Nobody

"I won't," said Madge. "I can't help going with him whenever he asksme, and I am not going any other time."

"What did Mrs. Burrage say to you?"

"Hm! – Not much. I caught her looking at me more than once. She saidshe would have a musical party next week, and we must come; and sheasked if you would be well enough."

"I hope I shall not."

"That's nonsense. Mr. Dillwyn wants us to go, I know."

"That is not a reason for going."

"I think it is. He is just as good as he can be, and I like him morethan anybody else I ever saw in my life. I'd like to see the thing he'dask me, that I wouldn't do."

"Madge, Madge!"

"Hush, Lois; that's nonsense."

"Madge you trouble me very much."

"And that's nonsense too."

Madge was beginning to get over the first sense of novelty andstrangeness in all about her; and, as she overcame that, a feeling ofdelight replaced it, and grew and grew. Madge was revelling inenjoyment. She went out with Mrs. Wishart, for drives in the Park andfor shopping expeditions in the city, and once or twice to make visits.She went out with Mr. Dillwyn, too, as we have seen, who took her todrive, and conducted her to galleries of pictures and museums ofcuriosities; and finally, and with Mrs. Wishart, to a Philharmonicrehearsal. Madge came home in a great state of exultation; though Loiswas almost indignant to find that the place and the people had rivalledthe performance in producing it. Lois herself was almost well enough togo, though delicate enough still to allow her the choice of staying athome. She was looking like herself again; yet a little paler in colourand more deliberate in action than her old wont; both the tokens of awant of strength which continued to be very manifest. One day Madgecame home from going with Mrs. Wishart to Dulles & Grant's. I mayremark that the evening at Mrs. Burrage's had not yet come off, owingto a great storm the night of the music party; but another was loomingup in the distance.

"Lois," Madge delivered herself as she was taking off her wrappings,"it is a great thing to be rich!"

"One needs to be sick to know how true that is," responded Lois. "Ifyou could guess what I would have given last summer and fall for a fewcrumbs of the comfort with which this house is stacked full – like hayin a barn!"

"But I am not thinking of comfort."

"I am. How I wanted everything for the sick people at Esterbrooke.Think of not being able to change their bed linen properly, noranything like properly!"

"Of course," said Madge, "poor people do not have plenty of things. But

I was not thinking of comfort, when I spoke."

"Comfort is the best thing."

"Don't you like pretty things?"

"Too well, I am afraid."

"You cannot like them too well. Pretty things were meant to be liked.What else were they made for? And of all pretty things – O, thosecarpets and rugs! Lois, I never saw or dreamed of anything somagnificent. I should like to be rich, for once!"

"To buy a Persian carpet?"

"Yes. That and other things. Why not?"

"Madge, don't you know this was what grandmother was afraid of, when wewere learning to know Mr. Dillwyn?"

"What?" said Madge defiantly.

"That we would be bewitched – or dazzled – and lose sight of betterthings; I think 'bewitched' is the word; all these beautiful things andthis luxurious comfort – it is bewitching; and so are the fine mannersand the cultivation and the delightful talk. I confess it. I feel it asmuch as you do; but this is just what dear grandmother wanted toprotect us from."

"What did she want to protect us from?" repeated Madge vehemently."Not Persian carpets, nor luxury; we are not likely to be tempted byeither of them in Shampuashuh."

"We might here."

"Be tempted? To what? I shall hardly be likely to go and buy afifteen-hundred-dollar carpet. And it was cheap at that, Lois! I canlive without it, besides. I haven't got so far that I can't stand onthe floor, without any carpet at all, if I must. You needn't think it."

"I do not think it. Only, do not be tempted to fancy, darling, thatthere is any way open to you to get such things; that is all."

"Any way open to me? You mean, I might marry a rich man some day?"

"You might think you might."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Because, dear Madge, you will not be asked. I told you why. And if youwere, – Madge, you would not, you could not, marry a man that was nota Christian? Grandmother made me promise I never would."

"She did not make me promise it. Lois, don't be ridiculous. I don'twant to marry anybody at present; but I like Persian carpets, andnothing will make me say I don't. And I like silver and gold; andservants, and silk dresses, and ice-cream, and pictures, and bighouses, and big mirrors, and all the rest of it."

"You can find it all in the eighteenth chapter of Revelation, in thedescription of the city Babylon; which means the world."

"I thought Babylon was Rome."

"Read for yourself."

I think Madge did not read it for herself, however; and the days wenton after the accustomed fashion, till the one arrived which was fixedfor Mrs. Chauncey Burrage's second musical party. The three ladies wereall invited. Mrs. Wishart supposed they were all going; but when theday came Lois begged off. She did not feel like going, she said; itwould be far pleasanter to her if she could stay at home quietly; itwould be better for her. Mrs. Wishart demurred; the invitation had beenvery urgent; Mrs. Burrage would be disappointed; and, besides, she wasa little proud herself of her handsome young relations, and wanted theglory of producing them together. However, Lois was earnest in her wishto be left at home; quietly earnest, which is the more difficult todeal with; and, knowing her passionate love for music, Mrs. Wishartdecided that it must be her lingering weakness and languor whichindisposed her for going. Lois was indeed looking well again; but bothher friends had noticed that she was not come back to her old livelyenergy, whether of speaking or doing. Strength comes back so slowly, they said, after one of those fevers. Yet Madge was not satisfied withthis reasoning, and pondered, as she and Mrs. Wishart drove away, whatelse might be the cause of Lois's refusal to go with them.

Meanwhile Lois, having seen them off and heard the house door closeupon them, drew up her chair before the fire and sat down. She was inthe back drawing-room, the windows of which looked out to the river andthe opposite shore; but the shutters were closed and the curtainsdrawn, and only the interior view to be had now. So, or any way, Loisloved the place. It was large, roomy, old-fashioned, with none of thestiffness of new things about it; elegant, with the many tokens of homelife, and of a long habit of culture and comfort. In a big chimney abig wood fire was burning quietly; the room was softly warm; abrilliant lamp behind Lois banished even imaginary gloom, and a faintred shine came from the burning hickory logs. Only this lastillumination fell on Lois's face, and in it Lois's face showed graveand troubled. She was more like a sybil at this moment, looking intoconfused earthly things, than like one of Fra Angelico's angelsrejoicing in the clear light of heaven.

Lois pulled her chair nearer to the fire, and bent down, leaningtowards it; not for warmth, for she was not in the least cold; but forcompany, or for counsel. Who has not taken counsel of a fire? And Loiswas in perplexity of some sort, and trying to think hard and to examineinto herself. She half wished she had gone to the party at Mrs.Burrage's. And why had she not gone? She did not want, she did notthink it was best, to meet Mr. Dillwyn there. And why not, seeing thatshe met him constantly where she was? Well, that she could not help; this would be voluntary; put ting herself in his way, and in hissister's way. Better not, Lois said to herself. But why, better not? Itwould surely be a pleasant gathering at Mrs. Burrage's, a pleasantparty; her parties always were pleasant, Mrs. Wishart said; there wouldbe none but the best sort of people there, good talking and good music;Lois would have liked it. What if Mr. Dillwyn were there too? Must shekeep out of sight of him? Why should she keep out of sight of him? Loisput the question sharply to her conscience. And she found that theanswer, if given truly, would be that she fancied Mr. Dillwyn liked hersister's society better than her own. But what then? The blood began torush over Lois's cheeks and brow and to burn in her pulses. Then, itmust be that she herself liked his society – liked him – yes, a littletoo well; else what harm in his preferring Madge? O, could it be? Loishid her face in her hands for a while, greatly disturbed; she was verymuch afraid the case was even so.

But suppose it so; still, what of it? What did it signify, whom Mr.Dillwyn liked? to Lois he could never be anything. Only a pleasantacquain'tance. He and she were in two different lines of life, linesthat never cross. Her promise was passed to her grandmother; she couldnever marry a man who was not a Christian. Happily Mr. Dillwyn did notwant to marry her; no such question was coming up for decision. Thenwhat was it to her if he liked Madge? Something, because it was notliking that would end in anything; it was impossible a man in hisposition and circumstances should choose for a wife one in hers. If hecould make such a choice, it would be Madge's duty, as much as it wouldbe her own, to refuse him. Would Madge refuse? Lois believed not.Indeed, she thought no one could refuse him, that had not unconquerablereasons of conscience; and Madge, she knew, did not share those whichwere so strong in her own mind. Ought Madge to share them? Was itindeed an absolute command that justified and necessitated the promisemade to her grandmother? or was it a less stringent thing, that mightpossibly be passed over by one not so bound? Lois's mind was in aturmoil of thoughts most unusual, and most foreign to her nature andhabit; thoughts seemed to go round in a whirl. And in the midst of thewhirl there would come before her mind's eye, not now Tom Caruthers'face, but the vision of a pair of pleasant grey eyes at once keen andgentle; or of a close head of hair with a white hand roving amid thethick locks of it; or the outlines of a figure manly and lithe; or somelittle thing done with that ease of manner which was so winning.Sometimes she saw them as in Mrs. Wishart's drawing-room, and sometimesat the table in the dear old house in Shampuashuh, and sometimes underthe drip of an umbrella in a pouring rain, and sometimes in the oldschoolhouse. Manly and kind, and full of intelligence, filled withknowledge, well-bred, and noble; so Lois thought of him. Yet he was nota Christian, therefore no fit partner for Madge or for any one else whowas a Christian. Could that be the absolute fact? Must it be? Was suchthe inevitable and universal conclusion? On what did the logic of itrest? Some words in the Bible bore the brunt of it, she knew; Lois hadread them and talked them over with her grandmother; and now anirresistible desire took possession of her to read them again, and morecritically. She jumped up and ran up-stairs for her Bible.

The fire was down in her own room; the gas was not lit; so she wentback to the bright drawing-room, which to-night she had all to herself.She laid her book on the table and opened it, and then was suddenlychecked by the question – what did all this matter to her, that sheshould be so fiercely eager about it? Dismay struck her anew. What wasany un-Christian man to her, that her heart should beat so atconsidering possible relations between them? No such relations weredesired by any such person; what ailed Lois even to take up thesubject? If Mr. Dillwyn liked either of the sisters particularly, itwas Madge. Probably his liking, if it existed, was no more than TomCaruthers', of which Lois thought with great scorn. Still, she argued, did it not concern her to know with certain'ty what Madge ought to do,in the event of Mr. Dillwyn being not precisely like Tom Caruthers?

CHAPTER XLIII

ABOUT WORK

The sound of the opening door made her start up. She would not haveeven a servant surprise her so; kneeling on the floor with her faceburied in her hands on the table. She started up hurriedly; and thenwas confounded to see entering – Mr. Dillwyn himself. She had heard noring of the door-bell; that must have been when she was up-stairsgetting her Bible. Lois found her feet, in the midst of a terribleconfusion of thoughts; but the very inward confusion admonished her tobe outwardly calm. She was not a woman of the world, and she had nothad very much experience in the difficult art of hiding her feelings,or acting in any way; nevertheless she was a true woman, and woman'sblessed – or cursed? – instinct of self-command came to her aid. She metMr. Dillwyn with a face and manner perfectly composed; she knew shedid; and cried to herself privately some thing very like a seacaptain's order to his helmsman – "Steady! keep her so." Mr. Dillwyn sawthat her face was flushed; but he saw, too, that he had disturbed herand startled her; that must be the reason. She looked so far from beingdelighted, that he could draw no other conclusion. So they shook hands.She thought he did not look delighted either. Of course, she thought,Madge was not there. And Mr. Dillwyn, whatever his mood when he came, recognized immediately the decided reserve and coolness of Lois'smanner, and, to use another nautical phrase, laid his courseaccordingly.

"How do you do, this evening?"

"I think, quite well. There is nobody at home but me, Mr. Dillwyn."

"So I have been told. But it is a great deal pleasanter here, even withonly one-third of the family, than it is in my solitary rooms at thehotel."