the top bar and wept bitterly.

Again she startled by hearing a voice saying, "Sister, what is that in
the field?" and starting up, she saw Mrs. Delia in high pattens, and her
Sunday silk tucked up over her quilted petticoat, with a basket of corn
in her hand, surrounded by her poultry, while Mrs. Phoebe was bending
over a coop. She had stumbled unawares on their back premises, and with
a wild hope, founded on their well-known enmity to Lady Belamour, she
sprang over the stile. Mrs. Delia retreated in haste, but Mrs. Phoebe
came to the front.

"Oh! Mrs. Phoebe," she cried, "I ask your pardon."

"Mrs. Belamour! Upon my word! To what are we indebted for this visit?"

"Oh! of your kindness listen to me, madam," said Aurelia. "My Lady is
come, and there is some dreadful mistake, and she is very angry with me;
and if you would only take me in and hide me till the waggon goes and I
can get home!"

"So my Lady has found you out, you artful hussy," returned Mrs. Phoebe.
"I have long guessed at your tricks! I knew it was no blackamoor that
was stealing into the great house."

"I do not know what you mean."

"Oh! it is of no use to try your feigned artlessness on us. I wonder at
your assurance, after playing false with uncle and nephew both at once."

"If you would but hear me!"

"I have heard enough of you already. I wonder you dare show your face
at a respectable house. Away with you, if you would not have me send the
constable after you!"

The threat renewed Aurelia's terror, and again she fled, but this time
she fell into a path better known to her, that leading to Sedhurst, and
ultimately to Brentford.

The recollection of Dame Wheatfield's genial good nature inspired her
with another hope, and she made her way towards the farm. The church
bells were ringing, and she saw the farmer and his children going
towards the church, but not the mistress, and she might therefore hope
to find her at home and alone. As she approached, a great dog began a
formidable barking, and his voice brought out the good woman in person.
"Down, Bouncer! A won't hurt'ee, my lass. What d'ye lack that you bain't
at church?"

"May I speak to you, Mrs. Wheatfield?"

"My stars, if it bain't young Miss--Madam, I mean! Nothing ain't wrong
with the child?"

"O no, she is quite well, but--"

"What, ye be late for church? Come in and sit ye down a bit and sup
after your walk. We have been and killed Spotty's calf, though 'twas but
a stagger