ll eyes were waiting upon her; and she could not reason out and
comfort herself with the truth--that to them her blush might mean
several things as well as one. The answer came in that delicate voice
of hers which timidity had shaken.

"I think--it depends on what there is to move it."

"What do you call sufficient force?" said Mrs. Somers.

"I?"--said Faith.--

"Yes, you," replied the parson's wife with a look not unkindly amused.
"What sort and degree of power should move 'such a heart'?--to quote
Julius."

Faith's blush was painful again, and it was only the sheer necessity of
the case that enabled her to rally. But her answer was clear.
"Something better than itself, Mrs. Somers."

"I should like to know what that is!" said Mrs. Somers.

Mr. Linden's involuntary "And so should I"--was in a different tone,
but rather drew eyes upon himself than Faith.

"It's of no consequence to you!" said the doctor, with a funny, mock
serious tone of admonition.

Mr. Linden bowed, acquiescingly.--"Psychology is an interesting
study"--he added, in qualification. "But let me return your warning,
doctor--you have a formidable rival."

"Qui donc?"

"Cupid carried off Psyche some time ago--do you suppose you can get her
back?" And with a laughing sign of adieu, Mr. Linden went away.

Luckily for Faith, she was not acquainted with the heathen mythology;
and was also guiltless of any thought of connexion between herself and
the doctor's ideal. So her very free, unsuspicious face and laughter
quite reassured him.

"Mr. Linden is an odd sort of person," said Miss Essie philosophically.
"I have studied him a good deal, and I can't quite make him out. He's a
very interesting man! But I think he is deeper than he seems."

"He's deeper than the salt mines of Salzburg then!" said the doctor.

"Why?" said Miss Essie curiously.

The doctor answered gravely that "there were beautiful things
there";--and went on with his reading. And Faith listened now with
unwavering attention, till he came to--

"'Sydnean showers
Of soft discourse, whose powers
Can crown old winter's head with flowers.'"

Faith's mind took a leap. And it hardly came back again. The reading
was followed by a very lively round game of talk; but it was not _such_
talk; and Faith's thoughts wandered away and watched round that circlet
of brightness that was covered by her glove; scattered rays from which
led them variously,--home, to her Sunday schoo