Say and Seal Volume I Part 27

He looked amused too, yet with a difference.

"Well, Miss Faith--You are a prisoner, for political purposes. There is no practicable way for you to get back to the house save through the witness-box."

"Where is the witness-box?" said Faith.

"Are you in a hurry to be in it?"

"No," said Faith with a very unshadowed smile, "I am not in a hurry for anything."

"Then tell me what you have been reading to-day," he said, throwing himself down on the gra.s.s beside her.

She looked at him, hesitated, then said with a lowered tone,

"I have been reading what you told me to read--and my testament."

Mr. Linden lifted his hat a little, replaced it--rather more down over his brows than before, looking steadily down at Kildeer river the while.

"Why did you look grave when I asked you if you had brought 'Le Philosophe'?"

"I didn't know I did!" said Faith simply. "I had brought only my testament."

"Only--" Mr. Linden repeated. "Well, from 'only' a testament and only such a scene--a skilful reader may get much." Then turning and looking her full in the face, he said, "Miss Faith--what have those boys done to vex you?"

A sudden, painful, startled flush answered him. She did not look now; she said earnestly,

"Please Mr. Linden, don't speak of it!"

"I must know--" was his only answer.

"No," she said gently but troubled,--"you mustn't know, and there is no need you should. There is no need," she repeated eagerly.

"There is another true little witness I can call upon--but I would rather have your account."

"How did you know?--how did you know anything about it?" said Faith, facing round upon him in her turn.

"Gentlemen of what Miss Danforth is pleased to call 'my profession'

must know things occasionally," said Mr. Linden.

"_What_ do you think you know, Mr. Linden?" she said a little timidly.

His answer was gentle though resolute.

"I don't _think_ I know anything. What I know, I know----what I do not, I will."

Faith's head half drooped for an instant, and the flush which had faded came back painfully. Then she looked at him again, and though the flush was there she spoke as usual.

"You won't try, Mr. Linden--because I am going to ask you not. It is nothing you need take up--it was nothing but--what perhaps I was foolish to mind. I don't mind it now--much--"

But there was a grave falling off in the tone of that much. She felt it herself, for she rallied and said with her own quiet frank smile,

"I shall not mind it at all to-morrow."

Mr. Linden looked at her while she spoke, gravely and intently enough; but then he looked away at the river again, and probably read problems in its soft rippling waters, for he spoke not. Overhead a hawk sailed noiselessly to and fro, on spread wings,--in the trees close at hand a squirrel chattered and barked with his mouth full. The afternoon light left Kildeer river step by step, and the shadows crept after.

Now the one white speck of cloud reflected in that peaceful stream was no break in its beauty,--it marred nothing, nay, even brought a little glow of its own to replace the sunbeams. Yet at that speck did Mr.

Linden take aim--sending his pebble so surely, so powerfully, that the mirror itself was shattered to the remotest sh.o.r.e! Then he stood up and announced that it was time to go.

Faith stood up, but stood still, and waited somewhat anxiously upon the answer to her question.

"Then, Mr. Linden, you will not speak of it any more?"

"The witness is discharged," he answered lightly, and walking on.

She sprang after and placed herself directly in his way.

"Mr. Linden--please give me your promise!"

He looked down at her with eyes that were a little moved.

"Miss Faith," he said, "please give me yours!"

"For what?" said Faith.

"That you will trust me--and not ask what I do."

"Yes,"--said Faith,--"but--You must trust _me_, Mr. Linden," she said smiling at him,--"and believe me that this is nothing for you to take up--mere nonsense;--nothing at all to-morrow,--it is nothing to me now.

I want your word."

She wanted it very much, it was easy to see; but beyond that, her face did not belie her words.

"I don't suppose Mrs. Derrick ever called you 'naughty child'"--said Mr. Linden,--"but if ever she did she might to-night. Look where the sun is--and where I am,--and guess where those boys are! Come--" and it was not easy to resist the hand that again took hold of hers, nor the quick pace at which he went forward.

And for some fields' length Faith yielded and went as fast as he pleased. Then as he stopped to put up a bar-place she said again, very gently but firmly too, standing before him,

"Mr. Linden, I think I have a _right_ to ask this. I know what I ask, but you do not."

"I never questioned your right, Miss Faith."

"Then you'll not deny it to me?"

"What is your idea of trust?" said Mr. Linden, replacing the last bar.

"That it is something I ought to have just now," said Faith, smiling a little.

He stood leaning on the bars and looking at her--a kind look, that she might well trust.

"Child," he said, "you don't know what you are talking about--and I do.

And if you will not trust me any further than you can see me, you don't deserve to be called Miss Faith any longer! Now don't you think I have a right to get home and attend to my duties?"