What answer Mr. Mortimer made, Louis could not hear, and the next moment they all went into the chapel.
Many contemptuous smiles were exchanged among those of the visitors who heard the colloquy, but Louis was comforted by an approving smile from his parents, and from the sweet consciousness of having done what was right. The service was very sweet to him, and the lightness of his heart made even the inferior singing very pleasant, and he gained something from “tedious Mr. Burton's” sermon; so much depends on the frame of mind. Our Saviour has enjoined us to take heed how we hear.
Louis had a very pleasant stroll in the park with his father after service, and when he entered the house with a happy quiet mind, he contrasted his feelings with those he should have had, had he been one of the giddy party at that time returning from A——, and joyfully thanked his heavenly Father for keeping him from dishonoring His holy day in “seeking his own pleasure” on it.
The following Thursday evening Mr. Mortimer's carriage was seen coming along the road leading to Dashwood, and at each window was a very joyful face noting all the familiar objects around; and as the horses dashed round a corner under a short grove of limes, the tongues belonging to the two began to move with astonishing rapidity.
“Here's Dashwood!” cried one.
“There's the river,” exclaimed the other.
“The Priory chimneys,” shouted the first.
“The Grange, Reginald,” cried the second.
“And Bessie Gordon in the garden,—she sees us,” cried Reginald, who had changed sides for a second. “Ann White's cottage, Louis—I saw the old picture of Lazarus large as ever—and the sheep—and I smell hay. Look, there's a hay-field, and Johnson with the hay-makers! Hillo, Johnson! He sees me.”