but with the sort of noiseless celerity which was natural to him,
Reuben Taylor was piling the sticks of this or yesterday's cutting: the
slight chafing of the wood as it fell into place chiming with the low
notes of a hymn tune which Faith well remembered to have heard Mr.
Linden sing. She did not stir, but softly, as she stood there, her
voice joined in.

For a minute Reuben did not hear her,--then in some pause of
arrangement he heard, and turned round with a start and flush that for
degree might have suited one who was stealing wood instead of piling
it. But he did not speak--nor even thought to say good morning; only
pushed the hair back from his forehead and waited to receive sentence.

"Reuben!"--said Faith, stepping in the doorway. And she said not
another word; but in her eyes and her lips, even in her very attitude
as she stood before him, Reuben Taylor might read it all!--her
knowledge for whose love he was doing that work, her powerlessness of
any present means of thanks, and the existence of a joint treasury of
returned affection that would make itself known to him some day, if
ever the chance were. The morning sun gleamed in through the doorway on
her face, and Reuben could see it all there. He had raised his eyes at
the first sound of her voice, but they fell again, and his only answer
was a very low spoken "Good morning, Miss Faith."

Faith sat down on a pile of cut sticks and looked up at him.

"Reuben--what are you about?"

"Putting these sticks out of the way, Miss Faith"--with a half laugh
then.

"I shall tell Mr. Linden of you," (gravely.)

"I didn't mean you should have a chance, Miss Faith."

"Now you are caught and found--do you know what your punishment will
be?"

Reuben looked up again, but did not venture to guess.

"You will be obliged to come in and take a cup of coffee with me every
morning."

"O that's not necessary!" Reuben said with a relieved face,--"thank you
very much, Miss Faith."

"It is necessary," said Faith gravely;--"and you are not to thank me
for what you don't like."

"It was partly for what I do like, ma'am," said Reuben softly pitching
up a stick of hickory.

"It's so pleasant to have you do this, Reuben," said Faith, watching
him, "that I can't tell you how pleasant it is; but you must drink my
coffee, Reuben, or--I will not burn your wood! You know what Mr. Linden
would make you do, Reuben." Faith's voice lowered a little. Reuben did
not dispute the co