“Why, how do you know?” she asked in surprise. “You have not been one of them long enough to find out, I should think. How did you become so wise, all of a sudden?”
Ernest was not at all pleased with the manner in which she addressed him, but he durst not manifest the least vexation in the critical juncture of his amatory affairs. He felt that a quarrel might terminate in a final overthrow of the fond hopes upon which his heart had fed for months past. He, therefore, spoke as mildly and affectionately as possible:
“I have learned something about it even in the last few hours. I have never experienced such a sense of love, joy and peace in all my previous life. I am astonished at myself for never having turned my attention sooner to eternal things. All these years, since I reached the line of moral responsibility, have been almost wasted, or, at least, the spiritual enjoyments of all this time have been lost to me; and how I regret it!”
“How you do talk!” exclaimed Clara. “Do you expect to keep up such lecturing all our lives? If you do, we may as well—”
“May as well what?” asked Ernest with a sinking heart.
“May as well follow divergent paths,” she said with a timidity which implied that she, by no means, desired the proposition to be accepted.
“No, my dear Clara, I shall not mention it again if it is unpleasant to you. I shall leave you in the hands of God and continue to pray for you. I think you will take a different view of the matter after a while.”
“But I would as soon you would talk to me as to look at me as if I were a criminal.”
“I do not think,” said Ernest, “that religion will convert me into a long-faced monk. On the contrary, I expect to be more cheerful and happy than I could be otherwise. You are the one to look solemn and gloomy.”