She was altogether much shaken, she dreamed strange dreams by night, was capable of little by day, was declared by the children to be cross, and was much inclined to plead indisposition as an excuse for not visiting that alarming room in the evening.  Indeed for the greater part of the day she felt as if she must avail herself of the pretext, and as if she neither could nor would encounter that strange double creature in the dark; but somehow she had been as much fascinated as terrified, and, in spite of her resolve, she found herself mechanically following Jumbo, shuddering all over and as cold as ice.

The dark chambers were warmed by German stoves, so that the atmosphere was always equable, and it seemed to revive her, while a kind, warm hand led her as usual to her seat, and it was the usual gentle, courteous, paternal tone that addressed her, “How chill and trembling you are!  My poor child, you were sadly alarmed last night.”

Aurelia murmured some excuse about being very foolish.

“It was not you who was foolish,” was the reply; and though her hand was retained it was evidently for the sake of warming it, and comforting her, not of caressing it in the startling mode of yesterday.  There was a pause, during which her composure began to be restored, and some inquiries whether she were quite recovered; to which she replied with eager affirmatives, feeling indeed quite herself again, now that all was in its familiar state around her.  Then this strange suitor spoke again.  “It is a hard and cruel fate that my Lady has sought to impose on you.”

“Oh, do not say so, sir I—–­”

“No,” he interrupted somewhat hastily, “do not try to deny it, my child; I know better than you can what it would amount to.  Believe me, I only lend myself to her arrangement because I know no better means of guarding you and preserving you for better days.”

“I know how kind you are, sir.”

“And you trust me?”

“Indeed I do.”

“That is all I ask.  I shall never be a husband to you more than in name, Aurelia, nor ask of you more than you give me now, namely, your sweet presence for a few hours in the evening, without seeing me.  Can you bear thus to devote your young life, for a time at least?”

“You know, sir, how glad I always am to be with you,” said Aurelia, relieved yet half regretting that strange fervour.  “I will do my very best to please you.”

“Ah! sweet child,” he began, with a thrill of deep feeling in his voice; but checking himself he continued, “All I ask is patience and trust for a time—­for a time—­you promise it!”

“With all my heart,” said Aurelia.

“I will use my best endeavours to requite that trust, my child,” he said.  “Is not the Christian watchword faith, not sight?  It must be yours likewise.”

“I hope so,” she said, scarcely understanding.

He then interrogated her somewhat closely as to the letters which had prepared her for the proposal; and as Aurelia was far too simple to conceal anything under cross-examination, Mr. Belamour soon found out what her Ladyship’s threats and promises had been.