"What do you think of it, I think I should say. Mr. Linden, I have shewed you the sh.o.r.e!"

"You!"--

"Who else?

"Were you ever here before by moonlight?"

"I don't know--No, I think not. Were you ever here before at all?"

"Is it owing to you that I am here now?"

"You couldn't have got here without me," said Faith, stooping to turn over some of the glittering pebbles at her feet;--"and I couldn't have got here without you. I am willing to allow that we are square, Mr.

Linden. I must!--for you will turn a corner faster than I can catch you."

"If you really suppose that first proposition to be true," said Mr.

Linden raising his eyebrows, "why of course there is no more to be said. Miss Faith, how would you like to be sailing about in one of those phantom ships?"

"I should like it very well," said Faith, "in a good time. I went to Pequot in one once. It was very pleasant. Why do you call them phantoms?"

"Look at that one standing off across the moonlight towards the other sh.o.r.e,--gliding along so silently with her black sails all set,--does she look real?--You cannot even hear the creaking of a rope."

Faith looked, and drew an interrupted deep breath. She had lived in a world of realities. Perhaps this was the first 'phantom' that had ever suggested itself--or been suggested--to her imagination. Possibly something of the same thought crossed her mind; for she drew her breath again a little short as she spoke.

"Yes!--it's beautiful!--But I live in such a different world, Mr.

Linden,--I never thought of such a thing before."

He smiled--pleasantly and thoughtfully. "How came you to see the sunrise colours the other day, Miss Faith?"

"O I see them always. And that puts me in mind of something I have been wanting to say to you every day all the week! and I could never find a chance. You asked me that morning, Mr. Linden, if I was _true to my name, finding enough in a cloudy sky_. What did you mean? What did you mean by being true to my name'?"

"I shall have to use your name a little freely, to tell you," he said.

"It is faith's privilege to be independent of circ.u.mstances. Faith always finds something wherein to rejoice. If the sky be clear,

'Far into distant worlds she pries, And brings eternal glories near.'

If cloudy, faith uses her gla.s.s as a prism, and in one little ray of light finds all the colours of the rainbow."

"I don't know what a prism is," said Faith somewhat sadly.

"A prism, in strictness, is a piece of gla.s.s cut in a particular way, so that the colourless sunbeams which pa.s.s through it are divided into their many-coloured members. But other things act as prisms,--the rain-drops in a shower--the l.u.s.tres upon your church chandelier. You have seen the colours there?"

"Well, how do they do that?"

"I must take some other time to tell you,--it would be too long a matter to-night. And I doubt whether you ought to sit here any longer."

"But _this_ Faith don't do as you say," she said, as she slowly and rather unwillingly rose from her seat. "And I don't understand how any faith can."

"This Faith must study the Bible then, and do what _that_ says." The tone was encouraging though the voice was grave.

He was not answered; and the homeward walk was begun. But Faith stopped and turned again to look before she had gone three paces.

"I am in no hurry," Mr. Linden said,--"take your own time--only do not take cold."

Faith turned away silently again, and began trudging along the sandy road which led back to the lane. The moonlight shewed the way better now. Pa.s.sing on, as they neared home one house after another shewed its glimmer of light and gave forth its cheerful sound of voices. From one, however, the sound was _not_ cheerful. It was Squire Deacon's.

"Well, you'll see to-morrow, Cilly--if the sky don't fall,--you'll see.

Folks thinks the water down to the sh.o.r.e's mighty deep--'way over their heads--till they've made its acquaintance; and then they find out they can wade round in it 'most anywheres."--

"What's the matter with the Squire?" said Faith with a slight laugh, as these strange statements reached her ears.

"I should think--to use his own phraseology--he must be 'over his head'

somewhere," replied Mr. Linden.

Whereat Faith's laugh deepened, but the low sweet tone of it only sounded an instant.

"My dear!" said Mrs. Derrick, running out as they entered the gate, "ain't you very imprudent? Wasn't she very imprudent, Mr. Linden?"

"Very prudent, ma'am, for she wore a shawl."

"And didn't want that, mother," said Faith.

CHAPTER IV.

The illumination lasted through the night--until

"Night's candles were burnt out, and jocund day Stood tip-toe on the misty mountain tops."

Very jocund she looked, with her light pink veils wreathing about the horizon, and the dancing white clouds which hurried up as the sun rose, driven by a fresh wind. Mr. Linden declared, when he came in to breakfast, that the day promised to equal the preceding night.

"And whoever wants more," he added, "must wait; for I think it will not surpa.s.s it."

With which, Mr. Linden stirred his coffee, and told Miss Danforth with a little look of defiance, "it was particularly good--she had better try a cup."

Miss Danforth inst.i.tuted a fierce inquiry as to the direction of the preceding evening's walk; to which Faith gave an unsatisfactory answer.

"Did you ever look at coffee in connexion with the fatigues of life?"

pursued Mr. Linden.

"I shall, probably, in future," said Miss Danforth. "Now Mr. Linden, I ask you; you're a nice man to give a straight answer;--where did you and Faith go?"

"I am glad I am a nice man," said Mr. Linden, "but I can scarce give a straight answer to that question."

"Why not, for pity's sake?"