"An empty, unsatisfying form," said Louise with bitter emphasis. "Church bores me; uncle's sermons bore me. I sometimes wish I had been born a heathen, for I should be free then to do as I like and to live as I like, without any compunction."
Anstice was silent for a moment, then she said:
"I wonder if I can say anything to help you. Every one is helped in a different way. Tell me, does this verse convey anything to you? 'Have I been so long time with you, and yet hast thou not known Me?'"
"I know it as a Bible verse," said Louise slowly.
"I heard a sermon on it the first Sunday I was here," Anstice said; "and it came home to me with great force. So much so that it has altered my whole life. My inside life I mean—though I hope that affects my outward one. I had grown-up with the love of God surrounding me and mine, but I never knew Him; least of all had I any love and real personal knowledge of our Saviour—I think if you were to get real peace and happiness in your soul, you would not find your lonely, monotonous life so irksome."
Louise seemed impressed for a moment, then she shrugged her shoulders.
"I don't think I want real religion to seize hold of me. I am matter-of-fact—not visionary! I don't want to be content with my stagnant life. You can only be young once, and I feel the years are slipping away. I want to live, to enjoy, even if I have to work for enjoyment."
"But does fretting and chafing against your circumstances remedy them? Does it make you happier?"
"No one has such an awful life as I have!"
Anstice laughed, but it was a tender laugh.