Not as the general was wont to say it--for say it he did, more as if making a grimace than even as going through a form--but so impressively and reverently, though very briefly, that the hearts of those about to sit down, were touched, and they were reminded in spite of themselves, as they ought to be reminded, that there is One above all who is the Giver of these good things. The scene was striking. The very footmen--the officer's footmen--paused, napkin in hand; astonished--awe-struck by the service. They stood and stared with vacant eyes, but remained stock still. That over, the dinner went on as usual. People ate and drank with cheerful enjoyment. They all, indeed, felt particularly warm-hearted and comfortable that day. A sort of genial glow seemed to pervade the little party. The footmen rushed about more light-footed and assiduous than ever; and, be it observed to their credit, they were all, without exception, most particularly attentive to the new comer. In the evening, at ten o'clock, the bell rang for prayers. Mr. St. Leger, be it understood, had not stipulated for obligatory attendance upon this service--only for the right to have candles in the library, and of reading prayers to such as might chose to come; but Mrs. Melwyn had ordered the servants to attend; and she, and Edgar, and Catherine, were also there, leaving poor Lettice to take charge of the general. The service was short, but impressive, as the grace had been before. It was necessarily very brief, for the voice of the fair and delicate young man, looking, indeed, as we might imagine one of the angels of the churches, figured in Scripture, was so extremely feeble that more he could not do. But even if he had possessed the power, I question whether much more he would have done, he looked upon impressive brevity as the very soul of such exercises in a family like the present. Poor Lettice! how hard she found it that evening to remain playing backgammon with the general, when the rest went out of the room. Going to attend those services to which she had been accustomed in the house of her father; and after which, during her stay here, her heart had so often yearned; but it could not be. She was, however, consoled by a whisper from Catherine, as she came back, passing her upon her way to take her place by the fire. "To-morrow you go and I stay. We will take it in turns." The new plans were of course--as what taking place in a family is not--discussed in full conclave that evening over the kitchen fire. The servants all came back and assembled round it preparatory to washing up and going to bed; for though it was summer and warm weather, what servant in the world does not enjoy the kitchen fire in the evening, be the weather what it may? And, to tell truth, there are not a few in the parlor, who usually would be glad to share the privilege; but to proceed.