Volume Ii Part 75 (1/2)
If your interest in the writer has carried you so far, perhaps he may indulge the hope that at some future time it may carry you further--even to the head of the stairs--where it is needless to say you will be received with open arms.
It is also needless to sign this--it could come from but one person!”
Some two minutes after, Faith's room door opened, and a very flas.h.i.+ng bright sunbeam came out upon the place indicated, only a little peachblossom tinge in her cheeks witnessing to any consciousness. She was met according to promise--then held off and looked at with serio-comic eyes.
”What a cruel child you are!” Mr. Linden said.
”What do you want, Endecott?” said Faith trying to be serious.
”How can you have the heart to sit up stairs and sew while I am down stairs in my study?”
Faith instantly came so close, taking the nearest refuge, that he could not very well see her face; but that she was laughing still he knew.
”Endecott!--don't talk so. I didn't know where you were.”
”Will it be in this sort of weather that you will 'go out to do errands' and leave me at home?”
”Endecott!--If you don't want anything more of me,” said Faith lifting up a face which was an array of peach-blossoms,--”I'll go back again.”
”Will you?--” with a little tightening of his hold, and signification of his approval of peachblossoms. ”Faith, you are a lovely child! Will it distress you very much if I go off and ride about the country alone?”
But now,--seeing she could not get away,--she stood graver; and the answer was very gentle, almost tender--”No.”
”Then you will not confess that you were frightened out of your wits at the picture?” said Mr. Linden smiling, though with an answering change of tone.
”Did you think I was?”
”No--you are too much of a woman for that, even if you had believed it true.”
”Then _you_ were not frightened?--” she said with some comicality.
”I? desperately!--my note did not give you any idea of the state of my mind! Imagine me sitting down stairs and saying to myself--(words naturally suggested by the state of the weather)--
'O how this spring of love resembleth Th' uncertain glories of an April day, Which now shews all the beauties of the sun, And by and by a cloud takes all away!'”
One of the soft flashes of Faith's eye came first to answer him; and then she remarked very coolly, (N.B. her face was not so,) ”I think it will clear at noon, Endecott.”
”Do you?” he said looking towards the window with a counterfeit surprise that was in comical ant.i.thesis to his last words,--”does it rain still!”
Faith's eye came back quick from the window to him, and then, for the first time in many a long day, her old mellow sweet laugh rolled over the subject, dismissing make-believes and figures of speech in its clear matter-of-fact rejoicing.
”My dear little Mignonette!” Mr. Linden said, ”that does my very heart good. You are really getting better, in spite of lessons and warnings, and all other hindrances. Do you want to know what I have truly been thinking of since you came up stairs? Shall we exchange thoughts?”
”Please give me yours,” she answered.
”They sprang from Miss Essie's question. Faith, when she asked me what my wife would have, I could not tell her--I could not answer it to myself afterwards very definitely. Only so far--she will have all I have to give.” His hand was smoothing and arranging her hair as he spoke--his look one that n.o.body but Faith ever had from Mr. Linden. She had looked up once and seen it; and then she stood before him, so still and silent as if she might have had nothing to say; but every line of her brow, her moved lip, her att.i.tude, the very power of her silence, contradicted that, and testified as well to the grace of a grave and most exquisite humility which clothed her from head to foot. Mr. Linden was as silent as she, watching her; but then he drew her off to the low couch in the wide old-fas.h.i.+oned entry window, and seated her there in a very bath of spring air and struggling sunbeams.
”I suppose it is useless to say 'Please give me yours',” he said smiling. ”Mignonette, we have had no reading to-day--do you like this time and place?--and shall it be with you or to you?”