“There!  You will take no more roll?  You are better, now, but you will not be sorry to go to your bed,” said Mrs. Aylward, taking up a candle, and guiding her along the passage up a long stair to a pretty room wainscoted and curtained with fresh white dimity, and the window showing the young moon pale in the light of the western sky.

Bedrooms were little furnished, and this was more luxurious than the dear old chamber at home, but the girl had never before slept alone, and she felt unspeakably lonely in the dreariness, longing more than ever for Betty’s kiss—­even for Betty’s blame—­or for a whine from Harriet; and she positively hungered for a hug from Eugene, as she gazed timidly at the corners beyond the influence of her candle; and instead of unpacking the little riding mail she kissed it, and laid her cheek on it as the only thing that came from home, and burst into a flood of despairing tears.

In the midst, there fell on her ears a low strain of melancholy music rising and falling like the wailing of mournful spirits.  She sprang to her feet and stood listening with dilated eyes; then, as a louder note reached her, in terror uncontrollable, she caught up her candle, rushed down the stairs like a wild bird, and stood panting before Mrs. Aylward, who had a big Bible open on the table before her.

“Oh, ma’am,” she cried, between her panting sobs, “I can’t stay there!  I shall die!”

“What means this, madam?” said Mrs. Aylward, stiffly, making the word sound much like “foolish child.”

“The—­the music!” she managed faintly to utter, falling again into the friendly chair.

“The music?” said Mrs. Aylward, considering; then with a shade of polite contempt, “O!  Jumbo’s fiddle!  I did not know it could be heard in your room, but no doubt the windows below are open.”

“Is Jumbo that black man?” asked Aurelia, shuddering; for negro servants, though the fashion in town, had not penetrated into the west.

“Mr. Belamour’s blackamoor.  He often plays to him half the night.”

“Oh!” with another quivering sound of alarm; “is Mr. Belamour the gentleman in the dark?”

“Even so, madam, but you need have no fears.  He keeps his room and admits no one, though he sometimes walks out by night.  You will only have to keep the children from a noise making near his apartments.  Good night, madam.”

“Oh, pray, if I do not disturb you, would you be pleased to let me stay till you have finished your chapter; I might not be so frightened then.”

In common humanity Mrs. Aylward could not refuse, and Aurelia sat silently grasping the arms of her chair, and trying to derive all the comfort she could from the presence of a Bible and a good woman.  Her nerves were, in fact, calmed by the interval, and when Mrs. Aylward took off her spectacles and shut up her book, it had become possible to endure the terrors of the lonely chamber.