There was always a little doubt as to who would serve the church.
One of the Canons was the incumbent, and the curate was Mr. Arden,
the scientific minor canon, but when his services were required at
the cathedral, one of his colleagues would supply his place, usually
in a sadly perfunctory manner. However, he was there in person, as
his voice, a clear and pleasant one, showed the denizens of the
"closet," for they could not see out of it, except where Eugene had
furtively enlarged a moth-eaten hole in the curtain, through which,
when standing on the seat, he could enjoy an oblique view of the back
of an iron-moulded surplice and a very ill-powdered wig. This was a
comfort to him. It would have been more satisfactory to have been
able to make out whence came the stentorian A-men, that responded to
the parson, totally unaccompanied save by the good Major, who always
read his part almost as loud as the clerk, from a great octavo prayer-
book, bearing on the lid the Delavie arms with coronet, supporters,
and motto, "_Ma Vie et ma Mie_." It would have been thought unladylike,
if not unscriptural, to open the lips in church; yet, for all her
silence, good Betty was striving to be devout and attentive, praying
earnestly for her little sister's safety, and hailing as a kind of
hopeful augury this verse from the singers--
"At home, abroad, in peace, in war
Thy God shall thee defend,
Conduct thee through life's pilgrimage
Safe to the journey's end.
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