Chapter III
Reading edition
Susan was a docile lamb, and her conversion progressed to the entire satisfaction of her spiritual adviser. It was rumored that she was to be “propounded” on the following Sabbath.
Mary had quite as strong a veneration for spiritual things as her sister; but she was too straightforward to assume what she did not possess, and too sensible to be led into imaginary raptures by any extraneous influence. She knew Susan too well to believe her holy aspirations were real; she knew that the poor girl had involuntarily deluded herself. She was not surprised to hear that she had concluded to join the church.
“Susan, you are deceiving yourself. You love the fold for the sake of the shepherd,” said she.
“Nay, sister, you wrong me. Can you think me a hypocrite?”
“Not a hypocrite; you have misled yourself.”
“I have carefully examined my heart, and I am confident that I am not deluded.”
“What would you say if I should tell you that Mr. Carlisle can never love you?”
“I should say that you knew nothing about it,” replied Susan, unthinkingly; but in an instant she corrected the mistake. “But that has nothing to do with it.”
“I fear it has. Tell me honestly, Susan, do you not love Mr. Carlisle? I will not laugh at you.”
Susan hesitated.
“Be candid sister.”
“I do not love him; but if he loved me, I feel that I could return his affection.”
“He does not love you, Susan.”
The ambitious “sheep” looked earnestly into the face of her sister.
“How do you know?”
“I do know.”
Susan looked pensive and sad.
“What do you know?”
“That he has even offered his hand and heart to another.”
“The hypocrite!” exclaimed Susan, with a flushed face.
“Why, sis!” and Mary was filled with astonishment, for it appeared from Susan’s violent ebullition of feeling that the matter had passed much farther than she had suspected. “Why do you use that pointed word? Did he ever speak to you of love?”
“Never; but he has led me to believe by his constant attentions that he was interested in me.”
“That was professional, sis; you have mistaken his zeal to bring you into the fold for love. I warned you of this.”
“You did; I am a fool. But to whom has he offered himself.”
“It is a secret.”
“Tell me!”
“Will you be discreet?”
“I will.”
“To me!”
“To you! You who despised Baxter’s Call and Saints’ Rest?”
“Even so. Extremes meet sometimes.”
“I wish you joy, Mary.”
“But I declined the offer.”
“Why?”
“For your sake. I knew that you loved him.”
Susan was deeply affected at the generosity of her sister.
“I do not love him, sister. Do not let me be an obstacle in the way of your happiness.”
“I have not said that I loved him.”
“But you do?”
“I have refused him.”
“Nay, he is a noble and a good man, besides being handsome and talented. You need not be a fool because I have been. I assure you I am completely cured; I think he is a flirt.”
Mary did not think so, and the young minister was too deeply enamoured of her, too devotedly admired her wit and beauty, no less than her innate goodness of heart, to be content with a refusal. When he renewed his suit, the spirited girl was more tractable, and in process of time they were married.
Whether Mr. Carlisle ever succeeded in removing those pernicious notions about novels from the mind of his wife, we are unable to say; but we do know that Scott, Dickens, and Irving have found a place on the shelves of his library, beside the tomes of theology and history; and we infer that a mutual influence has brought each to adopt more reasonable views both of Baxter and the novelists.