There was a tense quiet in her attitude
that seemed to cover something most unlike quietude within.
A slight noise at her side broke the spell of her gloomy musing and,
glancing down, she saw the bit of stiff paper lying motionless beside
her, and thinking it something she might herself have dropped, reached
idly down and picked it up.
But at the first glance she was as one electrified. Sitting upright,
pallid and eager, she gazed at the superscription, her face growing
radiant with hope and joy. At length she rose and, turning about,
looked forward along the deck, gay with its groups in light clothing,
its covering awnings, and its little children with their picturesque
Indian ayahs.
A short way off sat Faith, smiling over her letter, and to her went
Lady Moreham, a soft expression upon her face that made it lovely.
"My dear," she said, as the girl looked up brightly, "is this yours?"
Faith glanced at the envelope, which the speaker did not offer to
relinquish.
"Why, yes. Did I drop it? Oh, it blew away. Thank you for returning
it."
As she spoke she rose, with instinctive courtesy, and offered her
chair, bringing another from a little distance for herself. Lady
Moreham accepted it with an absent manner, and, sinking into it, said
quickly, with agitation in her tones,
"I must ask you a question or two, but not out of curiosity, believe
me. Was this address written by some one you know--a friend?"
Faith smiled.
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