Volume I Part 30 (2/2)

Thee will I love, my Lord, my G.o.d!

Thee will I love--beneath thy frown Or smile, thy sceptre or thy rod!

What though my flesh and heart decay, Thee shall I love in endless day!'”

The silence of the evening fell again unbroken. Unless a breath caught somewhat interruptedly--so gentle a break--might be said to break it.

Faith said nothing, except by that caught breath. Mr. Linden's step was the only one heard. Silently then he gave her his arm, and they went on at a quicker pace.

After a while Faith broke the silence. She spoke in a very quiet voice; as if choosing her words; and hesitated a little sometimes as if timidity checked her.

”Mr. Linden, I want to ask you about something that troubles me--I don't know what is right. I know I know very little--I know I cannot say much or can't say it well--but I feel sometimes as if I must speak to everybody I can reach, and tell them what I do know, and beg them to be safe and happy. And then something tells me that if I do so, people will think me crazy, or be offended,--that it is not my business and I can't do it well and that I had better not try to do it at all.--Is that 'something' right or wrong?”

”'Let him that heareth, say Come,'” Mr. Linden replied. ”It is part of the sailing orders of every Christian to speak every other vessel that he can,--which does not mean that he should go out of his own proper course to meet them, nor that he should run them down when met.”

”Nor, I suppose,” said Faith, ”that he should trouble himself about his voice being very low or very hoa.r.s.e. I thought so. Thank you, Mr.

Linden.”

”The voice of true loving interest is generally sweet--and rarely gives offence,” he said. ”If people never spoke of religious things but from the love of them, there would be an end to cant and bad taste in such matters.”

She said no more.

”How does Charles twelfth behave?” said Mr. Linden as they neared home.

”Has he 'reacted' again--or does he give you both hands full?”

”He behaved nicely!” said Faith. ”As to filling my hands, I suppose they wouldn't hold a great deal to-day; but I hope to have them fuller before long.”

”Then I may send you another scholar?”

”O yes!” said Faith. ”Have you one for me?”

”Perhaps two, if circ.u.mstances make my hands too full.”

”Do I know them?”

”I am not sure how well, nor whether you know them at all by name; but you will like to teach them for different reasons. At least I have.”

”I don't know”--said Faith. ”If you have taught them, Mr. Linden, they will be very sorry to come to me!”

”Then you may have the pleasure of making them glad.”

She laughed a little, but soberly; and they reached their own gate.

It was past the usual Sunday tea time; and soon the little party were gathered at that pleasantest, quietest of tea-tables--that which is spread at the close of a happy Sunday. It had been such to two at least of the family sitting there, albeit Faith's brow was unusually grave; and it had not been _un_happy to Mrs. Derrick. She entered, by hope and sympathy, too earnestly and thoroughly into everything that concerned Faith--rested too much of her everyday life upon her, to be unhappy when _she_ smiled.

After tea, as he often did, Mr. Linden went out again; and the two were left alone. Mrs. Derrick occupied herself with reading in the old family Bible, where she turned over leaf after leaf; but Faith, on a low seat, sat looking into the remains of the little fire which had been kindled in the supper room. Looking at the glowing coals and grey flickering ashes, with a very grave, meditative, thoughtful gaze.

”Mother--” she said at length, turning her face towards Mrs. Derrick's Bible.

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