ought to owe, if he would consent to owe any care to her. He promised
his aunt that he would do as she desired him, and it was impossible
that Clara should then, aloud, repudiate the compact. But she said
nothing, merely allowing her hand to rest with his beneath the thin,
dry hand of the dying woman. To her aunt, however, when for a moment
they were alone together, she showed all possible affection, with
thanks and tears, and warm kisses, and prayers for forgiveness as to
all those matters in which she had offended. 'My pretty one my dear,'
said the old woman, raising her hand on to the head of the crouching
girl, who was hiding her moist eyes on the bed. Never during her life
had her aunt appeared to her in so loving a mood as now, when she was
leaving it. Then, with some eager impassioned words, in which she
pronounced her ideas of what should be the religious duties of a woman,
Mrs Winterfield bade farewell to her niece. After that, she had a
longer interview with her nephew, and then it seemed that all worldly
cares were over with her.

The Sunday was passed in all that blackness of funeral grief which is
absolutely necessary on such occasions. It cannot be said that either
Clara or Captain Aylmer were stricken with any of that agony of woe
which is produced on us by the death of those whom we have loved so
well that we cannot bring ourselves to submit to part with them. They
were both truly sorry for their aunt, in the common parlance of the
world; but their sorrow was of that modified sort which does not numb
the heart and make the surviving sufferer feel that there never can be
a remedy. Nevertheless, it demanded sad countenances, few words, and
those spoken hardly above a whisper; an absence of all amusement and
almost of all employment, and a full surrender to the trappings of woe.
They two were living together without other companion in the big house
sitting down together to dinner and to tea; but on this day hardly a