Perhaps he was not sorry to allow family prayer in a mansion, where the voice of united family prayer had, till then, never been heard. To anticipate a little—I may add, as certain, that he, who began with never attending at all, was known to drop in once or twice; and ended by scolding Lettice heartily in a morning if there was any danger of her not having bound up his arm in time for him to be present.
His gray venerable head—his broken, but still manly figure—his wrinkled face—his still keen blue eye, might be seen at last amid his household. The eye fixed in a sort of determined attention—the lips muttering the prayer—a sort of child in religion still—yet far to seek in many things; but accepted, we will hope, as a child.
He could share, too, as afterward appeared, in the interest which Mrs. Melwyn and Lettice, after Mr. St. Leger's arrival, ventured openly to take in the concerns of the poor; and even in the establishment of a school, against which, with an obstinate prejudice against the education of the lower classes, the general had long so decidedly set his face.
In short, having accepted all the conditions upon which alone St. Leger, even in the extremity of his need, could be persuaded to accept a place in his family, the old soldier ended by taking great comfort, great interest, great pleasure, in all the improvements that were effected.
One difficulty presented itself in making the arrangement; and this came from a quarter quite unexpected by Catherine—from poor Mrs. Melwyn.
"Ah, Catherine," said she, coming into her room, and looking most nervous and distressed, "take care what you and Edgar are about, in bringing this Mr. St. Leger into the family. Suppose he should fall in love with Lettice?"
"Well, mamma, suppose he should—where would be the dreadful harm of that?" said Catherine, laughing.
"Ah, my dear! Pray, don't laugh, Catherine. What would become of us all?"
"Why, what would become of you all?"