CHAPTER IV.

PUTTING ON ARMOUR.

NORAH PEELE was of an affectionate disposition and an eager spirit, and she was at an age when there is an attraction in anything new. What she had heard of religion from Mrs. Martin, and at the church which she constantly attended, had drawn her heart towards her Saviour, and made her delight in feeling that she owed all her hopes of heaven to Him. Norah took pleasure in going to church, especially in listening to the sweet music, and her eyes would fill with tears when she heard or read of the sufferings of Christ.

But Norah's religion had been one of feeling rather than of practice; its power had not overcome evil habits which she had acquired in her home. It had been rather like fragrant oil floating on the top of a vase of water, than like wine, which spreads through the whole, giving colour and sweetness to every drop. Norah's religion had been too much like a Sunday dress, not worn in her working hours; it had not made her perfectly honest, just, and true in all her dealings. Norah had come to Christ, like the rich young man of whom we read in the gospel, but she had not yet learned to follow Christ in the steps of His holy life.

The few blunt words of the sailor had opened Norah's eyes to the truth. Had she hitherto deserved the name of a Christian at all? Had not hers been a false profession? If so, should she not, from henceforth, resolve to lead a new life, to be what she had wished to appear, to deny sinful self, to take up her cross and follow her Lord!

Norah, with the eagerness of her nature, determined to do all this, perhaps without sufficiently counting the cost, perhaps without dwelling enough on the warning, "ask the Lord for that breastplate of righteousness which will stand rough work and hard blows; don't trust in any pasteboard resolutions of your own." From henceforth, Norah determined that she would let her light so shine before men, that they should see her good works, and glorify her Father in heaven.

When Norah had fulfilled her usual evening duties, read to Mrs. Martin, made her tea, seen to her comforts, and left her in quiet repose for the night, the young girl sought her own little room, with her mind and heart still full of what her sailor uncle had said. She had usually amused herself at night with reading the trashy novel lent by Sophy Puller, but now for the first time Norah Peele paused before she opened the book.

"I wonder if this is one of the things which I must give up?" thought Norah. "Certainly it makes me sit up very late at night, and mistress wonders how I can use up so many candles, and she has often told me to go to bed early, for fear I should fall asleep over my work, and set the house on fire. And then these novels do fill my head so full of thoughts—some very bad ones I fear! While I was reading the Bible to mistress, I could not help my mind running on that dreadful woman and that horrible murder, they interested me so! Yet what is the harm in reading; how shall I know if it is really my duty to give up this pleasure?"

Norah half opened the dirty volume.

"What did my uncle say? He told me to bring everything straight to the Lord, to ask—Is this what He would approve, what He would have done in my place?"

Norah shut the book, and thrust it into a drawer: her conscience had given an honest answer to the question, and the pleasure which she felt from the consciousness that she had for once exercised self-denial, quite made up to the little maid for the amusement which she had lost. Norah went to rest that night more happy than she had ever felt before.

But when Norah awoke in the grey dawn, and rose to perform her round of daily duties, the first fervour of excited feeling had had a little time to cool, and she began more seriously to consider what difficulties might beset her in her new course of practical obedience. A variety of things, small in themselves, yet of great importance, because they were matters of conscience, pressed on the young girl's mind.

Must she not so much as take a reel of cotton that was not her own—nor touch that plateful of sweet cakes which had hitherto offered an unresisted temptation? Must she act at every moment of her life with the sense that God's eye was upon her? Did real faith require all this?

But what weighed most of all on poor Norah was the idea of Sophy Puller and her stolen meals at the house. Norah was a lively young girl, exceedingly fond of mirth, and though she loved her good old mistress, the idea of having no society more gay than that of the invalid lady seemed to Norah as dreary as that of a life in prison. Sophy's gossip, Sophy's books, Sophy's friendship, had been the great delight of an existence which, without them, so Norah believed, she would find insupportably dull.

"It will be dreadfully difficult to know what to say to Sophy," was Norah's reflection, as when going at noon to make some little purchase for her lady, she turned the subject over in her mind for at least the twentieth time. "She has not talked with my uncle, and I shall never be able to make her understand what he thinks, she will consider it all so absurd! I almost hope that dear Sophy will not come to see me to-day, above all that she may not come at tea-time! I could hardly bear to let her see that I think it wrong to entertain her at my lady's expense! She would laugh at my scruples—or else she would be so hurt and angry! Oh! It would grieve me to vex or offend her. To lose Sophy for a friend would be a dreadful trial indeed! It would be more than I could endure!"

As Norah pursued her way, with her brow knit with anxious thought, as if the cares of a nation were upon her, she chanced to pass a haberdasher's shop which had always for her great attraction, as one of her besetting weaknesses was a love of dress, which weakness had been greatly fostered by her intercourse with Sophy. Instinctively Norah paused before the large plate-glass window, and looked at the tempting array of fashionable dresses set out with prices affixed.

"What—that black silk robe with flounces and jacket complete for only two guineas! If ever I saw such a bargain!" exclaimed Norah, whose great ambition was to possess such a Sunday dress, as Sophy had told her that black silk was the most genteel thing in the world, and made a girl look just like a real lady at once! "But two whole guineas!" reflected Norah. "Whenever shall I get that to spend on a gown, when I can hardly afford even this coloured print that I wear!"

A carriage drew up at the door, and an elegantly-dressed lady descended and entered the shop.

"There goes one who can spend guineas upon guineas, and buy everything pretty and new, without any trouble, and without feeling that she is doing anything wrong. How happy she must be in that lovely bonnet and feathers, and satin mantle trimmed with such beautiful lace!"

So thought the poor silly child, who had little idea of any troubles of a different kind from her own.

"I'm sure," and Norah breathed a sigh of discontent, "I'm sure that the poor have much harder trials to bear than the rich, they need much more self-denial, their cross is much harder to bear!"

Norah turned away from the shop with a feeling of bitter envy, to which covetousness had given rise. Against such strokes of the enemy, her newly-tried breastplate was not proof.

The next shop passed by Norah was of very different appearance from the last, but offered temptations of its own.

"A mangle—and to be had for five pounds! That is just what mother is always wanting! Oh! How I wish that I had money to buy it! I wonder why things are made so uneven in the world, why some have thousands of pounds to throw away on their pleasures, while others have a life-long struggle to earn their daily bread!"

Norah returned to the house out of spirits, because, though she hardly knew it, a mistrust of the love of her Heavenly Father had crept like a shadow over her heart. She felt more than ever, how dreadfully hard it would be to risk offending Sophy, and that to follow the Lord fully is no light and easy thing.