"Yes—certainly!"
"It is only to forget that 'Mr. Linden' is any part of my name," he said smiling.
She had been rosy enough before, but now the blood reddened her very brow, till for one instant she put up her hands to hide it.
"What then?"—she said in a breathless sort of way.
"What you like"—he answered brightly. "I have not quite as many names as a Prince Royal, but still enough to choose from. You may separate, combine, or invent, at your pleasure."
There came a summons to dinner then; and part of the hours which should follow thereafter, Mr. Linden was pledged to spend somewhere with somebody—away from home. But he promised to be back to tea, and before that, if he could; and so left Faith to the quiet companionship of her mother and her lessons—if she felt disposed for them. They were both in the sitting-room together, Mrs. Derrick and the books,—both helping the sunlight that came in at the windows. But Faith neglected the books, and came to her mother's side. She sat down and put her arms round her, and nestled her head on her mother's bosom, as she had done in the morning. And then was silent. That might have been just what Mrs. Derrick expected, she was so very ready for it; her work was dropped so instantly, her head rested so fondly on Faith's. But her silence was soon broken.
"How long do you think I can wait, pretty child?" she said in the softest, tenderest tone that even she could use.
"Mother!" said Faith startling. "For what?"
"Suppose you tell me."
"Do you know, mother?" said Faith in a low, changed tone and drawing closer. But Mrs. Derrick only repeated,