y on one subject," said Lois. "About everything else he
knows a great deal; and he has seen everything."

"Yes," said Mrs. Armadale; "very like he has; and he likes to talk
about it; and he has a pleasant tongue; and he is a civil man. But
there's one thing he hain't seen, and that is the light; and one thing
he don't know, and that is happiness. And he may have plenty of
money--I dare say he has; but he's what I call a poor man. I don't want
you to have no such friends."

"But grandmother, you do not dislike to have him in the house these two
days, do you?"

"It can't be helped, my dear, and we'll do the best for him we can. But
I don't want _you_ to have no such friends."

"I believe we should go out of the world to suit grandmother," remarked
Charity. "She won't think us safe as long as we're in it."

The whole family went to church the next morning. Mr. Dillwyn's
particular object, however, was not much furthered. He saw Lois,
indeed, at the breakfast table; and the sight was everything his fancy
had painted it. He thought of Milton's

"Pensive nun, devout and pure,
Sober, stedfast, and demure"--

only the description did not quite fit; for there was a healthy, sweet
freshness about Lois which gave the idea of more life and activity,
mental and bodily, than could consort with a pensive character. The
rest fitted pretty well; and the lines ran again and again through Mr.
Dillwyn's head. Lois was gone to church long before the rest of the
family set out; and in church she did not sit with the others; and she
did not come home with them. However, she was at dinner. But
immediately after dinner Mrs. Barclay with drew again into her own
room, and Mr. Dillwyn had no choice but to accompany her.

"What now?" he asked. "What do you do the rest of the day?"

"I stay at home and read. Lois goes to Sunday school."

Mr. Dillwyn looked to the windows. The rain Mrs. Barclay threatened had
come; and had already begun in a sort of fury, in company with a wind,
which drove it and beat it, as it seemed, from all points of the
compass at once. The lines of rain-drops went slantwise past the
windows, and then beat violently upon them; the ground was wet in a few
minutes; the sky was dark with its thick watery veils. Wind and rain
were holding revelry.

"She will not go out in this weather," said the gentleman, with
conviction which seemed to be agreeable.

"The weather will not hinder her," returned Mrs. Ba