“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.”