CHAPTER XVII.
ELEANOR'S HEALTH--HOLY LIVING--THE PRAYER OF THE SON OF SIRACH.
Matilda went home, and Eleanor and I remained at Bush House.
I fancy that when we no longer had to repress ourselves for poor Matilda's sake, Eleanor was more sensible of her own aches and pains.
She also became rather irritable, and had more than one squabble with Madame about this time.
Eleanor had brought several religious books with her--books of prayers and other devotional works.

They were all new to Matilda and me, and we began to use them, and to imitate Eleanor in various little devout customs.
On Sunday Eleanor used to read Jeremy Taylor's _Holy Living and Dying_; but as we never were allowed to be alone, she was obliged to bring it down-stairs.

Unfortunately, the result of this was that Miss Mulberry, having taken it away to "look it over," pronounced it "not at all proper reading for young ladies," and it was confiscated.

After this Eleanor reserved her devotional reading for bed-time, when, if she had got fairly through her lessons for next day, I was wont to read the Bible and other "good books" to her in a tone modulated so as not to reach Madame's watchful ear.
Once she caught us.
The books of Wisdom and Ecclesiasticus from the Apocrypha were favourite reading with Eleanor, who seemed in the grandly poetical praises of wisdom to find some encouragement under the difficulties through which we struggled towards a very moderate degree of learning.

I warmly sympathized with her; partly because much of what I read was beautiful to read, even when I did not quite understand it; and partly because Eleanor had inspired me also with some of her own fervour against "the great war of ignorance." But, as I said, Madame caught us at last.
Eleanor was lying, yet dressed, upon her bed, the window was open, and I, sitting cross-legged on the floor, was giving forth the prayer of the Son of Sirach, with (as I flattered myself) no little impressiveness.