The afternoon air was enticing, the afternoon walk home very lingering; then standing in the hall to look and taste it still, the sweet peace of everything seemed to enter every heart. Even Pet, who all day had been unheard and almost unseen, stood with clasped hands looking out; and only the heavy eyes spoke of the oppression that had been. But as she looked the tears came back again, and then she turned to Mr. Linden—wrapping her arms round his neck.
"Endy, Endy!—do you remember the first time we talked of this day?"
Mr. Linden gave back her caresses without a word, but with a look of pain that Faith had rarely seen on his face. It was some minutes before he spoke. "Dear Pet—she knows it now!"
Miss Linden looked up then, mastering her tears, and with a broken "Forgive me, Endy—" she kissed him and went away up stairs. But Mr. Linden did not look out any more. He went into the sitting-room, and resting his face on his hand sat there alone and still, until Faith came to call him to tea.
CHAPTER XLII.
"Now my two pets," said Mr. Linden as they left the table Monday morning, "what are you going to do?"
"I am going to work," said his sister. "Mrs. Derrick and I have business on hand. You can have Faith."
"There is an impression of that sort on my own mind."
"But I mean to-day. Except for about five minutes every half hour."
"It would be needless for me to say what I am going to do," observed
Faith quietly.