Faith attached little credence to confessions of crimes which Holden intimated he had committed. Had she done so, she might have felt alarm at being thus alone with him. But his presence, so far from inspiring her with terror, had something unaccountable of attraction. His self-accusation she considered exaggerations of a morbid fancy that converted common errors into unpardonable sins. Hers was a charity that could think no evil, and in her imagination she had long since formed a theory that, to her pure mind, made him an object of deep interest. In Holden she saw a man of superior endowments and breeding--his manners and language so far above those of most around her, proved both; who, by undeserved misfortunes had partially lost his reason, and, like the stricken deer, left the herd to die alone. Sometimes she would fill up the picture with scenes from his supposed life, at one time of one character, and at another time of another; but they were merely sports of the Imagination, changing figures of a kaleidoscope which employed without satisfying the mind. Of the truth of her general hypothesis she was quite convinced, nor without hope that her old friend would be restored to society and the position which she considered his due. As children instinctively know those who love them, so must Holden have originally had some idea of the feelings of Faith, and by it been drawn closer to her. Certainly, there was no one in whose society he took more pleasure, or whom he was more desirous to please. At this stage of the conversation, the door opened, and Mr. Armstrong entered. He advanced to Holden, whose hand he took, and welcomed with much cordiality. It was no new thing for him to see the Recluse in his parlor. His daughter's partiality he well knew, of course; and although, in his opinion, it was somewhat extraordinary that a young lady should be attracted by Holden, he accounted for the circumstance by ascribing it to the romance in her nature, of which she had no common share. The contrast was strong betwixt the appearance of the two men. On the one hand, in perfect harmony with the adornment of the handsome parlor, stood the delicate person of Mr. Armstrong, with cropped hair and close-shaven face, in a suit of fine black cloth and muslin cravat of spotless white, representing a refined, perhaps enervated phase of civilization; on the other, the stately and vigorous form of Holden, in a clean but coarse gray frock, girt around the waist with a sash, with long hair falling on his neck, and unshorn beard, looking like one better acquainted with the northern blast than with the comforts of curtains and carpets. "It is not often, brother Holden," said Mr. Armstrong, addressing him by an epithet sometimes applied to him, "that I am so fortunate as to meet you in my house." "Dost thou speak from the heart, James Armstrong," replied Holden, "or art thou flattering me with empty conventionalities?"