"And are you bound to think well of no man but one who lives after this exalted fashion? How will you ever get married, Lois?"

"I should not like to be married to this Duke of York the book tells of; nor to the writer of the book," Lois said, smiling.

"That Duke of York was brother to the King of England."

"The King was worse yet! He was not even respectable."

"I believe you are right. Come--let us begin our French lessons."

With shy delight, Lois came near and followed with most eager attention the instructions of her friend. Mrs. Barclay fetched a volume of Florian's "Easy Writing"; and to the end of her life Lois will never forget the opening sentences in which she made her first essay at French p.r.o.nunciation, and received her first knowledge of what French words mean. "Non loin de la ville de Cures, dans le pays des Sabins, au milieu d'une antique foret, s'eleve un temple consacre a Ceres." So it began; and the words had a truly witching interest for Lois.. But while she delightedly forgot all she had been talking about, Mrs. Barclay, not delightedly, recalled and went over it. Philip, Philip! your case is dark! she was saying. And what am I about, trying to help you!

CHAPTER XXII.

LEARNING.

There came a charming new life into the house of the Lothrops. Madge and Lois were learning to draw, and Lois was prosecuting her French studies with a zeal which promised to carry all before it. Every minute of her time was used; every opportunity was grasped; "Numa Pompilius"

and the dictionary were in her hands whenever her hands were free; or Lois was bending over her drawing with an intent eye and eager fingers.

Madge kept her company in these new pursuits, perhaps with less engrossing interest; nevertheless with steady purpose and steady progress. Then Mrs. Barclay received from New York a consignment of beautiful drawings and engravings from the best old masters, and some of the best of the new; and she found her hands becoming very full. To look at these engravings was almost a pa.s.sion with the two girls; but not in the common way of picture-seeing. Lois wanted to understand everything; and it was necessary, therefore, to go into wide fields of knowledge, where the paths branched many ways, and to follow these various tracks out, one after another. This could not be done all in talking; and Lois plunged into a very sea of reading. Mrs. Barclay was not obliged to restrain her, for the girl was thorough and methodical in her ways of study, as of doing other things; however, she would carry on two or three lines of reading at once. Mrs. Barclay wrote to her unknown correspondent, "Send me 'Sismondi';" "send me Hallam's 'Middle Ages';" "send me 'Walks about Kome';" "send me 'Plutarch's Lives';" "send me D'Aubigne's 'Reformation';" at last she wrote, "Send me Ruskin's 'Modern Painters'." "I have the most enormous intellectual appet.i.te to feed that ever I had to do with in my life. And yet no danger of an indigestion. Positively, Philip, my task is growing from day to day delightful; it is only when I think of the end and aim of it all that I get feverish and uneasy. At present we are going with 'a full sail and a flowing sea'; a regular sweeping into knowledge, with a smooth, easy, swift occupying and taking possession, which gives the looker-on a stir of wondering admiration. Those engravings were a great success; they opened for me, and at once, doors before which I might have waited some time; and now, eyes are exploring eagerly the vast realms those doors unclose, and hesitating only in which first to set foot. You may send the 'Stones of Venice' too; I foresee that it will be useful; and the 'Seven Lamps of Architecture.' I am catching my breath, with the swiftness of the way we go on. It is astonishing, what all cl.u.s.tered round a view of Milan Cathedral yesterday. By the way, Philip,--no hurry,--but by and by a stereoscope would be a good thing here. Let it be a little hand-gla.s.s, not a great instrument of unvarying routine and magnificent sameness."

Books came by packages and packages. Such books! The eyes of the two girls gloated over them, as they helped Mrs. Barclay unpack; the room grew full, with delightful disorder of riches; but none too much, for they began to feel their minds so empty that no amount of provision could be too generous.

"The room is getting to be running-over full. What will you do, Mrs.

Barclay?"

"It is terrible when you have to sweep the carpet, isn't it? I must send for some book cases."

"You might let Mr. Midgin put up some--shelves I could stain them, and make them look very nice."

"Who is Mr. Midgin?"

"The carpenter."

"Oh! Well.--I think we had better send for him, Lois."

The door stood open into the kitchen, or dining-room rather, on account of the packing-cases which the girls were just moving out; then appeared the figure of Mrs. Marx in the opening.

"Lois, Charity ain't at home--How much beef are you goin' to want?"

"Beef?" said Lois, smiling at the transition in her thoughts.--"For salting, you mean?"

"For salting, and for smoking, and for mince-meat, and for pickling.

What is the girl thinking of?"

"She is thinking of books just now, Mrs. Marx," suggested Mrs. Barclay.

"Books!" The lady stepped nearer and looked in. "Well, I declare! I should think you had _some_. What in all the world can you do with so many?"

"Just what we were considering. I think we must have the carpenter here, to put up some shelves."

"Well I should say that was plain. But when you have got 'em on the shelves, what next? What will you do with 'em then?"

"Take 'em down and read them, aunt Anne."

"Your life ain't as busy as mine, then, if you have time for all that.

What's the good o' readin' so much?"

"There's so much to know, that we don't know!"

"I should like to know what,"--said Mrs. Marx, going round and picking up one book after another. "You've been to school, haven't you?"

Lois changed her tone.

"I'll talk to Charity about the beef, and let you know, aunt Anne."

"Well, come out to the other room and let me talk to you! Good afternoon, ma'am--I hope you don't let these girls make you too much worry.--Now, Lois" (after the door was shut between them and Mrs.

Barclay), "I just want you to tell me what you and Madge are about?"

Lois told her, and Mrs. Marx listened with a judicial air; then observed gravely,

"'Seems to me, there ain't much sense in all that, Lois."

"O, yes, aunt Anne! there is."

"What's the use? What do you want to know more tongues than your own for, to begin with? you can't talk but in one at once. And spending your time in making marks on paper! I believe in girls goin' to school, and gettin' all they can there; but when school is done, then they have something else to see to. I'd rather have you raakin' quilts and gettin' ready to be married; dom' women's work."

"I do my work," said Lois gaily.

"Child, your head's gettin' turned. Mother, do you know the way Madge and Lois are goin' on?"

"I don't understand it," said Mrs. Armadale.

"I understand it. And I'll tell you. I like learning,--n.o.body better; but I want things kept in their places. And I tell you, if this is let to go on, it'll be like Jack's bean vine, and not stop at the top of the house; and they'll be like Jack, and go after to see, and never come back to common ground any more."

Mrs. Armadale sat looking unenlightened. Madge, who had come in midway of this speech, stood indignant.

"Aunt Anne, that's not like you! You read as much yourself as ever you can; and never can get books enough."

"I stick to English."

"English or French, what's the odds?"

"What was good enough for your fathers and mothers ought to be good enough for you."