"I should like it very well," said Faith, "in a good time. I went to Pequot in one once. It was very pleasant. Why do you call them phantoms?"
"Look at that one standing off across the moonlight towards the other shore,—gliding along so silently with her black sails all set,—does she look real?—You cannot even hear the creaking of a rope."
Faith looked, and drew an interrupted deep breath. She had lived in a world of realities. Perhaps this was the first 'phantom' that had ever suggested itself—or been suggested—to her imagination. Possibly something of the same thought crossed her mind; for she drew her breath again a little short as she spoke.
"Yes!—it's beautiful!—But I live in such a different world, Mr.
Linden,—I never thought of such a thing before."
He smiled—pleasantly and thoughtfully. "How came you to see the sunrise colours the other day, Miss Faith?"
"O I see them always. And that puts me in mind of something I have been wanting to say to you every day all the week! and I could never find a chance. You asked me that morning, Mr. Linden, if I was true to my name, finding enough in a cloudy sky. What did you mean? What did you mean by being true to my name'?"
"I shall have to use your name a little freely, to tell you," he said. "It is faith's privilege to be independent of circumstances. Faith always finds something wherein to rejoice. If the sky be clear,
'Far into distant worlds she pries,
And brings eternal glories near.'
If cloudy, faith uses her glass as a prism, and in one little ray of light finds all the colours of the rainbow."
"I don't know what a prism is," said Faith somewhat sadly.