There was silence a while.
"Eliza Wishart must keep poor company, if there ain't one godly oneamong 'em," Mrs. Armadale began again. But Lois was silent.
"What do they talk about?"
"Everything in the world, except that. People and things, and what thisone says and what that one did, and this party and that party. I can'ttell you, grandma. There seemed no end of talk; and yet it did notamount to much when all was done. I am not speaking of a few, gentlemenlike Mr. Dillwyn, and a few more."
"But he ain't a Christian?"
"No."
"Nor t'other one? the one you liked."
"No."
"I'm glad you've come away, Lois."
"Yes, grandma, and so am I; but why?"
"You know why. A Christian woman maunt have nothin' to do with men thatain't Christian."
"Nothing to do! Why, we must, grandma. We cannot help seeing people andtalking to them."
"The snares is laid that way," said Mrs. Armadale.
"What are we to do, then, grandmother?"
"Lois Lothrop," said the old lady, suddenly sitting upright, "what'sthe Lord's will?"
"About – what?"
"About drawin' in a yoke with one that don't go your way?"
"He says, don't do it."
"Then mind you don't."
"But, grandma, there is no talk of any such thing in this case," saidLois, half laughing, yet a little annoyed. "Nobody was thinking of sucha thing."
"You don' know what they was thinkin' of."
"I know what they could not have thought of. I am different fromthem; I am not of their world; and I am not educated, and I am poor.There is no danger, grandmother."
"Lois, child, you never know where danger is comin'. It's safe to haveyour armour on, and keep out o' temptation. Tell me you'll never letyourself like a man that ain't Christian!"
"But I might not be able to help liking him."
"Then promise me you'll never marry no sich a one."
"Grandma, I'm not thinking of marrying."
"Lois, what is the Lord's will about it?"
"I know, grandma," Lois answered rather soberly.
"And you know why. 'Thy daughter thou shalt not give unto his son, norhis daughter shalt thou take unto thy son. For they will turn away thyson from following me, that they may serve other gods.' I've seen it,Lois, over and over agin. I've been a woman – or a man – witched away anddragged down, till if they hadn't lost all the godliness they ever had,it warn't because they didn't seem so. And the children grew up to bescapegraces.'"
"Don't it sometimes work the other way?"
"Not often, if a Christian man or woman has married wrong with theireyes open. Cos it proves, Lois, that proves, that the ungodly one ofthe two has the most power; and what he has he's like to keep. Lois, Imayn't be here allays to look after you; promise me that you'll do theLord's will."
"I hope I will, grandma," Lois answered soberly.
"Read them words in Corinthians again."
Lois got the Bible and obeyed, "'Be ye not unequally yoked togetherwith unbelievers: for what fellowship hath righteousness withunrighteousness? and what communion hath light with darkness? and whatconcord hath Christ with Belial? or what part hath he that believethwith an infidel?'"
"Lois, ain't them words plain?"
"Very plain, grandma."
"Will ye mind 'em?"
"Yes, grandma; by his grace."
"Ay, ye may want it," said the old lady; "but it's safe to trust theLord. An' I'd rather have you suffer heartbreak follerin' the Lord, than goin' t'other way. Now you may read to me, Lois. We'll have itbefore they come home."
"Who has read to you while I have been gone?"
"O, one and another. Madge mostly; but Madge don't care, and so shedon' know how to read."
Mrs. Armadale's sight was not good; and it was the custom for one ofthe girls, Lois generally, to read her a verse or two morning andevening. Generally it was a small portion, talked over if they hadtime, and if not, then thought over by the old lady all the remainderof the day or evening, as the case might be. For she was like the manof whom it is written – "His delight is in the law of the Lord, and inhis law doth he meditate day and night."
"What shall I read, grandma?"
"You can't go wrong."
The epistle to the Corinthians lay open before Lois, and she read thewords following those which had just been called for.
"'And what agreement hath the temple of God with idols? for ye are thetemple of the living God; as God hath said, I will dwell in them, andwalk in them; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people.Wherefore come ye out from among them, and be ye separate, saith theLord, and touch not the unclean thing; and I will receive you, and willbe a father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and daughters, saith theLord Almighty.'"
If anybody had been there to see, the two women made the loveliestpicture at this moment. The one of them old, weather-worn, plain-featured, sitting with the quiet calm of the end of a work dayand listening; the other young, blooming, fresh, lovely, with a wealthof youthful charms about her, bending a little over the big book on herlap; on both faces a reverent sweet gravity which was most gracious.Lois read and stopped, without looking up.
"I think small of all the world, alongside o' that promise, Lois."
"And so do I, grandmother."
"But, you see, the Lord's sons and daughters has got to be separatefrom other folks."
"In some ways."
"Of course they've got to live among folks, but they've got to beseparate for all; and keep their garments."
"I do not believe it is easy in a place like New York," said Lois.
"Seems to me I was getting all mixed up."
"'Tain't easy nowheres, child. Only, where the way is very smooth, folks slides quicker."
"How can one be 'separate' always, grandma, in the midst of otherpeople?"
"Take care that you keep nearest to God. Walk with him; and you'll bepretty sure to be separate from the most o' folks."
There was no more said. Lois presently closed the book and laid itaway, and the two sat in silence awhile. I will not affirm that Loisdid not feel something of a stricture round her, since she had giventhat promise so clearly. Truly the promise altered nothing, it onlymade things somewhat more tangible; and there floated now and then pastLois's mental vision an image of a handsome head, crowned with gracefullocks of luxuriant light brown hair, and a face of winningpleasantness, and eyes that looked eagerly into her eyes. It came upnow before her, this vision, with a certain sense of something lost.Not that she had ever reckoned that image as a thing won; as belonging,or ever possibly to belong, to herself; for Lois never had such athought for a moment. All the same came now the vision before her withthe commentary, – 'You never can have it. That acquain'tance, and thatfriendship, and that intercourse, is a thing of the past; and whateverfor another it might have led to, it could lead to nothing for you.' Itwas not a defined thought; rather a floating semi-consciousness; andLois presently rose up and went from thought to action.
CHAPTER IX
THE FAMILY
The spring day was fading into the dusk of evening, when feet andvoices heard outside announced that the travellers were returning. Andin they came, bringing a breeze of business and a number of tied-upparcels with