"And then I was so dreadfully sorry for her."

"Good heavens!"

"She'd been a hard and selfish woman all her life, and there was no one
who cared for her," Nora went on passionately. "It seemed so dreadful to
die like that and leave not a soul to regret one. Her nephew and his
wife were just waiting for her death. It was dreadful. Each time they
came down from London I could see them looking at her to see if she was
any worse than when last they'd seen her."

"Well," said Miss Pringle with a sort of splendid defiance, "I thought
her a horrid old woman, and I'm glad she's dead. And I only hope she's
left you well provided for."

"Oh, I think she's done that," Nora smiled happily into her friend's
face. "Yes, I can be quite sure of that, I fancy. Two years ago, when
I--when I nearly went away, she said she'd left me enough to live on."

They walked on for a moment or two in silence until they had reached the
end of the path, where there was a little arbor in which Miss Wickham
had been in the habit of having her tea afternoons when the weather
permitted.

"Do you think we would run any risk if we sat down here a few moments?
Suppose we try it. We can walk again if you feel in the least chilled. I
think the view so lovely from here. Besides, I can see the carriage the
moment it enters the gate."