About as bright and fresh and sweet as the morning Miss Linden looked when she came down, but warmer and gentler than March in his best mood. Her interest in everything about the house and its two tenants was unbounded, and without being really like her brother, there was enough family likeness in manner and voice to give a pleasant reminder now and then. While they were at breakfast the man came from Pequot according to order, but she went out alone to attend to him, coming back to the table with a sort of gleeful face that spoke of pleasure or mischief in prospect.
"Faith," she said, "we cannot touch those mantillas this morning."
"Can't we?" said Faith. "Which part of Pattaquasset shall we go to see?"
"Suppose we go up to my room and discuss matters."—
Faith was ready. Ready as a child, or as the "bird" she used to be called, for any innocent play or work.
"My dear little sister," said Miss Linden as they ran up stairs, the glee working out at the dainty finger ends that were on Faith's belt, "don't you know that I promised you a 'message'? and don't you want to have it?—O how lovely this room is! That trunk is not lovely, standing just there. Dear Faith, you need not think all my baggage is coming after it!"
"I wish it could,"—said Faith, looking after her "message."
"I want to shew you the key of this—it has something peculiar about it," said Miss Linden searching in her bag. "Endecott said, Faith, that as you and he had been together so much in a French atmosphere, you must let him do one thing in the French style. To which message, as well as to the trunk, you will find this the key."
Now attached to the key was a little card, on which was written simply the word, "Trousseau."
Faith understood the word well enough, and it seemed to turn her into a pretty petrifaction—with internal life at work indeed, as the rising and falling colours witnessed. She stood with bended head looking at the mysterious key; then making a swift transit to the window she opened it and threw back the blinds and stood looking out, the key in one hand giving little impatient or abstracted taps against the fingers of the other. It was a pretty landscape certainly, but Faith had looked at it often before.