"Fair Quiet, have I found thee here,
And Innocence, thy sister dear?
Mistaken long, I sought you then
In busy companies of men.
Your sacred plants, if here below,
Only among the plants will grow.
Society is all but rude
To this delicious solitude."
At which words precisely, the spirit of contrariety opened the door and ushered in Dr. Harrison. All he saw, was Mr. Linden with a book, in one easy-chair; Mrs. Derrick with her knitting in another; and a little further off, Faith, sitting on her low cushion and apparently doing nothing. Probably for that reason the doctor made up to her first. He sat down beside her, and enquired in a low tone how the fishes were? Faith answered that they were well; only one of them had been eaten up by the others.
"You are a little tired and are feeling remarkably well to-night," the doctor went on. "What have you been doing?"
"I have been trying to do my duty," Faith said colouring and laughing.
"Don't you always do that?" said Dr. Harrison looking at her enquiringly.
"But I didn't know what it was till to-day."
"You are doing what is very uncommon with you," said the doctor—"fighting me with my own weapons." His smile was pleasant though acute; but Faith coloured exceedingly.
"I can't tell you exactly what duty I mean," she said, "but Mr. Linden can."
"Do you take your notions of duty from him?"
"To-day,"—said Faith with a smile, sweet and with spirit enough too.