enjoy them."
"By the power of what secret talisman?"
"I don't know; – being happy, I suppose," said Lois shyly.
"You are speaking seriously; and therefore you are touching thegreatest question of human life. Can you say of yourself that you aretruly happy?"
Lois met his eyes in a little wonderment at this questioning, andanswered a plain "yes."
"But, to be happy, with me, means, to be independent ofcircumstances. I do not call him happy, whose happiness is gone ifthe east wind blow, or a party miscarry, or a bank break; even thoughit were the bank in which his property is involved."
"Nor do I," said Lois gravely.
"And – pray forgive me for asking! – but, are you happy in this exclusivesense?"
"I have no property in a bank," said Lois, smiling again; "I have notbeen tried that way; but I suppose it may do as well to have noproperty anywhere. Yes, Mr. Dillwyn."
"But that is equal to having the philosopher's stone!" cried Dillwyn.
"What is the philosopher's stone?"
"The wise men of old time made themselves very busy in the search forsome substance, or composition, which would turn other substances togold. Looking upon gold as the source and sum of all felicity, theyspent endless pains and countless time upon the search for thistransmuting substance. They thought, if they could get gold enough, they would be happy. Sometimes some one of them fancied he was justupon the point of making the immortal discovery; but there he alwaysbroke down."
"They were looking in the wrong place," said Lois thoughtfully.
"Is there a right place to look then?"
Lois smiled. It was a smile that struck Philip very much, for its calmand confident sweetness; yes, more than that; for its gladness. She wasnot in haste to answer; apparently she felt some difficulty.
"I do not think gold ever made anybody happy," she said at length.
"That is what moralists tell us. But, after all, Miss Lothrop, money isthe means to everything else in this world."
"Not to happiness, is it?"
"Well, what is, then? They say – and perhaps you will say – thatfriendships and affections can do more; but I assure you, where thereare not the means to stave off grinding toil or crushing poverty, affections wither; or if they do not quite wither, they bear no goldenfruit of happiness. On the contrary, they offer vulnerable spots to thestings of pain."
"Money can do a great deal," said Lois.
"What can do more?"
Lois lifted up her eyes and looked at her questioner inquiringly. Didhe know no better than that?
"With money, one can do everything," he went on, though struck by herexpression.
"Yes," said Lois; "and yet – all that never satisfied anybody."
"Satisfied!" cried Philip. "Satisfied is a very large word. Who issatisfied?"
Lois glanced up again, mutely.
"If I dared venture to say so – you look, Miss Lothrop, you absolutelylook, as if you were; and yet it is impossible."
"Why is it impossible?"
"Because it is what all the generations of men have been trying for, ever since the world began; and none of them ever found it."
"Not if they looked for it in their money bags," said Lois. "It wasnever found there."
"Was it ever found anywhere?"
"Why, yes!"
"Pray tell me where, that I may have it too!"
The girl's cheeks flushed; and what was very odd to Philip, her eyes,he was sure, had grown moist; but the lids fell over them, and he couldnot see as well as he wished. What a lovely face it was, he thought, inthis its mood of stirred gravity!
"Do you ever read the Bible, Mr. Dillwyn?"
The question occasioned him a kind of revulsion. The Bible! was that to be brought upon his head? A confused notion of organ-song, thesolemnity of a still house, a white surplice, and words in measuredcadence, came over him. Nothing in that connection had ever given himthe idea of being satisfied. But Lois's question —
"The Bible?" he repeated. "May I ask, why you ask?"
"I thought you did not know something that is in it."
"Very possibly. It is the business of clergymen, isn't it, to tell uswhat is in it? That is what they are paid for. Of what are youthinking?"
"I was thinking of a person in it, mentioned in it, I mean, – who saidjust what you said a minute ago."
"What was that? And who was that?"
"It was a poor woman who once held a long talk with the Lord Jesus ashe was resting beside a well. She had come to draw water, and Jesusasked her for some; and then he told her that whoever drank of thatwater would thirst again – as she knew; but whoever should drink of thewater that he would give, should never thirst. I was telling you ofthat water, Mr. Dillwyn. And the woman answered just what youanswered – 'Give me this water, that I thirst not, neither come hitherto draw.'"
"Did she get it?"
"I think she did."
"You mean, something that satisfied her, and would satisfy me?"
"It satisfies every one who drinks of it," said Lois.
"But you know, I do not in the least understand you."
The girl rose up and fetched a Bible which lay upon a distant table.Philip looked at the book as she brought it near; no volume of Mrs.Wishart's, he was sure. Lois had had her own Bible with her in thedrawing-room. She must be one of the devout kind. He was sorry. Hebelieved they were a narrow and prejudiced sort of people, given tolaying down the law and erecting barricades across other people'spaths. He was sorry this fair girl was one of them. But she was alovely specimen. Could she unlearn these ways, perhaps? But now, whatwas she going to bring forth to him out of the Bible? He watched thefingers that turned the leaves; pretty fingers enough, and delicate, but not very white. Gardening probably was not conducive to theblanching of a lady's hand. It was a pity. She found her place so soonthat he had little time to think his regrets.
"You allowed that nobody is satisfied, Mr. Dillwyn," said Lois then.
"See if you understand this."
"'Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hathno money: come ye, buy and eat; yea, come, buy wine and milk withoutmoney, and without price. Wherefore do ye spend money for that which isnot bread? and your labour for that which satisfieth not? hearkendiligently unto me, and eat ye that which is good, and let your souldelight itself in fatness.'"
Lois closed her book.
"Who says that?" Philip inquired.
"God himself, by his messenger."
"And
