"Poor man, he is sad enough!" said Lady Corbet. "But he will not hear any one say a word against you, for all that. When my cousin Norton began to say, one day, that doubtless you know what you were about, that you had feathered your nest well, and got on the blind side of my lady, for all your saintliness—you know my cousin Norton never can abide any one who makes any profession of godliness—I think she feels it a reproach to herself, poor thing, for she does live like a heathen, and a sad grief it is to her mother-in-law, my Paulina's godmother. Well, when she said so, Doctor Mercer took her up, and I promise you, he soon silenced her! I could wish sometimes that the doctor would take a fancy to Pall, but I doubt his ever marrying now." The rest of our tale is soon told. Lord and Lady Carew lived on their estate in Devonshire, with little interruption, save when Arthur accompanied the king to Ireland in that memorable campaign which resulted in the Battle of the Boyne. Winifred was the same in prosperity that she had been in adversity—calm, brave, religious, trusting in God and walking daily and hourly with Him, doing good to all about her. She found a grandson of her old friend Dame Sprat living in great poverty on the outskirts of the estate, and had the happiness of placing him on the farm of his grandfather, where he did credit to his descent and her patronage. She revived the village school, which had fallen to decay, and it continues to do good to this day, the girls of Lady Carew's school being in great request as house-servants and nursery-maids. Lady Peckham retained her house in Exeter, but spent many months of every year with Winifred in the home of her childhood, where Alwright made saffron cakes and almond pastys, imparted wonderful secrets of cooking and preserving to Lady Carew and her housekeeper, and had the pleasure of introducing little Mrs. Margaret and Mrs. Magdalen to the mysteries of cross-stitch and open-hem. Paulina kept her word about remaining single, and living with cousin Margaret. Her first fancy, settled upon a most unworthy object, had been cruelly blighted, and she never had a second. After Lady Peckham's death, she inherited the house at Exeter, where she had always with her three or four motherless or orphan girls whom she brought up. Her little school became famous for the excellence and soundness of the education acquired under her charge, and she could have filled her house many times over, but she steadily refused to take more than a certain number, and always gave the preference to those who had no mothers. She was effectually assisted by Alwright, who retained her faculties unimpared to a great age, and could teach cross-stitch and fine-darning by the aid of her glasses when she was ninety years old.