Faith left her seat, with a word of excuse, and met him in the hall. "I had a patient up this way," said he, "and came round to bring you a message from Miss Henderson. Nothing to be frightened at, in the least; only that she isn't quite so well as ordinary, these last hot days, and thought perhaps you might as lief come over. She said she was expecting you for a visit there, before your folks get back. No, thank you"--as Faith motioned to conduct him to the drawing-room--"can't come in. Sorry I couldn't offer to take you down; but I've got more visits to make, and they lie round the other way." "Is Aunt Faith ill?" "Well--no. Not so but that she'll be spry again in a day or two; especially if the weather changes. That ankle of hers is troublesome, and she had something of an ill turn last night, and called me over this morning. She seems to have taken a sort of fancy that she'd like to have you there." "I'll come." And Faith went back, quickly, as Dr. Wasgatt departed, to make his errand known, and to ask if Mr. Rushleigh would mind driving her round to Cross Corners, after going to his mills. "Wait till to-morrow, Faithie," said Margaret, in the tone of one whom it fatigues to think of an exertion, even for another. "You'll want your box with you, you know; and there isn't time for anything to-night." "I think I ought to go now," answered Faith. "Aunt Henderson never complains for a slight ailment, and she might be ill again, to-night. I can take all I shall need before to-morrow in my little morocco bag. I won't keep you waiting a minute," she added, turning to Mr. Rushleigh. "I can wait twenty, if you wish," he answered kindly. But in less than ten, they were driving down toward the river. Margaret Rushleigh had betaken herself to her own cool chamber, where the delicate straw matting, and pale green, leaf-patterned chintz of sofa, chairs, and hangings, gave a feeling of the last degree of summer lightness and daintiness, and the gentle air breathed in from the southwest, sifted, on the way, of its sunny heat, by the green draperies of vine and branch it wandered through. Lying there, on the cool, springy cushions of her couch--turning the fresh-cut leaves of the August _Mishaumok_--she forgot the wheels and the spindles--the hot mills, and the ceaseless whir. Just at that moment of her utter comfort and content, a young factory girl dropped, fainting, in the dizzy heat, before her loom. CHAPTER XXVII. AT THE MILLS. "For all day the wheels are droning, turning,-- Their wind comes in our faces,-- Till our hearts turn,--our head with pulses burning,-- And the walls turn in their places." MRS. BROWNING. Faith sat silent by Mr. Rushleigh's side, drinking in, also, with a cool content, the river air that blew upon their faces as they drove along. "Faithie!" said Paul's father, a little suddenly, at last--"do you know how true a thing you said a little while ago?"