bered again after all was poured into her
sister's bosom.

Betty had sympathised step by step, and felt even more strongly than
Harriet that the situation had been intolerable for womanhood, and that
only Aurelia's childishness could have endured it so long. Only the
eldest sister held that it would have been right and honourable to
have spoken before flashing out the flame; but when, with many tears of
contrition, Aurelia owned that she had long thought so, and longed to
confess it, what could the motherly sister do but kiss the tears away,
and rejoice that the penance was over which had been borne with such
constancy and self-devotion.

Then Betty rose quietly, and after giving thanks on her knees that the
gentle spirit had passed through all unscathed, untainted with even the
perception of evil, she applied herself to the adaptation of one of her
morning caps to her poor shorn lamb's head. Nor did Aurelia wake again
till her father came to the door to make sure that all was well with his
recovered treasure, and to say that Loveday would recover for her the
box of clothes, which old Madge had hidden.

Loveday had gone back to her mistress, who either had not discovered her
betrayal, or, as things had turned out, could not resent it.

So, fresh and blooming, Aurelia came out into the sitting-room, whence
her father held out his arms to her. He would have her all to himself
for a little while, since even Eugene was gone to his daily delight, the
seeing the changing of the guard.

"And now, my child, tell me," he said, when he had heard a little of her
feelings through these adventures, "what would you have me do? Remember,
such a wedding as yours goes for nothing, and you are still free to
choose either or neither of your swains."

"Oh, papa!" in a remonstrating tone.

"You were willing to wed your old hermit?"

"I was content _then_. He was very kind to me."

"Content then, eh? Suppose you were told he was your real husband?"

"Sir, he is not!" cried Aurelia, frightened.

"If he were?"

"I would try to do my duty," she said, in a choked voice.

"Silly child, don't cry. And how, if after these fool's tricks it
turns out that the other young spark is bound to that red-faced little
spitfire and cannot have you?"

"Papa, don't!" she cried. "You know he is my husband in my heart, and
always will be, and if he cannot come back to me take me home, and I
will try to be a good daughter to you," and she hid her