elia to alight, and
followed her into the hall.

"Madge," said Lady Belamour to the witch-like old woman who had admitted
her, "this young lady is to remain here. You will open a bedroom and
sitting-room for her at the back of the house. Let her be properly cared
for, and go out in the court behind, but on no account approach the
front gates. Let no one know she is here."

Madge muttered some demands about supplies and payments, and Lady
Belamour waved her to settle them with Mrs. Loveday, turning meantime to
the prisoner and saying, "There, child, you are to remain here on
your good behaviour. Do your best to merit my good will, so that I may
overlook what is past. Recollect, the least attempt to escape, or to
hold intercourse with the young, or the old, fool, and it shall be the
worse with them and with your father."

Therewith she departed, followed by Loveday, leaving Aurelia standing in
the middle of the hall, the old hag gazing on her with a malignant
leer. "Ho! ho'! So that's the way! He has begun that work early, has he?
What's your name, my lass? Oh, you need give yourself airs! I cry you
mercy," and she made a derisive curtsey.

Poor Aurelia, pride had less to do with her silence than absolute
uncertainty what to call herself. The wedding ring was on her finger,
and she would not deny her marriage by calling herself Delavie, but
Belamour might be dangerous, and the prefix was likewise a difficulty,
so faltered, "You may call me Madam Aurelia."

"Madam Really. That's a queer name, but it will serve while you are
here."

"Pray let me go to my room," entreated the poor prisoner, who felt as
ineffable disgust at her jailor, and was becoming sensible to extreme
fatigue.

"Your room, hey? D'ye think I keep rooms and beds as though this were
an inn, single-handed as I am? You must wait, unless you be too fine to
lend a hand."

"Anything will do," said Aurelia, "if I may only rest. I would help, but
I am so much tired that I can hardly stand."

"My Lady has given it to you well, Mistress Really or Mistress Falsely,
which ever you may be," mumbled Madge, perhaps in soliloquy, fumbling
at the lock of a room which at last she opened. It smelt very close and
fusty, and most of the furniture was heaped together under a cloth in
the midst, dimly visible by the light of a heart-shaped aperture in the
shutters. Unclosing one of the leaves, the old woman admitted enough
daylight to guide Aurelia to a couch against