"Will that do, Sam?" said Faith pleasantly, as she threw her scarf over her head.
"I'm glad to go any distance with you, Miss Faith," said Sam, but half content—or a quarter! for that was the distance assigned him.
"Well behave yourself then," said Mr. Linden, removing his hands. A parting injunction Sam's dignity would have dispensed with.
CHAPTER XV.
The evening was very still. A little too cool for insect voices, a little too late in the season for night birds, the soft dropping of the yellow leaves scarce stirred those already fallen. Few sounds came from the houses; for all Pattaquasset had been out, and that portion which had got home was tired and thinking of bed, while the few stragglers yet abroad were far from the late scene of action, on their lonely homeward roads. Squire Deacon, with Joe for a thorn in his side, was opening his own door for Miss Cecilia, and Miss Bethia Bezac, at 'the other side of creation,' mused over the possibility of again (without eyes) embroidering waistcoats. Thus when the clock struck eight, the earth seemed asleep and the stars at watch over it.
At about that point of time, Sam Stoutenburgh and his fair companion were near the parting gate; and Sam, not supposing himself within range of other eyes, had bent down over Faith's glove in a very demonstrative manner; and she would certainly have received an unwonted proof of his devotion, if Mr. Linden—who had in truth been all the time not very far off—had not just then been very near.
"Take care, Sam—" he said,—"you are exceeding directions." A remark which sent Sam through the gate with more haste than coolness, while Mr. Linden stepped forward into his place.
"Your mother rode home with Mrs. Somers, Miss Faith, and this little shawl was requested to walk home with you," he said, wrapping it round her; for which he received a quiet little "Thank you." He put her hand on his arm, and once past the gate walked very slowly; moderating his steps to hers, and taking the most leisurely pace; perhaps to give her the full sedative effect of the night. Those faint breaths of air, that soft hush of everything, that clear starry sky,—so high, so still,—there was balm in them all.
And for a while Mr. Linden let them do their work alone,—then he spoke.
"One of my scholars is very tired to night. I'm afraid I have done wrong in letting her walk home."