The spring came, with all its genial influences. Not now with such expeditions as the last spring had seen, but with letters to take their place, and with walks of business and kindness instead of pleasure. Yes, of pleasure too; and Faith began to find her "knight" not only a help and safeguard, but good company. Reuben was so true, so simple and modest—was walking in such a swift path of improvement; was so devoted to Faith and her interests, besides the particular bond of sympathy between them, that she might have had many a brother and fared much worse. The intercourse had not changed its character outwardly—Reuben's simple ceremonial of respect and deference was as strict as ever; but the thorough liking of first acquaintanceship had deepened into very warm affection on both sides. With Dr. Harrison Reuben gained no ground—or the doctor did not with him. Though often working for him and with him, though invariably courteous with the most respectful propriety, Faith could see that Reuben's old feeling was rather on the increase.
With the spring thaw came a freshet. It came suddenly, at the end of the week; every river and stream rising into a full tide of insurrection with the melting snows of Saturday, and Saturday night bridges and mill dams went by the board. Among the rest, one of the railway bridges near Pattaquasset gave way, and a full train from the east set down its freight of passengers in Pattaquasset over Sunday. They amused themselves variously—as such freight in such circumstances is wont to do. Faith knew that the church was well filled that Sunday morning, but the fact or the cause concerned her little—did not disturb the quiet path of her thoughts and steps, until church was out and she coming home, alone that day, as it happened. Then she found the walk full and her walk hindered. Especially by two gentlemen—who as the others thinned off, right and left, still went straight on; not fast enough to get away from Faith nor slow enough for her to pass them. They were strangers, evidently, and town bred. One of them reminded Faith of Dr. Harrison, in dress and style—both belonged to a class of which she had seen few specimens. But she gave them little heed (save as they detained her,) nor cared at all for their discussion of the weather, or the place. Then suddenly her attention was caught and held.
"By the way!" said one—"this is the very place where Linden was so long."
"Who? Endecott Linden?" said Dr. Harrison's likeness. "What was he here for?"
"Teaching school."
"Teaching school!" echoed the other,—"Endecott Linden teaching school!—Pegasus in pound!—How did the rustics catch him?"
"Pegasus came of his own accord, if I remember."
"Pshaw, yes!—but Linden. For what conceivable reason did he let himself down to teach school?"
"He didn't—" said the other a little hotly. "He wouldn't let himself down if he turned street-sweeper."
"True—he has a sort of natural dais which he carries about with him,—I suppose he'd make the crossing the court end. But I say, what did he do this for?"