dissatisfaction
with themselves as gave the initiative to dislike of her.

In the mind of her new maid, however, there was no strife, therefore
no tendency to dislike. She was thoroughly well-meaning, like the
rest of her family, and finding her little mistress dwell in the
same atmosphere, the desire to be acceptable to her awoke at once,
and grew rapidly in her heart. She was the youngest of Janet's
girls, about four years older than Donal, not clever, but as sweet
as honest, and full of divine service. Always ready to think others
better than herself, the moment she saw the still face of Ginevra,
she took her for a little saint, and accepted her as a queen, whose
will to her should be law. Ginevra, on her part, was taken with the
healthy hue and honest eyes of the girl, and neither felt any
dislike to her touching her hair, nor lost her temper when she was
awkward and pulled it. Before the winter was over, the bond between
them was strong.

One principal duty required of Nicie--her parents had named her
after the mother of St. Paul's Timothy--was to accompany her
mistress every fine day to the manse, a mile and a half from
Glashruach. For some time Ginevra had been under the care of Miss
Machar, the daughter of the parish clergyman, an old gentleman of
sober aspirations, to whom the last century was the Augustan age of
English literature. He was genial, gentle, and a lover of his race,
with much reverence for, and some faith in, a Scotch God, whose
nature was summed up in a series of words beginning with omni.
Partly that the living was a poor one, and her father old and
infirm, Miss Marchar, herself middle-aged, had undertaken the
instruction of the little heiress, never doubting herself mistress
of all it was necessary a lady should know. By nature she was
romantic, but her romance had faded a good deal. Possibly had she
read the new poets of her age, the vital flame of wonder and hope
might have kept not a little of its original brightness in her
heart; but under her father's guidance, she had never got beyond the
Night Thoughts, and the Course of Time. Both intellectually and
emotionally, therefore, Miss Machar had withered instead of
ripening. As to her spiritual carriage, she thought too much about
being a lady to be thoroughly one. The utter graciousness of the
ideal lady would blush to regard itself. She was both gentle and
dignified; but would have done a nature inferior to Ginevra's injury