To do this, she had to pass by Mr. Armstrong. How came that rigid look, that deadly paleness, to his face? What spasm of pain made him clutch the pamphlet he held with fingers that grew white about the nails? Faith stopped, startled. "Mr. Armstrong! Are you not well?" said she. At the same instant of her pausing, Miss Sampson entered from the hall, behind her. Mr. Armstrong's eye, lifted toward Faith in an attempt to reply, caught a glimpse of the sharp, pronounced outlines of the nurse's face. Before Faith could comprehend, or turn, or cry out, the paleness blanched ghastlier over his features, and the strong man fell back, fainting. With quick, professional instinct, Miss Sampson sprang forward, seizing, as she did so, an ice-water pitcher from the table. "There, take this!" said she to Faith, "and sprinkle him with it, while I loosen his neckcloth! Gracious goodness!" she exclaimed, in an altered tone, as she came nearer to him for this purpose, "do it, some of the rest of you, and let me get out of his way! It was me!" And she vanished out of the room. CHAPTER XXII. ROGER ARMSTRONG'S STORY. "Even by means of our sorrows, we belong to the Eternal Plan." HUMBOLDT. "Go in there," said Nurse Sampson to Mr. Gartney, calling him in from the porch, "and lay that man flat on the floor!" Which Mr. Gartney did, wondering, vaguely, in the instant required for his transit to the apartment, whether bandit or lunatic might await his offices. All happened in a moment; and in that moment, the minister's fugitive senses began to return. "Lie quiet, a minute. Faith, get a glass of wine, or a little brandy." Faith quickly brought both; and Mr. Armstrong, whom her father now assisted to the armchair again, took the wine from her hand, with a smile that thanked her, and depreciated himself. "I am not ill," he said. "It is all over now. It was the sudden shock. I did not think I could have been so weak." Mrs. Gartney had gone to find some hartshorn. Mrs. Etherege, seeing that the need for it was passing, went out to tell her sister so, and to ask the strange woman who had originated all the commotion, what it could possibly mean. Mr. Gartney, at the same instant, caught a glimpse of his horse, which he had left unfastened at the gate, giving indications of restlessness, and hastened out to tie him. Faith and Mr. Armstrong were left alone. "Did I frighten you, my child?" he asked, gently. "It was a strange thing to happen! I thought that woman was in her grave. I thought she died, when--I will tell you all about it some day, soon, Miss Faith. It was the sad, terrible page of my life." Faith's eyes were lustrous with sympathy. Under all other thought was a beating joy--not looked at yet--that he could speak to her so! That he could snatch this chance moment to tell her, only, of his sacred sorrow!