“No, I don’t think I shall,” she responded bluntly; “I am not running after you–not a step. As for what you believe or don’t believe, that isn’t my lookout,” and with an almost uncivil “Good day, sir,” she left him.
The farther away she got from this snakelike charmer, the more an intuitive belief in his real intentions possessed her. She was unskilled in the fine art of conversation, had only the inborn purity of her thoughts to protect her; and yet she half read this specious flatterer, and felt, rather than realized, his baseness.
A change in her own convictions that now served as a mantle of protection against his persuasions had come to her during these dreamy hours by the sea. Accepting at first Old Tomah’s superstitions, she had been led to contemplate the great question of future life and the existence of God. Aunt Comfort’s unselfish character, combined with perfect faith in the Supreme Power, had had its influence. Angie’s kindness and that first prayer Chip had heard in the tent were not lost. Aunt Abby’s consistent belief and devotion to duty also had had its effect; and all these pertinent examples, combined with the impress of the vast ocean, the solitude of this lonely shore, and the echo of its ceaseless billows, had awakened true veneration in Chip’s heart, and convinced her that some Unseen Power moved all human impulse and controlled all human destiny.
CHAPTER XXXVI
After Chip had run away from Greenvale, concealment of her name and all else had forced itself upon her. It was not natural for her to deceive. She had kept it up for one unhappy year only under inward protest, which ended in abject confession and tears. Now recalling that unpleasant episode, she made haste to confess her long conversation with this fluent fellow.
“Mr. Goodnow followed me over to the point this afternoon,” she explained that evening to Aunt Abby, “and talked for two hours. He was nice enough, but he made me sick of him, he flattered me so much.”
Aunt Abby looked at her with a slight sense of alarm.
“He certainly has the gift of impudence, at least,” she said, “in view of the way I declined his invitation yesterday. I think you’d best discontinue your long rambles for the present, or until he leaves here. He is not our sort. He is not even a friend of ours, and if people see you together, they will say unkind things.”
That was warning enough for Chip, and from that time on she never even walked down to the village store except with Aunt Abby.