A very large foreign-looking case had been partly opened, and when she looked in she was appalled at the task to be accomplished in one day.  It was crammed with shells of every size and description, from the large helmet-conch and Triton’s trumpet, down to the tiny pink cowry and rice-volute, all stuffed together without arrangement or packing, forming a mass in which the unbroken shells reposed in a kind of sand, of debris ground together out of the victims; and when she took up a tolerably-sized univalve, quantities of little ones came tumbling out of its inner folds.  She took up a handful, and presently picked out one perfect valve like a rose petal, three fairy cups of limpets, four ribbed cowries, and a thing like a green pea.  Of course she knew no names, but a kind of interest was awakened by the beauty and variety before her.  A pile of papers had been provided, and the housewife [a pocket-size container for small articles (as thread)—­D.L.] which Betty made her always carry in her pocket furnished wherewithal to make up a number of bags for the lesser sorts; and she went to work, her troubles somewhat beguiled by the novel beauties of each delicate creature she disinterred, but remembering with a pang how, if she could have described them to Mr. Belamour, he would have discoursed upon the Order of Nature.

London noises were not the continuous roar of vehicles of the present day, but there was sound enough to remind the country girl where she was, and the street cries “Old Clothes!” “Sprats, oh!” “Sweep!” were heard over the wall, sometimes with tumultuous voices that seemed to enhance her loneliness, as she sat on the floor, hour after hour, sifting out the entire shells, and feeling a languid pleasure in joining the two halves of a bivalve, especially those lovely sunset shells that have rosy rays diverging from their crimson hinge over their polished surface, white, or just tinted with the hues of a daffodil sky.  She never clasped a pair together without a little half-uttered ejaculation, “Oh, bring me and my dear young love thus together again!” And when she found a couple making a perfect heart, and holding together through all, she kissed it tenderly in the hope that thus it might be with her and with him whose hand and whose voice returned on her, calling her his dearest life!

She durst only quit the shells to eat the dinner which Madge served at one o’clock—­a tolerable meal of slices of cold beef from a cook’s-shop, but seasoned with sour looks and a murmur at ladies’ fancies.  The weariness and languor of the former day’s exertions made her for the present disinclined to explore the house, even had she had time, and when twilight came there could have been little but fragments at the bottom of the case, though she could see no more to sort them.

And what were these noises around her making her start?  Rats!  Yes, here they were, venturing out from all the corners.  They knew there had been food in the room.  This was why Madge had those to gaunt, weird-looking cats in her kitchen!  Aurelia went and sat on the step into the court to be out of their way, but Madge hunted her in that the door might be shut and barred; and when she returned trembling to the sitting room, she heard such a scampering and a scrambling that she durst not enter, and betook herself to her chamber and to bed.