me warm water," as a growling was
heard at the door; "I must not wait till you are dressed, but there's a
box of shells down in your room that Mr. Wayland sent home for my Lady
to line a grotto with, and she wants them all sorted out. 'Tell her she
must make herself of use if she wants to be forgiven,' says my Lady, for
she is in a mighty hurry for them now she has heard of the Duchess of
Portland's grotto; though she has let them lie here unpacked for this
half year and more. So if they are all done by night, maybe may Lady
will be pleased to let you have a bit more liberty."

Mrs. Loveday departed, having certainly cheered the captive, and Aurelia
rose, weary-limbed and sad-hearted, with a patient trust in her soul
that Love Divine would not fail her, and that earthly love would do its
best.

She found matters improved in the down-stairs room, the furniture was in
order, a clean cloth on the table, a white roll, butter, and above all
clean bright implements, showing Mrs. Loveday's influence. She ate and
drank like a hungry girl, washed up for herself rather than let Madge
touch anything she could help, and looked from the window into a
dull court of dreary, blighted-looking turf divided by flagged walks,
radiating from a statue in the middle, representing a Triton blowing a
conch--no doubt intended to spout water, for there was a stone trough
round him, but he had long forgotten his functions, and held a sparrow's
nest with streaming straws in his hand. This must be the prison-yard,
where alone she might walk, since it lay at the back of the house; and
with a sense of depression she turned to the task that awaited her.

A very large foreign-looking case had been partly opened, and when she
looked in she was appalled at the task to be accomplished in one day.
It was crammed with shells of every size and description, from the
large helmet-conch and Triton's trumpet, down to the tiny pink cowry
and rice-volute, all stuffed together without arrangement or packing,
forming a mass in which the unbroken shells reposed in a kind of sand,
of _debris_ ground together out of the victims; and when she took up a
tolerably-sized univalve, quantities of little ones came tumbling out
of its inner folds. She took up a handful, and presently picked out
one perfect valve like a rose petal, three fairy cups of limpets, four
ribbed cowries, and a thing like a green pea. Of course she knew no
names, but a kind of interest was awakened by