g was said of St. Paul's, then in
bloom of youth and the wonder of England; but Betty declared that she
could not run about to see fine churches till her mind was at ease about
her poor sister. Might she only go to the nearest and quietest church?
So she, with her father and Eugene, repaired to St. Clement Danes, where
their landlord possessed a solid oak pew, and they heard a sermon on the
wickedness and presumption of inoculating for the small-pox.

It was not a genteel neighbourhood, and the congregation was therefore
large, for the substantial tradesfolk who had poured into the Strand
since it had been rebuilt were far more religiously disposed than the
fashionable world, retaining either the Puritan zeal, or the High Church
fervour, which were alike discouraged in the godless court. The Major
and his son and daughter were solitary units in the midst of the groups
of portly citizens, with soberly handsome wives, and gay sons and
daughters, who were exchanging greetings; and on their return to their
hotel, the Major betook himself to a pipe in the bar, and Eugene was
allowed to go for a walk in the park with Palmer, while Betty sat in her
own room with her Bible, striving to strengthen her assurance that
the innocent would never be forsaken. Indeed Mr. Belamour had much
strengthened her grounds of hope and comfort by his testimony to poor
Aurelia's perfect guilelessness and simplicity throughout the affair.
Yet the echo of that girl's chatter about Lady Belle's rival being sent
beyond the sea would return upon her ominously, although it might be
mere exaggeration and misapprehension, like so much besides.

A great clock, chiming one, warned her to repair to the sitting-room,
where she met Eugene, full of the unedifying spectacle of a fight
between two street lads. There had been a regular ring, and the boy had
been so much excited that Palmer had had much ado to bring him away.
Betty had scarcely hushed his eager communications and repaired his
toilette for dinner before Sir Amyas came in, having hurried away as
soon as possible after attending his men to and from church.

"Sister," he said, for so he insisted on calling Betty, "I really think
my uncle's surmise may be right. I went home past Delavie House last
night, just to look at it, and there was--there really was, a light in
one of the windows on the first floor, which always used to be as black
as Erebus. I had much ado to keep myself from thundering at the g