le horse, and
apprehending the voice and rein suggestions which were made to him, he
began to pick his way slowly and carefully among the stones on the
bank, and then through the stones in the river; setting down his feet
with great judgment and precaution, and paying no heed to the rushing
and splashing of the little stream, except by his ears--which certainly
worked, for once. And so the dangerous "pass" was soon behind them, and
Mr. Linden dismounted and lifted Faith down, and seated her on a grey
stone on the bank, while he went back for her horse. Which crossing, it
may be observed, was accomplished much quicker than the last. The
twilight was falling fast, and the little river, and the two horses as
they forded its swift current, looked shadowy enough; set off by the
white foam on both. The evening wind began its fitful stir, and swept
the dry leaves past Faith's feet, and shook the cedar boughs above her
head; and so she sat there, and watched the crossing.

"I have had the best picture to-day, Mr. Linden," she said, when she
was placed in the saddle again. "You ought to have seen the river, and
you and the two horses coming over it, in this light, as I did. You
don't know how pretty it was. Now you'll let me ride fast, won't
you?--for mother will be looking for us."

"As fast as you please--but after all, you have not seen _my_ picture,"
he said smiling.

Faith profited by the permission given and put her horse to a pace that
proved she was very much in earnest to prevent that "looking for them"
on Mrs. Derrick's part. She got out of the trot into a canter--or her
horse did--and then away they flew; too fast to see or be hindered by
any more friends or foes; till they drew bridle at home.

It was too late to have the reading before tea. So to have tea as
speedily as possible was the next object. And then they adjourned to
the fire-lit sitting-room, where Faith lighted the lamp in uncertainty
whether reading or studies was to be the next move. Mr. Linden,
however, went for his book--a little old volume, of which Faith had
never taken notice; and began, without doubt, the prettiest description
of a garden that ever was written;--

"How vainly men themselves amaze,
To win the palm, the oak, or bays:"--etc.

The reader paused a moment, to tell more particularly what these leafy
honours were, and then went on.

"Fair Quiet, have I found thee here,
And Innocence, thy sister dear?
Mistaken lo