Nobody

"Philip! – "

"And as faithfulness is a word of large comprehension, it takes in alsothe use of money," Mr. Dillwyn went on smiling; "and so, Jessie, Ithink, you see, with my new views of things, that five hundred dollarsis too much for a panel."

"Or for a picture, I suppose!" said Mrs. Burrage, with dry concentratedexpression.

"Depends. Decidedly too much for a picture not meant to be looked at?"

"Why shouldn't it be looked at?"

"People will not look much at what they cannot understand."

"Why shouldn't they understand it?"

"It is a representation of giving up all for Christ, and offaithfulness unto death. What do the crowds who fill your seconddrawing-room know about such experience?"

Mrs. Burrage had put the foregoing questions dryly and shortly, examining her brother while he spoke, with intent, searching eyes. Shehad risen once as if to go, and now sat down again. Lois thought sheeven turned pale.

"Philip! – I never heard you talk so before. What do you mean?"

"Merely to let you know that I am a Christian. It is time."

"You were always a Christian!"

"In name. Now it is reality."

"You don't mean that you —you!– have become one of those fanatics?"

"What fanatics?"

"Those people who give up everything for religion, and are insane uponthe subject."

"You could not have described it better, than in the first half of yourspeech. I have given up everything for religion. That is, I have givenmyself and all I have to Christ and his service; and whatever I dohenceforth, I do only in that character and in that interest. But as tosanity," – he smiled again, – "I think I was never sane until now."

Mrs. Burrage had risen for the second time, and her brother was nowstanding opposite to her; and if she had been proud of him a littlewhile before, it was Lois's turn now. The calm, clear frankness andnobleness of his face and bearing made her heart fairly swell with itsgladness and admiration; but it filled the other woman's heart with adifferent feeling.

"And this is you, Philip Dillwyn!" she said bitterly. "And I know you; what you have said you will stand to. Such a man as you! lost to theworld!"

"Why lost to the world, Mrs. Burrage?" said Lois gently. She had risentoo. The other lady faced her.

"Without more knowledge of what the world is, I could hardly explain toyou," she said, with cool rudeness; the sort of insolence that a finelady can use upon occasion when it suits her. Philip's face flushed, but he would not make the rudeness more palpable by seeming to noticeit.

"I hope it is the other way," he said. "I have been an idle man all mylife hitherto, and have done nothing except for myself. Nobody could beof less use to the world."

"And what are you going to do now?"

"I cannot tell. I shall find out. I am going to study the question."

"And is Miss Lothrop your teacher?"

The civil sneer was too apparent again, but it did not call up a flushthis time. Philip was too angry. It was Lois that answered, andpleasantly, —

"She does not even wish to be that."

"Haven't you taught him already?" asked the lady, with promptinquisition.

"Yes," said Philip.

Lois did colour now; she could not deny the fact, nor even declare thatit had been an unintentional fact; but her colour was very pretty, andso was the sort of deprecating way in which she looked at her futuresister-in-law. Not disarmed, Mrs. Burrage went on.

"It is a dangerous office to take, my dear, for we women never can keepit. We may think we stand on an eminence of wisdom one day; and thenext we find we have to come down to a very lowly place, and sit atsomebody else's feet, and receive our orders. I find it rather hardsometimes. Well, Philip, – will you go on with the lesson I suppose Ihave interrupted? or will you have the complaisance to go with me tosee about the Murillo?"

"I will certainly stay."

"Rather hard upon me, after promising me last night you would go."

"I made no such promise."

"Indeed you did, begging your pardon. Last night, when you came homewith the horses, I told you of the sale, and asked you if you would goand see that I did not get cheated."

"I have no recollection of it."

"And you said you would with pleasure."

"That is no longer possible, Jessie. And the sale would be overbefore we could get to it," he added, looking at his watch.

"Shall I leave you here, then?" said the lady, with a mingling ofdisagreeable feelings which found indescribable expression.

"If Miss Lothrop will let me be left. You forget, it depends upon herpermission."

"Miss Lothrop," said the lady, offering her hand to Lois with formalpoliteness, "I do not ask you the question, for my brother all his lifehas never been refused anything he chose to demand. Pardon me my wantof attention; he is responsible for it, having upset all my ideas withhis strange announcements. Good-bye!"

Lois curtseyed silently. In all this dialogue, the contrast had beenstriking between the two ladies; for the advantage of manner had beenon the side, not of the experienced woman of the world, but of theyounger and simpler and country-bred little Shampuashuh woman. It comesto this; that the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians gives one thevery soul and essence of what in the world is called good breeding; thekernel and thing itself; while what is for the most part known insociety is the empty shell, simulating and counterfeiting it only.Therefore he in whose heart that thirteenth chapter is a living truth, will never be ill-bred; and if he possesses besides a sensitive andrefined nature, and is free of self-consciousness, and has some commonsense to boot, he has all the make-up of the veriest high-breeding.Nothing could seem more unruffled, because nothing could be moreunruffled, than Lois during this whole interview; she was even a littlesorry for Mrs. Burrage, knowing that the lady would be very sorryherself afterwards for what she had done; and Lois meant to bury it inperfect oblivion. So her demeanour was free, simple, dignified, mostgraceful; and Philip was penetrated with delight and shame at once. Hewent with his sister to put her in her carriage, which was done withscarce any words on either part; and then returned to the room where hehad left Lois. She was still standing beside her chair, having in truthher thoughts too busy to remember to sit down. Philip's action was tocome straight to her and fold his arms round her. They were arms ofcaressing and protection at once; Lois felt both the caressing and theprotecting clasp, as something her life had never known before; and athrill went through her of happiness that was almost mingled with awe.

"My darling!" – said Philip – "will you hold me responsible? Will youcharge it all upon me? – and let me make it good as best I can?"

"O Philip, there is nothing to charge!" said Lois, lifting her flushedface, "fair as the moon," to meet his anxious eyes. "Do not think of itagain. It is perfectly natural, from her point of view. You know, youare very much Somebody; and I – am Nobody."

The remainder of the interview may be left unreported.

It lasted till the two ladies returned from the matinée. Mrs. Wishartimmediately retained Mr. Dillwyn for luncheon, and the two girls wentup-stairs together.

"How long has that man been here?" was Madge's disrespectful inquiry.

"I don't know."

"What did he come for?"

"I suppose – to see me."