The cake lay upon a white paper in the basket, with a little space all around. It was a rather small loaf with a plain icing. But round the sides of it were trailed long sprays of ivy geranium, making a beautiful bordering. The centre was crowned with a white camellia in its perfection. From the tip edge of each outer petal depended a drop of gold, made to adhere there by some strong gum probably; and between the camellia and the ivy wreaths was a brilliant ring of gold spots, somewhat larger, set in the icing. Somebody, and it was probably the doctor, for want of better to do,—had carefully prepared the places to receive them, so that they were set in the white like a very neat inlay. It was presently seen that quarter eagles made the inlay, and that the camellia was dropped with gold dollars.
On the ivy lay a note. Faith looked at Mr. Linden as she took it up; broke the seal, and hastily running over the paper gave it to him—
"MY DEAR MISS FAITH,
My yesterday's speculation in pumpkins proved so successful, that like a true speculator it made me want to plunge deeper—into the pumpkin field! I find myself this morning dissatisfied with what I have done—and beg to send a cake to go along with the pies—to be apportioned of course as your judgment shall suggest. I begged the cake from Sophy, who I am sure would not have given it to me if she had known what I was going to do with it.
Your pleasure, personal and representative, last night, is a reproach to me whenever I think of it. Yet my unwonted hand knows neither how to cut up cake, nor what to do with it when it is cut—except—avaler! Am I wrong in hoping that you will do me the grace to make available what I should only—if I tried to do better with it—throw away? and that as a token of your forgiveness and grace you will on the next opportunity bestow a piece of pumpkin pie, such as you carried the other night, on
Your very respectful and most obedient servant,
JULIUS HARRISON."
PATTAQUASSET, Nov. 15, 18—.
Mr. Linden read the note more deliberately than Faith had done, but his face, the while, she could not read; though (fascinated by the difficulty) her glances changed to a steady gaze. It was quietly grave—that was all and not all,—and the note was given back to her with a smile that spoke both "thoughts" of the doctor, and pleasure for any pleasure Faith might have from his basket. But then some of the deeper feeling came out in his comments—and they were peculiar. He had stood still for a second after reading the note,—his eyes looking down at the cake—gravely; but then they came to her; and suddenly taking her in his arms Mr. Linden gave her—it would be hazardous to say, as many kisses as Dr. Harrison had gold pieces—but certainly as many as he had put in the basket, and more. Faith did not read them, either, at first,—till the repetition—or the way of it, told what they were; the glad saying that she was his, beyond any one's power to buy her,—more than all, an indemnification to himself for all the gold he could not lay at her feet! There needed no speech to tell her both.
A word or two had answered his demonstrations, first a wondering word, and then afterwards a low repetition of his name, in a tone of humble recognition and protest. Now she looked up at him with a child's clear face, full of the colour he had brought into it.