For all answer the girl clapped her two hands together.
"Then you are not a master tailor?" she asked.
"No."
"I thought maybe you were. I don"t like them. What are you, please?"
"If I should propose myself as a friend, would you allow it?"
Is this a "kindness"? was the suspicion that instantly darted into Rotha"s mind. The visiter saw it in her face, and could have smiled; took care to do no such thing.
"That is a question for mother to answer," she said coolly.
"When it is put to her. I put the question to you."
"Do you mean, that you are talking of being a friend to _me?_"
"Is that too bold a proposition?"
"No--but it cannot be true."
"Why not?"
"You cannot want me for a friend. You do not know me a bit."
"Pardon me. And my proposal was, that I should be a friend to _you_."
"I always thought there were two sides to a friendship."
"True; and in time, perhaps, when you come to know me as well as I know you, perhaps you will be my friend as well."
"How should you know me?" said Rotha quickly.
"People"s thoughts and habits of feeling have a way of writing themselves somehow in their faces, and voices, and movements. Did you know that?"
"No--" Rotha said doubtfully.
"They do."
"But you don"t know me."
"Will you put it to the proof? But do you like to hear the truth spoken about yourself?"
"I don"t know. I never tried."
"Shall I try you? I think I see before me a person who likes to have her own way--and has it."
"You are wrong there," said Rotha. "If I had my own way, I should not be doing what I am doing; no indeed! I should be going to school."
"I did not mean that your will could get the better of all circ.u.mstances; only of the will of other people. How is that?"
"I suppose everybody likes to have his own way," said Rotha in defence.
"Probably; but not every one gets it. Then, when upon occasion your will is crossed, whether by persons or circ.u.mstances, you do not take it very patiently."
"Does anybody?"
"Some people. But on these occasions you are apt to shew your displeasure impatiently--sometimes violently."
"How do you know?" said Rotha wonderingly. "You cannot see that in my face _now?_"
And she began curiously to examine the face opposite to her, to see if it too had any disclosures to make. He smiled.
"Another thing,--" he went on. "You have never yet learned to care for others more than for yourself."
"Does anybody?" said Rotha.
"How is it with your mother?"
"Mother?-- But then, mother and I are very different"
"Did I not intimate that?"
"But I mean I am naturally different from her. It is not only because she is a Christian."
"Why are you not a Christian too?"
Rotha hesitated. Her interlocutor was certainly a great stranger; and as certainly she had not found it possible to read his face; notwithstanding, two effects had resulted from the interview thus far; she believed in him, and he was somewhat imposing to her. Dress and manner might have a little to do with this; poor Rotha had rarely in her short life spoken to any one who had the polish of manner that belongs to good breeding and the habit of society; but that was not the whole. She felt the security and the grace with which every word was said, and she trusted his face. At the same time she rebelled against the slight awe he inspired, and was a little afraid of some lurking "kindness" under all this extraordinary interest and affability. Her answer was delayed and then came somewhat defiantly.
"I never wanted to be a Christian."
"That answer has the merit of truth," said her visiter calmly. "You have mentioned the precise reason that keeps people out of the kingdom of heaven. "Ye will not come unto me, that ye might have life," the Lord said to some of them when he was upon earth. "When they shall see him, there is no beauty that they should desire him.""
"Well, I cannot help that," said Rotha.
"No,--" said her visiter slowly, "you cannot help that; but it does not excuse you."
"Why, how can I be a Christian, when I _dont want to?_"
"How can you do anything else that you do not want to do? Duty remains duty, does it not?"
"But religion is not outside work."
"No."
"Mother says, it is the love of G.o.d. How can I make myself love him?"
"Poor child!" said her visiter. "When you are in earnest about that question it will not be difficult to find the answer." He rose up. "Then I may send the shirts I spoke of?"