t is in the future tense? But I am afraid," added
Faith,--"she thinks too much of me now."

"She does not think as much of you as I do," Mr. Linden said, with a
look and smile that covered all the ground of present or future fear.
"And after all it is a danger which you will share with me. It is one
of Pet's loveable feelings to think too much of some people whom she
loves just enough."

Humility is not a fearful thing. Whatever had been in Faith's speech,
her look, bright, wistful, and happy, had no fear, truly bumble though
it was. "There is no danger of my loving this letter too much"--she
said as she carefully restored it to its envelope; said with a secret
utterance of great gratification.

The promised half hour was much more than up, and the broadening shadow
on Kildeer river said that the time which could be given to wild
flowers was fast running away. Perhaps, too, Mr. Linden thought Faith
had mused and been excited enough, for he made a move. Everything in
the boat was put up in close order, and then the two went ashore again,
flower basket in hand.

The long shadows heightened the beauty of the woods now, falling soft
and brown upon the yet browner carpet of dry leaves, and the young
leaves and buds overhead shewed every tint, from yellow to green. Under
the trees were various low shrubs in flower,--shad-blossom, with its
fleecy stems, and azalia in rosy pink; and the real wild flowers--the
dainty things as wild in growth as in name, were sprinkled everywhere.
Wind flowers and columbine; orchis sweet as any hyacinth; tall
Solomon's seal; spotless bloodroot; and violets--white, yellow, and
purple. The dogwood stretched its white arms athwart hemlock and
service; the creeping partridge berry carried its perfumed white stars
over rocks and moss in the deep shade below. Yellow bellwort hung its
fair flowers on every ridge; where the ground grew wet were dog's-tooth
violet and chick wintergreen. There the red maples stood, with bunches
of crimson keys,--at the edge of the higher ground their humbler
growing sister the striped bark, waved her green tresses. There seemed
to be no end to the flowers--nor to the variety--nor to the pleasure of
picking.

"Faith--" said Mr. Linden.

Faith looked up from a bunch of Sanguinaria beside which she was
crouching.

"I find so much Mignonette!--do you?"

Faith's eye flashed, and taking one of those little white stars she
threw it towards Mr. Linden. It went in a grac