aith," he said, "I have heard--or imagined--that a man might have an
angel for his wife, but I never heard yet of a woman who had an angel
for her husband--did you?"

Faith endeavoured to shield her eyes and cheek with a very insufficient
hand. "You put me in the witness-box,--what can I do?" she said.

"You can do one thing as well as anybody I ever saw," Mr. Linden said,
taking her hand down. "Faith, where did you get such pink cheeks?"

"What is an Arabic poem?" said Faith gravely.

"A pretty thing that requires translating. Faith, I have a great desire
to take you all about Pattaquasset and tell everybody what you are to
be."

"Endecott!"--said Faith with a startled glance.

"What?" he answered laughing.

"Why do you say so?"

"Just imagine the delight of all Quapaw, and the full satisfaction of
the Roscoms. Shouldn't you like to see it?"

Faith looked at him in a sort of frightened mood of mind, discerning
some earnest in the play. Mr. Linden's face did not reassure her,
though he carried the play at that time no further.

CHAPTER XXIX.

If the fears of the night before had not quite been slept off, if the
alarming ideas had not all been left in dreamland, still it was hard
for anything but peace and pleasure to shew its head that morning. In
at Faith's window came the sunbeams, the tiny panes of glass shewed
each a patch of the bluest sky, and through some unseen open sash the
morning air swept in full sweetness. When Faith opened her own window,
the twitter and song of all manner of birds was something to hear, and
their quick motions were something to see. From the sweetbriar on the
house to the trees in the orchard,--from the mud nest under the eaves
to the hole in the barn wall,--what darting and skimming and
fluttering! Off in the orchard the apple trees were softly putting on
their nonpareil dress of blossoms, feeding the air with nectar till it
was half intoxicated; and down in the garden a little bevy of bells
stood prim and soft and sweet, ringing their noiseless spring chimes
under Faith's window.

Under her window too, that is within close sight of it, stood Reuben
Taylor and Mr. Linden. Not watching for her just then as it appeared,
but intent upon their own concerns. Or rather, Reuben--in his usual
dark, neat dress and straw hat, with hands neither busy nor at rest,
but waiting and ready--was intent upon Mr. Linden--and Mr. Linden upon
his work. His hat was off, on the grass bes