Miss Linden on her part followed Faith to the window with her eyes and a smile, then sat looking at the great leathern trunk in its travelling cover, which it wore still. Once she made a motion to take this off—then laid her hands back in their former position and waited for Faith to come.
"Pet," said Faith presently,—"have you looked out of the window this morning?" Which question brought two hands round her shoulders in no time.
"Yes my dear, I have. What new beauties have you discovered?"
"It looks pretty in the spring light.—But I wasn't thinking of it, either," said Faith blushing. And without raising her eyes, looking distressed, she softly insinuated the key with its talismanic card back into Miss Linden's hand.
"Well? what, dear Faith?"
"I don't know,"—said Faith softly. "You know."
"I know,"—said Miss Linden, "that Endecott locked the trunk and tied the label to the key, and it is a great mistake to suppose that I will unlock the one or take charge of the other. In the second place, I need not even look on unless you wish. It can go to another room, or I will leave you in undisturbed possession of this. So speak," she said, kissing her.
Faith did not immediately. She wound her arms round her new sister and hid her face in Miss Linden's neck, and stood so clasping her silently for a few minutes. But when she raised her head she went straight to the "trousseau" trunk; pulled off, business fashion, the travelling cover; set the key in the lock, and lifted the lid.
"I should tell you, dear," said Miss Linden while this was doing—she had seated herself a little way off from Faith and the trunk, "I should tell you, that if it had been possible to get a pattern dress and so forth, you would have found nothing here to do but look. As it is, there is some work for your fingers, and I hope for mine." The lid was now open, and between the two next protecting covers lay a letter. A recognizing flash of eye greeted that; Faith put it out of sight and lifted the second cover. From where she sat Miss Linden could see her hand tremble.
There were two or three characteristics that applied to the whole arrangement, choice, and filling of the "trousseau." The absence of things useless was not more notable than the abundance of things useful; and let not useful be understood to mean needful,—for of the little extras which are so specially pleasant to those who never buy them for themselves, there was also a full supply. The daintiness of everything was great, but nothing was out of Faith's line: the stuffs might be finer than she had always worn, but the colours were what she had always liked, and in any one of those many dresses she might feel at home in five minutes—they suited her so well. She could see, well enough, that Mr. Linden not only remembered "her style" but loved it,—in the very top rack, that was first laid open, she had proof of this—for besides the finest of lawn and cambric, there were dainty bands of embroidery and pieces of lace with which Faith could ruffle herself to her heart's content.