"Do you mean," said Miss Essie looking at him with a semi-comical endeavour to cover up discomfiture and other things—"do you mean to say that I have made nothing here but an abominable mistake?"
"I should give it a different adjective."
Miss Essie made a despairing gesture. "Oh!—I might well say it's no use talking to people! Will you ever for give me, Mr. Linden, for all the mischief I have tried to do you? I didn't know both parties were within hearing of me, you know, sir?—"
"Miss Essie, I hope you may always be as successful."
Perhaps Miss Essie wondered, as she glanced at Faith, whether she had done any "mischief" or no; but she ventured no sort of repartee, being altogether in an uncomfortable and somewhat awed state of mind. She made hurried adieus to Mrs. Derrick, more formal and extremely civil leave-taking of Mr. Linden, parted in a sort of astonished wise with Faith and the diamonds which evidently bewildered her yet, and made what was also evidently an escape out of the house. While Mr. Linden attended the lady to the door, Faith softly and swiftly passed behind them and made her escape too, up stairs. She was gone before he turned.
It was perhaps an hour after this, when Cindy entered Faith's room and gave her a note. "I'm free to confess," said Cindy, "that Mr. Linden gave it to me, but who writ it I don't know." But Faith did. It ran thus:—
"Mademoiselle—With great impatience I have waited for my Sunbeam to break through the gloomy clouds of doubt which surround me—but I perceive the 'warning' has taken effect!
In keeping with this is the state of the outer world, which is even rainy!—so that my purpose to take said Sunbeam out to drive is for the present thwarted.
Conceive of my state of mind!
In vain I repeat to myself the comforting truth, that my Sunbeam is shining somewhere, if not on me,—there are circumstances where philosophical truths lose all their power.