"No, sir," said Faith he felt how eagerly her fingers grasped his, "it
is in Mr. Linden's hands. He forgives Mr. Middleton entirely."

"I don't forgive him!" said the Colonel, shortly.

"Sir," said Faith, "Colonel Rye, this is not what Mr. Linden would
wish. Endecott will tell you, sir, that he has passed it by. Don't undo
what he has done! No true friend of Mr. Linden will make any more of
this."

"I am willing to answer it to anybody," said Middleton, gruffly, but as
if half ashamed of himself.

"There is nothing to answer to any one," said Faith, quitting the
Colonel, and turning to him; her face was so white and gentle that it
smote him, and those very steady sweet eyes had a power in them just
now that broke his doggedness. "There is nothing to answer to any one,
unless Mr. Middleton," (how soft her voice was), "unless you find you
were wrong, and choose to tell Mr. Linden, which I dare say you will.
Colonel Rye, will you see, for Mr. Linden's honour, that this goes to
no harm?"--The extreme gentleness and the steady firmness of Faith
ruled them all; and at her last appeal the Colonel's only answer was to
take her in his arms and kiss her, an acknowledgment Faith would
willingly have gone without. But it was good for a promise.

"Mr. Alcott," she said seeking him in the group, "you said we would go
down the bank--." Faith did not finish her sentence, but he saw her
wish to finish it by action.

She went with him till they were out of sight and away from everybody;
then slipped her arm from his and begging him not to wait for her sat
down on the grass. For a while she sat very still, whether her heart
was fuller of petition or thanksgiving she hardly knew. She would have
rejoined Mr. Alcott much sooner if she had guessed he was waiting for
her--like an outpost among the trees; but all the time had not brought
back Faith's colour. After a while, other steps came swiftly over the
turf as she sat there, and before she had raised her head it was lifted
up for her.

"My precious wife! what are you doing here?" Very low the tones were,
very grave, very tender.

Faith sprang, and after an exploring glance into his face, knelt on the
grass beside him and threw her arms round his neck, pressing her cheek
very close as if she would take off or share the affront that had been
offered to his. That for a minute--and then changing characters--she
raised her head and pushing the hair back from his brow with her soft
h