Alice had never been so excited and happy as during this visit, which was prolonged from week to week by the cordial invitation of both mother and daughter.
[CHAPTER XX.]
LIES ABOUT RELIGION.
ONE evening, when Alice had been in W— nearly a month, Ada was so unwell that Mrs. Morrison would not consent to her leaving the house. This was a severe disappointment; for, aside from her interest in the preacher, the young girl was deeply affected by the preaching. Indeed, sometimes she thought the desire to live a new life a life of holiness and happiness such as he described that of a Christian to be—was paramount to her wish to gain his friendship. She plead earnestly with her mother; but Ada was an only daughter,—a tender, well-beloved plant, needing constant culture,—and the lady was firm in her refusal.
"I will tell you about the lecture," said Alice, secretly rejoicing in this opportunity to be alone with the pastor, "and perhaps he will call as we return."
There was a peculiar expression on her countenance as she said this, which awoke the first suspicion in Ada that her friend was not sincere; and when left alone, she recalled many circumstances leading to the conviction that Alice was more interested in the clergyman than she would acknowledge.
True, the latter had freely described Mr. Mortimer, a gentleman to whom she declared herself engaged to be married; but the distrust once awakened could not be removed; and the startled girl speedily arrived at the very unpleasant conclusion that her friend had proved unworthy of her confidence.
It was nearly an hour later than usual when the visitor returned; and by this time Mrs. Morrison had become so alarmed for the safety of her guest that she was pressing her husband to go in search of her, when her voice was heard at the door.
She entered, smiling, wholly unprepared for the searching glance with which Ada met her. Her cheeks were brilliant with excitement, and as she stood under the chandelier, toying with her gloves, the light shining full on her beaming features, Mrs. Morrison thought she had never seen a prettier picture, and wondered whether the clergyman did not entertain the same opinion, and whether he could long remain insensible to such charms.
When the young girls retired to their room—for Ada, though weary, had insisted on remaining down-stairs till her friend's return,—Alice evidently labored under some great excitement, which she in vain endeavored to subdue.