The mother and daughter rose from table: he would have followed them; but her Ladyship adhered so scrupulously to old customs, that she begged he would wait till they sent to let him know the tea was ready. He joined them in a quarter of an hour. Most part of the evening passed without his having one opportunity of speaking to Lady Edgarmond as he designed. He was about to depart for the town, purposing to return on the morrow, when his hostess offered him a room in the castle. He accepted it without deliberation; but repented his readiness, on perceiving that it seemed to be taken as a proof of his inclination towards Lucy. This was but an additional motive for his renewing the conversation respecting Corinne. Lady Edgarmond proposed a turn in the garden. Oswald offered her his arm; she looked at him steadfastly, and then said: "That is right: I thank you." Lucy resigned her parent to Nevil, but timidly whispered, "Pray, my Lord, walk slowly!" He started at this first private intelligence with her: those pitying tones were just such as he might have expected from a being above all earthly passions. He did not think his sense of such a moment any treason to Corinne. They returned for evening prayer, at which her Ladyship always assembled her household in the great hall. Most of them were very infirm, having served the fathers of Lord and Lady Edgarmond. Oswald was thus reminded of his paternal home. Every one knelt, except the matron, who, prevented by her lameness, listened with folded hands and downcast eyes in reverent silence. Lucy was on her knees beside her parent: it was her duty to read the service; a chapter of the Gospel, followed by a prayer adapted to domestic country life, composed by the mistress of the house: its somewhat austere expressions were contrasted by the soft voice that breathed them.
After blessing the king and country, the servants and the kindred of this family, Lucy tremblingly added, "Grant also, O God! that the young daughter of this house may live and die with soul unsullied by a single thought or feeling that conforms not with her duty; and that her mother, who must soon return to thee for judgment, may have some claim or pardon for her faults, in the virtues of her only child."