She always fetched the children from the station in her own unpretending carriage.

Her business was to make them happy, as the first step to making them well, and whilst they were with her she was their mother.

There are plenty of people successfully engaged in reminding the poor of the station to which Providence has called them: the insignificant few who indulge a reckless warmth of heart really cannot be seen to do appreciable harm.
'Mrs.Ormonde, mum,' whispered Bessie, when they were seated in the carriage.
'What is it, Bessie ?' 'Would you take us round by the front road?
Miss Trent hasn't never seen the sea, and she'd like to as soon as she can; it's only natural.' Mrs.Ormonde had cast one or two discreet glances at Thyrza.

As she did so her smile subdued itself a little; a grave thought seemed to pass through her mind.

She at once gave an order to the coachman in compliance with Bessie's request.
'Mr.Grail is quite well, I hope ?' she said, feeling a singular embarrassment in addressing Thyrza.
Thyrza replied mechanically.