I could see it by the
way she took possession of us, found us the places in the Bible,
whispered to me the name of the minister, passed us lozenges, which
I (for my part) handed on to Rowley, and at each fresh attention
stole a little glance about the church to make sure she was
observed. Rowley was a pretty boy; you will pardon me if I also
remembered that I was a favourable-looking young man. When we grow
elderly, how the room brightens, and begins to look as it ought to
look, on the entrance of youth, grace, health, and comeliness! You
do not want them for yourself, perhaps not even for your son, but
you look on smiling; and when you recall their images--again, it is
with a smile. I defy you to see or think of them and not smile
with an infinite and intimate, but quite impersonal, pleasure.
Well, either I know nothing of women, or that was the case with
Bethiah McRankine. She had been to church with a cockade behind
her, on the one hand; on the other, her house was brightened by the
presence of a pair of good-looking young fellows of the other sex,
who were always pleased and deferential in her society and accepted
her views as final.
These were sentiments to be encouraged; and, on the way home from
church--if church it could be called--I adopted a most insidious
device to magnify her interest.
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