"I have brought back this newspaper Mrs. Atherton lent me," she began hurriedly, "to read a review. I hope it is not too late for the post."
"My mother is gone to see a child who is ill; but sit down, and let me have the benefit of a talk in her place." Mr. Atherton saw the look of disappointment in Salome's face, and added, "If you can wait, my mother will be home before long."
Salome stood irresolute, and then, fearing to be ungracious, she said,--
"I can come again to-morrow, thank you. I daresay you are busy now."
"No; I was only reading for half an hour's recreation. I may as well take it by talking with you, unless you really would rather go away."
In spite of her shyness, a bright smile flashed over Salome's face.
"I could not say so," she said, "as you ask me to stay, without--"
"Being uncivil," he said laughing. "Now I think we have had enough of preliminaries. I was thinking of you just before you came. I have a little class at the Sunday school ready for you, if you would like to take it, and one for your sister also."
"My sister is going away for the winter with Lady Monroe," Salome said. "I wanted to tell Mrs. Atherton about it. It is not quite decided; that is to say, mother had not written the answer to the note when I came away; but I feel sure she will go, and as I shall be left alone with mother and the children and the boys, I don't think I shall be able to leave them on Sunday afternoons."
"Then I would not urge you; our first duties lie at home."
"I shall have to teach the children altogether now. Ada helped with arithmetic and music. I am so stupid at both, especially arithmetic."
Mr. Atherton saw that Salome was troubled, and yet he did not press her for confidence, but quietly said,--
"Well, we are not all born to be mathematicians or musicians. God gives us all different powers. It is wholesome, however, to grind a little at what we dislike sometimes. The old story of the two roads, you know."
"I don't know," said Salome, her eyes glistening with interest; "unless you mean the narrow and the broad road," she added simply.
"Yes; I was thinking of Lord Bacon's rendering of the same idea. If two roads seem to lie before the Christian--one smooth and pleasant, the other rough and thorny--let him choose the rough one, and in spite of pricks and wounds he will gather flowers there, and fruit too, if he perseveres. Those may not be the precise words, but it is the meaning."