"And you know, Reuben," said Faith, very low, "you have been a brother to me this great while."

Reuben looked down, trying for words. Then meeting Faith's eyes as he had 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 from her face to Mr. Linden's. But his eyes fell then; and hastily clasping the hand she held out to him, he bent his face to Mr. Linden's and turned away. One quick step Mr. Linden took after him, and they left the 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 ran forward to meet him. Then Mr. Linden brought him up to Faith.

"Mignonette, this is my dear friend, Mr. Olyphant." And Mr. Olyphant took both her hands and kissed her on both cheeks, as if he meant to be her friend too: then looked at her without letting go. "Endecott!" he said, turning to Mr. Linden, "whatever you undertake you always do well!" And he shook Faith's hands again, and told her he could wish her joy with a clear conscience.

The timid little smile which this remark procured him, might have confirmed the old gentleman in his first-expressed opinion. Mr.

Olyphant studied her a minute, not confusingly, but with a sort of touched kindliness.

"_What_ do you call her, Endecott?" he said.--"Any sweet name I can think of," said Mr. Linden, smiling, "just now, Mignonette." Which remark 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, are you going to bring her to the White Mountains?"--"I think so, sir: that is 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 of anything. So was her answer.

"You must have a house midway on the slope," said Mr. Olyphant; "half your parish above your heads, half at your feet: and you will have plenty 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 an unworldly sort of fellow, Mrs. Linden; I don't think he ever saw the real glitter of gold, yet."

Did her eyes? But they were unconsciously looking at riches of some kind; there was no poverty in them. "I like work, sir."

"Do you think she could bear the cold, Mr. Olyphant? how are the winters there? That is what I have thought of most."

"I am no more afraid of the cold than you are, Endecott." How gently the last word was spoken! But Faith clearly remembered her lesson.

Mr. Linden smiled. "She is a real little Sunbeam," he said. "You know they make light of cold weather."

"Light of it in two ways," said Mr. Olyphant. "No, I don't think you need fear the winters for her; we'd try and protect her."

"Do you see how much good the Sunbeam has done him, Mr. Olyphant?" said Pet.--"I see it, Miss Pet; it does me good. I meant to have been here to see you married, Endecott, and missed the train. I shall miss it again, 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 in the 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 see you follow one of the old Jewish laws."

"What is that, sir?"--"You know it was required of the Jews that they should 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 one of 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 things there!" said Mr. Olyphant,--"this is what I see, Endecott--'The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her.'"

A little veil of shyness and modesty suddenly fell around Faith. Even her head drooped. But Mr. Linden's lips touched the fair brow between those very fair eyes.

"I cannot praise your discernment, sir," he said. "It is not more true than 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, we shall expect to see you long before that time. Let me have a word with you, Endecott." And Faith was again left alone, entirely this time, for Miss 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 steps pa.s.sed off in the distance; through the open windows came the song of kildeers and robins, the breath of roses, the muslin-veiled sunshine.

Then she heard Mr. Olyphant's carriage drive off, and Mr. Linden came back. Faith started up, and very lovely she looked, with the timid grace of those still dyed cheeks and vailed brow.

"My poor little tired Mignonette!" he said as he came up to her. Then lifted her face, and looking at it a moment with a half smile, pressed his lips again where they had been so lately. But this time that did not satisfy him.

"Endy," she said presently, "please don't praise me before other people!"

"What dreadful thing did I say?" inquired Mr. Linden, laughing. "Do you know 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. Olyphant knows me of old; he will not take my words for more than they are worth."

A slight commentary of a smile pa.s.sed, but Faith did not adventure any repartee.

"Are you very tired?"--"Oh no!"

"Little bird!" said Mr. Linden, holding her close. "What sort of a sweet spirit was it that said those words at my side this morning?"

There was no answer at first; and then, very quaint and soft the words--"Only Faith Derrick."

"'Only.'--Faith, did you hear my parting direction to Miss Essie?"--"Yes."

"Do you agree to it, Mrs. Linden?"

He had spoken that name a good many times that day, and to be sure her cheeks had more or less acknowledged it; but this time it brought such a 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 Miss anybody."

"Prudence would say, there are shortcakes," said Faith.

"Where?"--"In--hypothesis."

"If your shortcakes outweigh my study, Faith, they will be heavier than I 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 plait."

Her look changed. "You know, Endy, I would rather be there than anywhere else in the world."

It moved him. The happiness to which his look bore witness was of a kind too deep for words.

"Do you know, love, if we had been going at once to our work in the mountains, I should have asked a great many people to come here to-day."