"I am thankful to hear you say so," returned her friend, much relieved.
She had been a little bewildered by Queenie's purchases. The ménage of the cottage had been perfectly simple, and, with the exception of that Gainsborough hat, Queenie had kept her own and Emmie's dress strictly within bounds. But the fifty-pound note had burned a hole in her pocket, and she had begged Caleb to forward some amusing books and games for the child's entertainment; and the expensive selection made had caused dismay to her friends at Church-Stile House when Emmie displayed her treasures.
Queenie laughed at her friend's lecture, but it caused her a little anxiety. What would they think of her playful deception? would they consider themselves at all aggrieved at it? Garth too, with his horror of heiresses and his exaggerated notions of independence! She felt a little sinking of heart at the thought.
The autumn had set in cold and rainy, ceaseless down-pours still flooded the country; the field path to the Vicarage was impassable, and the lane almost a grey mire. Garth and Ted plodded past the cottage daily in their leathern gaiters, and Dr. Stewart shook his head ruefully when he encountered Queenie in his rounds.
"Why don't you give your scholars a holiday, such constant wettings are good for no one?" he asked; but Queenie only laughed, and drew her old grey waterproof closer round her. After Cathy's sermon she dared not invest in a new one. She looked so bright and good-humored, there was such a fresh radiance about her, that Dr. Stewart failed to notice the shabbiness of the garment. He only carried away with him an impression of youthful brightness that lingered long with him.
"And Miss Faith used to look like that," he thought a little bitterly, as he rode homeward in the darkness.
Dr. Stewart had by no means ceased his visits to the Evergreens. He still dropped in at odd times, and kept up a running fire of argument with Miss Charity, and still maintained a rigid surveillance of the books that lay on the table beside her. There was not much conversation between him and the younger sister; a hand shake and a brief word was often all that passed between them. His praises of Jean, and the merits and demerits of her housekeeping, were all retailed into Miss Hope's sympathizing ear; while to the somewhat grim Miss Prudence belonged the privilege of pouring out his tea and providing the crisp griddle cakes that his soul loved. Faith felt herself somewhat out in the cold; she was younger and more attractive, but she had not Charity's wit and cleverness; in spite of all those long hours of reading, she was often at a loss to comprehend the subject which they were discussing. She sat by a little silent and heavy-hearted over her work; it was not for her to speak if he had ceased caring to listen.
Faith was growing paler and more worn every day; the renewal of her intercourse with Dr. Stewart had brought disappointment as well as pleasure with it. True, he had brightened her life in many ways, and his brief visit was the chief event of the day, but it often left behind it a strange restlessness and sadness. In a vague sort of way she began to understand that she had not fulfilled the promise of her younger days; that he was disappointed in his ideal. The old Faith had been a brighter and more hopeful one; and at this thought the sweet face grew more troubled and downcast.
"What's to do with you, Faith? you always seem in a maze about something when Dr. Stewart is here," Miss Charity would say sharply, when their visitor had taken himself off with a curt nod that included the whole sisterhood. It was Miss Prudence who generally let him out now; Faith did not offer to stir from her corner. How did she know whether he wanted her.
"It seems so strange that a woman of your age should find so little to say," continued Miss Charity, with a displeased jerk of her thin ringlets.