hing."

"And I want to hear it," I replied. "But don't talk now, Hatty; go to
sleep, like a good girl. You will be much better for a long rest."

I drew the curtains, and asked Amelia to stay until Hatty was asleep. I
knew she would not talk much, and Hatty would not care to tell her
things as she would me. Going down-stairs, my Uncle Charles greeted me,
laughing, with,--

"Here she comes, the good Queen Bess! Cary, you deserve a gold medal."

Grandmamma bade me come to her, and tell her all I knew. She exclaimed
several times, and took ever so many pinches of snuff, till she had to
call on my Aunt Dorothea to refill the box. At the end of it she called
me a good child, and the Jesuits traitors and scoundrels, to which my
Uncle Charles added some rather stronger language.

Charlotte seems to have known nothing of what was going on; or, I should
rather say, to have noticed nothing. She is such a careless girl in
every way that I am scarce surprised. Amelia did notice things, but she
had a mistaken notion of what they meant. She fancied that Hatty was in
love with Mr Crossland, and that she, not knowing of his engagement in
marriage with Miss Marianne Newton, was very jealous of what she thought
his double-dealing. Until after I spoke to her, she had no notion that
there might be any sort of Popish treachery. Something which happened
soon after that, helped to turn her mind in that direction. But Hatty
says she knew next to nothing.

"But," says my Uncle Charles, "how could a Jesuit priest marry anybody?
It seems to be all in a muddle."

That I cannot answer.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hatty is better to-day, after a quiet night's rest. She still looks
woefully ill, and Grandmamma will not let her speak yet. Now that
Grandmamma is roused about it, she is very kind to Hatty and me also. I
do hope, now, that things have done happening! The poor Prince is a
fugitive somewhere in Scotland, and everybody says, "the rebellion is
quashed." They did not call it a rebellion until he turned back from
Derby. My Uncle Bracewell has writ to my Uncle Charles again with news,
and has asked him to see Amelia and Charlotte sent off homeward. Hatty
will tarry here till we can return together.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

At last our poor Hatty has told her story: and a sad, sad story it is.
It seems that Mr Crosslan