ful in its clear texture, as was the wrought
tracery upon it. No colour relieved this white field,--a pair of snowy
gloves lay upon it, with the lace and sash for its finish of adornment;
with them a folded handkerchief, plain like the rest but particularly
fine. Separately wrapped up in soft paper that but half hid them, were
the little rosetted slippers.

"He said you must have none but real flowers," Miss Linden said--too
softly to call for a look in answer.

That dress was what not even Miss Bezac had been able to make Faith
look at in imagination--and there it lay before her! Perhaps, to tell
the truth, she had been hardly willing to realize to herself the future
necessity of such a thing. The blood came deeper to her cheeks, then
left them in another moment pale. Faith laid her face in her hands on
the edge of the trunk,--for once overcome. Again Miss Linden's quick
impulse was to come to Faith's side, and again she checked herself;
thinking perhaps that she was too new a friend to have her words
pleasant just then--feeling that there was but one person who _could_
say what ought to be said. So she sat quite still, nor even turned her
eyes towards Faith except now and then in a quick glance of sympathy
and interest; both which were shewn in her folded hands and averted
head. But very soon Faith was softly doing the parcel up again in its
white ribbands; and then she began to lay the things back in the trunk,
with quick hands but dainty. Half way through, Faith suddenly stopped.

"Shall I put these back here for the present?"--she said, looking
towards Miss Linden.

"For the present, dear?--I am not sure that I understand."

"Just now--till I can arrange some other place to put them."

"I have nothing to do with 'this place'," said Miss Linden
smiling,--"it came with my trunks, that is all."

Faith coloured again and went on with what she was doing. Miss Linden
watched her.

"Faith," she said, "don't finish that work just now,--sit still there
and read Endy's letter--won't you, darling? I am going down to pay your
mother a visit." And with a kiss and embrace she was gone.

Faith's hands stopped their work as the door closed, and she sat still,
looking at the voiceless messages of love, care, thought, and
anticipation, which surrounded her. Looking dreamily, and a little
oppressed; and when she moved her hand it was not first to get her
letter, but to draw out the locket from her bosom and see Mr. Linden's