he could no longer sit out a game of whist, but was forced to lie on the sofa in his library where he liked to see every visitor who came to the house.  He required that every thing about him should go on as usual, and not only made Esther go regularly to her work, but took keen interest in hearing from her and Catherine all that was said and done at the church.  He delighted in laughing at Catherine about her romantic relations with Wharton, but he made no jokes about Mr. Hazard.  He thought from the first that this intimacy might be a serious matter for Esther, but he would not again interfere in her affairs, and feared making things worse by noticing them.  He watched Hazard sharply, until Esther had the uncomfortable sense of feeling that her father’s eyes were never far away from the clergyman when he came to the house.  She knew, or fancied she knew, every thought in her father’s mind, and his silence embarrassed her more than criticism could have done.  She asked herself in vain why her father, disliking the clergy as she knew he did, should suddenly admit a clergyman into his intimacy.  In truth, Mr. Dudley looked on himself as no longer having a right to speak; his feelings and prejudices were to be kept out of her life; but he could watch, and the longer he watched, the more intense his interest became.

When Esther and Catherine returned from the church with their account of Wharton’s wife, their first act was to tell the story to Mr. Dudley, who lay on his sofa and listened with keen interest.

“I suppose you meant to come back for my revolver,” said he to Catherine, whose little explosions of courage always amused him.  “I think I could almost have crawled round to see you take a shot at your French friend as she started for you.”

“Oh, no!” said Catherine modestly.  “I would have given the revolver to Mr. Wharton.”

“Don’t do it, Catherine!  Wharton could not hit the church door with it.  Suppose he had shot you instead of the other woman!”

“Of course!” said Catherine reflectively.  “He wouldn’t know how to use a revolver, would he?  I suppose I ought to teach him.”

“Better not!” said Mr. Dudley.  “Keep him under.  You may have to talk with him one of these days, after you have settled your little misunderstanding with his wife.”

Catherine took chaff with such gravity that even Mr. Dudley could not always make out whether she was in jest or earnest.  She had a quaint, serious way of accepting any sort of challenge and going it better, as Strong expressed it, which left her assailants wholly in the dark.  Mr. Dudley wanted to stop any romantic nonsense between her and Wharton, but could never quite make out whether she cared for him or not.  Esther thought not.

That evening they all hoped that Hazard would come in to tell them what other scenes had occurred, and, under this little excitement, Mr. Dudley felt strong enough to appear like himself, although he dared not rise from his sofa.  At about eight o’clock they were gratified.  Mr. Hazard appeared, and was received with such cordiality and intimacy as went far to make him feel himself a member of the family.