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CHAPTER XLVII
PLANS
Lois went along the hall in that condition of the nerves in which thefeet seem to walk without stepping on anything. She queried what timeit could be; was the evening half gone? or had they possibly not donetea yet? Then the parlour door opened.
"Lois! – is that you? Come along; you are just in time; we are at tea.
Hurry, now!"
Lois went to her room, wishing that she could any way escape going tothe table; she felt as if her friend and her sister would read the newsin her face immediately, and hear it in her voice as soon as she spoke.There was no help for it; she hastened down, and presently perceived toher wonderment that her friends were absolutely without suspicion. Shekept as quiet as possible, and found, happily, that she was veryhungry. Mrs. Wishart and Madge were busy in talk.
"You remember Mr. Caruthers, Lois?" said the former; – "Tom Caruthers, who used to be here so often?"
"Certainly."
"Did you hear he had made a great match?"
"I heard he was going to be married. I heard that a great while ago."
"Yes, he has made a very great match. It has been delayed by the deathof her mother; they had to wait. He was married a few months ago, inFlorence. They had a splendid wedding."
"What makes what you call a 'great match'?" Madge asked.
"Money, – and family."
"I understand money," Madge went on; "but what do you mean by 'family,'
Mrs. Wishart?"
"My dear, if you lived in the world, you would know. It means name, andposition, and standing. I suppose at Shampuashuh you are all alike – oneis as good as another."
"Indeed," said Madge, "you are much mistaken, Mrs. Wishart. We thinkone is much better than another."
"Do you? Ah well, – then you know what I mean, my dear. I suppose theworld is really very much alike in all places; it is only the names ofthings that vary."
"In Shampuashuh," Madge went on, "we mean by a good family, a housefulof honest and religious people."
"Yes, Madge," said Lois, looking up, "we mean a little more than that.We mean a family that has been honest and religious, and educated too, for a long while – for generations. We mean as much as that, when wespeak of a good family."
"That's different," said Mrs. Wishart shortly.
"Different from what you mean?"
"Different from what is meant here, when we use the term."
"You don't mean anything honest and religious?" said Madge.
"O, honest! My dear, everybody is honest, or supposed to be; but we donot mean religious."
"Not religious, and only supposed to be honest!" echoed Madge.
"Yes," said Mrs. Wishart. "It isn't that. It has nothing to do withthat. When people have been in society, and held high positions forgeneration after generation, it is a good family. The individuals neednot be all good."
"Oh – !" said Madge.
"No. I know families among the very best in the State, that have beenwicked enough; but though they have been wicked, that did not hindertheir being gentlemen."
"Oh – !" said Madge again. "I begin to comprehend."
"There is too much made of money now-a-days," Mrs. Wishart went onserenely; "and there is no denying that money buys position. I do notcall a good family one that was not a good family a hundred years ago; but everybody is not so particular. Not here. They are more particularin Philadelphia. In New York, any nobody who has money can push himselfforward."
"What sort of family is Mr. Dillwyn's?"
"O, good, of course. Not wealthy, till lately. They have been poor, ever since I knew the family; until the sister married ChaunceyBurrage, and Philip came into his property."
"The Caruthers are rich, aren't they?"
"Yes."
"And now the young one has made a great match? Is she handsome?"
"I never heard so. But she is rolling in money."
"What else is she?" inquired Madge dryly.
"She is a Dulcimer."
"That tells me nothing," said Madge. "By the way you speak it, the wordseems to have a good deal of meaning for you."
"Certainly," said Mrs. Wishart. "She is one of the Philadelphia
Dulcimers. It is an old family, and they have always been wealthy."
"How happy the gentleman must be!"
"I hope so," said Mrs. Wishart gravely. "You used to know Tom quitewell, Lois. What did you think of him?"
"I liked him," said Lois. "Very pleasant and amiable, and alwaysgentlemanly. But I did not think he had much character."
Mrs. Wishart was satisfied; for Lois's tone was as disengaged asanything could possibly be.
Lois could not bring herself to say anything to Madge that night aboutthe turn in her fortunes. Her own thoughts were in too much agitation, and only by slow degrees resolving themselves into settled conclusions.Or rather, for the conclusions were not doubtful, settling into suchquiet that she could look at conclusions. And Lois began to be afraidto do even that, and tried to turn her eyes away, and thought of thehour of half-past ten next morning with trembling and heart-beating.
It came with tremendous swiftness, too. However, she excused herselffrom going to the matinée, though with difficulty. Mrs. Wishart wassure she ought to go; and Madge tried persuasion and raillery. Loiswatched her get ready, and at last contentedly saw the two drive off.That was good. She wanted no discussion with them before she had seenMr. Dillwyn again; and now the coast was clear. But then Lois retreatedto her own room up-stairs to wait; she could not stay in thedrawing-room, to be found there. She would have so much time forpreparation as his ring at the door and his name being broughtup-stairs would give her. Preparation for what? When the summons came,Lois went down feeling that she had not a bit of preparation.
Philip was standing in the middle of the floor, waiting for her; andthe apparition that greeted him was so unexpected that he stood still, feasting his eyes with it. He had always seen Lois calm, collected, moving and speaking with frank independence, although with perfectmodesty. Now? – how was it? Eyes cast down, colour coming and going; alook and manner, not of shyness, for she came straight to him, but ofthe most lovely maidenly consciousness; of all things, that which alover would most wish to see. Yet she came straight to him, and as hemet her and held out his hand, she put hers in it.
"What are you going to say to me this morning, Lois?" he said softly; for the pure dignity of the girl was a thing to fill him with reverenceas well as with delight, and her hand seemed to him something sacred.
Her colour stirred again, but the lowered eyelids were lifted up, andthe eyes met his with a most blessed smile in them.
"I am very happy, Mr. Dillwyn," she said.
Everybody knows how words fail upon occasion; and on this occasion thesilence lasted some considerable time. And then Philip put Lois intoone of the big easy-chairs, and went down on one knee at her feet, holding her hand. Lois tried to collect her spirits to makeremonstrance.
"O, Mr. Dillwyn, do not stay there!" she begged.
"Why not? It becomes me."
"I do not think it becomes you at all," said Lois, laughing a littlenervously, – "and I am sure it does not become me."
"Mistaken on both points! It becomes me well, and I think it does notbecome you ill," said he, kissing the hand he held. And then, bendingforward to carry his kiss from the hand to the cheek, – "O my darling, how long I have waited for this!"
"Long?" said Lois, in surprise. How pretty the incredulity was on herinnocent face.
"Very long! – while you thought I was liking somebody else. There hasnever been any change in me, Lois. I have been patiently andimpatiently waiting for you this great while. You will not think itunreasonable, if that fact makes me intolerant of any more waiting, will you?"
"Don't keep that position!" said Lois earnestly.
"It is the position I mean to keep all the rest of my life!"
But that set Lois to laughing, a little nervously no doubt, yet somerrily that Philip could not but join in.
"Do I not owe everything to you?" he went on presently, with tenderseriousness. "You first set me upon thinking. Do you recollect yourearliest talk to me here in this room once, a good while ago, aboutbeing satisfied?"
"Yes," said Lois, suddenly opening her eyes.
"That was the beginning. You said it to me more with your looks thanwith your words; for I saw that, somehow, you were in the secret, andhad yourself what you offered to me. That I could not forget. I hadnever seen anybody 'satisfied' before."
"You know what it means now?" she said softly.
"To-day? – I do!"
"No, no; I do not mean to-day. You know what I mean!" she said, withbeautiful blushes.
"I know. Yes, and I have it, Lois. But you have a great deal to teachme yet."
"O no!" she said most unaffectedly. "It is you who will have to teachme."
"What?"
"Everything."
"How soon may I begin?"
"How soon?"
"Yes. You do not think Mrs. Wishart's house is the best place, or hercompany the best assistance for that, do you?"
"Ah, please get up!" said Lois.
But he laughed at her.
"You make me so ashamed!"
"You do not look it in the least. Shall I tell you my plans?"
"Plans!" said Lois.
"Or will you tell me your plans?"
"Ah, you are laughing at me! What do you mean?"
"You were confiding to me your plans of a little while ago;Esterbrooke, and school, and all the rest of it. My darling! – that'sall nowhere."
"But," – said Lois timidly.
"Well?"
"That is all gone, of course. But – "
"You will let me say what you shall do?"
"I suppose you will."
"Your hand is in all my plans, from henceforth, to turn them and twistthem what way you like. But now let me tell you my present plans. Wewill be married, as soon as you can accustom your self to the idea.Hush! – wait. You shall have time to think about it. Then, as early asspring winds will let us, we will cross to England."
"England?" cried Lois.
"Wait, and hear me out. There we will look about us a while and get such things as you may want for travelling, which one can get better in
England than anywhere else. Then we will go over the Channel and see
Paris, and perhaps supplement purchases there. So work our way – "
"Always making purchases?" said Lois, laughing, though she caught herbreath too, and her colour was growing high.
"Certainly, making purchases. So work our way along, and get to
Switzerland early in June – say by the end of the first week."
"Switzerland!"
"Don't you want to see Switzerland?"
"But it is not the question, what I might like to see."
"With me it is."
"As for that, I have an untirable appetite for seeing things.But – but," and her voice lowered, "I can be quite happy enough on thisside."
"Not if I can make you happier on the other."
"But that depends. I should not be happy unless I was quite sure it wasright, and the best thing to do; and it looks to me like a piece ofself-indulgence. We have so much already."
The gentle manner of this scruple and frank admission touched Mr.
Dillwyn exceedingly.
"I think it is right," he said. "Do you remember my telling you onceabout my old house at home?"
"Yes, a little."
"I think I never told you much; but now you will care to hear. It is agood way from this place, in Foster county, and not very far from abusy little manufacturing town; but it stands alone in the country, inthe midst of fields and woods that I used to love very much when I wasa boy. The place never came into my possession till about seven oreight years ago; and for much longer than that it has been neglectedand left without any sort of care. But the house is large andold-fashioned, and can be made very pretty; and the grounds, as Ithink, leave nothing to be desired, in their natural capabilities.However, all is in disorder, and needs a good deal of work done up onit; which must be done before you take possession. This work willrequire some months. Where can we be better, meanwhile, than inSwitzerland?"
"Can the work be done without you?"
"Yes."
He waited a bit. The new things at work in Lois's mind made the newexpression of manner and feature a most delicious study to him. She hada little difficulty in speaking, and he was still and watched her.
"I am afraid to talk about it," she said at length,
"Why?"
"I should like it so much!" —
"Therefore you doubt?"
"Yes. I am afraid of listening just to my own pleasure."
"You shall not," said he, laughing. "Listen to mine. I want to see youreyes open at the Jung Frau, and Mont Blanc."
"My eyes open easily at anything," said Lois, yielding to thelaugh; – "they are such ignorant eyes."
"Very wise eyes, on the contrary! for they know a thing when they seeit."
"But they have seen so little," said Lois, finding it impossible to getback to a serious demeanour.
"That sole defect in your character, I propose to cure."
"Ah, do not praise me!"
"Why not? I used to rejoice in the remembrance that you were not anangel but human. Do you know the old lines? —
'A creature not too bright and good
For human nature's daily food;
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles.'
Only 'wiles' you never descend to; 'blame' is not to be thought of; ifyou forbid praise, what is left to me but the rest of it?"
And truly, what with laughter and some other emotions, tears were notfar from Lois's eyes; and how could the kisses be wanting?
"I never heard you talk so before!" she managed to say.
"I have only begun."
"Please come back to order, and sobriety."
"Sobriety is not in order, as your want of it shows."
"Then come back to Switzerland."
"Ah! – I want you to go up the AEggischhorn, and to stand on the Görner
Grät, and to cross a pass or two; and I want you to see the flowers."
"Are there so many?"
"More than on a western prairie in spring. Most people travel inSwitzerland later in the season, and so miss the flowers. You must notmiss them."
"What flowers are they?"
"A very great many kinds. I remember the gentians, and theforget-me-nots; but the profusion is wonderful, and exceedingly rich.They grow just at the edge of the snow, some of them. Then we willlinger a while at Zermatt and Chamounix, and a mountain pension hereand there, and so slowly work our way over into Italy. It will be toolate for Rome; but we will go, if you like it, to Venice; and then, asthe heats grow greater, get back into the Tyrol."
"O, Mrs. Barclay had beautiful views from the Tyrol; a few, but verybeautiful."
"How do you like my programme?"
"You have not mentioned glaciers."
"Are you' interested in glaciers?"
"Very much."
"You shall see as much of them as you can see safely from terra firma."
"Are they so dangerous?"
"Sometimes."
"But you have crossed them, have you not?"
"Times enough to make me scruple about your doing it."
"I am very sure-footed."
He kissed her hand, and inquired again what she thought of hisprogramme.
"There is no fault to be found with the programme. But – "
"If I add to it the crossing of a glacier?"
"No, no," said Lois, laughing; "do you think I am so insatiable? But – "
"Would you like it all, my darling?"
"Like it? Don't speak of liking," she said, with a quick breath ofexcitement. "But – "
"Well? But – what?"
"We are not going to live to ourselves?" She said it a little anxiouslyand eagerly, almost pleadingly.
"I do not mean it," he answered her, with a smile. "But as to thisjourney my mind is entirely clear. It will take but a few months. Andwhile we are wandering over the mountains, you and I will take ourBibles and study them and our work together. We can study where we stopto rest and where we stop to eat; I know by experience what good timesand places those are for other reading; and they cannot be so good forany as for this."
"Oh! how good!" said Lois, giving a little delighted and gratefulpressure to the hand in which her own still lay.
"You agree to my plans, then?"
"I agree to – part. What is that?" – for a slight noise was heard in thehall. – "O Philip, get up! – get up! – there is somebody coming!"
Mr. Dillwyn rose now, being bidden on this wise, and stood confrontingthe doorway, in which presently appeared his sister, Mrs. Burrage. Hestood quiet and calm to meet her; while Lois, hidden by the back of thegreat easy-chair, had a moment to collect herself. He shielded her asmuch as he could. A swift review of the situation made him resolve forthe present to "play dark." He could not trust his sister, that if thetruth of the case were suddenly made known to her, she would not by herspeech, or manner, or by her silence maybe, do something that wouldhurt Lois. He would not risk it. Give her time, and she would fitherself to her circumstances gracefully enough, he knew; and Lois neednever be told what had been her sister-in-law's first view of them. Sohe stood, with an unconcerned face, watching Mrs. Burrage come down theroom. And she, it may be said, came slowly, watching him.
CHAPTER XLVIII
ANNOUNCEMENTS
I have never described Mr. Dillwyn; and if I try to do it now, I amaware that words will give to nobody else the image of him. He was nota beauty, like Tom Caruthers; some people declared him not handsome atall, yet they were in a minority. Certainly his features were notaccording to classical rule, and criticism might find something to sayto every one of them; if I except the shape and air of the face andhead, the set of the latter, and the rich hair; which, very dark incolour, massed itself thick and high on the top of the head, and clungin close thick locks at the sides. The head sat nobly upon theshoulders, and correspondent therewith was the frank and manlyexpression of the face. I think irregular features sometimes make abetter whole than regular ones. Philip's eyes were not remarkable, unless for their honest and spirited outlook; his nose was neitherRoman nor Grecian, and his mouth was rather large; however, it wassomewhat concealed by the long soft moustache, which he wore after thefashion of some Continentals (N. B., not like the French emperor),carefully dressed and with points turning up; and the mouth itself wasboth manly and pleasant. Altogether, the people who denied Mr. Dillwynthe praise of beauty, never questioned that he was very fine-looking.His sister was excessively proud of him, and, naturally thought thatnothing less than the best of everything – more especially ofwomankind – was good enough for him. She was thinking this now, as shecame down the room, and looking jealously to see signs of what shedreaded, an entanglement that would preclude for ever his having thebest. Do not let us judge her hardly. What sister is not critical ofher brother's choice of a wife? If, indeed, she be willing that heshould have a wife at all. Mrs. Burrage watched for signs, but sawnothing. Philip stood there, calmly smiling at her, not at allflustered by her appearance. Lois saw his coolness too, and envied it; feeling that as a man, and as a man of the world, he had greatly theadvantage of her. She was nervous, and felt flushed. However, there isa power of will in some women which can do a great deal, and Lois wasdetermined that Mr. Dillwyn should not be ashamed of her. By the timeit was needful for her to rise she did rise, and faced her visitor witha very quiet and perfectly composed manner. Only, if anything, it was atrifle too quiet; but her manner was other wise quite faultless.
"Philip! – " said Mrs. Burrage, advancing – "Good morning – Miss Lothrop.
Philip, what are you doing here?"
"I believe you asked me that question once on a former occasion. Then,I think, I had been making toast. Now, I have been telling Miss Lothropmy plans for the summer, since she was so good as to listen."
"Plans?" repeated Mrs. Burrage. "What plans?" She looked doubtfullyfrom one to the other of the faces before her. "Does he tell you hisplans, Miss Lothrop?"
"Won't you sit down, Mrs. Burrage?" said Lois. "I am always interestedwhen anybody speaks of Switzerland."
"Switzerland!" cried the lady, sinking into a chair, and her eyes goingto her brother again. "You are not talking of Switzerland for nextsummer?"
"Where can one be better in summer?"
"But you have been there ever so many times!"
"By which I know how good it will be to go again."
"I thought you would spend the summer with me!"
"Where?" he asked, with a smile.
"Philip, I wish you would dress your hair like other people."
"It defies dressing, sister," he said, passing his hand over the thickmass.
"No, no, I mean your moustache. When you smile, it gives you a demoniacexpression, which drives me out of all patience. Miss Lothrop, would henot look a great deal better if he would cut off those Hungariantwists, and wear his upper lip like a Christian?"
This was a trial! Lois gave one glance at the moustache in question, aglance compounded of mingled horror and amusement, and flushed allover. Philip saw the glance and commanded his features only by a strongexertion of will, remaining, however, to all seeming as impassive as ajudge.
"You don't think so?" said Mrs. Burrage. "Philip, why are you not atthat picture sale this minute, with me?"
"Why are you not there, let me ask, this minute without me?"
"Because I wanted you to tell me if I should buy in that Murillo."
"I can tell you as well here as there. What do you want to buy it for?"
"What a question! Why, they say it is a genuine Murillo, and no doubtabout it; and I have just one place on the wall in my seconddrawing-room, where something is wanting; there is one place not filledup, and it looks badly."
"And the Murillo is to fill up the vacant space?"
"Yes. If you say it is worth it."
"Worth what?"
"The money. Five hundred. But I dare say they would take four, andperhaps three. It is a real Murillo, they say. Everybody says."
"Jessie, I think it would be extravagance."
"Extravagance! Five hundred dollars for a Murillo! Why, everybody saysit is no price at all."
"Not for the Murillo; but for a wall panel, I think it is. What do yousay, Miss Lothrop, to panelling a room at five hundred dollars thepanel?"
"Miss Lothrop's experience in panels would hardly qualify her to answeryou," Mrs. Burrage said, with a polite covert sneer.
"Miss Lothrop has experience in some other things," Philip returnedimmoveably. But the appeal put Lois in great embarrassment.
"What is the picture?" she asked, as the best way out of it.
"It's a St. Sebastian," Mrs. Burrage answered shortly.
"Do you know the story?" asked Philip. "He was an officer in thehousehold of the Roman emperor, Diocletian; a Christian; and discoveredto be a Christian by his bold and faithful daring in the cause oftruth. Diocletian ordered him to be bound to a tree and shot to deathwith arrows, and that the inscription over his head should state thatthere was no fault found in him but only that he was a Christian. Thispicture my sister wants to buy, shows him stripped and bound to thetree, and the executioner's work going on. Arrows are piercing him invarious places; and the saint's face is raised to heaven with the lookupon it of struggling pain and triumphing faith together. You can seethat the struggle is sharp, and that only strength which is not his ownenables him to hold out; but you see that he will hold out, and themartyr's palm of victory is even already waving before him."
Lois's eyes eagerly looked into those of the speaker while he went on; then they fell silently. Mrs. Burrage grew impatient.
"You tell it with a certain goût," she said. "It's a horrid story!"
"O, it's a beautiful story!" said Lois, suddenly looking up.
"If you like horrors," said the lady, shrugging her shoulders. "But Ibelieve you are one of that kind yourself, are you not?"
"Liking horrors?" said Lois, in astonishment.
"No, no, of course! not that. But I mean, you are one of that saint'sspiritual relations. Are you not? You would rather be shot than liveeasy?"
Philip bit his lip; but Lois answered with the most delicioussimplicity, —
"If living easy implied living unfaithful, I hope I would rather beshot." Her eyes looked, as she spoke, straight and quietly into thoseof her visitor.
"And I hope I would," added Philip.
"You?" said his sister, turning sharp upon him. "Everybody knows youwould!"
"But everybody does not know yet that I am a fellow-servant of thatSebastian of long ago; and that to me now, faithful and unfaithful meanthe same that they meant to him. Not faithfulness to man, butfaithfulness to God – or unfaithfulness."
"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.
