There was a pause. Mrs. Copley stirred uneasily, but left the answer for her husband to give. It came at last, coldly.
"There is no need for you to give yourself that trouble, my dear. I suppose we can all read the Bible for ourselves."
"But not as a family, father?"
"What do you mean, Dolly?"
"Father, don't you think we ought together, as a family,—don't you think we ought to read the Bible together? It concerns us all."
"It's very kind of you, my daughter; but I approve of everybody managing his own affairs," Mr. Copley said, as he rose and lounged, perhaps with affected carelessness, out of the room. Dolly stood a moment.
"May I read to you, mother?"
"If you like," said Mrs. Copley nervously; "though I don't see, as your father says, why we cannot every one read for ourselves. Why did you say that to your father, Dolly? He didn't like it."
Dolly made no reply. She knelt down by the low table to bring her Bible near the light, and read a psalm, her voice quivering a little. She wanted comfort for herself, and half unconsciously she chose the twenty-seventh psalm.
"'The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?'"