had taken himself in that matter,--not without good reasons. And
he could say a sharp word or two in season about vestments; he was
strong against candles, and fought for his side fairly well. No one
had good right to complain of Captain Aylmer as being insincere; but
had his aunt known the whole history of her nephew's life, I doubt
whether she would have made him her heir,--thinking that in doing so
she was doing the best for the good cause.

The whole history of her niece's life she did know, and she knew that
Clara was not with her, heart and soul. Had Clara left the old woman
in doubt on this subject, she would have been a hypocrite. Captain
Aylmer did not often spend a Sunday at Perivale, but when he did, he
went to church three times, and submitted himself to the yoke. He was
thinking of the borough votes quite as much as of his aunt's money,
and was carrying on his business after the fashion of men. But Clara
found herself compelled to maintain some sort of a fight, though she
also went to church three times on Sunday. And there was another
reason why Mrs. Winterfield thought it right to mention Captain
Aylmer's name to 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