But Clara, in her heart, did not at all thank Captain Aylmer for his generosity.  She would have had everything from him, or nothing.  It was grievous to her to think that she should owe to him a bare pittance to keep her out of the workhouse to him who had twice seemed to be on the point of asking her to share everything with him.  She did not love her cousin Will as she loved him; but her cousin Will’s assurance to her that he would treat her with a brother’s care was sweeter to her by far than Frederic Aylmer’s well-balanced counsel to his aunt on her behalf.  In her present mood, too, she wanted no one to have fore. thought for her; she desired no provision; for her, in the discomfiture of heart, there was consolation in the feeling that when she should find herself alone in the world, she would have been ill-treated by her friends all round her.  There was a charm in the prospect of her desolation of which she did not wish to be robbed by the assurance of some seventy pounds a year, to be given to her by Captain Frederic Aylmer.  To be robbed of one’s grievance is the last and foulest wrong a wrong under which the most enduring temper will at last yield and become soured by which the strongest back will be broken.  ‘Well, my dear,’ continued Mrs Winterfield, when Clara made no response to this appeal for praise.

’It is so hard for me to say anything about it, aunt.  What can I say but that I don’t want to be a burden to any one?’

’That is a position which very few women can attain, that is, very few single women.’

’I think it would be well if all single women were strangled by the time they are thirty,’ said Clara with a fierce energy which absolutely frightened her aunt.

‘Clara! how can you say anything so wicked so abominably wicked?’

’Anything would be better than being twitted in this way.  How can I help it that I am not a man and able to work for my bread?  But I am not above being a housemaid, and so Captain Aylmer shall find.  I’d sooner be a housemaid, with nothing but my wages, than take the money which you say he is to give me.  It will be of no use, aunt, for I shall not take it.’

’It is I that am to leave it to you.  It is not to be a present from Frederic.’

’It is the same thing, aunt.  He says you are to do it; and you told me just now that it was to come out of his pocket.’

’I should have done it myself long ago, had you told me all the truth about your father’s affairs.’

’How was I to tell you?  I would sooner have bitten my tongue out.  But I will tell you the truth now.  If I had known that all this was to be said to me about money, and that our poverty was to be talked over between you and Captain Aylmer, I would not have come to Perivale.  I would rather that you should be angry with me and think that I had forgotten you.’

’You would not say that, Clara, if you remembered that this will probably be your last visit to me.’