CHAPTER IX.
QUIET CONVERSE.
“My first Sabbath in this land of the East!” thought Io, as her eyes first unclosed on Sunday morning. “This is a Communion Sabbath too. Oh, shall I to-day be granted the priceless blessing, which I have not enjoyed since my marriage, of having my heart’s beloved at my side when I approach the Lord’s table? May my Oscar, as well as his wife, make this a day of new consecration to any work which the Master may give us to do! May we both begin a closer ‘walk with God,’ and find happiness in the consciousness of His abiding presence!”
Such were Io’s hopes; her fears need not be recorded.
The Coldstreams preferred walking to church, though Io was to return in a palanquin to avoid the heat of the sun as the day advanced. Thud sauntered along beside his sister.
“I shall like to hear the chaplain preach,” observed Io.
“I don’t expect much from that pale little man, though I daresay he’s a good sort of fellow,” said Thud in a patronizing way. “I don’t think he’ll give us anything new.”
“In religion the old things are best,” remarked Io. “So in nature what we have had longest we value most; indeed, speaking of such things, ‘old’ is not the right word. The sun, moon, stars, the breezes, the glorious sea, never grow old. Even of the flowers I like to think that we see the very same kind of blossoms that bloomed under the eye of Eve.”
“But ‘the trail of the serpent is over them all,’” murmured Oscar under his breath.
“Not all—oh, not all!” exclaimed Io, catching the figurative meaning of Moore’s mournful line. “Such love as ours is a pure fragrant flower of Eden—resembling this.” Io plucked a very beautiful rose from a bush; for in southern climes even November and December have their roses.
“That rose has a worm in it,” said Thud; “don’t you see the little round hole in the petals?”