It belonged to the well-regulated completeness of Hester Gould's character, to the firmness of a woman in whom there was nothing little, however much there might be that was bad, that she never neglected a friend, never forgot a kindness, never overlooked a former claim on her consideration or gratitude. She was incapable of the meanness of disregarding those who had aided her when her lot was one of poverty and obscurity, and equally incapable of the impertinence of patronage. She felt gratitude, and she displayed it simply, genuinely, appropriately, with the true and delicate tact which was one of the finer features of her character. She had provided for the comfort of Aunt Lavinia as carefully as for her own in the arrangements of the handsome house, which the good old lady regarded with mingled admiration and misgiving. She had explained to her aunt that all the requirements of the world would be fulfilled by the arrangements into which she had entered with Lady Henmarsh; that she would never be expected to do violence to her principles by partaking of the dangerous and delusive delights to which her niece's novel position afforded her access; and she gave her _carte-blanche_ for as many entertainments of the substantial-tea description, which they particularly affected, as her favourite "ministers" could be prevailed on to accept. Nor was her attention to her aunt limited to such formal provisions for her comfort. No pleasure, no hurry, no press of engagements, none of the flutter of popularity and general request into which Miss Gould soon fell, ever induced her to neglect the commonplace but worthy woman who had befriended her youth and shared her evil days. A portion of every morning was spent with Aunt Lavinia; and a visit to the quiet spinster preceded invariably the fulfilment of her evening engagements, over which her aunt would sigh furtively, and concerning which she reposed many mournful confidences and misgivings in sundry clerical breasts, without, however, feeling any distressingly deep conviction of the enormity of her niece's behaviour. Hester's old school-mistress had not been forgotten. The modest sum which the labour of half a lifetime had painfully accumulated, but which had yet some years to gather ere it could suffice for even such a humble maintenance as the well-nigh worn-out teacher longed for, was supplemented by the old pupil, to whom Miss Nickson never "could take;" and Laburnum Lodge, with the inky and lacerated desks, the dreary fly-blown maps, and the dreadful jangling rattletrap pianos, was disposed of by private contract. Once every week Hester Gould's brougham might be seen before the little gate of a pretty little cottage at Fulham; and Hester's figure, grown graceful now, and clad in elegant attire, might be recognised seated in the little parlour-window, as she gave an hour of the time on which society made insatiable demands to the woman who had done her duty to the orphan girl for conscience' sake.