Now neither in these nor in what lay beneath was there such profusion as would furnish a new dress every day (for an indefinite number) at a watering place; but there was just such as befitted a young lady, who being married in summer-days yet looked forward to winter, and was to be the delight of somebody's eyes summer and winter.
They were downcast and wonderfully soft eyes that looked at those morning dresses now,—as Miss Linden could see when by chance they were lifted. But that was not generally; with lowered eyelids and unsteady lips Faith went on taking out one after the other. Below, the packages were more solid and compact, some close at both ends, others shewing shawl fringes. Dress after dress lay in close order—muslin and silk and stuff; under them pieces of linen and flannel such as Pattaquasset could hardly have furnished. One particular parcel, long and soft, was tied with white ribband. Faith looked at it doubtfully.
"Must I open this, Pet?"
"It is tied up for that express purpose."
A little suspicious of each new thing, Faith pulled the easy knot of white ribband and uncovered what lay within. It was a white embroidered muslin, fine and beautiful in its clear texture, as was the wrought tracery upon it. No colour relieved this white field,—a pair of snowy gloves lay upon it, with the lace and sash for its finish of adornment; with them a folded handkerchief, plain like the rest but particularly fine. Separately wrapped up in soft paper that but half hid them, were the little rosetted slippers.
"He said you must have none but real flowers," Miss Linden said—too softly to call for a look in answer.
That dress was what not even Miss Bezac had been able to make Faith look at in imagination—and there it lay before her! Perhaps, to tell the truth, she had been hardly willing to realize to herself the future necessity of such a thing. The blood came deeper to her cheeks, then left them in another moment pale. Faith laid her face in her hands on the edge of the trunk,—for once overcome. Again Miss Linden's quick impulse was to come to Faith's side, and again she checked herself; thinking perhaps that she was too new a friend to have her words pleasant just then—feeling that there was but one person who could say what ought to be said. So she sat quite still, nor even turned her eyes towards Faith except now and then in a quick glance of sympathy and interest; both which were shewn in her folded hands and averted head. But very soon Faith was softly doing the parcel up again in its white ribbands; and then she began to lay the things back in the trunk, with quick hands but dainty. Half way through, Faith suddenly stopped.
"Shall I put these back here for the present?"—she said, looking towards Miss Linden.
"For the present, dear?—I am not sure that I understand."
"Just now—till I can arrange some other place to put them."