Volume Ii Part 68 (1/2)
What a twitter of birds was in Faith's ears as she awoke next morning!
Perhaps they were not really more noisy than usual, but she seemed to hear them more; and then it was a soft balmy morning, with a joyous spring suns.h.i.+ne and a dancing spring air, which gave full effect to all the bird voices. Faith listened to the chorus, the choir, the concert, the solos, with a charmed ear. The minute's hush; the low twitter--answered softly from bush and tree; the soft chiming in of other notes; the swelling, quickening, increasing song--till every sparrow and kildeer in all Pattaqua.s.set drew his bow and clattered his castanets with the speed and the eagerness of twenty fiddlers. Only in this orchestra the heads turned gracefully on swelling throats, and for the angular play of elbows there was the lifting flutter of joyous wings; and the audience of opening leaves ”clapped their little hands”
for an encore.
Such were the sounds that came to Faith from without;--within her room, Mrs. Derrick moved silently about, lighting the fire, arranging the window curtains, the table and couch, laying out Faith's dressing gown to air, but not saying a word to her yet, lest she might be asleep.
Faith could see the relief and gladness in every step her mother took--and well knew why. On the white spread before her lay a glowing little bunch of spring flowers, the last night's dew yet hiding in the depths of the violets, and sprinkling the leaves of the May roses, and making the windflowers look at her with wet eyes. Faith grasped these and held a considerably long conversation with them; then found it in her heart to speak otherwise.
”Mother,” said she, with a little smile upon the contented languor of convalescence,--”you feel better!”
Mrs. Derrick came quick to her side, and kissed her and stroked her face. ”Pretty child,” she said, ”so do you.”
Which fact Faith confirmed by setting about the business of dressing with more energy and good will than she had for many a day brought to it. The pale cheeks were not quite so pale this morning. The white dress was tied round the waist with _that_ blue ribband of long ago--never yet spoiled with wearing; and in it the roses and violets made a spot of warmer colour. When at last she was ready, and had stepped out into the hall, Mr. Linden met her there as he had done the night after the fire; and as then, stayed her for a minute and scanned her face: with a different look from then, with a different sort of gravity, which gladness did not quite cover up. He asked no questions but with his eyes, and did not say much but with his lips; then carried her down to the breakfast-room.
”Mignonette,” he said, ”what time to-day will it please you to take a drive?”
The pleasure of the idea brought the colour to Faith's cheeks. ”I suppose I had better ask Dr. Harrison first whether I may go,” she said gravely.
”Not at all. He has nothing whatever to say about it.”
”Then as soon as he is gone, I am ready.”
”We will not wait for him,” said Mr. Linden.
”But Endy, later will do just as well, won't it?”
”No, love--not half so well.”
”Why?”
”Princ.i.p.ally, because I want you to be out when Dr. Harrison comes.”
And quitting that subject, Mr. Linden wheeled her round to the nearer consideration of biscuits and coffee; leaving Dr. Harrison, for the time, quite out of sight. Out of his own sight, that is; for Faith plainly did not forget him. She was a delicious thing to take care of this morning; in that delicacy of bodily condition to which the strong love to minister, and a tenderness of spirit which grew out of other things and which to-day she had no force to hide. And there was an apprehension which Mr. Linden could see behind her eyes every time they came to his face. Faith was gathering her powers for a struggle. Yet she had no mind to begin it, and waited after breakfast till Mr. Linden should bring up the subject again. He seemed in no haste to bring it up. For some reason or other, he was in a mood that could not do enough for her. It was a mood Faith must try.
As the morning had worn on and she saw some preliminary movement on Mr.
Linden's part, which looked like action, she put her hand in his and lifted her eyes to his face, with a gentle plea in them, speaking in musical softness. ”Endy, will you let me wait till Dr. Harrison has made his visit?” The little hand was clasped and held fast.
”He would not wish to see you with me, Mignonette--and I certainly will not let him see you without.”
”O why, Endy?”
”Because--Mignonette I cannot tell you. Don't ask me.”
Faith flushed and looked troubled but somewhat timid too, and asked no more. She puzzled over the subject.
”Then, Endy, suppose we don't go out to drive to-day?”
”Suppose we do. What are you rouging your cheeks for?” he added smiling. ”Faith, I know I have no legal right to control your actions--and yet in this case you must let me say for you what I should for my sister or my wife.”
How Faith wished to know why. The rouge grew bright; but forbidden to ask, she dared not ask. ”Would you care if we did not go out to-day?”