I knew all her faults, and I told her history over to myself.
She was grand-daughter, I believe--at least some relative--of the famous Covenanter of the name, whom Dean Swift's friend, Captain Creichton, shot on his own staircase in the times of the persecutions; [See Note 2 .-- Steele a Covenanter, shot by Captain Creichton.] and had perhaps derived from her native stock much both of its good and evil properties.
No one could say of her that she was the life and spirit of the family, though in my mother's time she directed all family affairs.

Her look was austere and gloomy, and when she was not displeased with you, you could only find it out by her silence.

If there was cause for complaint, real or imaginary, Christie was loud enough.

She loved my mother with the devoted attachment of a younger sister; but she was as jealous of her favour to any one else as if she had been the aged husband of a coquettish wife, and as severe in her reprehensions as an abbess over her nuns.

The command which she exercised over her was that, I fear, of a strong and determined over a feeble and more nervous disposition and though it was used with rigour, yet, to the best of Christie Steele's belief, she was urging her mistress to her best and most becoming course, and would have died rather than have recommended any other.