"Faith," he said with that same glad look at her, "your face says that you are getting better every minute. Not tired yet?"
"I feel as if I was in a grand dream."
"Do you?" said Mr. Linden,—"I am glad I do not. It brings me out of a dream to see you begin to look like yourself. I have not felt so real before since I came home."
"You are real enough," said Faith; "and so is everything else. It is only my feeling that is dreamy. And this air will wake me up, if I stay here a little while longer. How good it is!"
"Do you see that dark rock out in the midst of the waves? and how the waves half cover and then leave it bare?"
"Yes."
"I was thinking of what Rutherford says of the changing, swaying, unsteady tide of life-joys and sorrows,—'Our rock doth not ebb and flow, but our sea.'"
Faith thought her own life had not been much like that changing tide; then remembered his had, in nearer measure. The next question was not far off; she put it, looking up anxiously and regretfully. "Endecott, what are you working so hard for?"
A very gay change of face answered her.
"So hard as what?"