ones of hypocrisy and those of sincerity, never presume to
laugh at all, lest they should have the miserable misfortune to laugh in
the wrong place, and commit impiety when they think they are achieving
wit.

Not from Miss Ainley's own lips did Caroline hear of her good works, but
she knew much of them nevertheless. Her beneficence was the familiar
topic of the poor in Briarfield. They were not works of almsgiving. The
old maid was too poor to give much, though she straitened herself to
privation that she might contribute her mite when needful. They were the
works of a Sister of Charity--far more difficult to perform than those
of a Lady Bountiful. She would watch by any sick-bed; she seemed to fear
no disease. She would nurse the poorest whom none else would nurse. She
was serene, humble, kind, and equable through everything.

For this goodness she got but little reward in this life. Many of the
poor became so accustomed to her services that they hardly thanked her
for them. The rich heard them mentioned with wonder, but were silent,
from a sense of shame at the difference between her sacrifices and their
own. Many ladies, however, respected her deeply. They could not help it.
One gentleman--one only--gave her his friendship and perfect confidence.
This was Mr. Hall, the vicar of Nunnely. He said, and said truly, that
her life came nearer the life of Christ than that of any other human
being he had ever met with. You must not think, reader, that ill
sketching Miss Ainley's character I depict a figment of imagination. No.
We seek the originals of such portraits in real life only.

Miss Helstone studied well the mind and heart now revealed to her. She
found no high intellect to admire--the old maid was merely sensible--but
she discovered so much goodness, so much usefulness, so much mildness,
patience, truth, that she bent her own mind before Miss Ainley's in
reverence. What was her love of nature, what was her sense of beauty,
what were her more varied and fervent emotions, what was her deeper
power of thought, what her wider capacity to comprehend, compared to the
practical excellence of this good woman? Momently, they seemed only
beautiful forms of selfish delight; mentally, she trod them under foot.

It is true she still felt with pain that the life which made Miss Ainley
happy could not make her happy. Pure and active as it was, in her heart
she deemed it deeply dreary, because it was so loveless--to her ideas,
s