because the effort to control
herself was at the moment as much as she could do. It was successful,
though barely; and then, without venturing another look, she said her
low "Good night, sir"; and moved away. She was accompanied as far as
the door, but then Mr. Linden paused, with his hand on the latch.

"Shall you take any work--I mean _book_ work--with you to Pequot?--or
will your hands find too much else to do?"

"I meant to take some I meant to do a good deal--I hope so."

"Then can you come back to the great chair for ten minutes, and let me
give you a word or two of direction?"

She came immediately and sat down. And Mr. Linden went back to where
they had been interrupted early in the evening, and told her what and
where and how to go on in the various books, till she should see him
again; putting marks here and there to save her trouble, or pencilling
some explanation which might be needed. It took but a few minutes to do
this; and then Mr. Linden laid the books together, and drawing the old
Bible towards him once more, he turned to the ninety-first Psalm and
read it aloud. Read it with full heart-felt effect; which made the
words fall like the dew they are, upon the weary little flower Faith
was. Then he bade her once more goodnight.

She went refreshed; yet to become a prey to struggling thoughts which
for a while prevented refreshment from having its lawful action. How
much of the night and of the early morning Faith spent in these
thoughts, and in the fruit of them, is uncertain; for the evening's
work would sufficiently have accounted for her worn look the next day.

CHAPTER XXXV.

"Must I go to Pequot?" was the first thought that entered Faith's mind
the next morning. And the advancing daylight, with its clear steadfast
way of looking at things, said, "Yes, you must." "Is there anything
_I_--who know most about this business--can do to put an end to it?"
That was a second thrilling question. The same daylight gave its frank
answer,--"No, you cannot--you cannot." Faith took both answers, and
then sought, in the very spirit of a child, to "leave all troublesome
things where alone they could be taken care of."

"There is a faculty in this," saith Leighton, "that all persons have
not." But the spirit of a child can do it; and the spirit of a
Christian, so far as it is right, is none other. Faith went down
stairs, in spite of inward sorrow and trembling, with a quiet brow. It
was very much the f