‘I might have been kinder. I’m afraid I’ve only been kind because you’ve been useful to me. I suppose there’s some spots and stains in the lives of the best of us; but my life seems to me all blackened over with weeds and foul spots when I look back upon it. Oh, Bella, to think of the many things I might have done! There’s my own blood relations! I’ve kept them at arm’s length, only because I thought their clothes and manners would be a blot upon this house. I’ve been a slave to this house, and the slavery has killed me. I was a happier woman when we lived in the Great Yafford Road, and when I helped to make the beds and dust the rooms every morning, and made my own pastry and cakes. That was what I was born for, Bella, not to be cheated and made light of by a parcel of stuck-up servants.’ ‘I shall pass Mr. Culverhouse’s lodgings as I go home,’ said Bella. ‘I’ll ask him to come and chat with you.’ ‘You may, my dear; though I don’t feel that I shall get the same comfort from him that I should from Mr. Mowler.’ Bella walked briskly through the Park, reflecting on the foolishness of human nature. Here was Mrs. Piper, to whom had been given such great prosperity, and who had made so little use of her advantages, frittering away life upon trivial anxieties, and missing the chance of happiness. She looked along the fine old avenue, and thought how much grandeur and importance a sensible young woman like herself might have derived from such surroundings. But on poor Mrs. Piper all these good things had been thrown away. That poor dull bit of agate looked ridiculous in the splendid setting which would have been quite in harmony with a shining little gem like Bella Scratchell. It was a clear bright winter day, the sky blue, the moor a warm purple, the leafless woods lightly powdered with snow, white patches lying here and there among the dark trunks of oak and elm. Bella walked quickly through the Park and along the high road leading to the village. CHAPTER VII. MINE OWN FAMILIAR FRIEND.