"You don't think you're any better than you used to be--do you?"

"No, ma'am. Yet my life is better, I hope."

"I don't believe it! How could it be?"

"In this at least, that I am the servant of G.o.d now. Before, I never thought of serving him."

"I never did," said Miss Dilly. "But"--

There was a silence. Faith's heart leapt to hear this confession, but she said nothing and sat still as a mouse.

"How's Mr. Linden getting on in Pattaqua.s.set?"

"Well"

"You like him as well as ever?"

"Yes."

Alert questions. Rather faint answers.

"Do you remember what he said one night, about everybody being precious? Do you remember it, Faith?"

"Yes, ma'am--very well."

"I suppose I have thought of it five hundred and fifty times," Miss Dilly went on. "What were the words, Faith? do you know 'em?"

Faith did not move, only repeated, and if they had been literal diamonds every word would not have seemed so precious to her,--

"'_They shall be mine, saith the Lord, in the day when I make up my jewels_.'"

"That's it!" said Miss Dilly. "Now go on, can you, Faith, and tell me what it means."

"It is spoken of the people that fear the Lord, aunt Dilly--it goes on--

"'_And I will spare them, as a man spareth his own on that serveth him.

Then shall ye return and discern between the righteous and the wicked, between him that serveth G.o.d and him that serveth him not_.'"

"Tell me more. Faith," said Miss Danforth presently in a subdued voice.

"I don't understand one thing about it from beginning to end."

In answer to which Faith turned, took a Bible, and as one did of old, preached unto her Jesus. It was very simple preaching. Faith told her aunt the story even very much as she had told it to Johnny Fax; and with the same sweet grave face and winning tongue which had drawn the children. As earnest as they, Miss Dilly listened and looked, and brought her strong sense to bear upon the words. Not with the same ease of understanding. She said little, excepting to bid Faith 'go on,'--in a tone that told the quest she was upon--unsatisfied yet.

Faith went on, but preferred to let the Bible words speak instead of her own. It brought Mrs. Custers to mind again, though this time Faith's joy of heart made her words ring as from a sweet silver trumpet. So they fell on the sick woman's ear; nor was there stay or interruption till Faith heard the hall door close below. She shut the book then; then her arm came round Miss Danforth's neck, and her kisses spoke well enough the glad sympathy and encouragement Faith spoke in no other way. One earnest return answered her.

From that time, to read the Bible to her aunt was Faith's work; morning, noon, and night, literally; sometimes far into the night. For Miss Danforth, embracing what she had never known before, as the light gradually broke upon her; and feeling that her time for study might be made short, was in eager haste and longing to acquaint herself with the broad field of duties and privileges, all new, now laid open before her. Faith could not read too much; Miss Dilly could not listen too long.

"Faith, child," she said one night, late, when they were alone,--"can't you pray for me?"

"I do, aunt Dilly."

"No, no! but I mean, can't you pray _with_ me?--now, here. Can't you, Faith?"

Faith kissed her; hid her face in her hands and trembled; and then knelt and prayed. And many a time after that.

CHAPTER x.x.xVI.

The Sat.u.r.day before Christmas, which was moreover the day but one before, Squire Stoutenburgh went over to Pequot; and having checked off his business items, drove straight to Madame Danforth's. The door was opened to him by the Frenchwoman, who took him into a little room very like herself, and left him; and in another minute or two Faith came in.

Her exclamation was with the unmistakeable tone and look of pleasure.

"My dear, I am very glad to see you!" was part of the warm reply. "How do you do?"

"I do very well, sir."

"Ah!"--said the Squire,--"I suppose so. Well I'll give you a chance to do better. My dear, I'm going to carry you off,--you're wanted."

"Am I?" said Faith with a quick change. "There's nothing the matter?"

"Nothing _bad_," said the Squire. "At least I hope not! Will you go home with me this afternoon?"

"O yes, sir--and very glad! But did mother send for me?"

"Sent for you if I could get you, Miss Faith. I don't suppose she'll ever really interfere with your doings--if you choose to go and live in the Moon, but she's half sick for the sight of you. That's prevalent just now," said the Squire, "and she's not the worst case. The doctor went off for fear he should take it;--but some people have duties, you know, and can't stir."

There was a tiny peachblossom tinge on Faith's cheek, which the Squire was pleased to take note of. She stood with a thoughtful face the while.

"I'll be ready, Mr. Stoutenburgh. When will you come for me?"

The time was fixed, and Faith made her explanations to her friends; promising that if need were she would some back again, or her mother, after Christmas. Miss Dilly let her go very willingly, yet most unwillingly; and Madame Danforth's reluctance had nothing to balance it. So it was that Faith's joy had its wonted mixture of gravity when she met the Squire again.

"If you're not going to be glad to get home, I'm a rich man if I'll go in with you!" he said as he put her in the sleigh and tucked her up with shawls and buffalo robes. "That's the way!--first get power and then abuse it."

"Power! Mr. Stoutenburgh. What do you mean? I am very glad to go home.

Don't I look so?" She certainly did.

"I mean that I haven't seen anybody smile since you went away," said Mr. Stoutenburgh, proceeding to tuck himself up in like manner. "Except Dr. Harrison. He kept himself in practice while he staid."

Faith was silent; eying the snowy road and the jingling horse heads, with a bounding feeling of heart that she was going home. She dared allow it to herself now.

"What do you guess made the doctor leave that fly-away horse of his for Mr. Linden to tame?" said the Squire. "Has he any particular reason for wishing to break his neck?"

"Did he do that?"

"Break his neck?--why no, not yet,--I suppose the doctor lives in hopes. You take it coolly, Miss Faith! upon my word."