Far from Miriam any desire to abolish the misery which was among the divinely appointed conditions of this preliminary existence.

No; she was uncomfortable, and content that others should be so, for discomfort's sake.

It fretted her that the Sunday in Naples could not be as universally dolorous as it was at Bartles.

It revolted her to hear happy voices in a country abandoned to heathendom.
"Whenever I see her looking at old Vesuvius," said Spence to Eleanor, his eye twinkling, "I feel sure that she muses on the possibility of another tremendous outbreak.

She regards him in a friendly way; he is the minister of vengeance." Eleanor's discernment was not long in bringing her to a modification of this estimate.
"I am convinced, Ned, that her thoughts are not so constantly at Bartles as we imagine.