"In answer to his suit, Faith?"
"No.—He was talking as I did not like, one day."—Faith's cheeks were growing beautifully rosy.
"Was it to protect yourself, or me?" said Mr. Linden watching her.
Faith's glance up and down, was inexpressibly pretty.
"Myself, I think."
"You have a strange power of exciting and keeping down my temper, at one and the same time!" said Mr. Linden. "What did he dare say to you?"
"Nothing about me. It was something—about you—which I did not choose to have him say."
Mr. Linden smiled, and called her a little crusader, but the grave look came back. Dr. Harrison had known, then, just what ties he was trying to break,—had felt sure—must have felt sure—that they were bonds of very deep love and confidence; and thereupon, had coolly set himself to sow mistrust! Mr. Linden was very silent,—the keen words of indignation that rose to his lips ever driven back and turned aside by Faith's face, which told so plainly that she could bear no excitement. He spoke at last with great deliberation.
"You may as well shew it to all Pattaquasset, Mignonette!—for all
Pattaquasset shall know before I have been here much longer."
"What?—why?" she said startling.
"For what you will, love. I think you need the protection of my name."