If his first motion was to hinder that, he thought better of it, and suffered her to go and give her finishing touches; watching her all the time, as she felt, but without speaking; and when Cindy shut the door and tramped down stairs, the room was very still. Only the light crackling of the hickory sticks in the chimney, and those soft movements about the table. If ever such movements were made with pleasure--if ever a face of very deep peacefulness hovered over the placing and displacing of knives and forks, plates and salt-cellars,--it was then. Yet it was not a very abstracted face, nor looked as if the _outward_ quiet might be absolutely immovable. The last touch put to the table, Faith glanced at the hickory sticks on the fire; but they wanted nothing; and then her look came round to Mr. Linden, and the smile which could no longer be kept back, came too; a smile of touching acknowledgment. "Miss Faith, will you come and sit down?" She came, silently. One deep breath she did hear, as Mr. Linden arranged the cushions and with gentle force made her lean against them, but either he did not feel himself able to touch directly what they were both thinking of--or else thought her not able to bear it. His tone was very quiet, the rest of his hand upon her hair hardly longer than it had been yesterday, as he said, "What will my scholar be fit for to-day?--anything but sleep?" For a moment it was a little more than she could bear, and her face for that moment was entirely grave; then she smiled up at him and answered in a tone lighter than his had been, "Fit for anything--and more fit than ever, Mr. Linden. I only rest here because you put me here." The next remark diverged a little, and was given with darkening eyes. "How DARED he take you with those young horses!" "He thought he could do just what he pleased with them--" said Faith, shaking her head a little. "And with you--" was in Mr. Linden's mind, but it came not forth. "Where is your mother?--does she know?" "Mother's coming," said Faith raising herself from the cushions,--"as soon as she sends up the breakfast. She doesn't know yet. I told Sam not to tell you, Mr. Linden. "How do you do to-day?" She answered him with a bright fair glance and in a tone as sweet as happiness could make it, "_Very_ well!" Mr. Linden's eyes went from her to the opening door and the entering dishes. "Sara was not in fault, Miss Faith,--I heard you come home."