Which the two did, suddenly. Both stepped aside out of Faith's way, in surprise—her light footfall had not made them lower their voices. But in that moment they could see that she was a lady; in acknowledgment of which fact the one gentleman bowed slightly, and the other lifted his hat. Faith had thrown back her veil to hear better what they were saying, not expecting so sudden an encounter; and as she passed, secure in being a stranger, gave them both a view of as soft a pair of eyes as they had either of them ever looked into, which also sought theirs with a curious intentness, borne out by the high bright tinge which excitement had brought into her cheeks. Both of them saw and remembered, for swift as it was, the look was not one to forget. But the glance added little to what Faith knew already about the strangers, and she went on her way feeling as if a stricture had been bound tight round her heart.
The words about Mr. Linden's fastidiousness she knew quite enough of him to verify; and in the light of these people's talk it almost seemed to Faith as if there had been some glamour about her—as if she should some day prove to be "magician's coin" after all. But though the old sense of unworthiness swept over her, Faith was not of a temper to dwell long or heavily upon such a doubt. Her heart had been strangely stirred besides by what was said of his mother, and his old way of life, and his changes. She knew about them of course before; yet as a trifle, the touching of a single ray, will often give a new view of an old scene,—those side words of strangers set all Mr. Linden's time of joy and sorrow with such vivid reality before her, that her heart was like to break with it. That effect too, more or less, passed away from her mind,—never entirely. Another thing staid.
"What he works so hard for now"—Then he was working hard! and doing his own studies and correcting her French exercises, and giving her lessons all the while, as well as to other people; and bringing her gifts with the fruit of his work! And not an atom of it all could Faith touch to change. She pondered it, and she knew it. She doubted whether she could with any good effect venture so much as a remonstrance; and the more Faith thought, the more this doubt resolved itself into certainty. And all the while, he was working hard! Round that fact her thoughts beat, like an alarmed bird round its nest; about as helplessly.
Mrs. Derrick thought Faith was more grave and abstracted than usual that day, and sometimes thought so afterwards; that was all Faith made known.
Dr. Harrison thought the same thing on the next occasion of his seeing her, and on the next; or rather he thought she held off from him more than usual; what the root of it might be he was uncertain. And circumstances were unfavourable to the exactness of his observations for some time thereafter.
It was yet early in March, when Mrs. Stoutenburgh took a very troublesome and tedious fever, which lasted several weeks. It was reckoned dangerous, part of the time, and Mrs. Derrick and Faith were in very constant attendance. Faith especially, for Mrs. Stoutenburgh liked no one else so well about her; and gratitude and regard made her eager to do all she might. So daily and nightly she was at Mrs. Stoutenburgh's bedside, ministering to her in all the gentle offices of a nurse, and in that line besides where Mr. Linden had declared Dr. Harrison but half knew his profession. And there, and about this work, Dr. Harrison met her.
Their meetings were of necessity very often; but no lectures, nor discussions, nor much conversation, were now possible. Faith felt she had a vantage ground, and used it The doctor felt he had lost ground, or at the least was not gaining; and against some felt but unrecognized obstacle in his way his curiosity and passion chafed. He could see Faith nowhere else now; she contrived not to meet him at home. She was out with Reuben—or resting—or unavoidably busy, when he came there. And Dr. Harrison knew the resting times were needed, and could only fume against the business—in which he sometimes had some reason.
One day he found her at her post in the sick room, when Mrs. Stoutenburgh had fallen asleep. It was towards the end of the afternoon. An open Bible lay on the bed's side; and Faith sat there resting her head on her hand. She was thinking how hard Mr. Linden was working, and herself looking somewhat as if she were following his example.
"What are you doing?" said the doctor softly.
"I have been reading to Mrs. Stoutenburgh."