Then the dray had been nearly upset, and her hat crushed among the trees.

A favourite and precious bag, which never left her, had been dropped in the water; and her Prayer-book, a parting gift from Lady Kate, had been utterly spoiled.

A hundred petty annoyances and griefs, which Mary barely remarked, and which brave Mrs.Buckley, in her strong determination of following her lord to the ends of the earth, and of being as much help and as little incumbrance to him as she could, had laughed at, were to her great misfortunes.

Why, the very fact, as she told me, of sitting on the top of a swinging jolting dray was enough to keep her in a continual state of agony and terror, so that when she alit at night, and sat down, she could not help weeping silently, dreading lest any one should see her.
Suddenly, Mary was by her side, kneeling down.
"Aunt," she said, "dearest aunt, don't break down.

It is all my wicked fault.