All supper-time Pitt was particularly talkative and bright. Mrs. Dallas's face took a gleam from the brightness, and even Mr. Dallas roused up to bear his part in the conversation. When supper was done they still sat round the table, lingering in talk. Then, after a slight pause which had set in, Pitt leaned forward a little and spoke, looking alternately at one and the other of his parents. 'Mother,--father,--I wish you would do one thing before I go away.' At the change in his tone all three present had pricked up their ears, and every eye was now upon him. 'What is that, Pitt?' his mother said anxiously. 'Have family prayer.' If a bombshell had suddenly alighted on the table and there exploded, there would have been, no doubt, more feeling of fright, but not more of shocked surprise. Dumb silence followed. Angry eyes were directed towards the speaker from the top and from the bottom of the table. Miss Frere cast down hers with the inward thought, 'Oh, you foolish, foolish fellow! what did you do that for, and spoil everything!' Pitt waited a little. 'It is duty,' he said. 'You yourselves will grant me that.' 'And you fancy it is _your_ duty to remind us of ours!' said his father, with contained scorn. The mother's agitation was violent--so violent that she had difficulty to command herself. What it was that moved her so painfully she could not have told; her thoughts were in too much of a whirl. Between anger, and fear, and something else, she was in the greatest confusion, and not able to utter a syllable. Betty sat internally railing at Pitt's folly. 'The only question is, Is it duty?--in either case,' the son said steadfastly. 'Exactly!' said his father. 'Well, you have done yours; and I will do mine.' His wife wondered at his calmness, and guessed that it was studied. Neither of them was prepared for Pitt's next word. 'Will you?' he said simply. 'And will you let me make a beginning now? Because I am going away?' 'Do what you like,' said the older man, with indescribable expression. Betty interpreted it to be restrained rage. His wife thought it was a moved conscience, or mere policy and curiosity; she could not tell which. The words were enough, however, whatever had moved them. Pitt took a Bible and read, still sitting at the table, the Parable of the Talents; and then he kneeled down. The elder Dallas never stirred. Betty knelt at once. Mrs. Dallas sat still at first, but then slipped from her chair to the floor and buried her face in her hands, where tears that were exceedingly bitter flowed beyond all her power to hinder them. For Pitt was praying, and to his mother's somewhat shocked astonishment, not in any words from a book, but in words--where did he get them?--that broke her heart. They were solemn and sweet, tender and simple; there was neither boldness nor shyness in them, although there was a frankness at which Mrs. Dallas wondered, along with the tenderness that quite subdued her.