From that time, to read the Bible to her aunt was Faith's work; morning, noon, and night, literally; sometimes far into the night. For Miss Danforth, embracing what she had never known before, as the light gradually broke upon her; and feeling that her time for study might be made short, was in eager haste and longing to acquaint herself with the broad field of duties and privileges, all new, now laid open before her. Faith could not read too much; Miss Dilly could not listen too long.
"Faith, child," she said one night, late, when they were alone,—"can't you pray for me?"
"I do, aunt Dilly."
"No, no! but I mean, can't you pray with me?—now, here. Can't you,
Faith?"
Faith kissed her; hid her face in her hands and trembled; and then knelt and prayed. And many a time after that.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
The Saturday before Christmas, which was moreover the day but one before, Squire Stoutenburgh went over to Pequot; and having checked off his business items, drove straight to Madame Danforth's. The door was opened to him by the Frenchwoman, who took him into a little room very like herself, and left him; and in another minute or two Faith came in. Her exclamation was with the unmistakeable tone and look of pleasure.
"My dear, I am very glad to see you!" was part of the warm reply. "How do you do?"
"I do very well, sir."
"Ah!"—said the Squire,—"I suppose so. Well I'll give you a chance to do better. My dear, I'm going to carry you off,—you're wanted."