The church was cool and quiet, and there was something in Sophy’s countenance and reverent attitude that seemed as if she were consecrating a newly-formed resolution; her eye was often raised, as though in spite of herself, to the name of the brother whose short life seemed inseparably interwoven with all the higher aspirations of his home. In the midst of the Thanksgiving, a sudden movement attracted Albinia, and she saw Sophy resting her head, and looking excessively pale. She put her arm round her, and would have led her out, but could not persuade her to move, and by the time the Blessing was given, the power was gone, and she had almost fainted away, when a tall strong form stooped over her, and Mr. Dusautoy gathered her up in his arms, and bore her off as if she had been a baby, to the open window of his own drawing-room. ‘Put me down! The floor, please!’ said Sophy, feebly, for all her remaining faculties were absorbed in dislike to the mode of conveyance. ‘Yes, flat on the floor,’ said Mrs. Dusautoy, rising with full energy, and laying a cushion under Sophy’s head, reaching a scent-bottle, and sending her husband for cold water and sal volatile; with readiness that astonished Albinia, unused to illness, and especially to faintings, and remorseful at having taken Sophy out. ‘Was it the pain of her arm that had overcome her?’ ‘No,’ said Sophy, ‘it was only my back.’ ‘Indeed! you never told me you had hurt your back;’ and Albinia began describing the fall, and declaring there must be a sprain. ‘Oh, no,’ said Sophy, ‘kneeling always does it.’ ‘Does what, my dear?’ said Albinia, sitting on the floor by her, and looking up to Mrs. Dusautoy, exceedingly frightened. ‘Makes me feel sick,’ said Sophy; ‘I thought it would go off, as it always does, it didn’t; but it is better now.’ ‘No, don’t get up yet,’ said Mrs. Dusautoy, as she was trying to move; ‘I would offer you the sofa, it would be more hospitable, but I think the floor is the most comfortable place.’ ‘Thank you, _much_,’ said Sophy, with an emphasis. ‘Do you ever lie down on it when you are tired?’ asked the lady, looking anxiously at Sophy. ‘I always wish I might.’ Albinia was surprised at the interrogations that followed; she did not understand what Mrs. Dusautoy was aiming at, in the close questioning, which to her amazement did not seem to offend, but rather to be gratifying by the curious divination of all sensations. It made Albinia feel as if she had been carrying on a deliberate system of torture, when she heard of a pain in the back, hardly ever ceasing, aggravated by sitting upright, growing severe with the least fatigue, and unless favoured by day, becoming so bad at night as to take away many hours of sleep. ‘Oh! Sophy, Sophy,’ she cried, with tears in her eyes, ‘how could you go on so? Why did you never tell me?’ ‘I did not like,’ began Sophy, ‘I was used to it.’