tyle of
the instruction she had received had never begotten a diseased
self-consciousness; and if her religion lacked something of the
intensity without which a character like hers could not be evenly
balanced, its force was not spent on the combating of unholy doubts
and selfish fears, but rose on the wings of her music in gentle
thanksgiving. Tears had changed her bright-hued hopes into a
dove-coloured submission, through which her mind was passing towards a
rainbow dawn such as she had never dreamed of. To her as yet the Book
of Common Prayer contained all the prayers that human heart had need
to offer; what things lay beyond its scope must lie beyond the scope of
religion. All such things must be parted with one day, and if they had
been taken from her very soon, she was the sooner free from the painful
necessity of watching lest earthly love should remove any of the old
landmarks dividing what was God's from what was only man's. She had now
retired within the pale of religion, and left the rest of her being, as
she thought, 'to dull forgetfulness a prey.'

She had little comfort in the society of her aunt. Indeed, she felt
strongly tempted to return again to England the same month, and seek a
divine service elsewhere. But it was not at all so easy then as it is
now for a woman to find the opportunity of being helpful in the world of
suffering.

Mrs. Forsyth was one of those women who get their own way by the very
vis inertiae of their silliness. No argument could tell upon her. She
was so incapable of seeing anything noble that her perfect satisfaction
with everything she herself thought, said, or did, remained
unchallenged. She had just illness enough to swell her feeling of
importance. She looked down upon Mrs. Falconer from such an immeasurable
height that she could not be indignant with her for anything; she only
vouchsafed a laugh now and then at her oddities, holding no further
communication with her than a condescending bend of the neck when they
happened to meet, which was not once a year. But, indeed, she would
have patronized the angel Gabriel, if she had had a chance, and no doubt
given him a hint or two upon the proper way of praising God. For the
rest, she was good-tempered, looked comfortable, and quarrelled
with nobody but her rough honest old bear of a husband, whom, in his
seventieth year, she was always trying to teach good manners, with the
frequent result of a storm of swearing.

But now Mar