dreadful to her, and it was all that Isabel could do to persuade her
to repress her dislike so as not to distress her grandmother.

To Mrs. Frost it was pain to leave what she owned, with thankful
tears, to have been a happy, peaceful refuge for her widowhood and
poverty; she grieved over each parting, clung to the Faithfulls,
reiterated fond counsels to Isabel, and could hardly bear to detach
herself from the great-grandchild. But still it was her own son, and
her own home, and Oliver and Cheveleigh were more to her than even
James and Dynevor Terrace; so that, though she was sorry, it was not
with a melancholy sorrow, and she could still hope against hope, that
uncle and nephew might be brought together at last, and that a son of
James would yet reign in the dear old place.

Besides, she had not time to be unhappy. She was fully employed
nursing Isabel, doing honour to the little one, answering Oliver's
letters, superintending Clara's wardrobe; choosing parting gifts for
innumerable friends, high and low; and making arrangements for the
inexperienced household.

Jane's place was to be--not exactly supplied, but occupied by a cook.
Miss Dynevor was to have 'a personal attendant;' and Mrs. Beckett
begged that Marianne might be chosen, since she could not bear to see
the poor thing sent away, when in so much need of care. The
diamonds, the French millinery, and Jane's motherly care, came in
strong contrast to the miserable lodging, or the consumptive
hospital, which poor Marianne had begun to anticipate; and weeping
with gratitude, she declared that she had never seen nor thought of
such kindness since her mother died.