"I cannot help it," she cried; "and you cannot help it. It is no use to talk about it. You know—O, you know—you are not a Christian!"
It was almost a cry at last with which she said it; and the usually self-contained Lois hid her face away from him. Whether the horses walked or trotted for a little while she did not know; and I think it was only mechanical, the effort by which their driver kept them at a foot pace. He waited, however, till Lois dropped her hands again, and he thought she would attend to him.
"May I ask," he then said, and his voice was curiously clear and composed,—"if that is your only objection to me?"
"It is enough!" said Lois smotheredly, and noticing at the same time that ring in his voice.
"You think, one who is a Christian ought never to marry another who is not a Christian?"
"No!" she said, in the same way, as if catching her breath.
"It is very often done."
She made no reply. This was a most cruel discussion, she thought. Would they never reach home? And the horses walking! Walking, and shaking their heads, with soft little peals of the bells, like creatures who had at last got quiet enough to like walking.
"Is that all, Lois?" he asked again; and the tone of his voice irritated her.
"There need not be anything more," she answered. "That is enough. It is a barrier for ever between us; you cannot overcome it—and I cannot. O, do make the horses go! we shall never get home! and don't talk any more."