Arabella | Page 6

had tucked her with a good-night kiss. And lying there thus, she listened to the roar of the electric trains rushing by, and the ceaseless din of the thoroughfare, and looked at the electric light, which seemed to her so wonderful after the pitchy darkness of night in the country, shining in through the figured curtains of chintz upon the window. Gradually the noises became indistinct to her ears, the lights began to grow blurred and faint, and she forgot her wonder, her delight, and, in fact, all her rapidly succeeding impressions, in a sound and dreamless sleep, whence she awakened with a start, and in the manner hereafter to be described.

CHAPTER IV.
THE EXCHANGE OF CONFIDENCES.
Mrs. Christie, tired as she was, remained up an hour or so later than Arabella, chatting with her sister before the fire, that was constantly replenished with shovelfuls of coal. She, too, like her young companion, enjoyed the rest, the quiet, so foreign to her ordinary laborious and drearily monotonous existence, though she did not yield herself thereto with the same completeness as did Arabella. Habit was too strong for her, and during her brief visit she was perpetually looking about for something to do. However, on that first night of her arrival she permitted herself the untroubled enjoyment of the arm-chairs the stillness-- within doors, at least-- which the noises of the thoroughfare only accentuated, and her sister's society. Having ascertained, by tiptoeing to the door, that Arabella was really sound asleep, she proceeded to give Alicia, in her own terse and forcible way, the chief points in Arabella's history. These were almost entirely new to Miss Norris, who had been aware only in a general way that her sister had adopted an orphan.
"Yes," said Mrs. Christie, "we got her from the Sisters when she was little more than a baby. She didn't know anything about that. I guess you remember when that was-- near thirteen years ago."
Alicia agreed that she did.
"Well, there ain't much more to tell concerning that part of it," Mrs. Christie declared. "She lived with us ever since. When she got big enough she helped with the work."
"Did you ever find out who she was?"
"Well," answered Mrs. Christie, "the Sisters were most sure she had some rich relations because of a locket and ring that were left with her, and a few lines in writing. The jewelry was to identify her, if ever she was wanted. Mr. Christie, he never believed that anyone would come after her. He always said he guessed somebody was well rid of her."
"And did anyone ever come?" Alicia inquired, eagerly. The little woman had in her composition a strong flavor of romance, and she was always weaving stories to herself there in her tiny rooms, as fairies weave beautiful fabrics out of sunbeams.
"I'm coming to that!" declared Mrs. Christie, settling herself comfortably in her chair, "But first I must tell you, the Sisters bound me to bring up the child a Catholic."
"Why, of course!" Alicia assented.
"Well, it was not so very easy," Mrs. Christie said, shifting uncomfortably in her chair and unwilling, just then, to meet the bright, dark eyes that were fixed upon her.
"You couldn't have brought her up anything else, dear," piped Alicia, "since you were a Catholic yourself, and such a good one, when we went to the Sisters' school long ago."
Mrs. Christie's face took on something of defiance, though her dull eyes softened, too, as she remembered the days when she used to take her little sprite of a sister by the hand and proceed to the school near the church.
"Oh, then it was easy enough," she answered, "but when I married Silas Christie he wasn't a Catholic. I thought at the first go-off it would be kind of easy to make him one. I tried, but it didn't work worth a cent. He ain't nothing in particular now."
"But as long as you are," Alicia interposed, mildly.
Mrs. Christie sighed.
"Well, to tell you the honest truth," Mrs. Christie said, "the church is far off, and I've got lots of work to do on Sunday morning, and-- and Silas didn't care very much about seeing me go there. Most of his folks are Methodists, and there ain't no Catholics around except a few farm hands and such like, and so-- "
She paused. Alicia's quaint little face was puckered and the big tears falling from her eyes.
"Oh, sister," she cried pitifully, "don't you remember the jewel we used to talk about, the bright jewel of faith that the teacher told us we were never to let grow dim?"
Mrs. Christie turned upon her, irritated by her remonstrance and by the sharp pang of remembrance which shot through her heart.
"It's easy for you, Alicia," she cried, "that ain't got any husband or people-in-law to interfere with