ave the secret get abroad, I shall send a wherry to take
you to the place early to-morrow morning. Can you be ready by eight
o'clock?"

Aurelia readily promised, her heart bounding at the notion of a voyage
down the river after her long imprisonment and at the promise of
liberty! She thought her husband must still be true to her, since my
lady would have been the first to inform her of his defection, and as
long as she had her ring and her certificate, she could feel little
doubt that her father would be able to establish her claims. And oh! to
be with him and Betty once more!

She was ready in good time, and had spent her leisure in packing. When
Loveday appeared, she was greeted with a petition that the two little
girls might accompany her; but this was refused at once, and the
waiting-maid added in her caressing, consoling tone that Mrs. Dove was
coming with their little brother and sister to take them a drive into
the country. They skipped about with glee, following Aurelia to the door
of the court, and promising her posies of honeysuckles and roses, and
she left her dear love with them for Amoret and Nurse Dove.

At the door was a sedan chair, in which Aurelia was carried to some
broad stone stairs, beside which lay a smartly-painted, trim-looking
boat with four stout oarsmen. She was handed into the stern, Loveday
sitting opposite to her. The woman was unusually silent, and could
hardly be roused to reply to Aurelia's eager questions as she passed the
gardens of Lincoln's Inn, saw St. Paul's rise above her, shot beneath
the arch of London Bridge, and beheld the massive walls of the Tower
with its low-browed arches opening above their steps. Whenever a scarlet
uniform came in view, how the girl's eyes strained after it, thinking
of one impossible, improbable chance of a recognition! Once or twice
she thought of a far more terrible chance, and wondered whether Lady
Belamour knew how little confidence could be placed in Loveday; but she
was sure that their expedition was my lady's own device, and the fresh
air and motion, with all the new scenes, were so delightful to her that
she could not dwell on any alarms.

On, on, Redriffe, as the watermen named Rotherhithe, was on one bank,
the marshes of the Isle of Dogs were gay with white cotton-grass and
red rattle on the other. Then came the wharves and building yards of
Deptford, and beyond them rose the trees of Greenwich Park, while
the river below exhibited a fore