Say and Seal, Volume II. Warner Susan

It could not shelter her long, for the forfeits began.

      The doctor and Mr. Linden, with Miss Essie and Mrs. Stoutenburgh for coadjutors, were constituted the awarding committee; and the forfeits were distributed to them indifferently. There were many to be redeemed; and at first there was a crowd of inferior interest, Messrs. Spider and Wasp, Mesdemoiselles White Lily and Cluster rose; who were easily disposed of and gallantly dismissed. But there were others behind. One of Faith's forfeits came up; it was held by Dr. Harrison.

      "Please to stand forth, Miss Derrick, and hear your sentence," said the doctor, leading her to a central position in the floor; which Faith took quietly, but with what inward rebellion one or two people could somewhat guess.

      "Have the goodness to state to the company what you consider to be the most admirable and praiseworthy of all the characters of flowers within your knowledge; and to describe the same, that we may judge of the justness of your opinion."

      "Describe the character?" said Faith in a low voice.

      "Yes. If you please."

      She stood silent a moment, with downcast eyes, and did not raise them when she spoke. Her colour was hardly heightened, and though her voice rose little above its former pitch, its sweet accents were perfectly audible everywhere. The picture would have been enough for her forfeit.

      "The prettiest character of a flower that I know, is that of a little species of Rhododendron. It is one of the least handsome, to look at, of all its family; its beauty is in its living. It grows on the high places of high mountains, where frost and barrenness give it no help nor chance; but there, where no other flower ever blossoms, it opens its flowers patiently and perseveringly; and its flowers are very sweet. Nothing checks it nor discourages it. As soon as the great cold lets it come, it comes; and as long as the least mildness lets it stay, it stays. Amidst snow and tempest and desolation it opens its blossoms and spreads its sweetness, with nobody to see it nor to praise it; where from the nature of the place it lives in, its work is all alone. For no other flower will bear what it bears.—Will that do?" said Faith, looking up gravely at her questioner.

      Very gently, very reverently even, he took her hand, put it upon his arm and led her to a seat, speaking as he went low words of gratified pardon asking. "You must forgive me!" he said. "Forfeits must be forfeits, you know. I couldn't resist the temptation."

      "Now wasn't that pretty?" whispered Miss Essie in the mean time in Mr.Linden's ear.

      He had listened, leaning against the mantelpiece, and with shaded eyes looking down; and now to Miss Essie's question returned only a grave bend of the head.

      "If you have been looking at the floor all this while, you have lost something," said the lady. "Do you know your turn comes next? Mr. Linden—ladies and gentlemen!—is condemned to tell us what he holds the most precious thing in this world; and to justify himself in his opinion by an argument, a quotation, and an illustration!"—

      "Now will he find means to evade his sentence!" said Mrs. Stoutenburgh laughing.

      "He has confessed himself addicted to witchcraft in my hearing," said the doctor, who had remained standing by Faith's chair.

      "The most precious thing in the world," said Mr. Linden, in a tone as carelessly graceful as his attitude, "is that which cannot be bought,—for if money could buy it, then were money equally valuable. Take for illustration, the perfection of a friend."

      "I don't understand,"—said Miss Essie; "but perhaps I shall when I hear the rest."

      He smiled a little and gave the quotation on that point in his own clear and perfect manner.

         "'A sweet, attractive kind of grace;

      A full assurance given by looks;

      Continual comfort in a face;

      The lineaments of gospel books,—

       I trow that countenance cannot lye

      Whose thoughts are legible in the eye.'"

      The quotation was received variously, but in general with vast admiration. Miss Essie turned to Mrs. Stoutenburgh and remarked, half loud,

      "That's easy to understand. I was dull."

      "What do you think of it?" said the doctor softly, stooping towards Faith. But if she heard she did not answer him. She sat with downcast eyes that did not move. She had been wondering whether that was a description of "Pet,"—or of somebody else.

      "Faith," whispered Mrs. Stoutenburgh's kind mischievous voice in her ear,—"in whose face do you suppose he finds 'continual comfort'?" But she was sorry the next instant, for the pained, startled look which flashed up at her. Sorry and yet amused—the soft little kiss on Faith's cheek was smiling although apologetic.

      "Mr. Linden," said the doctor, who held the bag of forfeits,—"it is your duty to punish Miss Essie with some infliction, such as you can devise."

      "Miss Essie," said Mr. Linden, walking gravely up to her, "if there is any person in this room towards whom you entertain and practise malicious, mischievous, and underhand designs, you are hereby sentenced to indicate the person, declare the designs, and to 'shew cause.'"

      "Why I never did in my life!" said Miss Essie, with a mixture of surprise and amusement in her gracious black eyes.

      "The court is obliged to refuse an unsupported negative," said Mr.Linden bowing.

      "Well," said Miss Essie, with no diminishing of the lustre of her black orbs,—"I had a design against you, sir!"

      "Of what sort?" said Mr. Linden with intense gravity, while everybody else laughed in proportion.

      "I had a design to enter your mind by private fraud, and steal away its secrets;—and the reason was, because the door was so terribly strong and had such an uncommon good lock! and I couldn't get in any other way."

      "I hope that is news to the rest of the company," said Mr. Linden laughing as he bowed his acknowledgments. "It is none to me! Miss Essie, may your shadow never be less!"—

      "Aint you ashamed!" said Miss Essie reproachfully. "Didn't such a confession deserve better? Who's next, Mr. Harrison?"

      Some unimportant names followed, with commonplace forfeits according; then Faith's name came to Mr. Linden. Then was there an opening of eyes and a pricking of ears of all the rest of the company. Only Faith herself sat as still as a mouse, after one little quick glance over to where the person stood in whose hands she was. He stood looking at her,—then walked with great deliberation across the room to her low seat, and taking both her hands lifted her up.

      "You need not be frightened," he said softly, as keeping one hand in his clasp he led her back to where he had been standing; then placed her in a great downy easy chair in that corner of the fireplace, and drew up a footstool for her feet.

      "Miss Faith," he said, "you are to sit there in absolute silence for the next fifteen minutes. If anybody speaks to you, you are not to answer,—if you are longing to speak yourself you must wait. It is also required that you look at nobody, and hear as little as possible." With which fierce sentence, Mr. Linden took his stand by the chair to see it enforced.

      "What a man you are!" said Mrs. Stoutenburgh laughing.

      "That's not fair play!" said Mrs. Somers. "She don't want to sit there—if you think she does, you're mistaken."

      "She should have been more careful then," said Mr. Linden. "Dr.Harrison, you have the floor."

      Dr. Harrison did not appear to think that was much of a possession;—to judge by his face, which cast several very observant glances towards the chair, and by his manner which for a moment was slightly abstracted and destitute of the spirit of the game. Miss Essie's eyes took the same direction, with a steady gaze which the picture justified. Faith sat where she had been placed, in most absolute obedience to the orders she had received,—except possibly—not probably—the last one. The lids drooped over her eyes, which moved rarely from the floor, and never raised themselves. Her colour had risen indeed to a rich tint, where it stayed; but Mrs. Somers' declaration nevertheless was hardly borne out by a certain little bit-in smile which lurked there