to talk'?"

"So--as I don't deserve," she said raising her grave eyes to his face.
"I would rather have you tell me my wrong things."

He looked at her, with one of those rare smiles which belonged to her;
holding her hand with a little soft motion of it to and fro upon his
own.

"I am not sure that I dare promise 'to be good,'" he said,--"I am so
apt to speak of things as I find them. And Mignonette you are to
me--both in French and English. Faith, I know there is no glove upon
your hand,--and I know there is none on mine; but I cannot feel, nor
imagine, any friction,--can you?"

She looked up and smiled. So much friction or promise of it, as there
is about the blue sky's reflection in the clear deep waters of a
mountain lake--so much there was in the soft depth--and reflection--of
Faith's eyes at that moment. So deep,--so unruffled;--and as in the
lake, so in the look that he saw, there was a mingling of earth and
heaven.

CHAPTER V.

Wednesday morning was cold and raw, and the sun presently put on a
thick grey cloak. There were suspicions abroad that it was one made in
the regions of perpetual snow, for whatever effect it might have had
upon the sun, it made the earth very cold. Now and then a little
frozen-up snowflake came silently down, and the wind swept fitfully
round the corners of houses, and wandered up and down the chimneys.
People who were out subsided into a little trot to keep themselves
warm, all except the younger part of creation, who made the trot a run;
and those who could, staid at home.

All of Mrs. Derrick's little family were of this latter class, after
the very early morning; for as some of them were to brave the weather
at night, there seemed no reason why they should also brave it by day.
As speedily as might be, Mr. Linden despatched his various matters of
outdoor business, of which there were always more or less on his hands,
and then came back and went into the sitting-room to look for his
scholar. In two minutes she came in from the other door, with the stir
of business and the cold morning fresh in her cheeks. But no one would
guess--no one could ever guess, from Faith's brown dress and white
rufffles, that she had just been flying about in the kitchen--to use
Cindy's elegant illustration--"like shelled peas"; not quite so
aimlessly, however. And her smiling glance at her teacher spoke of
readiness for all sorts of other business.

The first thing she was set about was