PROVING THE ARMOUR.
"WELL, Norah my darling, I've just slipped in for five minutes to
see you, I can't stop long, but just pour me out a cup like a dear,
I'm half grilled in this dreadful hot weather!" And the milliner's
girl threw herself on a chair, and began fanning herself with her
pocket-handkerchief.
For the first time Norah was sorry to see her friend, and especially to
see her at tea. Though Norah had been so often during the day thinking
over what course she should take, and what words she should say, yet
the sudden appearance of Sophy Puller seemed to take her by surprise.
"Quick, cut me a slice, for I must soon be off; plenty of butter you
know; I thought that you promised me that this time I should taste the
old lady's tartlets. Why, is anything the matter?" cried Sophy, who
perceived a peculiar hesitation and confusion in the manner of Norah.
"You know, dear, that I went home yesterday and saw my sailor uncle—the
uncle who has lost his arm."
"Ah! Yes, if I'd only time, I should like to hear all about him," said
Sophy, "but I've come on a little bit of business, and I thought it was
best to drop in at tea-time; I knew that my darling would always make
me welcome!" Here followed a caress, which made poor Norah feel more
embarrassed than ever.
"My uncle said—my uncle thought—he heard about your coming, and he told
me—" Every word of her studied explanation seemed to have escaped from
Norah's mind; she stammered, and turned very red; Sophy looked at her
in surprise.
"What on earth do you mean?" she enquired.
Norah's hand was upon the loaf, and she unconsciously squeezed it so
tightly as to leave the mark of the pressure upon it.
"My uncle thought that I should tell my mistress when I have a friend
at meals," stammered forth Norah, wondering at her own courage when the
sentence was uttered.
"That old Mrs. Martin may be sure to have hot muffins ready for her!"
cried Sophy, bursting into a merry laugh. Her mirth disconcerted her
friend as much as her anger might have done.
"Uncle Ned doesn't think it—quite right," said Norah, looking down,
"that I should entertain any guest at my lady's expense, and without
her knowledge."
"Stuff and nonsense!" exclaimed Sophy Puller. "I think that uncle of
yours must have lost his head as well as his arm, or he would not be
putting such rubbish into your silly little mind!" And catching up the
knife, and taking the loaf from Norah, Sophy began to make up for lost
time by helping herself in good earnest.
"But—" began Norah, timidly.
The milliner's girl cut her short.
"Now, don't be talking any more such stuff, Norah dear; you're not
such a baby as to mind silly cant! I'll tell you what I've come here
for to-day." Sophy went on talking as fast as a mouth full of bread
and butter would let her. "You're going to have a treat—such a treat!
There's an entertainment to-night in the Town Hall; you must have
seen the big bills about it stuck upon every wall—the famous juggler
is to perform, who helps a dozen people out of one bottle to a dozen
different wines, and puts an extinguisher upon his wife, and makes her
vanish into air, and who does a thousand other things more wonderful
even than these! Now, you and I, my darling, are going to see him
to-night."
"I cannot—I cannot indeed," said Norah, who nevertheless greatly
desired to go.
"But I've got a ticket for you!" cried Sophy, pulling it out of her
pocket, as if the sight of the bit of blue pasteboard must set all
scruples at rest. "Mr. Green, he's the manager you know, he's a friend
of my father. 'Peter Puller,' says he, 'shall have as many tickets as
he likes half-price.' Oh! you must come indeed, Norah, darling! The
lads I told you of, and Bell and her brothers, are all to be of the
party! 'Twill be the rarest fun in the world!" Sophy took hold of the
teapot, and helped herself to the tea.
"I should like it of all things," sighed Norah, "but I am sure that I
would not get my mistress's leave."
"Then you'll go without it, to be sure—just hand me the sugar, my
dear—nothing can be more easily managed. I just tap at the door at ten
minutes to nine; the door is left on the latch."
"But mistress bids me lock it, and put up the chain for the night for
fear of robbers," said Norah.
"You can do all that when you come home; you'll be back by eleven,
you know; as for robbers and all that rubbish, only old women who are
timid as mice ever dream of such things. Now, you must not look so
grave, dear Norah. I've set my heart on your going, indeed I'll take no
denial, when I've got the ticket and all. I'd never forgive you, never,
if you disappointed me now."
It is needless to repeat all the arguments used by an unprincipled girl
to persuade poor Norah to consent to do what her conscience condemned.
Sophy never paused to consider that she was acting as Satan's servant,
and doing the devil's work, in tempting her young simple friend from
the straight narrow path of duty. Perhaps Sophy actually believed that
she was showing kindness to Norah. Be that as it may, the milliner's
girl did not leave the house till she had wrung from the weakness of
her friend a half-consent to be ready to go with her that night.
Alas for poor human resolution! The first strong shaft of temptation
had pierced it through and through.
Had the sailor's words, then, gone for nothing? Had they effected no
change whatever? Yes, one important point had been gained. Norah could
no longer do wrong with an easy conscience; her eyes had been opened
to the danger and guilt of what she had deemed little sins. Norah knew
that not one could be harboured and indulged, save at the peril of her
soul. She felt that the religion which does not purify the life is not
true religion at all.
Norah's mind was so restless and uneasy as she sat down to her work,
that even the prospect of the amusement before her, gave as much pain
as pleasure. She dared not think of her uncle, far less of those truths
which she had heard from his lips.
When we yield to one temptation we have less power to resist another.
Waters entering through the narrowest breach soon make for themselves a
wider way. Norah sought relief from uneasy reflection in the very thing
which she had so lately given up as wrong.
"I can't go on with this tiresome darning," exclaimed the young
servant, flinging a bundle of stockings aside. "I must just have a
glance at that book; I must just see if that wretched woman was hanged
for murder after all."
So, neglecting her duty, misusing her time, trying to silence her
conscience, Norah plunged into the midst of a novel but too well suited
to inflame her imagination and corrupt her mind. She was so deep in the
interest of the story, that she started with impatient annoyance at the
sound of the bell which summoned her up to the drawing-room, to read to
her mistress as usual.