"It's all your fault, sir," said Miss Danforth cheerfully. "And I guess the Squire has got his supper."

"He must be a man of quick despatch," said Mr. Linden; while Faith after a glance to see if her bannocks were right, made her announcement.

"Mother, there's a sh.o.r.e party to-morrow."

"Who's going, child?"

"Squire Deacon and Cecilia--and I don't know who else--and he came to ask us. Will you go and take tea with us at the sh.o.r.e, Mr. Linden?"

"Does that mean that my tea is to be transported to the sh.o.r.e, and that I am to go there to find it, Miss Faith?"

"You have a very puzzling way of putting things," said Faith laughing, though her look bore out her words. "I don't think it means that.

_Your_ tea won't be there before you are, Mr. Linden. Wouldn't you like to go?"

"The Squire says there is room enough on the sh.o.r.e," suggested Miss Danforth. "I suppose he wants a good deal for himself, or he wouldn't have thought of it."

"Perhaps he thinks I want a good deal," said Mr. Linden. "Well--in consideration of the width of the sh.o.r.e, I think I will go. Is not that your advice, Miss Faith? What are the pros and cons,--if you were to state them fairly?"

"Well," said Faith, "you will have a pleasant ride, or walk, down--whichever you like;--_I_ think it is very pleasant. You can go in the water, if you like, which everybody does; there's a beautiful sh.o.r.e; and I suppose that would be pleasant. You'll see all that is pretty about the place while the people are digging clams and preparing supper; and then you'll have supper; and then we shall come home; and I think it is all pleasant, except that there will be too many people. I like it best with just a few."

"As if we were to go down there to-night in the moonlight.--Now Miss Faith--what is the other side?"

"Just that--the too many people. There isn't a chance to enjoy anything quietly. I can enjoy the people too, sometimes, but not the other things at the same time so well. Perhaps you can, Mr. Linden."

"I can sometimes enjoy the other things at the same time--better."

Faith again looked a little puzzled, but answered with a simple

"Then I dare say you will like it."

"What I am puzzled about," said he smiling, "is, how you are to shew me the sh.o.r.e. Miss Danforth--why is that bread-plate so attractive to me, while I am like the reverse end of the magnet to it?"

"But my dear," said Mrs. Derrick, for the bread-plate was suggestive,--"ain't you going along with the Squire's party?"

"I said we would come after, mother."

"The Squire only said there was room on the sh.o.r.e," added Miss Danforth.

"Is the sh.o.r.e wide enough for us to drive down there? or must we walk?"

asked Mr. Linden.

"But you'll eat supper with them, of course," said Mrs. Derrick.

"Of course, mother. The wagon must go, Mr. Linden. There's room enough for anything."

Mr. Linden made no comment upon that, and finished his tea in comparative silence. Then went forth, as was his custom, to the post-office, and--as was not his custom--returned very soon. Mrs.

Derrick and Miss Danforth had gone out to see a neighbour, and Faith sat alone in the twilight parlour. It was very twilight there, but he walked in and stood waiting for his eyes to discover what there might be.

"There is n.o.body here but me, Mr. Linden," said a very soft and clear voice. "Do you want anything?"

"I wanted to see you--and am foiled by the darkness. Are you tired, Miss Faith?"

"Never. I wasn't sitting in the dark for that."

"Would you object to coming into the light?"

"Not at all," said Faith laughing. "Which way?"

"There is to be a fine illumination to-night, which I should like to have you see."

"An illumination! Where is it? Shall I want my bonnet?"

"You will be better illuminated without it,--but you may perhaps take cold."

"How do you make your scholars understand you?" said Faith. "I am sure I must need illuminating.--So much, that I had better leave my bonnet, Mr. Linden?"

"I think you may--if you will take some light subst.i.tute. Why my scholars _are_ my scholars, Miss Faith."

"What then?" said Faith stopping short.

"Why then I am their teacher."

"I half wish I was a scholar too," said Faith with a tone which filled up the other 'half'--"I don't know much, Mr. Linden."

"About illuminations? I will promise you some light upon that point."

With which encouragement, Faith fetched the scarf which was to do duty for a bonnet if desired, and they set out.

"Now Miss Faith," said her companion as he closed the gate, "if you will shew me the road, I will shew you the sh.o.r.e.--Which will not at all interfere with your shewing it to me to-morrow."

"The sh.o.r.e!" said Faith. "To-night? Are you in earnest?"

"Very much in earnest. You prefer some other road?"

"No indeed--it's beautiful, and I like it very much. Cindy," she said to that damsel whom they opportunely pa.s.sed at the entrance of the lane--"you tell my mother I am gone to take a walk." And so they pa.s.sed on.

The way was down a lane breaking from the high road of the village, just by Mrs. Derrick's house. It was a quiet country lane; pa.s.sing between fields of gra.s.s or grain, with few trees near at hand. Here and there a house, small and unnotable like the trees. Over all the country the moon, near full though not high, threw a gentle light; revealing to the fancy a less picturesque landscape than the sun would have shewn; for there were no strong lines or points to be made more striking by her partial touches, and its greatest beauty lay in the details which she could not light up. The soft and rich colours of grain and gra.s.s, the waving tints of broken ground and hillside, were lost now; the flowers in the hedges had shrunk into obscurity; the thrifty and well-to-do order of every field and haystack, could hardly be noted even by one who knew it was there. Only the white soft glimmer on a wide pleasant land; the faint lighting of one side of trees and fences, the broader salutation to a house-front, and the deeper shadow which sometimes told of a piece of woodland or a slight hilly elevation.

Then all that was pa.s.sed; and the road descended a little steep to where it crossed, by a wooden bridge, a small stream or bed of a creek.

Here the moon, now getting up in the sky, did greater execution; the little winding piece of water glittered in silver patches, and its sedgy borders were softly touched out; with the darker outlines of two or three fishing-boats.

And so on, towards the sh.o.r.e. Now the salt smell met and mingled with the perfume of woods and flowers, and the road grew more and more sandy. But still the fields waved with Indian-corn, were sweet with hay, or furrowed with potatoes. Then the outlines of sundry frame bathing-houses appeared in the distance, and near them the road came to an end.

The sh.o.r.e was improved by the moonlight,--its great rocks, slippery with sea-weed, glittered with a wet sheen. The Sound wore its diamonds royally, and each tiny wave broke in a jewelled light upon the sand.

Far in the distance the dim sh.o.r.e of Long Island lay like a black line upon the water; and sloops and schooners sailed softly on their course, or tacked across the rippling waves, a fleet of "Black spirits and white."

"What do you think of the illumination, Miss Faith?" said her companion, when they had sat still for five minutes.