Say and Seal Volume Ii Part 101

"Did you ever hear of the ice palace the little brook built for himself?" said Mr. Linden.--"Lowell, oh yes!"

"Mrs. Linden thinks she would like to try that."

If ever black eyes were thoroughly puzzled, that were Miss Essie's. She glanced from Mr. Linden to Faith, who had fallen back towards another part of the room, but whose cheek gave token of her having heard and noticed. Miss Essie's eyes came back; she looked a little mortified.

"I see you have not forgiven me," she said. "But, Mr. Linden, I only spoke of what I had seen. I had been unfortunate; and I am sure I needn't confine myself to the past tense! I knew nothing, you know."

"Miss Essie," he said, smiling, "your frame for the picture may be correct, but the picture will be different. As you will see when you come."

"Then you will let me come?"--"I will let you come. Only if you hear that Faith is not at home, do not feel sure of the fact till you have looked in my study."

Miss Essie's face for a moment was notable. She was in a certain way satisfied, and yet it wore a sort of compound mortification inexplicable very likely, to the lady herself, and perhaps, that only an acute eye of another would have read.

Before this dialogue had reached so much of a culmination, Mr. Simlins, who had been standing looking at everything like a good-humoured bear, made his way across the room, and through the people to Faith, where she had shrunk back out of the way.

"I can't stay here all the afternoon!" said he, "and I s'pose it aint expected of me. Can't you step over yonder and let a man have a chance to say a word to you, before I go?"

Faith agreed to this proposition, not knowing that it was going to take her literally into a corner; but to one of the further corners of the room Mr. Simlins strode, and Faith went after him; and there he sat down and she was fain to do likewise. Then he wasn't ready.

"I had somethin' to say to you," said he, "but I don't know how to say it!"--"Try, Mr. Simlins," said Faith, smiling.

"How does the dominie manage to talk to you?" said he, looking at her.

"_I_ don't see how he can get on with it."

Faith grew crimson, and grave.

"Well," said the farmer, smiling a bit, "I s'pose I'll have to get it out somehow. You see, Faith, the thing is, in my mind, I want you to have something that'll make you--you and him too--think of Pattaqua.s.set and me once in a while. Now I'm goin' to give you that black heifer. If you can, I hope you'll take her with you whereever you're goin'--if you can't, why you may turn her into cash; but I guess you can. She's a real Simlins--she'll run, if you don't keep a fence round her; but if you treat her right, she'll give you all _your_ dairy'll want for some time to come; and the very plague you'll be at to keep her shut up, will make you think of me."

"Dear Mr. Simlins!" Faith said with her eyes full, "there is no danger about that!"--

"No!" said he rising; "and when you think of me I know you'll do something else for me. Good-bye, till you get back again." Off he went.

Other people followed. The room had thinned a little, when Pet left her table in Reuben's charge and came to Faith's corner.

"Poor child," she said, "you must be tired. Faith, I shall defy ceremony, and put you in Aunt Iredell's chair; she is going to lie down. Oh! how did that man get here?--and George Alcott!" Pet faced round upon Faith, folding her hands with an air of dismayed resignation.

"What's the matter, Pet?"--"I thought I was safe here," said Miss Linden. "Faith, I did not suppose ubiquitous people found their way to Pattaqua.s.set. You'll have to run the gauntlet of that man's compliments, child, however, Endy is a pretty good safeguard."

Before Faith could see much of what was going on, Mr. Linden was at her side. "Mrs. Linden--_Mr. Motley_," was all he said; and Faith found herself face to face with one of those two well-remembered strangers.

So well remembered that a slight glance at him was arrested, by what at first she did not recognize, and unconsciously she gave Mr. Motley for a second a look sufficiently like what he had seen before to identify her. That second brought it all back. A blush of most rosy beauty came upon Faith's face, and her eyes fell as if no one was ever to see them again. Mr. Motley's eyes, on the contrary, expanded. But the whistle which rose politely to his lips, was held in polite check--by Mr.

Linden's presence or some other consideration--and with no further sign than an under breath "Linden!" Mr. Motley gave the bride his hand, claiming that privilege in easy, musky words, on the score of old acquaintances.h.i.+p with the bridegroom.

"I trust Mrs. Linden has been well since I last (and first!) had the pleasure of seeing her? Apart from the occasion--it seems to me that she is looking even better than then--though _then_ I should not have believed that possible."

"It is a long time, sir," Faith said gravely.

"Linden," said Mr. Motley in a sort of aside, "even your symmetrical taste must be satisfied!"

"With what?" said Mr. Linden. Which rather shortly--put question brought Mr. Motley to a stand. Much as when one pushes on into daylight through the filmy finespun work of a spider, that respectable insect looks about, considering where he shall begin anew.

"It is so long," said Mr. Motley with soft emphasis, "that I could hardly have hoped to be remembered."

"If I recollect right," said Mr. Linden, "if you did not misstate the case, it was the charms of your conversation that made the impression."

"You are the most inconvenient person to talk to!" said Mr. Motley with a glance at the handsome face. "Like a quicksand--closing around one.

Mrs. Linden, do you not find it so? Ah George!--talking to Miss Pet as usual. Permit me--Mrs. Linden, Mr. Alcott. George, you cannot have forgotten Mrs. Linden?" That George had not was very clear.

And that Faith had not forgotten, was very clear. She lifted her eyes once more, to see if the second _was_ the second; and then stood with the most exquisite cheeks, though perfectly quiet. Her gloves had not been put on again since the lunch, and the hand that held them bore also the ring which had been the gentlemen's admiration.

"Now what do you think, George," said Mr. Motley, "of Linden's letting me tell Julius Harrison that whole story, and never giving the least hint that he knew the lady referred to? Except, yes once indeed, I do remember, Mrs. Linden, his face took a warm reflection of the subject, but I thought that was due to my powers as a colourist."

"You couldn't high-colour that picture," said Mr. Alcott, in a tone Faith remembered well. "Mrs. Linden, I hope we are to see you at Newport."

Faith felt in a tumult with all these "Mrs. Lindens." But all that seemed unquiet about her, besides her cheeks, was the flas.h.i.+ng ring.

"Well, we must tear ourselves away from this place of fascination,"

said Mr. Motley. "I believe, Mrs. Linden, we ought to apologize for our intrusion, but it was an old saying among this gentleman's friends that he never would submit to 'bonds and imprisonments'--(there goes the Bible again!) and some of them had a long-standing permission to come and believe their eyes if such an event ever should take place. I can hardly, now!"

"Why do you, sir?" Faith asked simply.

"Really, madam, because I can't help it! One look at you, Mrs. Linden, is enough. In some circ.u.mstances all a man can do is to surrender!"

"He needn't till he's summoned," said George Alcott shortly. Though whether he had acted so wisely himself was a question, as Mr. Linden said amusedly after they were gone.

Faith turned away, feeling as if she had rather more than enough, and occupied herself with Reuben and Ency again. Then came in Farmer Davids and his wife, and Phil. Phil was forthwith in a state of "glamour;" but Faith brought him to the table and gave him cake and discoursed to him and Reuben; while Mrs. Davids talked to Mrs. Derrick in wonderful delighted admiration; and the farmer as usual fixed upon Mr. Linden.

"We had the uncommon pleasure of hearin' you speak last Sunday, sir,"

said Mr. Davids with great seriousness. "I sha'n't forget it, what you said. And you don't know where you're going to fix yourself, sir?"

"Not certainly."

"I would rather than half what I sell off the farm, that it was going to be where I could be within reach of you, sir! But wherever 'tis Phil, and I, we consulted how we could contrive to show our sense of this day; we're plain folks, Mr. Linden, and we didn't know how to fit; but if you'll let us know where you're goin' to be, Mrs. Davids she wants to send your wife a cheese, and there's some of Phil's apples, and I want you to have some Pattaqua.s.set flour to make you think of us.

And if you'll only think of us every year as long as they come, it's all I ask!" It was said with the most honest expression of struggling regard, and respect, that wanted to show itself.

Then Mr. Linden was claimed by a new comer. Sam Stoutenburgh, fresh from College, Quilipeak, and the tailor, presented himself. Now it was rather a warm day, and trains are not cool, and haste is not a refrigerator, nevertheless Sam's cheeks were high coloured! His greeting of Mr. Linden was far less off-hand and das.h.i.+ng than was usual with this new Junior; and when carried off to Mrs. Linden, Sam (to use an elegant word) was "fl.u.s.tered."

"Miss Faith," he began. "No I don't mean that! I beg your pardon, but I'm very glad to see you again, and I wish you were going to stay here always."

Faith laughed. "Will you stay here always yourself, Sam?"

"O I don't know," said Sam. "It's a while before I've got to do anything yet. But Miss Faith--I mean! since you will go, won't you please take this?" and Sam presented a tiny box containing a pretty gold set cornelian seal, engraved with a spirited Jehu chariot running away! "It'll remind you of a day _I_ shall never forget," said Sam both honestly and sentimentally. If Mr. Linden could have helped Faith answer, he would!

Faith's face was in a quiver, between laughter and very much deeper and stronger feeling; but she shook Sam's hand again gratefully.--"I shall never forget it, Sam, nor what you did for me that day. And I hope you'll come and see me somewhere else, some time."

Then Mr. Linden spoke. "No one can owe you so much for that day's work as I, Sam; and since she is running away again you must do as you did then, and find her."

Sam was somewhat touched and overwhelmed, and went off to talk to Reuben about Miss Linden's dress. A little while longer and the room was cleared. The two collegians came last of all to say good-bye, Reuben lingering behind his friend.

"You know," said Mr. Linden, holding the boy's hand, "you are coming to study with me, Reuben, if I live; we will not call it good-bye. And I shall expect to see you before that in vacation."