"Child," he said at last, "you will do yourself harm. Has _he_ brought on this state of the nerves that he talks about? And in what possible way?"

"Don't talk about it, Endy!--" said Faith struggling for self-command--"I am foolish--and wrong--and weak. I'll tell you another time."--But Faith's head kept its position.

"Do you think I can wait, to know what has made my coming home such a tearful 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 of this very pale little face is less puzzling. Did you tell Dr. Harrison of 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 were growing 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, at one 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 choose to have him say."

Mr. Linden smiled, and called her a little crusader, but the grave look came back. Dr. Harrison had known, then, just what ties he was trying to break,--had felt sure--_must_ have felt sure--that they were bonds of very deep love and confidence; and thereupon, had coolly set himself to sow mistrust! Mr. Linden was very silent,--the keen words of indignation that rose to his lips ever driven back and turned aside by Faith'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 Pattaqua.s.set, Mignonette!--for all Pattaqua.s.set 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 the proposition.

"Do you know how you will have to scour the country now, and make yourself as much as possible like cowslips and b.u.t.tercups and primroses and mouse-ear?" said Mr. Linden smiling. "One day you may be a Spring beauty, and the next Meadow-sweet, and when I see you a wild pink I shall feel comparatively happy."

Faith with a very little laugh remarked that she did not feel as if she ever 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?" he said touching her cheeks.

"If you know it!"

"If I know it!--You will be (some months later) a Linden flower!--whether wild or tame remains to be been."

Unless Linden flowers can be sometimes found a good deal deeper-coloured than pinks, there was at least very little present resemblance. The only notice Faith took of this prophecy was an involuntary one. The door softly opened at this point, and Mrs. Derrick came 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 mean they should. "She looks like a dear child--as she is, Mrs. Derrick. I cannot say much more for her. But I shall take her down to tea."

Mrs. Derrick went joyfully off for shawls and wrappers. Mr. Linden was silent; his eyes had not stirred. But he amused himself with taking some of the violets from the table near by and fastening them in her belt and hair; the very touch of his fingers telling some things he did not.

"Sunbeam, do you feel as if you could bear transportation?"

"Not as a sunbeam. I could walk down, I think," said Faith. Mr. Linden remarked that the truth of that proposition would never be known; and then she was m.u.f.fled in a large soft shawl, and carried down stairs and laid on the sofa in the sitting-room. The windows were open for the May wind, but there was a dainty little fire still--everything looked strangely familiar; even Mr. Linden; though his face wore not just its most wonted expression. He had laid her down among the cushions and loosened her wrapping shawl, and paid a little attention to the fire; and now stood in Dr. Harrison's favourite place, looking at her,--perhaps trying to see whether she looked more like herself down stairs than she had done above. He could not find that she did. Faith felt as if a great cloud had rolled over and rolled off from her; yet in her very happiness she had a great desire to cry; her weakness of body helped that. Her head lay still upon the cushions with fingers pressed upon her brow. She hardly dared look at Mr. Linden; her eye wandered over less dangerous things; yet it saw him not the less. How sweetly the wind blew.

Mr. Linden went off to the window and picked three or four of the May roses that grew there, and then coming to sit down by Faith's sofa softly pushed one of the buds in between her fingers, and made the rest into a breast knot which he laid on the white folds of her dress. He put other roses in her cheeks then, but it was all done with a curious quietness that covered less quiet things. Faith took the flowers and played with them, venturing scarce a look of answer. With the wasted cheek, the delicate flush on it, and all the stirred fountain of feeling which she was not so able as usual to control, Faith was very lovely; to which effect the roses and violets scattered over her lent a help of their own. Mr. Linden looked at her,--giving now and then a little arranging touch to flowers or hair--with an unbending face, which ended at last in a very full bright smile; though just why it rouged her cheeks so instantly Faith did not feel quite sure. She felt the 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, I must own."

Faith's face made a remonstrance, not at all calculated to be successful.

"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 to roll the tea-table close to the sofa. The folding of Mrs. Derrick's hands was significant.

"Yes, but you must not look at her _so_," said Mr. Linden demurely arranging the table and sofa angles in harmonious relation. "You should look 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 fashion from what she had known for many a day past. There is no doubt but cresses and broiled pigeon were good that night!

CHAPTER XXVII.