active in the parish, but underbred and no companion.

Our neighbourhood was what is called very clannish. There were two
families, the Horsmans and the Stympsons, who seemed to make up all
the society. The sons either had the good livings, or had retired
from their professions into cottages round and about, and the first
question after any party was, how many of each. The outsiders, not
decidedly of inferior rank, were almost driven into making a little
clique--if so it might be called--of their own, and hanging together
the more closely. Lord Erymanth of course predominated; but he was
a widower of many years' standing, and his heir lived in a distant
county. His sister, Lady Diana, had been married to an Irish Mr.
Tracy, who had been murdered after a few years by his tenants, upon
which she had come with her three children to live at Arked House.
I never could guess how she came to marry an Irish landlord, and I
always thought she must have exasperated his people. She was viewed
as the perfection of a Lady Bountiful and pattern of excellence; but,
I confess, that I always thought of her when I heard of the devout
and honourable women who were stirred up against St. Paul. She was
a person who was admired more than she was liked, and who was greatly
praised and honoured, but somehow did not proportionably endear
herself on closer acquaintance, doing a great deal of good, but all
to large masses rather than individuals. However, all the
neighbourhood had a pride in her, and it was a distinction to be
considered a fit companion for Diana and Viola Tracy. I never cared
for Di, who was her mother over again, and used to set us to rights
with all her might; but she had married early, a very rich man--and
Viola and I had always been exceedingly fond of one another, so that
I could not bear to be cut off from her, however I might be disposed
to defy her mother.