amusement so much a matter of course.  But if worldliness and religion are terms opposed to each other, then they were not worldly.  There were always prayers for the whole household morning and evening.  There were two services on Sunday, at the first of which the males, and at both of which the females, were expected to attend.  But the great struggle came after dinner at nine o’clock, when Aunt Polly always read a sermon out loud to the assembled household.  Aunt Polly had a certain power of her own, and no one dared to be absent except the single servant who was left in the kitchen to look after the fire.

The squire himself was always there, but a peculiar chair was placed for him, supposed to be invisible to the reader, in which he slept during the whole time, subject to correction from a neighbouring daughter in the event of his snoring.  An extra bottle of port after dinner was another Sunday observance which added to the irritability of the occasion,—­so that the squire, when the reading and prayers were over, would generally be very cross, and would take himself up to bed almost without a word, and the brothers would rush away almost with indecent haste to their smoking.  As the novels had all been put away into a cupboard, and the good books which were kept for the purpose strewed about in place of them, and as knitting, and even music, were tabooed, the girls, having nothing to do, would also go away at an early hour.

‘John, would you mind staying a few moments with me?’ said Aunt Polly, in her softest voice when Caldigate was hurrying after his male cousins.  He knew that the hour had come, and he girded up his loins.

‘Come nearer, John,’ she said,—­and he came nearer, so that she could put her hand upon his.  ’Do you remember, John, when you and I and Julia were together in that little room up-stairs?’ There was so much pathos in her voice, she did her acting so well, that his respect for her was greatly augmented,—­as was also his fear.  ‘She remembers it very well.’

’Of course I remember it, Aunt Polly.  It’s one of those things that a man doesn’t forget.’

‘A man ought not to forget such a scene as that,’ she said, shaking her head.  ‘A man would be very hard of heart if he could forget it.’

Now must be the moment for his exertion!  She had spoken so plainly as to leave no doubt of her meaning, and she was pausing for an answer; yet he hesitated,—­not in his purpose, but doubting as to his own manner of declaring it.  He must be very decided.  Upon that he was resolved.  He would be decided, though they should drag him in pieces with wild horses for it afterwards.  But he would fain be gentle with his aunt if it were possible.  ’My dear Aunt Polly, it won’t do; I’m not going to be caught, and so you may as well give it over.’  That was what he wished her to understand;—­but he would not say it in such language.  Much was due to her, though she was struggling to catch him in a trap.  ’When I had made such a fool of myself before I went—­about money,’ he said, ’I thought that was all over.’