Neither Hood nor his daughter went to church; the former generally spent the morning in his garret, the latter helped herself against the depression which the consciousness of the day engendered by playing music which respect would have compelled her to refrain from had her mother been present.  The music was occasionally heard by an acquaintance who for some reason happened to be abroad in church time, and Mrs. Hood was duly informed of the sad things done in her absence, but she had the good sense to forbid herself interference with Emily’s mode of spending the Sunday.  She could not understand it, but her husband’s indifference to religion had taught her to endure, and, in truth, her own zeal, as I have said, was not of active colour.  Discussion on such subjects there had never been.  Her daughter, she had learnt to concede, was strangely other than herself; Emily was old enough to have regard for her own hereafter.

Breakfast on Sunday was an hour later than on other days, and was always a very silent meal.  On the day which we have now reached it was perhaps more silent than usual.  Hood had a newspaper before him on the table; his wife wore the wonted Sabbath absentness, suggestive of a fear lest she should be late for church; Emily made a show of eating, but the same diminutive slice of bread-and-butter lasted her to the end of the meal.  She was suffering from a slight feverishness, and her eyes, unclosed throughout the night, were heavy with a pressure which was not of conscious fatigue.  Having helped in clearing the table and ordering the kitchen, she was going upstairs when her mother spoke to her for the first time.

‘I see you’ve still got your headache,’ Mrs. Hood said, with plaintiveness which was not condolence.

‘I shall go out a little, before dinner-time,’ was the reply.

Her mother dismally admitted the wisdom of the proposal, and Emily went to her room.  Before long the bell of the chapel-of-ease opposite began its summoning, a single querulous bell, jerked with irregular rapidity.  The bells of Pendal church sent forth a more kindly bidding, but their music was marred by the harsh clanging so near at hand, Emily heard and did not hear.  When she had done housemaid’s office in her room, she sat propping her hot brows, waiting for her mother’s descent in readiness for church.  At the sound of the opening and closing bedroom door, she rose and accompanied her mother to the parlour.  Mrs. Hood was in her usual nervous hurry, giving a survey to each room before departure, uttering a hasty word or two, then away with constricted features.