She sat out the service and grew composed enough to join in it. The pillar hid her from the clergyman's view; nobody noticed that she was there. So far as she could see, there were not above half-a-dozen people in the church. In going out, Mr. Sumnor and Mr. Moore's sister, Aunt Diana, came up to join her.
"I did not know you were in church, Lady Andinnian," said the clergyman.
"The bell was going when I left your house: I had been to see Margaret: so I stepped in," she replied. "But what a very small congregation!"
"People don't care to attend on week-days, and that's the truth," put in Miss Moore--a middle-aged, stout lady, with her brown hair cut short and a huge flapping hat on. "And the young folks are all off to that blessed St. Jerome's. My nieces are there; I know it; and so are your two daughters, Mr. Sumnor. More shame for them!"
"Ay," sighed Mr. Sumnor, whose hair and face were alike grey, and his look as sad as his tone. "Their running to St. Jerome's, as they do, is nothing less, in my eyes, than a scandal. I don't know what is to be the end of it all."
"End of it all," echoed Aunt Diana, in her strong-minded voice. "Why, the end will be nothing but a continuation of the folly; or perhaps worse--Rome, or a convent, or something of that kind. I truly believe, Mr. Sumnor, that heaven above was never so mocked before, since the world began, as it is now by this semblance of zeal in boys and girls for religious services and worship. The true worship of a Christian, awakened to his state of sin and to the need he has of God's forgiveness and care, of Christ's love, is to be revered--but that is totally different from this business at Jerome's. This is hollow at the core; born of young men's and young girls' vanity. Does all the flocking thither come of religion, think you? Not it."
"Indeed no," said Mr. Sumnor.
"And therefore I say it is a mockery of true religion, and must be a sin in the sight of heaven. They run after Mr. Cattacomb himself: nothing else. I went to St. Jerome's myself this morning; not to say my prayers; just to watch my nieces and see what was going on. They had all sorts of ceremonies and foolish folly: three of the girls had been there beforehand, confessing to the Reverend Guy: and there was he, performing the service and turning up the tails of his eyes."
"O Miss Diana," involuntarily exclaimed Lucy, hardly knowing whether to laugh or reprove.
"It is true, Lady Andinnian. Mr. Sumnor here knows it is. Why does Cattacomb go through his service with all that affectation? Of course the girls like it: but they are little fools, all of them; they'd think anything right that was done by him. I fancy the young man has some good in him; I acknowledge it; but he is eaten up with vanity, and lives in the incense offered by these girls. Ah well, it's to be hoped they will all, priest and children, come to their senses sometime."