Whereupon Mr. Linden—
"'The very instant I saw you, did
My heart fly to your service: there reside,
To make me slave to it; and for your sake,
Am I this patient log man'!—"
But anything less like those two last words than the way in which he sprang into the boat, and brought the basket, and got out what she called for, could hardly be.
"How many matches do you want?" he said, looking demurely at her as he gave her one.
"All of them,—basket and all, Endecott. You are so patient that you do not hear."
"And you so impatient that you do not see—'basket and all' are at your side, fair princess.—Stand back,—it may be very well for the winds to 'blow, and crack their cheeks,' but I think it should be confined to them." And she was laughingly held back, where she could only use her eyes about the fire.
"That's my province," said Faith. "I think any effort to make a princess of me, will—fail. Did Miranda pick up any wood herself?"
"You can't help being a princess if I am a prince," said Mr. Linden.
"I don't see how it follows," said Faith. "Only let me get at that fire, and the fancy will pass away. Endecott!—it is absolutely necessary that some wood should be put on; and I don't believe princes know how."
"Princes," said Mr. Linden, holding her a little off with one hand, while with the other he replenished the fire, "are especially famed for their power of doing impossible things in desert places. And the princess will follow—whether you can see it or not. Is that blaze aspiring enough for you?"