ed she could have sung something
less affecting to his spirits.

"I gather from what you said that you are no longer blessed with the
presence of the excellent lady, your mother," presently added Mr.
Belamour.

"No, sir. We lost her seven years ago."

"And her husband mourns her still. Well he may. She was a rare creature.
So she is gone! I have been so long in seclusion that no doubt time has
made no small havoc, and my friends have had many griefs to bewail."

Aurelia knew not what answer to make, and was relieved when he collected
himself and said:--

"I will trespass no longer on my fair visitor's complaisance, but if she
have not found the gloom of this apartment insupportable, it would be a
charitable action to brighten it once more with her presence."

"O sir, I will come whenever you are pleased to send for me," she
exclaimed, all her doubts, fears, and scruples vanishing at his tone of
entreaty. "My father would be so glad. I will practise my best song to
sing to you to-morrow."

"My best thanks are yours," and her hand was taken, she was carefully
conducted to the door and dismissed with a gentle pressure of her
fingers, and a courteous: "Goodnight, madam; _Au revoir_, if I may
venture to say so."

By contrast, the hall looked almost light, and Aurelia could see the
skip of joy with which Jumbo hurried to fetch a candle. As he gave it to
her, he made his teeth flash from ear to ear, as he exclaimed: "Pretty
missy bring new life to mas'r!"

Thus did a new element come into Aurelia's life. She carefully prepared
Harriet's favourite song, a French _romance_, but Mr. Belamour did not
like it equally well with the Nightingale, which he made her repeat,
rewarding her by telling her of the charming looks and manners of her
mother, so that she positively enjoyed her visit. The next night he made
inquiries into her walks at Bowstead, asking after the favourite nooks
of his childhood, and directing her to the glades where grew the largest
dewberries and sweetest blackberries. This led to her recital of a
portion of _Midsummer Night's Dream_, for he drew her on with thanks at
every pause: "I have enjoyed no such treat for many years," he said.

"There are other pieces that I can recite another time," said Aurelia
timidly.

"You will confer a great favour on me," he answered.

So she refreshed her memory by a mental review of _Paradise Lost_ over
her embroidery frame, and was ready with Adam's morning hymn,