Faith looked up at him in pure astonishment, the corners of her mouth indicating that she expected another _puzzle_, or rather was already engaged in one. The look made his gravity give way a little. "I thought you might like to know your position at present," he said. "I don't know it yet, Mr. Linden." "It is that of the unfortunate prisoner to whom I referred." "A prisoner!--" said Faith looking up at him very much amused. "Well, Mr. Linden?" He looked amused too, yet with a difference. "Well, Miss Faith--You are a prisoner, for political purposes. There is no practicable way for you to get back to the house save through the witness-box." "Where is the witness-box?" said Faith. "Are you in a hurry to be in it?" "No," said Faith with a very unshadowed smile, "I am not in a hurry for anything." "Then tell me what you have been reading to-day," he said, throwing himself down on the grass beside her. She looked at him, hesitated, then said with a lowered tone, "I have been reading what you told me to read--and my testament." Mr. Linden lifted his hat a little, replaced it--rather more down over his brows than before, looking steadily down at Kildeer river the while. "Why did you look grave when I asked you if you had brought 'Le Philosophe'?" "I didn't know I did!" said Faith simply. "I had brought only my testament." "Only--" Mr. Linden repeated. "Well, from 'only' a testament and only such a scene--a skilful reader may get much." Then turning and looking her full in the face, he said, "Miss Faith--what have those boys done to vex you?" A sudden, painful, startled flush answered him. She did not look now; she said earnestly, "Please Mr. Linden, don't speak of it!" "I must know--" was his only answer. "No," she said gently but troubled,--"you mustn't know, and there is no need you should. There is no need," she repeated eagerly. "There is another true little witness I can call upon--but I would rather have your account." "How did you know?--how did you know anything about it?" said Faith, facing round upon him in her turn. "Gentlemen of what Miss Danforth is pleased to call 'my profession' must know things occasionally," said Mr. Linden. "_What_ do you think you know, Mr. Linden?" she said a little timidly. His answer was gentle though resolute. "I don't _think_ I know anything. What I know, I know----what I do not, I will." Faith's head half drooped for an instant, and the flush which had faded came back painfully. Then she looked at him again, and though the flush was there she spoke as usual. "You won't try, Mr. Linden--because I am going to ask you not. It is nothing you need take up--it was nothing but--what perhaps I was foolish to mind. I don't mind it now--much--" But there was a grave falling off in the tone of that much. She felt it herself, for she rallied and said with her own quiet frank smile, "I shall not mind it at all to-morrow."