"Lucy Corbet, sit down!" were her first words. I obeyed, wondering more and more as she added—
"Child, how pretty you are! Ah, if my poor little Magdalene had lived, she would have been like you. She was dark, too; but I only had her five years, and then lost her forever. Ah me."
"Your ladyship may have her again!" I could not help saying. "She is in the hand of the Lord where no evil can touch her."
"So much the better if she is!" was the abrupt reply. "There, child, don't talk Methodism to me. I am too old for that sort of thing."
"Surely, no one is too old for the comforts of religion, madam!" I persisted, impelled by I know not what impulse, but I trust a good one. "It seems as if such a treasure in Heaven should be a strong magnet to draw one thitherward."
"Tush!" said my lady sharply and bitterly. "What do I know of Heaven or care to know? I tell you child, this world is all that we can grasp or hold. What do we know of the other? This alone is ours."
"For how long, madam?"
She winced at the question.
"There, that will do. You have discharged your conscience, and I wish to hear no more. Listen to me. I like your spirit, child, and if you will be obedient to me and help me, I will advance your fortunes and perhaps protect you from some dangers."
"I trust not to fail in my duty, madam!" I began, but she snapped me up.