The evening was very still. A little too cool for insect voices, a
little too late in the season for night birds, the soft dropping of the
yellow leaves scarce stirred those already fallen. Few sounds came from
the houses; for all Pattaquasset had been out, and that portion which
had got home was tired and thinking of bed, while the few stragglers
yet abroad were far from the late scene of action, on their lonely
homeward roads. Squire Deacon, with Joe for a thorn in his side, was
opening his own door for Miss Cecilia, and Miss Bethia Bezac, at 'the
other side of creation,' mused over the possibility of again (without
eyes) embroidering waistcoats. Thus when the clock struck eight, the
earth seemed asleep and the stars at watch over it.
At about that point of time, Sam Stoutenburgh and his fair companion
were near the parting gate; and Sam, not supposing himself within range
of other eyes, had bent down over Faith's glove in a very demonstrative
manner; and she would certainly have received an unwonted proof of his
devotion, if Mr. Linden--who had in truth been all the time not very
far off--had not just then been very near.
"Take care, Sam--" he said,--"you are exceeding directions." A remark
which sent Sam through the gate with more haste than coolness, while
Mr. Linden stepped forward into his place.
"Your mother rode home with Mrs. Somers, Miss Faith, and this little
shawl was requested to walk home with you," he said, wrapping it round
her; for which he received a quiet little "Thank you." He put her hand
on his arm, and once past the gate walked very slowly; moderating his
steps to hers, and taking the most leisurely pace; perhaps to give her
the full sedative effect of the night. Those faint breaths of air, that
soft hush of everything, that clear starry sky,--so high, so
still,--there was balm in them all.
And for a while Mr. Linden let them do their work alone,--then he spoke.
"One of my scholars is very tired to night. I'm afraid I have done
wrong in letting her walk home."
"O no!" said Faith with a little start,--"I like to walk very much, Mr.
Linden; it's very pleasant.--And I am not tired," she added in a soft
quiet voice.
"What is the difference between being tired, and being in want of rest?"
She looked at him again, and her words did not come at once.
"I suppose the difference is, that in one case you can get what you
want--and in the other, you have to wait for it."
"Till when?"
She laughed, somewhat uneasily, and asked him what he meant.
"I hardly know how to make my question plainer, Miss Faith. I suppose I
am of an impatient disposition, but the idea of waiting an indefinite
time for rest is not pleasant to me."
"But can you always get it as soon as you would like to have
it?"--Faith asked with a kind of timid doubt, as not knowing but his
power might extend so far.
"Why not?--seeing rest is like some sweet wind, which cannot blow its
soft gale till there is a clear space for it, why should it linger when
the space is clear?--why not rest when we are weary?"
"But can you always get the clear space for it?" Faith asked, looking
at him wonderingly.
He smiled.
"I am talking of what may be done, Miss Faith--not of what I do. But I
wish you would let me try my powers for you to-night. How comes there
to be a demand?--how comes there _not_ to be a supply?"
"Of rest?" said Faith. "Oh there is! At least," she added
reluctantly,--"there will be. There is now, Mr. Linden."
"Equal to the demand?"
"Why do you ask me?" she said, a little troubled.
"I believe I have a bad habit of asking questions," said Mr.
Linden--and his tone was apologetic in its very gentleness, "It is
partly my fault and partly Pet's."
"Partly whose? Mr. Linden," said Faith. "_I_ don't think it's a bad
habit. _Whose_ fault, did you say?"
"Pet's--my sister's--into whose company I hope to send you soon again."
"Oh--I mustn't thank you!"--Faith said, beginning and stopping herself
somewhat comically.
"I don't know whether you will thank me for taking you past your own
gate, which I was about to do," said Mr. Linden. "And I don't know
whether the social and astronomical days ought to agree--but Hesperus
set some time ago."
"I don't understand, Mr. Linden--" said Faith pausing.
"You must not expect to understand all astronomical things till you
have studied astronomy," he said with a smile. "The practical
application of my words is to sleep--
'That knits up the ravelled sleeve of care;
Worn labour's bath; balm of hurt minds.'"--
With which soporific potion he bade her goodnight; and Faith went to
her room marvelling _what_ could have put into Mr. Linden's head just
those particular words; and whether he had a quality of vision that
could see through flesh and blood; and a little in doubt whether or not
in the circumstances to find the words or the surmise 'balmy.' But if
she wanted rest that night, or seemed to have wanted it, she had found
it the next day, for she was all like herself. To speak with her own
scrupulosity, there was perhaps just a shade of quieter gravity on her
face and touching her smile, than there had been the day before. And
that shade she kept.
It is a notable fact, that when Pleasure with her wand has roused into
lively motion the waters of some mortal lake, she straightway departs;
taking with her the sparkles, the dancing foam, and leaving the
disturbed waves to deposit at their leisure the sediment which she has
stirred up. Withered leaves flung upon the bank, a spot here and there
of discoloured froth,--these are what remain. Thus in the quiet nooks
and corners of Pattaquasset were trophies not too bright of the
celebration. Thus did Pattaquasset people behold some of the hidden
evil in their neighbours, and likewise in themselves. The boys indeed
maintained their serenity and kept Pleasure with them but in other
quarters there were some heartburnings--most of all at Squire Deacon's.
Relieved at first by the idea of a new rival--then by some intuitive
belief thrown off that ground of comfort; the Squire was much in the
condition of the man who wanted to commit an assault upon every small
boy he met--for boys were to him representatives. But deprived by law
of this manly way of expressing his feelings, the Squire sought some
other. For the boys, they laughed at him--and at pretty much everything
else; and having as I said managed to keep Pleasure with them, the
faces that greeted Mr. Linden on Friday morning were unusually bright.
Yet there were one or two exceptions. Sam Stoutenburgh was a little
shamefaced in broad daylight--a little afraid of being laughed at; and
Reuben Taylor, the head of the blue ribbands, was under a very unwonted
cloud. It even seemed as if the day (no thanks to Pleasure) had done
some work for Mr. Linden: perhaps he was considering how long he should
be within reach of such ceremonies; or (perhaps) how soon he could be
willing to put himself out of reach. And when he came home in the
afternoon, it was with the slow, meditative step which reminded Faith
of his first week in Pattaquasset.
"_You_ are tired now, Mr. Linden," she said with a smile, but the
burden of her remark in her eyes, as she met him in the porch.
"Boys are an extraordinary commodity to deal with!" he said looking at
her, but answering the smile too. "I think you are bewitching all mine
by degrees. Why cannot you confine your conjurations to the black cats
of the neighbourhood?--like some of the real, respectable Puritan
witches?"
Faith blushed very much at the beginning of this speech, and laughed at
the last.
"What have I done, Mr. Linden? there are no black cats in the
neighbourhood."
"Is that it?" said Mr. Linden--"I shall have to import a few. You give
me a great deal of trouble, Miss Faith."
"I, Mr. Linden? I am very sorry! What have I done?"
"I don't know!--or at least but partially. There is Sam Stoutenburgh,
making as much ado over his lessons as if his wits had forsaken
him--which perhaps they have. There is Reuben Taylor--I don't know what
is the matter with Reuben," he said, his tone changing, "but his last
words to me were a very earnest entreaty that I would persuade you to
see him for five minutes; and when I wanted to know why he did not
prefer his own request, all I could get was that he was not sure you
would let him. Which gave me very little clue to the sorrowful face he
has worn all day."
Once more, and this time with the keen tinge of pain, the blood rushed
in a flood to Faith's cheek and brow; and for a second she put her
hands to her face as if she would hide it. But she put them down and
looked up frankly to Mr. Linden.
"I am sure Reuben Taylor has done no wrong!" she said. "You may tell
him so, Mr. Linden."
"Wrong!" he said--"to you?"--and the tone was one Faith did not know.
Then with a manner that was like enough to the flinging of the little
stone into Kildeer river, he added, "Yes, I will tell him. Miss Faith,
I shall be down again directly, and then will you let me see that
book?" And he passed on upstairs.
The book was on the table in the parlour when he came down, but Faith
met him standing. With a little timid anxiousness, she said,
"I have done wrong now. Mr. Linden, I said I was sure Reuben had _not_
done any, and you will not speak to him as if he had? Please don't
speak to him at all--I will see him myself."
The answering smile broke through some little cloud of feeling, in
spite of him.
"You need not fear," he said,--"I know Reuben Taylor. But you have got
something else to think of just now." Then placing a chair for her at
the table, Mr. Linden took up the little book and began his work of
examination. And perhaps it is not too much to say that even Dr.
Harrison might have learned somewhat from the way it was carried on. A
skilful and kind way of finding out what she did not know, from what
she did; initiation and examining so carried on together that Faith
found herself knowing where she thought she was ignorant,--more still,
perhaps, a kind of separate decision what she _ought_ to learn, and
how; which saved her the trouble of acknowledging and confessing; and
all as gently done as if he had been dealing with some delicate winged
creature, whose downy plumage would come off with a touch,--such was
the threatened examination. She might flutter a little under his hand,
but the soft wings were unhurt.
"Tell me first, Miss Faith," he said turning over the leaves, "what you
have been doing here by yourself."
"I have been all through it," she said; 'fluttering' sure enough, yet
as much with pleasure as with timidity; not at all with fear.
"Will you work these out for me--" and he gave her half a dozen
different tests on a bit of paper.
She coloured, and he could see her hand tremble; but she was not long
doing them, and she did them well, and gave them back without a word
and without raising her eyes.
"Well," said Mr. Linden, smiling a little as he looked at the paper,
"if it takes half an hour to hear Charles twelfth his lesson, and
Johnny gives you but one quarter the trouble, and Rob Waters about
twice as much as Johnny, how much time will you spend upon them all?"
"It will be about an hour--wanting an eighth," she said without raising
her eyes, but with a bit of a smile too.
"I hear you and Johnny have arranged preliminaries, Miss Faith."
"Yes," said Faith looking up brightly, "he came to shew me his ribband
and to tell me last night. But I was almost sorry, Mr. Linden,--that
you should send _him_ away from you."
"For Johnny's sake, or my own?"
"For his sake--certainly."
"You need not speak so assuredly--there were two parties to the
question--besides you. But I have him still, you know, in a way. What
has been in hand since this little book was finished?"
"Nothing--except the Philosophe,--and--"
"Well?--isn't that blank to be filled up?"
"And Shakspeare," said Faith casting down her eyes.
"I cannot let you confine yourself to the study of human nature," said
Mr. Linden,--"that will never do. Charles twelfth and Shakspeare want
ground to stand upon. Did you ever read anything of Physical Geography?"
She shook her head. "I don't know what that is, Mr. Linden."
"Then I will have the pleasure of introducing you. Ordinary geography
is but a shell without it. And if we accidentally go deeper down than
the stratum of geography, I will try and bring you back safe. But Miss
Faith, you have not done with this book yet--the subject-matter of it.
I want you to carry that further."
"Well," she said smiling,--"I like it. I am ready. What comes next, Mr.
Linden?"
"Did you pay any attention to the algebra part of the examination
yesterday?"
"Yes, I believe so. I paid attention to it all--I didn't understand
what some of it was about, but I believe I know what you mean."
"How should you like to work with letters and signs instead of figures?
By the way, Miss Faith, your sevens are too much like your nines, and
if you drew a check for $500 with that five, you might find yourself
paying out $800."
She coloured again, but bowed her head in assent, quite ignoring in her
interest in the subject the extravagance of the supposition by which he
illustrated it.
"You shall not say that again, Mr. Linden."
"Don't pledge yourself for me," he said smiling,--"I am a lawless kind
of person, as perhaps you have found out. But if I were to spend one
minute well on the first day of the year, and each succeeding day add
to my well-spent minutes so many more as the year was days old--how
much of December would be well spent?"
But Faith could not tell.
"You see what is before you--" Mr. Linden said; "you must work that
out, Miss Faith, in more ways than one. Well tell me this--Which is
nearest to us now,--my sister Pet or the Khan of Tartary,--supposing
her in Rome and him in his own dominions?"
Faith coloured again, a good deal, and with some sorrow.
"I am glad you asked me," she said;--"I want you should know it,--but I
don't know anything about that, Mr. Linden. I know a _little_, of
course," she said correcting herself, "but I couldn't answer you."
"But why can't you understand," he said looking at her, "that I am just
some old, torn, dog-eared book of questions that you are looking into
for the first time? I don't like to be made to feel like a bran new
schoolbook."
Faith looked at him, and probably the words "old, torn, and dog-eared"
made a peculiar contrast, for her eye flashed and in spite of
everything she laughed, her musical little laugh.
"That sounds reasonable," said Mr. Linden. "I like to be laughed at.
But Miss Faith--just suppose for a moment that there were tears in your
eyes,--what could keep them from falling?"
Faith's eyes opened and she took a little time to consider this
proposition.
"If I were very determined, I think I could do it," she said.
"Suppose they got so far as the tip ends of your eye lashes?" he said,
with a little play of the lips.
"They must come down, I am afraid," said Faith looking and wondering.
"But why?"
"Because my determination couldn't reach them there, I suppose," she
said in unmitigated wonder. "There would be nothing to keep them up."
"Unphilosophic!" he said gravely,--"I shall have to teach you both why
your tears fall, and why they don't."
She smiled, as very willing to be taught, but with a face that looked
as if it had had few to experiment upon either way.
"I will try and not tire you out," Mr. Linden said, "but different
things go on pleasantly together. Some I should like to have you study
for me when I am away, some directly with me. And--"
"And what, sir?" she said with the gentle intonation of one to whose
ear every word is pleasant.
"How much time have you in the course of the day that can and ought to
be spent upon all these matters--without disturbing Shakspeare and his
companions?"
"I will _make_ time, Mr. Linden, if I don't find it. I have a good
deal. You won't tire me."
"You must not make time out of strength. Will you write me a French
exercise every day, among other things? Yes Cindy," he said--"I
understand,"--apparently quite aware that Faith did not.
"I will try," said Faith, with a colour again that was not of _French_
growth.
"Well baint you comin'?" said Cindy, who stood still as if she liked
the prospect before her.
"Yes, but I can find my own way," said Mr. Linden; at which gentle hint
Cindy vanished. And Faith sprang up.
"Teaching all day," she said, "and no tea either!"--And she was about
to run off, then paused to say,
"That is all, Mr. Linden?--do you want to say anything more?"
"It was not tea, Miss Faith,--Reuben is at the door. Will you see him?
Shall I bring him here or will you go there?"
"I will go there," said Faith hurriedly. But Mr. Linden followed her.
"Reuben," he said, "Miss Faith will hear you--and I am ready to answer
for your word with my own;"--then he went back into the sitting room
and closed the door.
But those words seemed to touch at least one sore spot in the boy's
heart--he had to struggle with himself a moment before he could speak.
Then it was low and humbly.
"Miss Faith--I don't know just what Phil has said about me,--I can't
find out. But whatever it is there isn't one word of it true. I never
said one word about you, Miss Faith, that I wouldn't say to you, just
the same!" And Reuben looked as if he would have confronted the whole
world on that point.
"I am quite sure of it, Reuben," Faith said very gently. "I didn't need
you to come and tell me so."
He looked up at her with both gladness and thanks in his eyes.
"I shouldn't have troubled you with my trouble at all, Miss Faith--only
he said you were displeased with me--and I was afraid it might be true."
"Who said I was displeased with you?"
An involuntary glance of Reuben's eye towards the closed door, seemed
to say he did not want his words to go far.
"Dr. Harrison, Miss Faith. At least I thought he said so."
"Did he speak to you?"
"Yes ma'am--and just pushed my word out of the way when I gave
it,--said it might be well enough to tell people but he didn't think
you liked it. And so I got vexed. I'm so used to Mr. Linden," Reuben
said--as if in excuse.
"Are you satisfied now, Reuben?" said Faith, giving him a good look of
her eyes.
A little qualified his look was--perhaps because he had been too much
troubled to have the traces go off at once; but there was no want of
satisfaction in his,
"O yes, Miss Faith--I can't tell you how thankful I am to you!
Goodnight, ma'am."
Faith went back to the parlour. And then Mr. Linden, taking from his
pocket a piece of broad dark blue ribband, and laying it lightly round
Faith's shoulders, told her gravely, "that she was entitled to wear
that for the rest of the evening."
Faith matched the blue with red, and stood eying the ribband which she
had caught as it was falling from her shoulders, seeming for a minute
as if she had as much as she could bear. Rallying, she looked up at Mr.
Linden to get a little more light as to what he expected of her, or
what he meant. But unless she could read a decided opinion that the two
'favours' looked better together than separate, his face gave her no
information. Then smiling he said,
"I don't mean that you _must_ wear it--merely that you have the right."
Faith gave another glance at his face, and then without more ado tied
the blue ribband round her waist, where as she still wore the white
dress of yesterday, it shewed to very good advantage. She said nothing
more; only as she was quitting the room now in earnest to get tea, gave
him an odd, pleasant, half grateful, half grave little smile. Too many
things however had been at work to admit of her coming down into
quietness immediately. The red left her no more than the blue for the
rest of that evening.