Lady Belamour breakfasted in her own room at about ten o’clock.  Her woman, Mrs. Loveday, a small trim active person, with the worn and sharpened remains of considerable prettiness of the miniature brunette style, was sent to summon Miss Delavie to her apartment and inspect the embroidery she had been desired to execute for my Lady.  Three or four bouquets had been finished, and the maid went into such raptures over them as somewhat to disgust their worker, who knew that they were not half so well done as they would have been under Betty’s direction.  However, Mrs. Loveday bore the frame to her Ladyship’s room, following Aurelia, who was there received with the same stately caressing manner as before.

“Good morning, child.  Your roses bloom well in the forenoon!  Pity they should be wasted in darkness.  Not but that you are duly appreciated there.  Ah!  I can deepen them by what our unhappy recluse said of you.  I shall make glad hearts at Carminster by his good opinion, and who knows what preferment may come of it—­eh?  What is that, Loveday?”

“It is work your Ladyship wished me to execute,” said Aurelia.

“Handsome—­yes; but is that all?  I thought the notable Mistress Betty brought you up after her own sort?”

“I am sorry, madam, but I could not do it quickly at first without my sister’s advice, and I have not very much time between my care of the children and preparing repetitions for Mr. Belamour.”

“Ha! ha!  I understand.  There are greater attractions!  Go on, child.  Mayhap it may be your own wedding gown you are working at, if you finish it in time!  Heavens! what great wondering eyes the child has!  All in good time, my dear.  I must talk to your father.”

It was so much the custom to talk to young maidens about their marriage that this did not greatly startle Aurelia, and Lady Belamour continued:  “There, child, you have done your duty well by those little plagues of mine, and it is Mr. Wayland’s desire to make you a recompense.  You may need it in any change of circumstances.”

So saying, she placed in Aurelia’s hand five guineas, the largest sum that the girl had ever owned; and as visions arose of Christmas gifts to be bestowed, the thanks were so warm, the curtsey so expressively graceful, the smile so bright, the soft eyes so sparkling, that the great lady was touched at the sight of such simple-hearted joy, and said, “There, there, child, that will do.  I could envy one whom a little makes so happy.  Now you will be able to make yourself fine when my son brings home his bride; or—­who knows?—­you may be a bride yourself first!”

That sounds, thought Aurelia, as if Mr. Belamour had made her relinquish the plan of that cruel marriage, for I am sure I have not yet seen the man I am to marry.

And with a lighter heart the young tutoress stood between Fay and Letty on the steps to see the departure, her cheeks still feeling Amoret’s last fond kisses, and a swelling in her throat bringing tears to her eyes at the thought how soon that carriage would be at Carminster.  Yet there were sweet chains in the little hands that held her gown, and in the thought of the lonely old man who depended on her for enlivenment.