She had cared little for herself,--forgiving injuries done to her, and not forgiving those only which she thought were done to the Lord.

She had lived her life somewhat as the martyr lived, who stood for years on his pillar unmoved, while his nails grew through his flesh.

So had she stood, doing, I fear, but little positive good with her large means,--but thinking nothing of her own comfort here, in comparison with the comfort of herself and others in the world to which she was going.
On this occasion her nephew and niece reached her together; the prim boy, with the white cotton gloves and the low four-wheeled carriage, having been sent down to meet Clara.

For Mrs.Winterfield was a lady who thought it unbecoming that her niece,--though only an adopted niece,--should come to her door in an omnibus.

Captain Aylmer had driven the four-wheeled carriage from the station, dispossessing the boy, and the luggage had been confided to the public conveyance.
"It is very fortunate that you should come together," said Mrs.
Winterfield.