r nephew by the hand,--and had
thrown him away from her because he would not dress himself in her
mirror. She had believed herself to be right, and would not, even
now, tell herself that she had been wrong; but there were doubts, and
qualms of conscience, and an uneasiness,--because her life had been
a failure. Now she was seeking to appease her self-accusations by
sacrificing everything for the happiness of her niece and her chosen
hero; but as she went on with the work she felt that all would be in
vain, unless she could sweep herself altogether from off the scene.
She had told herself that if she could bring Brooke to Exeter, his
prospects would be made infinitely brighter than they would be in
London, and that she in her last days would not be left utterly
alone. But as the prospect of her future life came nearer to her, she
saw, or thought that she saw, that there was still failure before
her. Young people would not want an old woman in the house with
them;--even though the old woman would declare that she would be no
more in the house than a tame cat. And she knew herself also too well
to believe that she could make herself a tame cat in the home that
had so long been subject to her dominion. Would it not be better that
she should go away somewhere,--and die?

"If Mr. Brooke is to come here," Martha said to her one day, "we
ought to begin and make the changes, ma'am."

"What changes? You are always wanting to make changes."

"If they was never made till I wanted them they'd never be made,
ma'am. But if there is to be a married couple there should be things
proper. Anyways, ma'am, we ought to know;--oughtn't we?"

The truth of this statement was so evident that Miss Stanbury could
not contradict it. But she had not even yet made up her mind. Ideas
were running through her head which she knew to be very wild, but
of which she could not divest herself. "Martha," she said, after a
while, "I think I shall go away from this myself."

"Leave the house, ma'am?" said Martha, awestruck.

"There are other houses in the world, I suppose, in which an old
woman can live and die."

"There is houses, ma'am, of course."

"And what is the difference between one and another?"

"I wouldn't do it, ma'am, if I was you. I wouldn't do it if it was
ever so. Sure the house is big enough for Mr. Brooke and Miss Dorothy
along with you. I wouldn't go and make such change as that;--I
wouldn't indeed, ma'am." Martha spoke out almost