"He did not understand your answer," said Mr. Linden smiling, "I know that beforehand. What was it?"—"I think he didn't like it," said Faith. "I told him it seemed to me a great temple that men had built for their own glory and pleasure, not for the glory and pleasure of God."
"Since when, you have been to Mr. Tom Pulteney like a fable in ancient Greek to one who has learned the modern language at school and forgotten it."
"He did not understand me," said Faith, laughing and blushing a little. "And I was worse off; for I asked him several questions he could not answer me. I wanted to go to the top, but he was certain I would be too tired if I did. But I heard the chime, Endecott! that was beautiful. Beautiful! I am very glad I was there."
"I'll take you to the top" said Mr. Linden, "it will not tire me. Faith, I have brought you another wedding present—talking of 'ancient' things."
"What is that, Endecott?" she said, with a bright amused face.—"Only a fern leaf. One that waved a few thousand years before the deluge, and was safely bedded in stone when the children of Israel passed through the Red Sea. I went to see an old antiquarian friend this morning, and out of his precious things he chose one for mine." And Mr. Linden laid in her hand the little rough stone; rough on one side, but on the other where the hammer had split it through, the brown face was smooth, and the black leaf lay marked out in all its delicate tracery.
"Endecott, what is this?" Faith exclaimed, in her low tones of delight.—"A fossil leaf."
"Of a fern? How beautiful! Where did it come from?" She had risen in her delight, and stood by Mr. Linden at the dressing-table.—"This one from Bohemia. Do you see the perfection of every leafet?"
"How wonderful! how beautiful!" Faith repeated, studying the fossil. "It brings up those words, Endecott:—'A thousand years in thy sight are but as yesterday when it is past; or as a watch in the night.'"
"Yes, and these—'The counsel of the Lord, that shall stand.' Compare this fern leaf with the mighty palaces of Babylon and Nineveh. Through untold ages this has kept its wavy fragile outline, they are marked only by 'the line of confusion and the stones of emptiness.'"
Faith looked up, with such an eye of intelligence and interest as again would have puzzled Mr. Pulteney.