"Then I dare say Miss Derrick will release you for this time, and allow me to attend her home, whither I am going myself."

"I must wait till she comes out, sir," Reuben said, with the respectful intractability 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 thoroughly in character, "if you will tell your escort here--who I am sure is a staunch one--that you need him no longer, he will feel free to begin his long walk to the sh.o.r.e,--and I shall have the rare pleasure and honour 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,--"not unless you want me to go." Reuben could but speak the truth--and he did try to speak it with as little offence as possible; though with an instinctive feeling that the time "when truth will be truth and not treason," had not yet arrived. "I mean, that I want to do just what you wish," he added looking up at her.

"I don't want you to go, then," said Faith laughing, "for I mean that you shall come home to tea with me. Dr. Harrison, I will invite you too," she said turning her bright face towards him. "I _believe_--there are m.u.f.fins to-night."

"Miss Faith,"--said the doctor,--"you are an angel!"

"What is the connexion between that and m.u.f.fins?" said Faith merrily, for Reuben was at her side and she felt free.

"You mistake the connexion," said the doctor gravely. "Angels are supposed to be impartial in their attentions to the human race, and not swayed by such curious--and of course arrogant--considerations as move the lower herd of mortals. To an immaterial creature, how can the height of a door be material!"

"But I think you are mistaken," said Faith gently. "I don't believe any creatures 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 father did read the proclamation. I suppose I know it now."

"I found inside of that door some people who could not make pumpkin pies--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's pies are made in the same place as her m.u.f.fins. But can _you_ find nothing better to do than running round the country to supply the people 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 that sort of thing. But it is a sort of pleasure of which I have no knowledge. All my life I have pleased only myself. Yet one would wish to have some share in it, too. I can't make pies! And if I could, I shouldn't know in the least where to bestow them. Do you think you could take this now," said he producing a gold eagle, "and turn it into pumpkins or anything else that you think will make people happy--and see 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 very glad of this, and so will many others be. Dr. Harrison, I wish you could 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's not so easy."

Faith left that point for him to consider, though with many a wish in her own heart. But the walk home brightened into a very pleasant one after that.

CHAPTER XIX.

The soft grey clouds which had hung about the setting sun only waited his departure to double their folds and spread them all over the sky.

Then the wind rose, sweeping gustily through the bare branches, and heavy drops of rain fell scatteringly on the dead leaves. But when wind and rain had taken a little more counsel together, they joined forces in a wild stormy concert which swept on with increasing tumult. It did not disturb Faith and her mother, at their quiet work and reading,--it did not deter Cindy from going over night to spend Thanksgiving day with her friends,--but it was a wild storm nevertheless; and while the hours 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 quiet even when the morning broke.

"But rather, giving of thanks."--That was the motto of the day--the one answer to the many vexed questions of life and care. Care was pressing, and life distracting, and everywhere was something that seemed to call for 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 or two, listening to the wild blasts of wind and the heavy pattering of the rain,--hearing the screech of the locomotive as the train swept by in the distance, with a pang at the thought of its freight of homeward-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 its work for her, was to cancel the bit of work it had already done by itself; and for that Faith went to her Bible,--went first to the list of texts that had come with it; endeavouring to realize and make sure her ground on that verse of the 91st Psalm--then on from that to its following--

"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 so bright a Thanksgiving day had risen upon her, spite of its clouds. But trouble might come; in the course of life-experience she knew it was pretty sure to come; and she sought to refuge herself beforehand in the promise of that pavilion of hiding. The driving wind and storm that emblematized 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; thou shalt compa.s.s me about with songs of deliverance."

Then its result--

"I am like a green olive tree in the house of G.o.d: I trust in the mercy of G.o.d for ever and ever."

"From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my heart is overwhelmed: lead me to the rock that is higher than I. For thou hast been a shelter for me, and a strong tower from the enemy. I will abide in thy tabernacle for ever; I will trust in the covert of thy wings."

What strong refuge! what riches of trust!--How very bright Faith's fire-lit room looked, with the wind whistling all about, and the red light on her open Bible. She turned on. And like the full burst of a chorus after that solo, she seemed to hear the whole Church Militant say,--

"Lord, thou hast been our dwelling-place in all generations."

Her mind swept back to the martyr ages,--to times when the church's road has been in darkness and in light, and the long train of pilgrims have gone over it in light and in darkness, each with that staff in his hand. Faith looked long at those words, seeming to see the great "cloud of witnesses" pa.s.s in procession before her. How true the words were to Abraham, when he left his home. How true to Daniel when he was thrown to the lions. How true they were to Stephen when he uttered his dying cry!--how true to the little child whom she had seen go to be with Christ 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 although I have scattered them among the countries, yet will I be to them as a little sanctuary in the countries where they shall come."

"I will be as the dew unto Israel: he shall grow as the lily, and cast forth his roots as Lebanon. His branches shall spread, and his beauty shall be as the olive tree, and his smell as Lebanon."