Volume I Part 85 (2/2)

Come home when Mr. Linden would, his room looked as if somebody had just stepped out of it. The fire was always in its best beauty; the hearth guiltless of ashes; the temperature genial whatever the weather out of doors might be; the books, the papers, the table, in their wonted order or disorder, as fresh as if dust never fell. But the fairy of the place was always out of sight.

CHAPTER x.x.xI.

The 29th of November came on Wednesday, which permitted Mrs.

Stoutenburgh to have her dinner at an earlier hour than would else have been possible. To this dinner the two older guests were invited--the boys were only to come to supper; and four o'clock was the time.

Till near three, studies and reading were in full force, but then other duties claimed attention.

”If I could only sit next you at dinner, Miss Faith,” Mr. Linden said as he shut up the books, ”we could talk French all the time!--but there is no hope of that. And Miss Faith--” he said as she turned to go upstairs, ”do you know that all the things on my table are not in their proper place?”

Very much wondering, Faith was for a moment at a loss.

”What is wrong, Mr. Linden?”

”I would not give it so harsh a name, Miss Faith--only I thought perhaps you would go in there before I come up and see that all is left just as usual,--if you would be so good.”

Faith went up, querying with herself whether Cindy could perhaps have been in there and committed some dire damage--or _what_ it could be.

What could it!--if ever a room was scrupulously in order, that was; and the table--it had not been stirred, nor a book upon it, since Faith's arranging hands had been there. Even writing implements were not laid about, as they often were,--the table was just as usual. Unless----

Yes, in front of the books stood a gla.s.s of water, and therein one dark velvet rose, truly of a ”Cramoisi superieure,” failing to support itself upon its own green leaves, laid its face half coquettishly and half wearily upon dark sprigs of heliotrope and myrtle. Thence it looked at Faith. And Faith looked at it, with a curious smile of recognition, and yet of doubt,--whether _that_ could possibly be what he meant. But she was to see that all things were ”left just as usual;”

it did not admit of a serious question. So lifting the gla.s.s and the rose, Faith and it went off together.

Faith's best dress, of course put on for this occasion, was a black silk. She had thought that a little extravagant at the time it was got; but Mrs. Derrick would have it. It was made with the most absolute plainness, high in the neck, where the invariable little white ruffle graced the white throat; but the sleeves were short, and similar white ruffles softened the dividing line between them and the well rounded fair arms. Her hair was as usual, her feet were as usual, only the shoes were of fresh neatness; but when Faith had with eyes that saw only them, not herself, fastened the rose and myrtle on the bosom of her dress, a little figure stood there that in its soft angles and exquisite propriety of attire would have been noted in any circle of splendour, and might have satisfied the most fastidious lover of elegance. Wrapped up and hooded Faith went down stairs, and Mr. Linden put her in the Stoutenburgh carriage, which rolled off to the mansion of the same name in a very short s.p.a.ce of time.

In solitary grandeur Faith was ushered into Mrs. Stoutenburgh's bedroom, where first the fire kept her company, and then Mrs.

Stoutenburgh herself came in from another door and both unwrapped her and wrapt her up! But when all that could be done was done, Mrs.

Stoutenburgh ran off again, and told Faith, laughing, that she hadn't seen her yet--and was all ready for her in the parlour. Faith being left to herself stepped out into the pa.s.sage, where Mr. Linden was standing with folded arms before a window that looked out upon the closing November day. Faith came softly up beside him.

”I've seen Mrs. Stoutenburgh,” she said, ”but she says she hasn't seen me. Are your flowers right now, Mr. Linden?”

”Miss Faith! why do you wear velvet shoes?”--he said turning full upon her. ”You have not been down stairs?”

”No, certainly. I saw Mrs. Stoutenburgh up here.”

”Then shall I have the pleasure of taking you down?--I see nothing that is not right,” he added smiling.

It was rather an odd new thing to Faith, to be taken down, or in, anywhere. The form of having a gentleman's arm was something rather startling. But she did not shew it. Down stairs they went, into the glowing parlour, where Faith was met and greeted by Mrs. Stoutenburgh de nouveau.

”Ah Miss Faith!” said the Squire as he gave her his salutation, ”how extravagant you are to add roses to roses in that style! Don't you know it's a waste of material?”

”No, sir. I shall use it all up.”

”I should like to see you after you get through!” said Mr. Stoutenburgh laughing. ”Ask Mr. Linden if it's not waste.”

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