"What can be done, Mr. Linden?—to put a stop to this."
"I will try what can be done," he answered, though not as if that point were uppermost in his mind. "I think I can find a way. I wish nothing gave me more uneasiness than that!"
"Do you think there is any way that you can do it, thoroughly?"
"Yes, I think so," he repeated. "There are ways of doing most things. I shall try. Do not you think about it, Miss Faith,—I have something now to make me glad you are going to Pequot. Before, I could only remember how much I should miss my scholar."
"Why are you glad now, Mr. Linden?" Faith's voice was in as subdued a state of mind as her face.
"Change of air will be good for you—till this air is in a better state."
She made no answer. In a few minutes she rose up, gathered her wrappers into one hand, and turning to Mr. Linden held out the other to him; with a very child's look, which however was rather doubtful about meeting his. His look had lost none of its grave concern.
"Are you better?" he said. "Will you promise to go right to sleep, and leave all troublesome matters where alone they can be taken care of?"
The faintest kind of a smile flitted across her face. "I don't know"—she said doubtfully,—"I don't know what I can do, Mr. Linden."
"I have told you."