"Because—it was good for me,"—she said, not very readily nor explicitly.
"In what way?"
"It was good for me,"—she repeated;—"it put me in mind of some things."
"Of what, dear child?"
It was a question evidently Faith would rather not have answered. She spoke with some difficulty.
"That there are such things in the world as pain—and trouble. It is best not to forget it."
Mr. Linden understood and felt; but he only answered, "It will be the business of my life to make you forget it. Now don't you think you ought to put up this book, and rest or sleep?"
"I dare say you ought," said Faith,—"and I wish you would. I want to work."
He gave her a laugh, by way of reply, and then gave her work as she desired; watching carefully against her tiring herself in any way, and making the lessons more of talk on his part and less of study on hers. They were none the less good for that, nor any the less pleasant. Till there came a knock at the front door; and then with a little sigh Faith leaned back against the sofa, as if lessons were done.
"There is Dr. Harrison."