“Well he could have been but a fickle adorer--‘tis the way of men, my dear, for he must have found some new flame while his mother and the Colonel were both at the Bath. They have proof positive of his riding out of town at sundown, but whither he goes is unknown, for he takes not so much as a groom with him, and he is always in time for morning parade.” “Poor young man, it is hard to be so beset with spies and watchers,” said Aurelia. “Most true,” said Harriet, “but I am monstrous glad you are safe married like me, child, so that no one can accuse us. Such romantic affairs are well enough to furnish a course of letters to the _Tatler_, or the _Gentlewomen’s Magazine_, but I am thankful for a comfortable life with my good man.” Therewith they reached their inn, where Harriet, having satisfied herself that the said good man was safe within, and profiting by the unwonted calm to write his inaugural sermon, took Aurelia to her bedroom to prepare for dinner, and to indulge in further confidences. “So, Aurelia, I can report to my father that you are looking well, and as cheerful as can be expected.” “Nay, I have always told you I am happy as the day is long.” “What, when you have never so much as seen your husband?” “Only at our wedding, and then he was forced to veil his face from the light.” “Nor has he ever seen you?” “Not unless he then saw me.” “If he were not then charmed enough to repeat the view, you are the most cruelly wasted and unworthily matched--” “Hush, sister!” broke out Aurelia in eager indignation. “What! is a lovely young creature, almost equal to what I was before my cruel malady, to waste her bloom on a wretched old melancholic, who will not so much as look at her!” “Harriet, I cannot hear this--you know not of what you are talking! What is my poor skin-deep beauty--if beauty it be--compared with the stores of goodness and wisdom I find in him?” “La! child, what heat is this? One would really think you loved him.” “Of course I do! I love and honour him more than any one I ever met--except my dear father.” “Come, Aura, you are talking by rote out of the marriage service. You may be open with me, you know, it will go no further; and I do long to know whether you can be truly content at heart,” said Harriet with real affection. “Dear sister,” said Aurelia, touched, “believe me that indeed I am. Mr. Belamour is kindness itself. He is all he ever promised to be to me, and sometimes more.” “Yet if he loved you, he could never let you live moped up there. Are you never frighted at the dark chamber? I should die of it!” “The dark does not fright me,” said Aurelia. “You have a courage I have not! Come, now, were you never frighted to talk with a voice in the dark?” “Scarcely ever!” said aurelia. “Scarcely--when was that?” “You will laugh, Harriet, but it is when he is most--most tender and full of warmth. Then I hardly know him for the same.”