It was April now, and a soft springy day. A fire burned gently in the chimney, while a window open at a little distance let in Spring's whispers and fragrances; and the plain old-fashioned room looked cosy and pretty, as some rooms will look under undefinable influences. Nothing could be plainer. There was not even the quaint elegance of Mr. Linden's room; this one was wainscotted with light blue and whitewashed, and furnished with the simplest of chintz furniture. But its simplicity and purity were all in tone with the Spring air and the cheer of the wood fire; and not at all a bad setting for the figure that sat there in the great chintz chair before the fire; her soft hair in bright order, the quiet brown folds of the wrapper enveloping her, and the flash of the diamonds giving curious point and effect to the whole picture. Faith was alone and looking very happy.
It wanted but a few weeks now of Mr. Linden's coming home,—coming home for a longer rest and sight of her; and Faith had not seen him since January. Mrs. Stoutenburgh's illness and Faith's consequent fatigue had in part accounted to him for the short letters and missing French exercises, but she could see that such excuse would not long be made for her,—his last one or two letters had been more anxious, more special in their inquiries: how glad she was that he need have no further cause for either. Partly musing on all this, partly on what she had been reading, Faith sat that afternoon, when the well-known single soft knock at her door announced Reuben Taylor. He came in with a glad face—how sad it had lately been Faith had seen, sick as she was,—and with both hands full of pleasant things. One hand was literally full, of cowslips; and as he came up and gave her his other hand, it seemed to Faith as if a great spot of Spring gold was before her eyes.
"Dear Miss Faith," Reuben said, "I wonder if anybody can ever be thankful enough, to see you better! You feel stronger than yesterday, don't you, ma'am?"
"I can't be thankful enough, Reuben—I feel that to-day. How good you are to bring me those cowslips! O yes,—I am stronger than I was yesterday."
That Faith was not very strong was sufficiently shewn by the way her hands lay in her lap and on the arm of the chair, and by the lines of her pale quiet face. Bodily strength was not flourishing there. Reuben looked at her wistfully, with a half-choked sigh, then knelt down beside her chair, as he often did.
"I didn't bring them all, Miss Faith—I mean, I didn't pick them all. Charlie and Robbie saw me in the meadow, and nothing would do but they must help. I don't think they always knew which to pick—but I thought you wouldn't mind that," he said as he laid the cowslips on the table, their fair yellow faces shewing very fair in the sick room. Faith's face was bright before, but it brightened still.
"They look lovely to me—tell Charlie and Rob I will thank them when I can. I don't thank you, Reuben,"—she said turning from the flowers to him.
"No, ma'am, I should hope not," he said, answering her smile gratefully. "But that's not all, Miss Faith—for Ency Stephens sent you one of her rosebuds,"—and Reuben took a little parcel carefully from his pocket. "It's only wrapped up in brown paper, because I hadn't time to go home for white. And she told me to tell you, Miss Faith," he added, both eyes and cheek flushing—"that she prays every day for you to get well and for Mr. Linden to come home."
The smile died on Faith's face and her eyes fell. "He ought to have this," she said presently, with a little flush on her own cheek. "I don't feel as if it should come to me. Reuben, does she want anything?" It was very rare, even now, for Faith to speak directly to Reuben of Mr. Linden, though she was ready enough to hear Reuben speak of him.
"No, ma'am, I think not," he said in answer to net question. "You know—did you ever hear, Miss Faith?—that when Mr. Linden first went there she was kept in the house the whole time,—nobody knew how to take her out—or took the trouble; and Mr. Linden carried her half a mile down the lane that very first day. And you can guess how he talked to her, Miss Faith,—they said she looked like another child when she came back. But is there anything I can do for you, ma'am, before I go to the post-office?—it's almost time."