p the confusion, though it did put her face
more out of sight, to be rescued from the Squire's hands and placed in
the easy-chair.

"No, she is not as well as she looks, Mr. Stoutenburgh, and therefore
you must not keep her standing."

"I won't keep her--nor you neither--long," said the Squire. "Miss
Faith, I hope you'll keep _him_--standing or kneeling or something--all
summer. How long are you going to stay, sure enough?"

"Till I must go." Faith heard the smile with which it was spoken.

"Then I shall go home a happy man!" said Mr. Stoutenburgh, with a sort
of earnest heartiness which became him very well. "My dear, I'm as glad
as if you were my own daughter--and you'll let me say that, because
your father and I were such friends." With which original and sincere
expression of feeling the Squire went off.

"You naughty child," Mr. Linden said, coming back to Faith's chair,
"who gave you leave to come down stairs? I shouldn't be at all
surprised if you had been after cream."

"No I haven't, Endy,"--said Faith lifting up her face which was in a
sort of overwhelmed state.

"What is the matter?" he said smiling.

"Don't mind me," said Faith passing her hands over her face. "I am half
ashamed of myself--I shall be better in a day or two."

"How do you feel, after your ride and your sleep?"

"O well!--nicely,"--she said in happy accents.

"What made you try to walk down stairs?"

"I thought I could do it."

"And knew I would not let you. Will you be in a talking mood after tea?"

"I am now. I have been wanting to talk to you, Endecott, ever since you
got home."

"What about?"

"About these weeks."

The summons to tea came then, however; but when tea was disposed of,
and Faith had come back to her sofa in the sitting-room, Mr. Linden
took his place at her side.

"Now I am ready for 'these weeks,'" he said.

Faith was less ready than he, though she had wished for the talk. Her
face darkened to something of the weary look with which he had found
her.

"Endecott, I have wanted to see you dreadfully!" He looked pained--not
merely, she knew, because of that: but the thought had no further
expression.

"What has been the matter, my dear child?"

Faith's hand and head went down on his shoulder, as on a rest they had
long coveted. "I am afraid you will be ashamed of me, Endecott,--but I
will tell you. You know since I have been sick I have seen a great deal
of Dr. Harrison--every day, and twice a day.