Though there were some throats there in which Amen would have stuck, there were enough present besides these to get up a tolerably articulate Amen.
Mr. Cartwright then stepped forward, and laying his hat and gloves on the table, said aloud, "Let us pray!"
The obedient menials knelt before him,—all save one. This bold exception was the housekeeper; a staid and sober person of fifty years of age, who during the dozen years she had presided over the household, had constantly evinced a strict and conscientious adherence to her religious duties, and was, moreover, distinguished for her uniformly respectful, quiet, and unobtrusive demeanour. But she now stepped forward from her place at the head of the line, and said in a low voice, but very slowly and distinctly, "I cannot, sir, on this occasion kneel down to pray at your bidding. This is not a holy business at all, Mr. Cartwright; and if you were to give me for salary the half of what you are about to wring from the orphan children of my late master, (deceased just eight calendar months ago,) I would not take it, sir, to live here and witness what I cannot but look upon as great sin."
The good woman then gave a sad look at Helen and her brother, who were standing together, dropped a respectful curtesy as her eyes rested on them, and then left the room.
"Her sin be on her own head!" said Mr. Cartwright as he himself kneeled down upon a footstool which stood near the table. He drew a cambric handkerchief from his pocket, gave a preparatory "hem," and apparently unconscious that Miss Torrington had darted from the remote corner in which she had been ensconced and followed the housekeeper out of the room, remained for a moment with his eyes fixed on Mowbray and Helen, who remained standing.
"It would be a frightful mockery for us to kneel!" said Charles, drawing his sister back to the sofa she had quitted. "Sit down with me, Helen; and when we are alone we will pray for strength to endure as we ought to do whatever calamity it is Heaven's will to try us with."
The bride was kneeling beside her husband; but she rose up and said, "You are of age, Charles Mowbray, and too stiff-necked and wilful to obey your mother: but you, Helen, I command to kneel."
She then replaced herself with much solemnity; and Helen knelt too, while breathing a silent prayer to be forgiven for what she felt to be profanation.
Charles stood for a moment irresolute, and then said, dropping on his knees beside her, "Heaven will pardon me for your sake, dear Helen,—even for kneeling at a service that my heart disclaims."
Mr. Cartwright hemmed again, and began.