"All of them,--basket and all, Endecott. You are so patient that you do not hear."
"And you so impatient that you do not see--"basket and all" are at your side, fair princess.--Stand back,--it may be very well for the winds to "blow, and crack their cheeks," but I think it should be confined to them." And she was laughingly held back, where she could only use her eyes about the fire.
"That"s my province," said Faith. "I think any effort to make a princess of me, will--fail. Did Miranda pick up any wood herself?"
"You can"t help being a princess if I am a prince," said Mr. Linden.
"I don"t see how it follows," said Faith. "Only let me get at that fire, and the fancy will pa.s.s away. Endecott!--it is absolutely necessary that some wood should be put on; and I don"t believe princes know how."
"Princes," said Mr. Linden, holding her a little off with one hand, while with the other he replenished the fire, "are especially famed for their power of doing impossible things in desert places. And the princess will follow--whether you can see it or not. Is that blaze aspiring enough for you?"
"Yes, but it needs to be kept up--I want a good bed of coals."
A fine fire was on its way at last, and while waiting for it to burn down to the desired bed of coals, the temporary prince and princess sat down on the rock to feast their eyes in the mean time. A little past midday, it was not the picturesque hour for another season; but now, in the freshness of Spring, the delicate beauties of colour and light could bear the full meridian sun and not ask for shadows to set them off; other than the tender shade under the half-leaved trees. It was a warm enough day too, and those same leaves were making a great spring towards their full unfolding. Birds were twittering all around, and they only filled up the silence.
"Isn"t it worth coming for!--" said Faith, when they had taken it all in for a few minutes without interrupting the birds.
"More than that--and the "it" is very plural. Faith, do you see that b.u.t.terfly?"--A primrose-winged rover was meandering about in the soft air before them, flitting over the b.u.t.tercups with a listless sort of admiration.
"Poor thing, he has come out too soon," said Faith. "He will have some frost yet, for so summery as it is to-day." But Faith gave a graver look at the b.u.t.terfly than his yellow wings altogether warranted.
"Among the ancients," said Mr. Linden, "the word for a b.u.t.terfly and the word for the soul were the same,--they thought the first was a good emblem of the lightness and airiness of the last. So they held, that when a man died a b.u.t.terfly might be seen flitting above his head. I was thinking how well this one little thing shews the exceeding lowness of heathen ideas."
"Did they think the b.u.t.terfly was his very spirit, in that form?"
"I suppose so--or thought they did. But look at that creature"s wavering, unsteady flight; his aimless wanderings, anywhere or nowhere; and compare it with the "mounting up with wings as eagles", which a Christian soul may know, even in this life,--compare it with the swift "return to G.o.d who gave it"--with the being "caught up to meet the Lord" which it shall surely know at death."
"And the b.u.t.terfly isn"t further from that," said Faith clasping her hands together,--"than many a real, living soul in many a living person!"--
"No, not further; and so what the old Greeks made an emblem of the immortal soul, gives name, with us, to those persons who are most tied down to mortality. What were you thinking of, a minute ago, when I shewed you the b.u.t.terfly?"
"I was thinking of somebody that I am afraid a b.u.t.terfly will always remind me of,"--Faith answered with a slight colour;--"and of the time he got the name."
"He got it by favour of his office, you know--not otherwise."
"I know--"
But with that, Faith jumped up to see to the state of the fire; and then after some conjuration in her basket produced a suspicious-looking tin vessel, for which the proper bed of coals was found. Leaving it and the fire to agree together, Faith came back to the rock and Mr. Linden and stood a little while silently looking and breathing the sweetness.
"I always did love everything in the world, that my eyes could see,"
she said gravely. "But I love them so much more now!--now that the hand that made them is not such a strange far-off hand to me. It makes a kind of new world to me, Endecott."
"Yes--and you can understand how--even without physical changes--when we "shall know as we are known," the "heavens and earth wherein dwelleth righteousness" may be preeminently "new"."
Faith stood without reply a few minutes longer, then ran back to her fire; and after a short s.p.a.ce called to Mr. Linden to ask if he would like to come and see what the prince had been picking up wood for?
To which the prince responded with very un-royal alacrity, bringing a well-put-together knot of b.u.t.tercups to adorn one side of Miranda"s head; which he declared looked better than gold beads, if they didn"t cost as much.
A napkin was spread on the rock, conveniently near to the fire; on which plates and bread and a bottle of cream and a dainty looking pasty were irregularly bestowed. Mr. Linden threw himself down on the moss; and Faith had got a cup and saucer out of her basket and was just sugaring and creaming the prince"s reward before applying to her dish on the fire for the crowning coffee; when her eye was caught by a spectator lately come upon the scene. No other than a somewhat ragged little boy, who eyeing them from the bank had been irresistibly lured nearer and nearer, by the grace of the preparations and the steam of the hot coffee perhaps, till he now stood by the trunk of the nearest tree.
"What are you doin"?" he said.
"What are you?" said Mr. Linden, turning to look at the boy--not just as _he_ looked at the coffee, but very much as the coffee looked at him. "Did you never see people eat dinner?"
The boy stood his ground with, "What you got?"
"When was the last time?" said Mr. Linden. ("Princess--this may turn out to be a subject!")
"Last time _what?_" said the "subject" stoutly.
"The last time you saw people eating dinner," said Mr. Linden. "Did you ever go to the Museum?"
"I"ve went to Pettibaug!"--
"When is the last time you saw people eating dinner?" said Faith.
"We haint got none to our house."
"What"s the matter?"
"Mintie said there warn"t nothin" to eat and I might go a blackberryin"."
"You"ve come to the right place," said Mr. Linden,--"I don"t believe they"re ripe anywhere else. Who is "Mintie"? and who stays with her while you"re after blackberries?"
"Mintie"s sissy. There aint n.o.body stayin" with her--she"s stayin"
along o" mother--when she"s up."
"Where is she?--I mean where does she live--and you, and Mintie. Where is your house?"
"Round there--"Taint fur. What you got?"
Faith set down her cup and looked at Mr. Linden.
"What is the matter with your mother?"
"She"s sick."
"Well if I give you a basket, and this lady puts some dinner in it for your mother and Mintie and you, do you think you can carry it home?"
"Is your sister sick too?" said Faith.
"She"s got the fever nagur."
"Endecott," said Faith softly,--"shall we go and see them?"
"Yes, of course. What"s your name, child?"
"My name"s Bob Tuck."