't a bit of comfort of it except by snatches--only I knew it
was there--for ever so long. When I tried to read the Bible, often I
could think of nothing but these thoughts would push themselves in
between--like a swarm of gnats humming in my ears;--and often I had no
good of prayer,"--she added in a yet lower voice.

"Have you now?" Mr. Linden said. "Has that passed away?"

She hesitated again, perhaps struggling with some emotion which she
would not let get the better of her. Her words were quiet. "It is
passing. Earth and sky are all cleared since you came--as I knew they
would be."

Mr. Linden was silent and motionless,--looking down at her, curbing as
he best might the grief and indignation which were by turns as much as
he could manage. He did not speak for some time.

"I think, Endy," said Faith, "I shouldn't have felt so if I had been
well and strong. I am almost sure it was partly that. I wasn't strong
in mind or body--and how I wanted you!"

"And where _was_ my place in the world if not here!"

"I didn't want you till you came," she said in a very sweet low tone.

"Ah, child! you do not know what you are talking of,--nor what a snare
was spread for you."

"Do you think that, Endy?" she said in a scared way.

"What else?"

"But he always seemed--I always hoped, he was really interested in
those things himself."

"No man carries truth in one hand and falsehood in the other," said Mr.
Linden sternly.

Faith was sitting upright, looking very thoughtful and very grieved.
"But you do not think, Endecott,--you do not think--there was no truth
in it?"

His face caught her grieved look,--he answered slowly, "Child, you must
leave all that. I only know that he tried to get rid of every barrier
in his way."

"And how in this, Endecott?--What?"

"He doubtless thought your belief stood between him and your favour."

"And that if he could change that!"--Faith's head sank with a low word
of pain. Mr. Linden was silent. She looked up again, with a face of
yearning sorrow which it was a pity perhaps Dr. Harrison could not see.
"And now," she said, "we never can do anything more for him!"

But Mr. Linden was not ready for the wish,--the sternness of his face
did not relax this time even under the power of hers. Until as he
looked, with the sight of all her loveliness and the thought of all the
wrong done her, came the keen realization of why it had been
done;--then his look changed and saddened.

"Endecot