e; but a power that was doing its work and would do it straight
through. "He giveth forth his ice like morsels; who can stand before
his cold?"--thought Faith.

The sleighing was excellent; the roads in perfect condition.

"How long is it since you were here?" Mr. Linden said as the house came
in sight, shewn only by its twinkling panes of glass.

"Not since before I went to Pequot--not since a day or two after that
ride we took with Dr. Harrison, when you rode 'Stranger' the first
time."

"How was she then?"

"Not much different from what she had been before--she didn't say
much--she seemed to like to listen to me, or to see me, or both. That
was all I could be sure of."

"Try not to let her spend her strength in examining the past state of
her mind. Bid her lay hold of the promise now. A present hold will
answer all her questions--and is all the oldest Christian can rest in."

"I wish you could speak to her instead of me," said Faith. "Perhaps she
will let you."

"It is not you nor I, my child.--Fix your heart upon Christ, and let
him speak,--fix your eyes upon him, and let his light shine."

"I know it. O I do!--" she said, looking up at him with an humble,
moved face.

He lifted her out of the sleigh and led her up to the house, where they
were presently admitted; into an outer room first, where Faith could
lay off her furs.

"She's some brighter to-night," the woman in attendance said, in answer
to Mr. Linden's questions. "I guess she'll be real glad to see
you"--this was addressed to Faith.

Faith left Mr. Linden there, and went into the sick chamber alone;
where she was always received as if she had brought an olive branch, or
a palm branch, or both of them, in her hand. The spirit of both, no
doubt, was in her; the gentle face looked the promise of both peace and
victory, as only humility can look it.

Mrs. Custers on her part looked--as the other had said--glad; if so
bright a word could be applied to a face that had lost all its own
light, and where no reflected light as yet shone. Yet she was quieter
than when Faith had first seen her, whether from mental relief or
physical prostration, and was most eager for all Faith's
words,--listening for the most part in silence, but with eyes that
never said "enough." As some poor exhausted traveller takes the water
which he has at last reached in the desert, nor knows yet whether its
bright drops can avail to save his life, but lays him down by the
fo