Pet sprang towards him with a joyful exclamation—an unselfish one, as it seemed; for after a moment's concentrated embrace which embodied the warmth of half a dozen, she disappeared out of the room. Mr. Linden came forward, looking after her at first with surprise,—then as if a possible explanation occurred to him, he stood still by the mantelpiece, watching the door by which she had gone. Faith had waited behind her screen—she could not have told why—utterly motionless for that minute; then a little quick push sent the curtain aside, and she came to him,

"Faith!" he exclaimed—"are you hiding from me?—My dear Mignonette—"

She hid from him then,—all her face could; for her gladness was of that kind which banishes colour instead of bringing it. He let her stand so a few minutes, himself very silent and still; then one hand brought her face within reach.

"Little bird!" he said, "I have you safe now,—you need not flutter any more!"

Perhaps that thought was hardly composing, for Faith's head drooped yet, in a statue-like stillness. Not very unlike a bird on its rest however, albeit her gravity was profound. And rest—to speak it fairly—is a serious thing to anybody, when it has been in doubt or jeopardy, or long withheld. What could be done to bring the colour back, that Mr. Linden tried.

"Faith," he said, "is this all I am to have from your lips—of any sort? Where did you get such pale cheeks, precious one?—did I frighten you by coming so suddenly? You have not been ill again?"

"No,"—she said, raising her eyes for the first time to look fairly in his face. But that look brought Faith back to herself; and though she drooped her head again, it was for another reason, and her words were in a different key. "We didn't expect you for a week more."

"No—because I didn't want you to be watching the winds. Mignonette, look up!"

Which she did, frankly,—her eyes as delicious a compound of gravity and gladness as any man need wish to have bestowed upon him. "Pet brought me here,—" she said.

"Well do you suppose I have brought an invoice of Dutch patience?"