Volume Ii Part 52 (1/2)
The next words gave the whole description, the whole key of entrance.
”Whosoever shall confess that Jesus is the Son of G.o.d, G.o.d dwelleth in him and he in G.o.d. And we have known and believed the love that G.o.d hath to us. G.o.d is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in G.o.d, and G.o.d in him.”
Here was the ”Sanctuary” on earth,--the foreshewing image of the one on high.
”I saw no temple therein: for the Lord G.o.d Almighty and the Lamb are the temple of it.”
How far Faith had got from the earthly Thanksgiving day--even to that finished and everlasting one on high! She had of course read and studied these pa.s.sages all before--once; and then she had shut them up as a particular casket of treasures that she would not grow too familiar with suddenly, but would keep to enjoy their brightness another time. Something this Thanksgiving morning had made Faith want them. She now sat looking at the last words, feeling as if she wanted nothing.
The wind and the rain still raged without, drowning and merging any sounds there might be in the road, though truly few animate things were abroad at that hour in that weather. Mr. Skip had roused himself, indeed, for his day's pleasure, and after lighting the kitchen fire had gone forth--leaving it to take care of itself; but when the door closed after him, Faith and her fire looked at each other in the same stillness as before. Until she heard the front door open and shut,--that was the first sound, and the last,--no unwonted one, either; that door opened and shut twenty times a day. What intangible, well-recognized modification in its motions now, made Faith's heart bound and sink with sudden belief--with swift denial? Who was it? at that hour! Faith sprang to the parlour door, she did not know how, and was in the dark hall. A little gleam of firelight followed her--a little faint dawn came through the fanlight of the door: just enough to reveal to Faith those very outlines which at first sight she had p.r.o.nounced ”pleasant.” One more spring Faith made; with no scream of delight, but with a low exclamation, very low, that for its many-folded sweetness was like the involutions of a rosebud.
”Faith!” he exclaimed. ”Don't touch me till I get out of the rain!”--which prohibition Faith might consider useless, or might think that--shuttlec.o.c.k fas.h.i.+on--it had got turned round in the air.
”The best place to get out of the rain is in here,” she said trying to draw him along with her. ”Oh Endy! how came you in it?”
”If you say three words to me, I shall give you the benefit of all the remaining raindrops,” said Mr. Linden, disengaging himself to throw off his overcoat,--”how can one do anything, with you standing there? How came I in it?--I came in it! Precious child! how do you do?” And she was taken possession of, and carried off into the next room, like a rosebud as she was, to have the same question put a great many times in a different way. More words for her, just then, Mr. Linden did not seem to have. Nor Faith for him. She stood very still, her face in a glow of shy joy, but her eyes and even her lips grave and quiet; except when sometimes a very tiny indicatory smile broke half way upon them.
”When did you come?”
”I came in the night train. Mignonette--are you glad to see me?”
The smile shewed her teeth a little. They would bear shewing, but this was only a glimmer of the white enamel.
”Then you have been travelling all night?”
”Yes. How are you going to prove your position?”
”What position, Endy?”
”That you are glad to see me.”
”I don't know,”--she said looking up at him.
”You cannot think of any proof to give me?”
”I can think of a great many.”
”I am ready to take them!” said Mr. Linden demurely.
”Then if you will sit down and let me leave you for a few minutes, I will see what I can do.”
”Thank you--the proofs that I mean would by no means take you further off. Suppose you see what you can do without going away.”
She laid her head down for a minute, colouring too, even the cheek that was high-coloured before; but she looked up again.
”Stoop your high head, then, Endy!”--she said;--and she gave him two kisses, as full and earnest as they were soft. There was no doubt Faith had proved her position!
”Faith, darling,” he said, ”have you been growing thin?--or is it only that I have had to do with such substantial humanity of late. Look up here and let me see--are you anything but the essence of Mignonette?”
The face she shewed was aptly named; about as pure as that. With grave, loving intentness--not the less grave for its little companion smile--Mr. Linden studied her face for a minute,--pus.h.i.+ng back her hair.