"I cannot—I cannot indeed," said Norah, who nevertheless greatly desired to go.
"But I've got a ticket for you!" cried Sophy, pulling it out of her pocket, as if the sight of the bit of blue pasteboard must set all scruples at rest. "Mr. Green, he's the manager you know, he's a friend of my father. 'Peter Puller,' says he, 'shall have as many tickets as he likes half-price.' Oh! you must come indeed, Norah, darling! The lads I told you of, and Bell and her brothers, are all to be of the party! 'Twill be the rarest fun in the world!" Sophy took hold of the teapot, and helped herself to the tea.
"I should like it of all things," sighed Norah, "but I am sure that I would not get my mistress's leave."
"Then you'll go without it, to be sure—just hand me the sugar, my dear—nothing can be more easily managed. I just tap at the door at ten minutes to nine; the door is left on the latch."
"But mistress bids me lock it, and put up the chain for the night for fear of robbers," said Norah.
"You can do all that when you come home; you'll be back by eleven, you know; as for robbers and all that rubbish, only old women who are timid as mice ever dream of such things. Now, you must not look so grave, dear Norah. I've set my heart on your going, indeed I'll take no denial, when I've got the ticket and all. I'd never forgive you, never, if you disappointed me now."
It is needless to repeat all the arguments used by an unprincipled girl to persuade poor Norah to consent to do what her conscience condemned. Sophy never paused to consider that she was acting as Satan's servant, and doing the devil's work, in tempting her young simple friend from the straight narrow path of duty. Perhaps Sophy actually believed that she was showing kindness to Norah. Be that as it may, the milliner's girl did not leave the house till she had wrung from the weakness of her friend a half-consent to be ready to go with her that night.
Alas for poor human resolution! The first strong shaft of temptation had pierced it through and through.
Had the sailor's words, then, gone for nothing? Had they effected no change whatever? Yes, one important point had been gained. Norah could no longer do wrong with an easy conscience; her eyes had been opened to the danger and guilt of what she had deemed little sins. Norah knew that not one could be harboured and indulged, save at the peril of her soul. She felt that the religion which does not purify the life is not true religion at all.
Norah's mind was so restless and uneasy as she sat down to her work, that even the prospect of the amusement before her, gave as much pain as pleasure. She dared not think of her uncle, far less of those truths which she had heard from his lips.