During the ride to Clifton, Louis became very communicative. He liked Mrs. Norman very much, she was so very sweet, and now and then made little remarks that reminded Louis of home; and then he was sure she liked him; even if he had not guessed that the few words he first heard from her lips referred to him, her very kind full eyes and affectionate manner spoke of unusual interest, and Louis felt very anxious to rise in her estimation. Things that are not sinful in themselves, become sins from the accompanying motives; the desire of favor in the eyes of so excellent a person was not wrong, had it been mixed with a wish to adorn the doctrine of Christ, and thankfulness for the love and favor given; but now Louis talked of things which, though he really believed them, and of feelings which, though he had once really experienced them, were not now the breathings of a heart that overflowed with all its fulness of gratitude. He had quickness enough to see what was most precious in his new friend's sight, and tried to ingratiate himself with her, by dwelling on these subjects, and showing how much he had felt on them. Had felt, for he had “left his first love.”
Let it not be supposed that Louis meant to deceive—he deceived himself as much as any one; but he was in that sad state when a Christian has backslidden so far as to live on the remembrance of old joys, instead of the actual possession of new.
The carriage stopped, at length, at a house in York Crescent, where the trio alighted. Mrs. Norman led Louis up stairs into the drawing-room, while her son, who had scarcely spoken a word during the drive, stayed a minute or two at the house-door, and then ran down the nearest flight of steps leading to the carriage-road, jumped into the carriage, which was just driving off, and paid a visit to the stables.
The room into which Louis entered was very large, and littered so with all descriptions of chairs, stools, and non-descript elegancies, that it required some little ingenuity to reach the further end without upsetting the one, or being overthrown by the others. Near one of the three windows, reclining on a sofa, was Mrs. Paget, who welcomed Louis with her usual warmth.
“You see,” said she, “I am a prisoner. I sprained my ankle the very day I saw you; and I am positively forbidden to walk. But where is Master Reginald?”
Louis informed Mrs. Paget of his brother's intentions, and, after expressing her regrets at his non-appearance, the lady continued:
“Now, sit near me, and let us have a little talk; I want to hear how you are going on, and how many prizes you are likely to get. But, perhaps, my dear, you would like to go on the downs, or into the town, or to——Where's Henry, I wonder: where is Mr. Norman?” she asked of a servant who came to remove a little tray that stood beside her.
“Just gone round to the stables, ma'am.”
“Dear, how unfortunate! You can't think what a beautiful little horse he has; I tell him it is quite a lady's horse. He will show it to you. I can't think how he could go away this afternoon. You'll be very dull, my dear—but my sister will take you out.”
Louis assured her he should enjoy sitting with her.