'O fie, Loveday,' said Aurelia earnestly, 'you have been so kind, that I thought you would be faithful. This is not being faithful to your lady, nor to me.'
'It is only from my wish to serve you, ma'am,' said Loveday in her fawning voice. 'How can I bear to see a beautiful young lady like you, that ought to be the star of all the court, mewed up here for the sake of a young giddy pate like his Honour, when there's one of the first gentlemen in the land ready to be at your feet?'
'For shame! for shame!' exclaimed Aurelia, crimson already. 'You know I am married.'
'And you will not take the letter, nor see what the poor gentleman means? May be he wants to reconcile you with my lady, and he has power with her.'
Aurelia took the letter, and, strong paper though it was, tore it across and across till it was all in fragments, no bigger than daisy flowers. 'There,' she said, 'you may tell him what I have done to his letter.'
Loveday stared for a minute, then exclaimed, 'You are in the right, my dear lady. Oh, I am a wretch-a wretch-' and she went away sobbing.
Aurelia hoped the matter was ended. It had given her a terrible feeling of insecurity, but she found to her relief that Madge was really more trustworthy than Loveday. She overheard from the court a conversation at the back door in which Madge was strenuously refusing admission to some one who was both threatening and bribing her, all in vain; but she was only beginning to breathe freely when Loveday brought, not another letter, but what was less easy to stop, a personal message from 'that poor gentleman.'
'Loveday, after what you said yesterday, how can you be so-wicked?' said Aurelia.
'Indeed, miss, 'tis only as your true well-wisher.'
Aurelia turned away to leave the room.
'Yes, it is, ma'am! On my bended knees I will swear it,' cried Loveday, throwing herself on them and catching her dress. 'It is because I know my lady has worse in store for you!'
'Nothing can be worse than wrong-doing,' said Aurelia.
'Ah! you don't know. Now, listen, one moment. I would not-indeed I would not-if I did not know that he meant true and honourable- as he does, indeed he does. He is madder after you then ever he was for my lady, for he says you have all her beauty, and freshness and simplicity besides. He is raving. And you should never leave me, indeed you should not, miss, if you slipped out after me in Deb's muffler-and we'd go to the Fleet. I have got a cousin there, poor fellow-he is always in trouble, but he is a real true parson notwithstanding, and I'd never leave your side till the knot was tied fast. Then you would laugh at my lady, and be one of the first ladies in the land, for my Lord Aresfield is half a fool, and can't live long, and when you are a countess you will remember your poor Loveday.'
'Let me go. You have said too much to a married woman,' said Aurelia, and as the maid began the old demonstrations of the invalidity of the marriage, and the folly of adhering to it when nobody knew where his honour was gone, she said resolutely, 'I shall write to Lady Belamour to send me a more trustworthy messenger.'
On this Loveday fairly fell on the floor, grovelling in her wild entreaty that my Lady might hear nothing of this, declaring that it was not so much for the sake of the consequences to herself as to the young lady, for there was no guessing what my lady might not be capable of if she guessed at Colonel Mar's admiration of her prisoner. Aurelia, frightened at her violence, finally promised not to appeal to her ladyship as long as Loveday abstained from transmitting his messages, but on the least attempt on her part to refer to him, a complaint should certainly be made to my lady.
'Very well, madam,' said Loveday, wiping her eyes. 'I only hope it will not be the worse for you in the end, and that you will not wish you had listened to poor Loveday's advice.'
'I can never wish to have done what I know to be a great sin,' said Aurelia gravely.
'Ah! you little know!' said Loveday, shaking her head sadly and ominously.
Something brought to Aurelia's lips what she had been teaching the children last Sunday, and she answered,
'My God, in Whom I have trusted, is able to deliver me out of the mouth of lions, and He will deliver me out of thy hand.'
'Oh! if ever there were one whom He should deliver!' broke out Loveday, and again she went away weeping bitterly.
Aurelia could not guess what the danger the woman threatened could be; so many had been mentioned as possible. A forcible marriage, incarceration in some lonely country place, a vague threat of being taken beyond seas to the plantation-all these had been mentioned; but she was far more afraid of Colonel Mar forcing his way in and carrying her off, and this kept her constantly in a state of nervous watchfulness, always listening by day and hardly able to sleep by night.
Once she had a terrible alarm, on a Sunday. Letty came rushing to her, declaring that Jumbo, dear Jumbo, and a gentleman were in the front court. Was it really Jumbo? Come and see! No, she durst not, and Fay almost instantly declared that Madge had shut them out. The children both insisted that Jumbo it was, but Aurelia would not believe that it could be anything but an attempt of her enemies. She interrogated Madge, who had grown into a certain liking for one so submissive and inoffensive. Madge shook her head, could not guess how such folks had got into the court, was sure they were after no good, and declared that my Lady should hear of all the strange doings, and the letters that had been left with her. Oh, no, she knew better than to give them, but my Lady should see them.
CHAPTER XXXIII. THE COSMETIC.
But one more task I charge thee with to-day,
For unto Proserpine then take thy way,
And give this golden casket to her hands.
MORRIS.
Late on that Sunday afternoon, a muffled and masked figure came through the house into the court behind, and after the first shock Aurelia was relieved to see that it was too tall, and moved too gracefully, to belong to Loveday.
'Why, child, what a colour you have!' said Lady Belamour, taking off her mask. 'You need no aids to nature at your happy age. That is right, children,' as they curtsied and kissed her hand. 'Go into the house, I wish to speak with your cousin.'
Lady Belamour's unfailing self-command gave her such dignity that she seemed truly a grand and majestic dame dispensing justice, and the gentle, shrinking Aurelia like a culprit on trial before her.
'You have been here a month, Aurelia Delavie. Have you come to your senses, and are you ready to sign this paper?'
'No, madam, I cannot.'
'Silly fly; you are as bent as ever on remaining in the web in which a madman and a foolish boy have involved you?'
'I cannot help it, madam.'
'Oh! I thought,' and her voice became harshly clear, though so low, 'that you might have other schemes, and be spreading your toils at higher game.'
'Certainly not, madam.'
'Your colour shows that you understand, in spite of all your pretences.'
'I have never used any pretences, my lady,' said Aurelia, looking up in her face with clear innocent eyes.
'You have had no visitors? None!'
'None, madam, except once when the Lady Arabella Mar forced her way in, out of curiosity, I believe, and her brother followed to take her away.'
'Her brother? You saw him?' Each word came out edged like a knife from between her nearly closed lips.
'Yes, madam.'
'How often?'
'That once.'
'That has not hindered a traffic in letters.'
'Not on my side, madam. I tore to fragments unread the only one that I received. He had no right to send it!'
