m talking about. We are
unknown, we are not rich, we have none of what they call 'connections.'
So you see I do not want you to like too much a person who, beyond
civility, and kindness perhaps, would never think of liking you."

"I don't want him to, that's one thing," said Madge. "But if all that
is true, he is meaner than I think him; that's what I've got to say.
And it is a mean state of society where all that can be true."

"I suppose it is human nature," said Lois.

"It's awfully mean human nature!"

"I guess there is not much true nobleness but where the religion of
Christ comes in. If you have got that, Madge, be content and thankful."

"But nobody likes to be unjustly depreciated."

"Isn't that pride?"

"One must have some pride. I can't make religion _everything_, Lois. I
was a woman before I was a Christian."

"If you want to be a happy woman, you will let religion be everything."

"But, Lois!--wouldn't _you_ like to be rich, and have pretty things
about you?"

"Don't ask me," said Lois, smiling. "I am a woman too, and dearly fond
of pretty things. But, Madge, there is something else I love better,"
she added, with a sudden sweet gravity; "and that is, the will of my
God. I would rather have what he chooses to give me. Really and truly;
I would _rather_ have that."

The conversation therewith was at an end. In the evening of that same
day Lois left her seclusion and came down-stairs for the first time.
She was languid enough yet to be obliged to move slowly, and her cheeks
had not got back their full colour, and were thinner than they used to
be; otherwise she looked well, and Mrs. Wishart contemplated her with
great satisfaction. Somewhat to Lois's vexation, or she thought so,
they found Mr. DilIwyn down-stairs also. Lois had the invalid's place
of honour, in a corner of the sofa, with a little table drawn up for
her separate tea; and Madge and Mr. Dillwyn made toast for her at the
fire. The fire gave its warm light, the lamps glittered with a more
brilliant illumination; ruddy hues of tapestry and white gleams from
silver and glass filled the room, with lights and shadows everywhere,
that contented the eye and the imagination too, with suggestions of
luxury and plenty and sheltered comfort. Lois felt the shelter and the
comfort and the pleasure, with that enhanced intensity which belongs to
one's sensations in a state of convalescence, and in her case was
heightened by previous experiences. Nes