woman.  To her aunt, however, when for a moment they were alone together, she showed all possible affection, with thanks and tears, and warm kisses, and prayers for forgiveness as to all those matters in which she had offended.  ‘My pretty one my dear,’ said the old woman, raising her hand on to the head of the crouching girl, who was hiding her moist eyes on the bed.  Never during her life had her aunt appeared to her in so loving a mood as now, when she was leaving it.  Then, with some eager impassioned words, in which she pronounced her ideas of what should be the religious duties of a woman, Mrs Winterfield bade farewell to her niece.  After that, she had a longer interview with her nephew, and then it seemed that all worldly cares were over with her.

The Sunday was passed in all that blackness of funeral grief which is absolutely necessary on such occasions.  It cannot be said that either Clara or Captain Aylmer were stricken with any of that agony of woe which is produced on us by the death of those whom we have loved so well that we cannot bring ourselves to submit to part with them.  They were both truly sorry for their aunt, in the common parlance of the world; but their sorrow was of that modified sort which does not numb the heart and make the surviving sufferer feel that there never can be a remedy.  Nevertheless, it demanded sad countenances, few words, and those spoken hardly above a whisper; an absence of all amusement and almost of all employment, and a full surrender to the trappings of woe.  They two were living together without other companion in the big house sitting down together to dinner and to tea; but on this day hardly a dozen words were spoken between them, and those dozen were spoken with no purport.  On the Monday Captain Aylmer gave orders for the funeral, and then went away to London, undertaking to be back on the day before the last ceremony.  Clara was rather glad that he should be gone, though she feared the solitude of the big house.  She was glad that he should be gone, as she found it impossible to talk to him with ease to herself.  She knew that he was about to assume some position as protector or quasi guardian over her in conformity with her aunt’s express wish, and she was quite resolved that she would submit to no such guardianship from his hands.  That being so, the shorter period there might be for any such discussion the better.

The funeral was to take place on the Saturday, and during the four days that intervened she received two visits from Mr Possitt.  Mr Possitt was very discreet in what he said, and Clara was angry with herself for not allowing his words to have any avail with her.  She told herself that they were commonplace; but she told herself, also, after his first visit, that she had no right to expect anything else but commonplace words.  How often are men found who can speak words on such occasions that are not commonplaces that really stir the soul, and bring true comfort to the listener?