her niece on this occasion.

'I had hoped', she said, 'that it might make no difference in what way
my money was left.'

Clara well understood what this meant, as will, probably, the reader
also. 'I can't say but what it will make a difference,' she answered,
smiling; 'but I shall always think that you have done right. Why should
I stand in Captain Aylmer's way?'

'I had hoped your ways might have been the same,' said the old lady,
fretfully.

'But they cannot be the same.'

'No; you do not see things as he sees them. Things that are serious to
him are, I fear, only light to you. Dear Clara, would I could see you
more in earnest as to the only matter that is worth our earnestness.'
Miss Amedroz said nothing as to the Captain's earnestness, though,
perhaps, her ideas as to his ideas about religion were more correct
than those held by Mrs Winterfield. But it would not have suited her to
raise any argument on that subject. 'I pray for you, Clara,' continued
the old lady, 'and will do so as long as the power of prayer is left to
me. I hope I hope you do not cease to pray for yourself?'

'I endeavour, aunt.'

'It is an endeavour which, if really made, never fails.' Clara said
nothing more, and her aunt also remained silent. Soon afterwards, the
four-wheeled carriage, with the demure stable-boy, came to the door,