrappers, came up again behindJohnny, passing her fingers through his hair and bending down her faceto his; she did not speak. Only her eye went to Mr. Linden forintelligence, as the eye will, even when it has seen for itself!

"Dr. Harrison is coming this morning, " was all he said. She did notneed to ask any more. 

"May Johnny have anything now?"

"O yes--and he will like it, " Mr. Linden said in a different tone, andhalf addressing the child. "He asked me some time ago when you werecoming--but not for that. "

Faith brought something freshly prepared for Johnny and served himtenderly. Meanwhile her own coffee had been on the fire; and aftermaking two or three simple arrangements of things she came back to them. 

"Will you sit with me now, Johnny, and let Mr. Linden have somebreakfast?"

"In here?" the child said. But being reassured on that point, he cameto Faith's arms very willingly, or rather let Mr. Linden place himthere, when she had drawn her chair up nearer the table so that hecould look on. And with her arms wrapped tenderly round him, but a faceof as clear quiet as the morning sky when there are no clouds beforethe sunrise, she sat there, and she and Johnny matched Mr. Linden'sbreakfast. There was no need to talk, for Johnny had a simple pleasurein what was going on, and in everything his friend did. And if thelittle face before him hindered Mr. Linden's enjoyment of breakfast, that was suffered to appear as little as possible. Breakfast was evenrather prolonged and played with, because it seemed to amuse him; andthe word and the smile were always ready, either to call forth or toanswer one from the child. Nor from him alone, for by degrees evenFaith was drawn out of her silence. 

Mr. Linden had not yet changed his place, when on the walk that led upto the house Faith saw the approach of Dr. Harrison. The doctor as hecame in gave a comprehensive glance at the table, Mr. Linden who hadrisen, and Faith with Johnny in her lap; shook hands with Mr. Linden, and taking the chair he had quitted sat down in front of Faith andJohnny. A question and answer first passed about her own well-being. 

"You've not been here all night?" said he. 

"No, sir. I came a while ago. "

The doctor's unsatisfied eye fell on the child; fell, with no change ofits unsatisfied expression. It took rapid and yet critical note of him, with a look that Faith knew through its unchangingness, scanned, judged, and passed sentence. Then Dr. Harrison rose and walked over toMr. Linden. 

"There is nothing to be done, " he said in a low tone. "I wouldstay--but I know that it would be in vain. _She_ ought not to be here. "

For the first remark Mr. Linden was prepared, --the second fell upon aheart that was already keeping closer watch over her strength andhappiness than even the doctor could. He merely answered by a quietquestion or two as to what could be done for the child's comfort--as tothe probable length of time there would be to do anything. 

"He may have any simple thing he likes, " said the doctor--"such as hehas had. I need not give you directions for more than to-day. I amsorry I cannot stay longer with you--but it does not matter--you can doas well as I now. "

He went up to Faith and spoke with a different manner. "Miss Faith, Ihope you will not let your goodness forget that its powers need to betaken care of. You were here yesterday--there is no necessity for youto be here to-day. "

"I don't come for necessity, Dr. Harrison. "

"I know!" said he shaking his head, --"your will is strong! but it oughtnot to have full play. You are not wanted here. "

Faith let him go without an answer to that. As soon as the doctor wasgone, Mr. Linden came and sat down by Johnny again, kissing the child'sbrow and cheek and lips, with a face a little moved indeed, and yetwith its clear look unclouded; and softly asked what he should do forhim. But though Johnny smiled, and stroked his face, he seemed ratherinclined to be quiet and even to sleep; yielding partly to the effectof weakness and fever, partly to the restless night; and his twoteachers watched him together. Faith was very silent and quiet. Thensuddenly she said, "Go and take some rest yourself, won't you, Endecott--now. "

"I do not feel the need of it--" he said. "I had some snatches of sleeplast night. "

She looked at him, but the silence was unbroken again for some littletime longer. At length, pushing aside a lock of hair from the fairlittle brow beneath which the eyelids drooped with such unnaturalheaviness, Faith said, --and the tone seemed to come from very stillnessof heart, the words dropped so grave and clear, --

"The name of Christ is good here to-day, Endecott. "

"How good! how precious!" was his quick rejoinder. "And how veryprecious too, is the love of his will!"--and he repeated softly, as ifhalf thinking it out--

 "'I worship thee, sweet will of God! And all thy ways adore! And every day I live, I seem To love thee more and more. '"

An earnest, somewhat wistful glance of Faith's eye was the answer; itwas not a dissenting answer, but it went back to Johnny. Her lip was achild's lip in its humbleness. 

"It was very hard for me to give him up at first--" Mr. Linden went onsoftly; and the voice said it was yet; "but that answers all questions. 'The good Husbandman may pluck his roses, and gather in his lilies atmid-summer, and, for aught I dare say, in the beginning of the firstsummer month. '"--

Faith looked at the little human flower in her arms--and was silent. 

"Reuben was telling me yesterday--" she said after a fewminutes, --"what you have been to him. "

But her words touched sweet and bitter things--Mr. Linden did notimmediately answer, --his head drooped a little on his hand, and he didnot raise it again until Johnny claimed his attention. 

The quiet rest of the little sleeper was passing off, --changing into anunquiet waking; not with the fear of yesterday but with a restlessnessof discomfort that was not easily soothed. Words and caresses seemed tohave lost their quieting power for the time, though the child's facenever failed to answer them; but he presently held out his arms to Mr. Linden, with the words, "Walk--like last night. "

And for a while then Faith had nothing to do but to look and listen; tolisten to the soft measured steps through the room, to watch thesoothing, resting effect of the motion on the sick child, as wrapped inMr. Linden's arms he was carried to and fro. She could tell how itwrought from the quieter, unbent muscles--from the words which bydegrees Johnny began to speak. But after a while, one of these wordswas, "Sing. "--Mr. Linden did not stay his walk, but though his tone wasalmost as low as his foot-steps, Faith heard every word. 

 "Jesus loves me--this I know, For the Bible tells me so: Little ones to him belong, -- They are weak, but he is strong. 

 "Jesus loves me, --he who died Heaven's gate to open wide; He will wash away my sin, Let his little child come in. 

 "Jesus loves me--loves me still, Though I'm very weak and ill; From his shining throne on high Comes to watch me where I lie. 

 "Jesus loves me, --he will stay Close beside me all the way. Then his little child will take Up to heaven for his dear sake. "

There were a few silent turns taken after that, and then Mr. Lindencame back to the rocking-chair, and told Faith in a sort of brightcheerful way--meant for her as well as the child--that Johnny wantedher to brush his hair and give him something to eat. Which Johnnyenforced with one of his quiet smiles. Faith sprang to do it, and bothoffices were performed with hands of tenderness and eyes of love, withhow much inner trembling of heart neither eyes nor hands told. Then, after all that was done, Faith stood by the table and began to swallowcoffee and bread on her own account, somewhat eagerly. Mr. Lindenwatched her, with grave eyes. 

"Now you must go and lie down, " he said. 

"Not at all!" Faith said with a smile at him. "I hadn't time--or didn'ttake time--to eat my breakfast before I came away from home--that isall. It is you who ought to do that, Endy, "--she added gently. 

She put away the things, cleared the table, made up the fire, andsmoothed the bed, ready for Johnny when he should want it; and then shecame and sat down. 

"Won't you go?" she said softly. 

"I would rather stay here. "

Faith folded her hands and sat waiting to be useful. 

Perhaps Mr. Linden thought it would be a comfort to her if he at leastpartly granted her request, perhaps he thought it would be wise; for hesaid, laying his cheek against the child's, --

"Johnny, if you will sit with Miss Faith now, I will lay my head downon one of your pillows for a little while, and you can call me theminute you want me. "

The child was very quiet and resting then, and leaning his head happilyagainst Faith, watched Mr. Linden as he sat down by the bedside andgave himself a sort of rest in the way he had proposed; and thenFaith's gentle voice was put in requisition. It was going over somethings Johnny liked to hear, very softly so that no ears but his mightbe the wiser, --when the door opened and Jonathan Fax came in again. Heglanced at Mr. Linden, and advanced softly up to Faith. There stood andlooked down at his child and her with a curious look--that halfrecognized what it would not see. 

"You're as good to him as if he belonged to ye!--" said Jonathan, in avoice not clear. 

"So he does--" was Faith's answer, laying her cheek to the little boy'shead. "By how many ties, " she thought; but she added no more. The wordshad shaken her. 

"How's he gettin' on?" was the uneasy question next, as the fatherstooped with his hands on his knees to look nearer at the child. 

Did he not know? Faith for a minute held her breath. Then she liftedher face and looked up--looked full into his eyes. 

"Don't you know, Mr. Fax, that Johnny cannot go any way but _well?_"

The words were soft and low, but the man stood up, straighteninghimself instantly as if he had received a blow. 

"Do you mean to say, " he asked huskily, "that he is goin' to _die?_"

It startled Faith fearfully. She did not know how much Johnny wouldunderstand or be moved by the words. And she saw that they had beenheard and noted. With infinite softness and quietness she laid hercheek to the little boy's, answering in words as sweet as he had everheard from her voice--as unfearful--

"Johnny knows where he is going, if Jesus wants him. "

"Jesus is in heaven, " the child said instantly, as if she had asked hima question, and with the same deliberate manner that he would haveanswered her in Sunday school, and raising his clear eyes to hers as hehad been wont to do there. But the voice was fainter. 

Faith's head drooped lower, and her voice was fainter too--but clearand cheery. 

"Yes, darling--and we'll be with him there by and by. "

"Yes, " the child repeated, nestling his head against her in a wearysort of way, but with a little smile still. The father looked at Faithand at the child like one mazed and bewildered; stood still as if hehad got a shock; then wheeling round spoke to nobody and went out. Faith pressed her lips and cheek lightly to Johnny's brow, in a rush ofsorrow and joy; then began again some sweet Bible story for his tiredlittle spirit. 

Mr. Linden did not long keep even his resting position, though perhapslonger than he would but for the murmuring talk which he did not wantto interrupt. But when that ceased, he came back to his former seat, leaning his arm on Faith's chair in a silence that was veryuninterrupted. There were plenty of comers and goers in the outerroom, --Miss Bezac, and Mrs. Stoutenburgh, and Mrs. Derrick, and Mrs. Somers, were all there with offers of assistance; but Mr. Linden knewwell that little Johnny had all he could have, and his orders to Reubenhad been very strict that no one should come in. So except the varioustones of different voices--which made their way once in a while--thetwo watchers had nothing to break the still quiet in which they sat. Their own words only made the quiet deeper, as they watched the littlefeet which they had first guided in the heavenward path, now passing onbefore them. 

"We were permitted to shew him the way at first, Faith, " Mr. Lindensaid, "but he is shewing it to us now! But 'suffer them to come'! indeath as in life. "

Much of the time the child slumbered--or lay in a half stupor, thoughoften this was uneasy unless Mr. Linden walked with him up and down theroom. Then he would revive a little, and look and speak quite brightly, asking for singing or reading or talk, --letting Faith smooth his hair, or bathe his face and hands, or give him a spoonful or two from one ofher little cups; his face keeping its fair quiet look, even though themortal began to give way before the immortal. 

In one of these times of greater strength and refreshment, when he wasin Mr. Linden's arms, he looked up at him and said, "Read about heaven--what you used to. "

Mr. Linden took his little Bible--remembering but too readily what that"used" to be, and read softly and clearly the verses in Revelation--

"'And he shewed me that great city, the holy Jerusalem. --And the cityhad no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it: for theglory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof. And thenations of them that are saved shall walk in the light of it, and thekings of the earth do bring their glory and honour unto it. And thegates of it shall not be shut at all by day, for there shall be nonight there. And there shall in no wise enter into it anything thatdefileth, or whatsoever worketh abomination, or maketh a lie, but theythat are written in the Lamb's book of life. '"

The child listened, with his eyes upon his teacher's face and his armround him, as he had been "used, " too, and when the reading wasfinished lay quiet for a little time; while his friends too weresilent--thinking of "the city that hath foundations. "

"That's the same gate, " Johnny said in his slow, thoughtful way, as ifhis mind had gone back to the morning hymn. 

"Yes, " Mr. Linden said, with lips that would not quite be controlled, and yet answering the child's smile, "that is the gate where his littlechild shall go in! And that is the beautiful city where the Lord Jesuslives, and where my Johnny is going to be with him forever--and wheredear Miss Faith and I hope to come by and by. "

The child's hands were folded together, and with a fair, pure smile helooked from one face to the other; closing his eyes then in quietsleep, but with the smile yet left. 

It was no time for words. The gates of the city seemed too near, wherethe little traveller's feet were so soon to enter. The veil betweenseemed so slight, that even sense might almost pass beyond it, --whenthe Heaven-light was already shining on that fair little face! Faithwiped away tears--and looked--and brushed them away again; but for along time was very silent. At last she said, very low, that it might bequietly, --

"Endecott--it seems to me as if I could almost hear them!"

He half looked the question which yet needed no answer, looking downthen again at the little ransomed one in his arms, as he said in thesame low voice, wherein mingled a note of the church triumphant throughall its deep human feeling, --

"'And they sung a new song, saying, Thou art worthy to take the bookand to open the seals thereof, for thou wast slain: and hast redeemedus to God by thy blood, out of every kindred, and tongue, and peopleand nation'!"

"And, " said Faith presently, lower still, --"can't you, as Bunyan says, hear the bells of the city ringing for joy!--"

Those "choral harmonies of heaven, heard or unheard, " were stilling tomortal speech and even mortal feeling. Very quietly the minutes and thehours of that day succeeded each other. Quietly even on the sickchild's part; more so than yesterday; nature succumbed gently, and therestless uneasiness which had marked the night and the preceding daygave place gradually before increasing faintness of the bodily powers. There was little "talk" called for after that time--hardly any, thoughnever a word met his waking ear that did not meet the same grateful, pleased manner and smile. But the occasions became fewer; Johnnyslumbered gently, but more plainly a sleep that was nearing the end, inthe arms of his best friend, who would let him even when unconscioushave no worse resting-place--would let every faint waking minute findthe same earthly love about him that had been his dearest earthlyrefuge and stay. But earth was having less and less of her littleimmortal tenant; and as the hours of the afternoon began to tell offailing light and a fading day, it was plain that the little spirit wasalmost ready to wing its way to the "city that hath no need of the sun. "

Mr. Fax came in sometimes to look at the child, but never staidlong--never offered to take him out of the hands he perhapsunconsciously felt were more of kin to him, spiritually, than his own. Out of the room, he sat down in the midst of his visitors and saidnothing. He seemed bewildered--or astounded. "I never knowed, " he saidonce, "till that girl told me. I heard what the doctor said atnight--but I didn't think as he was any wiser than other doctors--andtheir word's about as good one side as 'tother. "

At the edge of the evening Reuben came in to say that Mr. Skip wasthere with the sleigh. 

"Let him put Jerry in the stable and go home, " Faith said softly to Mr. Linden. "One of Mr. Fax's men can harness him any time. "

"Dear Faith!" he said, "you had better go with him. "

"I can't go, Endecott. Don't tell me to go, "--she said with adeterminate quietness. 

"How can I let you stay?--you ought not to watch here all night--unlessthere were something for you to do. "

"There may be something for me to do, " she said, but not as if thatwere what she wanted to stay for. 

"I think not, " he said softly, and looking down again, --"Faith--it isnear the dawning!--and yet it may not be till the dawning. And dearchild, you ought not to watch here. "

"It will not hurt me, " she said under her breath. 

"I know--" he said with a gentle admission of all her reasons and fullsympathy with all her wishes, --"but I think you ought not. "

"Do you mean, " she said after a minute's pause, --"that you wish me togo?"

It was hard for him to say yes--but he did. 

She sat still a moment, with her face in the shade; then rose up andarranged everything about the room which her hands could better; made acup of tea and brought it to Mr. Linden; and prepared herself for herride. When she came at last, ready, with only her hood to put on, herface was almost as fair as Johnny's. There was no shadow on it of anykind, but clear day, as if a reflection from the "city" she had beenlooking towards. She put her hand in Mr. Linden's and knelt down as shehad done in the morning to kiss Johnny. Her lips trembled--but thekisses were quietly given; and rising to her feet without speaking orlooking, Faith went away. 

If quietness was broken on the ride home, it was restored by the timeshe got there; and with the same clear look Faith went in. That Mrs. Derrick was much relieved to see her, was evident, but she seemed notvery ready to ask questions. She looked at Faith, and then with alittle sigh or two began softly to unfasten her cloak and furs, and toput her in a comfortable place by the fire, and to hasten tea, but allin a sort of sorrowful subdued silence; letting her take her own timeto speak, or not speak at all, if she liked it better. Faith's wordswere cheerfully given, though about other things. And after tea she didin some measure justify Mr. Linden's decision in sending her home; forshe laid herself on the couch in the sitting-room and went into a sleepas profound and calm as the slumbers she had left watching. Her mothersat by her in absolute stillness--thinking of Faith as she had been inher childhood and from thence until now; thinking of the last time sheherself had been in that sick room, of the talk she had heard there--ofthe silence that was there now: wiping away some tears now andthen--looking always at Faith with a sort of double feeling; that bothclaimed her as a child, and was ready to sit at her feet and learn. Butas it came to the hour of bedtime, and Faith still slept, her motherstooped down and kissed her two or three times to wake her up. 

"Pretty child, " she said, "you'd better go to bed. "

Faith started with a recollective look and asked what time it was; thensank down again. 

"I'll wait an hour yet. "

"Had you better?" her mother said gently. "I'll sit up, dear, and callyou if you're wanted. Did you think they'd send?"

"Send?--O no, mother!"

Mrs. Derrick was silent a minute. "Mr. Linden wouldn't come hometo-night, dear. "

"Wouldn't he?" said Faith startling; and for a minute the sorrowfullook came back to her face. But then it returned to its high quiet; shekissed her mother and they went up stairs together. 

No, he did not come home, --and well assured that he would not, Faithceased to watch for him, and fatigue and exhaustion again had theirway. The night was very still--the endless train of stars sweeping onin their appointed course, until the morning star rose and the daybroke. Even then Faith slept on. But when the more earthly light of thesun came, with its bestirring beams, it roused her; and she started up, in that mood where amid quick coming recollections she was almostbreathless for more tidings--waiting, as if by the least noise or stirshe might lose something. 

It was then that she heard Mr. Linden come in--even as she sat solistening, --heard him come in and come up stairs, with a slow quietstep that would have told her all, if the fact of his coming had notbeen enough. She heard his door close, and then all was still again, except what faint sounds she might hear from the working part of thehouse below. Faith sat motionless till she could hear nothing more upstairs--and then kept her position breathlessly for a second or twolonger, looking at the still sunbeams which came pouring into her roomaccording to their wont, with their unvarying heavenly message;--andthen gave way--rare for her--to a burst of gentle sorrow, that yet wasnot all sorrow, and which for that very mingling was the moreheart-straitening while it lasted. The light of the fair clear Sundaymorning bore such strange testimony of the "everlasting day" upon whichher little charge of yesterday had even entered! But the sense of thatwas quieting, if it was stirring. 

Not until the breakfast hour was fully come did Mr. Linden make hisappearance; but then he came, looking pale indeed, and somewhat worn, yet with a face of rest. He gave his hand to Mrs. Derrick, and comingup to Faith took her in his arms and kissed her, and gently put her inher chair at the table; waiving all questions till another time. Therewere none asked; Mrs. Derrick would not have ventured any; and thetinge in Faith's cheeks gave token of only one of various feelings bywhich she was silenced. Yet that was not a sorrowful breakfast--forrest was on every brow, on two of them it was the very rest of the daywhen Christ broke the bars of death and rose. 

Breakfast had been a little late, and there was not much time to sparewhen it was over. 

"You had better not try to go out this morning, dear Faith, " Mr. Lindensaid as they left the table and came round the fire in the sitting-room. 

"O yes! I can go. --I _must_ go"--she added softly. 

"I have not much to tell you, "--he said in the same tone, --"nothing, but what is most sweet and fair. Would you like to go up there with meby and by?"

"Yes. --After church?"

"After church in the afternoon would give us most time. "

The Sunday classes were first met--_how_ was not likely to be forgottenby scholars or teachers. It was an absorbing hour to Faith and her twolittle children that were left to her; an hour that tried her verymuch. She controlled herself, but took her revenge all church time. Assoon as she was where nobody need know what she did, Faith feltunnerved, and a luxury of tears that she could not restrain lasted tillthe service was over. It lasted no longer. And the only two personsthat knew of the tears, were glad to have them come. 

After the afternoon service, when people were not only out of churchbut at home, Mr. Linden and Faith set out on their solitary drive--itwas too far for her to walk, both for strength and time, --the afternoonwas well on its way. 

The outer room into which Faith had first gone the day before, had alow murmur of voices and a little sprinkling of people within; but Mr. Linden let none of them stop her, and merely bowing as he passedthrough, he led her on. In the next room were two of the boys, but theywent away at once; and Mr. Linden put his arm round Faith, letting herlean all her weight on him if she chose, and led her up to the bedside. They stood there and looked--as one might look at a ray of eternalsunlight falling athwart the dark shadows of time. 

The child lay in his deep sleep as if Mr. Linden had just laid himdown; his head a little turned towards them, a little drooping, hishands in their own natural position on breast and neck. A faintpink-tinted wrapper lay in soft folds about him, with its white frillsat neck and wrists, --on his breast a bunch of the first snowdrops spokeof the "everlasting spring, and never withering flowers!"

With hearts and faces that grew every moment more quiet, more steady, Johnny's two teachers stood and looked at him, --then knelt together, and prayed that in the way which they had shewed him, they mightthemselves be found faithful. 

"You shouldn't say _we_"--said Faith when they had risen and werestanding there again. "It was _you_--to him and me both. " And bendingforward to kiss the little face again, she added, "He taught me as muchas he ever learned from me!"

But the words were spoken with difficulty, and Faith did not try anymore. 

They stood there till the twilight began to fall, and then turned theirfaces homewards with a strange mingling of joy and sorrow in theirhearts. How many times Mr. Linden went there afterwards Faith did notknow--she could only guess. 

There was no school for the next two days. Tuesday was white withsnow, --not falling thick upon the ground, but in fine light flakes, andfew people cared to be out. Mr. Linden had been, early in themorning, --since dinner he had been in his room; and now as it drewtowards three o'clock, he came down and left the house, taking the roadtowards that of Jonathan Fax. Other dark figures now appeared from timeto time, bending their steps in the same direction, --some sturdy farmerin his fearnought coat, or two of the school-boys with their arms roundeach other. Then this ceased, and the soft falling snow alone was inthe field. 

The afternoon wore on, and the sun was towards the setting, when afaint reddish tinge began to flush along the western horizon, and thesnowflakes grew thinner. Then, just as the first sunbeams shot throughtheir cloudy prison, making the snow a mere white veil to theirsplendour, the little carriage of Mr. Somers came slowly down the road, and in it Mr. Somers himself. A half dozen of the neighbouring farmersfollowed. Then the little coffin of Johnny Fax, borne by Reuben Taylorand Sam Stoutenburgh and Phil Davids and Joe Deacon, each cap and leftarm bound with crape; followed by Johnny's two littleclassmates--Charles Twelfth and Robbie Waters. Then the chiefmourners--Jonathan Fax and Mr. Linden, arm in arm, and Mr. Lindenwearing the crape badge. After them the whole school, two and two. Theflickering snowflakes fell softly on the little pall, but through themthe sunbeams shot joyously, and said that the child had gone--

 "Through a dark stormy night, To a calm land of light!"--

 "Meet again? Yes, we shall meet again, Though now we part in pain! His people all Together Christ shall call, Hallelujah!"

"Child, " said Mrs. Derrick in a choked voice, and wiping her eyes, whenthe last one had long passed out of view, "it's good to see him andJonathan Fax walking together! anyway. I guess Jonathan 'll never say aword against _him_ again. Faith, he's beautiful!"

CHAPTER XIII. 

It seemed to Faith as if the little shadow which February had broughtand left did not pass away--or rather, as if it had stretched on tillit met another; though whence that came, from what possible cloud, shecould not see. _She_ was not the cloud--that she knew and felt: if suchcare and tenderness and attention as she had had all winter _could_ beincreased, then were they now, --every spare moment was given to her, all sorts of things were undertaken to give her pleasure, and that shewas Mr. Linden's sunbeam was never more clear. Yet to her fancy thatshadow went out and came in with him--lived even in her presence, --nay, as if she had been a real sunbeam, grew deeper there. And yet notthat, --what was it? The slight change of voice or face in the verymidst of some bright talk, the eyes that followed her about the room orstudied her face while she studied her lesson--she felt if she did notsee them, --even the increased unwillingness to have her out of hissight, --what did they all mean? So constant, yet so intangible, --sogoing hand in hand with all the clear, bright activity that had everbeen part of Mr. Linden's doings; while the pleasure of nothing seemedto be checked, and yet a little pain mingled with all, --Faith feltpuzzled and grieved by turns. She bore it for a while, in wondering andsorrowful silence, till she began to be afraid of the shadow'sspreading to her own face. Nay, she felt it there sometimes. Faithcouldn't stand it any longer. 

He had come in rather late one evening. It was a bleak evening inMarch, but the fire--never more wanted--burned splendidly and lit upthe sitting-room in style. Before it, in the easy-chair, Mr. Linden satmeditating. He might be tired--but Faith fancied she saw the shadow. She came up behind his chair, put both hands on one of his shouldersand leaned down. 

"Endecott"--she said in some of her most winning tones, --"may I ask yousomething?"

He came out of his muse instantly, and laying his hand on hers, askedher "what she thought about it herself?"

"I think I may, if you'll promise not to answer me--unless you have amind!"

"_Do_ you suppose I would?" Mr. Linden said laughing. "What trust youhave in your own power!"

"No, not a bit, " said Faith. "Then shall I ask you?"

"You are beginning to work upon my timid disposition!--of which Ibelieve I once told you. What are you going to ask me?--to challengeDr. Harrison?--or to run for President?"

"Would you like to do either of those two things?"

"I was only putting myself at your disposal--as I have done before. "

"Would you do either of 'em if I asked you?" said Faith softly. 

"I suppose I am safe in saying yes!" said Mr. Linden smiling. "Littlebird--why do you keep on the wing?"

"I wanted to make sure of lighting in a right place, " said Faith. "Endy"--and her voice came back to the rich softness of the tones ofher first question, a little dashed with timidity, --"has anybody beenputting 'nonsense' into your head?"

He lifted her hand from its resting place, bringing it round to hischeek and lips at first in silence, "Do you know, " he said, "that is just the point over which I thoughtyou were hovering?"--But the certainty had changed his tone. And risingup quick and suddenly, he drew her off to the sofa and seated herthere, keeping his arm still about her as if for a shield. 

"Faith, " he said, "do you remember that I promised some time to tellyou a long story?"

She looked up into his face gravely and affectionately, reading hislook. "But you won't have time for it now, Endecott--tea will be readydirectly. We must wait till by and by. "

"My little Sunbeam, " he said, looking at her and gently pushing backher hair, "do you know I love you very much!--What made you think therewas anything in my head but the most profound and abstract sense?"

Faith shook her head with a little bit of a smile. 

"I saw that you were growing either more sensible of late--or_less_, --and I wanted to know which it was. "

"Please to explain yourself! How could I grow more sensible?--and inwhat way did I grow less?"

"I am talking nonsense, " said Faith simply. "But if it _was_ sense inyour head, Endy, there was a little too much of it; and I had seennonsense look so--so I wanted to know. "

"Faith, " Mr. Linden said, "you remind me often of that EnglishmanMadame D'Arblay tells about, --who to the end of his life declared thathis wife was the most beautiful sight in the world to him! Do you knowI think he will have a successor?"

Her colour rose bright, and for a minute she looked down at herdiamonds. Then looked up demurely, and asked who Madame D'Arblay was?

"She was an English woman, an authoress, a maid of honour to the Queen. Do you wish to know anything about the other two persons I alluded to?"

One sparkling flash of Faith's soft eye, was all she gave him. "No, Idon't think I do, " she said. 

"You know enough already?--or too much? Faith--are Christmas roses tobe in season all the year round?"

"I don't know, --but tea is. Suppose I go and see about it--Monsieur?"

"Eh bien--Mademoiselle, " he said gravely but holding herfast, --"suppose you do!"

"Then we should have it. "

"Undoubtedly, Mademoiselle! Vous avez raison. "

"And what have you?" said Faith laughing. 

"I have _you!_--Love and Reason did meet once, you know. "

"Did they?" said Faith looking up. "How should I know?"

"You never found it out in your own personal experience?"

"You say it's a fact, " said Faith. "I thought you referred to it as aformer fact. "

"Like tea--" said Mr. Linden. 

"Like tea, Endecott!--what are you talking of?"

"Former facts. "--

"I wonder what I shall get you to-night, Endecott"--she said merrilytwisting round to look at him, --"you must want something! Is a thingproperly said to be former, as long as it is still present?"

"What is present?"

"Tea isn't past"--said Faith with another little flash of her eye. 

"If you are going to set up for Reason, " said Mr. Linden, "there is nomore to be done; but as for me, I may as well submit to my fate. Shakspeare says, 'To love, and to be wise, exceeds man's might. '"

"I don't think I set up for reason, " said Faith, --"only for tea; andyou obliged me to take reason instead. I guess--Shakspeare was right. "

"Unquestionably!" said Mr. Linden laughing. "Faith, did you ever hearof 'Love in a Cottage'?"

"I believe I have. "

"I hope you don't think that includes tea?"

"I never thought it included much good, " said Faith. "I always thoughtit was something foolish. "

"There spoke Reason!" said Mr. Linden, --"and I shall not dare to speakagain for ten minutes. Faith, you will have time to meditate. " And hiseyes went to the fire and staid there. Faith meditated--or waited uponhis meditations; for her eyes now and then sought his face somewhatwistfully to see if she could read what he was thinking of--which yetshe could not read. But her exploring looks in that direction were toofrequent to leave room for the supposition that Reason made muchprogress. 

"Faith, " Mr. Linden said, suddenly intercepting one of these looks, "now let us compare results--before we meditate any further. What haveyou to shew?"

"Nothing"--said Faith frankly. 

"I on my part have made a great discovery, which will perhaps answerfor us both. It is very simple, as most great discoveries are, beingmerely this: that I prefer other things than reproofs from the lips ofReason. Will you have an illustration?"

"Can't I understand without?" said Faith laughing, but with also alittle rising colour. And very smilingly she had her answer--the onlyanswer she could expect. 

"I believe you are principled against saying yes!" said Mr. Linden. "The most encouraging thing you ever said to me was 'Oh no!'"

What swift recollection, what quick sympathy with that time, spoke inthe crimson of Faith's cheeks! It was something to see "the eloquentblood. " Eyes were not to be seen. Mr. Linden smiled, touching his handsoftly to her cheeks. 

"O Mignonette!" he said--"or I should rather say, O Roses! or OCarnation! Is there anything beyond that in your Flora?"

In the emergency Faith took possession of the hand that invaded hercarnations and turning the full display upon him asked if he would notlike to have something more substantial. Apparently "the display" wasapproved, though there were no words to that effect. 

"I suppose I must let you go, " he said, "because if we are to study allthe evening after tea, it will not do to talk away the whole eveningbefore. You shall choose your own time for hearing my story, dearchild--only let me know when the time comes. "

There was no shadow upon the tea hour, on Faith's part, nor on thehours of study that followed. The wind swept round the house, Marchfashion, but the fire and the open books laughed at him. There seemedeven a little more than usual of happy gayety in Faith's way of goingthrough her work; she and the fire played at which should get ahead ofthe other; and between whiles she was obliged to use a little cautionto obviate Mr. Linden's surprise at finding how far she was gettingahead of herself. For Faith's early morning studies were not now by anymeans confined to the lessons he set for her and expected her to do;her object and endeavour was to prevent his requirements, and soprepare the ground _before_ his teachings that without finding out howit came to be so ready, he should simply occupy more of it andcultivate higher. It was rather a nice matter! not to let him see thatshe had done too much, and yet to make him know that he might take whatharvests he pleased off the ground; with such keen eyes too, that knewso well all the relative forces of soil and cultivation and couldestimate so surely the fruits of both. Faith managed by not managing atall and by keeping very quiet, as far as possible shewing him nothinghe did not directly or indirectly call for; but sometimes she felt shewas grazing the edge of discovery, which the least lifting of the veilof Mr. Linden's unsuspiciousness would secure. She felt it to-night, and the fire and she had one or two odd little consultations. Just whatMr. Linden was consulting with himself about at those times, she didnot know; but she half fancied it was something. Once the fire calledher off at the end of a lesson, and when she came back to the table hehad the next book open; but it was not till this set of questions andanswers and explanations was half through, that Faith discovered he hadopened the book at a different place from the one where it had beenclosed the day before, --then it suddenly flashed upon her; but whetherit had been by accident, or of intent, she did not know. 

One last consultation Faith held with the fire while Mrs. Derrick wasgathering her work together to go to bed. Then she brought a low seatto Mr. Linden's feet. "Now, Endy, --I am ready. " A little smile--a soft, lingering touch upon her forehead, came with his words. 

"My little Mignonette, what do you suppose I came to Pattaquasset for?"

She looked rather wondering at him, and then said, "I supposed--toteach the school. "

"Yes, but to what end?--I mean in my intent. I know now what I camefor, in one sense, " he said, securing one of her hands. 

"Why--Endecott, do you want me to tell you?"

"If you know or guess. "

"I don't know nor guess anything. I supposed merely that you did thatas other people do other things--and for the same reason. "

"It was for a very commonplace reason, " Mr. Linden said, watching herface with two or three things at work in his own: "it was to get moneyto finish my studies for your favourite profession. "

"My favourite profession!--Which do you mean?"

"Have you forgotten Miss Essie's question? I have not--nor the dearchild who was so unwilling to answer it. "

Faith's mind went back to Miss Essie, the question and answer, --andtook the round of the subject, --and even as she did so her facechanged, a sort of grave light coming into it, "Do you mean _that_, Endy?" she said half under her breath. 

"I mean that, and no other. "

The light brightened and deepened--her colour flushed like a morningsky, --till at last the first sunbeam struck athwart her face, in theshape of a smile. It was not a lip smile--it was on eye and brow andlip and cheek together. Mr. Linden bent down by her, lifting her faceto meet his eyes, which through all their intentness smiled too. 

"Faith, I want to hear every word of that. "

"Of what?"

"Of all that is in your mind and face just now. "

Her two little answering sentences evidently only gave the key of verydeep tones. 

"I think it is good, Endy. I am glad. "

"I thought you would be. But that does not satisfy me, dear Faith--Iwant you to say to me all the different things that your thoughts weresaying to you. You are not afraid of me at this time of day?" he saidbringing her face closer. 

"I have nothing to say I need be afraid to say, " Faith answeredslowly, --"but it is hard to disentangle so many thoughts. I wasthinking it is such great and high work--such happy work--and suchhonour--and then that you will do it right, Endecott--" shehesitated. --"How could I help but be glad?"

"Do you like your new prospective position, little Sunbeam?"

A deep colour came over her face, and the eyes fell Yet Faith foldedher hands and spoke. 

"I was glad to think--" She got so far, but the sentence was neverfinished. 

"Glad to think what, dear child?"

Faith glanced up. She did not want to answer. Then she said with thegreatest simplicity, "I am glad if I may do something. "

"Glad that I should realize my ideal?" Mr. Linden said with a smile, and softly bringing her face round again. "Faith, do you know what adear little 'minister's wife' you will make?--Mignonette is so suitablefor a parsonage!--so well calculated to impress the people with anotion of the extreme grave propriety which reigns there! For is notMignonette always sweet, demure, and never--by any chance!--highcoloured?"

She would not let her face be held up. It went down upon her lap--intoher hands, which she pressed close to hide it. 

"Oh Endecott!--" she said desperately. --"You'll have to call mesomething else. "

"O Faith!" was his smiling reply, --"I will, just so soon as I can. Don't you want to come over to the sofa and hear the rest of my story?"

"Your story! Oh yes!"--

And first having a sympathizing interview with the fire, Faith wentover to the sofa and sat down; but hid her face no more. Much as he haddone before tea, Mr. Linden came and sat down by her, --with the samesort of gentle steadiness of manner, as if some strong thread offeeling had wrapped itself round an equally deep thread ofpurpose, --his gay talk now as then finding always some contrast in hisface. But of this Faith had seen little or nothing--her eyes had notbeen very free to look. She did notice how silently he stood by her asshe put the fire in order, she did notice the look that rested on heras she took her seat, but then he began his story and she could thingof nothing else. 

"It was given to me, dear Faith, " he said, "to spend my boyhood in anatmosphere more like the glow of that firelight than anything I cancompare it to, for its warmth and radiance; where very luxuriousworldly circumstances were crowned with the full luxury of earthlylove. But it was a love so heaven-directed, so heaven-blessed, that itwas but the means of preparing me to go out into the cold alone. Thatwas where I learned to love your diamonds, " he added, taking thejewelled hand in his, --"when I used to see them not more busy amongthings of literature and taste, than in all possible ministrations tothe roughest and poorest and humblest of those whom literaturedescribes and taste shrinks from!--But I used to think, " he saidspeaking very low, "that the ring was never so bright, nor so quickmoving, as when it was at work for me. "

Faith's eye fell with his to the diamonds. She was very still; theflash all gone. 

"That time of my life, " Mr. Linden presently went on, "was passedpartly in Europe and partly here. We came home just after I hadgraduated from a German University, but before I went awayagain--almost everything I had in the world went from me. " He wassilent for a little, drawing Faith's head down upon his shoulder andresting his lightly upon it, till she felt what she was to him. Then helooked up and spoke quietly as before. 

"Pet and I were left alone. A sister of my father's was very anxious totake her, but Pet would not hear of it, and so for a year we livedtogether, and when I went to the Seminary she went too, --living where Ilived, and seeing what she could of me between times. It was not verygood for her, but it was the best we could do then. I suppose there wassome mismanagement on the part of my father's executors--or somecomplication in his affairs, I need not trouble you with details; butwe were left without much more than enough to give her the income Iwished her to have for her own private use. Of course I would not touchthat for our joint expenses. But until a year ago we did still livetogether--by various means. Then this sister of my father's set herheart upon taking Pet with her to Europe--and I set mine almost asmuch; I could better bear to live alone, than to have her; and her lifethen amounted to that. And so between us both she consented--veryunwillingly; and she went to Italy, and I studied as long as I had waysand means, and then came here to get more. So you see, dear child, " Mr. Linden said with a smile, "it is not my fortune I have asked you toshare, but my fortunes. "

She gave him a smile, as bright and free as the glancing of a star;then her look went away again. And it was a good little while beforeperhaps she dared speak--perhaps before she wanted to speak. So verysteady and still her look and herself were, it said that they coveredthoughts too tender or too deep to be put into words. And thethoughtfulness rather deepened as minutes rolled on--and a good many ofthem rolled on, and still Faith did not speak. Mr. Linden's watchticked its remarks unhindered. Words came at last. 

"Endecott--you said something about 'means' for study. How much meansdoes it want?--and how much study?" The interest at work in thequestion was deeper than Faith meant to shew, or knew she shewed. 

He told her the various expenses, ordinary and contingent, in fewwords, and was silent a moment. But then drawing her close to him, withthat same sort of sheltering gesture she had noticed before, he went onto answer her other question; the voice and manner giving her a perfectkey to all the grave looks she had mused over. 

"Do you remember, dear Faith, that I once called you 'a brave littlechild'?"

"Yes. "

"You must be that now, " he said gently, --"you and I must both be brave, and cheerful, and full of trust. Because, precious child, I have twoyears' work before me--and the work cannot be done here. "

She looked in his face once, and was silent;--what her silence coveredcould only be guessed. But it lasted a little while. 

"It must be done at that place where you were with your sister?"

"Yes, little Mignonette, it must be done there. "

"And when must you begin the work, Endecott?" If the words cost hersome effort, it only just appeared. 

"I came for a year, dear Faith--and I ought not to stay much beyondthat. "

Faith mentally counted the months, in haste, with a pang; but thesilence did not last long this time. Her head left its resting placeand bending forward she looked up into Mr. Linden's face, with a sunnyclear look that met his full. It was not a look that could by any meansbe mistaken to indicate a want of other feeling, however. One might assoon judge from the sunshine gilding on the slope of a mountain thatthe mountain is made of tinsel. 

"Endecott--is that what has been the matter with you?"

She needed no answer but his look, though that was a clear as her own. 

"I could easier bear it if _I_ could bear the whole, " he said. "But youcan understand that Dr. Harrison's proposal tried, though it did nottempt me. "

She scarce gave a thought to that. 

"There is one thing more I wanted to ask. Will there be--" she paused, and went on, --"no time at all that you can be here?"

"Dear Faith!" he said kissing her, "do you think I could bear that? Howoften I shall be able to come I cannot quite tell, but come Ishall--from time to time, if I live. And in the meanwhile we must makeletters do a great deal. "

Her face brightened. She sat quietly looking at him. 

"Will that shadow come any more, --now that you have told me?"

"I will give you leave to scold me, if you see it, " Mr. Linden said, answering her smile, --"I ought not to be in shadow for a minute--withsuch a sunbeam in my possession. Although, although!--do you know, little bright one, that the connexion between sunbeams and shadows isvery intimate? and very hard to get rid of?"

"Shall I talk to you about 'nonsense' again?"--she said half lightly, resting her hand on his arm and looking at him. Yet behind her lighttone there was a great tenderness. 

"You may--and I will plead guilty. But in which of the old classes of'uncanny' folk will you put me?--with those who were known by theirhaving no shadow, or with those who went always with two?"

"So I suppose one must have a _little_ shadow, to keep from beinguncanny!"

"You and I will not go upon that understanding, dear Faith. "

Faith did not look like one who had felt no shadow; rather perhaps shelooked like one who had borne a blow; a look that in the midst of thetalk more than once brought to Mr. Linden's mind a shadowy remembranceof her as she was after they got home that terrible evening; but herface had a gentle brightness now that then was wanting. 

"I don't know"--she said wistfully in answer to his lastwords. --"Perhaps it is good. I dare say it is, for me. It is a shamefor me to remind you of anything--but don't you know, Endecott--'allthings are ours'? _both_ 'things present and things to come?'" And hereye looked up with a child's gravity, and a child's smile. 

Bear it alone?--yes, he could have done that--as he had borne otherthings, --it tried him to see her bear it. It touched him to see thatlook come back--to see any tempering of the bright face she had worn solong. Faith hardly knew perhaps with what eyes he had watched herthrough all the conversation, eyes none the less anxious for the smilethat met hers so readily; she hardly guessed what pain her brightefforts at keeping up, gave him. To shelter and gladden her life wasthe dearest delight of his; and just now duty thwarted him in bothpoints. And he knew--almost better than she did--how much she dependedon him. He looked down at her for a moment with a face of such gravesubmission as Faith had never seen him wear. 

"My dear little child!" he said. But that sentence was let stand byitself. The next was spoken differently. "I do know it, dearFaith, --and yet you do well to remind me. I need to be kept up to themark. And it is not more true that each day has sufficient evil, thanthat each has sufficient good--if it be only sought out. There cannotmuch darkness live in the light of those words. "

"How far have you to go, " she said with demure archness, --"to find thegood of these days?"

"You are quick at conclusions"--said Mr. Linden, --"how far do you thinkit is between us at present?"

"Endecott"--she said gravely--"it will never be further!"

He laughed a little--with a half moved half amused expression, wrappingher up like some dainty piece of preciousness. "Because every day thatI am away will bring us nearer together? I suppose that is goodmeasurement. "

"You know, " she said, "you have told me two things to-night, Endecott;and if one makes me sorry, the other makes me glad. "

"I was sure of that!--And it is such great, great pleasure to think ofthe times of coming back--and of leaving you work to do, and of writingto you about it, --and then of finding out how well it is done! You mustkeep my books for me, Mignonette--mine, I say!--they are as much yoursas mine--and more. "

"Your books?"--she said with a flush. 

"Yes--there are but a few of these that I shall want with me, --the mostof _my_ study books I did not bring here. "

"But won't you want these with you?"

"As far from that as possible. Do you think you could make up your mindto let me tell Reuben a secret?--and give him a reason for being evenmore devoted to you than he is now?"

She coloured very brightly again. "I am willing--if you wish it. Why, Endecott?"

"The chief reason is, that I do not wish to lose any of your letters, nor have you lose any of mine. And small postoffices are not so safe aslarge ones, nor are their managers proverbially silent. I should liketo make Reuben a sort of intermediate office. "

"And send your letters to him?"

"Yes. Would you mind that?"

"And my letters?"

"And yours in like manner, little Mignonette. He could either enclosethem to me, or put them in some neighbouring office, --I think Reubenwould enjoy an eight miles walk a day, taken for me. Or you could hideyour envelope with another, and let him direct that. You need not beafraid of Reuben, "--Mr. Linden said smiling, --"you might give him fortyletters without his once daring to look at you. "

"But I thought--you said--he was going to college next summer?"

"That was talked of, but I think he will stay another year at home, andthen enter a higher class. It will save expense, and he will be longerwith his father. Reuben and I hope to be brother ministers, one day, Faith. "

"Do you! Does he!"--said Faith astonished. "That is good! I am glad ofit. But what will _he_ do for money, Endecott?"

"We shall see--part of the way is clear, so we may hope the rest willbe. Perhaps I may let him do some of his studying with me. Do you thinkyou would object to that?"

"Object to it! How could I? What do you mean, Endecott?"

"O little Mignonette!" he said smiling, "how sweet you are!--and whatjoy it would be to see you wear the only title I can give you! Don'tyou know, pretty child, that if I gave Reuben Hebrew you might becalled upon to give him--tea!"

Faith's eyes went down and her colour mounted, and mounted. But hernext remark was extremely collected. "How good it was Dr. Harrison'smoney came!"--

"I believe you stipulated that we were to have tea ourselves, " said Mr. Linden, "but the question remains whether you would dispense it to anyone else. "

Faith was only restrained from covering her face again by the feelingthat it would be foolish; and withal a little laughter could not beprevented. She did shield one side of her face with her hand, andleaning upon it looked into the fire for suggestions. Finally answeredsedately, "I should think you and he might have it together!"

"Have it--yes, if we could get it; but I am ignorant of any but thechemical properties of milk and sugar. "

"I thought you said you knew cream when you saw it!" said Faith frombehind her shield. 

"That is knowing its appearance--not its properties, Miss Reason. "

"What does reason want to know more, for a cup of tea?"

"But you have declared once to-night that I am not Reason, " said Mr. Linden laughing. "For instance--I once made the sudden acquaintance ofa particular person, who made as sudden an impression on mymind, --after those three minutes I should have known her by sight (likecream) to the end of my life. But I went on trying experiments--(as onemight taste successive drops of cream) finding out more and moresweetness each time; until (like cream again) I discovered that she wasperfectly indispensable to my cup of tea!"

Faith bowed her glad little head, laughing, though feeling much deeperwas at work. 

"After this, " she said, "I shall always be greatly at a loss what youare thinking of when you are looking at me. "

"Will your reflections be carried on with such a face?" said Mr. Linden. "Do you remember that afternoon, Faith?--when I so nearly laidhold of you--and you wanted to laugh, and did not dare?"

"What afternoon?"--

"The one wherein I first had the pleasure of seeing you. How demurelyyou eyed me!--and wondered in your little sensible heart what sort of aperson I could possibly be!"

"How did you know I wondered?" said Faith colouring. 

"By your very gentle, modest, and fearful examinations, your evidentmusings over my words, and the bright look now and then that told ofprogress. "

Faith laughed. 

"You made me begin to think and wish immediately, " she said. --"It wasno wonder I wondered. "

"Yes, and how I longed to give you your wish, so far as I could, --andhow afraid I was to offer my services, --and how you would persist inthanking me for pleasing myself, do you remember, little Sunbeam?--andyour fright when I asked about Prescott?"

She looked up with the prettiest, rosiest remembrance of it all; andthen her face suddenly changed, and turning from him she shielded itagain with her hand, but not to hide the rosy colour this time. Mr. Linden drew her close to him, resting his face upon her other cheek atfirst without words. 

"Dear child!" he said, --"my own little Mignonette!--you must not forgetwhat you said to me, --and you must not forget that I hope to come homequite often. There was a time, when I thought I might have to go awayand never have the right to come and see you again. And you must thinkto yourself--though you will not speak of it to me--that after this bitof time, all our life will be spent together. You need not expect me towait for anything--not even the cottage you like so much. "

She did not answer immediately, as was natural, his last suggestionsnot being very word-provoking with her. But when she did speak, it wasin a clear, cheerful tone. 

"I'll bear my part, Endy--I should be very ungrateful if I couldn't. And you can bear your part--I am glad to think of that!--for you areworking for a Master that always gives full pay. "

"We can always bear God's will, " he said, a little gravely, --"it isonly our own that points the trial and makes it unbearable. "

CHAPTER XIV. 

Faith had no chance to think that night. She went to sleepconscientiously. And a chance the next morning was out of the question. She dared not come down as early as usual, if her own strength wouldhave let her. The few minutes before breakfast were busy ones; and thefew hours after breakfast. Faith went about with the consciousness ofsomething on her heart to be looked at; but it had to bide its time. Her household duties done, her preparations for Mr. Linden beingalready in advance, she had leisure to attend to this other thing. Andalone Faith sat down and looked at it. 

It was the first real steady trial her life had known. Her father'sdeath had come when she was too young to feel deeply any want that hermother could not fill. To be away from anything she much loved was asorrow Faith hardly knew by experience. But a two years' separation wasa very, very heavy and sharp pain to think of; and Faith had an inwardassurance that the reality would be heavier and sharper than herthoughts beforehand could make it. Perhaps it was too great a pain tobe struggled with; for Faith did not struggle--or not long. She satdown and looked at it, --what she had not dared to do the nightbefore;--measured it and weighed it; and then bowed her heart and headto it in utter submission. With it came such a crowd of glad and goodthings, things indeed that made the trial and were bound up withit, --that Faith locked the one and the other up in her heart together. And remembering too the sunshine of joy in which she had lately lived, she humbly confessed that some check might be needed to remind her andmake her know that earth has not the best sunshine, and that any gainwould be loss that turned her eyes away from that best, or lessened hersense of its brightness. 

So there came no shadow over her at all, either that day or afterwards. The clear light of her face was not clouded, and her voice rung to thesame tune. There was no shadow, nor shade of a shadow. There _was_ alittle subdued air; a little additional gravity, a trifle more oftenderness in her looks and ways, which told of the simpleness of heartwith which she had quietly taken what God gave and was content with it. 

To Mr. Linden the trial was not new, and to sorrow of various kinds hewas wonted; but it was new to him to see her tried, and to that hefound it hard to accustom himself. Yet he carried out his words, --Faithcould feel a sort of atmosphere of bright strength about her all thetime. How tenderly she was watched and watched over she could partlysee, but pain or anxiety Mr. Linden kept to himself. He set himself towork to make her enjoy every minute. Yet he never shunned the subjectof his going away, --he let her become used to the sound of the words, and to every little particular connected with it--they were all toldher by degrees; but told with such bright words of hope and trust, thatFaith took the pain as it were diluted. 

Before all this had gone far--indeed not many days after the firsttelling of his story, Faith had come down as usual one early morning toher work. She had been down about an hour, when she heard the door openand Mr. Linden came in. He had two seconds' view of the picture beforeshe rose up to meet him. There was no lamp yet burning in the room. Afire of good hard wood threw its light over everything, reflected backfrom the red curtains which fell over the windows. In the very centreof the glow, Faith sat on a low cushion, with her book on a chair. Shewas dressed exactly, for nicety, as if she might have been going toJudge Harrison's to tea. And on the open pages, and on Faith's brighthair, edging her ruffles, and warming up her brown dress, was the softred fall of the firelight. She rose up immediately with her usual gladlook, behind which lay a doubtful surmising as to his errand. It was onher lips to ask what had brought him down so early, but she wasprudently silent. He came forward quick and quietly, according to hiswont, not at all as if she were about anything unusual, and giving herone of those greetings which did sometimes betray the grave feeling hekept so well in hand, he brought her back to the fire. 

"Little bird, " he said, "what straws are you weaving in at present?"

"I don't know. Not any--unless thoughts. "

"Will it please you to state what you are doing?"

"I was reading. I had just got to the end of the story of Mosesblessing Israel. I was thinking of these words--" and she took up herbook and shewed him. "Happy art thou, O Israel, saved of the Lord, theshield of thy help, and who is the sword of thy excellency. "

"Did you ever look out any of the answering passages in other parts ofthe Bible?"

"Not often. I don't know them. Once in a while I think of one. And thenthey are so beautiful!"

Mr. Linden took the book from her hand, turning from place to place andreading to her. 

"'Happy is he that hath the God of Jacob for his help, whose hope is inthe Lord his God: which made heaven, and earth, the sea, and all thattherein is: which keepeth truth forever. ' That is what Davidsaid, --then hear how Isaiah answers--'Behold, God is my salvation; Iwill trust, and not be afraid: for the LORD JEHOVAH is my strength andmy song; he also is become my salvation. '--And again--'Israel shall besaved in the Lord with an everlasting salvation: ye shall not beashamed nor confounded, world without end. '"

Faith drew a little quick breath. 

"Doesn't it seem, " she said, "as if words were heaped on words toprevent our being afraid?"

"I think it really is so; till we have a shield of promises as well asprotection. After Abraham had gone out of his own country, 'not knowingwhither he went', 'the word of the Lord came to him, saying, Fear not, Abraham, I am thy shield and thy exceeding great reward. ' Then Davidtakes that up and expatiates upon it, --finding in it 'both thingspresent and things to come, ' dear Faith. "

"'For the Lord God is a sun and a shield: the Lord will give grace andglory: no good thing will he withhold from them that walk uprightly. OLord of hosts, blessed is the man that trusteth in thee. '"

She looked down at the words, then up at him with a glad, sunshinylight in her eyes. Her comment on the whole was heartfelt, andcomprehensive. "How good it was you came down this morning!"

"Would you like to have me come every morning?"

"Oh how much!--But that's no use, Endecott. "

"Why not?"

"I mustn't get to depending upon you too much, " she said with a smile. 

"What had you been musing about--to make you so glad this morning?" hesaid looking at her. 

"Nothing!--but those passages as you read them one after the other wereso beautiful, and felt so strong. --It was a great pleasure to hear youread them, "--she said dropping her voice a little in confession. 

"It shall be as you like, darling, about my coming again. But dearFaith, of this other morning work you must let me say a word. "

"What, Endecott?"

"You are doing too much. "

"No. What makes you think so?"

Significantly Mr. Linden laid his hand on the pile of study books. 

"Well?"

"Well. --For the future please to let these gentry rest in peacefulseclusion until after breakfast. "

"Oh no, Endy!"

"My dear, I shall have you turning into a moonbeam. Just imagine whatit would cost me to call you 'pale Cynthia'!"

"You needn't imagine it, Endecott. "

"Only so far as to prevent the reality. Do you know I have been afraidof this for some time. "

"Of what?"

"Afraid that you were disregarding the bounds I have laid down forstudy and the sun for sleep. "

"I didn't know you had laid down any bounds, " she said gailyagain--"and I never did mind the sun. "

"Well won't you mind me?" said he smiling. "I have a right to expectthat in study matters, you know. "

"Don't try me--" said Faith, very winningly, much more than she knew. He stood looking at her, with the sweet unbent expression which was herspecial right. 

"Faith, don't you mean to love to have me take care of you?"

That brought a change of look, and it was curious to see theineffectual forces gather to veil what in spite of them wreathed in hersmile and laid an additional roseleaf upon each cheek. The shy eyesretreated from view; then they were raised again as she touched his armand said, with a demure softness, "What must I do, Endy?"

"Be content with the old study hours, my dear child. They are longenough, and many enough. "

"Oh Endy!--not for me. "

"For thee. "

Faith looked down and looked disturbed. 

"Then, Endecott, I sha'n't be as wise as I want to be, --nor as you wantto have me. "

"Then you will be just as wise as I want you to be, " he said with asmile. "As to the rest, pretty child, --do you mean that my wife shalldeprive me of my scholar?"

Faith turned away and said rather quickly, "Endy, how did you know?"

"From some lesson evidence. And I always hear you come down--and whilesI see a face at breakfast which has not lately come from rest. "

Faith's secret thought was that it was better than rest. But afterfolding her hands with a grave face, she looked up at Mr. Linden with asmile which yielded the whole question. 

"To prove to you what a naughty child you have been, " said Mr. Linden, "I shall give you an increase of outdoor lessons, and take you off onan expedition the first mild day. On which occasion you may studyme--if you have any of Miss Essie's curiosity. "

"Don't I?" said Faith. "And I am going to do it more. What expeditionare you going on, Endecott?"

"Up to Kildeer river--I have business there. Will you trust yourself tome in a boat--if I will let you steer?"

"I'll do anything to go, " said Faith. "And I suppose if I steeredwrong, the helm would come about pretty quick!" And so ended her lastearly morning studies. 

It was in the afternoon of the same day that Faith put in practice whatshe had been thinking of when she avowed her determination of furtherstudying Mr. Linden. He had come home from school, and it was the duskyhour again; the pleasant interregnum between day and night when evenbusy folk take a little time to think and rest. Mr. Linden wasindulging in both apparently; he was in one of those quiet times ofdoing nothing which Faith chose for making any of her very gentleattacks upon him. One seemed to be in meditation now. She stole upbehind him and leaned down on the back of his chair, after her wont. 

"Endecott"--she said softly. 

Faith's voice was in ordinary a pleasant thing to hear; but this namefrom her lips was always a concretion of sweetness, flavoureddifferently as the case might be. Sometimes with mere gladness, sometimes with the spirit of fun, often enough with a little timidity, and sometimes with a rose-drop from the very bottom of her heart'swell; with various compounds of the same. But this time it was morethan timidity; Faith's one word was spoken as from lips that werepositively afraid to follow it with others. 

"That note, " said Mr. Linden smiling, "seems to come from the top of aprimeval pine tree--with a hawk in sight! Little bird, will you pleasecome down into the lower regions of air?--where you can be(comparatively) safe. "

Faith laughed; but the hawk remained in sight--of her words. 

"You said this morning I never asked you any but impossible things. "

"Most sorrowfully true!--have you another one ready?"

"If I ask you something possible, what will you do?" she said, softlytouching the side of his head with her hand. It was Faith's utmostfreedom; a sort of gentle admiring touch of her fingers which the thicklocks of hair felt hardly more than a spider's feet. 

"That depends so much upon the thing!" he said, half turning to giveher the look which belonged to his words. "There are such a variety ofways in which I might deal with it--and with you. "

"I am not going to ask you anything but what would be right. "

"You do not doubt that my answer will be conformable?"

"Yes I do. It will be your 'right, ' but it may not be my 'right, ' youknow. "

"If you get what is not your right, you ought to be contented, " saidMr. Linden. 

"Now you have turned me and my meaning round! Endecott--you know AuntDilly gave me something?--mayn't I--won't you let me lend it to you?"

Very low and doubtfully the words came out! But if Faith had any moreto say, she had little chance for a while. One quick look round at herMr. Linden gave, but then he sprang up and came to where she stood, lifting her face and giving her her "right" in one sense at least. Other answer he made none. 

"Endy--have I asked a possible thing this time?" she said under breath. 

"My precious child!--Do you think it possible?"

"It ought to be possible, Endecott. " And if ever an humble suggestionof a possibility was made, Faith made it then. 

"I shall have to go back to my first answer, " said Mr. Linden, --"I haveno words for any other. Faith, dearest--don't you know that it is notneedful? Will that content you, little sweet one?"

A soft "no. "

"Why not?" he said, making good his threat. "What do you want me tohave more than I need?"

"I fear the ways you will take to make that true. I should think youmight, Endecott!"--The ellipsis was not hard to supply. 

"I shall not take any unlawful means--nor any unwise ones, I hope, " hesaid lightly. "What are you afraid I shall do?"

"Get up early in the morning, " she whispered. 

"But that is so pleasant! Do you suppose I get up late now, littlebird?"

"Not late, with breakfast at seven. How early do you?"

"Philosophically early! Do you know you have not had your poemto-day?--what shall it be? sunrise or sunset?"

"Which you please, " she said gently, with the tone of a mind uponsomething else. Mr. Linden looked down at her in silence for a minute. 

"Dear Faith, " he said, "I told you truly that there is no need. Thisyear's work has done quite as much as I thought it would. What are youafraid of?"

"I am not afraid of much, " she said, looking up at him now with a clearbrow. "But Endy, I have changed my mind about something. Could youeasily come down and read with me a little while every morning?--or areyou busy?"

"I am never too busy to spend time with you, my child, --that is onepiece of pleasure I shall always allow myself. At what hour shall Icome?"

"At six o'clock, can you?" said Faith. "If you gave me a quarter of anhour then, I should still have time enough for breakfast work. Thismorning I was afraid--but I was foolish. This evening I want all I canget. And when you read me a _ladder of verses_ again, " she saidsmiling, "I shall mark them in my Bible, and then I shall have them byand by--when you are gone. "

"Yes, and I can send you more. It is good to go up a ladder of Bibleverses when one is afraid--or foolish, " he said gently and answeringher smile. "One end of it always rests on earth, within reach of theweakest and weariest. "

"That is just it! Oh Endy, " she said, clasping her hands sadly andwishfully before her and her eyes tilling as she spoke--"I wish therewere more people to tell people the truth!"

CHAPTER XV. 

It was a fair, fair May morning when Mr. Linden and Faith set forth ontheir expedition to Kildeer river. After their early rising and earlybreakfast, they took their way down to the shore of the Mong, where thelittle sail-boat lay rocking on the incoming tide, her ropes andstreamers just answering to the morning breeze. The soft springsunlight glinted on every tree and hillside. The "Balm of a ThousandFlowers"--true and not spurious--was sprinkled through the air, underthe influence of which unseen nectar the birds became almostintoxicated with joy; pouring out their songs with a sort ofspendthrift recklessness, --the very fish caught the infection, andflashed and sparkled in the blue water by shoals at a time. 

In the sailboat now stood baskets and shawls, a book or two, an emptybasket for wild flowers, and by the tiller sat Faith--invested with hernew dignity but not yet instructed therein. Mr. Linden stood on theshore, with the boat's detaining rope in his hand, looking about him asif he had a mind to take the good of things as he went along. Up thehill from the shore, trotted Jerry and Mr. Skip. 

"Endecott, " said Faith joyously, --"Goethe would have more than enoughif he was here. "

She was not a bad part of the picture herself; fair and glad as shelooked, as fair as the May morning and the birds and the sunlight. --

"Isn't this air sweet?"

"Very! But Goethe would choose my point of view. So much depends, in apicture, upon the principal light!"

"I wonder which is the principal light to-day!" said Faith laughing. "How it sparkles all over the river, and then on the young leaves andbuds;--and then soft shining on the clouds. And they are all May! Lookat those tiny specks of white cloud scattered along the horizon, upthere towards Neanticut. "

"The principal light to-day, " said Mr. Linden, "is one particularsunbeam, which as it were leads off the rest. It's a fair train, altogether!" and he threw the rope into the little vessel, and jumpedin himself; then lifting Faith a little from her place, and arrangingand disposing of her daintily among shawls and cushions, and puttingher unwonted fingers upon the tiller. 

"Now Miss Derrick, " he said, "before we go any further, I should liketo know your estimate and understanding of the power at present in yourhands. "

"I know what a rudder is good for, " said Faith merrily. "I know thatthis ship, 'though it be so great, and driven of fierce winds, yet isit turned about with a very small helm whithersoever the governorlisteth. ' That is what you may call theoretical knowledge. "

"Clearly your estimate covers the ground! But you perceive, that whileyou take upon yourself the guiding of the boat--(if I might venture tosuggest!--our course lies up the Mong, and not out to sea)--I, with mysail, control the motive power. "

"You mean that if I don't go right, you'll drop the sail?"--

"Not at all!--I shall navigate, not drift. Do you suppose I shallsurrender at the first summons?"

"What would you consider a 'summons'?" said Faith with a funny look. "Idon't think your sail can do much against my rudder. "

"My sail regulates the boat's headway--which in its turn affects therudder. (If we run down those fishermen the damages may be heavy. ) Butyou see I have this advantage, --I know beforehand your system ofnavigation--you don't know mine. Let me inform your unpractised eyes, Miss Derrick, that the dark object just ahead of us is a snag. "

"My eyes don't see any better for that information, " said Faith; withgreat attention however managing to guide their little craft clear ofboth snag and fishermen, and almost too engaged in the double duty tohave leisure for laughing. But practice is the road to excellence andease; Faith learned presently the correspondence between the rudder andher hand, and in the course of a quarter of an hour could keep thenorth track with tolerable steadiness. The wind was fair for a straightrun up the Mong. The river stretching north in a diminishing bluecurrent (pretty broad however at Pattaquasset and for some miles up)shewed its low banks in the tenderest grading of colour; very softlybrown in the distance, and near the eye opening into the delicate huesof the young leaf. The river rolled its bright blue, and theoverarching sky was like one of summer's. Yet the air was notso, --spicy from young buds; and the light was _Springy_; not Summer'sardour nor Summer's glare, but that loveliest promise of what is comingand oblivion of what is past. So the little boat sailed up the Mong. Mr. Linden's sail was steady, Faith's rudder was still. 

"Faith, " Mr. Linden said suddenly, "have you made up your mind to myletter plan?"

"About Reuben? O yes. I am willing. "

"You know you are to send me every possible question that comes up inthe course of your studies, and every French exercise, and every doubtor discomfort of any kind--if any should come. I shall not be easyunless I think that. "

"But you won't have time for my French exercises!"

"Try me. And you are to take plenty of fresh air, and not a bit offatigue; and in general are to suppose yourself a rare little plantbelonging to me, which I have left in your charge for the time being. Do you understand, Mignonette?"

Her blush and smile, of touched pleasure, shewed abundance ofunderstanding. 

"But I want you to tell me, Endecott, all the things in particular youwould like to have me do or attend to while you are away--besides mystudies. I have been thinking to ask you, and waiting for a good time. "

"'All the things'?--of what sort, dear child?"

"Aren't there some of your poor people you would like to haveparticularly attended to? I could get Reuben to go with me, you know, where it was too far for me to go alone--or mother. "

"Yes, there are some things you might do, " said Mr. Linden, "for me andfor them, though more in the way of sending than going; the places aretoo far off. But I should like to know that Mrs. Ling's mother had abunch of garden flowers now and then, and that another went to thatlittle lame girl on the Monongatesak road; and once in a great while(not often, or they will lose their charm) you may send the Roscoms twofresh eggs!--not more, on any account. Reuben will go for you, anywhere--and the Roscoms are old prot�g�es of his. "

"I didn't mean to forget the Roscoms, " said Faith. "But must one managewith them so carefully?"

"In matter of favours, yes. And even in matter of visits, to a certaindegree, --their life is so monotonous that novelty has a great charm. Reuben used to go and read to them almost every day on his way fromschool, but I found it best to make my coming an event. "

"Can I do anything for Reuben?"

"Nothing new that I know of, at present--you are doing something forhim all the while, --and it will be a wonderful delight to him to bringyou letters. Then if you are ever driving down that Monongatesak road, with nothing to hinder, take the little lame child with you for a mileor two, --she so pines to be out of the house and moving. Would it bedisagreeable to you?--there is nothing but what is pleasant in herappearance. "

"What if there were?" she said with a wistful look at him. "Do _you_mind disagreeablenesses? and do you want to have me mind them?"

"No, dear child, but you must get wonted by degrees, --and sometemperaments can never bear what others can. What if we were tooverhaul those fishermen?"

"What do you want?" said Faith, as she carefully set the boat's headthat way. "A fish for dinner?"

"No"--said Mr. Linden, --"I have too much respect for that basket at myfeet. But you know, Faith, we are having a sort of preliminaryplay-practice at seeking our fortune, to-day--we must carry it out. Just imagine, my dear, that we are adrift in this boat, with nothing atall for dinner, and supper a wild idea!--not the eastern fisherman whofor four fish received from the Sultan four hundred pieces of gold, would then appear so interesting as these. "

"If you wanted dinner from them--but you say you don't, " said Faithlaughing. "Endecott, I don't understand in the least! And besides, yousaid you wouldn't 'drift' but navigate!"

And her soft notes rolled over the water, too soft to reach the yetsomewhat distant fishermen. 

"And so because I turn navigator you turn Siren!" said Mr. Linden. "ButI have you safe in my boat--I need not stop to listen. "

"But what did you mean?"

"By what?"

"All that. "

"Short and comprehensive!" said Mr. Linden--"come up on the other side, Faith, the current is less strong. All about seeking our fortune, doyou mean? Did you never hear of any other extraordinary prince andprincess who did the same?"

"If I am not adrift in the boat, I am in my wits!" said Faith, --"andwith no sail nor rudder either. Why are those fishermen interesting, Endecott?"

"Why my child, " he said, "in the supposititious case which I put, theywere interesting as having fish, while we had none. But in thereality--they were picturesque in the distance, --what they are near bywe will see, " he added with a smile at her, as the sail came round andthe little boat shot up alongside of her rough-looking relation. "Wellfriends, what cheer?--besides a May morning and a fair wind?"

The fishermen slowly dragging their net, hoarsely speculating on itsprobable weight of fish, paused both their oars and tongues and lookedat him. One of the men had the oars; the other at the end of the boatwas hauling in, hand over hand. 

"That's about all the cheer you want, I guess, --aint it?" said thisman. It was said freely enough, but with no incivility. 

"Not all _I_ want, " said Mr. Linden, --while the oarsman, rolling histobacco in his mouth, came out with--

"Shouldn't wonder, now, if 'twan't much in your line o'business!--guess likely you be one o' the mighty smart folks that don'tdo nothin'. "

"I've no objection to being 'mighty smart', " said Mr. Linden, belayinghis rope with a light hand, "but I shouldn't like to pay such a pricefor it. Smartness will have to come down before I'm a purchaser. "

The man looked at him with a queer little gleam crossing his face--

"Shouldn't wonder if you hadn't took it when it was down!" he said. 

"It's a great thing to know the state of the market, " said Mr. Linden. "I suppose you find that with your fish. "

"Gen'lly do, when we take 'em, "--said the man at the net, who nevertook his eye off the overhauling boat and its crew. He was not a youngman, but a jovial-looking fellow. "What fish be _you_ arter, stranger?"

"Somewhat of a variety, " Mr. Linden said with a smile. "What makes thefish come into your net?"

"Haven't an idee!" said the man--"without it bees that fish is veryonintelligent creturs. I don't suppose fish has much brains, sir. Andso they goes further and fares worse. " Which statement of the case heappeared to think amusing. 

"But then why do they sometimes stay out?" said Mr. Linden, --"because Ihave read of men who 'toiled all the night and caught nothing'. "

"Wall, you see, " said the fisher, "they goes in shoals or flocks like, and they's notional. Some of 'em won't come at one time o' tide, andsome won't come at another--and they has their favourite places too. Then if a man sets his nets where the fish _aint_, all creation mightwork and catch nothin'. This side the river is better now than overthere. "

"These men that I was talking of, " said Mr. Linden, "once found adifference even between the two sides of their ship. But the othertime, when they had caught nothing all the night, in the morning theycaught so many that their net broke and both their ships began to sink. "

"What kind o' folks was them?" said the oarsman a little scornfully. 

"Why they were fishermen, " said Mr. Linden. "They followed your callingfirst, and then they followed mine. "

"What's yourn?" said the other, in his tone of good-humoured interest. "Guess you're a speaker o' some sort--aint ye?"

"Yes--" Mr. Linden said, with a little demure gesture of the head, --"Iam--'of some sort, ' as you say. But I've got an account of these men inmy pocket--don't you want to hear it?--it's more interesting than anyaccount you could have of me. "

"Like to hear it well enough--" said the man at the net, settinghimself astride the gunwale to listen, with the net hanging from hishand. 

"I wouldn't mind knowing how they worked it--" said the other man, while Mr. Linden threw a rope round one of the thole-pins of thefishing boat and gave the other end to Faith, and then took out hisbook. And Faith was amused at the men's submissive attention, and thenext minute did not wonder at all!--as she noted the charm that heldthem--the grace of mingled ease, kindliness, and power, in Mr. Linden'smanner and presence. Nothing could have greater simplicity, and it wasnot new to Faith, yet she looked at him as if she had never seen himbefore. 

"A great many years ago, " he said, "when the Son of God, our Lord JesusChrist, was in this world, he went about healing sick people, andteaching every one the way to heaven; and the people came in greatnumbers to hear him. 

"'And it came to pass, that, as the people pressed upon him to hear theword of God, he stood by the lake of Gennesareth, and saw two shipsstanding by the lake; but the fishermen were gone out of them, and werewashing their nets. '"

"We wash our'n by pullin' 'em through the water, " said the net man. 

"The Lord entered one of the ships, which belonged to a man namedSimon, and asked him to push out a little from the shore. 'And he satdown, and taught the people out of the ship. Now, when he had leftspeaking, he unto Simon, Launch out into the deep, and let down yournets for a draught. And Simon answering, said unto him, Master, we havetoiled all the night, and have taken nothing; nevertheless, at thy wordI will let down the net. '"

"In course! whether 'twas any use or not, "--the man with the net saidapprovingly. "So he had oughter. "

"Yes, and he knew it would be of use in some way, for God never gives acommand without a reason. And when they had let down the net, 'theyenclosed a great multitude of fishes: and their net brake. And theybeckoned unto their partners, which were in the other ship, that theyshould come and help them. And they came, and filled both the ships, sothat they began to sink. '"

"That was a bigger haul than ever I see, yet, " remarked the man. 

"Neither had Simon ever seen anything like it--he knew that it wasbrought about by the direct power of God. 

"When Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus' knees, saying, 'Departfrom me; for I am a sinful man, O Lord. ' For he was astonished, and allthey that were with him, at the draught of the fishes which they hadtaken. "

"Can't see what he said _that_ fur, " said the oarsman. 

"No more don't I!" said the other. "He had got a good haul o' fish, anyway--if he was ever so!--and we aint none of us white lilies. "

"But then Peter knew that he ought to be a white lily--and such a newview of God's power and greatness made him feel it more than ever. Sothat he was both afraid and ashamed, --he thought himself unworthy tohave the Lord in his ship, and was afraid to have him stay there. "

"I wouldn't have asked him to go out, if he had been in mine, --_I_don't think!"--said the elder fisher slowly. "I don't see as that chapneed to ha' been afeard--he hadn't done nothin' but good to him. "

"But it's what we do ourselves that makes us afraid, " said Mr. Linden. "So it was with Adam and Eve in the garden, you know--God had talked tothem a great many times, and they were never afraid till they disobeyedhim--then the moment he spoke they ran and hid themselves. "

The oarsman was silent, the other man gave a sort of grunt thatbetokened interest. 

"What shines had this feller been cuttin' up?"

"Why!" said Mr. Linden, starting up and taking his stand by the mast, as the little boat curtseyed softly over the waves, "if you tell one ofyour boys always to walk in one particular road, and you find himalways walking in another--I don't think it matters much what he'sdoing there, to him or to you. "

"Wall?"--said the man, with a face of curiosity for what was to comenext, mingled with a certain degree of intelligence that would notconfess itself. 

"Well--Peter knew he was not in the way wherein the Lord commands usall to walk. "

"I guess every feller's got to pick out his own road for himself!" saidthe fisher, pulling up a foot or two of his net carelessly. 

"That's what Peter had thought, --and so he had lived, just as he chose. But when he saw more of the glory of God, then he was afraid andconfessed his sin. And what do you suppose the Lord said to him then?"

"What did Peter own up to?"

"The account gives only the general confession--that he was a sinfulman, not worthy to have the Lord look upon him except in anger. You seehe falls down at his feet and prays him to depart--he could not believethat the Lord would stay there to speak good to him. "

"Well--what _did_ he say to him?"

"'He said unto him, Fear not'. And no one need fear, who humblyconfesses his sins at the feet of Jesus, 'for if we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us fromall unrighteousness. ' Then the Lord bade Simon and all his companionsto follow him--and they obeyed. And now I want to tell you what thisfollowing means. "

He put one arm round the mast, half leaning against it, and gave themwhat Faith would have called a 'ladder'--passing from the 'Follow me, 'spoken to Peter, --to the young man who being bid to follow, 'went awaysorrowful', --to the description of the way given in the tenth chapterof John, --to the place whither the flock follow Christ--

"'And I looked, and lo, a Lamb stood on the mount Zion, and with him anhundred forty and four thousand, having his Father's name written intheir foreheads. ' 'These are they which follow the Lamb whithersoeverhe goeth. '"--

The men listened, open-mouthed and with intent eyes;--partly to thespeaker, it was evident, and partly to what the speaker said. And thathis words took hold, it was also evident. When he ceased, the man atthe net dropped his eyes for a moment, a curious look of meditationcovering his face. 

"It's easy to talk of follerin', " he said with a half laugh which wasnot of carelessness, --"and one might like to, --but it's plaguey hard toknow where to start!--"

"It's easy for God to teach you and easy to ask him to do it. If it wasanything else you wanted to do, you would not stop trying till youfound out, " said Mr. Linden--"and that is just the way here. Now I amgoing to give you a copy of all this, " he said, throwing his own littleBible softly into Faith's lap and stepping forward to the prow of theboat (which she thought held only lunch baskets)--"and I shall turndown a leaf at the story of the net full of good fishes--and another ata place that tells of a net full 'of every kind, both bad and good. 'And I want you to read them, and think about them, and find out how tofollow Christ--and then come on!" He took his seat once more in thestern of the boat, and held out the Bible to the fisherman. The otherman, slowly dipping his oars in and out, met his look too, but made noanswer. 

The man at the net took the book and turned over the leaves with awondering, considering air. 

"What do you reckon this here's worth?" he said somewhat awkwardly, without raising his eyes from it. 

"Worth daily reading and study--worth all you have in the world, if youwill use it right, " said Mr. Linden. "You need not think about anyother value--I had it in trust to give away. "

"I'm much obleeged to you, --I'll take a look at it now and then. Do youlive along here, anywheres?"

"In Pattaquasset, just now, " Mr. Linden said, as he prepared to makesail again. "I don't very often come to this part of the river. "

"Well hold on!" said the man, beginning to pull in his net with greatvivacity, --"I'm bound to give you a fish--if I've got one here. Bear ahand, Dick! Haint you got a place on board there that you can stow it, without skeerin' the lady?"--

"I'll try to find one!" said Mr. Linden, answering the proposal just asit was meant. "If the lady is scared she shall turn her face the otherway. "

"She'll turn it which way you say?--" ventured the fisher insinuatingly. 

Faith did not seem afraid of the fish, by the way she leaned over thestern of the boat and eyed the up-coming nets which the men weredrawing in. She had listened to the foregoing talk, to the full asintently as those for whom it was meant, and with a multitude ofinterests at work in her mind and heart of which they had neverdreamed. And now her eye was bent on the net; but her thoughts were onthat other kind of fishing of which she had just seen an example--thefirst she had ever seen of Mr. Linden's!--and her full heart waslongingly thinking, among other thoughts, of the few there were to drawthose nets, and the multitude to be drawn! What Faith saw in the meshesthe man's hands were slowly pulling up!--

But the fisherman only saw--what pleased him greatly, some very finefish; shad they were for the greater part; from which he selected anoble specimen and cast it over into Mr. Linden's boat. Then standingup in his own he wiped his hands on the sleeves of his coat. 

"Hope you'll come along again some day, " said he. "And" (waggishly)"don't come without the lady!"--

The rope was drawn in and the little skiff shot ahead smoothly andsilently from the great brown fishing boat and her equally brownowners. Gliding on--watched for a little by the fishers, then theirattention was claimed by the flapping shad in the net, and the sailboat set her canvas towards Kildeer river. Mr. Linden went forward andbestowed his prisoner a little more out of sight and sound in someplace of safety, and then sitting down in the prow dipped his hands inthe blue water and took a survey of Faith, as she sat in the stern--thetiller in her hand, the shadow of the sail falling partly across; thespring zephyrs playing all about her. 

"Little bird, " he said, "why don't you sing?"

A smile of much and deep meaning went back from the stern to the prow;but she presently made the somewhat obvious remark that "birds do notalways sing. "

"A melancholy fact in natural history! the truth of which I am just nowexperiencing. What shall be done with them at these times--are they tobe coaxed--or chidden or fed with sponge cake? Have you got any in yourbasket?"

"Are you hungry?" said Faith. 

"Only for words--or songs--or some other commodity of like origin, " Mr. Linden said, coming back to his old place. "What shall I have?--if Icannot get the two first?"

"You might have a little patience?--"

"'Patience', my dear, 'is a good root'--but nothing akin to sugarcanes. "

"There's no need of it, either, " said Faith laughing, --"for _you_ cansing if I can't. "

"No, there is no need of it, and therefore--Now, little bird, will youplease not to fly past the outlet of Kildeer river?"

Laughing, colouring, Faith nevertheless bent a very earnest attentionupon this difficult piece of navigation. For the opening of Kildeerriver was as yet but slightly to be discerned;--a little break in thesmooth shore line, --a very little atmospheric change in the soft leafyhues of the nearer and further point. Faith watched, as only a youngsteersman does, for the time and place where her rudder should begin totake cognizance of the approaching change of course. A little wider thebreak in the shore line grew, --more plain the mark of a break in thetrees, --and almost suddenly the little stream unfolded its pretty reachof water and woodland, stretching in alluringly with picturesque turnsof its mimic channel. Faith needed a little help now, for the river wasnot everywhere navigable; but after a few minutes of pretty sailingamong care-requiring rocks and sand-banks, where the loss of wind madetheir progress slow, the little skiff was safely brought to land at anice piece of gravelly shore. It was wonderful pretty! The trees withtheir various young verdure came down to the water's edge, with many adainty tint; here one covered with soft catkins of flower, --there oneruddy with not yet opened buds. The winding banks of the stream on onehand; and on the other the little piece of it they had passed over, with the breadth of the Mong beyond. Through all, May's air andSpring's perfume, and the stillness of noonday. 

 "Inverted in the tide Stand the grey rocks, and trembling shadows throw. And the fair trees look over, side by side, And see themselves below. "

So Mr. Linden told Faith, as he was putting his sail in trim repose, and then--telling her that the guiding power was still in her hands, requested to know what they should do next. 

"Why, " said Faith merrily, "I thought you had business to attend to?"

"I had--" said Mr. Linden, --"but I reflected that you would probablygive me full occupation, and so got rid of the business first. "

"Then you have nothing to do here?"

"A great deal, I suppose; but I know not what. "

Faith fairly sat down to laugh at him. 

"What do you think of having lunch, and then going after flowers?"

"I consider that to be a prudent, bird-like suggestion. Do you expectme to cook this fish for you? or will you be content to take it home toyour mother, and let us feast upon--

 "'Herbs, and such like country messes, Which neat-handed Phyllis dresses'?"

"_Have_ you all the books in the world in your head?"--said Faith, laughing her own little laugh roundly. "How plain it is Mr. Linden hasnothing to do to-day!--Would you like to help me to gather some sticksfor a fire, sir? I think you had better have something on your hands. "

"Do you?" he said lifting her out of the boat in his curiously quick, strong, light way, --"that was something on my hands--not much. Whatnext?--do you say we are to play Ferdinand and Miranda?"

Faith's eye for an instant looked its old look, of grave, intelligent, doubtful questioning: but then she came back to Kildeer river. 

"I haven't played that play yet, " she said gaily; "but if you'll helpme find some dry sticks--your reward shall be that you shall not havewhat you don't like! I can make a fire nicely here, Endecott; on thisrock. "

"Then it was not about them you were reading in that focus of sunbeams?"

"What?--" she said, looking. 

"Once upon a time--" Mr. Linden said smiling, --"when you and Shakspearegot lost in the sunlight, and wandered about without in the leastknowing where you were. "

"When, Endecott?"

"Leave that point, " he said, --"I want to tell you about the story. Ferdinand, whom I represent, was a prince cast away upon a desertshore--which shore was inhabited by the princess Miranda, whom yourepresent. Naturally enough, in the course of time, they came to thinkof each other much as we do--perhaps 'a little more so' on the part ofMiranda. But then Miranda's father set Ferdinand to carrying wood, --asyou--acting conscientiously for Mrs. Derrick--do me. "

"I wonder if I ever shall understand you!" exclaimed Faith desperately, as her laugh again broke upon the sweet air that floated in from theMong. "What has my conscience, or Mrs. Derrick, to do with our lunchfire? Why was the other prince set to carrying wood?"

"For the same reason that I am!" said Mr. Linden raising his eyebrows. "To prove his affection for Miranda. "

How Faith laughed. 

"You are mistaken--O how mistaken you are!" she exclaimed. "It shewsthat though you know books, you don't know everything. "

And running away with her own armful of sticks and leaves, back to therock spoken of near where the vessel lay, Faith was stopped andrelieved of her load, with such an earnest--

 "'No, precious creature, I'd rather crack my sinews, break my back, Than you should such dishonour undergo'--"

that she could do nothing but laugh, till the sticks were fairly on therock. Then Faith went to laying them daintily together. 

"I hope you've no objection to my making the fire, " she said; "becauseI like it. Only, Endecott! the matches are in the basket. Could you getthem for me? Indeed I shall want the basket too out of the boat. "

Whereupon Mr. Linden--

 "'The very instant I saw you, did My heart fly to your service: there reside, To make me slave to it; and for your sake, Am I this patient log man'!--"

But anything less like those two last words than the way in which hesprang into the boat, and brought the basket, and got out what shecalled for, could hardly be. 

"How many matches do you want?" he said, looking demurely at her as hegave her one. 

"All of them, --basket and all, Endecott. You are so patient that you donot hear. "

"And you so impatient that you do not see--'basket and all' are at yourside, fair princess. --Stand back, --it may be very well for the winds to'blow, and crack their cheeks, ' but I think it should be confined tothem. " And she was laughingly held back, where she could only use hereyes about the fire. 

"That's my province, " said Faith. "I think any effort to make aprincess of me, will--fail. Did Miranda pick up any wood herself?"

"You can't help being a princess if I am a prince, " said Mr. Linden. 

"I don't see how it follows, " said Faith. "Only let me get at thatfire, and the fancy will pass away. Endecott!--it is absolutelynecessary that some wood should be put on; and I don't believe princesknow how. "

"Princes, " said Mr. Linden, holding her a little off with one hand, while with the other he replenished the fire, "are especially famed fortheir power of doing impossible things in desert places. And theprincess will follow--whether you can see it or not. Is that blazeaspiring enough for you?"

"Yes, but it needs to be kept up--I want a good bed of coals. "

A fine fire was on its way at last, and while waiting for it to burndown to the desired bed of coals, the temporary prince and princess satdown on the rock to feast their eyes in the mean time. A little pastmidday, it was not the picturesque hour for another season; but now, inthe freshness of Spring, the delicate beauties of colour and lightcould bear the full meridian sun and not ask for shadows to set themoff; other than the tender shade under the half-leaved trees. It was awarm enough day too, and those same leaves were making a great springtowards their full unfolding. Birds were twittering all around, andthey only filled up the silence. 

"Isn't it worth coming for!--" said Faith, when they had taken it allin for a few minutes without interrupting the birds. 

"More than that--and the 'it' is very plural. Faith, do you see thatbutterfly?"--A primrose-winged rover was meandering about in the softair before them, flitting over the buttercups with a listless sort ofadmiration. 

"Poor thing, he has come out too soon, " said Faith. "He will have somefrost yet, for so summery as it is to-day. " But Faith gave a graverlook at the butterfly than his yellow wings altogether warranted. 

"Among the ancients, " said Mr. Linden, "the word for a butterfly andthe word for the soul were the same, --they thought the first was a goodemblem of the lightness and airiness of the last. So they held, thatwhen a man died a butterfly might be seen flitting above his head. Iwas thinking how well this one little thing shews the exceeding lownessof heathen ideas. "

"Did they think the butterfly was his very spirit, in that form?"

"I suppose so--or thought they did. But look at that creature'swavering, unsteady flight; his aimless wanderings, anywhere or nowhere;and compare it with the 'mounting up with wings as eagles', which aChristian soul may know, even in this life, --compare it with the swift'return to God who gave it'--with the being 'caught up to meet theLord' which it shall surely know at death. "

"And the butterfly isn't further from that, " said Faith clasping herhands together, --"than many a real, living soul in many a livingperson!"--

"No, not further; and so what the old Greeks made an emblem of theimmortal soul, gives name, with us, to those persons who are most tieddown to mortality. What were you thinking of, a minute ago, when Ishewed you the butterfly?"

"I was thinking of somebody that I am afraid a butterfly will alwaysremind me of, "--Faith answered with a slight colour;--"and of the timehe got the name. "

"He got it by favour of his office, you know--not otherwise. "

"I know--"

But with that, Faith jumped up to see to the state of the fire; andthen after some conjuration in her basket produced a suspicious-lookingtin vessel, for which the proper bed of coals was found. Leaving it andthe fire to agree together, Faith came back to the rock and Mr. Lindenand stood a little while silently looking and breathing the sweetness. 

"I always did love everything in the world, that my eyes could see, "she said gravely. "But I love them so much more now!--now that the handthat made them is not such a strange far-off hand to me. It makes akind of new world to me, Endecott. "

"Yes--and you can understand how--even without physical changes--whenwe 'shall know as we are known, ' the 'heavens and earth whereindwelleth righteousness' may be pre�minently 'new'. "

Faith stood without reply a few minutes longer, then ran back to herfire; and after a short space called to Mr. Linden to ask if he wouldlike to come and see what the prince had been picking up wood for?

To which the prince responded with very un-royal alacrity, bringing awell-put-together knot of buttercups to adorn one side of Miranda'shead; which he declared looked better than gold beads, if they didn'tcost as much. 

A napkin was spread on the rock, conveniently near to the fire; onwhich plates and bread and a bottle of cream and a dainty looking pastywere irregularly bestowed. Mr. Linden threw himself down on the moss;and Faith had got a cup and saucer out of her basket and was justsugaring and creaming the prince's reward before applying to her dishon the fire for the crowning coffee; when her eye was caught by aspectator lately come upon the scene. No other than a somewhat raggedlittle boy, who eyeing them from the bank had been irresistibly lurednearer and nearer, by the grace of the preparations and the steam ofthe hot coffee perhaps, till he now stood by the trunk of the nearesttree. 

"What are you doin'?" he said. 

"What are you?" said Mr. Linden, turning to look at the boy--not justas _he_ looked at the coffee, but very much as the coffee looked athim. "Did you never see people eat dinner?"

The boy stood his ground with, "What you got?"

"When was the last time?" said Mr. Linden. ("Princess--this may turnout to be a subject!")

"Last time _what?_" said the "subject" stoutly. 

"The last time you saw people eating dinner, " said Mr. Linden. "Did youever go to the Museum?"

"I've went to Pettibaug!"--

"When is the last time you saw people eating dinner?" said Faith. 

"We haint got none to our house. "

"What's the matter?"

"Mintie said there warn't nothin' to eat and I might go ablackberryin'. "

"You've come to the right place, " said Mr. Linden, --"I don't believethey're ripe anywhere else. Who is 'Mintie'? and who stays with herwhile you're after blackberries?"

"Mintie's sissy. There aint nobody stayin' with her--she's stayin'along o' mother--when she's up. "

"Where is she?--I mean where does she live--and you, and Mintie. Whereis your house?"

"Round there--'Taint fur. What you got?"

Faith set down her cup and looked at Mr. Linden. 

"What is the matter with your mother?"

"She's sick. "

"Well if I give you a basket, and this lady puts some dinner in it foryour mother and Mintie and you, do you think you can carry it home?"

"Is your sister sick too?" said Faith. 

"She's got the fever nagur. "

"Endecott, " said Faith softly, --"shall we go and see them?"

"Yes, of course. What's your name, child?"

"My name's Bob Tuck. "

Mr. Linden looked at him. 

"How comes it that you and Dromy are no more alike?" he said. 

"Mother says Dromy aint like nothin' _I_ be. "

"Well Bob Tuck, " said Mr. Linden smiling, "have you got a broom athome?"

"There's two old ones. "

"Then if you will go home and sweep the floor as well as you can, withthe two old brooms, and set the table, I'll bring this lady to see youand we'll carry the basket--(which means, Princess, that _I_will!)--and you can let the blackberries hang on till they get ripe. Doyou understand?"

"If I'll sweep the floor, you'll fetch the basket?" said Bob. 

"Yes. And you can wash your hands nicely and be ready to help me takethe things out of it. "

Bob started. "How soon 'll you come?"

"As soon as I finish my dinner. "

"How good it is I brought the whole pie!" said Faith, as she poured thedelayed coffee upon the cream and sugar. "And there's your shad, Endecott! unless you prefer to take that home, and we'll send somethingelse. --Now you see what you picked up sticks for?"

"I see--" Mr. Linden said, looking at her. "And you see, Princess, whatroyalty is apt to meet if it will go wandering round the world. "

"What?"

"Bob Tuck!--"

"Well--it's a good thing for Bob Tuck to meet with royalty, "--saidFaith, looking at the pie Mr. Linden was cutting. 

"Princess, " said Mr. Linden, "have you any 'Queen Anne' in your basket?"

Faith looked, her merry, puzzled, grave look of inquiry, --and thenthere was nothing for it but a ringing laugh again. 

"I would rather have that at a venture, if I were the sick one, " saidMr. Linden. "But the specific most prized by that class of thepopulation who have 'fever nagur', is called in their vernacular 'QueenAnne'--anglice, quinine. Faith, you have no idea how those buttercupsare beautified!"

"Flowers always are, that you handle, " said Faith. 

"You see how appropriate they are to my Sunbeam--for

 'The buttercup catches the sun in his chalice'. "

"What is a chalice?"

"A sort of cup--a church service cup, generally. Did you admire so muchthe head of clover I gave you once down at the shore?"

Faith gave him a curious glance of recollection; but though there was ahalf smile on her face too, she remained silent. 

"Well, little bird?" he said smiling. "Of what is that look compounded?"

"Various things, I suppose. Let me have your cup, Endecott?"

"Do you know, " he said, "that for a scholar, youare--remarkably--unready to answer questions?"

"I didn't know it. "

"Are you not aware of any class of recollective remarks or inquirieswhich now and then break forth, and which you invariably smother with athick blanket of silence?"

There was another quick glance and smile, and then Faith said as shehanded him his cup, --

"What do you want to know, Endecott?"

"I want to know where there was ever just such another princess. And bythe way, speaking of the shore--I have something that belongs to her. "

"To me?"

"Oui, mademoiselle. "

"May I know what?"

"You may, yet not just now. You may guess what it is. "

But Faith gave up guessing in despair at one of Mr. Linden's puzzles. 

The basket was repacked when the lunch was done; and they set out ontheir walk. The way, following Bob's direction, led along the bankunder the trees, turning a little before the Mong was reached. Thehouse was soon found; standing alone, in an enclosed garden groundwhere no spade had been struck that season; and at the end of a farmroad that shewed no marks of travel. 

Bob had not only swept the room, but his tidings had roused apparentlyhis sister to prepare herself also; for Mintie met them as they camein. She was a handsome girl, with a feverish colour in her cheeks thatmade her appearance only more striking. There was pride and povertyhere, clearly. Faith's simple words neither assumed the one norattacked the other. The girl looked curiously at her and at the othervisiter. 

"Who be you?"

"We do not live in this neighbourhood, " said Faith. "We came up toKildeer river to-day, and met your little brother down by the shore. "

"What did he say to you?"

"He told us you were sick and in want of help. "

Another look laid the girl's jealousy asleep. She told her story--herfather had died six months ago; she and her mother and brother livedthere alone. It was an "unlikely place to get to, " and no neighboursvery near. Her mother had been sick abed for a number of weeks; and shehad had all to do, and now for a week past had been unable to doanything, go to Pettibaug or anywhere else, to get what they wanted. And so they "had got out of 'most everything. " Dromy Tuck, Mr. Linden'sscholar, lived at Farmer Davids' in the capacity of farm-boy; Mrs. Davids being a far-off connexion. 

So much was all pride permitted to be told. Without much questioning, her visiters contrived to find out what they could do for her. Faithput the coffee-pot on the fire, declaring that it would do Mintie goodlike medicine; and served it to her when it was hot, with some breadand chicken, as if it had been indeed medicine and Faith a doctor. Thenwhile Bob and she were dining, Faith went in to see the sick woman. _She_ was much more communicative, and half avowed that she believedwhat she wanted now was "nourishing things"--"but with me lyin' here onmy back, " she said, "'taint so easy to find 'em. " Faith gave her a cupof coffee too and some bread; she had hardly drunk any herself atlunch; and leaving her patient much inspirited, came back to Mr. Lindenin the other room. Apparently his words and deeds had been acceptabletoo, --Bob's face was shining, not only with dinner but with theprevious cold water applications which Mr. Linden had insisted on, andMintie's mind was evidently at work upon various things. The basket wassoon emptied of all but its dishes, and the prince and princess went ontheir way down the hill. 

"Faith, " said Mr. Linden, "shall we go and sit in the boat for half anhour, considering various things, and then have our wild flower hunt?Or would you prefer that first?"

"O no! I would rather have the half hour in the boat. "

It was good time yet in the afternoon, and though the little boat nowlay partly shadowed by the hill, it was none the worse resting placefor that. Again Faith was seated there in all the style that shawls andcushions furnished, and just tired enough to feel luxurious in the softatmosphere. Mr. Linden arranged and established her to his liking; thenhe took out of his pocket a letter. 

It was one which had been opened and read; but as he unfolded it, thereappeared another--unopened, unread; its dainty seal unbroken, and onthe back in fair tracery, the words, "Miss Faith Derrick. " As Faithread them and saw the hand, her eye glanced first up at Mr. Linden withits mute burden of surprise, and then the roses bloomed out over hercheeks and even threw their flush upon her brow. Her eye was cast downnow and fixed on the unopened letter, with the softest fall of itseyelid. 

"Shall I read you a part of mine first?"

"If you please. I wish you would. "

"Only a little bit, " he said smiling--thinking perhaps that she did notknow to what she gave her assent so readily, --"you shall read the wholeof it another time. " The "little bit" began rather abruptly. 

"'I have written to your darling, Endy--Not much, tell her; becausewhat I have in my heart for her cannot be told. I know how precious anyone must be whom you love so much. But make her love me a little beforeshe reads my letter--and don't let her call me anything but Pet--andthen I shall feel as if I had a sister already. And so I have, as yousay. What a glad word!--I could cry again with the very writing of it. 

'Endy--I did cry a little over your letter, but only for joy: if it hadbeen for sorrow I should have cried long ago; for I knew well enoughwhat was coming. Only I want more than ever to be at home, --and to seeyou, and to see Faith--don't let her think I am like you!

'My letter wouldn't hold much, as I told you. But I give you any numberof (unspeakable!) messages for her, John Endy. I suppose you will takecharge of them? I may feel sure they have all reached theirdestination?'"

Long before the reading was finished, Faith's head had sunk--almost tothe cushions beside her. The reader's voice and intonation had givenevery word a sort of ring in her heart, though the tone was low. Onehand came round her when she put her head down, taking possession ofher hand which lay so still, with the unopened letter in its clasp. Butnow she was gently raised up. 

"Precious child, " Mr. Linden said, "what are you drooping your headfor?"

"For the same reason she had, I suppose, --" said Faith half laughing, though witnesses of another kind were in her eyes. 

"Who are you talking about?"

"Your sister. "

"Why don't you begin to practise your lesson?"

Perhaps Faith thought that she _was_. She looked at nothing but herletter. 

"Will you wait for your messages till we get home?--this place notbeing absolute seclusion. "

"Shall I read this now?" said Faith rather hastily. 

"I should think there would be no danger in that. "

With somewhat unsteady fingers, that yet tried to be quiet, Faith brokethe seal; and masking her glowing face with one hand, she bent over theletter to read it. 

"My very dear, and most unknown, and most well-known little sister! Ihave had a picture sent me of you--as you appeared one night, when yousat for your portrait, hearing Portia; and with it a notice of severalevents which occurred just before that time. And both picture andevents have gone down into my heart, and abide there. Endecott says youare a Sunbeam--and I feel as if a little of the light had come over thewater to me, --ever since his letter came I have been in a state ofabsolute reflection!

"I thought my love would not be the first to 'find out the way'--eventhen when I wrote it! Faith--do you know that there is nobody in theworld just like him? because if you do not--you will find it out!--Imean! like Endecott--_not_ like Love. My dear, I beg pardon for mypronoun! But just how _I_ have loved you all these months, for makinghim so happy, I cannot tell you. 

"And I cannot write to-day--about anything, --my thoughts are in toouneven a flow to find their way to the end of my pen, and take allpossible flights instead. Dear Faith, you must wait for a _letter_ tillthe next steamer. And you cannot miss it--nor anything else, withEndecott there, --it seems to me that to be even in the same countrywith him is happiness. 

"You must love me too, Faith, and not think me a stranger, --and let mebe your (because I am Endy's)

"PET. "

Faith took a great deal more time than was necessary for the reading ofthis letter. Very much indeed she would have liked to do as hercorrespondent confessed she had done, and cry--but there was no sign ofsuch an inclination. She only sat perfectly moveless, bending over herletter. At last suddenly looked up and gave it to Mr. Linden. 

"Well?" he said with a smile at her as he took it. 

"You'll see--" she said, a little breathlessly. And still holding herhand fast, Mr. Linden read the letter, quicker than she had done, andwithout comment--unless when his look shewed that it touched him. 

"You will love her, Faith!" he said as he folded the letter upagain, --"in spite of all your inclinations to the contrary!"

"Do you think that is in the future tense? But I am afraid, " addedFaith, --"she thinks too much of me now. "

"She does not think as much of you as I do, " Mr. Linden said, with alook and smile that covered all the ground of present or future fear. "And after all it is a danger which you will share with me. It is oneof Pet's loveable feelings to think too much of some people whom sheloves just enough. "

Humility is not a fearful thing. Whatever had been in Faith's speech, her look, bright, wistful, and happy, had no fear, truly bumble thoughit was. "There is no danger of my loving this letter too much"--shesaid as she carefully restored it to its envelope; said with a secretutterance of great gratification. 

The promised half hour was much more than up, and the broadening shadowon Kildeer river said that the time which could be given to wildflowers was fast running away. Perhaps, too, Mr. Linden thought Faithhad mused and been excited enough, for he made a move. Everything inthe boat was put up in close order, and then the two went ashore again, flower basket in hand. 

The long shadows heightened the beauty of the woods now, falling softand brown upon the yet browner carpet of dry leaves, and the youngleaves and buds overhead shewed every tint, from yellow to green. Underthe trees were various low shrubs in flower, --shad-blossom, with itsfleecy stems, and azalia in rosy pink; and the real wild flowers--thedainty things as wild in growth as in name, were sprinkled everywhere. Wind flowers and columbine; orchis sweet as any hyacinth; tallSolomon's seal; spotless bloodroot; and violets--white, yellow, andpurple. The dogwood stretched its white arms athwart hemlock andservice; the creeping partridge berry carried its perfumed white starsover rocks and moss in the deep shade below. Yellow bellwort hung itsfair flowers on every ridge; where the ground grew wet were dog's-toothviolet and chick wintergreen. There the red maples stood, with bunchesof crimson keys, --at the edge of the higher ground their humblergrowing sister the striped bark, waved her green tresses. There seemedto be no end to the flowers--nor to the variety--nor to the pleasure ofpicking. 

"Faith--" said Mr. Linden. 

Faith looked up from a bunch of Sanguinaria beside which she wascrouching. 

"I find so much Mignonette!--do you?"

Faith's eye flashed, and taking one of those little white stars shethrew it towards Mr. Linden. It went in a graceful parabolic curve andfell harmlessly, like her courage, at his feet. 

"What has become of the princess?"

"You ought rather to ask after the prince!" said Mr. Linden, picking upthe Sanguinaria with great devotion. "Is this the Star of the Order ofMerit?"

"I am not Queen Flora. I don't know. "

"As what then was it bestowed?"

"It might be Mignonette's shield, which she used as a weapon becauseshe hadn't any other! Endy, look at those green Maple flowers! You canreach them. "

He gathered some of the hanging clusters, and then came and sat downwhere she was at work and began to put them into her basket, arrangingand dressing the other flowers the while dextrously. 

"Do you know, my little Sunbeam, " he said, "that your namesakes areretreating?"

"I know it, Endy, " she said hastening her last gatherings--"and I amready. "

They began their homeward way to the boat, wandering a little still, for flowers, and stopping to pick them, so that the sun was quite lowbefore Kildeer river was reached. There Mr. Linden stood a momentlooking about. 

"Do you see the place where we sat, Faith?" he said, --"over on theother bank?"

She looked, and looked at him and smiled--very different from her lookthen! A glance comprehensive and satisfactory enough without words, sowithout any more words they went on their way along the shore of theriver. As they neared their boat, the rays of the setting sun weredarted into Kildeer river and gilded the embayed little vessel and allthe surrounding shores. Rocks and trees and bits of land glowed orglistened in splendour wherever a point or a spray could catch the sun;the water in both rivers shone with a long strip of gold. They had hadnothing so brilliant all day. 

In the full glow and brightness Faith sat down in the boat with herflowers near her, and Mr. Linden loosened the sail. How pretty the banklooked as they were leaving it! the ashes of their fire on the rock, and the places where they had sat or wandered, and talked--such happywords!

"I shall always love Kildeer river, " said Faith with little longbreath, "because I read my letter here. "

"And so shall I, " said Mr. Linden, --"but my love for it dates back tothe first piece of reading I ever did in its company. " He looked backfor a minute or two--at the one shore and the other--the sunlight, thetrees, the flowery hillside, and it was well then that his face was notseen by Faith--there fell on it such a shadow of pain. But he presentlyturned to her again with just the former look. 

"Now, " he said, "do you think you can steer home in the twilight?"

"I don't know. Can I? I can follow directions. "

"And I can give them. "

And with that arrangement they ran out from the clean woody shores ofKildeer river, and set their sail for Pattaquasset. How fair, at thatpoint of weather and day! a little quieter than the morning spring-tideof everything, but what was less gay was more peaceful; and against asoft south wind the little boat began to beat her way down, favouredhowever by the tide. These tacks made Mr. Linden's counsels moreespecially needed, but the short swift runs back and forth across theriver were even more inspiriting than a steady run before the wind, andthe constant attention which helm and sail required made talk andaction lively enough. 

"This is good, Endecott!" said Faith as the little boat came about forthe fifth or sixth time. 

"Faith, " he said, smiling at her, "you look just as fresh as arose!--the day does not seem to have tired you one bit. "

"Tired!" she said, --"yes, I am a little bit tired--or hungry--but wasthere ever such a day as we have had?--since the first of January!"

"My dear little Mignonette!" Mr. Linden said--but if it was a "message"Faith had then, it came from somewhere nearer than across the water. "If you are tired, dear child, give up the rudder to me, and lay downyour head and rest. Do you see after what a sleep-inviting fashion thelights are twinkling all down the shore?"

"I'm not sleepy a bit;" said Faith, --"nor tired, except just enough;and I like this small portion of power you have put in my hands. Howbeautiful those lights look!--and the lights overhead, Endy. Howbeautiful every thing is!"--

"Yes, " said Mr. Linden, "when there is light within. --

 'He that hath light within his own clear breast, May sit i' the centre and enjoy bright day. '"

"That's beautiful!" said Faith after a pause. 

And now the brush and stir of "coming about" again claimed theirattention, and in a minute more they were stretching away on a newtack, with another set of constellations opposite to them in the sky. The breeze was fresh, though as mild as May; the boat made good speed;and in spite of beating down the river the mouth of the Mong was nearedfast. Pattaquasset lights, a little cluster of them, appearedunmistakably; for down by the point there was a little knot of houses, variously concerned in trade or fisheries. Mr. Linden had to put hishand upon the tiller sometimes then, till they got in. Mr. Skip andJerry were in waiting; had been, "a sight o' half hours, " the formerstated. Baskets and shad and passengers were transferred to the wagon, and within a moderate time thereafter welcomed (the latter) by Mrs. Derrick and supper--wherein, after a little delay therefor, the shadplayed a conspicuous and most satisfactory part. 

Now there are no shad like the shad that come out of the Mong. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

So passed the days. Not indeed all at Kildeer river, but all in sweet, peaceful, bright occupations, whether of work or play. The trustees hadreceived their notice, with much dismay; a little alleviated by thefact that Mr. Linden was willing to stay at his post for a few weeksafter the end of the year. 

It was almost a wonder, as the weeks went on, that Mr. Linden kept downthe shadows as well as he did, --to leave Faith in the morning, and goto his devoted set of scholars--every one of whom had some particularas well as general hold on him and love for him; and then to get awayby the hardest from their words and looks of sorrow and regret, andcome back to the presence of her brave little face--Mr. Linden wasbetween two fires. And they wrought a sort of deepening of everythingabout him which was lovely or loveable--which did not make it easierfor Pattaquasset to let him go. 

As far as anybody could be a help to him, Faith was one. In agentleness of spirit that was of no kin to weakness, she took to herheart the good that she had, and was quite as much of a sunbeam asever. How it would be when Mr. Linden was gone, Faith did not know; butshe did know that that was one of to-morrow's cares, with which she hadno business to-day. If the thought ever came up in its strength, strongenough to bring down her heart and head, --if there were times whenFaith shewed herself to herself--the revelation was made to no otherperson. And therefore it is probable that it was a view she did notoften indulge in. 

Dr. Harrison was not much at Pattaquasset these days He found itconvenient to be away. 

Dr. Harrison was a man who did not like to throw away his ammunition. He by no means absented himself because of any failing in his fancy forsomebody in Pattaquasset; the working of cause and effect was on aprecisely opposite principle. The truth was, the fancy had grown to astrength that would not well bear the doubtful kind of intercoursewhich had been kept up between the parties; yet doubtful it remained, and must remain for the present. With Mr. Linden there in the family;with the familiar habits that naturally grow up between hostess andguest, friend and friend, fellow inmates of the same house--it was verydifficult for the doctor to judge whether those habits had any otherand deeper groundwork. It was impossible, with his scanty and limitedchances of observation. At the same time there was too great apossibility--his jealousy called it more, --for him to be willing totake any forward and undoubtful steps himself. He did not find sea-roomto put in his oar. In this state of things, all that his pride and hisprudence would suffer him to do, was to wait--wait till either by Mr. Linden's stay or departure the truth might be made known. But to abidein Pattaquasset and watch patiently the signs of things, was more thanDr. Harrison's feeling, --for it was far more than fancy, --could bear. Just now, in despair or disgust, he had taken a longer enterprise thanusual; and was very far indeed from Pattaquasset when the news of Mr. Linden's going set all the country in a flame. So, greatly to Faith'ssatisfaction, he could not for some time be there to add any flame ofhis own. 

The morning readings with Mr. Linden were great and chief treasures toher all these days. She was always ready for him before six o'clock. Not now in a firelit room, with curtains drawn against the cold; but inthe early freshness of the spring and summer mornings, with windowsopen and sweet air coming in. Duly Faith noted every "ladder ofverses"--till her Bible grew to be well dotted with marks of red ink. They looked lovely to her eyes. So they might; for they were records ofmany very deep and sweet draughts from that well of water which theword is to them that love it; draughts deeper and sweeter than Faithcould have drawn by herself--or she thought so. No quarter of an hourin the day Faith loved so well. It was often more. 

One morning the "ladder" began with the silver trumpets made for theservice of God in the hands of the priests of Israel. Faith, lookingquietly out of the window, went roving in thought over the times andoccasions Mr. Linden read of, when their triumphal blast had proclaimedthe name and the glory of God in the ears of the thousands of Israel;times of rejoicing, of hope, of promise and of victory. Scenes of gloryin the old Jewish history floated before her--with the sublime faith ofthe actors in them, and the magnificent emblematic language in whichthey read the truth. Faith only came fairly back to New England andPattaquasset at David's declaration--

"Blessed are the people that know the joyful sound; they shall walk, OLord, in the light of thy countenance. "

The words thrilled her. She thought of the many who had never heard thesound at all; and entered into Isaiah's foresight of a day when "thegreat trumpet shall be blown, and they shall come that were ready toperish in the land of Assyria, and the outcasts in the land of Egypt. "--

"How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringethgood tidings, that publisheth peace; that bringeth good tidings of good;that publisheth salvation; that saith unto Zion, Thy God reigneth!"

Then came Isaiah's own blast of the trumpet, and then the sweetenlargements and proclamations of the gospel, and the Lord's owninvitation to all who are "weary and heavy laden. " But also--

"How shall they call on him in whom they have not believed? and howshall they believe in him of whom they have not heard? and how shallthey hear without a preacher? and how shall they preach, except they besent? as it is written, How beautiful are the feet of them that preachthe gospel of peace, and bring glad tidings of good things!"--

"And the Spirit and the bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. And let him that is athirst come. And whosoever will, let himtake the water of life freely. "

Faith sat by the open window, no sound abroad but the stir in theleaves and the low music of birds. The very still peace without, ratherseemed to heighten and swell the moving of thoughts within, whichsurged like the sea. Mr. Linden stopped reading and was silent; and sowas she, with nothing of all this appearing otherwise than in thefixed, abstracted look which went out into Pattaquasset but also wentfar beyond. And when she spoke, it was earnestly and with the sameclear quiet. 

"Endy--I am _glad_ to have you go, for the reason you are going for. Iwouldn't have you be anything else than what you mean to be, --not forthe pleasure of having you here. "

Her voice did not tremble, though indeed it told of feelings that wereless assured. 

"Dear Faith!" Mr. Linden said, with a bright flash of pleasure at herwords, which changed even while he spoke, "you do not know what acomfort it is to me to feel that! And do you realize, little Sunbeam, what joy it is, that however far apart we can still work together--inthe same cause, for the same master? The work which I take upon me byname, belongs as really to you, --for the call should be given by everyone that heareth to every one that is athirst. "

"I know--" she said quietly. "How grand those words are you have beenreading!"

"Faith, " Mr. Linden said presently, "have you any special attachment tothis particular little Bible?"

"I have my red notes in it, " she said with a bright smile. 

"I am not quite satisfied with the paper and type, for your eyes--byfirelight and twilight. Shall I break up any train of old associationif I send you another?"

She gave him a look of what Dr. Harrison might have called "compoundinterest"; but assured him at the same time with sedate earnestnessthat the one she had would do very well. 

This was but a day or two before Mr. Linden's leaving Pattaquasset. Hehad paid his many farewell visits before the last week came, and beforethat, too, had given up his weekday scholars, --those last days were allgiven to Faith. Given to her in every possible way--out of doors andwithin; in that fair summer weather the open air was the best of allplaces for talking, and the least liable to intrusion. It was a greatrelief to get away from village sights and sounds to the still woods, or the fresh shore, --it was a great help towards cheerfulness. And thehelp was needed. Wherever Mr. Linden went, among people, he met nothingbut sorrow for his going away, --wherever he went, to house or woods, hecarried the deep-hidden double sorrow in his heart, which no oneguessed of all who so loudly bewailed his departure. Faith herselfperhaps hardly realized what his part of that sorrow was; but he knewhers, and bore it--as one bears the trials of the dearest friend onehas on earth. 

He was to go very early in the morning, but when the late evening talkhad impinged upon the night as much as it could be allowed to do, hegave Faith the unexpected promise of coming down to read with her justas usual next day. 

It was very, very early this time, in the summer twilight dawn, whenthe kildeers were in their full burst of matins, and all the otherbirds coming in one by one. Faith did not say many words, but she wasas quiet as the hour. Then she went to the breakfast-room to arrangeand hasten matters there; and Mr. Linden followed, and stood watchingher--she did not know how, --she only knew how he talked. 

But he took her into the sitting-room the moment breakfast was over andstood by her, giving her the mute caresses he could not put in words. And for words there was little time. The morning light came up and upinto the sky, the candles burned dim, as they stood there; and then hebade her "'be perfect, be of good comfort, '" and so went away. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

When Mr. Linden was out of sight from the porch, Faith went to thedeserted room. 

It was in the latter end of summer. The windows were open, and thesummer wind blowing the muslin curtains flutteringly in. The mapleshaded Faith's old reading window, the leaves not changing yet; onecupboard door a little open, shewed the treasures of books within. Thechintz couch stood empty, so it always stood when Faith saw it, exceptonly in those days of Mr. Linden's confinement with his wound. But nowher mind leaped back to that time; and the couch and the table and thebooks, the very windows and fireplace, looked deserted. The red mapleleaves floating in--the dancing flames in the chimney--her lessons bythe side of that couch--her first exercise, which she had been sent todo at that table;--all that and everything beside seemed to make itspassage through Faith's mind in tumultuous procession. She sat down onthe couch and leaned her head on the back of it; but only a few nervoustears came, and oppressed sobbing breaths took the place of them. For alittle while then Faith fell on her knees, and if she could not speakconnectedly, nor think connectedly, she yet poured out her heart in theonly safe channel; and grew quiet and self-possessed. After an hour sheleft the couch and turned to go down and join her mother. 

Passing the table on her way out, with a glance which had been calledoff by other things as she came in, Faith's eye was caught and stayed. There was no exercise left there for her, but the very gold pen withwhich she had written that first one--and which she had used so manytimes since, lay there; and by the pen a letter. The blood rushed toFaith's heart as if Mr. Linden had come back again, or rather as if hehad not taken quite all of himself away. In a flood of gladness andthankfulness and sorrow, Faith took up the letter and standing there bythe table read it. 

MY OWN LITTLE PRECIOUS MIGNONETTE, I have a love for this sheet of paper, because it will be in your handswhen I cannot touch them nor see them, --how often they have ministeredto me just where I am writing this! just where you will find it. I know_you_ will find it, Faith--I know where you will go as soon as I am outof sight, --but dear child, do not let any sight or association in thisroom make you anything but glad: they are all very dear to me. Thatfirst day when you came in here to see me--and all the days thatfollowed, --and all the sweet knowledge I gained of my littleMignonette, while she was learning other things. Faith, I can evenforgive Dr. Harrison his questions that day, for the delight it was tome to shield you. Dear child, you must let me do that now whenever Ican, --it is one of the griefs of this separation that I cannot do itall the time. 

I must go back to our Bible verses!--Do you remember that first'ladder' we went up together? 'The Lord God is a sun and a shield; theLord will give grace and glory. '--In that sunlight I shall think of youas abiding, --I will remember that you are covered by that shield. Iknow that the Lord will keep all that I have committed to him!

Now darling, if I could leave you 'messages, ' I would; but they mustwait till I come and deliver them myself. Take, in the mean while, allpossible love and trust; and all comfort from the cause of my absence, from our mutual work, from my expected coming home now and then--fromthe diamonds on your finger and what they betoken! The diamonds staywith you, Faith, but their light goes with me. 

My child, I have too much to say to write any longer!--I shall be drawnon too far and too long, --it is not far from daybreak now. Take thebest possible care of your self, and 'be strong and of a good courage, 'and 'the Lord that made heaven and earth, bless thee out of Zion'!

Precious child, you do not know how deeply I am

Always your own--

ENDECOTT. "

The first lines of the letter wrung some tears from Faith's eyes, butafterwards the effect of the whole was to shake her. She sat down onthe couch with the letter fast in her hand, and hid her head; yet noweeping, only convulsive breaths and a straitened breast. Faith waswonderful glad of that letter! but the meeting of two tides is justhard to bear; and it wakened everything as well as gladness. However, in its time, that struggle was over too; and she went down to Mrs. Derrick looking much like her wonted self. 

She went about so, all the day; nervously busy, though never moreorderly about her business. In the kitchen and dairy and storeroom, andwith her mother, Faith seemed as usual, with a very little of gravethoughtfulness or remembrance thrown over her natural pleasantness;only she gave books a wide berth, and took care to see no face thatcame to the house. One would have thought her--perhaps Mrs. Derrickeven did--quietly composed and patiently submitting to trial, as if Mr. Linden had been already weeks away. Perhaps Faith herself thought so. Alittle thing shewed how much this quiet was worth. 

The day had been gone through; the tea was over, as it might, with thetwo alone; and mother and daughter had gone into the other room. Faithlit the lamp, and then began a sentence to her mother about laying theBible in its place for prayer--when she stopped short. For a moment shestood still with the revulsion; then she fell on her knees and hid herface in Mrs. Derrick's lap, and the tears that had kept back so longcame in a stormy flood; clearing the sky which had not been clearbefore. She was quiet really after that; she had no more fear of herbooks; and the first thing Faith did was to take pen and paper and pourout an answer to her morning's letter; an answer in which she gave Mr. Linden the history of her whole day, with very little reservation. 

Her mother watched her, --sat and looked at her as she wrote, with eyesvery glistening and tremulous in their fond admiration. Indeed that hadbeen their character all day, though Mrs. Derrick had followed Faith inher busy work, with no attempt to check her, with no allusion to whatthey both thought of uninterruptedly. Now, however, that Faith's tearshad made their own way, her mother's heart was easier; and she watchedthe pretty writer by the lamp with all sorts of sweet and tenderthoughts. 

A day or two passed, in great quiet and tender ministering to eachother of the mother and daughter. Faith had taken deep hold of herstudies again and every minute of the day was filled up as busily asever. So the sitting-room wore in all things minus one its wontedaspect, when, the third evening, it received Dr. Harrison. 

He came in looking remarkably well, in his light dainty summer dress, and with that gentle carelessness of movement and manner that suitedthe relaxing persuasions of a hot summer day. He came in, too, a littlelike a person who through long absences has forgotten how wonted heused to be in a certain place or how fond he was of what he foundthere. Nothing further from the truth!

He accosted both ladies after his usual gay fashion, and talked for awhile about nothings and as if he cared about nothing. He could makenothing of Faith, except perhaps that she was a trifle shy of him. Thatdid not mean evil necessarily; it was natural enough. He wouldn'tdisturb her shyness!

"I have a sympathetic feeling for you, Mrs. Derrick, " he remarked. "Imiss Mr. Linden so much in Pattaquasset, I can't think how you must doin the house. "

"No, doctor, you can't, " was Mrs. Derrick's quiet rejoinder. 

"How do you?"

"Why I can't tell you, either, " said Mrs. Derrick. 

"Mrs. Derrick, " said the doctor, "I shouldn't like to be a lawyer andhave to examine you as a witness. Unless it wasn't August!"

"Well I suppose we should agree upon that, doctor, " said Mrs. Derrick. "I don't know what August has to do with it. "

"My dear madam, it would be too much trouble!--Apparently it isn'tAugust everywhere!"--A very peremptory rap at the front door came inthe train of footsteps that were loud and brisk as by authority, andthat had quite survived the enervating effects referred to by thedoctor. 

"Miss Faith, " said Cindy appearing at the parlour door, "here's a man'sgot something--and he won't give it to me without I'll take oath I'myou--which of course I dursn't. I'm free to confess, I can't even getsight of it. Shall I fetch him in--thing and all?"

Faith went to the door. It was nobody more terrific than anexpress-man, who seemed to recognize "Miss Faith Derrick" by instinct, for he asked no questions--only put a package into her hands, and thengave her his book to sign. Faith signed her name, eagerly, and then ranup stairs with her treasure and a beating heart, and struck a light. 

There was no need to ask where it came from--the address was plainenough; nor much need to ask what it was--she knew that it must be herBible. Yet that only heightened the pleasure and interest, as she tookoff one wrapping paper after another, till its own beautiful moroccocovers appeared. Within was the perfection of type and paper, with hereand there a fine coloured map; in size and shape just that medium whichseems to combine the excellencies of all the rest. There was no letterin the package, but a slip of paper with a new "ladder of verses"marked the place where they began; and on the fly leaf, below theinscription, was written the first verse of the ninety-first psalm. This was the leading reference on the slip of paper. 

Has any one--with any heart--ever received such a package? To such aone there is no need to tell the glow of pleasure, the rush ofaffection and joy, which filled Faith's heart and her face; to anybodyelse it's no use. She had to exercise some care to prevent certainwitnesses of the eyes from staining the morocco or spotting the leaves. The paper of references she left, to be enjoyed more leisurely anothertime; and went on turning over the pages, catching glimpses of theloved words that she had never seen so fairly presented to the eyebefore; when after a good deal of this sort of delectation, throughhalf of which she was writing a letter to Mr. Linden, Faith suddenlyrecollected Dr. Harrison! Softly the paper wrappers enfolded hertreasure, and then Faith went down stairs with the high colour ofpleasure in her cheeks. The doctor took several observations. 

He had not been profiting by any opportunity to "examine" Mrs. Derrick. On the contrary, he had talked about everything else, somewhat Augustfashion, in manner, but yet so cleverly that even Mrs. Derrickconfessed afterwards she had been entertained. Now, on Faith'sreappearance, he went on with his subject until he came to a naturalpause in the conversation; which he changed by remarking, in a simpletone of interest, "I haven't learned yet satisfactorily what took Mr. Linden away?"

"His own business, " said Mrs. Derrick. "You must have heard what he isabout now, doctor?"

"I have heard--but one hears everything. It is true then?"

"O yes, it's true, " said Mrs. Derrick with an even play of herknitting-needles. 

"But then follows another very natural question, " said thedoctor. --"Why did he come here at all?"

"I dare say he'd tell you if he was here--as I wish he was, " said Mrs. Derrick, --"Mr. Linden always seemed to have good reasons for what hedid. "

"I think that too, " said the doctor. "I am not quite so sure of histelling them to me. But Pattaquasset has reason to be very sorry he isgone away! What sort of a preacher will he make, Mrs. Derrick?"

"He's a good one now--" said Mrs. Derrick with a smile that was even alittle moved. "Don't you think so, doctor?"

"How dare you ask me that, Mrs. Derrick?" said the doctor with slowfunny utterance. "But I will confess this, --I would rather have _him_preach to me than you. "

"What sort of a bad reason have you got for that?" she said, looking athim. 

"Miss Faith, " said the doctor with the mock air of being in adilemma, --"you are good at definitions, if I remember--what is theproper character of a _bad reason!_"

Faith looked up--he had never seen her look prettier, with a littlehidden laughter both on and under her face and that colour she hadbrought down stairs with her. But her answer was demure enough. 

"I suppose, sir, one that ought not to be a reason at all, --or one thatis not reason enough. "

"Do you consider it a bad reason for my not liking Mrs. Derrick'spreaching, that I am afraid of her?"

"I shouldn't think it was reason enough, " said Faith. 

"Do you like preaching from people that you are afraid of?"

"Yes. At least I think I should. I don't know that I ever really wasafraid of anybody. "

These words, or the manner which went with them, quite obliterated theidea of Mrs. Derrick from the doctor's head. But his manner did notchange. He only addressed his talk to Faith and altered the characterof it. Nothing could be more cool and disembarrassed. He had chosen histactics. 

They were made to regulate likewise the length of his visit, though theshort summer evening had near run its course before he (inparliamentary phrase) "was on his legs" not to speak but to go. Thenstrolling on to the front door, he there met Reuben Taylor; flush inthe doorway. The boy stept back into the hall to let him cone out;whence, as the doctor saw through the open window, --he went at once toFaith's side. But either accidentally or of design, Reuben stood sodirectly before her, that Dr. Harrison could see neither face--indeedcould scarce see her at all. The little business transaction that wenton then--the letter which Reuben took from his pocket and then againfrom its outer enveloppe, --the simple respect and pleasure with whichhe gave it to Faith--though colouring a little too, --all this wasinvisible, except to Mrs. Derrick. Faith's face would have told thedoctor the whole. The pretty colour--the dropped eyes--and theundertone of her grateful, "I am very much obliged to you, Reuben!"

Reuben made no verbal answer, and staid not a minute longer, but thepleasure of his new trust was wonderful!

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Faith did not have as uninterrupted a time for studies as she hadcounted upon for the next few months. In the first place, letters tooka great many hours. In the second place, her studies were prettyfrequently broken up of an evening by Dr. Harrison. 

He certainly came often; whether it was because of the strength ofattraction in that particular house, or the failure of any attractionbeside in all the coasts of Pattaquasset, was a problem which remainedunsolved by anything in the doctor's manner. His manner was like whatit had been the evening just recounted. He amused himself, after hisnonchalant fashion, and amused his hearers; he did not in the mean timecall upon them for any help at all. He discerned easily that Faith hada little shyness about her; that might mean one thing or it might meananother; and Dr. Harrison was far too wise to risk the one thing byendeavouring to find out whether it was the other. The doctor was nofisher had no favour for the sport; but if he had been, he might havethought that now he was going to give his fish a very long line indeed, and let it play to any extent of shyness or wilfulness; his hand on thereel all the time. 

The talk that would do for Miss Essie would not please Faith. Thedoctor knew that long ago. He drew upon his better stores. Hisknowledge of the earth we live on; his familiarity with nature's andart's wonders; history and philosophy; literature and science; and aknowledge of the world which he used as a little piquant spice toflavour all the rest of his knowledge. Thrown in justly, with a nicehand, so as not to offend, it did rather serve to provoke a delicatepalate; while it unmistakably gratified his own. It was the salt to thedoctor's dish. 

But everything wants breaking up with variety, and variety itself maycome to be monotonous. He asked Faith one evening if she knew anythingof chymistry; and proceeded upon her reply to give her sundry bits ofdetail and some further insight into the meaning and bearing of thescience. It was not August then, but it might have been, for theleisurely manner in which the doctor "unwound his skein" of talk, as ifhe were talking to himself or _for_ himself; and yet he was, and heknew it, filling Faith's ears with delight. He took up the same subjectafterwards from time to time; beginning from any trifle of suggestion, he would go off into an exquisite chymical discussion, illustrated andpointed and ornamented, as no lecturer but one loving both his subjectand his _object_ could ever make it. After a while the doctor began tocome with bits of metal and phials of acids, and delight Faith andastonish Mrs. Derrick by turning her sitting-room into an impromptulaboratory. Such fumes! such gaseous odours! such ominous "reports", were never known in and about Mrs. Derrick's quiet household; nor wereher basins and tumblers ever put to such strange, and in her viewhideous, uses. But Dr. Harrison rather seemed to enjoy what appeared atfirst sight inconveniences; triumphed over the imperfections of toolsand instruments, and wrought wonders over which Faith bent with greaterraptures than if the marvels of Aladdin's lamp had been shewn beforeher. The doctor began by slow degrees; he let all this grow up ofitself; he asked only for a tumbler the first time. And insensibly theywent on, from one thing to another; till instead of a tumbler, thedoctor would sometimes be surrounded with a most extraordinary retinueand train of diversified crockery and china. An empty butter-tub cameto do duty for a water-bath; bottles and jars and cups and glasses, ofvarious shapes and dimensions, attended or waited upon the doctor'soperations; and with a slight apology and assurance to Mrs. Derrick heon more than one or two occasions appropriated the clock-shade for hisuse and behoof as a receiver. Then siphons began to come in thedoctor's pocket; and glass tubes, bent and straight, open and sealed, in the doctor's hand; and one of his evenings came to be "better than aplay. " A most beautiful and exquisite play to Faith. Yet Dr. Harrisonnever forgot his tactics; never let his fish feel the line; and toFaith's joyous "How shall I ever thank you, Dr. Harrison!"--would replyby a dry request that she would induce Mrs. Derrick to have muffins fortea some evening and let him come. 

And what did Dr. Harrison gain by all this? He did gain some hours ofpleasure--that would have been very exquisite pleasure, but for thedoubt that haunted him, and respecting which he could get no data ofdecision. The shyness and reserve did pass away from Faith; she met himand talked with him as a pleasant intimate friend whose company sheenjoyed and who had a sort of right to hers; the right of friendshipand kindliness. But then he never did anything to try her shyness or tocall up her reserve. He never asked anything of her that she _could_refuse. He never advanced a step where it could with decency berepressed. He knew it. But he bided his time. He did not know whatthorough and full accounts of all his evenings went--through thepost-office. 

He knew, and it rather annoyed him, that Reuben Taylor was very freelyadmitted and very intimately regarded in the house. There was perhapsno very good reason why this should have annoyed the doctor. Yetsomehow he always rather identified Reuben Taylor with another of hisfriends. He found out, too, that Reuben much preferred the times whenhe, the doctor, was not there; for after once or twice coming in uponsulphuric acid and clock shades (from which he retreated faster than ifit had all been gun-powder) Reuben changed his hour; and the doctor hadthe satisfaction of wishing him good evening in the porch--or ofpassing him on the sidewalk--or of hearing the swing of the little gateand Reuben's quick bound up the steps when his own feet were well outin the common ground of the road. 

Mrs. Derrick expressed unequivocally (to Faith, not the doctor) herdislike of all chymical "smells" whatever, and her abhorrence of all"reports" but those which went off after the doctor's departure; thepreparation of which Mrs. Derrick beheld with a sort of vindictivesatisfaction. Mr. Linden enjoyed his letters unqualifiedly, sometimeswrote chymical answers--now and then forestalling the doctor, butrarely saying much about him. Faith was in little danger of annoyancefrom anything with her mother sitting by, and for the rest Dr. Harrisonwas at his own risk. Letters were too precious--every inch of them--tobe much taken up with discussing _him_. Other things were of moreinterest, --sometimes discussion, sometimes information, oftenest ofall, talk; and now and then came with the letter some book to giveFaith a new bit of reading. Above all, the letters told her--in a sortof indefinable, unconscious way, how much, how much her presence wasmissed and longed for; it seemed to her as if where one letter laid itdown the next took it up--not in word but in atmosphere, and carried itfurther. In that one respect (though Faith never found it out) thechymical accounts gave pain. 

Faith in her letters never spoke directly of this element of his; butshe made many a gentle effort to meet it and soothe what could besoothed. To this end partly were her very full accounts of all thecourse of her quiet life. As fearlessly and simply as possible Faithtalked, to him; quite willing to be found wrong and to be told so, wherever wrong was. It was rather by the fulness of what she gave him, than by any declaration of want on her own part, that Mr. Linden couldtell from her letters how much she felt or missed in his absence. Sherarely put any of that into words, and if it got in atmospherically itwas by the subtlest of entrances. When she spoke it at all, it wasgenerally a very frank and simple expression of strong truth. 

Of out-door work, during all this time, she had a variety. For sometime after Mr. Linden's going away, neither Mrs. Stoutenburgh nor theSquire had been near the house; but then they began to amuse themselveswith taking her to drive, and whenever Faith could and would go she wassure of a pleasant hour or two out in the brisk autumn air, and with nodanger of even hearing Mr. Linden's name mentioned. The silence indeedproved rather too much, but it was better than speech. Then she andReuben had many excursions, short and long. Sometimes the flowers oreggs or tracts were sent by him alone, but often Faith chose to go too;and he was her ever ready, respectful, and efficient escort, --respectit was truly, of the deepest and most affectionate kind. And thus--onfoot or with Jerry--the two went their rounds; but at such houses Faithmust both hear and speak of Mr. Linden--there was always some questionto answer, some story to hear. 

It happened, among Dr. Harrison's other pleasures, that he severaltimes met them on these expeditions; generally when he was driving, sometimes when they were too; but one late November afternoon--not latein the month but late in the day, fortune favoured him. Strolling alongfor an unwonted walk, the doctor beheld from a little hill Faith andReuben in the valley below, --saw them go up to the door of a cottage, saw Faith go in, and Reuben sit down in the porch and take out hisbook. It was a fair picture, --the brown woodland, the soft sunlight, the little dark cottage, the pretty youthful figures with their quicksteps and natural gestures, and the evening hue and tone of everything. But the doctor did not admire it--and went down the hill without eventaking off his hat to the chickadees that bobbed their black caps athim from both sides of the road. By the porch the doctor suddenlyslackened his pace, looked within, nodded to Reuben, and came to a halt. 

"Have I accidentally found out where you live, Reuben?"

"I live down by the shore, sir, " said Reuben standing up. 

"I thought--" said the doctor, "I had got an impression that you werenot a thorough-going Pattaquasseter--but you looked so much at homethere. --Where _do_ you live? whereabouts, I mean; for the shorestretches a long way. "

Reuben gave the vernacular name of the little rocky coast point whichwas his home, but the point itself was too much out of the doctor's'beat' to have the name familiar. 

"How far off is that?"

"About four miles from here, sir. "

"May I ask what you are studying so diligently four miles from home atthis hour?"

Reuben coloured a good deal, but with not more than a moment'sreluctance held out his book for the doctor's inspection. It was aBible. The doctor's face changed, ever so little; but with whatfeeling, or combination of feelings, it would have taken a much wiserreader of men and faces than Reuben to tell. It was only a moment, andthen he stood with the book in his hand gravely turning it over, butwith his usual face. 

"I once had the pleasure of asking you questions on some othermatters, " he remarked, --"and I remember you answered well. Can you passas good an examination in this?"

"As to the words, sir? or the thoughts?--I don't quite know, " saidReuben modestly. 

"Words are the signs of thoughts, you know. "

"Yes, sir--but nobody can know all the Bible thoughts--though somepeople have learned all the Bible words. "

The doctor gave a little sort of commenting nod, rather approving thanotherwise. "You are safe here, " he paid as he handed the book back toReuben; "for in this study I couldn't examine you. What are youpursuing the study for?--may I ask?"

"If you don't know!" was in the boy's full gaze for a moment. But helooked down again, answering steadily--"'Thy word have I hid in myheart, that I might not sin against thee!'--I love it, Dr. Harrison--and it shews me the way to serve God. "

"Well, " said the doctor rather kindly--"if I hadn't interrupted you, how much more study would you have accomplished before you thought ittime to set oft for that four miles' walk home--to that unpronounceableplace?"

"I don't know, sir--I am not obliged to be there by any particular timeof night. "

"No, I know you are not. But--excuse my curiosity!--are you so fond ofthe Bible that you stop on the way home to read it as you go along? orare you waiting for somebody?"

The words brought the colour back with a different tinge, but Reubensimply answered, "No, sir--I did not stop here to read. I am waiting. "

"For Miss Derrick, are you not?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Then I dare say Miss Derrick will release you for this time, and allowme to attend her home, whither I am going myself. "

"I must wait till she comes out, sir, " Reuben said, with the respectfulintractability which the doctor remembered. 

"Of course!" he said. "Did you ever take lessons of anybody but Mr. Linden?--" But at this point the house door opened and Faith came out. 

"Miss Faith, " said the doctor, after his greeting which was thoroughlyin character, "if you will tell your escort here--who I am sure is astaunch one--that you need him no longer, he will feel free to beginhis long walk to the shore, --and I shall have the rare pleasure andhonour of going home with you. "

Faith turned frankly. "Do you want to go home, Reuben?"

"No, Miss Faith"--was the equally frank, low-spoken answer, --"notunless you want me to go. " Reuben could but speak the truth--and he didtry to speak it with as little offence as possible; though with aninstinctive feeling that the time "when truth will be truth and nottreason, " had not yet arrived. "I mean, that I want to do just what youwish, " he added looking up at her. 

"I don't want you to go, then, " said Faith laughing, "for I mean thatyou shall come home to tea with me. Dr. Harrison, I will invite youtoo, " she said turning her bright face towards him. "I _believe_--thereare muffins to-night. "

"Miss Faith, "--said the doctor, --"you are an angel!"

"What is the connexion between that and muffins?" said Faith merrily, for Reuben was at her side and she felt free. 

"You mistake the connexion, " said the doctor gravely. "Angels aresupposed to be impartial in their attentions to the human race, and notswayed by such curious--and of course arrogant--considerations as movethe lower herd of mortals. To an immaterial creature, how can theheight of a door be material!"

"But I think you are mistaken, " said Faith gently. "I don't believe anycreatures mind more what they find inside the door. "

"What did you find inside that door?" said the doctor. 

Faith hesitated. "Do you know to-morrow is Thanksgiving day, Dr. Harrison?"

"I am not quite sure that I ought to say I know it--though my fatherdid read the proclamation. I suppose I know it now. "

"I found inside of that door some people who could not make pumpkinpies--and Reuben and I have been carrying them one of mother's. "

"What a day they will have of it!" said the doctor, --"if Mrs. Derrick'spies are made in the same place as her muffins. But can _you_ findnothing better to do than running round the country to supply thepeople that haven't pies?"

"Not many things pleasanter, "--said Faith looking at him. 

"I see I was right, " said he smiling. "I have no doubt angels do thatsort of thing. But it is a sort of pleasure of which I have noknowledge. All my life I have pleased only myself. Yet one would wishto have some share in it, too. I can't make pies! And if I could, Ishouldn't know in the least where to bestow them. Do you think youcould take this now, " said he producing a gold eagle, "and turn it intopumpkins or anything else that you think will make people happy--andsee that they get to the right places?--for me?"

"Do you mean it seriously, Dr. Harrison?"

"If you will have the condescension!"

"Oh thank you!" said Faith flushing with joy, --"oh thank you! I am veryglad of this, and so will many others be. Dr. Harrison, I wish youcould know the pleasure this will give!--the good it will do. "

"I don't think a ten-dollar piece ever gave _me_ so much pleasure, "said he looking a little moved. "About the good I don't know; that'snot so easy. "

Faith left that point for him to consider, though with many a wish inher own heart. But the walk home brightened into a very pleasant oneafter that. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

The soft grey clouds which had hung about the setting sun only waitedhis departure to double their folds and spread them all over the sky. Then the wind rose, sweeping gustily through the bare branches, andheavy drops of rain fell scatteringly on the dead leaves. But when windand rain had taken a little more counsel together, they joined forcesin a wild stormy concert which swept on with increasing tumult. It didnot disturb Faith and her mother, at their quiet work and reading, --itdid not deter Cindy from going over night to spend Thanksgiving daywith her friends, --but it was a wild storm nevertheless; and while thehours of the night rolled on over the sleepers in Mrs. Derrick's house, still wind and rain kept up their carousal, nor thought of being quieteven when the morning broke. 

"But rather, giving of thanks. "--That was the motto of the day--the oneanswer to the many vexed questions of life and care. Care was pressing, and life distracting, and everywhere was something that seemed to callfor tears or complaints. To all of these the day answered--"But rather, giving of thanks. "

It was dark enough when Faith awoke; and she sat up in bed a minute ortwo, listening to the wild blasts of wind and the heavy pattering ofthe rain, --hearing the screech of the locomotive as the train swept byin the distance, with a pang at the thought of its freight ofhomeward-bound and expected dear ones, --then taking the day's motto, and gently and quietly going about the day's work. But the first of itswork for her, was to cancel the bit of work it had already done byitself; and for that Faith went to her Bible, --went first to the listof texts that had come with it; endeavouring to realize and make sureher ground on that verse of the 91st Psalm--then on from that to itsfollowing--

 "For in the time of trouble he shall hide me in his pavilion. "

It was not a "time of trouble. " Faith would not call it so. Never sobright a Thanksgiving day had risen upon her, spite of its clouds. Buttrouble might come; in the course of life-experience she knew it waspretty sure to come; and she sought to refuge herself beforehand in thepromise of that pavilion of hiding. The driving wind and storm thatemblematized another kind, gave emphasis also to the emblem of shelter. How Faith blessed her Bible!

The next verse enlarged a little. --

"Thou shalt hide them in the secret of thy presence from the pride of man:thou shalt keep them secretly in a pavilion from the strife of tongues. "

Then followed the joyful acceptance of that promise--

"Thou art my hiding place; thou shalt preserve me from trouble; thoushalt compass me about with songs of deliverance. "

Then its result--

"I am like a green olive tree in the house of God: I trust in themercy of God for ever and ever. "

"From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my heart isoverwhelmed: lead me to the rock that is higher than I. For thou hastbeen a shelter for me, and a strong tower from the enemy. I will abidein thy tabernacle for ever; I will trust in the covert of thy wings. "

What strong refuge! what riches of trust!--How very bright Faith'sfire-lit room looked, with the wind whistling all about, and the redlight on her open Bible. She turned on. And like the full burst of achorus after that solo, she seemed to hear the whole Church Militantsay, --

 "Lord, thou hast been our dwelling-place in all generations. "

Her mind swept back to the martyr ages, --to times when the church'sroad has been in darkness and in light, and the long train of pilgrimshave gone over it in light and in darkness, each with that staff in hishand. Faith looked long at those words, seeming to see the great "cloudof witnesses" pass in procession before her. How true the words were toAbraham, when he left his home. How true to Daniel when he was thrownto the lions. How true they were to Stephen when he uttered his dyingcry!--how true to the little child whom she had seen go to be withChrist for ever!--"In all generations. "

The prophets, true to their office, threw the light for ward. --

 "He shall be for a sanctuary. "

"Although I have cast them far off among the heathen, and althoughI have scattered them among the countries, yet will I be to them as alittle sanctuary in the countries where they shall come. "

"I will be as the dew unto Israel: he shall grow as the lily, and castforth his roots as Lebanon. His branches shall spread, and his beautyshall be as the olive tree, and his smell as Lebanon. "

The next words gave the whole description, the whole key of entrance. 

"Whosoever shall confess that Jesus is the Son of God, God dwelleth inhim and he in God. And we have known and believed the love that Godhath to us. God is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him. "

Here was the "Sanctuary" on earth, --the foreshewing image of the one onhigh. 

"I saw no temple therein: for the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb arethe temple of it. "

How far Faith had got from the earthly Thanksgiving day--even to thatfinished and everlasting one on high! She had of course read andstudied these passages all before--once; and then she had shut them upas a particular casket of treasures that she would not grow toofamiliar with suddenly, but would keep to enjoy their brightnessanother time. Something this Thanksgiving morning had made Faith wantthem. She now sat looking at the last words, feeling as if she wantednothing. 

The wind and the rain still raged without, drowning and merging anysounds there might be in the road, though truly few animate things wereabroad at that hour in that weather. Mr. Skip had roused himself, indeed, for his day's pleasure, and after lighting the kitchen fire hadgone forth--leaving it to take care of itself; but when the door closedafter him, Faith and her fire looked at each other in the samestillness as before. Until she heard the front door open andshut, --that was the first sound, and the last, --no unwonted one, either; that door opened and shut twenty times a day. What intangible, well-recognized modification in its motions now, made Faith's heartbound and sink with sudden belief--with swift denial? Who was it? atthat hour! Faith sprang to the parlour door, she did not know how, andwas in the dark hall. A little gleam of firelight followed her--alittle faint dawn came through the fanlight of the door: just enough toreveal to Faith those very outlines which at first sight she hadpronounced "pleasant. " One more spring Faith made; with no scream ofdelight, but with a low exclamation, very low, that for its many-foldedsweetness was like the involutions of a rosebud. 

"Faith!" he exclaimed. "Don't touch me till I get out of therain!"--which prohibition Faith might consider useless, or might thinkthat--shuttlecock fashion--it had got turned round in the air. 

"The best place to get out of the rain is in here, " she said trying todraw him along with her. "Oh Endy! how came you in it?"

"If you say three words to me, I shall give you the benefit of all theremaining raindrops, " said Mr. Linden, disengaging himself to throw offhis overcoat, --"how can one do anything, with you standing there? Howcame I in it?--I came in it! Precious child! how do you do?" And shewas taken possession of, and carried off into the next room, like arosebud as she was, to have the same question put a great many times ina different way. More words for her, just then, Mr. Linden did not seemto have. Nor Faith for him. She stood very still, her face in a glow ofshy joy, but her eyes and even her lips grave and quiet; except whensometimes a very tiny indicatory smile broke half way upon them. 

"When did you come?"

"I came in the night train. Mignonette--are you glad to see me?"

The smile shewed her teeth a little. They would bear shewing, but thiswas only a glimmer of the white enamel. 

"Then you have been travelling all night?"

"Yes. How are you going to prove your position?"

"What position, Endy?"

"That you are glad to see me. "

"I don't know, "--she said looking up at him. 

"You cannot think of any proof to give me?"

"I can think of a great many. "

"I am ready to take them!" said Mr. Linden demurely. 

"Then if you will sit down and let me leave you for a few minutes, Iwill see what I can do. "

"Thank you--the proofs that I mean would by no means take you furtheroff. Suppose you see what you can do without going away. "

She laid her head down for a minute, colouring too, even the cheek thatwas high-coloured before; but she looked up again. 

"Stoop your high head, then, Endy!"--she said;--and she gave him twokisses, as full and earnest as they were soft. There was no doubt Faithhad proved her position!

"Faith, darling, " he said, "have you been growing thin?--or is it onlythat I have had to do with such substantial humanity of late. Look uphere and let me see--are you anything but the essence of Mignonette?"

The face she shewed was aptly named; about as pure as that. With grave, loving intentness--not the less grave for its little companionsmile--Mr. Linden studied her face for a minute, --pushing back her hair. 

"Do you think, "--she said then in a light soft tone--a departure fromthe last words, --"do you think you won't want the essence of somethingelse by and by, Endecott?"

"No, "--decidedly, --"I want nothing but you--so you may as well make upyour mind to want nothing but me. "

"Do you know what that would end in?"

"Not necessarily in such a simple duet, " said Mr. Lindensmiling, --"people do not always realize their ideal. Mignonette, youare just as lovely as you can be!--and you need not bring Miss Reasonto keep me in order. I suppose if _she_ were in the house it would endin her wanting her breakfast. "

"I don't like Miss Keason, " said Faith, "and the only thing I amthinking of putting in order is the kitchen fire. Would you like to gothere with me? Nobody's in the house--Cindy went yesterday to awedding, and Mr. Skip is gone home to keep Thanksgiving. "

"That is the best thing I ever heard of Cindy, " said Mr. Linden. "Ofcourse I will go!--and play Ferdinand again Faith, would the doctorcall me an 'acid'--come to dissolve all his crystals?"

"Dr. Harrison gave me ten dollars yesterday for the poor people, " saidFaith as she led the way to the kitchen. Arrived there, she placed achair for Mr. Linden and requested him to be seated; while she examinedinto the state of the fire. The chair was disregarded--the firereceived double attention. 

"Faith, " he said laughingly, "I bear the curb about as well asStranger. I have a great mind to tell you how that eagle stands in thedoctor's memorandum book!"

Faith dropped her hands for the moment and looked at him, with graveeyes of wide-open attention. The look changed Mr. Linden's purpose, --hecould not bear to take away all the pleasure the eagle had brought onhis gold wings. 

"I don't believe there is such a book in existence, " he said lightly. "Miranda, what would you like to have me do for you now?--the fire isready for anything. "

"I haven't anything ready for it yet, " said Faith, "but I will have--ifyou'll wait a bit. "--She left him there, and ran off--coming back in alittle while. And then Mr. Linden was initiated, if he never wasbefore, in kitchen mysteries. Faith covered herself with a great apron, rolled up her sleeves above the elbows, and with funny little glancesat him between whiles, went round the room about various pieces ofwork. Almost noiselessly, with the utmost nicety of quick and cleanwork, she was busy in one thing after another and in two or three atthe same time; while Mr. Linden stood or sat by the fire looking on. Two things he comprehended; the potatoes which were put over the fireto boil and the white shortcakes which finally stood cut out on theboard ready for baking. The preliminary flour and cream and mixing inthe bowl had been (culinary) Sanscrit to him. He had watched hersomewhat silently of late, but none the less intently: indeed in allhis watching there had been a silent thread woven in with its laughingand busy talk, --his eyes had followed her as one follows a veritablesunbeam, noting the bright gleams of colour here, and the soft lightthere, and thinking of the time when it must quit the room. 

"Faith, " he said as she cut out her cakes, "are these what you made forme the first night I came here?"

"I believe so!"

"What do you suppose you look like--going about the kitchen in thisstyle?--you make me think irresistibly of something. "

"I should like to know, " said Faith with an amused laugh. 

"I shall make you blush, if I tell you, " said Mr. Linden. 

That was enough to do it! Faith gave him one look, and went on with hershortcakes. 

"You don't care about knowing, after all?" said Mr. Linden. "Well, --Faith, do you expect ever to make such things in myhouse?--because if you do, I think it will ensure my coming down stairsbefore breakfast. "

How she flushed--over cheek and brow, --then remarked gravely that, "shewas glad he liked it. "

"Yes, and you have no idea what effects my liking will produce!" saidMr. Linden. "You see, Faith, it may happen to us now and then to beleft without other hands than our own in the house (there is noreliance whatever to be placed upon cottages!) and then you will comedown, as now, and I shall come too--taking the precaution to bring abook, that nobody may suspect what I come for. Then enter one of myparishioners--Faith, are you attending?"

Faith had stopped, and poising her rolling pin the reverse way on theboard--that is, on end, --had leaned her arms upon it, --giving upshortcakes entirely for the time being. 

"You will not be in that position, " said Mr. Linden, "but going onproperly with your cakes--as you should be now. Then enter one of myparishioners who lives six miles off, to ask me to come over to hishouse and instruct him in the best way of hanging his gate, --which I ofcourse promise to do, notwithstanding your protestations that I knownothing of that--nor of anything else. Parishioner goes away andreports. One part of the people say how economical we are!--to make onefire do our cooking and studying. Another part have their suspicionsthat you keep me at hand to lift off the teakettle (much strengthenedby report of your protest. ) And the charitable part at once propose toraise my salary--so that we may have as many fires as we like. Faith--what should we do in the circumstances?"

Faith was biting her lips and rolling out cakes with the swiftestactivity, not allowing Mr. Linden a sight of her face. 

"If you hung the gate, I should think you would take the money"--sheanswered demurely. 

"I said you would say I could not do it!" said Mr. Linden. "Which beingduly reported and considered by certain other people, will cause themto shake their heads, and wish in half audible (but most telegraphic!)whispers, 'that Mr. Linden were half as smart as his wife'!"

Faith stopped again. "Oh Endy!"--she exclaimed between laughing andpleading. 

"Que voulez-vous, Mademoiselle?"

But Faith went at her cakes and finished the few that were left. 

"I think you must be very much in want of your breakfast, " she saidcoming to the fire. "You have played Prince Ferdinand--do you think youwould mind acting the part of King Alfred, for once?"

"My dear, I will play any part for you whatever!--in our duet. Shall Ipractise taking off the kettle to begin with?"

"I don't think you had better, "--Faith said with a kept downlaugh, --"for it doesn't boil. "

"Shall I take you off then? What are you going to do while I playAlfred?--I will not answer for my solo performances. "

"I shall not be gone but a few minutes. Do you think you could takethis little skillet from the fire if it _did_--boil?"

Mr. Linden might have got into a reverie after she ran away;--butcertain it is that the skillet was in imminent danger of "boiling over"when Faith appeared at his side and with a laughing look at him gentlylifted it off. 

"You are an excellent Alfred!"

"What version of Alfred have you learned?" he said laughing, andcatching it from her hand before it reached the hearth. "I thought hotwater was his reward--not his work. "

"I thought, Endy, you would like to go up to your room beforebreakfast. Mother will be down presently. "

"And am I to find the perfection of a fire, as usual?" said Mr. Linden, taking both her hands in his and looking at her. "Little Sunbeam!--youshould not have done that! Do you know what you deserve?"

She stood before him rather soberly, glancing up and down; but helittle guessed what her quietness covered. Though the lines of her lipdid give tiny indication that quietness was stirred somewhere. He drewher to him for a moment, with one or two unconnected words of deepaffection, then turned and went away. Faith listened to hear the wellknown run up the stairs--the familiar closing of that door, --howstrange it sounded! how gladsome, how sorrowful. She stood still justwhere Mr. Linden had left her, as if sorrow and joy both held her withdetaining hands. 

"Why child? Faith!"--said Mrs. Derrick coming into the kitchen, "what_are_ you about? What made you get up so early, Faith? What's thematter?--breakfast ready at this time of day! Couldn't you sleep, pretty child?" she added tenderly. 

"I didn't get up very much earlier than usual, mother. Don't you wantbreakfast?"

"Whenever you like, child, " said her mother, taking hold in herturn, --"but what's made you in such a hurry? And what makes you lookso, Faith?--You're not pale, neither, --how _do_ you look?"

Faith came so close that her mother could not see, and kissed her. "Mother, Mr. Linden is here. "

"Here!" said Mrs. Derrick with a little sympathetic start--it was notall surprise, nor all joy. --"Pretty child! how glad I am! But whydidn't you call me, Faith?--and why don't you go and sit down and bequiet--now you've just been tiring yourself, and I could have done thewhole! And of all things, how could he get here in such weather? Nowonder you're in a hurry, child!"--and Mrs. Derrick began to work inearnest. 

Faith gave her the word or two more that she could give, and went tothe dairy. It was Faith's domain; she was alone, and her industry fellfrom her hands. Breakfast and all might wait. Faith set down her bowland spoon, sat down herself on the low dairy shelf before the window, cold and November though it was, and let the tears come, of which shehad a whole heartful in store; and for a little while they fell fasterthan the raindrops which beat and rattled against the panes. But thiswas a gentler shower, and cleared the sky. Faith rose up from the shelfentirely herself again. 

So busy, skimming off the smooth cream, she felt the light touch ofhands on her shoulders--felt more than that on her cheek. Had the tearsleft any trace there?--that Mr. Linden brought her face round intoview. He asked no such question, however, unless with his eyes. 

"Mignonette, what are you about?"

"King Alfred's breakfast. I forgot you knew the way to the dairy!"

"Or could find it if I did not. What shape does my breakfast take inthese regions?"

"It takes the shape--Let us go back to the kitchen and we will see. "

It was spry work in the kitchen now! How Faith's fingers went about. But Mr. Linden could make nothing of the form his breakfast wastaking--nothing of Faith's mysterious bowl, in which the cream he hadseen her skim went into compound with the potatoes he had seen boilingand with also certain butter and eggs. The mixture went into the oven, and then Faith went off to set the table in the parlour. As they werealone to-day the fire in the dining-room was not to be kindled. 

The storm beat so differently upon the windows now!--now, when it wasonly a barrier against people who were not wanted to come in. Mr. Linden followed Faith in her motions, sometimes with eye and voice, sometimes with his own steps; confusing both her and her arrangements, making her laugh, and himself the cause of various irregularities inthe table-setting, which he was very quick to point out. 

"Mignonette, " he said, "I think it is a perfect day! Do you hear how itstorms?"

"And aren't you glad Cindy went to a wedding? And oh, Endy!--how manypeople will be coming after you to-day?" Faith stopped, knife in hand. 

"Did you suppose that I would come here to see you, and then be obligedto see half Pattaquasset instead? I stopped at Patchaug station, --thereReuben met me, and we had as pleasant a four mile drive in the rain asI ever remember. As to the wedding--I think there can never be morethan one other so felicitous. "

Faith ran off. 

And presently the breakfast came in, variously, in her hands and inMrs. Derrick's. It was broad light now, and the curtains drawn back, but the red firelight still gave the hue of the room; and thebreakfast-table and the three people round it wanted for no element ormeans of comfort. There were the shortcakes, which Mr. Linden mightmore readily recognize now in their light brown flakiness--his coffeewas poured upon the richest of cream; the potatoes came out of the ovenin the shape of a great puff-ball, of most tender consistency; and theremains of a cold chicken had been mystified into such a dish ofdelicacy as no hands but a Frenchwoman's--or Faith's--could concoct. It's a pleasant thing to be catered for by hands that love you. Mr. Linden had found that pleasure this morning before. But both Faith andhe were undoubtedly ready for their breakfast!

After breakfast came the consideration of a basketful of things Mr. Linden had brought her. Very simple things they were, and unromanticenough to be useful; yet with sentiment enough about them, --if thatname might be given to the tokens of a care that busied itself aboutall the ins and outs of her daily life, and sought out and rememberedthe various little things that she wanted and could not get; for thevarious papers of sugarplums in which the whole were packed, Mr. Lindendeclared them to be nothing but epithets and adjectives. 

The weather held on its way into the afternoon; but what was mostunexpected, the afternoon brought a visiter. Mr. Linden and Faith, deepin talk, heard the sound of a foot on the scraper and then of a knockat the door, which made them both start up. Faith went to the door. Butbefore she could open it, Mrs. Derrick came up behind her with swiftsteps and remanded Faith to the parlour. 

"I'll open it, child, " she said, --"it's no use for you to run the riskof seeing anybody you don't want to. " So Faith returned to Mr. Linden. But the first word set all fears at rest--it was only Reuben Taylor. Hepresented himself with many apologies, and would fain have told hiserrand to Mrs. Derrick, but as it was for Faith, the good lady openedthe parlour door and bade Reuben go in, --which, as he could not helpit, Reuben did. But the colour of his face as he came in!--Mr. Lindentook the effect of it--Faith was partly occupied with her own; andReuben, thinking the sooner the quicker--walked straight up to her. 

"Miss Faith, " he said, trying to speak as usual, "I beg yourpardon--but I was sent here with this, "--and Reuben presented amoderately large round basket, without a handle. 

"Reuben, come up to the fire, " said Mr. Linden; while Faith took thebasket and exclaimed, "This! Who in the world sent you, Reuben?--Yes, come to the fire. "

"I am not cold, sir, " Reuben said with a look towards where Mr. Lindenstood by the mantelpiece, as if his desire was to get out of theroom--instead of further in, though he did follow Faith a step or twoas she went that way. "I didn't mean to come here to-day, Mr. Linden, but--"

"Didn't mean to come here?" said Mr. Linden smiling, --"what have youbeen doing, to be afraid of me? Faith, has your postman been remiss?"

They were a pair, Reuben and Faith! though the colour of the one wasvarying, while Reuben's was steady. Faith nevertheless seized the boy'shand and drew him with gentle violence up to the fire. 

"Who sent you with this, Reuben?"

"Dr. Harrison, Miss Faith. I was off on an errand after church, and oneof his men came after me and told me to come to the house. And there Isaw the doctor himself--and ho told me to bring you this basket, ma'am, and that he didn't like to trust it to any one else. And--" but thereReuben hesitated. 

"And that you were the only person he knew who would go through fireand water for him?" said Mr. Linden. 

"No, sir, but--I suppose I've got to say it, since he told me to, --Dr. Harrison said, Miss Faith, that--" the message seemed to stir bothReuben's shame and laughter--"that he had begged a cake of his sister, to go with your Thanksgiving pies--and that it was in the basket. Andthat I needn't tell anybody else about it. "

"Reuben, " said Mr. Linden laughing, "you needn't tell him that I shalleat half the cake. "

"No, sir"--Reuben said, --and tried not to laugh, and couldn't help it. 

The third member of the trio shewed no disposition at all to muchlaughter. She had put the basket down on the table and looked at itfrom a distance, as if it had contained the four and twenty liveblackbirds--or a small powder magazine. The effect of his messageReuben did not stay to see. He went round to Mr. Linden to ask if themorning orders were unchanged, clasped hands with him--then bowed lowto Faith and went out. 

With very demure face Mr. Linden seated himself in one of theeasy-chairs, and looked towards the table, with the air of one whoexpects--something! And not demurely but with grave consciousness, Faith stood looking in the same direction; then her eyes went to Mr. Linden. But his face did not relax in the least. 

"Do you suppose that basket holds a kitten?" he said contemplatively. 

Faith did not answer but walked over to the table and began the work ofinvestigation. Mr. Linden came too. "If you are to make felinediscoveries, I must stand by you, little bird, " he said. 

The basket was carefully tied with a network of strings over the top;then followed one paper after another, a silk paper at last, --and thecake was revealed. The low exclamation that burst from Faith might becharacterized as one of mingled admiration and dismay. 

Certainly Dr. Harrison had amused himself that Thanksgiving day!perhaps in terror of his old enemy, ennui. At least his basket lookedso. 

The cake lay upon a white paper in the basket, with a little space allaround. It was a rather small loaf with a plain icing. But round thesides of it were trailed long sprays of ivy geranium, making abeautiful bordering. The centre was crowned with a white camellia inits perfection. From the tip edge of each outer petal depended a dropof gold, made to adhere there by some strong gum probably; and betweenthe camellia and the ivy wreaths was a brilliant ring of gold spots, somewhat larger, set in the icing. Somebody, and it was probably thedoctor, for want of better to do, --had carefully prepared the places toreceive them, so that they were set in the white like a very neatinlay. It was presently seen that quarter eagles made the inlay, andthat the camellia was dropped with gold dollars. 

On the ivy lay a note. Faith looked at Mr. Linden as she took it up;broke the seal, and hastily running over the paper gave it to him--

"MY DEAR MISS FAITH, My yesterday's speculation in pumpkins proved so successful, that likea true speculator it made me want to plunge deeper--into the pumpkinfield! I find myself this morning dissatisfied with what I havedone--and beg to send a cake to go along with the pies--to beapportioned of course as your judgment shall suggest. I begged the cakefrom Sophy, who I am sure would not have given it to me if she hadknown what I was going to do with it. 

Your pleasure, personal and representative, last night, is a reproachto me whenever I think of it. Yet my unwonted hand knows neither how tocut up cake, nor what to do with it when it is cut--except--_avaler!_Am I wrong in hoping that you will do me the grace to make availablewhat I should only--if I tried to do better with it--throw away? andthat as a token of your forgiveness and grace you will on the nextopportunity bestow a piece of pumpkin pie, such as you carried theother night, on

Your very respectful and most obedient servant, JULIUS HARRISON. "

PATTAQUASSET, Nov. 15, 18--. 

Mr. Linden read the note more deliberately than Faith had done, but hisface, the while, she could not read; though (fascinated by thedifficulty) her glances changed to a steady gaze. It was quietlygrave--that was all and not all, --and the note was given back to herwith a smile that spoke both "thoughts" of the doctor, and pleasure forany pleasure Faith might have from his basket. But then some of thedeeper feeling came out in his comments--and they were peculiar. He hadstood still for a second after reading the note, --his eyes looking downat the cake--gravely; but then they came to her; and suddenly takingher in his arms Mr. Linden gave her--it would be hazardous to say, asmany kisses as Dr. Harrison had gold pieces--but certainly as many ashe had put in the basket, and more. Faith did not read them, either, atfirst, --till the repetition--or the way of it, told what they were; theglad saying that she was his, beyond any one's power to buy her, --morethan all, an indemnification to himself for all the gold he could notlay at her feet! There needed no speech to tell her both. 

A word or two had answered his demonstrations, first a wondering word, and then afterwards a low repetition of his name, in a tone of humblerecognition and protest. Now she looked up at him with a child's clearface, full of the colour he had brought into it. 

"Little darling, " he said, "you will have your hands full of business!"

"Oh Endy--I am very sorry!"

"Sorry?" Mr. Linden said. "What about?"

"I'm sorry that basket has come here!"

"It gives you the means of making other people glad. "

"Yes--but, "--Faith looked uncomfortably at the basket. Then brought hereyes back to Mr. Linden's face. "What ought I to do, Endecott?"

"The most good and the least harm you can in the circumstances. "

"How shall I, --the last?"--she said with a manner like a beautifulchild, truth struggling through embarrassment. 

"If you could contrive to make yourself disenchanting!"

Faith passed that, and waited, her eyes making a grave appeal. Mr. Linden smiled. 

"I am afraid you can only be yourself, " he said. "And if Dr. Harrisonwill not remove himself to a safe distance, there is not much to bedone, except with the money. Let him understand that you consent foronce to be his almoner, merely because you know better than he wherethe need is, --that you take from him, as from anybody, a donation foryour poor and sick neighbours. "

"Must I write?"

"No. "

"But, Endecott--is that all?"

"All that I need say. You never did encourage him, Faith, --it may be along time before he gives you a chance to _dis_courage. There is onething I can do, if you wish. "

She had stood with an awakened, sorrowful look, the colour burning allover face and brow. Now she startled and asked "What?"

"Something you do _not_ wish. I can tell him that you belong to me. "But that indeed Faith did not wish. 

"Oh no, Endecott--I would rather manage it some other way. Now don'tlet us lose any more of our afternoon with it--but come and tell mewhat will be the best things to do with this money. "

"It is hard to tell all at once, " Mr. Linden said as they once moretook their seats by the fire. "What have you thought of yourself?"

"I know where one or two blankets are wanting. And O, Endy! there isone place where I should like to send a rocking-chair--ever so common aone, you know. "

"And if Ency Stephens had one of those little self-locomotivecarriages, she could go about by herself all day long. "

"How good that would be! as soon as the spring opens. You could sendone up from New York, Endecott. Do they cost much?"

"I think not. And what do you say to taking a little portion of thisfor the beginning of a free library for the poor people? If the thingwere once begun, Mr. Stoutenburgh would give you what you please tocarry it on, --and Mr. Simlins would help, --and so would I. "

"I was thinking of books!" said Faith, her eye dancing in an unknown"library";--"but these would be books to _lend_. I think a great manywould like that, Endecott! O yes, we could get plenty of help. That isa delightful plan!--I don't think I ought to be sorry that basket came, after all, " she added smiling. Mr. Linden smiled too--she was a prettyLady Bountiful!

"Faith, " he said, "suppose (it is a very presumptuous supposition, butone may _suppose_ anything) suppose when my hands are free to take careof my Mignonette, that I should have the offer of two or threedifferent gardens wherein to place her. How should I choose?"

She coloured and looked at him somewhat inquiringly, then turned awaywith a kept-in but very pretty smile. "I know, " she said, "how youwould choose--and you would not ask me. "

"Yes I should, little unbeliever--I ask you now. "

"You would go, " she said gravely--"where your hands were most wanted. "

"There spoke a true Sunbeam!" said Mr. Linden. But perhaps the word--orsomething in the changing light of the afternoon--carried his thoughtson to the night train which was to bear him away; for he left Dr. Harrison, and baskets, and schemes, in the background; and drawing hercloser to his side talked of her affairs--what she had been doing, whatshe meant to do, in various ways, --trying to leave as it were a sort ofnetwork of his care about her. Then came twilight, and Mrs. Derrick andtea; with Faith's light figure flitting to and fro in preparation; andthen prayers. And then--how fast the clock ticked! how fast the minutesbegan to run away!

The storm did not rest, --it blew and beat and poured down as hard asever, eddying round the house in gusts that made every word and everyminute within doors seem quieter and sweeter. And the words were many, and the minutes too--yet they dropped away one by one, and the upperglass was empty!

CHAPTER XX. 

Faith fortified herself with a triple wall of mental resolves againstDr. Harrison's advances. But when the doctor came again, a night or twoafter Thanksgiving, there did not seem to be much that she could do--orhinder. The doctor's lines of circumvallation were too skilfully drawnfor an inexperienced warrior like Faith to know very well where tooppose him. He was not in a demonstrative mood at all; rather morequiet than usual. He had just pushed an advanced work in the shape ofhis golden cake; and he rested there for the present. 

To Faith's great joy, midway in the evening the doctor's monopoly wasbroken by the entrance of Squire Stoutenburgh and a very round game oftalk. Faith seized the opportunity to present her claim for a freelibrary--answered with open hand on the spot. And when he was gone, shesat meditating a speech, but she was prevented. The doctor, as ifunconsciously amusing himself, started a chymical question; and went onto give Faith a most exquisite analysis and illustration. It wasimpossible to listen coldly; it was impossible to maintain reserve. Faith must be herself, and delight shone in every feature. Now couldDr. Harrison enjoy this thoroughly and yet give no sign that he did so;his eye watched hers, while Faith thought he was looking into depths ofscience; his smile was a keen reflection of that on her lips, while shefancied it called forth only by his own skill, or success, orscientific power. He had produced the very effect he wanted; for themoment, he had her all to himself. 

"Miss Faith, " he said gently, as his demonstration came to anend, --"you may command me for that library. "

Faith drew back and her mind returned to business again. The doctor sawit, and was instantly sorry he had started the subject. 

"I was going to speak to you about that, Dr. Harrison. If you have noobjection, I shall take a little of that money you entrusted to me, forit--the beginning of it. Only a little. The rest shall go as I supposeyou meant it to go. "

"I knew it was very sure to go right after it got into your hands. Idon't think I followed it any further. "

"It will make a great many people happy this winter, Dr. Harrison. "

"I hope it will, " said he very sincerely; for he knew that if it made_them_ it would her. 

"You have little notion how much, " Faith went on gravely. "I will dothe best I can with it, --and if you had patience to hear, I would letyou know what, Dr. Harrison. "

"You do me less than justice, Miss Faith. You can hear me rant aboutphilosophical niceties, --and yet think that I would not have patienceto listen to a lecture from you upon my neglected duties!"

"I didn't mean that, sir. "

He gave her a genial, recognizing little smile, which was not exactlyin his "part"--but came in spite of him. 

"Do you know, I should like to hear it, Miss Faith. I always likelectures illustrated. What have you done already?"

"There is an almost bed-ridden woman two miles off, who will blesssomebody all winter for the comfort of a rocking-chair--all her life, Imay rather say;--a common wooden one, Dr. Harrison. "

"That is a capital idea, " said the doctor. "She will bless _you_, Ihope. "

"No, certainly! I shall tell her the money is not mine, --I am onlylaying it out for a kind somebody. "

"Miss Faith, " said the doctor, --"I am not kind!"

"I think you are, "--was her gentle, somewhat wistful answer. The doctorsprung up. 

"Mrs. Derrick, " said he with all his comicality alive, --"Miss Faithpromised me a piece of pumpkin pie. "

He had it, and taking his old place on the rug slowly demolished it, qualifying every morsel with such ridiculous correlative remarks, allusions, and propositions, --that it was beyond the power of eitherMrs. Derrick or Faith to retain her gravity. But the moment the doorclosed upon him, Faith looked sober. 

"Well, child?" said her mother. 

"Well, mother--I haven't written my French. "

And she sat down to write it, but studied something else. "Manage itsome other way"--she had said she would; it was not easy! What was shegoing to do? the doctor asked nothing of her but ordinary civility; howcould she refuse him that? It was a puzzle, and Faith found it so asthe weeks went on. It seemed to be as Mr. Linden had said; that shecould do little but be as she had been, herself. That did not satisfyFaith. 

It was a great relief, when about the middle of December the familywent to New York for a few weeks, and Dr. Harrison went with hisfamily. Once more she breathed freely. Then Faith and Reuben madethemselves very busy in preparing for the Christmas doings. Meansenough were on hand now. Reuben was an invaluable auxiliary as ascout;--to find out where anything was pressingly wanted and what; andlong lists were made, and many trains laid in readiness against Mr. Linden's arrival. And then he came!

It was for a good week's holiday this time, and how it was enjoyed twopeople knew--which was enough. Studies went on after the old fashionduring that week, and dinners and teas out made some unavoidableinterruptions, yet not on the whole unpleasant. And sleigh rides weretaken, day and night; and walks and talks not to be mentioned. Then theNewyear's visiting--with such a budget of new varieties!--how pleasantit was to go that round again together; and it was hard to make shortvisits, for everybody wanted to see and hear so much of Mr. Linden. Hestayed one extra day after that--to see Faith when he had done seeingeverybody else, but then he went; and the coldness and quiet of winterset in, broken only by letters. 

There was a break of another kind when Dr. Harrison came back, in themiddle of January; such a break to Faith's quiet that the coldness waswell nigh forgotten. She had doubly resolved she would have as littleas possible to do with him; and found presently she was having quite asmuch as ever. 

The plan of rendering him a grave account of what she had done or wasdoing with his money, so far as the plan regarded keeping him at adistance, was a signal failure. Very simply and honestly it was done, on her part; but it suited the doctor admirably; nothing could betterserve his purposes. Dr. Harrison heard her communication about somerelieved family or project of relief, with a pleasant sort of attentionand intelligence; and had skill, although really and professedlyunwonted in the like things, to take up her plans and make the mosthappy suggestions and additions--often growing a large scheme upon asmall one, and edging in the additional means so insensibly, soquietly, that though Faith saw he did it she could not tell how tohinder and did not know that she ought. Mr. Linden had sent, as hepromised, his help for the library, --indeed sent from time to time somenew parcel; and without inquiring whether the money he had left for_his_ poor people was exhausted, had sent her a fresh supply. But shehad none too much, from all sources. It was a winter of great severityamong the poorer portion of the community; work was hard to come by, and the intense weather made food and clothing and tiring doubly indemand. There were few starving poor people in Pattaquasset; but manythat winter lacked comforts, and some would have wanted bread, withoutthe diligent care of their better-off neighbours. And there aseverywhere, those who gave such care were few. Faith and Reuben hadplenty to do. But indeed not merely, nor chiefly, with the furnishingof food to the hungry and firing to the cold; neither were those thepoints where Dr. Harrison's assistance came most helpfully in. 

Little Ency Stephens wanted a flower now and then, as well as avelocipede; and Dr. Harrison gave--not to Faith, but to Faith's handsfor her--a nice little monthly rose-bush out of the greenhouse. How itsmiled in the poor cottage and on the ailing child!--and what couldFaith do but with a swelling heart to wish good to the giver. A smokychimney was putting out the eyes of a poor seamstress. Dr. Harrisonquietly gave Reuben orders to have a certain top put to the chimney andsend the bill to him. He even seemed to be undertaking some things onhis own account. Faith heard through Reuben that he had procured theoffice of post-mistress in Pattaquasset to be given to the distressedfamily she and Mr. Linden had visited at Neanticut; and that Mrs. Tuckand Mintie were settled at the post-office, in all comfort accordingly. But worst of all! there were some sick people; and one or two for whomFaith dared not refuse his offer to go with her to see them. Daredstill less after the first time he had actually gone; so great andimmediate she found the value, not of his medicines only, but of theword or two of hint and direction which he gave her towards their helpand healing. Faith began to look forward to May with a breath of almostimpatience. But a change came before that. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

The spring came, with all its genial influences. Not now with suchexpeditions as the last spring had seen, but with letters to take theirplace, and with walks of business and kindness instead of pleasure. Yes, of pleasure too; and Faith began to find her "knight" not only ahelp and safeguard, but good company. Reuben was so true, so simple andmodest--was walking in such a swift path of improvement; was so devotedto Faith and her interests, besides the particular bond of sympathybetween them, that she might have had many a brother and fared muchworse. The intercourse had not changed its characteroutwardly--Reuben's simple ceremonial of respect and deference was asstrict as ever; but the thorough liking of first acquaintanceship haddeepened into very warm affection on both sides. With Dr. HarrisonReuben gained no ground--or the doctor did not with him. Though oftenworking for him and with him, though invariably courteous with the mostrespectful propriety, Faith could see that Reuben's old feeling wasrather on the increase. 

With the spring thaw came a freshet. It came suddenly, at the end ofthe week; every river and stream rising into a full tide ofinsurrection with the melting snows of Saturday, and Saturday nightbridges and mill dams went by the board. Among the rest, one of therailway bridges near Pattaquasset gave way, and a full train from theeast set down its freight of passengers in Pattaquasset over Sunday. They amused themselves variously--as such freight in such circumstancesis wont to do. Faith knew that the church was well filled that Sundaymorning, but the fact or the cause concerned her little--did notdisturb the quiet path of her thoughts and steps, until church was outand she coming home, alone that day, as it happened. Then she found thewalk full and _her_ walk hindered. Especially by two gentlemen--who asthe others thinned off, right and left, still went straight on; notfast enough to get away from Faith nor slow enough for her to passthem. They were strangers, evidently, and town bred. One of themreminded Faith of Dr. Harrison, in dress and style--both belonged to aclass of which she had seen few specimens. But she gave them littleheed (save as they detained her, ) nor cared at all for their discussionof the weather, or the place. Then suddenly her attention was caughtand held. 

"By the way!" said one--"this is the very place where Linden was solong. "

"Who? Endecott Linden?" said Dr. Harrison's likeness. "What was he herefor?"

"Teaching school. "

"Teaching school!" echoed the other, --"Endecott Linden teachingschool!--Pegasus in pound!--How did the rustics catch him?"

"Pegasus came of his own accord, if I remember. "

"Pshaw, yes!--but Linden. For what conceivable reason did he lethimself down to teach school?"

"He didn't--" said the other a little hotly. "He wouldn't let himselfdown if he turned street-sweeper. "

"True--he has a sort of natural dais which he carries about withhim, --I suppose he'd make the crossing the court end. But I say, whatdid he do _this_ for?"

"Why--for money!" said the first speaker. "What an ado about nothing!"

"Inconceivable! Just imagine, George, a man who can sing as he does, teaching a, b, ab!"

"Well--imagine it, " said George, --"and then you'll wish you were sixyears old to have him teach _you_. "

"How cross you are, " said his friend lazily. "And despotic. Was therenothing left of all that immense property? I've just come home, youknow. "

"Not much, " said George. "A little--but Endecott wouldn't touchthat--it was all put at interest for Miss Pet. He would have it so, andeven supported her as long as she staid in the country. What he worksso hard for now I don't understand. "

"Works, does he? I thought he was studying for the church--going tobury himself again. It's a crying shame! why he might be member, minister, Secretary, President!"

"He!" cried George in hot disdain, --"he soil his fingers with politics!No--he's in the right place now, --there's no other pure enough for him. "

"I didn't know you admired the church so much, " said his friendironically. 

"I don't--only the place in it where he'll stand. That's grand. "

"And so he's at work yet?"

"Yes indeed--and it puzzles me. That year here ought to have carriedhim through his studies. "

"Why what can he do?--not teach school now, --he's no time for it. "

"He can give lessons--and does. Makes the time, I suppose. You know hehas learned about everything _but_ Theology. Olyphant was telling meabout it the other day. "

"What a strange thing!" said the other musingly, "such a family, soswept overboard! What a house that was! You remember his mother, George?"

"I should think so!--and the way Endecott used to sing to her everynight, no matter who was there. "

"Yes, " said the doctor's confr�re--"and come to her to be kissedafterwards. I should have laughed at any other man--but it set well onhim. So did her diamond ring in his hair, which she was so fond ofhandling. How did he make out to live when she died?"

"I don't know--" said George with a half drawn breath--a littlereverently too: "I suppose he could tell you. But all that first yearnobody saw him--unless somebody in need or sorrow: _they_ could alwaysfind him. He looked as if he had taken leave of the world--except towork for it. "

"How courted he used to be!"--said the other--"how petted--_not_spoiled, strange to say. Do you suppose he'll ever marry, George? willhe ever find any one to suit his notions? He's had enough to choosefrom already--in Europe and here. What do they say of him offyonder--where he is now?"

"They say he's--rock crystal, --because ice will melt, " said George. "SoI suppose his notions are as high as ever. "

"You used to admire Miss Linden, if I remember, " said his friend. "Whata ring that was!--I wonder if she's got it. George--I sha'n't walk anyfurther in this mud--turn about. "

Which the two did, suddenly. Both stepped aside out of Faith's way, insurprise--her light footfall had not made them lower their voices. Butin that moment they could see that she was a lady; in acknowledgment ofwhich fact the one gentleman bowed slightly, and the other lifted hishat. Faith had thrown back her veil to hear better what they weresaying, not expecting so sudden an encounter; and as she passed, securein being a stranger, gave them both a view of as soft a pair of eyes asthey had either of them ever looked into, which also sought theirs witha curious intentness, borne out by the high bright tinge whichexcitement had brought into her cheeks. Both of them saw andremembered, for swift as it was, the look was not one to forget. Butthe glance added little to what Faith knew already about the strangers, and she went on her way feeling as if a stricture had been bound tightround her heart. 

The words about Mr. Linden's fastidiousness she knew quite enough ofhim to verify; and in the light of these people's talk it almost seemedto Faith as if there had been some glamour about her--as if she shouldsome day prove to be "magician's coin" after all. But though the oldsense of unworthiness swept over her, Faith was not of a temper todwell long or heavily upon such a doubt. Her heart had been strangelystirred besides by what was said of his mother, and his old way oflife, and his changes. She knew about them of course before; yet as atrifle, the touching of a single ray, will often give a new view of anold scene, --those side words of strangers set all Mr. Linden's time ofjoy and sorrow with such vivid reality before her, that her heart waslike to break with it. That effect too, more or less, passed away fromher mind, --never entirely. Another thing staid. 

"What he works so hard for now"--Then he was working hard! and doinghis own studies and correcting her French exercises, and giving herlessons all the while, as well as to other people; and bringing hergifts with the fruit of his work! And not an atom of it all could Faithtouch to change. She pondered it, and she knew it. She doubted whethershe could with any good effect venture so much as a remonstrance; andthe more Faith thought, the more this doubt resolved itself intocertainty. And all the while, he was working hard! Round that fact herthoughts beat, like an alarmed bird round its nest; about as helplessly. 

Mrs. Derrick thought Faith was more grave and abstracted than usualthat day, and sometimes thought so afterwards; that was all Faith madeknown. 

Dr. Harrison thought the same thing on the next occasion of his seeingher, and on the next; or rather he thought she held off from him morethan usual; what the root of it might be he was uncertain. Andcircumstances were unfavourable to the exactness of his observationsfor some time thereafter. 

It was yet early in March, when Mrs. Stoutenburgh took a verytroublesome and tedious fever, which lasted several weeks. It wasreckoned dangerous, part of the time, and Mrs. Derrick and Faith werein very constant attendance. Faith especially, for Mrs. Stoutenburghliked no one else so well about her; and gratitude and regard made hereager to do all she might. So daily and nightly she was at Mrs. Stoutenburgh's bedside, ministering to her in all the gentle offices ofa nurse, and in that line besides where Mr. Linden had declared Dr. Harrison but half knew his profession. And there, and about this work, Dr. Harrison met her. 

Their meetings were of necessity very often; but no lectures, nordiscussions, nor much conversation, were now possible. Faith felt shehad a vantage ground, and used it The doctor felt he had lost ground, or at the least was not gaining; and against some felt but unrecognizedobstacle in his way his curiosity and passion chafed. He could seeFaith nowhere else now; she contrived not to meet him at home. She wasout with Reuben--or resting--or unavoidably busy, when he came there. And Dr. Harrison knew the resting times were needed, and could onlyfume against the business--in which he sometimes had some reason. 

One day he found her at her post in the sick room, when Mrs. Stoutenburgh had fallen asleep. It was towards the end of theafternoon. An open Bible lay on the bed's side; and Faith sat thereresting her head on her hand. She was thinking how hard Mr. Linden wasworking, and herself looking somewhat as if she were following hisexample. 

"What are you doing?" said the doctor softly. 

"I have been reading to Mrs. Stoutenburgh. "

"Feverish--" whispered the doctor. 

"No;--she has gone to sleep. "

"Tired her!--"

"No, " said Faith with a smile, "it's resting. The Bible never tired anyone yet, that loved it--I think. "

"Well people--" said the doctor. 

"Sick people! You're mistaken, Dr. Harrison. Sick people most of all. "

"Do you know that you will be sick next, " said he gravely, "if you donot take more care?"

A fair little smile denied any fear or care on that subject, but didnot satisfy the doctor. 

"I do not approve of what you are doing, " said he seriously. 

"Reading this?"

"Even the same. "

"But you are mistaken, Dr. Harrison, " she said gently. "There isnothing so soothing, to those that love it. I wish you loved it! Don'tyou remember you confessed to me once that somebody had told you youhad but half learned your profession?"

Faith trembled, for she had said those last words wittingly. She couldnot have spoken them, if the light in the room had not been such as tohide her change of colour; and even then she dared not speak the nameshe alluded to. But she had said it half as a matter of conscience. 

It drew forth no answer from the doctor, for Mrs. Stoutenburgh justthen stirred and awoke. And Faith little guessed the train she hadtouched. There were no indications of manner; and she could not, as Dr. Harrison went leisurely down the stairs, see the tremendous bound hismind made with the question, --

"Is it _that book_ that stands in my way?--or HE!"

CHAPTER XXII. 

Mrs. Stoutenburgh got well. And it was in Faith's mind then, by somemeans to see very little more of Dr. Harrison till Mr. Linden should bein Pattaquasset again. So much for human intentions. Faith fell sickherself; and instead of being kept at a distance Dr. Harrison saw hertwice at least in the twenty-four hours. 

It was a doubtful privilege to see those soft eyes lustrous with feverand a steady glow take place of the changing and flitting hues whichwere as much a part of Faith's language, at times, as the movements ofa horse's ears are part of his. But as after a few days it becameevident that there was nothing dangerous about Faith's attack, it isprobable that the doctor rather enjoyed his position than otherwise. The freedom and authority of his office were a pleasant advance uponthe formalities of ordinary intercourse; and to see Faith and speak toher and touch her hand without any ceremonial but that of friendship, was an advantage great enough to desire the prolonging thereof. Faithwas a gentle patient; and Dr. Harrison's care was unbounded; though itwas not alarming, even to Mrs. Derrick, as he assured her there was nocause. 

For a week however Faith kept her bed, and even Dr. Harrison was gladwhen at the end of a week she was able to be up again. Especiallyperhaps as it was only in her wrapper and an easy chair; his office wasnot at an end; the fever, in a remittent or intermittent form, stillhung about her and forbade her doing anything but taking care ofherself. 

Not precisely in this category of duty were the letters Faith hadwritten all that week. She had written them, how was best known by anaching head and burning fingers and feverish vision. But aninterruption of them would have drawn on Mr. Linden's knowing thereason; and then Faith knew that no considerations would keep him fromcoming to her. It was towards the end of the study term; he was workinghard already; she could not endure that any further bar should beplaced in his way. None should for her. And so, bit by bit when shecould do but a bit at a time, the letters were written. Exercises hadto be excused. And Faith was at heart very thankful when at the end ofa sick week, she was able to get up and be dressed and sit in theeasy-chair and see the diamonds sparkling against her brown wrapperagain. 

It was April now, and a soft springy day. A fire burned gently in thechimney, while a window open at a little distance let in Spring'swhispers and fragrances; and the plain old-fashioned room looked cosyand pretty, as some rooms will look under undefinable influences. Nothing could be plainer. There was not even the quaint elegance of Mr. Linden's room; this one was wainscotted with light blue andwhitewashed, and furnished with the simplest of chintz furniture. Butits simplicity and purity were all in tone with the Spring air and thecheer of the wood fire; and not at all a bad setting for the figurethat sat there in the great chintz chair before the fire; her soft hairin bright order, the quiet brown folds of the wrapper enveloping her, and the flash of the diamonds giving curious point and effect to thewhole picture. Faith was alone and looking very happy. 

It wanted but a few weeks now of Mr. Linden's coming home, --coming homefor a longer rest and sight of her; and Faith had not seen him sinceJanuary. Mrs. Stoutenburgh's illness and Faith's consequent fatigue hadin part accounted to him for the short letters and missing Frenchexercises, but she could see that such excuse would not long be madefor her, --his last one or two letters had been more anxious, morespecial in their inquiries: how glad she was that he need have nofurther cause for either. Partly musing on all this, partly on what shehad been reading, Faith sat that afternoon, when the well-known singlesoft knock at her door announced Reuben Taylor. He came in with a gladface--how sad it had lately been Faith had seen, sick as she was, --andwith both hands full of pleasant things. One hand was literally full, of cowslips; and as he came up and gave her his other hand, it seemedto Faith as if a great spot of Spring gold was before her eyes. 

"Dear Miss Faith, " Reuben said, "I wonder if anybody can ever bethankful enough, to see you better! You feel stronger than yesterday, don't you, ma'am?"

"_I_ can't be thankful enough, Reuben--I feel that to-day. How good youare to bring me those cowslips! O yes, --I am stronger than I wasyesterday. "

That Faith was not very strong was sufficiently shewn by the way herhands lay in her lap and on the arm of the chair, and by the lines ofher pale quiet face. _Bodily_ strength was not flourishing there. Reuben looked at her wistfully, with a half-choked sigh, then kneltdown beside her chair, as he often did. 

"I didn't bring them all, Miss Faith--I mean, I didn't _pick_ them all. Charlie and Robbie saw me in the meadow, and nothing would do but theymust help. I don't think they always knew which to pick--but I thoughtyou wouldn't mind that, " he said as he laid the cowslips on the table, their fair yellow faces shewing very fair in the sick room. Faith'sface was bright before, but it brightened still. 

"They look lovely to me--tell Charlie and Rob I will thank them when Ican. I don't thank _you_, Reuben, "--she said turning from the flowersto him. 

"No, ma'am, I should hope not, " he said, answering her smilegratefully. "But that's not all, Miss Faith--for Ency Stephens sent youone of her rosebuds, "--and Reuben took a little parcel carefully fromhis pocket. "It's only wrapped up in brown paper, because I hadn't timeto go home for white. And she told me to tell you, Miss Faith, " headded, both eyes and cheek flushing--"that she prays every day for youto get well and for Mr. Linden to come home. "

The smile died on Faith's face and her eyes fell. "He ought to havethis, " she said presently, with a little flush on her own cheek. "Idon't feel as if it should come to me. Reuben, does she want anything?"It was very rare, even now, for Faith to speak directly to Reuben ofMr. Linden, though she was ready enough to hear Reuben speak of him. 

"No, ma'am, I think not, " he said in answer to net question. "Youknow--did you ever hear, Miss Faith?--that when Mr. Linden first wentthere she was kept in the house the whole time, --nobody knew how totake her out--or took the trouble; and Mr. Linden carried her half amile down the lane that very first day. And you can guess how he talkedto her, Miss Faith, --they said she looked like another child when shecame back. But is there anything I can do for you, ma'am, before I goto the post-office?--it's almost time. "

"If you'll fill that glass with water for me, Reuben--that I mayn't letmy sweet cowslips fade--that's all. They'll do me good all to-morrow. "

Reuben went off, his place presently supplied by Mrs. Stoutenburgh; whoagainst all persuasion had insisted upon coming down to see Faith. Andthen Faith was left to the calm companionship of her cowslips tillReuben came back from the post-office. 

He came up to Faith's chair, and taking out the letter broke the outerseal, (a ceremony he generally performed in her presence) and was justremoving the envelope when the doctor came in for his evening visit. The doctor saw a tableau, --Faith, the cowslips, and Reuben, --Mrs. Derrick by the window he hardly saw, nor what the others were about. But that he had interrupted _something_ was clear--the very atmosphereof the room was startled; and though Reuben's position hid both letterand hands, it was certain the hands were busy. What was in them, andwhat became of it, the doctor could not tell. Before he was fairly inthe room the letter had retreated to Reuben's pocket, and Reubenstepped back and stood behind Faith's chair. 

The doctor laid a hand on his shoulder with a "How do you do" as hepassed; and accosted Faith with all the free kindliness which hisoffice of physician permitted him to add to the friend. The doctor tookall his advantage; he did not take more; and not Faith herself couldsee that there was any warmer feeling behind his pleasant and pleasedeye and smile. But it is true Faith was a simpleton. She did not seethat his pleasantness covered keen scrutiny. The scrutiny found nothing. 

"How do you do?" he said. 

"I don't suppose I need say a word to tell you, " Faith answeredsmiling. "I am well enough to enjoy cowslips. "

The doctor's eye fell slightingly upon them, which was not wonderful. 

"I think you must be very well!" he said with some trifle of addendafrom lip and eye. "You see you are mistaken. I shouldn't have known howwell, except from your words. "

"_You_ are mistaken now, Dr. Harrison, " said Faith in the slow quietway in which she spoke to-day. "You think these are not splendid--butthey are bits of spring!"

"They are not Spring's best bits, I hope, " said the doctor. 

"What do you think of that?"

The doctor took the rosebud and looked at it. 

"If I were to tell you what I think of it, " he said with a sort ofgrave candour, "you would dismiss me, and I should come here no more!"

"Reuben brought me that, Dr. Harrison, from the little lame girl yousent the rosebush to, in the winter. I wish you knew how much good thatrosebush has done!"

"I sometimes wish, " said the doctor, "that I had been born in acottage!"

"Why, in the world?"

"It would be so pleasant to have people come and bring me rosebushes!"

"Or cowslips?" said Faith. "Then you would have a taste for cowslips. "

"But then the people might get sick, " said the doctor, waiving the"bits of spring;"--"so I am content. How are you to-day?" He tookFaith's hand and felt it, and looked at her. The result did not seem tobe unsatisfactory on the whole. 

"You mustn't read too much in that book, " said he, glancing over at it. 

"Why not?"

"You must keep quiet. "

"For how long?"

"It depends. There is a little enemy of fever hanging about yourskirts, that I will oppose with something else; but all you can opposeto him is quietness. "

Faith thought of the words--"The rock of my defence and myrefuse"--what quietness was like that of their giving; but she saidnothing to the doctor. 

Dr. Harrison gave Mrs. Derrick her directions on various points; thentaking his old-fashioned stand on the rug, surveyed the easy-chair andits occupant and Reuben still behind it. 

"By the way, Mrs. Derrick, " said he carelessly, --"I have heard a prettystory of your friend Mr. Linden. " He noticed, but only that Faith hadglanced at him and was to all appearance quietly looking down at hercowslips. 

"I dare say, doctor, " said Mrs. Derrick placidly. "I've heard a greatmany. "

"Have you heard it?"

"Heard what?" said Mrs. Derrick. "It's an old pretty story thateverybody loves him. "

"I heard this only the other day, " said the doctor. "It's not of thatkind. But stories will be stories--and people will tell them. "

How the colour flushed and paled in Reuben's cheek!--he stood restinghis hands lightly on the back of Faith's chair, looking down. Thecolour on Faith's cheek did not change. 

"Who told this?" said Mrs. Derrick. 

"People that have known the family. They say, he has managed to runthrough a very large property, and that he leaves his sister now tolive upon charity. "

It was impossible to tell from the doctor's manner whether he put anyfaith in his story himself. It was as much like delivering a report asbringing a charge. It might have been either! He saw Reuben's colourbecome fixed and very high, but though the doctor could almost havesworn that there was a rush of hid tears under the boy's droopingeyelids, yet the lines about the mouth took the curl of anirrepressible smile. Mrs. Derrick picked up two stitches, made athird--then answered. 

"So that's what _you_ call a pretty story! It was hardly worthremembering to tell us, doctor, --you and I, and Reuben, and Faith, knowbetter. " Now could not the doctor tell for the life of him, whether thewords were simply innocent, or--simply malicious! Mrs. Derrick was soimperturbable there, at her knitting! Neither did the doctor much care. It sounded to him just like Mrs. Derrick. He looked at Faith; andremarked lightly that "he didn't know anything!"

Faith was very quiet; he could not see that her colour had risen morethan a little, and a little was not enough to judge by in her face. Butin an instant more after he had spoken, she looked full and gravely upat him. 

"Do you believe everything about everybody, Dr. Harrison?"

"On the contrary! I don't believe anything of anybody--Except you, " headded with a little smile. 

"Do you believe such a story?"

Her steady soft eyes, which did not move from him, gave him anuncomfortable feeling--perhaps of undefined remembrance. "I don'tbelieve it, " he said returning her gaze. "I don't do anything with it. Such things are said of everybody--and of almost everybody they aretrue. I take them as they come. But about this particular case, " hesaid with one of his gentle looks, "I will do just what you say I mustdo. "

Faith smiled. 

"I don't say you must do anything. I am sorry for you, Dr. Harrison. "

"I am glad you are sorry!" he said sitting down by her. "And there isreason enough; but what is this one?"

"You lose a great pleasure. "

"What one?"--

"You don't know how to trust. "

"Do I not?" said the doctor, looking at the rosebud still in his hand. "Well--you shall teach me!" And springing up he bowed to Mrs. Derrickand went off--rosebud and all. 

Reuben stood still for about half a minute--then came round, andsilently gave Faith her letter. 

"Reuben Taylor!"--said Faith, as he was going after the doctor. "Youhave been standing so long--suppose you sit down for a minute?"

Whatever Reuben thought of the request, he said nothing, but obeyedher, bringing a foot cushion to her chair and bestowing himself uponit. Faith smiled at him as she spoke again, though there was anunwonted fire in her owe eyes; and the blood came fast now to her face. 

"Reuben, I wanted to ask you what all that colour is in your cheeksfor?"

Reuben hesitated--there seemed a stricture across his breast which madespeaking hard work; but at last he said frankly, though in none of theclearest tones, "Because I'm angry, Miss Faith--and hurt too. "

Faith's next words fell like pearls--

"It isn't worth the while. "

"No, Miss Faith, " he answered without looking up. 

"It's too much honour to something that doesn't deserveit, --and--Reuben--it's too little to something that does. "

"O no, ma'am! it's not _that!_" Reuben said, raising his eyes to herface with the old earnest look. "But Miss Faith, there are some thingshe can't bear to hear said--and said _so_, " he added a little lower, and looking down again. "And then--he's Dr. Harrison, and I'm only apoor boy and mayn't answer him--and that fretted me; and it isn't thefirst time, neither, " Reuben said, as if he were making a clean breastof it. "Oh Miss Faith! I'd rather have had him knock me down, thanspeak such words!" Tears were getting the upper hand in the boy's voice. 

"Dear Reuben, " said Faith, very quietly, though her cheeks were twocarnations, --"what I am most sorry for is Dr. Harrison. "

Reuben drew a long breath, with his "Yes, ma'am--I'm sorry for him too, very often--when he talks about other things. But I don't believe evenyou know just--just how false that was. " Reuben spoke as if the wordschoked him. "It's maybe never come in your way to know all he did herefor everybody, and--for me. "

There was a quick pulsation at that instant from Faith's heart to thehand that held her letter, --but she only said, "Tell me!"

"I couldn't begin to tell you all, ma'am, " Reuben said, a smile comingover his face now, --"nobody could but himself--and _he_ wouldn'tremember. I couldn't even tell you all he's done for me; but onething"--Reuben's eyes and voice fell and he spoke very low. "You know, Miss Faith, the rate of schooling here is fixed by the trustees. Andthe first day I came father told me to say he didn't know that he couldfind the money for more than one quarter, but he had so much all ready, and he wanted me to have so much. I thought it would be hard to ask, but it was so easy--of him, " Reuben said with that same smile. "Mr. Linden didn't say much about it--only yes--but then he spoke to father(that very day we were at the shore Miss Faith) and told him I shouldcome all the time--for the pleasure of teaching me. " (Reuben thoughtthe compliment went all to Mr. Linden, or he would not have told it. )"But father wouldn't do that, --he said Mr. Linden should have the moneyas fast as he could get it; and if he didn't take it I shouldn't come. And it was paid all the year, regularly. But then, Miss Faith----"there was a pause. 

"What, Reuben?" she whispered. 

"Then instead of keeping it for himself, he put it all in the bank forme. --And I never knew it till I opened the letter he gave me when hewas going away. "

The brightness of the hidden diamonds danced in Faith's face for aminute--half hidden too, but it was there. 

"Reuben, " she whispered, as he was starting up to go, --"what we have todo is to pray for Dr. Harrison. "

"Miss Faith, how do people live who do not pray?"

"I don't know!"

But Faith's voice did not speak the thanksgiving which bounded in herheart to Reuben's words. She sat back in her chair looking tired, withher letter clasped fast in her hand. Reuben stepped forward andarranged the fire softly--then giving her another wistful look he bowedand went lightly out of the room. With gentle step Mrs. Derrick came upto Faith, to kiss her and ask how she felt. Faith's eyelids unclosed. 

"Very happy, mother, --and tired too. Don't you think I could have alight presently?"

"This minute, pretty child. But lie down on the couch, Faith, and I'llbring up the little table. "

That was done, and then Faith read her letter, with first a rapid andthen a slow enjoyment of it, making every word and sentence do morethan double duty, and bring the very writer near. And then she lay withit clasped upon her bosom, thinking those flowing trains of halffeverish thought which are so full of images, but which in her caseflowed with a clear stream over smooth channels, nor ever met a roughbreak or jar. Even Dr. Harrison did not make an exception, for Faith'sthought of him was constantly softened by her prayer for him. Hermother drew near when the letter was at last folded up, and watched herfrom the other side of the stand; but though mind and heart too werefull enough, she rightly judged that Faith needed no more excitement;and so never mentioned Dr. Harrison's name, nor even asked how he cameto carry off the rosebud. 

Faith's trains of thought ended at last in a sleep which lasted tillpast her tea-time. Mrs. Derrick was still by her side when she awoke, and Faith opening her eyes as quietly as she had shut them, remarked, "Mother!--letters are great things. "

"Why child, " said her mother smiling, "what have you been dreamingabout?"

"Nothing. --That isn't a dream; it's a reality. "

Blessing in her heart the sender of the reality which gave suchpleasure, Mrs. Derrick answered, "Yes, child, it's real--and so's he. "

Faith said nothing to that except by her smile. She only spoke the hopethat she might be stronger the next day; a sentiment which though atfirst sight it might seem to have nothing to do with the formersubject, was really in very close connexion with it. 

But Faith was not stronger the next day. The fever was not driven awayand strength was in the grip of it yet. The doctor gave her no newdirections, but insisted very much on quietness and care. There wasnothing to be apprehended of the fever but tediousness, and the furtherand prolonged loss of strength; but that was quite enough to have toavoid. For that she must take all sorts of care. He also said that thecase might go on without his oversight for a day or two, and that forthat space of time in the middle of the week he should be absent fromPattaquasset, having a very urgent call of business elsewhere. 

And whether for that reason or needing no fresh one, the doctor havingstated so much went on to tell about other things, and made a longvisit. The talk came upon the Bible again, Faith didn't know how, andgrew very animated. Dr. Harrison had brought with him this morning oneof his pleasantest moods, or manners; he thought yesterday that Faith'seyes had given him a reproof for slander, and he had no intent tooffend in the like way again. He was grave, gentle, candid, seemingly--willing to listen, but that he always was to Faith; andtalked sense or feeling in a most sensible and simple way. Yet theconversation ended with giving Faith great pain. He had asked her toread something confirmatory or illustrative of the statement she wasmaking, out of the Bible; and Faith had complied with his wish. Thatwas nothing strange. She had often done it. To-day the reading had beenfollowed by a little observation, acutely put, which Faith felt raiseda barrier between him and the truth she had been pressing. She felt it, and yet she could not answer him. She knew it was false; she could seethat his objection was foundationless--stood on air; but she did notsee the path by which she might bring the doctor up to herstanding-point where he might see it too. It was as if she were at thetop of a mountain and he at the bottom; her eye commanded a full wideview of the whole country, while his could see but a most imperfectportion. But to bring him up to her, Faith knew not. It is hard, whenfeet are unwilling to climb! And unskilled in the subtleties ofcontroversy, most innocent of the duplicities of unbelief, Faith sawher neighbour entangled, as it seemed, in a mesh of his own weaving andhad not power to untie the knot. It distressed her. Other knots ofskepticism or ignorance that he had presented to her she had cut easilywith the sword of truth if she could not untie; he had offered her oneto-day that she could cut indeed as easily for herself, --but not forhim. To do that called for not better wits, but for far greatercontroversial acumen and logical practice than Faith knew. He did notpress his point, not even for victory; he gave the objection to her andleft it there; but while to her it was mere rottenness of reasoning, she knew that for him it stood. It grieved her deeply; and Mrs. Derricksaw her worn and feverish all the day, without knowing what specialreason there had been. She tried to stop Faith's working; but thoughnot fit for it, Faith would not be stopped. She dared not trust Mr. Linden with any more excuses or put-offs; and a feverish cheek and handthat day and the next went over her exercise and letter. And enjoyedboth, in spite of fever. But when they were done, late in the next day, Faith lay down wearily on the couch and consoled herself with thethoughts of the letter to come; it was the evening for one. 

It was the evening for one and yet one came not. Other letterscame--the great leather bag was tossed out on the station-house steps, and thence borne off to the post-office, where five minutes laterReuben Taylor came to wait for his share of the contents. But when withthe assurance which has never yet known disappointment, Reuben appliedat the window, Mintie gave him a rather coquettish--

"No, Mr. Taylor--you're not in luck to-day, --there's nothing for you. "

In his surprise Reuben tried every means to make himself and herbelieve that she was mistaken; and urged a new examination of all theletters, till Mintie made--or feigned to make--it, with the samesuccess. 

Reuben turned away from the office in real sorrow of heart. He had notnow to learn what store was set by those letters--especially now, whenFaith was sick, --he had noticed her holding of that very last one whichhad come. And then, not merely to lose the pleasure, but to have thedisappointment!--Then too, what had hindered the letter? One sometimescame out of time, but the expected one had never yet failed. Was Mr. Linden sick?--and what would Miss Faith think?--the letter might failfrom other causes (hardly, Reuben thought) but what would _she_think?--herself so far from well. And then, should he go at once andtell her--or let her find it out from his non-appearance?

That last idea was promptly rejected, --she should at least not be insuspense, and Reuben was soon at her door, as soon admitted. But hecame in very quietly, without that spring of step which had so oftenbrought a letter, and standing by her chair said gently, --

"Miss Faith, I didn't find anything to-night--but I thought I'd comeand tell you, for fear you'd be expecting. "

"Not find anything!"--said Faith raising herself half up, with thestart of colour into her pale cheeks. 

"No, ma'am, --they said at the office there was nothing. Maybe it willcome to-morrow. "

It hurt him to see the little patient droop of each feature as Faithlaid herself down again. 

"Thank you, Reuben, " she said. "O yes, maybe it will. "

Words of consolation Reuben did not presume to offer, but there was agreat deal in his face and quiet low-spoken "Can I do anythingto-night, Miss Faith?"

"No, " she said cheerfully. "There's nothing. Isn't it time Mr. And Mrs. Roscom had some fresh eggs, Reuben? Mother will give you them. "

Reuben only said he would stop there and see them. 

The letter did not come next day. Reuben came, as usual, in theafternoon, but only to tell his bad success. He had not the heart tobring cowslips again, and ventured no words to Faith but about some ofher poor people. That subject Faith went into fully. After Reuben wasgone she lay quiet a while; and took her indemnification in the eveningby getting Mrs. Derrick to read to her one or two of those strings ofpassages which Faith called ladders. Whether she could mount by them ornot just then, her mother might; and hearing them Faith went to sleep. She said nothing about her letters, except to tell Mrs. Derrick theyhad not come. 

That day and the next were quiet days, being the days of Dr. Harrison'sabsence. And if some accident had befallen Wednesday's letter, therewas good hope of one Friday. And as Friday wore away, Faith did notknow that she was counting the hours, and yet could at any time haveanswered any question as to the time of day. It was one of those calmdays, within doors and without, which ebb away so noiselessly, thatonly the clock tells their progress. Faith's little clock--(Mr. Lindenhad amused himself with sending her one about as big as a good-sizedwatch on a stand)--ticked musically on the table, suggesting a goodmany things. Not merely the flight of time--not merely that the trainwould soon be in, not merely that she might soon have a letter; noreven that it, the clock, had seen Mr. Linden since she had. All thesethoughts mingled, but with them something else. They would tick on, those minutes, relentlessly, no matter what they were to bring or takeaway, --steady, unalterable, unchecked, --like the old idea of Fate. Shetried to be steady too--tried to have that fixedness of heart whichsays confidently, "I will sing and give praise. " But she was weak yet, with the effect and even the presence of fever, and through all herthoughts she seemed to feel those minutes tracking with light stepsacross her breast. She lay with her hands clasped there, to still them. 

The sun began to slant his beams in at the window, and then with onelong screeching "Whew!"--the afternoon train flew through Pattaquasset, tossing out the letter bag on its way. Then Faith waited--watchingintently for Reuben's step on the stairs. 

Reuben on his part had watched the letter-bag from the moment it wasthrown out, had followed it to the office, and there posted himselfnear the window to have the first chance. But his prize was a blank. 

Sick at heart, Reuben drew back a little, giving way before Mintie'srather sharp "I tell you no, Mr. Taylor, " and other people's earnestpressing forward to the window. But when the last one had gone--thosehappy people, who had got their letters!--Reuben again presentedhimself, and braved Mintie's displeasure by further inquiries; whichproduced nothing but an increase of the displeasure. He turned andwalked slowly away. It might have been any weather--he might have metanybody or heard anything; but when Reuben reached Mrs. Derrick's thewhole walk was a blank to him. What was the matter--how would MissFaith bear it--these two questions lay on his heart. In vain he triedto lay them down, --for the very words which told him that "the Lorddoth not afflict willingly, " said also that he doth afflict; andReuben's heart sank. He stood for a moment in the porch, realizing "howpeople live who do pray"--then went in and straight upstairs, walked upto Faith's couch when admitted, and without giving himself much time tothink, told his news. 

"Dear Miss Faith, you must wait a little longer yet. May I write byto-night's mail and ask why the letter hasn't come?--it may have beenlost. "

Faith started up, with first a flush and then a great sinking ofcolour, and steadying herself with one hand on the back of the couchlooked into her messenger's face as if there she could track themissing letter or discern the cause that kept it from her. But Reuben'sface discovered nothing but his sorrow and sympathy; and Faith sankback on her pillow again with a face robbed of colour beyond all thepower of fever's wasting to do. 

"Yes--write!" she said. 

Reuben stood still, his hands lightly clasped, his heart full ofthoughts he had perhaps no right to utter, if he could have found words. 

"I wish you'd write, Reuben, " she repeated after a moment. 

"Yes, ma'am, " he said, "I will. Only--dear Miss Faith! you know 'thedarkness and the light are both alike to Him. '" Reuben was gone. 

Faith lay for a few minutes as he had left her, and then slipped offthe couch and kneeled beside it; for she felt as if the burden of thetime could be borne only so. She laid her head and heart down together, and for a long time was very still; "setting her foot on the loweststep" of some of those ladders, if she could not mount by them. Afoot-hold is something. 

She was there yet, she had not stirred, when another foot-step in thepassage and other fingers at the door made her know the approach of Dr. Harrison. Faith started up and met him standing. The doctor looked ather as he came up. So pale, so very quiet, so purely gentle, and yetwith such soft strength in her eye, --he had not seen her look just so, nor anybody else, before. 

"How do you do?" he said reverentially as he took her hand. 

"I am--well, "--said Faith. 

"Are you?" said the doctor gravely, eyeing the mark of unconqueredfever and its wasting effects even on her then. --"I am very glad tohear it, indeed!"

"I mean, that I feel--well, " said Faith correcting herself. 

"You will feel better if you will take a more resting position, " saidthe doctor putting her into the chair. And then he stood and looked ather; and Faith looked at her little clock, with her foot on that stepof her "ladder. "--"He knoweth thy walking through this greatwilderness. "

"What have you been doing to yourself these two days?" said the doctor. 

"Nothing--" she said;--"more than usual. "

He laid her appearance all to the account of the fever, she was soquiet; and proceeded to a new examination of the state of her hand, andto give her various professional orders. 

"Miss Faith, can you do anything in the way of eating?"

Her very face as well as her tongue seemed to answer him, "Not much. "

"Do you think of anything you could fancy?"

"No. "--

"I brought some birds home with me that I believe I can answer for. Tryto demolish the pinion of one of them--will you? It is a duty you oweto society. "

"I will try, "--she said gravely. 

The doctor wondered whether she had laid up against him any of hisformer conversation. 

"What do you think, " he said with a kind of gentle insinuation, --"ofthat argument I ventured to advance the other day, on the matter wewere speaking of?"

"I don't like to think of it at all, Dr. Harrison. "

"May I know why not?"

"Because I know it is false, and yet I cannot make you see it. "

"Can you make yourself see it?"

"I don't need to take any pains for that. I see it very well. "

"Perhaps you will find the way to make me see it, " said the doctorpleasantly. 

"That would be easy, " said Faith, "if--"

"If what? May I not know the difficulty?"

"If you really cared about it. "

"I do care about it. You mistake me when you think that. But you mustnot think about anything now. Did you know I carried off your rosebudthe other night?"

"Yes. "

It was impossible to tell from the doctor's accent how _he_ viewed thetransaction, and equally impossible from Faith's answer to tell whatshe thought of it. Extremes meet--as Mr. Linden had once remarked. 

"I'll endeavour to atone for that presumption to-morrow, " said herising, for Mrs. Derrick now entered the room. To her Dr. Harrisonrepeated his orders and counsels, and to Faith's relief took himselfaway. Her mother came up to the easy-chair with a smothered sigh on herlips, and laid her gentle hand on Faith's forehead and wrist. 

"Child, " she said, "has that man talked you into a fever again? I've agreat mind not to let him come any more--I guess I could cure youbetter myself. If you'd send word to somebody else, Faith, we'd haveyou well in no time. "

"I haven't heard from him to-night, mother. " Faith felt the littlestart of her mother's hand. 

"Maybe he's coming then, " said Mrs. Derrick, --"he might have meant tocome yesterday and been hindered. " Faith did not think that. 

"We shall know, " she said to her mother. "We have only to wait and bequiet. " And she carried out both parts of her stated duty to perfection. 

There is a strange sort of strength in a certain degree of weakness--orit may be that weakness runs sooner to its refuge, while strengthstands outside to do battle with the evil felt or feared. Faith'sgentle and firm temper was never apt for struggling, with either painor fear; it would stand, or yield, as the case called for; and now, whether that her mind had been living in such a peaceful and lovingatmosphere, both earthly and heavenly, that it could settle upon nonebut peaceful views of things, or that bodily weakness made her unableto bear any other, she did mount upon one of those "ladders" and lefther burden on the ground. She thought she did. She was as quietoutwardly as before; she told Mrs. Derrick, who looked at her inmisery, --and told her with a steady cheerful little smile, that "shedared say the letter would come to-morrow. " But it is true that Faithhad no power to eat that night nor the next day; and that she did notknow the hidden slow fever--not of disease--which was running throughall her veins and making the other fever do its work again, bright inher cheek and eye and beating at her temples and wrist. But she was asstill and quiet through it all--quiet in voice and brow--as if lettershad been full and plenty. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

It was about midday of Saturday, when Reuben Taylor, proceeding up themain street of Pattaquasset on some business errand for his father, wasjoined by Phil Davids--no wonted or favourite associate or companion. But Phil now walked up the street alongside of the basket which hadcome "into town" with fish. 

"I say, Reuben, " said Phil after some unimportant remarks had been madeand answered, --"does Mr. Linden ever write to you?"

Reuben started--as if that touched some under current of his thoughts, and answered "yes. "

"I wish he'd write to me, " said Phil. "I know I'd like it. I say, Taylor, what does he send you such thick letters about?"

"Such thick letters!" Reuben repeated, with a quick look at hiscompanion. "People put a great many things in a letter, Phil. "

"I guess likely. That's what I say. What does he write to you about?"

"Maybe I'll bring up one of 'em for you to read, " said Reuben. "You'veheard him talk, Phil--he writes just so. "

"Does he? I guess you wouldn't like to miss one of his letters then, Reuben, --would you?"

"No. "

"I s'pose it would be a worse job yet to miss two of 'em--wouldn't it?"said Phil with a perfectly grave face. 

"Phil Davids!" Reuben exclaimed, facing round upon him, with such aflash of joy and hope and surprise and eagerness, as made Phil wonder. "What do you mean?" he added checking himself. "Just turn your pocketsinside out, Phil, before we go any further. "

"When were you at the post-office?"

"Last night--and this morning. " Reuben forced himself to be quiet. 

"Well look here, --when you go there, don't you ask for letters?"

"Ask!--I've asked till they were all out of patience. "

"Suppose you come to the right shop next time!" said Phil, importantlyproducing the missing papers. 

"Phil! Phil!--" was all Reuben said. He caught the letters--and stoodlooking at them with a face that made Phil look. "Mr. Linden will loveyou all his life for this. But how in the world did you get them?"

"That's exactly what I'd like somebody to tell me!" said Phil. "I knowwho put the monkey's paw in the fire--but how the chestnuts got there, I'm beat!"

"What do you know?" said Reuben, --"where did you get these? Oh Phil! Inever can thank you enough!"

"It was because they were _his_ letters I did it, " said Phil bluntly. "I wasn't going to let Mintie Tuck have 'em. But I say, Reuben! whathave you done to spite her? or has she a spite against Mr. Linden? orwho has she a spite against?"

"I don't know. Did _she_ give 'em to you, Phil?"

"Not by a precious sight nor to anybody else. Dromy saw 'em in herdrawer, and for all the gumph he is, he knew the writing; and I madehim get 'em for me this morning while they were at breakfast. NowTaylor, " said Phil settling his hands further down in his pockets asthey rapidly walked along, --"what bird's on _that_ nest?"

Reuben listened--with an intentness that spoke of more than wonder. "Inher _drawer?_" he repeated, --"what, down in the office?"

"Not a bit of it! Stowed away with her earrings and ribbands upstairssomewhere. "

"Phil, " said Reuben when he had pondered this strange information insilence for a minute, "will you be in the office when the mail comes infor a night or two?--and don't tell this to any one till Mr. Lindensends word what should be done. "

"You expect more letters?" said Phil, with a not stupid glance at hisfellow. 

"Yes, " Reuben said, too frankly to increase suspicion; "and if oneshould come it's very important that I should get it. And of course _I_can't watch. "

"_She_ sha'n't get it!" said Phil. "I'll be there. I'll be Sinbad's oldman of the mountain for Mintie. I won't sit on her shoulders, but I'llsit on the counter; and if there's a scratch of Mr. Linden's in themail-bag, I'll engage I'll see it as fast as she will. I know his sealtoo. "

"_Could_ she have done it to tease me?" Reuben said, --"I've never hadthe least thing to do with her but through that post-office window. "

"What did you ever give her through the post-office window?" Phil askedhalf laughingly. 

"Questions enough--" Reuben said, his thoughts too busy to notice anyunderhand meaning, --"and lately she's given me rather cross answers. That's all. "

"Well what do you suppose she stole your letters for?"

"I don't know enough about her to guess, " Reuben said frankly. 

"Well, " said Phil, "_I_ guess Dr. Harrison won't appoint the postmasterof Pattaquasset when I am President. I rather think he won't. "

"I wish you'd make haste and be President, " Reuben said. "But if hedidn't know anything about Mrs. Tuck, Phil, other people did--andthought she was honest at least. And you know _she_'s postmaster, byright. "

"_She_--is the female of Dromy!" said Phil with intense expression. "But Mintie aint a fool, and it's _she_'s post-master--anyhow Dromysays it's she that's Dr. Harrison's friend;--so that makes it. But thatdon't tell why she wants the letters. "

"Dr. Harrison's friend?" said Reuben, --"what does she have to do withhim?"

"I aint a friend of either of 'em, so I don't know, " said Phil. "Butgirls with pretty faces will make friends with anybody!"

A very high degree of masculine charity and correctness of judgment wasexpressed in Phil's voice and words. Reuben made no reply--his charity, of any sort, was not in a talkative mood, and the two parted kindly atPhil's cross road. 

Not home to dinner now, for Reuben! The minutes of talk had seemed longto his impatience; he had borne them, partly to get information, partlyto keep down suspicion. But now with Phil out of sight, he turned shortabout and took the way to Mrs. Derrick's with almost flying steps. True, he was not dressed for "Miss Faith's" room--but Reuben Taylor wasalways neat and in order, and she must not wait. He hurried into Mrs. Roscom's--there to leave his basket and every removable trace of hiswork, --then on!

Faith had spent the early morning upon her couch;--no need to ask ifshe felt stronger than yesterday, --every line and feature shewedprostration--and patience. Breakfast had been passed over nominally. What Mrs. Derrick could do for her was done; what she could not, layheavy on the hearts of both as the one went down to make the daysarrangements, and the other lay still to endure. Reuben had not comeafter the morning train--there was nothing even to expect till night, and Faith lay listening to her little clock and watching the passage ofthe April sunbeams through her room. 

Suddenly a loud startling rap at the front door. But she was powerlessto go and see, and after that one sound the house seemed to sink intoperfect stillness. Then the door of her room opened, and Mrs. Derrickcame in bearing a large basket. A heavy one too, but Mrs. Derrick wouldhave spent her last atom of strength before she would have let any oneelse bring it up. Her face looked quite radiant. 

"Pretty child!" she said, "here's something for you!"

It was needless to ask questions, --Mrs. Derrick's face could have butone meaning. Faith neither asked nor answered, except by the suddenstart of the blood into cheeks which were pale enough before. Slippingfrom the couch she was on her knees by the basket, pulling out the endsof the knots by which it was tied, with just a tiny beautiful smile atwork on her changed lips. Her mother went softly away (she thought thefirst sight of anything in _that_ line belonged to Faith alone) and theApril sunbeams took a new view of things. 

The knots gave way, and the basket cover swung round, and the whitewrapping paper came off; and within lay something for her truly!--mostappropriate! A great stem of bananas and another of plantains, thickset with fruit, displayed their smooth green and red coats in veryexcellent contrast, and below and around and doing duty as merepacking, were sunny Havana oranges, of extra size, and of extraflavour--to judge by the perfume. But better than all, to Faith's eye, was a little slip of blackmarked white paper, tucked under a redbanana--it had only these words--

 'Sweets to the sweet. '

"Faith, I should put in more, but the basket refuses. It is the measureof only one part of the proverb--do you understand?"

Faith knew oranges, she had never seen bananas or plantains before. Itwas all one; for the time being they were not bananas or oranges buthieroglyphics; and the one fruit looked as much like Mr. Linden'shandwriting as the other. She sat with her arm resting on the couchsupporting her head, and looking at them. Not the finest picture thatGoethe ever viewed, or bade his friends view as part of their "duty, "was so beautiful as that basket of red and yellow fruit to Faith's eye. And all the more for that foreign look they were like Mr. Linden; forthe common things which they said, it was like him to say uncommonly. How very sweet was the smell of those oranges! and how delicious thesoft feeling of peace which settled down on all Faith's senses. Verydifferent from the sort of quiet she was in a quarter of an hour ago. She did not trouble herself now about the missing letters. This toldthat Mr. Linden was well, or he could hardly have been out to buy fruitand pack it and pack it off to her. So Mrs. Derrick found her--readingnot words, but oranges and bananas; with a face it was a pity Mr. Linden could not see. 

It may be remarked in passing that the face was not lost upon the onewho did see it. Mrs. Derrick came and stooped down by Faith and herbasket in great admiration and joy and silence for a moment--the sightalmost put everything else out of her head; but then she exclaimed, "Child, the doctor's coming!--I saw him driving up to the door. "

Faith put the cover on the basket, and while Mrs. Derrick set it out ofsight, she received the doctor as yesterday, standing. But with a nicelittle colour in her cheeks to-day, in place of yesterday's sad want ofit. Dr. Harrison came up with one hand full of a most rare and elegantbunch of hothouse flowers. 

"My amends-making--" he said as he presented it. 

It was not in Faith's nature not to look pleasure and admiration atsuch bits of kindred nature. They were very exquisite, they were someof them new to her, they were all most lovely, and Faith's eyes lookedlove at them. Dr. Harrison was satisfied, for in those eyes there wasto-day no shadow at all. Their gravity he was accustomed to, andthought he liked. 

"How do you do?" he said. 

"I am--a great deal better. O mother--may I have a glass of water forthese?"

"You said yesterday you were well, Miss Faith. "

"You saw I wasn't, " said Faith as she put her flowers in the glass. 

"That is very true. And I see also that your statement to-day is not ofmuch juster correctness. How came you to say that?"

"I said, it without knowing--what I said, " Faith answered simply. "Whatis this, Dr. Harrison?"

The doctor puzzled over her answer and could make nothing of it. 

"That is a Fuchsia--and that is another. "

"How beautiful!--how beautiful. They are not sweet?"

"You cannot _always_ have sweetness in connexion with everything else, "he said with a slight emphasis. Faith's mind was too far away from thesubject to catch his innuendo; unless other lips had spoken it. 

"Mrs. Derrick, " said the doctor, "I should like as a professional man, to know what portion of the wing of a robin this lady can manage forher breakfast?"

"Some days more and some days less, " said Mrs. Derrick. "She was notvery hungry this morning. " (A mild statement of the case. )

"Some days less than the wing of a robin!" said the doctor. "The robinhimself is a better feeder. Mrs. Derrick, what fancies does this birdlive upon?"

The allusion drew a smile to Faith's face, which Mrs Derrick did notunderstand. 

"She don't tell all her fancies, --she has _seemed_ to live on tea andtoast, for eatables. "

The doctor smiled, and went back to Faith who was busy with theflowers; or as Mrs. Derrick said, seemed to be busy with them. 

"Are those better than cowslips?" he asked lightly. 

"They are more wonderfully beautiful--they are not better in theirplace. "

"How is that?"

"I told you cowslips were bits of spring, " said Faith smiling. "Theseare not that. I think everything in the world--I mean, the naturalworld--has its place, that it fills. "

"Better than any other would?"

"I suppose so. Yes. "

"That is admirable philosophy, " said the doctor. "Excellent to keep onecontented. Three feet of snow is then as good as May zephyrs! Daisiesand dandelions are fair substitutes for geraniums and cacti! And thesebarren granite fields, where the skeleton rock has hardly covereditself skin deep with soil, are better than flowery prairies of rollingland, and fertile wildernesses of roses!"

"Well, " said Faith; "you needn't laugh. I think they are. "

"By what transmutation of philosophy?"

Faith's philosophy was put to the test by certain sounds which justthen came to her ear; the hall door opened and shut quick thoughsoftly, and Reuben came lightly upstairs--two stairs at a time!--buthis knock at Faith's door was almost as quiet as usual. Whatever spiritof energy was at work in him, however, calmed itself down at sight ofDr. Harrison--whom he did not then stay to greet, but coming up with aswift steady step to Faith's chair, knelt down there and gave her hishand with, "Miss Faith, are you better to-day?"

If a rosebud yesterday shut up in the cold had opened all its beams tothe sun, --that was Faith to-day, as she took Reuben's hand and held it. 

"That is a very devoted servant of yours, Miss Faith, " said the doctorpointedly. "I notice he gives you homage in true chivalric style. Doesthe transmuting philosophy extend thus far also?"

Faith turned the light of her face upon him as she answered, "Ishouldn't be worthy of one of those knights or of this, Dr. Harrison, if I would change one for the other. "

Reuben had risen to his feet as the doctor spoke, and as he quittedFaith's hand laid his own, with the slightest possible gesture, uponthe left breast of his coat; which did not mean (as it would with SamStoutenburgh) that there was his heart--but that there were theletters! Then stepping back with a bow acknowledging Dr. Harrison'spresence, Reuben went over to the window to speak to Mrs. Derrick. Thedoctor had seen him before that morning from the window, as with someordered fish Reuben entered Judge Harrison's gate, and his dress wasthe same now as then, --how the different offices could be so differentand so reconciled--or what _this_ office was, were matters of study. But clearly Faith was as strong for her knight as her knight was forher. 

"I didn't understand the transmuting philosophy in the former case, "the doctor remarked. 

"It is not that, " said Faith with rising colour, for she had seenReuben's hand gesture. "It is just taking things as they are. "

"That is a philosophy deeper than that of transmutation!" said thedoctor. "I give it up. But what is the philosophy in this case?--" andhe nodded slightly towards Reuben. 

"If you ever know him, you'll know, Dr. Harrison, " Faith said softly. 

"Is he so trustworthy?" said the doctor thoughtfully looking at him;but then he gave his attention to Faith, and talked of herself and whatshe was to do for herself; until seeing no prospect of the doctor'sbeing out of his way, Reuben was again passing them on his way out. Thedoctor arrested him by a slight but pleasant gesture. 

"What are you doing now, Taylor?"

"Nothing new, sir, --a little for my father and a little for myself. "

"I saw you doing something for your father, I think to-day. Doesn'tthat hinder your studies?"

"Mr. Linden used to say that one duty never _really_ hinders another, sir. "

"Pleasant doctrine!" said the doctor. "I am tempted to try it now. Ifyou bestow a little time upon me, it will not perhaps interfere withyour going to dinner afterwards. Does Mr. Linden continue to hold someof his supervision over you? Do you hear from him sometimes?"

"Yes sir--both, "--was Reuben's prompt answer. 

"Then you have something to do with the post-office occasionally?"

"Yes sir. "

"And know pretty well what everybody in Pattaquasset says of everyother body, --don't you?"

"I don't need to go to the post office for that, sir, " Reuben saidquietly. 

"No--I mean by virtue of another office--that which you exercise foryour father. But it is true, isn't it?"

"Not quite, sir. Some people do not talk to me--and some I never stopto hear. "

The doctor smiled a little, along with an acute look of approvingintelligence. 

"Well--do you happen to know what is said or thought of the people Iwas the means of putting into the post-office, half a year ago?"

"Not very well, sir. I haven't heard much said about them. "

"As far as your knowledge goes, they seem to be doing their duty?"

"I make no complaint, sir. "

Dr. Harrison glanced at Faith with a not pleased expression, and backagain. "Does that mean that you have none to make, or that you willmake none? I am asking, you surely must know, not officially norjudicially; but to gain private information which it is desirable Ishould have; and which I ask, and expect to receive, confidentially. "

"Sir, " Reuben said gravely, though with a manner perfectly respectful, "why do you ask _me?_ The gentlemen of Pattaquasset should know moreabout their own post-office, than the poor fishers of Quapaw. There isa clannishness among poor people, sir, --if I had heard anything, Ishould not like to tell you. "

The doctor got up and took his old position on the carpet rug, a veryslight air of haughty displeasure mixing with his habitual indolentgracefulness. 

"This is your knight, Miss Derrick! Apparently the proverb of 'friends'friends' does not hold good with him. When you are a little older, sir, you will know--if you grow correspondingly wiser--that the fishers ofQuapaw or of any other point are precisely the people to know in such amatter what the gentlemen whom it more nearly concerns, cannot get at;and you have yourself given the reason. "

Faith looked at Reuben with a little inquiring wonder. But he made noanswer, either to her look or the doctor's words; indeed perhaps didnot see the former, for his own eyes were cast down. He stood there, the fingers of both hands lightly interlaced, his face quiet to thelast degree of immovability. The doctor's first words, to Faith, hadbrought a moment's flush to his cheeks, but it had passed with themoment; gravity and steadiness and truth were all that remained. Thedoctor recognized them all, but all as adverse or opposition forces. 

"I will not detain you longer, sir!--I told you, Miss Faith, " he saidsitting down and changing his tone, "that I did not know how to cut upcake--still less how to administer it. I found this family--verypoor--over at Neanticut, on some of my excursions;--and somewhatcarelessly thought they could perform the duty of taking papers out ofa bag, as well as wiser people. There is a girl too, the daughter, whoseemed clever enough. But I have had reason to doubt my own wisdom inthe proceeding, after all. "

Faith heard the door close after Reuben with the first of the doctor'swords to her. She listened to the rest with a divided interest. Hermind had gone off to her basket of bananas, and was besides occupiedwith a little lurking wonder at Reuben's impracticability. But withnothing strongly, the feeling of weakness and lassitude was so takingthe upper hand of every other. The relaxing now began to tell of thegreat tension she had borne for a day or two; the relaxing was entire, for what the basket had begun Reuben's appearance had finished. Faithwas sure he had a letter for her, and so sat and looked at the doctorlike one whose senses were floating away in a dream--one of thosepleasant dreams that they do not wish to break. 

"You are faint!" said the doctor suddenly. "Mrs. Derrick, have you anywine in the house? I should like some here. "

But Mrs. Derrick's first step (it seemed but that) was to Faith--takingher out of the easy-chair and putting her on the couch before any onehad time to say ay or no. There she left her while she opened thecloset and got out the wine; bringing it then to Faith and setting thedoctor aside most unceremoniously. Faith had not quite reached thefainting point, though she was near it from mere inanition. She drankthe wine, and smiled at them both like one who had a secret wine of herown that she was taking privately. 

"What _will_ she eat, Mrs. Derrick?" said the doctor in real concern. "Tea and toast won't do!"

"I will take something presently, " Faith said with another of thosechildlike satisfied looks. They made Dr. Harrison very unlike himself, always. He stood so now. 

"Doctor, " said Mrs. Derrick, in her odd, free, rather blunt and yetkindly way, "you are a very good doctor, I dare say, but you're notmuch of a nurse. Now I am--and I'll find her something to eat, --youneedn't be uneasy. "

He looked at her with one of the best smiles that ever came over hisface; bright, free and kindly; then turned to Faith. 

"What made your knight so cross with me?" he said as he bent over herto take her hand. 

"I don't know--" said Faith. "I am sure he had some good reason. "

"Reason to be cross!"--

"He didn't mean to be cross. You don't know Reuben Taylor. "

The doctor was inclined to be of a different opinion, for his browsknit as soon as he had closed her door. 

"Now mother!" said Faith half raising herself, --"please let me have mybasket. I am going to try one of those queer things. That is what Iwant. "

"Do you know what I want?" said Mrs. Derrick as she brought up thebasket. "Just to have Dr. Harrison find Mr. Linden here some day!"Which severe sentence was so much softened down by the weight of thebasket, that it sounded quite harmless. 

Faith was too eager to get the cover off to pay present attention tothis speech. There they were again! the red and yellow strange, beautiful, foreign-looking things which she was to eat; too handsome todisturb. But finally a red plump banana was cut from the stem, andFaith looked at it in her fingers, uncertain how to begin the attack. Looking back to the little empty space where it had been, Faith became"ware" of an end of blue ribband beneath said space. Down went thebanana and down went Faith. The loop of ribband being pulled gentlysuggested that it was not able to contend with an unknown weight ofbananas; but when Faith partly held these up, the ribband yielded topersuasion, and tugged after it into the daylight a tiny package--whichbeing unwrapped revealed a tiny oval case; wherein lay, last of all, adelicate silver knife. Faith's face of overflowing delight it was goodto see. 

"O mother!--how just like him!--Mother!" exclaimed Faith, --"this is toeat those with!"

Could anything more be wanting to give bananas a flavour? They happenedmoreover to hit the fancy the doctor had been so anxious to suit. Faithliked her first one very much, and pronounced it very nearly the bestof all fruits. But being persuaded to try one, Mrs. Derrick avowed thatshe could not eat it and wondered how Faith could; declaring that inher judgment if a thing was sweet at all, it ought to be sweeter. 

If Dr. Harrison could have seen the atmosphere of peace and delight hisknit brows had left behind them!

As soon as he was gone, Reuben brought up the letters. And withsunshine all round her, Faith read them and went to sleep, which shedid with the little case that held her knife clasped in her hand. Sleepclaimed her while fever took its turn and passed away for the day. Faith woke up towards evening, weak and weary in body, unable to makemuch lively shew of the "merry heart" which "doeth good like amedicine". 

"My studies don't get on very fast at this rate, mother, " she remarkedas she sat in the easy-chair at her tea, unable to hold her head up. 

"This has been a hard day, " her mother said sadly as she looked at her. "Faith, I won't let Dr. Harrison pay any more such long visits! hetires you to death. "

"It wasn't that. Mother--I think I'll have one of those things out ofmy basket--I wish Mr. Linden had told me what to call them. "

Mrs. Derrick brought the basket and looked on intently. 

"When is he coming, child?" she said. 

Faith did not certainly know. Under the influence of a plantain and thesilver knife she revived a little. 

"Mother--what made you wish Dr. Harrison might meet Mr. Linden here?"

"It would save him a world of trouble, " said Mrs. Derrick kindly. "Andbesides, child, I'm tired seeing him buzz round you, myself. Faith, Mr. Linden would say that _he_ ought to be told you're sick. "

"I can judge for him once in a while, " Faith said with a little bit ofa triumphing smile. 

"Well--" said her mother, --"you'll see what he'll say. I guess he'drather you'd judge for him about something else. "

From that time letters went and came through the Patchaug post-office. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

Faith rallied somewhat from the prostration that succeeded those daysof anxiety; but then the fever again asserted its empire, and strength, little by little but daily, lost ground rather than gained it. Thoughnot ever very high, the fever came back with persevering regularity; itwould not be baffled; and such always recurring assaults are trying toflesh and blood and to spirit too, be they of what they may. Faith'spatience and happy quiet never left her; as the weeks went on it didhappen that the quiet grew more quiet, and was even a little borderingon depression. One or two things helped this uncomfortably. 

The sense of the extreme unpleasantness of such a meeting as her motherhad wished for, perhaps startled Faith to a fresh sense of what she hadto do in the premises. She resolved to be as grave and cool as it waspossible to be, in Dr. Harrison's presence. She would keep him at sucha distance as should wean him from any thoughts of her. Faith triedfaithfully to do what she had purposed. But it was very difficult tokeep at a distance a person who did not pretend to be near, or onlypretended it in a line where he could not be repulsed. He must see herevery day as her physician. He must be allowed the kindly expression ofkind feelings; he could not be forbidden to bring to his patient, asher friend and physician, such things as he thought her strength, orweakness, needed. These instances of thoughtfulness and care for herwere many. Birds, old wine from his father's cellar, flowers from thegreenhouse, and fruit from nobody knows where, came often; and themanner of offering them, the quiet, unobtrusive, unexacting kindnessand attention, it was scarce possible to reject without something thatwould have seemed churlishness. Faith took them as gravely as she couldwithout being unkind. Her illness helped her, and also hindered theeffect she wished to produce. Feeling weak and weary and unable for anysort of exertion, it was the easier for her to be silent, abstracted, unresponsive to anything that was said or done. And also her being sosignified the less and testified the less of her real purpose. Faithknew it and could not help it. She could not besides be anything butnatural; and she felt kindly towards Dr. Harrison; with a gravekindness, that yet was more earnest in its good wishes for him than anyother perhaps that existed for Dr. Harrison in the world. Faith couldnot hide that, careful as she was in her manner of shewing it. Andthere was one subject upon which she dared not be unresponsive orabstracted when the doctor brought it up. He brought it up now veryoften. 

She did not know how it was, she was far from knowing why it was; butthe pleasant talk with which the doctor sought to amuse her, and whichwas most skilfully pleasant as to the rest, was very apt to glance uponBible subjects; and as it touched, to brush them with the wing ofdoubt--or difficulty or--uneasiness. Dr. Harrison did not see things asshe did--that was of old; but he contrived to let her see that hedoubted she did not see them right, and somehow contrived also to makeher hear his reasons. It was done with the art of a master and thesteady aim of a general who has a great field to win. Faith did notwant to hear his suggestions of doubt and cavil. She remembered Mr. Linden's advice long ago given; repeated it to herself every day; andsought to meet Dr. Harrison only with the sling stone of truth and lethis weapons of artificial warfare alone. Truly she "had not provedthese, " and "could not go with them. " But whatever effect her slingmight have upon him, which she knew not, his arrows were so cunninglythrown that they wounded her. Not in her belief; she never failed for amoment to be aware that they were arrows from a false quiver, that thesword of truth would break with a blow. And yet, in her weak state ofbody and consequent weak state of mind, the sight of such poisonedarrows flying about distressed her; the mere knowledge that they didfly and bore death with them; a knowledge which once she happily hadnot. All this would have pained her if she had been well; in thefeverish depression of illness it weighed upon her like a mountain ofcloud. Faith's shield caught the darts and kept them from herself; butin her increasing nervous weakness her hand at last grew weary; and itseemed to Faith then as if she could see nothing but those arrowsflying through the air. But there was one human form before which, sheknew, this mental array of enemies would incontinently take flight anddisappear; she knew they would not stand the first sound of Mr. Linden's voice; and her longing grew intense for his coming. How didshe ever keep it out of her letters! Yet it hardly got in there, forshe watched it well. Sometimes the subdued "I want to see you verymuch, "--at the close of a letter, said, more than Faith knew it did;and she could not be aware how much was told by the tone of herwriting. That had changed, though that too was guarded, so far as shecould. She could not pour out a light, free, and joyous account of allthat was going on within and about her, when she was sufferingalternately from fever and weakness, and through both from depressionand nervous fancies. Most unlike Faith! and she tried to seem her usualself then when she came most near it, in writing to him. But it was anice matter to write letters for so many weeks out of a sick room andnot let Mr. Linden find out that she herself was there all the while. His letters however were both a help and a spur; Faith talked a gooddeal of things not at Pattaquasset; and through all weakness and ailingsent her exercises prepared with utmost care, regularly as usual. Ithurt her; but Faith would not be stopped. Her sickness she knew afterall was but a light matter; and nothing could persuade her to break inupon Mr. Linden's term of study with any more interruptions for her. And even to Mrs. Derrick she did not tell the keen heart-longing, whichdaily grew more urgent, for that term to come to an end. 

Mrs. Derrick did sometimes connect the cause of her weariness with Dr. Harrison, and was indignant in proportion. Faith looked at him withdifferent eyes, and her feeling was of very gentle and deep sorrow forhim. It was by the appeal to that side of her character that Dr. Harrison gained all his advantage. 

Faith's shield caught his arrows of unbelieving suggestion and threwthem off from her own heart; she could not put that shield between themand the doctor, and that was her grief. It grieved her more than hethought. And yet, it was with a half conscious, half instinctiveavailing himself of this feeling that he aimed and managed his attackswith such consummate tact and skill. Faith would not have entered intocontroversy; she would not have taken up a gauntlet of challenge; didhe know that? His hints and questions were brought into the subject, Faith knew not how; but the point of view in which they alwayspresented themselves was as troublers of his own mind--difficulties hewould willingly have solved--questions he would like to see answered. And Faith's words, few or many, for she was sometimes drawn on, weresaid in the humble yearning desire to let him know what she rejoiced inand save him from an abyss of false fathomless depth. It was more thanshe could do. Dr. Harrison's subtle difficulties and propositions hadbeen contrived in a school of which she knew nothing; and were far toosubtle and complicate in their false wit for Faith's true wit toanswer. Not at all for lack of wit, but for lack of skill in fencingand of experience in the windings of duplicity. So she heard thingsthat grieved her and that she could not shew up to the doctor for whatshe knew them to be. 

"I am no better than this little knife!" she thought bitterly one day, as she was looking at her favourite silver banana-carver;--"it can gothrough soft fruit well enough, but it isn't strong enough or sharpenough to deal with anything harder!--"

Faith did herself injustice. It takes sometimes little less thanIthuriel's spear to make the low, insidious, unobtrusive forms of evilstand up and shew themselves what they are--the very Devil!

"Reuben, " said Faith one time when they were alone together, --"did youever hear any of the mischievous talk against the Bible, of people whodon't love it?"

"Yes, Miss Faith, --I never heard a great deal at a time--only littlebits now and then. And I've felt some times from a word or two whatother words the people had in their hearts. "

"Don't ever let people talk it to you, Reuben, unless God makes it yourduty to hear it, " she said wearily. Reuben looked at her. 

"Do you think he _ever_ makes it our duty, Miss Faith?"

"I don't know!" said Faith, a little as if the question startled her. "But you might be where you could not help it, Reuben. "

He was silent, looking rather thoughtfully into the fire. 

"Miss Faith, " he said, "you remember when Christian was going throughthe Valley of the Shadow of Death, the fiends came and whispered to himall sorts of dreadful things which he would not have thought of for theworld. 'But, ' as Mr. Bunyan says, 'he had not the discretion either tostop his ears, or to know from whence those blasphemies came. '" Reubenblushed a little at his own advice-giving, but made no other apology. 

There was much love and respect and delight in Faith's swift look athim. Her words glanced. "Reuben, I am glad you are going to be aminister!"--She added with the sorrowful look stealing over her face, "I wish the world was full of ministers!--if they were good ones. "

His face was very bright and grateful, and humble too. "Miss Faith, " hesaid, taking up her words, "don't you love to think of that otherdefinition of minister?--you know--'ye ministers of his, that do hispleasure. '"

"In that way the world is full now, " said Faith; "in all things exceptmen. But by and by 'the great trumpet will be blown' and 'they thatwere ready to perish' shall come, from everywhere. It's good to knowthat. "

"It's such a beautiful thing to know, just by believing!" Reubensaid, --"don't you think so, Miss Faith? And then whatever people say ordo, and if we can't find a word to answer them, we _know_ down in ourhearts, that the Bible is true. And so 'by faith we stand. '"

"But we ought to find words to answer them, Reuben--or else, though_we_ stand, they fall!"

"Yes, ma'am--sometimes, " Reuben said rather hesitatingly. "Only--I'veheard Mr. Linden say that a Christian must take care of his ownstanding _first_, and do nothing to shake that; or else he may have hisown light blown out while he's trying to light other people's. Youknow, Miss Faith, the five wise virgins would not give their oil to theothers. I've heard Mr. Linden talk about it very often, " Reuben addedsoftly, as if he wanted to screen himself from the charge ofpresumption. 

If Faith was bringing charges, it was against herself, for she sat verysilent and thoughtful, and weary also; for when for the fifth or sixthtime Reuben brought his eyes from the fire to her face he saw that shehad fallen asleep. 

Mr. Linden's letters about this time told two or three things, amongthe rest that he might soon be looked for instead of letters. Moreoverthat he felt sure he was wanted--and further, that Faith's letters hadchanged. These two last things were not said in words, but Faith readthem none the less surely--read thus first that her letters really_were_ different. Just what cause Mr. Linden assigned to himself, shedid not know, nor whether he had fixed upon any; but it was clear thatnothing but the fact that his freedom was so close at hand, kept himfrom freeing himself at once and coming to Pattaquasset. And secondonly to Faith did Mrs. Derrick long for his appearance. 

She had heard bits of the doctor's talk from time to time, but for awhile with some doubt of their meaning, --as whether he was reportingwhat other people said, or whether she had heard him correctly. Butwhen by degrees the goodness of her hearing attested itself, _then_Mrs. Derrick's indignation began to follow suit. The doctor's objectshe did not at first guess (perhaps made it, if possible, worse than itwas) but that made little difference. 

On this particular afternoon, when Faith woke up she found Reuben goneand her mother keeping watch. The fair look that always greeted Mrs. Derrick was given her, but otherwise the face she was studying was notsatisfactory. The roundness of the cheek was much lessened, the colourwas gone, and the lines of expression were weary though she had slept. Or rather perhaps they were too gravely drawn. 

"Faith, " said her mother decisively, "you want your tea. Can you eat abroiled pigeon, if I broil it myself?"

"I can eat a piece of one, if you'll take the rest, mother, " she saidwith a smile at her. "I eat a whole banana just before I went to sleep. "

"Well this ain't the doctor's pigeon, so I guess it will be good, " saidMrs. Derrick. "Sam Stoutenburgh brought it. --And I'm going to cook ithere, pretty child, because I want to be here myself. I suppose thesmoke won't trouble you if it goes up chimney?"

"I'd like it, smoke and all, mother, " said Faith, changing theresting-place for her head. "But you needn't slight the doctor'sbirds--they were as fine birds as could be--when I could eat them. "

"'Birds of a feather'"--said Mrs. Derrick laconically. And she drew outsome of the glowing and winking embers, and set thereon the tinygridiron with its purplish plump pigeon. "Sam's home now, Faith, andyou'd think he'd been through every degree of everything. But the firstthing he did was to go off and shoot pigeons for you. "

Faith was inclined to think he had not got above one degree. She sat inher easy-chair and watched the play cookery with amused pleased eyes. 

"I should like to be in the kitchen again, mother--doing something foryou. "

"You shall do something for me presently, " said her mother, as thepigeon began to send out little puffs of steam and jets of juice, whichthe coals resented. "_This_ one's fat, anyway--and there's a half dozenmore. The fun of it is, child, that Sam was afraid there weren'tenough!--he wanted to know if I was _sure_ they'd last tillto-morrow!--so I guess _he's_ not in a fainting away state. I told himwe'd roast beef in the house, for you to fall back upon, child, " sheadded with a little laugh, as she turned the pigeon. But her face wasvery grave the next moment, with the sorrowful reality. "Pretty child, "she said tenderly, "do you feel as if you could eat a muffin or abiscuit best?"

"Mother, that pigeon is making me hungry, it smells so nice. I am sureI can eat anything. "

"Well I _made_ muffins, " said Mrs. Derrick, bustling softly about withthe little table and the tea-things. "Faith, I'm afraid to have Mr. Linden come home and find your cheeks so thin. "

"I'm not, " said Faith quietly. 

"My!" said her mother, "you never were afraid of anything he'd a mindto do, child. But for all _I_ know, he may carry you off to Europe inthe next steamer. He's up to 'most anything, " said Mrs. Derrickstooping down by the pigeon, and giving it the persuasion of a few morecoals. 

Faith said languidly that she did not think there was much danger, andMrs. Derrick for the present concentrated her attention upon the teapreparations. Cindy came up with a little teakettle, and Mrs. Derrickmade the tea, and then went down stairs to superintend the first bakingof the muffins, leaving the teakettle to sing Faith into a very quietstate of mind. Then presently reappearing, with a smoking plate ofcakes in her hand, Mrs. Derrick took up the pigeon, with dueapplications of butter and salt and pepper, and the tea was ready. Itwas early; the sunbeams were lingering yet in the room, the air waftedin through the window the sweet dewy breath of flowers and buds andspringing grass over the pigeon and muffins; and by Faith's plate stoodthe freshest of watercresses in a little white bowl. These Reubenbrought her every day, wet from the clear stream where they grew, shining with the drops of bright water, and generally sprinkled toowith some of the spring flowers. To-day the plate on which the bowlstood had a perfect wreath or crown of mouse-ear, --the pale pinkblossoms saying all sorts of sweet things. The room was well off forflowers in other respects. Dr. Harrison's hothouse foreigners lookeddainty and splendid, and Mrs. Stoutenburgh's periwinkle and crocusesand daffodils looked springlike and fresh; while in another glass arich assortment of dandelions spoke a prettier message yet, fromCharles twelfth and his little compeers. 

"And the mouse-ear is come!" said Faith as she applied herself to therefreshment of salt and watercresses. "I wonder whether Reuben doesthis because he loves flowers him self, or because he knows I do. Iguess it's both. How lovely they are! How my dairy must want me, mother. " Which was said with a little recollective patient sigh. 

"I guess it can wait, " said her mother cheerfully. "And I guess it'llhave to. You needn't think you'll be let do anything for one while, Faith. "

"I guess I shall, mother. I am sure I am stronger to-day, --and Dr. Harrison said I had less fever. And your pigeon is good. Besides, I_must_, --if I can, "--said Faith, with an anticipative glance this time. 

"It's my belief, child, " said her mother, "that if Dr. Harrison hadstaid away altogether--or never staid here more than five minutes at atime, you'd have been better long ago. But I think you _are_ better--inspite of him. "

Of the two subjects Faith preferred the pigeon to Dr. Harrison, anddiscussed it quite to her mother's satisfaction. But if silent, shethought never the less. Both Reuben Taylor's words and her mother'swords quickened her to thinking, and thinking seemed of very littleuse. The next day when the doctor came she was as grave and still andunresponsive as she could be. And it had no effect on him whatever. Hewas just as usual, he talked just as usual; and Faith could but begrieved, and be silent. It did not enter her gentle imagination thatthe very things which so troubled her were spoken on purpose to troubleher. How could it? when they made their way into the conversation andinto her hearing as followers of something else, as harpies thatworried or had worried somebody else, as shapes that a cloud might takeand be a cloud again--only she could not forget that shape. It was nearnow the time for Mr. Linden to come home, and Faith looked for hiscoming with an hourly breath of longing. It seemed to her that his verybeing there would at once break the mesh Dr. Harrison was so busyweaving and in which she had no power to stop him. 

But the doctor's opportunity for playing this game was nearing an end, and he knew it. He did not know that Mr. Linden was coming; he did knowthat Faith was getting well. 

A day or two after the talk with Reuben it happened that Mrs. Derrickwas detained down stairs when the doctor came up to see Faith. The roomwas full of a May warmth and sweetness from the open windows; and Faithherself in a white dress instead of the brown wrapper, looked May-likeenough. Not so jocund and blooming certainly; she was more like asnowdrop than a crocus. Her cheeks were pale and thin, but their colourwas fresh; and her eye had the light of returning health, --or ofreturning something else!

"You are getting well!" said the doctor. "I shall lose my work--andforgive me, my pleasure!"

"I will give you some better work to do, Dr. Harrison. "

"What is that? Anything for you!--"

"It is not for me. That little lame child to whom you sent therose-tree, Dr. Harrison, --she is very sick. Would you go and see her?"

"Did you think I would not?" he said rather gravely. 

"I want to see her very much myself, " Faith went on;--"but I suppose Icould not take so long a ride yet. Could I?"

The doctor looked at her. 

"I think the mother of the Gracchi must have been something such awoman!" he said with an indescribable grave comic mien;--"and the otherRoman mother that saved Rome and lost her son! Or that lady of Spartawho made the affectionate request to _her_ son about coming home fromthe battle on his shield! I thought the race had died out. "

Faith could not help laughing. He had not been sure that she wouldunderstand his allusions, but his watchful eye saw that she did. 

"Were you educated in Pattaquasset?" he said. "Pardon me!"--

All Faith's gravity returned, and all her colour too. "No, sir, " shesaid, "I have never been educated. I am studying now. "

"Studying!" said he gently. "You have little need to study. "

"Why, sir?"

"There are minds and natures so rich by their original constitution, that their own free growth is a fuller and better harvest than all theschoolmasters in the world can bring out of other people. "

Again Faith's cheek was dyed. "I was poor enough, " she said bowing herhead for a moment. "I am poor now, --but I am studying. "

In which last words lay perhaps the tiniest evidence of an intentionnot to be poor always. A suspicious glance of thought shot from thedoctor's mind. But as it had happened more than once before, thesimplicity of Faith's frankness misled him, and he dismissed suspicion. 

"If you want an illustration of my meaning, " he went on without changeof manner, "permit me to remind you that your paragon ofcharacter, --the Rhododendron--does no studying. My conclusion is plain!"

"The Rhododendron does all it can. "

"Well--" said the doctor, --"it is impossible to trace the limits of theinfluences of mignonette. "

Faith looked grave. She was thinking how very powerless her influenceshad been. 

"Don't you see that I have made out my position?"

"No. "

"What sort of studying--may I ask it?--do you favour most?" he saidwith a smile. 

"I like all kinds--every kind!"

"I believe that. I know you have a love for chymistry, and Shakspeare, and natural history. But I should like to know Mignonette's favouriteatmosphere. "

"The study I like best of all is the one you like least, Dr. Harrison. "

"What may that be, Miss Faith?"

"The study of the Bible. "

"The Bible! Surely you know that already, " he said in an interestedvoice. 

"Did you think so?" said Faith quickly and with secret humbleness. "Youmade a great mistake, Dr. Harrison. But there is nothing I take suchdeep lessons in;--nor such pleasant ones. "

"You mistake me too, Miss Faith. I do like it. You are strong enoughfor it to-day--I wish you would give me one of those lessons you speakof?"

"If you loved it, sir, you would not ask me. You would find them foryourself. "

"Another mistake!" said the doctor. "I might love them, and yet askyou. Won't you give me one?"

She lifted to his a look so gentle and grave that he could not thinkshe was displeased, or harsh, or even unkind. But she answered him, "No. "

"Don't you feel strong enough for it?" he said with a shade of concern. 

"Yes. "

"You think you have given me one lesson already, " he said smiling, "which I am not attending to. I will go and see your little sick childimmediately. But I don't know the way! I wish you were well enough topilot me. I can't find her by the sign of the rosebush?"

"Reuben Taylor will take you there, Dr. Harrison, if you will let him. He goes there often. "

"If I will let him! Say, if he will let me! Your knight does not smileupon me, Miss Faith. "

"Why not?"

"I'm sure I'm not qualified to give evidence, " said the doctor halflaughing at having the tables turned upon him. "Unless his chivalricdevotion to you is jealous of every other approach--even mine. But yousay he will guide me to the rosebush?"

"I am sure he will with great pleasure, Dr. Harrison. "

"And I will go with great pleasure--for you. "

He was standing before her, looking down. There was something in thelook that made Faith's colour come again. She answered seriously, "Nosir--not for me. "

"Why not?"

"I can't reward you, " said Faith; trembling, for she felt she wasspeaking to the point. "Do it for a better reason. "

"Will you shew me a better?"

She answered instantly with a bright little smile, "'Give, and it shallbe given unto you; full measure, pressed down, heaped up, and runningover, shall men give into your bosom. '"

"In another world!--" said the doctor. 

"No--in this. The promise stands for it. "

"It's your part of this world--not mine; and unless you shew me theway, Miss Faith, I shall never get into it. "--Then more gently, takingher hand and kissing it, he added, "Are you tired of trying to help me?"

Faith met his keen eye, reddened, and drooped her head; for indeed shefelt weak. And her words were low and scarce steady. "I will not betired of praying for you, Dr Harrison. "

What swift electric current along the chain of association moved thedoctor's next question. He was silent a minute before he spoke it; thenspoke in a clear even voice. "May I ask you--is it impertinent--whatfirst led you to this way of thinking?--Sophy says you were not alwaysso. "

The colour deepened on Faith's cheek, he saw that, and deepened more. 

"The teaching is always of heaven, sir. But it came to me through thehands of the friend who was so long in our house--last year. "

"And has that adventurer counselled you to trust no friend that isn'tof his way of thinking?" the doctor said with some haughtiness ofaccent. 

Faith raised her eyes and looked at him, the steady grave look that thedoctor never liked to meet from those soft eyes. It fixed his, till hereyes fell with a sudden motion, and the doctor's followedthem--whither? To that gloved forefinger which he had often noticed waskept covered. Faith was slowly drawing the covering off; and somethingin her manner or her look kept his eyes rivetted there. Slowly, deliberately, Faith uncovered the finger, and in full view thebrilliants sparkled; danced and leapt, as it seemed to Faith, whoseeyes saw nothing else. She did not dare look up, nor could, for adouble reason. She sat like a fair statue, looking still and only atthe diamond sign, while the blood in her cheeks that bore witness to itseemed the only moving thing about her. That rose and deepened, fromcrimson to scarlet, and from her cheeks to the rim of her hair. 

She never saw the changes in her neighbour's face, nor what strugglesthe paleness and the returning flush bore witness to. She never lookedup. She had revealed all; she was willing he should conceal all, --thathe could. It was but a minute or two, though Faith's measurement madeit a more indefinite time; and Dr. Harrison took her hand again, precisely in his usual manner, remarked that it was possible he mightbe obliged to go south in a day or two _for_ a day or two, but that herather thought he had cured her; and so went off, with no difference oftone that any stranger could have told, and Faith never raised her eyesto see how he looked. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

Dr. Harrison sent away his curricle and walked home, --slowly, with hishands behind him, as if the May air had made him lazy. To any one thatmet him, he wore as disengaged an air as usual; his eye was as coollycognizant of all upon which it fell, and his brow never looked lessthoughtful. While his head never had been more busy. He kept the secretof his pride--he had kept and would keep it, well; no one should guesswhat he bore; but he bore a writhing brain and a passion that washeaving with disappointment. To no end--except to expose himself--hehad worked at his mining operations all these months; nothing could bemore absolute than the silence of Faith's answer; nothing could be morecertain than the fixedness of her position. Against the veryimpassableness of the barrier the doctor's will chafed, even while hishope gave way. He ruthlessly called himself a fool for it too, at theminute. But he was unused to be baffled; and no man pursues long withsuch deliberate energy a purpose upon which he has set his heart, without having all the cords of his will and his passion knit at lastinto a cable of strength and tenacity. The doctor's walk grew slower, and his eyes fell on the ground. How lovely Faith had looked--eventhen, when she was putting him and herself to pain; how speakingly thecrimson hues had chased each other all over her face, and neck; howshyly her eyelashes had kept their place on her cheek; with howexquisite grace her still attitude had been maintained. And withal whata piece of simplicity she was! What a contrast those superb diamondshad made with the almost quaint unadornedness of her figure in itswhite wrapper. A contrast that somehow was not inharmonious, and withwhich the doctor's artistic taste confessed itself bewitched, thoughFaith's only other remotest ornament was that very womanly one of herrich brown hair. A piece of simplicity? Could she be beyond his reach?With duty between, --yes; otherwise, --no! as all the doctor's experiencetold him. And he walked leisurely past his own door, past the houses ofthe village, on almost to the entrance of the woody road; then turnedand came with a brisker pace back. He still called himself a fool, secretly; but he went into the library and wrote a letter. Which incourse of time was received and read by Mr. Linden between two of hispieces of work. 

It appeared the next day that Dr. Harrison had changed his mind, or hisplans, about going south; for he came as usual to see Faith. In everysense as usual; to her astonishment no traces remained of theyesterday's conversation. The ease and kindliness of his manner hadsuffered no abatement, although a little touch of regretfulness, justallowed to appear, forbade her to doubt that she had been understood. Spite of herself, she could not help being presently again almost atease with him. Nevertheless Faith wished he had gone south. 

She did not feel sure that Mr. Linden would be pleased with the stateof matters, as days went on, and she was sure she was not pleasedherself. There was something she did not understand. The doctor'smanner was not presuming, in a way; neither did he obtrude even hissorrow upon her; yet he took the place of a privileged person--she feltthat--and she was obliged to see his pain in the very silence and inthe play of words or of face which she thought assumed to conceal it. She was very sorry for him, and in the same breath thought she musthave been wrong in something, though she could not see how, or thingswould never have come to such a point. 

She could not guess--how could she!--that the doctor was playing adesperate game and had thrown his last stake on the chance of a flaw inMr. Linden's confidence towards her or in hers towards him, or of aflaw in the temper of either of them, or a flaw in their pride, oraffection! There are flaws in so many characters! Did but either ofthem lack moral courage, or truth, or trust, or common sense, like agreat many of the rest of the world--and the doctor had gained hisground! For Dr. Harrison had determined that Faith's religious opinionsshould not stand in his way; she should think as he did, or--he wouldthink with her!

Of all this Faith knew nothing. She had only an intuitive sense thatsomething was not right; and doubt and annoyance kept her strengthback. She lost ground again. All summed itself up in a longing for Mr. Linden to come. 

Meanwhile Mr. Linden had received and read the following despatch, andstudied and taught before and after it as best he might. 

_Pattaquasset_, _April_, 18--. 

"MY DEAR LINDEN, I do not know what impulse prompts me to write this letter to you--Avery strong one, probably, that makes fools of men--Yet even with myeyes open to this, I go on. 

I have unwittingly become your rival. Not in fact, indeed, but incharacter. I have been so unfortunate as to love a person you aresomehow concerned in--and before I knew that you had any concern of thekind. That is a very simple story, and only one to be smothered--not tobe brought to open air, --were it all. But the course of the monthspast, which has too late brought me this knowledge of myself, has alsomade me believe that--had I a fair field--were there no contrary tiesor fetters of conscience--I should not love in vain. What those tiesare I know nothing--I have not asked--but the existence of _some_obligation I have been given to understand. With certain natures oftruth and duty, that is a barrier impassable. You would be safe, were Ito act out of honour. 

I am a fool, I believe; but I am not yet such a fool as not to knowthat there is but one man in the world to whom I could write such aconfession. Nothing better prompts it than pure selfishness, I amaware--but with me that is strong. I have that notion of you that youwould not care to keep what you held _only_ by priority of claim. I maybe wrong in the supposition upon which I am going--yet it is my chancefor life and I cannot yield it up. That were the lady _free_--inconscience as well as in fact--she might be induced to look favourablyon me. I ought to add, that I believe such a consciousness has nevershaped itself to her mind--the innocence with which she may at firsthave entered into some sort of obligation, would not lessen or alterits truth or stringency to her pure mind. The game is in your ownhands, Linden--so is

Your unworthy friend

JULIUS HARRISON. 

P. S. --One thing further I ought to add--that a somewhat delicate stateof nerves and health, over which I have been for some time watching, would make any rash broaching of this subject very inexpedient andunsafe. I need not enforce this hint. "

CHAPTER XXVI. 

The spring opened from day to day, and the apple blossoms werebursting. Mr. Linden might soon be looked for, and one warm Mayafternoon Faith went in to make his room ready. It was the first dayshe had been fit for it, and she was yet so little strong that she musttake care of her movements. With slow and unable fingers she did herpleasant work, and then very tired, sat down in her old readingwindow-seat and went into a long dream-meditation. It was pleasant fora while, in harmony with the summer air and the robins in the maple; itgot round at last into the train of the last weeks. A fruitless reverieended in Faith's getting very weary; and she went back to her own roomto put herself on the couch cushions and go to sleep. 

Sleep held on its way after a peaceful fashion, yet not so but thatFaith's face shewed traces of her thoughts. Mrs. Derrick came softlyand watched her, and the spring air blew back the curtains and fannedher, and brushed her hair with its perfumed wings; and one or two honeybees buzzed in and sought honey from the doctor's flowers, and forsookthem again for the fields. 

Up there at last, following Mrs. Derrick, came Mr. Linden. With fewreasons asked or told of his sudden appearance; with little said evenof Faith's illness but the mere fact, he went up to the sunlit room andthere staid. Not restingly in Faith's easy-chair, but standing by thelow fire-place, just where he could have the fullest view of her. Mrs. Derrick came and went, --he never stirred. The sunbeams came andwent--wrapped Faith in their bright folds and lay at his feet, thenbegan to withdraw altogether. They had shewed him the unwontedly paleand worn face, and lit up the weary lines in which the lips lay asleep;and just when the sunbeams had left it all, Mr. Linden became awarethat two dark eyes had softly opened and were gazing at him as if hewere a figure in a dream. So perhaps for a minute he seemed, touchedwith the light as he was, which made a glorification in the brown locksof his hair and gleamed about "pleasant outlines" standing as fixed andstill as a statue. But they were not statue eyes which looked intohers, and Faith's dreamlike gaze was only for a moment. Then every lineof her face changed with joy--and she sprang up to hide it in Mr. Linden's arms. He stood still, holding her as one holds some rescuedthing. For Faith was too weak to be just herself, and weariness andgladness had found their own very unusual expression in an outflow ofnervous tears. 

Something seemed to have taken away Mr. Linden's power of words. He didplace her among the cushions again, but if every one of her tears hadbeen balm to him he could not have let them flow more unchecked. Perhaps the recollection that they _were_ tears came suddenly; for withvery sudden sweet peremptoriness he said, "Faith, hush!--Are you so glad to see me?"

She was instantly still. No answer. 

"What then?" The intonation was most tender, --so, rather than by anyplayfulness, cancelling his own question. She raised her head, she haddismissed her tears, yet the smile with which her glance favoured himwas a sort of rainbow smile, born of clouds. 

"That is a very struggling and misty sunbeam!" said Mr. Linden. "Isthat why I was kept out of its range so long?"

Faith's head drooped. Her forehead lay lightly against him; he couldnot see what sort of a smile she wore. 

"Whereupon it goes into seclusion altogether. Mignonette, look up andkiss me--how much longer do you suppose I can wait for that?"

He had no longer to wait at that time, and the touch of her lips waswith a tremulous gladness which was tale-telling. And then the positionof the lowered head and the hand which kept its place on his shouldershewed him that she was clinging, though with shy eagerness, like abird that with tired wing has found her nest. With one of those quickimpulses which to-day seemed to have taken the place of his usualsteadiness, Mr. Linden bent down and blessed her; in words such as shenever remembered from other lips. Not many indeed, but deep andstrong, --as the very depth and strength of his own human and religiousnature; words that stilled Faith's heart as with the shadowing ofpeace; so that for the time she could not wonder, but only rest. Theymade her tremble a moment; then she rested as if the words had been aspell. But the rest wrought action. Faith drew back presently andlooked up at Mr. Linden to see how he looked. And then she could nottell. Her puzzled eyes found nothing to remark upon. 

"Endy--I thought you would not be here for two or three days yet. "

"It was nearly impossible. My child, when did you get sick?"

"O--a good while ago. "

"'A good while, '"--Mr. Linden repeated with grave emphasis. "Well doyou think it would have lengthened the time to have me come and seeyou?"

Faith's heart was too full, and her answer, looking down, was atremulous, quiet and tender, "I don't think it would. "

"Then wherefore was I not permitted?"

"I didn't want you to come then. "

"And again, wherefore?"

"Why you know, Endy. I couldn't want you till you were ready to come. "

"I should have been most emphatically ready! What sort of medicalattendance have you had?"

"Good, you know. I had Dr. Harrison. "

"And he did his duty faithfully?"

"I guess he always does--his medical duty, " said Faith somewhat quietly. 

"Duty is a sort of whole-souled thing, to my mind, " said Mr. Linden. "Do you think all his ministrations did you good?"

There was pain and wonder, and even some fear in Faith's eyes as shelooked at Mr. Linden. 

"They ought not to have done me any harm"--she said meekly. 

"_Did_ they, Faith? I thought--" Very softly and thoughtfully hisfingers came about her hair, his eyes looking at her, Faith couldhardly tell how. The pain of those weeks stung her again--the sorrowand the shame and the needlessness. Faith's head sunk again upon Mr. Linden's breast, for the tears came bitterly; though he could not knowthat. He only knew that they came. Holding her with a strong arm--as ifagainst some one else; soothing her with grave kisses, not with words, Mr. Linden waited for her to speak. 

"Child, " he said at last, "you will do yourself harm. Has _he_ broughton this state of the nerves that he talks about? And in what possibleway?"

"Don't talk about it, Endy!--" said Faith struggling forself-command--"I am foolish--and wrong--and weak. I'll tell you anothertime. "--But Faith's head kept its position. 

"Do you think I can wait, to know what has made my coming home such atearful affair?"

"Yes. Because it's all over now. "

"What is over?"

"All--that you wouldn't like. "

"Faith, you talk in perfect riddles!--It is well that what I can see ofthis very pale little face is less puzzling. Did you tell Dr. Harrisonof your claim upon me?"

"What?--" she said looking up. 

"Well. --You know what that claim is. Did you tell him, Faith?"

Her eyes fell again. "Yes--at least--I shewed him my ring. "

"In answer to his suit, Faith?"

"No. --He was talking as I did not like, one day. "--Faith's cheeks weregrowing beautifully rosy. 

"Was it to protect yourself, or me?" said Mr. Linden watching her. Faith's glance up and down, was inexpressibly pretty. 

"Myself, I think. "

"You have a strange power of exciting and keeping down my temper, atone and the same time!" said Mr. Linden. "What did he dare say to you?"

"Nothing about me. It was something--about you--which I did not chooseto have him say. "

Mr. Linden smiled, and called her a little crusader, but the grave lookcame back. Dr. Harrison had known, then, just what ties he was tryingto break, --had felt sure--_must_ have felt sure--that they were bondsof very deep love and confidence; and thereupon, had coolly set himselfto sow mistrust! Mr. Linden was very silent, --the keen words ofindignation that rose to his lips ever driven back and turned aside byFaith's face, which told so plainly that she could bear no excitement. He spoke at last with great deliberation. 

"You may as well shew it to all Pattaquasset, Mignonette!--for allPattaquasset shall know before I have been here much longer. "

"What?--why?" she said startling. 

"For what you will, love. I think you need the protection of my name. "

Faith could not deny it; howsoever she looked quaintly grave upon theproposition. 

"Do you know how you will have to scour the country now, and makeyourself as much as possible like cowslips and buttercups and primrosesand mouse-ear?" said Mr. Linden smiling. "One day you may be a Springbeauty, and the next Meadow-sweet, and when I see you a wild pink Ishall feel comparatively happy. "

Faith with a very little laugh remarked that she did not feel as if sheever should be anything _wild_. 

"What is your definition of wild?"

"Not tame. "

"Does that meek adjective express the kind of pink you intend to be?"

"I didn't say what I should be--I only spoke of what I am. "

"Shall I tell you the future tense of this very indicative mood?" hesaid touching her cheeks. 

"If you know it!"

"If I know it!--You will be (some months later) a Lindenflower!--whether wild or tame remains to be been. "

Unless Linden flowers can be sometimes found a good dealdeeper-coloured than pinks, there was at least very little presentresemblance. The only notice Faith took of this prophecy was aninvoluntary one. The door softly opened at this point, and Mrs. Derrickcame in to announce tea. She stood still a moment surveying them both. 

"How do you think she looks, Mr. Linden?"

His eyes went back to Faith, giving a quick reply which he did not meanthey should. "She looks like a dear child--as she is, Mrs. Derrick. Icannot say much more for her. But I shall take her down to tea. "

Mrs. Derrick went joyfully off for shawls and wrappers. Mr. Linden wassilent; his eyes had not stirred. But he amused himself with takingsome of the violets from the table near by and fastening them in herbelt and hair; the very touch of his fingers telling some things he didnot. 

"Sunbeam, do you feel as if you could bear transportation?"

"Not as a sunbeam. I could walk down, I think, " said Faith. Mr. Lindenremarked that the truth of that proposition would never be known; andthen she was muffled in a large soft shawl, and carried down stairs andlaid on the sofa in the sitting-room. The windows were open for the Maywind, but there was a dainty little fire still--everything lookedstrangely familiar; even Mr. Linden; though his face wore not just itsmost wonted expression. He had laid her down among the cushions andloosened her wrapping shawl, and paid a little attention to the fire;and now stood in Dr. Harrison's favourite place, looking ather, --perhaps trying to see whether she looked more like herself downstairs than she had done above. He could not find that she did. Faithfelt as if a great cloud had rolled over and rolled off from her; yetin her very happiness she had a great desire to cry; her weakness ofbody helped that. Her head lay still upon the cushions with fingerspressed upon her brow. She hardly dared look at Mr. Linden; her eyewandered over less dangerous things; yet it saw him not the less. Howsweetly the wind blew. 

Mr. Linden went off to the window and picked three or four of the Mayroses that grew there, and then coming to sit down by Faith's sofasoftly pushed one of the buds in between her fingers, and made the restinto a breast knot which he laid on the white folds of her dress. Heput other roses in her cheeks then, but it was all done with a curiousquietness that covered less quiet things. Faith took the flowers andplayed with them, venturing scarce a look of answer. With the wastedcheek, the delicate flush on it, and all the stirred fountain offeeling which she was not so able as usual to control, Faith was verylovely; to which effect the roses and violets scattered over her lent ahelp of their own. Mr. Linden looked at her, --giving now and then alittle arranging touch to flowers or hair--with an unbending face, which ended at last in a very full bright smile; though just why itrouged her cheeks so instantly Faith did not feel quite sure. She feltthe rouge. 

"I am glad you feel like yourself again, " she remarked. 

"How do you know that I do?"

"I think you look so. "

"Quite a mistake. I am only bewitched. That is somewhat like myself, Imust own. "

Faith's face made a remonstrance, not at all calculated to besuccessful. 

"Please don't bewitch me then!" said Mr. Linden answering the look. "You know I cannot help it--and on the whole you don't wish I could. What do you think of her now, Mrs. Derrick?" he added, getting up toroll the tea-table close to the sofa. The folding of Mrs. Derrick'shands was significant. 

"Yes, but you must not look at her _so_, " said Mr. Linden demurelyarranging the table and sofa angles in harmonious relation. "You shouldlook with cool unconcern--as I do. "

"_You!_" said Mrs. Derrick. "Well I should like to see that for once. "

Faith laughed again, and was ready for her supper after a new fashionfrom what she had known for many a day past. There is no doubt butcresses and broiled pigeon were good that night!

CHAPTER XXVII. 

What a twitter of birds was in Faith's ears as she awoke next morning!Perhaps they were not really more noisy than usual, but she seemed tohear them more; and then it was a soft balmy morning, with a joyousspring sunshine and a dancing spring air, which gave full effect to allthe bird voices. Faith listened to the chorus, the choir, the concert, the solos, with a charmed ear. The minute's hush; the lowtwitter--answered softly from bush and tree; the soft chiming in ofother notes; the swelling, quickening, increasing song--till everysparrow and kildeer in all Pattaquasset drew his bow and clattered hiscastanets with the speed and the eagerness of twenty fiddlers. Only inthis orchestra the heads turned gracefully on swelling throats, and forthe angular play of elbows there was the lifting flutter of joyouswings; and the audience of opening leaves "clapped their little hands"for an encore. 

Such were the sounds that came to Faith from without;--within her room, Mrs. Derrick moved silently about, lighting the fire, arranging thewindow curtains, the table and couch, laying out Faith's dressing gownto air, but not saying a word to her yet, lest she might be asleep. Faith could see the relief and gladness in every step her mothertook--and well knew why. On the white spread before her lay a glowinglittle bunch of spring flowers, the last night's dew yet hiding in thedepths of the violets, and sprinkling the leaves of the May roses, andmaking the windflowers look at her with wet eyes. Faith grasped theseand held a considerably long conversation with them; then found it inher heart to speak otherwise. 

"Mother, " said she, with a little smile upon the contented languor ofconvalescence, --"you feel better!"

Mrs. Derrick came quick to her side, and kissed her and stroked herface. "Pretty child, " she said, "so do you. "

Which fact Faith confirmed by setting about the business of dressingwith more energy and good will than she had for many a day brought toit. The pale cheeks were not quite so pale this morning. The whitedress was tied round the waist with _that_ blue ribband of longago--never yet spoiled with wearing; and in it the roses and violetsmade a spot of warmer colour. When at last she was ready, and hadstepped out into the hall, Mr. Linden met her there as he had done thenight after the fire; and as then, stayed her for a minute and scannedher face: with a different look from then, with a different sort ofgravity, which gladness did not quite cover up. He asked no questionsbut with his eyes, and did not say much but with his lips; then carriedher down to the breakfast-room. 

"Mignonette, " he said, "what time to-day will it please you to take adrive?"

The pleasure of the idea brought the colour to Faith's cheeks. "Isuppose I had better ask Dr. Harrison first whether I may go, " she saidgravely. 

"Not at all. He has nothing whatever to say about it. "

"Then as soon as he is gone, I am ready. "

"We will not wait for him, " said Mr. Linden. 

"But Endy, later will do just as well, won't it?"

"No, love--not half so well. "

"Why?"

"Principally, because I want you to be out when Dr. Harrison comes. "And quitting that subject, Mr. Linden wheeled her round to the nearerconsideration of biscuits and coffee; leaving Dr. Harrison, for thetime, quite out of sight. Out of his own sight, that is; for Faithplainly did not forget him. She was a delicious thing to take care ofthis morning; in that delicacy of bodily condition to which the stronglove to minister, and a tenderness of spirit which grew out of otherthings and which to-day she had no force to hide. And there was anapprehension which Mr. Linden could see behind her eyes every time theycame to his face. Faith was gathering her powers for a struggle. Yetshe had no mind to begin it, and waited after breakfast till Mr. Lindenshould bring up the subject again. He seemed in no haste to bring itup. For some reason or other, he was in a mood that could not do enoughfor her. It was a mood Faith must try. 

As the morning had worn on and she saw some preliminary movement on Mr. Linden's part, which looked like action, she put her hand in his andlifted her eyes to his face, with a gentle plea in them, speaking inmusical softness. "Endy, will you let me wait till Dr. Harrison hasmade his visit?" The little hand was clasped and held fast. 

"He would not wish to see you with me, Mignonette--and I certainly willnot let him see you without. "

"O why, Endy?"

"Because--Mignonette I cannot tell you. Don't ask me. "

Faith flushed and looked troubled but somewhat timid too, and asked nomore. She puzzled over the subject. 

"Then, Endy, suppose we don't go out to drive to-day?"

"Suppose we do. What are you rouging your cheeks for?" he addedsmiling. "Faith, I know I have no legal right to control youractions--and yet in this case you must let me say for you what I shouldfor my sister or my wife. "

How Faith wished to know why. The rouge grew bright; but forbidden toask, she dared not ask. "Would you care if we did not go out to-day?"she said with some timid hesitation. 

"Very much. "

She was silenced. That Mr. Linden had some strong reason it was plain;not the less the thought of Dr. Harrison grieved her. But she saidnothing. Nor did he, upon that subject, --threw it to the windsapparently. The first move was to take her up stairs again and bestowher daintily among cushions, then to sit by her and spice her cup ofchicken broth with pepper and talk, till both it and Faith were warm, and Mrs. Derrick in a state of delight. The good, sweet effect of whichmode of treatment, was shewn in the way "the fringed curtains" ofFaith's eyes were by and by dropped by sleep herself. When she awokeMr. Linden was gone; and Mrs. Derrick sat there keeping watch. 

"Has the doctor been here, mother?"

"Why child, " said her mother, "he's slipped off Stranger, in some ofhis capers, and hurt his ancle, --so Reuben says he won't come tillto-morrow. Shall I tell Mr. Linden he may come up?"

"Yes. " Faith felt it a relief. 

Mr. Linden came to tell her the carriage was ready. 

It seemed to Faith as if Jerry knew his old driver, with such good willdid he set forth, with such little snorts of high spirit and tossingsof head and mane. Down the old farm road, among fields of fresh grainand fresh ploughing, where blue birds sat on the fences, and jocunddandelions sunned themselves by the wayside. The breeze came fresh intoFaith's face, tossing back her hair; and presently with the scent ofbuds and flowers and ploughed land came a mingling of the sea breeze, for Mr. Linden was driving that way. He was right to make hercome!--Faith felt it in her heart, and so did he. There had been fewwords spoken hitherto, but now he turned to her with a smile of greatsatisfaction, saying, "Mignonette, this breeze is telling upon your cheeks. "

"It is going all through me!" said Faith, drawing an eager breath ofappreciation. Mr. Linden gave her shawls and cushions some arrangingtouches, and to her a glad word or two of answer, then drove on down tothe shore. Not at their usual bathing and picnic place, but at thefurther out Barley Point; where the breeze came in its full freshnessand the waves rolled in white-crested. There he made Jerry stand stillfor a while, and made Faith lean upon him and so rest. 

They were somewhat elevated above the sea, where the barren face of theland broke down suddenly some twenty feet. With what a sweet dash thewaves broke upon the beach, chasing up the wet sand and laying down alittle freight of seaweed here and there: how the water sparkled andglittered, and was blue and white and green and neutral tint, --how thegulls soared and stooped and flapped their wings in the gay breeze, before which the white-winged vessels flew on a more steady course. Jerry pawed the turf, and shook his head in approbation, and Faith'shead lay very still. Perhaps Mr. Linden thought she had done talkingenough that day, for he was rather silent; only watching her lest sheshould be tired, or have too much of the air. What he watched her forall the rest of the time, was best known to himself. Her brow had itsold quiet again now, though her face was grave beyond its old wont; andthe eyes, as he could see them, were softly grave and softly gladtogether, intently going from the white-tipped water to thewhite-winged gulls and the clouds grey and white that sailed abovethem. Suddenly, after a long roaming over the fresh life that wasabroad there, the eyes were lifted to his face. 

"Endecott--if I don't say anything, it is because I can't say anythinggood enough!"

"Faith, " he said with that same glad look at her, "your face says thatyou are getting better every minute. Not tired yet?"

"I feel as if I was in a grand dream. "

"Do you?" said Mr. Linden, --"I am glad I do not. It brings me out of adream to see you begin to look like yourself. I have not felt so realbefore since I came home. "

"You are real enough, " said Faith; "and so is everything else. It isonly my feeling that is dreamy. And this air will wake me up, if I stayhere a little while longer. How good it is!"

"Do you see that dark rock out in the midst of the waves? and how thewaves half cover and then leave it bare?"

"Yes. "

"I was thinking of what Rutherford says of the changing, swaying, unsteady tide of life-joys and sorrows, --'Our rock doth not ebb andflow, but our sea. '"

Faith thought her own life had not been much like that changing tide;then remembered his had, in nearer measure. The next question was notfar off; she put it, looking up anxiously and regretfully. "Endecott, what are you working so hard for?"

A very gay change of face answered her. 

"So hard as what?"

"As you do. "

"What makes you think I am working 'so hard, ' little Mignonette?--haveI given you that impression? I did not mean it. Do I look overworked?"

"No--" said Faith--"I think not, --but that is not the thing. Why doyou, Endecott?"

It was a very gently put question, but put with eyes and lips as wellas the sweet voice, dainty in its half timidity mixed with thesweetness. Mr. Linden looked down at her till the question wasfinished, but then he looked off at the dancing water; the smile whichhad been dawning upon his lips breaking out into very full sunshine. Itwas a strange smile--very enjoying and yet a little moved. 

"Mignonette, " he said looking down at her again, "do you know what adear little child you are?"

Her eyes wavered, then faced him again with a sort of smiling gravity, as not relinquishing their answer. 

"You will be dreadfully shocked if I tell you. "

"Shall I?"--she said, not believing him. 

"Yes. But what do you suppose I am doing?--what has put all this intoyour head?"

"I heard it, " said Faith. 

"From whom?"

"I don't know. But somebody that wondered what you were doing it for. "

"Most enigmatical information! What 'it' did somebody say I was doing?"

"Working hard--giving lessons, " said Faith dropping her voice. 

"Well--what else was I doing when I was here? _That_ should not shockyou, dear child. "

"You were _not_ doing anything else when you were here--that is thevery thing, Endecott. "

"Mignonette--I have done nothing to hurt myself, as you may see. I amvery strong to work. "

She gave a little grave glance at him, grave with a background ofregretfulness, and placed herself back in her former position; pushingher questions no further. But Mr. Linden did not look grave. 

"I am quite willing to tell you all about my work, " he said, --"that Idid not long ago was for two or three reasons which you willunderstand. I told you once, dear Faith--upon a night which I shallnever forget--that I had means enough to carry me through my studies;but two things made me take measures to earn a good deal more. One was, that I would always rather work than not to have what I want to spendin various good and pleasant ways. "

"Yes--?" she said a little eagerly. He looked at her with that samesmile coming over his face. 

"It will shock you, " he said, --"however--The other reason was this. Weagreed how I should choose between two gardens wherein to place myMignonette. But it may chance that for even the offer of one I shallhave to wait--and for Mignonette I cannot. Voyez-vous, Mademoiselle?"

Yes, plainly enough; as he could tell by the bright flush which mountedup to her forehead and made her a Rhodora again. And doubtless Faithwould have said several things, only--she could _not!_ and so sat likethe stillest of scared mice; with no more words at command. Mr. Lindenlaughed telling her he thought there was no hope of benefitting hercheeks any further that day, and that to judge by her eyelids sleepwould be the next thing; and so turned the little carriage round andJerry's head towards home. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Dinner was ready when they reached home, so that Faith was taken atonce to the table; and when dinner was over, up stairs to go to sleep. And sleep held her well nigh all the afternoon. The sunbeams were long, the light of day was growing gentle, when Faith at last awoke andarose, with a tinge in her cheeks and a face getting to be itselfagain. She put her hair and her dress in fresh order, and went softlyabout doing the same office for several things in the room; thinkingall the while what Mr. Linden had been working for, and how shut hermouth was from saying anything about it. 

"Where is Mr. Linden, mother?"

"Down stairs. "

"I am going down too. I am quite well enough without being carried. Come, mother. "

"He won't like it, child, --you'd better let me call him. "

"No indeed, " said Faith. "I'll just take your arm, mother. It will dome good. "

So softly and with a little wilful pleasure on Faith's part, the stairswere descended; and not content with that, Faith went into the tea-roomand began as of old to give a delicate hand to the tea-tablearrangements. Then when all was done, slowly made her entrance into theother room. But there, to Faith's dismay, were two gentlemen instead ofone, standing in the middle of the floor in earnest conversation. Bothturned the minute she opened the door, and Squire Stoutenburgh cametowards her, exclaiming, "Why Miss Faith!--nobody gave me any hope ofseeing you. My dear, are you as well as you look?"

Faith's instant extreme desire was to quit the field she had so rashlyventured upon. Her answer to Mr. Stoutenburgh, if made, was toounintelligible to be understood or remembered; and meanwhile she was asthe Squire had hinted, looking very well, and a picture of daintyconfusion. It might not help the confusion, though it did put her facemore out of sight, to be rescued from the Squire's hands and placed inthe easy-chair. 

"No, she is not as well as she looks, Mr. Stoutenburgh, and thereforeyou must not keep her standing. "

"I won't keep her--nor you neither--long, " said the Squire. "MissFaith, I hope you'll keep _him_--standing or kneeling or something--allsummer. How long are you going to stay, sure enough?"

"Till I must go. " Faith heard the smile with which it was spoken. 

"Then I shall go home a happy man!" said Mr. Stoutenburgh, with a sortof earnest heartiness which became him very well. "My dear, I'm as gladas if you were my own daughter--and you'll let me say that, becauseyour father and I were such friends. " With which original and sincereexpression of feeling the Squire went off. 

"You naughty child, " Mr. Linden said, coming back to Faith's chair, "who gave you leave to come down stairs? I shouldn't be at allsurprised if you had been after cream. "

"No I haven't, Endy, "--said Faith lifting up her face which was in asort of overwhelmed state. 

"What is the matter?" he said smiling. 

"Don't mind me, " said Faith passing her hands over her face. "I am halfashamed of myself--I shall be better in a day or two. "

"How do you feel, after your ride and your sleep?"

"O well!--nicely, "--she said in happy accents. 

"What made you try to walk down stairs?"

"I thought I could do it. "

"And knew I would not let you. Will you be in a talking mood after tea?"

"I am now. I have been wanting to talk to you, Endecott, ever since yougot home. "

"What about?"

"About these weeks. "

The summons to tea came then, however; but when tea was disposed of, and Faith had come back to her sofa in the sitting-room, Mr. Lindentook his place at her side. 

"Now I am ready for 'these weeks, '" he said. 

Faith was less ready than he, though she had wished for the talk. Herface darkened to something of the weary look with which he had foundher. 

"Endecott, I have wanted to see you dreadfully!" He looked pained--notmerely, she knew, because of that: but the thought had no furtherexpression. 

"What has been the matter, my dear child?"

Faith's hand and head went down on his shoulder, as on a rest they hadlong coveted. "I am afraid you will be ashamed of me, Endecott, --but Iwill tell you. You know since I have been sick I have seen a great dealof Dr. Harrison--every day, and twice a day. I couldn't help it. "

"No. "

"And Endy, --he used to talk to me. "

"Yes, "--the word was short and grave. 

"I don't know why he did it; and I did not like it, and I could nothelp it. He would talk to me about Bible things. "

"Well?--He used to do that long ago. "

"And long ago you told me not to let him talk to me of his doubts andfalse opinions. Endecott, I didn't forget that--I remembered it all thewhile, --and yet he _did_ talk to me of those things, and I could nottell how to hinder it. And then, Endecott--the things were in myhead--and I could not get them out!"--The manner of Faith's slow wordstold of a great deal of heart-work. 

Mr. Linden did not start--but Faith felt the thrill which passed overhim, even to the fingers that held hers. Clearly _this_ was not what heexpected. 

"Faith, "--he said, --"has he touched _your_ faith?"

Faith's head drew nearer to his, with a manner half caressing, halfshrinking, but the answer was a low, "No--never. "

"Child!" he said with a sort of deep terror in his voice, --"I think Icould not have borne that. I would rather he had won away your heartfrom me!"

Faith did not move, and seemed to herself scarce to breathe, such aspasm of various feelings was upon her heart. "It did not, Endy, "--shewhispered. 

He stooped to kiss her, as if that was the only answer he could givejust then; merely saying, "Tell me all about it. "

"I don't know how he did it"--Faith went on hesitatingly, as if thewords were not easy to her;--"and always before I knew it was coming, it was said, --something that troubled me; almost every time he came. Idon't know whether it troubled him too, or whether--But no matter whatit was said for! He would tell me of some question that had occurred tohim, or some difficulty that he could not understand; or else it was acontrary fact that somebody else had stated, or a cunning explanationthat somebody had found out, or a discovery that was against the truth, or some train of consequences and inferences that would undermine it. And these things were always so curiously put, that though I knew theywere false, Endy--I never doubted that--I knew they were not thetruth;--yet I could not shew him that they were not; and that hurt me. It pained me by day and by night;--but that was not all. " Faithhesitated. "These things never did touch my faith, Endecott--but itseems to me now as if they had shut it up in a fortress and besiegedit. I hadn't a bit of comfort of it except by snatches--only I knew itwas there--for ever so long. When I tried to read the Bible, often Icould think of nothing but these thoughts would push themselves inbetween--like a swarm of gnats humming in my ears;--and often I had nogood of prayer, "--she added in a yet lower voice. 

"Have you now?" Mr. Linden said. "Has that passed away?"

She hesitated again, perhaps struggling with some emotion which shewould not let get the better of her. Her words were quiet. "It ispassing. Earth and sky are all cleared since you came--as I knew theywould be. "

Mr. Linden was silent and motionless, --looking down at her, curbing ashe best might the grief and indignation which were by turns as much ashe could manage. He did not speak for some time. 

"I think, Endy, " said Faith, "I shouldn't have felt so if I had beenwell and strong. I am almost sure it was partly that. I wasn't strongin mind or body--and how I wanted you!"

"And where _was_ my place in the world if not here!"

"I didn't want you till you came, " she said in a very sweet low tone. 

"Ah, child! you do not know what you are talking of, --nor what a snarewas spread for you. "

"Do you think that, Endy?" she said in a scared way. 

"What else?"

"But he always seemed--I always hoped, he was really interested inthose things himself. "

"No man carries truth in one hand and falsehood in the other, " said Mr. Linden sternly. 

Faith was sitting upright, looking very thoughtful and very grieved. "But you do not think, Endecott, --you do not think--there was no truthin it?"

His face caught her grieved look, --he answered slowly, "Child, you mustleave all that. I only know that he tried to get rid of every barrierin his way. "

"And how in this, Endecott?--What?"

"He doubtless thought your belief stood between him and your favour. "

"And that if he could change that!"--Faith's head sank with a low wordof pain. Mr. Linden was silent. She looked up again, with a face ofyearning sorrow which it was a pity perhaps Dr. Harrison could not see. "And now, " she said, "we never can do anything more for him!"

But Mr. Linden was not ready for the wish, --the sternness of his facedid not relax this time even under the power of hers. Until as helooked, with the sight of all her loveliness and the thought of all thewrong done her, came the keen realization of why it had beendone;--then his look changed and saddened. 

"Endecott, " she said after a while, humbly, "do you think any one wholoves Christ could be brought to disbelieve him?"

"No--not really and permanently. The promise says, 'Because he hath sethis love upon me, therefore will I deliver him. '"

"Then what did you fear so much for me, Endy?"

She had cause for the question; he had spoken and looked and listenedwith that intentness of sense which shews some hiddenanxiety, --measuring jealously every look and word of hers by some oldwell-remembered standard. 

"You remember, dear Faith, " he said, "that when the thieves set uponone of the pilgrims, though he made out to keep his jewels yet theytook from him all his spending money; and in the want of that he wentto the end of his life. "

But the smile that answered him was an answering smile. Though therewas sorrow in it, and humbleness, and even fear, its fullest burdenswere the free guaranty that she was not hurt, and an untold wealth ofaffection, that almost breathed out of the moving and parted lips. "Endy, --it was only a cloud--I knew at the time it would scatter awayjust as soon as you came. I knew it was a cloud, but I wasn't well. "

Mr. Linden lifted her face, gazing at it intently. "My littleMignonette, " he said, "are you sure that you 'hold fast the beginningof your confidence?' Are you sure he has not dimmed the light that usedto shine so bright in your heart?--that he has not made heaven seemless real, nor the promises of less effect? Are you sure, Faith?--If hehas, find it out now!"

She had never seen him look so--never heard him speak with suchearnestness. The words seemed to come from the very depths of hisheart; freighted not only with their own moment, but with the painwhich the raising such questions had stirred in him. Faith knew littleof even the pictures of angels--if she had she might have thought ofone then. Her child nature would have thrown itself into his arms togive the answer; as it was, the woman drew a little back and spoke withveiled eyes. 

"If he has, I don't know it, Endecott. It was a cloud that hindered allenjoyment from me, --I knew at the time it was no more. It is gone, oralmost. It was wrong to be on me at all--but I was weak and not well. "Her speech was very humble, and the innocent trembling of the lips wasas one might answer an angel. 

His eyes changed as she spoke, watching her still, but less clearly;and bringing her where she had not dared to place herself, Mr. Lindenkissed her again and again--as one rejoices over what has been lost orin deadly peril. Not many words--and those low and half uttered, ofdeep thanksgiving, of untold tenderness. But Faith hid her face in herhands, and though she did not shed any tears, shook and trembled. 

"This will not do, for you nor for me, " said Mr. Linden. "Mignonette--have my words grieved you? they need not--there was not abreath in them harsher than a summer wind. "

"I didn't think it, Endy. "

"What are you thinking of, my child?"

"Nothing--Never mind me, --" she said deprecatingly. 

"Tell me, Faith, " he repeated. 

But she did not. The quivering emotion passed away or was overcome; andthen her answer was a very grave and sweet look and smile; still such aone as might without any force have been given to an angel. 

"Faith, what will make you speak?--this?--Tell me what you weretrembling about--I shall begin to think you have grown afraid of me. "

"I don't think I have, --" she said very quietly. 

"You are a sort of willowbranch, --so very pliant that you glide out ofreach on the very breath that comes after you. Now I think the veryprofound confidence I reposed in you this morning, deserves somereturn. I'm afraid I cannot ask for it with such persuasive eyes. "

"It's no confidence--" said Faith. "I didn't know I had been in suchdanger; and"--she spoke with some difficulty--"I didn't know what itwould be to offend you. "

"Did you think you could?"

"If I did wrong--?"

"Faith, " he said, "do you know what I should expect 'if I did wrong, 'as you say?--that you would break your heart, perhaps, but never thatyou would be offended. I should expect to find you more than ever mysweet ministering spirit. "

A look of intense grave earnestness followed and echoed his thoughtwith one or two of her own; then her gravity broke in a radiant littlesmile. "I am not exactly like you, Endecott, " she said. 

"What is the precise bearing of that remark?"

"You might be offended--where I should have no right, --" she said withslow utterance and consideration of her words. 

"But _why_--little Arabic poem?"

The colour started into Faith's cheeks, but she answered. "You arebetter than I, --and besides, --you know, Endy!--it would be right foryou to do what it wouldn't be right for me to do. " Her colour deepenedto brightness and her eyes were very cast down. Mr. Linden looked ather--smiling a grave sweet smile. 

"Faith, " he said, "I have heard--or imagined--that a man might have anangel for his wife, but I never heard yet of a woman who had an angelfor her husband--did you?"

Faith endeavoured to shield her eyes and cheek with a very insufficienthand. "You put me in the witness-box, --what can I do?" she said. 

"You can do one thing as well as anybody I ever saw, " Mr. Linden said, taking her hand down. "Faith, where did you get such pink cheeks?"

"What is an Arabic poem?" said Faith gravely. 

"A pretty thing that requires translating. Faith, I have a great desireto take you all about Pattaquasset and tell everybody what you are tobe. "

"Endecott!"--said Faith with a startled glance. 

"What?" he answered laughing. 

"Why do you say so?"

"Just imagine the delight of all Quapaw, and the full satisfaction ofthe Roscoms. Shouldn't you like to see it?"

Faith looked at him in a sort of frightened mood of mind, discerningsome earnest in the play. Mr. Linden's face did not reassure her, though he carried the play at that time no further. 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

If the fears of the night before had not quite been slept off, if thealarming ideas had not all been left in dreamland, still it was hardfor anything but peace and pleasure to shew its head that morning. Inat Faith's window came the sunbeams, the tiny panes of glass shewedeach a patch of the bluest sky, and through some unseen open sash themorning air swept in full sweetness. When Faith opened her own window, the twitter and song of all manner of birds was something to hear, andtheir quick motions were something to see. From the sweetbriar on thehouse to the trees in the orchard, --from the mud nest under the eavesto the hole in the barn wall, --what darting and skimming andfluttering! Off in the orchard the apple trees were softly putting ontheir nonpareil dress of blossoms, feeding the air with nectar till itwas half intoxicated; and down in the garden a little bevy of bellsstood prim and soft and sweet, ringing their noiseless spring chimesunder Faith's window. 

Under her window too, that is within close sight of it, stood ReubenTaylor and Mr. Linden. Not watching for her just then as it appeared, but intent upon their own concerns. Or rather, Reuben--in his usualdark, neat dress and straw hat, with hands neither busy nor at rest, but waiting and ready--was intent upon Mr. Linden--and Mr. Linden uponhis work. His hat was off, on the grass beside him, and hehimself--half sitting half leaning upon an old crooked apple tree, hadhis hands full of cowslips--though what he was doing with them Faithcould not tell. Only from a fluttering end of blue ribband thatappeared, she could guess their destination. The two friends weretalking busily and merrily, with little cowslip interludes, and theyellow blossoms sprinkled the grass all about the tree, some havingdropped down, others been tossed off as not worthy a place in the ball. For that was the work in Mr. Linden's hands--something which Faith hadnever seen. 

It was so very pretty a picture that Faith sat down to look at it, andthoughtless of being found out, looked on in a dream. Mr. Linden'sthreats of yesterday did come back to her shrinkingly, but she threwthem off; the time was too happy to bear the shadow of anythingweightier than apple blossoms. Faith looked out through themadmiringly, marvelling anew how Mr. Linden had ever come to like her;and while her soft eyes were studying him, her heart made many a vowbefore the time. She only felt the birds fly past; her mind was takingstrange glimpses into the future. 

Stepping jauntily out from the house, Sam Stoutenburgh came next uponthe scene, the springtime of his man's attire suiting well enough withhis years but not so well with his surroundings; too desperately smartfor the cowslips, bright and shining as they were there in the sun, too_new_ for the tulips--though they had been out of the ground but a fewdays. For

 In a little bit of garden ground Where many a lovely plant was found, Stood a tulip in gay attire! His pantaloons green as ever were seen, His cap was as red as fire. 

But the tulip was at least used to his cap--which was more than couldbe said of Sam and his hat. 

"Mrs. Derrick told me to come out here and find you, sir, " he said. "But what _are_ you doing, Mr. Linden?"

"I am making a ball. "

"A ball!"

"Yes, " said Mr. Linden, --"gratifying one of my youthful tastes. Sam, I'll lend you my hat. "

"Why! what for, sir?" said Sam, a little confused and a good dealpuzzled, while Reuben smiled. 

"Just to save you from the headache while you stand there in the sun, "said Mr. Linden, tying the ends of his ribband together. "It's a man'shat, Sam--you need not be afraid of it. That's a good lesson inwhistling!" he said, looking up into the tree over his head, where arobin had just come to exercise his powers. But as Mr. Linden's eyescame back from the robin they caught sight of Faith at her window, andinstantly he was on his feet and made her a most graceful and lowreverence. Instinctively the two boys turned and followed suit--the onewith his straw hat the other with his beaver. 

Faith's contemplative quiet was broken up, and her face grew shy andflushed as she gave her tiny grave signs of recognition; but a soft"good morning" floated down to them, followed--nobody knows why--by amore particular "Good morning, Sam. "

"Miss Faith!" said Sam affectingly, "are you always going to stay upstairs?"

"No--I am coming down presently. You are early to-day, Sam. "

"Not earlier than I've been some other days, Miss Faith. "

Faith nodded at him and left the window; threw round her the lightshawl which she was expected to wear because she had been sick, ratherthan because the May air called for it, and prepared to go down. But inthe second of time which all this took, she heard her name called fromthe orchard--not very loud but very distinct. 

"Faith!"

She knew who called, and it was with a little startled thrill that shepresented herself at the window to answer the summons. Mr. Linden stoodclose beneath it. 

"Can you catch this?" he said, looking up at her with laughing eyes. And the soft cowslip ball came whirling up to bury its golden head inher hands. If Faith saw anything else, it was the very evidentastonishment of one of the standers-by. But nevertheless she bravelyput her bright blushing face out again. 

"Thank you, Mr. Linden, " she said. "It's too pretty to be thrown morethan once. "

"Are you ready to come yourself?"

"Yes, I'm coming. "

He bowed and turned away, passing on into the house with so quick astep that he was at the head of the stairs as soon as she was. 

"You are not going to carry me down to-day!"--said Faith starting back. "I can walk down as well as you can--or at least I can as well walkdown. "

"There is no one in the parlour, Mignonette. "

"Then I'll not go there, " said Faith smiling. 

"I'll take you to the garden, if you prefer it. Is the supposed fact ofyour being able to walk down stairs any reason why you should not bidme good morning?"

There was neither that nor any other existing reason, to judge by thequiet grace with which Faith drew near to give the required goodmorning, or rather to permit Mr. Linden to take it; and then placed herhand in his, as willing to have so much aid from him as that couldgive. He held it fast, and her too, for a minute, while his other handbusied itself with fastening in her belt a dewy, sweet, sonsie lookinglittle sprig of May roses. 

"How do you feel this morning?" he said when he was gravely consideringthe effect. 

"Very much like Spring!"--Faith looked so, with her other hand full ofprimroses. 

"And otherwise?"

"I don't feel otherwise!" said Faith laughing; the first really freemerry look of laughter he had seen on her face since he came home. 

"You are the sweetest of all spring blossoms, " Mr. Linden said, carrying her off with perfect disregard of the supposed fact of herbeing able to walk. At the foot of the stairs, however, she waspermitted to find her feet again. "Where will you go, dear child?--theorchard is very wet, but you may venture as far as the door. "

"No, I have something to do, " said Faith. 

"What have you to do?"

"What I used to take care of--part of it. I'm so glad to do it again. "

"Not to-day--you ought not!--nor to-morrow. You must come in here andsit quiet till breakfast, and for a few days more be content to be'Love in idleness' as well as Mignonette. Will you promise?" he said, seating her in the easy-chair, with open window, and breakfast table, and a gay little fire to make the captivity pleasant. 

"But I like work, Endy--and a little won't hurt me. Those boys wantyou--and I'll make the coffee. "

"Do you know, Mignonette, how pale you would be if I were away?"

She shook her head. 

"I do, " said Mr. Linden, --"and as I am in a mood for roses thismorning, I want you to let me bring 'those boys' in here--then they cansee me and I can see you. "

The roses came, started and brightened, and her eyes looked a softprotest; but it was a minority protest and gave way, and her face afterall told him he might do what he liked. He gave her a reassuring smile, and went back to the orchard, presently returning with Reuben andSam, --the one wearing a face of unqualified pleasure, the other ofalmost as unqualified shyness. Sam was not quite sure that his ears hadreported correctly, but the doubt and the new idea were enough todiscompose him thoroughly. He listened eagerly to the answers Reuben'swords called forth, but seemed afraid to venture many himself. As forMr. Linden, he was combining another handful of flowers--covering hisamusement with very grave composure. 

It was not bad amusement; for the exquisite simplicity in Faith'smanner, with the contrast of the coming and going colour and the shyeyelashes, made a picture that any one claiming interest in it wouldhave been a little proud of. And the roses in her belt and the cowslipsin her hand and the delicate lines of her face which health had not yetrounded out again, all joined to make the vision a very fair one. Shewas most shy of Sam, and did not look at Mr. Linden. 

"I haven't thanked you for your pigeons, Sam, " she said, after a fewlively words with Reuben. 

"No, Miss Faith, please don't!" was the gallant rejoinder. 

"Weren't they worth thanks?" inquired Mr. Linden. 

"I thought they were, when I was eating them; and mother said they werethe best I had. Don't you like to be thanked, Sam?"

"When it's worth while, " said Sam. "But you know, ma'am--You know, Mr. Linden, it's thanks enough to do anything for Miss Faith. "

"I know that very well. " Quiet as the words were they brought all Sam'sideas to the ground like his own pigeons. 

"Where are you now in college, Sam?" Faith went on perhaps because shefelt herself a coward. 

Sam made answer, in a more subdued state of mind than was usual when heannounced his Sophomorical distinctions. 

"What are you going to do when you come out?"

"O I don't know, Miss Faith, --father says I can do just what I like. "

"And you don't know what that will be, Sam?"

"No--" said Sam. "I can't even guess. "

"A man who can do what he likes ought to do a great deal, " said Mr. Linden. "Reuben, will you take the upper road home, and give theseflowers to Ency Stephens for Miss Faith?"

"O yes, sir!" Reuben said. 

"No, Reuben! I didn't send them, " said Faith eagerly. 

"Tell her, " said Mr. Linden smiling, "that they came from Miss Faith'sgarden, and that I shall bring Miss Faith herself to see her, just sosoon as she can bear such a long drive. " The bunch of flowers was laidlightly on her hands for her disposal. "Now I must send you twocollegians--present and future--away, for you have had your breakfastand we have not had ours. "

At which remark Sam took Faith's hand with a bow of great perplexityand reverence, and Reuben drew near and waited for the flowers. 

"Give them to her from Mr. Linden, " said Faith, rosy red, as she putthem in his keeping;--"she will like that best, Reuben. "

Reuben thought he knew how to combine the two messages, and the boyswent off just as the coffee-pot came in. 

"Faith, " said Mr. Linden coming back to sit down by her, "here is arosebud so much like you that I think I ought to wear it. What do youconsider the most appropriate way?"

"How do gentlemen wear flowers?--You'll have to stick it in abuttonhole, " said Faith half grave and half laughing, --"if it must beworn. "

"But that is to treat it as a common flower!"

"You'll have to treat it so, " said Faith glancing from the rosebud tohim. 

"Look at it, " said Mr. Linden, --"do you see how very lovely it is?"

She did look at it, more closely, and then at him with an appeal ofgrave remonstrance, deep though unspoken. But it was met defiantly. 

"If I am to wear this, Mignonette, you must put it in place. "

Faith was a little shy of even doing so much, and besides was awarethat her mother as well as the coffee-pot had come upon the scene. However she took the flower and succeeded in attaching it securelywhere she thought it ought to go, on the breast of Mr. Linden'swaistcoat; by which time the resemblance between the two rosebuds wasperfect, and striking; and Faith drew back to her breakfast, glad tohave everybody's attention diverted to coffee, which she declared wasgood with cowslips. It may be said that the diversion was notimmediate; for though her chair was at once wheeled round to the table, yet Faith had to take her thanks then and there--in full defiance ofMrs Derrick's presence. After that, however, Mr. Linden--to do himjustice--did change the subject. 

Cowslips and coffee went on well till near the end of breakfast, whichto say truth had been rather prolonged as well as delayed; and thenthere came a front door knock. It was of no use for Faith to start, forbreakfast was not absolutely finished; and the next minute who shouldcome in from the hall but Miss Essie de Staff. As fresh as possible, inwhite dress and black silk apron; her black hair from which she haddrawn off the sunbonnet, in shining order; the black eyes as well!Perhaps they dilated on first seeing the party; more sparkling theycould not be. She advanced at a moderate pace towards the table, looking and speaking. 

"Mrs. Derrick!--I didn't know you were such late people. I have come torun away with your daughter, and thought I should find the coast clear. Mr. Linden! I didn't know Pattaquasset was so happy as to have youback, sir. "

"We have breakfast late for Faith's sake, " said Mrs. Derrick, while Mr. Linden rose and gave the lady first his hand and then a chair, remarking that the happiness of Pattaquasset was pleasant news to himtoo. 

"But Faith's well again, isn't she?" said Miss Essie, waiting to getbreath, mentally. 

"She's better, " said Mrs. Derrick. 

"She goes out?"

"She has been once. "

"Is that all? Well it will do her good to go again. Sophy Harrison andI made up our minds that she and I and Faith would spend the daytogether--and so I've come to fetch her. Do you believe in thepossibility of ladies falling in love with ladies, Mr. Linden?"

"I have more knowledge of gentlemen's possibilities. Who is supposed tobe in danger, Miss Essie?"

"Faith cannot go out to spend the day, " said Mrs. Derrick decidedly. 

"Is it _danger?_" said Miss Essie. "Mrs. Derrick, why can't Faith gowith me? Faith, won't you go?"--She had come up close to the table andstood by Faith's side, whom her eyes were now reading, or at leastendeavouring to spell out. 

"Not to-day, Miss Essie, thank you. "

"Thank me? you ought to apologize to me. " Miss Essie took a chair inthat place, where she could "rake" the whole table. "Here will be Sophyand me horribly disappointed. We had counted on you. Sophy is allalone. You know, Faith, the doctor is laid up?"

"We heard of it, "--Faith answered, not very easily. 

"Well, do you know he says he is going South?"

"I heard so, " said Faith. Miss Essie could not make much of the risingcolour in her cheeks, it came and went so easily!

"What takes him off just now in such haste?--business?"

Faith looked up and gave her inquisitor a full clear look, such ascuriosity never cares for, while she answered with quiet dignity, "Hedid not tell me, Miss Essie. "

"It's a pity Dr. Harrison's just going now that you're just come, " saidthe lady of the black eyes, shifting her ground. "You used to be suchfriends. "

"What is a friend?" said Mr. Linden--"By the way, Miss Essie, youshould make these cresses an excuse for at least eating salt with us, and so prove your title to the name. "

"Dear me!" said the lady taking a handful, --"I thought a friend wassomething more--more etherial than that!"

"Than what, if you please?"

"A person who eats your salt!--I don't love cresses. I am not one ofNebuchadnezzar's family. Where did you get the fashion? It's French. Dr. Harrison eats them. Did he teach it to you, Faith?"

"I think I had that honour, " said Mr. Linden. 

"I dare say you gave more lessons than were given in school, " said MissEssie significantly. "What else did you learn of him, Faith?"

Faith gave the lady only a glance of her soft eye, but her face and hervery throat were charged with varying colour. Her attention went fromcresses to cowslips. 

"I am saucy!" said the lady. --"Mr. Linden, are you coming back to thebona fide school here? there'll be a great many glad. "

A very involuntary lesson to Miss Essie herself came longingly to Mr. Linden's lips, but except from the slight play and compression of thesame she had not the benefit of it. He spoke as usual. 

"She has never learned the art of self-defence, Miss Essie, therefore Ipray you attack me. No, I am not coming back to the school--and to saytruth, I think there would be some people sorry--as well as glad--if Idid. "

"Your bad scholars?"--said the lady, not intent upon her question. 

"No--my good friends. "

"_I_ should be glad, " said Miss Essie. "Who are your friends that wouldbe sorry? Dr. Harrison, for instance?"

"The friends who like my present work better. "

"And you are going to be a clergyman?" said Miss Essie, leaning herelbow on the table and 'studying' Mr. Linden, perhaps some other thingstoo, with her eyes. He smiled under the scrutiny, but merely bowed toher question. 

"It's dreadful hard work!--" said Miss Essie. 

"Dreadful?--Miss Essie, you have not studied the subject. "

"No, " said she laughing, --"I said 'dreadful _hard_. ' And so it is, Ithink. "

"'There be some sports are painful, but their labour delight in themsets off'--is not that equally true of some work?" said Mr. Linden, making one or two quiet additions to the breakfast on Faith's plate. Which means of assistance Faith inadvertently disregarded and pushedher plate away. 

"Do you suppose anybody delights in them?" said Miss Essie. "I can'tunderstand it--but perhaps they do. A minister is very much looked upto. But one thing is certain--of all things the hardest, it is to be aminister's wife!"

"Of _all_ things! He must be a poor sort of a minister who lets hiswife have a harder life than his own. "

"He can't help it--" said Miss Essie, walking her black eyes about. "Ofcourse he don't wish it--but women always do have a harder time thanmen, and a minister's wife particularly. "

"It's a comfort to think he don't wish it, " said Mr. Linden with a sortof resigned gravity. 

"Well it would not be much comfort to me, " said Miss Essie. "When awoman marries, she naturally expects her husband to belong to her;--buta minister belongs to everybody else!"

"I see I have not studied the subject, " said Mr. Linden. "Miss Essie, you are giving me most important information. Is this so inevitablethat I ought in conscience to warn the lady beforehand?"

Miss Essie smiled graciously. "It would be no use, --she wouldn'tbelieve you. _I_ might warn her. I have seen it. "

"What have you seen?"

"Why that!--that a woman who marries a minister needn't expect to haveany more of her husband than his clothes to mend. "

"Melancholy statement!" said Mr. Linden. 

"It's of no use to tell it to a man!" said Miss Essie. "But I have seenit. "

"Not in my house. "

"I shall see it in your house, if you ever let me in there--but it willbe too late to warn then. Very likely _you_ will not see it. "

Faith sat with one hand shielding her face from this speaker, though bythat means it was more fully revealed to the other. Her other hand, andher eyes as far as possible, were lost in the bunch of cowslips; hercolour had long ceased to be varying. She sat still as a mouse. 

"No, I shall not see it. To what end would your warnings be directed, if they could reach her in time?"

"To keep her from taking such a trying position. "

"Oh--" said Mr. Linden. "Have you no feeling for me, Miss Essie? It isvery plain why you scrupled to eat salt with me this morning!"

"I'll eat salt with you as a single man, " said Miss Essie, --"but if youare going to be a minister, be generous, and let your wife go! Anyother woman will tell you so. "

"Let her go where? With me?--that is just what I intend. "

"Yes, " said Miss Essie, --"and then--you'll never know it--but she willsit alone up stairs and sew while you are writing your sermons, andshe'll sit down stairs and sew while you're riding about the country orwalking about the town; and she'll go out alone of your errands whenyou have a cold that keeps you at home; and the only time she hears youspeak will be when you speak in the pulpit! And if you ask her whethershe is happy, she will say yes!--"

Despite all her desperate contusion, the one visible corner of Faith'smouth shewed rebellion against order. Mr. Linden laughed with mostunterrified amusement. 

"If she says that, it will be so, Miss Essie--my wife will be a mostuncompromising truth-teller. But in your picture _I_ am the one to bepitied. Will she never sit on the same floor with me under _any_circumstances?"

"More than you deserve!" said Miss Essie. "You to be pitied, indeed!You know the man has the stir, and the talk, and the going from placeto place, and the being looked up to, and the having everybody at hisfeet; and what has she?"

Mr. Linden did not answer, even with his eyes, which were looking down;and the smile which came at Miss Essie's last words, was clearly notmeant for her. His wife would have something--so it said andasserted, --and his wife was not an indefinite, imaginary person, --itsaid that too. And she was worth all that could be laid at her feet. How much he had to lay there--what homage _his_ homage was--even ofthis the face gave unconscious token. Miss Essie looked, and read it orat least felt it, much more than she could well have put into words. Then taking in review Faith's bowed head, she turned and spoke in quitea different tone. 

"There is no use in talking to people, Mrs. Derrick. After all, mayn'tI have Faith?"

"To spend the day? Oh no, Miss Essie!--she's not strong enough, " saidMrs. Derrick, rising from the table and beginning to put the cupstogether. Faith left the party and went to the fire, which in theadvanced state of the May morning needed no tending. 

"Yet she must spend the day somewhere, " said Miss Essie wheeling round. "Faith!--what are you going to do with yourself?"

"Nothing, Miss Essie, "--came softly from the fire-mender. But as herhand moved to and fro with the tongs, the sparkle of the diamondscaught Miss Essie's eye. 

"Child!--how did you get that?"--she exclaimed, springing to her sideand arresting the tongs. Faith's low "I don't know, ma'am"--wasinimitable. It was well neither lady had sight of Mr. Linden's face. 

"It's very beautiful!" said Miss Essie, controlling herself into someorder, and poring over the little hand she had made captive. "I neversaw a greater beauty of a ring--never. Do you know what it means, Faith?" She dropped her voice and tapped significantly the finger. 

Faith answered like a person put to the question, --"Yes. "

"Do you?" said Miss Essie in the same low aside and half laughing. "Iam so glad. I always thought it. But this is splendid, Faith. _You_don't know how handsome it is. It is easy to know where this came from. I needn't ask. "

"I must ask you both to sit down, " said Mr. Linden, --"Faith is notstrong enough for much standing, Miss Essie. "

"I can't sit down--I'm going away, " said the lady. "I'll tell Sophy shemay expect you the first day you can go out for so long, "--she went onrenewing her half whisper to Faith. "Does she know of this?"--touchingthe diamonds which Miss Essie had not yet let go. 

"No, Miss Essie--" Faith stood in great confusion. Mr. Linden left thetable, and gently disengaging her from Miss Essie placed her in thegreat chair, and stood resting one hand on the back of it. 

"Miss Essie, " he said, "Faith belongs to me--and therefore if I takecare of her strength in a somewhat summary way, you will forgive me. "

Miss Essie paused and looked at him in most bewildering confusion. Hehad spoken and she had heard, very clearly. 

"I don't believe it!"--she said with an attempt at jocularity in whichthere mingled somehow, inexplicably, a quality that was not pleasure. "Faith!--no double-dealing. Two is too much. "

"Or even the suggestion of two, " Mr. Linden said. 

"Do you mean, " said Miss Essie looking at him with a semi-comicalendeavour to cover up discomfiture and other things--"do you mean tosay that I have made nothing here but an abominable mistake?"

"I should give it a different adjective. "

Miss Essie made a despairing gesture. "Oh!--I might well say it's nouse talking to people! Will you ever for give me, Mr. Linden, for allthe mischief I have tried to do you? I didn't know _both_ parties werewithin hearing of me, you know, sir?--"

"Miss Essie, I hope you may always be as successful. "

Perhaps Miss Essie wondered, as she glanced at Faith, whether she haddone any "mischief" or no; but she ventured no sort of repartee, beingaltogether in an uncomfortable and somewhat awed state of mind. Shemade hurried adieus to Mrs. Derrick, more formal and extremely civilleave-taking of Mr. Linden, parted in a sort of astonished wise withFaith and the diamonds which evidently bewildered her yet, and madewhat was also evidently an escape out of the house. While Mr. Lindenattended the lady to the door, Faith softly and swiftly passed behindthem and made her escape too, up stairs. She was gone before he turned. 

It was perhaps an hour after this, when Cindy entered Faith's room andgave her a note. "I'm free to confess, " said Cindy, "that Mr. Lindengave it to me, but who writ it I don't know. " But Faith did. It ranthus:--

"Mademoiselle--With great impatience I have waited for my Sunbeam tobreak through the gloomy clouds of doubt which surround me--but Iperceive the 'warning' has taken effect!

In keeping with this is the state of the outer world, which is evenrainy!--so that my purpose to take said Sunbeam out to drive is for thepresent thwarted. 

Conceive of my state of mind!

In vain I repeat to myself the comforting truth, that my Sunbeam isshining somewhere, if not on me, --there are circumstances wherephilosophical truths lose all their power. 

I remember that the 'warning' contained some notable mistakes, --as forinstance, that I should ever--my pen refuses to write the words!--or Ido. As well might it be said that I should----. Mademoiselle, you mustperceive the obvious bearing of these two upon each other. 

If your interest in the writer has carried you so far, perhaps he mayindulge the hope that at some future time it may carry youfurther--even to the head of the stairs--where it is needless to sayyou will be received with open arms. 

It is also needless to sign this--it could come from but one person!"

Some two minutes after, Faith's room door opened, and a very flashingbright sunbeam came out upon the place indicated, only a littlepeachblossom tinge in her cheeks witnessing to any consciousness. Shewas met according to promise--then held off and looked at withserio-comic eyes. 

"What a cruel child you are!" Mr. Linden said. 

"What do you want, Endecott?" said Faith trying to be serious. 

"How can you have the heart to sit up stairs and sew while I am downstairs in my study?"

Faith instantly came so close, taking the nearest refuge, that he couldnot very well see her face; but that she was laughing still he knew. 

"Endecott!--don't talk so. I didn't know where you were. "

"Will it be in this sort of weather that you will 'go out to doerrands' and leave me at home?"

"Endecott!--If you don't want anything more of me, " said Faith liftingup a face which was an array of peach-blossoms, --"I'll go back again. "

"Will you?--" with a little tightening of his hold, and significationof his approval of peachblossoms. "Faith, you are a lovely child! Willit distress you very much if I go off and ride about the country alone?"

But now, --seeing she could not get away, --she stood graver; and theanswer was very gentle, almost tender--"No. "

"Then you will not confess that you were frightened out of your wits atthe picture?" said Mr. Linden smiling, though with an answering changeof tone. 

"Did you think I was?"

"No--you are too much of a woman for that, even if you had believed ittrue. "

"Then _you_ were not frightened?--" she said with some comicality. 

"I? desperately!--my note did not give you any idea of the state of mymind! Imagine me sitting down stairs and saying to myself--(wordsnaturally suggested by the state of the weather)--

 'O how this spring of love resembleth Th' uncertain glories of an April day, Which now shews all the beauties of the sun, And by and by a cloud takes all away!'"

One of the soft flashes of Faith's eye came first to answer him; andthen she remarked very coolly, (N. B. Her face was not so, ) "I think itwill clear at noon, Endecott. "

"Do you?" he said looking towards the window with a counterfeitsurprise that was in comical antithesis to his last words, --"does itrain still!"

Faith's eye came back quick from the window to him, and then, for thefirst time in many a long day, her old mellow sweet laugh rolled overthe subject, dismissing make-believes and figures of speech in itsclear matter-of-fact rejoicing. 

"My dear little Mignonette!" Mr. Linden said, "that does my very heartgood. You are really getting better, in spite of lessons and warnings, and all other hindrances. Do you want to know what I have truly beenthinking of since you came up stairs? Shall we exchange thoughts?"

"Please give me yours, " she answered. 

"They sprang from Miss Essie's question. Faith, when she asked me whatmy wife would have, I could not tell her--I could not answer it tomyself afterwards very definitely. Only so far--she will have all Ihave to give. " His hand was smoothing and arranging her hair as hespoke--his look one that nobody but Faith ever had from Mr. Linden. Shehad looked up once and seen it; and then she stood before him, so stilland silent as if she might have had nothing to say; but every line ofher brow, her moved lip, her attitude, the very power of her silence, contradicted that, and testified as well to the grace of a grave andmost exquisite humility which clothed her from head to foot. Mr. Lindenwas as silent as she, watching her; but then he drew her off to the lowcouch in the wide old-fashioned entry window, and seated her there in avery bath of spring air and struggling sunbeams. 

"I suppose it is useless to say 'Please give me yours', " he saidsmiling. "Mignonette, we have had no reading to-day--do you like thistime and place?--and shall it be with you or to you?"

"It will be both, won't it?" said Faith; and she went for her Bible. 

CHAPTER XXX. 

The day was struggling into clearness by the time dinner was over. Patches of blue sky looked down through grey, vapoury, scatteringclouds; while now and then a few rain drops fell to keep up thecharacter of the morning, and broad warm genial sunbeams fell betweenthem. It was not fair yet for a drive; and Mr. Linden went out on someerrands of business, leaving Faith with a charge to sleep and rest andbe ready against his return. 

He was but a little while gone when Jem Waters made his appearance andasked for Faith. Mr. Simlins had been ill--that Faith knew--but Jembrought a sad report of how ill he had been, and a message that he was"tired of not seeing Faith and wished she would let Jem fetch her down. She might go back again as soon as she'd a mind to. " He wanted to seeher "real bad, " according to Jem; for he had ordered the best wagon onthe premises to be cleaned and harnessed up, and the best buffalo robeput in, and charged Jem to bring Miss Faith "if she could anywayscome. " And there was Jem and the wagon. 

Faith demurred; she had not had her sleep and didn't know, or ratherdid know, how the proceeding would be looked upon; but she also fanciedmore meaning in the summons than Jem had been commissioned to makeknown. And perhaps another little wee feminine thought came in to helpher decision. 

"Mother, " she said, "I shall go. You need not say anything about itunless you are asked. It isn't far to Mr. Simlins--I shall be home intime for my ride. " So, quickly ready, Jem drove her down. 

Mr. Simlins she found sitting up, in a nondescript invalid's attire ofan old cloak and a summer waistcoat; and warm as the day was, with alittle fire burning, which was not unnecessary to correct the damp ofthe unused sitting-room. He was, as he said, "fallen away considerable, and with no more strength than a spring chicken, " but for the restlooked as usual. And so spoke. 

"Well, --why haint you been to see me before?"

"I have been sick, sir. "

"Sick?" said he, his voice softening unconsciously towards her sweettones. "Sit there and let me see. --I believe you have. But you aint furfrom well now!" He had some reason, for the face he had turned to thesunlight bore all the quiet lines of happiness, and its somewhat faintcolour was replaced under his scrutiny by a conscious deep rose. 

"Don't you know, " said he settling himself back in his chair, --"I don'tthink I see the sun and moon when I don't see you? Or the moon, anyways--you aint but the half of my Zodiack. "

"What did you want to see the moon for, Mr. Simlins?" said Faithwilling to interrupt him. 

"Well--you see, I've been a kind of a latudinarian too, " said Mr. Simlins doubtfully. --"It pulls a man's mind down; as well as hisflesh--and I got tired of thinkin' to-day and concluded I'd send foryou to stop it. " His look confessed more than his words. Faith hadlittle need to ask what he had been thinking about. 

"What shall I do to stop it, sir?"

"Well, you can read--can't you?--or talk to me. "

There was a strange uneasy wandering of his eye, and a correspondingunwonted simplicity and directness in his talk. Faith noted both andsilently went for a Bible she saw lying on a table. She brought it toMr. Simlins' side and opened its pages slowly, questioning with herselfwhere she should read. Some association of a long past conversationperhaps was present with her, for though she paused over one andanother of several passages, she could fix upon none but the parable ofthe unfruitful tree. 

"Do you mean that for me?" said the farmer a minute after she had done. 

"Yes sir--and no, dear Mr. Simlins!" said Faith looking up. 

"Why is it 'yes' and 'no'? how be I like that?"--he growled, but with acertain softening and lowering of his growl. 

"The good trees all do the work they were made for. God calls for thesame from us, " Faith said gently. 

"I know what you're thinkin' of, " said he;--"but haint I done it? Whoever heerd a man say I had wronged him? or that I have beenhard-hearted either? I never was. "

It was curious how he let his thoughts out to her; but the very gentle, pure and true face beside him provoked neither controversy normistrust, nor pride. He spoke to her as if she had only been a child. Like a child, with such sympathy and simplicity, she answered him. 

"Mr. Simlins, the Bible says that 'the fruits of righteousness are byJesus Christ. '--Do you know him?--are you in his service?"

"I don't know as I understand you, " said he. 

"I can't make you understand it, sir. "

"Why can't you? who can?" said he quickly. 

"It is written, Mr. Simlins, --'They shall be all taught of God. '"--Sheshewed him the place. "And it is written, 'Come, and let us go up tothe mountain of the Lord, and to the house of the God of Jacob; and _hewill teach us_ of his ways, and we will walk in his paths. '--That isit. If you are willing to walk in his paths, he will shew them to you. "Faith looked eagerly at the farmer, and he looked at her. Neither heartwas hid from the other. 

"But supposin' I was willin'--which I be, so fur's I know--I don't knowwhat they be no more'n a child. How am I goin' to find 'em out?"

Faith's eyes filled quick as she turned over the leaves again;--was itby sympathy alone that occasion came for the rough hand to pass once ortwice hastily across those that were looking at her? Without speaking, Faith shewed him the words, --"If any man will do his will, he shallknow of the doctrine. "

"That is the question, dear Mr. Simlins. On that 'if' it all hangs. "The farmer took the book into his own hands and sat looking steadily atthe words. 

"Well, " said he putting it back on her lap--"supposin' the 'if' 's allright--Go ahead, Faith. "

"Then the way is clear for you to do that; and it's all easy. But thefirst thing is here--the invitation of Jesus himself. "

"'Come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will giveyou rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn of me; for I am meek andlowly in heart, and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke iseasy, and my burden is light. '"

"You see, " she went on very gently, --"he bids you _learn of him_--so heis ready to teach you. If you are only willing to take his yoke uponyou, --to be his servant and own it, --he will shew you what to do, stepby step, and help you in every one. "

"I don't see where's the beginning of the way yet, " said the farmer. 

"_That_, " said Faith. "Be the servant of Jesus Christ and own it; andthen go to him for all you want. He is good for all. "

There was a pause. 

"I s'pose you've been goin' on in that way a good while. "

"A good while--yes, "--Faith almost whispered. 

"Well, when you are goin' to him sometimes, ask somethin' for me, --willyou?"

He had bent over, leaning on his knees, to speak it in a lower growlthan ordinary. Faith bowed her head at first, unwilling to speak; buttears somehow started, and the drops followed each other, as she satgazing into the black fireplace, --she could not help it--till a perfectshower of weeping brought her face into her hands and stirred her notvery strong frame. It stirred the farmer, robust as he was in spite ofillness; he shifted his chair most uneasily, and finally laid down hishead on his folded arms on the table. Faith was the first to speak. 

"Mr. Simlins, who takes care of you?"

"Ugh!" (a most unintelligible grunt, ) "they all do it by turns--Jennyand all of 'em. "

"What have you had for dinner to-day?"

"Didn't want anything!" He sat up and brushed his cloak sleeve acrosshis forehead. 

"Mr. Simlins, I shall send you down something from home and you musteat it. "

"The doctor said I was to take wine--but I haint thought of it to-day. "

"Where is it?"

He nodded his head in the direction of the cupboard. Faith wentrummaging, poured him out a glass and brought it. 

"You see, " said he after he had taken it--"I've been pretty well pulleddown--I didn't know--one time--which side of the fence I was goin'over--and I didn't see the ground on the other side. I don't know why Ishould be ashamed to say I was afeard!"--There was a strong, stern, truth-telling about this speech that thrilled his hearer. She sat downagain. 

"You had best take some yourself, " he said. "Do Faith!"

"No sir--I'm going. I must go, " she answered rising to make ready. 

It was strange how the door could have opened and she not heardit--neither she nor Mr. Simlins in fact, --perhaps because their mindswere so far away. That the incoming steps were unheard was not sostrange, nor new, but the first thing of which Faith was conscious wasthe soft touch of a hand on either side of her face--she was aprisoner. Faith's instant spring to one side brought her face to facewith everybody. Mr. Simlins looked from one to the other, and his firstremark was characteristically addressed to Faith. 

"Why you didn't tell me that!"

"Has she told you everything _but_ that?" said Mr. Linden smiling, andgiving the farmer's hand good token of his presence. 

"Where under the sun did you come from?" said the farmer returning hisgrasp with interest, and looking at Mr. Linden as if indeed one of thelights of the solar system had been out before his arrival. Faith satdown mutely and as quietly as possible behind Mr. Linden. 

"From under the sun very literally just now--before that from under ashower. I have been down to Quapaw, then home to Mrs. Derrick's, thenhere. Mr. Simlins, I am sorry to see that you are nursing yourselfinstead of me. What is the matter?"

"I'd as lieves be doin' this, of the two, " said the farmer with a straysmile. "There aint much the matter. How long have you been in thismeridian?"

"Two days. " And stepping from before Faith, Mr. Linden asked her "ifshe had come there in a dream?"

"Do you ever see such good-lookin' things in your dreams?" said thefarmer. "My visual pictures are all broken down fences, or Jem or Jennydoin' somethin' they haint ought to do. How long're you goin' to stayin Pattaquasset, Dominie?"

"Some time, I hope. Not quite so long as the first time, but longerthan I have been since that. Do you know, Mr. Simlins, your coat collaris a little bit turned in?--and why don't you give the sunshine abetter welcome?--you two sick people together want some one to make astir for you. " Which office Mr. Linden took upon himself--lightlydisengaging the collar, and then going to the window to draw up theshade and throw back the shutters, stopping on his way back tostraighten the table cover, and followed by a full gush of sunlightfrom the window. 

"It is so glorious this afternoon!" he said. And standing silent amoment in that brilliant band of light-looking out at the world allglittering and sparkling in the sun, Mr. Linden repeated, --"'Unto youthat fear my name, shall the Sun of Righteousness arise, with healingin his wings. '--What a promise that is!"

"Where did you get those words?"--said Mr. Simlins, after the sunlightand the silence had given them their full effect. 

"From the Bible--God's book of promises. Do you want to see the place?"

Mr. Simlins turned down a corner of the leaf and laid the book, stillopen, on the table. Then looked at Mr. Linden with a mixture ofpleasure and humour in his eyes. "Are you any nearer bein' a ministerthan you was a year ago?"

"Nearer in one way. But I cannot lay claim to the title you gave me foranother year yet, Mr. Simlins. "

"You're Say and Seal as much as ever. What more fixin' have you got todo?"

"A little finishing, " said Mr. Linden with a smile. 

And he got up and went for Faith's shawl and gloves which were on thetable. Mr. Simlins watched the shawling and gloving with attention. 

"You can tell Jem he won't be wanted again, Faith, " he said. "I guessyou'll see him at the gate. " Mr. Linden smiled, but some other thoughtwas on his mind, --the face that he turned to Mr. Simlins shewed concernthat was both grave and kind. 

"What can I do for you?" he said. 

"This aint the prettiest place in Pattaquasset; but maybe you'll comeand see me sometimes--till I can get out my self, " Mr. Simlins saidconsiderately. 

"You may be sure I will. And will you let me pray with you now, beforeI go?"

The farmer hesitated--or was silent--one instant, then with a sort ofsubdued abruptness said, "I'm ready!"--

They knelt there in the sunlight; but when the prayer was over Mr. Simlins felt half puzzled to know for whose sake it had been proposed. For with the telling of his doubts and hindrances and wants--thingswhich he had told to no one, there mingled so much of the speaker's owninterest, --which could not be content to leave him but in Christ'shands. 

There was not a word spoken after that for a minute, --Mr. Linden stoodby the low mantelpiece resting his face on his hand. The farmer, busywith the feelings which the prayer had raised, sat with downcast eyes. And Faith was motionless with a deep and manifold sense of happiness, the labyrinth of which herself could not soon have threaded out. Thesilence and stillness of his two companions drew the farmer's eyes up;he read first, with an eager eye that nobody saw, the sweet gravity onone half hidden face, and the deep pure joy written in all the lines ofthe other; and secret and strong, though half unknown to himself, thewhole tide of his heart turned that way. If not before, then at least, something like Ruth's resolution came up within him;--"thy people shallbe my people, and thy God my God!" Mr. Linden was the first one thatmoved. 

"Are you ready, dear child?"

The farmer's eyes were on her too, even while he wrung Mr. Linden'shand. But he only said before he let it go, --"Give a glass of wine toher when she gets home. "

Out in the sweet afternoon air, and driving through the gate whichopened on the highway, with Jem Waters on hand to shut it, Mr. Lindenbrought Faith's face round towards him and scanned it earnestly. 

"My child, how tired you are! I wish I knew whether it would do youmost good to go straight home, or to breathe this air a little longer. "

"I hope you won't conclude to take me home, " said Faith. "I have beenlooking for this all day. "

"Do you think you deserve to have it?" said Mr. Linden, turning Jerry'shead however the way that was _not_ straight home. "Why didn't yousleep, and wait for me to bring you down here?"

"One reason was, Endy, that I half guessed Mr. Simlins wanted to talkto me and that it might be better for him to see one than two. 

"I could have left you there for a while. "

"No you couldn't!" she said. "And I couldn't have driven off Jerry andleft you--though that would have been better. "

"You could have driven me off. What was the other reason?"

"The other reason isn't really worth your hearing. Don't you think thisafternoon is too pretty to spoil with bad reasons?"--she said withgentle eyes, half fun, half confession. 

"Entirely. Faith--I think you would bear the ride better if you had asort of afternoon lunch, --shall we stop at Miss Bezac's for a glass ofmilk?"

"Oh no!"--she said hastily. "Oh no, Endecott! I don't want anything butto ride. "

"And to hide--" said Mr. Linden laughingly. "Another bad reason, Faith?"

She gave him a little blushing look, very frank and happy, that alsobore homage to his penetration. 

"Stop anywhere you please, Endy, " she said honestly. "I was very gladyou came to Mr. Simlins'. "

"Would you rather get it from Mrs. Davids?" he inquired demurely. 

"No, not rather. Whichever you like, Endecott, " Faith said, hiding thestart which the question in this real form gave her. The afternoon sunthrough which they were riding was very bright; the washed leaves werebrilliantly green; sweet scents of trees and buds filled the air, andopening apple blossoms were scattering beauty all over the land. Nothing could spoil that afternoon. Faith had a secret consciousnessbesides that the very thing from which she shrank was by no meansdisagreeable to Mr. Linden. She did not care what he did! And he, --inthe joy of being with her, of seeing her grow stronger every hour, Mr. Linden was in a 'holiday humour'--in the mood for work or play ormischief; and took the road to Miss Bezac's for more than a glass ofmilk. 

"Mignonette, " he said, "what varieties of pride do you consider lawfuland becoming?"

"I know only a few innocent sorts, " said Faith, --"that I keep formyself. "

"Luxurious child! 'A few innocent sorts of pride that you keep foryourself'! You must divide with me. "

How Faith laughed. 

"You wouldn't thank me for one of them all, Endecott. And yet--" Shestopped, and coloured brilliantly on the sudden. 

"Explain and finish, " said Mr. Linden laconically. 

"If I told you what they are you would laugh at me. "

"That would not hurt me. What are they, Mignonette?"

She spoke gravely, though smiling sometimes; answering to the matter offact, as she had been asked. "I am proud, a little, of very fine rollsof butter, or a particularly good cheese. I think I am proud of mycarnations, and perhaps--" she went on colouring--"of being so good abaker as I am. And perhaps--I think I am--of such things as sewing anddressmaking;--but I don't think there is much harm in all that. I knowmyself sometimes proud of other things, where I know it is wrong. "

"How do you know but I am proud of your rolls of butter too?" said Mr. Linden looking amused. "But Mignonette, what called forth such adisplay of the carnations you are _not_ proud of? What was the force ofthat 'And yet'?"

It brought the colour again, and Faith hesitated and looked puzzled, Then she tried a new way of escape. 

"Don't you mean to let me have any of my thoughts to myself?" she saidplayfully. 

"Don't you mean to let me have any of them for myself?"

"You?--Haven't you them almost all?"

"My dear I beg pardon!--one for every carnation, --but I did not knowthat I had so nearly made the tour of your mind. I was under theimpression that my passports were not yet made out--and that myknowledge of your thoughts was all gained from certain predatoryexcursions, telescopic observations, and such like illegal practices. Iam sure all my attempts to cross the frontier in the ordinary way aremet by something more impassable than a file of bayonets. "

Faith looked up at him as if to see how much of this was meant for true. 

"But, " said she naively, "I feel as if I had been under a microscope. "

"My dear!" said Mr. Linden again, with an air at once resigned anddeprecating. But then his gravity gave way. "Faith!--is _that_ yourfeeling in my company? I wonder you can endure the sight of me. "

"Why?"--said she timidly. 

"If I seem to you like a microscope. "

"Only your eyes, like those power-glasses. --Not for size!" said Faith, laughing now herself. 

"Ah little Mignonette, " he said smiling, "some things can be seenwithout microscopic vision. And do not you know, my child, thatcarnations must draw attention to the particular point round which theybloom?"

"Endy, you shall know what I was thinking of, " she said. "You touchedit already. It was only--that perhaps sometime you _would_ be a littleproud even of those little things in me--because--Now you can punish mefor being proud in earnest!"--It was said in great confusion; it hadcost Faith a struggle; the white and red both strove in her downcastface. Mr. Linden might not fathom what was not in a man's nature; butFaith had hardly ever perhaps given him such a token of the value sheset upon his pleasure. 

"Punish you?" he said, leaving Jerry to find the road for himself for aminute, --"how shall I do it?--so? And how much punishment do yourequire? I think a little is not enough. 'Because' what, love?"

"Endy!--" she said under her breath, --"you know!--don't ask me. "

"Then--if I exceed your limits--you will not blame me?"

"Limits of what?"

"Limits of this species of executive justice. "

"I don't think you would keep limits of anybody else's setting, " saidFaith with a little subdued fun. "Look, Endy!--we are coming to MissBezac's. "

"Most true, " said Mr. Linden, --"now shall you see (perhaps!) one of theinnocent sorts of pride that I keep for myself. What have we come for?"he added laughing, as Jerry trotted up the side hill to thecottage, --"is it butter, or carnations, or dressmaking?--they all makea rare combination in my mind at present. "

"She is at home!" said Faith, --"if she wasn't, the window-curtainswould be down. Now she is going to be pleased, --and so am I, for shewill give me something to eat. " Faith looked as if she wanted it, asshe softly opened the door of the dressmaker's little parlour, orworkroom, and softly went in. The various business and talk of theafternoon had exhausted her. 

Miss Bezac, having in her young days been not only rich, but also afirstrate needlewoman, now that she was older and poor plied her needlefor a different purpose. Yet something of old habits clung to herstill; she would not take the common work of the village; but when Mrs. Stoutenburgh wanted a gay silk dress, or Miss De Staff a delicatemuslin, or Mrs. Somers an embroidered merino--then Miss Bezac was sureto have them go through her hands; and for these ladies she took thefashions and dispensed them exceeding well. Strangers too, inPattaquasset for the summer, often came to her, --and had not Miss Bezacmade the very first embroidered waistcoat that ever Squire Deacon wore, or Sam Stoutenburgh admired himself in? So her table was generallycovered with pretty work, and on this particular afternoon she waschoosing the patterns for a second waistcoat for the young member fromQuilipeak, a mantilla for his mother, and a silk apron for Miss Essie, all at once. In deep cogitation Faith found her, and Faith's softsalutation, --

"Dear Miss Bezac, will you let strangers come in?" How gloriously Faithblushed. 

"Strangers!" cried Miss Bezac, turning round. "Why Faith!--you don'tmean to say it's you?--though I don't suppose you mean to say it'sanybody else. Unless--I declare I don't know whether it is you or not!"said Miss Bezac, looking from her to Mr. Linden and shaking hands withboth at once. "Though if it isn't I ought to have heard--only folksdon't always do what they ought--at least I don't, --nor much ofanything. "

"It is nobody else yet, " said Mr. Linden smiling. Whereat Miss Bezaclaid one hand on the other, and stepping back a little surveyed the two"as a whole. "

"Do you know, " she said, "(you wouldn't think it) but sometimes I can'tsay a word!"

"You must not expect Faith to say much--she is tired, " said Mr. Lindenputting her in a chair. "Miss Bezac, I brought her here to getsomething to eat. "

"Well I don't believe--I don't really believe that anybody but youwould ever do such a kind thing, " said Miss Bezac. "What shall I get?Faith--what will you have? And you're well enough to be out again!--andit's so well I'm not out myself!--I'll run and see if the fireain't, --the kettle ought to be boiled, for I wanted an early cup oftea. "

"No, dear Miss Bezac, don't!" said Faith. "Only give me some bread andmilk. "

Miss Bezac stopped short. 

"Bread and milk?" she said--"is that good for you? The bread's good, Iknow, baked last night; and the milk always is sweet, up here with thecowslips--and most things are sweet when you're hungry. But ain't youmore hungry than that?--and somebody else might be, if you ain't--andone always must think of somebody else too. But you do, I'll say thatfor you. And oh didn't I say long ago!--" A funny little recollectivepause Miss Bezac made, her thoughts going back even to the night of thecelebration. Then she ran away for the bread and milk, --then she cameback and put her head in at the door. 

"Faith, do you like a cup or a bowl?--I like a cup, because I alwaysthink of a cup of comfort--and I never heard of a bowl of anything. Butyou can have which you like. "

"I like the cup too, " said Faith laughing. "But even the bowl would becomfort to-day, Miss Bezac. "

The cup came, and a little pitcher for replenishing, and a blue plateof very white bread and very brown bread, and one of Miss Bezac'sold-fashioned silver spoons, and a little loaf of "one, two, three, four, cake", that looked as good as the bread. All of which werearranged on a round stand before Faith by Miss Bezac and Mr. Lindenjointly. He brought her a footstool too, and with persuasive fingersuntied and took off her bonnet--which supplementary arrangements MissBezac surveyed with folded hands and great admiration. Which also madethe pale cheeks flush again, but that was pretty to look upon. Faithbetook herself to the old-fashioned spoon and the milk, then gave Mr. Linden something to do in the shape of a piece of cake; and thenresigning herself to circumstances broke brown bread into the milk andeat it with great and profitable satisfaction, leaving the conversationin the hands of the other two. The sun sank lower and lower, sendingfarewell beams into the valleys, and shaking out gold pieces in MissBezac's little brown sitting-room like the Will-o'-wisps in the "Taleof tales". Through the open door her red cow might be seen returninghome by a winding and circuitous path, such as cows love, and a littlesparrow hopped in and out, from the doorstep, looking for "One, two, three, four", crumbs. Faith from her seat near the fire could see itall--if her eyes chose to pass Mr. Linden, --what he saw, she found outwhenever they went that way. It was not wonderful that Faith turnedfrom the table at last with a very refreshed face. 

"Miss Bezac, you have made me up, " she said smiling. 

"Have I?" said her little hostess, --"well that comes pretty near it. Doyou know when I saw you--I mean when I saw _both_ of you, I reallythought you had come for me to make up something else? And I must say, I wish you had, --not that I haven't dresses enough, and toomany--unless I had a new pair of eyes--but I always did set my heart onmaking that one. And I haven't set my heart upon many things for a goodwhile, so of course I ain't used to being disappointed. You won'tbegin, will you, Faith?"

Faith kissed her, hastily expressing the unsentimental hope that hertea would be as good as her bread and milk; and ran out, leaving Mr. Linden to follow at his leisure. Faith was found untying Jerry. 

"What do you mean?" said Mr. Linden staying her hands and lifting herin the most summary manner into the wagon. "Bread and milk is toostimulating for you, child, --we must find something less exciting. Whatwill you see fit to do next?"

"I can untie a bridle, " said Faith. 

"Or slip your head through one. But you should have seen the delightwith which Miss Bezac entered upon the year of patience that Iprescribed to her!--and the very (innocuous) pride that lay hid in theprescription. Do you feel disposed to punish me for that, Mignonette?"

One of Faith's grave childish looks answered him; but then, dismissingMr. Linden as impracticable, she gave herself to the enjoyment of thetime. It was a fit afternoon! The sunbeams were bright on leaves andflowers, with that fairy brightness which belongs peculiarly to spring. The air was a real spring air, sweet and bracing, full of delicatespices of May. The apple blossoms, out and bursting out, dressed theland with the very bloom of joy. And through it all Mr. Linden droveher, himself in a "holiday humour. " Bread and milk may be stimulating, but health and happiness are more stimulating yet; and Faith came homeafter a ride of some length looking not a bit the worse, and ready forsupper. 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

A month passed away, --with apple blossoms, strawberry flowers, now withstrawberries themselves. Roses coming into splendour, carnations infull force, and both re-established in the cheeks of Faith Derrick. What a month it had been!--of weather, of work, of society. Lessonsafter the old fashion, reading aloud, talking; going round the countryat Jerry's heels, or on the back of Mrs. Stoutenburgh's pony--for thereshe was put, just so soon as she could bear it, passing by degrees froma gentle trot on level ground to a ladylike scamper over the hills. Faith had not been so strong for many a day as the longest day of thatsummer found her. 

Coming home from their afternoon ride by the way of the postoffice, Mr. Linden found there a letter from Europe; the seal of which he broke asthey entered, the house, just in time to give Faith a little enclosednote to herself as she went up stairs to change her dress. Its wordswere few. Referring Faith to Mr. Linden for particulars, it asked herto let him come to Germany without delay. The aunt with whom MissLinden lived was at the point of death, apparently--she herself indanger of being left quite alone in a strange land. Yet with all theurgency of the case, the whole breathing of Miss Linden's note was, "Faith--can you spare him?--will you let him come?"

The question was settled before it was asked, in Faith's mind; but whata laying down of pleasure and what a taking up of pain was there! Therest of the vacation was gone at once; for Mr. Linden could not go toEurope and come back, even on the wings of steam, and have a day leftbefore study would begin again. No more of him--except, at the best, snatches--till next year; and next year was very far off, and who couldtell what might be next year? But at the best, she must see little moreof him until then; and in the mean time he must put half the worldbetween them. Nobody saw how fast the roses faded on Faith's cheek; shesat and looked at the matter all alone, and looked it through. For onefew minutes; and then she rose up and began dressing slowly, looking atit still, but gathering all her forces together to deal with it. Andwhen her dressing was done, she still stood leaning one hand and herhead on the dressing table, thinking over all that was to do. She hadremembered, as with a flash of remembrance, what day the next steamerwould sail--from what port--she knew the hour when Mr. Linden mustleave Pattaquasset. And when her mind had seen all the preparations tobe made, and she thought she was strong enough, she turned to go downstairs; but then feeling very weak Faith turned again and kneeled downto pray. And in a mixed feeling of strength and weakness, she went downstairs. 

First to the kitchen, where she quietly looked after the state of theclothes in the wash, and desired Cindy to have all Mr. Linden's thingsready for ironing that evening. Then attended to the supply of breadand the provision for breakfast; saw that one or two things about thesupper were in proper order and progress; asked Mrs. Derrick to makethe tea when it was time, and finally, as quietly as if the afternoon'sride had been the only event of the afternoon, opened the door of thesitting-room and softly went in. 

For a while after reading his own letter Mr. Linden had sat absolutelystill, --then with a sort of impatience to see Faith, to give her whatcomfort he could, at least to have her with him every minute, he hadpaced up and down the sitting-room till she appeared. Now he took herin his arms with all sorts of tender caresses--with no words at firstbut, "My little Mignonette!" Faith herself was quite still andwordless; only once, and that suddenly and earnestly, she gave hischeek the salutation she had never given him before unbidden. From herit was a whole volume, and thoroughly peace-speaking, although it mightintimate a little difficulty of words. 

Keeping one arm round her, Mr. Linden began again his walk up and downthe room; beginning to talk as well--telling her what was in hisletter, how long the journey would take, and more than all, what shemust do while he was away. How long the absence would be--when heshould be at home again, that was little touched upon by either; thereturn might be very speedy--that seemed most probable, but neither henor Faith cared to put in words all the uncertainties that hung aboutit. From every point he came back to her, --with injunctions about herstrength, and directions about her studies, and charges to take care ofherself _for him_--with other words of comfort and cheering, spokencheerfully from a very sorrowful heart. One other charge he gave--

"My little Sunbeam, my dearest Faith, keep both your names unclouded!"

"I have had one lesson, Endy"--

She was a little pale, but had listened to him quietly as intently;voice and smile both ready to do their part, albeit gravely, wheneverthere was a part for them. 

"I shall not forget--" she added now with a smile, a rare one, after alittle pause. 

He brought her back to the sofa then, kissing the pale cheeks as if hemissed their carnations. Yet--with the stringency of the old law whichsaith that "Doublet and hose must shew itself courageous topetticoat"--Mr. Linden gave her bright words, although they were wordsof a very grave brightness--not contradicted, but qualified by his eyes. 

"Mignonette, " he said, "I did not think next year could gain brightnessfrom anything--but I cannot tell you how it has looked to me withinthese last two hours. If I could but call in Mr. Somers, and then takeyou with me!"

It brought a rush of the carnations; but Faith did not think soextravagant a wish required any combating. Neither did she say what_she_ thought of "next year. "

That evening at least they had quietly together. What Faith did afterthey had separated for the night, Mr. Linden never knew; but themorning saw everything ready for his departure, --ready down to thelittle details which a man recognizes only (for the most part) by thesense of want. And if cheeks were paler than last night, they were onlynow and then less steady--till he was gone. 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

Dr. Harrison took passage in the steamship Vulcan, C. W. Cyclops, commander, for the Old World; having come to the conclusion that thesouthern country was not sufficiently remote, and that only a change ofhemispheres would suit the precise state of his mind. Letters ofcombined farewell and notice-giving, reached Pattaquasset too late tocumber the doctor with a bevy of friends to see him off; but his suddenmotions were too well known, and his peculiarities too longestablished, to excite much surprise or dismay by any newmanifestations. 

The Vulcan lay getting her steam up in that fair June morning, withvery little regard to the amount of high pressure that her passengersmight bring on board. Nothing could be more regardless of their hurryand bustle, the causes that brought them, the tears they shed, thefriends they left behind, than the ship with her black sides and redsmoke pipe. Tears did indeed trickle down some parts of her machinery, but they were only condensed steam--which might indeed be true of someof the tears of her passengers. 

Punctual to her time she left her moorings, steaming down the beautifulbay with all the June light upon her, throwing back little foamy wavesthat glittered in the sun, making her farewell with a long train ofblue rollers that came one after another to kiss the shore. What iftears sprinkled the dusty sidewalks of Canal St. ?--what if that samelight shone on white handkerchiefs and bowed heads?--The answeringdrops might fall in the state-rooms of the Vulcan, but on deck bustleand excitement had their way. 

So went on the miles and the hours, --then the pilot left the vessel, taking with him a little handful of letters; and the passengers who hadbeen down stairs to write were on deck, watching him off. In the citybusiness rolled on with its closing tide, --far down on the Long Branchshore people looked northward towards a dim outline, a little waft ofsmoke, and said--"There goes the Vulcan. " The freshening breeze, thelong rolls of the Atlantic, sent some passengers below, evennow, --others stood gazing back at the faint city indications, --othersstill walked up and down--those who had left little, or cared littlefor what they had left. Of these was Dr. Harrison, who paced the deckwith very easy external manifestations. 

Some change of mind--some freak of fancy, sent him at last to the otherside of the ship--then to the prow. Here sailors were busy, --here onepassenger stood alone: but if there had been twenty more, Dr. Harrisoncould have seen but this one. He was standing with arms folded, in asort of immoveable position, that yet accommodated itself easily to theship's slow courtseying; as regardless of that as of the soft play ofthe sea breeze; looking back--but not to the place where the Vulcan hadlain a few hours before. He was rather looking forward, --looking off tosome spot that lay north or northeast of them: some spot invisible, yethow clearly seen! Looking thither, --as if in all the horizon that alonehad any interest. So absorbed--so far from the ship, --his lips set insuch grave, sad lines; his eyes so intent, as if they could by no meanslook at anything else. Nay, for the time, there was nothing else tosee! Dr. Harrison might come or go--the sailors might do theirutmost, --far over the rolling water, conscious of that only because itwas a barrier of separation, the watcher's eyes rested on Mignonette. If once or twice the eyelids fell, it was not that the vision failed. 

Dr. Harrison stopped short, unseen, and not wishing at that moment tomeet the consequences of being seen. Yet he stood still and looked. Thefirst feeling being one of intense displeasure and disgust that theVulcan carried so unwelcome a fellow-passenger; the second, ofunbounded astonishment and wonder what he did there. _He_ putting theocean between him and Pattaquasset? _he_ setting out for the Old World, with all his hopes just blossoming in the New? What could be theexplanation? Was it possible, Dr. Harrison asked himself for onemoment, that he could have been mistaken? that he could havemisunderstood the issue of the conversation that morning in Faith'ssick room? A moment resolved him. He recalled the steady, dauntlesslook of Faith's eyes after his words, --a look which he had two or threetimes been privileged to receive from her and never cared to meet;--heremembered how daintily her colour rose as her eyes fell, and the slowdeliberate uncovering of her diamond finger from which the eyes werenot raised again to look at him; he remembered it with the embitteredpang of the moment. No! he had not been mistaken; he had read herright. Could it be--it crossed the doctor's mind like a flash of theintensest lightning--that _his letter_ had done its work? its work ofseparation? But the cool reminder of reason came like the darknessafter the lightning. Mr. Linden would not have been at Mrs. Derrick's, as the doctor had heard of his being there, if any entering wedge ofdivision had made itself felt between his place there and him. No, though now he was here in the Vulcan. And Dr. Harrison noticed anew, keenly, that the expression of the gazer's face, though sorrowful andgrave, was in nowise dark or desponding. Nothing of that! The gravebrow was unbent in every line of it; the grave lips had no hard set ofpain; the doctor read them well, both lips and brow! Mr. Linden was noman to stand and look towards Pattaquasset if he had nothing there. Andwith a twinge he now recollected the unwonted sound of that name fromthe pilot's mouth as he took charge of the letters and went off. Ay!and turning with the thought the doctor paced back again, asunregardful now of the contents of the Vulcan, animate or inanimate, asthe man himself whom he had been watching. 

What should he do? he must meet him and speak to him, though the doctordesired nothing less in the whole broad earth. But he must do it, forthe maintenance of his own character and the safety of his own secretand pride that hung thereby. That little piece of simplicity up therein the country had managed to say him no without being directly askedto say anything--thanks to her truthful honesty; and perhaps, a twingeor two of another sort came to Dr. Harrison's mind as he thought of hisrelations with her, --yes, and of his relations with _him_. Notpleasant, but all the more, if possible, Dr. Harrison set his teeth andresolved to speak to Mr. Linden the first opportunity. All the more, that he was not certain Mr. Linden had received his letter, --it waslikely, yet Dr. Harrison had had no note of the fact. It might havefailed. And not withstanding all the conclusions to which hismeditations had come, curiosity lingered yet;--a morbid curiosity, unreasonable, as he said to himself, yet uncontrollable, to see by eyeand ear witness, even in actual speech and conversation, whether allwas well with Mr. Linden or not. His own power of self-possession Dr. Harrison could trust; he would try that of the other. Yet he tooktolerably good care that the opportunity of speaking should not be thisevening. The doctor did not come in to supper till all the passengerswere seated, or nearly so, and then carried himself to the end of theapartment furthest from his friend; where he so bore his part that nomortal could have supposed Dr. Harrison had suffered lately in mind, body, or estate. 

Mr. Linden's part that night was a quiet one, the voluntary part of it, and strictly confined to the various little tea-table courtesies whichwith him might indeed be called involuntary. But it so happened thatthe Vulcan carried out quite a knot of his former friends--gentlemenwho knew him well, and these from their various places at the tablespoke either to him or of him frequently. Dr. Harrison in the pauses ofhis own talk could hear, "Linden"--"Endecott Linden"--"John, what haveyou been doing with yourself?"--in different tones of question orcomment, --sometimes caught the tones of Mr. Linden's voice in reply;but as they were both on the same side of the table eyesight was notcalled for. The doctor sat in his place until the table was nearlycleared; then sauntered forth into the evening light. Fair, bright, glowing light, upon gay water and a gay deck-full; but Dr. Harrisongaining nothing from its brightness, stood looking out on itsreflection in the waves more gloomily than he had seen another look alittle time ago. Then a hand was laid lightly on his shoulder, makingits claim of acquaintanceship with a very kind, friendly touch. Thedoctor turned and met hand and eye with as far as could be seen his oldmanner, only perhaps his fingers released themselves a little soonerthan once they would, and the smile was a trifle more broad than itmight if there had been no constraint about it. 

"I am not altogether taken now by surprise, " said he, "though surprisehasn't yet quit its hold of me. I heard your name a little while ago. What are you doing here, Linden?"

"Rocking in the cradle of business as well as of the deep, " said Mr. Linden. "The last steamer brought word that I must sail by this, and sohere I am. "

"Who rocks the cradle of business?" said the doctor, with the oldcomical lift of the eyebrows with which he used to begin a tilt withMr. Linden. 

"Duty and Interest rock it between them, --singing of rest, and keepingone awake thereby. "

"A proper pair of nurses!" said the doctor. "Why man, they would tearthe infant Business to pieces between them! Unless one of them did asmuch for the other in time to prevent it. "

"Never--unless Inclination took the place of Interest. "

"Don't make any difference, " said the doctor;--"Inclination alwaysfollows the lead of Interest. --Except in a few extraordinary specimensof human nature. "

Mr. Linden turned towards the scattered groups of passengers, and sodoing his eye caught the shining of that very star which was risingover Pattaquasset as he and Mignonette rode home two nights before. Only two nights!--For a minute everything else might have been at theantipodes--then Mr. Linden brought at least his eyes back to the deckof the Vulcan. "What sort of a motley have we here, doctor? Do you knowmany of them?"

"Yes, " said the doctor slightly;--"the usual combinations of Interestand Inclination. I wonder if we are exceptions, Linden?"

"The _usual_ combination is not, perhaps, just the best, --it is a nicematter for a man to judge in his own case how far the proportions arerectified. "

"He can't do it. Human machinery can't do it. Can you measure theheight of those waves while they dazzle your eyes with gold and purpleas they do now?"

"Nay--but I can tell how much they do or do not throw me out of myright course. "

"What course are you on now, Linden?" said the doctor with hisold-fashioned assumption of carelessness, dismissing the subject. 

"Now?" Mr. Linden repeated. "Do you mean in studies, travels, orconversation?"

"In conversation, you have as usual brought me to a point! I mean--if Imean anything, --the other two; but I mean nothing, unless you like. "

"I do like. Just now, then, I am in the vacation before the last yearof my Seminary life, --for the rest, I am on my way to Germany. "

"Finish your course there, eh?" said the doctor. "Why man, I thoughtyou had found the 'four azure chains' long ago. "

"No, not to finish my course, --if I am kept in Germany more than a fewweeks, it will not be by 'azure' chains, " said Mr. Linden. 

"That it will not!" said one of the young men coming up, fresh from thetea-table and his cigar. "Azure chains?--pooh!--Linden breaks _them_ aseasy as Samson did the green withs. How biblical it makes one to be incompany with such a theologian! But I shouldn't wonder if he was goingto Europe to join some order of friars--he'll find nothing monasticenough for him in America. "

"Mistaken your man, Motley!" said the doctor; who for reasons of hisown did not choose to quit the conversation. "The worst _I_ have to sayof him is, that if he spends an other year in Germany his hearers willnever be able to understand him!"

"Mistaken him!" said Mr. Motley--"at this time of day, --that'll do!Where did you get acquainted with him, pray?"

"Once when I had the management of him, " said the doctor coolly. "Thereis no way of becoming acquainted with a man, like that. "

"Once when you _thought_ you had, " said Mr. Motley. "Well, where wasit?--in a dark passage when you got to the door first?"

"Whenever I have had the misfortune to be in a dark passage with him, he has _shewed_ me the door, " said the doctor gravely but gracefully, in his old fashion admirably maintained. 

"If one of you wasn't Endecott Linden, " said Mr. Motley throwing theend of his cigar overboard, "I should think you had made acquaintanceon a highway robbery. "

"Instead of which, it was in the peaceful town of Pattaquasset, " saidMr. Linden. 

"Permit me to request the reason of Mr. Motley's extraordinary guess, "said the doctor. 

"So natural to say where you've met a man--if there's no reason againstit, " said the other coolly. "But you don't say it was in Pattaquasset, doctor? Were _you_ ever there?"

"Depends entirely on the decision of certain questions inmetaphysics, "--said the doctor. "As for instance, whether anything thatis, _is_--and the matter of personal identity, which you know isdoubtful. I know the _appearance_ of the place, Motley. "

"Are there any pretty girls there?" said Mr. Motley, carelessly, butkeeping his eye rather on Mr. Linden than the doctor. 

"Mr. Linden can answer better than I, " said Dr. Harrison, whose eyealso turned that way, and whose tone changed somewhat in spite ofhimself. "There are none there that could not answer any question aboutMr. Linden. "--

"By the help of a powerful imagination, " said the person spoken of. Mr. Motley looked from one to the other. 

"I don't know what to make of either of you, " he said. "Why doctor, Endecott Linden is a--a mere--I don't like to call him hard names, andI can't call him soft ones! However--to be sure--the cat may look atthe king, even if his majesty won't return the compliment. Well--youand I were never thought hard-hearted, so I'll tell you my story. Didit ever happen--or _seem_ to happen, doctor--that you, _seeming_ to bein Pattaquasset, went--not to church--but along the road therefrom?Preferring the exit to the entrance--as you and I too often do?"

"It has seemed to happen to me, "--said Dr. Harrison, as if mechanically. 

"Well--George Alcott and I--do you know George?--no great loss--we werekept one Sunday in that respectable little town by a freshet. Whetherit was one of those rains that bring down more things from the sky thanwater, I don't know, --George declared it was. If it wasn't, we madediscoveries. "

"If you and George both used your eyes, there must have beendiscoveries, " said Mr. Linden. "Did you take notice how green the grasslooked after the rain? and that when the clouds were blown away the sunshone?"

"You're not all theology yet!" said Mr. Motley. "Be quiet--can't you?I'm not talking to you. We were sauntering down this same road, doctor--after church, --falling in with the people, so that we could seethem and be taken for churchgoers. But there wasn't much to see. --ThenGeorge declared that here was the place where Linden had secludedhimself for nobody knows what, --then we fell naturally into lamentingthe waste of such fine material, and conned over various particulars ofhis former life and prospects--the great promise of past years, thepresent melancholy mania to make money and be useful. Upon which pointsGeorge and I fought as usual. Then we grew tired of the subject and ofthe mud--turned short about--and beheld--what do you suppose, doctor?"

"How far you had come for nothing?"

"Imagine, " said Mr. Motley, taking out a fresh cigar and a match andproceeding to put them to their respective uses, --"Imagine the visionthat appeared to Balaam's ass--and how the ass felt. "

"Nay, that we cannot do, " said Mr. Linden. "You tax us too far. "

"In both requisitions--" added the doctor. 

"There stood, " said Mr. Motley, removing his cigar and waving itgracefully in one hand. "There stood close behind us on the mud--shecould not have been in it--an immortal creature, in mortal merino!We--transfixed, mute--stepped aside right and left to let her pass, --Ibelieve George had presence of mind enough to take off his hat; andshe--'severe in youthful beauty', glorious in youthful blushes--walkedon, looking full at us as she went. But such a look! and from sucheyes!--fabulous eyes, doctor, upon my honour. Then we saw that themerino was only a disguise. Imagine a search warrant wrapped up inmoonbeams--imagine the blending of the softest sunset reflection with akeen lightning flash, --and after all you have only words--not thoseeyes. Linden!--seems to me your imagination serves you betterhere, --your own eyes are worth looking at!"

"It has had more help from you, " Mr. Linden said, controlling theinvoluntary unbent play of eye and lip with which he had heard thedescription. 

"Well, George raved about them for a month, " Mr. Motley went on, "andstaid in Pattaquasset a whole week to see them again--which he didn't;so he made up his mind that they had escaped in the train of events--orof ears, and now seeks them through the world. Some day he will meetthem in the possession of Mrs. Somebody--and then hang himself. " AndMr. Motley puffed out clouds of smoke thereupon. 

"According to your account, he could not do better, " said the doctorcynically. 

"I suppose the world would get on, if he did, " said Mr. Motley withphilosophical coolness. "But the queerity was, " he added, removing thecigar once more, "what made her look at us so? Did she know by hersupernatural vision that we had not been to church?--for I must say, Linden, she looked like one of your kind. Or were her unearthly earscharmed by the account of your unearthly perfections?--for George and Iwere doing the thing handsomely. "

"It was probably that, " said Mr. Linden. "Few people, I think, canlisten to your stories unmoved. "

"Hang it, " said Mr. Motley, "I wish I could!--This vixenish old craftis behaving with a great deal too much suavity to suit my notions. Idon't care about making a reverence to every wave I meet if they'regoing to tower up at this rate. But I guess you're right, Linden--thedescription of you can be made quite captivating--and her cheeks glowedlike damask roses with some sort of inspiration. However, as Georgepathetically and poetically remarks, 'I only know she came and went!'--

the last part of which illustrious example I shall follow. Linden, ifany story don't move _you_, you're no better than the North Cape. "

"Can you stand it?"--asked the doctor suddenly of his remainingcompanion. 

"Yes--I have known Motley a long time. "

"Pshaw! no, I mean this wind. "

"I beg your pardon! Yes--for anything I have felt of it yet. "

"If you will excuse me, I will get something more on. I have come froma warmer part of the world lately. "

The doctor disappeared, and found something in another part of the boatto detain him. 

Dr. Harrison had stood one conversation, but he had no mind to stand asecond. He did not think it necessary. If by any possibility he couldhave put himself on board of another steamer, or packet; or have leapedforward into France, or back into America!--he would have done it. Butsince he must see Mr. Linden from time to time in their presentsituation, he contrived that that should be all. Even that was asseldom and as little as possible; the art _not to see_, Dr. Harrisoncould practise to perfection, and did now; so far as he could withoutrendering it too obviously a matter of his own will. That would nothave suited his plans. So he saw his one-time friend as often as hemust, and then was civil invariably, civil with the respect which wasDr. Harrison's highest degree of civility and which probably in thisinstance was true and heartfelt; but he was cool, after his slight gaysurface manner, and even when speaking kept at a distance. For therest, it is notable, even in so small a space as the walls of a steamershut in, how far apart people can be that have no wish to be near. Dayspassed that saw at the utmost only a bow exchanged between these two;many days that heard but one or two words. Mr. Linden's own plans andoccupations, the arrangement of his time, helped to further thedoctor's wish. There was many an hour when Dr. Harrison would not havefound him if he had tried, but when they were really together thenon-intercourse was the doctor's fault. For all that had been, Mr. Linden was still his friend, --he realized more and more every day thevalue of the prize for which Dr. Harrison had played and lost; and pityhad made forgiveness easy. He was ready for all their old kindlyintercourse, but seeing the doctor shunned him there was nothing to dobut follow the lead. Sometimes indeed they came together for a fewminutes--were thrown so--in a way that was worse than hours of talk. 

The Vulcan had made about half her passage, and a fair, fresh morninghad brought most of the passengers on deck. Mr. Linden was not there, but the rest were grouped and watching the approach of a homeward boundsteamer; when as she neared them Mr. Linden too came on deck. It was totalk with the Captain however, not the passengers--or to consult withhim, for the two stood together speaking and smiling. "You can try, "Dr. Harrison heard the Captain say; and then he lifted his trumpet andhailed--the other Captain responding. Still the steamer came on, nearerand nearer, --still the two on the deck of the Vulcan stood side byside; till at a certain point, just where the vessels were at thenearest, Captain Cyclops gave his companion a little signal nod. AndMr. Linden stepping forward a pace or two, lent the whole power of hisskill and strength to send a despatch on board the Polar Bear. Thelittle packet sped from his hand, spinning through the air like a darkspeck. Not a person spoke or moved--Would it reach?--would itfail?--until the packet, just clearing the guards, fell safe on thedeck of the other vessel, was picked up by her Captain and proclaimedthrough the speaking trumpet. Slightly raising his hat then, Mr. Lindendrew back from his forward position; just as a shout of delightedacclaim burst from both the boats. 

"That went with a will, I tell _you!_" said Captain Cyclops with alittle nod of his head. 

"I say, Linden!" spoke out one of the young men--"is that your heartyou sent home?"

"I feel it beating here yet, " Mr. Linden answered. But just how much ofit he carried back to his state-room for the next hour has never beenascertained. Society had no help from Dr. Harrison for more than thatlength of time. Neither could proximity nor anything else make him, visibly, aware of Mr. Linden's existence during the rest of the day. 

Mr. Linden knew the doctor too well--and it maybe said, knew Faith toowell--to be much surprised at that. If he could have spared Dr. Harrison the pain of seeing his little air-sent missive, he would havedone it; but the letter could go but at one time, and from one side ofthe ship--and just there and then Dr. Harrison chose to be. But thoughthe sort of growing estrangement which the doctor practised sprang fromno wish nor feeling but his own, yet Mr. Linden found it hard to touchit in any way. Sometimes he tried--sometimes he left it for Time'stouching, which mends so many things. And slowly, and gently, _that_touch did work--not by fading one feeling but by deepening another. Little as Dr. Harrison had to do with his friend, almost every one elsein the ship had a good deal, and the place which Mr. Linden soon tookin the admiration as well as the respect of the passengers, could notfail to come to the doctor's notice. Men of very careless life andopinions pruned their language in his presence, --those who lived butfor themselves, and took poor care of what they lived for, passed himreverently on some of his errands through the ship. Dr. Harrison hadnever lived with him before, and little as they saw each other, youcould as well conceal the perfume of a hidden bunch of violets--as wellshut your senses to the spring air--as could the doctor shut his to thebeauty of that well-grown Christian character. The light of it shone, and the influence of it went forth through all the ship. 

"What a strange, incomprehensible, admirable fellow, Linden is!" saidMr. Motley one day when he and the doctor were sunning themselves inprofound laziness on deck. It was rather late Sunday afternoon, and themorning service had left a sort of respectful quietness behind it. 

"He must be!" said the doctor with a slight indescribableexpression, --"if at this moment you can be roused to wonder atanything. "

Mr. Motley inclined his head with perfect suavity in honour of thedoctor's words. 

"It's a glorious thing to lie here on deck and do nothing!" he said, extending his elegantly clad limbs rather more into the distance. "Howfine the breeze is, doctor--what do you think of the day, as a whole?"

"Unfinished, at present, --"

"Well--" said Mr. Motley, --"take that part of it which you with suchprecision term 'this moment', --what do you think of it as it appearshere on deck?"

"Sunny--" said the doctor, --"and we are flies. On the whole I thinkit's a bore, Motley. "

"What do you think of the Black Hole of Calcutta, in comparison?" saidMr. Motley closing his eyes. 

"The difference is, that _that_ would have been an insufferable bore. "

Mr. Motley smiled--stroking his chin with affectionate fingers. "On thewhole, " he said, "I think you're right in that position. What do yousuppose Linden's about at this moment?"

"Is he your ward?" said the doctor. 

"He's down below--" said Mr. Motley with a significant pointing of histrain of remarks. "By which I don't mean! that he's left thisplanet--for truly, when he does I think it will be in a differentdirection; but he's down in the steerage--trying to get some of thosecreatures to follow him. "

"Which way?"

"You and George Alcott have such a snappish thread in you!" said Mr. Motley yawning--"only it sits better on George than it does on you. ButI like it--it rather excites me to be snubbed. However, here comesLinden--so I hope they'll not follow him _this_ way. "

"This way" Mr. Linden himself did not come, but chose another part ofthe deck for a somewhat prolonged walk in the seabreeze. The doctorglanced towards him, then moved his chair slightly, so as to put thewalker out of his range of vision. 

"He's a good fellow enough, " he remarked carelessly. "You were pleasedto speak of him just now as 'incomprehensible'--may I ask how he hasearned a title to that?" The tone was a little slighting. 

"Take the last instance--" said Mr. Motley, --"you yourself were pleasedto pronounce the steerage a more insufferable bore than the deck--yethe chooses it, --and not only on Sundays. I don't believe there's a daythat he don't go down there. He's popular enough without it--'tisn'tthat. And nobody knows it--one of the sailors told me. If he was amedico, like you, doctor, there'd be less wonder--but as it is!--" andMr. Motley resigned himself again to the influence of the sunshine. Amoment's meditation on the doctor's part, to judge by his face, wasdelectable. 

"There isn't any sickness down there?" he said then. 

"Always is in the steerage--isn't there?" said Mr. Motley, --"I don'tknow!--the surgeon can tell you. "

"There's no occasion, --" said the doctor with a little haughtiness. "Heknows who I am. "

And Dr. Harrison too resigned himself, apparently, to the sunnyinfluences of the time and was silent. 

But as the sun went down lower and lower, Mr. Motley roused himself upand went off to try the effect upon his spirits of a little cheerfulsociety, --then Mr. Linden came and took the vacant chair. 

"How beautiful it is!" he said, in a tone that was half greeting, halfmeditation. The start with which Dr. Harrison heard him was skilfullytransformed into a natural change of position. 

"Beautiful?--yes, " said he. "Has the beauty driven Motley away?"

"He is gone. --Your waves are very dazzling to-night, doctor. "

"They are helping us on, " said the doctor looking at them. "We shall bein after two days more--if this holds. "

Helping us on--perhaps the thought was not unqualified in Mr. Linden'smind, for he considered that--or something else--in grave silence for aminute or two. 

"Dr. Harrison, " he said suddenly, "you asked me about my course--I wishyou would tell me yours. Towards what--for what. You bade me callmyself a friend--may I use a friend's privilege?" He spoke with agrave, frank earnestness. 

The doctor's face shewed but a small part of the astonishment whichthis speech raised. It shewed a little. 

"I can be but flattered!--" he said with something of the old gracefulmedium between play and earnest. "You ask me what I am hardly wiseenough to answer you. I am going to Paris, and you to Germany. Afterthat, I really know about as much of one 'course' as of the other. "

"My question referred, not to the little daily revolutions, but to thegreat life orbit. Harrison, what is yours to be?"

Evidently it was an uneasy question. Yet the power of influence--or ofassociations--was such that Dr. Harrison did not fling it away. "Iremember, " he said, not without some bitterness of accent--"you oncedid me the honour to profess to care. "

"I do care, very much. " And one of the old looks, that Dr. Harrisonwell remembered--said the words were true. 

"You do me more honour than I do myself, " he said, not so lightly as hemeant to say it. "I do not care. I see nothing to care for. "

"You refuse to see it--" Mr. Linden said gently and sorrowfully. 

Dr. Harrison's brow darkened--it might be with pain, for Mr. Linden'swords were the echo of others he had listened to--not long ago. In amoment he turned and spoke with an impulse--of bravado? Perhaps hecould not have defined, and his companion could not trace. 

"I refuse to see nothing!--but I confess to you I see nothingdistinctly. What sort of an 'orbit' would you propose to me?"

The tone sounded frank, and certainly was not unkind. Mr. Linden'sanswer was in few words--"'To them who by patient continuance in welldoing seek for glory and honour and immortality, eternal life'. "

Dr. Harrison remained a little while with knitted brow looking down athis hands, which certainly were in an order to need no examination. Neither was he examining them. When he looked up again it was with thefrankness and kindliness both more defined. Perhaps, very strange tohis spirit, a little shame was at work there. 

"Linden, " he said, "I believe in you! and if ever I enter upon an orbitof any sort, I'll take up yours. But--" said he relapsing into hislight tone, perhaps of intent, --"you know two forces are necessary tokeep a body going in one--and I assure you there is none, of any sort, at present at work upon me!"

"You are mistaken, " said Mr. Linden, --"there are two. "

"Let's hear--" said the doctor without looking at him. 

"In the first place your conscience, in the second your will. "

"You have heard of such things as both getting stagnant for want ofuse--haven't you?"

"I have heard of the one being half choked by the other, " said Mr. Linden:

"It's so warm this afternoon that I can't contradict you. What do youwant me to do, Linden?"

"Let conscience do its work--and then you do yours. "

A minute's silence. 

"You do me honour, to believe I have such a thing as aconscience, "--said the doctor again a little bitterly. "I didn't use tothink it, myself. "

He was unaware that it was that very ignored principle which had forcedhim to make this speech. 

"My dear friend--" Mr. Linden began, and he too paused, looking offgravely towards the brightening horizon. "Then do yourself the honourto let conscience have fair play, " he went on presently, --"it is toodelicate a stream to bear the mountain torrents of unchecked will andkeep its clearness. "

"Hum!--there's no system of drainage that ever I heard of that willapply up in those regions!" said the doctor, after again a second'sdelay to speak. "And you are doing my will too much honour now--I tellyou it is in a state of stagnation, and I don't at present see anyprecipice to tumble down. When I do, I'll promise to think of you--ifthat thought isn't carried away too. --Come, Linden!" he said with moreexpression of kindliness than Mr. Linden had seen certainly during allthe voyage before, --"I believe in you, and I will!--though I suppose mywords do seem to you no better than the very spray of those torrentsyou are talking about. Will you walk?--Motley put me to sleep, but youhave done one good thing--you have stirred me to desire action atleast. "

It was curious, how the power of character, the power of influence, hadborne down passion and jealousy--even smothered mortification andpride--and made the man of the world speak truth. Mr. Linden rose--yetdid not immediately begin the walk; for laying one hand on the doctor'sshoulder with a gesture that spoke both regard and sorrow and entreaty, he stood silently looking off at the colours in the west. 

"Dr. Harrison, " he said, "I well believe that your mother and mine aredear friends in heaven--God grant that we may be, too!"

Then they both turned, and together began their walk. It lasted tillthey were summoned to tea; and from that time till they got in therewas no more avoidance of his old friend by the doctor. His manner waschanged; if he did not find enjoyment in Mr. Linden's society he foundsomewhat else which had value for him. There was not again a shade ofdislike or of repulsion; and when they parted on landing, though itmight be that there lay in Dr. Harrison's secret heart a hope that hemight never see Mr. Linden again, there lay with it also, as surely, asecret regret. 

Now all that Faith knew of this for a long time, was from a newspaper;where--among a crowd of unimportant passengers in the Vulcan'slist--she read the names of Dr. Harrison and J. E. Linden. 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

Faith and her mother sat alone at breakfast. About a fortnight of gravequiet had followed after the joyous month that went before, with littleenlivening, few interruptions. Without, the season had bloomed intogreater luxuriance, --within, the flowers now rarely came; and Faith'sflowerless dress and belt and hair, said of themselves that Mr. Lindenwas away. Roses indeed peeped through the windows, and thrust theirheads between the blinds, but no one invited them in. 

Not so peremptorily as the roses--and yet with more assurance ofwelcome--Reuben Taylor knocked at the door during breakfast time;scattering the abstract musings that floated about the coffee-pot andmingled with its vapoury cloud. 

"Sit down, Reuben, " said Faith jumping up;--"there's a place foryou, --and I'll give you a plate. " To which Reuben only replied, "Aletter, Miss Faith!"--and putting it in her hands went off with quicksteps. On the back of it was written, up in one corner--"Flung on boardthe Polar Bear, by a strong hand, from steamship Vulcan, half wayacross. "

There was no need of flowers now truly in the house, for Faith stood bythe table transformed into a rose of summer joy. 

"Mother!" she exclaimed, --"It's from sea--half way across. "--

"From sea!--half way across--" her mother repeated. "Why child, whatare you talking about? You don't mean that Mr. Linden's contrived tomake a letter swim back here already, do you?"

Faith hardly heard. A minute she stood, with her eyes very like whatMr. Motley had graphically described them to be, breaking the seal withhurried fingers, --and then ran away. The breakfast table and Mrs. Derrick waited--they waited a long time before Faith came back to eat acold breakfast, which tasted of nothing but sea-breezes and wastherefore very strengthening. The strengthening effect went through theday; there was a fresh colour in Faith's face. Fifty times at least the"moonbeams" of her eyes saw a "strong hand" throw her packet across thesea waves that separated the two steamers; the master of the "PolarBear" might guess, but Faith knew, that a strong heart had done it aswell. And when her work was over Faith put a rose in her belt in honourof the day, and sat down to her books, very happy. 

The books were engrossing, and it was later than usual when she camedown stairs to get tea, but Mrs. Derrick was out. That wasn't verystrange. Faith went through the little routine of preparation, --thenshe took another book and sat down by the sweet summer air of the openwindow to wait. By and by Mrs. Derrick came slowly down the road, opened and shut the gate with the same air of abstracteddeliberateness, and came up the steps looking tired and flushed. In theporch Faith met and kissed her. 

"Where have you been now, mother? tea's ready. "

"Pretty child!" was Mrs. Derrick's answer, "how glad I am you got thatletter this morning!"

Faith smiled; _she_ didn't forget it, but it was not to be expectedthat it should be quite so present to Mrs. Derrick's mind. Yet almostat the same instant she felt that her mother had some particular reasonfor saying that just then. 

"Where have you been, mother?"

"Up to Squire Stoutenburgh's, " said Mrs. Derrick, putting herselfwearily in the rocking-chair, --"and they were all out gone--to Pequotto spend the day. So I lost my labour. "

Gently Faith stood before her and took off her bonnet. "What did you gothere for, mother?"

"I wanted to see him--" said Mrs. Derrick. "Squire Deacon's been here, Faith. "

"Mother! Is he back again?--What for?"

"Settle here and live, I suppose. He's married--that's one thing. Whatwas he here for?--why the old story, Faith, --he wants the place. " AndMrs. Derrick's eyes looked as if she wanted it too. 

"Does he want it very much, mother?"

"Means to have it, child--and I don't feel as if I could live in anyother house in Pattaquasset. So I thought maybe Mr. Stoutenburgh wouldmake him hold off till next year, Faith, " said Mrs. Derrick, a littlesmile coming back to her lips. "I guess I'll go up again after tea. "

Faith coaxed her mother into the other room and gave her her teadaintily; revolving in her mind the while many things. When tea wasover and Mrs. Derrick was again bent upon business, Faith ventured aquestion. "Mother, what do you suppose Squire Stoutenburgh can do tohelp us?"

"I can't tell, child, --he might talk Sam Deacon into letting us keepthe house, at least. We've got to live somewhere, you know, Faith. It'sno sort of use for me to talk to him, --he's as stiff as a crabtree--and I aint. I think I'll try. "

"To-night, mother?"

"I thought I would. "

Faith hesitated, putting the cups together. "Mother, I'll go. I daresay I shall do as well. "

"I'm afraid you're tired too, pretty child, " said Mrs. Derrick, butwith evident relief at the very idea. 

"I tired?--Never, " said Faith. "You rest, mother--and don't fear, " sheadded, kissing her. "I'll put on my bonnet--and be there and back againin a little while. "

The summer twilight was falling grey, but Faith knew she could have aguardian to come home; and besides the road between the two houses wasthickly built up and perfectly safe. The evening glow was almost gone, the stars faintly gleaming out in the blue above; a gentle sea breezestirred the branches and went along with Faith on her errand. Now wasthis errand grievously unpleasing to Faith, simply because of theimplication of that _one year_ of reprieve which she must ask for. Howshould she manage it? But her way was clear; she must manage it as shecould. 

Spite of this bugbear, she had gone with a light free step all alongher road, walking rather quick; for other thoughts had kept hercompany, and the image of her little flying packet shot once and againthrough her mind. At length she came to Mr. Stoutenburgh's gate, andFaith's foot paused. Light shone through the muslin curtains; and asher step neared the front door the broken sounds of voices and laughtercame unwelcomely through. A most unnecessary formality her knock was, but one of the children came to the door and ushered her at once intothe tea-room, where the family were waiting for their late tea. Mrs. Stoutenburgh--looking very pretty in her light summer dress--was halfreclining on the sofa, professing that she was tired to death, butquite failing to excite any sympathy thereby in the group of childrenwho had not seen her since morning. The Squire himself walked leisurelyup and down, with his hands behind him, sometimes laughing at thechildren sometimes helping on their play. Through the room was the fullperfume of roses, and the lamplight could not yet hide the departingglow of the western horizon. Into this group and atmosphere littleLinda brought the guest, with the simple announcement, "Mother, it'sMiss Faith. "

"Miss Faith!" Mrs. Stoutenburgh exclaimed, starting up and dispersingthe young ones, --"Linda, you shall have a lump of sugar!--My dear otherchild, how do you do?--and what sweet corner of your little heart sentyou up here to-night? You have not--no, that can't be, --and youwouldn't come here if you had. But dear Faith, how are you?"--and shewas rescued from the Squire and carried off to the sofa to answer ather leisure. With a sort of blushing, steadfast grace, which was commonwith her in the company of friends who were in her secret, Faithanswered. 

"And you haven't had tea yet, "--she said remorsefully. "I came to giveMr. Stoutenburgh some trouble--but I can do it in three minutes. " Faithlooked towards the Squire. 

"My dear, " he said, "it would take you three years!"

"But Faith, " said Mrs. Stoutenburgh--"here comes the tea, and you can'tgo home without Mr. Stoutenburgh, --and nothing qualifies him forbusiness like a contented state of his appetite!"

Faith laughed and sat down again, and then was fain upon persuasion totake a place at the table, which was a joyous scene enough. Faith didlittle but fill a place; her mind was busy with thoughts that began tocome pressingly; she tried not to have it seem so. 

"My dear, " said the Squire as he helped Faith to raspberries, "whatfine weather we have had, eh?"

"Beautiful weather!"--Faith responded with a little energy. 

"Papa, " said one of the children, "do you think Mr. Linden's had itfine too?"

"What tangents children's minds go off in!" observed Mrs. Stoutenburgh. "Faith! don't eat your raspberries without sugar, --how impatient youare. You used to preach patience to me when I was sick. "

"I can be very patient, with these raspberries and no sugar, " saidFaith, wishing she could hide the bloom of her cheeks as easily as shehid that of the berries under the fine white shower. 

"Poor child!" said her friend gently, --"I think you have need of allyour patience. " And her hands came softly about Faith's plate, removingencumbrances and adding dainties, with a sort of mute sympathy that atthe moment could find no more etherial channel. "Mr. Stoutenburgh drovedown to Quapaw the other day, " she went on in a low voice, "to askthose fishing people what indications our land weather gave of theweather at sea; and--he couldn't half tell me about his visit when hecame home, " said Mrs. Stoutenburgh, breaking short off in her account. "Linda, go get that glass of white roses and set it by MissFaith, --maybe she'll take them home with her. "

Faith looked at the white roses and smelled their sweetness; and thenshe said, "Who did you see, Mr. Stoutenburgh?--down at Quapaw?"

"None of the men, my dear--they were all away, but I saw half the restof the village; and even the children knew what report the men hadbrought in, and what _they_ thought of the weather. Everybody had agood word to say about it, Miss Faith; and everybody--I do believe!"said the Squire reverently, "had been on their knees to pray for it. Jonathan Ling's wife said that was all they could ever do for him. "Which pronoun, be it understood, did not refer to Jonathan Ling. 

"They're Mr. Linden's roses, Miss Faith, " said little Linda, who stoodwaiting for more marked admiration, --"do you like them? He always did. "

Faith kissed the child, partly to thank her and to stop her lips, partly to hide her own which she felt were tale-telling. 

"Where did you get the roses, Linda?"

"O off the bush in the garden. But Mr. Linden always picked onewhenever he came, and sometimes he'd stop on his way to school, andjust open the gate and get one of these white roses and then go awayagain. So we called it Mr. Linden's bush. " Faith endeavoured to attendto her raspberries after this. When tea was over she was carried offinto the drawing-room and the children were kept out. 

"If you want me away too, Faith, " Mrs. Stoutenburgh said as shearranged the lamp and the curtains, "I'll go. "

"I don't want you to go, ma'am. "--And then covering her trepidationunder the simplest of grave exteriors, Faith spoke to the point. "It ismother's business. Squire Deacon has come home, Mr. Stoutenburgh. "

"My dear, " said the Squire, "I know he has. I heard it just before youcame in. But he's married, Miss Faith. "

"That don't content him, " said Faith, "for he wants our farm. "

"Rascal!" said Mr. Stoutenburgh in an emphatic under tone, --"the oldclaim, I suppose. What's the state of it now, my dear?"

"Nothing new, sir; he has a right to it, I suppose. The mortgage isowing, and we haven't been able to pay anything but the interest, andthat must be a small rent for the farm. " Faith paused. Mrs. Stoutenburgh was silent; looking from one to the other anxiously, --theSquire himself was not very intelligible. 

"Yes"--he said, --"of course. Your poor father only lived to make thesecond payment. I don't know why I call him poor--he's rich enough now. But Sam Deacon!--a small rent? too much for him to get, --and toolittle. --Why my dear!" he said suddenly sitting up straight and facinground upon Faith, "I thought--What does your mother expect to do, MissFaith?--has she seen Sam? What does he say?"

"He came to see her this afternoon, sir--he is bent upon having theplace, mother says. And she don't like to leave the old house, " Faithsaid slowly. "He will take the farm, I suppose, --but mother thought, perhaps, sir--if you would speak to Mr. Deacon, he would let us stay inthe house--only the house without anything else--for another year. Mother wished it--I don't know that your speaking to him could do anygood. " Faith went straight through, but the rosy colour sprung and grewtill its crimson reached her forehead. Not the less she went clearlythrough with what she had to say, her eyes only at the last wordsdrooping. Mr. Stoutenburgh rose up with great energy and stood beforeher. 

"My dear, " he said, "he shall do it! If it was any other man I'dpromise to make him do more, but Sam always must have some way ofamusing himself, and I'm afraid I can't make this as expensive as thelast one he tried. You tell your mother, Miss Faith, that she shallstay in her house till she'd rather go to yours. I hope that won't bemore than a year, but if it is she shall stay. "

"That's good, Mr. Stoutenburgh!" said his wife with a little clap ofher hands. 

Whether Faith thought it was 'good' might be a question; her eyes fellfurther, she did not offer to thank Mr. Stoutenburgh for his energetickindness, nor to say anything. Yet Faith had seemingly more to say, forshe made no motion to go. She sat quite still a few minutes, tillraising her eyes fully to Mr. Stoutenburgh's face she said gravely, "Mother will feel very glad when I tell her that, sir. "

"She may make herself easy But tell her, my dear, " said the Squire, again forgetting in his earnestness what ground he was on, --"tell hershe's on no account to tell Sam _why_ she wants to stay. Will yourecollect that, Miss Faith?"

Faith's eyes opened slightly. "I think he must know--or guess it, Mr. Stoutenburgh? Mother says she could hardly bear to live in any otherhouse in Pattaquasset. "

"My dear Miss Faith!" said Mr. Stoutenburgh, --"I mean!--why she don'twant to stay any longer. _That's_ what Sam mustn't know. I'm verystupid about my words, always. "

Faith was again obliged to wait a few minutes before she could go on. Mrs. Stoutenburgh was the first to speak, for the Squire walked up anddown, no doubt (mentally) attacking Mr. Deacon. 

"I'm so glad!" she said, with the old dance of her eyes--and yet alittle sigh too. "So glad and so happy, that I could cry, --I know Ishall when the time comes. Dear Faith, do you feel quite easy aboutthis other business now?"

"What, ma'am?--about Mr. Deacon?"

"Why yes!" said Mrs. Stoutenburgh laughing, --"isn't that the only oneyou've been uneasy about?"

"I am not uneasy now, " said Faith. "But Mr. Stoutenburgh--if Mr. Deacontakes the farm back again, whom does the hay belong to, and the cattle, and the tools and farm things?"

"All that's _on the land_--all that's growing on it, goes with it. Allthat's under cover and moveable belongs to you. "

"Then the hay in the barn is ours?"

"Everything in the barn. "

"There's a good deal in the barn, " said Faith with a brightening face. "You know the season has been early, sir, and our hay-fields lie wellto the sun; and a great deal of the hay is in. Mr. Deacon will wantsome rent for the house I suppose, --and I guess there will be hayenough to pay it, whatever it is. For I can't sell my cows!--" sheadded laughing a little. 

Her two friends--the Squire on the floor and his wife on thesofa--looked at her and then at each other. 

"My dear, " the Squire began, "I want to ask you a question. And beforeI do, let me tell you--which perhaps you don't know--just what rightI"--

"Oh Mr. Stoutenburgh!" cried his wife, "do please hush!--you'll saysomething dreadful. "

"Not a bit of it--" said the Squire, --"I know what to say this time, mydear, and when to stop. I wanted to tell you, Miss Faith, that I amyour regularly appointed guardian--therefore if I ask questions youwill understand why. " But what more on that subject the Squire mighthave said, and said not, was left to conjecture. Faith looked at him, wondering, colouring, doubting. 

"I never heard of it before, sir, " she said. 

"You shouldn't say _regularly_, Mr. Stoutenburgh, " said hiswife, --"Faith will think she is to be under your control. "

"I shouldn't say _legally_, " said the Squire, "and I didn't. No sheaint under my control. I only mean, Miss Faith, " he said turning toher, "that I am appointed to look after your interests, till somebodywho is better qualified comes to do it. "

"There--Mr. Stoutenburgh, --don't go any further, " said his wife. 

"Not in that direction, " said the Squire. "Now my dear, if Sam Deaconwill amuse himself in this way, as I said, what will you do? Do thefarm and the house about counterbalance each other most years?"

Faith never knew how she separated the two parts of her nature enoughat this moment to be practical, but she answered. "We have been able topay the interest on the mortgage, sir, every year. That's all. Motherhas not laid up anything. "

The Squire took a turn or two up and down the room, then came and stoodbefore her again. "My dear, " he said, "you can't tell just yet whatyour plans will be, so I won't ask you to-night, but you had better letme deal with Sam Deacon, and the new tenant, and the hay, andeverything else. And you may draw upon me for something more solid, toany amount you please. "

"Something more solid than yourself!--O Mr. Stoutenburgh!" his wifesaid, though her eyes were bright with more than one feeling. 

Faith was silent a minute, and then gave Mr. Stoutenburgh a full viewof those steady eyes that some people liked and some did not care _justso_ to meet. 

"No, sir!--" she said with a smile and also a little wistful look ofthe gratitude she did not speak, --"if the hay will pay the rent, Idon't want anything else. Mother and I can do very well. We will bevery much obliged to you to manage Mr. Deacon for us--and the hay. Ithink I can manage the rest. I shall keep the cows and makebutter, "--she said with a laughing flash of the eye. 

"O delicious!" cried Mrs. Stoutenburgh, "(I mean the butter, Faith)--but will you let me have it?"

"You don't want it, " said Faith. 

"I do!--nobody makes such butter--I should eat my breakfast with a newappetite, and so would Sam. We never can get butter enough when he's inthe house. I'll send down for it three times a week--how often do youchurn, Faith?"

Faith came close up to her and kissed her as she whispered laughingly, "Every day!"

"Then I'll send every day!" said Mrs. Stoutenburgh clapping her hands. "And then I shall hear of you once in a while. --Ungrateful child, youhaven't been here before since--I suppose it won't do to say when, " sheadded, kissing Faith on both cheeks. "I shall tell Mr. Linden it is notbenevolent to pet you so much. "

"But my dear--my dear--" said the Squire from one to the other. "Well, well, --I'll talk to you another time, Miss Faith, --I can't keep up withmore than one lady at once. You and Mrs. Stoutenburgh have gone onclean ahead of me. "

"What's the matter, Mr. Stoutenburgh?" said Faith. "I would like tohear it now, for there is something I want settled. "

"What's that?" said the Squire. 

"Will you please go on, sir?"

"I guess I'll hear you first, " said the Squire. "You seem to know justwhat you want to say, Miss Faith, and I'm not sure that I do. "

"You said we had gone on ahead of you, sir. Shall we go back now?"

"Why my dear, " said the Squire smiling, "I thought you two weresettling up accounts and arrangements rather fast, that's all. If theyare the beginning and end, _that's_ very well; but if they're onlypremonitory symptoms, that again's different. "

"And not 'very well'?" said Faith, waiting. 

"Not very, " said Mr. Stoutenburgh shaking his head. 

"How should it be better, sir?"

"My dear, in general, what is needless can be spared. "

"I don't know what I am going to do, Mr. Stoutenburgh. I am going to donothing needless, not wilfully needless. But I am going to do it_without help_. " She stood before him, with perfect gentleness but withas clear determination in both look and manner, making her meaningknown. Mrs. Stoutenburgh laughed, the Squire stood looking at her in asmiling perplexity. Finally went straight to the point. 

"Miss Faith, it is doubly needless that you should do anything morethan you've been doing--everybody knows that's enough. In the firstplace, my dear, you are your father's child--and that's all that needbe said, till my purse has a hole at both ends. In the nextplace--shall I tell her what she is in the next place, Mrs. Stoutenburgh?"

"I fancy she knows, " said his wife demurely. 

"Well, " said the Squire, "the next place is the first place, after all, and I haven't the right to do much but take care of her. But my dear, Ihave it under hand and seal to take better care than that. "

"Than what, sir?"--said Faith with very deep colour, but unchangedbearing. 

"I don't know yet, " said Mr. Stoutenburgh, "any more than you know whatyou are going to do. Than to let you do anything that would grieve yourdear friend and mine. If I could shew you the letter you'd understand, Miss Faith, but I'm not good at repeating. 'To take care of you as liewould'--that was part of it. And because I can't half carry out suchinstructions, is no sign I shouldn't do it a quarter. " And the Squirestood as firm on his ground as Faith on hers. 

No, not quite; for in her absolute gentleness there was a power ofintent expressed, which rougher outlines could but give with lessemphasis. The blood spoke for her eloquently before Faith could findany sort of words to speak for herself, brought now by more feelingsthan one; yet still she stood before the Squire, drooping her head alittle, a soft statue of immoveability. Only once, just before shespoke, both Faith's hands went up to her brow to push the hair back; amost unusual gesture of agitation. But her look and her words wereafter the same steady fashion as before, aggravated by a little wickedsmile, and Faith's voice sounded for sweetness like silver bells. 

"You can't do it, Mr. Stoutenburgh!--not that way. Take care of meevery other way;--but I'll not have--of that sort--a bit of help. "--

The Squire looked at her with a mixture of amusement and perplexity. 

"Pin to follow suit--" he said, --"but then I don't just know what Mr. Linden would do in such a case! Can you tell me, Miss Faith?"

"It is no matter--it would not make any difference. "

"What would not?" said the Squire innocently. 

"Anything that he could do, sir;--so you have no chance. " She colouredgloriously, but she smiled at him too with her last words. 

"Well, Miss Faith, " said Mr. Stoutenburgh, "I have my doubts as to thecorrectness of that first statement; but I'll tell you what _I_ shalldo, my refractory young lady. If you set about anything outside thelimits, I'll do my best to thwart you, --there!"

If Faith was not a match for him, there was no meaning in the laugh ofher dark eye. But she only bade Mrs. Stoutenburgh an affectionate goodnight, took her bunch of white roses and Mr. Stoutenburgh's arm and setout to go home. 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

Faith put her roses in water and listened half a minute to theirstrange silent messages. But after that she did a great deal ofthinking. If all went well, and Mr. Linden got home safe fromabroad, --and _this_ year were all she had to take care for, it was avery little matter to keep the year afloat, and very little matter, inher estimation, whatever she might have to do for the purpose. Butthose "ifs" no mortal could answer for. Faith did not look much at thattruth, but she acted upon it; prayed over her thoughts and brought herplans into shape in very humble consciousness of it. And at the earlybreakfast the next morning she began to unfold them; which as Mrs. Derrick did not like them, led on to a long talk; but Faith as usualhad her way. 

After some preliminary arrangements, and late in the day, she set offupon a long walk to Miss Bezac's. The slant beams of the summer sunwere again upon the trim little house as Faith came up towards it. Things were changed since she was there before! changed a good dealfrom the gay, joyous playtime of that visit. Mr. Linden in Europe, andshe--"It is very well, " thought Faith; "it might not have been good forme to have too much of such a time. Next year"--

Would if it brought joy, bring also an entering upon real life-work. Faith knew it; she had realized long before with a thought of pain, that this summons to Europe had perhaps cut short her last time ofabsolute holiday pleasure. Mr. Linden could hardly now be more than afew days in Pattaquasset before "next year" should come--and Faith didnot stop to look at that; she never thought of it three minutestogether. But life-work looked to her lovely;--what did not? Even thelittle pathway to Miss Bezac's door was pleasant. She was secretly gladof that other visit now, which had made this one so easy; though yet asympathetic blush started as she went in. 

"Why Faith!" said Miss Bezac, --"you're the _very_ person I was thinkingof, and the very one I wanted to see! though I always do want to seeyou, for that matter, and don't often get what I want. Then I don'tgenerally want much. But what a beautiful visit we had last time! Doyou know I've been conjuring ever since how your dress should be made?What'll it be, to begin with?--I always do like to begin with that--andit's bothered me a good deal--not knowing it, I mean. I couldn'tarrange so well about the making. Because making white satin's onething, and muslin's another, --and lace is different from 'em both--andindeed from most other things except spider's webs. " All which pleasantand composing sentiments were uttered while Miss Bezac was clearing achair for Faith, and putting her in it, and laying her various piecesof work together. 

"I shouldn't be the least bit of help to you, " said Faith who couldn'thelp laughing. "Can't it wait?"

"Why it'll have to, " said Miss Bezac; "he said it must, --but that's noreason I should. I always like a reason for everything. It took me anage and a quarter to find out why Miss Essie De Staff always will wearaprons. She wears 'em out, too, in more ways than one, but that's goodfor me. Only there's so many ways of making them that I get in apuzzle. Now this one, Faith--would you work it with red flowers orgreen?--I said black, but she will have colours. You've got a goodcolour to-day--O don't you want some bread and milk?" said Miss Bezac, dropping the apron. 

"No, thank you!" said Faith laughing again, --"not to-day. I should workthat with green, Miss Bezac. "

"But I'm afraid green won't do, with black above and black below, " saidMiss Bezac. "Two sides to things you know, Faith, --aprons and all therest. I'd a great mind to work it with both, and then she couldn't sayshe'd rather have had 'tother. What things I _have_ worked in myday!--but my day's twilight now, and my eyes find it out. "

"Do you have more to do than you can manage, generally?" said Faith. 

"Why no, child, because I never take any more, --that's the way not tohave things--troubles or aprons. I could have my hands full of both, but what's the use?--when one hasn't eyes--for sewing or crying. Mrs. Stoutenburgh comes, and Mrs. Somers, and Miss Essie--and the landlord, and sometimes I let 'em leave me a job, and sometimes I don't, --send'em, dresses, and all, off to Quilipeak. "

"Then I'll tell you what you shall give me to-day--instead of bread andmilk;--some of the work that you would send off. Don't you remember, "said Faith, smiling quietly at Miss Bezac's eyes, --"you once promisedto teach me to embroider waistcoats?"

"Why yes!" said Miss Bezac--"and so I will. But, my dear, are you surehe would wear it?--and after all, isn't it likely he'll get everythingof that sort he wants, in Paris? And then the size!--who's to tell whatthat should be? To be sure you could do the fronts, and have them madeup afterwards--and of course he _would_ wear anything you made. --I'llgo right off and get my patterns. "

Faith's confusion was startled. It was Miss Bezac's turn to look ather. She caught hold of the seamstress and brought her back tolistening at least. 

"Stop!--Miss Bezac!--you don't understand me. I want work!--I wantwork. I am not talking of making anything for anybody!--" Faith's eyeswere truthful now, if ever they were. 

"Well then--how can you work, if you won't make anything for anybody?Want work, Faith?--you don't mean to say all that story about SarnDeacon's _true?_ Do you know, " said Miss Bezac, dropping into a chairand folding her hands, "when I heard that man had gone out of town, Isaid to myself, it would be a mercy if he never came back!"--which wasthe severest censure Miss Bezac ever passed upon anybody. "I reallydid, " she went on, --"and now he's come, and I s'pose I've got to say_that_'s a mercy too--and this, --though I wouldn't believe it lastnight. "

"Then you have heard it?"

"My ears did, and they're pretty good ears too, --though I do get out ofpatience with them now and then. "

"It's true, " said Faith, "and it's nothing very dreadful. Mother and Ihave nothing to live upon but what I can make by butter; so I thought Iwould learn and take work of you, if you had it for me. I could soonunderstand it; and then you can let people bring you as much as theywill--what you cannot do, I will do. I could think of nothing sopleasant;--no way to make money, I mean. "

For a minute Miss Bezac sat quite still, --then she roused up. 

"Nothing to live upon but butter!"--she said, --"well that's notmuch, --at least if there's ever so much of it you want something else. And what you want you must have--if you can get it. And I can get youplenty of work--and it's a good thing to understand this sort of worktoo, for he might carry you off to some random place where they wearcalico just as they can put it on--and that wouldn't suit you, nor himneither. I don't believe _this_'ll suit him though--and it don't me, not a bit. I'm as proud as a Lucifer match for anybody I love. But I'llmake you proud of your work in no time. What'll you do first? embroideror stitch or cut out or baste or fit?"

"What you please--what you think best. But Miss Bezac, what are you'proud' about?"

"O I've my ways and means, like other folks, " said Miss Bezac. "And youcan do something more striking than aprons for people that don't need'em. But I'm not going to give you _this_ apron, Faith--I sha'n't haveher wearing your work all round town, and none the wiser. See--this isnice and light and pretty--like the baby it's for, --you like green, don't you? and so will your eyes. "

"I'd as lieve have Miss Essie wear my work as eat my butter, " saidFaith. "But, " she added more gravely, --"I think that what God gives meto do, I ought to be proud to do, --and I am sure I am willing. He knowsbest. "

"Yes, yes, my dear--I believe that, --and so I do most things you say, "answered Miss Bezac, bringing forth from the closet a little roll ofgreen calico. "Now do you like this?--because if you don't, say so. "

"I'll take this, " said Faith, "and the next time I'll take the apron. Imust do just as much as I can, Miss Bezac; and you must let me. Wouldyou rather have the apron done first? I want Miss Essie's apron, MissBezac!"

"Well you can't have it, " said Miss Bezac, --"and what you can't, youcan't--all the world over. Begin slow and go on fast--that's the bestway. And I'll take the best care of you!--lay you up in lavender, --likemy work when it's done and isn't gone home. "

So laughingly they parted, and Faith went home with her little bundleof work, well contented. 

A very few days had seen the household retrenchments made. Cindy wasgone, and Mr. Skip was only waiting for a "boy" to come. Mother anddaughter drew their various tools and conveniences into one room andthe kitchen, down stairs, to have the less to take care of; abandoningthe old eating-room except as a passage-way to the kitchen; and takingtheir meals, for greater convenience, in the latter apartment. 

Faith did not shut up her books without some great twinges of pain; butshe said not one word on the matter. She bestowed on her stitching andon her housework and on her butter the diligent zeal which used to gointo French rules and philosophy. But Mrs. Stoutenburgh had reckonedwithout her host, for there was a great deal more of the butter thanshe could possibly dispose of; and Judge Harrison's family and Miss DeStaff's became joint consumers and paid the highest price for it, thatFaith would take. But this is running ahead of the story. 

Some days after Faith's appeal to Mr. Stoutenburgh had passed, beforethe Squire presented himself to report progress. He found both theladies at work in the sitting-room, looking very much as usual, exceptthat there was a certain not inelegant disposition of various pieces ofmuslin and silk and ribbon about the room which carried the appearanceof business. 

"What rent will Mr. Deacon have, Mr. Stoutenburgh?" said Faith lookingup from her needle. 

"My dear, he'll have what he can get, " said the Squire, "but what_that_'ll be, Miss Faith, he and I haven't just made up our minds. "

"How much ought it to be, sir, do you think?"

"Nothing at all, " said the Squire, --"not a cent. "

"Do you think not, sir?" said Faith doubtfully. 

"Not a cent!" the Squire repeated, --"and I told him so, and said hemight throw the barn into the bargain and not hurt himself. "

"Will he agree to that, Mr. Stoutenburgh?--I mean about the house. Wecan pay for it. "

"My dear, I hope to make him agree to that, and more too. So just letthe hay stand, and the house, and the barn, and everything else for thepresent. I'll tell you time enough--if quarter day must come. And bythe way, talking of quarters, there's one of a lamb we killedyesterday, --I told Tim to leave it in the kitchen. How does your icehold out?"

"Do you want some, sir?" said Faith, in whose eyes there shone a softlight the Squire could be at no loss to read. 

"No my dear, I don't--though Mrs. Stoutenburgh does tell me sometimesto keep cool. But I thought maybe _you_ did. Do you know, Miss Essie DeStaff never sees me now if she can help it--what do you suppose is thereason?"

"I don't think there can be any, sir. "

"Must be!" said the Squire, --"always is a reason for every fact. Youknow what friends we used to be, --it was always, 'Hush, Mr. Stoutenburgh!' or, 'How do you know anything about it?' Ah, he's asplendid fellow!--My dear, I don't wish to ask any impertinentquestions, but when you do hear that he's safe across, just let meknow--will you?" And the Squire bowed himself off without waiting foran answer. 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

Faith found that sewing and housework and butter-making took not onlyher hands but her minutes, and on these little minute wheels the daysglided off very fast. She had plenty of fresh air, withal, for Mrs. Stoutenburgh would coax her into a horseback ride, or the Squire takeher off in his little wagon; or Mrs. Derrick and Jerry go with her downto the shore for clams and salt water. The sea breeze was more companythan usual, this summer. 

By the time August days came, there came also a letter from Europe; andthereafter the despatches were as regular and as frequent as thesteamers. But they brought no special news as to the point of cominghome. Mrs. Iredell lingered on in the same uncertain state, neitherworse nor better, --there was no news to send. Everything else theletters had; and though Faith might miss that, she could not complain. 

So the summer days slipped away peacefully; and when the mother anddaughter sat sewing together in the afternoon, (for Mrs. Derrick oftentook some little skirt or sleeve) nobody would have guessed why theneedles were at work. 

There was one remarkable thing about the boy Reuben had found to supplyMr. Skip's place--he was never visible. Nor audible either, for thatmatter, except that Faith at her own early rising often heard thewood-saw industriously in motion. He was not to sleep in the house forthe first month, --that had been agreed; but whether he slept anywhereseemed a matter of doubt. A doubt Faith resolved to set at rest; andone August morning, while the birds were a-twitter yet with their firstgetting up and the sun had not neared the horizon, Faith crossed theyard to the woodshed and stood in the open doorway, --the morning lightshewing the soft outlines of her figure in a dark print dress, and herwhite ruffles, and gleaming on her faultlessly soft and bright hair. 

The woodshed was in twilight yet; its various contents shewing dimly, the phoebe who had built her nest under the low roof just astir, butthe wood work was going on briskly. Not indeed under the saw--that layidle; but with the sort of noiseless celerity which was natural to him, Reuben Taylor was piling the sticks of this or yesterday's cutting: theslight chafing of the wood as it fell into place chiming with the lownotes of a hymn tune which Faith well remembered to have heard Mr. Linden sing. She did not stir, but softly, as she stood there, hervoice joined in. 

For a minute Reuben did not hear her, --then in some pause ofarrangement he heard, and turned round with a start and flush that fordegree might have suited one who was stealing wood instead of pilingit. But he did not speak--nor even thought to say good morning; onlypushed the hair back from his forehead and waited to receive sentence. 

"Reuben!"--said Faith, stepping in the doorway. And she said notanother word; but in her eyes and her lips, even in her very attitudeas she stood before him, Reuben Taylor might read it all!--herknowledge for whose love he was doing that work, her powerlessness ofany present means of thanks, and the existence of a joint treasury ofreturned affection that would make itself known to him some day, ifever the chance were. The morning sun gleamed in through the doorway onher face, and Reuben could see it all there. He had raised his eyes atthe first sound of her voice, but they fell again, and his only answerwas a very low spoken "Good morning, Miss Faith. "

Faith sat down on a pile of cut sticks and looked up at him. 

"Reuben--what are you about?"

"Putting these sticks out of the way, Miss Faith"--with a half laughthen. 

"I shall tell Mr. Linden of you, " (gravely. )

"I didn't mean you should have a chance, Miss Faith. "

"Now you are caught and found--do you know what your punishment willbe?"

Reuben looked up again, but did not venture to guess. 

"You will be obliged to come in and take a cup of coffee with me everymorning. "

"O that's not necessary!" Reuben said with a relieved face, --"thank youvery much, Miss Faith. "

"It is necessary, " said Faith gravely;--"and you are not to thank mefor what you don't like. "

"It was partly for what I do like, ma'am, " said Reuben softly pitchingup a stick of hickory. 

"It's so pleasant to have you do this, Reuben, " said Faith, watchinghim, "that I can't tell you how pleasant it is; but you must drink mycoffee, Reuben, or--I will not burn your wood! You know what Mr. Lindenwould make you do, Reuben. " Faith's voice lowered a little. Reuben didnot dispute the commands so urged, though a quick glance said that herwish was enough. 

"But dear Reuben, who's coming when you're gone?"

"Would you like Dromy Tuck, Miss Faith?--but I don't know that you eversaw him. He's strong, and honest--he's not very bright. I'll findsomebody. " And so the matter ended. 

August went on, --Reuben sawed his last stick of wood and eat his lastbreakfast at Mrs. Derrick's, and then set forth for Quilipeak, to beginhis new life there. The little settlement at Quapaw was not alone infeeling his loss, --Mrs. Derrick and Faith missed him every day. One ofReuben's last doings in Pattaquasset, was the giving Dromy Tuck incharge to Phil Davids. 

"Look after him a little, Phil, " he said, "and see that he don't go tosleep too much daytimes. He means to go straight, but he wants helpabout it; and I don't want Mrs. Derrick to be bothered with him. " Whichrequest, enforced as it was by private considerations, favoured Dromywith as strict a censorship as he desired. 

From Germany news came at last, --but it was of the sort that one canbear to wait for. Mrs. Iredell was not able to be moved nor certain toget well. Mr. Linden could neither come with his sister nor from her. And thus, hindered from getting home to his Seminary duties in America, there was but one thing he could do--finish his course in a GermanUniversity. But that ensured his being in Europe the whole year! Noquestion now of fall or winter or spring, --summer was the first timethat could be even thought of; and in this fair September, when Faithhad been thinking of the possibility of his sudden appearance, he wasbeginning his work anew in a foreign land. 

It came heavily at first upon her. Faith had not known how much shecounted on that hope or possibility. But now when it was gone she foundshe had lost a large piece of her sunlight. She had read her letteralone as usual, and alone she struggled with her sorrow. It cost Faithfor once a great many tears. Prayer was always her refuge. But at lastafter the tears and the signs of them were gone, Faith went into hermother's company again, looking wistful and as gentle and quiet. 

Perhaps it was well for Faith that her mother knew what this quietmeant--it saved her countless little remarks of wonder and comment andsorrow. More devoted to her Mrs. Derrick could not be, but she had herown strong box of feeling, and there locked up all her sorrow andanxiety out of sight. Yet it was some time before the littlesitting-room, with its scattered bits of work, could look bright again. 

"And I sha'n't see him again till----. " It gave Faith a great pang. That "next year" she never looked at much. She would have liked alittle more of those innocent play days which had been so unexpectedlybroken off. "Next year" looked serious, as well as glad. "But it isgood for me, " she said to herself. "It must be good for me, to bereminded to live on what cannot fail. I suppose I was getting to be toovery happy. "--And after a few such talks with herself Faith wentstraight on, for all that appeared, as peacefully as ever, and ascheerfully. 

It was not long after this, that passing Mr. Simlins' gate oneafternoon, as she was coming home from a walk, Faith was hailed by thefarmer. She could not but stop to speak to him, and then she could notprevent his carrying her off into the house. 

"'Twont hurt you to rest a minute--and 'twont hurt _me_, " said he. "WhyI haint seen you since----How long do you s'pose folks can live and notsee moonshine? Now you pull off your bonnet, and I'll tell Mrs. Humminsto give us something good for tea. "

"What would mother do for hers, Mr. Simlins?" said Faith resisting thisinvitation. 

"Well you can sit down anyhow, and read to me, " said Mr. Simlins, whohad already taken a seat himself in preparation for it. "People can'tget along without light from one phenomenon or the other, you know, Faith. "

She took off her bonnet, and brought the Bible. "What do you want, Mr. Simlins?" her sweet voice said meaningly. 

"Fact is, " said the farmer rather sorrowfully, "I s'pose I want abouteverything! I don't feel to know much more'n a baby--and there aintmore'n three grains of corn to the bushel in our minister's preachin'. I go to meetin' and come home with my head a little more like a bellthan 'twas; for there's nothing more in it but a ringin' of the wordsI've heerd. Do you mind, Faith, when somebody--I don't know whether youor I like him best--wanted me to try a new kind of farming?--you mindit? I guess you do. It never went out o' _my_ head again, till I setout to try;--and now I find I don't know nothin' at all how to work it!"

"What is the trouble, dear Mr. Simlins?" said Faith looking up. 

The farmer hesitated, then said low and huskily, "I don't know what todo about joinin' the church. "

"The Bible says, 'If a man love God, the same is known of him, '"--Faithanswered softly. 

"Well, but can't it be known of him without that? Fact is, Faith, I'mafeard!"--and a rough hand was drawn across the farmer's eyes--"I'mafeard, if I do, I'll do something I hadn't ought to do, and so onlyjust dishonour the profession--and I'd better not have anything to dowith it!"

Faith turned back the leaves of the Bible. 

"Listen to what God said to Joshua, Mr. Simlins, when he was going tolead the people of Israel over into a land full of enemies. --

'Have not I commanded thee? Be strong and of a good courage; be notafraid, neither be thou dismayed. '"

"It's easy to say 'be strong', " said the farmer after pausing aminute, --"but how are you going to contrive it?"

Faith read from the Psalms; and her words fell sweeter every one. "'Inthe day when I cried thou answeredst me, and strengthenedst me withstrength in my soul. ' That is what David says, Mr. Simlins; and this isIsaiah's testimony. --'They that wait upon the Lord shall renew theirstrength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run andnot be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint. '"

"Go ahead, Faith!"--said the farmer, who was sitting with his head downin his hands. "You aint leavin' me much of a corner to hide in. Turndown a leaf at them places. "

Faith was still again, turning over leaves. 

"Paul was in trouble once, Mr. Simlins, and prayed earnestly aboutsomething; and this is what he says of the Lord's answer to him. --'Andhe said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength ismade perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory inmy infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. '--'When I amweak, then am I strong. '--And in another place--'I can do all thingsthrough Christ which strengtheneth me. '"

"But he wa'n't much like me, " said Mr. Simlins "he was an apostle andhad inspiration. I hain't none. "

"He was a man, though, " said Faith, "and a weak one, as you see hecalls himself. And he prays for the Christians at Ephesus, that Godwould grant them 'to be strengthened with might by his Spirit;' andthey were common people. And the Bible says 'Be strong in the Lord andin the power of his might;'--we aren't bid to be strong in ourselves;but here again, 'Strengthened with might, according to his gloriouspower, unto all patience and long-suffering with joyfulness. ' Won'tthat do?" said Faith softly. 

"Have you put marks in all them places?" said the farmer. 

"I will. "

"If that don't do, I s'pose nothing will, " said Mr. Simlins. "They'remighty words! And they've stopped _my_ mouth. "

Faith was silently marking the places. The farmer sat looking at her. 

"You do know the Scripturs--I can say that for you!" he remarked. 

"No, Mr. Simlins!--" said Faith looking up suddenly, "I don't know thisstring of passages of myself. Mr. Linden shewed them to me, " she saidmore softly and blushing. She went on with what she was about. 

"Well don't he say you like to speak truth rayther than anything else?"said the farmer. "If he don't, I wouldn't give much for his discretion. When's he going to have leave to take you away, Faith?" It was halfsorrowfully spoken, and though Faith rose up and blushed, she did notanswer him quickly. 

"My business must take me away now, sir;--good night. "

But Mr. Simlins shouted to Jem Waters, had the wagon up, put Faith inwith infinite care and tenderness, and sent her home so. 

One rainy, stormy, wild equinoctial day in the end of September--notlong after that letter had come, Squire Stoutenburgh came to the door. Faith heard him parleying with her mother for a minute--heard him gooff, and then Mrs. Derrick entered the sitting-room, with her eyes fullof tears and her heart, at least, full of a little package, --it did notquite fill her hands. 

"Pretty child!" she said, "I'm so thankful!"--and she went straight offto the kitchen, and the little package lay in Faith's lap. The thickbrown paper and wax and twine said it had come a long way. The rest theaddress told. It was a little square box, the opening of which revealedat first only soft cotton; except, in one corner, there was anindication of Faith's infallible blue ribband. Fastened to that, was agold locket. Quite plain, alike on both sides, the tiny hinge at oneedge spoke of a corresponding spring. That touched, Faith found Mr. Linden. Admirably well done and like, even to the expression, which hadprobably struck the artist's fancy; for he had contrived to representwell both the pleasure and the pain Mr. Linden had felt in sitting forthis picture, for such a reason. The dress was that of the Germanstudents--such as he was then wearing. 

Faith had never guessed--till her wondering fingers had persuaded thelocket to open--she had never guessed what she should find there; atthe utmost she looked to find a lock of hair; and the joy was almost asoverwhelming as a little while ago pain had been. Faith could hardlysee the picture for a long time; she called herself foolish, but shecried and laughed the harder for joy; she reproached herself for pastungratefulness and motions of discontent, which made her not deservethis treasure; and the joy and the tears were but enhanced that way. Faith could hardly believe her eyes, when they were clear enough tosee; it seemed, --what they looked at, --too good to be true; tooprecious to be hers. But at last she was fain to believe it; and withblushes that nobody saw, and a tiny smile that it was a pity somebody_didn't_ see, she put the blue ribband round her neck and hid thelocket where she knew it was expected to find its place. But Faithforgot her work, and her mother found her sitting there doing nothing, looking with dreamy happy thoughtfulness into distance, or intoherself; all Miss Bezac's silks and stuffs neglected around her. 

And work, diligent, happy, contented, continued, was the order of theday, and of many days and weeks after. Miss Bezac giving out that shewould take as much work as was offered her, she and Faith soon had boththeir hands completely full. The taste and skill of the littledressmaker were so well acknowledged that even from Pequot there wasnow many an application for her services; and many a lady from thereand from Pattaquasset, came driven in a wagon or a sleigh to MissBezac's cottage door. 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

It was the month

 "When beechen buds begin to swell, And woods the blue bird's warble know, "--

the month of the unbending of Nature--of softening skies and swellingstreams and much underground spring work. As for instance, by thedaffodils; which by some unknown machinery pushed their soft, pliantleaves up through frozen clods into the sunshine. Blue birds flutteredtheir wings and trilled their voices through the air, song sparrowssang from morning to night, and waxwings whistled for cherries in thebare tree tops. There the wind whistled too, "whiles, " with the fallapprobation of snow birds and chickadees, --the three going out offashion together. 

It was a busy month at Miss Bezac's--two weddings at Pequot and one inPattaquasset kept her hands full, --and Faith's too. Just now the greatpoint of interest was the outfit of Miss Maria Davids--the weddingdress, especially, being of the most complicate and ornamenteddescription. Miss Bezac and Faith needed their heads as well as theirhands, Miss Maria's directions with regard to flowers and furbelowsbeing somewhat like the Vicar of Wakefield's in respect of sheep--onlyMiss Maria was willing to pay for all that went on, whereas the Vicarwanted the sheep for nothing. 

Thus they stood, the two friends and co-workers, with the dress spreadout on a table, contriving where the flowers should go and how many itwould be possible to put on. Miss Maria's box of Pequot flowers on achair near by, was as full as her directions. 

"It would be better to take the box and turn it right over her aftershe's dressed, and let 'em stick where they would!" said Miss Bezac insome disgust. Whereupon, dropping her grave look of thought, Faith'slaugh broke up the monotony of the occasion. 

"Well _that's_ good any way, " said Miss Bezac. "And I'm sureeverything's 'any way' about this dress. But I won't have you about ita bit longer, --you're tired to death standing up. "

"I'm not much tired. Miss Bezac, let the lilacs have the bottom of thedress, and the roses and lilies of the valley trim the body. --And itwill be like a spotted flower-garden then!" said Faith laughing anew. 

How little like her occupation she looked, --with her brown stuff dress, to be sure, as plain as possible; her soft brown hair also plain; herquaint little white ruffles; and that brilliant diamond ring flashingwherever her hand went! N. B. A plain dress on a pretty person has notthe effect of plainness, since it lets that better be seen which is thehighest beauty. 

Up Miss Bezac's mountain road came a green coach drawn by two fat greyhorses; the coachman in front and the footman behind being in the samestate of plethoric comfort. They addressed themselves to the hill withno hasty approbation yet with much mind to have their own way, and thehill yielded the ground step by step. At Miss Bezac's door hill andhorses made a pause. 

"Coaches already!" said Miss Bezac, --"that's a sign of summer, as goodas wild geese. And you'd think, Faith, not having had much experience, that it was the sign of another wedding dress--but nothing worse than acalico wrapper ever comes out of a coach like that. "

"Why?"--said Faith looking amused. 

"The people that drive such coaches drive 'em to town for a weddingdress, " said Miss Bezac sagely. "There's a blue bird getting out ofthis one, to begin with. "

While she spoke, a tiny foot emerged from the coach, and after it adress of blue silk, which so far from "standing alone" followed softlyevery motion of the wearer. A simply plain shirred spring bonnet ofblue and white silk, made the blue bird comparison not altogetherunapt, --the bird was hardly more fair and dainty in his way than thelady in hers. She stood still for a minute, shading her eyes with herhand, and looking off down the road; a slight, delicate figure, withthat sort of airy grace which has a natural poise for everyposition, --then she turned abruptly and knocked at the door. 

Now it was Miss Bezac's custom to let applicants open and shut forthemselves, her hands being often at a critical point of work; so inthis case, with a refractory flower half adjusted--while Faith was inthe intricacies of a knot of ribband, she merely cried, "Come in!" Andthe young lady came--so far as across the threshold, --there shestopped. A quick, sudden stop, --one little ungloved hand that looked asif it had never touched anything harsher than satin, clasped close uponits gloved companion; the shawl falling from her shoulders and shewingthe bunch of crocuses in her belt; the fair, sweet, high bredface--sparkling, withal flushing like a June rose. For a minute shestood, her bright eyes seeing the room, the work, and Miss Bezac, butresting on Faith with a sort of intenseness of look that went from faceto hand. Then her own eyes fell, and with a courteous inclination ofher head, she came for ward and spoke. 

"I was told, " she said, advancing slowly to the table, and still withdowncast eyes, --"I was told that--I mean--Can you make a sunbonnet forme, Miss Bezac?" She looked up then, but only at the little dressmaker, laying one hand on the table as if to support herself, and with a facegrave enough to suit a nun's veil instead of a sunbonnet. 

Faith's eyes were held on this delicate little figure with a sort ofcharm; she was very unlike the Pattaquasset models. At the antipodesfrom Miss Essie De Staff--etherial compared to the more solidproprieties of Sophy Harrison, --Faith recognized in her the type ofanother class of creatures. She drew back a little from the table, partly to leave the field clear to Miss Bezac, partly to please herselfwith a better view. 

"A sunbonnet?" Miss Bezac repeated, --"I should be sorry if I couldn't, and badly off too. But I'm afraid you'll be, for a pattern, --all I'vegot are as common as grass. Not that I wish grass was uncommon, either--but what's the stuff?"

"When I came out this morning, " said the lady, glancing at Faith andthen down again, "I did not expect to come here. And--I have brought nostuff. Can you send some one down to the village?--this young lady, perhaps. --May I take her with me now?"

"Why of course you may!" said Miss Bezac delightedly. --"Just as much asif I was glad to get rid of her--which I aint, --and am too, --for she'stired to death, and I was just wishing somebody that wasn't would takeher home. Or some horses. "

There was a sweet amused play of the lips in answer to this lucidstatement of facts, and then turning towards Faith, the stranger said, "Will you go?"--the words were in the lowest of sweet tones. 

"Where do you wish me to go?" said Faith, coming a step forward. 

"With me--down into the village. "

"I will go, " said Faith. "Then I will take these two mantillas, MissBezac, --and you shall have them the day after to-morrow. "

The straw bonnet and shawl were put on in another minute, and notwaiting for her gloves she followed the "blue bird" to the carriage, rather pleased with the adventure. 

The little ungloved hand took firm hold of hers as they stepped out ofMiss Bezac's door, and but that the idea was absurd Faith would havethought it was trembling. Once in the carriage, the two side by side onthe soft cushions, the orders given to the footman, the coach rollingsmoothly down the hill, the stranger turned her eyes full upon Faith;until the tears came too fast, quenching the quivering smile on herlips. Her head dropped on Faith's shoulder, with a little cry of, "Faith, do you know who I am?"

A sort of whirlwind of thoughts swept over Faith--nothing definite; andher answer was a doubtful, rather troubled, "No. "--

"I know who you are!" said the stranger. "You are Mignonette. "

"Who told you so?" said Faith, drawing back from her to look. 

"Some one who knew!"--the face was lovely in its April of mischief andtears. 

Faith's face grew very grave, with doubt, and bewilderment, and growingcertainty, and drew yet further off. Rosy blushes, more and morewitchingly shy, chased in and out of her cheeks; till obeying thecertainty which yet was vague, Faith's head stooped and her two handscovered her face. She was drawn back into the stranger's arms, and herhands and face (what there could) were covered with kisses. 

"Faith, is it strange your sister should know?--and why don't you letme have the rest of your face to kiss?--I haven't half seen it yet. AndI'm sure Endy would not like to have his message delivered in these outof the way places. "

Even as she spoke, the hands quitted the face, veiled only by therosiest consciousness; and laying both hands on the stranger Faith gaveher warm kisses--on cheeks and lips; and then looked at her, with eyesalternately eager and shy, that rose and fell at every new stir offeeling. 

"How did you come here?"--she said with a sort of soft breathlessness. The eyes that looked at her were as intent, a little laughing, a littlemoved. 

"How did I come here?--Faith, I knew you at the first glance, --how cameyou not to know me?"

"I--could not!" said Faith. "How came you here?"

"Here? in Pattaquasset--how I love the name! Faith, I shall expect youto take me to every place where Endecott set his foot when he was here. "

Faith's eye gave a little answering flash. "I don't believe I know themall. Then--" she checked herself--"But how did you come here? You--werein Germany. "

"Then what?--please answer me first. "

How Faith blushed!--and laughed; but she grew very grave almostimmediately. 

"Please answer me!" she said. 

"Yes, I was there--and I could not help coming here, " Miss Lindenanswered. "To leave him there, after all! But I could not help it, Faith. When he determined to spend the year there--and I never saw himlook so grave over a determination--it was for one reason alone. Youknow what?"

Faith did not assent nor dissent, but her eyes were swallowing everyword. 

"It seemed then as if it might not much lengthen his absence, and wouldensure its being the last. And by-the-by, fair ladye, Endecott said Imight make the most of you before he got home; for _then_ he meant tohave you all to himself for six months, and nobody else should have asight of you. "

As far as they could go, Faith's eyes fell; and her new sister mightstudy the fair face and figure she had not had so good an opportunityof studying before. Perfectly grave, and still to her folded hands. 

"After he was fairly launched in his work, " Miss Linden went on, "AuntIredell began slowly to grow better; and as the winter passed she tookthe most earnest desire to come home--to America. Nothing could shakeit; and the doctors approved and urged that there should be no delay. Then, Faith, _I_ would have stayed, --but she was exceedingly dependentupon me, and most of all, Endecott said I ought to come. I believe hewas glad to think of my being here for another reason. He came with usto Paris--it happened just then that he _could come_--and put us onboard the steamer. But we were three days in Paris first, --O suchpretty days!" she added smiling. "I'll tell you about them anothertime. "

The downcast eyes were lifted and rested for a minute on the sparklingface before them. If a little warm light in their glance meant that allwas "pretty" about which those two had to do, it said part at least ofwhat was in Faith's mind. 

"Now I am to be your neighbour for a while, " said Miss Linden. "AuntIredell was ordered out of town at once, and last night we came up toPequot, --so you must not wonder if you see me every other day afterthis. O how good it is to see you! Do you know, " she said, wrapping herarms round Faith again, and resting the soft cheeks and lips upon hers, "do you know how much I have to say of this sort, for somebody else?"

"You are not going back to Pequot to-day?" said Faith softly. 

"May I stay in Pattaquasset till to-morrow?"

"If I can take good enough care of you!" said Faith, kissing her halfgladly, half timidly. 

"And may I go home with you now?"

"Where are we going?" said Faith looking out. 

"My dear, you ought to know! but I do not. I told them to drive abouttill I gave contrary orders. Now you must give them. " And the checkstring brought the horses to a stand and the footman ditto. A halfminute's observation enabled Faith to give directions for reaching themain Pattaquasset road and taking the right turn, and the carriagerolled on again. There was a little pause then, till Faith broke it. Arich preparatory colour rose in her cheeks, and the subject of herwords would certainly have laughed to see how gravely, with whatcommonplace demureness, the question was put. 

"Was Mr. Linden well, when you came from Germany?"

"Faith!" was his sister's prompt reply. Faith's glance, soft andblushing, yet demanded reason. Whereupon Miss Linden's face went into adepth of demureness that was wonderful. "Yes my dear, Mr. Linden waswell--looking well too, which is an uncommon thing with him. "

"Is it?"--said Faith somewhat wistfully. 

"Not in the way I mean, " said her new sister smiling, --"I thoughtnothing could have improved his appearance but--Mignonette. And Isuppose he thought so himself, for he was never seen without a sprig ofthe little flowers. "

Faith's look in answer to that was given to nothing but the ground, andindeed it was worthy to have been seen by only one person. 

"Faith, " said Miss Linden suddenly, "are there many French people inPattaquasset?"

"No, --not any. Why?"

"Because Endecott gave me a message to you, part of which I did notunderstand. But I suppose you will, and that is enough. "

"What is it?" said Faith eagerly. 

"You would not understand the other part, to-day. "

Faith went back to her thoughtfulness But as the carriage turned intothe Pattaquasset high street she suddenly faced round on Miss Linden, flushing again before she spoke. 

"Pet, " she said a little timidly--it was winning, this air of timiditythat was about her, --"don't say--don't tell Mr. Linden where you foundme. "

"Faith! does he not know? is it something new? O dear child, I am verysorry!"--and Miss Linden's other hand came caressingly upon the one sheheld. 

"Don't be sorry!--" said Faith, looking as fearless and sonsy as anyreal piece of mignonette that ever shook its brown head in thewind;--"I wouldn't tell you, only you must see it. You know, perhaps, that mother lived by a farm. --Last summer the farm was taken away andwe had nothing left but the house. We had to do something, and I tookto dressmaking with Miss Bezac--where you found me. And it has beenvery pleasant and has done very well, " said Faith, smiling at MissLinden as honestly as if the matter had been of music lessons or anyother accomplishment. Miss Linden looked at her--grave and bright too. Then with a sparkle of her eyes--"I won't tell Endecott now, but sometime I _will_ tell him over what sort of a wedding-dress I found youporing. But my dear child!--" and she stopped with a look of suddenthought that was both grave and gay. Faith's eyes asked what the matterwas. 

"No, I will not tell him now, " Miss Linden repeated, --"it is so littlewhile--he could not know it in time for anything but his own sorrow. But Faith! I am going to make one of those mantillas!"--and she lookeda pretty piece of defiant resolution. 

"You shall do what you please, " Faith said gayly. "But--will you stopthem?--there is the house. "

The coach came to a stand before Mrs. Derrick's little gate and the twoladies alighted. Miss Linden had been looking eagerly out as they droveup--at the house, the fence, the little garden courtyard, thesteps, --but she turned now to give her orders, and taking Faith's handagain, followed her in, looking at every inch of the way. Faith drewthe easy-chair out before the fire, put Miss Linden in it, and took offher bonnet and shawl. She staid but to find her mother and introduceher to the parlour and her guest; and she herself ran away to Mr. Linden's room. She knew that the brown woodbox was near full of woodwhich had been there since his sudden departure nine months ago. It waswell dried by this time. Faith built a fire and kindled it; made thebed, and supplied water and towels; opened the blinds of one or twowindows, laid books on the table, and wheeled up the couch. The firewas blazing by that time and shone warm and glowingly on the dark woodand furniture, and everything wore the old pleasant look of comfort andprettiness. Then Faith went for her guest. 

"You will know where you are, " she said a little vaguely, --"when youopen the cupboard doors. "

Miss Linden stood still for a moment, her hands folded, her lips againtaking their mixed expression. 

"And _that_ is where he lay for so long, " she said. It was a mixedremembrance to Faith; she did not like to answer. A moment's silence, and she turned her bright face to Miss Linden. 

"Let me do what I can for you, " she said with that mixture of grace andtimidity. --"It isn't much. What may I now, Pet?"

"You did a lifetime's work then, you dear child!--and how I used tohear of it. " And putting her arm round Faith's waist Miss Linden beganto go slowly about the room, looking at everything--out of the windowsand into the cupboards. "If you could have known, Faith--if you couldhave seen Endecott in some of the years before that, you would haveknown a little how very, very glad I was. I hardly believed that hewould ever find any one who could charm him out of the solitary lifeinto which sorrow had led him. "

"I didn't do it!" said Faith simply. 

"What do you suppose did?"

"I think he charmed himself out of it, "--Faith said blushing. 

Miss Linden laughed, holding her very fast. "You are clear from allcharge of malice prepense, " she said. "And I will not deny his powersof charming, --but they are powerless upon himself. "

"Do you think so?" said Faith. "A charm comes at the rebound, doesn'tit sometimes?"

"_Does_ it? How do I know?"

Faith laughed a little, but very softly. "Now shall I leave you for alittle while?" she said. 

"Will you be busy, or may I come down when I like?"

"I am going into the kitchen, --You wouldn't like to follow me there?"

"If I have leave--I am in the mind to follow you everywhere. "

"Come then!" said Faith joyously. 

Miss Linden might not be accustomed to seeing kitchens, or she might!there was no telling from her manner. Certainly that kitchen was apleasant one to see. And she "followed, " as she had said, whereverFaith went and watched her whatever she did, conversation going onmeanwhile amusingly enough. Faith was making some cakes again; and thenconcocting coffee, the Pattaquasset f�te dish in ordinary; while Mrs. Derrick broiled the chicken. With a great white apron enveloping herbrown stuff dress, and her arms bared, running about the kitchen anddairy in her quick still way, Faith was a pretty contrast to the "bluebird" who smiled on her and followed her and talked to her throughout. Then the cakes were baking, and Faith came back to the sitting-room; toset the table and cover it with all dainty things that farm materialscan produce. And if ever "Pet" had been affectionately served, she wasthat night, and if ever a room was fresh and sweet and warm andglowing, the fire-lit room where she went to sleep afterwards was sucha one. 

But before that, when they had done tea, and talk and motion hadsubsided a little, Miss Linden brought a low seat to Faith's side, andtaking that left hand in hers looked silently at the ring for a fewminutes, --then laid her cheek down upon it in Faith's lap. Faith's liptrembled; but she only sat still as a statue till the cheek was liftedup. 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

In the early morning which Faith and her mother enjoyed next daytogether, Mrs. Derrick was in a contemplative and abstracted state ofmind; assenting indeed to all Faith's words of pleasure and praise, butevidently thinking of something else. At last the matter came out. 

"Faith, how much money have we?--I mean, to last how long, suppose youdidn't do anything else but the butter?"

"Why, mother?"

"Why child, I've been thinking--do you know how much you've got to dofor yourself?--it won't do to put that off for Miss Bezac. "

Faith's lips softly touched Mrs. Derrick's. 

"Hush, mother, please!--Don't you think Dromy could find somewater-cress at the foot of the Savin hill?"

"Yes--like enough, " said Mrs. Derrick, --"Reuben could if he was here. And child, you may say 'hush, ' but things won't hush, after all. " Withwhich sentiment Mrs. Derrick gave attention to the tea-kettle, justthen a practical illustration of her remark. 

About as bright and fresh and sweet as the morning Miss Linden lookedwhen she came down, but warmer and gentler than March in his best mood. Her interest in everything about the house and its two tenants wasunbounded, and without being really like her brother, there was enoughfamily likeness in manner and voice to give a pleasant reminder now andthen. While they were at breakfast the man came from Pequot accordingto order, but she went out alone to attend to him, coming back to thetable with a sort of gleeful face that spoke of pleasure or mischief inprospect. 

"Faith, " she said, "we cannot touch those mantillas this morning. "

"Can't we?" said Faith. "Which part of Pattaquasset shall we go to see?"

"Suppose we go up to my room and discuss matters. "--

Faith was ready. Ready as a child, or as the "bird" she used to becalled, for any innocent play or work. 

"My dear little sister, " said Miss Linden as they ran up stairs, theglee working out at the dainty finger ends that were on Faith's belt, "don't you know that I promised you a 'message'? and don't you want tohave it?--O how lovely this room is! That trunk is not lovely, standingjust there. Dear Faith, you need not think all my baggage is comingafter it!"

"I wish it could, "--said Faith, looking after her "message. "

"I want to shew you the key of this--it has something peculiar aboutit, " said Miss Linden searching in her bag. "Endecott said, Faith, thatas you and he had been together so much in a French atmosphere, youmust let him do one thing in the French style. To which message, aswell as to the trunk, you will find this the key. "

Now attached to the key was a little card, on which was written simplythe word, "Trousseau. "

Faith understood the word well enough, and it seemed to turn her into apretty petrifaction--with internal life at work indeed, as the risingand falling colours witnessed. She stood with bended head looking atthe mysterious key; then making a swift transit to the window sheopened it and threw back the blinds and stood looking out, the key inone hand giving little impatient or abstracted taps against the fingersof the other. It was a pretty landscape certainly, but Faith had lookedat it often before. 

Miss Linden on her part followed Faith to the window with her eyes anda smile, then sat looking at the great leathern trunk in its travellingcover, which it wore still. Once she made a motion to take thisoff--then laid her hands back in their former position and waited forFaith to come. 

"Pet, " said Faith presently, --"have you looked out of the window thismorning?" Which question brought two hands round her shoulders in notime. 

"Yes my dear, I have. What new beauties have you discovered?"

"It looks pretty in the spring light. --But I wasn't thinking of it, either, " said Faith blushing. And without raising her eyes, lookingdistressed, she softly insinuated the key with its talismanic card backinto Miss Linden's hand. 

"Well? what, dear Faith?"

"I don't know, "--said Faith softly. "You know. "

"I know, "--said Miss Linden, "that Endecott locked the trunk and tiedthe label to the key, and it is a great mistake to suppose that I willunlock the one or take charge of the other. In the second place, I neednot even look on unless you wish. It can go to another room, or I willleave you in undisturbed possession of this. So speak, " she said, kissing her. 

Faith did not immediately. She wound her arms round her new sister andhid her face in Miss Linden's neck, and stood so clasping her silentlyfor a few minutes. But when she raised her head she went straight tothe "trousseau" trunk; pulled off, business fashion, the travellingcover; set the key in the lock, and lifted the lid. 

"I should tell you, dear, " said Miss Linden while this was doing--shehad seated herself a little way off from Faith and the trunk, "I shouldtell you, that if it had been possible to get a pattern dress and soforth, you would have found nothing here to do _but_ look. As it is, there is some work for your fingers, and I hope for mine. " The lid wasnow open, and between the two next protecting covers lay a letter. Arecognizing flash of eye greeted that; Faith put it out of sight andlifted the second cover. From where she sat Miss Linden could see herhand tremble. 

There were two or three characteristics that applied to the wholearrangement, choice, and filling of the "trousseau. " The absence ofthings useless was not more notable than the abundance of thingsuseful; and let not useful be understood to mean needful, --for of thelittle extras which are so specially pleasant to those who never buythem for themselves, there was also a full supply. The daintiness ofeverything was great, but nothing was out of Faith's line: the stuffsmight be finer than she had always worn, but the colours were what shehad always liked, and in any one of those many dresses she might feelat home in five minutes--they suited her so well. She could see, wellenough, that Mr. Linden not only remembered "her style" but lovedit, --in the very top rack, that was first laid open, she had proof ofthis--for besides the finest of lawn and cambric, there were daintybands of embroidery and pieces of lace with which Faith could ruffleherself to her heart's content. 

At this point Faith drew a rather quick breath. She was on her kneesbefore the trunk, and shielding her face a little from Miss Linden, shesat looking in--steadfastly at bits of French needlework and lappingsof the daintier texture, lifting now and then, also daintily--the endor fold of something to see what lay underneath. There was so much foodfor meditation, as well as for industry, in this department, that Faithseemed not likely to get through it. How clearly she saw any one thingmight be doubted. She made no progress. 

"You may see Endecott in everything, Faith, " said Miss Linden. "In thematter of quantity I could sometimes give him help, but every colourand style had to be matched with the particular pattern in his mind. Iwish you could have seen it!--it was one of the prettiest things I eversaw. Those three days in Paris!--I told you they were pretty days. "

Faith gave her a swift look, very flushed and very grave. A prettypicture of wonder and humility she was; and something more was bornewitness to by those soft eyes, but Miss Linden had only a second's lookof them. 

The racks seemed to hold the light varieties, each done up by itself. There was the little French parasol in its box; the fan box, with mostpretty contents. There was the glove box, beautifully filled, andholding among the rest the prettiest of riding gauntlets--all of justthe right size, by some means. At the other end to keep this incountenance, was a little French riding hat in its own pasteboardcontainer. The riding whip Mr. Linden had given her long before. Therewere stockings in pretty variety; and handkerchiefs--not laced andembroidered, but of fine material and dainty borders. The various minorthings were too many to mention. 

Faith was in an overwhelmed state, though she hardly shewed that. Herfingers made acquaintance almost fearfully with the various items thatlay in sight; finally she laid both hands upon the edge of the rack. 

"It is exactly like him!--" she said in profound gravity. His sisterlaughed--a gay, pleased little laugh. 

"_He_ said they were all like you, Faith. His fear of touching yourindividuality was comical. Do you know he says he shall expect youalways to have a brown merino?--so you will find one there. "

But first, at the bottom of the rack, under all the others, was theflat mantilla box; and its contents of muslin and silk, in theirelegant simpleness, left Miss Bezac's "nowhere". How Faith would haveliked to shut up the trunk then and run away--nobody knew! For she onlyquietly lifted out the rack and took the view of what came next. It wasnot the brown merino!--it was something made up, --the gayest, prettiest, jauntiest dressing gown; with bunches of tiny carnations allover it, as bright as Faith's own. Though that be saying much, for atthis hers reached their acme. 

"How beautiful--" she said gravely, while her poor fluttering thoughtswere saying everything else. "How perfectly beautiful!--"

And as delicately as if it had been made of silver tissue, Faith laidit off on the rack. Laid it off to find the next stagc in the shape ofmorning wrappers, also made up. "They fit so loosely at best--" MissLinden explained, --"and Endecott knew your height. "

Now neither in these nor in what lay beneath was there such profusionas would furnish a new dress every day (for an indefinite number) at awatering place; but there was just such as befitted a young lady, whobeing married in summer-days yet looked forward to winter, and was tobe the delight of somebody's eyes summer and winter. 

They were downcast and wonderfully soft eyes that looked at thosemorning dresses now, --as Miss Linden could see when by chance they werelifted. But that was not generally; with lowered eyelids and unsteadylips Faith went on taking out one after the other. Below, the packageswere more solid and compact, some close at both ends, others shewingshawl fringes. Dress after dress lay in close order--muslin and silkand stuff; under them pieces of linen and flannel such as Pattaquassetcould hardly have furnished. One particular parcel, long and soft, wastied with white ribband. Faith looked at it doubtfully. 

"Must I open this, Pet?"

"It is tied up for that express purpose. "

A little suspicious of each new thing, Faith pulled the easy knot ofwhite ribband and uncovered what lay within. It was a white embroideredmuslin, fine and beautiful in its clear texture, as was the wroughttracery upon it. No colour relieved this white field, --a pair of snowygloves lay upon it, with the lace and sash for its finish of adornment;with them a folded handkerchief, plain like the rest but particularlyfine. Separately wrapped up in soft paper that but half hid them, werethe little rosetted slippers. 

"He said you must have none but real flowers, " Miss Linden said--toosoftly to call for a look in answer. 

That dress was what not even Miss Bezac had been able to make Faithlook at in imagination--and there it lay before her! Perhaps, to tellthe truth, she had been hardly willing to realize to herself the futurenecessity of such a thing. The blood came deeper to her cheeks, thenleft them in another moment pale. Faith laid her face in her hands onthe edge of the trunk, --for once overcome. Again Miss Linden's quickimpulse was to come to Faith's side, and again she checked herself;thinking perhaps that she was too new a friend to have her wordspleasant just then--feeling that there was but one person who _could_say what ought to be said. So she sat quite still, nor even turned hereyes towards Faith except now and then in a quick glance of sympathyand interest; both which were shewn in her folded hands and avertedhead. But very soon Faith was softly doing the parcel up again in itswhite ribbands; and then she began to lay the things back in the trunk, with quick hands but dainty. Half way through, Faith suddenly stopped. 

"Shall I put these back here for the present?"--she said, lookingtowards Miss Linden. 

"For the present, dear?--I am not sure that I understand. "

"Just now--till I can arrange some other place to put them. "

"I have nothing to do with 'this place', " said Miss Lindensmiling, --"it came with my trunks, that is all. "

Faith coloured again and went on with what she was doing. Miss Lindenwatched her. 

"Faith, " she said, "don't finish that work just now, --sit still thereand read Endy's letter--won't you, darling? I am going down to pay yourmother a visit. " And with a kiss and embrace she was gone. 

Faith's hands stopped their work as the door closed, and she sat still, looking at the voiceless messages of love, care, thought, andanticipation, which surrounded her. Looking dreamily, and a littleoppressed; and when she moved her hand it was not first to get herletter, but to draw out the locket from her bosom and see Mr. Linden'sface; as if she wanted his look to authenticate all these messages, orto meet her own heart's answer. At any rate it was not till after agood study of the little picture that Faith put it away and took outher letter. 

It was not _just_ like having him there to talk or caress away herdiscomfort--and yet it was like it, though the pages were well on theirway before the trousseau was even alluded to. But the words, theatmosphere of the letter made Faith breathe easier, --it was like thewand of the Fairy Order, smoothing out the little tangled skeins ofsilk. And when that subject came up, it was touched so lightly, sodelicately, yet with such evident pleasure, --there was such mingling ofplay and earnest in the charge given her to be ready before he came, and such a strong wish that he could have saved her all the work, --theterror of the trousseau could not stand before it. And at the hope thather taste would be suited, Faith's heart made a spring the other way. She drank in every word of the letter; and then feeling healed, thoughtender-spirited yet, she finished putting away her riches and went downstairs. 

Mrs. Derrick having gone off to attend to dinner preparations, MissLinden sat alone, singing to herself softly in company with the Marchwind and the fire, and (of all things!) at work upon one of MissBezac's mantillas. Faith's two hands were laid upon the one which heldthe needle. "Not to-day--" said the silver voice which Miss Linden mustlearn to know. 

"Yes--unless you'll give me somewhat else to do!" she said leaning hersunshiny head back against Faith. "I was out of patience with myselfbecause I could not do what no one but Endecott could--so in my woman'spride I took up something which he couldn't. What are _you_ going todo, darling?"

Faith thought she knew why she was called "Pet"--but she only kissedher. "I shall have to ask you a great deal about those things upstairs, " she said;--"but to-day I want to see you What would you like?"

The thing Miss Linden liked best, was to see some of her brother's oldhaunts; and a notable drive the two had that afternoon. Wherein, underthe light of a Spring day, Miss Linden saw Pattaquasset, the Quapawpeople, (part of them) and not least of all, Faith herself, who shewedherself very much as the Spring day. And of Mr. Linden his sistertalked the while, to her heart's content, and Faith's--in the full joyof that affection which can never say enough, speaking to that whichcan never hear too much. 

It would be long to tell how the trousseau was made up. Mrs. Iredellcame from Pequot and established herself in a farmhouse atPattaquasset; and the two future sisters put their heads and theirhands--a good deal of their hearts too--into the work that was done inFaith's blue-wainscotted white room. There they sat and sewed, dayafter day; while the days grew warm, and the apple blossoms burst, andthe robins whistled. They whistled of Mr. Linden's coming home, toFaith, and sent her needle with a quicker impulse. She never spoke ofit. 

But Miss Linden knew whither the look went, that seemed to go nofurther than the apple trees; and what was the pressure that made aquick breath now and then and a hurried finger. Perhaps her own pulsesbegan to move with accelerated beat. And when towards the end of MayMrs. Iredell found business occasion for being in Quilipeak afortnight, Pet so urged upon Mrs. Derrick the advantages of the scheme, that she carried off Faith with her. It would break the waiting andwatching, and act as a diversion, she said, --and Faith did notcontradict her. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

Established fairly in that great Quilipeak hotel, Faith found her wayof life very pleasant. Mrs. Iredell was much in her own room, comingout now and then for a while to watch the two young things at theirwork. A pretty sight!--for some of _the_ work had been broughtalong, --fast getting finished now, under the witching of "sweetcounsel. " Miss Linden declared that for her part she was sorry it wasso near done, --what Faith thought about it she did not say. 

Meantime, June was using her rosy wings day by day, and in another weekMr. Linden might be looked for. Just what steamer he would take was a. Little uncertain, but from that time two people at least would begin tohope, and a day or two before that time they were to go back toPattaquasset. 

The week was near the ending--so was the work, --and in their prettyparlour the two ladies wrought on as usual. The morning had been spentin explorations with Reuben Taylor and Sam Stoutenburgh, and now it wasafternoon of a cool June day, with a fresh breeze scouting round to seewhat sweets it could pick up, and coming in at the open window toreport. On the table was a delicate tinted summer muslin spread out toreceive its trimming, over which Faith and Miss Linden stood anddebated and laughed, --then Faith went back to her low seat in thewindow and the hem of a pocket handkerchief. So--half looking out andhalf in, --the quiet street sounds murmuring with the rustle of the manyelm leaves, --Faith sat, the wind playing Cupid to her Psyche; and MissLinden stood by the table and the muslin dress. 

"Faith, " she said contemplatively, "What flowers do you supposeEndecott would get you to wear with this--out of a garden full?"

"It is difficult to tell"--said Faith; "he finds just what he wants, just where I shouldn't look for it. " And a vision of red oak-leaves, and other illustrations, flitted across Faith's fancy. 

"Very true, " said Miss Linden, --"precisely what Aunt Iredell said whenshe first saw you, --but I am inclined to think, that the first day youappear in this you will see him appear with a bunch of whiteroses--probably Lamarques; if--"

"Why Lamarques?" said Faith sewing away. "Pet, how pleasant this windis. "

Miss Linden did not immediately answer. She stood resting her fingertips on the muslin dress, looking down at it with an intentness thatmight have seen through thicker stuff, the colour in her cheeksdeepening and deepening. "Why?" she said abstractedly, --"they'rebeautiful--don't you think so?--Oh Faith!"--With a joyous clasp of thehands she sprang to the window, and dropped the curtain like a screenbefore her. There was no time to ask questions--nor need. Faith heardthe opening door, the word spoken to the waiter, --saw Mr. Lindenhimself come in. 

Pet sprang towards him with a joyful exclamation--an unselfish one, asit seemed; for after a moment's concentrated embrace which embodied thewarmth of half a dozen, she disappeared out of the room. Mr. Lindencame forward, looking after her at first with surprise, --then as if apossible explanation occurred to him, he stood still by themantelpiece, watching the door by which she had gone. Faith had waitedbehind her screen--she could not have told why--utterly motionless forthat minute; then a little quick push sent the curtain aside, and shecame to him, "Faith!" he exclaimed--"are you hiding from me?--My dear Mignonette--"

She hid from him then, --all her face could; for her gladness was ofthat kind which banishes colour instead of bringing it. He let herstand so a few minutes, himself very silent and still; then one handbrought her face within reach. 

"Little bird!" he said, "I have you safe now, --you need not flutter anymore!"

Perhaps that thought was hardly composing, for Faith's head droopedyet, in a statue-like stillness. Not very unlike a bird on its resthowever, albeit her gravity was profound. And rest--to speak itfairly--is a serious thing to anybody, when it has been in doubt orjeopardy, or long withheld. What could be done to bring the colourback, that Mr. Linden tried. 

"Faith, " he said, "is this all I am to have from your lips--of anysort? Where did you get such pale cheeks, precious one?--did I frightenyou by coming so suddenly? You have not been ill again?"

"No, "--she said, raising her eyes for the first time to look fairly inhis face. But that look brought Faith back to herself; and though shedrooped her head again, it was for another reason, and her words werein a different key. "We didn't expect you for a week more. "

"No--because I didn't want you to be watching the winds. Mignonette, look up!"

Which she did, frankly, --her eyes as delicious a compound of gravityand gladness as any man need wish to have bestowed upon him. "Petbrought me here, --" she said. 

"Well do you suppose _I_ have brought an invoice of Dutch patience?"

"I don't think you are particularly patient, "--said Faithdemurely, --"except when you choose. Oh Endy!--"

That last note had the true ring of joy. Her forehead touched hisshoulder again; the rest of her sentence was unspoken. 

"I do not choose, to-day. Mignonette, therefore tell me--do you think Ihave had all I am fairly entitled to?"

She flushed all over, but lifted up her head and kissed him. Mr. Lindenwatched her, smiling then though she might not see it. 

"My little beauty, " he said, "you have grown afraid of me--do you knowthat?"

"Not very--" she said. Certainly Faith was not good at defendingherself. 

"No, not very. Just enough to give us both something to do. Mignonette, are you ready for me?"

Faith's face was bowed again almost out of sight. "Don't you think, "she half whispered, "that Pet must be ready to see you, by this time?"

For all answer--except a smile--she was led across the room to a seatnear the window. But _just_ there, was the table and its muslin dress!Mr. Linden stopped short, and Faith felt and understood the clasp ofhis arm about her waist, of his hand upon hers. But he only saidlaughingly, "Faith, was _that_ what made you hide away?"

"Pet hid me, " Faith said very much abashed;--"not I. She let fall thecurtain. "

Mr. Linden let it fall again, in effect, for he quitted all troublesomesubjects, and sat down by her side; not loosing his hold of her, indeed, nor taking his eyes from her, but in the gravity of his owndeep happiness there was not much to disturb her quiet. 

"I sent you a telegraphic despatch this morning to Pattaquasset, dearFaith, --I did not mean to take you quite by surprise. And my stoppinganywhere short of that was merely because the arrangement of trainsforced me to lose an hour here on the way. I thought it lost. "

"It hasn't proved so. "

"There was such a doubt of my being in time for this steamer, that Iwould not even speak of it. Faith, I have not often heard such music asthe swash of the water about her paddle-wheels as we set off. "

"Didn't you hear the swash of her paddle-wheels as you came in?" saidFaith merrily. 

"No!" The wistful gladness of her eye was a pretty commentary. 

"Is Miss Reason in full activity yet?" said Mr. Linden smiling, --_his_comment. 

"She has had no interruption, you know, for a great while. "

"Take care of her, Faith, --she has a great deal of work before her. "The look that answered this was a little conscious, but shewed no fear. 

There was nothing very unreasonable in the face that bent over hers;the eyes with their deep look, lit up now and then with flashes ofdifferent feelings; the mouth wearing its sweet changeable expression. A little browner than usual, from the voyage, --a little thinner, perhaps, with hard work; Mr. Linden still looked remarkably well andlike himself; though Faith felt that nameless change--that mingling ofreal and unreal, of friend and stranger, which a long absence alwaysbrings. One minute he was himself, as he had been inPattaquasset, --giving her lessons, riding with her, reading to her, going off to school with one of Mrs. Stoutenburgh's white roses. Thenext--he was a gentleman just arrived from Europe!--from whom she couldnot get away. Perhaps the last impression was the most remarkable. Butin spite of this, Faith was herself, every inch of her; with theexception of that one little difference which Mr. Linden had pointedout and which was not to be denied. 

Some time had passed, when Faith felt Pet's little hand come round herneck--the other was round Mr. Linden. Faith's start was instant;springing up she went to the window where behind the curtain lay thework her hand had dropped. Faith gathered it up. She would have putthat muslin dress out of the way then!--but there it lay in plain sightand close neighbourhood. Yet somebody must do it, and it was herbusiness; and with cheeks of a very pretty deep rose that set off herwhite drapery, Faith applied herself to the due folding of thetroublesome muslin. In two minutes Pet came to help her, but in adifferent mood, though her eyelashes were glittering. 

"Endy, come here and look at this--I think it is so pretty. Whatflowers must Faith wear with it?"

"Carnations look very well. "

"I said white roses. "--

"Which will you wear, Mignonette?" said Mr. Linden. 

He was favoured with a glance from two gentle eyes, which it was wortha little wickedness to get. It was only a flash. "I think Pet isright, "--she answered with great gravity. 

He came close to her side, the low-spoken "you shall have them--"touched more things than one. 

"What do you suppose I found her doing?" said Pet, folding down asleeve. 

"Pet!"--said Faith. "Don't touch that! Not to-night. "

"Do you wish me to leave it unfolded?--the servants will perhaps sweepin the morning. "

"Pet, " said Faith softly, --"don't _you_ raise a dust! We might not layit so soon. "

"Endy, " said his sister, "how do you do?--you haven't told me. "

"Perfectly well, dear Pet. "

"Turn round to the light and let me see--You've grown, thin, child!"

He laughed--giving her a kiss and embrace to make up for that; whichwas only half successful. But she spoke in her former tone. 

"He looks pretty strong, Faith, --I think I might tell him. "

"Mr. Linden, " said Faith, "won't you please ask Pet not to tell yousomething?"

"I will ask _you_, " he said softly, laying his hands lightly on hershoulders. "Faith--I think we may dispense with 'Mr. Linden' _now_, even before people. "

She was oddly abashed; glanced up at him and glanced down, with thegrave air of a rebuked child. There was nothing about it that was notpretty; and the next thing her eyes went to Pet. How lovely andprecious she looked as she stood there! with her sweet shy face andchanging colours. Mr. Linden held her to his breast and kissed her morethan once, --but in a way that was beyond chiding. 

"Why must I ask Pet not to tell me something?"

"It is nothing great!"--said Faith stammering over her words--"Only youwon't like it very well--but you will have to hear it. I thoughtanother time--that's all. "

"He'll never hear it from you--what I mean, " said Miss Linden, "so heshall from me. We'll see whether he likes it. Know then, Endecott, thatI found this child absorbed in wedding dresses!"

"Wedding dresses!" he repeated. "More than one?"

"Oh Endy, " said his sister with a sort of laughing impatience, "what aboy you are! I mean other people's. " Faith stood smiling a little, letting her manage it her own way. 

"Imagine it, " Miss Linden went on, --"imagine this one little realflower bending over a whole garden of muslin marigolds and silksunflowers and velvet verbenas, growing unthriftily in a bed of whitemuslin!" Mr. Linden laughed, as if the picture were a pleasant one. 

"Mignonette, " he said, --"how could you bear the sight?"

"I was trying to make the best of it. "

"In whose behalf were you so much interested?"

"Maria Davids, " said Faith glancing up at him. "But I was _not_interested, --only so far as one is in making the best of anything. "

"Who is trying to make the best of her?"

Faith looked down and looked grave as she answered--"Jonathan Fax. " Mr. Linden's face was grave too, then, with the recollections that namebrought up. 

"There is one place in the house she cannot touch, " he said. "Faith, Iam glad she is not to take care of _him_. "

"I have thought that so often!"

"Do you like my story, Endy?" said Miss Linden presently. 

"Very much--the subject. I am less interested in the application. Whonext is to be married in Pattaquasset?"

"I don't know. "--

"Aunt Iredell says she wishes _you_ would be married here, " observedPet demurely. To which insinuation Faith opposed as demure a silence. 

"Oh Endecott, " said his sister changing her tone and speaking in thatmixed mood which so well became her, --"I'm so happy that you are here!This week Faith has been pretty quiet, by dint of being away from home;but nothing would have kept her here next week--and I had been thinkingwhat we should do, --if the week should run on into two--or if the windshould blow!" She spoke laughingly, yet with a voice not quite steady. 

"'So he bringeth them to the haven where they would be'!" Mr. Lindensaid. But his voice was clear as the very depth of feeling of which ittold. "Aunt Iredell cannot have her wish, Pet, " he addedpresently, --"there would be at least three negative votes. "

"I suppose that! But I shall come down Saturday to hear what wishes_are_ in progress. "

"Won't you go with us, Pet, to-morrow?" said Faith earnestly. She hadbeen standing in a sort of abstracted silence. 

"No, pretty sister, I will not. But I shall keep all those ruffles hereto finish, and Saturday Reuben Taylor shall escort them and me toPattaquasset. "

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

Things were yet in their morning light and shadow when Faith set off onthis her first real journey with Mr. Linden. She felt the strangenessof it, --in the early breakfast, the drive alone with him to thestation, --to stand by and see him get her ticket, to sit with him alonein the cars (there seemed to be no one else there!) were all new. Thetowers of Quilipeak rose up in the soft distance, shining in themorning sun: over meadow and hillside and Indian-named river the summerlight fell in all its beauty. Dewdrops glittered on waving grain andmown grass; labourers in their shirt-sleeves made another gleaming lineof scythe blades, or followed the teams of red and brindled oxen thatbowed their heads to the heavy yoke. Through all this, past all this, the Pequot train flew on towards Pattaquasset; sending whole lines ofwhite smoke to scour the country, despatching the shrill echoes of itswhistle in swift pursuit. 

Faith saw it all with that vividness of impression which leaveseverything sun-pictured on the memory forever. In it all she felt astrange "something new;"--which gave the sunlight such a markedbrilliancy, and made dewdrops fresher than ordinary, and bestowed onmown grass and waving grain such rich tints and gracious motion. It wasnot merely the happiness of the time;--Faith's foot had a little oddfeeling that every step was on new ground. It was a thoughtful ride toPattaquasset, though she was innocently busy with all pleasant thingsthat came in her way, and the silveriest of tones called Mr. Linden'sattention to them. He did not leave her thoughts too much chance tomuse: the country, the various towns, gave subject enough for thevaried comment and information Faith loved so much. Mr. Linden knew theplaces well, and their history and legends, and the foreign scenes thatwere like--or unlike--them, or perhaps a hayfield brought up stories offoreign agriculture, or a white sailing cloud carried them both off tocastles in the air. One thing Mr. Linden might have made known morefully than he did--and that was his companion. For several times in thecourse of the morning, first in the station at Quilipeak, then in thecars, some friend or acquaintance of his own came to greet or welcomehim. And Faith could see the curiosity that glanced at so much of heras her veil left in view, --Mr. Linden saw it too, with some amusement. And yet though all this was a little rouging, it was interesting to herin another way, --shewing her Mr. Linden as she had never seen him, among the rest of the world, --giving her little glimpses of his formerlife; for the bits of talk were sometimes quite prolonged. 

"Mignonette, " he said after one of these occasions, "some people hereare very anxious to make your acquaintance. "

"I am glad you don't want to gratify them. "

"Why?--In the first place, I do. "

"Do you!"--said Faith, somewhat fearfully. 

"Certainly. I, like you, am 'a little proud of my carnations'. How doyou like this way of travelling?"

"I like it such a morning as this, " said Faith. "I don't think it's thepleasantest. But to-day it's delicious. "

"Yes--to-day, " he repeated. "What way of travelling do you like best?"

"You know I never travelled at all, except to Quilipeak and Pequot. Ibelieve I like a wagon or a sleigh better than this, --in general. "

"That is our last whistling post!" said Mr. Linden "Faith, I shall beglad to get rid of that veil. And I have so many things to say to youthat cannot be said here. Is Mr. Somers in Pattaquasset still?"

"Everybody's there--" Faith answered. 

The little shake of the head with which this intelligence (so far asregarded Mr. Somers) was received, Faith might understand as shepleased, for in another minute they were at the Pattaquasset station;the train was puffing off, and she standing there on the platform withMr. Linden. A little way back was Jerry and the wagon--that Faith sawat a glance; but there too, and much nearer, was SquireStoutenburgh--in doubt whether to handle the new corners separately ortogether, in his great delight. 

From all this Mr. Linden rescued Faith with most prompt skill; carriedher off to the wagon, shook hands with Dromy and dismissed him, andthen with the reins in his own hands had her all to himself once more. And Jerry dashed on as if he knew his driver. 

"Mignonette, please put back your veil, " were the first words. WhichFaith did, and looked at him, laughing, blushing and a little shy, allin one pleasant combination. 

"What have you been doing to make yourself lovelier, little Sunbeam?"

"I have been a year without seeing you, "--said Faith with excellentseriousness. 

"My presence seems to have no counteracting effect. By the same rule, Ishould be--marvellous! To you perceive it?"

Her eye gave one of its little flashes, but Faith immediately lookedaway. 

"Do you know, " said Mr. Linden, "I can hardly believe that this year ofexile is over--and that there are none others to follow it. What do yousuppose will be the first subject you and I shall consider?"

"Mr. Skip, " said Faith gravely. 

"Mr. Skip merits no consideration whatever. Is Miss Bezac at work onthat dress?"

"Because he don't live with us any longer, Endecott. "

"Does he not?--Unfortunate man!"

"And Dromy is in his place. "

"My dear, my own place is the only one I can think of with any intenseinterest. Except yours. "

"Because we have had no farm to manage this winter, " said Faith; "soDromy could do what we wanted. "

"I am glad to hear it, " said Mr. Linden, --"he never used to be able todo what I wanted. Who has managed for you? Mr. Simlins? And has Mr. Skip gone off in a pumpkin with Cinderella? Faith, there is the doorwhere I had the first sight of you--my Rose of delight!" he addedsoftly, as if all the days since then were passing through his mind insweet procession. 

Faith was silent, for she too had something to think of; and there wasno more time to finish either train of conversation that had beenstarted. Both dropped, even before Jerry drew up at the gate; and ifshe had not gained one object she had the other. 

By this time it was about eleven o'clock. It was rarely very hot inPattaquasset; and now though under a sunny sky there were summerbreezes rustling in the trees. Both mingled in Faith's senses with thejoy of going into that house again so accompanied. That gladness ofgetting home in a pleasant hour! No one was in the coolsitting-room--Faith pushed open the door between and went into theeating-room, followed by Mr. Linden. There was Mrs. Derrick; and whatof all things doing but _doing up_ some of Faith's new ruffles! It wasa glad meeting, --what though Mrs. Derrick had no hand to give anybody. Then she went to get rid of the starch, and the two others to theirrespective rooms. But in a very few minutes indeed Faith was by herside again. 

"Mother--has Cindy come?"

"She's coming to-morrow, child. But there's not much to do fordinner, --_that_'s all under way. "

Faith bared her arms and plunged into dairy and kitchen to do all thather mother characterized as "not much, " and a little more. When everypossible item had been cared for--the strawberries looked over--thecream made ready--the table set--the lettuce washed--the dishes warmingfor the vegetables--the pickles and bread on the table--and Faith hadthrough all this delighted Mrs. Derrick as much as possible with hercompany, sight and presence at least, --for Faith's words were a trifleless free than usual;--when it was all done and the eating-room in astate of pleasant shady summer readiness, Faith went "ben, " as they sayin Scotland. She came into the sitting-room, as quietly as usual, andcoming up to Mr. Linden laid a hand on his shoulder. 

"My own dear little Mignonette!--Do you feel less afraid of me, now Iam here?"

She hesitated to answer at first, then spoke with a very dainty shylook--"I don't think I ever had fear enough of you to hurt anything. "

"See that you do not begin now! What have you been about, all theselong months? You were as chary of details as if I had no right to them. "

Faith looked gravely out of the window before she said, "I have notbeen studying this year, Endecott. " There was so clearly some reasonfor it, that Mr. Linden's first thought was one of anxiety. 

"What has been the matter?"

"You know I told you Mr. Skip had gone away?"

"Yes. "

"And that he went because we hadn't any farm to manage?"

"What has the farm to do with your studies?"

"What shall I do if I make you very angry with me?" said Faith, theleast touch of seriousness mingling with her words, "You had better ask what I shall do. Has Mr. Deacon come back and takenpossession?"

"Yes--And you know, Endy, we used to live by the farm. When that wasgone we had to live by something else. I wouldn't tell you if I couldhelp your knowing it. "

"Mignonette, what have you been doing?"

"You know what Pet found me at?"

"Yes. "--She could not tell whether he saw the whole, --he was clearly inthe mind to hear it, taking both her hands in his. 

"I did that, " said Faith. 

"Did what?"

"I got work from Miss Bezac. --She gave me lessons. "

"For how long?"

"Since--about a fortnight after you went away. It was then SquireDeacon took away the farm. From that time until Pet came--" she addedwith a little rise of colour in her cheeks. 

"And that all the daylight and candlelight hours of each day?"

"O no, not that. I had long walks to Miss Bezac's, you know--orrides--every day or two; for we kept Jerry; and I never sewed beforebreakfast. And in the evening I used to write letters--part of theevening. "

"Child! child!"--He dropped her hands, and began to pace up and downthe moderate limits of Mrs. Derrick's best carpet. Until after a fewturns Faith put herself straight in his way and intercepted him, with avery innocent face. 

"Faith, did no one protest against this--for me?"

"Yes, sir. "--

"And you knew that I had guarded--that I had _tried_ to guard youagainst any such possibility?"

Faith paused. "Yes, I knew, --but Endy, that couldn't make anydifference. "

"It did not--How, could not?"

"It ought not, " she said softly and colouring. 

"Can you tell why?"

"You know, Endy, it was better, --it was right, --it was better that Ishould work for myself. "

"Never, Mignonette--while I could work for you. How do you expect tomanage when you are my wife?--And do you think I had no right even to_know_ about it?"

"I thought--now was the best time--" Faith said. 

"Am I to learn from this and similar instances what my wife will expectof me if I chance to be sick or in trouble?"

It touched her. She coloured again to the roots of her hair. 

"Do you think I did wrong, Endy?" she said doubtfully, yet in anappealing fashion. 

"I cannot say you did right. "

"But when you could do me no good, "--said Faith very gently, --"and Ishould only have given you pain--for nothing?"

"It would not have given me pain to have you tell it--and the thingdoes now. Besides, in a great many cases the thought that it is pain'for nothing' is a mistake. I might know some remedy when you did not. Self sacrifice will never run wild in my nature--as it is inclined todo in yours, but just imagine it once in the ascendant and me with abad headache (which I never have), --it can only give you pain to hearof it--so I tell you of it the next day. But if I had told you at thetime--what conjurations of your little fingers! what quick-wittedalleviations!--till the headache becomes almost a pleasure to both ofus. "

Faith was very near the unwonted demonstration of tears. She stoodstill, looking down, till she could look up safely. 

"I will not do so again, Endy. --About important things, I mean, "

"You know, Faith, I am speaking less of this one case, than of thedaily course of future action. Is not perfect frankness, as well asperfect truth, best? And if I call for your sympathy in all manner ofsmall and great things, will you let mine lie idle?"

"I might like it, "--said Faith honestly. "But in great things I willnot again, Endecott. "

"Take care you get the right measure for things, " said Mr. Lindensmiling. "Frankness makes a deliciously plain way for one's feet. "

Faith looked sober again, at the idea that she should have failed infrankness. Then put her hand in his and looked smiling up at him. 

"There is one thing I will not keep from you any longer, "--she said. 

"What is that?--the seal of this little compact of plain speaking?"

"Strawberries!"--

"Only another style of nomenclature, "--said Mr. Linden. 

"You must take the trouble to go into the other room for them. "

And light-heartedly Faith preceded him into the other room, where thedinner was ready. A very simple dinner, but Mrs. Derrick would not havehad anything less than a roast chicken for Mr. Linden, and the lettuceand potatoes did very well for a summer day; and Faith's waiting ontable made it only more pleasant. Talk flowed all the while; of athousand and one things; for Mrs. Derrick's sympathies had a widerrange since Mr. Linden had been in Germany. Indeed the talk wasprincipally between those two. It was a remarkably long dinner, withoutmultiplication of courses--there was so much to say! Many were thepleasant things swallowed with the strawberries. It is said hunger isthe best sauce; it's not true; happiness is a better. 

And then--what came then? Truly, the same over again--looking andtalking, without the strawberries. Which were not wanted; especiallywhen Faith was dressed out with roses, as she was presently afterdinner. As she _would_ wash the tumblers and spoons in the dining-room, spite of all Mrs. Derrick could say, so Mr. Linden would stay theretoo; not indeed to do anything but look on, and bestow the roses asaforesaid. Talking to her sometimes in English, sometimes in French, with preliminary instructions in German. 

"Mignonette, " he said, "I have three letters for you to read. "

"Letters, Endecott!--Who has written to me?"

"Through me--three regions of country. "

"What do you mean?"

Just as she spoke the words, Faith paused and set down the tumbler shewas wiping. Her ears had caught the sound of a modest knock at thefront door. She looked at Mr. Linden. 

"Stay here, Endy--please!" she said as she threw down her towel and ranoff. But Faith's hope of a chance was disappointed. She usheredsomebody into the sitting-room and came back gravely and flushed to Mr. Linden. 

"It's Mr. Somers--and he wants to see you, Endecott!"

Faith went at her tumblers, and simultaneously, greatly to the dismayof one party as to the surprise of the other, in walked Mr. Somersafter her. 

"Miss Derrick told me you were in this room, sir, " said the clergymanshaking Mr. Linden's hand, --"so I came in. Ha! I am glad to be one ofthe first to welcome you back. How do you do, Mr. Linden? You've been agreat while from Pattaquasset!--and you've been missed, I don't doubt. "

Apparently not by Mr. Somers! But Mr. Linden met all the advances as heshould, merely stating his belief in the general proposition that"there is always somebody to miss everybody. "

"Will you take a seat here, sir?" he said--"or may I go with you to thenext room?"

"I--have no choice, " said Mr. Somers looking benignantly around;--"itis very pleasant here, very!--cool;--perhaps Miss Derrick will have noobjection to our taking our seats here?"

Faith did not say, but as Mr. Somers had taken her leave for granted, and his seat consequently, she was saved that trouble. How she reddenedat the thought of the roses with which she was dressed! And there shestood in full view, washing her spoons! But Mr. Somers looked the otherway. 

"I--I am very happy to see you again, Mr. Linden--very happy indeed, sir! I heard from Squire Stoutenburgh that you were expected, and Ilost no time. How have you enjoyed your health, sir, this year? Ayear's a long time! isn't it?"

Mr. Linden, taking his seat as in duty bound, looked abstractedly atFaith and the spoons and the roses, and answered according to theevidence. 

"Yes, Mr. Somers, --and yet it depends very much upon how far the twoends of the year are apart in other respects. The 'Voyage autour de machambre' could never _seem_ very long, whatever time it took. "

"Ha!"--said Mr. Somers blandly, --he hadn't the remotest idea what thisspeech might mean, --"no. Did you have a good passage coming over? Wehad every sign of it. "

"Very good, "--said Mr. Linden smiling, --"and very stormy. "

"Ah?"--said Mr. Somers, --"very good and very stormy? Well I shouldn'thave thought that. But I suppose you have got to be such a travellerthat you don't mind which way the wind blows, if it blows you on, ha?--like Dr. Harrison. _He_ never minds the weather. Dr. Harrison's agreat loss to Pattaquasset too, " said Mr. Somers looking at Faith andsmiling a little more openly;--"all our--ha!--our pleasantest membersof society seem to be running away from us! That's what Mrs. Somerssays. "

"One more spoon--and put them up, "--thought Faith, --"and then I'll beaway!"--

"But I've come to see if I can't get you to do me a favour, Mr. Linden, " said Mr. Somers withdrawing his eyes and mind from her. "I--should be very much obliged to you indeed! I'm almost afraid toask, for fear I sha'n't get it. "

Faith wiped her spoon slowly. 

"I like to do favours, " said Mr. Linden, --"at least I think I should. But I cannot imagine how you can give me a chance, Mr. Somers. "

"Don't you think it would be a great gratification to all your oldfriends in Pattaquasset, if you would consent to fill my pulpit nextSunday? They--I believe they'd come from all over the country!--and itwould be--a--it would be a very great gratification indeed to me. Can'tI prevail with you?"

Faith had ceased her work and was standing quite still, with bendedhead, and cheeks which had gathered their colour into two vivid spots. On those carnations Mr. Linden's eyes rested for a moment, with astrange feeling of pleasure, of emotion. The sort of touched smile uponhis lips when he spoke, did not, it may be said, belong to Mr. Somers. His answer was very simple and straightforward. 

"I should like to see and speak to all my old friends again, sir, morethan I can tell you--and I think they would be glad to see me. I coulddo it so well in no other way. Thank you, Mr. Somers!--it is you whoconfer the favour. "

"Then you'll do it?" said Mr. Somers, delighted. "I am very happy--veryfortunate indeed! It will be quite a relief. And a pleasure--a verygreat pleasure--a--I assure you, sir. It's profitable for--a--people tohave a change--they listen--ha!--they hear the same things said in adifferent way; and it is often striking. And it is certainly profitableto the pastor. Well, Mr. Linden, I shall make a great many peoplehappy, --and Mrs. Somers, she'll set off on her side to tell the news. How long are you going--a--to remain in Pattaquasset?--But I don'tknow, " added he laughing, --"as I ought to ask!"

Faith had carried her spoons summarily to the cup-board, and wassitting at an open window near it, looking out. 

"And I cannot answer, " said Mr. Linden. "I have hardly got past myarrival yet, sir. "

"No--certainly. I was--a--premature. You must excuse me. And I have noright to take up any more of your time, --as you have sokindly--a--consented to give me Sunday. What is the state of religionnow, abroad, sir?"

The answer to which comprehensive enquiry drew on into a talk of somelength, although Mr. Somers had declared he must go and had no right tostay. For a little while Faith sat still by her window, but then shevanished and appeared at Mrs. Derrick's side in the kitchen. The disheswere all done there too, and Mrs. Derrick was "ticing" about, --talkingto Faith and wishing Mr. Somers would go, some time before he went. Faith heard the closing door, and the light returning step, --then aclear--not loud-spoken--"Mignonette--where are you?"

Faith sprang back through the passage, and stood in the eating-roomagain. With a very sweet sort of gravity. All her mind and her facefull of the thought that he was going to preach for Mr. Somers. 

"What are you about, little Sunbeam?--are you busy?"

"No. "

"Then first I want a talk with you, and then a walk with you, --do youwant the same with me?--or are you tired?"

"No--yes;--I'm not tired a bit. "

"Are you nervous?" he said, drawing her off into the next room. 

"No!" she said laughing a little, --"did you ever think I was, Endecott?"--But Faith's heart beat somewhat strangely. 

"I am going to try you--" he said as he sat down by her; "so if youare, shut up your eyes. "

There was no sign of shutting up in Faith's eyes. She looked at him, not indeed assuredly, but steadily, and with a wee smile. Eye and smilewere met and held, until he had taken her left hand and held that too;but then looking down at it, Mr. Linden gravely took out a little goldring and proceeded to try how well its dimensions agreed with those ofthe finger for which it was destined. 

Nothing moved of Faith but her eyes, which followed his, and thefluttering colour--which fluttered indeed! went and came like thelights on a wreath of vapour. 

Silently the hand, with both rings on, was looked at for a fewmoments--then held to his lips, with special greeting of those twofingers; and then, as he took off the second ring, Mr. Linden looked upat her. 

"Mignonette, when may I put it on again?"

There seemed to be difficulty in Faith's answering. Probably she wasmaking up her mind to speak, but he had to wait for her words to beready. He waited quietly, as if he expected it; looking down at thehand he held, and saying nothing unless by the clasp of its littlefingers. 

"Do you know where you are going yet Endy?"--she said in a very lowvoice. 

"No, darling--not certainly. "

"Then--do you want to know this yet?"

"Very much. "

Faith had expected no less; she had had fair warning; and besides inher heart could not but confess that Mr. Linden had reason. Little asshe might care to disturb the existing state of things, which to hermind was pleasant enough, it was clear that his mind on the subject wasdifferent; and she could not find fault with that. There was a pauseagain, of quiet waiting on one side and great difficulty of utteranceon the other, and the words when they came were in the lowest possiblekey. 

"What do you wish?"

"What I have been waiting for all these years. "

"But as to time?"

"As little as possible. "

"I know, --but what is that, Endy?"--she said with very timid intonation. 

"'As little as possible'?" he said, raising his eyes with a laughinglook to her face, --"the words hardly need explanation--I might havestayed Mr. Somers this afternoon. It cannot be too soon for me, Mignonette--but I do not know what is possible for you. "

What was possible for her! It almost took Faith's breath away. Becauseshe acknowledged Mr. Linden's right to his wish. She was in greatconfusion, besides. 

"I will do what you please!" she said at length. "You may arrange itwith mother. "

"No, with you, " said Mr. Linden, --"what do you please? Am I to repeatthe passage of Quapaw creek?"

She looked up and looked at him, and said yes. It was a look any manwould have liked to have given him. Not without a little fear of whathe might say, those eyes put such a pure faith in him and were so readyto answer his pleasure. She waited for his answer, though her eyes didnot. 

"You know, dear Faith, I sent you word to be ready for me, --is thatdone?"

"Yes nearly. "

"'Nearly' is soon despatched, " said Mr. Linden, --"and this is the monthwhen, 'if ever, come perfect days'--Shall we say a week from to-day?"

She looked very startled, soft though the glance was that again met hisface. And for a moment the roses fairly fled away. "As soon aspossible" this was, sure enough. They came back however, firststealthily and then swiftly, till Faith's face was bowed and her righthand with futile intent of concealment was interposed between it andMr. Linden. But whether Faith meant to speak or meant not to speak, certain it is that words were none. 

"I cannot have this!" said Mr. Linden, as he took the shielding handinto his own possession, --"Faith, you shall not look pale about it. This is the second time I have banished the colour in the firsttwenty-four hours I have been home. And these roses I see now, seem tome to come from the same tree as the white ones. If you would look moreboldly at the subject it would appear much less terrific--and the samemight be said of me. What sort of a face have I down there in thecarpet?"

There was a little clasp of his hand which answered that; but though hecould see Faith's lips give way he did not hear them speak. 

"Mignonette, the treaty waits your signature. "

"Yes, Endy, "--she said quaintly enough. Mr. Linden brought her faceround within sight, saying--much as he had done at Quapaw creek--"Areyou afraid, dear child?"

"No--" she said timidly, and yet "no" it was. 

"Then it only needs my seal. --In one of the northern countries ofEurope, Mignonette, the bride and bridegroom are expected to stand atthe open window for an hour or two, in full dress, --so you see thingsare not so bad as they might be. Now my little beauty--are you readyfor your walk?"

CHAPTER XL. 

It was the pretty time of a summer afternoon. The sun, in the lastquarter of almost his longest journey of the year, but high yet, sentwarm rays to rest in the meadows and dally with the tree tops andsparkle on the Mong and its salt outlet. The slight rustle of leavesnow and then was as often caused by a butterfly or a kildeer as by thebreeze; sometimes by a heavy damask rose that suddenly sent down itsrosy shower upon the ground. It was the very pastime of birds andinsects and roses, --with that slight extra stir which told the time ofday and that the afternoon siesta was at an end. 

Gathering roses as he went along, fastening them in her belt or herbonnet, Mr. Linden led Faith down the farm road by which he had drivenher to the shore that first day after her illness. There was smalldanger of meeting any one, --it was not the time for loads of hay andgrain, and little else passed that way: the labourers in the fieldswere seen and heard only at a distance Mr. Linden himself was in as gayand gladsome a mood as the day, --more lively indeed, and active--takingthe "dolce far" without the "niente;" witnessing what "the year ofexile" had been, by his joy in being at home, with June and Mignonette. The afternoon's talk had added something even to both theirperfections--he could not forget it though he talked of other things. Neither did Faith forget it. Yet she laughed at Mr. Linden and withhim; though as far as conversation was concerned she took a secondarypart. She started no subject whatever, of the least moment. 

Subjects started of themselves--in numbers somewhat like the littlebutterflies that roused out of the clover as the intruding feet cameby, --about as airy, about as flitting, not quite so purposeless. Andthus in a way more summery than summary, Mr. Linden and Faith arrivedat the shore. He found a shady seat for her, and with no "by yourleave, " except in manner, transferred her bonnet to an airy situationon a wild thorn. 

"Mignonette, do you know what I mean to do with you after Thursday?"

"No, Endecott. "--

"I shall put you before me on the wooden horse spoken of in the fairytale, turn the pin under his right ear, and be off. "

"What's that story!"--said Faith, looking round at him (he was standingbehind her) with the prettiest of bright flushed faces. 

"An authentic account of how a prince carried off a princess. "

"How did he?"

"Got her consent first--(couldn't get anybody's else, but that did notmatter)--ordered some one to bring the wooden horse to the front of thepalace, placed her and himself as aforesaid, turned the pin, anddisappeared from the curious eyes of the whole court. The story goes onto state that they both enjoyed the ride. "

"Was that what you meant when you asked me if I liked travelling incars?--" said Faith, a very little laugh speaking her sense of theapplication. 

"Quick witted little princess!" said Mr. Linden. "The horse thatrefuses to carry double for your service, shall be dismissed from mine. "

"But I don't see much, yet, " said Faith. "I don't understand the storynor you. I think you have taken me a great many rides on that horse. "

"Not en princesse, " said Mr. Linden smiling. "The story is very simple, my dear. After shewing his wife various places of interest, and lettinghis friends see her, the prince arrives at home. It is said that hethen finds his fortune--but I think that part of the story is fabulous, so don't set your heart upon it. "

"That's the story--but what do you mean, Endy?"

"To give you such a ride. I mean that I am the prince, and that you(will be) the princess, who shall do all these things. "

Faith jumped up. "Do you!"--

"Truly I do, dear Mignonette. "

Faith's face was changing. The undoubted joy in her eye had yet a checksomewhere. 

"But Endecott--"

"Qu'est-ce que c'est, Mademoiselle?"

"You haven't a wooden horse!"--she said with a delicious and mostdelicate mixture of frankness and timidity. 

"Are you sure of the fact?--and after all, Mademoiselle, what then?"

The same look almost answered him without words. "I am not sure--" shesaid. "I thought so. "

"What is the point of the remark?"

She hesitated between the two feelings. But frankness, or duty, carriedit. "Because, Endy--if that were so, --I don't want to go!"

"How did your royal pride get turned about?--that you will look at none_but_ a wooden horse?"

She smiled at him, a little puzzled as of old, and not choosing toventure any further. 

"I suppose I know what you mean, my dear one, " Mr. Linden said, takingboth her hands in his, and smiling too; "but as I do not intend to beJohn Gilpin, you need not be his wife, --not yet. Besides, the horse--ofwhatever sort--will require less than you suppose; and for the princeand princess, they, Being in the air, Will not care How they fare!"--

Which words had an overcoming effect not only upon Faith's nascentscruples, but upon Faith herself; and a perfect series of little laughsof the most musical description rolled along a very limited extent ofthe shore, kept company by flushing colours as fair as the lights whichwere just then playing in the clouds overhead. Mr. Linden holding herhands still, watched his princess with the most perfect satisfaction. 

"Is your mind at rest?" he said. "You know I threatened to keep you allto myself for six months--though I'm afraid four will be as near as Ican come to it. "

"But where are you going, Endy?"

"That waits partly on your choice. In general, to hills, cities, andrivers, --the Falls, the White Mountains, Washington, and the picturedrocks of Lake Superior. Then to some shore where you can see realsurf--and to delight the eyes of some of my old friends by the way. "

Faith's eye went gravely over to the sunny Long Island shore, but hermind had made a perfect leap. The only outward token of which was theunconsciously playing line of her lips. Such a journey!--with him! Thebreeze from the White Mountains seemed to blow in her face already, andthe capital of the country rose before her in a most luminouscloud-view. With Mr. Linden to guide her and to tell hereverything!--She did not see the eyes that were watching her, but whenshe suddenly noticed the silence and turned towards Mr. Linden, thesmile was on his lips too. 

"I thought I should go right to work, " she said, --"to study--to make upfor lost time. Can't I do that too?"

"As much as you like! But don't you know there is a lost holiday to bemade up, as well?"

"It is made up, "--she said gently, after a minute's hesitation. 

"How that grieved me when I went away!" said Mr. Linden, --"to take fromyou what I might never be able to replace. But sit down, dear child--Iwant to consult you about various things. "

Faith sat down and looked--like a grave child indeed. Her journey forthe present forgotten, and all her mind bent on something more weightyand worthy. 

"I told you I had three letters for you to read, " said Mr. Linden. "Onereached me in Germany, two I found waiting for me here. They are allabout the same subject, Mignonette: where you and I shall establishourselves. "

A flush rose, but she looked steadily. 

"You told me once, " Mr. Linden went on, "that in such a case I shouldchoose the place where I was most needed--where there was most work forme to do. Now you shall judge. The pastor of a large manufacturing townin Pennsylvania (I may say of the town--it is so in effect) hasaccepted a call to Baltimore. I knew him formerly, and I suppose it isthrough his influence that the people have applied to me. " Faiththought it very likely. 

"How large is the town, Endy?"

"Ten or fifteen thousand--I do not know precisely. "

"And no other churches?"

"Yes, but this is so much the leading one that the others hardly holdtheir ground; and by the way, I think I would rather have a call fromone of them. Apparently the churchgoers are in the minority. "

Faith thought there must be work enough to do in that place; but sheonly listened more gravely. 

"An old friend of my father's writes the second letter. He lives atNewport, and has pleased himself with building a new church in a partof the island not much adorned with spires. Climate and society aregood, scenery picturesque, and he is quite sure if I will onlybring--Mrs. Linden!--to his house, she will decide in favour of Newportat once. "

Faith's eyes went down, and rouge of the richest and frankest colouredher cheeks. 

"Do you think she will?" said Mr. Linden demurely. 

"What is the other, Endy?--You said three. "

"The other, love, is from those very White Mountains you are going tosee. Another friend writes the letter, --one who has built himself anest there for summer migrations. It is a strange place, Faith, by allaccounts--I have never been to that part of the mountains. A scatteredpopulation, sprinkled about on the hills like their own dewberries, andto be found in much the same manner. Neither church nor chapel, butonly an unused schoolhouse--of which Mr. Olyphant prays I will come andtake possession. Snow and frost, the valleys and the everlastinghills--that would be your society. "

Faith's eyes were raised now and met Mr. Linden's. Grave, as one whofelt the weight of the question to be settled; but with a browunshadowed, and eyes unfearing. A child's look still!

"Mr. Olyphant says there could not be better air for my bird to singin, " he went on with a smile, --"there was one great objection to theplace in Pennsylvania. How does this seem to you, dear Faith?--it israther on a spur of the mountains--not absolutely shut in. Then I amnot sure how much society you would have but mine, --what do you thinkof it, in comparison with Newport?"

She answered at first with a rare little smile, so happy in its gravetrust, and which withal a little significantly deferred the question. 

"I know you will go where you think you ought to go. Endy--I don't knowabout places. "

"I doubt whether I shall grant more than half of Mr. Alcott's request, "said Mr. Linden. "I suppose if George has not got home I may venture togrant that. Faith, it is a very singular fact that everybody falls inlove with you. "

To judge by Faith's blush, it was a somewhat painful "fact. " "Whom areyou talking of?" she said doubtfully. 

"The present occasion of my remark is George Alcott--said to be absenton a crusade of search after a pair of eyes he saw in Pattaquasset. "

"I don't know him, " said Faith laughing a little; but instantlyrecurring to business she asked very earnestly, "Then, Endy, you thinkyou will go to that place in the mountains?--or haven't you made upyour mind?"

"I am inclined to that one, of the three--I cannot say my mind isabsolutely made up. It has had so much else to do since I came home!Faith, do you mean to have any bridesmaids?"

Faith jumped up off her rock. "Endy, I want to run down and look atthese little fish. And it's growing late, besides!"--

"Yes, but, you must answer me first, " said Mr. Linden laughing andholding her fast. "It is needful I should know beforehand, because theywill want supporters, if I do not. "

"I don't want any, Endy, " said Faith with cheeks like two pink roses, but standing very still now. 

"Then come and shew me the fish. Don't you think it would be gladsomework to seek out those untaught and uncared for people up in themountains?"

They had come down to the rocks between and among which at low tide theshell fish played in an inch or two of water; and sitting on one of themossy stones Faith was watching the mimic play of evil passions whichwas going on among that tribe of Mollusca below her; but her mind wason something else. 

"I read the other day, " she said, "those words of Paul, where he saysto the Thessalonians 'we were allowed of God _to be put in trust withthe gospel_'. --They made me very happy--they make me happy now. What Ithought of in connexion with them, I mean. "

"And what was that?"

"That they are your words too, "--she said after looking up as if shethought her meaning must be known. --"And that even I--have something todo, " she added lower. 

Mr. Linden stood by her, looking off at the rippling waves, then downat his fair little helper. "Yes, Faith--it is a glorious thing to haveany part of that work in trust, --and the part which makes least showmay be no less in reality. 'In trust'!" he repeated, looking off again. "Such beautiful words!--such terrible. "

"No!"--she said with a smile, --"I don't think so. "

"Nor I, dear, from your point of view. But in the world, Faith, whereyou have been so little, I have seen the words of the trust to beboundless--the faithfulness of the trustees within very narrow limits. And to be always ready to 'sow beside all waters'--who is? 'Freely yehave received, freely give, ' is the command--but what Christian seeswith half perception what he has received!"

Faith paused and looked thoughtful, and then smiled again. "I alwaysthink of the words you read to me one day, --'Only be thou strong andvery courageous, --for the Lord, thy God is with thee, whithersoeverthou goest. '"--

The answering look told that if Mr. Linden's words had not been saidfor the purpose of drawing her out, they had at least served thatpurpose. 

"You are a dear little Sunbeam!" he said. "Acting out your name, as Itold you long ago. There is nothing needful to get _you_ ready for theWhite Mountains but a fur cloak. Now come--it is growing late, as yousay. "

It was a late tea-time when they got home. They sat down to tea andFaith had not told her mother yet! which she remembered with a somewhatuneasy mind. There was nothing uneasy about the third member of thefamily!--the poise and balance of the white strawberries upon eachother was not more complete than the resting adjustment of all histhoughts. 

"Mrs. Derrick, " he said as she handed him his cup of tea, "what do youconsider the prettiest time of day?"

"The prettiest time of day?" Mrs. Derrick repeated, --"do you mean whenthe day looks best--or the people? I'm sure I don't know, Mr. Linden, --I never watch anybody from morning to night but Faith. "

"I am talking of Faith--or what concerns her. "

"O well all times of day are alike to her, " said her motherfondly, --"she's just as pretty one time as another, --and one day asanother. Only the days when she used to get letters. "

"Mignonette, " said Mr. Linden, "when should I have heard such a pieceof news from you?"

"I never knew it before, " said Faith. 

"How many hours does she need for a morning toilette?" said he, pursuing his researches. 

"Hours!" said Mrs. Derrick--"you'd better say minutes. It's less thanan hour, commonly. "

"But I mean uncommonly. "

Mrs. Derrick looked thoroughly puzzled. But Faith had got the key, andhopeless of stopping Mr. Linden she thought the next best thing was toexpedite matters. 

"When I take longest, mother, "--she suggested in a low voice. 

"How long would she need to arrange orange flowers to hersatisfaction--" said Mr. Linden, --"or white muslin?"

"O!--" said Mrs. Derrick setting down the teapot with her cup halffilled. "I didn't know what you _were_ talking about. "

"I am talking about next Thursday, " said Mr. Linden, with a gaygentleness of manner. "Because we have decided--or I have--thatThursday is to be the prettiest day of the week, and now we want tochoose the prettiest time of day. "

A little flush came into Mrs. Derrick's quiet face, --she said not aword. 

"You are willing it should be then?" Mr. Linden said. 

The mother's "yes" was very firm and clear, and yet not in just herusual tone. That came back a minute after with the relief which athought of business always brings. 

"That dress isn't made!" she said. Mr. Linden's "Faith!--" wasexpressive. 

"I knew that it could be done in a day at any time, Endecott, "--saidFaith, very grave and flushed. "It is up stairs in my drawer, mother. "

"Kept there by what piece of superstition?" he said smiling. "Did youthink if you made it up that I would never come back?"

CHAPTER XLI. 

Friday passed all too swiftly. Not in much _work_, so far as Faith wasconcerned--unless so far as Mr. Linden gave her work. Apparently shehad been out of his sight long enough--he was not in the mood to lether be so any more. Saturday followed close in Friday's steps untilafter dinner, then came a move. For Pet and Reuben were to come in theafternoon train; and Mr. Linden going with Jerry to the station to meetthem, summoned Faith to give "her sweet company. "

So far as the station, Faith gave it; but there she drew back into thefurthest corner of the wagon, and waited, while Mr. Linden walked upand down between the wagon and the front platform. Waited, and watched, furtively, everything; him and the people that spoke to him; with thosestrange eyes that saw everything new. Then came the whistle! the rushand roar of the train--the moment's lull; and then Faith saw the threeshe looked for coming towards her. Reuben a little in advance with MissLinden's travelling bag, she with one hand on her brother's shoulderand her eyes on his face, coming rather slowly after, --talking, askingquestions, some of which Faith could almost guess from the look andsmile with which they were answered. It was a pretty picture; she feltas if she knew them both better for seeing it. Before they had quitereached the wagon, Pet received an answer which made her quit Mr. Linden with a little spring and leave him to follow with Reuben. AndFaith had opened the wagon door. 

"Faith! you dear child!" said Miss Linden, "what have you been doingwith yourself--or what has anybody done with you, to stow you away herelike a forgotten parcel?" She had entered the wagon no further than torest one knee there holding both Faith's hands and looking at her withfull, bright, loving eyes. "How came Endecott to leave you here, alone?"

"Two people must be alone--if they are not together, " said Mr. Linden. "Pet, shall I put you in or out?"

She laughed, jumping into the wagon then and twining one arm aboutFaith's waist, much like a spray of woodbine. 

"What do you think I have asked him?" she whispered, --"and what do youthink he has told me?"

"I don't know, " said Faith;--"but I guess. "

A significant clasp of the woodbine answered that--then the hand restedin a quiet embrace. 

"How well he looks!" she said, her eyes taking glad note of one figureon the seat before them. "Faith, how are you?"

"I am well. "--Nothing could be quieter in its kind. "Did he tell youwhat he is going to do to-morrow, Pet?"

"No--" she said looking her quick inquiry. Faith's face might have toldher before she spoke; such a joy sat gravely on her brow and in thedepth of her eyes. 

"If you go to church to-morrow, you will know. "

A sudden flush, both of cheeks and eyes, bore witness to the interestof this news. The look met Faith's for a moment--then rested on Mr. Linden, and then with that little tide of feeling deepening its sweetflow, the eyes fell, the unbent lips wavered and trembled. Faithventured only a silent act of free-masonry; a fast clasp of her fingersround Miss Linden's hand that rested on her waist; but maybe never yetin their short friendship had they felt their hearts beat so closetogether. With one, there was perhaps some old recollection orassociation--some memory of the time when such a day had been firsttalked of, that made self-command a hard matter; for though the lipspresently grew still, and the eyes quiet, the gravity that remained waseasily stirred, and the voice spoke doubtfully. 

There was more discussion of various things that evening than Faithcared for, but it could not be helped. Sunday brought a lull ofdiscussions. But the gravity which sat on Faith's face that morning wasnot the less but the more. If a guardian angel had shewn himselfbodily, his face might have worn such a pure distance from low andtrifling things and like kindred with the blue sky and the truth itemblematizes. That day was the first of her new life to Faith. Not suchto Mr. Linden; but it was the first of her seeing him publicly take theoffice to which his life was to be given, and in which hers was to beby his side. She was a very grave "sunbeam" when she set out to walk tochurch--and as clear!

There were sunbeams in plenty of the literal kind abroad; it was aperfect day; and everybody was glad of that, though some peopleremarked it would have made no difference if it had rainedcannon-balls. Never did Pattaquasset see such a coming to church! neverin the remembrance of Mr. Somers. They came from all over; the countrywas gleaned; and many a fire was raked up on the hearthstone that daywhich most Sundays got leave to burn and somebody to watch it. Thefishermen came from Quapaw, and the labourers from the farms all overthe country; those who did not directly know Mr. Linden, knew of him;and knew such things of him that they would not have missed thisopportunity of hearing him speak, for a week's wages. The fathers andmothers of the boys he had taught, _they_ knew him; and they came inmass, with all their uncles, aunts and cousins to the remotest degree, provided they were not geographically too remote. The upper society ofPattaquasset lost not a man nor a woman; they were all there, some withgreat love, others with great curiosity. The Stoutenburghs had plumedthemselves. Mr. Simlins was as upright as his new beaver. Miss Essie DeStaff with magnified black eyes; Judge Harrison with benevolentanticipation. Mr. Stephens the fisherman had driven his little lamechild down to the Pattaquasset church, "for once;" Jonathan Ling wasthere with his wife, having left the eldest child to keep house, andboth being in great smartness and expectation. Jonathan Fax was thereand his new wife; the one with a very grave head, the other with a verylight one, and faces accordingly. Mrs. Derrick and Pet had long agobeen quietly seated; when through that full house, after her Sundayschool duties were over, Faith came in. Her colour was very bright, andshe trembled; but it was not because many saw in her an object ofcuriosity; though Faith remembered it, at that minute she did not care. She felt the stillness of expectation that filled the house, with whichthe little murmur of sound now and then chimed so well; the patter ofchildish feet that followed her up the aisle spoke so keenly to herwrought up feeling of the other one of her class, who used to followhim with such delight, that Faith felt as if the happy little spiritlong since received in at the golden gates, was even there in thechurch, to hear once more his beloved teacher. Who else?--what otherangel wings stirred in the soft breeze that floated through from doorto door?--what other unseen, immortal senses waited on those dearmortal lips?--Faith's step grew lighter, her breath more hushed; eyesmight look at her--she looked not at them. 

And eyes did look, from all sorts of motives; perhaps in the wholechurch there was not a person who did not try to see her, except theone who next to herself was the most interested--Pet never moved. Herhead was bent, her hand half supporting half concealing in itsposition, like any statue she sat there, nor even stirred when the stirof every one else told who had come in. If she held her breath to bearevery one of her brother's steps as he passed by, she did not look athim; did not raise her head till his first prayer was ended; then herrapt gaze was as unwavering. 

The service which followed could not be measured by the ordinary lineand rule of pulpit eloquence and power, --could not be described by mostof the words which buzz down the aisles after a popular sermon. Therewas not the "newness of hand" of a young preacher--for almost fromboyhood Mr. Linden had been about his Master's work. To him it was assimple a thing to deliver his message to many as to one, --many, many ofthose before him had known his private ministrations, and not a few hadthrough them first known the truth; and now to all these assembledfaces he was just what each had seen him alone; as humble, as earnest, as affectionate, as simply speaking not his own words, --for "Who hathmade man's mouth--have not I, the Lord?" No one who heard theambassador that day, doubted from what court he had received hiscredentials. "In trust with the gospel!" Yes, it was that; but thatwith a warm love for the truth and the people that almost outran thetrust. As the traveller in the fountain shade of the desert calls tothe caravan that passes by through the sand, --as one of the twelve ofold, when Christ "blessed and brake and gave to his disciples, and thedisciples to the multitude"; so did he speak from the words--

 "Eat, O friends!--drink, yea drink abundantly, O beloved!"

There were some there who would never forget that day. There were manyto whom it seemed, that not the warm summer breeze that floated in wasgentler or sweeter than the feeling that filled the place. The littlelame girl, and her older and rougher father and mother, listened aliketo their dear friend with moveless eyes; and drank such a draught ofthose sweet waters as it was long, long since either of them had tastedin a church. It was a white day for all the fishing population; andnothing would have kept them from coming in the afternoon. Miss Essie'sblack eyes lost all their fire. Farmer Simlins, unknown to himself, satand smiled. And the one who listened most tenderly and joyfully, listened indeed quietly to the last word, or till her face had leave tobow itself from sight; quietly then no longer, only that such tearscome from no broken-up fountains of unrest. They came freely, as Faithrecalled and applied the whole of her quoted sentence of Paul to theThessalonians--

"_For as we were allowed of God to be put in trust with the gospel_, SO WE SPEAK. "

She was very quiet when the benediction was spoken, but she drew herveil closely as they left the church. 

It was a lingering getting out, even for them, because others wouldlinger. Some turned to look, some stopped to speak; and if Mr. Lindenhad had twenty hands they would all have found employment. Part of thisthe two veiled figures saw as they made their way to the door, andthere Miss Linden paused and looked back. The broad stream of sunlightthat lay across the church, the shadowy background figures, --in thatvery spot of light, Mr. Linden, --made a never-to-be-forgotten picture. Reuben Taylor stood close behind him, a step back, looking down; littleEncy Stephens perched up on the pew cushions had one hand; RobbieWaters--far down below the other. Phil Davids and his father, SquireStoutenburgh, and some of the Quapaw fishermen made up the group. Petgave one look, and then she went swiftly down the steps and on. 

Slowly the people scattered away, up and down the road; not with thebrisk steps and busy voices that give token the church service has butinterrupted--not suspended--the current of everyday thought andbehaviour. It was a fair picture of a Sunday in a New England village;the absolute repose of nature copied and followed by hands that otherdays let nothing stand still. Before Faith and Pet got home the roadwas almost empty. Mr. Linden had overtaken them, but all his greetingwas to put Faith's hand on his arm--then he walked as silent as they. It was a little thing, and yet it touched the very feeling she had hadall day--the beginning of her new way of life, with him. 

The afternoon was like the morning. Not a creature was missing of allwho from far and near had filled the house in the former part of theday! and doubtless it was well that Mr. Somers could not hear thespoken and unspoken wishes that would have unseated him and caused himto relinquish for ever his charge in Pattaquasset. 

The afternoon air was enticing, the afternoon walk home very lingering;then standing in the hall to look and taste it still, the sweet peaceof everything seemed to enter every heart. Even Pet, who all day hadbeen unheard and almost unseen, stood with clasped hands looking out;and only the heavy eyes spoke of the oppression that had been. But asshe looked the tears came back again, and then she turned to Mr. Linden--wrapping her arms round his neck. 

"Endy, Endy!--do you remember the first time we talked of this day?"

Mr. Linden gave back her caresses without a word, but with a look ofpain that Faith had rarely seen on his face. It was some minutes beforehe spoke. "Dear Pet--she knows it now!"

Miss Linden looked up then, mastering her tears, and with a broken"Forgive me, Endy--" she kissed him and went away up stairs. But Mr. Linden did not look out any more. He went into the sitting-room, andresting his face on his hand sat there alone and still, until Faithcame to call him to tea. 

CHAPTER XLII. 

"Now my two pets, " said Mr. Linden as they left the table Mondaymorning, "what are you going to do?"

"_I_ am going to work, " said his sister. "Mrs. Derrick and I havebusiness on hand. You can have Faith. "

"There is an impression of that sort on my own mind. "

"But I mean to-day. Except for about five minutes every half hour. "

"It would be needless for me to say what I am going to do, " observedFaith quietly. 

"If that is a little piece of self assertion, " said Mr. Linden, "allowme respectfully to remark that my 'impression' had no reference to thepresent time. Do you feel mollified?"

"No, " said Faith laughing. "You are wide of the mark. "

"Then will you please to state your intentions?--So far from beingneedless, it will be what Mr. Somers would call 'gratifying. '"

"I don't know, " said Faith merrily. "I understand that if I tell you, you will say I have no time for them!"--

"For them!--enigmatical. Who told you what I would say?--Ask me. " ButFaith laughed. 

"I am going to make Pet and you some waffles for tea. "

"Do they require more time than shortcakes?"

Faith stood before him quietly as if she had a great deal to say. "I amgoing to make bread, for mother and all of us. "

"What else?"

"Sponge cake, I think. "

"And after that?"

"Crust for pot-pie. "

"De plus?"

"Curds, "--said Faith, looking down now. 

"Pourquoi, Mademoiselle?"

"To eat, " said Faith demurely. "You like them. "

"Mademoiselle, I prefer you. "

"Each in its way, "--replied Faith admirably well, but with a glance, nevertheless. 

"There is only one in my way, " said Mr. Linden. "Well does thatcomplete the circuit?--I suppose nothing need go between cheese andbread _but_ waffles?"

"I shall wish--and I suppose you would wish that I should, look overstrawberries. "

"Where do you commonly do all these things?"

"The sponge cake and the strawberries in the other room--other thingsin the kitchen. "

"We may as well begin as we are to go on!" said Mr. Linden. "If youwill not come and keep me company I must do that for you. Faith, Ithink Miss Essie's statement of facts was much like the artisticrepresentation of lions and men, in the fable!"

Faith did not at all dislike this compounding of matters; and so thestrawberries were looked over, and the sponge cake beaten in thedining-room; with various social enlivenings. For besides Mr. Linden'scalls upon her attention, and the subjects by him presented to belooked over along with the strawberries, Faith made now and then a runinto the kitchen to see Mrs. Derrick or Cindy there; and if the runs upstairs were less frequent, they took more time. For Miss Bezac hadarrived, and she and Miss Linden were deep in the white folds ofFaith's muslin dress. There too was Mrs. Derrick, for the touch and themaking of that dress stirred her very heart. Faith was often indemand, --not to use her needle, but her taste--or to be fitted, or'tried on, ' as Miss Bezac said. 

Coming back from one of these "trying" visits to the three workers, Faith found Mr. Linden by the sitting-room table; before him a package, in his hands a letter. 

"Faith, " he said, "come and look at this. " Faith ran in from thestrawberries. 

"Rosy fingers are not needed, " said Mr. Linden, "but as eyes are firstcalled for they may pass. Sit down here by me, Mignonette, and take offthis wrapping paper. "

Which very curiously and amusedly, and now with a little suspicioustinge in her cheeks, Faith did; remarking that she could not help herfingers being rosy. 

"Keep the roses to their chosen location, " said Mr. Linden gravely, asthe first paper parted right and left and shewed a second, which borethis inscription. --"For Mrs. Endecott Linden--with the warmest regardsand respects of W. And L. Olyphant. " Faith suddenly jumped up, pushedback her chair and whisked back to the strawberries, where she wasfound diligently putting the hulls into a dish by themselves. 

"Mignonette, your fingers will be more rosy than ever. " Mr. Lindenspoke from the doorway where he stood watching her. Then coming forwardhe laid a key on the table. "That belongs to you. "

"Wouldn't you be so good as to take care of it? You see I am busy. "

"No my dear, I will not be so good. You shall have that pleasure--as areward for running away. Would you like to hear this letter?"

"If you please--" Faith said with a little hesitation. 

"You shall read it to yourself if you like better--" but he read it toher, after all. It was a pretty letter, shewing so well Mr. Linden'splace in the writer's affection that Faith could not but enjoy it. Neither could she dislike the messages to herself though they did costher a few roses. As to the contents of the package the letter gave nohint. 

"What is that the key of, Endy?" she said, glancing up after the letterwas finished. 

"I don't know!"--Faith went on with her strawberries. 

Through the open hall door came little uneven steps, tracking onthrough other open doors even to the dining-room, --there the steps andCharles twelfth came to a pause. 

"Ma said, " he began, --then fixed his eyes and mind on Mr. Linden with aconcentration that was marvellous. The general attire and appearance ofthe little potentate were as usual, but both hands were in use tosupport a heavy mass of red coral, hugged up to his blue apron in themost affectionate manner. With a sigh of relief Charles twelfthwithdrew his attention from Mr. Linden long enough to set the coral onthe floor, then gazed anew, with his hands behind him. 

"Charley!" said Faith laughing, --"what are you doing!--and what haveyou done?"

"Ma said--" began the child, stopping short as before. 

"Charles twelfth, " said Mr. Linden holding out his hand "do you neveruse anything but your eyes? Come here and speak to me. Who is primeminister now?"

"You, "--was the very prompt reply. "Ma said so yesterday. "

The laugh in Mr. Linden's eyes as he looked at Faith, was a thing tosee. "Faith, " he said, "the conversation is in your hands!"

Faith was in doubtful readiness to speak. "Charley!"--she said as soonas she could, --"come here. Was that all your ma said?"

"No, " said the boy, "she said a heap more. "

"Well what did you come here for to-day?"

"I came to fetch that--" said Charles twelfth with another sigh. 

"Poor child!--What did you bring it for, Charley?"

"Why for you, " said Charley. "Ma said she didn't know when it oughtercome--and she guessed you'd like it, 'cause it used to live off in theplace where you said they eat up babies and people!" and Charlestwelfth's eyes grew large and round with the announcement. "And ma saidshe's sorry 'twarnt more. I ain't. "

Faith's eyes went to Mr. Linden with a flash and a burst of theuncontrollable little laugh; but after that they were suspiciouslydowncast, and Faith busied herself in providing little Charles twelfthwith the refreshment of a good saucer of sugared strawberries, withwhich he sat down in a corner much consoled. And when he was settingoff again, Faith gave him a whispered message to ask his mother to comeand see her Thursday. Just what Mr. Linden saw in the piece of redcoral he did not declare, but when Faith came back to the table he waslooking at it very fixedly. 

"Faith, " he said, "that is not the worst token, nor the worstenvoy--that might be. What a shy child you were that first time I tookyou down there! And you have not changed any too much, " he added, carrying her off to the other room. "I am not sure that you ought to beindulged--suppose you open this box. "

"You do it, please, Endecott!"--she said with a crimson rush to hercheeks. 

"I do not believe there is any explosive material under such anaddress, --however, if there is I prefer that my hands should fire thetrain. Stand back, Faith!"--and with cautious and laughing deliberationthe key was turned and the lid raised. It was a very plain lid, by theway--mere white pine. 

"There is nothing here (that appears) but silk paper and cotton, --notgun cotton, probably, " said Mr. Linden. "Faith, do you wish me to riskmy safety any further?"

"Yes. "--

"My dear, you must have more courage. If I am to open all your boxes Ishall have my hands full, and--ne vous en d�plaise--I would rather seethe work in yours. " And she was seated before the portentous pine box, Mr. Linden keeping his stand at her side. Faith blushed and didn't likeit; but applied her fingers with a sort of fearful delicacy to the silkpaper and cotton, removing one after the other. 

The box had interior divisions, by way of help to the silk paper, itsdifferent contents being thus more securely separated. Faith's fingersexploring among the papers brought out first a silver chocolate pot, then the dainty china cups for the same, then the spoons, in size andshape just suiting the cups. Spoons and chocolati�re were marked withthe right initials; the cups--chocolate colour themselves, that no dropof the dark beverage might hurt their beauty--had each a delicate giltF. L. Twining about the handle. 

If the givers could have seen the gift uncovered and inspected!--therosy delight in Faith's cheeks, the pleasure in her eye! They wouldhave considered themselves rewarded. She looked and bent over thepretty things, her attitude and blush half veiling her admiration andsatisfaction, but there was no veiling them when she looked up at Mr. Linden. "I am so glad you like chocolate!"--she said naively. But itwas worth a hundred remarks of aesthetic criticism. 

"I am so glad I do!" he said, stooping to kiss her. "Faith, one wouldalmost imagine some bird of the air had told them our chocolateassociations. "

"Now won't you put these back for me?" said Faith, --"because, if thatsponge cake is to get done to-day I haven't two minutes to lose!"

The pretty chocolati�re was but the beginning, as Faith soon found. Found to her most utter and unbounded astonishment--though to that ofno one else. 

Tuesday arrived a packet from Madame Danforth, accompanied by a note ofaffection and congratulation. The present was peculiar. A satin sachet, embroidered after the little Frenchwoman's desire, and to do it justicevery exquisitely scented, was the first thing. A set of window curtainsand toilet cover, of a curious and elaborate pattern of netting, madeof very fine thread, --a manufacture in which Madame Danforth delightedand on which she prided herself, --was the second thing. The third was apretty breakfast service of French china. 

Faith enjoyed them all, with some amusement and some pleasure ofpossession, and not a little affectionate remembrance. Even the sachet, in this view, was particularly precious; that was the only use Faithsaw in it. But the next arrival gave her a great start. 

It was again this time a deal box, but immensely heavy; and it was astrong box that Faith did not attempt to open; marked only 'Grover &Baker', which told her nothing. There was no occasion indeed. A notewas delivered with the box, and a small covered basket. The noteconveyed the assurance of Sophy Harrison's love and a request thatFaith would let her shew it on the present occasion. It went on. --

"Papa has sent you, dear Faith, an odd thing for a present--for _such_a present--but I haven't been able to put it out of his head. Heinsists it is what you ought to have, and that he shall have thepleasure of giving it to you To save you the trouble of opening the boxbefore you want it, I will state that it contains a _sewing machine_. Papa has taken great pains to satisfy himself--and it is certainly thebest or one of the best. My offering, dear Faith, is in the basket, andmay be looked at with less difficulty. "

Miss Sophy's offering was a kindly one. She had sent a little invoiceof silver spoons and forks. Faith was pleased; and yet she lookedgrave, and very grave, over these things. She made no remark whateverto say why. 

If no one else knew there was to be a wedding, at least the express mandid!--and probably in his mind joined these new packages with those hehad so often brought before, very comfortably. The next arrival was adelicate pair of silver salt-cellars and spoons from Mr. Alcott, --thena little framed sketch from the Captain of the Vulcan, portraying themeeting of two steamers at sea, with these words underneath--'Thedespatch post'. At which Mr. Linden looked with much amusement. Faithwas delighted. 

First on Wednesday morning came Miss Bezac, --bringing the well assortedtokens of an elaborate needlebook and a simple bread trencher andknife; and staying only long enough to say, "You see, Faith, what mademe think of this, was that the first time I heard of _that_, was whenyou came in for bread and milk. And now you'll have to think of me, whether you sew or eat!"--with which triumphant sentiment Miss Bezacdeparted. 

They say ill news flies fast, --in this case so did the good: certainlypeople are quick to hear and understand what pleases them. The friendswho had heard from Pet or Mrs. Iredell what was to be, had spread theinformation: and in the same sort of way, from two or three old familydependants another class of Mr. Linden's friends had heard it. Perhapsamong all her presents the little tokens from these people touched hermost. They came queerly done up and directed, sometimes the more formal'Mrs. Linden' changed into an ill-spelled '_For Mr. Endecott'swife_'--or '_For the young lady, in care of Mr. Linden_'. She knew thenames thereto appended as little as they knew hers, --could only guessthe vocations, --the tokens were various. A pair of elaborately carvedbrackets, --a delicate rustic footstool, trimmed with acorns andcones, --a wooden screw pincushion, with a flaming red velvet top, --acase of scissors, pretty enough to have come from anybody, declared thetrade of the sender by the black finger marks on the brown wrapper, anda most mysteriously compiled address. One of the old sailors who hadcrossed with Mr. Linden long ago, sent by Pet's hands a stuffedtropical bird of gorgeous colours; a woman who had once been upperservant in his mother's house, sent by the same messenger a whitetoilet cushion, made exactly after one that had belonged to hermistress and which she had been allowed to keep. It was worth while tosee Mr. Linden examine these things, --every name was familiar to him, every one called up some story or recollection. Alternating with these, came richer presents, --books and vases and silver; then from the poorpeople in and about Pattaquasset, a couple of corn husk mats, a nest ofosier baskets. The children brought wild flowers and wild strawberries, the fishermen brought fish, till Mrs. Derrick said, "Child, we might aswell begin to lay down for winter!"

Ency Stephens, having got Reuben to bring her two fine long razorshells, had transformed them into a pincushion. This she sent, with akiss, by Mr. Linden. 

"I half promised her that she might come before the rest of the worldto-morrow, Faith, " he said. "She never saw any one married, and has thegreatest desire to see you--and I said if you were willing, Reubenshould bring her here at one o'clock. " Faith was just then exploringthe contents of a new package--or rather two: one of as many spools ofwhite thread as she had scholars in her little class, (presented byRobbie Waters, ) the other a wee far-sent carved box of curled maple. She looked up with wet eyes. 

"Oh let her come, Endecott--I should like to have her here. "

Faith had been living in a strange atmosphere this week. The firstpresents that came simply pleased and amused her to a great degree;Judge Harrison's and his daughter's she saw with a strong admixture ofpainful feeling. But as tokens from rich and poor began to throngin--not of respect for her wedding-day so much as of respect and lovefor Mr. Linden, --Faith's mood grew very tender and touched. Neverperhaps, since the world stood, did anybody receive wedding presentsfrom friends known and unknown with a more gentle and humbleheart-return to the senders. There was no least thing of them all thatFaith did not dearly value; it told her of something so much betterthan the gifts, and it signified of a link that bound her with that. How beautiful to her eyes the meanest of all those trifles did seem!and for the rest, she was as quick to be delighted with what was reallybeautiful and glad of what would be really useful, as any sensiblechild could have been. So the amusement with which the week beganchanged into a grave, loving, and somewhat timid appreciation of eachnew arrival. 

Meanwhile, on Faith's table stood a little silver saucepan sent by Mrs. Somers with the sage remark that she would want it for others if notfor herself; and near by, a beautiful butter cup and knife from Mrs. Stoutenburgh. With the butter cup trotted down a little mountain pony, with the daintiest saddle and bridle that the Squire could find formoney. 

Miss Linden's love had chosen for itself sundry channels; from thesilver knives--of all sorts--which made their appearance now, tovarious comforts, great and small, which were to await her brother andsister in their new home. In those Mrs. Iredell too had a share; herpresent token was a silver tea-service, whereon the chasing developeditself in sprays of mignonette. A mark of attention which Mr. Linden atleast appreciated. 

CHAPTER XLIII. 

It was very early indeed in the still sweet morning of Thursday, whenFaith threw open the windows and blinds of the sitting-room. No one wasabroad, and not even a wind moving. The leaves of the trees hungmotionless; except where a bird stirred them; the dawn was growingslowly into day; sweet odours called forth by the dew, floated up tothe windows, and the twitter and song of the birds floated in. Thefreshness and stillness and calmness of all the earth was most sweet. Faith could not read; she knelt upon a low cushion at the open windowand leaned her arms upon the sill to look out, and breathe, and thinkand pray. The morning was not unlike her. She was as fresh, and asgrave, and as still; and there was a little flutter now and then too inher heart, that went with nothing worse than the song of the birds, though it stirred something more than the leaves of the branches. SoMr. Linden found her. 

So she met them all at breakfast, with the same unready eyes and lipsthat Mr. Linden had seen before. It was odd how Faith seemed to haveput off the full realization of Thursday till Thursday came. Afterbreakfast she was making her escape, but was detained before shereached the staircase. What it was that Mr. Linden fastened in herdress, Faith could not have told; neither did his words tell her. 

"You must not think me extravagant, Mignonette, --these are some oldgems of mine which I want you to wear in this form. " He gave her onegrave kiss and let her go. Faith sped up stairs; and with a flutteringheart went to see what Mr. Linden had done. --Yes, they weregems, --clear, steadfast, as the eternal truth which they signified, theblue sapphires shone upon Faith's white dress. 

Faith was alone; and she sat before the glass an odd long while, studying the brooch where Mr. Linden had placed it. Her head upon herhand, and with much the same sort of face with which she used long agoto study Pet's letters, or some lesson that Pet's brother had set her. From the sapphires Faith turned to her Bible. She was not, or would notbe interrupted, till it was time to attend to business. 

The first business was presented for her attention by Miss Linden, whocame in, basket in hand. There was no need to ask what it was, such abreath of orange flowers and roses filled the room. She found Faithready; her hair dressed as it always was; her mind too, to judge byappearances. Only Faith was a little more quiet than usual. With thevery quietness of love and sympathy, Pet did her part; with theswiftest fingers, the most noiseless steps. Silent as Mrs. Derrick orFaith herself, only a sparkle of the eyes, a pretty flush on thecheeks, said that she viewed the matter from a greater distance. Andyet hardly that, so far as one of the parties was concerned. Neverputting her hand forward where Mrs. Derrick's liked to be, it was mostefficient in other places. Both used their skill to put the soft muslinsafely over Faith's smooth hair, but then Mrs. Derrick was left tofasten and adjust it--Pet applied herself to adjusting the flowers. Howdainty they were: those tiny bunches! sprays of myrtle and orangeflowers, or a white rose-bud and a more trailing stem of ivy geranium;the breast-knot just touched with purple heliotrope and one blush rose. Kneeling at her feet to put on the rosetted slippers, Pet looked up ather new sister with all her heart in her eyes. And Faith looked down ather--like a child. 

She had been dressed in Pet's room--her own, as being larger and morecommodious than the one where Faith had stowed herself lately; and whenthe dressing was done she sat down by the open window, and with the oddcapriciousness of the mind at certain times, thought of the day whenMr. Linden had thrown her up the cowslip ball, --and in the same breathwondered who was going to take her down stairs!

But she sat quiet, looking as fair in her soft robe with its orangeflowers as if they and she had been made for each other. Faith's hair, in its rich colour, was only dark enough to set off the tender tints ofher flowers and dress; it wanted neither veil nor adornment. The veryoutlines of her figure betokened, as outlines are somewhat apt to do, the spirit within; without a harsh angle or line. And nothing could betoo soft, or strong, or pure, to go with those eyes. She sat lookingout into the orchard, where now the noonday of summer held its stillreign--nothing there but the grass and the trees and the insects. Thecowslips were gone; and Mr. Linden----

Pet finished all that had been left unfinished of her own dress, thenin her rose-coloured summer silk, white gloves in her hand, whiteflowers on her breast, she came and stood by Faith. Mrs. Derrick hadgone down stairs. It was close upon one o'clock now; the shadows werelosing their directness and taking a slant line, the labourers werecoming back to their work, standing about and taking off their coats, waiting for the clock to strike. Miss Linden stood drawing on hergloves. Faith gave her one swift glance, which rested for a second onher face with a look of loving gratitude. A flush rose to her cheek, asif it might have been the reflection of Miss Linden's dress; but it wasnot that, for it paled again. 

One o'clock!

It would have seemed a less weird sort of thing if the clock had made alittle more fuss, --twelve strokes, or even eleven, would have beensomething tangible; but that one clang--scarce heard before it wasgone, dying away on the June breeze, --what a point of time it seemed!The waves of air were but just at rest, when Mrs. Derrick opened thedoor and came in; her black dress and white cap setting off a face anddemeanour which, with all their wonted sweet placidness, and amid allthe tender influences of the day, kept too their wonted energy. 

"Come, pretty child!" she said. 

Faith was ready, and followed her mother without a question. In thehall Mr. Linden stood waiting for her, and she was given into his care;though again Faith lost the look which passed between the two, --she sawonly the startling white of Mr. Linden's gloves. He handed her downstairs, then gave her his arm and took her in; Mrs. Derrick goingfirst, and Pet following. 

There were but six or eight people there. On one side sat Mrs. Iredellin her rich dress; the rest were standing, except little Ency Stephens, who was in one of her perched-up positions by the window. Mr. Somerswas lingering about _his_ position, his wife and Mr. And Mrs. Stoutenburgh were opposite to Mrs. Iredell. Reuben Taylor furthest backof all, in the shadow of Ency's window. Her little cry was the onlysound as they came in, and that hardly louder than a sigh of delight. 

Faith did not hear it nor look at anybody. Yet she did not lookdismayed at all nor abashed. A piece of very timid gravity the personnearest her knew her to be; but hardly any person further off. A verylovely mingling of shy dignity and humility was in her face and air asshe stood before Mr. Somers; those who saw it never forgot. 

Except I must that same Mr. Somers! He saw only a pretty bride, whoseorange flowers and roses were very sweet. He had seen many prettybrides before, and orange flowers were not new to him. And hepronounced his part of the service which followed, with gratification, certainly. Mr. Somers was always gracious, and to-day he was admiring;but yet with no more sense of what he was about than when a hundredtimes before he had pronounced it for--very different people!

However, there is a great system of compensations in this world; and onthis occasion there was in other members of the party so much sense ofwhat was doing, that it mattered little about Mr. Somers' want of it. It mattered nothing to Faith, how his words were spoken; nobody thatheard them forgot how _hers_ were--the sweet clear sounds of everysyllable; only that once or twice she said "yes" where by establishedformula she should have said the more dignified "I do. " Perhaps "yes"meant as much. Those who heard it thought it did. 

For Mr. Linden, his senses not being troubled by shyness, just becausehis own heart was so thoroughly in what he was about he did perceivethe want of heart in Mr. Somers. And, in the abstract, it did not suithis notions that even a man who had married five hundred other peopleshould put such questions to Mignonette, or to him, in a commonplaceway. So far his senses perceived, but Mr. Somers could reach nofurther. One touch of Faith's hand had banished the officiate toanother planet; and the vow to love, cherish, and honour, was taken, word for word, deep in his own heart; the grave, deliberate accents ofassent seeming to dwell upon each specification. Yes, he took her "forbetter for worse, in sickness or health, for richer for poorer, " everyword was like the counting over of gold to him, it was all "richer. "Even the last words, the limit fixed, shone with light from anotherworld. "Till death shall you part;" yes, but to them death would be buta short parting. And standing side by side there with the blessing ofhis earthly life, Mr. Linden thanked God in his heart for the future"life and immortality" to which He had called them both. 

Mysterious is the way in which events are telegraphed from the insideof a house to the exterior thereof. Hardly were Mr. Somers' last wordsspoken, Faith was not yet out of Mr. Linden's hands, when there came apeal from the little white church as if the bell-ringing of two orthree Sundays were concentrated in one. Much to the surprise of Mr. Somers; who, to speak truth, rather thought the bells were his personalproperty, and as such playing truant. But in two seconds the other bellchimed in; and all that could ever be known, was, that Phil Davids andJoe Deacon had been seen in closer attendance on the two churches thanthey were wont to be week days. Meantime the bells rang. 

It was done; and those downcast eyes must be lifted up, if they could. But Faith was not unlike her usual manner. The slight air of timiditywhich sat with such grace upon her was not so very unusual; and thatbesides touched only or mainly one person. With blushing quietness shelet her friends kiss and congratulate her. It was rather kiss andcaress her; for they came about her, that little bevy of friends, witha warmth that might have thawed Mr. Somers. Mrs. Derrick and Pet gladand silent, Reuben Taylor very shy, the Stoutenburghs in a little furorof interest which yet did not break pretty bounds. And then Faith wentup to Ency where she sat by the window, and gave her two kisses, verygrave and sweet. 

"How beautiful you are, ma'am!" was the child's truthful comment. 

"Do you know who 'Miss Faith' is now, Ency?"--"Yes sir, " the childsaid, then shy of speaking it out, "Stoop down and I'll tell you. "

Mr. Linden bent his head to hear the whisper, giving her a kiss inreturn, and then carried Faith off to the next room; where presentlytoo the little lame girl was perched up at such a table as she hadnever dreamed of before. 

It was a pretty gathering, both on the table and around it. The partyof friends, few enough to be choice, were good and different enough tobe picturesque; and had among them a sufficient amount of personaladvantages to be, as Ency said, "beautiful. " The table itself was veryplain with regard to china and silver; but fruit is beautiful, andthere was an abundance of that. Coffee of course; and cream, yellow asgold, for coffee and fruit both. There were more substantial things, toserve as substitutes for dinner, attesting Mrs. Derrick's goodhousekeeping at once, and the loving remembrance of friends. There hadbeen little need to do much in the house. Mrs. Iredell had taken thewedding cake into her charge, which Mrs. Stoutenburgh not knowing hadtaken it into hers, and into her hands as well; so Faith had both thebought cake, of the richest and best ornamented to a point, and thehome-made; with plain icing indeed, but wherein every raisin had beenput with a sweet thought. 

"This is--ha!--a very agreeable occasion!" said Mr. Somers, smiling atthe ornamented plum cake which was before him. "I--a--really, I don'tsee, Mrs. Derrick, how anything could be improved for the pleasure ofthe party. We have done a good thing, and to good people, and it's beenwell done;" (Mr. Somers vaunted himself), "and in a goodtime, --ha--this is the prettiest month in the year, Mr. Linden; and nowwe are all enjoying a pleasant sight, before us and around us, and Ienjoy my coffee also very much, Mrs Derrick. The only bad thing aboutit is--ha--that it rather spoils one for the next occasion. I assureyou I haven't seen anything like it in Pattaquasset, since I have livedhere! I wasn't married here, Mrs. Stoutenburgh, take notice. "

"I hope you don't mean to say you saw anything that was on the tablethe day _you_ were married, Mr. Somers!" said Mrs. Stoutenburghirreverently. 

"Let's hear what you mean by well done, --let's hear, Mr. Somers, " saidthe Squire. 

"He means securely, " said Mrs. Somers. 

"I feel sure, " said Mr. Somers with exquisite significancy, "I feelsure that _part_ of my audience were at no loss for the meaning of mywords. Experience, somebody says, is the best commentary--hey, Mr. Linden? is it not so?"--"What, sir?"

Mr. Somers laughed, gently. "I see you coincide with me in opinion, sir. "

"I coincide with him in the opinion that it was well done to ring thebells, " said Mrs. Stoutenburgh. "Reuben, I guess that was your doing. "

"Never mind whose it was, " said the Squire, "the bells were never putto a better use, week days, I'll venture. Mr. Linden, won't that ladyby you let me give her another piece of chicken?"--"No, sir, " came in alow voice that had a private chime of its own. 

"Little bird, " said Mr. Linden, softly, "do you know that all yourcompeers live by eating?"--"Crumbs" said Faith with equal softness. 

"But of proportionate size!"--"Yes, " said Faith. 

"You know, " he said in the same low voice, "to go back to our old maximthose bells may stand for the music, and we have certainly spoken a fewsensible words; but if you do not look up how will you find thepicture?"--She raised her eyes, but it was for a swift full glance upinto his face; she looked nowhere else, and her eyes went back to herplate again. The involuntary, unconscious significance of the actionmade Mr. Linden smile. 

"I have had mine now, Mignonette, and Ency spoke true. "

"How long does it take people to get married, " came in a good-humouredkind of a growl from the room they had left, the door to which wasajar. "Ain't it done yet?"

"There's Mr. Simlins, Endecott, " whispered Faith, colouring. 

"Come in and see, " said Squire Stoutenburgh. "Who wants to know?"Wherewith the door was pushed open, and Mr. Simlins long figurepresented itself, and stood still. 

"What are you uneasy about, Mr. Simlins?" the Squire went on. "You maygo and shake hands with Mr. Linden, but don't congratulate anybodyelse. " The farmer's eye rested for a moment on Faith; then he wentround and shook hands with the bridegroom. 

"Is it done?" he asked again in the midst of this ceremony. --"Yes. "

"Past all help, Mr. Simlins, " said Mrs. Somers. 

"I am glad, for one!" Mr. Simlins answered. "Mayn't I see this creturhere? I wish you'd stand up and let me look at you. "

Faith rose up, he had edged along to her. He surveyed her profoundly. "Be you Faith Derrick?" he said. --"Yes, sir. "

He shook _her_ hand then, holding it fast. "It's the true, and not acounter, " he remarked to Mr. Linden. "Now, if you'd only takeNeanticut, I could die content, only for liking to live and see you. Where _are_ you going to take her to?"--"I am not sure yet. "

"I guess I don't want you at Neanticut, " said the farmer, taking a cupof coffee which Faith gave him. "Last Sunday fixed that. But there'll abushel of Neanticut nuts follow you every year as long as I'm aSimlins, if you go to the Antipathies. No, I don't want anythin' toeat--I've done my eatin' till supper-time. "

The door-knocker warned the party that they must not tarry round thelunch-table, and before Mr. Simlins had a chance to say anything morehe had on his mind, the principal personages of the day were receivingJudge Harrison and his daughter in the other room. Mr. Simlins lookedon, somewhat grimly, but with inward delight and exultation deep andstrong. Miss Sophy was affectionate, the judge very kind; thecongratulations of both very hearty; though Judge Harrison complainedthat Mr. Linden was robbing Pattaquasset, and Sophy echoed the sorrowif not the complaint. In the midst of this came in Miss Essie de Staff, with a troop of brothers and sisters; and they had scarcely paid theircompliments when they were obliged to stand aside to make room for somenew comers. Miss Essie's eyes had full employment, and were ratherearnest about it. 

"She's beautifully dressed, " she remarked to Mrs. Stoutenburgh, evidently meditating a good deal more than her words carried. 

"Why, of course!" was Mrs. Stoutenburgh's quick response, "and so ishe. Don't be partial in your examinations. "

"Oh he, of course!" said Miss Essie, in the same manner. 

"I never saw two people set each other off better, " said Mrs. Stoutenburgh. 

"Set each other off?" repeated Miss Essie. "Why he'd set anybody off! Ialways admired him. Look at her! she hasn't an idea how to beceremonious. " Faith had been speaking to Mrs. Iredell. Just then arosebud having detached itself from her dress, she went round the roomto Ency by her window and gave it to her. Near this window Miss Lindenhad placed herself; the table before her covered with wedding cake andwhite ribbon, Reuben Taylor at her side to cut and fold, her littlefingers daintily wrapping and tying up. Ency already held her piece ofcake and white ribbon, and with the promise of other pieces to takehome, watched Miss Linden's proceedings with interest. It was a busytable, for thither came everybody else after cake and white ribbon. Thither came Mrs. Stoutenburgh now, quitting Miss Essie. 

"Faith, what do you think Mr. Stoutenburgh asked me Sunday?"--"I don'tknow. What?" asked Faith, with her half-shy, half free, very happy face. 

"You should have heard him!" said Mrs. Stoutenburgh, laughing, butspeaking in the softest of whispers. "You should have heard the dismalway in which he asked me if Mr. Somers would go anywhere else, if hecould get a chance. "

Faith smiled, but evidently to her the question whether Mr. Lindenshould stay in Pattaquasset had lost its interest. 

"O I can find her, never fear!" said Miss Bezac, followed by Mr. Lindenin Faith's direction. "Though I don't suppose you ever did fearanything. And I do suppose, if I've thought once I have fifty times howshe'd look to-day, and I was right every time. Don't she look! I alwaystold her she didn't know what she wanted--and I'm sure she don't now. "With which Miss Bezac gave Faith as hearty a congratulation as she hadyet received. "Well, " she said, turning to Mr. Linden, "do you wonder Iwanted to make it?"--"Not in the least. "

"But what do I want, Miss Bezac?" said Faith laughing and lookingaffectionately at her old friend and fellow-work-woman. 

"Why I should think nothing, " said Miss Bezac. "So it seems to me. Andtalking of seams--didn't I do yours! Do you know I should have comebefore, but I never can see two people promise to love each otherforever without crying--and crying always makes rusty needles--so Iwouldn't come till now, when everybody's laughing. " Faith was anexception, for her amusement grew demure. And Miss Essie approached. 

Now Miss Essie's black eyes, although bright enough, were altogethergracious, and in a certain way even propitiatory. They were bent uponthe gentleman of the group. 

"Mr. Linden, " said the lady with her most flattering manner, "I want toknow if you have forgiven me all my dreadful speeches that I made once. "

"Miss Essie, I never questioned your right to make them, therefore yousee my forgiveness has no place. " Miss Essie looked as if her "study"of Mr. Linden hadn't been thorough. 

"That's very polite, " she said; "too polite. But do you think Mrs. Linden will ever let me come into her house?"

"Why not? It cannot be worse than you imagined. "

"Because, " said Miss Essie, earnestly, "I want to come, and I am afraidshe will not ask me. I go everywhere, and wherever you are I shall besure to come there some time; and then I want to see you and see howyou live, and see if my theory was mistaken. But I drew it fromexperience!"

"Did you ever hear of the ice palace the little brook built forhimself?" said Mr. Linden. --"Lowell, oh yes!"

"Mrs. Linden thinks she would like to try that. "

If ever black eyes were thoroughly puzzled, that were Miss Essie's. Sheglanced from Mr. Linden to Faith, who had fallen back towards anotherpart of the room, but whose cheek gave token of her having heard andnoticed. Miss Essie's eyes came back; she looked a little mortified. 

"I see you have not forgiven me, " she said. "But, Mr. Linden, I onlyspoke of what I had seen. I had been unfortunate; and I am sure Ineedn't confine myself to the past tense! I knew nothing, you know. "

"Miss Essie, " he said, smiling, "your frame for the picture may becorrect, but the picture will be different. As you will see when youcome. "

"Then you will let me come?"--"I will let you come. Only if you hearthat Faith is not at home, do not feel sure of the fact till you havelooked in my study. "

Miss Essie's face for a moment was notable. She was in a certain waysatisfied, and yet it wore a sort of compound mortificationinexplicable very likely, to the lady herself, and perhaps, that onlyan acute eye of another would have read. 

Before this dialogue had reached so much of a culmination, Mr. Simlins, who had been standing looking at everything like a good-humoured bear, made his way across the room, and through the people to Faith, whereshe had shrunk back out of the way. 

"I can't stay here all the afternoon!" said he, "and I s'pose it aintexpected of me. Can't you step over yonder and let a man have a chanceto say a word to you, before I go?"

Faith agreed to this proposition, not knowing that it was going to takeher literally into a corner; but to one of the further corners of theroom Mr. Simlins strode, and Faith went after him; and there he satdown and she was fain to do likewise. Then he wasn't ready. 

"I had somethin' to say to you, " said he, "but I don't know how to sayit!"--"Try, Mr. Simlins, " said Faith, smiling. 

"How does the dominie manage to talk to you?" said he, looking at her. "_I_ don't see how he can get on with it. "

Faith grew crimson, and grave. 

"Well, " said the farmer, smiling a bit, "I s'pose I'll have to get itout somehow. You see, Faith, the thing is, in my mind, I want you tohave something that'll make you--you and him too--think of Pattaquassetand me once in a while. Now I'm goin' to give you that black heifer. Ifyou can, I hope you'll take her with you whereever you're goin'--if youcan't, why you may turn her into cash; but I guess you can. She's areal Simlins--she'll run, if you don't keep a fence round her; but ifyou treat her right, she'll give you all _your_ dairy'll want for sometime to come; and the very plague you'll be at to keep her shut up, will make you think of me. "

"Dear Mr. Simlins!" Faith said with her eyes full, "there is no dangerabout that!"--

"No!" said he rising; "and when you think of me I know you'll dosomething else for me. Good-bye, till you get back again. " Off he went. Other people followed. The room had thinned a little, when Pet left hertable in Reuben's charge and came to Faith's corner. 

"Poor child, " she said, "you must be tired. Faith, I shall defyceremony, and put you in Aunt Iredell's chair; she is going to liedown. Oh! how did that man get here?--and George Alcott!" Pet facedround upon Faith, folding her hands with an air of dismayed resignation. 

"What's the matter, Pet?"--"I thought I was safe here, " said MissLinden. "Faith, I did not suppose ubiquitous people found their way toPattaquasset. You'll have to run the gauntlet of that man'scompliments, child, however, Endy is a pretty good safeguard. "

Before Faith could see much of what was going on, Mr. Linden was at herside. "Mrs. Linden--_Mr. Motley_, " was all he said; and Faith foundherself face to face with one of those two well-remembered strangers. So well remembered that a slight glance at him was arrested, by what atfirst she did not recognize, and unconsciously she gave Mr. Motley fora second a look sufficiently like what he had seen before to identifyher. That second brought it all back. A blush of most rosy beauty cameupon Faith's face, and her eyes fell as if no one was ever to see themagain. Mr. Motley's eyes, on the contrary, expanded. But the whistlewhich rose politely to his lips, was held in polite check--by Mr. Linden's presence or some other consideration--and with no further signthan an under breath "Linden!" Mr. Motley gave the bride his hand, claiming that privilege in easy, musky words, on the score of oldacquaintanceship with the bridegroom. 

"I trust Mrs. Linden has been well since I last (and first!) had thepleasure of seeing her? Apart from the occasion--it seems to me thatshe is looking even better than then--though _then_ I should not havebelieved that possible. "

"It is a long time, sir, " Faith said gravely. 

"Linden, " said Mr. Motley in a sort of aside, "even your symmetricaltaste must be satisfied!"

"With what?" said Mr. Linden. Which rather shortly--put questionbrought Mr. Motley to a stand. Much as when one pushes on into daylightthrough the filmy finespun work of a spider, that respectable insectlooks about, considering where he shall begin anew. 

"It is so long, " said Mr. Motley with soft emphasis, "that I couldhardly have hoped to be remembered. "

"If I recollect right, " said Mr. Linden, "if you did not misstate thecase, it was the charms of your conversation that made the impression. "

"You are the most inconvenient person to talk to!" said Mr. Motley witha glance at the handsome face. "Like a quicksand--closing around one. Mrs. Linden, do you not find it so? Ah George!--talking to Miss Pet asusual. Permit me--Mrs. Linden, Mr. Alcott. George, you cannot haveforgotten Mrs. Linden?" That George had not was very clear. 

And that Faith had not forgotten, was very clear. She lifted her eyesonce more, to see if the second _was_ the second; and then stood withthe most exquisite cheeks, though perfectly quiet. Her gloves had notbeen put on again since the lunch, and the hand that held them borealso the ring which had been the gentlemen's admiration. 

"Now what do you think, George, " said Mr. Motley, "of Linden's lettingme tell Julius Harrison that whole story, and never giving the leasthint that he knew the lady referred to? Except, yes once indeed, I doremember, Mrs. Linden, his face took a warm reflection of the subject, but I thought that was due to my powers as a colourist. "

"You couldn't high-colour that picture, " said Mr. Alcott, in a toneFaith remembered well. "Mrs. Linden, I hope we are to see you atNewport. "

Faith felt in a tumult with all these "Mrs. Lindens. " But all thatseemed unquiet about her, besides her cheeks, was the flashing ring. 

"Well, we must tear ourselves away from this place of fascination, "said Mr. Motley. "I believe, Mrs. Linden, we ought to apologize for ourintrusion, but it was an old saying among this gentleman's friends thathe never would submit to 'bonds and imprisonments'--(there goes theBible again!) and some of them had a long-standing permission to comeand believe their eyes if such an event ever should take place. I canhardly, now!"

"Why do you, sir?" Faith asked simply. 

"Really, madam, because I can't help it! One look at you, Mrs. Linden, is enough. In some circumstances all a man can do is to surrender!"

"He needn't till he's summoned, " said George Alcott shortly. Thoughwhether he had acted so wisely himself was a question, as Mr. Lindensaid amusedly after they were gone. 

Faith turned away, feeling as if she had rather more than enough, andoccupied herself with Reuben and Ency again. Then came in Farmer Davidsand his wife, and Phil. Phil was forthwith in a state of "glamour;" butFaith brought him to the table and gave him cake and discoursed to himand Reuben; while Mrs. Davids talked to Mrs. Derrick in wonderfuldelighted admiration; and the farmer as usual fixed upon Mr. Linden. 

"We had the uncommon pleasure of hearin' you speak last Sunday, sir, "said Mr. Davids with great seriousness. "I sha'n't forget it, what yousaid. And you don't know where you're going to fix yourself, sir?"

"Not certainly. "

"I would rather than half what I sell off the farm, that it was goingto be where I could be within reach of you, sir! But wherever 'tisPhil, and I, we consulted how we could contrive to show our sense ofthis day; we're plain folks, Mr. Linden, and we didn't know how to fit;but if you'll let us know where you're goin' to be, Mrs. Davids shewants to send your wife a cheese, and there's some of Phil's apples, and I want you to have some Pattaquasset flour to make you think of us. And if you'll only think of us every year as long as they come, it'sall I ask!" It was said with the most honest expression of strugglingregard, and respect, that wanted to show itself. 

Then Mr. Linden was claimed by a new comer. Sam Stoutenburgh, freshfrom College, Quilipeak, and the tailor, presented himself. Now it wasrather a warm day, and trains are not cool, and haste is not arefrigerator, nevertheless Sam's cheeks were high coloured! Hisgreeting of Mr. Linden was far less off-hand and dashing than was usualwith this new Junior; and when carried off to Mrs. Linden, Sam (to usean elegant word) was "flustered. "

"Miss Faith, " he began. "No I don't mean that! I beg your pardon, butI'm very glad to see you again, and I wish you were going to stay herealways. "

Faith laughed. "Will you stay here always yourself, Sam?"

"O I don't know, " said Sam. "It's a while before I've got to doanything yet. But Miss Faith--I mean! since you will go, won't youplease take this?" and Sam presented a tiny box containing a prettygold set cornelian seal, engraved with a spirited Jehu chariot runningaway! "It'll remind you of a day _I_ shall never forget, " said Sam bothhonestly and sentimentally. If Mr. Linden could have helped Faithanswer, he would!

Faith's face was in a quiver, between laughter and very much deeper andstronger feeling; but she shook Sam's hand again gratefully. --"I shallnever forget it, Sam, nor what you did for me that day. And I hopeyou'll come and see me somewhere else, some time. "

Then Mr. Linden spoke. "No one can owe you so much for that day's workas I, Sam; and since she is running away again you must do as you didthen, and find her. "

Sam was somewhat touched and overwhelmed, and went off to talk toReuben about Miss Linden's dress. A little while longer and the roomwas cleared. The two collegians came last of all to say good-bye, Reuben lingering behind his friend. 

"You know, " said Mr. Linden, holding the boy's hand, "you are coming tostudy with me, Reuben, if I live; we will not call it good-bye. And Ishall expect to see you before that in vacation. "

"And you know, Reuben, " said Faith, very low, "you have been a brotherto me this great while. "

Reuben looked down, trying for words. Then meeting Faith's eyes as hehad done that very first time--what though his own were full--he said, "I am not sorry, ma'am, I am glad: so glad!" he repeated, looking fromher face to Mr. Linden's. But his eyes fell then; and hastily claspingthe hand she held out to him, he bent his face to Mr. Linden's andturned away. One quick step Mr. Linden took after him, and they leftthe room arm in arm, after the old fashion. 

With Mr. Linden, when he came back, was an oldish gentleman, silver-haired, with a fresh ruddy face; not very tall, _very_pleasant-looking. Pet's exclamation was of joy, this time, and she ranforward to meet him. Then Mr. Linden brought him up to Faith. "Mignonette, this is my dear friend, Mr. Olyphant. " And Mr. Olyphanttook both her hands and kissed her on both cheeks, as if he meant to beher friend too: then looked at her without letting go. "Endecott!" hesaid, turning to Mr. Linden, "whatever you undertake you always dowell!" And he shook Faith's hands again, and told her he could wish herjoy with a clear conscience. 

The timid little smile which this remark procured him, might haveconfirmed the old gentleman in his first-expressed opinion. Mr. Olyphant studied her a minute, not confusingly, but with a sort oftouched kindliness. 

"_What_ do you call her, Endecott?" he said. --"Any sweet name I canthink of, " said Mr. Linden, smiling, "just now, Mignonette. " Whichremark had a merciless effect upon Faith's cheeks. 

"It suits her, Mr. Olyphant, " said Pet. 

"So I see, Miss Pet. Do you think I have lost my eyes? Endecott, areyou going to bring her to the White Mountains?"--"I think so, sir: thatis my present inclination. "

"How would you like it, Mrs. Linden?"--"I think I should like it, sir. "

"Not afraid of the cold?"--Faith's smile clearly was not afraid ofanything. So was her answer. 

"You must have a house midway on the slope, " said Mr. Olyphant; "halfyour parish above your heads, half at your feet: and you will haveplenty of snow, and plenty of work, and not much else, but each other. Endecott's face says that is being very rich but he always was anunworldly sort of fellow, Mrs. Linden; I don't think he ever saw thereal glitter of gold, yet. "

Did her eyes? But they were unconsciously looking at riches of somekind; there was no poverty in them. "I like work, sir. "

"Do you think she could bear the cold, Mr. Olyphant? how are thewinters there? That is what I have thought of most. "

"I am no more afraid of the cold than you are, Endecott. " How gentlythe last word was spoken! But Faith clearly remembered her lesson. 

Mr. Linden smiled. "She is a real little Sunbeam, " he said. "You knowthey make light of cold weather. "

"Light of it in two ways, " said Mr. Olyphant. "No, I don't think youneed fear the winters for her; we'd try and protect her. "

"Do you see how much good the Sunbeam has done him, Mr. Olyphant?" saidPet. --"I see it, Miss Pet; it does me good. I meant to have been hereto see you married, Endecott, and missed the train. I shall miss itagain, now, if I am not careful. But you must come up and stay with us, and we'll arrange matters. Such neighbours may tempt me to winter inthe mountains myself, and then I shall take charge of you, Miss Pet. "

"I should like that, " said Pet. 

"I see, my dear Mrs. Linden, " said Mr. Olyphant, smiling at her, "I seeyou follow one of the old Jewish laws. "

"What is that, sir?"--"You know it was required of the Jews that theyshould bear the words of the law 'as frontlets between the eyes'. Now--if you will forgive me for saying so--in your eyes is written oneof the proverbs. "

"Look up, Mignonette, and let me see, " said Mr. Linden. But oddly, Faith looked down first; then the eyes were lifted. 

"Is truth a proverb?" said Pet laughing. --"O you see too many thingsthere!" said Mr. Olyphant, --"this is what I see, Endecott--'The heartof her husband doth safely trust in her. '"

A little veil of shyness and modesty suddenly fell around Faith. Evenher head drooped. But Mr. Linden's lips touched the fair brow betweenthose very fair eyes. 

"I cannot praise your discernment, sir, " he said. "It is not more truethan evident. "

"I cannot half congratulate either of you, " said Mr. Olyphant, smiling, "so I'll go. Good-bye, Miss Pet--remember next winter. Mrs. Linden, weshall expect to see you long before that time. Let me have a word withyou, Endecott. " And Faith was again left alone, entirely this time, forMiss Linden went up stairs to attend Mrs. Iredell. 

As they turned to go out, Faith turned the other way, and sat down, feeling overwhelmed. Everything was very still. Pet's light stepspassed off in the distance; through the open windows came the song ofkildeers and robins, the breath of roses, the muslin-veiled sunshine. Then she heard Mr. Olyphant's carriage drive off, and Mr. Linden cameback. Faith started up, and very lovely she looked, with the timidgrace of those still dyed cheeks and vailed brow. 

"My poor little tired Mignonette!" he said as he came up to her. Thenlifted her face, and looking at it a moment with a half smile, pressedhis lips again where they had been so lately. But this time that didnot satisfy him. 

"Endy, " she said presently, "please don't praise me before otherpeople!"

"What dreadful thing did I say?" inquired Mr. Linden, laughing. "Do youknow I have hardly seen my wife yet?"--To judge by Faith's face, neither had she. 

"If I speak of her at all I must speak the truth. But Mr. Olyphantknows me of old; he will not take my words for more than they areworth. "

A slight commentary of a smile passed, but Faith did not adventure anyrepartee. 

"Are you very tired?"--"Oh no!"

"Little bird!" said Mr. Linden, holding her close. "What sort of asweet spirit was it that said those words at my side this morning?"

There was no answer at first; and then, very quaint and soft thewords--"Only Faith Derrick. "

"'Only. '--Faith, did you hear my parting direction to MissEssie?"--"Yes. "

"Do you agree to it, Mrs. Linden?"

He had spoken that name a good many times that day, and to be sure hercheeks had more or less acknowledged it; but this time it brought sucha rush of colour that she stooped her face to be out of sight. 

"Do you want Miss Reason to answer that question, sir?"--"No, nor Missanybody. "

"Prudence would say, there are shortcakes, " said Faith. 

"Where?"--"In--hypothesis. "

"If your shortcakes outweigh my study, Faith, they will be heavier thanI ever saw them!"

"You wouldn't take Reason's answer, " said Faith. 

"What would it have been?"

She looked up, a swift little laughing glance into his face. 

"Parlez, Madame, s'il vous pla�t. "

Her look changed. "You know, Endy, I would rather be there thananywhere else in the world. "

It moved him. The happiness to which his look bore witness was of akind too deep for words. 

"Do you know, love, if we had been going at once to our work in themountains, I should have asked a great many people to come here to-day. "

"Would you? why, Endy?"--"To let them see my wife. Now, I mean to takeher to see them. "

Faith was willing he should take her where he pleased, though she madeno remark. Her timidity moved in a small circle, and touchedprincipally him. Mingling with this, and in all she did, ever sincehalf past one o'clock to-day, there had been a sort of dignity of gravehappiness; very rare, very beautiful. 

"I wonder if you know half how lovely and dear you are?" said Mr. Linden, studying the fair outlines of character, as well as of feature. But Faith's eye went all down the pattern of embroidery on her whiterobe, and never dared meet his. "Have you any idea, little Mignonetteof sweetness, after what fashion that proverb is true?"

She looked up, uncertain what proverb he meant; but then immediatelycertain, bent her head again. Faith never thought of herself as Mr. Linden thought of her. Movings of humility and determination were inher heart now, but she knew he would not bear to hear her speak them, and her own voice was not just ready. So she was only silent still. 

"What will make you speak?" said Mr. Linden, smiling. "I am like AliBaba before the storehouse of hid treasure. Is this the 'Sesame' youare waiting for?" he added, raising her face and trying two or threepersuasive kisses. 

"There was nothing in the storehouse, " said Faith laughingly. "No wordsI mean. "--"I am willing to take thoughts. "

"How?"--"Which way you like!"

"Then you will have to wait for them, Endy. "

"Mignonette, I am of an impatient disposition. "

"Yes I know it. "

"Is it to be your first wifely undertaking to cure me?" he said, laughing. --"It takes time to put thoughts into action, " said Faith, blushing. --"Not all thoughts, Mignonette. "

She coloured beautifully; but anything more pure and sweet than thosefirst wifely kisses of Faith could not be told. Did he know, had hefelt, all the love and allegiance they had so silently and timidlyspoken? She had reason to think so. 

CHAPTER XLIV. 

In a low whitewashed room, very clean though little and plain, wherethe breeze blew in fresh from the sea, Faith found herself establishedFriday afternoon. Mr. Linden had promised to show her the surf, and sohad brought her down to a little village, long ago known to him, on theNew England shore; where the people lived by farming and fishing, andno hotel attracted or held an influx of city life. It was rather latein the day, for the journey had been in part off the usual route ofrailway and steam, and therefore had been longer if not wearier. Butwhen Faith had got rid of the dust, Mr. Linden came to her door to saythat it would be half an hour to supper, and ask if she was too tiredto walk down to the beach. 

The shore was but a few hundred yards from the little farmhouse; greengrass, with interrupting rocks, extending all the way. Faith hardlyknew what she was corning to till she reached the brink. There theprecipitous rocks rose sheer a hundred feet from the bottom, and at thebottom, down below her, a narrow strip of beach was bordered with thebillowy crest and foam of the sea. Nothing but the dark ocean and theillimitable ocean line beyond; there was not even a sail in sight thisevening; in full uninterrupted power and course, from the broad east, the swells of the sea rolled in and broke--broke, with their graceful, grand monotony. 

The beach was narrow at height of tide; now the tide was out. Fishermen's boats were drawn up near to the rocks, and steep narrowpathways along and down the face of them allowed the fishermen to gofrom the top to the bottom. 

"Can't we get down there?" said Faith, when she had stood a minutelooking silently. Her face showed an eager readiness for action. 

"Can you fly, little bird?"--"Yes--as well as the fishermen can!"

"If you cannot I can carry you, " said Mr. Linden. --And doubtless hewould have found some way to make his words good had there been need;as it was, he only guarded her down the steep rocky way, going beforeher and holding her hand in a grasp she would have been puzzled to getaway from. But Faith was light and free of foot, and gave him notrouble. Once at the bottom, she went straight towards those in-comingbig waves, and in front of them stood still. The sea-breeze blew in herface; the roar of the breakers made music in her ears. Faith folded onehand upon the other, and stood motionless. Now and then the wind caughtthe spray from some beaten rock and flung it in her face, and waveafter wave rose up and donned its white crest; the upstanding greenwater touched with sunlight and shadow, and changing tints of amber andolive, down which the white foam came curling and rushing--sweeping inknots of seaweed, and leaving all the pebbles with wet faces. Mr. Linden let her look without the interruption of a word; but hepresently put his arm round her, and drew her a little into shelterfrom the strong breeze. It was a while before she moved from her steadygaze at the water; then she looked up, the joy of her face breakinginto a smile. 

"Endecott, will you show me anything more grand than this?"

"You shall tell me when you have seen the uprising mists of Niagara, "he answered, smiling, "or the ravines between snowcaps 'five thousandsummers old. '"

Her eye went back to the sea. "It brings before me, somehow, " she saidslowly, "all time, and all eternity! I have been thinking here ofmyself as I was a little child, and as I shall be, and as I am, " sheadded, with her inveterate exactness, and blushing. "I seem to see onlythe great scale of everything. "

"Tell me a little more clearly what you see, " said Mr. Linden. 

"It isn't worth telling. I see everything here as belonging to God. Theworld seems his great work-place, and life his time for doing the work, and I--and you, " she said, with a flash of light coming across herface, "his work-people. And those great breaking waves, somehow, seemto me like the resistless, sure, beautiful, doings of his providence. "She spoke very quietly, because she was bidden, evidently. 

"Do you know how many other things they are like?--or rather how manyare likened to them in the Bible?"--"No! I don't know the Bible as youdo. "

"They seem to be a never-failing image--an illustration suiting verydifferent things. 'The wicked are like the troubled sea, when it cannotrest, ' and then, 'O that thou hadst hearkened to me I then had thypeace been as a river, and thy righteousness as the waves of the sea. '"

"There is the endless struggle of human will and purpose against thedivine--'The floods have lifted up, O Lord, the floods have lifted uptheir voice; the floods lift up their waves. The Lord on high ismightier than the noise of many waters, yea, than the mighty waves ofthe sea. ' 'Fear ye not me? saith the Lord: will ye not tremble at mypresence, which have placed the sand for the bound of the sea by aperpetual decree, that it cannot pass it: and though the waves thereoftoss themselves, yet can they not prevail: though they roar, yet canthey not pass over it?' And so in another place the image is reversed, and God says, 'Behold I am against thee, O Tyrus, and will cause manynations to come up against thee, as the sea causeth his waves to comeup. ' Could anything be more forcible?"

A look was Faith's answer; it spoke the kindled thoughts at work. 

"Then you know, " Mr. Linden went on, "how often the troubles of God'schildren are compared to the ocean; as David says, 'All thy waves aregone over me. ' But then the Lord answers to that, 'When thou passestthrough the waters I will be with thee, and through the floods, theyshall not overwhelm thee;' and David himself in another place declaresit to be true--'O Lord God of hosts, who is a strong Lord like untothee? or to thy faithfulness round about thee? Thou rulest the ragingof the sea: when the waves thereof arise, thou stillest them. '--Isuppose, " he added, thoughtfully, taking both her hands in his, "thisis one sense in which by-and-by 'there shall be no more sea'--exceptthat 'sea of glass, upon which they stand who have gotten the victory!'"

Another look, a grave, full look, came to him from Faith; and grave andsoft her eye went back to the sea. The sunbeams were all off it; it wasdark and foamy. Speaking rather low, half to her half to himself, Mr. Linden went on, --"'And they overcame by the blood of the Lamb, and bythe word of their testimony: and they loved not their lives unto thedeath. '"

Her look did not move. Mr. Linden's went with it for a minute or two, but then it came back to her differently. 

"My darling, I am afraid to have you stay here any longer. "

"We can come again!" said Faith gleefully, as she turned away. "I wantto look at them a great deal. "

"We will come again and try how far a 'ladder' can reach from this lowsand. "

She looked back for another glance as she began to mount the rocky way. The mounting was an easy matter, for Mr. Linden came close and tookhold of her in such fashion that she was more than half carried up. 

"Do you feel as if you had wings now?" he asked her, after a somewhatquick "flight" up half the way. 

"Folded ones, " said Faith, laughing and breathless. "I don't know whatsort yours can be! I can go up by myself, Endecott. "

"With folded wings, as you remark, Mrs. Linden. Do you remember thatinfallible way of recognizing 'earth's angels, ' when they are notpluming themselves?"--"They never do plume themselves, " said Faith, stopping to look at him. 

"Not when they are carried!"

Faith's laugh rolled down the rocks; and then as they reached the topshe grew timid and quiet, a mood which came over her whenever sheremembered her new position and name in the world. 

There is no room to tell all the seaside doings of those days; the surfbathing, and fishing beyond the surf. A week passed there, or rathermore; then, Mr. Linden having business in New York, the "wooden horse"went that way. We cannot follow all its travels. But we must stay withit a day in the city. 

CHAPTER XLV. 

Everybody who has travelled on the great route from Pattaquasset to NewYork, knows that the scenery is not striking. Pleasant it is, andfresh, in fresh seasons of the year; cornfields and hayfields andsparkling little rivers always make up a fair prospect: but, until thetowers of Quilipeak rise upon the sight, with their leafy setting ofgreen, there is nothing to draw much notice. And less, afterwards. Thetrain flies on, past numberless stopping-posts, over bridges, throughtowns; regaling its passengers with hay, salt water, bony fish, and (inthe season) dust; until the matchless flats, marshes, pools, sights, and smells crowd thick about Haarlem river, and lure the traveller onthrough the sweet suburbs of New York. Hither, business demanded thatthe "wooden horse" should come for a day or two; here they were to bereceived by one of the many old friends who were claiming, all over thecountry, a visit from Mr. Linden and his bride. Through the dark tunnelthe train puffed on, the passengers winking and breathing beneath theair-holes, dark and smothered where air-holes were not; then the carsran out into the sunlight, and, in a minute more, two of the passengerswere transferred to the easy rolling coach which was in waiting forthem, and drove away. Past warm brick fronts and pavements; past radishboys and raspberry girls; past oranges, pineapples, vegetables, inevery degree of freshness except fresh. Of all which, even thevegetables, Faith's eyes took most curious and intent notice--for oneminute; then the Avenue and fruit stalls were left behind; the carriagehad turned a corner, and, in another minute or two, drew up before animposing front in Madison Square. And there, at the very steps, was alittle raspberry girl. How Faith looked at her!

"Raspberries to-day, ma'am?" said the child, encouraged by the look, orthe sweet face. --"No, dear, I don't want any. "

Faith went gravely up the steps. It was her first introduction to NewYork. But Mr. Linden's face wore a smile. There was no time to remarkon it, for the door opened and a second introduction awaited her. Anintroduction to another part of the world. A magnificent house, everysquare yard of which, perhaps, taken with its furniture and adornments, had cost as much as the whole of Faith's old home. A palace of luxury, where no want of any kind, material, could be known or fancied. In thishouse they were welcomed with a great welcome by a stately lady, Mr. Linden's old friend and his mother's; and by her family of sons anddaughters, who were in another style, and whose vivacious kindnessseemed disposed to take up Faith bodily and carry her off. It was anovel scene for Faith, and she was amused. Amused too with theoverpowering curiosity which took the guise, or the veil, of so muchkindness, and beset her, because--Mr. Linden had married her. Yet Faithdid not see the hundredth part of their curiosity. Mr. Linden, whoseeyes were more open, was proportionably amused, both with that and withFaith's simplicity, which half gratified and at least half baffled it. The young ladies at last took Faith up to her room; and, afterlavishing all sorts of attentions upon her, and making various vainefforts to understand her, gave her the information that a good deal ofcompany was expected to dinner, and left her, baffled and attractedalmost in an equal degree. 

They did not seem to have as puzzling an effect on Faith; for when Mr. Linden came out of his own dressing-room, he found her ready, andlooking as fresh and cool as if she had just come up from the sands atBankhead. She was dressed in a light muslin, but no more elaboratelythan she used to be at Pattaquasset; only that this time her ruffleswere laces. She was a little more dainty for the dinner-party. Mr. Linden came with a knot of glowing geraniums--"Jewess, " and"Perfection, " and "Queen of the Fairies;" which, bound together as theywere with white ribband, he first laid against her dress to try theeffect (well deserving his smile of comment) then put in her hand tomake fast. They set off all the quiet elegance of her figure aftertheir own style, which was not quiet. 

"Now, Mignonette, " he said, "I suppose you know that I am to have thepleasure of introducing my wife to sundry people?"--"I heard they werecoming, " said Faith. 

"If you will only stand by and look on, it will amuse you very much. "

"It will amuse me anyway, " said Faith, "if, "--and what a rose colourcame up into her face--"if, Endy, you are satisfied. "

Mr. Linden folded his arms and looked at her. "If you say anythingagainst my wife, Mrs. Linden, her husband will not like it--neitherwill yours. "

"That is all I care about, not pleasing those two gentlemen, " saidFaith, laughing. 

"Is that all? I shall report your mind at rest. Come, it is time thislittle exotic should appear. " Faith thought as she went with him, thatshe was anything but an _exotic;_ she did not speak her thoughts. 

There was a large dinner company gathered and gathering; and the"pleasure" Mr. Linden had spoken of--introducing his wife--was oneenjoyed, by him or somebody, a great many times in the course of theevening. This was something very unlike Pattaquasset or anything to befound there; only in Judge Harrison's house little glimpses of thissort of society might be had; and these people seemed to Faith ratherin the sphere of Dr. Harrison than of his father and sister. People whohad rubbed off every particle of native simplicity that ever belongedto them, and who, if they were simple at all--as some of them were--hada different kind of simplicity, made after a most exquisite and refinedworldly fashion. How it was made or worn, Faith could not tell; she hadan instinctive feeling of the difference. If she had set on foot acomparison, she would soon have come to the conclusion that "Mr. Linden's wife" was of another pattern altogether. But Faith neverthought of doing that. Her words were so true that she had spoken, shecared so singly to satisfy one person there, and had such an humbleconfidence of doing it, that other people gave her little concern. Shehad little need, for no word or glance fell upon Faith that did notshow the eye or the speaker won or attracted. The words and glanceswere very many, but Faith never found out or suspected that it was tosee _her_ all this party of grand people had been gathered together. She thought they were curious about "Mr. Linden's wife;" and thoughtheir curiosity made her shy, and her sense of responsibility gave anexquisite tenderness to her manner, both effects only set a grace uponher usual free simplicity. That was not disturbed, though a good dealof the time Faith was far from Mr. Linden's kelp or protection. Astranger took her in to dinner, and among strangers she made her waymost of the evening. But though she was shy, Faith was afraid never butof one person, nor much of him. 

For him--among old acquaintances, beset with all manner of inquiriesand congratulations--he yet heard her voice whenever it was possible, and knew by sight as well as hearing all the admiration she calledforth. He might have said as at Kildeer river, that he found "a greatdeal of Mignonette. " What he _did_ tell her, when the evening was over, was that people were at a loss how to name the new exotic. 

"How to name _me_, Endecott?"--"As an exotic. "

"I don't wonder!" said Faith with her merry little laugh. "Don'tphilosophers sometimes get puzzled in that way, Endecott?"--"Scientificphilosophers content themselves with the hardest names they can find, but in this case such will not suit. Though Dr. Campan may write you inhis books as 'Lindenethia Pattaquassetensis--exotic, very rare. Theflower is a double star--colour wonderful. '"

Faith stopped to laugh. 

"What a blunder he will make if he does!" she said. "It will show, asMr. Simlins says--that he don't understand common vegetables. "

"Well translated, Mignonette. How will it show that, if youplease?"--"He has mistaken one for a trumpet creeper. "

"A scarlet runner, I suppose. "

"Was I?" said Faith seriously. 

"According to you. I am in Dr. Campan's predicament. "

"I should think _you_ needn't be, " said Faith, simply. "Because youknow, Endy I never knew even how to climb till you showed me. "

Mr. Linden faced round upon her, the quick flashing eyes answering evenmore than his. "Faith! what do you mean?" But his lips played then in arare little smile, as he said, very quietly, in his former position, "Imagine Mignonette, with its full sweetness--and more than its fullcolour--suddenly transplanted to the region where Monkeys and Geraniumsgrow--I like to think of the effect. "

"I can't think of any effect at all, " said Faith. "_I_ should look atthe Monkeys and Geraniums!"

"Of course--being Mignonette. And clearly that you are; but then howcan Mignonette so twine itself round things?"

Faith thought it did not, and also thought of Pet's charge about"charming;" but she left both points. 

"Most climbers, " said Mr. Linden, with a glance at her, "have but oneway of laying hold; but this exotic has all. There are the tendrilswhen it wants support, and the close twining that makes of two livesone, and the clasp of a hundred little stems that give a leaf or aflower wherever they touch. "

"Endecott!" said Faith, with a look of astonished remonstrance andamusement in one. --"What?"

But the smile and blush with which Faith turned away bespoke her notvery much displeased; and she knew better by experience than to dobattle with Mr. Linden's words. She let him have it his own way. 

The next day business claimed him. Faith was given up to the kindnessand curiosity of her new friends. They made good use of theiropportunity, and their opportunity was a good one; for it was not tilllate in the day, a little while before the late dinner hour, that Mr. Linden came home. He found Faith in her room; a superbly appointedchamber, as large as any three of those she had been accustomed to. Shewas standing at the window, thoughtfully looking out; but turnedjoyfully to meet Mr. Linden. Apparently he was glad too. 

"My dear little Mignonette! I feel as if I had not seen you for a week. "

"It has been a long day, " said Faith; who looked rather, it may beremarked, as if the day had freshly begun. 

"Mignonette, you are perfectly lovely! Do you think you will condescendto wear these flowers?" said Mr. Linden, drawing her to a seat by thetable, and with one arm still round her beginning to arrange theflowers he had thrown down there as he came in. 

Faith watched him, and then looked up. 

"Endecott you shouldn't talk to me so. You wouldn't like me to believeyou. "

Mr. Linden finished setting two or three ruby carnations in the greenand purple of heliotrope and sweet-scented verbena; then laid the bunchlightly upon her lips and gravely inquired if they were sweet. 

"Yes, " Faith said, laughing behind them. "You are not hungry?"

"Why? and what of it?"--"You don't seem to remember it is neardinner-time. "

"Dinner time is a myth. My dear, I am sorry I give you so muchuneasiness. I wish you could feel as composed about me as I do aboutyou. What have I done with that white ribband!--don't stir--it is insome pocket or other. " And the right one being found, Mr. Lindenunwrapped the piece of ribband and cut off what he wanted, remarkingthat he could not get used to giving her anything but blue. 

"Well, why do you then?" said Faith. --"I feel in a subdued state ofmind, owing to reproofs, " said Mr. Linden, with the white satin curlinground his fingers. "I may not tell anybody what I think of my wife!"

Faith looked amused, and yet a soft glance left the charge and the"reproof" standing. 

"I feel so composed about you, " Mr. Linden went on, drawing his whitebows--Faith did think the eyes flashed under the shading lashes--"sosure that you will never over-estimate me, much less speak of it. Butthen you know, Mignonette, I never did profess to follow Reason. "

He was amused to see the little stir his words called up in Faith. Hecould see it in the changing colour and rest less eye, and in one lookof great beauty which Faith favoured him with. Apparently the shyprinciple prevailed, or Faith's wit got the better of her simplicity;for she rose up gravely and laying her hand on the bunch of flowersasked if she should put them on. 

"Unless you prefer my services. "

She sat down again immediately, with a face that very plainly preferredthem. Half smiling, with fingers that were in no haste about theirwork, Mr. Linden adjusted the carnations; glancing from them to her, trying them in different positions, playing over his dainty task as ifhe liked it. The flowers in place, his full smiling look met hers, andshe was carried off to the glass "to see his wife. " Hardly seen, afterall, but by himself. 

"She looks ready for dinner, " said Faith. 

"Your eyes are only to look at, " said Mr. Linden with a laughingendorsement of _his_ thoughts, and putting her back in the dormeuse. "Suppose you sit there, and tell me what efforts they have made in theway of seeing, to-day. "

"Efforts to see all before them, which was more than they could, " saidFaith. 

"What did they see? not me, nor I them, that I know. "

"That was another sort of effort they made, " said Faithsmiling--"efforts to see what was _not_ before them. I watched, whenever I thought there was a chance, but I couldn't see anything thatlooked like you. We must have gone half over the city, Endecott; Mrs. Pulteney took me all the morning, and her daughters and Mr. Pulteneyall the afternoon. "

"Know, O little Mignonette, " said Mr. Linden, "that in New York it is'morning' till those people who dine at six have had their dinner. 

 "Like the swell of some sweet tune Morning rises into noon, --

was written of country hours. "

"I guess that is true of most of the other good things that ever werewritten, " said Faith. 

Mr. Linden looked amused. "What do you think of this?--

 And when the hours of rest Come, like a calm upon the mid-sea brine, Hushing its billowy breast-- The quiet of that moment too is thine; It breathes of Him who keeps The vast and helpless city while it sleeps. "

"I never saw the city when it was asleep, " said Faith, smiling. "Itdidn't look to-day as if it could sleep. But, Endecott, I am sure allthe pretty part of those words comes from where we have been. "

"The images, yes. But connect any spot of earth with heaven, by anytie, and it must have a certain sort of grandeur. You have been workingin brick and mortar to-day, Mignonette, to-morrow I must give you abird's-eye view. "

Faith was silent a minute; and then said, "It don't look a happy placeto me, Endecott. "

"No, it is too human. You want an elm tree or a patch of dandelionsbetween every two houses. "

"That wouldn't do, " said Faith, "unless the people could be lessragged, and dirty, and uneasy; and their houses too. There's nothinglike it in Pattaquasset. "

"I have great confidence in the comforting and civilizing power of elmtrees and green grass, " said Mr. Linden. "But Carlyle says 'Man is notwhat you can call a happy animal, his appetite for sweet victual is soenormous;' and perhaps New York suffers as much from the fact thateverybody wants _more_, as that some have too little and others toomuch. "

"Do _these_ people want more?" said Faith softly. 

"Without doubt! So does everybody in New York but me. "

"But why must people do that in New York, when they don't do it inPattaquasset?" said Faith, who was very like mignonette at the moment. 

"The appetite grows with indulgence, or the possibility of it. Besides, little bird, in Pattaquasset you take all this breeze of humanitywinnowed through elm branches. There, you know, 'My soul into theboughs does glide. '"

"No, " said Faith; "it is not that. When my soul glides nowhere, andthere are no branches, either; in the Roscoms' house, Endecott--andpoor Mrs. Dow's, and Sally Lowndes', --people don't look as they lookhere. I don't mean _here_, in Madison Square--though yes I do, too;there was that raspberry girl; and others, worse, I have seen evenhere. But I have been in other places--Mr. Pulteney and his sisterstook me all the way to the great stone church, Endecott. "

"Well, Sunbeam, it has been a bright day for every raspberry girl thathas come in your way. What else did you see there. "--"I saw the church. "

"Not the invisible" said Mr. Linden, smiling, "remember that. "

"Invisible! no, " said Faith. "There was a great deal of this visible. "

"What thoughts did it put in your head?"--"It was very--wonderfullybeautiful, " said Faith, thoughtfully. 

"What else?"--"I cannot tell. You would laugh at me if I could. Endecott, it didn't seem so much like a church to me as the littlewhite church at home. "

"I agree with you there--the less show of the instrument the sweeterthe music, to me. But the street in front of the church, so speciallyfilled with beggars and cripples, I never go by there, Faith, without afeeling of joy; remembering the blind man who sat at the Beautiful gateof the temple; knowing well that there is as 'safe, expeditious, andeasy a way' to heaven from that dusty side-walk, as from any other spotof earth. The triumph of grace!--how glorious it is! _I_ cannot speakto all of them together, nor even one by one, but grace is free! 'Notby might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord of Hosts. 'Faith, I have been thinking of that all day!"

She could see it in his face--in the flush on the cheek and the flashin the eye as he came and stood before her. She could see what had beenall day before his eyes and mind; and how pain and sympathy and longingdesire had laid hold of the promise and rested there--"Ask and ye shallreceive. " Unconsciously Faith folded her hands, and the least touch ofa smile in the corners of her mouth was in no wise contradictory of hereyes' sweet gravity. 

"I saw them too, " she said, in a low tone. "Endecott, I would ratherspeak to them out there, under the open sky, if it wasn't a crowd--thanin the church?"

"I should forget where I was, after I began to speak, " said Mr. Linden;"though I do love 'that dome--most catholic and solemn, ' better thanall others. "

"Mr. Pulteney asked me how I liked the church, " said Faith. 

"He did not understand your answer, " said Mr. Linden smiling, "I knowthat beforehand. What was it?"--"I think he didn't like it, " saidFaith. "I told him it seemed to me a great temple that men had builtfor their own glory and pleasure, not for the glory and pleasure ofGod. "

"Since when, you have been to Mr. Tom Pulteney like a fable in ancientGreek to one who has learned the modern language at school andforgotten it. "

"He did not understand me, " said Faith, laughing and blushing a little. "And I was worse off; for I asked him several questions he could notanswer me. I wanted to go to the top, but he was certain I would be tootired if I did. But I heard the chime, Endecott! that was beautiful. Beautiful! I am very glad I was there. "

"I'll take you to the top" said Mr. Linden, "it will not tire me. Faith, I have brought you another wedding present--talking of 'ancient'things. "

"What is that, Endecott?" she said, with a bright amused face. --"Only afern leaf. One that waved a few thousand years before the deluge, andwas safely bedded in stone when the children of Israel passed throughthe Red Sea. I went to see an old antiquarian friend this morning, andout of his precious things he chose one for mine. " And Mr. Linden laidin her hand the little rough stone; rough on one side, but on the otherwhere the hammer had split it through, the brown face was smooth, andthe black leaf lay marked out in all its delicate tracery. 

"Endecott, what is this?" Faith exclaimed, in her low tones ofdelight. --"A fossil leaf. "

"Of a fern? How beautiful! Where did it come from?" She had risen inher delight, and stood by Mr. Linden at the dressing-table. --"This onefrom Bohemia. Do you see the perfection of every leafet?"

"How wonderful! how beautiful!" Faith repeated, studying the fossil. "It brings up those words, Endecott:--'A thousand years in thy sightare but as yesterday when it is past; or as a watch in the night. '"

"Yes, and these--'The counsel of the Lord, that shall stand. ' Comparethis fern leaf with the mighty palaces of Babylon and Nineveh. Throughuntold ages this has kept its wavy fragile outline, _they_ are markedonly by 'the line of confusion and the stones of emptiness. '"

Faith looked up, with such an eye of intelligence and interest as againwould have puzzled Mr. Pulteney. 

"Did your old antiquary send this to me, Endecott?" she said lookingdown at it again. --"To you, darling. "

"I have seen nothing so good to-day, Endy. I am very glad of it. "

"Do you remember, Sunbeam, the time when I told you I liked stones? andyou looked at me. I remember the look now!" So did Faith, by theconscious light and colour that came into her face, different fromthose of three minutes ago, and the grateful recognition her eyes gaveto Mr. Linden. 

"I don't know much more now, " she said, in very lowliness, "aboutstones, but you can teach me, Endecott. "

"Yes, I will leave no stone unturned for your amusement, " he said, laughing. "Faith, if I were not so much afraid of you I should tell youwhat you are like. What else have you seen?"

"Tell me what I am like, Endecott. "

"What sort of consistency is that--to coax me when I don't tell you, and scold me when I do?"

"It's curiosity, I suppose, " said Faith. "But it's no matter. I saw allthat strange place, Broadway, Endecott; we drove through the wholelength of it. "

"Well?" said Mr. Linden, throwing himself down in the arm-chair andlooking gravely up at her. But then the lips parted, not only to smilebut to sing a wild Scotch tune. 

 "O wat ye wha that lo'es me, And has my heart in keeping? O sweet is she that lo'es me, As dews o' summer weeping, In tears the rosebuds steeping; O that's the lassie o' my heart, My lassie ever dearer; O that's the queen o' womankind, And ne'er a ane to peer her!"

 "If thou hast heard her talking, And thy attention's plighted, That ilka body talking But her by thee is slighted, And thou art all delighted. O that's the lassie o' my heart, My lassie ever dearer; O that's the queen o' womankind, And ne'er a ane to peer her!"

"Did you see anybody like that in Broadway, Faith?"

Blushing how she blushed! but she would not say a word nor stir, tointerrupt the singing; so she stood there, casting a shy look at himnow and then till he had stopped, and then coming round behind him, shelaid her head down upon his shoulder. Mr. Linden laughed, caressing thepretty head in various ways. 

"My dear little bird!" he said. Then presently--"Mignonette, _I_ havebeen looking at fur cloaks. "

"Don't do such a thing again, Endy. "

"I shouldn't, if I could have quite suited myself to-day. "

"I don't want it. I can bear the cold as well as you. "

"Let it make up for something which you do want and haven't got, then;you must bear the cold Polar fashion. But at present, there is thedinner-bell. "

They went down; but with the fossil and the fur, Faith was almost takenout of New York; and astonished Mr. Pulteney once or twice more in thecourse of the evening, to Mr. Linden's amusement. 

CHAPTER XLVI. 

The Hudson river railway, on a summer Saturday afternoon. Doeseverybody know it? If not, let me tell the people who have not triedit, or those more unfortunate ones who are tried by it, and driven intothe depths of newspapers and brown literature by the steam pressure ofmountains, clouds, and river, that it is glorious. Not on a dustyafternoon, but when there has been or is a shower. Not the locomotive, or the tender, or the cars, though the long chain has a sort ofgrandeur, as its links wind into the bays and round the promontories, express. But get a river-side seat, and keep your patience up thelumbered length of Tenth Avenue, and restrain your impatience as thetrain goes at half-stroke along that first bit of road where people arefond of getting on the track; watch the other shore, meantime, or theinstructive market gardens on this; then feel the quickened speed, asthe engine gets her "head;" then use your eyes. Open your windowsboldly; people don't get cold from our North river air; never mind thesun; hold up a veil or a fan; only look. See how the shore rises intothe Palisades, up which the March of Improvement finds such uncertainfooting: how the rising points of hill are rounded with shadow andsunlight, and green from river to crown. See how the clouds roll softlyup on the further side, giving showers here and there--how thewhite-winged vessels sail and careen and float. Look up the river fromPeekskill, and see how the hills lock in and part. Think of the trainof circumstances that rushed down Arnold's point that long ago morning, where a so different train now passes. Mark the rounding outlines ofthe green Highlands, and as you near Garrisons' let your eye follow thesunbeam that darts down the little mill creek just opposite the tunnel. Then on through those beloved hills, till they fall off right and left, and you are out upon Newburgh bay in the full glory of the sunset. After this (if you are tired looking) you may talk for a while, tillthe blue heads of the Catskill catch your eye and hold it. 

The blue range was a dim outline--hardly that--when Faith reached herjourney's end that night. She could hear the dash of the river, and seethe brilliant stars, but all details waited for morning; and themorning was Sunday. Balmy, cloudless, the very air put Faith almost inElysium; and between dreamy enjoyment, and a timid sense of her own newname and position, she would have liked for herself an oriole's nest onone of the high branches. Failing that, she seemed--as her hostess andagain an old friend of Mr. Linden's told him--"like a very rosebud; assweet, and as much shut up to herself. "

Truth to tell, she kept something of the same manner and seeming nextday. The house was very full, and of a very gay set of people; of whomFaith's friend, Mr. Motley, was one. Faith met their advancespleasantly, but she was daintily shy. And besides, the scene and thetime were full of temptations to dream over the out-of-door beauty. Thepeople amused her, but often she would rather have lost them in thehills or the sunset; and was for various reasons willing that othersshould talk while she looked. 

So passed the first two days, and the third brought an excursion, whichkept the whole party out till lunch-time. But towards the end of theday Mr. Linden was witness to a little drama which let him knowsomething more of Faith than he had just seen before. 

It was near the time of dressing for dinner. Mr. Linden was alreadydressed and had come to the library, where, in a deep recess on oneside of the window, he was busy with a piece of study. The window wasvery large, and opened upon a green terrace; and on the terrace, in agarden chair, just outside the open window, sat Faith; quietly andintensely, he knew, enjoying the broad river and the mountain rangethat lay blue in the sunlight a few miles beyond; all in the soft stillair of the summer day. She distracted Mr. Linden's thoughts from hisstudy. He could see her perfectly, though he was quite out of her view. She was in one of the dainty little morning dresses he had sent herfrom the place of pretty things; nothing could be more simple, and itsuited her; and she looked about as soft and still as the day. Meanwhile some gentlemen had entered the library, and drew near thewindow. Faith was just out of their range, and Mr. Linden wascompletely hid in his recess, or doubtless their remarks would have hada different bearing The remarks turned upon Faith, who was here as wellas in New York an object of curiosity to those who had known Mr. Linden; and one of the speakers expressed himself as surprised that"Linden" should have married her. 

"Wouldn't have thought it, --would you?" said Mr. Motley. "To be sure;he's able to do all the talking. "

"She does very well for the outside, " said another. "Might satisfyanybody. Uncommon eyes. "

"Eyes!" said Mr. Motley. "Yes, she has eyes!--and a mouth. I supposeLinden gets some good of it--if nobody else does. And after all, tofind a woman that is all eyes and no tongue, is, as you remark, uncommon. "

"She's not quite stylish enough for him, " said a third. "I thoughtLinden would have married a brilliant woman. "

"He'll be a brilliant man, if you tell him that, " said Mr. Motley. "Corruscations, and so forth. I never thought I should see himbewitched--even by a rose leaf monopoly. "

The conversation was interrupted. It had not been one which Mr. Lindencould very well break; all he could do was to watch Faith. He could seeher slightly-bent head and still face, and the colour which grew verybright upon the cheek nearest him. She was motionless till the lastwords were broken off; then, with a shy movement of one hand to hercheek, covering it, she sprang away, as lightly as any bird she wasever named after. 

Mr. Linden was detained in the library, where, as the dinner-hour drewnear, other members of the family began to gather. A group of thesewere round the table, discussing an engraving; when Mr. Linden sawFaith come in. He was no longer in the dangerous recess; but Faith didnot come near him; she joined the party at the table. Mr. Lindenwatched her. Faith's dressing was always a quiet affair; to-day somehowthe effect was very lovely. She wore a soft muslin which flowed abouther in full draperies; with a breast-knot of roses on its white folds. Faith rarely put on flowers that Mr. Linden had not given her. To-daywas an exception; and her white robe with no setting off but thoseroses and her rich hair, was faultless. Not merely that; the effect wastoo striking to be absolutely quiet; all eyes were drawn to her. 

The gentlemen whom she had heard speak were among the party; and noeyes were more approving. Mr. Linden watched, as he might, withoutbeing seen to watch. Faith joined not only the party, but theconversation; taking her place in it frankly; showing no unwillingnessto give opinions or to discuss them, and no desire to avoid any subjectthat came up. She was taking a new stand among these strangers. Mr. Linden saw it, and he could guess the secret reason; no one else couldguess that there was anything to give a reason for, so coolly, sonaturally, it was done. But the stand was taken. Faith had not steppedin the least out of her own bounds; she had abated not a whit of herextreme modesty. She was never more herself, only it was as if she hadlaid down a self-indulgent shyness which she had permitted herselfbefore, and allowed Mr. Linden's friends to become acquainted with Mr. Linden's wife. But with herself! Her manner to-day was exceedingly likeher dress; the plainest simplicity, the purest quality, and the rosesblushing over all. It fascinated the gentlemen, every one of them. Theyfound that the little demure piece of gravity could talk; and talk witha truth and freshness of thought too, which was like the rest of her, uncommon and interesting, soft and free, at once. Faith went off todinner on the arm of one of her maligners, and was very busy withcompany all the evening after, having little to do with Mr. Linden. 

She had escaped to her room earlier than he, however; and when he camein she was sitting thoughtfully before the open window. She rose updirectly, and came to him, with the usual smile, and with a littlehidden triumph dancing in her eyes, and an odd wistful look besides ofaffection and humility. She only came close to him for a caress, without speaking. Mr. Linden took her face in both hands and looked atit--a beautiful smile mingling with the somewhat moved look of his own. 

"What a child you are!"

The colour rushed all over Faith's cheeks. 

"Why?--" she whispered. The answer to which, cheeks and brow, and lips, might spell out as best they could. 

"Do you know why I did not come with your flowers, Mignonette?"--"Before dinner?--no. I got some for myself. "

"I was on my way for them, and was entrapped and held fast. My littleMignonette! I never thought to have you put your hand to your cheek inthat way again!"

"Again, Endecott! Who told you?" said Faith, as usual jumping toconclusions. 

"Who told me what, my beauty?"

Faith's eye fell in doubt, then looked up searchingly. 

"I believe you know everything; but you don't look displeased. How_did_ you know, Endecott?"--"I saw and heard. And have seen and heardsince, " he added, smiling. 

A question or two found out exactly how it had been; and then Faith putthe inquiry, simple to quaintness, "Did I do better to-day?"--"If youare so anxious for me--" he said, stroking back her hair. "They did notdeserve to have one of my wife's words, but her words were admirable. "

It was worth while to see Faith's cheeks. 

"Will you trust me to ride with Mr. Middleton to-morrow?" she askedpresently, smiling. 

"No. Yes--I will trust you but not him. "

"Does that mean that you will trust me to go?"--"Not with him. "

"But what shall I do?" said Faith, flushing after a differentfashion--half laughing too--"I told him I would go, or that I thought Iwould go. "

"Tell him that you think you will not. "

Faith looked a little troubled: she foresaw a charge of questions shedid not like to meet. 

"Are you afraid of the horse, Endy?" she said, after a pause, a littletimidly. "No, darling. "

Faith was pretty just now, as she stood with her eyes cast down: like agenerous tempered horse first feeling the bit; you can see that thecreature will be as docile as possible, yet he is a little shy of yourcurb. Anything like control was absolutely new to her; and though herface was never more sweet, there was with that a touch of embarrassmentwhich made an inexpressibly pretty mixture. Mr. Linden might well beamused and touched, and charmed too, all in one. 

"Mr. Motley asked me to ride too, " she said after a minute, blushing alittle deeper, and speaking as if it were a supplement to her formerwords. "He wanted to show me the Belle Spring. I had better give themboth the same answer. "

"Has nobody else preferred his request? they are just the two peoplewith whom I do not want you to ride, " said Mr. Linden, smiling. "Ishall have to ask you myself, or claim you. Mrs. Linden, may I have thehonour?"--Faith gave him a very bright answer of a smile, but with alittle secret wish in her heart that the other people had not asked her. 

Her denial, however, was perfectly well taken by Mr. Motley; not indeedwithout a little bantering talk and raillery upon the excessive careMr. Linden bestowed on her. But Mr. Middleton, she saw, was not pleasedthat she disappointed him. Within two or three days Faith had becomeunmistakeably the centre of attraction to all the gentlemen of theneighbourhood. To walk with her, to talk to her, to attend upon her, were not a coveted honour merely, but a coveted pleasure. It was foundwonderfully refreshing to talk to Faith: her eyes were somethingpleasant to look at, for more than George Alcott; and the truth of herenjoyment and gratitude made it a captivating thing to be the means ofexciting them. 

Mr. Middleton was one of those men who think very much indeed of thevalue of their approbation, and never bestow it but where they are surethe honour of their taste and judgment is like to be the gainer--one ofthose men who in ordinary keep their admiration for themselves, andbestow in that quarter a very large amount. Faith's refusal to ridewith him touched him very disagreeably. It was impossible to beoffended with her, but perhaps all the more he was offended withsomebody; and it happened unluckily that some reported light words ofMr. Motley about Mr. Linden's care of his wife, and especial distrustof the gentlemen who had asked her to ride, reached Mr. Middleton's earin a very exaggerated and opprobrious form. Mr. Middleton did not knowMr. Linden, nor know much of him; his bottled-up wrath resolved thatMr. Linden should not continue long in his reciprocal ignorance. And soit fell out, that as this week began with showing Mr. Linden somethingof Faith that he had not seen before, it did not end without giving hera new view of him. 

It was a captivating summer morning when the cavalcade set forth fromRye House, on a picnic to Alderney, one of the show places in theneighbourhood. It seemed fairyland to Faith. The beautiful country overwhich they travelled, in summer's luxuriance of grass and grain; theriver rolling below at a little distance, sometimes hidden only toburst upon the view again; and towering above all, unchanged beyond thechanging lights and shades of the nearer landscape, the long mountainrange. The air was perfection; the sounds of voice and laughter andhorses' brisk feet helped the exhilaration, and the lively colours andfashion of caps and habits and feathers made pretty work for the eye. Faith's ears and eyes were charmed. At a cross road the party wasjoined by Mr. Middleton; whose good humour, at present in aloose-jointed state, was nowise improved at the sight of Faith. Sherode then, at any rate; and she sat well and rode fearlessly, that hecould see; and his eye keen for such things, noted too the neatappointments of her dress, and saw that they were all right, and fittedher, and she fitted them; and that her figure altogether was what noman might dislike to have beside him, even a man so careful of hisappearance as Mr. Middleton. Not near Faith did he come; but havingnoted all these things with gathering ire, he sheered off to anotherpart of the troop. 

It was a pretty day to Faith, the whole first part of it. The ride, andthe viewing the grounds they went to see. These were indeed naturallyvery noble; and to Faith's eyes every new form of natural beauty, ofwhich her range had hitherto been so very small, was like a freshdraught of water to thirsty lips. It was a great draught she had thismorning, and enjoyed almost to the forgetfulness of everything else. Then came the lunch. And that was picturesque, too, certainly; on sucha bank, under such trees, with such a river and mountains in front; andFaith enjoyed it and them so far. But it was splendid too, and noisy;and her thoughts went at one time away very far, to Kildeer river, andremembered a better meal taken under the trees, with better talk, andonly Bob Tuck to look at them. She stole a glance at Mr. Linden. He wasdoing his part, and making somebody very comfortable indeed--Faith halfsmiled to see it. 

Mr. Middleton at another part of the assembled company, had beengetting his temper up with wine and his ill humour with the varioussuggestions and remarks of some careless gossipers at his side. Findingthat he winced under the mention of Mrs. Linden and the ride, they gavehim that subject with as many variations as the Katydid polka, --thesimple "She did"--(or rather "She _didn't_")--skilfully diversified andtouched up, --which brought Mr. Middleton's heavy piece of displeasure, already primed, loaded, and at full cock, to the very point where histemper struck fire. He left the table and drew towards Mr. Linden, whowas talking in the midst of a group of ladies and gentlemen. Middletonknew which was he that was all. 

"You, sir!" he said, like a surly bull-dog, which term describes bothhis mental and physical features, "my name's Middleton; I want you totake back what you've said about me. "

Mr. Linden at the moment was in the full tide of German talk with oneof his old fellow students from abroad; his excellent poise and play ofconversation and manner setting off the gesticulations of theforeigner. With a look of more surprise than anything else he broughteyes and attention to bear upon Mr. Middleton. 

"What, sir?" he said. 

"Will you take back what you've said about me?" The dogged wrath of theman was beyond the use of many words, to which indeed he was nevergiven. 

"I have not said anything, sir, which requires that. " And with a bendof the head, cool and courteous as his words, Mr. Linden dismissed thesubject; and placing himself on the grass with his friend and someothers, fell back into the German. Middleton followed fuming. 

"I've come to speak to you!" he said, beginning with an execration, "and you must get up and answer me. Will you take back what you said?"Stooping down, he had thrown these words into Mr. Linden's ear in a wayto leave no doubt whom they were meant for. 

"I have answered you, sir. "

"That is to tell you what I think of it!" said Middleton, dashing inhis face the remains of a glass of wine which he had brought with himfrom the board on purpose. 

He was on his feet then! with what a spring! as in the fairy tale thebeautiful princess of a sudden became a sword. Just such eyes of fireMr. Middleton had never been privileged to see. But Faith saw the handsdrop and grasp each other, she saw the eyes fall, and the colour go andcome and go again, with a rush and swiftness that was startling to see. Absolutely motionless, the very breath kept down, so he stood. And evenhis assailant gazed, in a sort of spell-bound wonder. The twitteringbirds overhead, how they carolled; how softly the leaves rustled, andthe river sent up its little waves: and the sunshine and shadow crepton, measuring off the seconds. The pure peace and beauty of everything, the hush of human voices, were but the setting of the deep humanstruggle. The victory came. 

With a face from which at last the colour had taken its permanentdeparture, Mr. Linden looked up and spoke; and something made the verylow tones ring in the air. 

"I have said nothing about you which needed apology, Mr. Middleton. Youhave been misinformed, sir. " And with that same bend of dismissal Mr. Linden drew himself up and walked away, bareheaded as he was. The treeshid him in a moment. 

Then there came a stir. 

"What a coward!" cried George Alcott, pressing forward, "to do that toa man who you knew wouldn't knock you down!"

The young German had started up, sputtering strange things in hisnative tongue. 

"Mr. Linden is an excellent commentator, " said one young lady, who tookthe liberty of speech pretty freely. "How clear he makes it that 'Thediscretion of a man deferreth his anger; and it is his glory to pass bya transgression. '"

"I really thought, " said Mr. Motley, in a make-believe whisper, "whenMiddleton first came up, that he had been taking a glass too much, butnow I see that he took just half a glass too little!"

"Sir, " said Colonel Rye, stepping forward, a man of most noblecharacter and presence both, "Mr. Linden is my guest and friend, youmust answer this to me. "

Before Mr. Middleton could make answer, Faith had come in between andlaid hold of the Colonel's hand. She was white, and quiet, but shecould not at once speak. All around stood still. 

"Sir, " she said, in words that were well heard for everybody held hisbreath, "Colonel Rye, this is Mr. Linden's affair. "

"I beg your pardon, my dear young lady--it is mine. "

"No, sir, " said Faith he felt how eagerly her fingers grasped his, "itis in Mr. Linden's hands. He forgives Mr. Middleton entirely. "

"I don't forgive him!" said the Colonel, shortly. 

"Sir, " said Faith, "Colonel Rye, this is not what Mr. Linden wouldwish. Endecott will tell you, sir, that he has passed it by. Don't undowhat he has done! No true friend of Mr. Linden will make any more ofthis. "

"I am willing to answer it to anybody, " said Middleton, gruffly, but asif half ashamed of himself. 

"There is nothing to answer to any one, " said Faith, quitting theColonel, and turning to him; her face was so white and gentle that itsmote him, and those very steady sweet eyes had a power in them justnow that broke his doggedness. "There is nothing to answer to any one, unless Mr. Middleton, " (how soft her voice was), "unless you find youwere wrong, and choose to tell Mr. Linden, which I dare say you will. Colonel Rye, will you see, for Mr. Linden's honour, that this goes tono harm?"--The extreme gentleness and the steady firmness of Faithruled them all; and at her last appeal the Colonel's only answer was totake her in his arms and kiss her, an acknowledgment Faith wouldwillingly have gone without. But it was good for a promise. 

"Mr. Alcott, " she said seeking him in the group, "you said we would godown the bank--. " Faith did not finish her sentence, but he saw herwish to finish it by action. 

She went with him till they were out of sight and away from everybody;then slipped her arm from his and begging him not to wait for her satdown on the grass. For a while she sat very still, whether her heartwas fuller of petition or thanksgiving she hardly knew. She would haverejoined Mr. Alcott much sooner if she had guessed he was waiting forher--like an outpost among the trees; but all the time had not broughtback Faith's colour. After a while, other steps came swiftly over theturf as she sat there, and before she had raised her head it was liftedup for her. 

"My precious wife! what are you doing here?" Very low the tones were, very grave, very tender. 

Faith sprang, and after an exploring glance into his face, knelt on thegrass beside him and threw her arms round his neck, pressing her cheekvery close as if she would take off or share the affront that had beenoffered to his. That for a minute--and then changing characters--sheraised her head and pushing the hair back from his brow with her softhurried fingers, she covered that and his face with kisses--with a kindof eager tenderness that could not say enough nor put enough love andreverence into every touch. All this while she was still; she did notshed tears at all, as some women would have done; and she said not oneword. 

Perhaps surprise made him passive: perhaps the soothing of her caresseswas too sweet and too much needed to be interrupted, even by a return. He let her have her way, nor even raised his eyes. One arm indeed wasround her, but it left her free to do what she liked. If Faith neededany light on what the morning's work had been, it was furnished bythose few minutes. Only at last, with a sudden motion Mr. Lindenbrought her lips to his, and gave her back principal and interest. 

"You blessed child!" he said. "Are you a veritable angel already?"--"Ishould have brought you a palm-branch, Endy. " For almost the first timehe had ever heard it so, Faith's voice was unsteady. 

Had she not done it? Mr. Linden did not say so, as he took grave noteof her pale cheeks. Presently rising up he passed his arm round her, and took her up the bank to the rest of the party, nor let go his holdtill she was seated between Mrs. Rye and himself. Then from the fernleaf in his hand, he proceeded to give them both an account of ferns ingeneral--living and fossil, extant and extinct; with his usual happyskill and interest, and--except that the lips never broke into asmile--with just his usual manner. And never had the grave depth of eyebeen more beautiful, more clear. Not Faith alone watched it with lovingadmiration, but no one any more than she ventured word or look ofsympathy. 

When at last the various groups began to draw in towards a centre, andladies put on their riding hats, and grooms were buckling girths again, Mr. Middleton with two or three others was seen advancing towards Mr. Linden's quarter. Mrs. Rye rose hastily. 

"I am sorry to find that I made a mistake, sir, " said Middleton, with asort of unwilling courtesy; "I was under misinformation--and I was notaware of your profession. I beg your pardon for what has occurred. "

Mr. Linden had risen too, and with folded arms and the most unmovedface stood watching the party as they came up. 

"It is granted, " he said, offering his hand. "But permit me to say, Mr. Middleton, that you made a third mistake, equally great if the othertwo had not existed. "

Mr. Middleton's private thoughts were perhaps not clearly disentangled. At all events he had no desire to multiply words, and turned off. 

"So, he has spoken, has he!" said Colonel Rye, coming up. "Like a bear, I dare say. Why do you think I didn't fight him, Endecott?"

A smile came over Mr. Linden's face then--bright and stirred. 

"I think, sir, you yielded to Mignonette's power, as I did long ago. "

"You?--Did he?" said the Colonel, turning. --"No, sir; never!" saidFaith, laughing and blushing till her cheeks were brilliant. TheColonel smiled at her. 

"My dear, " said he, "you conquered me! and I don't believe any otherman more invincible than myself. Is this your horse? No, Motley; no, George; she is going to have an old cavalier for her ride home. "

And much to Faith's pleasure, so she had. 

CHAPTER XLVII. 

October's foliage had lost its distinct red and purple and brown, andhad grown merely sunburnt; but the sky overhead still kept itswonderful blue. Down the ravines, over their deep shadow, Octoberbreathed softly; up the mountain road, past grey boulders and primevaltrees and wonderful beds of moss, went the stage waggon. The travellerswere going by a somewhat long and irregular route, first up one of thegreat highways, then across to that spur of the mountains where theywere to live. Mrs. Derrick was to follow in a few weeks with Mr. Stoutenburgh. 

It was late and dusky when the stage waggon transferred the travellersto Mr. Olyphant's carriage, which was waiting for them at a certainturn of the road. Mr. Olyphant himself was there, with extra wrappingsfor Faith; and muffled in them she sat leaning in the corner of thecarriage, tired enough to make the rest pleasant, awake enough to hearthe conversation; feeling more like a bird than ever, with thatunwonted night air upon her face, and the wild smell of woods andevergreens and brooks floating about her. 

At Mr. Olyphant's they were received with warm wood fires and excellentsupper, the welcome spending itself in many other ways. But though Mr. Linden did take her to the door for one minute to hear a pouringmountain torrent, she could see nothing that night. The stars overheadwere brilliant, the dark hill outline dim--the rushing of thatstream--how it sounded! Faith's whisper was gleeful. 

"Endy, I can't see much, but it feels lovely! I am so glad to be here!"

The morning was wonderful. Such a sunlight, such an air, suchrejoicings of birds and brook and leaves. Mr. Olyphant's house stood onone side of a woody slope, rocks and trees crowned to the very top; inthe ravine below, the brook Faith had heard. She could see it now, foaming along, quieting itself as it came into smoother circumstances. The most of its noise indeed seemed to be made in some place out ofsight, higher up. This slope was not very high, other ridges before andbeyond it looked down, not frowningly, in their October dress. Not muchelse could be seen, it was a mere leafy nest. A little faint line ofsmoke floated over the opposite ridge, glimpses of mountain paths hereand there caught the sunlight, below Faith's window Mr. Linden stood, like some statue, with folded arms. 

Faith hastily finished her dressing. As soon as that was done she kneltat her window again, to look and to pray. Those hills looked very nearthe sky; life-work there seemed almost to touch heaven. Nay, did itnot? Heaven bent over the glorious earth and over the work to be donethere, with the same clear, fair, balmy promise and truth. Faith couldalmost have joined the birds in their singing; her heart did; and herheart's singing was as pure and as grave as theirs. Not the carelessglee that sees and wants nothing but roses in the way; but the deeplove and gladness, both earthly and heavenly, that makes roses grow outof every soil. So she looked, when Mr. Linden first discerned her, venturing from the hall door and searching round for him. 

"O little Sunbeam!" he said, "how you 'glint' upon everything! there isa general illumination when you come out of the door. How do you feelthis morning?--rested?"--

"As if I never had been tired. " And Faith might have said, as if shenever would be tired again; but only her eye revelled in such softboasting. "Where is our home now, Endecott?"

The ridge before them, on the other side of the ravine, rose up withswifter ascent into the blue air, and looked even more thick set withorange trees: but where it slanted down towards the more open country, a little break in the trees spoke of clearing and meadow andcultivation. The clearing was for the most part on the other side, buta bit of one green field, dotted with two or three dark objects, sweptsoftly over the ridge line. 

"Are you in the sight-seeing mood?" said Mr. Linden, with a look asgladsome as her own. --"Yes; and seeing sights too. But where is that, Endy?"

"I shall take you there by degrees; wait a moment, " and he went in forthe glass. "Now, Mignonette, " he said, adjusting it for her, "I wish toask your notice for a little black spot on that bit of clearing. Butfirst, what does it look like to you, a hut or a summerhouse?"--"It'stoo far off; it looks like nothing but a black spot. "

"Now, look, " said Mr. Linden, smiling. O wondrous power of the glass!the black spot remained indeed a black spot still, but with theimprovements of very decided horns, black tail, and four feet. 

"Somebody lives there, " said Faith. "It's a cow. "--"Most true! What cowdo you suppose it is, Mrs. Linden?"

Faith put down her glass to laugh at him. "It's no friend of mine, " shesaid. "I have a few friends among cows, but not many. "

"My dear Mrs. Linden, you always were rather quick at conclusions. Ifyou look again, you will see that the cow has a surrounding fence ofprimeval roots, which will keep even her from running away. "

Faith obeyed directions, carefully. "Endy, " she said in an oddlychanged tone, "is it my black heifer?"--"It is not mine, " said Mr. Linden. 

"But I didn't know she had come!" said Faith; then putting up her glassagain to scan the far-off "black spot" and all around it, with anintenseness of feeling which showed itself in two very different spotson her cheeks. 

"Put down your glass, Faith, " said Mr. Linden, "and look up along theridge to that faint blue wreath over the yellow treetops; that is yourfirst welcome from my study. "

She looked eagerly, and then a most delighted bright smile broke overher face as it turned to Mr. Linden. 

"How do you know it is in your study, Endecott?--and who has lightedit?"--"Some one! We'll go over after breakfast and see. "

At breakfast many things were discussed besides broiled chicken. Andafterwards there came to the door two of the rugged, surefooted, mountain horses, saddled and bridled for the expedition. On the porchsteps a great lunch basket told of Mrs. Olyphant's care; Faith was upstairs donning her habit. Mr. Linden ran up to meet her. 

"Faith, " he said, laughingly, "Malthus has just confided to me, that'if Mrs. Endecott has any things to take over, ' they would make the waywonderfully pleasant to him. "

"Who is Malthus?"

The shy blush on Faith's cheek was pretty to see. 

"He is an old servant of mine, who has been with Mr. Olyphant, and iscoming to me again. "

Faith thought it was good news, and as good for Malthus as anybody. Animportant little travelling-bag was committed to him, and the cavalcadeset forth. 

The way was far longer than the distance seemed to promise, having tofollow the possibilities of the ground. A wild way--through the forestand over the brook; a good bridle path, but no better. The stillness ofnature everywhere; rarely a human habitation near enough to affordhuman sounds. Frost and dew lay sparkling yet on moss and stone, in thedells where the sun had not looked; though now and then a suddenopening or turn showed a reach or a gorge of the mountains all goldenwith sunlight. Trees such as Faith had never seen, stood along the pathin many places, and under them the horses' footfalls frightened thesquirrels from tree to tree. 

"Is this the only way of getting about here, Endecott?"

"This, or on foot, in many directions. That part of our parish whichlies below us, as Mr. Olyphant says, can be reached with wheels. Butlook, Mignonette!"

The road turned sharply round a great boulder, and they were almosthome! There it lay before them, a little below, an irregular, low, greystone cottage, fitting itself to the ground as if fitting the ground toit had been an impossibility. It was not on a ravine; the slope wentdown, down, till it swept off into the stubble fields and cleared landbelow. There was the sound of a great waterfall in the distance; closeby the house a little branch stream went bounding down, and spreaditself out peaceably in the valley. Dark hemlocks guarded the cottagefrom too close neighbourhood of the cliffs at the back, but in frontthe subsiding roughness of nature kept only a few oaks and maples hereand there. The cleared ground was irregular, like the house, running upand down, as might be. No moving thing in sight but the blue smoke andthe sailing clouds and cloud shadows. The tinkle of a cow-bell madeitself heard faintly; the breeze rushed through the pines, then slowlythe black heifer came over the brow of her meadow and surveyed theprospect. 

Faith had checked her horse, and looking at it all, up and down, turnedto Mr. Linden. There was a great deal in her look, more than wordscould bear the burden of, and she said none. He held out his hand andclasped hers speakingly, the lips unbent then, though they went back tothe grave lines of thought and interest and purpose. It was not merely_his_ home he was looking at--it was the one to which he was bringingher. Was it the place for Mignonette? would it be too lonely, too cold?or was the whole scene that lay before them, in its wild beauty, theroughness covered and glorified by that supreme sunlight, a fairpicture of their life together, wherever it might be? So he believed;the light grew and deepened in his own eyes as he looked, --the gravepurpose, the sure hope; and Mignonette's little hand the while was heldas she had rarely felt him hold it before. 

Presently she bent down so that she could look up in his face, answering him then with a smile. 

"Endy, what are you thinking of? I am very happy. " The last words werelowered a little. 

Mr. Linden's eyes came to her instantly, with something of their formerlook, but very bright; and bending off his horse he put one arm roundher, with as full and earnest a kiss as she had ever had from him. "That is what I was thinking of, " he said, "I was thinking of my wife, Mignonette. "

"Aren't you satisfied?" she said in her former tone. --"Perfectly. "

The look made a very personal application. --Faith shook her head alittle, and they rode on. 

The cottage door was very near presently: Faith could see all the minorpoints of interest. Malthus, who had got there by a short cut, waitedto take their horses; then a white cap and apron appeared in thedoorway for a second and vanished again. 

"You will find another of our old dependants here, Faith, " said Mr. Linden. 

"Who is that?" she said quickly. --"There were three women in ourhouse, " said Mr. Linden, "that Pet and I called respectively, 'Good, ''Better, ' and 'Best, ' this is Best. Hers was a name in earnest, for wenever called her anything else; and it was always the desire of herheart first to see my wife and then to live with her. And I was sureshe would please you. "

"What must I call her?--_Mrs_. Best?" said Faith. "No, you must callher nothing but 'Best. '"

"That's excellent!" said Faith gleefully. "I thought there was nobodyhere but _one_ friend of yours, Endecott. Now I shall get in orderdirectly. "

"_That_ is what you thought you were coming to, " he said, coming to herside to lift her down. "How would you like to be taken right back toMr. Olyphant's?"--"Not at all!"

In answer to which she was lightly jumped down from the saddle andcarried off into the house; where Mr. Linden and Best shook hands aftera prolonged fashion, and the old servant--not that she was very oldneither--turned glad, and eager, and respectful eyes upon her newmistress, touching that little hand with great satisfaction of heart. 

"It's warmer in the study, sir, " she said, "and there's a fire in thekitchen, if Mrs. Endecott would like to see that. And shall I make oneanywhere else, ma'am?"

Best's white cap and apron were very attractive, and so, on the otherhand were Faith's blush and smile. 

The hall in which they stood, rather a wide one, cut the house fromfront to back, with no break of stairway. Through the open back doorFaith could see the dark cliff, and hear the brook. Mr. Linden askedwhere "she would go first?" Faith whispered, "To the study. " He smiled, and opened the one door at her left hand, and led her in. 

Not yet in perfect order, the bookshelves yet unfurnished, it looked avery abode of comfort; for there were basking sunbeams and a blazingfire, there were shelves and cupboards of various size and shape, therewere windows, not _very_ large, it is true, but giving such views ofthe fair country below, and the brook, and the ascent, and the distantblue peaks of the range. Warm-coloured curtains, and carpet, and couchhad been put here under Mr. Olyphant's orders; and here were things ofMr. Linden's which Faith had never seen--his escritoire and study tableamong others. _Her_ table, with a dainty easy-chair, at the prettiestof all the windows, she knew at a glance--unknown as it was before; butthe desk which she had had long ago, stood on the study table, nearerhis. Mr. Linden brought her up to the fire, and stood silent, with hisarms wrapped about her for a minute; then he stooped and kissed her. 

"How does it look, Sunbeam?"

Faith was grave, and her eye went silently from one thing to anothereven after he spoke, then turned its full sunny answer upon him. Faithcertainly thought he did too much for her; but she spoke no suchthought, leaving it as she had once meant to leave other thoughts, foraction. 

"You can put your books right in, and then it will be beautiful, " sheremarked. "And look down the mountain, out of that window, Endecott. "

She was taken over to the window for a nearer view and placed in hereasy-chair to take the good of it. 

"Do you see that little red speck far down at the foot of the hill?"Mr. Linden said, "in that particularly rough steep place?"--"Yes. "

"That is the best thing we can get for a church at present. "

Faith thought it would be a very good sort of a "thing" when he was init; but, as usual, she did not tell all her thoughts. They came back toher easy-chair and table, and from them to Mr. Linden's face, with alook which said "How could you?" But he only smiled, and asked her ifshe felt disposed to go over the rest of the house. 

For a house that was not in order, this one was singularly put torights. Boxes and packages and trunks there were in plenty; rolls ofcarpet and pieces of bedsteads, and chairs and tables, and everythingelse; but they were all snugly disposed by the wall, so that the roomscould be entered and the windows reached. The inside of the cottagewas, like the outside, irregular, picturesque, and with sufficientcapabilities of comfort. The kitchen was in a state of nicety to matchthat of Best; in a piece of ground behind the house, partly preparedfor a garden, Malthus was at work as composedly as if they had all beensettled in the White Mountains for the last ten years. 

Lunch was taken somewhat informally; then the riding habit beingchanged for a working dress, Faith set about reducing the rebellionamong boxes and furniture. Best had reason presently to be satisfiednot only with the manners but the powers of her new mistress; thoughshe also judged in her wisdom that the latter needed some restrictionin their exercise. Gentleness was never more efficient. Thesitting-room began to look like a sitting-room; tables and bookshelvesand chairs marched into place. Meanwhile Faith had been getting intopleasant order one of the rooms up stairs, which, with what Mrs. Olyphant had done, was easy; enjoying the mountain air that came inthrough the window, and unpacking linen and china. Mr. Linden, on hispart, had been as busy with some of the rougher and heavier work, opening boxes and unpacking books, and especially taking care of Faith;which last work was neither rough nor heavy. She was amused (edifiedtoo) at the new commentary on his former life which this day gave her:to call upon servants when they were present, seemed as natural as todo without them when they were absent. Faith mused and wondered alittle over the old habit which showed itself so plainly, thinking tooof his life in Pattaquasset. 

The day had worn on and faded, and Faith was still busy in a hunt forsome of her wedding presents which she wanted to have on the tea-table. But Mr. Linden for some time had missed her; and entering upon a tourof search, found her in a large closet near the kitchen, with a greatdeal chest on one side and a trunk on the other. Between them, on herknees, Faith was laying out package after package, and pile after pileof naperies lay on the floor around her; in the very height ofrummaging, though with cheeks evidently paled since the morning. Mr. Linden took an expressive view of the subject. 

"Mignonette, I want my tea. "

"Yes!" said Faith eagerly, looking up and then at her work again, "justso soon as I find some things--"

"I don't want 'things, ' I want tea. "

"Yes; but you can't have tea without things. "

"I will be content with six napkins and ten tablecloths--just forto-night, as we are in confusion. "

"And no spoons?" said Faith. "Here they are. "

"Yes; here they are, " said Mr. Linden, "and here is everything else. Just look at the state of the floor, for me to walk over. "

"Not at all, " said Faith; "please keep out. I will have tea ready verysoon, Endy. "

"You shall not have anything ready, " and Faith found herself liftedfrom her kneeling position, and placed in a not uncomfortable nest ofthings, "Now, Mrs. Linden, whatever of those packages your hands maytouch, shall lie on the floor all night. But as you see, my hands havea different effect. " And swiftly and surely the "things" began to findcorner room in the closet. 

"Endy, " said Faith, catching his hands, "please don't! Just go away, and leave me here for three minutes. "

"Not for one. I'll turn them all out again in the morning, after themost approved fashion. "

Faith sat down, the swift colour in her cheeks testifying to a littlerebellion. It was swift to go, however, as it had been to come; and shesat still, looking on at Mr. Linden's work, with a little soberness ofbrow. That broke too, when she met his eye, in a very frank and deepsmile. 

"Well?" he said, laughing and leaning back against the closet door. 

"Will you let me go and get tea now?" she said, with the samelook. --"You pretty child! No, I want Best to get tea--and you to bequiet. "

"I'll come and be quiet in three minutes, Endy, after I get rid of thedust, " she said, winningly. 

"Genuine minutes? If Ariel 'put a girdle round the earth' in forty, youshould be able to put one round your waist in three--I suppose that isincluded in a feminine 'getting rid of the dust. '"

Faith's face promised faithfulness, as she ran off towards the kitchen;where in less than three minutes she and Best had proved the(sometimes) excellence of women's business faculties. Meantime astrange man lifted the latch of the kitchen door, and carefully closingit after him, remained upon the scene of action. 

"How d'ye do?" he said. "Is the new man come?"--"Everybody's new here, "said Faith. "Whom do you mean?"--"Couldn't tell ye the first word! ButI've been after him better'n three times, if he ain't, " the man spokeas if it was "worse" instead of better. 

"Whom do you mean?" said Faith more gravely; "the minister?"--"Nowthat's what I call hitting the nail, " said her visitor. "Well if he'shere, just tell him to come up the mounting, will ye?"--"When?"

"Moon sets close on to nine, and its lighter afore that. "

"Where is the place?" said Faith, now very serious indeed; "and what doyou want the minister for?"--"I don't want him, bless you!" said theman. "If I did, I shouldn't be standin' here. It's an old soul up ourway. He's got to go up to the bridge and over the bridge and 'totherside of the bridge, and so on till he comes to it. And the bridge isslippy. " With which summing up, the man turned to the door, rattlingthe latch in a sort of preparatory way, to give Faith a chance forremarks. 

"But who wants him there and what for? you haven't told me. "--"Why it'sold Uncle Bias. Sen he's sick he's got something on his mind, neverseemed to afore, and he's in a takin' to tell it. That's all. " And heopened the door. 

"Why won't to-morrow do as well as to-night?"--"Wal, " said the manslowly, "s'pose it might. Nevertheless, to-morrow ain't worth much tohim. Nobody'd give much for it. "

"Why?"--"'Taint certain he'd get what he paid for. "

"Is he very sick?"--"Very enough, " said the man with a nod, and openingthe door. 

Faith sprang forward. "Stop a minute, will you, friend, and see Mr. Linden. "

"That's his name, as sure as guns, " said he of the "mounting. " "No, thankee, I don't care about seein' him now, next time'll do just aswell, and it's time he was off. "

"Then wait and show him the way, will you? how is he to find it?"--"Dotell!" said the man slowly, "if he can't find his way round in themoonlight?"--"Better than most people, " said Faith; "but I think hewould like to see you. "

The man however chose to defer that pleasure also to "next time, " andwent off. Faith went to the study. Coming up behind Mr. Linden where hewas sitting, and laying both hands on his shoulders, she said in a verylow and significant voice, "Endy, some one wants you. "

"Only that you never assert your claims, " he said, bringing the handstogether, "I should suppose it must be the very person whom I want. "

Her head stooped lower, till the soft cheek and hair lay against his. But she only whispered, "Endy, it is some one up the mountain. "

"Is it?" he said, rousing up; but only turning his lips to her cheek. "Well, people up the mountain must have what they want. Is it now, Faith?"

"Endy--they say it's a dying man. "

"Where? Is the messenger here?"--"I couldn't make him wait--he thoughthe had business somewhere else. The place is--I dare say Malthusknows--up the mountain, beyond the bridge--you are to go over thebridge and on till you come to the house. And he says the bridge isslippery. " Only a fine ear could detect the little change in Faith'svoice. But she knew it was noticed, from the smile on the lips thatkissed her, two or three times. Then Mr. Linden disengaged himself androse up. 

"Faith, " he said, "you are to wait tea for me, and in the mean time youmust take one of Miss Bezac's cups of comfort and lie down on the sofaand go to sleep. Your eyes will be just as good guiding stars sleepingas waking. "

She said not another word, but watched him go off and out into the halfdark wilderness. The moon shone bright indeed, but only touched thetops of many a woody outline, and many a steep mountain side rose upand defied her. Faith smelled the wild sweet air, looked up and down atthe gleams of light and bands of shadow; and then came back to thestudy where the fire blazed, and sat down on the floor in front of it;gazing into the red coals, and following in fancy Mr. Linden on hiswalk and errand. It took him away from her, and so many such an errandwould, often; but to speak comfort to the dying and tell the truth tothe ignorant. --Faith gloried in it. He was an ambassador of Christ; andnot to have him by her side would Faith keep him from his work. That hemight do his work well--that he might be blessed in it, both to othersand himself, her very heart almost fused itself in prayer. So thinking, while every alternate thought was a petition for him, weariness andrest together at last put her to sleep; and she slept a dreamless sweetsleep with her head on Mr. Linden's chair. 

She awoke before he got back, though the evening was long set in. Feeling refreshed, Faith thought herself at liberty to reverse ordersand went to the forbidden closet again, and to further conjurationswith Best. They could not have taken long; for when, some hour later, Mr. Linden was nearing the house on his return, he had a pretty view ofher, standing all dressed before the fire in his study. The glow shoneall over her--he could see her well, and her fresh neatness. He couldsee more. Faith Linden to-night was not just the Faith Derrick of oldtime; nor even of six months ago. The old foundations of character wereall there, intact; but upon them sat a nameless grace, not simply ofcultivation, nor of matured intelligence, nor even of happiness. Acertain quiet elegance, a certain airy dignity--which had belonged toher only since she had been _Mr. Linden's wife_. She stood there, waiting now for him to come home. 

The firelight caught behind her the gleam of silver, whether Mr. Lindencould see it or not, where the little chocolati�re stood brilliant. Faith had found that in her last rummaging. Miss Bezac's new trencherand bread knife were on the table too, with a loaf of Mrs. Olyphant'sbread; and the fireshine gleamed on Mr. Alcott's saltcellars, and onthe Mignonette tea service. Faith evidently had pleased her fancy. Butnow her fancy had forgotten it or left it in the background; and forwhat, was well shown by her spring as she caught the sound of thecoming step. She met Mr. Linden at the door, gladness in every line andmovement, and yet the same grace over all her action now, that a minutebefore was in all her repose. She said nothing at all. 

"Watching for me, my dear child!" he said. "Faith, you have been on myheart all these hours. "

She waited till he had come up to the fire, and then softly inquired, "What for?"--"'What for no?'" he said, smiling, but giving her face asomewhat earnest consideration. "Have you been asleep?"--"Yes. And thenI thought I might go after my chocolate pot, in the closet. "

"Sensible child! What did you think upon the great question of settingforth to see me safe over the bridge?"--Her face changed, thoughsmiling. She whispered--"I did see you safe over it. " But his lips weregrave instantly, and the eyes even flushed. And Faith could see thenthat he was exceedingly tired. Gently her hands rather insinuated thanpushed him into the chair, and she ran away to give an order; comingback to do two or three other things for his comfort. Still silent, standing there beside his chair, she presently stooped and put herfresh sweet lips to his. Roses full of dew are not sweeter; and ifroses were sentient things their kisses could not give sympathy morefragrantly, nor with more pure quiet. Holding her fast, Mr. Lindenasked what she thought of her share of clerical duties, on the whole?

Faith answered somewhat quaintly, "Not much. "

"You don't!--What a triumph for Miss Essie! Were you lonely, Faith?"

She was going to answer, then sprang away from him, for Malthus came tothe door. And the table was spread, with as dainty exactness as ifthere were no disorder anywhere in Mr. Linden's household. The littlechocolati�re steamed out its welcome, Malthus was gone, and Faith stoodby Mr. Linden's chair again. 

"It is ready, Endecott. "

He had watched her from under the shadow of his hand, her softarranging steps and touches. "Faith, " he said, looking up, "is this thenight when I am to have sugarless tea, to remind me of theover-sweetened cup of long ago?"

Her smile and flash of the eye were conscious as well as bright. "Iguess, sugar is 'potent' yet, Endy. "

"_You_ are!" he said. "Have you been lonely, my dear child? You don'tanswer me. "

She hesitated a very little. "I felt you were away, Endy--but I didn'twish you here. No, I wasn't lonely. " His eyes spoke a fullunderstanding of both parts of her sentence. But his words touchedsomewhat else. 

"Those poor people up on the mountain! poor as unbelief could makethem. Faith, I must go there again in the morning. "

"Is it far?"--"Pretty far. On the crest of the ridge. "

"What about them, Endy?"

"What were you looking for, here in the embers?"--"I?" she said, thecolour instantly starting as she understood his question. "I waslooking for you, then. "

"I was sure of it. I saw myself distinctly portrayed in a piece ofcharcoal. "

She laughed, gaily and softly. "Wouldn't you like to have some tea, andthen tell me what you saw up on the mountain?" she whispered. --"Ah, little Sunbeam, " he said, "I spent some weary hours there. No, I don'twant to tell you about it to-night. And so at last I came home, thinking of the scene I had been through, and of you, left alone herein this strange place. And then I had that vision of my wife. "

She was silent, her face showing certainly a grave consciousness thathe was tired, and a full entering into the feeling of his work; but forherself, a spirit as strong in its foundations of rest, as full of joyboth in his work and in him as a spirit could be. So till her eyes methis, then the look broke in a winsome little confessing smile, and theeyes fell. 

"Don't you want something better than visions?" she said. --"Is that achallenge?" He laughed and rose up, carrying her off to her place atthe table, and installing her with all the honours; and still holdingher by the shoulders asked "if she felt like the head of thehouse?"--"No indeed!" said Faith. 

"What then?"--"You know, " said Faith, colouring, "what I am. "

"Mrs. Endecott, I suppose. I have noticed, Mignonette, " said Mr. Lindenas he went round to his chair, "that when ever you see fit to agreewith me, it is always in your own words!"

Which remark Faith benevolently answered with a cup of cocoa, which wasgood enough to answer anything. 

THE END. 

PRINTING OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHER. 

Typographical errors silently corrected:

Chapter 2: =who have them. = replaced =by who have them. "=

Chapter 2: =in one sphere!"= replaced by =in one sphere!'"=

Chapter 2: =down the forfeits. "= replaced by =down the forfeits. =

Chapter 3: =looked her eye= replaced by =looked, her eye=

Chapter 4: =spirit of light. = replaced by =spirit of light. "=

Chapter 4: =commandment. = replaced by =commandment. '=

Chapter 5: ="don't you come= replaced by =don't you come=

Chapter 7: =Sally. I've nothin'= replaced by =Sally. "I've nothin'=

Chapter 7: =hammer and nails. "= replaced by =hammer and nails. =

Chapter 8: =ever was tired= replaced by =ever was tried=

Chapter 11: ="Now how is this= replaced by =Now how is this=

Chapter 14: =truth forever. '"= replaced by =truth forever. '=

Chapter 15: =drop the sail?= replaced by =drop the sail?"=

Chapter 15: =old proteg�es= replaced by =old prot�g�es=

Chapter 15: =pullin' em through= replaced by =pullin' 'em through=

Chapter 15: =what he said that for= replaced by =what he said that fur=

Chapter 28: =Endy, " said Faith", "I shouldn't= replaced by =Endy, "said Faith, "I shouldn't=

Chapter 30: =Look Endy= replaced by =Look, Endy=

Chapter 33: ="What's the state= replaced by =What's the state=

Chapter 33: =make butter, she said= replaced by =make butter, " shesaid=

Chapter 35: =Faith, I'm afeard!= replaced by =Faith, I'm afeard!"=

Chapter 39: =so Dromy could do= replaced by ="so Dromy could do=

Chapter 42: =deplaise= replaced by =d�plaise=

Chapter 43: =want anything to eat= replaced by =want anythin' to eat=

Chapter 43: =gentleman's admiration= replaced by =gentlemen'sadmiration=

Chapter 43: =I do remember= replaced by =I do remember, =

Chapter 43: =vous plait= replaced by =vous pla�t=

Chapter 43: =where her pleased= replaced by =where he pleased=

Chapter 44: =been in part of= replaced by =been in part off=

Chapter 44: ='And they overcame= replaced by ="'And they overcame=

Chapter 44: =only to look at;"= replaced by =only to look at, "=

Chapter 44: =O litte Mignonette= replaced by =O little Mignonette=

Chapter 45: =heard her talking. = replaced by =heard her talking, =