"Just so; yes, indeed, my dear," proceeded softly from the other end of the room.
"I am sorry to hear it," commenced Mr. Drummond, in a sympathizing tone of voice. But his tormentor again interrupted him.
"I am a sad backslider, am I not? I wonder if you have a sermon ready for me? Do you lecture your parishioners, Mr. Drummond, rich as well as poor? What a pity it is you are so young! Lectures are more suitable with gray hair; a hoary head might have some chance against my satire. A woman's tongue is a difficult thing to keep in order, is it not? I dare say you find that with Miss Mattie?"
Mr. Drummond was literally on thorns. He had no repartee ready. She was secretly exasperating him as usual, making his youth a reproach, and rendering it impossible for him to be his natural frank self with her. In her presence he was always at a disadvantage. She seemed to take stock of his learning and to mock at the idea of his pastoral claims. It was not the first time she had called herself a black sheep, or had spoken of her scanty attendances at church. But as yet he had not dared to rebuke her; he had a feeling that she might fling back his rebuke with a jest, and his dignity forbade this. Some day he owed it to his conscience to speak a word to her,--to tell her of the evil effects of such an example; but the convenient season had not yet arrived.
He was casting about in his own mind for some weighty sentence with which to answer her; but she again broke in upon his silence:
"It seems that I am to escape to-day. I hope you are not a lax disciplinarian; that comes of being young. Youth is more tolerant, they say, of other people's errors: it has its own glass houses to mind."
"You are too clever for me, Mrs. Cheyne," returned the young man, with a deprecating smile that might have disarmed her. "No, I have not come to lecture: my mission is perfectly peaceful, as befits this lovely afternoon. I wonder what you ladies find to do all day?" he continued, abruptly changing the subject, and trying to find something that would not attract her satire.
Mrs. Cheyne seemed a little taken aback by this direct question; and then she drew up her beautiful head a little haughtily, and laughed.