Here it was getting dark again, and Madge would hunt her in presently and shut the shutters.  Hark! what was that?  A bell echoing over the house!  Madge came after her.  “Where are you, my fine mistress!  Go you into the parlour, I say,” and she turned the key upon the prisoner, whose heart beat like a bird fluttering in a cage.  Suddenly her door was opened, and in darted Fidelia and Lettice, who flung themselves upon her with ecstatic shrieks of “Cousin Aura, dear cousin Aura!” Loveday was behind, directing the bringing in of trunks from a hackney coach.  All she said was, “My Lady’s daughters are to be with you for the night, madam; I must not say more, for her ladyship is waiting for me.”

She was gone, while the three were still in the glad tangle of an embrace beginning again and again, with all sorts of little exclamations from the children, into which Aurelia broke with the inquiry for their brother.  “He is much better,” said Fay.  “He is to get up to-morrow, and then he will come and find you.”

“Have you seen him?”

“Oh, yes, and he says it is Sister Aura, and not Cousin Aura—­”

“My dear, dear little sisters—­” and she hugged them again.

“I was sitting upon his bed,” said Letty, “and we were all talking about you when my Lady mamma came.  Are mothers kinder than Lady mammas?”

“Was she angry?” asked Aurelia.

“Oh! she frightened me,” said Fay.  “She said we were pert, forward misses, and we must hold our tongues, for we should be whipped if we ever said you name, Cousin—­Sister Aura, again; and she would not let us go to wish Brother Amyas good-bye this morning.”

Aurelia’s heart could not but leap with joy that her tyrant should have failed in carrying to Bowstead the renunciation of the marriage.  Whether Lady Belamour meant it or not, she had made resistance much easier by the company of Faith and Hope, if only for a single night.  She gathered from their prattle that their mother, having found that their talk with their brother was all of the one object of his thoughts, had carried them off summarily, and had been since driving about London in search of a school at which to leave them; but they were too young for Queen’s Square, and there was no room at another house at which Lady Belamour had applied.  She would not take them home, being, of course, afraid of their tongues, and in her perplexity had been reduced to letting them share Aurelia’s captivity at least for the night.

What joy it was!  They said it was an ugly dark house, but Aurelia’s presence was perfect content to them, and theirs was to her comparative felicity, assuring her as they did, through their childish talk, of Sir Amyas’s unbroken love and of Mr. Belamour’s endeavours to find her.  What mattered it that Madge was more offended than ever, and refused to make the slightest exertion for “the Wayland brats at that time of night” without warning.  They had enough for supper, and if Aurelia had not, their company was worth much more to her than a full meal.  The terrier’s rushes after rats were only diversion now, and when all three nestled together in the big bed, the fun was more delightful than ever.  Between those soft caressing creatures Aurelia heard no rats, and could well bear some kicks at night, and being drummed awake at some strange hour in the morning.