se points in which she felt herself moved by
her religious convictions that she was most suspected. For in spite and
over all her eccentricities of belief, she was genuinely religious,
having the two great religious virtues, charity in judgment and sorrow
for the failures of others. But again she was "different," as it is
evident in this world that the failures of other people are entirely
their own fault, and to be gentle in judgment is more than other people
will be to you, and therefore unnecessary. So that, without being in
intention a reformer, she suffered the suspicion and dislike of the
reformer, being, in fact, however she might disguise it, "different"
from other people.

This constant clashing with the steadfast ideas of every one had in time
produced a timidity and secretiveness in the most ordinary actions,
though where she believed herself to be directed by the Spirit, she had
no lack of confidence and determination. If her movements could be kept
secret she would do her utmost to make them so. She would send the reply
to an invitation to tea half over the country before it reached its
destination. Yet she would often pray in the prayer-meeting, and had
been known to do unusually bold actions as a matter of course.

When it became known that she had written a letter to the son of Squire
Nuttall asking him to give up his dissipated habits, which were the
scandal of the country, no one was surprised, though many were shocked,
and the poorer tenants of the estate alarmed lest some indirect wrath
might fall upon them. When neither Squire nor son took the smallest
notice of the letter she was blamed universally as having gone too far,
as if this chorus of subterranean condemnation might somehow reach the
Squire, who would know that the rest of his tenants had no hand in the
matter nor sympathy with the writer.

On the contrary, though she was secretive with her near acquaintances,
she would become greatly communicative with a casual vendor of books, or
even a vagrant to whom she had given a cup of tea, that English
equivalent for a cup of cold water. She was so fearful of falling behind
in sympathy with sinners that she fell into the unusual error of
treating them better than the saints. She was fond of doing small
generosities, especially to children, who were half afraid of her but
who would eat the big Victoria plums she gave them (leading them
stealthily round to the back of the house to do so), and recog