Poor Mrs. Spruce felt a sudden choking in her throat, and her motherly face grew red and pale by turns. Miss Maryllia, the old squire's daughter, was—what? A heathen?—an unbeliever—an atheist? Oh, surely it was not possible—it could not be!—she would not accept the idea that a creature so dainty and pretty, so fair and winsome, could be cast adrift on the darkness of life without any trust in the saving grace of the Christian Faith! Limited as were Mrs. Spruce's powers of intelligence, she was conscious enough that there would be something sweet and strong lost out of the world, which nothing could replace, were the message of Christ withdrawn from it. The perplexity of her thoughts was reflected on her countenance and Maryllia, watching her, smiled a little sadly.
"You mustn't think I don't believe in God, Spruce,"—she said slowly—"I do! But I can't agree with all the churches teach about Him. They make Him out to be a cruel, jealous and revengeful Being— -"
"Mr. Walden don't—-," put in Mrs. Spruce, quickly.
"And I like to think of Him as all love and pity and goodness," went on Maryllia, not heeding her—"and I don't say prayers, because I think He knows what is best for me without my asking. Do you understand? So it's really no use my going to church, unless just out of curiosity—and perhaps I will some day do that,—I'll see about it! But I must know Mr. Walden a little better first,—I must find out for myself what kind of a man he is, before I make up my mind to endure such a martyrdom as listening to a sermon! I simply loathe sermons! I suppose I must have had too many of them when I was a child. Surely you remember, Spruce, that I used to be taken into Riversford to church?" Mrs. Spruce nodded emphatically in the affirmative. "Yes!—because when father was alive the church here was only a ruin. And I used to go to sleep over the sermons always— and once I fell off my seat and had to be carried out. It was dreadful! Now Uncle Fred never went to church,—nor Aunt Emily. So I've quite got out of the way of going—nobody is very particular about it in Paris or London, you see. But perhaps I'll try and hear Mr. Walden preach—just once—and I'll tell you then what I think about it. I'll put his card on the mantelpiece to remind me!"
And she suited the action to the word, Mrs. Spruce gazing at her in a kind of mild stupefaction. It seemed such a very odd thing to stick up a clergyman's card as a reminder to go to church 'just once' some Sunday.
Meanwhile Maryllia continued, "Now, Spruce, you must begin to be busy! You must prepare the Manor for the reception of all sorts of people, small and great. I feel that the time has come for 'company, company!' And in the first place I'm going to send for Cicely Bourne,—she's my pet 'genius'—and I'm paying the cost of her musical education in Paris. She's an orphan—like me—she's all alone in the world—like me;—and we're devoted to each other. She's only a child—just over fourteen—but she's simply a wonder!—the most wonderful musical wonder in the world!—and she has a perfectly marvellous voice. Her master Gigue says that when she is sixteen she will have emperors at her feet! Emperors! There are only a few,—but they'll all be grovelling in the dust before her! You must prepare some pretty rooms for her, Spruce, those two at the top of the house that look right over the lawn and woods—and make everything as cosy as you can. I'll put the finishing touches. And I must send to London for a grand piano. There's only the dear old spinet in the drawing-room,—it's sweet to sing to, and Cicely will love it,—but she must have a glorious 'grand' as well. I shall wire to her to- day,—I know she'll come at once. She will arrive direct from Paris,—let me see!"—and she paused meditatively—"when can she arrive? This is Friday,—yes!—probably she will arrive here Sunday or Monday morning. So you can get everything ready."
"Very well, Miss," and Mrs. Spruce, with the usual regulation 'dip' of respectful submission to her mistress was about to withdraw, when Maryllia called her back and handed over to her care the wicker basket full of visiting-cards.
"Put them all by,"—she said—"When Cicely comes we'll go through them carefully together, and discuss what to eat, drink and avoid. Till then, I shall blush unseen, wasting my sweetness on the desert air! Time enough and to spare for making the acquaintance of the 'county.' Who was it that said: Never know your neighbours'? I forget,—but he was a wise man, anyway!"
Mrs. Spruce 'dipped' a second time in silence, and was then allowed to depart on her various household duties. The good woman's thoughts were somewhat chaotically jumbled, and most fervently did she long to send for 'Passon,' her trusted adviser and chief consoler, or else go to him herself and ask him what he thought concerning the non-church-going tendencies of her mistress. Was she altogether a lost sheep? Was there no hope for her entrance into the heavenly fold?
"Which I can't and won't believe she's wicked,"—said Mrs. Spruce to herself—"With that sweet childie face an' eyes she couldn't be! M'appen 'tis bad example,—'er 'Merican aunt 'avin' no religion as 'twere, an' 'er uncle, Mr. Frederick, was never no great shakes in 'is young days if all the truth was told. Well, well! The Lord 'e knows 'is own, an' my 'pinion is He ain't a-goin' to do without Miss Maryllia, for it's allus 'turn again, turn again, why will 'ee die' sort of thing with Him, an' He don't give out in 'is patience. I'm glad she's goin' to 'ave a friend to stay with 'er,—that'll do 'er good and 'earten her up—an' mebbe the friend'll want to go to church, an' Miss Maryllia 'ull go with her, an' once they listens to Passon 'twill be all right, for 'is voice do draw you up into a little bit o' heaven somehow, whether ye likes it or not, an' if Miss Maryllia once 'ears 'im, she'll be wanting to 'ear 'im again— so it's best to leave it all in the Lord's 'ands which makes the hill straight an' the valleys crooked, an' knows what's good for both man and beast. Miss Maryllia ain't goin' to miss the Way, the Truth an' the Life—I'm sartin sure o' that!"